Travelling!

       Hello! As you know, I went to Cyprus last week, it was my first time abroad and it was incredible. I thought about doing a mini blog post from my iPod during the week because I got the blogger app and it's actually really simple to use, but I just didn't get a whole lot of time to sit down and do it. Then I was going to do a post about it on Sunday when I got back, but seeing as I haven't finished the book I'm reading, or seen any new films etc, I thought I may just as well dedicate a Tuesday review slot to it.

         There will be a few photos, but not as many as I'd hoped being as I did my usual fun trick of leaving the lead for my camera in another part of Britain, meaning I can't get pictures from my camera to my laptop. Though, saying that, it's more than probable that I just haven't unpacked the bag that it's in from when I came home two weeks ago. That gives us all something to look forward to anyway.

I took this from the plane window, (obviously,  few hotels have engines) it's the mountains in Bulgaria, which I just found absolutely gorgeous.

           So, the hotel we stayed in was the Elias Beach hotel in Limassol, southern Cyprus - run by Kanika hotels and resorts. We went all-inclusive so were really impressed by the massive choice of freshly cooked foods, and also the extensive range of cocktails and every other type of drink which was included in the price. Now, I'm massively into food, I enjoy cooking it, reading about it, learning about it and more than anything, I love eating it. So when I'm allowed access to food which is literally available all day, from 7am to 10:30pm, I'm pretty stoked. For breakfast, lunch and dinner, there were extensive buffets with local produce and amazing locally sourced ingredients, even down to the fresh herbs which were taken from the chef's own garden! 

             The rooms were fantastic - really great size with a small balcony and individual air-conditioning units, which made so much difference, as it was reaching 34 degrees C during the day and was still hot at night time. The staff were so friendly and would go above and beyond to make sure everything was perfect. Upon entering the hotel for the first time, I just couldn't believe how grand it looked, I actually wondered if we were in the right place. The outside of the hotel was just as amazing, with a huge pool area and a long garden area which extended down to the beach, all full of sun loungers and more friendly staff. There was also a pool bar which served cocktails, hot drinks, soft drinks, ice creams and savoury snacks all day, which was just great. Banana ice cream is great. 

   










        There are so many day trips and excursions available, which we found out through our rep, so on the Wednesday, Matt (the boyfriend) and myself went on a Jeep safari, which took us off-road to lots of different places along the southern coast, and also into some of the more mountainous regions. The trip was 75 euros each; we were picked up in the Jeep by a man named Zeus at 7:30am. After picking up a few more people, we drove through a prehistoric village with buildings that are thousands upon thousands of years old. During the drive, Zeus told us a lot about the island, including its history and mythology. He told us the story of how Aphrodite emerged from the sea as a teenager, slowing down on the side of the motorway to point out the three rocks which mark her birth place. It's well known locally that if you were to swim naked around the middle rock three times under a full moon, you are blessed with eternal youth. From there, we stopped half way up a mountain overlooking the most incredible panoramic view of mountains, the bays, and a small island just off the coast which birds stop off at during their migration from Europe to Africa. From there, we went to a gorge, which is formed of lime cliffs and has a small stream running through it. It's a really beautiful place and has signs in front of all of the plant-life with their names in Greek and English. From there, we went to a beach on which turtles lay their eggs. The bay is a turtle sanctuary, and every year for the last four years has seen a massive increase of the number of turtles who make it back to the sea and survive into adulthood.

          From there, we drove up to the peak of the mountain, where Zeus showed us a detailed map of Cyprus, showing us where we'd been and explained a little more of the history of the island. We then drove down to lunch, which was generously included in the price, and which was also fantastic. Salad, BBQ'd chicken, pasta, cous cous, roasted potatoes red/white wine, and the most incredible watermelon for dessert. We went the to see Aphrodite's bath, where it is said she was bathing when Adonis found her, leading to their love affair. Their in a fountain there which, if you splash yourself with the water, you are said to gain back ten years. Zeus proceeded to douse us all with the freezing water one by one, which was one of those refreshing shocks, a bit like a plunge pool. The actual bath looked incredibly refreshing, being as it's under a shaded cavern in the rocks surrounding it. Supposedly, if you bathe in it, you become a virgin again.

                      

       We then had a free hour at a very beautiful beach, where we got some freshly squeezed orange juice and one of the biggest ice creams I think I've ever seen! On the way back, Zeus stopped at the side of the motorwayto show us an aeriel view of Paphos, which is stunning, and on my camera. (pictures to follow) At various points, the Jeep would stop and Zeus would pick some leaves from trees and bushes which we then passed around the car to sniff. These included basil, lemon and aniseed, which is used to make the very distinctive Ouzo - a very potent alcohol which is very nice if you like aniseed. (One of the cocktails in the hotel was an 'Ouzo Special', which contained Ouzo, blackcurrant and soda water. It was have been pink, but it was not for the faint-hearted!)
         On the Friday, we took a trip into northern Cyprus - officially named the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, since 1974. We had to cross the boarder in Nicosia, so I have a twice stamped visa which I'm actually pretty proud of. (Especially since my passport wasn't stamped at all going into Cyprus or back into Britain.) We then drove up into Kyrenia, which is very beautiful and has lots of mountains. Whilst there, we visited a monastery which is incredibly old, and somewhat damaged by bombs, however has many of its original features and is incredibly beautiful. (Again, I have lots of wonderful pictures on my camera, so there's something to get excited about in the future.) We also went to Kyrenia Castle, which was believed to have been built by the Byzantines as long ago as the 7th century. It has since been extended substantially at least twice. In particular, we visited the shipwreck museum, which has some of the original vessels used to carry wine, olives, etc. which were on board at the time of its ruin. The courtyard of the castle is huge, and looks like it could be a fair-sized market/village square. Across from the shipwreck museum are the dungeons, which include quite detailed mannequins which showcase some of the torture rituals they used to carry out.  For more info about Kyrenia castle, here's the link to the Wikipedia page. All of the pictures from that day are on my camera, apart from this one which I took on my iPod as we were driving through Kyrenia: 

             Other than that, we spent out time eating, drinking, swimming in the sea and being hot. As I said, I'll upload some of the other photos when I find/have my lead again. Thursday is creative again as normal, and if you have any suggestions for what I can review next Tuesday, feel free to leave a comment, tweet or email me; as I said before, all of the places you can find me are in my 'Talk to Me' tab at the top.

                               Thanks for reading and I'll see you Thursday! Laura

                                                                                                    xoxoxoxox

Awakening

   Hiya, same thing as before, the 'Awakening' post is making it's reappearance! I'll be done with my deadline, and the whole of this term on Thursday this week, so hopefully Friday, I'll get on at least writing part 3 of 'The Following', which I didn't realise until yesterday was a TV series here in the UK, after I saw it in the newspaper. Oh well, I hope you like this, it's been chopped about a bit but I think it's better for it in many ways. 

http://www.zazzle.co.uk/heaven_and_hell_poster-228508853192806505

                I am awake. This world is not dissimilar to mine, yet it feels so abstract; so alien. It smells different and the clouds are pink; not in that lovely, almost dusk, sort of way, but rather, in way which screams of difference. I have never known the clouds to be like these. Nor have I ever encountered the strange feelings which are aroused by the curious little animals moving past, almost floating on the breeze. They are not unlike rabbits of squirrels, yet have a dark and mystical quality to them. I can only liken my feelings of awe and confusion to picking a sweet in the dark, and finding that it is not the flavour you’d been expecting. I wonder if I’ve regained consciousness at all, for the land which I find myself a part of is most certainly not the world which I left behind. I pinch myself; Pain. Certainly awake then, but how can this all be real?

                I wonder if there’s still a trace of the drug in my system; if the fanged, red-eyed animals caressing past me are, in actual fact, wrappers from crisps and sandwiches, dropped by careless individuals, whom my eyes do not perceive. I’ve been pumped full of morphine for days. No, weeks; months. I barely have a concept of time anymore and I’m not even sure if my pain has been taken away or repressed. Maybe I can still feel it - but then, really, I can’t feel anything.

                The creatures are circling me now and I can see myself reflected in their glass-like red eyes. I don’t know if they’re hostile or if they just want to be helped, loved, like I do. Their appearance was at first startling, however I seem to have grown used to it over the short time I’ve been here. S I watch them, their appearance seems to be softening – though perhaps that is my own perception as a result of not finding them quite so fearsome any more. They are moving away now, some of them seem to be guiding me, others seem to be trying to tempt me from the path. Even though I have no knowledge of this world; I can safely deduce that to stray from the path is foolish.

                I’ve been standing completely still for this time, not daring to move, less I fall into some sort of void in this illusion. I decide to take the risk. I squeeze my eyes shut and pin my arms to my sides. I move one foot out in front of me and hold my breath, muscles tightening. Then my foot lands. I open my eyes and peer tentatively to the floor. The ground is solid, but there’s something quite strange about it which I am, at present, unable to identify. I decide to walk on, hoping to find some sort of explanation of the universe in which I find myself present. The nature around me (if you can call it natural) moves and dances alongside me as I make my way down a slowly emerging path.

                The scenery appears to be moving - as opposed to myself - so I look back down at my feet, and realise that they seem to be floating. Shocked, I kneel down in an attempt to disprove my theory. Imagine my combined relief and awe when I placed my fingertips delicately on the floor, to find that it is made of glass! I at first believed it to be a mirror, however just as soon dismissed this idea, on account of only being able to see my own reflection very slightly.

                I stand, trying to take in as much of the place as I possibly can. In terms of colour; it’s mostly yellow - the colour of duckling feathers in the spring sunlight – calm and soothing. There are flashes of pink from the clouds, and splatters of lilac foliage. I wonder if I’m in heaven.

                The small animals have gathered close around me again, they are stifling me. I feel hot and cold, and weightless and heavy all at once. I feel like laughing, like crying, like screaming; like vomiting. I didn’t know I could feel like this, but then again; I don’t know what I was feeling. What I’m feeling is the result of my brain shutting down. I heard them saying a while ago that they were going to ‘pull the plug’, as it were. At the time, I was angry with them, all of them. I didn’t want to die and I didn’t understand why they didn’t care if I did. Then I heard my mother whisper ‘I love you, darling’ into my ear, ever so tenderly; the way she always did, and a sense of calm washed over me.

                I’m not sure if you ever truly come to terms with your own death; but in this instance, I felt pretty close. I’ve not heard anything more for a while now. I’m going to miss them.

                I walk on, trying to look around, however finding myself captivated by what lies beneath the glass path. The colours under my feet are altering, yellow darkening to orange, pink to crimson. Eventually it becomes a swirling smog of black and blood-red. It brought such pangs of fear and trepidation to my heart. I look up, intending to run from the blackness below, only to find that the plane I was inhabiting had begun to mirror the one below. I let out a small yelp, which made no sound. This was the first time that I noticed the absence of sound in the world. Until now, I had been so wrapped up in the colours and beauty in the world that I forgot leaves are partial to rustling, while birds have a tendency to chirp.

                The black and scarlet clouds were now whipping around into a spiral of tentacles, reaching out to me, ever so gently. I stood frozen in shock. I should mention retrospectively, that standing still in such a situation is ill-advised; as, at that very moment, one of the tentacles took hold of me around the waist and withdrew me into its midst.

                I believed this would be my conclusion. However, after a few terrifying minutes of being thrown around by what I could only perceive to be clouds; I was spat out, landing heavily on the glass floor. I felt shaken, but relieved. I sat motionless for a moment of indeterminable time, observing the ordinary colours of the world return. I was about to stand when a sickening crack pierced the silence, drawing more attention to the fact that, until now, there had been not one instance of noise. I looked around, expecting to see the branch of a tree fall, or a storm cloud building. There was nothing; and then I was falling. Falling into obscurity, into the bottom half of this inexplicable place. I felt like I had no substance, I felt like Alice when she fell in Wonderland. I felt free. I Knew I was dying. Then the world went black again, but this time, it was peace.       

            I hope you liked this, I'm quite fond of it as a piece and I think it's a bit of a display of the way that I place so much emphasis on colour, as discussed in my synaesthesia post. Aside from that, I'm hoping to be back soon with something new, assuming that between now and 3pm on Thursday, I don't have a massive, brain melting break-down :)

                            Thanks for reading! Laura

                                                           xoxoxox

Film Review: Les Misérables

                                                'FIGHT. DREAM. HOPE. LOVE.'

           Hey, hey! Second post in as many days; you must be getting sick of me. So, why on Earth am I here again? Well, reread the title...there you go, that's your answer. I went to see Les Misérables last night and again, didn't really want to keep quiet. Now, I'm aware that, once again, you DO NOT need me to tell you how great this film is. But I'm going to, because, well; I feel like it. For a full synopsis, cast list, etc., I am once again sending you here.

          I digress, slightly. So, I went in unfamiliar with the stage musical so every move and moment was a surprise. For that reason, I adored it. There is a great deal of 'hype' surrounding this film, and while I was watching it, there were moments when I wondered if I'd been subjected to too much of this, and my expectations were too high. In short; I wondered a couple of times whether I was enjoying it because I was enjoying it, or because I'd basically been told to.            
           I came to the conclusion that I was enjoying it for its own greatness, somewhere between not noticing that my leg had gone to sleep due to its stillness for God only knows how long, and noticing that I hadn't blinked for around the same period of time. My eyes didn't stay dry for long, I'll be honest.

www.http://collider.com/tom-hooper-les-miserables-james-bond-interview/

       
             So, getting down to the film itself, its individual elements and such - the acting is wonderful, actually, no; wonderful isn't the word. There may not be a word. Anne Hathaway was phenomenal, really, crazily phenomenal. When she sang 'I Dreamed a Dream'...wow. That's all, I can't verbalise it. Hugh Jackman was fabulous, both of these characters show desperation so well, and make you really feel it. 

            The film is the first to use live singing - it didn't pre-record the vocals and edit them, so if a character is crying, you hear the desperation and the sorrow. It's so beautiful. 

             I didn't write this review last night or this morning for one good reason: this is a film that with each passing hour, and each new moment given to thinking about it, its power just increases. I didn't realise this until some time in the night, so thought I'd give it something like 24 hours, to completely just let it fester and grow with me. That way, I could be as emphatic as my name suggests. (Though, disappointingly, not as panda-like) 

              I don't want to say too much about the plot in case anyone stumbles across this who hasn't seen it. If that's you; I urge you to see it! Please see it. I won't accept 'it's not my type of film' as an excuse; it's everyone's type of film. It's magnificent. What I will go into though, is just how empathetic I felt for every individual character throughout the film. You love the characters you're supposed to love, and hate the characters you're supposed to hate. In the end, you still feel sympathy for the ones you're supposed to hate. There are incredibly bleak times, as the name would suggest, but there are some truly funny scenes which include Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter which really do their job well in relieving the darkness of the world of the film.

http://seizetheabsurd.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/les-miserables-movie-review-symphony-of.html

                               

             Sitting here now, writing this, I just want to go and watch it again. I'd cry more, laugh more, engage more now that I know how much I love it, and why I love it so much. I've never known a film to have  almost filled the room almost two months after its (UK) release; have more than half of its audience in near violent tears, and receive a round of applause at the end. Wow doesn't cover it. Incredible nearly does. Seriously - people were sobbing; one couple had to stay behind for a while because the girl was legitimately having a breakdown. I can't cry at films in front of my family, and I couldn't hold it in. 

             The only very, very tiny and almost insignificant criticism I have, is that you don't have to sing literally every word, some more of it could have been done in normal words, but like I say; that's not relevant, and it didn't ruin it or take away from any aspect of awesome at all.

              Drop me a comment with your thoughts and opinions, are you in the minority who thought it was mediocre or poor? Or are you more fanatical about it than I have been (I didn't realise how much I loved it until I was halfway through this post and have seen the adjectives I've used for it.)

             It's still not been released in every country yet, for your country's release date, have a look here; I'm going to leave you with this, and I'm going to go and get my hands on the soundtrack so I can relive it on the way to everything. 

   

                                             

                                              Thanks for reading, you're really great! Laura

                                                                                                          xoxoxox

Film Review - Django: Unchained

        This isn't normally my field, I know. However I went to see 'Django: Unchained' last night; almost two weeks after its UK release; and I just can't keep quiet.

        Of course, there are the facts that it already has a plethora of great reviews, and the fact that it's a Tarantino, which mean that you don't need me to tell you that it's really, really great. Check out the synopsis, rating, revenue and cast list here.

               

        'Django: Unchained' is set two years before the American Civil War, when slavery and the slave trade were at its peak. 

        The movie opens with a group of slaves being transported from one plantation to another by a pair of traders. The succession is stopped by a friendly 'dentist' - Dr. King Schultz (Christopher Waltz) which beautifully weaves in some humour in an otherwise bleak and depressing scene. It's worth mentioning that the scene up until this point, has some really, incredibly beautiful images - the men struggling to walk by the light of a lantern in the dead of night, framed by ice covered trees. These are elements which Tarantino is famous and celebrated for, after all.

        For the next two and a half hours, the audience come to love Django (Jamie Foxx) and Dr. King Schultz. They grow as individuals, and as a partnership. 

           People will always talk of the violence in films, saying that it shouldn't be portrayed in the ways that it is; but does that not add to the realism of Tarantino's films? Does that not make it more hard-hitting? And honestly, if you're that squeamish and scared/angered/offended by violence and swearing - a Tarantino film is probably not the way you should spend your Friday night. Of course, there is a lot of violence in this film, but it features the slave trade, and a bounty hunter, so how on Earth could anyone make a film without violence in it, which contains those elements? The roles are well cast and superbly acted, so you grow to really hate and love the characters, therefore, seeing the bad guys die in a uniquely, Tarantino-esque way is so satisfying. 

         There are twists, turns, clever one-liners, touching moments and elements of humour, when the subject matter is bleak, to say the least. Django as a character is charming, witty, talented, and in short: bad-ass. There are moments where you might feel the need to look away, you might be shocked, you may even feel sick. But it is truly an amazing thing to behold.

        All in all, this may just be one of Tarantino's best films yet (and I'm pretty fanatical about Tarantino's work) The casting is perfect, the acting is incredible. The dark themes are lifted with moments of beautiful humour. The camera angles add to the depth - creating such awesome images. 

         In short, I LOVED this film, and I think you should all watch it. Aside from Argentina, Turkey, Taiwan, Japan, Singapore and India - the movie has been released pretty much everywhere - so you have no excuse! For more information about release dates in your respective country, you can look here.

        I can't wait to see this film again!

       I'll leave you now, to the peace of your day. If you haven't seen this film, go! It's £10 (ish) and 2-and-a-half hours (with adverts) well spent. If you have seen the film, comment below with your thoughts and opinions! Like I (think I) said in a previous post, I've changed the settings so now everybody can comment, not just other people with blogs.

                                      Thanks for reading! You rock!

                                                                     Love, Laura

                                                                               xoxoxoxox

Flood

            Well Hi! I don't remember the last time I posted, I just remember lying to you about how I was going to tell you all the things I'm crazy about. Anyway, I wrote this piece a while ago. We were told to write 'a horror story', and I didn't feel like writing about blood, so I took a different spin on the term 'horror story'. I tried to make it really sentimental, and it's actually really close to my heart because the story of the flood behind it is true. I have also been to the place where this happened countless times, and the local people still seem to be reeling from it, and are happy to tell you all about it. It's a small, seaside town in England called Lynmouth, in Devon.

The rain started an hour ago. I can hear the river rising, and from my chair, I can almost see the top of it. There are reports on the news that we’ve so far had about a months-worth of rain, and it is showing no signs of stopping. This seems so unreal. I look at the calendar, checking the date. 15^th of August, 1952. How can it rain so heavily in the middle of the summer?

                There is no-one outside, understandably. The atmosphere is dark; I don’t just mean the mood, I mean the actual air. I think if you caught some air from outside in a jar, and held it under a lamps, you’d see dark blue and grey swirling around inside.

                The sound of the water hitting the roof and the windows is deafening. I can’t hear the television anymore; I’m not sure I want to.

                I can hear something louder than the rain coming; a roaring, angry sound and it’s coming for all of us. I can hear what sounds like walls falling – almost exploding – I want to look out of my window and make sure the village is still intact, but I can’t move from my seat.

                In seconds, I’m glad I didn’t move from my seat; the river has fought its way out of it banks, and is raging through the village, pillaging. My front wall moved away from its foundations and exposes me to the elements. The wind punches me in the gut and throws my photos from the walls. Memories lay scattered on the floor, a flurry of rain is also brought in and speckles the broken glass.

                A tear rolls down my cheek. I look to my wife who is sitting in the armchair beside me, she places her hand in mine and squeezes her eyes shut, letting a tear roll down her wrinkled cheek, mirroring mine. I look at our hands, seeing in every wrinkle and little brown spot, all of the times we laughed, cried, sang. I notice how her wedding ring is still in pristine condition; it’s so true of her character.

                The water level is rising across our living room and I can hear another onslaught coming, from further upstream. I look to my wife again; her eyes are still closed and I think she’s praying. I raise her hand to my lips and kiss is gently, one last time.

                The river rushes into what is left of our home, taking the television, the coffee table, my wife and I.   It feels like a betrayal; the river we have lived next to for the last thirty years, and have loved all of our lives is ruining us. It saw our love blossom, saw our children born, raised, married. It’s taking away everything we ever had. It can take whatever it likes; I won’t let go of Mary.

                                                                                 ***

                The next morning, when the rain had stopped, the clean-up began. Thirty-nine buildings had been destroyed, leaving thirty-four people dead. A single policeman had driven for miles in the night to get to the nearest phone, calling in reinforcements. The people who survived came out of the buildings which still stood, and began to pick up the people and buildings who didn’t. It was thought that the little seaside town had experienced over three months of rain during the night, causing devastation which would be talked about, fearfully and speculatively, for over sixty years after the event. The damage can still be seen along parts of the river, with small front walls, and steps up the side of the bank; preserving the memory of the people who were lost in the flood. 

             Drop me a comment if you liked it, or if you didn't - I changed the settings a while ago so that anyone can post comments - not just people with google+ accounts, and I'd love to hear from you.

             

            Thanks for reading, Laura!

                                           xoxoxox

The Best Laid Plans...

             Hi! This is something I wrote last year, I kind of like the language in this one, and because it's pretty different to the other stuff I've put on here lately. It's something which I think could be quite good to develop because of the nature of the characters and the scope for parallel narratives. Anyway, I hope you like this piece, it's not like my usual, but it's okay :)

‘I really do love you, you know.’ He wasn’t sure if he’d intended to say this aloud, but oddly, he didn’t regret saying it.

                ‘I know, Tom’ She didn’t look at him, he was glad about this. Somehow, it would hurt more if she looked him in the eyes while he was telling her this.

                ‘It’s just, being here, when I look at you, it’s like you’re actually glowing, in the way that angels do, and while this probably isn’t what you want to hear, I need to say it. When I look down into the water, and I see you next to me, I know I don’t deserve you. Richard’s lucky to have you, he really is, I hope he knows that.’ She looked up at him this time and smiled.

                ‘How long have we been friends now, Tom? fifteen years? And you’ve been here for me more times than I can even count, I just feel like if anyone doesn’t deserve anyone, I don’t deserve you.’ It was true; he’d been as loyal as a dog, following her like a lost lamb, offering her a shoulder to cry on in the worst of times, and laughing with her in the best of times.

                ‘Just so you know though, your friendship is enough for me.’ There was some truth behind his words; he did feel lucky to have her friendship, though however hard he tried, he couldn’t convince himself that it was enough. He looked to the snowy ground beneath their feet. This forest had heard some of their deepest, most heart-felt discussions, it had watched them play through summers, seen them grow together. It had witnessed that kiss they shared once near the lake. Tom wondered if the trees knew how he felt about Jenna, and whether they wished as much as he did that she’d feel the same for him. He looked towards the lake which was now frozen over, the spot where they’d shared such a significant moment in their lives. The moment he fell in love with her more than he thought possible.

                ‘Richard asked me to marry him.’ He hadn’t seen that coming, mostly because he’d been so absorbed in the perfection of the past, but partly because they’d only been together for around six months, and he was under the impression he may still have time to win her for himself. ‘I said yes.’ In that instant, the whole world disappeared, falling into itself all around him, he wished it would engulf him; just take him away from the situation, he’d been so at ease up until that point, but now he was wounded, it was as though she’d covered a sword in salt and driven it into his chest, twisting as she went, smiling all the time.

                ‘Congratulations. I mean really, wow. When’s the wedding?’ he forced the words out, forced himself to sound jovial. To him it couldn’t have sounded more false.

                ‘Next June, well, this June coming I guess, I can’t believe how quickly this year has gone.’ She was more animated now, as if by telling him, she’d freed herself of some disgusting secret. 

               ***

                His first thought, when asked to stand for the bride, was not as he’d expected it would be. He’d imagined he’d be so overcome with grief at losing her to another man, one whom he disliked intensely. He was in fact taken over with such a blissful state of awe at her intense beauty in her ivory dress, sweeping along the ground behind her, that he could barely breathe. He was sitting near the front of the church, as she had requested. Throughout the ceremony, he didn’t hear a word, apart from the customary “If any person here present knows of any reason why these two people may not legally be joined in holy matrimony, please speak now, or forever hold your peace.” He looked at the side of her head and shifted in his seat, he could have sworn he saw her head twitch towards him, was this a warning, or a quiet plea? Did she want to be rescued? He imagined himself the hero, and Richard the villain, Jenna the damsel in distress. He imagined swooping in on a rope, vanquishing Richard and cutting the ropes which were entrapping Jenna with a huge, ruby and diamond handled sword, then riding off into the sunset on the back of a horse. The moment passed to speak up and he looked up in time to hear “You may now kiss the bride” and to witness the eternal loss of his princess.

                ‘Congratulations, I’m so pleased for you both, Jenna, you look beautiful.’ Well, it was half true and that was the best he could do at present. All of the guests were now in the grand hall of a grand manor house, about to eat grand food, and hear grand speeches, while drinking grand wine, and toast to the newly married couples’ grand life together. Tom was seated at a table with his, and some of Jenna’s, close family.

                Half way through the evening, while Tom was standing somewhere on the outskirts of the room, Jenna’s father stumbled across the room to him. He’d been drinking quite steadily since dinner and was at a stage of intoxication where he was going to be honest, but not within earshot of the person he was being honest about.

                ‘I’ve aaallways liked you, Tom.’

                ‘Thank you, sir’

                ‘And I’ve never liked that Richard bloke, bit of a dick, I remember once, when you were five, saying that one day, when you were nearly as old as me, you were going to marry our Jenna.’

                ‘Oh, yes, I’d forgotten that!’

                ‘I only wish things had worked out differently for you, Tom, you’ll always be like a son to me.’ And with that, he stumbled away, leaving Tom in a state of both shock and reminiscence. He wished more than anything things had turned out differently too, but he also knew that he couldn’t change or control who you fall in love with, or who falls in love with you. Besides, Jenna was happy, so shouldn’t he be happy for her? He abandoned the rest of his drink, and went to tell the newlyweds once again, how happy he was for them both.

                ‘Thanks again for coming, Tom’

                ‘It’s no problem, Jenna, I’ve had a blast, so sorry I couldn’t say goodbye to Richard, extend my thanks and apologies to him, won’t you?’ she smiled and took his hand in hers, leading him across the slowly emptying dance floor, towards the exit.

                ‘Of course’ she leaned into him and kissed his cheek.

                ‘Let me know when you land tomorrow, I don’t care what time it is’

                ‘Sure I will, have a safe journey home.’ They exchanged one last smile. He knew that now, their relationship would never be the same; they’d never walk through their forest again, past the willow trees, and the lake. ‘HEY!’ it was Jenna shouting to him from the doorway, framed there like something out of a dream. She ran across the gravel towards him and almost threw herself into his arms. ‘Don’t ever forget how much you mean to me, you hear me? Don’t you dare!’ She kissed his cheek again, for longer this time. Then she let him go. She stood and watched him disappear into the night, like a candle’s flame extinguishing in a gentle breeze.

                                   Thanks for reading, Laura

                                                                  xoxoxoxox

Memories.

      Hey all, so this post is a bit more somber than my others, I generally aim for humour or sarcasm, but this piece's inspiration was the memories which we attach to certain objects. I thought about all the things that bring good memories, but then there are always objects that bring up sad and painful memories, so I decided to break routine, and go down the break-up route for this one. Sorry if it's really depressing, let me know what you think in the comments if you like :)

           The times I've been in this room. How often I've seen everything in here and smiled, because it's just the way we always wanted it. 

         It's over now. All of it. There were far more things in here an hour ago, more things still yesterday. I can't look around now without thinking of the awkward, pained glances at each other, through our eyes' corners; each pretending we're fine, but we're not. I'm not. It's amazing to me how quickly someone can change their mind.

         I've seen him change his mind before; even smiled at it. The colour of the paint in the living room seemed like a huge deal, and so infuriating that he'd changed his mind, oh so many times. But now, it's so trivial. I always expected him to change his mind over the colour of the curtains, whether to have steak, chicken or fish; but I never expected him to change his mind over me.

        I stand in the centre of the room which we decorated together - the wood floors, the paint, the curtains; which turned out to be mocha, and not blue.

         I don't feel empty because he's moved out everything that was his, I feel empty because I've been left with shells and shadows of memories, and even without all of his possessions - he's everywhere. The photos, the fruit bowl, the paintings, and this vase I'm holding. We bought this vase in Antigua, I spotted it first, and he adored it. It was only once we got it home he realised it was completely the wrong colour.

       I'm going over all of this in my head, and all of a sudden, the vase, like me is shattered. Broken. In tiny little pieces all over the ground. 

       I feel an odd mixture of emotions; I feel like the breaking of the vase was some sort of therapy, I feel ashamed that I've scuffed the floor we ended up paying so much for. I feel livid, because I never thought I was this disposable. I feel desperate and desolate. I feel like it's nice to see that something is as fragile as me. I think it'll be good for me to clear it up, because that will at least give me something to do for a while.

      In a single moment, I understand the relief he must have felt when he whispered 'it's over', but it doesn't make it any easier on me. I've destroyed something which was, moments ago, so precious to me. The rage has subsided and left me numb.

      I'm standing still in the middle of scattered and broken memories. Looking at the fragments of one of the last things which ties me to him. I wish I hadn't broken it; I wish he hadn't broken me.

      The love of my life is gone.

       Sorry if that made your day sad, just so I don't feel like I've ruined your life, Here's a Gif of a cat putting on a rabbit hat.

       Have a happy weekend :) 

       Thanks for reading :) Laura

                                          xoxoxoxox