Seven words meme

[shewhomust]

I have been having words with fidrabooks; seven of them, to be precise. And they are:

Ink: I really liked having a fountain pen. The first one was a present, but I liked it so much that when it fell apart, I bought myself an even better one, a Waterman with a grey marbled pattern (the Pen Shop in Newcastle has really good January sale). I'd had it for years, and recently I'd had trouble finding black ink cartridges for it.

The cartridge is a wonderful invention. Until it came along, I was permanently marked with ink. When I sat finals, the use of fountain pens was compulsory, and my fingers were so inky I could hardly hold my pen (fortunately, wearing an academic gown was also compulsory, and the gown was black already, so there was something to wipe the ink on). But I digress...

Local shops offered me blue cartridges that would fit my pen, or black cartridges that wouldn't, and I was getting desperate. Eventually I found an on-line supplier, and placed a bulk order for several packs of black cartridges (and one purple, just to see how it felt). And in between placing the order and the ink arriving, I broke my pen in two...

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Michelle Shocked's Memories of East Texas has a line about the place she grew up, where people "could not make a place for a girl who'd seen the ocean". I can't imagine living out of easy reach of the sea. My house is within walking distance of the sea, and I know that because I've walked it. It took a day (in a sense, it took two days, because the first time we tried it the route didn't work out, and we gave up. But the second time, we made it).

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There was a swing in the garden of the house where I lived as a child. A swing, a cherry tree, a tree-stump you could stand on to see over the fence at the back, and a compost heap.

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Think of a number: a real number, an imaginary number, an irrational number? I'm thinking of 266, the wavelength of Wonderful Radio London...

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I don't often bake a cake: that's part of the pleasure, I think, that you never need to bake, so you do it because you want to - it's entirely gratuitous. And I'm not good at light sponges - but then, that's not the kind of cake I enjoy, I like them dense and moist. Cake is good for picnics, so solidity doesn't come amiss; it needs to survive being carried in a backpack, and not disintegrate into crumbs. The Goth cake was good...

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My mother, (whose birthday it is today) told the story of my sister, as a small child, asking: "Mummy, do I have to be a man when I grow up?"
"No, dear. Why?"
"Good, because I want to be a horse,"
It probably isn't true; my mother was a great creator of myths. Then again, myths may not be factual, but they are true in their own way - and this one has an aptness about it.

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I don't believe that there's any such thing as a hero; but sometimes people do heroic things.

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So if anyone would like seven quasi-random words to play with, just ask (but if you don't do it before Wednesday, you'll have to wait until we get home from holiday).

Comments

[sovay]

So if anyone would like seven quasi-random words to play with, just ask (but if you don't do it before Wednesday, you'll have to wait until we get home from holiday).

Sure!

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Here you go: glass, often, boots, code, laughter, sloe, absence.

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

It's an unusually satisfying meme, because at each stage - reading someone else's list, responding to your own words, finding words for someone else - there are new challenges and new pleasures.

[lil-shepherd.livejournal.com]

So if anyone would like seven quasi-random words to play with, just ask

Ah, a new one.

I ask.

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Feather, easy, grey, hedgehog, attempt, calculus, page - have fun!