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Tag: memories

The Memory of Apples

The Memory of Apples

I’ve been reading Lorna’s blog ‘Gin & Lemonade‘ for… I don’t know. Years. She was featured once on Freshly Pressed back when I was a spry young thing with enough time to randomly browse other blogs because I liked the titles of their posts, and I stuck around. I recently joined her blogging group on Facebook, and one of the things she’s created are weekly prompts. Lorna’s Ginspiring Writing Prompts, someone’s nicknamed them. Last week’s prompt was about sepia-toned fall…

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Former Friends and Appreciating Art 

Former Friends and Appreciating Art 

Do you ever strongly associate a book or a film with a particular person? And then find that because you have negative associations with that person, you now have negative feelings about the book or film?  For example, it took me years to get around to reading The Lies of Locke Lamora, because all I knew about it was that a former friend of mine had been reading it when I knew him, and so it was all tied up…

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Poem-mas Day 4: Self Portrait

Poem-mas Day 4: Self Portrait

Okay. I think I can say with reasonable confidence that this poem isn’t depressing. It’s a matter of opinion as ever, but I think there’s very little in this one that could be construed as miserable in the way the others were. So I count that as a victory. (Confused about what Poem-mas is? Read this post.) That said, my choice of poem today comes with its own problems, namely that there isn’t a lot to explain about it. There’s…

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The Unimportance Of Books

The Unimportance Of Books

I want to talk about something I don’t understand. Normally this blog is a place for me to expound on the topics I think I do understand, but on this occasion, I’m totally baffled. I’m baffled by people who are too precious about their books even to write their names in them. The other day I downloaded an app called Shelfie. The idea is that you take a picture of your bookshelves and it tells you which books are eligible…

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Colour, Inspiration, and My Own Ghost

Colour, Inspiration, and My Own Ghost

I sort of thought, when I started university, that being in Cambridge would be inspiring. You know — all those old buildings, beautiful gardens, and the history that comes along with it. All the authors who have lived and written there, the pubs where important discussions were held, the sheer number of bookshops, some of them very large, that exist in the town. But that didn’t actually turn out to be the case. I’m not sure whether it was just…

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RIP Terry Pratchett

RIP Terry Pratchett

I wasn’t going to blog today, because I just sat two exams and my hands are tired and I’m tired and I want to celebrate the end of term. But I think my celebrations are going to have to wait a while until I feel more cheerful. Because after I printed off my second exam paper and went online to say that I’d finished, the first thing that greeted me when I opened Facebook was the news that Terry Pratchett…

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Here There Are Ghosts

Here There Are Ghosts

When I walk through the college gardens at night it seems indubitable that there are ghosts there. Maybe ghosts is the wrong word. Memories — imprints of people who were once here, and are now gone. ‘Ghosts’ is too morbid a word, suggesting that they’re dead. Some of them were here a month ago. Some of them a century. They leave traces. I feel it in the day time too, this idea that I’m surrounded by history (it’s hard not…

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Time Passes

Time Passes

A year ago today, my grandma passed away. It’s also father person’s birthday today, which means I didn’t like to mention this. I’m sure the parentals haven’t forgotten, and reminding them seemed unnecessary, and would have put a damper on the mood. Yet at the same time, it seemed odd to go the whole day without mentioning it to anyone. Not even to my friends. What’s in a year? A year is ever so slightly over a seventeenth of my…

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Thank You For My Childhood

Thank You For My Childhood

A lot of people consider one book, or more usually book series, to have formed a large part of their childhood. For many of our generation, that was Harry Potter. The day the last book came out, people flooded to the bookshops. And wept. When the last film premiered, it was like they too were leaving Hogwarts. It was the end of an era. Though the series has had nothing like the astronomical fame and success of Harry Potter, for…

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Digging With Spoons

Digging With Spoons

If you go through my photo album – my real photo album full of developed pictures from cameras with films – there’s one picture that stands out. It shows a beach, and myself, and my grandad. It’s not a particularly nice day, though it’s not raining, and in the whole of the beach that is shown, we are the only people there. Grandad is crouching down with an upside-down paper cup against the sand, and I am holding another one….

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