foreshadowing

One of my favourite teachers in high school, a wishbone of a [woman] (to borrow a line from one of the many K.M. stories we learnt to appreciate year after year), with a bob of thick grey straw, a girlish giggle, a plastering of red lipstick and original cork sandals had a fabulous inflection when... no actually, it was another teacher altogether... same subject though, English. And still on the subject of short stories. Goodness, what a muddle, but a rather nice description. Moving on. The other one, a very neat woman, in the orderly sense, neat used enthusiastically will always be naff... the other one, the second one... had a really memorable way of picking out points throughout these stories to store and put together later. She would read the line of note, pause, and labour the word ´foreshadowing´ in the manner of a dramatic foghorn. Oh she was a baritone when she wanted to be. Consider my last post to be footnoted in this manner.

I´m still waiting for my package to arrive. Unfortunately, DHL can´t help me as the new invoice, the one I should have refused, remember, has the wrong tracking code. That is to say, my parcel is lost, and they don´t know exactly what to yell to bring it back. Not the name or address of me or Mum, apparently. Oh boy, another week in Lima. Don´t send things to Peru.

Another week in Lima isn´t such a terrible prospect actually. I´m discovering new cultural ´centres´every day, and they seem to be moving closer and closer to my ´department´ (probably better known to most as ´apartment´). I caught the end of a Jean Luc Godard festival a couple of nights ago. Speedy subtitles certainly makes for an authentic counter cinema experience. I found a great cinema in central lima where I can catch up on all the missing pieces of the aforementioned festival, should it be required. The kid that kept asking me questions throughout the last film I saw there El Dia De La Besta, worth a peep for an odd introduction to Spanish situational comedy, turned out to be a communications/journalism major with brilliant Lima by night tours of all the drunk watching hotspots. So there´s this Saturday tied up nicely.

A sort of friend of mine (the strangest latin american double of me ol´ mate Brendon Philip one could hope to meet)´s cousin died yesterday after falling down a flight of stairs. The catch is, what a terrible use of words that was, they weren´t even a meter off the ground. yughik! Tread carefully petals! The mother of the ´tripper´ is the only one left, having lost a daughter to cancer and her husband to a heart attack shortly after. Yup, another week in Lima doesn´t sound bad at all.

In fact, it sounds sort of like Depeche Mode.

And looks a bit like Elvis graffiti.