Older Faster

Here are my news.

I have moved flat. My flatmate has talent and lovely curtains. I get to pile my books up against a different wall and make toast in a different toaster. Happiness blooms.

My favourite (ethnocentric) conversation of the month has been with a workmate about our limited grasp of the English language. He said he just realised that “alot” isn’t one word and I confessed that I still write “thankyou” all the time.

I read Jeanette Winterson’s The Stonegods and marvelled at her marble world. I watched the greatest-acting eyelid ever in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and wondered what those almost-tidal salt marks were on my glasses at the end.

We are rehearsing as hard as time constraints allow, and we are feeling the pressure like a little tiny ringing alarm clock all the time as the recording deadline looms. Or that might just be tinnitus from the fire alarm going off at work yesterday. If you didn’t know you were struggling you might fall off the edge of the mountain.

Thankyou alot.

Love, Carey.