letter twenty-six to rahel: apparently… and book number nine: monsters by emerald fennell

my dearest, dearest dear.

we’ve been doing splendidly with this blog thing, haven’t we. well. strictly speaking it’s mainly me, as it was my turn to write again. and here we are. a long time has passed. i am incredibly lucky in the sense that we’ve been spending a fair bit of the past month together. firstly, because i spent time with you (duh), and secondly, because i won’t have to relay ever single second of those four weeks, as you were part of most of them.

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this is how i felt about the weather in bergen

let us start chronologically, which is, as the name suggests, the logical thing to do: after we took the train to oslo (on which you wrote the last post and on which there was an epic hour of listening to all of our favs and dancing on our train seats). once we had arrived in ushlu, as the locals call it, we bought ice cream and devoured that in the pouring(ish) rain on our way to magnus’ flat. what followed were four days of festival extravaganza, sometimes in the rain and sometimes not, sometimes enjoying ourselves and sometimes not as much, but always together. which, if you ask me, is what matters most. and like with any festival, there certainly were musical and other experiences we woulnd’t have made in our normal lives, including edible plates, tiny tiny adorable children collecting cups and grace jones. without having been ready for it, øya was suddenly over. luckily we still had a couple of days left in oslo, which we spent exploring and eating burgers and more m (i miss m) and strolling through other people’s villas like we own the place and eating norwegian pizza and eating norwegian “pizza” and watching skam and having ever so delicate conversation on top of oslo’s oprah.

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squid squad plus a shadow man

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you clearly have seen some horrible things

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on tuesday morning, however, it was time to say goodbye to runa and magnus and sophia and norway, and hello to sweden and some ever so much needed snukandinski time. we made our way safely to beautiful gothenburg, where i almost fainted on the bus and coughed my lungs out for the next three days. i’m still sorry ’bout that. luckily my travel companion was the best nurse i could have hoped for. despite my dire physical state, those few days with you were a highlight of my summer. our trip to the archipelago of gothenburg, ferryin’ about and eating swedish cheese pie, reading the rest of the cursed child to you (and being it read to (more on that below)), eating the most delicious meatballs ever, lying on the grass listening to the luv soundtrack like we used to in russell square, wiping tears of laughter from our faces in that zara changing room because we couldn’t stop dancing like absolute maniacs, you in your new mom jeans and me in the floral bomber jacket, watching friends and life and burlesque on our beds in the little hostel room with the ugly pictures on the wall (twice, nota bene) and just you. you and you and you. and lest we forget about the bloody “sold out” cinnamon rolls. lies. after four days of best friend bliss, it was time to return to switzerland, but for once the farewell was bearable, as i knew that what expected me in a fortnight was another week of us.

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island prettyness

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my last few days in switzerland passed in absolutely no time at all, and i tried spending as much of it with everyone i knew i wouldn’t be seeing in a while. trips to the rhine with lou and my brother, horrible nicholas sparks films with tanika, milkshakes and shopping with sophia, watching first dates with my mum, going to the europa park with the other two flamigos (i.e. my dad and my brother), which was an absolute blast and i cannot wait to go there with you again (maybe in october?), watching the worst movie ever (sharktopus vs whalwolf, anyone) with maus and mausmaus, and the like. on the saturday before i left there was another joyous event; the festivities of anna’s wedding. it was lovely to see everyone once more before i left, although i seemed to deal even less well with the goodbyes this time. monday came too soon and not soon enough, and after getting up at four in the sodden a.m. i was generously driven to the airport by my lovely mother and brother (who now is learning to drive!) and off i was, to step on english ground for the first time in three months.

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a bunch of very attractive people

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flamingo

again, there isn’t much of a point in regaling you with stories you were one of the main protagonists in, but let me just jot down some highlights:

– seeing the phantom. duh.

– spontaneously deciding to go see “charlie and the chocolate factory”

– finding out that the alien building we had seen years ago and been wondering about since was actually a massive. fucking. slide.

– leaving a pub crawl to go home and make froyo.

– watching the bake off and getting incredibly into it.

– getting incredibly wet on that one ride with marco at thorpe park.

– staying home all day to watch ouat and bond and cook and eat and do nothing else.

 

yeah. those things. come back, please.

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i feel like i haven’t fully dried

it’s been strange to see you off. it always is. but i had gotten so used to your being here as the status quo. not fun. i will, however, see you again in just a few weeks. so it could be worse. since you’ve left i’ve been very busy, with marco and other things, filming my first ever music video (exciting), watching “stranger things” and at long last sleeping on the roof. or at least attempting to do so. until it starts to rain.

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isn’t that just the prettiest location to film ever?!

it’s time to talk books. i’ll make this short. we have discussed our thoughts on “harry potter and the cursed child” a fair bit, and we both agreed that we had expected more from the story and also the characters, but that it certainly would work much better on stage than being read by me with my fake scottish accent whenever hagrid is talking. nevertheless, i am very excited about seeing it in december and very pleased we got to read it together.

i’ll quickly throw in our new book here as well, as it would be a bit pointless to have a whole post with just a couple of lines. as you know we have started reading “monsters” by emerald fennell (dat name, tho) for the month of september (how?), a story about the murders of (thus far) young women in a small english seaside town written from the perspective of a somewhat strange twelve/thirteen year old girl. i am somewhat uncertain as to what i think about it at this point, but it did teach me the word “trollop”, and even just for that it was and is certainly worth reading it.

 

my love, i hope you’re settling in alright. i love you. and miss you. always.

 

yours in admiration,

trollop

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