Rory and I attempted to go for a walk today. We agreed it would be a short walk, no more than an hour, as when I've been walking previously this week, my thigh, hips and back have caused me great pain, I need to go see a doctor about it. Whether it's a leftover from the back pain I had a couple of weeks ago, or whether my mum's prophesy of living a life of agony due to having never learnt to walk "properly" as a child has come true, I can't yet tell. Rory favours the first option, and so do I, but I can't forget how I was told for the past two decades that I would end up crippled as I had refused to do the exercises recommended to me by the pediatrician when I was still a toddler, due to the pain they caused me, and thus I still harbour suspicions that my mother may be correct after all. I bloody hope not, the joy and "told you so" attitude she would exude would be unbearable. Anyway, the walk. We walked down along the river, heading towards the university, I am informed. The wind was being immensely strong and so my eyes were watering with its force. Soon it started to rain, gently at first, then steadily heavier until the torrent of rain matched that of the wind. Rory conceded and allowed me to cut our trip short, plus my legs were starting to ache and I just wanted to go home and lay down somewhere warm and dry. We came back via an off licence, where, to my great delight, we purchased a bottle of
raspberry flavoured Smirnoff, for consumption later, and something resembling a health food store, where I got some fake yoghurt and sweets.
We've been spending most of our time together getting drunk and talking. His television is broken so watching some DVDs is out of the question, and he only has one computer chair which is comfortable enough to be sat on for a long period of time, so we can't watch anything he's downloaded either. Last night we listened to music from when we were teenagers (
Honeycrack,
Scheer,
China Drum,
Symposium,
The Wildhearts and others), discussed politics and economics and indie music and radio and bands we had loved and how strange it was that we both managed to adore tiny bands who no one else had ever heard of. It was a good evening.
I've been reading too.
The Stories of Eva Luna has finally been finished and I've started reading Rory's copy of
Exhibitionism which is ... strange. I can't properly comment yet. I'm also taking home
The Crying of Lot 49 and
The Book of Nothing, along with many post-rock CDs I don't have time to listen to here, or the inclination to download. I just hope my bag won't be as heavy going home as what it was when I came here.
16:09
