Stockholm Library

They say that libraries drive you crazy
And you can lose all sense of self.
Leaving behind any concept of time
And your mind, right there on the shelf.

But in my case, it’s the work that makes
Me start to question it all:
Why I started? Will I finish?
Double, Grande or Tall?

I’ve been here six days straight now,
And I can’t really complain
About the lighting or the vending machine,
Or that enormous coffee stain…

But staring at this page again,
And the ache behind my eyes
From sitting at a computer screen
is how my motivation dies.

Enough is enough! I whisper to myself,
After all, I’m in the Quiet Zone.
I can’t take this anymore,
It’s time to head back home.

But there’s that knock on the door again,
And that guilty feeling comes back.
Every second not spend doing this
Feels like I’m losing all the slack.

And so, I read on in silence,
Hoping someday, I’ll be free.
Hoping to be back in the light outside
Stockholm Library.


What Remains.

A frozen field of bluebells,
The bark from a dying tree.
All these things are sad indeed,
But the beauty we still see.

Much like your unforgettable face,
I long to see the sky.
For that which hovers above me
is invisible to my mind’s eye.

I will always be here,
Preserved in thoughts, like glass.
Though my face may not be remembered,
My name will be dew upon the grass.


There are some things that have to be done in a certain way. Any other way would be wrong. Michael Jackson played on low volume (nothing short of a crime against nature). Pimms and coca-cola (don’t know about you guys, but that sounds disgusting to me). Avatar in 2D at the cinema (my dad and I went to see it in 3D and we were forced to sit right on the front row. Despite my searing headache and neck spasms that went on for a few days after, it was my first 3D cinematic experience and it was EPIC beyond proportions, not to mention totally worth it). Driving round the city at 1am and playing anything other than Jeff Buckley, Temper Trap or the Lost in Translation soundtrack (you just need chilled music at times like those, and what better way to enjoy the stunning night views from Everton Brow?).

Other things can be done in a number of ways. Like applying nail varnish (you thought I was gonna say fake tan, didn’t you? Honestly, I’m not THAT scouse….but don’t knock it until you’ve tried it) or eating a creme egg (not something that can be done elegantly) or weetabix (never tried the stuff but I’ve seen some pretty creative combinations).

One thing I always love to do is when I’m in a car on the motorway, whether I’m driving or not, and I’m in the middle of overtaking a Sunday driver. Just as I’m level with their window, I either become creepily over-friendly and wave enthusiastically as if they were a long lost friend, or stare at them with the look of tasteful vengeance across my face, or just press my nose up against the glass and maybe give the window a lick (must admit, that’s not recommended when driving at 70mph, best to have someone else at the wheel). It’s practically impossible to keep a straight face, but it’s worth it to see their reactions, which vary from, “Wait, huh??” to “Uh oh, awkward balloon, she thinks she knows me, smile and wave, boys” and my personal favourite, the simple but brilliant double take with the added look of discomfort, shock and just plain offence. Such good times are motorway times.

Another thing that has to always be done in a certain way is watching films with my dad. He is a mystery to me sometimes. We watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre with me whimpering behind a cushion and him howling with laughter. Then comes the comments about the characters, “that ones got a face like a fish being pushed through a keyhole”. Any other way to watch a horror film seems…well, just not right. Having said that, last week my best friend and I watched the original version of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. Not only were we in bed, watching it in the dark at 2am, but we’re already pretty jumpy as a pair, and that’s a terrible combination of factors which contributed to an almost gut-wrenching scream when my phone buzzed to life with a text message. Despite the lack of sleep from adrenaline, it was still pretty fun. “Oh MY god, DO YOU ACTUALLY have a death wish?! DONT GO IN THERE.”

So the moral of the story? Don’t watch scary films without at LEAST one male or strong female on standby, y’know, just in case the baddy comes out of the tv screen and tries to murder you (what?! It can happen!)

I realise that this post is going off on an enormous, unrecoverable tangent so I’ll leave you here. Hat and I have to run to a lecture.

Ciao for now (!),

E x