Date Posted:20:38:41 10/24/09 Sat Author:Debi Subject: Just call me psycho! In reply to:
Page
's message, "Did you read my mind? >>>>>" on 14:16:57 10/24/09 Sat
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!
>>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.
Page, 15:52:13 10/28/09 Wed