Mad Scientess Jane Expat
On the occasional full day of warm sun here, the English revel in it. If it happens during the work week, they fill every available green space from luxurious Kensington Gardens to no-name grass patches near busy intersections at lunchtime. They lounge in the grass soaking up every ray they can get as soon as they’ve scarfed down their sandwiches. The reluctant return to work is mitigated by the unanimous departure at half four in the afternoon, whereupon they return to the park. They stay put until well after sunset with their tender white skin exposed, gleefully turning pink while they swig wine or cider or Pimms or good old-fashioned lager. (Or bad old-fashioned lager.) If the day fortuitously occurs at the weekend, they simply spend the entire day in the same green patch, which they may sacrifice righteously to the coals of a barbecue at sunset.
I love watching them do it. Californians are so blasé about sunshine. It makes me a bit ashamed to remember how I often spent days running from one air-conditioned building to the next to avoid it. The English take no sunshine for granted, and their exuberance when it appears is in itself a joy to behold.
I found this earring on an early morning walk to work the day after of those rare days. I picture the girl who owned it walking fast, her brown legs offset by the favourite pair of shorts that she hardly ever gets to wear without tights underneath. She’s swinging bags full of picnic things –a blanket, cheese, olives, chocolate, two bottles of cheap pink wine. Her mobile rings – it’s one of the friends she’s meeting – and in the struggle to move the bags to one hand and get the phone from her purse to her ear, the earring flies off. She regretfully pockets the other, because that was one of her lucky pairs, but as it turns out she didn’t need it because she pulls the boy she was after anyway.
I like the way your mind works.
also: It's nice to see more photos from you.
Thank you. I hope the earring works as well for me, although I can't wear it since I don't have pierced earlobes. ;-D
No pierced ear-lobes, you say? I thought I was the Only One. Cool.
I love this shot. The slightly fu@$%ed up leaf, yet still capable of delicately holding the ear-ring in place...that sort of thing really works for me.
Mine aren't either - I don't fancy having holes poked in me! I prefer to keep my body in it's natural state.
Ha. If I ever make this vignette into part of something larger, do I have your permission to use that as the punchline?
That's a sweet picture :).
The people up here are just the same, only much more pastier. No-one likes to see a Glaswegian with his top off! But see it we do. But drinking in public is illegal, so it's mostly irn-bru, and a few paper bags surreptitiously hidden when the police sweep the park. Although on very busy sunny days in Kelvingrove they sometimes turn a blind eye to sensible, discreet drinkers.
I have considered sitting in the work car park in one of the few square metre patches of grass between the cars, but I'd get some really odd looks *g*. I went to a park once and sat under a big oak tree, but it was a 15min walk to get there, and lunch is (officially) only half an hour...
I stay out of the Sun, although I love it - I have to cover up and wear a hat. I'm am just too pale for sunshine!
Is alcohol consumption outdoors forbidden in all of Scotland, or only in Glasgow? (I've only really been to Edinburgh and up near Inverness, and I don't typically drink outdoors when traveling, so I have no idea.)
I know there are places in London where it's technically illegal to drink outdoors, but the notion of anyone enforcing it is fairly laughable. The Borough of Camden springs instantly to mind...
I'm not sure actually. It might just be Glasgow. But one gets used to it - I forget that it's not a British law.
These shots are adorable- they resonate with my childhood tendency, far from lost, to find small worlds in miniature scenes. I should've introduced you to my baby grape.
When I was small, I was obsessed with those small coloured erasers they make for school children. I loved the way they felt in my hand and the way they smelled. I wanted to eat them, but instead I just kept them, unused. I had a special word for the feeling the texture, sight and scent of them produced in me, which I've never told anyone. I'm currently trying to paint it, and if I manage to finish it, I'll title it with this word.