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nekojitachan · 4 years

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Hmm, another chapter update! We’re starting to get somewhere. I think after the next chapter there will be a time jump (that or the one following). Yes, plotty things.

Anyway, here you go. More ‘The Real Thing’, the Andreil Raven soulmate fic that does or does not exist.

Some twinyard drama, some spilling of tea, some of Nathan’s terrible parenting skills.

Previous chapter can be found here (and which links to other chapters).

*******

“So, off to some fancy party this weekend?”

Andrew gave his brother a look of long suffering which made Aaron grin. “Right, try not to have too much fun,” Aaron teased before he ran off to catch up with his friends. Andrew clicked his tongue then went on his own way, displeased at being reminded about the damn banquet that weekend.

The Ravens would have their fifth game of the season on Friday, and it was time for the northeastern district’s fall banquet; Andrew wasn’t pleased to deal with either things, but at least the first was a home game (against Binghamton) and would only last a couple hours, while the second was an overnight ordeal at Penn State.

He suspected that Tetsuji wouldn’t let them off-campus to have ice cream and hit a few bars.

At least Andrew shouldn’t have any problems shutting the goal against the Bearcats, who weren’t nearly as good as they liked to think they were. He was mentally reviewing some of their players’ stats when he met up with Ben on the way back to the Nest, who complained yet again about the fact that they weren’t allowed to take any dates to the banquet (‘I mean no offense, if I was into guys you would be… okay, you’d still terrify me but you’re not half bad looking, but I’m nineteen and it’s such a waste of a paid hotel room’).

They studied in their room for a while then went off to practice; Andrew was surprised to find Nathaniel (and Moreau) hovering by his locker, both of them already in their uniforms, hair slightly damp and mussed as if they’d recently practiced.

“Ooh, look at the two lovebirds,” Loiseau called out, which made half the locker room snicker.

Federov leaned over from his own locker to leer at Nathaniel. “What, is shorty not giving it to you good enough, Nate? You need-“

Andrew didn’t look away from his soulmate as he grabbed the prick by the throat. “Do you have any complaints?”

Nathaniel’s blue eyes widened slightly, while Moreau was quick to hide a faint smile. “None, other than your snoring.” He had to speak up a little over the choking sounds Federov made.

Andrew huffed as he clenched his fingers deeper into Federov’s throat. “I told you, you’re imagining things.” He finally looked at the backliner, whose face had turned a bright red. “See, no complaints. Now go away before I cut your tongue out for lying.” He dug his fingers in even more for a moment before he let go then shoved a gasping Federov away.

There were various mutters of ‘crazy’, ‘headcase’ and the like, but Andrew didn’t care, not if the others finally learned to leave him and Nathaniel alone. “You need to get your hearing checked out,” he said as he pulled off his shirt.

Nathaniel was looking away with a slight blush to his cheeks when Andrew glanced back, his red undershirt in hand (interesting). “My hearing’s fine. Enough lame jokes.” Once the shirt was on, Nathaniel looked back at him and leaned forward. “Be careful,” he said in a quiet voice not meant to carry far. “Riko and Kev are already out on court, and it’s not going well.”

Andrew glanced at Moreau, who gave a slight nod, then grinned, the expression wide and a touch sharp, as he reached out to pat his soulmate on his tattooed cheek. “Later, sweetpea. Your honeypie has to work first before we can have our fun,” he said out loud to throw off the Ravens still watching on.

If Andrew was a more delicate soul, he might be a bit perturbed, even downright unnerved, by the chilling look Nathaniel gave him just then. “I know how to debone you as if you’re nothing but a big fish,” the redhead threatened before he spun around on his heel and stomped away.

Moreau didn’t bother to hide his smile (a true rarity) as he nodded. “He does, too.” He gave Andrew a jaunty wave before he went after his partner.

Aw, apparently, they’d moved on to the flirting stage, how sweet.

Despite the threat, Andrew appreciated the warning when he finally got out on court, where he found a scowling Riko and a quiet Day doing drills; it appeared they had a contest going to see who could knock over the most cones. Judging from the numbers Akagi called out, Riko was in the lead… but Andrew saw at least one shot that Day usually had no trouble nailing any other time that he somehow flubbed just then.

Oh well, Kevin Day wasn’t any concern of his.

Tetsuji seemed to be ignoring the contest going on between his nephew and protégé, and called the Ravens forward to start practice; after warm-up exercises and drills, Andrew found himself part of a scrimmage with Nathaniel and Moreau in front of him while Engle and Saunders attempted to score goals.

It wasn’t so bad when Andrew didn’t have to deal with Riko, but he wisely kept that thought to himself, especially when he could hear the way that Riko’s ‘teasing’ remarks to Day crossed the line from friendly to vicious. He noticed how Nathaniel would tense at the mocking laughter and the various versions of ‘you suck’s, but for once the redhead seemed to be listening to his own advice since he kept his mouth shut and focused on Exy.

Riko and Kevin were still whacking balls when practice was over.

Andrew caught up with Nathaniel on the way to dinner to (slowly, making his intent clear all the while) ‘pin’ his soulmate to the wall, a scant inch between their bodies and Moreau a glowering presence nearby. Pretending to nuzzle Nathaniel’s left ear with his hands on the wall next to the younger man’s hips, he breathed out the question that had been on his mind the last few hours. “What’s going on with them?”

Nathaniel drew in a slow breath and raised his left hand toward Andrew’s head, only to loosely cup it when Andrew nodded. “Press asked Kevin more questions after their pro game last night,” he whispered. “He got more airtime.”

Andrew arched an eyebrow at that ridiculous bit of information, which prompted a slight nod from his soulmate. Well, someone had a fragile ego, didn’t they? Before he could say anything, though, he fought not to shudder as Nathaniel’s fingers tentatively slid into his hair.

That… shouldn’t feel so damn good.

“If you two don’t mind, I would like to eat soon, while I still have some miniscule appetite left,” Moreau sneered.

Andrew jerked away from Nathaniel, whose face flushed with embarrassment while he snapped something sharp in French at his haughty partner. “How about you try to eat with a broken jaw?” Andrew asked with a ‘smile’.

“Fillet you like a fish,” Nathaniel warned as he motioned for Andrew to follow him and Frenchie into the dining hall.

“I knew you liked me,” Andrew taunted as he tagged along.

“You have a death wish,” Moreau muttered while he shook his head.

Perhaps.

So did Ben; he gave Andrew a bright smile and a two thumbs-up gesture when he noticed that Andrew ate at the same table as Nathaniel and Moreau, even if he had to suffer through the two of them talking about the statistics of various teams and how best to manage the new drills that Tetsuji had sprung on them. Used to being ignored (at least by his soulmate), he was surprised when Nathaniel pulled him aside after dinner to talk to him privately.

“Be careful at the banquet this weekend,” he murmured while Moreau stood guard. “Riko always has to put on a show, to prove he’s in charge. Don’t give him a reason to do that to you in front of everyone.”

Before Andrew could say anything, Nathaniel whisked himself away, leaving only a feeling of warmth and a craving behind – a craving for Andrew to dig his fingers into dark auburn hair, to brush his lips against a full bottom lip that taunted him….

Perhaps it would be a good thing, to get away from his soulmate for at least a night.

Nicky sent along various types of articles on how to behave at a social gathering, which Andrew basically deleted without reading.

Friday’s night game went the way he expected it to go; the Bearcats played dirty, but they weren’t anywhere near the Ravens’ skill level so were sent home with an embarrassing loss. Andrew once again put in more effort than he liked while out in the goal, but somehow it was worth it when Nathaniel sat next to him on the bench during the game and joined in on mocking the opposing players, when he let down that prickly guard of his and acted like an almost normal teenager.

When he teased Andrew about his snoring when they were back in Nathaniel’s (and Moreau’s) room later that night, when he once again reminded Andrew to be careful at the banquet and (jokingly – Andrew realized that by the way the left corner of Nathaniel’s mouth hitched the slightest bit) asked him if he knew the difference between a salad fork and a teaspoon (one has these spiky bits and one is all smooth, you know) until Andrew threatened to smother him with a pillow.

(He may have fallen to sleep with the sound of his soulmate’s laughter ringing in his ears.)

Tetsuji, the bastard that he was, made the team do their usual workout and morning practice before they cleaned up and piled into the buses that were to drive them out to the middle of bumfuck PA for the banquet. Nathaniel fussed over Moreau and, surprisingly, Andrew before they left (Tetsuji also made them dress in their black and red dress clothes since they were to appear ‘perfect’ upon arrival), and snuck a few of the ‘good’ energy bars into Andrew’s left pocket before he walked away.

It wasn’t often that Andrew gave much thought to the whole ‘soulmate’ bs, but… but maybe there was a reason why he was stuck with Nathaniel Wesninski.

Maybe.

He slept most of the time on the bus, and read one of Nicky’s ‘suggested’ books the rest of the trip (it was another A/B/O novel, a sappy affair about a strong, blond Alpha swooping in to protect a struggling brunet omega which in no way reminded Andrew of Erik and Nicky). Once they reached Penn State, Riko made them line up per their numbers and inspected them, demanded that they straightened out their clothes and fixed their hair until they were ‘Raven’ perfect before he ordered them to fall in step per the way they’d practiced (actually practiced, oh how Andrew had blamed his laughter on the meds that day) before they headed into the stadium.

(The prick also took a moment to remind them to be on their best behavior that night, his attention lingering on Andrew as he tapped three fingers against his chin.)

Riko was arrogance personified to Penn State’s captain, who didn’t appear to care for him (or the Ravens), either. Yet they were stuck at the same table as their division ‘rivals’, which meant that Andrew sat next to Moreau while Riko and Day (along with various other Ravens) traded insults with the pussycats. It was almost enough to make him want to stab salad forks into his ears (and yes, he knew what a fucking salad fork was).

Better yet, stab a salad fork in someone else’s ear….

He was picking at his bland chicken breast and steamed vegetables (he would gladly maim someone for a pizza right then) when the pussycats’ captain gave a mocking laugh and nudged the young woman sitting at his side. “What did I tell you? No one wanted to come as dates for these stuck-up bastards.”

She laughed as well, as did the majority of the pussycats; Andrew noticed that most of the players had a guest beside them, which meant there were almost double the amount of people on their side of the table compared to the Ravens’. “Probably don’t even have any soulmates. Who would be unlucky enough to be stuck with someone like them?”

“Yeah, tied to an Exy-playing machine that doesn’t know how to have any fun for the rest of their lives, who would want that?”

“How could they even tell which one is their soulmate? All their symbols would probably be an Exy racquet or something equally boring!”

Andrew propped his chin up on his right hand while the pussycats continued to make fun of the Ravens, while beside him, Moreau huffed quietly but didn’t show any emotion. However, Riko didn’t seem to be handling the jabs as well (perhaps because prick knew he was a piece of shit and didn’t have a soulmate of his own).

Normally, anything that made Riko feel bad was a good thing in Andrew’s book, but he inwardly tensed when that one smile came over the prick’s face; judging from the murmured curse in French and the way Day stilled, he wasn’t the only one to realize that things had taken a turn for the worse.

Riko leaned forward as if to tell a secret. “The reason we’re champions, unlike your team, is that we know when to remain focused and when to indulge ourselves. Right now?” He cast a disparaging look at the young woman in the deep blue dress who sat next to the pussycat’s captain. “Even though you and the others don’t present much of a challenge,” he sneered, “we don’t allow ourselves to be distracted during the season.”

One of the pussycats’ backliners scowled and shook his head. “You just won’t to admit that no one wants you.”

That prompted a laugh from most of the Ravens. “No one wants us?” Riko clapped Day on the back, who scoffed at that statement. “When we’re already on a pro team, unlike any of you? When our seniors already have teams offering them contracts?” Federov and others grinned and nodded while more pussycats scowled. “We could have our choice of dates and already have our soulmates waiting for us, but this is work and so there’s no need to inflict so much boredom upon them when it’s not necessary. It’s bad enough that we have to do endure it.”

“You’re an asshole,” Captain Pussycat snarled, which was the truth but not much of a snappy comeback.

“An asshole who’ll beat you yet again this year,” Riko said with a pleased smile.

“An asshole who probably doesn’t have anyone to celebrate the victory with,” a dealer shot back as she rubbed the soulmate mark on her arm; she was too far away for Andrew to make out the symbols. “You need a soul for that to happen, and it’s clear that you Ravens don’t have any.”

Riko’s smile took on a too-sharp edge while various Ravens laughed. “Again, why inflict losers like you upon them? Since they’re our soulmates, they’re just as driven as us and are busy, but you’ll see one of them soon enough. Isn’t that right, Andrew?”

What the hell was the prick doing now? Andrew sat up, the drugged smile flattening as he gave his ‘captain’ a blank look. “It’s right that there’s no need for him to have to deal with these assholes,” he said, a clear warning in his voice.

“Hmm, but dear Nate will have to deal with them next season, just like Thea dealt with them until she graduated, isn’t that right, Kevin?” Riko sat there and outed their soulmates as if it wasn’t a big deal, when he had no right to; Andrew’s left hand clenched around the pathetic knife provided for dinner when he felt a kick to his right ankle.

“Don’t,” Moreau whispered. “Nat.”

Andrew almost stabbed the French bastard for interfering, almost told him to mention his soulmate’s name… but the damage was already done, wasn’t it? Riko had deflected the pussycats away from the fact that he didn’t have a soulmate, and now the other team (and soon the rest of the division once word spread) was busy talking about which other former Ravens might be soulmates.

Andrew would much prefer everyone was busy talking about Riko’s ‘unfortunate’ death, but was held back (barely) by the clear warning to Nathaniel (and by extension, to Aaron).

(He was also disgusted about how part of him felt a bit smug over how everyone knew Nathaniel was his soulmate.)

Ben took one look at him when they were finally allowed to return to the hotel at the end of the too long night and didn’t ask him to share any of the alcohol he’d brought along.

Moreau made certain to stay between him and Riko the entire time they were at Penn State and on the drive back to Edgar Allan. It was a good thing (for everyone stuck on the bus with him) that Andrew had just taken a fresh dose of his ‘happy’ meds before he received a text from Aaron, who had somehow heard about him finding his soulmate (word traveled fast, it seemed).

There was a lot of swear words and angry emojis, and eventually Aaron got to the point; if Andrew was messing around with his soulmate (he wasn’t), then Aaron was free to search for and have a relationship with his soulmate (when found). Andrew reminded his twin about his many terrible decisions made in the past, about how Andrew had to clean up so many messes, and received another furious text.

/U can’t keep me from her/

Andrew turned off his phone, unwilling to deal with such stupidity at the moment.

He just wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep the rest of the day (actually, he wanted to beat the shit out of something), which was unlikely since Tetsuji would put them through at least one practice before calling it a day, but upon entering the Nest, Moreau mumbled something about finding Nat and went off in such a rush that Andrew found himself following without any thought.

(Just for the hell of it, he wasn’t worried or anything.)

Nathaniel was in the room he shared with Moreau, seated at his desk as he studied. At first, he didn’t react to them entering the room, then finally raised his head from the book he’d been reading when Moreau called out his name. His partner hissed as if in pain upon seeing the bruises which marred Nathaniel’s pale skin, the blackened left eye and split lower lip, while Andrew felt a rare fury rail against the drugs swirling around in his veins.

“Nat, what-“

“Get out,” Andrew told Moreau as a manic smile tugged the corners of his lips upward as if hooks had been implanted in them. When Moreau stared at him in confusion, he grabbed a fistful of black material and shoved Moreau toward the door. “Get. Out.”

“Who do you-“

“Jean, just go,” Nathaniel said, his voice quiet and stripped of almost all emotion except a hint of exhaustion. “It’ll be fine.”

Moreau paused for a moment before he clicked his tongue and yanked his t-shirt free from Andrew’s grip. “Don’t hurt him,” he warned before he left.

As if that was possible; oh, Andrew wanted to hurt someone, all right, but not his soulmate. Oh no, he wanted to tear apart whoever had left those bruises on Nathaniel.

“Who was it?” he demanded to know as he forced himself to go sit on Moreau’s bed instead of on Nathaniel’s desk; he suspected that his soulmate needed the space right then (he needed the space right then).

Nathaniel was quiet while he bookmarked the page he’d been reading then leaned back in the chair; he began speaking before Andrew repeated the question. “My father was here this morning.” He winced as he skimmed his fingers over his bruised cheek. “Word got out fast about us being soulmates soon after someone posted it on an Exy forum last night.”

Andrew considered that for a moment while his hatred for Nathan Wesninski grew even more potent. “He beat you because I’m your soulmate.” Nathaniel gave a slight nod. “Why?”

“Because… because,” Nathaniel sighed as he got up to fetch something from the minifridge between his and Moreau’s desk; a fresh ice pack, which he wrapped with the towel he’d used on an older pack set on the desk. “He already knew you were my soulmate, Tetsuji told him after you were recruited, he was just… annoyed, I guess you could say, that the news got out.” He didn’t look at Andrew as he applied the pack to the left side of the face.

There were likely one or two explanations for that. “Is he angry because of my past or that I’m a guy?”

The question made Nathaniel look at him. “Uhm, the latter.” He toyed with a pen left on his desk as if nervous. “I mean, it’s not a big deal, two guys being soulmates, but he’s… well, even though he’s washed his hands of me, I guess he still thinks it makes him look bad. Makes him look like less of a man, somehow.”

So he made himself feel better by coming here to beat up his son, what a ‘man’. “My cousin’s father is like that,” Andrew confessed. “Has some weird belief that Nicky’s soulmate being a guy is a bad thing. He’s doing much better now that he’s living with Erik in Germany.”

For some reason, that bit of truth made Nathaniel smile, just a sliver of a curl. “Really? Are… are they happy together?”

“Disgustingly so,” Andrew admitted. “Once he finds out about you, he’ll be hounding me for information because he believes all soulmates should be happy together.”

“Oh.” That seemed to confuse Nathaniel; he glanced down at his lap and attempted to nibble on his bottom lip before he remembered why that was a bad idea. “Jean… Jean told me that there were good soulmate bonds, but I only know my parents and….”

“And it’s not good,” Andrew guessed; he better understood why Nathaniel had freaked out on him that one day.

“No.”

“Nicky and Erik have a good one.” Such a good one that he thought that the universe was mocking him with his own mark, was showing him something so perfect that could never be his.

Now… now he was beginning to wonder.

As the anger gave away to something warm and aching, he found himself on his feet, which made Nathaniel stare at him. “I have to go unpack.” He motioned to his duffel bag, which he’d left by the door.

“Yeah, practice will start soon.” Nathaniel gave him a weak smile. “Back to Penn State for an away game.”

More fun time with the pussycats; Andrew would have to put some real effort into that game, and wouldn’t get much time alone with Nathaniel while off his drugs.

Still, everyone knew Nathaniel and him were soulmates now (for good and bad), knew that Nathaniel was off-limits. He just… he just needed to figure out what do next.

(He knew what part of him urged him to do, which didn’t help things. He needed to be smart about what he did next, and for some reason… he didn’t feel very smart when around Nathaniel.)

*******

Yep, we’re getting somewhere.

Did you know that the pro team that Kevin and Riko played on while in university was called the Baltimore Wildcats? How many times I’ve read the Kathy Ferdinand interview scene and hadn’t realized that Nora did actually name that team? Oops. Which makes one wonder WHY Baltimore, hmm? Weren’t they signed with another team as well? Besides the US Court (which wouldn’t have demanded time until the Olympics). This is another reason why I don’t think the whole 18 hour days make any sense....

Anyway, thanks to those who do read this.

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chierafied · 3 years

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Intervention

For @jilychallenge, July 21. Theme: Idiots in Love

Partner: The lovely and amazing @the-dream-team! 💙💙 Please go read their fun fic!

Prompt: sirius locks lily and james in a cupboard (or another enclosed space of your choosing) in an attempt to play matchmaker. shenanigans ensue.

4,728 words. Also on AO3.

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The door of the dormitory slams open and James Potter strides in. He crosses the room quickly, throws himself on his four-poster bed, letting out a groan as his face smashes into the pillow, glasses and all.

Sirius is lounging in his own bed, enjoying the treacle tart he pilfered from the kitchens just after classes ended. Chewing on his stolen treat, he silently studies his mate’s prone figure. He can all but feel the misery radiating off of James.

There are only two things that Sirius knows can send James into such an obvious show of despair: a defeat on the Quidditch field and Lily Evans.

As it’s a Monday and the next Gryffindor game is three weeks away, Sirius is left with one option.

For a while, he wonders if he should weigh in at all. For the sake of his own sanity, it might be better to just leave James to it. Maybe go down to the Common Room and find Peter for a game of Exploding Snap.

But then his conscience pricks him, reminding him that this heartsick idiot is also his best mate.

“What’s she done this time,” Sirius drawls.

“What?” James flops on his bed and stares at Sirius, his hazel eyes dull behind his glasses.

“What has Evans done to cause this cloud of doom?” Sirius asks again, waving his hand to compass James and his misery.

“You remember that she had a date with Andrew Buchanan last Hogsmeade weekend?”

Ahh, yes. That was right. James had been moping all weekend about that and wouldn’t even agree to sneak out to the Three Broomsticks on Friday night.

“I think you mentioned something about that, yeah,” Sirius answers, thinking back to the two-hour rant he’d been subjected to that Saturday afternoon when they’d come back from Hogsmeade.

“The date went really well, apparently. They’re officially going out now.”

Sirius swallows his knee-jerk response of so what with a grimace. “I’m sorry to hear that, mate.”

He’s not, really, of course. But he is sorry that James is reduced to this pathetic miserable lump because of Evans.

“He’s not good enough for her,” James declares sullenly. “Sadly, that’s up to Evans to decide,” Sirius replies, thinking Evans could do much worse than Buchanan. He’s an OK lad, for a Ravenclaw.

“I know.” James sighs. “It’s just… hard.”

Sirius weighs his options. And though he has approached this subject before – not always successfully, either – he can’t help to voice his honest opinion.

“Look, mate… Evans is great. But maybe the two of you are better off as friends, yeah? You’ve been mooning after her for years now and have only been making yourself miserable. I think it’s time to let go, Prongs. Time to move on.”

The silence in the room is so loud that Sirius has time to think up all manner of swear words, thinking he completely bollocksed it up again.

But to his surprise, when James does reply, his voice is quiet but assenting. “Yeah. I think you’re right, Sirius.”

Glowing with righteous victory, Sirius flashes James a smile. “Don’t worry, mate, I’m here for you.”

---

The party is raucous and in a full swing when Sirius, exhausted from all the dancing, plops down on an empty sofa in the corner of the Gryffindor Common Room. He takes a long swig from his bottle of Butterbeer – which might have been spiked with good strong mead courtesy of Hagrid, but no one’s the wiser which is how Sirius prefers to keep it.

Across the room, at the edge of the area designated as the dance floor, James is standing, his arm casually slung around Bethany Narang’s shoulders. He is giddy with his Quidditch victory, though that is probably not the only reason he’s let Bethany stick to his side all evening.

Prongs is finally doing it. Moving on. Sirius couldn’t be prouder and salutes him with his bottle.

He’s taking another long pull of the delicious mix of alcohol when the sofa dips down. Lily Evans slumps beside him, tucking her feet under her as she curls into the corner of the sofa.

“Rare to see you out of the action,” she quips once she’s settled.

Sirius slants her a glance. “Needed to take a breather. You’re usually out there getting your dance on, too.”

“I did, for a while. But I’m tired now.”

She looks tired, too, resting her cheek against the armrest.

“It’s ok to bow out early, Evans. No shame in that.”

“I know. I’m going in a bit.”

Silence settles over them. Sirius sips his drink. Lily rests. It’s peaceful in their little corner. Companionable.

And they have a good view of the rest of the room.

James bends his head to Bethany, whispers something in her ear. Bethany giggles, tilts her head.

Get it, Prongs, Sirius silently urges him, taking a sip of his mead-enhanced Butterbeer.

And he does.

“Funny,” Lily comments with a chuckle. “I never took Potter as the PDA sort.”

Her voice is light and airy, brimming with amusement. And as she watches Prongs snog Bethany in the full view of the entire Common Room, eliciting cheers and hoots and laughter and teasing from the crowd around them, Sirius watches her.

Lily’s lips are curved in a smile but something about it doesn’t seem quite right to Sirius. Her eyes, even in the dim room, seem duller and darker. Something lingers there, which Sirius recognises only too well.

“Neither did I,” he replies at last. “But it’s good to see him moving on, right?”

Lily’s smile twists. “Yeah. It’s great.”

Silence returns, but now it has an edge to it. Brittleness overlaying the earlier camaraderie.

Lily uncurls from her cosy position.

“Well, I guess I should go get some sleep. Good night, Sirius.”

“Night, Lily,” he wishes her, but she’s already walking away.

Sirius’ gaze trails her as she hurries through the crowd, giving a wide berth to James and Bethany, who’re still lost in one another.

Sirius scowls, uneasiness coiling in the pit of his stomach. He can’t quite shake that look in Lily’s eyes. What it might have meant. And whether he might after all be in the wrong.

---

It’s a sunny and warm April day and Sirius is in a great mood. There’s nothing better than being out with his lads and it’s a nice change to stroll the main street of Hogsmeade in bright daylight, no matter how much fun it is to sneak out in the evenings. They’ve just raided Honeydukes and left with their bags bulging. Remus and Peter have split off to go visit the book shop and the post office so Sirius is left alone with James to wander the village. A group of girls exits Madam Puddifoot’s down the street. Bethany Narang is among them and perks up at the sight of them, smiling and waving at James.

Sirius swallows a snort. Bethany has dropped more than one hint about the Hogsmeade weekend being a great opportunity for a date, but Prongs has brushed them off in good humour.

Now, too, he waves back to Bethany and then turns to Sirius. “How about Zonko’s?”

“Sure.”

They enter the joke shop, Sirius trailing after James. “You know, you probably could still snag that date with Bethany if you wanted, she seems interested.”

“Nah,” James replies as he meanders through the shop. “She’s nice and all but I’m not really interested.”

“Uhhuh,” Sirius says, wondering if his assessment of Prongs moving on was too hastily drawn. Still, he hasn’t really mentioned Evans once for the past week so that must be progress, right?

They browse through the shop but nothing really catches their eye.

“Should we go to the Three Broomsticks?”

“Yeah,” James agrees. “Remus and Peter will probably finish their errands soon, too.”

Back on the main street Sirius spots the dark red hair right away and grimaces. Lily Evans is walking ahead of them, hand in hand with Andrew Buchanan. They’re laughing together and Sirius slants a glance at James.

His gaze is fixed on the couple, his jaw clenched as he watches them.

“Evans looks happy,” Sirius carefully comments.

“She does, yeah,” James replies.

They walk a few more steps in silence.

“I’m glad. She deserves to be happy,” James continues.

They’re almost at the Three Broomsticks when James speaks up one last time.

“I’m happy for her.”

Behind his back, Sirius rolls his eyes. The strain in Prongs’ voice belies his words.

And later, as all four of them are together at a table, sharing drinks and laughs and enjoying themselves immensely, Sirius can’t help noticing that James’ gaze keeps darting to the corner table where Evans sits with her boyfriend.

Much as his mate is trying to move on, it seems to be easier said than done.

---

It’s Monday evening and Sirius is in a storage room in the dungeons, organising the items stored and refilling the jars and boxes and bottles littering the shelves.

Lily is in the adjoining Potion’s Classroom doing preparatory work for tomorrow’s lessons at Slughorn’s desk.

“I should get assigned detention with you more often, Evans,” Sirius quips, calling out to the next room. “This is the cushiest detention I’ve ever been in.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lily replies. “Professor Slughorn intervened with Professor McGonagall. I figure he felt bad that we got into trouble because of Slytherins.”

“I’ve got into plenty of fights before with Slytherins and Slughorn’s done nothing to cushion the detention. So where I’m standing it’s all because of you.”

“Well, it’s all because of me and my blood status that the Slytherins jumped at us in the first place,” Lily says, her voice wry.

“I won’t let you hog all the credit for that,” Sirius counters. “I’m not very popular among their ilk either.”

“Not after that masterful Inpendiment Hex you aren’t. You’re a good partner to have in battle, Sirius.”

“Likewise. You’re quick on your feet and your wandwork is excellent.”

“Thank you. I’m glad to hear that. Especially after the scolding I got from Andrew.”

“Why would your boyfriend give you a hard time for getting jumped by a group of hex-happy Slytherins?” Sirius asks, baffled. He moves to the doorway of the storage room and leans against the doorframe to watch Evans.

“I think mostly he got angry because he was worried I might have got hurt,” she says. “He’s really sweet. But he does not approve of fighting.”

“You didn’t start it, though.”

“I know. I guess Andrew feels I shouldn’t have reacted with violence.”

Sirius snorts. Deep inside him, the bitter anger of experience simmers. “There’s no reasoning with bigots.”

“I could’ve walked away, I suppose.”

Sirius shakes his head. “No. Someone could’ve walked away, yeah. But not you. It’s not how you’re built, Evans. How we’re built.”

Their eyes meet from across the room and Lily smiles.

“Thanks, Sirius. That makes me feel better.”

“Don’t mention it.” Sirius shrugs.

Lily turns back to the Potion prep.

“Sorry for unloading you like that. I was a bit upset since it was the closest to a row I’ve had so far with Andrew. He’s been really great, but I guess there will always be things we disagree on.”

“Yeah, that’s only natural,” Sirius says. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sure we will,” Lily agrees.

Or maybe they won’t. But Evans will manage either way, of that Sirius is sure.

And suddenly, he is taken back to the moment of miserable moping Prongs imparting him the news of how Lily had started dating. James’ sullen voice echoes in his head. ‘He’s not good enough for her.’

Now, a part of Sirius can’t help but agree.

---

Sirius lounges in a hammock in the Potter’s back garden, reading a book and enjoying the sunshine. It is quiet and peaceful and relaxing, which is all well and good… But inside, Sirius is starting to itch a little bit. Reaching that part of summer holidays when that giddy sense of freedom is starting to pass and there’s so much time and yet somehow very little to do.

Maybe he can talk James into going to visit Muggle London with him someday soon. They could go to the cinema, that would be grand.

And as if thinking of Prongs summons him, Sirius’ peaceful reading time is shattered when James strides into the garden.

He’s wearing a shit-eating grin and waving a letter in the air.

“Sirius! You’ll never guess what happened.”

“OK, then I won’t.”

“Just got a letter from Marlene, she says hi –”

“Tell her hi back then.”

“– and she says Evans broke up with Buchanan.”

“What shocking news,” Sirius replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It was only a matter of time, really.”

“What?”

“I had a feeling, back when Lily and I were stuck on detention together and she told about their fight. Different opinions and personalities.” Sirius shrugs.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Why would I have? You told me just last week, and I quote, that you were ‘totally over Evans’.”

Though for someone who’d voiced such a lofty claim, James is looking much too happy about Lily’s breakup, in Sirius’ opinion

“Well, I am! Obviously,” James insists. Sirius remains unconvinced. “But we’re still friends, right, Evans and I! So I still want to know how she’s doing.”

“You should practice holding your grin in check before you go and offer her your heartfelt consolations,” Sirius tells Prongs.

He shakes his head and stalks off.

Sirius gets back to his book.

Three weeks later, another letter arrives, this time causing much more mayhem. Sirius is skimming through the lines of his own letter when James bursts into his room.

“Did you get yours, too, Prongs?” he asks, not even bothering to look up from the parchment as he’s busy taking in the book list.

“I got more than I bargained for,” James says, flopping down next to him on the bed.

Sirius frowns and turns to slant him a glance. “What do you mean.”

“Look at this.”

Sirius does. He stares at the gleaming object on James’ palm, trying to make sense of it because surely it can’t be what it looks like.

“Is that a Head Boy pin?” he asks.

“Yes,” James says.

“And it was enclosed with your letter?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure they haven’t made a mistake?”

“Yes.”

“Bloody hell, Prongs. Are you planning on going all respectable on me, now?”

“I guess I’ll have to be,” he says and tugs at his hair as he often does when nervous.

Sirius can’t blame him. Poor bloke, having so much responsibility shoved onto his shoulders. Still, better Prongs than him. At least Prongs will likely do a decent job of it. Although…

“Do you know who the Head Girl is?”

“Yeah, actually, they told me that in the letter too.” James’ fingers are making even more of a mess of his hair and he isn’t quite meeting Sirius’ eyes so he knows the answer already.

“It’s Lily, isn’t it,” he says, and when James nods, Sirius isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

---

Less than a month into the autumn term, Sirius is deep in the stacks in the Hogwarts library, actually trying to get homework done for once – and if he can look up some charms and hexes he can appropriate for pranking purposes, all the better. He can multitask. But his diligent work is rudely interrupted by Lily Evans.

She sits at his table without an invitation and leans her elbows on the table. "You're a hard man to find."

“I’m not trying to be found, I’m trying to work,” he replies, trying to ignore her.

“Well, can that wait for a bit?”

Sirius’ head snaps up with that. Lily Evans, encouraging him to put off homework? Sure enough, there is something troubled lurking in her green eyes and she’s biting her lip.

“What do you need, Lily?” he asks, his tone gentler now.

“Just a moment or two of your time. And some… information.”

“Information on what?

Her cheeks look a little flushed now and there’s a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of Sirius’ stomach. Surely, she can’t…

“James used to fancy me, right? I mean he even asked me out that one time in the fifth year though I don’t think he was being serious… But I wasn’t just imagining it, right?”

“You weren’t imagining it, he was pretty into you,” Sirius replies, feeling much like a deer in headlights at this entire conversation.

“But he must have moved on by now, right? I mean he still can’t… Can he?”

Sirius pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering what dastardly deed he has done to earn this privileged position of being a soundboard for Prongs’ and Lily’s respective love lives – or lacks thereof.

He levels a stare at Lily and crosses his arms. “Why do you want to know?”

“I broke up with Andrew during the summer break. After three weeks or so back home at my parents’ I just suddenly realised I didn’t miss him at all and that isn’t really a good sign so I figured… Anyway, I got my Hogwarts letter at last. I got my Head Girl pin. And I read that James Potter would be the Head Boy. And that’s when I realised I had feelings.”

That last word comes out as a hiss and Sirius raises his eyebrow.

“You have feelings for James,” he echoes, wondering at the universe’s perverse sense of humour.

“Yes. And I don’t know what to do about them. Or if I should do anything about them. I mean I don’t even know if there’s a chance that…”

“Look, Lily,” Sirius cuts in. He’s had enough. “I’m sure this all is a shock to you and I understand that you want a confirmation about certain things before you can decide what to do about it all but you’re going about this all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“You shouldn’t be talking to me. It’s James you need to seek out and have a chat with.”

Her shoulders hunch. She deflates in front of his eyes and gives a slow nod.

“You’re right. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

Lily gets up and slinks out.

And though Sirius doesn’t regret his words and knows he’s in the right, there are pricks of guilt plaguing him when he returns to his homework.

---

A month goes by. A whole month of stolen glances and longing stares, of too-loud laughter to one another’s jokes. Of flushed cheeks and biting lips, of mussed-up hair and awkward grins. Of gravitating towards each other’s company. Sitting together in class, heading off to Head Student meetings and Prefect meetings, sharing a sofa in the Common Room.

A whole month of small meaningless conversations, of yearning not given a voice, of a thousand important words going unspoken.

Lily Evans hasn’t talked to James.

And after a whole month of their nonsense, Sirius is fed up with both of them.

---

Sirius opens the supply closet and James strides in; starts to rummage through the shelves.

“What kind of a prank did you have in mind?” he asks, rifling through all the piles of assorted items stuffed into storage and then promptly forgotten about. “Replace the regular ink with vanishing ink? Put an Anti-Cheating Charm on all these spare rolls of parchment here? Oh, maybe we could hex the quills to –”

“Expelliarmus!”

James’ wand is yanked from his hand. It soars through the air to Sirius’ waiting palm.

James whips around to frown at his mate.

“What the hell, Sirius?”

“This is for your own good, Prongs,” Sirius says. Then he shuts the door and locks James into the closet.

---

Lily sets down the textbook and scowls at Sirius. “Missing? What do you mean James is missing?”

“I mean James isn’t here or in the dorm and no one knows where he’s gone. He could be locked in a supply closet for all that I know,” Sirius says, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “Anyway, I thought you might want to help me look for him since it isn’t a good look for the Head Boy to be wandering about after curfew.”

“Give me a second, I’m coming.”

Lily runs up the stairs to her dorm room and leaves her textbook there. As she’s heading out the door, she grabs a pouch off of a side table and stuffs it into her pocket. She rushes back down to the Common Room, where Sirius is tapping his foot.

“Let’s go,” she tells him and Sirius jumps to match her step as they climb out the portrait hole accompanied by the sleepy grumblings of the Fat Lady.

“Where could that idiot have got off to,” Lily wonders out loud, tucking her wand behind her ear.

“Let’s try this way first,” Sirius suggests.

Eventually, they stroll along the abandoned fourth-floor corridor, when a muffled sound around the corner catches their attention.

“Come on. You’ve had your laugh, you can let me out now.”

Lily turns to share a quick glance with Sirius. “That’s James.”

She sprints ahead, rounds the corner and zeroes in on the rattling handle of a supply closet just a few yards out.

Lily shakes her head in disbelief and then she’s running over to grab the handle.

“James? We’ll get you out, just give me a moment.”

“Lily? Oh, thank Merlin.”

Lily reaches for her wand – only to realise it’s no longer there, tucked behind her ear.

“What?” she stammers, turning around.

Sirius is holding her wand and pointing his own at her.

“Sorry, Lily, but needs must.”

“Sirius, you bloody bastard!” comes James’ muffled yell from the closet.

And then quicker than Lily’s brain can catch up with what’s going on, the closet door springs open and a well-aimed shove has her stumble against furious James.

They collide and stagger – and behind them, the closet door ominously bangs shut, followed by the definite click of the lock.

“Well, bugger,” James mutters in her ear and Lily can’t help but to agree.

---

James thought being locked in a supply closet was bad, but being locked in a supply closet with Lily Evans is infinitely worse. Her floral scent is teasing his nose and in the enclosed space he can feel the heat radiating from her body and it’s all very distracting. It’s hard to remember that he’s completely over his silly old crush. The darkness isn’t helping either. Evans is standing close, but he can only make out an outline of her, hand stuffed in her pocket. He can feel the weight of her stare on him, it’s making his neck tingle.

Rather than deal with any of that and those pesky fluttery emotions he’s most definitely not feeling, James turns and slams his fist at the door.

“Enough, Sirius! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“With me?” His incredulous voice comes through the door. “What the hell is wrong with you two idiots? I told you, Lily, all you had to do was to have one conversation but no!”

James glances at Lily. “What is he talking about?” he whispers, but Lily only shakes her head.

“So you two stay there and listen. Prongs, you’ve been pining after Evans for years now. It’s pathetic and we all know it and no matter how many times you tell me you’re over her, it’s painfully obvious you aren’t. Lily, you know I was right and you know you’re overdue a very honest conversation so just acknowledge your feelings and talk already for my sanity’s sake! Get it over with. I’ll be back for you in the morning.”

James’ ears seem to be ringing and he’s a little light-headed. The muffled sound of Sirius’ retreating footsteps is deafening in the thick silence shrouding them.

Flustered, James buries his fingers in his hair and slumps against the door. “I’m really sorry about this, Lily. He’s clearly lost his bloody mind.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Lily sighs. With a rustle of robes, she sits down on the stone floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. “He’s right, actually. And if either of us owes an apology for this mess, it’s me.”

James slides down to sit on the floor as well, his long legs stretched out. He frowns at her vague outline, wishing he could see her expression. Maybe that would help him understand.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s something I need to tell you, James. I just haven’t been able to. I’m not sure when it actually started. Probably it’s been going on a while, I just haven’t been aware of it. But then, last summer there just came a moment when I realised what had happened.”

James’ heart is beating faster now, his breath caught in his throat. He thinks he knows what Lily is talking about, but it can’t be right. He doesn’t dare to hope.

Lily’s voice is soft in the darkness. “You’re funny and fit and brilliant and sweet and kind and clever and brave and bold. So it’s no wonder that I fancy you.”

Time stops and the world tilts. James’ mind can’t quite process the words but his heart is singing and pure emotion balloons in his chest. A victorious roar rushing through his veins.

James’ brain is still stuck on trying to catch up with Lily’s confession so there is no conscious thinking involved. He reaches for her in the dark and pulls her close. Her fingers trail up his arm, her hand settles on his shoulder. Her hip brushes against his raised knee. His hand finds the small of her back.

Her breath is warm, that teasing floral scent intoxicating, the bare skin of her neck like silk under his fingers.

And then his lips crash against hers or maybe she leans in to press hers against his – it doesn’t really matter because it’s a kiss of James’ dreams. The one he has yearned for so very long and the reality is so far beyond anything he has imagined. He didn’t think such a perfect kiss was possible. And in that moment, and all the moments that will follow, he loves Lily Evans all the more.

---

Lily shifts her weight, trying to settle. She doesn’t want to move, leaning against James and resting her head on his shoulder is the happiest place she’s ever been.

But the stone floor is hard and cold and her bum is growing numb.

So she squeezes James’ hand and asks: “Do you want to wait until morning?”

“I mean I can’t complain about the company but I wouldn’t want to spend a whole night stuck in a supply closet. Not that we have much choice.”

“Well…” Lily drawls, slipping her hand out of his. “We do, actually.”

“What?”

Lily gets up and takes a few short steps to the door. From the pocket of her robe she pulls out a small pouch and reveals the lockpick she’s been carrying with her.

And then she sets to work. She can feel James’ gaze bore to her back as she carefully jiggles at the tumblers in the lock. Once they each click to place, she straightens and swings the door open.

In the torchlight streaming in from the corridor, she meets James’ eyes. Their hazel depts are muddy with mixed emotion – awe, amusement, incredulity.

“Are you telling me you could have done that the whole time?”

“Yes.” Lily shrugs. “But then, Sirius went to a lot of trouble and he was right about us needing to have that long-overdue discussion.”

James’ grin is wide, his hazel eyes warm in a way that makes Lily’s stomach flop.

“Lily?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you again now.”

She smiles bright enough to light up the night and steps closer. His arms come around her just as she threads her fingers in his hair. As promised, his lips claim hers – slow, sweet and lingering.

It's the kind of kiss she can lose herself in, a kiss that makes the world fall away, a kiss that bends time so that five seconds feel like forever. It's the kind of a kiss that makes Lily fall in love with James Potter all over again.

---

End.

#jily #jily fanfic #jilychallenge #the dream team #idiots in love #chie writes #fic: JL

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lavender-noire · 6 years

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As perfect as it is in theory, a white colonial style house with two stories, a big blue front door with a golden knocker emblazoned on the front is terribly unrealistic for life in the city. The property alone required for that sprawling backyard would cost a fortune worth several lifetimes over. Not to mention the price of that immaculate green lawn out front. Then there's the cost of the never-ending parade of gardeners for the grounds, housekeepers for the rooms, plumbers for those four bathrooms she insists were absolutely necessary, and of course, a nanny for the children, because how dare he expect her to renounce her career just because she's created a life. How god damn dare he. But no. Of course that's a ridiculous fantasy for a working couple living in the heart of Downtown Pleasantview. There's the cost. There's all that space, mocking her with its unresponsive emptiness. And moving back to the suburbs is obviously out of the question. The thought of being walking distance from her mother and sister makes her heartbeat spill into her ears. Not again. Besides, the apartment is nice enough. Nevermind that the floors creak and the porch light still isn't fixed after sixteen weeks of asking.

The apartment is cool inside, despite the heat of the day pooling just outside the kitchen window. Her tiny porcelain cups of wheat grass and soil are appreciative for the unobstructed light. Angela's gaze doesn't falter from looking across the table to admire her plants, proud as she is. A jolt of pain leaps up from the small of her back and across her vertebrae, then comes to rest somewhere at the base of her skull. Heat and throbbing soreness moans warily from the bottoms of her feet. Her skin chafes every second of every minute to accommodate her growing belly. To cope, she frantically applies butters and creams to her stomach at every trip to the bathroom. Sometimes she looks at her body in the mirror and grins, eager to meet the person sleeping inside it. Other times, she sobs as her mind suffers to reconcile her swollen belly and tired legs with the image of herself she's known for forever until now. Sometimes she plucks the hair from her scalp to regain some sense of control over the metamorphosing landscape of her own physical form. Sometimes she screams into a folded towel. Every time, she blots a makeup sponge under her eyes, reapplies her lipstick, and returns to society all clean and pretty.

Gazing back at his wife from across the table, Jake can't help the upward tilt of his lips. She's glowing. People always say that about pregnant women, but he's seen pregnant women, and nobody radiates like Angela. The muted scent of lavender and linen trails after her wherever she goes. Distant starlight catches the green of her eyes and blinds him with her absolute perfection. It wads his stomach in knots to look upon her and then remember himself.

She knows she's too good for him. She doesn't have to say as much, of course. The entire world showers cherry blossom petal praise and congratulations for her charming manner, pretty face, and sharp wit, then recoils in horror when they realize that man beside her is her husband. The sweet, sticky odor of hair gel and body spray heralds his presence before he even enters a room. Years of drunken revelry and cigarette smoke has made his voice husky. He saunters from place to place, constantly late, his attentions and affections carried on an unpredictable wind. They've moved more than twice because asking him to turn down the volume of his music is an assault on his creative expression. His reputation precedes him everywhere. "Him?" they all say. And it's getting harder to respond.

Her eyes linger on him as he walks past. She wrinkles her brow and implores his broad back to explain just what it is that tethers her to him. She hardly noticed him at all in college. He was her sister's plaything back then. Jacob Martin existed merely as a deep voice comingling in the raucous laughter that emanated from behind her sister's door. He was the nonchalant arm draped around Lilith's shoulders at the cafeteria. He was the lazy cheek kisses and the napping body beside her on the couch in the common room. He was an accessory to her antics, equally directionless and shallow. But a single drunken night of dancing and stolen kisses under the yellow glow of a streetlamp, and he's Mr. Pleasant-Martin. Angela smiles a meek smile. It had been a fun night, at least.

He perches on the couch beside her, crossing his legs at the ankles. "Angie, I've been thinking," he says. Angela cringes at the bastardization of her name. It's Angela, she wants to say. It's been six fucking years, Jacob, you know I like it "Angela", not "Angie", "Angel", or even goddamn "Jelly". But she steals a moment with eyes pinched close, a wrinkle of the nose, then responds, "What's that, babe?" He blossoms. Pet names are rare. "I want to throw you a baby shower. I promise, nothing big, just a little get-together for family and friends here at the house. I'll be conservative with the music, I'll leave the menu to you, and it'll just --" The corners of Angela's lips bow in not quite a smile. "It sounds great. Let's do it."

Of all the extended family, Jacob's dad is the over the most often. Angela thinks their relationship is unhealthy. Codependent. Jacob thinks that that's an overdramatic, assumptive assertion that she makes because she lives in abject fear of her own mother, and can't comprehend a relationship that deviates from that. He would never say so, but it's what he thinks. "Dude!" Jacob cries as he bats his father's hands away, "Don't tickle me, I'm like thirty." Andrew grins a lopsided grin and buries his fingers in Jacob's sides, "Shut up, you love it." They share a laugh.

Antithetical as they are, the two family groups mix without incident most of the time. Mary-Sue attempted a conversation with Jacob's father once. While the conversation languished around stocks and the state of the economy, she was perfectly enthused. Once Andrew decided to dust off the fart noises and impressions, Mary-Sue had written him off as an intellectual dead end. These days, she greets him with a single nod of acknowledgement and nothing more. Andrew, who cannot bear the thought of not being liked, nurses his hurt feelings with food every time he and Mary-Sue are in the same room. It works for them.

Lilith and Jacob remain friends, though not as close as they used to be. They lounge around the house together watching television or playing video games under Angela's skeptical surveillance. Neither one has any interest in rekindling their sexual relationship, but Lilith likes the anxiety in brings to her twin's stupidly immaculate household, so she lets Angela worry.

Angela's eyes flit between her sister's face and the protrusion of her own pregnant stomach. She surveys with displeasure the shaggy red tresses that drape across her twin's forehead and curl near her ears. It's better than when she was bald for a year, sure, but not by much. Angela finds it hard to look at her sister for more than a few minutes at a time. The familiarity of those features -- that same freckled nose and pale face, those same, cutting green eyes staring back into her own -- makes her want to peel her skin off and inhabit someone, anyone, else.

She dips her chin downward to draw attention to Lilith's belly. "That's new. Don's the dad?"

Lilith smirks. "Sure is."

"I'm glad we're pregnant at the same time, this way our kids can --"

Lilith cups her hand before her lips and shakes loose a yawn. "Angela, nothing would be more boring to me than playing the whole 'twinsies' game with our kids and forcing ourselves together for Sunday brunch or whatever contrived, inauthentic bullshit you've concocted to appease our terrible mother."

Anxious, incensed butterflies flood Angela's stomach. Their sickly yellow wings bat against each other. Scarlet heat rises to the surface of her skin. Her face flushes. Her ears numb. She can feel the blood swirling beneath her flesh, and it makes her sick. She fixes a smile upon her face as she winds her fingers into fists at her sides. She pictures glass fracturing in the beds of her palms, sheer edges pressing to her skin and alleviating the thrum of her heart, the rage in her veins, for just a moment.

It's fine.

"Congratulations, Lilith." she softly says.

It's fine. Angela is a great daughter-in-law. She's intelligent. She's lovely. She's kind. She is an excellent addition to any family, and anyone who doesn't see her value is obviously worthless, themselves. She throws her arms around her father-in-law and wraps him in a warm embrace. He smells like paperwork and brandy, and for a moment, Angela worries that he's driven here. Nevermind. She pulls back.

"Andrew, thanks for coming. We're always so happy to have you."

She wonders if he can tell her words are hollow.

Angela's mouth begins to water and her stomach lurches. Nausea blurs her vision and burns her throat. She touches a few fingertips to her lips and heads for the bathroom.

A melodic voice cuts through the mental noise awash in Angela's head.

"Angela!" the voice says, "Congratulations, sweetheart! Have you picked out any names?"

Her throat constricts and the gushing, angry bloodflow ebbs for a moment as she registers Meadow Broke's face. She can feel her pupils reduce to pinpricks in the center of her eyes, a thieving raccoon caught in the glow of a flashlight. Her attention bounds between Meadow and the man approaching behind her. Oh good, Dustin's here. It was only a kiss and she didn't know they were engaged. Either way, Meadow stole him from her first, so really, it all cancels out. They're over it. It's fine.

"Hey!" she says too loudly, "Th-thanks for being here. I have a few names I really like, but Jacob wants to wait until we meet the baby to decide."

Meadow chuckles. "And it's driving you crazy, right?"

She presses the inside of her lip between her teeth, then forces a laugh.

"Completely nuts."

Mary-Sue Pleasant has a way of looking through to the core of people. She sees through the miles of coping mechanisms, aesthetic distractions, and defensive walls to the heart of their character. In another life, she may very well have made an excellent therapist. But in this one, her perception and intuition about people is stained by the inky black streaks of judgment she paints upon them, deeming them worthy or not of her respect, her acceptance, her praise. Currently, she looks upon the unkempt frame of her son-in-law at a party he's cobbled together to celebrate the impending arrival of the child he's made with her daughter. Mary-Sue is elated at the thought of meeting this darling bundle of untapped potential, but immeasurably disappointed when she considers its father.

"Hello, Jacob," she says dully as he makes his approach. He looks stern.

"We need to talk. Before the baby comes, before anybody makes any decisions about childcare, education, expectations -- whatever -- you and me have to talk."

Mary-Sue cocks a brow and leans onto one hip, her arms fanned confidently at her sides and and utterly unimpressed frown scrawled across her face. "I agree, we do need to have a discussion."

Jacob parts his lips, but Mary-Sue plows through his opportunity.

"I'm not like everyone else, Jacob. I'm not going to do this dance with you, protect your flimsy self-esteem. Let me be transparent: I am unhappy with the choice my daughter has made. I don't think you're right for her or for this family, but I cannot make her decisions for her. What we're looking at is an eternity tethered to each other through this child, and while that's obviously not ideal for either of us --"

"I don't have a problem with you, Mary."

"Mary-Sue. And fine, obviously it's not ideal for me. But seeing as there's no way around it, there are a few things I'm going to need from you. One, find a real job. I will not have my daughter and grandchild's fate hinging on the potential for upward mobility for a DJ."

Jacob scowls. "Emcee."

"That is literally the exact same thing, Jacob. Do you even hear yourself?" The older woman sucks in a breath and releases it with great effort. "One, real job. I can get you a job at Dirk Dreamer's firm, and you will take it. Two, the child will attend private school and university, nonnegotiable. Three, get a real house. I will not have my grandchild raised in an apartment of this condition on the poor side of the city. Are we clear?"

Jacob grits his teeth. "You're being insanely demeaning to me in my own home at a party I threw to honor your daughter, and I won't take your --"

Mary-Sue clucks her tongue and shakes her head softly. "Mind your tone, Jacob. It's Angela's party and we don't want to cause her any undue stress, do we? Think of the baby."

Jacob sighs. "Fine. But we'll continue this later."

Mary-Sue chuckles. "If we must."

"Oh, hey Angela. You feeling okay?"

Angela brushes her wrist across her mouth, having emerged from the bathroom renewed. She glances down at Jules O'Mackey, sitting sentinel upon the sofa.

"Me? Yeah, I'm great."

Jules warms to her just a little. "Well, good. I've watched you run around all night long, and I wanna be sure you're okay. Want to sit?"

Angela shakes her head with a neighborly smile. "No, but thank you. I prefer to stand."

"Alright. Just mind your stress, alright? I have no doubt you can handle it, I'm just thinking of that kid in there."

Angela nods.

Jules glimpses some space else with a wistful sheen in her eyes. "I just can't believe Jake is having a kid. I mean we're all at that age, right? Everyone's got their partners now, Dustin and Meadow have Summer, and -- it's silly, but as a kid I was so sure Jake and I were gonna end up together. I wonder if he'll say anything about me to that little guy of yours."

In her stunned silence, Angela can hear the sound of Jacob's voice as he spins a mostly true story from the kitchen.

"Anyways, Lilith told me there was no way to crush a full can of soda against my head, and I said 'not with that attitude, there's not'. So that's how I wound up getting eight stitches in my head at the hospital on New Years Eve."

She watches Jules' smug, self-satisfied freckled fucking face, something monstrous bubbling to the surface. Her shoulders pitch and her nostrils flare once, then twice. She can feel her throat constrict and her muscles pull against the bone. She inhales through her nose and cool air meets her scalding lungs. She plants a loving hand upon her own stomach and glowers down the bridge of her nose at Jules. It's fine. It really is.

"Don't worry, Jules, I'm sure it'll happen for you eventually," she says, a cakey sweetness laden in her voice.

"And that's how I met Angela again after college!” she can hear Jacob sing from the kitchen.

Angela steals away to the bedroom after most the guests take their leave. She sleeps an uneasy rest, drenched in sweat, sharp pains electrifying her skin and insides from her navel outward. She yanks her entire body upright and fumbles with the blankets, hands shaking. The sheets are drenched down to the mattress, and her body aches under the immense pressure building in her abdomen. She can't catch her breath. She throws herself from the bed and wails, grasping at her stomach.

"Jacob, wake up!" she screams.

"Wait a minute, let me call the hospital." Jacob mutters as he tears himself from the bed.

"No time!"

"Holy shit, is that--?!"

The minutes pass like small eternities, one by one, and eventually, where before there were two, there are three.

Angela pulls the baby to her chest and wipes away the sweat from her forehead with an arm. She presses a few tired kisses to the baby's skin before inhaling his scent.

"Whoo! You did it, Angie! And I'm only sort of traumatized for life."

Angela smirks against the baby's shoulder. "Wanna hold him?"

“What do we call him?” she asks.

There’s a palpable thickness to the silence between them. Jacob gazes into the brand new face of his child -- his child -- and two little brown eyes gaze back. He chokes on the wet wad of emotion that eases up his throat, then replies.

“Munn.”

“What? ‘Munn’?”

“His name is Munn.”

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thedreadpirateglitterbeard · 6 years

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Corona Park Jams, By Andrew L. Foster. Creative Non-Fiction, 2017

For Your Entertainment, feel free to analyze, make remarks, ignore, enjoy, or otherwise. roughly 1600 words. about a 10 minute read.

Reflected sunrays pierce slightly bloodshot eyes after a night of libations with friends from out of town. The 1995 Buick LeSabre rattled as though it had bricks for engines. My head ached as if I had bricks for brains. The car would have its 21st birthday soon if it hadn’t had its big day already. That was reason enough for us to celebrate. Last night was the celebration of the Buicks birthday and the squeal of its belts was the hangover to the pounding in my mind. We also had friends in from out of town, we can celebrate over anything.

As if Puebloans needed a pretense to party. I allowed myself to be absorbed into the cushy carpeted seats that were tanned a light grey from years of Pueblo desert sunshine. A smile crept across my face and that lonesome sun smiled right back at me. I appreciated the historic boom district appeal contrasted with the “we never recovered from the Great Depression,” patina. Even the quintessential Pueblo dish of a cheeseburger covered in Green Chile known as a “Slopper” was weird mixed with cool. It’s the kind of college town where the community college does better than the university but they both aren’t that great. The rivalry is strong. The feeling of family is stronger. Puebloan’s need little reason to come together but create lots of reasons anyway.

This stop light always catches me. Emilio leaned into the steering wheel, elbow cocked into the open mouth of the driver’s window as the breaks pressed us to a stop. One hand clutched the wheel, fingers tapping the rhythm to a Circle Jerks jam, the other hand connected to his resting elbow brought a smoking cigarette to his open mouth. We were all in our cups last night, but we were “on one” and stocking up for more no-excuse-necessary partying. The green light cleared our passage and Emilio sought after parking.

The Pantry is a Seinfeld-esque dinner, though maybe less cliché, which is a wonderful place to fill the old tum-tum. Abriendo Street hosts a series of Roman revival structures, one or two-story buildings connected business fronts with inset window wells that lead to doorways, pulling walker-bys into shops to search for doo-dads in antique shops with no particular end in mind. We pulled up Michigan St. and parked the bucket in front of Tony and Joe’s Pizzeria. The tree-lined streets are triple wide in the Aberdeen district thanks to General Palmer calling this neighborhood home for many years. His old manse was farther up from the shops, at the first corner. A quick walk to the drugstore that has been there as long as the Corona Park and Bessemer districts, near a century. Autumn trees, gold and green leaves shimmer. The air carries the aroma of old money. We walked to the corner and found The Pantry.

Emilio represents the profile of friendships that have enhanced my life. He is unique. His Style is the more independent and classic profile of punk that could be likened to the clash, early on—before they stopped making music with pretense. No need for spikes or studs, just a simple rejection of the common standard. Emo has tackled deep self-reflection and made pertinent life changes that mirror the development of his personal philosophy. This largely consists of him choosing to be a pescatarian—a bit of a contradiction if you ask me, but I let it slide because I eat everything and have no place to talk. I hold him in high regard because he has introduced me to many Pueblo intellectuals whom I have learned and taught with too great satisfaction. Life’s zest can often be found in good company, good food, and good conversation.

Emilio paid for the half-dozen potatoes, egg, and cheese breakfast burritos. Exiting the maze of The Pantry’s tight corridors, I gave a shout out to a classmate I recognized, Anthony. He is both homeless, employed, and a student in the lowest rent city in Colorado. Anthony gave a friendly smile and went back to bussing tables. We had an ancient civilizations class together, his presentation on the ancient Assyrian warrior caste was excellent and marked him in my mind as brilliant, yet his condition remained troubled. He only came to class 1 out of 3 sessions a week. I suspect this wasn’t due to a lack of heart.

It was ten am and the hot September Sunday was well underway. Emo and I sauntered back towards the whip both donning colorized wayfarer sunglasses, like Millennial Blues Brothers, sent on a mission from God to feed our hungry and hungover friends breakfast. Next stop this morning was Hercules Liquor Store, Agent Orange’s “Bored of You” had the energy flowing through us and the breakfast burrito’s smelled like a cure to disgrace. Emilio reeled the clunker away from The Pantry and the general’s old castle and back into Abriendo’s light Sunday traffic.

Herc’s was just another couple blocks up the way on Colorado Avenue. This drag shared a wine and coffee breakfast bar on the corner, next to the Local 1607 Millwright’s office so the metal works could catch a shiner before meetings with the union. Hercules Liquor and the Historic Firehouse Museum shared an alley. Occasionally I would see familiar faces from the firefighter school working in the museum as I went into Herc’s for an evening brew. They always carried themselves with purpose as I slinked by with little pride. Emilio cut a wide U-turn and pulled us into the alley to park behind the spirits house.

This, a small cramped store was absolutely flush with plenty of beer to choose from and an excellent selection of liquor and wine. Mike and his brother ran the store together, owned by their mother who is suffering from late-stage dementia. Despite this, the boys are always smiling and chatty when they see Emilio and I come in. They like us because we drink like their late Slovakian grandpa. Campari and grappa are two of the commonly stocked items at Herc’s we can’t find elsewhere. Because the brothers are 2nd generation Americans, they still have close ties to their Italian and Slovakian family. They have cousins who live on the Island of Crete where the sculptor Pygmalion’s statue Galatea was granted life by Aphrodite because she was moved by his passionate love for the female statue he created. Just so, the Cretian Grappa Mike sold us was the type of spirit that could awaken marble statues. Grappa is what is left after wine grapes are stomped upon. It tastes vaguely like wine, but primarily like pure alcohol. It does the trick. We left the store flush with cheap beer, cheap whiskey, and a bottle of Grappa which may have been cheap or expensive, but we had yet to find another bottle in town to compare price.

As we parked on the too-narrow street in front of the house, Benjamin wore Adidas classics that had looked as though they had been walked on their whole life. His wiry chair leaned precariously back against the stucco wall while his foot pressed against the ever-loosening banister which enclosed the porch. He had a cigarette in one hand while the other cradled an iPhone near his eyeballs. A three-day beard and unruly bed head alluded to Bens Sunday dishevelment. Benji is a Vancouver Canuck. His mother passed several years prior, not long after Emilio lost his father. The two, and their larger group attended St. Mary’s Catholic for primary school and the bonds shared between my two friends were far deeper than I could estimate being a new inductee to an exclusive group.

Before Emilio and I could walk up the concrete steps Ben was laughing and explain the problems that Trotskian economic theory faced after the Bolshevik Revolution and argued that the Soviets picked the wrong guy in Lenin. I smiled and nodded as if I knew anything about Trotskian political theory. Ben was always expansive in conversation and I admired him deeply for it. The first time Emilio introduced us, my misgiving and mistrust of new people was rendered mute next to the backyard fire pit and eager talking points Ben insisted on sharing with me.

I remember that night, he would hardly let anyone say a word as he often does. I interrupted him as he spoke with conviction on the need to rid the world of paper currency to be replaced with a social exchange program in line with “From each according to their ability, to each according to their need.” I asked him if he always commanded the conversation and if he ever let anyone else speak. I was instantly mortified at my manners but everyone sitting around the fire began to laugh. Ben’s other half said, “No, this is how he always is.” Ben quitted down a bit and we all shared the conversation. We all picked songs on an iPad adorned in a case printed with an ancient world map and took turns playing obscure music while passing the bottle of cheap around. The grainy taste of the whiskey mixed with the fire smoke's aroma, both gently burning our throats. This was the standard weekend for most of two years, good company seasoning our slowly aging lives within the old, worn town that rested in the fading shadows of old wealth.

As the Sunday star dipped below the horizon, we looked out towards La Vida Pass and the Sangre De Cristo mountains. The buzz we shared reached deeply into the earth and for a moment it seemed like all of us were supposed to find each other, as though no matter how big the universe became this moment would persist as both the flash of a meteorite and the timeless life of a lonely sun. As if we needed more reason for us to celebrate.

#creative #nonfiction #writing #short story #authors on tumblr #spilled ink #life #friends

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education-memoriesls11 · 4 years

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Years 1 & 2 , Playgrounds, Percy Police Car, Portakabins and Penguins.

Year One

We relocated a little bit further up the school past the main entrance to the lower “big playground” that faced on to the school field by the bus terminus. The school has a very memorable layout in that way, when people say you moved up the school, in each year group that was the case both in age and in geographical terms as well, In this year my class was 1V taught by were Mrs Vincent, an older teacher than the ones I had before, she had a look a bit like Betty Turpin from Coronation street with her style of glasses and how her hair was set. She was well-spoken, patient, empathetic and approachable, she had a very mothering influence with our class, she would always listen to whatever wild and wonderful stories we would come up with.

She had a lot of worldly-wise insight and had a way of explaining information to us in a way we would understand at our age without being too childish, she could also still be firm and assertive when required in a more old school manner and strong but fair in discipline if any child was trying to lash out too. In later years she also moved to Hugh Gaitskell and also taught my sister and one of my cousins in their time at school.

I remember I had a phase where I would draw pictures at home on a night with my felt tip pens, I was never a good artist but I enjoyed drawing back then, I used to bring her a picture in most days and she would always take it and thank me for it, no idea what she would do with them! She also made me register monitor so it was my job to go take to register back to the school office after registrations.

A lot of the work we did in this time was more focused around learning about the seasons of the year, a lot of geography-based projects and elements of life and growth, particular examples that stand out were each table having to get a seed, water it from the start then maintain their plant up to growth and we would compare each tables efforts as the weeks went on, although in the case of our table we almost jinxed it from day one when I pretty much drenched the seed and pot after it was planted! Alan Titchmarsh or Monty Don I am not that’s for sure!

For a while too we had a class pet, which from memory was a hamster which we would have to take turns to tend to. We read the story of the very hungry Caterpillar. The story was an introduction to our learning about nature as then a caterpillar was brought in and then we watched it follow the full metamorphasis to a chrysalis and then eventually a butterfly, for kids of our age it was eye opening and fascinating and in a way introduces us to some of the miracles and phenomena of life and nature.

We started to learn more about different occupations, Evolving Technologies of the day, and also about how Vehicles evolved so for example cars from Model T to the current Fords of the time. We were also encouraged to create or discuss our own ideas of what Cars and Motorbikes of the future may look like.

One of the most basic elements we learnt though were common courtesy and manners, holding doors open for one and other and tolerance of other cultures, our class in this year had more of intake from the growing Asian community in Beeston, The first name for example on our register was Adeeba Akhtar, the first response to reading her name out was for Mrs Vincent to tell her and all our class what a beautiful name she had. It transpired that Mrs Vincent had spent a good deal of time in Saudi Arabia when her husband worked in the oil industry, so she was very awake to the customs of Muslim culture before many in the area were, she also knew about how the law was dealt out over there and explained how it differed from our own, always in plain English and to sound engaging. She also organised some Mendhi Painting in the class at the time of the fest

The well travelled Mrs Vincent also spent time in Canada and I remember her bringing in a giant Maple Leaf the following day from pancake day after discussion moved from what we like to have on our pancakes to the symbolism of the leaf in addition to that very popular Canadian syrup. She was always thinking 2 moves ahead.

We had our first Christmas play in this year, the normal type that you would have but ours was not in the main hall but to the parents in the lower school wet area, I managed to bag myself a speaking part in it too, although I managed to bypass having to be dressed in any of the tinselly costumes as I had the part of “The Son” my role was to be told the story of the nativity by my “mother” which was the role delegated to Jenna Bennett who did an excellent job as narrator, it also meant that I got to spend the whole show in my pyjamas and slippers, which helped ease any nerves as I was sat there in the 1988 equivalent of loungewear. She was also the person that went on to marry my classmate Richard Leach, they are still together to this day, so my on-stage mother went on to marry the guy sat next to me in class on a daily basis, I don’t think Mystic Meg, Derek Acorah or especially that Stephen Holbrook would have been able to see that coming no matter how many adverts he puts in The Metro.

In summer Months Mrs Vincent would take us out to the little field for our games of rounders where she would act as umpire and occasional bowler too. Stories, registration and milk time would be taken at the carpet, legs crossed and fingers on lips to be quiet until time to speak!

This was also the year where we started to be allowed to go into the main hall for assemblies and year group would make their way into the hall one at a time then sit in their row with our teacher perched on a chair at the side, the hall used to seem massive, its wooden climbing frame at one side and if you looked up to the roof in and across a maypole which was only brought out at Maytime when we would be taught maypole dancing. Assemblies were mostly led by the then headteacher Mr Archer.

We didn’t get to see him for long before his time at the school was finishing so I only have limited memories of him but I remember he was particularly fond of belting out the hymns, pumping one arm to the time of the music in the style of a conductor and giving out the various prizes and awards that had been given. One of which I believe was called The Thomas Watson award, there were also awards given out for House Points and a prize for attendance which was named after a female pupil who braved it into school in particularly treacherous conditions at some point in History but the name escapes me!

Other assemblies would be from the older years carrying out their designated topic or assembly based on what they were learning at the time. Some assemblies would be taken by Mr Wood who was Deputy Head for many years, always dressed in a sharp suit with slick hair, he was built like a rugby player and had a distinctive whistle to his voice similar to how you hear whenever Matthew McConaughey is speaking in a film these days. He always carried an air of authority about him and when he spoke people listened, in later years when he semi-retired he also took lessons for my form class in our final year at Hugh Gaitskell as a supply teacher where I found him to be a bit more informal and he was always very sympathetic to the class whilst talking to us like young adults, he was always very well liked and when teaching in class and was particularly good at teaching maths.

Going back to Hymn practice, a regular occurrence over the years at BPS, as well as at the assemblies those were always taken accompanied by the piano, which was more often than not played by Mrs Oliver, Mrs Oliver was some character, her speaking voice was brash but to the point, northern straight-talking, she had a quick wit, sharp humour and if ever we were not doing something to give the song full effort would find a way to rouse us into singing a piece as she desired usually by way of delivering her critique in the manner of something Victoria Wood would orate in one of her stand up routines.

The main ones we would sing are “if I needed a neighbour” and “all things bright and beautiful” in particular on the beginning of each chorus you would always hear us all doing a very pronounced high pitched emphasis on the word “all” at the beginning of each chorus.

If Mrs Oliver was away her husband would take the piano to fill in, he had a very distinctive pair of readers that were half cut semi-circle glasses, once or twice a week to we would have an assembly with a lesson or parable from a vicar of one of the 3 local C of E Churches, St Mary’s St Andrews and St David’s, The most regular of whom at that time was also a namesake as The Reverend Oliver, But also occasionally from Reverend Williamson whose son Mark was a member of our class.

At playtimes we had migrated to the bigger playground facing the field, the games we would play had evolved into either acting out our favourite characters from kids shows or movies, playing Tig or kiss chase and so forth, we were policed by Miss Mary and her cohorts which then also included Mrs Allen and Mrs Dunbar as well as Mrs Easton and Mrs Slight who were also parents of our schoolmates and in one case a Grandparent.

This is where Miss Mary came into her own as Chief Constable as well as judge and jury of any misdemeanour, Big red coat on in all weather, the main punishment she would dish out would be send you to “The Wall” , Followed by a walk of shame to stand at the wall by the door, nose facing the wall to contemplate your actions and don’t dare turn around until told otherwise, in the most extreme case you would go to the heads office but that was rare then.

However, it was a particularly wet year until the summer, lots of storms and thunder which then meant we would be inside a lot and have to take part in “wet playtime” which seemed to be a lot more hard work on the dinner ladies to keep our attention as they would have to make our entertainment for us, This would vary from having the giant tv with its winged covers on showing us some sort of educational re-run of “words and pictures “ with the magic pen, to sing-songs on the little cassette radio or if times were getting desperate then Mrs Easton all making us do repetitions with our fingers wiggling to some actions of “ex-er-cises ex-er-cises we can do our exc-er-cises" we still didn’t even have tablets back then this was the height of our self entertainment. They did a sterling job.

We also had our first school trip, a 2 part affair starting with a trip to Armley Mills in the morning, followed by a break for egg mayo sandwiches if like me you had school dinners then a trip to Roundhay Park in the afternoon, in between both journeys we were taken by the coaches that also ran the Asda bus and we would all stand shouting and screaming for “coach one coach one” or “coach two coach two” depending which one had been designated to take us. Some of the parents also joined us for day to assist with the supervision, I have a photo from it somewhere at my mums or Aunts house which I am in the process of trying to retrieve.

The last day of the year we were all allowed to bring toys, with our board games like Mouse Trap, Buckeroo, Operation and the like, we were too young then for the type made at Waddingtons down the road. Then it was time for summer holidays before joining Mrs Vincent's class again, At some point possibly maybe during a walk to The Co-Op I passed the school and we noticed some lorries in there dropping off some giant fabrications which we then came to know as “the portakabins” which became our daytime dwelling for the following year in year 2 where once again we had the pleasure of Mrs Vincent’s teachings. The area was starting to grow in numbers and with it the demand for bigger class sizes and more classrooms at the school to cope.

Year 2

Year 2 was a year of change in many ways for me and my classmates, Class 2V was based in the portakabins of the big playground, complete with its green steel railings that faced on to the Whistlestop Pub and the summit of Crows Lane, which at one point one kid got their head stuck in and had to have the fire brigade help them dislodge it along with some soap and water.

The playground used to look humongous for people of our age and size, it also meant we were mingled with the bigger kids at lunchtime which in turn made us feel a bit older and in my case, like we were a bit more grown-up, As well as Mrs Vincent's class I believe the other cabins were occupied by Mrs Graham who i go into more detail about further on in this section, Mrs Cumberbatch, a diminutive softly spoken older teacher with an element of an older petite Julie Andrews about her, and then her complete opposite Miss Seymour, who was probably the strictest teacher in the school, forthright in tone, very matter of fact and dealt in absolutes, she would also act as a sort of Health and Safety officer and Police the pupils, from her 2 bell routine which would involve us having to stand absolutely still on the first bell (the "Stand Still" resembled the one you hear in the Pink Floyd song if you know it) to then making our way orderly to our lines on the second bell, if we didn’t line up quietly she would then make us perform rituals with our hands on our heads or shoulders as instructed until she had compliance.

In lessons from any I had with her, she was more relaxed and learning focused. Although she had a penchant for making us play the farmers in his den in PE lessons, which was always a laugh unless it got to the and the dog wanted a bone as if you got selected you were in the middle while everyone vigorously patted you on the head! It must have been a job to do as well because it took a fair bit to stop us from having many a stray ball land over the fence to crows nest lane or the marshland behind. She also co-ordinated the sports day for our year group which was a super competitive affair but well organised as you would expect under her jurisdiction.

It was the era of Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles (UK name at the time) and the emergence of Hulk Hogan and the WWF so the teachers had a lot on to stop us from performing Clotheslines, Back Breakers or heaven forbid any DDT on each other.

Some would also gather by an area to the far end of the playground near where you can see below the old bricked up War Shelter playing army. The other popular sports for the boys, of course, would be football which was highly competitive and usually about 25 aside. The goal at one end was a Portakabin and then coats by the fence at the top end. There was a little gap in that part too where the bars had been stretched so the ball could be retrieved if it went on the marsh, as long as you were quick to come back in.

On windy days some lads would just amuse themselves by turning their coat inside out over their heads facing the wind and see how far they could get blown or if they could resist it, all the while James Ratcliffe was a good year into carrying out a family tradition of wearing shorts for school every day continuously in a bid to outdo the efforts of his dad and his brother, I think he got to 2 and a half years, a sterling effort given some of the cold weather we had back then. His parents were one of many who would give their time up for the school. His father was the regular DJ for the school discos too. Although that's more for Key Stage 2.

The girls would be playing on their “Skip and Go” which was the popular toy of the time seeing if they could get over 100 on the counter. At Christmas some groups of kids would walk around arm in arm in large groups belting out pop songs, they seemed to particularly like belting out "Mistletoe and Wine", we were in the era of Cliff Richards annual christmas takeover of the charts then. At least we didn’t have to get him in to sing at wet playtime like they did at Wimbledon!

The most popular game involved the yard splitting into two halves and then launching a tennis ball to the opposing side, a bit like Shrove Tuesday football but much simpler, if you hit the fence or Portakabin / boundary at the opposite end your team got a point, also if you caught the opposing throw clean you got a point, Whichever of us had a monster arm on them for throwing was always the first pick. Before each throw to the teammates would be chanting their name akin to what you get at a football match.

We didn’t need tablets or Minecraft in those days, it was much simpler. We also had the toilets at the far end of the Portakabin below the upper playground. This was also where the wall was located for the naughty kids, the teachers used to have to spend a lot of time stopping people messing about by them or trying to crawl under the gap playing their army games. Then following our school trip to Temple Newsam they would have to stop people from running in and screaming “blue lady blue lady” which would cause kids to dash out of the toilet frightened that the urban legend was in their presence!

We also saw a major change at the school in terms of leadership, we had a new headteacher, Mrs Bobbie Syrett, A tall charismatic lady who carried an air of authority at all times yet was approachable and personable as long as the pupils were also conducting themselves with the same level of courtesy, from the memory of what I heard from other pupils too if anyone was misbehaving she also ensured the correct level of discipline was delivered to make sure pupils learnt their lesson with a knowing prod of the finger. Luckily for me I never got that summons.

She went on to become a legend at the school and continued lead the school when some of my classmates children attended too, over her time there she went a long way towards modernising the culture of the school.

I believe previously she had been based at Greenmount School and from her time there she learnt a lot about diversity and always encouraged it within the curriculum. She would also always take a very active part in hymn practice, particularly when it came to having to sing the round section in the “Sing Hosannah” hymn, where each line would have to follow the line in front, but also brought a bit more entertainment into the assemblies we had, on a Friday she would have a birthday assembly where all the kids with birthdays from the week ahead would be brought to the front and she would ask what they would be doing to celebrate and get the school to sing them a happy birthday. When events such as Comic Relief occurred we would all learn to do “The Stonk” by Hale and Pace whilst we put a red nose on our conks, for Children in need she would go all out, she organised a charity evening at the school where we put on a school fashion show, she converted the whole of the area adjoining the school hall into a café area, her husband came to play jazz piano music by candlelight next to the reading area which was being used as the cafe, we had tombolas, stalls and a mini fair set up inside the school hall. It was quite something.

The school bonfires went up a gear too, again she would organise events in the hall such as apple bobbing and games for the kids to play, for the firework display we would all gather in the top playground whilst we then watched the display complete with the full array of Catherine Wheels, Airbombs, Screamers and whatever Standard was making in those days and have them be set off from the highest point in Beeston, all the time complete with her walkie talkie organising the logistics and setting a few off herself as well. We couldn’t have the actual bonfire for health and safety reasons but the display was as good as any a school could put on. We of course had to watch all the safety films in assembly too about them. Most people will remember the type of safety advert you had in the 80s, most of which would end to the sound of sirens. She also made sure the school Harvest Festival went up a notch too, she worked us double hard in the weeks running up to that to make sure that we did the best possible rendition of “Cauliflowers fluffy and cabbages green” especially when it came to bringing the ending reprise of broad beans sleeping in their blankety beds to almost a whisper, it was an absolute triumph and the local pensioners and residents of Maple Court and Beeston Manor loved it.

Our other assemblies would vary from the readings again from the local clergy to being given presentations based around the different patron saint days of the year or the religious festivals of each culture, complete with the stories to go with them, usually taken by a teacher with heritage from the said country, so for Easter Reverend Williamson would tell the story of the resurrection complete with large illustrated images on the easel, when it was Hanukkah Mrs Raphael would take those.

Mrs Raphael was also a newer teacher at the school then who had come from Little London Primary School, she taught us a lot about Jewish Culture during our time there, she had a resemblance somewhere in between Harriet Harman and Maureen Lipman, she also taught me something about myself too as she used to always say that her favourite person on TV was Jonathan Hart from Hart to Hart, so from there I looked it up and learned about Mr Wagner's exploits, I still use it on phone calls at work as an ice breaker sometimes, “yes my names Jonathan Hart, I just don’t have a Ferrari, millions of pounds, Stephanie Powers or a dog called Freeway”, everything has a link somewhere!

For our St David's Day Assembly we had a presentation from Mrs Graham, who had the most wonderful welsh lilt to her voice, she told the whole story of his Patronage and was sure to include all the expected symbols such as the Daffodils and Leeks for our cultural benefit. She would occasionally take lessons in our class too in the afternoon for reading or music where she would bring in her acoustic guitar which I was always fascinated by, it left an impression given my love of the instrument these days.

A few times a year assemblies we had would usually be taken by members of the emergency services, we would have regular visits from the fire brigade complete with Wellyphant who the kids went mad for. We would meet our community constable which firstly was PC Cryer and then later PC Binns, they would come in to show us films about Saying no to strangers, the green cross code and road safety, which was a big thing for us as sadly over that time period a few children were sadly taken from the world mainly by the crossing at St Marys and the CO-OP , thankfully that led to some changes on the crossing too and the situation is much better these days, the other thing they would warn us about was playing on the railways, how much effect that had on some of us for the latter subject is debatable but once they had done the serious stuff they would then lighten the mood, especially if they brought in Percy the Police Car, which we would be mesmerised by as he whizzed around the school hall cracking jokes at the expense of PC Binns whilst educating us on the subject of the day, although in reality we should have probably noticed that there was a police officer with a headset microphone and a transmitter stood at the back of the hall , but we were all too fascinated by Percy to notice, plus it would have spoilt the magic.

Other memories from that time mainly come from the lessons we had, we still had look and read, the main episode of which was “Through the dragon's eye” complete with that beast called Charn that used to scare the bejesus out of the whole class, to the point where some would cover their eyes until he had left the scene! You can find the reruns on youtube his costume was pretty akin to something from Freddy Kruger mixed with some dark gothic crow, a bit much for a group of 7-year-olds to take in!

We would learn the various morality tales which would then be tied in with their countries, such as the story of Romulus and Remus, Icarus, The Emperor's new clothes, the boy who cried wolf, and The Little Dutch boy who put his finger somewhere which I will not complete the sentence for as it can be mistaken for being politically incorrect in 2020,that is if the wording is misinterpreted by people who don’t know about the canal system of the Netherlands as we discovered from this tale.

Our class read various storybooks, one that stood out to me was a story called ESP, a tale of a pigeon who would peck holes in a man's newspaper on the racing pages and always select winners. People who know me know I am a fan of the sport and spent many weekends watching Channel 4 racing with my grandfather, however, I don’t think Mrs Vincent was as impressed as I then went on to tell her the tales of picking out "In The Groove" to win the Juddemonte International at York ridden by Steve Cauthen and then followed it with all manner of other picks I had made reeling off tales of Nashwan and the like, my mother gave me a telling off when I mentioned it as she thought they would be getting the social services out on us!

We started to do science lessons complete with circuit boards and lightbulbs, made little tapestries and were encouraged to a lot of drawing, in particular for a competition which was launched by the newly constructed St Johns Shopping centre to design a mascot, which would then feature on their branding and in costume at the centre for advertising purposes, clever marketing on their part, it was open to all the schools in the local area, safe to say my poor effort “Babbit the rabbit” was an epic fail, I was also surprised to see that it was not won by Andrew Webb who was advanced at illustration in our class at the time and could draw original creations as well as brilliant replicas of the famous cartoon characters freehand and from memory.

But I am pleased to say Beeston Primary still forged the winner, as my neighbour, Phillip Mitchell had his selection “Pertweek the Penguin” selected, much to his enjoyment and I remember a year later when we were stood at the Lord Mayors show he suddenly went wild in excitement when his creation was walking down Vicar Lane waving at the crowds. For the school trips, an outing was organised to Temple Newsam, including a tour of the house as you will have gathered from the Blue Lady reference earlier with the obligatory egg mayo sandwiches again for the kids on free school dinners!

Then a long hot summer followed which was mainly spent with me my friends looking forward to replicating our favourite Leeds players who were now in the top league following promotion, many of the lads had Vinny Jones V Haircuts at the time, and to the world cup of Italia 90, complete with Pavarotti Soundtrack, Penalty shootout heartbreaks, Jack Charlton & O’Leary, prior to breaking up many of us in the playground could be seen doing impressions of John Barnes rapping or singing for England (Eng – Ger –Land). With that Key Stage one was over, next up we would be into year 3, with a new teacher, to whom teaching was also new, a shakeup of all the classes and us being the guinea pigs for a new style of testing.

It was also the last year we got milk too, which like the Prime Minister who was often spoken of when talking about Milk at the time Mrs Thatcher was also about to depart.

That was the end of Key Stage one and I will probably repost in a week or so with key stage 2 once i have gathered a few more photos to go with the stories, if people have any stories to recall or clarifications, teachers they remember from their own classes in these year groups feel free to add your input, i will be mentioning a lot of the other teachers in accounts of my final 2 years at the school in future posts as I am trying to keep things chronological for my own train of thought. Hopefully it triggers a few memories for other people too.

#ls11 beeston leeds schooldays memories beestonprimaryschool primary wellyphant stjohnscentre wyp

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teachersofbeestonls11 · 4 years

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Years 1 & 2 , Playgrounds, Percy Police Car, Portakabins and Penguins.

Year One

This is where Miss Mary came into her own as Chief Constable as well as judge and jury of any misdemeanour, Big red coat on in all weather, the main punishment she would dish out would be send you to “The Wall” , Followed by a walk of shame to stand at the wall by the door, nose facing the wall to contemplate your actions and don’t dare urn around until told otherwise, in the most extreme case you go to the heads office but that was rare then.

Year 2

The playground used to look humongous for people of our age and size, it also meant we were mingled with the bigger kids at lunchtime which in turn made us feel a bit older and in my case, like we were a bit more grown-up, As well as Mrs Vincent's class I believe the other cabins were occupied by Mrs Graham who i go into more detail about further on in this section, Mrs Cumberbatch, a diminutive softly spoken older teacher with an element of an older petite Julie Andrews about her, and then her complete opposite Miss Seymour, who was probably the strictest teacher in the school, forthright in tone, very matter of fact and dealt in absolutes, she would also act as a sort of Health and Safety officer and Police the pupils, from her 2 bell routine which would involve us having to stand absolutley still on the first bell (the "Stand Still" resembled the one you hear in the Pink Floyd song if you know it) to then making our way orderly to our lines on the second bell, if we didn’t line up quietly she would then make us perform rituals with our hands on our heads or shoulders as instructed until she had compliance.

Some would also gather by area to the far end of the playground near where you can see below the old bricked up War Shelter playing army. The other popular sports for the boys, of course, would be football which was highly competitive and usually about 25 aside. The goal at one end was a Portakabin and then coats by the fence at the top end. There was a little gap in that part too where the bars had been stretched so the ball could be retrieved if it went on the marsh, as long as you were quick to come back in.

The girls would be playing on their “Skip and Gos which was the popular toy of the time seeing if they could get over 100 on the counter. At Christmas some groups of kids would walk around arm in arm in large groups belting out pop songs, they seemed to particularly like belting out "Mistletoe and Wine", we were in the era of Cliff Richards annual christmas takeover of the charts then. At least we didn’t have to get him in to sing at wet playtime like they did at Wimbledon!

The school bonfires went up a notch too, again she would organise events in the hall such as apple bobbing and games for the kids to play, for the firework display we would all gather in the top playground whilst we then watched the display complete with the full array of Catherine Wheels, Airbombs, Screamers and whatever Standard was making in those days and have them be set off from the highest point in Beeston, all the time complete with her walkie talkie organising the logistics and setting a few off herself as well. We couldn’t have the actual bonfire for health and safety reasons but the display was as good as any a school could put on. We of course had to watch all the safety films in assembly too about them. Most people will remember the type of safety advert you had in the 80s, most of which would end to the sound of sirens. She also made sure the school Harvest Festival went up a notch too, she worked us double hard in the weeks running up to that to make sure that we did the best possible rendition of “Cauliflowers fluffy and cabbages green” especially when it came to bringing the ending reprise of broad beans sleeping in their blankety beds to almost a whisper, it was an absolute triumph and the local pensioners and residents of Maple Court and Beeston Manor loved it.

For our St Davids Day Assembly we had a presentation from Mrs Graham, who had the most wonderful welsh lilt to her voice, she told the whole story of his Patronage and was sure to include all the expected symbols such as the Daffodils and Leeks for our cultural benefit. She would occasionally take lessons in our class too in the afternoon for reading or music where she would bring in her acoustic guitar which I was always fascinated by, it left an impression given my love of the instrument these days.

A few times a year assemblies we had would usually be taken by members of the emergency services, we would have regular visits from the fire brigade complete with Wellyphant who the kids went mad for. We would meet our community constable which firstly was PC Cryer and then later PC Binns, they would come in to show us films about Saying no to strangers, the green cross code and road safety, which was a big thing for us as sadly over that time period a few children were sadly taken from the world mainly by the crossing at St Marys and the CO-OP , thankfully that led to some changes on the crossing too and the situation is much better these days, the other thing they would warn us about was playing on the railways, how much effect that had on some of us for the latter subject is debatable but once they had done the serious stuff they would then lighten the mood, espescailly if they brought in Percy the Police Car, which we would be mesmerised by as he whizzed around the school hall cracking jokes at the expense of PC Binns whilst educating us on the subject of the day, although in reality we should have probably noticed that there was a police officer with a headset microphone and a transmitter stood at the back of the hall , but we were all too fascinated by Percy to notice, plus it would have spoilt the magic.

We would learn the various morality tales which would then be tied in with their countries, such as the story of Romulus and Remus, Icarus, The Emperor's new clothes, the boy who cried wolf, and The Little Dutch boy who put his finger somewhere which I will not complete the sentence for as it can be mistaken for being politically incorrect in 2020 if the wording is misinterpreted by people who don’t know about the canal system of the Netherlands.

We read various storybooks, one that stood out to me was a story called ESP, a tale of a pigeon who would peck holes in a man's newspaper on the racing pages and always select winners. People who know me know I am a fan of the sport and spent many weekends watching Channel 4 racing with my grandfather, however, I don’t think Mrs Vincent was as impressed as I then went on to tell her the tales of picking out "In The Groove" to win the Juddemonte International at York ridden by Steve Cauthen and then followed it with all manner of other picks I had made reeling off tales of Nashwan and the like, my mother gave me a telling off when I mentioned it as she thought they would be getting the social services out on us!

We started to do science lessons complete with circuit boards and lightbulbs, made little tapestries and were encouraged to a lot of drawing, in particular for a competition which was launched by the newly constructed St Johns Shopping centre to design a mascot, which would then feature on their branding and in costume at the centre for advertising purposes, clever marketing on their part, it was open to all the schools in the local area, safe to say my poor effort “Babbit the rabbit” was an epic fail, I was also surprised to see that is was not won by Andrew Webb who was advanced at illustration in our class at the time and could draw original creations as well as brilliant replicas of the famous cartoon characters freehand and from memory.

Then a long hot summer followed which was mainly spent with me my friends looking forward to replicating our favourite Leeds players who were now in the top league following promotion, many of the lads had Vinny Jones V Haircuts at the time, and the world cup of Italia 90, complete with Pavarotti Soundtrack, Penalty shootout heartbreaks and many of us in the playground doing impressions of John Barnes rapping or singing for England (Eng – Ger –Land). With that Key Stage one was over, next up we would be into year 3, with a new teacher, to whom teaching was also new, a shakeup of all the classes and us being the guinea pigs for a new style of testing.

It was also the last year we got milk too, which like the Prime Minister who was often spoken of when talking about it at the time was also about to depart.

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steelcitygirlreviews · 4 years

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Interview: Ordinary Days

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to interview the Artistic Producer (Amber Mills) and Director (Luke Brown) of Hamilton Theatre Project’s upcoming production of Adam Gwon’s Ordinary Days. Ordinary Days is a contemporary musical which tells the story of four characters working their way through their 20s and 30s in New York City. It’s a powerful story about the connections we make, the hope that we seek and the experiences that shape us as we navigate through some of the most important and impactful years of our lives.

1. What initially inspired you about playwright Adam Gwon’s script?

AMBER: After producing John & Jenn (by Andrew Lippa and Tom Greenwald) last June I started listening to lots of new things, trying to get inspired. A friend sent Ordinary Days my way and I listened to the original cast recording in a couple of sittings. When I got to the song, I’ll Be Here I had to sit down and listen through to the end of the show, mostly holding my breath. Once I’d finished listening all the way through I immediately went into producer mode and starting picturing how I could bring this piece to life here in Hamilton.

LUKE: This was 100% Amber. She brought the project to me with both a cast and venue. The material, which wonderful, was just the icing on the cake. It was a team of people I admire and respect that I wanted to collaborate with.

2. What’s challenging about bringing this script to life?

AMBER: It’s two very simple stories woven together by little moments of connection. I think the number one challenge lies in performing in such an intimate space – there’s no hiding. You need to bring 100% of yourself to the table and none of us ever leave the stage so there’s no going off for a drink of water or a couple breaths. The challenge with the script I would say is that it’s written like two short plays in one and so to find opportunities to see connections in the Deb and Warren story with the Claire and Jason story and ensure that the piece comes together as a whole.

LUKE: The Bright Room is a tiny space, even though this is a small musical, moving four performers in such an intimate space has proven to be a challenge, particularly with keeping sight lines open without negatively impacting the pace of the piece. But the flip side of this is that we’ve got a great team to work on this show. Our MD, Kate Boose, wouldn’t be out of place working as an MD at any theatre in Canada. Our cast is so strong and experienced that they really make my life as a director that much easier. It’s so nice to be able to say on a show that the biggest challenge is blocking.

3. Why is it important to create new work in Hamilton and how does the original script translate to a Hamilton audience?

LUKE: Ordinary Days, while not a new piece, is new to Hamilton. There’s a whole world of fantastic material, that for various reasons, has never been presented or produced in Hamilton. While the professional theatre community has grown with leaps and bounds, musicals haven’t really been a part of that up until recently. It’s great to have someone seeking out and producing professional productions of smaller musicals in Hamilton. While I love working on original material, there is a thrill associated with bringing projects like this to Hamilton. If not for Amber, the only people in Hamilton that would be aware of chamber pieces like John and Jenn or Ordinary Days, would be the musical theatre geeks. I love that audiences will be exposed to composer Adam Gwon, see a different style of musical than is normally presented here and that it’s presented in a manner different than we’re accustomed to seeing musicals staged.

AMBER: I feel like Hamilton is a city of possibility. Growing up here I had some extraordinary opportunities and training through the Theatre Aquarius performing arts program under Lou Zamprogna and those made me feel like anything was possible. After living in Toronto and performing across Canada for almost a decade I moved back to Hamilton and I feel this sense of hope and possibility all over again, but from an adult perspective. I’m excited to bring work to this town that folks wouldn’t see otherwise and although I value deeply the chance to develop new work right now I feel very committed to sharing high quality versions of excellent stories with my community.

4. There are 19 songs in this production. Which one, if you had to choose, is a standout moment for you?

LUKE: Toward the end of the show, there is a number called Rooftop Duet/Falling. It’s one of a handful of times in the production that all four performers share the stage to sing together. It’s a gorgeous tune that leads to a moment of pure theatricality.

AMBER: As I mentioned earlier, I’ll Be Here is the song that really pulled me to this piece initially, but I’m also incredibly fond of Beautiful (which I don’t sing, I just get to watch), the closing number of the show.

5. What will local audiences be thinking about after leaving the production?

LUKE: I hope everyone finds an element, whether it’s the story or a performance, that sticks in their mind long after the show has ended. Most of all, I hope they leave thinking about the fact that there is great theatre available in Hamilton and carve out some time to support another production.

AMBER: I would love folks to walk away feeling connected to at least one of the characters and ideally feeling grateful for the ordinary moments in their life that can lead to something extraordinary.

Thanks so much to Amber and Luke for the insights and intrigue! Look for my review of Ordinary Days coming in February! Be sure to catch this production held at The Staircase Theatre Bright Room...

Details: Ordinary Days Length: Approximately 90 minutes Performances held at: Staircase Theatre Bright Room (27 Dundurn Street North, Hamilton). Please note: this part of the venue is not wheelchair accessible. Performances running: January 29 & 30 at 8 p.m.; February 6 & 7 at 8 p.m; February 8 at 2 p.m. & 8 p.m. Tickets: $25 for adults; $20 for students/seniors/arts workers through Hamilton Choir Project

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upshotre · 5 years

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ODD NEWS: Woman quits job to look after husband because 'men should be spoilt by their wives'

Katrina Holte gets up every morning at 6.30am to lay out her husbands clothes before heading downstairs to make him breakfast and prepare a packed lunch for him to take into the office. She then spends her day cleaning, doing laundry and ironing before starting preparation for the couple's evening meal, which is always cooked from scratch and on the table on time. But her average day is very, very different to a year ago after she quit her job to become a full time 1950s inspired housewife to look after her engineering manager husband, Lars, 28. Katrina, 30, used to work in a busy payroll department but decided to give up her career in favour of a vintage lifestyle after being worn down by the day to day stresses of an office. "I feel like I’m living how I always wanted to. It’s my dream life and my husband shares my vision. "It is a lot of work. I do tons of dishes, laundry and ironing, but I love it and it’s helping to take care of my husband and that makes me really happy. "My husband is very appreciative of what I do. "He grew up in a house where he helped his mum with the cooking and the cleaning, so he is not domineering in any way. He’s the most gentle person I have ever met. "If I did, heaven forbid, have dinner late, he would not make a fuss, but I can tell it means a lot to him that it's normally on time. She has been living her new lifestyle since September "He looks tired when he comes in from work, so when the table is set and decorated and the candles are lit he relaxes. He’s happy for the evening. "I think a man needs his wife to make him feel spoilt every once in a while." Katrina has taken her role as traditional housewife to the extreme and wears 1950s dresses she's made herself. She's also filled her home with 1940s-style furniture in the living room and has a traditional bedroom. She said: "I can feel like I was born in the wrong decade, especially when I look at everything that is happening in the world now. I feel like I belong in a nicer, more old-fashioned time. But I know everything happens for a reason and it is God’s will that I’m here now. "I agree with old-fashioned values, like being a housewife, taking care of your family, nurturing the people in it and keeping your house in excellent condition, so everyone feels relaxed." A part-time seamstress for 10 years, Katrina, who sells her retro frocks across the world, said: “My new life started in September 2018, after I left my job, which was starting to wear me down. I was getting tired and I wasn’t living up to my own expectations. She said: "I spoke to my husband and told him I want to be a housewife and he said that was fine with him. "It was a fantastic feeling when I quit. I can do what I want to now and run my house as I want to run it. Now I’m a full-time homemaker." She cooks traditional meals and makes sure dinner is always on the dinner on time Her day starts at 6.30am when she wakes and sets out her husband’s clothes, ready for the day ahead, before preparing his breakfast and making him a packed lunch. After her own breakfast she does 15 minutes of vintage exercises. "Exercise in the 1930s to 1950s was a lot gentler. There was a lot of stretching, warming up or ‘limbering up,’ as they would say back then,” Katrina explained. "I have a vintage slant board, which is a small wooden ramp, to do core exercises like sit ups. I do them for about 10 to 15 minutes a day and they keep me in shape to fit into my 1950s dresses. "We have the idea today that we have to push our bodies to the limit, but in the 1950s the attitude was simply that you had to take care of it. "After my exercises I will go upstairs to take my shower and put on a full face of vintage make up. I use vintage products like Pond's cold cream and Revlon red lipstick and have well-drawn eyebrows, as well as using traditional hot rollers to curl my hair. "My entire wardrobe is 1950s, made up of dresses I have made myself from original patterns. I always try and look my best. "I feel most like myself when I’m wearing a vintage-style dress. They are so flattering and I love the colours and fabrics. I just feel happy when I put them on. "I will then spend a good hour doing the laundry, dusting and sweeping and making sure everything is clean and tidy. I make sure everything is kept in its place. She says it was all her idea "After lunch, when my house is tidy and smelling fresh, I will go upstairs and sew either for myself, for my customers or to try out new patterns." Katrina starts cooking the dinner at around 4pm to 5pm to make sure everything is ready when Lars returns from work. "I usually cook recipes from the era like pot roasts or chicken pies and make sure there are vegetables," she said. "In the 1950s, housewives liked to make sure all the food groups were there. "When Lars gets home he likes to hang his own coat up, which I don’t mind. I read in a 1950s book that if a man wants to hang his own coat up, you should not feel like it makes you a bad housewife. "I give him a glass of water and if dinner is not quite ready, a plate of snacks like cheese, dried fruit or nuts. "After dinner we play board games like Scrabble, or watch our vintage shows like I Love Lucy or The Donna Reed Show. Sometimes we read. I like reading 1950s cookbooks and vintage beauty and sewing magazines." Shunning modern music and television, Katrina listens to classical music or artists like Frank Sinatra and Doris Day on her vintage record player. When not in use, the television is hidden away, so as not to mess up the vintage look of the room and the couple do not watch cable or streaming channels. But Katrina insists her lifestyle is her choice, and nothing to do with her husband. She said: "He would never expect this from me, though, it was entirely my idea to live like this. It’s always been my dream since I was a little girl. "In a way, Lars is serving me, because he makes a lot more money than I do and he knows this is what I want to do in return. "He works very long hours and makes my dreams come true, so I try to make his come true, too. It’s an equal partnership. “I’m outspoken and I’m definitely not a repressed woman." Far from feeling that women in the 1950s were under the thumb, Katrina insists they were independent thinkers. She continued: “I read some statistics from the era that said 30 per cent of all married women had a job. They were not chained to the kitchen sink, they could go and do what they wanted to do. “I think we, as women, should support each other. If a woman says she wants to be a homemaker, we should not say that’s not right. What’s right for me might not be right for someone else. We all have to do what’s right for ourselves. “I met my husband at a dance, so it was quite an old-fashioned way of meeting. If I had lived in the 1950s, that’s how I would have liked to have met someone.” At their wedding at The Academy Chapel and Ballroom, Vancouver, Washington, in July 17, 2015, the couple's first dance was to Laendler, as performed by Julie Andrews and Christopher Plumber in The Sound of Music. She added: “I used to watch that film every day when I was a teenager. I can recite the whole thing from start to finish. Although I only watch it a few times a year now, I still make dresses based on the costumes.” While she admits the era was far from perfect, 1950s values really appeal to Katrina. She explained: “The golden rule then was to do to others what you want them to do to you. “No decade is perfect, definitely we had big social problems in the 50s, but the people I talk to who lived through the era say it was a time when you could leave your door unlocked and you didn’t need to worry about people breaking in. “People today have forgotten how to talk to people they don’t agree with and they have lost all their manners. They are always in a rush, they don’t remember to say please and thank you. Nowadays people are looking out for themselves and not thinking about the people around them. Read the full article

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imadmouhcine7 · 5 years

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league one: more cruelty at wimbledon, wherein a stoppage-time goal from igor vetokele seals a comeback win for charlton. plymouth put five past rochdale, shrewsbury get a surprise win at peterborough, portsmouth and barnsley draw a clean. championship: full-time whistles sound across the department. no late twists, other than the merciless late intention at wigan. norwich and leeds each win in narrow and dramatic style, hull take a tonking at brentford. hat-trick for that guy lionel messi …and it’s three-2 to barcelona at sevilla, who twice led. five minutes left. full-time: bournemouth 1-1 wolves a penalty apiece, a point apiece, and through all account a farcical final little while, proposing surprising sprinkler motion. championship: and there it's far – doomed ipswich concede the inevitable equaliser, within the first minute of stoppage time, at wigan. joe garner the scorer. full-time: newcastle 2-0 huddersfield rondon rankings, almiron impresses, and all is well – for now – at st james’. huddersfield, however, are sadly completed. championship: stated benrahma completes his hat-trick towards hull to place brentford 5-1 up. danny graham and che adam revel in a quickfire trade of dreams at st andrew’s, wherein it’s 2-2, and semi ajayi attracts rotherham degree inside the six-pointer at reading … and doomed ipswich nonetheless lead at wigan. league two: jay o’shea rattles in his sixteenth of the season, and bury have became it round – they’ve 2-1 ahead towards paul scholes’ oldham. they gained’t move pinnacle today – leaders lincoln are 2-zero up – however bury’s merchandising push maintains. intention! bournemouth 1-1 wolves (jimenez) a penalty apiece at the south coast. and then there’s another one! which shouldn’t were given! which josh king misses! championship: goals! two of them: norwich and leeds each cross in advance inside seconds of every different. first kenny mclean makes it 3-2 at carrow road – comeback kings and all that – earlier than a messy purpose from ezgjan alioski at elland street places bielsa’s facet 2-1 up. there follows a mass-scuffle, which concludes with bolton supervisor phil parkinson being sent off. bravo. albert adomah equalises for aston villa at stoke. europe: all over in munich, in which bayern inch past hertha berlin, 1-zero, to move level on points with dortmund. nonetheless 2-1 in seville, where ousmane dembele has been thrown on for barcelona. “ahem,” writes kieran malone, “steve staunton also scored a aim in opposition to norn iron immediately from a corner.” he did indeed – and it became the move-to celebration trick of morten gamst pedersen, right? any more for any extra?

championship: the carrow avenue crowd have seen a few satisfactory video games this season and are being treated to every other helter-skelter mystery nowadays: ben godfrey has made it 2-2 against bristol metropolis. leeds nevertheless being held by using bolton, bamford missing a splendid danger from near-variety. brent are now 4-1 to the good at domestic to hull, neal maupay inevitably entering into at the a laugh. a department under, omar bogle has missed a penalty within the massive one at fratton park. league one: aiden mcgeady doubles sunderland’s lead at bristol rovers, anthony o’connor makes it 2-2 for bradford towards 10-man walsall and mouhamadou-naby sarr stages for charlton at rock-backside wimbledon. intention from a corner! charlie mulgrew has bent one without delay in from a corner (also referred to as “an artim shaqiri”), to equalise for blackburn at birmingham. it’s the 1/3 time he’s pulled that off this season – ridiculous. goal! newcastle 2-0 huddersfield (perez) it's miles indeed. salomon rondon, a simply glorious centre-ahead, turns company to flick into the path of ayoze perez, who makes the factors safe for newcastle. goal! newcastle 1-zero huddersfield (rondon) the venezuelan colossus finishes thru jonas lossl’s legs to position the magpies beforehand. that’s huddersfield dead and buried, isn’t it. league : dreams at a top rate. your half of-time ratings appear to be this:

league one: sunderland are in advance at memorial stadium thanks to luke o’nien, even as the tabletop meeting among portsmouth and barnsley stays deadlocked. different half of-time ratings are as follows: europe: huff, puff, and a 64th-minute javi martínez header. bayern munich 1-zero hertha berlin, with the bavarian giants, as it stands, level on points with borussia dortmund on the top of the bundesliga. freiburg are four-1 up against augsburg, mainz 1-zero up towards schalke and monchengladbach main wolfburg 2-zero. in spain, gabriel mercado has restored sevilla’s lead towards barcelona – 2-1. “not a big fan of his so i must be thinking the ‘king’ part, not the ‘solomon’,” writes david smith, “however in his case sol is short for sulzeer no longer solomon” – a excellent factor and duly corrected. championship: grizzled veteran steven fletcher puts sheffield wednesday three-zero up at home to swansea, whose joie de vivre of ultimate week has deserted them. and stated benrahma has were given any other intention at griffin park. all in all an eventful forty five minutes in the second tier, where your half of-time rankings appear to be this: europe: in spain, jesus navas (the very equal) puts sevilla in advance in opposition to barcelona, but that man lionel messi equalises four minutes later. 1-1. half an hour to play in munich, in which bayern are yet to discover a manner past hertha berlin. league : a header from harry smith places sol campbell’s macclesfield beforehand at crawley – that takes them out of the drop quarter. helluva job to date from king sulzeer. championship: goals galore. the floodgates have opened on the riverside as ashley fletcher places boro 2-zero up towards qpr, kenny mclean equalises for norwich a full minute before callum o’dowda restores bristol metropolis’s lead, preston are three to the coolest at millwall with 1/2 an hour gone, a wondergoal from saïd benrahma has turned brentford-hull on its head – that one is now 2-1 – and 10-guy, backside-of-the-desk, genuinely-doomed ipswich are in advance at wigan way to a will keane penalty. they couldn’t, could they…?

league two: just the five desires so far, the most high-quality of that is bruno andrade’s for lincoln at morecambe. league one: wimbledon lead charlton thanks michael folivi – a messy goal, however they’ll take it. they remain rock backside however are giving themselves every risk of survival with a mettlesome run of latest shape. this would make it three wins at the trot. different scores as follows: championship: leeds’ imperious reign on the top of the desk lasted precisely six mins. mark beevers has levelled for bolton. up in wigan, ipswich’s season of depression continues apace with a jonas knudsen sending off. and a effective header from fraizer campbell has put hull 1-0 up at brentford. purple card: tommy smith (huddersfield) huddersfield’s captain is giving his marching orders for a heavy tackle on almiron. as far as newcastle are concerned, a ought to-win game has just become a really-should-win-or-else recreation. championship: two large goals at the top of the table. jamie paterson has put unrelenting bristol metropolis 1-zero up at norwich (who, as you'll be aware, are the department comeback kings). and a patrick bamford penalty gives leeds the lead in opposition to bolton – they’ve leapfrogged norwich to go first as it stands. some other place preston have gone 2-zero up way to tom clarke and che adams receives his 20th intention of the season to put birmingham beforehand in opposition to blackburn. purpose! bournemouth 1-zero wolves (king) joshua king slams domestic from the spot after being brought down by means of joao moutinho. championship: jonny howson has positioned middlesbrough 1-zero up against qpr, and also you wouldn’t wager against the scoreline staying that way – no one in the pinnacle half of have scored fewer than boro, and nobody in the whole division has conceded fewer. stoke are in advance towards aston villa thanks to sam vokes, preston are beating millwall and a peach from adam attain has positioned sheffield wednesday in front towards swansea. guy city win the continental cup they triumph 4-2 on consequences, karen bardsley the hero with saves in the shootout. more right here: in league one’s early kickoff, sixth-positioned doncaster have only managed a 1-1 draw at scunthorpe – this means that peterborough can leapfrog them into the play-off locations with the aid of beating shrewsbury. penalties in the continental cup arsenal v manchester town finishes at an deadlock, and will be determined by the lottery exacting, excessive-strain examination of technique that may be a penalty shootout. observe it right here with rob smyth: so, miguel almiron receives his complete debut for newcastle. he regarded a livewire off the bench in opposition to wolves, exactly the kind of lively, unfastened-jazz type that rafael benitez’s aspect were desperately lacking. understanding rafa as we do, it may be smart not to assume to see an excessive amount of of almiron away from home, however nowadays’s recreation – a have to-win domestic recreation against the lowest aspect – is a tailored debut. he plays along each salomon rondon and ayoze perez in what is, by means of benitez’s standards, a full-on gung-ho attacking lineup. team news bournemouth v wolves bournemouth: boruc; clyne, mepham, aké, smith; ibe, gosling, lerma, fraser; king; solanke. subs: surman, mousset, daniels, rico, simpson, begovic, surridge wolves: rui patrício; bennett, coady, boly; doherty, dendoncker, rúben neves, joão moutinho, jonny; jiménez, diogo jota. subs: ruddy, cavaleiro, costa, gibbs-white, saiss, vinagre, traore newcastle v huddersfield newcastle: dubravka; schar lascelles, lejeune; yedlin, hayden, longstaff, ritchie; perez, almiron; rondon. subs: woodman, manquillo, dummett, kenedy, ki, atsu, joselu huddersfield: lossl, smith, hogg, bacuna, lowe, zanka, schindler, mooy, puncheon, kachunga, depoitre. subs: kongolo, billing, hamer, grant, mournie, stankovic, hadergjonaj across europe some information for the armchair bundesliga fans getting enthusiastic about borussia dortmund’s runaway fulfillment: bayern munich may be top of the desk come 5pm these days. they’ll have played a game more, and that they’ll need a seven-intention win to get there, but equally they have got lost as soon as for the reason that mid-november and today – nay, right now – face midtable hertha at the allianz arena. document below “stranger matters have passed off”. for an object lesson in runaway-leaderdom, dortmund need to look to spain, wherein barcelona can sail 10 points clean with a win this afternoon. the best trouble is they’re away at sevilla, who are not handiest clearly quite excellent, but will also be purpose of wresting returned fourth spot after getafe’s in advance win. stay tuned. league two after a win, a draw and a loss from his first three video games with oldham, paul scholes seems to instil consistency – and near in at the play-offs – with a nearby derby in opposition to bury. scholes’ warring parties will be no pushovers: bury could quit the day top of the table. the cutting-edge leaders, lincoln, journey to morecambe. other promoting hopefuls face off as colchester host carlisle, and sol campbell continues his attempts to dig macclesfield out of chance at crawley. notts county, the department’s bottom aspect and a factor beneath campbell’s guys, are are at tranmere, in which they’ll be tasked with retaining a lid at the unfastened-scoring james norwood. league one with leaders luton no longer gambling until day after today, 2d-placed barnsley have a hazard to shut the space to 2 points this afternoon. to accomplish that they’ll want to win at fratton park – no smooth project, though portsmouth, five points clear on new 12 months’s day and now 10 factors off the leaders, are in wretched shape. at the other give up of the table, with seven points “isolating” the bottom eight and four relegation spots to head spherical, the annual mad scramble has well and sincerely began. to that stop wimbledon will be hoping to redirect the buoyancy in their fa cup run, which came to an end ultimate weekend, into the task of clambering off the lowest of the league. they host charlton, even as the 3 groups above them – all on 33 points – are away from domestic. full-time: burnley 2-1 tottenham and that’s that. spurs have carried out wonders in recent months to grasp doggedly to the coat-tails of the top , however the ultimate-ditch heroics that delivered so lots of their wins intended doubts lingered over how sustainable a name tilt genuinely changed into. and there have been no such heroics nowadays. they may finish the weekend 8 points off the league leaders. burnley, meanwhile, have turned a depressing season absolutely around – and that end result will not be welcomed at newcastle, who will live underneath sean dyche’s aspect nowadays whatever occurs. more coverage and reaction here: championship a massive day in a division this is delectably tight at the pinnacle. 3 point separate the pinnacle four, of whom – west brom and sheffield united – face off later this afternoon. the alternative have their danger to turn up the warmth on their counterparts before that: leaders norwich towards a ludicrously in-shape bristol city side who've received their closing seven league video games at the jump, and leeds hosting bolton in a recreation that would appearance honest enough have been leeds now not in the midst of a surprisingly bielsan submit-christmas wobble. someplace else studying and rotherham – respectively above and inside the drop quarter, separated only through aim-distinction – lock horns in a dictionary-definition six-pointer. count on mud, blood and 2 well-prowled technical areas. ipswich’s more and more determined try to salvage their season keep at wigan, aston villa and birmingham’s wavering advertising pushes continue against stoke and blackburn respectively, and millwall appearance to put an inglorious week behind them – and preserve their heads above the relegations waters – towards preston. a win at bristol rovers – one in every of that lowly gaggle – ought to take sunderland inside a factor of the automatic promoting spots, while two of the league deadlier finishers in neal maupay and jarrod bowen come head to head in hull’s soiree to brentford. goal! burnley 2-1 tottenham (barnes) a massive aim at each ends of the desk! jóhann berg guðmundsson collects a free ball on the edge of a crowded spurs container and hits a shot, badly scuffed and trickling well extensive … till an alert ashley barnes scampers in on the lower back put up to prod home. a poacher’s end from the austrian assassin. spurs want something special now. superior league proper then. simply the two 3pm kick-offs today way to diverse european and domestic cup entanglements, in addition to the day past’s friday-night time escapades. however they’re two games of a few word: wolves and bournemouth are very likely, on their day, the 2 best footballing facets out of doors the pinnacle six (and indeed well able to besting that elite), too. the “on their day” caveat is a large one although, specially for eddie howe’s team, whose latest shape has even by using their own standards zigzagged wildly and with little obvious good judgment. a win for them towards a instead on hand wolves facet unbeaten in seven would set them closer to a very last instantly of the season while they could revel in hunting down those above them instead of be anxious over what might be looming underneath. up on tyneside, in the meantime, rafael benítez enters what can be a season-defining week. his facet take on rock-backside, aim-allergic huddersfield before web hosting burnley on tuesday and heading to west ham next saturday. a win this afternoon might take his aspect up to heady thirteenth and double-triple-rubberstamp huddersfield’s destiny, no longer to say soften the gutpunch that became the overdue, a good deal fumed-over equaliser conceded at molineux of their final trip. a defeat, on the other hand, could be very awful certainly for a club where doom-mongering has end up close to second nature. there’s additionally a few soccer taking place as we speak. that’d be tottenham’s ride to burnley – the name outsiders having just dragged it again to at least one-1 at turf moor thru a sure harold kane. there’s 15 mins to head and also you’ll get updates right here – even though sense loose to preserve abreast via scott murray’s devoted live blog: rugby, what rugby? are you via any hazard averse to egg-chasing and the pointy-shoed fairweather enthusiasts, crude of way and loud of voice, who invade our favorite pubs right now of yr? then welcome every person to this fairly slight-mannered live weblog, where there can be no aggressive downing of pints, no roaringly performative patriotism, and the best goalposts that rely are exactly 2.44 meters tall. because in spite of what you might had been informed, there's soccer to be had this afternoon – masses of it. inside the top flight we’ve were given a best-of-the-relaxation meeting and an old-fashioned gloves-off scrap, at the same time as each of the the seventy two football league clubs are turning into the season’s home straight with a few combination of ambition, distress, willpower, terror, despair, craving, angst and apathy. i’ll communicate you thru all that in a minute. get the kettle on.

#IFTTT #Blogger

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investmart007 · 6 years

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NEW YORK | AP Basketball Writer Jim O'Connell dead at age 64

New Post has been published on https://is.gd/Lq6qsL

NEW YORK | AP Basketball Writer Jim O'Connell dead at age 64

NEW YORK — Jim O’Connell, the longtime college basketball writer for The Associated Press and a member of the Hall of Fame, has died. He was 64.

He died Monday after a series of ailments, his son Andrew said. Known to nearly everyone as Oc, O’Connell was a former president of the United States Basketball Writers Association. He entered that organization’s Hall of Fame in 2002, the same year he earned the Naismith Memorial Hall of Fame’s Curt Gowdy Award for his coverage of the sport.

O’Connell served as the AP’s national college basketball writer since 1987 and was a fixture at all the sport’s major events, from the Final Four to the Big East Tournament to the Maui Invitational. He covered eight Olympics and worked as a desk supervisor, overseeing the entire sports operation for the world’s largest news-gathering organization.

The press table at a college basketball game was Oc’s stage. Thanks to his Irish wit, long memory, easygoing personality and perfect timing, he always had an eager audience of TV analysts, other writers, fans and coaches.

“He was the source on college basketball,” said Terry Taylor, the AP’s sports editor from 1992-2013. “He knew coaches, players, games, dates of games and final scores — all manner of factoids — off the top of his head. And when you looked it up, he was always right.”

He was a mentor to journalists in the AP and elsewhere. For decades, he coached young reporters in bureaus around the AP on how to cover a game, making sure the play-by-play, the NCAA Tournament implications and the star performances were all put into context.

O’Connell built deep relationships with colleagues, players, executives, referees and coaches, particularly the ones who most respected him, such as fellow Hall of Famers Jim Calhoun, Jim Boeheim and Mike Krzyzewski.

“He was a great man, he really was,” Boeheim said. “He was a guy you looked forward to seeing. Always had a good word and a smile. He wrote sports, but he did it in a positive way, always. He was always good to players, coaches, fans — everybody. He was a unique individual, always had a good word for everybody. Always.”

A stick boy for the New York Islanders as a teen, O’Connell went to St. John’s and joined the AP’s first class of baseball dictationists in the mid-70s, a part-time job he soon converted into a career covering hoops. After leaving to become sports information director at Fordham — where he met his wife, Anne Gregory, the best female basketball player in school history — Oc returned to the AP in 1978.

By 1979, he was aiding the AP’s coverage of the Final Four. He had a long chat about basketball with Indiana State star Larry Bird, who was famously reticent about speaking with the media. It was only when O’Connell pulled out a notepad that Bird clammed up.

He covered every Final Four from 1979 through 2017, including 2015, just months after an operation that required partial amputation of his leg. The NCAA made sure O’Connell had a seat at the end of the media table, so he could stretch out his prosthetic. O’Connell was just as knowledgeable about teams like Rider and Wagner as he was about powerhouse programs like Duke and Kentucky. If a fan asked him about any team, he could tell them what he thought of their chances. For decades, if there was a college basketball game in the New York area, Oc would probably be courtside — whether he was working or not.

“Oc and his wife, Annie, were great friends to my wife, Patty, and me when we moved to Long Island to take the job at Hofstra,” said Jay Wright, coach of current NCAA champion Villanova. “Oc is the most knowledgeable, ethical, humble college basketball expert ever. He is dependable as a friend and as writer.”

For those in the AP, especially working a long night shift in New York editing game stories, or those on the phone asking for his help covering a game thousands of miles away, a conversation with Oc would be the highlight of the week.

“Perhaps most importantly, he was beloved by his AP Sports colleagues,” Taylor said. “He told funny stories like no one else, and he always had one. He lit up the room when he walked in for his night shift.

“It was always a treat to work with Oc,” she said. “He was smart. He was calm. And he was excellent at cracking me up at just the right moment to relieve tension.”

By Associated Press

#College Basketball #Naismith Memorial Hall of Fame's Curt Gowdy #NCAA #NCAA champion Villanova #New York #TodayNews #United States Basketball

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crazy-figures-coll · 6 years

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Down of the Farm: City Dwellers need not apply This was am outstanding book with a plethora of information about running a farm, house, kids, work as a dietician, etc. Meticulous detail about each and every animal on farm, how it is raised, slaughtered, etc same with veggies in the garden, when , where, picked, pickled,etc. Go to Amazon

Good book if you're looking to grow/raise more of your own food Homegrown Paleo is one of the most aesthetically pleasing books that I own. The pictures are fabulous, the pages glossy, and the heavy feel of the book gives a nod to well-bound books of times past. I love that it contains a comprehensive overview of homesteading and growing your own food in very nicely divided sections. I have been growing my own food for most of my life so I didn't learn a lot. However, I felt like it was a very accurate guide for anyone looking to dip their toes into homesteading. An inspiring book it is indeed! Go to Amazon

More than a cookbook: a guide for sustainable living This is so much more than a cookbook. For those unacquainted with the true ideology behind the ancestral health movement, this presents a great introduction. Not only does it include information about cooking healthy food, but it also draws upon principles of permaculture and sustainability. This kind of philosophy coupled with practice applicability is the kind of thing we need more of in the western world. Go to Amazon

This is a must have book!!!!!! I buy soooo many books on homesteading and cooking. This is my new favorite. That is saying a lot. Its well written, entertaining, educational, and just awesome!!!!!!!!! This book is so inline with our beliefs on nutrition and on animal care. I would really love to see a book 2. Thank you Diane and Andrew Rodgers. Also love the youtube videos :) Go to Amazon

This book is a truly exceptional work of love. I have many Paleo (and other) cookbooks that ... This book is a truly exceptional work of love. I have many Paleo (and other) cookbooks that I've read cover to cover, but this book stands out as the most inspiring for me, hands down! Diana doesn't just share excellent recipes with beautiful photography, she shares what is in her heart about living a sustainable and grateful life with food, friends and family. I am now buying a copy for my precious niece, and I hope she is inspired to seek out the truth of what a life well lived can be. Thank you for sharing, Diana! Go to Amazon

LOVE this cookbook for the recipes AND the homesteading information LOVE this cookbook for the recipes AND the homesteading information. The book is beautiful and I like the fact that it is split up seasonally. there is only ONE downside to this book and it is BIG in my opinion. There is NO recipe index and that really makes the book hard to use. However...the book is so good otherwise I still give it 5 stars. Go to Amazon

Essential for everyone in the real-food/ Paleo movement. This book is phenomenal and a must-have for anyone who is dedicated to the real food lifestyle. Not just a cookbook, Diana has been able to answer so many questions this wannabe homesteader has had for the past 2 years in a simple, easy to understand manner. The diagrams provided are invaluable and are wonderful for this visual learner. With the acerage diagrams, there's simply no excuse not to be even the tiniest bit sustainable, whether as complex as having multiple forms of livestock, or as simple as growing your own herbs. My husband and I will be purchasing some chickens when we move to our next home and this book has taken some fear out of the equation. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Go to Amazon

I did enjoy the informational aspect of the Paleo lifestyle For me, this will be a coffee table book. I won't use the recipes - many use ingredients I don't have readily available, and they're not "home cooking" and seem to be more for entertaining. For someone living near an area where they might have Natural Grocers or Whole Foods, it would be more appealing to acquire ingredients. I am in a local area, and if I can't raise it here, order online, or find it at small town grocery (or the dreaded Walmart) I cannot prepare most of these dishes. Still, I did enjoy the informational aspect of the Paleo lifestyle, and the sections on growing your own food. It is a beautiful book and the photography is lovely. It's still a keeper! Go to Amazon

Five Stars Book Makes Me Feel Like I Can Actually Cook While the information on homesteading is good and photos are beautiful Great book! Five Stars Five Stars Love this book Five Stars Some things are easy changes to implement Paleo recipes that dont require a intensive shopping list !

#Andrew Rodgers: 9781628600629: Amazon.com: Books

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wingedwalls · 7 years

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Rapid Fire Book Tag

I nicked this off Wordpress - not sure who originally came up with it, but thanks!

Question 1 : E-Book or Physical Book?

Physical book for everything except academic papers.

Question 2 : Paperback or Hardback?

Paperback! Mostly because I have a tendency to drop books on my face when I read in bed and paperbacks are lighter. Also because they’re easier to lug around.

Question 3 : Online or In-Store Book Shopping?

In-store, always. I get such a kick from picking up new books in person.

Question 4 : Trilogies or Series?

Single stand-alones.

Question 5 : Heroes or Villains?

Anti-heroes... But no, in actuality, whoever is best written. Some series write heroes better than villains (e.g. Harry Potter), others write villains very well (e.g. Neverwhere).

Question 6 : A book you want everyone to read?

The End of Mr Y, by Scarlett Thomas. I found it by accident and I can’t recommend it enough. I haven’t read such a fun, thought-provoking rollercoaster of a book in a long time.

Question 7 : Recommend an underrated book?

If you’re reading this I’m already dead, by Andrew Nicoll. People often dismiss it as ‘a silly but fun’ book, but it’s about as silly as Catch-22 really is.

Question 8 : The last book you finished?

Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. I don’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. I’m very, very impressed. Excellent world-building and storytelling.

Question 9 :The Last Book(s) You Bought?

The Pillow Book by Sei Shounagon - an 11th century Japanese book by a Court gentlewoman who apparently really liked to make lists. I also like to make lists.

Question 10 : Weirdest Thing You’ve Used as a Bookmark?

Honestly? A full mink skin. I was on the steppe in Mongolia and came across one, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Question 11 : Used Books: Yes or No?

Yes, duh. They smell delicious, and everyone knows smell is the most important thing in a book.

Question 12 : Top Three Favourite Genres?

Fantasy, Travel, Detective stories.

Question 13 : Borrow or Buy?

Buy if I can afford it. I tend to lend out books I liked though and rarely get them back.

Question 14 : Characters or Plot?

Hmmmmmm maybe plot? What I really look for in a book, at the end of the day, is a good story. And to me good storytelling has three components:

* Characters (and this includes dialogue, how characters relate to each other and to the reader, etc. Cassandra Clare’s Shadowhunter Chronicles is a good example of a series prioritising characters - you feel like you know them all personally, they ring true and feel like real people you return to for regular visits.)

* Plot (do you want to turn the pages and keep reading? Do you keep asking yourself, ‘what happens next??’ Do plot twists make you gasp or bounce in excitement rather than think I knew it all along...? A book that does this really well is The Good Fairies of New York by Martin Millar.)

* World-building (Can you picture yourself walking around and living in that world? Does it stay with you, like a coloured lens, tinting your vision of the world around you for days or weeks after you’ve finished reading? Make you want to eat different foods, wear different clothes, speak in a different manner? Then it’s a world-building success. The Lies of Locke Lamora, by Scott Lynch, does a spectacular job of this.)

I think a book tells a good story if it has two of these. It is an excellent story if it has three.

A story with only one of these will probably keep me reading, but ultimately leave me with a general feeling of ‘meh’ - I’ll remember it as an average book with some redeeming elements that spoke to me. One such example is Leigh Bardugo’s Grisha series. The world-building is excellent: despite being a little shaky in the first book, Shadow and Bone, the ‘Grishaverse’ truly comes to life in the later books, and had me listening to Russian music, wearing military fashions and seasoning my food with cream and dill for days. Unfortunately, most characters are two-dimensional and the plot is predictable and full of holes. So, would I re-read them? No. Would I read other stories set in that world? Yes.

An example of a book that has two of these components down is A Darker Shade of Magic, by VE Schwab. I absolutely loved that story - it really spoke to me. This is because a) the characters are particularly likeable. They have very distinct personalities, the dialogue is both witty and believable, and they interact with each other in a way that feels like a natural progression rather than stunted or forced. And b) The world-building is like a storyteller ate all of your childhood stories and dreams, pirate ships and fairytales and Studio Ghibli and one day I’ll be able to fight!, and vomited them back up into a format your adult self never knew you wanted. The plot? Well, the plot was... predictable. But the other elements of the story held my attention and captivated me so much that it made for a bloody good story, and had anyone been reading it aloud to me they would’ve collapsed before I’d let them take a break.

A book that has all three? It seems like a cop-out to reuse an example, but The Lies of Locke Lamora (Scott Lynch) has it. And the result is truly phenomenal. I went through all five stages of grief when some of the characters died. I missed Tube stops and walked into people on the streets because I couldn’t put the book down. I was late for work. It made both me and my boyfriend dream so much we’re planning a holiday to flipping Venice, even though I’m completely broke. And you know what? I’m not even sorry.

Question 15 : Long or Short Books?

I like alternating between the two. Long books are great for falling into a new world, short books are great for traveling and insta!satisfaction.

Question 16 : Long or Short Chapters?

I think long? I don’t feel particularly strongly either way, but the constant staggering of short chapters sometimes annoys me.

Question 17 : Name The First Three Books You Think Of…

Anna Karenina - Tolstoy, Throne of Glass - Sarah J Maas, Today I Wrote Nothing - Daniil Kharms

Question 18 : Books That Makes You Laugh or Cry?

Laugh - I like books that make me bark out my appreciation in loud and uncontrolled laughs, it keeps me entertained when I’m reading in public places.

That said, some of the books that have affected me the most and stayed with me the longest have made me cry like a madeleine (this is a genuine French idiom and I’ve never questioned it before, but I now realise I have no idea where it came from). Again, usually in public spaces. My 14-year-old self read Balzac’s Le Pere Goriot on the Eurostar and was massively embarrassed when I found I couldn’t stop sniffling after having complained about how ‘boring’ it was for days. Naturally, my family called me out on it. I finished the Amber Spyglass (Philipp Pullman) in a bookshop and came out in tears, to the utter puzzlement of the staff.

Question 19 : Our World or Fictional Worlds?

When both collide. I suppose for modern fiction this mostly amounts to Urban Fantasy.

Question 20 : Audiobooks: Yes or No?

I couldn’t say - I’ve only ever listened to one audiobook, The Lies of Locke Lamora. Some things about it bugged me, but overall I think I liked it, so I will try again.

Question 21 : Do You Ever Judge a Book by its Cover?

All the time, but in many ways that is because I have nothing else to rely on. I went into a bookshop once that had a recommendations table, where staff had not only picked out their favourites but left a little note in each of them marking out a page or scene that best illustrated the essence of the book. It was great. I think all bookshops should do that. In fact, I think publishers should do that, and put it on the cover. “Open up to page 138 to read about the Floating Market!” Now I always try to do that when recommending books to people.

Question 22 : Book to Movie or Book to TV Adaptations?

I love that this is a question. Book to TV, definitely! I spend so much time with the characters and worlds of a book that I feel movies can never do them justice, and I end up frustrated more than anything. With a TV adaptation, they can add in detail and build up a story that is familiar, yet a little different.

Question 23 : A Movie or TV-Show You Preferred to its Book?

True Blood! I read the first couple of books of the Sookie Stackhouse / Southern Vampire Mysteries series by Charlaine Harris, and couldn’t get into it. The first few seasons of the show, by comparison, were very good - they figured out what had worked in the original content and built on it.

Question 24 : Series or Standalones?

Standalones - mostly because I don’t have the patience for series anymore. To me some of the best series are those that feel like one book cut into episodes.

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