well, if you tried to tempt that pigeon with hovis sliced or a nice scone, he'd probably turn his beak up. he'd want ciabatta, dipped in the finest ligurian oil, probably, as that pigeon up there is italian. that picture was actually taken a stone's throw away from the roman forum on new year's eve, 2007. i know- take me to some beautiful historical ruins, and i'm photographing flying vermin and using the zoom to check out people's terraces. ciao!
anyway, so, because it's like june and stuff, we're discussing at present where to spend new year 2009/10. by we, i mean myself and my man, who might be feeling guilty about setting out from california in a muscle car without me this summer. perhaps. a terrible formative experience in a suburban nightclub has left him with seasonal compulsive wanderlust; new year must be spent in a different place (and for place read country) each and every year. i'm spoiled. the first year that we were together, we spent it on a remote and misty swedish island- we got in about 3 hours of daylight over a 4 day break. the second year, i clambered over roman ruins in 6" heels. we saw in 2009 watching rubber clad gendarms make examples of argentinians with fireworks on the chanse elise, while people inexplicably shouted "tony montana!" at my man (hmm. if tony montana had a beard. and was 6'4". and wasn't a drug lord.) this year, however, i would be quite happy to stay at my house. or his house. or, for that matter, babington house. sigh.
but the problem with this is that once england is done, it's done. i don't know when the current nye mandate is going to come to term, and i'm not really inclined to ask as mr. montana says vague things about the future enough as it is. i am just realising that i am becoming the kind of person that packs earl grey tea bags, is usually bitterly disappointed with the food and misses the pound sterling more than is reasonable. we resent other tourists and get sniffy about their eurotrash accessories. montana and i get stressed out speaking foreign languages in front of eachother. in paris, we spent one whole evening in our 8' wide bed- eating cheese and watching an old episode of jonathon creek, wistfully tearing up at the bbc idents.
obviously, the ideal is to build ourselves a mobile treehouse. montana stipulates hot tub, wi-fi access, a 40" (minimum) screen of some sort, decent pillows and a barbecue. i require hot water and good light. i might suggest we pimp a shed, or buy a winnebago and montana learns to solder, but before you know it, we'll be planning a "waterworld" themed new year, and hopefully my future doesn't have much kevin costner in it.
i love it when a plan comes together.
.
anyway, so, because it's like june and stuff, we're discussing at present where to spend new year 2009/10. by we, i mean myself and my man, who might be feeling guilty about setting out from california in a muscle car without me this summer. perhaps. a terrible formative experience in a suburban nightclub has left him with seasonal compulsive wanderlust; new year must be spent in a different place (and for place read country) each and every year. i'm spoiled. the first year that we were together, we spent it on a remote and misty swedish island- we got in about 3 hours of daylight over a 4 day break. the second year, i clambered over roman ruins in 6" heels. we saw in 2009 watching rubber clad gendarms make examples of argentinians with fireworks on the chanse elise, while people inexplicably shouted "tony montana!" at my man (hmm. if tony montana had a beard. and was 6'4". and wasn't a drug lord.) this year, however, i would be quite happy to stay at my house. or his house. or, for that matter, babington house. sigh.
but the problem with this is that once england is done, it's done. i don't know when the current nye mandate is going to come to term, and i'm not really inclined to ask as mr. montana says vague things about the future enough as it is. i am just realising that i am becoming the kind of person that packs earl grey tea bags, is usually bitterly disappointed with the food and misses the pound sterling more than is reasonable. we resent other tourists and get sniffy about their eurotrash accessories. montana and i get stressed out speaking foreign languages in front of eachother. in paris, we spent one whole evening in our 8' wide bed- eating cheese and watching an old episode of jonathon creek, wistfully tearing up at the bbc idents.
obviously, the ideal is to build ourselves a mobile treehouse. montana stipulates hot tub, wi-fi access, a 40" (minimum) screen of some sort, decent pillows and a barbecue. i require hot water and good light. i might suggest we pimp a shed, or buy a winnebago and montana learns to solder, but before you know it, we'll be planning a "waterworld" themed new year, and hopefully my future doesn't have much kevin costner in it.
and so, concluded by a series of kneejerk reactions and 4 minutes of flight research, i'm willing to bet that montana settles for st. petersburg, which is dandy because it gives me the opportunity to shop for mukluks in the off season- which will obviously come in handy, later, for the treehouse.
i love it when a plan comes together.
.
what a tidy wrap up...and a charming backstory for a....errrr...pidgeon.
ReplyDelete*turns green* can I come?
yes. feel free to adapt the garden accomodation of your choice into whatever vehicle/ housing you feel you need. it'll be like mad max. to russia!
ReplyDelete