An exercise in Practical Parenting.
And, though I say so myself, a good result all round.
Kink made it to Oxford on time, but I had to rescue her from a pub carpark in Gosford when she turned off the A43 in a load of work works a few miles north of where we should have met up.
She was so chuffed with herself for driving "all the way" and finding more or less the right place.
Lunch in the Covered Market.
Photographs of headless deer carcasses. And fish.
Lots of fish.
Lots of smells.
But less people then I ever remember seeing around the city in general.
Walking round the back streets on the cobbles.
Radcliffe Square.
Coffee in the Vaults beneath the University Church on the HIgh. And up the Tower.
I have wanted to do this since 1794. A little windy, but the sunshine made it all the more spectacular.
Truly is "the finest views of the city".
I feel so relaxed there, and nothing like a stranger.
Its been along time since we spent such good time together.
Hand in hand is the only way to land.
Always the right way round.
It's the grooviest thing
It's the perfect dream
New job, new car. New freedom.
Money and no boyfriend.
Many books.
Its been a long time since I have not worried about her.
She shines
Wandered about, passing memories in the walls.
Hearing the laughter of friends in alleys, and glimpses of a heel across a quad.
The shadow of a woman's hand.
A whisper on a stairway.
Pembroke Street and the Modern Art Gallery.
I missed the point a bit. More of a classicist perhaps myself.
Felt naive. Very healthy.
She enthused, and scorned. And explained. And dismissed.
One piece I did like.
I enjoy the superimposing of one image(or series of images) on another. I like composition and college.
Robert Rauschenberg.
Same with music I think.
One characteristic I repeatedly finding myself liking in music is repetiton.
The repetition of a couple of notes throughout a longer piece, even continuously.
The repition of a lyric or phrase.
Like the piano and guitar phrasing on "All Tomorrow's Parties".
Satie.
Harold Budd of course - a perfect example.
Pop Art. Warhol.
We ended up at the Coffee Junction on George Street, not enjoying a too hot Latte (not for me - its still Lent)
Why does coffee in these places always have to be sooooo hot?
Coffee shouldn't be hot...
Fantabulous day.
Came home to find Ali had been picke dup ealry in tears in the office.
She's not been 'well' for a couple of days, and it's not like her.
Tonight she's cried it all out and told us of her new "friend's" unkindness.
Tx describes it as emotional blackmail.
Weeks ago, Ali got upset that one of the girls in her class ( a girl well known for her bizarre personality) has been exhibiting tendencies of self-harm in the playground to get attention. Ali had tried telling her not to and refused one day to watch, choosing – by herself - to go and tell the staff.
result - the situation was challennged, dealt with and has now stopped.
Hurrah - well done you.
Now this girl has adopted Ali as her best friend, but seems to think that should be to the exclusion of all others, and Ali is losing her large friendship base as a result of this other girl's rudeness and refusal to let any one else play with them.
"If you playwith her... or "of you don't do that with me..." then I'll bang my head on the wall until I'm sick." or "I'll cut myself with this stone" - exactly what Ali successfully managed to stop happening before!
She would have to be the daughter of one of the Governors...
But she's told us. Long and loudly, with many tears.
Perhaps it's no bad thing that its' the last day of term tomorrow.
I'm going to have to miss the Easter Parade for the first time. Jo will be at the office waiting for me to take her out installing pageone all round the city. And leaflets.
One day I can't actually afford to turn up at half past ten.
It's not often I choose work over the family.
Tx has, as ever, been very good about it.
I'm pissed off, but somethings just aren't meant to be.