3am insomniac musings..
Shit, has it really been almost ten years?
In the beginning, it was all about espionage. A succession of hidden places to host hours of conversation into the morning. After a while, the 'places to go Well' began to run dry, so eventually (some would say inevitably) we ended up in the cemetery.
With a one litre tub of vegan chocolate ice-cream.
The methods of entry have always existed (less so now), but by far the simplest was to find missing bars and slink through the fenceline unnoticed. At this time, the only concession to security had been a patrol car that circled hourly. Easily avoided, one merely had to simply combat roll behind headstones or bushes to avoid the glare of the guards piss-poor car 'searchlight'.
Ice-cream destroyed, I could nary tell you now what the couple of hours of talking involved. Suffice it to say, that it was distracting enough to miss said patrol car wheeling past tombs straight in our direction.
I don't know if ninja ghosts exist. But if they do, I can only imagine the 9.5's and 10's we would have gotten for the expediency we dropped and become one with the dark flooring of the Pagoda. However, those same ninja ghosts would have howled with laughter as we had unwittingly chosen a security 'way point' that the guard need to mark off. As such, the car pulled up a couple of metres away from our prone SAS like forms.
As the car door creaked open, we could hear the radio, which was tending towards the eleven side of the volume knob. I'm not sure how familiar with Kate Bush you may be, but the opening piano to 'Wuthering Heights' is pretty unmistakable. It took all that we had not to burst into raging fits of laughter.
'Out on the wiley, windy moors
We'd roll and fall in green.'
God it was almost too much, but we had come too far now to surrender.
'How could you leave me,
When I needed to possess you?
I hated you. I loved you, too.'
-Click-
Who the hell puts a light in a Pagoda? The 'Holy Shit' screeched by the guard meant that the jig was well and truly up.
'Bad dreams in the night
You told me I was going to lose the fight'
'You scared the living daylights out me', he giggled.
I may be making this part up, but I'm fairly sure one of us were dusting the ground with one foot in the classic 'Naughty 8 year old' pose.
'How the hell did you get in?'
We pointed in a loose Southerly direction.
'Then you know how to get out', he smiled. Jumped back into his car and drove off into the graveyard. Kate Bush blaring in the dark at full volume.
Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy, I've come home. I´m so cold,
let me in-a-your window'
I shit you not.
'Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy, I've come home. I´m so cold,
let me in-a-your window.'
In the beginning, it was all about espionage. A succession of hidden places to host hours of conversation into the morning. After a while, the 'places to go Well' began to run dry, so eventually (some would say inevitably) we ended up in the cemetery.
With a one litre tub of vegan chocolate ice-cream.
The methods of entry have always existed (less so now), but by far the simplest was to find missing bars and slink through the fenceline unnoticed. At this time, the only concession to security had been a patrol car that circled hourly. Easily avoided, one merely had to simply combat roll behind headstones or bushes to avoid the glare of the guards piss-poor car 'searchlight'.
Ice-cream destroyed, I could nary tell you now what the couple of hours of talking involved. Suffice it to say, that it was distracting enough to miss said patrol car wheeling past tombs straight in our direction.
I don't know if ninja ghosts exist. But if they do, I can only imagine the 9.5's and 10's we would have gotten for the expediency we dropped and become one with the dark flooring of the Pagoda. However, those same ninja ghosts would have howled with laughter as we had unwittingly chosen a security 'way point' that the guard need to mark off. As such, the car pulled up a couple of metres away from our prone SAS like forms.
As the car door creaked open, we could hear the radio, which was tending towards the eleven side of the volume knob. I'm not sure how familiar with Kate Bush you may be, but the opening piano to 'Wuthering Heights' is pretty unmistakable. It took all that we had not to burst into raging fits of laughter.
'Out on the wiley, windy moors
We'd roll and fall in green.'
God it was almost too much, but we had come too far now to surrender.
'How could you leave me,
When I needed to possess you?
I hated you. I loved you, too.'
-Click-
Who the hell puts a light in a Pagoda? The 'Holy Shit' screeched by the guard meant that the jig was well and truly up.
'Bad dreams in the night
You told me I was going to lose the fight'
'You scared the living daylights out me', he giggled.
I may be making this part up, but I'm fairly sure one of us were dusting the ground with one foot in the classic 'Naughty 8 year old' pose.
'How the hell did you get in?'
We pointed in a loose Southerly direction.
'Then you know how to get out', he smiled. Jumped back into his car and drove off into the graveyard. Kate Bush blaring in the dark at full volume.
Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy, I've come home. I´m so cold,
let me in-a-your window'
I shit you not.
'Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy, I've come home. I´m so cold,
let me in-a-your window.'