The first thing I heard this morning was that Heath Ledger had died. I instantly looked at the picture of him above my bed (cut from a copy of Cosmo Girl some time when I was 15, which coincided with my first viewing of 10 Things I Hate About You and also shows that I haven’t changed my room in a long time) and hoped it wasn’t true, or I’d heard it wrong. It seems that he was deeply troubled, one of us who is a bit ‘wrongly wired’. Or he was just chemically trying to gain some normalcy. I don’t know. I’m no stranger to taking travel sickness tablets and shot of booze to help me sleep sometimes. Its not the same thing, mind.
I haven’t seen Brokeback Mountain, nor A Knight’s Tale all the way through, but 10 Things I Hate About You arrived just at the right time for me. A time in my teenagerdom that needed charming curly haired men in it, who sang and pranced around making pricks of themselves, for the love of a ‘shrew’. It made me love FNT by Semisonic (I was introduced to Closing Time by one of my history teachers in Year 11. It became one of my favourite songs of that year)
Some of us at university (11 out of 13 of us are female) have decided to hold a Heath Tribute at the halls, in which we will watch the three films mentioned here, wear black, drink and eat crisps while sighing about how wonderful he is.
If it sounds strange to do that, I have already be to a wake for a hamster this week, so these sorts of things are becoming an increasingly normal part of my life. I would say ‘condolences to his family’ but I won’t because I don’t know them, and I obviously didn’t know Heath, he just occupied a A5 space close to my headboard at night. He seemed like a nice guy and its a shame that a brother, son and father has left this ‘mortal coil’ so young.
Back to fancy things and frippery before I start pining at my bedroom wall.
I was walking towards the bus station today, after doing an arduous historical ceramic and stone trail around uphill, downhill and everyhill Lincoln. I saw two incredibly lovely things in the window of Unikat. One was a glass bead heart with wings on a ball chain necklace and the other was:
Of course, very much out of the budget of someone who works weekends in a shop and would never forgive herself if she blew over 100 quid of her student loan (which I’m saving up until I move out and really have to spend it) on a necklace. I’d spend £100 on a pair of Beyond Skin shoes because they are shoes and thus keep you from getting hypodermic needles embedded in your feet/trench foot. A necklace doesn’t do that.
In Other News: I have no idea where its gone, but it must be somewhere in the house. The Sunday before I went to Athens I cam back from work, got in the shower and took my ankh necklace off. I look for it and it is gone. Gone gone gone. I have worn an ankh necklace ever since I was about 10? (God, I can’t remember a lot from that far back, just being obsessed with dens, rabbits and playing in the woods). I lost my first one that my Nanny bought me on the bus after a PE lesson (I left it my top blazer pocket) in Year 10. Whilst doing family tree research in Essex (Dad and I were my Mother’s accomplices) we found one in the Artful Angel in Maldon that was lovely. This was the one I lost a few weeks ago. Let me tell you this, it is very difficult to find sterling silver ankh pendants. Most are rubbish, chunky kiddie-goth pewter pieces of crap. I might get my Dad to ring the Artful Angel and see if they still make mine (I’m scared of phones). If they need a reference, I have hundreds of pictures of me wearing it.
Also sad: I broke my grotty piece of ribbon that I have worn around my wrist since summer 2004 (arguably the most influential summer of my life so far) . It was filthy-looking (it had gone from white to a rancid shade of cream), and had frayed so it was literally hanging by a thread, so I’m not surprised it broke. I pulled it out of a top I had and my friend Chesca tied it around my wrist and I have worn it ever since. I’m tempted to buy another piece of ribbon and tie them together and wear the best part of it. Its weird how you can get so attached to a piece of crappy ribbon, but that ribbon has been there, done that, worn that t-shirt. Festivals, boyfriend(s…ish) parties, birthdays, school, college, university etc etc.
This is getting really long, but I have to say, we have been given our first REAL objects to work on. Mine is a ‘slater’s knife’ from Saffron Walden museum is Essex(?). They are quite clearly mad to let me near anything of any historical value.