Oil Wells and Asparagus

In the first few hours of New Years Day, a spontaneous trip to Andy's, who had elected to stay in.  Walked with Em from the expensive and busy Temple Bar along Western Road,  then turned right onto The Drive. Passed by the old nightmare flat I lived in over 9 months of 2009. I usually avoid the road, some kind of lingering, irrational superstition. Looking up at my old room, watching the old flat, the blank windows and undrawn blinds. All that darkness staring down.
The place looked deserted. Abandoned.
I remember that strange spaciousness of The Drive, the houses that reminded me of a Brooklyn I have never seen, and the tall posts of the street lamps.
The latter always reminded me of oil wells and asparagus. I don't think I ever had a reason why.

New Years Day spent at Em's place. Mostly anyway. There was a short trip into town where she bought my Christmas present for me - Electric Wizard's 'Black Masses' album. Then back to her place, where an afternoon nap took us past nightfall. Upon waking, we watched the rather excellent 'Let The Right One In' on DVD, which was far superior on second viewing than when I had first watched it back in autumn.
Autumn is now last year.
Strange to write that.

In the last few hours of New Years Day, a sudden restlessness led us onto the seafront, along Hove Promenade and to the BP petrol station by the King Alfred swimming pool. Petrol stations on cold winter nights are places of odd nostalgia for me. That strange desolate buzz of the fridges, the pinging of the tills when a petrol pump is activated, shelves full of overpriced drinks and tattered remnants of the days papers...
There was a basket of cheap Hallowe'en toys for sale. I bought a plastic orange ball, made to look like a pumpkin for 50p. There were any number of sweets and tiny toys inside - a miniature yo-yo with a cartoon of a random anime character on, a page of stickers with random words in 'spooky' typography (Creepy! Haunted House!) and a black plastic amorphous mess that may or may not be a bookmark.
I was particularly pleased with a badge of a spider, which is now on the lapel of my jacket.
I wonder how long I shall have it before I inevitably lose it.

Perhaps it will be one of those things which will follow me round forever.