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Date Posted: 14:16:57 10/24/09 Sat
Author: 
Page
Subject: Did you read my mind? >>>>>
In reply to:
Debi
's message, "A couple of matches to spark ideas." on 11:25:03 10/24/09 Sat
I have been doing some tweaking on the third chapter of Carey On, doing some rewriting so it fits with the changes in the story, and the suggested line in this week's homework has found a home there. And I stayed within the correct word count, too! Woo Hoo! *G*
Excerpt from Carey On
©2009 by Juli Morgan
Posted for purposes of critique only, and does not constitute publication
Katie hurried along the sidewalk, anxious to reach the sanctuary of Adam’s flat where she could strip off the clothes she was wearing and throw them out the window. The tan twin-set and matching knee-length skirt, so different from her usual hip style, made her feel as if she were dressed in a Halloween costume, and she had no desire to spend another minute looking like a suicidal cheerleader. The tall white building loomed in front of her, and she sighed with relief, shifting the shopping bags that filled her arms. Before she could mount the front steps, she felt the bag containing her precious new coffee pot begin to slide out from under her elbow.
“Shit!” she yelled, trying to juggle her other bags and catch the escapee before it could hit the sidewalk and shatter.
“Got it,” said a female voice just behind her, and Katie felt the bag lifted from under her arm.
“Thanks!” She turned to see a pair of blue eyes twinkling at her in amusement, and Katie was sharply aware that she looked dull as wren next to such a ravishing creature.
The girl’s English Rose complexion was set off by platinum blonde hair that swung close to her chin. Her coat, which looked like she’d taken a mohair rug and cut it to fit, was the same soft blue as her eyes, and hanging below it was what appeared to be an authentic Indian sari. Katie just knew the vibrant pink would exactly match the girl’s blooming cheeks. Her own tan clothing seemed to draw back in embarrassment. Realizing she was staring, Katie took a quick breath and smiled. “Good reflexes. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” The girl held up the bag. “Want me to help you in with all this, luv?”
“That’d be great.” Katie started up the steps, her utilitarian brown loafers clunking on the concrete. “I have to warn you, though, it’s at the top.”
“Ah, the penthouse suite.” The girl held the door open for Katie, and they huffed up the stairs. As Katie fished through her purse for the key to Adam’s flat, the girl gave her an appraising look. “New to the neighborhood?”
“Very,” Katie said, unlocking the door. “I’ve only lived here with Adam for a couple of weeks..”
“Adam?” The girl put the bag on the table, and grinned. “Adam Greene, he of the lovely hair and beautiful arse?”
Katie laughed. “Nicely put. Yes, that’s the one.” She dumped her bags next to the one containing the coffeepot. “I’m Katie Scott.”
“And I’m Maureen Smith. I live just up the road a bit.”
“Wanna stay for a while and rap?” Katie dropped her coat on a chair. “I’ll make some tea or something after I change out of these threads.”
“Love to, thanks.” Maureen removed her own coat, and Katie saw that the pink of her sari did, indeed, match the pink in her cheeks.
Katie lost no time in pulling out her favorite top and most comfortable pair of jeans. “I had to go to Harrods for coffee, and Adam told me about their dress code. So I had to go out and buy some straight clothes just to go shopping. I’ve been feeling my I.Q. getting lower since I put them on.”
“That it explains it, then.” Maureen grinned and plopped down on the other chair. “When I saw you out there I thought maybe you’d got lost on your way to Sloane.”
Katie pulled the tan sweater set over her head and sailed it toward the bed. “Sloane? What’s that?” She wriggled into her tunic and popped her head through the opening.
“Cor, love, you don’t know about Sloane?” Maureen gave a sour laugh. “Let’s just say a Sloane would love that twinset you’ve just chucked, and wouldn’t be caught dead in that groovy top you have on now.”
“Then I for sure wouldn’t fit in as a Sloane.” Katie fingered the threads of gold, silver and shiny purple that adorned the neckline and long, loose sleeves of the turquoise tunic. “I can’t see why anyone wouldn’t love this.” She stepped out of the loafers, and unzipped the dull skirt. It fell to her feet, and she sent it toward the discarded sweaters with a kick.
“Well, I think it’s far out,” Maureen said, as Katie pulled her jeans on. “But, luv, why’d you go all the way to Harrods for coffee? You can get it at any market, you know.”
“Yes, but it’s all instant.” At Maureen’s blank stare, Katie reached into one of her bags and drew out a red can of Folger’s. “I like this kind much better, and no one knew where I could get it, other than Harrods. My aunt is supposed to be sending me some from the States, but I couldn’t wait any more.”
“Is there a difference?” Maureen eyed the red can with the skepticism of a racetrack agent looking at a phony twenty.
“Huge,” Katie said fervently. “Like the difference between The Supremes and Janis Joplin.” Maureen looked unenlightened. “Jefferson Airplane?” At the negative shake of Maureen’s head, Katie tried again. “The Yardbirds?”
Comprehension dawned on Maureen’s face. “Alright, that one I get. So, could I try some, then?”
“Sure.” Katie pulled the box containing the coffeepot from its bag, and began unpacking it. “If you don’t like it, just let me know, and I’ll make tea. Adam showed me how.”
“Showed you how? I take it there’s not much tea where you come from.” Maureen grinned.
Katie smiled, and took the components of the percolator to the sink to wash them. “Not a lot, at least not the way you make it. We usually have it from bags and drink it over ice.” She laughed when Maureen shuddered in revulsion. “The first time Adam showed me loose tea leaves I thought it was a box of really exotic pot.”
Maureen fizzed with mirth. “I do hope you didn’t smoke it.”
“No, he set me straight.” Katie rinsed and dried the pieces of the coffeepot, and began assembling them. “I think that whole Boston tea party thing put the States right off drinking a lot of tea. Probably because they didn’t have it for such a long time.” She put the can opener on top of the can of Folger’s and started cranking.
“So what do you drink in the States besides bastardized tea and coffee?” Maureen looked interested.
“The usual – water, beer, fruit juice, Kool-Aid. And a lot of soda.” Katie discovered Maureen looked blank again, and gestured toward the battered refrigerator. “You know, Coke and Pepsi?”
“Oh! Fizzy drinks.” Maureen nodded. “Yeah, we drink a lot of those, too.”
“Fizzy drinks,” Katie repeated, measuring out coffee into the basket. “I’ll have to remember that. I just learned ‘queue’ yesterday.” She added water to the pot, and set it on the stove. “Okay. We let it come to a boil, then in five or six minutes we’ll have coffee.”
“Super. But Katie.” Maureen looked confused. “What do you mean you ‘learned queue’?”
“Learned what it meant, I mean.” She removed her coat from the chair and tossed it on the bed before sitting down opposite Maureen. “We call it a line, instead of a queue. Of course, there’s also loo for bathroom, and tube for subway. Someone needs to write a British to American dictionary.”
"You call it a line? Go ahead, butcher the language. Nobody cares anymore anyway." Maureen grinned. “Odd how we all speak English, and still can’t understand each other.” She chuckled. “Of course, it’s not just Yanks and Brits; there’s more to the generation gap than just clothes and music. I told my granny I wanted to sit and rap with her last time I visited, and she thought I was daft for wanting to knock on things. You know, rap?” She rapped her knuckles on the table in illustration.
Katie giggled. “Very true. My dad used to just shake his head when I’d tell him I needed some bread to go to the movies or something. I don’t know why he thought bread was so strange. I mean, he said things like hubba hubba.”
Maureen lounged back, as if the chair she sat in was a velvet-covered chaise and not a spindly wooden one covered in chipped white paint. “So, you’ve moved to London, then?”
Katie nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just came over to check out the scene, you know? But I’ve fallen in love with it. And then, there’s Adam, and….”
“Ah, Adam.” Maureen’s grin was evil. “Now there’s a bloke about whom ‘hubba hubba’ really means something. I was keen to hear his band play the other night, but they canceled with no warning. I wonder what happened?”
Katie glanced toward the door as she heard footsteps approaching on the worn floorboards of the hall. “Sounds like he’s home. I’ll let you get the scoop from him.”
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[> [>
Just call me psycho! -- Debi, 20:38:41 10/24/09 Sat
>I have been doing some tweaking on the third chapter
>of Carey On, doing some rewriting so it fits
>with the changes in the story, and the suggested line
>in this week's homework has found a home there. And I
>stayed within the correct word count, too! Woo Hoo!
>*G*
>
>Excerpt from Carey On
>©2009 by Juli Morgan
>Posted for purposes of critique only, and does not
>constitute publication
>
>Katie hurried along the sidewalk, anxious to reach the
>sanctuary of Adam’s flat where she could strip off the
>clothes she was wearing and throw them out the window.
> The tan twin-set and matching knee-length skirt, so
>different from her usual hip style, made her feel as
>if she were dressed in a Halloween costume, and she
>had no desire to spend another minute looking like a
>suicidal cheerleader. The tall white building loomed
>in front of her, and she sighed with relief, shifting
>the shopping bags that filled her arms. Before she
>could mount the front steps, she felt the bag
>containing her precious new coffee pot begin to slide
>out from under her elbow.
>
>“Shit!” she yelled, trying to juggle her other bags
>and catch the escapee before it could hit the sidewalk
>and shatter.
>
>“Got it,” said a female voice just behind her, and
>Katie felt the bag lifted from under her arm.
>
>“Thanks!” She turned to see a pair of blue eyes
>twinkling at her in amusement, and Katie was sharply
>aware that she looked dull as wren next to such a
>ravishing creature.
>
>The girl’s English Rose complexion was set off by
>platinum blonde hair that swung close to her chin.
>Her coat, which looked like she’d taken a mohair rug
>and cut it to fit, was the same soft blue as her eyes,
>and hanging below it was what appeared to be an
>authentic Indian sari. Katie just knew the vibrant
>pink would exactly match the girl’s blooming cheeks.
Okay, this tripped me up a little. If she can see that the sari is pink, can't she already tell if it matches, the girl's cheeks?
>Her own tan clothing seemed to draw back in
>embarrassment. Realizing she was staring, Katie took
>a quick breath and smiled. “Good reflexes. I really
>appreciate it.”
>
>“No problem.” The girl held up the bag. “Want me to
>help you in with all this, luv?”
>
>“That’d be great.” Katie started up the steps, her
>utilitarian brown loafers clunking on the concrete.
>“I have to warn you, though, it’s at the top.”
>
>“Ah, the penthouse suite.” The girl held the door
>open for Katie, and they huffed up the stairs. As
>Katie fished through her purse for the key to Adam’s
>flat, the girl gave her an appraising look. “New to
>the neighborhood?”
>
>“Very,” Katie said, unlocking the door. “I’ve only
>lived here with Adam for a couple of weeks..”
>
>“Adam?” The girl put the bag on the table, and
>grinned. “Adam Greene, he of the lovely hair and
>beautiful arse?”
>
>Katie laughed. “Nicely put. Yes, that’s the one.”
>She dumped her bags next to the one containing the
>coffeepot. “I’m Katie Scott.”
>
>“And I’m Maureen Smith. I live just up the road a
>bit.”
>
>“Wanna stay for a while and rap?” Katie dropped her
>coat on a chair. “I’ll make some tea or something
>after I change out of these threads.”
>
>“Love to, thanks.” Maureen removed her own coat, and
>Katie saw that the pink of her sari did, indeed, match
>the pink in her cheeks.
>
>Katie lost no time in pulling out her favorite top and
>most comfortable pair of jeans. “I had to go to
>Harrods for coffee, and Adam told me about their dress
>code. Seriously?! Harrods had/has a dress code? Wow... So I had to go out and buy some straight
>clothes just to go shopping. I’ve been feeling my
>I.Q. getting lower since I put them on.”
>
>“That it explains it, then.” Maureen grinned and
>plopped down on the other chair. “When I saw you out
>there I thought maybe you’d got lost on your way to
>Sloane.”
>
>Katie pulled the tan sweater set over her head and
>sailed it toward the bed. “Sloane? What’s that?” She
>wriggled into her tunic and popped her head through
>the opening.
>
>“Cor, love, you don’t know about Sloane?” Maureen gave
>a sour laugh. “Let’s just say a Sloane would love that
>twinset you’ve just chucked, and wouldn’t be caught
>dead in that groovy top you have on now.” Another little thing that caught my attention. Sloane starts out sounding like a destination and ends up being a type of person?
>
>“Then I for sure wouldn’t fit in as a Sloane.” Katie
>fingered the threads of gold, silver and shiny purple
>that adorned the neckline and long, loose sleeves of
>the turquoise tunic. “I can’t see why anyone wouldn’t
>love this.” Me neither. I LOVE color! She stepped out of the loafers, and
>unzipped the dull skirt. It fell to her feet, and she
>sent it toward the discarded sweaters with a kick.
>
>“Well, I think it’s far out,” Maureen said, as Katie
>pulled her jeans on. “But, luv, why’d you go all the
>way to Harrods for coffee? You can get it at any
>market, you know.”
>
>“Yes, but it’s all instant.” At Maureen’s blank
>stare, Katie reached into one of her bags and drew out
>a red can of Folger’s. “I like this kind much better,
>and no one knew where I could get it, other than
>Harrods. My aunt is supposed to be sending me some
>from the States, but I couldn’t wait any more.”
>
>“Is there a difference?” Maureen eyed the red can
>with the skepticism of a racetrack agent looking at a
>phony twenty. Love this analogy!
>
>“Huge,” Katie said fervently. “Like the difference
>between The Supremes and Janis Joplin.” Maureen
>looked unenlightened. “Jefferson Airplane?” At the
>negative shake of Maureen’s head, Katie tried again.
>“The Yardbirds?”
>
>Comprehension dawned on Maureen’s face. “Alright,
>that one I get. So, could I try some, then?”
>
>“Sure.” Katie pulled the box containing the coffeepot
>from its bag, and began unpacking it. “If you don’t
>like it, just let me know, and I’ll make tea. Adam
>showed me how.”
>
>“Showed you how? I take it there’s not much tea where
>you come from.” Maureen grinned.
>
>Katie smiled, and took the components of the
>percolator to the sink to wash them. “Not a lot, at
>least not the way you make it. We usually have it
>from bags and drink it over ice.” She laughed when
>Maureen shuddered in revulsion. Our English radiologist had a similar reaction and promptly bought us a hot pot for tea and instituted afternoon teatime. “The first time Adam
>showed me loose tea leaves I thought it was a box of
>really exotic pot.” LOL!
>
>Maureen fizzed with mirth. “I do hope you didn’t
>smoke it.”
>
>“No, he set me straight.” Katie rinsed and dried the
>pieces of the coffeepot, and began assembling them.
>“I think that whole Boston tea party thing put the
>States right off drinking a lot of tea. Probably
>because they didn’t have it for such a long time.”
>She put the can opener on top of the can of Folger’s
>and started cranking.
>
>“So what do you drink in the States besides
>bastardized tea and coffee?” Maureen looked
>interested.
>
>“The usual – water, beer, fruit juice, Kool-Aid. And
>a lot of soda.” Katie discovered Maureen looked blank
>again, and gestured toward the battered refrigerator.
>“You know, Coke and Pepsi?”
>
>“Oh! Fizzy drinks.” Maureen nodded. “Yeah, we drink
>a lot of those, too.”
>
>“Fizzy drinks,” Katie repeated, measuring out coffee
>into the basket. “I’ll have to remember that. I just
>learned ‘queue’ yesterday.” She added water to the
>pot, and set it on the stove. “Okay. We let it come
>to a boil, then in five or six minutes we’ll have
>coffee.”
>
>“Super. But Katie.” Maureen looked confused. “What
>do you mean you ‘learned queue’?”
>
>“Learned what it meant, I mean.” She removed her coat
>from the chair and tossed it on the bed before sitting
>down opposite Maureen. “We call it a line, instead of
>a queue. Of course, there’s also loo for bathroom,
>and tube for subway. Someone needs to write a British
>to American dictionary.”
>
>"You call it a line? Go ahead, butcher the language.
>Nobody cares anymore anyway." Maureen grinned. “Odd
>how we all speak English, and still can’t understand
>each other.” She chuckled. “Of course, it’s not just
>Yanks and Brits; there’s more to the generation gap
>than just clothes and music. I told my granny I
>wanted to sit and rap with her last time I visited,
>and she thought I was daft for wanting to knock on
>things. You know, rap?” She rapped her knuckles on
>the table in illustration.
>
>Katie giggled. “Very true. My dad used to just shake
>his head when I’d tell him I needed some bread to go
>to the movies or something. I don’t know why he
>thought bread was so strange. I mean, he said things
>like hubba hubba.”
>
>Maureen lounged back, as if the chair she sat in was a
>velvet-covered chaise and not a spindly wooden one
>covered in chipped white paint. “So, you’ve moved to
>London, then?”
>
>Katie nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just came over to
>check out the scene, you know? But I’ve fallen in
>love with it. And then, there’s Adam, and….”
>
> “Ah, Adam.” Maureen’s grin was evil. “Now there’s a
>bloke about whom ‘hubba hubba’ really means something.
> I was keen to hear his band play the other night, but
>they canceled with no warning. I wonder what
>happened?”
>
>Katie glanced toward the door as she heard footsteps
>approaching on the worn floorboards of the hall.
>“Sounds like he’s home. I’ll let you get the scoop
>from him.”
Love the language comparisons and the easy friendship between Katie and Maureen. Aside from the little things I mentioned, I think it shows us some background and helps establish Katie's place in London. Great work!
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[> [> [>
Okay. You're psycho. *G* >>>> -- Page, 15:52:13 10/28/09 Wed
>>The girl’s English Rose complexion was set off by
>>platinum blonde hair that swung close to her chin.
>>Her coat, which looked like she’d taken a mohair rug
>>and cut it to fit, was the same soft blue as her eyes,
>>and hanging below it was what appeared to be an
>>authentic Indian sari. Katie just knew the vibrant
>>pink would exactly match the girl’s blooming cheeks.
>
>Okay, this tripped me up a little. If she can see
>that the sari is pink, can't she already tell if it
>matches, the girl's cheeks?
Yeah, I wasn't too clear here, and need to clarify. The only part of Maureen's sari that was visible was flapping around her knees under the hem of her coat. So it wasn't close enough to her face for Katie to really judge. Will fix. Thanks for catching that!
>>
>>Katie lost no time in pulling out her favorite top and
>>most comfortable pair of jeans. “I had to go to
>>Harrods for coffee, and Adam told me about their dress
>>code. Seriously?! Harrods had/has a dress code?
>Wow... So I had to go out and buy some straight
>>clothes just to go shopping. I’ve been feeling my
>>I.Q. getting lower since I put them on.”
Yep, Harrod's still has a dress code. Back when Katie would have shopped there, you couldn't wear jeans or T-shirts. Those are acceptable now, as long as they're not ripped or dirty. Until just recently, you couldn't wear trainers, but I understand they're okay now. But they check you out when you come in, and if they don't like the way you're dressed, they'll toss you out.
>>“Cor, love, you don’t know about Sloane?” Maureen gave
>>a sour laugh. “Let’s just say a Sloane would love that
>>twinset you’ve just chucked, and wouldn’t be caught
>>dead in that groovy top you have on now.” Another
>little thing that caught my attention. Sloane starts
>out sounding like a destination and ends up being a
>type of person?
Well, it's both. The debs who inhabit the area known as Sloane are usually referred to as Sloane Rangers, and it's usually shortened to just Sloane. Ima haveta fix this.
>>
>>“Then I for sure wouldn’t fit in as a Sloane.” Katie
>>fingered the threads of gold, silver and shiny purple
>>that adorned the neckline and long, loose sleeves of
>>the turquoise tunic. “I can’t see why anyone wouldn’t
>>love this.” Me neither. I LOVE color!
Me, too! I can see this top in my mind, and would give anything to have one like it! *G*
>>“Is there a difference?” Maureen eyed the red can
>>with the skepticism of a racetrack agent looking at a
>>phony twenty. Love this analogy!
TY!
>>Katie smiled, and took the components of the
>>percolator to the sink to wash them. “Not a lot, at
>>least not the way you make it. We usually have it
>>from bags and drink it over ice.” She laughed when
>>Maureen shuddered in revulsion. Our English
>radiologist had a similar reaction and promptly bought
>us a hot pot for tea and instituted afternoon
>teatime.
Maureen's reaction came directly from a British friend of mine the first time she was offered iced tea. She's also not a fan of American bacon, but that one's beyond me...
>Love the language comparisons and the easy friendship
>between Katie and Maureen. Aside from the little
>things I mentioned, I think it shows us some
>background and helps establish Katie's place in
>London. Great work!
Thanks, Debi! That's why I love these crits so much -- you show me things I would never have thought to fix.
Hugs,
Page
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[> [>
Hey Page >>> -- Esther, 13:48:00 10/27/09 Tue
I have been doing some tweaking on the third chapter of Carey On, doing some rewriting so it fits with the changes in the story, and the suggested line in this week's homework has found a home there. And I stayed within the correct word count, too! Woo Hoo! *G*
Excerpt from Carey On
©2009 by Juli Morgan
Posted for purposes of critique only, and does not constitute publication
Katie hurried along the sidewalk, anxious to reach the sanctuary of Adam’s flat where she could strip off the clothes she was wearing and throw them out the window. The tan twin-set and matching knee-length skirt, so different from her usual hip style, made her feel as if she were dressed in a Halloween costume, and she had no desire to spend another minute looking like a suicidal cheerleader. The tall white building loomed in front of her, and she sighed with relief, shifting the shopping bags that filled her arms. Before she could mount the front steps, she felt the bag containing her precious new coffee pot begin to slide out from under her elbow.
Ah yes. I do recall a bit about that shopping trip…
“Shit!” she yelled, trying to juggle her other bags and catch the escapee before it could hit the sidewalk and shatter.
K, sorry. Just gotta say it. You have her yelling “Shit!” which doesn’t need the tag she yelled to explain that she yelled. If your word count is taking over, a simple way to reduce/cut some is to simply delete the clutter.
“Got it,” said a female voice just behind her, and Katie felt the bag lifted from under her arm.
“Thanks!” She turned to see a pair of blue eyes twinkling at her in amusement, and Katie was sharply aware that she looked dull as wren next to such a ravishing creature.
Nice first impression of Maureen btw.
The girl’s English Rose complexion was set off by platinum blonde hair that swung close to her chin. Her coat, which looked like she’d taken a mohair rug and cut it to fit, was the same soft blue as her eyes, and hanging below it was what appeared to be an authentic Indian sari. Katie just knew the vibrant pink would exactly match the girl’s blooming cheeks. Her own tan clothing seemed to draw back in embarrassment. Realizing she was staring, Katie took a quick breath and smiled. “Good reflexes. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” The girl held up the bag. “Want me to help you in with all this, luv?”
“That’d be great.” Katie started up the steps, her utilitarian brown loafers clunking on the concrete. “I have to warn you, though, it’s at the top.”
“Ah, the penthouse suite.” The girl held the door open for Katie, and they huffed up the stairs. As Katie fished through her purse for the key to Adam’s flat, the girl gave her an appraising look. “New to the neighborhood?”
“Very,” Katie said, unlocking the door. “I’ve only lived here with Adam for a couple of weeks..”
Hmmmm thought that shopping trip to get the ol’ folgers happened sooner than a couple weeks…
“Adam?” The girl put the bag on the table, and grinned. “Adam Greene, he of the lovely hair and beautiful arse?”
Notice how I’m not saying anything???? ;-)
Katie laughed. “Nicely put. Yes, that’s the one.” She dumped her bags next to the one containing the coffeepot. “I’m Katie Scott.”
“And I’m Maureen Smith. I live just up the road a bit.”
“Wanna stay for a while and rap?” Katie dropped her coat on a chair. “I’ll make some tea or something after I change out of these threads.”
“Love to, thanks.” Maureen removed her own coat, and Katie saw that the pink of her sari did, indeed, match the pink in her cheeks.
And this has nothing whatsoever to do with anything…but where was Maureen off to before she rescued the coffee pot?
Katie lost no time in pulling out her favorite top and most comfortable pair of jeans. “I had to go to Harrods for coffee, and Adam told me about their dress code. So I had to go out and buy some straight clothes just to go shopping. I’ve been feeling my I.Q. getting lower since I put them on.”
K, my mind kinda recalls the layout of the flat, and the bed that consists of only a mattress on the floor…but I’m not remembering a dresser or anything. Where does she pull them out of? A closet? Dresser? She still living out of her bags? Details. I need details. *G*
“That it explains it, then.” Maureen grinned and plopped down on the other chair. “When I saw you out there I thought maybe you’d got lost on your way to Sloane.”
Katie pulled the tan sweater set over her head and sailed it toward the bed. “Sloane? What’s that?” She wriggled into her tunic and popped her head through the opening.
Sailed it toward the bed? So she’s not standing beside it? Where she changing then? In the middle of the room?
“Cor, love, you don’t know about Sloane?” Maureen gave a sour laugh. “Let’s just say a Sloane would love that twinset you’ve just chucked, and wouldn’t be caught dead in that groovy top you have on now.”
“Then I for sure wouldn’t fit in as a Sloane.” Katie fingered the threads of gold, silver and shiny purple that adorned the neckline and long, loose sleeves of the turquoise tunic. “I can’t see why anyone wouldn’t love this.” She stepped out of the loafers, and unzipped the dull skirt. It fell to her feet, and she sent it toward the discarded sweaters with a kick.
“Well, I think it’s far out,” Maureen said, as Katie pulled her jeans on. “But, luv, why’d you go all the way to Harrods for coffee? You can get it at any market, you know.”
“Yes, but it’s all instant.” At Maureen’s blank stare, Katie reached into one of her bags and drew out a red can of Folger’s. “I like this kind much better, and no one knew where I could get it, other than Harrods. My aunt is supposed to be sending me some from the States, but I couldn’t wait any more.”
Wasn’t it Libby who sent her to Harrods?
“Is there a difference?” Maureen eyed the red can with the skepticism of a racetrack agent looking at a phony twenty.
“Huge,” Katie said fervently. “Like the difference between The Supremes and Janis Joplin.” Maureen looked unenlightened. “Jefferson Airplane?” At the negative shake of Maureen’s head, Katie tried again. “The Yardbirds?”
And why doesn’t Maureen know these names?
Comprehension dawned on Maureen’s face. “Alright, that one I get. So, could I try some, then?”
“Sure.” Katie pulled the box containing the coffeepot from its bag, and began unpacking it. “If you don’t like it, just let me know, and I’ll make tea. Adam showed me how.”
“Showed you how? I take it there’s not much tea where you come from.” Maureen grinned.
Katie smiled, and took the components of the percolator to the sink to wash them. “Not a lot, at least not the way you make it. We usually have it from bags and drink it over ice.” She laughed when Maureen shuddered in revulsion. “The first time Adam showed me loose tea leaves I thought it was a box of really exotic pot.”
Maureen fizzed with mirth. “I do hope you didn’t smoke it.”
“No, he set me straight.” Katie rinsed and dried the pieces of the coffeepot, and began assembling them. “I think that whole Boston tea party thing put the States right off drinking a lot of tea. Probably because they didn’t have it for such a long time.” She put the can opener on top of the can of Folger’s and started cranking.
“So what do you drink in the States besides bastardized tea and coffee?” Maureen looked interested.
“The usual – water, beer, fruit juice, Kool-Aid. And a lot of soda.” Katie discovered Maureen looked blank again, and gestured toward the battered refrigerator. “You know, Coke and Pepsi?”
“Oh! Fizzy drinks.” Maureen nodded. “Yeah, we drink a lot of those, too.”
“Fizzy drinks,” Katie repeated, measuring out coffee into the basket. “I’ll have to remember that. I just learned ‘queue’ yesterday.” She added water to the pot, and set it on the stove. “Okay. We let it come to a boil, then in five or six minutes we’ll have coffee.”
“Super. But Katie.” Maureen looked confused. “What do you mean you ‘learned queue’?”
“Learned what it meant, I mean.” She removed her coat from the chair and tossed it on the bed before sitting down opposite Maureen. “We call it a line, instead of a queue. Of course, there’s also loo for bathroom, and tube for subway. Someone needs to write a British to American dictionary.”
"You call it a line? Go ahead, butcher the language. Nobody cares anymore anyway." Maureen grinned. “Odd how we all speak English, and still can’t understand each other.” She chuckled. “Of course, it’s not just Yanks and Brits; there’s more to the generation gap than just clothes and music. I told my granny I wanted to sit and rap with her last time I visited, and she thought I was daft for wanting to knock on things. You know, rap?” She rapped her knuckles on the table in illustration.
Ah ha! Found the homework! Fits beautifully here btw
Katie giggled. “Very true. My dad used to just shake his head when I’d tell him I needed some bread to go to the movies or something. I don’t know why he thought bread was so strange. I mean, he said things like hubba hubba.”
Maureen lounged back, as if the chair she sat in was a velvet-covered chaise and not a spindly wooden one covered in chipped white paint. “So, you’ve moved to London, then?”
First a ravishing creature, and now I have the impression of elegance to go with it. Awesome the way you incorporated it in
Katie nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just came over to check out the scene, you know? But I’ve fallen in love with it. And then, there’s Adam, and….”
and…and what?
“Ah, Adam.” Maureen’s grin was evil. “Now there’s a bloke about whom ‘hubba hubba’ really means something. I was keen to hear his band play the other night, but they canceled with no warning. I wonder what happened?”
Katie glanced toward the door as she heard footsteps approaching on the worn floorboards of the hall. “Sounds like he’s home. I’ll let you get the scoop from him.”
Well, since you won’t say, I’ll have to infer myself that his band went splitsville just cause that would leave him free to join up with Jay. Wait a sec…thought of something but I’m not sure so won’t mention it. But I will say I’m finding it very frustrating not having this whole thing in front of me, and having to rely on my failing memory and the knowledge that whatever I managed to remember is not right anymore anyway. Arrrgg!
And so, that’s it.
Hugs
Esther
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Hey Esther! >>>>> -- Page, 16:28:51 10/28/09 Wed
>
>Katie hurried along the sidewalk, anxious to reach the
>sanctuary of Adam’s flat where she could strip off the
>clothes she was wearing and throw them out the window.
>The tan twin-set and matching knee-length skirt, so
>different from her usual hip style, made her feel as
>if she were dressed in a Halloween costume, and she
>had no desire to spend another minute looking like a
>suicidal cheerleader. The tall white building loomed
>in front of her, and she sighed with relief, shifting
>the shopping bags that filled her arms. Before she
>could mount the front steps, she felt the bag
>containing her precious new coffee pot begin to slide
>out from under her elbow.
>Ah yes. I do recall a bit about that shopping
>trip…
...which has now been cut. *ducking and running*
>
>“Shit!” she yelled, trying to juggle her other bags
>and catch the escapee before it could hit the sidewalk
>and shatter.
>K, sorry. Just gotta say it. You have her yelling
>“Shit!” which doesn’t need the tag she yelled to
>explain that she yelled. If your word count is taking
>over, a simple way to reduce/cut some is to simply
>delete the clutter.
Gotcha. Yelled is outta here.
>
>“Got it,” said a female voice just behind her, and
>Katie felt the bag lifted from under her arm.
>
>“Thanks!” She turned to see a pair of blue eyes
>twinkling at her in amusement, and Katie was sharply
>aware that she looked dull as wren next to such a
>ravishing creature.
>Nice first impression of Maureen btw.
TY!
>“Very,” Katie said, unlocking the door. “I’ve only
>lived here with Adam for a couple of weeks..”
>Hmmmm thought that shopping trip to get the ol’
>folgers happened sooner than a couple weeks…
Originally it was, but my Brit-picker took me to task, saying:
You make it seem as if we didn't have coffee in the 60s. We did. Utterly vile, of course, but we had it.
So I gave Katie a little more time before she decided she was going to die of Sanka, and had to have the real stuff.
>
>“Adam?” The girl put the bag on the table, and
>grinned. “Adam Greene, he of the lovely hair and
>beautiful arse?”
>Notice how I’m not saying anything???? ;-)
Bwahaha!!
>“Love to, thanks.” Maureen removed her own coat, and
>Katie saw that the pink of her sari did, indeed, match
>the pink in her cheeks.
>And this has nothing whatsoever to do with
>anything…but where was Maureen off to before she
>rescued the coffee pot?
She was headed home from Portobello Market, the day's receipts in her coat pocket.
>
>Katie lost no time in pulling out her favorite top and
>most comfortable pair of jeans. “I had to go to
>Harrods for coffee, and Adam told me about their dress
>code. So I had to go out and buy some straight clothes
>just to go shopping. I’ve been feeling my I.Q. getting
>lower since I put them on.”
>K, my mind kinda recalls the layout of the flat,
>and the bed that consists of only a mattress on the
>floor…but I’m not remembering a dresser or anything.
>Where does she pull them out of? A closet? Dresser?
>She still living out of her bags? Details. I need
>details. *G*
I gave the poor man a chest of drawers. *G* From Chapter Two: Although the furnishings consisted of nothing more than an elderly table and chairs, and a rather elegant chest of drawers with intricate carvings, the room was cozy with paisley wall hangings, books, record albums and photographs. He was living from hand to mouth, but he wasn't a complete slob. LOL!
>
>Katie pulled the tan sweater set over her head and
>sailed it toward the bed. “Sloane? What’s that?” She
>wriggled into her tunic and popped her head through
>the opening.
>Sailed it toward the bed? So she’s not standing
>beside it? Where she changing then? In the middle of
>the room?
Yep! Of course, the bed was only about four steps from the table, and the chest was directly behind the chairs. Not a large establishment our Adam had....
>
>“Yes, but it’s all instant.” At Maureen’s blank stare,
>Katie reached into one of her bags and drew out a red
>can of Folger’s. “I like this kind much better, and no
>one knew where I could get it, other than Harrods. My
>aunt is supposed to be sending me some from the
>States, but I couldn’t wait any more.”
>Wasn’t it Libby who sent her to Harrods?
Before I cut it she was. But now it's kind of implied that Katie's asked around.
>
>“Huge,” Katie said fervently. “Like the difference
>between The Supremes and Janis Joplin.” Maureen looked
>unenlightened. “Jefferson Airplane?” At the negative
>shake of Maureen’s head, Katie tried again. “The
>Yardbirds?”
>And why doesn’t Maureen know these names?
Good question! At that point in time, Janis and the Airplane weren't known outside the U.S. or Canada, as they were just gaining momentum. Adam knew about them, because he was a music freak, and secretly wanted to become a full-fledged hippie and move to San Francisco and wear flowers in his hair, so he gobbled up every tidbit he could get about the American music scene. But the average Brit wouldn't have known who they were.
>
>"You call it a line? Go ahead, butcher the language.
>Nobody cares anymore anyway." Maureen grinned. “Odd
>how we all speak English, and still can’t understand
>each other.” She chuckled. “Of course, it’s not just
>Yanks and Brits; there’s more to the generation gap
>than just clothes and music. I told my granny I wanted
>to sit and rap with her last time I visited, and she
>thought I was daft for wanting to knock on things. You
>know, rap?” She rapped her knuckles on the table in
>illustration.
>Ah ha! Found the homework! Fits beautifully here
>btw
TY!
>
>Maureen lounged back, as if the chair she sat in was a
>velvet-covered chaise and not a spindly wooden one
>covered in chipped white paint. “So, you’ve moved to
>London, then?”
>First a ravishing creature, and now I have the
>impression of elegance to go with it. Awesome the way
>you incorporated it in.
TY! Maureen is truly Queen of All She Surveys. I can't wait for you to read about the first time she laid eyes on Nicky! *G*
>
>Katie nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just came over to check
>out the scene, you know? But I’ve fallen in love with
>it. And then, there’s Adam, and….”
>and…and what?
...and...and...she thinks she might be in love with him. He wants her to think so, anyway.*G*
>
>“Ah, Adam.” Maureen’s grin was evil. “Now there’s a
>bloke about whom ‘hubba hubba’ really means something.
>I was keen to hear his band play the other night, but
>they canceled with no warning. I wonder what happened?”
>
>Katie glanced toward the door as she heard footsteps
>approaching on the worn floorboards of the hall.
>“Sounds like he’s home. I’ll let you get the scoop
>from him.”
>Well, since you won’t say, I’ll have to infer
>myself that his band went splitsville just cause that
>would leave him free to join up with Jay. Wait a
>sec…thought of something but I’m not sure so won’t
>mention it. But I will say I’m finding it very
>frustrating not having this whole thing in front of
>me, and having to rely on my failing memory and the
>knowledge that whatever I managed to remember is not
>right anymore anyway. Arrrgg!
Yeah, it's irritating the way I keep doing that, innit? *G* But I've stopped changing things, I promise. As for the band....
Same excerpt, same copyright and dire warnings notice...
Adam stepped in, his cheeks flushed from the heat, and smiled. “My lucky day to find two beautiful ladies in my flat.”
“Too right,” Maureen informed him. “And we were just talking about you, too. Why didn’t you play at Finches on Saturday?”
“We broke up Saturday morning.” Adam sat down on the edge of the bed, the only other seating option available. “Didn’t seem like a good idea to go and play on Saturday night, you know?”
“Bloody hell, Adam! Don’t you know the only reason I work at Finches is so I can hear you sing?”
Adam snorted in amusement. “And here I thought it was because it’s too fucking hot to sit in a stall in Portobello market selling candles.”
“Well, there’s that, too.” Maureen caught sight of Katie’s confused look, and explained. “I make candles. Mix my own colors and scents, and sell them at the market. Business gets slow when we get one of these heat waves, though.” She broke off, her eyes wide, and glanced around the flat, looking for the source of the sound she’d heard. “Wot the hell was that?”
The soft popping noise came again, and Katie grinned. “It’s the coffee perking.”
“It’s supposed to do that?” Maureen asked, eyeing the coffeepot with suspicion.
“It is.” Katie laughed, and turned to Adam. “Hey, they did have coffee at Harrods, but I’ve gotta tell you, that was one weird place. I wore the ugliest clothes ever made – your feet are on my skirt, by the way – but I saw the grooviest threads for sale in the clothing departments. I can’t believe they sell the clothes, but won’t let you wear them in the store!”
Adam picked up his feet and peered at the rumpled skirt. “You’re right, this is one of the ugliest skirts I’ve ever seen.” He shook his hair back and grinned at her. “It’s not fair that I didn’t get to see you in it.”
“I saw her,” Maureen interjected, “and it wasn’t pretty.” She sat up straighter and cleared her throat. “Getting back to the original subject here; why’d your band break up? What are you going to do now?”
Adam fell back onto the bed and crossed his arms under his head. “They weren’t serious about it, that’s all. I want more than to just play clubs the rest of my life, so I decided to stop wasting my time with them. When Jay gets back…” He broke off, a blush rising from the open collar of his shirt.
“Don’t sweat it, Adam.” Maureen grinned. “It’s all over the street that Wonderkind is breaking up, too.”
“I didn’t know that.” Katie leaned forward with interest. If she had to pick a favorite band, Wonderkind would be the one she chose. It wasn’t the band as much as it was their brilliant guitar player, Jay Carey, that made her a fan. As a guitar player herself, she was in awe of Jay’s talent, and always blown away when she listened to Wonderkind’s albums. In addition, she considered him to be the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She gave Adam an encouraging look, but wondered why he'd never mentioned Jay Carey before.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Adam mumbled. “Jay’s gonna kill me.”
“We won’t say anything, will we Katie?” Maureen added her encouragement to Katie’s. “C’mon on, luv, spill.”
Katie got up to fetch coffee, and, keeping an ear on the conversation behind her, she busied herself taking cups from the cabinet and filling them with the fragrant brew.
“Alright, but don’t say anything,” Adam sighed. “He wouldn’t like me talking about this a bit. But, yes, as soon as they get home from the States, Wonderkind is history. Jay’s wanting to put together a new band, and he’s asked me to be the singer.”
“Bloody brilliant!” Maureen clapped her hands in excitement. “I’m so tired of hearing Marty Harrison moan and groan on all their songs, just ruining the music.”
Adam laughed and sat up to take the cup Katie handed him. “I wouldn’t call it moaning and groaning, Maureen. They have had three number one singles, you know.”
“I agree with Maureen,” Katie put in, placing two brimming cups on the table. “His voice just gives the songs a weird vibe. Sets my teeth on edge.” She took a sip of the coffee and sighed in bliss. “This, however, is far out, and I don’t mean maybe.”
Maureen inhaled the rich scent of the coffee before taking a cautious sip. She swallowed, still looking skeptical, and took another drink. She set her cup down on the table and gave Katie a level stare. “Katie, luv, I really hate to say this, but – you’re spot on about the coffee.” She grinned and picked up her cup again. “It’s bloody marvelous!”
“Told you.” Katie smiled in relief, and looked at Adam. “What do you think?”
“Can I have more?” Adam held out his cup and Katie saw that it was half-empty.
“Far out. Two new converts to real coffee.” She looked smug. “Watch out, or I’ll have you both talking like an American, too, before I’m finished.”
Eyes twinkling with amusement, Maureen gave her a smile. “Don’t push your luck.”
And before you ask, Maureen was wearing a coat during a heat wave because she liked the way the blue fur looked with her pink sari. *G*
Hugs back,
Page
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about coffee -- dea, 17:04:54 10/28/09 Wed
i watched this documentary on History Channel about the history of coffee in the US. then i read your excerpt and something called my attention. if Katie is so adamant about coffee, something tells me she would never use a percolator. according to the doc, it's the worst way of making coffee, because the water boils, passes through the powder, goes to the bottom; then the machine heats the coffee again, and passes old coffee through old powder, over and over, changing the chemical properties of the coffee, making it unbearable. they also said that it was the way americans drank coffee in the 50's and 60's, thus coherent with Katie's reality. however, if i remember well, Katie comes from a wealthy family. i wonder if she would not prefer a French press machine, which makes a very good coffee. they also said things about coffee grains in cans, like Folger's, that the industry began to replace the Arabica grains, a better type of coffee, with the Robusta grains, more resistant, but acid and with not very good flavour. i don't know if Katie would notice that, but i wonder that if she went to Harrod's, she would look for better blends of coffee, maybe French or German. i can't tell what was the coffee market in Europe at that time, the documentary did not go that far, so it would need some research, about timeline and all. just my two (s)cents...
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That addictive brew >>>> -- Page, 18:47:58 10/29/09 Thu
I'm gutted I missed that documentary! I would have loved it.
Katie does love her coffee, but she loves it the way she remembers it being made at home. Since she grew up in the Southern U.S., it would have been made on the stove, in a Corning Ware percolator, warmed up throughout the morning until the last cup would have been more like mud than coffee. Even though Katie's father was wealthy, he didn't start out that way, and would have turned up his nose at anything other than coffee the way they made it at the cafe. His housekeeper/cook wouldn't have messed with anything fancy, either. (I wish I could get her into the story, but can't find a good way to do so. Her name was Deloris, and she was a strong-minded African-American woman who loved Katie with the last breath in her body. She was a busy woman, too, who would have told Mac Scott what he could do with a French press if he'd ever brought one home. *G* Her motto was, "I ain't runnin' a restaurant here. You'll eat what's put on the table, or you'll starve.")
I think if I ever had to drink percolated coffee, I'd not like it a bit, since the first coffee I ever had came from a Mr. Coffee drip. My father, however, missed his percolator until the day he died. He appreciated the convenience of his Bunn, but always complained the coffee was so weak he "had to help it out of the pot." *G*
Thanks for the insight about coffee! I figure Katie did try different kinds as she traveled to new places, but I always see her coming right back to the way Deloris made it.
Hugs,
Page
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you could put it in there! -- dea, 10:25:13 11/04/09 Wed
>I figure Katie
>did try different kinds as she traveled to new places,
>but I always see her coming right back to the way
>Deloris made it.
you could put it in the dialogue, Katie telling Maureen why she went thorugh all the Harrod's ordeal. it was not only coffee...
Last edited by author: Wed November 04, 2009 10:26:20
Edited 1 time.
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Brilliant idea! I'll do that! Thank you, dea! -- Page, 15:51:43 11/05/09 Thu
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O dear I'm far behind again>>>>> -- Lady Morilka, 11:53:52 11/07/09 Sat
>Excerpt from Carey On
>©2009 by Juli Morgan
>Posted for purposes of critique only, and does not
>constitute publication
>
>Katie hurried along the sidewalk, anxious to reach the
>sanctuary of Adam’s flat where she could strip off the
>clothes she was wearing and throw them out the window.
> The tan twin-set and matching knee-length skirt, so
>different from her usual hip style, made her feel as
>if she were dressed in a Halloween costume, and she
>had no desire to spend another minute looking like a
>suicidal cheerleader. The tall white building loomed
>in front of her, and she sighed with relief, shifting
>the shopping bags that filled her arms. Before she
>could mount the front steps, she felt the bag
>containing her precious new coffee pot begin to slide
>out from under her elbow.
>
>“Shit!” she yelled, trying to juggle her other bags
>and catch the escapee before it could hit the sidewalk
>and shatter.
>
>“Got it,” said a female voice just behind her, and
>Katie felt the bag lifted from under her arm.
>
>“Thanks!” She turned to see a pair of blue eyes
>twinkling at her in amusement, and Katie was sharply
>aware that she looked dull as wren next to such a
>ravishing creature.
>
>The girl’s English Rose complexion was set off by
>platinum blonde hair that swung close to her chin.
>Her coat, which looked like she’d taken a mohair rug
>and cut it to fit, was the same soft blue as her eyes,
>and hanging below it was what appeared to be an
>authentic Indian sari. Katie just knew the vibrant
>pink would exactly match the girl’s blooming cheeks.
>Her own tan clothing seemed to draw back in
>embarrassment. Realizing she was staring, Katie took
>a quick breath and smiled. “Good reflexes. I really
>appreciate it.”
>
>“No problem.” The girl held up the bag. “Want me to
>help you in with all this, luv?”
>
>“That’d be great.” Katie started up the steps, her
>utilitarian brown loafers clunking on the concrete.
>“I have to warn you, though, it’s at the top.”
>
>“Ah, the penthouse suite.” The girl held the door
>open for Katie, and they huffed up the stairs. As
>Katie fished through her purse for the key to Adam’s
>flat, the girl gave her an appraising look. “New to
>the neighborhood?”
>
>“Very,” Katie said, unlocking the door. “I’ve only
>lived here with Adam for a couple of weeks..”
Is that second dot on purpose or not? Could be both thats why I ask cos either way would work but be completly different.
>
>“Adam?” The girl put the bag on the table, and
>grinned. “Adam Greene, he of the lovely hair and
>beautiful arse?”
>
>Katie laughed. “Nicely put. Yes, that’s the one.”
>She dumped her bags next to the one containing the
>coffeepot. “I’m Katie Scott.”
>
>“And I’m Maureen Smith. I live just up the road a
>bit.”
>
>“Wanna stay for a while and rap?” Katie dropped her
>coat on a chair. “I’ll make some tea or something
>after I change out of these threads.”
>
>“Love to, thanks.” Maureen removed her own coat, and
>Katie saw that the pink of her sari did, indeed, match
>the pink in her cheeks.
>
>Katie lost no time in pulling out her favorite top and
>most comfortable pair of jeans. “I had to go to
>Harrods for coffee, and Adam told me about their dress
>code. So I had to go out and buy some straight
>clothes just to go shopping.
Love that, I would be so annoyed if I had to do that.
I’ve been feeling my
>I.Q. getting lower since I put them on.”
>
>“That it explains it, then.” Maureen grinned and
>plopped down on the other chair. “When I saw you out
>there I thought maybe you’d got lost on your way to
>Sloane.”
>
>Katie pulled the tan sweater set over her head and
>sailed it toward the bed. “Sloane? What’s that?” She
>wriggled into her tunic and popped her head through
>the opening.
Just curious how long is Katies hair? If it should be longer than to her shoulders, she would have to pull that out too.
>
>“Cor, love, you don’t know about Sloane?” Maureen gave
>a sour laugh. “Let’s just say a Sloane would love that
>twinset you’ve just chucked, and wouldn’t be caught
>dead in that groovy top you have on now.”
>
>“Then I for sure wouldn’t fit in as a Sloane.” Katie
>fingered the threads of gold, silver and shiny purple
>that adorned the neckline and long, loose sleeves of
>the turquoise tunic. “I can’t see why anyone wouldn’t
>love this.” She stepped out of the loafers, and
>unzipped the dull skirt. It fell to her feet, and she
>sent it toward the discarded sweaters with a kick.
>
>“Well, I think it’s far out,” Maureen said, as Katie
>pulled her jeans on. “But, luv, why’d you go all the
>way to Harrods for coffee? You can get it at any
>market, you know.”
>
>“Yes, but it’s all instant.” At Maureen’s blank
>stare, Katie reached into one of her bags and drew out
>a red can of Folger’s. “I like this kind much better,
>and no one knew where I could get it, other than
>Harrods. My aunt is supposed to be sending me some
>from the States, but I couldn’t wait any more.”
>
>“Is there a difference?” Maureen eyed the red can
>with the skepticism of a racetrack agent looking at a
>phony twenty.
>
>“Huge,” Katie said fervently. “Like the difference
>between The Supremes and Janis Joplin.” Maureen
>looked unenlightened. “Jefferson Airplane?” At the
>negative shake of Maureen’s head, Katie tried again.
>“The Yardbirds?”
>
>Comprehension dawned on Maureen’s face. “Alright,
>that one I get. So, could I try some, then?”
>
>“Sure.” Katie pulled the box containing the coffeepot
>from its bag, and began unpacking it. “If you don’t
>like it, just let me know, and I’ll make tea. Adam
>showed me how.”
Love that remark, really brings ones head up. I've knowen loose tea all my life. My dad is a huge fan of it and I even know the differences between the teanames although they are just letters.
>
>“Showed you how? I take it there’s not much tea where
>you come from.” Maureen grinned.
>
>Katie smiled, and took the components of the
>percolator to the sink to wash them. “Not a lot, at
>least not the way you make it. We usually have it
>from bags and drink it over ice.” She laughed when
>Maureen shuddered in revulsion. “The first time Adam
>showed me loose tea leaves I thought it was a box of
>really exotic pot.”
>
>Maureen fizzed with mirth. “I do hope you didn’t
>smoke it.”
>
>“No, he set me straight.” Katie rinsed and dried the
>pieces of the coffeepot, and began assembling them.
>“I think that whole Boston tea party thing put the
>States right off drinking a lot of tea.
Oh yea, I missed good tea when I was oversea 10 years ago. (I'm getting old, it really was 10 years ago)
Probably
>because they didn’t have it for such a long time.”
>She put the can opener on top of the can of Folger’s
>and started cranking.
>
>“So what do you drink in the States besides
>bastardized tea and coffee?” Maureen looked
>interested.
>
>“The usual – water, beer, fruit juice, Kool-Aid. And
>a lot of soda.” Katie discovered Maureen looked blank
>again, and gestured toward the battered refrigerator.
>“You know, Coke and Pepsi?”
>
>“Oh! Fizzy drinks.” Maureen nodded. “Yeah, we drink
>a lot of those, too.”
>
>“Fizzy drinks,” Katie repeated, measuring out coffee
>into the basket. “I’ll have to remember that. I just
>learned ‘queue’ yesterday.” She added water to the
>pot, and set it on the stove. “Okay. We let it come
>to a boil, then in five or six minutes we’ll have
>coffee.”
>
>“Super. But Katie.” Maureen looked confused. “What
>do you mean you ‘learned queue’?”
>
>“Learned what it meant, I mean.” She removed her coat
>from the chair and tossed it on the bed before sitting
>down opposite Maureen. “We call it a line, instead of
>a queue. Of course, there’s also loo for bathroom,
>and tube for subway. Someone needs to write a British
>to American dictionary.”
>
>"You call it a line? Go ahead, butcher the language.
>Nobody cares anymore anyway." Maureen grinned. “Odd
>how we all speak English, and still can’t understand
>each other.” She chuckled. “Of course, it’s not just
>Yanks and Brits; there’s more to the generation gap
>than just clothes and music. I told my granny I
>wanted to sit and rap with her last time I visited,
>and she thought I was daft for wanting to knock on
>things. You know, rap?” She rapped her knuckles on
>the table in illustration.
>
>Katie giggled. “Very true. My dad used to just shake
>his head when I’d tell him I needed some bread to go
>to the movies or something. I don’t know why he
>thought bread was so strange. I mean, he said things
>like hubba hubba.”
Masupilami!!!!LOL
>
>Maureen lounged back, as if the chair she sat in was a
>velvet-covered chaise and not a spindly wooden one
>covered in chipped white paint. “So, you’ve moved to
>London, then?”
>
>Katie nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just came over to
>check out the scene, you know? But I’ve fallen in
>love with it. And then, there’s Adam, and….”
>
> “Ah, Adam.” Maureen’s grin was evil. “Now there’s a
>bloke about whom ‘hubba hubba’ really means something.
> I was keen to hear his band play the other night, but
>they canceled with no warning. I wonder what
>happened?”
>
>Katie glanced toward the door as she heard footsteps
>approaching on the worn floorboards of the hall.
>“Sounds like he’s home. I’ll let you get the scoop
>from him.”
I really like to see how strange Katie was in London in the beginning. It gets emphasised nicely with the language and the coffee. nice scene!
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[> [> [>
But you're still here, and that's what counts! *G* >>>> -- Page, 14:19:53 11/15/09 Sun
>>
>>“Very,” Katie said, unlocking the door. “I’ve only
>>lived here with Adam for a couple of weeks..”
>Is that second dot on purpose or not? Could be both
>thats why I ask cos either way would work but be
>completly different.
Good catch! You have a great eye, because I didn't even see that. Actually, there are supposed to be three periods there, to indicate her voice trailed off. Thanks! It's been fixed.
>>
>>Katie lost no time in pulling out her favorite top and
>>most comfortable pair of jeans. “I had to go to
>>Harrods for coffee, and Adam told me about their dress
>>code. So I had to go out and buy some straight
>>clothes just to go shopping.
>Love that, I would be so annoyed if I had to do
>that.
No kidding! When I first heard about that, I thought it was a joke, but they really have a dress code. I love reading about how people try to get around it. In several instances, people have tried to get in naked, just to make a point. *G*
>>Katie pulled the tan sweater set over her head and
>>sailed it toward the bed. “Sloane? What’s that?” She
>>wriggled into her tunic and popped her head through
>>the opening.
>Just curious how long is Katies hair? If it should
>be longer than to her shoulders, she would have to
>pull that out too.
You're right. I didn't even think about that. Katie's hair is down to her hips -- I described it a bit in the first chapter -- so she would have to pull it out of her blouse. Thanks for catching that!
>>“Sure.” Katie pulled the box containing the coffeepot
>>from its bag, and began unpacking it. “If you don’t
>>like it, just let me know, and I’ll make tea. Adam
>>showed me how.”
>Love that remark, really brings ones head up. I've
>knowen loose tea all my life. My dad is a huge fan of
>it and I even know the differences between the
>teanames although they are just letters.
Loose tea leaves are almost an unknown commodity here in the States, and very few people know how to make tea from them. Of course, not a lot of people drink hot tea, either, although it seems to be more popular lately than it used to be. I'm a lazy wench, though, and just buy Twining's Earl Grey in bags! *G*
>>“No, he set me straight.” Katie rinsed and dried the
>>pieces of the coffeepot, and began assembling them.
>>“I think that whole Boston tea party thing put the
>>States right off drinking a lot of tea.
>Oh yea, I missed good tea when I was oversea 10
>years ago. (I'm getting old, it really was 10 years
>ago)
I know what you mean! I just got a notice that my graduating class is planning its 30 year reunion! This must have been sent to me by mistake, as I rarely feel older than 20 on my worst days!
>>Katie giggled. “Very true. My dad used to just shake
>>his head when I’d tell him I needed some bread to go
>>to the movies or something. I don’t know why he
>>thought bread was so strange. I mean, he said things
>>like hubba hubba.”
>Masupilami!!!!LOL
Okay, you're going to have to help me out here, since I see another language barrier. *G* What is Masupilami?
>
>I really like to see how strange Katie was in
>London in the beginning. It gets emphasised nicely
>with the language and the coffee. nice scene!
Thank you! Since this was early after her arrival in England, I thought it was important to see how confused she got over simple things. She'll acclimate fast, though. A British friend of mine said that just a short time in London is enough to "knock the foreign out of anyone." LOL!
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[> [> [> [>
Marsupilami -- Lady Morilka, 17:29:00 11/15/09 Sun
>>>Katie giggled. “Very true. My dad used to just
>shake
>>>his head when I’d tell him I needed some bread to go
>>>to the movies or something. I don’t know why he
>>>thought bread was so strange. I mean, he said things
>>>like hubba hubba.”
>>Masupilami!!!!LOL
>
>Okay, you're going to have to help me out here,
>since I see another language barrier. *G* What is
>Masupilami?
>
Marsupilami is a comic figure who always sais "huba huba"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marsupilami
:D
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