Sinister: Real fruit pieces

[Rebecca Wright]

I feel I ought to bulk out my character beyond a love of a rare bird.
My enthusiasm for them in my debut e-mail stemmed from spotting one
that morning in the sky above me. I also look up at the night sky a
lot nowadays but that's just to find the seven sisters which is the
only constellation I can recognise. I'd like to know more, be able to
name a hundred stars like the skipping girl off 'Drowning by numbers',
I'd also like to have a basic grasp of Spanish before I leave for Peru
and I'd like to be more adept at the sax but like isn't a strong
enough inducement whilst I'm in this rut of a gap year.
The sax in question is a prissy tenor, its flaw is that it happens to
be a Yamaha and has inherited a nasty orange-gold laquer. I consider
leaving it out in the rain to tarnish into one of those battered,
rusted instruments in the b&w New York jazz photos. 
I'm second in a local jazz band where the average age is 60 & I've
lost my school-girl ability to dive head first into solos with only
the vaguest notion of what notes to play. 

Ten, ten is a much more appropriate number. It can be a late new
year's resolution to learn the names of ten stars. Bit more unusual
than the 'go to the gym once a week' offerance.

My village is half way between Oxford & Reading. It was once a swamp
with a monastery and when it rains hard the water pools into the
shapes of the lakes and trenches of the trout farm the monks had in
the grounds of the nature reserve, this is all from Primary school
it's odd the stuff you retain.
Agatha Christie is buried in the church yard. Our one claim to fame
and not much at that, it'd be something for the grave to be a shrine
like Conan Doyle's with lots of die hard fans in Poirot outfits or
Miss Marple get-ups holding seminars around it but they all prefer the
Orient Express.

What else to say.....I have beautiful blood, that's according to the
nurse at the donor clinic- it was an aesthetically pleasing shade of
crimson leaking into the bag if I do say so myself. It is also O
negative which my Mum the doctor treated like a genetic disease
pouring over her old medical books as the prospects of multiple
grandchildren fell into jeopardy. I wish I'd known this during
Biology, could've been my own show & tell in the genetics classes.

Quickly onto New Year's, mine was similar to Christina McDermott's
only this was vodka trivial pursuit. T'was also short lived as the
trivial pursuit in question predated the fall of the Berlin wall and
the only correct answer given was "eyebrows!". 2001 ended with a
debate on the political layout of the South American continent. Jill
found the drunken scrawlings in her diary the next day resembling a
cross between Italy and an alien's head drawn by a 2 year-old.

Looking back this is not so much a CV as it is the ramblings from an
over indulgence in black cherry youghurt.
bye now
Becky x
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