Sunday, 4 November 2012

Holiday blues

THis dream is possibly one of the weirdest I've had - and that's saying something! Started with me and my friend N at an unnamed London airport, waiting to catch a flight to Istanbul. I was very panicky, because I didn't know where anything was, I kept thinking that I had lost my tickets, was trying to find somewhere to have a smoke and the loos had weird symbols on them that I couldn't understand so I walked into the men's by mistake. Then, to make things worse, the flight was delayed. First by 20 minutes, then it kept creeping up until it was an hour. But it was hard trying to find out what was going on and I was terrified I might miss the flight. Then, for some reason, I decided to check on what B was up to. As is possible in dreamland, I suddenly appeared where he was - in a small boat in shark infested waters somewhere in the Indian Ocean. This had me even more panicky, especially when someone told me that part of the fun was that they were going into the water to ride on a whale, called a 'ridge'. I went mental and told him that there was no way I was going to allow him to ride a whale, nor to go into the sea that was full of sharks. Then I thought that the boat was far too small and flimsy to withstand a shark attack and demanded to see the skipper. He was a young kid, no older than B and I thought there was no possible way he could be qualified for this. So I demanded to see his qualifications, at which point he produced a small bit of paper, like a till receipt, covered in a foreign language that I couldn't understand. I was yelling that there was no way this was real and did not prove that he was qualified, all the time worried that sharks would attack, that B would die or be maimed and that I would miss my flight to Istanbul. Even though I had decided I didn't really want to go anyway. Next thing, I was back in the airport. The plane had arrived and people were being ushered onto it, while airport staff were walking around offering refunds to people who didn't want to go on it now because it was so late. I was frantically trying to find someone because I wanted a refund and to get back to get B out that boat, but the man I eventually managed to find told me I wasn't eligible for a refund. I was so anxious by then, I was practically in tears but I kept being pushed onto the plane. N was saying how much she was looking forward to seeing Istanbul, completely unaware of anything else happening. I was panicking and screaming that I didn't want to get on the plane, I just wanted to leave, when I woke up. Took me a good half an hour to stop feeling anxious!

Saturday, 20 October 2012

Breaking Dawn: A Prophecy

Yes you read that right. Breaking Dawn is a prophecy. Or at least it was in this particular dream of mine. I was living in West Bay, hanging on the green by the pub one ordinary afternoon. Then I was kidnapped by extreme Twi hards. They thought that Breaking Dawn was a prophecy and it was their duty to see that it came true. In it, there was another wedding, between Charlie Swan (father of the wet and extremely irritating 'heroine' of the Twilight series), and a woman whose identity I did not know. These Twihards had decided that I was that woman and therefore it was my destiny to marry Charlie Swan. Or rather, the man they had decided was the living embodiment of Charlie Swan. Utterly bewildered and wondering what the hell was going on, I tried to reason with my kidnappers - all women - and tell them that the book wasn't prophecy and why on earth would they think I would marry some man I didn't know just because they thought I should. I remember one woman looking at me with that fervent zeal in her eyes. You know the one, it's the same one that extremely religious people get when they're trying to convert you. Or the one that the student midwife gave me when she was telling me how fascinating it was being in the room when I gave birth. Anyway, my reasoning didn't work, she just gave me that look and exclaimed in a breathy voice about how this was an honour for me and how happy I was going to be. That did it for me; I jumped up, lost my temper and yelled that there was no way I was going to marry this man and that they were all a bunch of whackjobs. Then I stormed out. Clearly they hadn't thought that this would happen as the doors weren't locked so I just wrenched them open and walked out. Back down the Bay on the green, I was telling my friends what has happened, when all the Twihards walked past me, wearing an expression of rueful sadness mixed with bewilderment, like they couldn't believe what I had done. I turned to them and shouted that Breaking Dawn wasn't real. The one I had spoken to before looked at me and said ' I know it isn't real' in a voice that people use when they're giving a really lame comeback. Then she tossed her head with a sniff and told me I needed to get a job. I looked at her with bemusement, shook my head and turned back to my friends. Then woke up, wondering what on earth my brain was on.

Thursday, 13 September 2012

The Vanishing Tattoo

I took the plunge yesterday and splurged on a new tattoo. It's a beautiful pentagram on my right wrist and I absolutely love it. Did not love the price of it though. I forgot to get them to quote me before they started doing it and only when I went to pay did I discover that it was £40. £40!. And I could have got it for £25 up at a different studio.
This must have seeped into my subconcious and come out in my dream last night.

I dreamt that I woke up and found that the ink had come off in scabs during the night. The only thing left was a faint purple dye that was only a tiny part of the original design. I was absolutely furious, so I stomped off down to the studio to see if I could get it redone. But apparently my skin rejected the ink, so anything else they put on would just slide off again.
So they gave me a cheque for £57 to cover the refund and apologies. Which I was quite happy with, I admit. Still muttering, I stomped off down to the bank to put the cheque, all the while thinking 'I knew I should have gone to Black Pearl!'

And the lesson is: always get a quote before you get tattooed.

Tuesday, 24 April 2012

I want this bonnet!

I just started getting into hatmaking and whilst watching - for the millionth time - the 1995 Pride and Prejudice, I decided I want one of Lizzy Bennet's hats. The one on this link in fact.

Jane Austen Today: Jane Austen Movie Fashion Throwdown: Bonnets

I've printed out a picture and I'm going to show it to my millinery course teacher and see if I can make it!

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Falling in love

Last week, I fell in love. Completely, utterly, head over heels in love. Who is the lucky man you ask? Well actually, it's not a man. It's a painting. Yup, you read that right, I fell in love with a painting.

I was in Bridport for the weekend and I paid a visit to the Pierrepoint Gallery in South Street.
I oohed and ahhed a lot over the paintings as I went round and then, I saw it. The most amazing, fantastic, inspiring, powerful piece of art I have ever seen.
It depicts a sunset over a rough sea but not the vaguely inspid, sweetly sentimental ones you usually see in photographs. No, this painting showed Mother Nature at her most powerful. I felt like I was watching her exerting her dominance, or, in more West Country terms, giving it some welly.

I stared at it for a while, sighed, then went off to have a look at the rest of the gallery. But I couldn't stay away, I had to go back and have a look. Unlike the rest of the artwork, it didn't have a plaque with the name of the artist and price, in wasn't even mounted. Instead it was resting on an easel, as if it hadn't found a home yet.
My friend D said I should get it but I scoffed and said there was no way I'd ever be able to afford it as it was bound to be over a grand.
The gallery owner noticed my interest and came over to chat. He informed me that the painting was just £695, information which made my heart leap. I'm not sure why, as that is about as out of my range as £1k would be but somehow, it didn't seem so. What's more, it had only just been finished. It seemed like fate.
Then he passed me over to his colleague who turned out to be the artist himself. (Simon Read, in case you were wondering, you can see more of his work here)

Unlike other sellers, these two lovely men didn't try to pressure me into buying, though they did inform me about a scheme called OwnArt which is designed to help people to afford to buy art. That way I could make ten monthly payments and have my very own genuine oil painting.
I ummed a lot and that's when he said he would reserve it for me, ready for me to make up my mind. No pressure, no obligation, just there so if I do decide to buy, it won't be too late. What a difference from being talked into buying something so you don't miss out!

So there you have it. My love affair with a painting. Will I decide to splurge on what could be the love of my life? Watch this space.

Tuesday, 3 January 2012

Don't you think it's strange...

That we live in a world where a man is paid more to kick a ball around a field for 90 minutes than one who holds a life in his hands everyday?

That a woman can earn more to walk down a length of wood than one who shapes the minds, the ideas, the futures, of our children?

That someone who spends their life pretending to be someone else is more valued than one who spends theirs entering burning buildings?

That in an era where people can earn billions, there are still people who are forced to choose between eating and being warm?

That in a world where people can own as many homes as they want, there are still people living on the streets?

That in a country that used to pride itself on its compassion, its people are abusing their vulnerable neighbours?

This is what I was thinking about while trying to sleep last night

A change

I have decided to make a change. This blog will now be a general one, not just for my dreams. Important huh?
Well no, but I'm doing it anyway. Hope you enjoy my ramblings as much as my dreams!