Autumn's here, and with it the Wind. I walked into town and the collars of my shirt kept slapping my face so hard it hurt. Or, as two locals I overheard put it: "It's a bit blustery today, isn't it?" "A touch."
Yesterday I was in a room with two large windows side by side. Looking through one it was raining, and through the other sunny. Blue skies in both though.
Zadie Smith: On Beauty. Touching, funny and wise.
Also made me appreciate, once again, how much easier it can be to live in an English-speaking country without being a native English speaker yourself. Strangers cannot judge your entire background from the first sentence, and likewise you are free from at least that prejudice when meeting others. (Or maybe it's just me, since I'm completely crap at recognising accents, both regional and cultural. The only exception is Scots - if I understand what they're saying, they've had some higher education.)
I've been asked if I'm from Ireland, Holland, Canada, USA, New Zealand, South Africa, Scotland (!) or any of the Nordic countries. That's just entertaining, but I do value the fact that my family or schooling are not revealed from my accent.
This is actually creepy. Hope it wasn't me.
Note to struggling authority figures: a whip and an ability to scream very loudly keep even drunken army guys and teenagery teenagers in check.
I'd really, really like to know what our upstairs neighbours are up to. There's noises that sound like rabbit sex, and then there's noises like hippo sex (or at least what I imagine hippos humping sounds like), and other randomly baffling squeaks and thumps. I can't figure out what activity it might be, and curiosity is killing me. I'd ask, but how?
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