February 11th, 2009



This sucks. I've been in bed almost all day. Holly took great care of me while she was here, but she's gone back to Sussex for a dentist's appointment, and I'm feeling her absence. I didn't mention it so much in the previous entry, but I'm really not very well at the moment. I've got persistent headaches (lowish-level, but still there), a high temperature, and a bad cough that sometimes is so bad it hurts my throat and chest. At Holly's order, I thus didn't attend the translation seminar earlier: it's the first uni lesson I have missed in years. I really do strive for perfect attendance, but with a pounding head and a cough a smoker would be horrified with, I reluctantly concurred with her order. The rest of the day, I've been alternating between lying in bed and being on the Internet, trying to take my mind off the ow.

*and as if to prove a point, I just coughed a lot and my voice has temporarily gone*

I had meant to spend this afternoon on a few things, not least slaving away at making my own room (I've been in Holly's all day) clean and respectable again before the imminent inspections. I also wanted to do the translation homework that should have been for today's lesson and so on. Now the day is almost over, and I've done little aside from occasional posts online, sleep, eat a little, drink a little, play a little Worms, and the like. I hope I feel better tomorrow. Hey, even if I don't, I still *need* to do things. Next week is Reading Week, it's the best opportunity for me to catch up on my dissertation work, which is so far behind I'm terrified I've already doomed myself.

I still want to go dress shopping at the weekend though. And Asobi Seksu are playing a gig in London on Tuesday, which I'm unsure whether I'll go to or not. Probably not, for time and money.

Now, as for this title...I suppose you can guess. I've been following the horrific bushfires in Victoria for a few days now, watching the videos and reading the reports. It honestly terrified me to think of the tragedy involved. I pictured a wall of flame rushing towards me, my loved ones, all my possessions. I keep thinking I'd not have made it. But it's not about me. I feel so upset for those who have lost loved ones, for those whose lives and livelihoods have been burnt to ashes. I don't think so much about the firebugs, partially because I honestly cannot comprehend how any living human being could do that. It doesn't make any kind of sense to me, and it's horrible horrible horrible. I suppose I didn't realise how affected I'd been by all of this, until this morning, when reading the news to take my mind of my high temperature, I saw a report of a family from Marysville. The father went out to start the car, and halfway down the drive, a fireball whizzed out of the blazing forest straight into the house, and the resulting explosion instantly killed his wife and their two sons, as well as severely burning his back.

And I burst into tears, and cried for two solid minutes. Holly advised me not to get so involved in tragedies in the future, and perhaps she's right. I've always found it heartbreaking, but with recent changes, it's taking much more of a toll on me. I get worried, because it must make me easy to hurt, but I'd like to think I can strike the balance. I can't believe I cried for so long this morning, but perhaps things have always been that way.

Ah, welcome back headache. I'm retreating back to bed now xx

Do You Remember?

...cherry blossoms in the market square, do you remember, the way we thought it was...hang on, that's a song.

What is your earliest childhood memory?

You wouldn't believe me. I'm not one who claims to have memories from the womb, but nevertheless, I remember things which certain psychology books tell me I should not be able to. Take our family's first house in Bobber's Mill. I remember the garden, especially the small flowerbed between the bricks, and I remember the flimsy garage. I remember bouncing on one of my baby things in the red-carpeted living room. I remember the local sweet shop, I remember being taken along the local roads, and I remember heading round the corner to a small terraced house where an Indian family lived who liked to take care of me while my parents were out. The problem with all this? We moved into our current family home a few days before my first birthday.

Photographic memory, hmm?

I'm very good at remembering places, or sights. Sometimes I will scare my family by saying we've been somewhere before, and I usually turn out to be correct. I remember the wait at the Marienborn checkpoint to get into East Germany, when I was about one and a half. I remember the Scottish resort village of Glen Trool Lodge where we stayed a few days before my brother was born, when I was three, and I remember visiting my mother in the ward when it happened. I remember my uncle playing snooker when we rented out a house in Wales when I was two.

It's a blessing. But it can also be a curse. Because it's all the easier to know what is now gone forever.

I don't like the structure of these 'Writer's Block's, but I don't recall having mentioned this on here for a while.

I really need a glass of water.