(no subject)
Grandma's funeral was hard, but we got through it. It was seeing Laura, who lived down the road from my gran, that set me off. She just said 'I miss her'. Then to see a man as big as my uncle Neville just looking so devastated...I was a mess basically. But I stuck it out for Ronny, who just crumbled when the box went into the ground. I threw on some earth and bid her farewell, thinking that she must have had a well padded casket because it was much bigger than she was.
The wake was ok, Grandma would have been happy to see everyone in one place getting on so well. But afterwards i just didn't know what to do. It seemed like I couldn't just get on with things, to draw or go on the internet or something having just buried my grandma.
I ended up listening to Elliott Smith and getting very very drunk. Not the best plan, but it was all i could do to not fall apart.
The following morning, like Thelma and Louise, Steve and I set off for Wales, where we spent four days camping, drinking cider, eating copious amounts and hunting for crabs. We did not catch any crabs, but I guess i'm pleased because I didn't want them to get hurt.
Camping makes everyone super-friendly, the dunkirk spirit and all that (although the weather was sweltering and Shell island is beautiful beyond belief, plus we were armed with fold out loungers and I had two sleeping bags to myself, plus a camp stove and a car, so it was pretty much like living in a huge beachy house with a small bedroom). I don't think I've ever had so many conversations with lovely friendly strangers before.
It was a really lovely holiday, only slightly tarnished by me drunkenly falling into the sea after too much wine and having to be delivered home by other campers having lost steve's brand new lantern. Ahem. But I could seriously have lasted a few more days, this camping lark is well easy when you know how. I want to go into more detail but i can't really be bothered - I'm utterly utterly knackered and still all sand-encrusted.
OH! I also got a postcard from Jeffrey Brown!! He likes my comic and drew me a crab! What a lovely lovely man!
The wake was ok, Grandma would have been happy to see everyone in one place getting on so well. But afterwards i just didn't know what to do. It seemed like I couldn't just get on with things, to draw or go on the internet or something having just buried my grandma.
I ended up listening to Elliott Smith and getting very very drunk. Not the best plan, but it was all i could do to not fall apart.
The following morning, like Thelma and Louise, Steve and I set off for Wales, where we spent four days camping, drinking cider, eating copious amounts and hunting for crabs. We did not catch any crabs, but I guess i'm pleased because I didn't want them to get hurt.
Camping makes everyone super-friendly, the dunkirk spirit and all that (although the weather was sweltering and Shell island is beautiful beyond belief, plus we were armed with fold out loungers and I had two sleeping bags to myself, plus a camp stove and a car, so it was pretty much like living in a huge beachy house with a small bedroom). I don't think I've ever had so many conversations with lovely friendly strangers before.
It was a really lovely holiday, only slightly tarnished by me drunkenly falling into the sea after too much wine and having to be delivered home by other campers having lost steve's brand new lantern. Ahem. But I could seriously have lasted a few more days, this camping lark is well easy when you know how. I want to go into more detail but i can't really be bothered - I'm utterly utterly knackered and still all sand-encrusted.
OH! I also got a postcard from Jeffrey Brown!! He likes my comic and drew me a crab! What a lovely lovely man!