We love you. We love you more and more each day. You love us. You tell us more and more each day. You tell us your love is “Up to the ceiling, down to the floor, round the world and lots, lots more.” That’s how much my Mum loves me – it was the same amount my Nan, my Dad’s mum loved me. It was the way I expressed my love to your Mum on our wedding day. It’s our family thing. And now our family has grown. We now have a son; you have a brother. We love your brother very much. Without him, we were still a very happy family. With him, we are now a very happy family with two wonderful children.
Love Archive
I can hear you ask, what will you take away from this holiday? Is it wrong to say a love of a beer, of a bar – of the people who work in a beer shop and bar? Tipopils is great. Ma Che Siete Venuti A Fa’ (MCSVAF) is absolutely fantastic. Yes you pay €4s a half but you do so knowing that every beer you buy is truly, out of this world – but of this world. Of the earth they grow the hops in, the malt in, that the yeast develops in – of the water (see, sometimes this blog is aligned) that flows right though it. This earth – our earth! Most of my real life friends don’t care much for beer.
I started to write. And then I paused. I paused for a moment to reflect. To decide whether to carry on with the post I had in mind, or to mentally, and electronically, screw it up and throw it in the Recycle Bin on my desktop. I wanted to rant. To distance myself from the hurtful comments made by someone who once shared the same faith as me. I say once, as I have no belief in a faith system that alienates others because of their personal, emotional choices. To claim that the simple act of falling in love can be “harmful to the physical, mental and spiritual wellbeing” of those involved – just because they choose to lie down with someone of the same
Goodbye old friend You served me well I shall cherish the times we spent together You protected me You covered me You gave me warmth when others offered only cold You were cool when some would have been stifling We travelled great distances together But as time drew on, you rarely left the house You lived your life, as I lived mine But what now – where will we both end up? I will move on, but never will I forget you Your end will not come, splattered in paint or oil or dirt Valhalla, if such a place exists for your kind Woosh the flames rise as they lick around you Ashes – all that will remain But what if another can love you?
A guest post written for the football website, In Bed With Maradona, based on my curious love for an inanimate object – the Adidas Tango football. A love affair with the Adidas Tango
I’m stood on a railway platform in Hexham, Northumberland. It’s 8.30am and I’m waiting for a train to take me to Newcastle. It is the start of a journey that will eventually take me to Bury, Lancashire; passing by the outskirts of Leeds. The city where I live – the city I left yesterday to travel up here. As I stand there, my mind starts to flood with questions I already know the answer to. Why am I really making a journey others would have happily backed out of? Why am I leaving my family behind when I could be spending a day relaxing with them? What must Amy’s friends think of me for travelling all the way up here, only to disappear the very
… Eat bubbles! A simple statement – said by you to Hooch our dog, as she chased around the garden after a bee. A bee so engorged by a feast of nectar from our neighbour’s garden, that it could barely lift itself above and beyond the snapping jaws of the chasing hound. There is clearly context to this episode – for Hooch likes to eat, or at least pop bubbles as they float around the house – blown either by you or the machine that gives amusement to you both. They can’t taste nice. We did buy bacon flavour bubble liquid, though I’m not sure if that’s advisable for either of you. So as Hooch tried in vain to capture, and then eat the partially
Dear Lauren, Fear is a strange sensation that comes in many forms. It can be a unifying bond between us, as you look to me for comfort and protection. You are usually the root cause of my fear, whilst your fears come and go; change and return without good reason. There are times when you have no fear at all – like when you run to the top of a flight of stairs, or tap dance on tables. Then there are times when Hooch runs towards you and you cower, expecting her to knock you over – only looking out from behind your hands when she has long since passed. On the very next pass you will throw your arms out to catch her –
The image to the right of these words is of a book. The actual book is not important. The fact that it has a cover is. I don’t know if the book is any good. I can’t tell that simply from looking at the cover. To find out if I like the book I have to open it, read it; follow the dialogue and then – not always at the end – put it down and make a judgement upon it. I’m off to see “Carmen” tonight. My judgement already is that I will not enjoy it. What I know of Opera North’s “Carmen” is through the snippets I have read online – including a set of fairly prosaic reviews and claims it is “sexy”
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