holiday with my mum

My parents have been married for 19 years and together for 20 and I asked them what they were doing for valentines and they both looked so disgusted and said it was commercial and they hated it and then my dad said to me that every year he sends her flowers her favourite chocolates and a card pretending to be a secret admirer because although they think it’s a stupid holiday he wants her to have chocolate and then I went to my mum and asked about her secret admirer and she said it was a running joke between them cause my dad spends the day saying he’s gonna beat up her secret admirer and they both know it’s him but it’s been going for twenty years and my mum keeps the cards and if that isn’t love idk what is

'Logan' Breakout Dafne Keen on Audition Embarrassment and Her X-23 Future

1. She comes from a film-friendly family. Keen is the daughter of British actor Will Keen (The Crown, Wolf Hall) and Spanish actress Maria Fernandez Ache, with multiple directors and writers in her extended family. “I remember spending entire school holidays in rehearsing spaces, watching my mum and dad working, and followed them around on tour or on film sets all the time,” she tells Heat Vision. “I went to see Hamlet, which they directed about 10 times, and I always loved it. I remember I used to listen to the actors rehearsing and try to remember all their lines while I played with the color filters they put in the lights.” From her parents, she says, she’s learned about “being truthful, and the most important thing being telling the story, and all working together for the same thing. I love that.” (x)

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4

5/01/2017 || Getting back into the swing of things after a whirlwind holiday. I had my bff over at my mums in the UK and it has been an absolute blast but flying back to South Africa tomorrow. Bitter sweet - saying goodbye to my mum but going to see Kieran (the bf). Decided to get back into bullet journaling as I have been all over the place lately. I have so so much to figure out at the moment like where to live, try to get a job/internship and the logistics of it all.

As I’ve been a bit down lately I really related to a blog post I saw by @sleepysadn3ss listing how to be happier in 2017 - so I thought it would be a good bujo spread.

theguardian.com
Nick Grimshaw: ‘I hate it when people say it’s time for bed’
The DJ and presenter on a memorable wedding day kiss, David Bowie’s table and his abiding love for Snickers bars
By Rosanna Greenstreet

Lancashire-born Nick Grimshaw, 32, moved to London at 21, where he worked as a DJ and interned at MTV. In 2007, he got his break presenting Channel 4’s Freshly Squeezed with Alexa Chung. That same year, he joined Radio 1, and in 2012 replaced Chris Moyles as host of the Radio 1 Breakfast Show.

What is your earliest memory?
Waking up in a car alone: I was trapped in my car seat and crying. I guess I’d been asleep and my mum and dad had let me sleep on.

Which living person do you most admire, and why?
My mum. I just got back off holiday with her and we had the most fun. She’s game for whatever.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
A really short attention span.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
People who constantly complain about how crap their life is.

What was your most embarrassing moment?
It’s always embarrassing when you fancy a guest and everyone listening knows because you’ve harped on about it for years. Jake Gyllenhaal and Chris Pratt interviews really get to me: I always get red.

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Wrong Place Wrong Time (24)

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF!
Do not reuse, edit or copy and of my work(s). ©
Part 24 of an ongoing series, enjoy :)
A fanfic for a more Mature audience due to violence and language. Read at your own risk :)

Themes=😖,🌟,💣,🎭 ,. (☠️- Harm towards characters, Strong language and Adult themes.)

Summary: You end up in the wrong place at the wrong time and it has negative repercussions. Main characters include: Reader and EXO.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4  Part 5 Part 6  Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23   Part 25  Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35 (Final)

Word Count: 2,160


“Why are you standing up, sit down, this isn’t a joke.” You said, still in disbelief staring up at him, mouth wide open.

“This isn’t a joke. I’m well aware of that” He gave you a serious look, contrast to the expression he usually wore.

“But Baekhyun…” You whispered, still shocked. How could he be the son of a tyrant it just did not make sense, and now you found yourself questioning his motives. The men were staring at Baekhyun in surprise, Jongin and Kris in particular.

“I don’t fucking believe this.” Junmyeon rolled his eyes heavenwards, letting out an exasperated sigh. “All this time I’ve had my biggest enemies children in my unit and a traitor here too who we thought we all loved dearly, who the heck am I supposed to trust?!” He banged his fists on the table looking at Baekhyun, with rage in his eyes. “Who the heck are you Baekhyun and what do you want?!”

Baekhyun shuffled uncomfortably in his spot, but he was staring intensely at Jongin and Kris, maybe he was just really beginning to process the fact that they were his brothers.

“I’m here to get rid of Red too. My story is the same as their stories, The only difference being it was me and my sister, but he did to her what he did to Kris. He drowned her, unfortunately this time he succeeded. We were twins, we did everything together.” Baekhyun frowned angrily, banging his fists on the table tears coming to his eyes. “She was only 15. A part of me died with her, a part that I’ll never get back. Red is a fucking menace and he needs to be put down permanently.” Baekhyun flopped down into his seat, staring at his hands shaking in his lap.

“I’m so sorry Baekhyun, don’t worry we’ll get him.” Kris said bowing his head.

Jongdae stood up slowly walking towards the fridge. “I’m so baffled, I need a drink. I can’t believe you’re all related.” You were with Jongdae on this one; you were still bewildered by the fact that Jongin, Kris and Baekhyun were brothers.

“Wait Jongin I have a question for you.” You spoke up, you still weren’t one hundred percent sure about all of this and you needed to clarify every single detail. “I found a sheet of paper in your room; it was almost like a checklist. You said you had to kill Luhan because he knew more than he was supposed to, what does that mean?”

He nodded quickly towards your direction, clearing his throat he began to talk. “He found out that I was Red’s son, he didn’t know that at first, you see Luhan’s father was The Professor, that you…”

“The guy I killed…” You looked at the floor, disgusted in yourself, you tried so hard to repress that dark memory in the back of your mind, it made you feel like a monster, as though you were subhuman. Jongin gave you a sorry look but nodded nonetheless.

“Red and The Professor had been partners for a number of years. But I know for a fact that the professor wasn’t happy with the percentage of his share, so if Luhan had made my identity known it would’ve blown up, then I’m sure he’d have had me killed and blamed it on Red somehow and then he would’ve been publicly shamed and lost his half of the business, or all of it meaning it would be in the Professor’s hands. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t care about the damaging Red’s status part of it all, but I did care about him trying to take me out.”

“Okay well what about Tao and Kris, you said something about there being more to them if I remember correctly.” You continued to pry, you were making sure to expose him if there was anything that he was hiding.

“At the time, I didn’t know if they were genuinely on our side or not so I was trying to delve deeper that’s all there is to it.”

You nodded your head, but you still had one question left. The most crucial in your opinion.

“Okay so explain this to me. On the night of the hotel incident, Red initially acted like he didn’t know you, but then he acted as though he knew you were working for Genesis, but he knows your his son and…ugh i’m just so confused.”

Jongin sighed deeply, pushing his hair out of his face. “Look it’s hard to explain. Nobody but him and us know that Me, Kris and apparently now Baekhyun are his children, so he has to act like he doesn’t know me and act like I’m against him and working for Genesis. Ironic thing is though I really am working for Genesis, he just doesn’t know that, he basically thought me coming in the day of the hotel incident was to favour him, but in all honesty I ambushed him and we set his produce alight.”

It was starting to make a little bit more sense now. Jongin had to pretend to play undercover in Red’s company in order for him to be undercover in Genesis. You were just hoping everything was true.
You stood up from your seat and began to walk out of the kitchen, still trying to process everything. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you turned around slowly to see Baekhyun.

“Y/N, hey I…I know I’m Red’s son, but I hope that doesn’t change your attitude towards me, I’m still me and I promise I’m on Junmyeon’s side. I just hope you guys don’t decide to treat me any different than you have up until now.” You shook your head smiling at him softly; he looked so cute with a pout painted across his face.

“Baekhyun it’s okay I believe you, I’m sorry about what happened to you and your sister…” You hung your head slightly.

“Thanks. I –I just miss her every day you know. She was my best friend, we couldn’t be separated. And then she was taken, just like that.” He smiled sadly, gulping to stop himself from crying. “Will you excuse me for a moment please…?” Baekhyun side stepped you and continued walking down the corridor, you let out a sigh. Life just continued to keep on becoming challenging in this house and it was becoming quite suffocating.  
You crept into the living room; you needed some time to reflect on everything that had gone on lately. The revelation of who Jongin, Kris and Baekhyun were, Minseok’s death, his apparent resurrection and whatever was going on between the two of you. Also you needed to think about what you’d do with Yixing. Not bothering to switch on the light you let out a loud sigh and dropped down on the sofa behind you.

“OUCH! For fuck sake!”

You jumped up again, in complete and utter shock, looking down at the sofa.
“Oh my goodness, Sehun I didn’t see you there I’m sorry.”

“Stupid bitch…” He mumbled, sitting up with a displeased expression on his face. You walked closer to the door to switch on the light so you could see properly.

“Don’t worry I won’t bother you.” You sat on a different sofa to him, hugging a cushion to your chest and staring at nothing in particular.

“So Baekhyun’s one of them too? I heard you guys talking from here.” Sehun muttered quietly, peering at you from where he was lying on his sofa.

“Yes he is.” You answered, not wanting to talk too much. You liked Sehun the least out of all of the boys, he still hadn’t given you a chance to like him yet. In fact you pretty much hated him.

“I know you’ve been hanging out with Minseok lately, you’re reaction to his death was way too emotional for someone that has tried killing you multiple times. I just want you to know that Minseok is my best friend so don’t you dare try and get too comfortable. Minseok is all I have left. The boys are great but Minseok is really all I have.” He looked at you through angry eyes.

“Sehun, I’m not trying to steal Minseok from you, but have you ever considered for a moment what it’s like being in this house for me. It’s really really hard, I’m trying so hard to adjust and to get along with you guys, but someone’s always angry at me. I miss home. I’m sick of seeing the same four walls everyday, but yet I’m just stuck” You sighed heavily resting your head into the cushion in your lap.

Sehun scoffed. “Do you think I wanted to be here? I’m in the same position as you Y/N. I was on the plane to Iceland for holiday, when my mum died in my arms.”
You gasped, sitting up and facing him properly.

“I literally sat there…with her dead body in my hands, and I felt her getting colder and colder. She was taking Supplements by Red then, that’s what killed her. It was only me and my mum, when I lost her I lost everything. I have an older sister, but she never really wanted to know she was too busy loving up her husband and chasing money, she didn’t take me in. So I ended up here. Luhan and Minseok practically raised me after my mum died, but Luhan…” He stopped, trying to recompose himself and to stop himself from crying again.
“You’ve not lost anyone Y/N, you’re the one who doesn’t know how it feels.”

“That’s not true Sehun, I’ve lost myself. I’m not the person I used to be I just feel like an empty shell. Besides, my family have lost me, you can’t imagine that I feel good about that do you?” He paused for a moment, looking at you in silence and then rolling his eyes.

“That’s nothing compared to having your mother die in your arms.” He got up and walked out of the room. You felt somewhat bad, trying to make it as though your issues were bigger than his, that was definitely not your intention. You were becoming really fed up with everything about your life right now, it seemed to be a burden instead of a blessing.

“Board now!” You heard Junmyeon shout, as if on impulse you stood up and made your way there. You didn’t need to, it’s not like you were part of the underground group but it had become something automatic now. Every single man was in the room this time, including Minseok, who decided to sit on one side of you, Chanyeol on the other side.

“I think it’s time we start planning how we’re going to take Red down, don’t you?” Junmyeon said, looking around the table at everyone’s faces. “We need all hands on deck. That includes you Y/N.”

Your eyes widened. You? Again? This was not going to end well, it never did.

“I’m not comfortable with that.” Chanyeol frowned, looking at Junmyeon and resting his hand on your shoulder.

“Chanyeol, we don’t have too much of a choice. Plus she’s capable she’ll be okay. She always has been.” Your face contorted, why was he putting you out on the front line again, it never went well when you were around, and you were not trained to take out Red, you weren’t trained for anything at all, you were just here by an unfortunate accident.

“Actually. I agree with Chanyeol, maybe she should stay.” Minseok spoke up to your side, he was defending you and it was making your heart flutter involuntarily. You heard Yixing scoff from across the table.

“Of course you’d agree with him.” You looked up him through pleading eyes, that were begging him to keep quiet, but he didn’t care. “You want to protect your girlfriend don’t you?”

“Yixing…”You whispered. The rest of the boys looked at you and Minseok confused, whilst Minseok was trying to kept a straight and unsuspecting face.

“Will you tell them or shall I?” He asked you spitefully, looking at you through angry eyes.

“Tell us what?” Jongin frowned, looking at you, but you were still looking worriedly at Yixing in silence.

“The fact that they’re sleeping with each other. I’m pretty sure I walked in on them prepping for sex or just finishing it up.” He raised an eyebrow, everyone turned around looking at the both of you in shock apart from Jongin and Chanyeol, who both seemed slightly disgusted.

“That’s not true is it Y/N?” Chanyeol nudged you in the side with his elbow.

“No it’s not! I’ve not been screwing Minseok!”

Yixing laughed sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat smugly. “Well I definetly saw you two kissing, you couldn’t keep your hands, and lips off of each other for that matter.”

Chanyeol nudged you in your side again. “Y/N?…”

You stood up from your seat and walked out of the room angrily, calling back behind you.

“I don’t have time for this shit!”


“Why won’t you deny it then?!” Chanyeol shouted after you.

what’s in your bag: rose granger-weasley

Rose: Okay so first off I have my book!  My mum is always saying never leave the house without a book…

Rose: I’m currently reading A Tale of Two Cities

Rose: Moving on, next we have my favorite lipstick!

Rose: I never go anywhere without this on me. Aunt Fluer bought me a bunch of makeup over christmas holiday since mum knows shit about makeup.

Rose: Up next is my favorite perfume! 

Rose: It ironically enough smells like roses. So I guess I’m always smelling as fresh as a rose *budum tsss*

Rose: Oh and here is my journal…

Rose: I enjoy writing a lot so whenever I have an idea I make sure to jot them down in here.

Rose: Obviously for writing that would require pens and pencils…Plus you never know who’s going to come unprepared to class so it’s nice to have a spare one!

Hugo: *walks in* Hey Rose- What are you doing?

Hugo: Are you talking to a BOX? I’M TELLING MUM YOU’VE GONE COMPLETELY MENTAL!


(OOC: So I saw some awesome people doing this ( @kapitan5o @egdramaqueen @son-0f-a-snitch ) and decided to hop on the bandwagon!! Hope you enjoyed this thing I made while I should’ve been studying whoops…)

Home

This has always been a tricky little topic for me.

Age three, my parents separated. So, I grew up with ‘home home’, my grandmother’s house (where my mum & I lived for years following the split), ‘dad’s home’ – and I also lived at my aunt’s house during the holidays while my mum had to work. In any case, ‘home’ was always a term in flux.

On a wider scale, ‘home’ often refers to where you are from. In my case, this is Birmingham.

I had never known anything different to Birmingham until I started studying at the University of Cambridge. During this time, I saw Cambridge as more my ‘home’ than Birmingham; after all, it was the first place I had ever discovered alone. The winding streets, the bustle of tourists – I found it magical and new and completely and utterly mine.

Alas, this was temporary.

After discovering I was to move to London last summer, there was a moment – you may possibly remember it, I wrote a blog post – where I sat in New Street station (or should I say, ‘Grand Central’) and felt slightly sad to leave Birmingham.

I’m not really sure why. My memories of Birmingham are not usually wholly positive, harking back to a time where an awkward teenager who didn’t quite fit roamed, yet to discover the breadth and the possibilities of the world outside the city she was currently residing in. Nevertheless, in Grand Central last year, I felt a small spark, a flicker, of what I think some people may feel when they think of ‘home’.

I haven’t felt that towards Birmingham since.

Each time I go back to visit Birmingham, there is a change to the city. A new coffee shop or restaurant is created, my usual bus no longer stops by my house – there’s even a new tram system which has been implemented. The city itself is slowly shifting towards a better future, a more streamlined look. It’s fabulous and fantastic – but it’s no longer the Birmingham of my upbringing. I feel with every new building that is built, with every new brick laid and splash of paint applied, the city is slowly shutting me out. I feel alien.

I have changed, the city has changed. We just don’t fit.

Less alien, however, is the once unfamiliar and intimidating life in London. Each day I step onto the Victoria Line with precise regularity. I understand the ins and outs of what you should and shouldn’t do here. I’ve adapted to the late nights, the early mornings, and I’m haphazardly juggling everything accordingly. My 10 months here have absolutely flown by in a whirlwind of tube journeys, brunches, Friday drinks and canal runs.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Central London still seems like an institution. Impenetrable.

But I have found an absolute sanctuary in my edge-of-Zone-2, pokey, £££££££ per month flat in Hackney Wick.

I’m currently writing this post in an #edgy vegan coffee shop and lunch spot called Mother, in Here East, a building which was once used by production/news companies during the Olympics, but which is now formed of empty spaces that are slowly becoming occupied by independent businesses. It’s an ideal spot, overlooking the canal in the sunshine – a people-watcher’s dream. Looking around, I can see a diverse stream of people walking and cycling along the canal today, or sunbathing, or drinking coffee, or having breakfast/lunch. There’s ‘90s music playing. I’m drinking a smoothie that has ‘cacao’ in it. I’m about to go to the gym.

I’ve never felt so free as I do here. I’ve never felt so accepted, even in Cambridge. Perhaps I wholeheartedly fulfil the artsy stereotype of the people who live here - I mean, I am currently wearing my mom jeans, an oversized cotton shirt thrown on over them, typing furiously on my Macbook with my large, taupe glasses on.

But perhaps I feel at home here in Hackney Wick because I’ve realised I don’t even have to try to fit in here, because everything and everyone is just so different. I walk along the canal and see people tending to their boats, some painting them, some watering plants on top of them, some hosting BBQs and drinking cider on them. Each and every life here is different, and it’s liberating. I’ve never felt like this before.

It’s made me want to try new things – for example, I went bouldering a couple of weeks ago with my housemates. Bouldering. It was incredibly fun, but I couldn’t quite get over the fact that I had done that, and enjoyed it. Me.

I feel less scared to be me. To discover new things. To fuck up.  

And perhaps this is what home feels like. Finding a place that allows you to be content in your own skin, your own body, your own mind. Finding a place that allows you to roam free. A place that accepts the fact that you’re a theatre-going, gin-and-elderflower drinking, life-drawing, book-reading, gym-going, (bouldering), stressed, single, account executive who is still figuring herself out and wanting to meet lots of different people with different experiences.

No doubt, I could go all statistical and strategic and say that factors such as age demographic, etc. widely affect attitudes/preferences towards a place. I don’t doubt that in the future, Hackney Wick will no longer feel like home – we are, after all, creatures who are in constant change. But right now, I’m home, and I’m happy.

ok so y'all know how I keep saying my house is haunted me and my parents sat down and tried to remember everything fucked that has happened here is a quick list:

- the cactus incident

-last night I was trying to go into my room and the door blew shut in my face, literally seconds later an envelope is slid down the back of my dads shirt, the envelope was in a different room

- my dad found a video on his phone of him sleeping, we don’t know who took it

- when we were on holiday once on holiday without my mum, my dad had a dream that his phone was ringing and a voice said to him ‘you better answer that she needs you’ he wakes up and seconds later my mum rings crying, there were no missed calls so the ringing didn’t wake him up

- dad keeps seeing weird lights in the living room at night

- when we first got Catniss she was sitting cuddled up next to me and then all of a sudden she is digging her claws into me and jumping up hissing at something, she is staring at the other side of my room for about a minute with all her fur sticking up like she’s scared, there is nothing there

- my mum keeps waking up with weird scratches and bite marks on her

- we took out a fireplace in my mums room, when the wall was opened up something that smelled like sulphur filled my mums room for weeks, we couldn’t go in there it was so bad

- doors open and close by themselves, this includes the front wire door which was doing it at the same time every morning for like three months

- when we were renovating the kitchen we pulled up the lino and under it was some very old news paper clippings and what appear to be blood stains

- I found some numbers written on my window ledge, no one knows who wrote them but we know they weren’t always there

- one of my mirrors keeps moving in its frame

- my mum says she once saw a doll stand up and jump off her wardrobe, me and my dad don’t believe her but she insists it happened

- all the dogs we have ever owned have dug in the same spot in the backyard, right where the concrete meets the dirt, our current dog dug really deep and revealed a bit of fabric sticking out from under the concrete which my mum found, she waited for my dad to get home from work to show it to him but when he got back it was gone

- one time a lady came and asked to see our house, she said she was the daughter of the previous owner, we asked my grandma about it bc she technically own the house and was good friends with the dude who used to own it, he didn’t have a daughter

- one time the police knocked on our door and asked us if we knew anything about the previous owner, because they were investigating an old case about a dude who used to live across the street from us who went missing

- before I was born my mums wardrobe used to bang a single time around about the same time every night, this stopped right after I was born

- my mum says she used to see an old lady, my dad says he’s seen her too

- mum says her blanket keeps getting pulled off of her in her sleep

- all of us have felt an animal jump on our bed and curl up next to us when none of our pets are actually there

- one time I went outside and I saw a little dog run under the fence that separates the front of our yard from the back (bc we have chickens) I assumed this was my little dog Bella but when I went back inside she was locked in the kitchen, I am now convinced that this is my little dog Molly who died when i was 13

- one time we found two fucked up looking dolls on our front porch, we assume my grandpa put them there but don’t really know, the night they showed up we heard a scratching at the front door

- my mums says that sometimes her bed shakes, both of her sisters who used to live here have also told me this

- sometimes I can hear an animal rustling around under my bed even though there isn’t one there

- balls keep bouncing down the hall out of nowhere

- 1 time I was telling my mum about a murder case and our computer turned itself on and scared the shit out of us

- one time my mum was playing around on one of those weird mobile things that ur meant to be able 2 talk to ghosts on and it said ‘Texas home’ as she heard me open the front door after getting home from school and we used to have a dog called Texas who would sit by the front door and wait for me to come home every day

Will add 2 this is I remember anything else

No, seriously: One time my mum and dad rented out a holiday trailer from the parents of that boy who kept viciously hassling me in school. (”Sean? Stop talking nonsense, Sharon. He’s a nice boy! Ray is a nice woman.”)

*Me upon entering him and his little brother’s room*

“Boy, what fun shall I have now?”

*some time later in the Maths classroom*

*Sharon, why is your hair always so greasy?”

“I let my dog shit in your bed, by the way.”

“He wants kids, and he says I’ll change my mind about not wanting them... I love him. I’m just really worried.”

I remember asking an ex, quite early on, if his imagined future involved kids. He said, with a shrug, “Yeah, someday.” 

At the time I was psyched that anyone was showing interest in me at all, so I chose to pay attention to the ‘someday’ (i.e., ‘not now’)… rather than the other, far more dangerous word. The one I should have looked at, hard, and cut my small losses before I got hurt.

In that ‘yeah’, I should have heard the truth: that we had a big, base level incompatibility. 

This wasn’t a case of he liked Chinese and I preferred pizza. This was a dialogue that went, “What are you planning on doing with your life?”, and he replied, “Everything you’re not.”

That decision - children, or no children - influences so much else, too. 

That one incompatibility might seem like a single shadow moving beneath the surface of the frozen lake. But its presence means there are other things down there.

The presence of children in your life will impact everything - not just your career, or the city you live in, but everything from how often you get a nice long shower, what food gets put on the plates at the end of the day, how you’ll spend your evenings after work, where you’ll be booking your holidays, how often you can afford to get a haircut. Everything. My mum said she didn’t have a single drawer in the house that was just hers.

If I want Chinese, but my husband fancies pizza, we can figure something out. Maybe we’ll have Chinese this time, then pizza next time. 

But when the question is children, there’s no compromise to be found. You can’t rent a child for half the year. You can’t try the child for a month and see if it suits you. 

And it’s a choice that would affect every other choice you will make during your life. 

Every. Single. One. 

What hairstyle to go for? Something short the baby can’t grab. White blouse or black? Go for the mustard colour - hides any stains from baby. Shall we go to Mexico or Prague this year? Nope, we’ll go to the place near Southampton with the kids club and the pool. What’s for dinner? Whatever the kids moan about the least these days.

I know you love him. 

And I know that it’s easy to be worried - to think of love like a shy deer - so rare, so temperamental and so fragile, and you’re frightened that if you disturb it, it will dart off into the undergrowth and you’ll never see it again.

For women, especially when we’re young, there’s an unspoken attitude that we shouldn’t be too choosy or selective when it comes to the men we date - instead, we should be kinda grateful for the offer. We should let our compassionate female eyes pass graciously and without comment over flaws, incompatibilities, disrespect and attitude problems, and instead be glad we were chosen at all for the honour of male attention. 

We’re encouraged to remain loyal, loving and respectful to a man who hears us say “I don’t want…” or “I don’t like…” - and chooses to wave our opinion aside.

Even if it’s a deep-seated opinion. 

Even if it’s on something that will impact every choice you ever make again. Everything from what car you drive to what food is in the cupboards. Everything.

I know you love him. I wish I could pour you another coffee, wave an airy hand and say, “Nah, children don’t affect things that much. You can work around it.”

But I can’t.

Anyone who treats his opinion like a fortress, unassailable and full of authority, and treats yours like an old carrier bag caught in the wind… is not a man you should have children with.

I’m not a parent. I don’t know how to raise a child. 

But I know it’s easier with two of you, united on the things that matter.

If you can’t sincerely agree whether the children should exist at all, how will you agree an approach to discipline? Potty-training? Homework? How will you agree whether they have a mobile phone aged eleven or not? How will you agree how late they can stay out? Every single issue, you will be dragged back - right back - to the beginning, and stuck there, unable to leave it: “Well, I didn’t really want children in the first place…”

And you’ll be there for life.

I know you love him. I know you feel like you should be loyal to him somehow, and overlook all the problems, because… it’s what decent women do, isn’t it? Because you’ll be rewarded with a ring if you make yourself agreeable enough to him, and that’s the ultimate prize… right? The ring and the crib? You’re meant to want them, both of them together like a neat little set… aren’t you?

I don’t know if anyone has told you this before - but it’s okay, if you don’t want those.

It’s okay if your ultimate prize would be a big garden of your own, a nice clean house and a special wine fridge. Or perhaps your name on that frosted glass door, under ‘Chief Executive’ in gold. Your novel for sale in the bookshop. That passport full of stamps, full of memories.

And you’re allowed to value that more than some prospective Proud-Dad-of-Three’s seal of male approval. 

Don’t let the world tell you that marriage and children (always together) are a covetable prize handed out only to worthy, agreeable women.

Your opinion matters just as much as his.

If he’s putting a question mark over that fact, ignoring what you say in the golden light of what he says, that’s a solid iron guarantee right there of what your life would be like as mother to his children.

And believe me: that’s all you’d be.

I’m sorry - and for what it’s worth, one last time, I know you love him.

But love isn’t a rare, once-in-a-lifetime chance. Real love isn’t flighty and fragile like a butterfly, ready to flutter away forever at the first hint that you have your own opinions. In fact, when the opportunity for real love arises, it’s amazing how safe you will feel - how secure. You’ll be staggered by how much you agree on. You’ll be reassured by how right it feels.

It’s safe to let this one go. 

Honestly. I promise.

Not bloody vikings

So. 

I’m a Heathen because I live in North Lancashire, in the Danelaw, because my ‘ancestors’ were here - even though I’m Cornish born and bred. My one-eyed grandfather used to preach in Lancashire and Cumbria. My mum remembers holidays here and the Lake District. I’m one of the Hanged God’s cos I was hanged in the womb, but also because I began my proper magical life in Hanging Town.

When I can, I honour our literal peer, Baron Ashton,on Good Friday/Easter Saturday, with cigars and rum, at home, or at his memorial if I can.. This place’s dead are my dead now. Its water has nourished me for 17 years, its isotopes are in my teeth, my bones.

When Legba told this white Cornish boy the lwa weren’t his ancestors, but that he had ancestors here up North, that was what he meant. Dead in the ground, some become landwights, some just *here*.

And now my Mum’s ashes are here - she died in Preston. My Dad just moved to the building next door.

I’m not a Heathen cos I want to play Viking. I’m one cos this place got into my bones. And yeah, I’m a Brit, but moving 300+ miles from an an area where you’ve had traceable kin since 1400? That’s a wrench, for me. Sounds like nothing, but, it isn’t.

But what people forget is roots grow in all directions through the earth, Wherever there’s the water of memory. The proper nutrients. They’ll grow sideways, upward, downward. Find things to climb up, entangle round, embrace.

Connections, roots, they happen through the dead and the land. You just have to learn to notice them. And that’s a *skill*, it really is.

As a FB/Mugtome friend wrote, emphases mine:

If ancestors are considered at all, it is either in the narrowest possible terms - such as deceased family members who you knew in life but might not have had the best relationship with, or who might have been fundamentalist Christians that would disapprove of such practices, etc. Or else with this weird 400-year disconnect, where they want to edit out the whole complicated ugly history and horror of their ancestors’ actual lives in the Americas, and hark back to a romanticized idea of their ancestors as they were in Europe.

[…]

There often seems to be an underlying desire to absolve one’s ancestors of any complicity in genocide and slavery by conveniently skipping over that section of their ancestors and instead venerating “nice” imaginary idealized ones from before colonialism when their hands were clean. But nobody’s hands are ever clean, and certainly not within the history of Europe prior to colonization of the Americas.

Your ancestors are going to include some reprehensible fucking bastards, no matter who you are, and you have to own your own dead. You don’t have to condone their bullshit or justify what they did in their lives, or make excuses for them, or even sit in judgement over them - but you do have to own them. You are your ancestors - the sum total of all of the desperate day-to-day lives and entanglements that culminated in your birth - and you will always dance to the tune of your own nature and nurture. But you are also the only one with the choice and free will to decide where you’re going to take that ancestral inheritance from this point forward[.]

Our contemporary moment - right this instant - emerges out of our ancestral past and its myriad entanglements of joy and suffering, and it’s our responsibility to shepherd that moment into tomorrow. The conductor’s baton is in our hand for a minute, and you have to make that minute count. It’s harder to do that, or to do it constructively, if you are estranged from your own ancestors - or if you are in denial about who they were or what they did. 

[…]

To engage with the mysteries of landscape is to engage with the mysteries of the dead, and engaging with the mysteries of your own ancestral landscape can be a means of approaching your own ancestral dead, nameless or otherwise. The streets they walked down, the places where they drank, the types of food they ate. People always go on about how America doesn’t have history like Europe does, but it totally has history. If it has dead in the ground, it has history. Even Miami, which has less history than most pubs where I used to drink in London, is a landscape teeming with the dead.

 […]You are who you are, your ancestors did what they did. You can’t change any of that, but you *can* pay close attention to the voices of the dead as they emerge through landscape. You can take uncompromising ownership of the emergent process of human lives that culminated in your own life, however raw and ugly, and decide what the next sentence of that narrative is going to be. You can have an ancestral practice that is rooted in the realities of your actual dead within America, and the landscape and history that they weave through.

 Ancestor work is not really about that, [it’s] about giving the future a solid foundation - and that might not always be easy or comfortable to engage with as a process - but nobody else is going to do it. Thorny material may arise, but the strategies of ancestor work are replete with methods for mediating such difficulties. It’s not a half-hour sit-com, and you are not going to cheerily resolve all the gnawing torment and wickedness that wracks that landscape and churns through those dead, but you can do your bit. You can set your light in the darkness, and contribute to creating a foundation for the future that is a little more solid, a little more aware of its past, and a little less in denial about the realities of its history. It’s the work.


31.07.2017
Yesterday I had a trial shift for Lush and I don’t think it went very well. I was ridiculously nervous and didn’t perform as well as I could have, and there were so many crowds of international students and I don’t speak Spanish! But I still got loads of goodies so it’s fab anyway! I’m content with not getting the job because it was my first ever interview for a real job and a trial shift so I’m proud I got this far anyway! Say a prayer for me to get it, please and thank you!

Today my mum and sister and stepdad went on holiday and I have the house to myself, so I’m cooking for my boyfriend and he’s a meat eater so I’m struggling a little bit but I’m trying! Wish me bonne chance as this veggie attempts to be a meaty chef for the night!

anonymous asked:

I made my sister watch captain America movies and she was like "why is this a cap movie if it has all the avengers in it? Should it be avengers: civil war?" and I was like "GIRL don't get me started on that ..."

I was on holiday and discovered that my mum has thought it was an Avengers film for the last year and a half and the family that we met out there also thought it was an Avengers film, so say what you want about it but casual viewers didn’t even realise it was a Cap film

how my holidays are panning out so far:
  • my mum, after i have come home buzzing from a prom: so are you going to the one tomorrow then...?
  • me: yep!
  • my mum: how can you afford it?!
  • me: ...if i don't spend money on ANYTHING else...
  • my mum: *glances at the scores i have recently bought from the score dealer outside the concert hall, and then back at me*
  • me: ....OKAY i won't buy anymore scores