Sasha Distan

sometimes I require silly drama!

That's a much better ratio. And all those lovely antho stories! Also 4 in one week, personal best *dances*

hahaha! oh Tim!pancakes and bacon must be accompanied by maple syrup. it's very important.

right back at you. Thank you so much for your lovely words (Ma will tut and say that my ego did not need making any bigger). I kind of love the idea of being saved for last, like a delicious morsel at dinner time. Om nom nom. And I agree that 'Seth' is such a lovely name to say. Thank you Yettie for such high praise.

there does?I would hope more sweet than sad though.

Thank you Addy. I do my best.Technicolour full-immersion storytelling is what we aim for, I'm glad it worked. You always hit the nail on the head - the love is always the most important thing.

School. For those of you who do not: A) have children or grandchildren teach children C) work in academia ... September is any other time of year. Sad because it is the end of summer, but generally the same as any other month. For those of us in the second category, it marks the start of the new school year (at least, in the Northern Hemisphere) and a rollar coaster of emotions, frustrations, delights and horrors. We have now lived, survived, a full teaching week. I have met all of my classes and we have completed our first practical lessons (for those who don't know, I teach Food Technology, a much maligned subject which is NOT home economics, cookery or similar). Some of these sessions have been times of love and wonder. There is a strange and fierce joy to see the students whom you have watched grow up, little 11 year olds who are now teenagers, full of grand ideas and emotions. Too there is an almost possessive kind of loyalty and love when a girl in my tutor group arrived early, ran in and hugged me without a second thought. I was missed. There is often bad stuff too, injuries, accidents, this time, a death among the student population. There are the children you dread seeing, secretly hoping they had transferred to other schools: the one who made things hard last year and you fear will do the same again. I have discovered more recently that I prefer teenagers to children, and that if such a choice was available, I would teach high school. The littlest ones can be so needy, and while others find it endearing, I find it irritating that they have not yet been trained into the manner which I require. They will learn though, it is the entire purpose of their being here. Which brings us to this: I will often at the end of a short period of writing get a student to read to the class their work. I call them volunteers, but I pick them. Today, someone asked me why, and I was reminded of Sir Terry Pratchett, his wonderful work and the words of Lord Vetinari. "That greatest of all treasures, which is hope." I told the students I was imply giving them the illusion of choice, that this illusion was something they would get used to whether they liked it or not. The world is full of apparent choice, though very few of them are actually real choices. They nodded as though they understood and turned back to their work, as did I. We are all of us toiling away under the illusion of choice.

*bows* I am humbled by your mighty inspiration. Once I had the song on loop, it all just slotted into place. so thank you, twice, for the track and the review. Gritty as beach sand is a nice compliment, I'll hold onto that one.

thank you very much.Being dazed and saddened is a "good" reaction, but I'm sorry anyway. I did get very attached to those two young men to be sure.

maybe Oli won't have to hide his frustration much longer eh?

always awesome.

thanks very much. Writing a relationship in progress was actually a lot easier than I though it was going to be.

4 weeks in quarantine is going to ensure that neither of them ever travel anywhere legally...

damn, now I'm crying. Well done you beautiful creature, you.

Thanks Dugh. and Cole, obviously.There have to be those little moments to balance the big ones, and grape jelly is incredibly important.

awww, thank you Gary. you say the nicest things

welcome.if i'm honest, I think I wrote the whole thing just for that scene in the wardrobe.

thanks Joann. I know just what you mean. Bad things happen to people who don't deserve it, but good things happen too. sometimes, if we're lucky.

Mean, whenever I get near the top, everyone reads from the bottom up...

oh the force of the first time and the sudden almost insurmountable fear that comes hand and hand with desire. that was beautiful. and afterwards, so sad, so nearly and sort-of heart wrenching. well done for that too. I do that too, pick at grass in my lap when I sit cross-legged on the grass. Was doing it the day my husband asked me to marry him. Bits of grass everywhere.

this... confuses me. But don't take that badly. All good poetry confuses me slightly. and I feel... faintly guilty. As though I have done something terrible and potentially wonderful at the same time. If this is the weirdest review you've ever had, I am sorry, and a little bit proud.

"When in doubt, ask politely" You know how I feel about this piece, and I think it is wonderfully written and beautifully heartbreaking. I am seldom so happy to be so sad. Bravo.

A nice surprise for a Thursday. So many delicious words.

oh there's a lot of things in there I wanna answer but i can't... absence makes the heart grow fonder. the loins too.

these things take time, and Oli will heal - hopefully. and he is in the process of understanding what Boris means to him in a very different way than what Anastasia is to his father.