If I drank wine...

I'd only drink this. Sitting in a window, in Paris. Wearing a red dress with a wide skirt and a boat neck, sleeveless. I'd probably read a novel, in Russian or French. I might smoke a cigarette. My view would be of the river and all the lovers walking hand in hand towards Montmartre. Dusty Springfield would be playing on my grammophone and I would always be running late. My kitchen would be full of mismatched crockery, most of it red. I would sleep until 11 every day and not go to bed until the early hours of the morning. I would never miss sunrise. I would watch Audrey an Katherine in old movie theatres and I would take long walks through crowded streets and see new things every day. I would sleep so close to you every night, with your breath on me and my toes on yours and when I woke up I would make you a coffee and we would sit in our Parisian window until it got too cold and we'd have to go back to bed.

I don't drink wine but if I did...

Reasons why I love the UK.

1. People are so friendly. Even though they drive me to absolute distraction sometimes with their chit-chattering on buses and their 'loves' and 'sweethearts' it's kinda nice that people connect (the shallowness of it all is immaterial).

2. That we can have a wonderful summer and as soon as there's a week of rain people claim we've 'not had a summer at all'. This may in fact not be specific to the UK but I'm counting it.

3. Tall dark-haired men with Yorkshire accents. I don't need to say anything more on that. (Ok, more like 'general northern' but doesn't sound as lovely)

4. Tacky seaside resorts such as Blackpool or Scarborough and wishing I could have seen them in their hayday (heyday? I could google the spelling here but I won't).

5. Agatha Christie.

6. Lemsip. Although I'm told Panodil do a version in Sweden?

7. People speaking English. English is nice.

8. Accents I still can't understand. Having to ask people to spell their names and being asked to spell mine. Surname, that is. They're usually ok with Julia (apart from when I get called Julie...)


I'm sure there are more reasons. I'll come back to this.

Dag 16 – Min första kyss (my first kiss)

I'm not going to tell you about my first kiss. Because now, after so many years, it really doesn't matter all that much anymore.

Instead I'm going to tell you about the first kiss that really matters. Popcorn at the ready? Good.

It's a cold night. I've got my big green coat but it's still chilly. A drink or two has helped warmed me up, I think, but really there's only cold air around me that I can't really feel.

I've been persuaded to come out tonight; I wasn't really in the mood but then again I had nothing better to do on this Monday night. So I might as well have a few drinks and a bit of a boogie.

Well it's one of those nights when you don't know many people and you're stood on your own quite a bit but then suddenly a handsome boy looks over at you and smiles a charming smile. So you walk over and you end up chatting and laughing all night and suddenly there's a kiss and then another. And years later you'll still be arguing over who kissed who first.

Dag 02 – Min första kärlek (my first love)

I started writing this a couple of days ago and now I can't find it. Sigh. This is a good start to the month!

Well, if you know me you probably know this. When I was 15 I met a boy with curly brown hair and kind green eyes and who listened to what I had to say. We were together 3 and a half years and we did everything together.

There are so many words I could say about those years but it wouldn't be right. Beautiful words, because they were great years.

And it ended, like most things do at that age. And I moved far away and everything changed. There's nothing to be sad about because these are beautiful memories and there's nothing to miss because everything is beautiful today.