blamebrampton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blamebrampton) wrote2011-11-02 11:44 pm
blamebrampton) wrote2011-11-02 11:44 pm
Not really Nano ...
As suspected, day one word count: 532. Day two so far: 0. But I have not gone to bed yet!
Instead I have spent today at the physio (the opposite tendon to my wretched one has gone out in sympathy, it'll be fine with a bit of work), riding my lovely bicycle (which my physio wants me to leave to her in my will and which will have its own post with pix very soon!), having a nap, going to my ukulele lesson and learning how to play the blues (ba bowowow-wah), and then having a good old sweat at the gym.
On the bus coming back from ukulele class, a French boy was trying to pick up the Italian girl behind him with little luck. He was very beautiful, and she was lovely, but if I understood her conversation with her friend (in Italian, so my comprehension was patchy, but miles ahead of French boy's), she thought he was a student and therefore probably immature. I thought he was nice because he gave me a huge smile when he caught my eye after I'd been cuddling my soprano ukulele quietly in the corner seat.
They made some light conversation during which it came out that he was studying film-making, of course. Then a couple got on the bus, both a little older than me. She looked tired and I saw her shoulders slump as she realised there were no seats. I was wedged into my seat with two ukuleles and a giant bag full of music, while she had nothing to carry, so I decided I had more need this time, but beautiful French boy leapt to his feet and said, 'Please, madam, do sit down.'
She thanked him, and the rest of us nearby gave him the smile and nod of 'What a good young person!'
Italian girl looked up at him, as he was now standing beside her in the aisle. 'That was very kind! Not many young men give up seats for women.'
'My parents would be ashamed of me if I did not,' he replied, with a smile.
'Still, it was very good of you. So what do you do at film school? Have you made any films?'
'I'm studying to be a director. And yes, I have! I was just looking at the last one on my phone. Would you like to see it? It's only six minutes long.'
She thought about it for a moment, then reached out a hand, smiling. 'Yes, thank you.'
When I left the bus, Italian girl and friend were chatting animatedly with French boy, phone numbers had been exchanged, and there were plans for drinks. If you are a parent whose teenaged sons find it hard to hold onto their manners, remind them it could one day result in a date with a hot Italian girl if they play their cards right!
Right, off for a quick bath and then an attempt at some words before unconsciousness. Wish I had a scene planned where the lead characters were knackered with a sore foot, I'd rock that right now!
Instead I have spent today at the physio (the opposite tendon to my wretched one has gone out in sympathy, it'll be fine with a bit of work), riding my lovely bicycle (which my physio wants me to leave to her in my will and which will have its own post with pix very soon!), having a nap, going to my ukulele lesson and learning how to play the blues (ba bowowow-wah), and then having a good old sweat at the gym.
On the bus coming back from ukulele class, a French boy was trying to pick up the Italian girl behind him with little luck. He was very beautiful, and she was lovely, but if I understood her conversation with her friend (in Italian, so my comprehension was patchy, but miles ahead of French boy's), she thought he was a student and therefore probably immature. I thought he was nice because he gave me a huge smile when he caught my eye after I'd been cuddling my soprano ukulele quietly in the corner seat.
They made some light conversation during which it came out that he was studying film-making, of course. Then a couple got on the bus, both a little older than me. She looked tired and I saw her shoulders slump as she realised there were no seats. I was wedged into my seat with two ukuleles and a giant bag full of music, while she had nothing to carry, so I decided I had more need this time, but beautiful French boy leapt to his feet and said, 'Please, madam, do sit down.'
She thanked him, and the rest of us nearby gave him the smile and nod of 'What a good young person!'
Italian girl looked up at him, as he was now standing beside her in the aisle. 'That was very kind! Not many young men give up seats for women.'
'My parents would be ashamed of me if I did not,' he replied, with a smile.
'Still, it was very good of you. So what do you do at film school? Have you made any films?'
'I'm studying to be a director. And yes, I have! I was just looking at the last one on my phone. Would you like to see it? It's only six minutes long.'
She thought about it for a moment, then reached out a hand, smiling. 'Yes, thank you.'
When I left the bus, Italian girl and friend were chatting animatedly with French boy, phone numbers had been exchanged, and there were plans for drinks. If you are a parent whose teenaged sons find it hard to hold onto their manners, remind them it could one day result in a date with a hot Italian girl if they play their cards right!
Right, off for a quick bath and then an attempt at some words before unconsciousness. Wish I had a scene planned where the lead characters were knackered with a sore foot, I'd rock that right now!
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I think that Beautiful French Boy might be at that stage in his life where everything he does could be from his own personal script or novel, but I confess that it is much easier to represent the world thusly when you have the option of closely editing down the bits that you repeat – the 15 minutes of 'So, is film school interesting?' and 'Have you been to New Zealand?' that constituted most of their post-film sharing banter was excluded ;-)
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Awwww.
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