All posts filed under: Words

How Lockdown’s Got Me Thinking About My Best Friends

*Aptly, there are quite a few profanities in this post (sorry). The best years of my life so far happened between 2010 and 2013. I moved into an awkward-looking rickety house with bright blue window sills on Burton Stone Lane, York with three girls and three boys…   The boys were, well, strange. There was the Italian who was at least ten years older than us, smoked weed outside his front room, had a thing for bringing Asian girls back after nights out and only seemed to know how to say ‘it’s freezing’. There was the Darlo lad who told us he had bowel cancer when he didn’t, walked around in Homer Simpson slippers, and smelled of gone-off cheese. And finally the Geordie, again a bit older than us, who kept raw sausages in his kitchen cupboard and had 30-second sex (they weren’t quiet) with his German girlfriend who visited every now and then. They didn’t talk much, just the odd grunt if you passed them in the hallway, and they didn’t exactly live up …

Being Single In A Covid-19 World

Remember how torturous being grounded was? On one occasion I think I cried through both sides of my pillow because my awkward, bratty teenage self was that distraught over not being able to leave my bedroom…   My crush was having a house party and my mum, the strong, couldn’t-give-two-shits woman that she is, had banned me from going. Naturally, I hated her for stealing me of such a premium-level flirting opportunity with him. Having no control over the situation and, in my eyes, being so cruelly kept away from my crush only made me put him on an even higher pedestal – it had probably surpassed Everest at that point. I spent the rest of the night dreaming about what could’ve been. The bashful eye contact across his dad’s living room, him giving me some of his Frosty Jacks, possibly even a bit of one-on-one conversation about our shared love of The Libertines. But no, I was trapped and my silly, adolescent heart couldn’t hack it. Fast forward twelve years and I find myself …

Street Cleaners

  You can’t sleep, You roll around in my sheets, Restless. Unlike the boy who slept in with me until three in my loft bedroom, I would kiss you a million times just to wake you up from your doze. When the sun rose, we draped sheets over the windows To stop the light entering our cocoon. Now you can’t settle so I tell you to go.   It’s 5.03 and the sun’s beginning to show on the curtains, Night’s gone but it’s not quite morning yet either. There’s a distant whirring coming from the street cleaners outside, It reminds me of walking through our sleeping city the first time I left with you.   You kiss me on the forehead, you tell me to sleep, You zip up your jacket, you walk down the hallway, You run down the stairs, the door clicks shut. I lay in silence, Your headlights beam up my bedroom wall, Your engine whirs as you hit first gear, your tyres roll away on the cool tarmac.   I haven’t moved …