j4 | Away from it all

Went home for the weekend to escape from Cambridge-related stress, which was mostly successful. Ate lots, didn't drink any coffee, didn't get up till midday on Saturday or Sunday, and talked a lot.

Also shopped a lot -- managed to talk my dad into going to the HMV sale in Nottingham instead of doing the gardening (as you can imagine, I really had to twist his arm on that one...) and he and I ended up spending over £150 on CDs between us. And he paid for the lot. "Which was nice." :-)

The complete list, if you care:

Bob Dylan - "The Times They Are A'Changin'" (I didn't actually buy this, my dad bought it but realised when we got home that he already had it, so gave me the duplicate)

They Might Be Giants - "Dial-a-Song: 20 Years of They Might Be Giants"

Suede - "Sci-Fi Lullabies"

Morrissey - "Suedehead: The Best of Morrissey"

Ramones - "It's Alive"

The Chemical Brothers - "Exit Planet Dust"

Various - "The Alternative Album"

Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band - "Safe as Milk"

Thea Gilmore - "Avalanche"

Thea Gilmore - "Burning Dorothy"

R.E.M. - "Singles Collected"

Kirsty MacColl - "Tropical Brainstorm"

Beastie Boys - "Licensed to Ill"

Juliet Turner - "Burn the Black Suit"

hoiho, that means I can send you my old copy of "Burn the Black Suit"; and

k425, do you want to look after offsite backups of the two Thea Gilmore albums, when I get round to making them? :-)

Despite wandering round Nottingham for ages I failed to find a new pair of black combat trousers to replace my falling-apart pair. What I want is very simple: a pair of full-length black trousers with both ordinary pockets and "cargo pockets". Ideally they wouldn't be too heavy, and they'd be quite plain; but really I'm not that fussy. However, the shops only seemed to stock three-quarter-length hipster trousers, mostly with the ankles all ruched up with a drawstring, and mostly with oceans of trailing belts and buckles and ties and zips. Now, I'm actually reasonably happy with my figure at the moment, but the fact remains that I am not (and have never been) a flat-bellied 17-year-old; as such, I really don't think hipsters will suit me. Furthermore, in the absence of comfortable hipster knickers, I don't think I want to advertise M&S or Sloggi quite so blatantly.

Gave up in the end and bought a pair of khaki combats for a fiver; also tried on a pair of black jeans with zip-pockets but their size "12" was three inches short of meeting around my waist. Given that the size 12 smart black skirt (with one cargo pocket) that I bought later was verging on being too big for me, and the size 12 combats that I did buy were a very comfortable fit, I think this only proves that clothes sizes are a bit arbitrary really.

While at home I sorted through lots more of my stuff. I didn't actually throw much out this time, although usually the more infrequently I go home, the easier it becomes to throw things away; I realise that if I barely even remember things, let alone miss them, then I probably don't really need them. This time, though, I brought more stuff back than I threw away -- mostly craft stuff, stationery, socks, and all my old photos.

Looking through the photos was interesting -- I was amazed to see how easily I remembered the names of people I hadn't seen for nearly 10 years. Also unsurprised to see how dreadful I looked in some of the photos ... but surprised to find that I actually looked okay in some of the others.

Seeing photos of the girl I loved for years at school aroused no emotions in me, except that I felt vaguely startled to find a photo with her face cut out -- I'd forgotten that I ever carried a photo of her in a locket. Now my memory has been prodded I remember the locket, though not cutting out the photo; I remember being ridiculously superstitious about the locket, to the extent that I refused to remove it for a Games lesson. I also remember now that I found the locket the other month -- it's rather too large and a little on the tacky side -- and I suppose I must have opened it then, but I'd forgotten it was her picture inside it.

There's probably some poetic point to be made here -- about how distance from emotion changes our perception, and how trivia persists in our memory when things that seemed earth-shatteringly important at the time are long forgotten -- but Larkin has probably already made it.