December 1st, 2002

Photo - leaves

random thoughts from a tired mind.

i swear, one of these days, i'm going to get myself mugged...

i found a new route back from the station which is marginally quicker and almost as scary as going through the park. (naomi - it turns out we should have just followed the path instead of going along all those roads; the signposts just weren't very visible in the dark...) this is all well and good, however, it is not advisable to then attempt to find other random routes home when it's dark, especially when they're not pedestrianised. (i'm not idiotic enough to use subways in the daylight, let alone in the dark.)

so yes. one of these days, i'm going to get myself mugged...

moving on. there's something about certain bits of derby at night that makes the entire city feel really victorian. sadlergate, for example, when deserted and dark, and when you block out the music from some of the bars, dates back to the 17th century, but feels wonderfully dickensian sometimes. and then there's parts that look like london, like birmingham, like the middle of nowhere. and at night it's all heightened and everything's more angular and pretty.

whereas birmingham at night is much less pretty and far more terrifying. birmingham, i realised, looks wonderful in winter. maybe it's the light pollution or something. but last week when i was home, i walked to the off licence and all the trees were dead against the white sky and it was so cold and pretty and wow.

and i recall that manchester was all... industrial and develop-y, and didn't compare at all to birmingham. but maybe i'm just biased because of the 'who gets to be second city' argument. and the theatre was oh-so-beautiful outside and in. and blackpool makese me think of my childhood, walking down the main street as they turned the lights on (and they were shaped like chinese ladies in traditional dresses) and going on the big dipper and the racehorses ride, and a coastline that goes on forever in either direction.

and london makes me think of oliver twist and charles dickens and scrooge and snow-covered cobbled streets and big stone banks and judges in big white wigs, and wondering where on earth the end of oxford street is, if at all. and the underground is like a milk-bottle spiderweb of glorious desolation where you can get lost forever. the west end is a place i could happily spend my life, underground in a network of connecting tunnels.

but paris made me think of everything... of little pavement cafes and breathtaking views, and great architecture, and little garrets with blowy curtains and balconies overlooking monmatre, and shopping-til-you-die along the champs-elysses (which i can never spell) and going to the opera bedecked in satin and diamonds, and places where if you stand there long enough you could almost die from the sheer wonderfulness of everything.

why can't i live in a place like all these places? does such a place even exist?