Perhaps a first. Parading my unedited photographs for once.
My Easter day was a jubilant occasion full to bursting with Italian gastronomy, walks in the English countryside and discussions more often than not ignored by those supposedly listening.
The younger, cooler Hursey and I have comprehended that our family do in fact get on by means of paying no attention to one another. Constantly. My mother is a fervent gossiper, the peril being that since she does not ACTUALLY know how to sufficiently listen to another’s conversation her information is more often than not inaccurate and therefore she actually discuss’ malicious rumours begun by herself.
A day spent undertaking a hell of a lot of deliberating aloud; there was not so much debate about the dinner table Sunday teatime. Nonetheless, I do relish a gleeful family get together. Mine is a minute one, merely ten of us, I like to believe it is cosy yet I’ve always longed for a large brood…
Upon rumination, it has taken a day and a age to upload these noteworthy photos of ten members of family. Anymore and I’d desecrate away in front of the lime green laptop of dreams.
I fear I confer this far too much in my scrawling, nonetheless today is but one year (otherwise known as 52 weeks, 365 days, 8,766 hours or 525,949 minutes) since I voyaged to the land of Thai.Now this is slightly startling. It is particularly frightful to reminisce how a year once felt so extensive.
Call to mind your childhood if you will. All we have ever acknowledged before now is education. For 12 years it was obligatory, whilst many of us plumped for 14 (crazy fools). Preceding our arrival to primary education we graced a nursery school with our presence, furthermore we attended pre-nurseries.
Life, it didn’t change a great extent in the beginning. Naturally we swelled as individuals, but as far as external forces were concerned, they preserved their appearances.
A year had the ambience of a life time back then. For myself change is what makes time fly; whilst life lingers at a steady state it is arduous to distinguish one year from the next.
Unsurprisingly, I shall not misplace the memoirs of my voyage a year ago, t’was such a colossal fraction of my life. But for my memories to feel like yesterday, that is startling. To recall natters from my homecoming in June, what I did with myself, how long for, who with, what I wore!
It panics me that the first year of University is approaching the end; I’m but a third of the way through attaining a higher education (apparently). Several of my amigos, in a years time, will be adorning a gown and graduating!
And then what? Adulthood one is led to believe.
Whilst making our way through the throng of traffic in Pinklao in the Bang Phlat district of Bangkok our pink taxi passed a graduation costume shop. I gawked up, impervious to of all that lays past graduation. 365 days on I fear I would not chortle at the beaming Thai faces garnishing the adverts.
In two years time I will be sporting that attire, society stipulates that it is time to become an adult. A adult whom makes resolutions, a being with responsibilities.
A majestic protagonist once assured us all: “With great power, comes great responsibility.”
Conversely, with great responsibility comes great power. At present I’m viewing this as the power to well, and truly, fuck up. And that’s with two year left to go…
(My apologises for becoming so appalling at being regular with my posts. Mr Adam Langley must also take some of the credit for this since his post: http://www.facebook.com/#!/note.php?note_id=411923236277 helped fuel my innate fear of the future. Additionally, this should truly have appeared in your lives yesterday yet I was distracted by the charming establishment that is Zens of Dartford.)
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