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As the only person in this block of accommodation I feel it is my duty to see just how loudly I can play my music before I reach my own auditory limits.
But miles is just too adolescent. And ella is too twee.

I am so un rock n roll.

The dance shoes are not coming home with me. They have failed to go the distance. Massive holes in the sides, rubber sole coming away from the sides. Never being completely dry has done the expected damage. But the sueded sole has stood up to the task. But they’re only 8 months old
and making an incredible olfactory contribution to my luggage. Alas, poor dance shoes. I loved you well

My feet are still numb and pins and needles in alternating bursts. Sitting upright for any serious amount of time results in very uncomfortable numbness and tingling. And cramps. But definitely better than they were – pain killers are no longer necessary for sleeping.
But some mild concern about looming plane epic.

Dance shoes are not to blame. Excessive dancing is.

Seeking a suitable dance shoe alternative. The ked, while a wonderful shoe, is perhaps not the best option. Need a wider shoe. Though the padded ked was almost enough support. I need more support, but light. And not too thick a sole. Hm. Thorough investigation of all alternatives is in order

Hiking boots: still rawk. Still the best shoes ever.
Should have bought those cheap flippers in London: I long for thongs.

well, i wish i had my sandals.i almost brought them. or thongs. absoutely essential here. otherwise, i wear my dance shoes almost all day, and they never have the chance to dry out. so they smell really good. they’re also breaking. my hiking boots also rock – they’re good for tramping through the swedish countryside between classes. especially as it’s rained so much here.

They were flogging these tshirts for next year’s London Lindy Exchange (LLX2005) and I had to have one. I’m not sure if it’s a play on Brit Pop or Hip Hop, but I like it. 100% lindy nerd. The words are in silver capitals. Could this be more perfect?

i’m sorry there hasn’t been that many photos lately. it’s just that it’s too dark to take photos at dance stuff, most of the outside daytime things i want to photograph are too far away (so would look crap in the little dig), and i’m too busy touristing with big round eyes to actually take photos. i will soon, though. i promise.

i did see a really nice bag for momo mumo? you know that camera – in the photographers’ gallery. very nice texture. very groovy. not as expensive as you’d think. i was very tempted. but then i reminded myself that Big Pants with Big pockets were much more useful than yet another rinkydink bag.

will try to take more photos of london. will start soon. i think i’m going to go take photos of eva’s kids’ toys: lots of wonderful colours and shapes just lying around on the purple carpet, or clutched to pink velvet chests.

i’ve just had a look at some other sites, plus all that gallery-ing here in london, and decided that i need to revamp this dogpossum site. it’s time to get creative. i mean, i like the white background – makes my pictures look good – but it’s a trifle dull. time to get jiggy with boarders and padding and things i think. i am staying with an artist here in london, whose house is filled with lovely, colourful things and is painted all sorts of wonderful colours (ikea has a fairly high saturation point in london, so i’ve noticed), so i’m feeling a bit inspired… hmmm…. will think carefully and Make Plans.

check back over my blog for entries i’ve backdated. you may not have read all the entries for the past month (june or july). i know it’s annoying… but i want to be chronologically consistent. i’m writing articles on the laptop regularly, but only occasionally get a chance to upload them.:)

Ok, so British food is pretty scary, most of the time: heavy on the dairy and white bread, low on the fresh veggies, but I seem to be doing quite a good job of stuffing it down my neck. At first I thought I’d stuffed up with the clothes dryer and shrunk a pair of pants. But it wasn’t possible for me to have shrunk the trousers I hadn’t worn yet.
Seems all that time sitting on my clack while I was ill, plus two weeks of high-fat, low-impact holidaying have taken their toll. So much for all that gym time. I mean, it’s not like I’m sitting in front of the telly all day: I’m out every day, on and off buses, wandering around interesting towns, in and out of old buildings, through fields, over bridges and in and out of tea rooms.
At home I’m pretty damn active: lots of bike riding, a bit of dancing, off to the gym twice a week, etc etc. But here, I’m eating far more, i’m far more sedentary, spending more time on my date on buses, and certainly not riding any bikes or dancing (so far anyway). All the nostalgia food hasn’t helped: hula hoops, jaffa cakes, chocolate buttons. Lucky I’ve gotten over them, now. I can move on. Perhaps.

Shee-it. Well, there’s London next week. I’ll be doing some dancing there, I hope. I’m sure.
I’ve only so many pairs of pants with me: I can’t afford to get any bigger.

Thursday 8 July 2004

Yesterday I was sitting in a tea room in Salisbury, enjoying a nice lunch and chat with a nanna I’d just met and who’d invited me to share her table with her, when I realised that I was the youngest person in the room by about forty years. And then I had a think about my previous declarations that I am a nanna-magnet. It really shouldn’t have surprised me so much: I’ve spent a great deal of time this trip in tea rooms or on public transport. And the over 70s are overrepresented in these two spaces. I’ve had nice lunches in tea rooms in Brecon, Bristol, Salisbury, Swindon, Marlborough and Cardiff, and will no doubt add a few more to my list before I’m done.

Thing is, tea rooms are one of the few places you can rely on decent sandwiches, bottomless tea pots and a clean bathroom.

You can also rely on the fact that most of the other people in the room with you at 2pm on a weekday will be over 70.

Owen was the cousin getting married last Saturday. He’s the one on the left. Tom is his younger brother. He was a grooms’ man. They are both really tall, but Tom is huge. He plays rugby, but his new job and a troublesome knee (which my brother and I also have) are pushing him out of serious football and into playing ‘for fun’. Owen is into soccer. I amn’t much interested in either, but I live in the land of AFL, which is more like gaelic football. The grandfather is Irish. My dad played rugby, then touch footy. My brother also played rugby. Then basketball, til his knees discouraged him. I dance, but I’m tougher than them, so I’m working on my posture and the way I use the muscles in my legs so my knees won’t hurt or get injured.
Tom is the sillier of the two, usually, so this series of photos is a nice contrast.