Dec. 17th, 2008

Dearlove

Dec. 17th, 2008 04:53 pm
zoetrope: (Default)
Conversations I have not had with workCrush:

1.
Crush: Hey, Z, can you come over to the main table? We're going to have a quick meeting.
Me: I love you.

2.
Crush: I think you just need to saturate the colours a bit-- and put a couple of greenscreen--
Me: I love you.

3.
Crush: I think those prawns were off. I feel really sick.
Me: I love you.

It's been a close thing, though.




Yesterday, my Grandmother and I went to visit my 90 year old Great Aunt.

"I've got something for you," she said, handing me an old photograph. "It was taken by my friend Muriel."

"Oh, yes," my Grandmother said. "I met her once!"

My Auntie Cecily looked delighted. "Muriel Dearlove?" she beamed. "She looked like a boy?"

"That's right," my Grandmother nodded. "She came down to visit us in Surrey once, and her car broke down."

"Motorbike," Aunt Cecily corrected, still beaming.

This would have been in about 1950, I think. I'm completely infatuated by the idea of this woman. Muriel Dearlove, boyish photographer, riding around the country on her motorbike. A hot, female James Dean.

Later, in the car:

"What was that about her friend Muriel... what was it? Dearlove?"

"Yes, that's right," Gran said. "She never married."

"What a surprise," I laughed. "She looked like a boy and rode a motorbike. You don't think she might have been... you know... a lesbian?!"

"Well, yes, I did wonder."

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