Kieran vs. Shopping

I went shopping with Kieran the other day for blankets and cushions and soft stuff for our uni place. Kieran did not seem to find this as fascinating as I did. He got bored very quickly and instead made a silent statement against shopping for “girly things”.

I heard a rustle rustle and turned around to be greeted with this spectacle:

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Daily Prompt: Pungent

via Daily Prompt: Pungent

Not strictly related to pungent, but in that weird way the internet has, a while ago I went online in search of articles about literary patronage in seventeenth century England (for an essay, not just…for fun) and half an hour later stumbled across this picture:

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of 50s housewives posing with their zombie apocalypse weapons, from this page, and the idea of zombies and housewives just wouldn’t leave my head. So, here you go, as I said, not strictly related to pungent, but then is there really that much that’s more pungent than zombies?

1948

Mabel smoothed the skirt of her dress, blotted her lipstick, and picked up her axe.

She didn’t particularly want to kill the zombie, she thought; she had just put the washing out to dry and, stupidly, the only clean clothing she’d left out for herself was her mother’s best silk dress. She sighed as she unlocked the door. It was so hard to get blood out of silk.

Then again, she thought as the zombie lunged clumsily at her and she ducked under its arm, I’ll be cooking a casserole later and that’s bound to be messy… She leaned back and aimed a hefty swing at the zombie’s back, neatly tugging her skirt backwards to avoid the fountain of gore erupting from the axe wound. Her hit had connected solidly, as she knew it would, and had almost completely severed it’s spine in two. The zombie was now completely disarmed; it could not raise itself up, nor could it drag itself forward with the dead weight of its partially-severed lower body anchoring it to the ground. Mabel gazed down at it, musing over her casserole.

Rabbit or pigeon? Rabbit or pigeon?

She placed an immaculate high heel onto the zombie’s legs and pulled her axe out. Its arms scrabbled uselessly, coming to an abrupt stop as she swung her axe into its skull.

Oh, now look at that, she thought irritably, watching the trickle of blood flowing down her garden path, I might have hosed it for nothing.

She had seen the zombie lumbering up the road this morning as she was finishing her cup of tea. She gazed down the road now, tracing its steps back to the jungle of bushes surrounding the imposing wire/wood/brick monstrosity that made up their boundary fence. She tutted under her breath.

That was Hannah’s job. She was meant to trim those yesterday.

The zombie must have come through the hole. They’d only found it this morning; Doris had headed off straight away to hunt down the boards to patch it up. Judith was standing guard til she came back, and Mabel could see her now, placing a finishing swing of her shovel into a second zombie. As the creature fell she twisted her weapon out of its head and stood up, catching sight of Mabel. “Drat, so sorry, dear!” she trilled, “that nifty little devil must have snuck right past me whilst I finished off his friend”.

Mabel smiled and waved her hand to imply it was nothing. She couldn’t help feeling a little disconcerted; Judith was one of their best fighters and Mabel couldn’t remember anything ever managing to slip past her, except perhaps in the beginning, when this all started. It must be the wall. Ever since the thing had gone up and officially transformed their tiny town into a fortress, they had all let their guards down a little. We must work on that, she thought as she went back inside, scraping the offending gore off her heel on her way in, we can’t afford to get sloppy. The wall was practically impenetrable, it had only failed this once since it had been built, and Mabel suspected that it was because someone other than Doris had built that section. Yet if Mabel had learnt anything since this whole ghastly affair had begun, it was not to take anything for granted.

Scared Chairs

The arcade games place near Winchester has an interesting way of arranging the speakers in their chairs, and long story short, I don’t think I was the only one not ready for jump-scare horror games:

I was trying to think of a way to explain to Kieran (who’s trying to help desensitise me to horror- difficult since E.T. creeps me out) why they’re scary, and settled on that if even the chairs are traumatised:


Then I probably won’t manage much better.

creative issues

I have just finished handing in the three most stressful essays I think I’ve ever done at uni. Because it’s third year, the questions are meant to be more vague and you get less help with them, which is meant to be an intense learning experience for everybody.

What I have learnt from all this is that if I get up for a 9am meeting I am so traumatised that I have to nap for the rest of the day.

I, a mature 21 year old, dealt with this stress by rewarding myself on hand-in-day with new colouring pens. And look how pretty:

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The thing is, they’ve got these interesting connector-things which means you can slot the pens together, which in theory is quite a good idea, but which in practice means I, a mature 21 year person, then have a small tantrum because I can’t figure out how to fit them all back in the pot again. I eventually managed it except for that stupid son-of-a-bitch-yellow that wouldn’t fit in with the rest:

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Nice to know that I, in my third year of uni, can say with confidence that I have the skill to fit 50 connector felt tips back in their pot. With only one meltdown.

Autumn Days

Just spent a week in Winchester with Kieran pretending I don’t have three essays due in less than a week playing in the leaves- I love Plymouth but there is something really satisfying about being in a place where you can see the seasons, and that has the Perfect. Crunchy. Leaves

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Election results

Every screen yesterday flashing “Trump’s surprising win” is like the beginning of every horror movie, or the flashbacks to “before” where everything seemed OK before it all went to shit. Walking past every screen blaring this red flag:         is like the first bit of every zombie movie when the main characters are walking past shops or cafes with muted TVs, and go on with their lives and take no notice of the little gesticulating newsman as he talks about this weird new virus that maybe everyone should watch out for.

Still a little offended that I can’t even get a hello or acknowledging woof from my dog Panda, but when Kieran comes round, he waits outside the bathroom for him to finish showering:

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Daily Prompt: Copycat

via Daily Prompt: Copycat

Not copy-cat-ing exactly, more just a throwback to my terrible habit of copying format when I’m replying to emails in a hurry- if it’s a formal email I just erase their message since the formal layout is already there, so I can steal their “best regards” etc and put my message in the middle. This reply-in-a-hurry can backfire. I had to reply to a tutor I’d never met before, and I wanted to apologise for the late reply. Since I was doing it quickly I did my usual trick of putting my message in between the formalities he’d already written. However, I forgot to take off his name, and I hit “send” before I’d finished the message, so all he got in reply to his long message was:

Dear Thomas,                                    

Sorry

Best Regards,

Thomas

To top it off;

“Sent from my iPhone”