Monday 26 March 2007

Tulip has been sitting eating loudly during this conversation, occasionally rolling her eyes.

“Your dear brother died but of course you’re perfectly happy!” she suddenly growled viciously at her meat, “You only bury your anger because you know you’re helpless. You still want revenge, somewhere in there, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Beln looked at her, alarmed at her mood but determined to stand up for himself. “I’m not angry,” he said with forced calm, “I wish it hadn’t happened but there’s no…you can’t be angry at war.”

“And would you feel like that if there was someone to blame?” Suddenly she was glaring at him her voice raised. “What if you could look someone in the eye and know that they were responsible for his death. What if I stood in front of you and told you – I killed your brother.”

Beln didn’t flinch but he was clenching his fists. “It’s no-one’s fault.”

Tulip leant in. “I joined up when I was 16. I lied about my age. I was thin, weak and we had no time to train properly. We lasted about four months in the hills until one night they ambushed us while we were sleeping. It was my watch but I was turned towards the fire, so I couldn’t see them coming in the dark.” Neither of them blinked. Beln was stony faced, Tulip seemed almost eager. “Then, when I realised they were there, my gun was out of reach and I couldn’t get a proper hold of it, and I tried to yell out but I couldn’t defend myself properly and they knocked me down easily.” She sounded scornful now, as if she were describing someone else. “It was so easy that only one person was killed that night. But not one of them survived the camp they took us to. Over 6 months, every one of those15 men and women was murdered.”

Beln shifted slightly and looked away. “So? What would you say, boy?” Tulip challenged. Beln glanced at Tom sitting opposite him but he was watching Tulip and offered no support. “What would you say if I sat here and told you that your brother was one of those 15…”

“He wasn’t!” Beln exploded.

Tulip’s gaze never wavered. Slowly, carefully, she continued “I killed your brother…”

“You’re lying!” Beln shouted.

“You don’t know that!” Tulip shouted back.

Beln sat back in his seat breathing heavily glaring at her expectant half-triumphant expression until he had to look away. Then suddenly he stopped and looked slowly back up at her. “What was his name?” he said quietly. Tulip frowned slightly, questioningly, but Beln didn’t repeat it, just sat looking at her. Expectation crackled. Tulip opened her mouth…then closed it again and looked away. Beln let out a breath. Then he stood up slowly and walked out of the door.

Tulip finally met Tom’s gaze with a half smile then sat back and returned to her food without a word.

Sunday 25 March 2007

Dust

I'm allergic to my home.
This sucks.

Thursday 15 March 2007

Summer Sun

Over the last few days the weather has changed and it suddenly feels like summer. It's at once beautiful and cruel. Looking out over the paddock in the sun, standing at a window or sitting on the grass talking to friends, it's like a promise of summer that you know will be broken. Not because it'll rain tomorrow, or be cold later, but because summer doesn't really begin until after exams. And this weather just fills my mind with thoughts of the lazy days of may week - the only time when you can feel truly free. Which is why it's cruel - because this isn't the end it's just the beginning.
Work. Revision. Exams.
What a lot to look forward to!

My motto remains the same - and I would recommend this to anyone at any point in the Cambridge year: Live For Mayweek.

I feel the need to once again include one of my favourite quotes, from the incredible Tom Baker, while punting down the Cam:

"I love the spring. All the trees, the colours..."
"It's October"
"I thought you said we were coming here for Mayweek?"
"I did. Mayweek's in June"

And finally I'd just like to say: Ha! Oxford suckers!