kites, grass stains, adrenaline and Stravinsky… 4 things which are better than revision.

to be truly honest i could have kept that list going on for as long as i wanted, for ever and ever until time itself died… but i thought i would focus on this weekend to show you what lengths the creative procrastinator will reach in the ultimate goal of not doing stuff. There are some also pretty hilarious stories spawning from the shenannigans of this weekend also. So, lets crackalack

the other week i spontaneously splurged £120 on a giant, 5sqm kite made by some sketchy company in china, and said kite arrived (finally) the other day, so of course the first thing i did was call up an assistant and go fly it… thank go I did. I am used to flying tiny little 2 m dual line kites, and the power coming from those is pretty pathetic at best, so i saw the trees swaying gently in the breeze and was all like ‘paaaaah this is fine’ about half an hour later i got the kite into the air, then promptly found myself skidding across the field at a rate of knots directly at a hedgerow, then i took off, pulled a spectacular superman style leap and promptly landed on my face. This whole time i was whooping with glee and laughing my head off, just after i came to a halt i noticed just how close to doing myself a serious injury i actually was. We looked at my tracks after and discovered i had covered about 150 meters sliding on my feet, and and extra 10 odd meters whilst airborne, again to reiterate right at a big ass fucking hedge. This is what i now do for fun pretty much every evening, because i haven’t yet found something which gives me the same adrenaline rush as being pulled around a field by an over sized version of a child’s toy…

Following this i decided that, being a wonderful boyfriend and all, That I should go and watch my girlfriend, who is the principal flute  in the Hampshire county youth orchestra (band camp jokes got old years ago). What i wasnt told were two things: Firstly, that there was going to be interpretive dance involving flailing, rolling and shoes… and secondly that i would be served at the bar which frankly is the only reason I could stand the whole ordeal, i mean its fine if you want to take up dance, or theater as one of your hobbies… but i find interpretive dance is in the awkward middle ground where you are trying to convey a theatrical message through the medium of dance, and it’s a bit like trying to sing a piece of modern art… it just doesn’t really work and you end up looking a bit silly. and yes, i am aware that i am saying this after trying to convey the subtle joys of power kiting to the masses…


i have started having terrifying night terrors which i have decided to turn into creepy stories… because i’m totally normal like that and totally not crazy in any way, so if i start posing at like 2 AM its because THEY WONT LET ME SLEEP (ooooh creepy teaser)

Ciao for now… hey that rhymes 😀


The magical pastie x