Billygean.co.uk: Compulsive Reading

Monday, October 29, 2007

Halloween

MindReader and I carved a pumpkin.

Because we are a COUPLE :D.

I have an exam in less than 12 hours which involves CALCULATIONS!

"What should I do what should I do what should I do," I chunter into MindReader's ear. Whilst dressed as Tinkerbell. At a party.

"What what what?" he says.

"Should I take my pill at 10 or 11pm?"

"What time do you normally take it?"

"11."

"11 then," he says, his expression neutral. Although he is wearing a red feather around his head (did Peter Pan wear an Indian headband anyone?)

"But the CLOCKS GO BACK," I hiss, MindReader probably not realising what an issue this is.

There is the recognition I love so well.

"I see," he says, his face melting into a smile. "Take it at 11 anyway," he says, patting my knee.

"But - that's either an hour early or an hour late!"

"Yes. But it doesn't really matter does it?"

"I wonder how many people have got pregnant because the clocks went back?" I say, imagining the horror.

"I'd go for none."

Labels: blonde moments, MindReader

Saturday, October 27, 2007

Wherein I am hot!

TheToff looks at me as I board the train.

He is wearing a rugby shirt, a puffy body warmer, a tan, and lots of stringy bracelet things that scream "I've been travelling". He is barely 20 by the looks of it, shaggy blond hair, lips so red they look like he's been eating blueberries all day. You get the impression.

I am judgmental.

The sign above his head blinks. "Not in service. Please alight."

"Er," I say. "What does that mean?"

"Alight," he says. "It's an old way of saying -"

I tut. "I know what alight means. Do we have to do it?"

"I hope not, this is the last train to Shrewsbury."

But he says Shrowsbury. MindReader has warned me about this. And this is how I know TheToff is a toff.

"Great," I say. "I'm staying on then."

He looks at me for a second. And this is the moment, isn't it, where you either lapse into silence for the journey exchanging occasional smiles about the lateness of the train or the freaks in the next carriage, or you have to talk for the whole journey.

"So do you live in Shrewsbury?"

I sigh.

"No," I say. "I live in, well, I live in Tamworth, I suppose," and wince because I don't, only in times of crisis.

"Why are you going to Shrewsbury then?" he says, pushing his mop of hair back.

"Erm," I say, taken aback. "To see -"

"When we get there would you like to go with me to -"

I panic.

"I'm going to Shrewsbury to see my boyfriend," I say.

And just like that he goes silent! How obvious!

He speaks again 20 minutes later, when I pull the bright green tinkerbell wings out of my bag because they were getting squished.

"You going to a party with this boyfriend then?"

"Yes."

"Is it fancy dress?"

"No," I smirk, and then take out my tax law book and we do not speak again.

Labels: embarrassing

Friday, October 26, 2007

More honest (beware: long!)

At first I thought it might be infatuation.

I was obsessed with his bum, and the way his shoulders curved when he walked. I noted his blond eyebrows, lopsided smile, the way he bit his lip sometimes when he would look at me across a room and I would suspect he was thinking about sex.

I didn't feel any of the empathy I felt for Mike. I remember the first twinges of that with Mike; one night us and our housemates all cooked, pizza and garlic doughballs, and Mike stood on one. The garlic spurted all over his socks and he looked so embarrassed as he tried to clean it up that I cried. We forever called it my irrational doughball moment but it was pure empathy.

I thought it might not be like that with MindReader. For it was so soon and so sudden and Mike was so in the forefront of my brain that he was often all I could talk about. I thought the 5 hour long phone calls with MindReader, the hours lingering on platforms of Birmingham New Station Station only pointed to some obsession that I had to get out of my system.

It didn't change in an instant; these things never do.

I started to notice the way he listened. Not just when I ranted and moaned about work, law, housemates, but when I didn't realise he was listening. So he would surprise me with things he knew I liked, mannerisms I didn't know I had, and he tapped into my deepest neuroses so fast that I found myself telling him things only a few select others know, and found he knew exactly how to respond even if it was with constant reassurances that I did not have alopaecia and that the world wasn't going to end.

I noticed his delight in me. In psychotic moments and blonde moments, and spider moments, he smiles, only half his mouth curving up sarcastically. He delights in my obsession with music lyrics, listing my top five everything, even, he says, at 4 in the morning in Stanstead airport. It is amusing to him how messy I am, how I warn him I will never be tidy. He understands my disgust at poncy rich people, and my ultimate desire to be just like those pashmina-wearing-M&S-shopping types. He knows to not ask me to watch him play football as his friends would call me a WAG, yet would not be surprised if it was my life ambition.

He wants to know everything, and his insistence is often overwhelming.

He nests with me; fluffing pillows and turning the heating up and watching movies. He likes late-night coffee, always with chocolate, because it doesn't give him palpitations like it does me. He is, I joke, a football thug, a sports enthusiast. But, he cooks, tasting herbs grown in his garden, says things like bok soi like they are every day words. He says he is a-party-political, yet has a degree in it and can shoot my arguments down in seconds, without thought. And yet, he can do that ridiculous Ali-G wrist snapping thing with his hand, which suggests he taught himself how.

He is fashionable. He talks about what goes with what, and wears ridiculous stripey tops which I maintain are slightly camp.

We do not talk about law that much; it is not something I feel we have in common because I have sold my soul to a corporate firm and he has not. However when we do it is strangely in depth, political, where he thinks it's all going. And random - in between a starter and a main, whilst he was fixing my lightbulb.

He's well travelled. All over Europe in 5 weeks, right to the hardests parts like Belgrade. He often starts anecdotes with In Macedonia, and yet, the stories are more often about how he overpaid for a towel or what the train station looked like.

His hair goes curly at his neck when it gets too long, and his freckles all multiply together in the sun.

His bag strap broke last week, and he looked so poor and hard working in his big duffel coat that I cried.

Labels: MindReader

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Never have I had to use dictionary.com so much for a blog entry

"It would have to be a church with just the one aisle," L says. "My church at home has two and it's confusing."

I am in the pub with Very Old Housemates and I am definitely NOT Talking About Weddings and Being Girly.

"Mine does at home, too," A says, lining the beer mats up on the table. "It has the bit with the nave,and then - "

She pauses and looks at me. "That's the main bit, Billygean," she says.

"Thanks," I say, pleased of the idiot-proofing. "Isn't a nave something else...?"

"A knave with a K is," A says. "You know," she says, singing, much to the disgusted looks of pub onlookers, "A kestrel for a knave..."

I stare, completely baffled. "Thanks, that's really helpful," I say.

"Thought so."

Labels: Housemates

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

I think I prefer the Peter Pan costume MindReader gets to wear

I check the address again and ring the doorbell.

A lady with bright pink dreadlocks answers. "Ah," she says. "You must be Tinkerbell."

I blink. "I guess so," I say, following her down the hallway lined with Buddha statues and Hemp posters.

MindReader and I are going to a Halloween party this Saturday and have been ignoring the fancy dress aspect. Mostly because we don't see each other often enough to warrant costume shopping when we do.

"I thought you might like to try SuperGirl and SuperMan on too," she says, gesturing to the bright costumes hanging in the dressing room.

"Thanks," I say. "I bet you're really busy this time of year."

"Busy all year," she says. I briefly wonder why, but then reason it is Tamworth, and there are probably people here with SuperGirl festishes.

"But yes," she says. "Three out of our four Tinkerbells are already out."

Just then the pink panther walks past.

"Anyway here's the dress and there are your boot tops," she says.

I shake my head and shut the changing room doors.

The costume - it is baffling. I try it this way and that, pushing my head through odd holes. I hold the boot tops up and scrutinise them. Eventually I emerge.

It turns out I had the boot tops on my arms and the belt around my head.

Labels: blonde moments, embarrassing, MindReader

Monday, October 22, 2007

Will I always be the disorganised counterpart in any relationship?

I stretch languidly under the duvet. It is 7:30am.

MindReader pulls a shirt over his head. And then a jumper. He looks rather gorgeous.

"I've not seen you in your work clothes before," I say, acutely aware I slept in a food-stained hoody.

"No?" he says, rubbing gel through his blond hair.

"No," I say, sitting up and shamelessly admiring him.

He catches me and laughs, the smile lines deep around his mouth.

"Come back to bed," I say. "It's so warm..."

"No, we have to go," he says, checking his watch. "You have 11 minutes or you won't get a lift to the train station."

I sigh and fall back onto his pillows.

"I'm going to make coffee," he says. "Meet me downstairs in 5 minutes?"

"Why?" I say.

"Because we have to leave and that's where the door is."

Labels: MindReader

Friday, October 19, 2007

Wherein I am seedy but it is fun

I consult my sheet of paper. Room 115.

There it is.

I pace back and forth down the law corridor, reading over my notes.

It is my first attempt at advocacy and I am shitting it. Just me, a case which I've highlighted in four different colours which mean nothing, a judge, and someone from my course as opposition.

The door drags along the carpet as I open it.

And there he is.

Opposition.

MindReader.

Of all the 600 people on this course.

I exhale loudly.

A slow smile spreads across his face as the judge clears her throat and shuffles her papers.

She extends a hand to meet mine, and I shake it, introducing myself and barely knowing what I am saying.

The advocacy passes in a blur of submissions, referring to documents, MindReader presenting complicated arguments I had not thought of, shuffling papers whilst I stared at the freckles on his hands.

"Therefore," I am saying, "although the particulars of claim say the goods were to be delivered as soon as possible, this was also in accordance with the course of dealings established previously, namely, 10 days."

"I take your point," he says, not smirking but instead, the face of concentration, and I wonder if he remembers last night at this moment as vividly as I do, "however, the defendant takes as soon as possible to mean time was of the essence and therefore as the claimant breached this, the defendant may terminate the contract."

I am immediately surprised. MindReader is an un-lawyer: he is cynical, forgets legal terms, doesn't care for the system. But this MindReader - he is sharper, more prepared, more reserved.

"This is an application to set aside a default judgment," the judge is saying in her summing up.

I meet MindReader's eyes across the desk and they crinkle.

And I find myself wondering if the judge has any idea her two advocates are sleeping together.

Labels: MindReader

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Twins

"So how was your weekend?" Doctor-Sister says to me on the phone in our separate baths, as usual.

"Good," I say. "Saw Othello on Friday night, went to pub Saturday and MindReader took me to Ikea on Sunday!"

"Ooh," she says. "Buy anything nice?"

"Yes. Something WONDERFUL."

"Go on."

"It's a wooden picture frame with three lions inside! I saw it and had to have it. And it was only twenty quid. It's just like your monkey one," I garble. "I told MindReader I would be just like you and Sister's Husband with my modern animal pictures everywhere!"

Doctor-Sister goes very quiet. "Is it three lion heads in a row?" she says.

"Yes."

"Is one of them upside down?"

"Yes."

"Billygean," she says. "I own that!"

"Oh!"

Suddenly my statement of being just like her has a creepy edge to it.

And then I remember -

"You know the photographer?"

"Mattias Klum?" she says. And then pauses. And then - "did you think that was the Latin for lion, too?"

"Yes!"

Labels: MindReader

Monday, October 15, 2007

Inheritance tax will bore me forever

Monday morning equals tax law.

"So once you've established the transfer's not exempt, you tax it," L says to me, looking throoughly bored as it drizzles outside.

"Yes. But at the high band because the nil rate band was taken up by the transfer in 2004," I say, sipping my coffee.

"Then what?"

"Well," I say. "He's gone and died hasn't he. I forget who his assets went to. Anyway, then you do the death thingy, don't you?"

"Thanks for that Billygean," Shrek the tax tutor says behind me. "Insightful."

Labels: embarrassing, law

Friday, October 12, 2007

Embarrassing conversation number 37596

I open my can of coke noisily in the library whilst contemplating beginning the online tutorial. That is, where a boring, usually hairy tutor talks at you about capital gains tax whilst you pause it to check Facebook every 20 seconds.

"How's it going?" Aquaintance-from-last-year says by my shoulder.

"Oh, fine, boring," I say, such is my standard answer for all aspects of this course.

"Haven't seen you for ages," he says, sitting down next to me. Oh great, I think, more small talk, such is how grumpy I am on this course.

"No," I say. "I've been buried in tax law."

"How's - Mike - is it?" he says.

I blush. It has been ages.

"Erm, I'm not sure actually," I say, praying I don't have to tell him that I'm no longer with Old Boyfriend and I already have a New Boyfriend is one conversation. "That sort of - ended. In March."

"Oh!" he says, clearly embarrassed.

"So how's the LPC going for you?" I say.

"Good, really like it," which I frown at. "Have you chosen your electives?" he says.

"Yep, I say, rattling off my list. Managed to convince my Future Law Firm I didn't need to do banking and debt finance. Who chooses those?"

He laughs. "I know."

"What are you doing?"

"Banking and debt finance."

I blush this time.

And then he says. "So how's your housemates?"

I want to bang my head on the desk.

Labels: embarrassing, grumbles

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

I should imagine I will blush at income tax forever

Shrek the tax tutor, for he is large with big ears, is pacing along the front of the "classroom". He wears a silly green suit with GOLDEN CUFFS just above his elbows.

"And so," he is saying. "You take the income tax from the period of profit loss and attach it to the previous period under s64..."

I am almost asleep. So is C, who sits in front of me, her blonde head in her hands with her mittens still on.

"You okay?" I whisper.

"Nightmare morning," she says. "Someone jumped in front of my train."

"Were they doing tax law just before?" I say, deadpan.

A smile creeps across her face.

"Now," Shrek says, wandering around the room. "If you could turn to task one after the break..."

His drone is too much. "Coffee?" I say to C, standing.

I push my chair out.

Suddenly, Shrek is behind me - where did he come from? - doubled over.

Oh my God.

I have PUSHED MY CHAIR into my tax tutor's balls!

He clutches them - it? - and straightens up.

I - having, of course, the keyring incident and others in mind - do not say a word.

Labels: embarrassing

Sunday, October 07, 2007

One of my biggest regrets about my last crisis was not blogging it. So here goes.

"I think," I say, my voice small, "that I need to move home again."

MadFather is absolute non-judgement as we drive through the night, my stuff packed all around us. Indeed, instead of talking, he fills the car with music, hands me his hankerchief.

The drive is so familiar to me, my hands in knots, watching my phone, my mind going over and over decisions I've had to make, that I almost cringe. Was it really 6 months ago that I made this same, shameful drive home, to my Dad's where it's safe?

The first night was nothing like this one. That night, on the way home for Easter, the rain was black, and the garden smelt damp and fresh as I got out of the car, but my mind was lifted, knowing somewhere in me that breaking up with Mike was the right thing to do.

It was the second drive, a mere three weeks later, that was so painful. The sun was shining, ice creams melting in the back of the car as I'd stuffed my Birmingham freezer ready for the exam period. And suddenly, I had to move out. Mostly through my fault, through liking - indeed, unable to contain myself - someone too soon, for being too blatant, for not changing my email password, perhaps. But also through his fault: for not realising what his aggression did to me, his anguish, for not simply leaving me alone.

And this drive, although raining and dark, is much more like that one. The housemates took the decision to heart. As, I suppose, anyone would. But that didn't stop their words cutting me like knives.

I thought I understood people.

I don't.

Labels: reminiscing

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Too bad my law firm has a paris office they didn't tell me about

"You know when I said to you in Milan," I say on the phone to MindReader. And by the way I love starting sentences like that.

"What's that?" he says.

"That I would like to go to France next because my French is better than my Italian."

"Yes," he says. "I know it's not."

"No."

"Didn't you tell your law firm you were intermediate at French?"

"Yes," I say. "I am! Je suis un Coke. Sil vous plait"

MindReader laughs so loud I have to move the phone from my ear.

"What?" I say, defensive.

"You just said "I am one coke." And," he says, his voice cracking, "you said it in a strangely Northern accent."

I laugh this time. "Ou est Champs Ellise-" I say, giggling with the amusement of maintaining a thick Northern accent.

"Je travaille dans un mine," MindReader says, through laughter.

"Je suis un monkey, ma francais c'est merde."

"Je t'aime."

Labels: MindReader

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

More pedantic than me

MindReader nudges my arm as we climb the industrial-looking stairs in the law school. The fire alarm is ringing incessantly. This bothers me less than you would think because a) it got me out of interviewing and b) I got to see MindReader for five minutes, which is quite a lot by our standards.

"Look," he says, gesturing to the wall.

There is a switch. And a light.

The sign under the light says:

"If pushed, the button will come on for a reasonable amount of time (not long)"

He smiles down at me. "You know you're in law school, don't you?"

Labels: MindReader

Wherein my true scary spontanaeity is revealed

I did not tell him over dinner on Friday, in a tiny, hand-picked Shrewsbury restaurant whose lights hung low and whose walls were lined with Hardy books.

Nor over dinner with my family in Tamworth, even though every time he went to the bar my sister would grab my arm and whisper excitedly at me.

Nor in Sainsburys on Sunday, even though everything I saw reminded me of it. Nor in the car at night, that dreaded Sunday night feeling heavy in my stomach.

I told him after he said he's stay Sunday night too. There were no candles, or incense, chocolate like there often are in my bedroom. Just his expression lighting up.

"Paris in December..." was all he said. "Perfect."

Labels: MindReader

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