Wed 20th June 2012

Trina. I saw her from a distance on the railway station and thought what a lumpen, stooped walk she has. She was wearing a thin low-necked blouse in something synthetic with a diagonal pattern of small brown squares on a white background with a white cotton scooped necked vest top underneath, and jeans. We walked through town and I introduced her to Keith. "This is that mixed race bird I was telling you about the other day. Half Welsh, half Scouse."

As a girl who has bravely borne her immense handicap in life of being from Rhosllanerchruogog, and therefore finds Wrexham an exciting, edgy city, she hadn't seen anything like the Merchants before. It's a pub fashioned from vaulted stone C18th wine cellars, something that would sink under the weight of money or pretention down south. I was proud to to present it to her, an example of why I am proud, in some ways, of my city.

We were on our own under mellow orange lights set into faux copper housings. Delicious snogging at a shared, unspoken understanding of the speed of sex. She sighed and parted to indicate a rest. "You got my heart going there." "You got something of mine going as well," I said.

She said "I think I was born as a cat in another life. I love being stroked." It reminded me of Mary-Ann once describing me as a kitten. When she said she loved dancing, I lit up, then was immediately cautious. "What to?" "To 'dance music'"--which was the term everyone used to use for house or techno. She knew that. So start cringing youngsters--there'll be a 48- and a 57-year-old on a dancefloor near you soon.

At the railway station, pressed together, we chatted with commas of kissing.

I rush back to my house. I'm running because I have to show someone round Gillian's room. She's one of those semi-autistic, over-disciplined, future anorexic girls that universities like Lancaster hoover up.

7 comments

Comment from: [Member]

take your time - seriously, looby, THIS is the most wonderful part of any relationship! let it build. let a few obstacles get in the way… you’ll get there! she’s a great match!

Thu 21st June 2012 @ 03:02

Comment from: [Member]

It is, it’s lovely. There will be roadblocks ahead, I’m sure. But I love how simple and straightforward it all is just at the moment.

Thu 21st June 2012 @ 08:07

Comment from: twisted scottish bastard [Visitor]

She said “I think I was born as a cat in another life. I love being stroked.”

Bloody hell…I had to go and have a cold shower.

‘Nuff said.

Thu 21st June 2012 @ 10:20

Comment from: nursemyra [Visitor]

“lumpen and stooped"… that’s not very flattering. Will she read your blog?

Thu 21st June 2012 @ 12:20

Comment from: [Member]

TSB: You’re easily pleased.

Nursey: I’ve been thinking about changing that. She does have a slightly stooped walk but it was just a first impression, from a long way away. I fancy her – if she looks slightly bent over from a long way away, that is infinitesmially unimportant.

Her reading the blog–we’ll handle that one if it happens.

Thu 21st June 2012 @ 18:12

Comment from: The Unbearable Banishment [Visitor]

I wonder if, the next day, she sat with her friends and said, “I am going out with a handicapped man?”

You don’t suppose she’d wreck your place on the way out the door, do you? Here in the U.S., many people who are being evicted tear down the walls as a final fuck-you.

Fri 22nd June 2012 @ 18:55

Comment from: [Member]

I was a bit worried about that–half expected to find the place ruined. But no.

Sat 23rd June 2012 @ 11:34

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looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person

M / 59 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.

There are plenty of bastards who drink moderately. Of course, I don't consider them to be people. They are not our comrades.
Sergei Korovin, quoted in Pavel Krusanov, The Blue Book of the Alcoholic

I am here to change my life. I am here to force myself to change my life.
Chinese man I met during Freshers Week at Lancaster University, 2008

The more democratised art becomes, the more we recognise in it our own mediocrity.
James Meek

Tell me, why is it that even when we are enjoying music, for instance, or a beautiful evening, or a conversation in agreeable company, it all seems no more than a hint of some infinite felicity existing apart somewhere, rather than actual happiness – such, I mean, as we ourselves can really possess?
Turgenev, Fathers and Sons

I hate the iPod; I hate the idea that music is such a personal thing that you can just stick some earplugs in your ears and have an experience with music. Music is a social phenomenon.
Jeremy Wagner

La vie poetique has its pleasures, and readings--ideally a long way from home--are one of them. I can pretend to be George Szirtes.
George Szirtes

Using words well is a social virtue. Use 'fortuitous' once more to mean 'fortunate' and you move an English word another step towards the dustbin. If your mistake took hold, no-one who valued clarity would be able to use the word again.
John Whale

One good thing about being a Marxist is that you don't have to pretend to like work.
Terry Eagleton, What Is A Novel?, Lancaster University, 1 Feb 2010

The working man is a fucking loser.
Mick, The Golden Lion, Lancaster, 21 Mar 2011

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I am going out with a handicapped woman

7 comments

looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person

Rummage in my drawers

The Comfort of Strangers

"Just sit still and listen" - woman to teenage girl at Elliott Carter weekend, London 2006

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