#and come and live in Hampstead of all places

[zot3-flopped]

Is It Over Now?

[Verse 1]

Once the flight had flown (Uh-huh)

With the wilt of the rose (Uh-huh)

I slept all alone (Uh-huh)

You still wouldn't go

[Pre-Chorus]

Let's fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later

I see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters

You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor

You search in every maiden's bed for somethin' greater, baby

[Chorus]

Was it over when she laid down on your couch?

Was it over when he unbuttoned my blouse?

"Come here," I whispered in your ear

In your drеam as you passed out, baby

Was it over then? And is it ovеr now?

[Post-Chorus]

(Is it? Is it? Is it?)

[Verse 2]

When you lost control (Uh-huh)

Red blood, white snow (Uh-huh)

Blue dress on a boat (Uh-huh)

Your new girl is my clone

[Bridge]

And did you think I didn't see you?

There were flashin' lights

At least I had the decency

To keep my nights out of sight

Only rumors 'bout my hips and thighs

And my whispered sighs

Oh, Lord, I think about

Jumpin' off of very tall somethings

Just to see you come running

And say the one thing I've been wanting, but no

[Pre-Chorus]

Let's fast forward to three hundred awkward blind dates later (Oh)

If she's got blue eyes, I will surmise that you'll probably date her (Oh)

You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor (Oh)

You search in every model's bed for somethin' greater, baby

[Chorus]

Was it over when she laid down on your couch?

Was it over when he unbuttoned my blouse?

"Come here," I whispered in your ear

In your dream as you passed out, baby

Was it over then? And is it over now?

[Post-Chorus]

Oh-oh

(Is it? Is it? Is it?) Oh-oh

(Is it? Is it?)

[Bridge]

Think I didn't see you?

There were flashin' lights

At least I had the decency

To keep my nights out of sight

Only rumors 'bout my hips and thighs

And my whispered sighs

Oh, Lord, I think about

Jumpin' off of very tall somethings

Just to see you come runnin' (Runnin')

And say the one thing I've been wanting, but no

[Outro]

Flashin' lights

Oh, Lord (Oh-oh)

Let's fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later (Oh-oh)

(Flashin' lights)

I was hoping you'd be there

And say the one thing (Oh-oh) I've been wanting (Oh-oh)

(Flashin' lights) But no

[apesoformythoughts]

“One general description of madness, it seems to us, might be found in the statement that madness is a preference for the symbol over that which it represents. The most obvious example is the religious maniac, in whom the worship of Christianity involves the negation of all those ideas of integrity and mercy for which Christianity stands.

But there are many other examples. Money, for example, is a symbol; it symbolises wine and horses and beautiful vesture and high houses, the great cities of the world and the quiet tent by the river. The miser is a madman, because he prefers money to all these things; because he prefers the symbol to the reality.

But books are also a symbol; they symbolise man's impression of existence, and it may at least be maintained that the man who has come to prefer books to life is a maniac after the same fashion as the miser. A book is assuredly a sacred object. In a book certainly the largest jewels are shut in the smallest casket. But that does not alter the fact that superstition begins when the casket is valued more than the jewels. This is the great sin of idolatry, against which religion has so constantly warned us […]

Idolatry exists wherever the thing which originally gave us happiness becomes at last more important than happiness itself. Drunkenness, for example, may be fairly described as an engrossing hobby. And drunkenness is, when really comprehended in its inward and psychological reality, a typical example of idolatry […]

Now in this sense bibliomania is capable of becoming a kind of drunkenness. There is a class of men who do actually prefer books to everything with which books are concerned, to lovely places, to heroic actions, to experiment, to adventure, to religion. They read of godlike statues, and are not ashamed of their own frowsy and lazy ugliness; they study the records of open and magnanimous deeds, and are not ashamed of their own secretive and self-indulged lives. They have become citizens of an unreal world, and, like the Indian in his Paradise, pursue with shadowy hounds a shadowy deer. And that way lies madness.

In the limbo of the misers and the drunkards, which is the limbo of idolators, many great scholars may be found. Here, as in almost all ethical problems, the difficulty arises far less from the presence of some vicious tendency than from the absence of some essential virtues. The possibilities of mental derangement which exist in literature are due not so much to a love of books as to an indifference to life and sentiment and everything that books record.

In an ideal state, gentlemen who were immersed in abstruse calculations and discoveries would be forced by Act of Parliament to talk for forty-five minutes to an ostler or a landlady, and to ride across Hampstead Heath on a donkey. They would be examined by the State, but not in Greek or old armour, which are their pleasures, and in which they may be trusted as safely as children at cross-touch. They would be examined in Cockney dialect, or in the colours of various omnibuses. They would be purged of all the tendencies which have sometimes brought lunacy out of learning; they would be taught to become men of the world, which is a step towards becoming men of the Universe.”

— G.K. Chesterton: “Lunacy and Letters”

[zilabee]

Living The Beatles Legend:

After a lifetime of self-doubt over body issues and inveterate shyness, he simply couldn’t control himself. “Big Mal was a demon for sex,” Tony wrote. “[...] Like sacrificial virgins, a lot of the girls willingly accepted that they would have to do it with Mal to get to John, Paul, George, or Ringo, and Mal knew it.”

“A couple of newspaper friends put on a private show involving several prostitutes for our entertainment, one of them being very pregnant.” As Mal recalled, “It was a little unnerving to have these ladies performing before our eyes with each other in one room, with Brian, George Martin and Judy, and the rather more staid members of the press in the adjoining living room.”

“I was being entertained by a young lady late one evening,” Mal wrote, “when George rushes into the darkened room, stoned out of his mind, tearing the bedclothes off, shouting, ‘My turn next—come on, give us a bit!’” Mal gave way to the Beatle, concluding that “apart from that, I was the one that got screwed.”

By this point, [Lily] wasn’t just finding “silly groupie letters” in his suitcase, but also the occasional stray pair of knickers and other telltale signs of infidelity. She recognized that Mal was being seduced—and had been for some time—by overwhelming forces, impulses with which she could hardly begin to compete.

After her brother returned from the States, June recalled that “Malcolm came home knackered, absolutely shattered from that tour.” [...] Her brother and the Beatles were living in a “totally unreal world—an extraordinary, horrendous, wonderful, terrible place that they were all existing in during that period. And they were all damaged by it. They suddenly could have anything they wanted.”

After sharing a convivial dinner with Victoria’s father, who retired early, Mal (31yo) and Victoria (16yo) returned to the hotel and went up to the twenty-seventh floor. [..] “Mal was very sweet,” she recalled, “and we talked and we talked, and we sort of made out.” And while she was unable to meet the Beatles the next morning to do an interview, she exchanged contact information with Mal. And later that year, the letters from her new pen pal began arriving, elegantly adorned with “this beautiful British handwriting.” *

Eventually, Mal would develop a vital relationship of his own with the Scruffs, although he had his detractors—namely, Carol Bedford, a peripheral member of their scrum and a George aficionado who later claimed that Mal tried to put the moves on her. Apparently, Mal had continued to approach women in the Beatles’ universe in the same transactional manner in which he and Neil had “auditioned” willing fans during the band’s touring years. Another Apple Scruff recalled a similar instance when Mal’s attempts to cozy up to the Scruffs went terribly wrong. Apparently, he had crawled under one of the girls’ blankets and “touched something he shouldn’t have.” With that, the offended Scruff came flying out from under the blanket yelling, “Who do you think you are, Paul McCartney?” **

Since leaving the hospital, [Arwen (21yo)] had reared Little Malcolm in her cramped lodgings in West Hampstead. At some point, around the age of six months, he was put up for adoption, leaving her care lock, stock, and barrel, with Mal’s teddy bear as the baby’s only consolation. Mal’s diary would enumerate lunches and telephone calls with the young woman at various points across 1969, but eventually, Arwen chose to move on, putting the whole painful episode behind her. ***

[For his son's birthday] Mal made a cassette recording in which he offered his sincere wishes for the coming year. [...] But any goodwill Mal hoped to deliver was quickly undone that morning as Gary listened to the recording over breakfast with his mother and sister. To his incredible pain and embarrassment, the tape didn’t end with his father’s birthday greeting. Apparently, Mal had recycled the cassette, and as Gary and his sister prepared to go to school, they heard the unmistakable sounds of Fran fellating their dad. The boy’s only solace was the knowledge that his eight-year-old sister didn’t understand the sounds emanating from the tape player.

[..]for the first time, Fran found herself afraid of her boyfriend, whose darkness had never been more acute. It all came to a head one night when Mal, drunk to the gills, began threatening her with his Colt Woodsman pistol, at one point placing the gun against her head before discharging it into the washing machine. When he sobered up, Mal couldn’t have been more apologetic, swearing to mend his ways and be the boyfriend she deserved.

____________________________________

Another quote under the cut, with trigger warning for rape and attempted suicide - and a few notes about some of it.

____________________________________

June 1964 - New Zealand

At the time, the official story involved a twenty-year-old female fan who, having secreted her way into the hotel, chose to slash her wrists in Mal’s room after being unable to talk her way into the Beatles’ suite. Fortunately, police caught sight of the young woman through a window and broke down the locked door with a battering ram. She was subsequently taken to a local hospital and discharged that same day.

[There are then some bits about how Derek tried to ensure it didn't link back to the Beatles in anyway, and the way the press reported it as "Girl Tries To Die For Beatles", and someone else claiming she'd actually had sex with someone and then got 'hysterical' because she realised he wasn't going to get her in to see the Beatles... but eventually it cuts to the quote from Mal's diary below.]

“On arriving back at the hotel at two in the morning,” he wrote, “I was greeted by a crowd of police and detectives as the elevator doors opened at my floor. On verifying that I occupied a particular room number, they very solemnly escorted me there, where to my horror on opening the door, I found the bathroom and bedroom covered in blood. Apparently, what had happened [was] several people had gang-banged her in my bedroom. She was so distraught, she took a razor blade from my razor and slashed her wrists, but was discovered in time and recovered in hospital. Obviously I was a prime suspect, but I had the best alibi in the world—I was drinking tea with her mother.” ****

____________________________________

* Victoria was 16, and Mal was 31. He wrote with her for a few years and met up with her again several times, and there's a quote where she says she "thought she was in love with him", and another where she was surprised to find out he was married. He's a grown man with a family and it's creepy as fuck that he was leading on/grooming a 16 year old girl - although I think according to the book they never had sex.

** I've bolded a lot of the wording which fucks me the fuck off in that passage about apple scruffs, what a fucking weird piece of writing. Apparently apparently apparently - I don't even think he's using it to suggest it might not be true, I think he's just using it to make it sound a bit casual, oh turns out he was just treating them like shit like he used to! Oh he was just 'cozying up' ??????? The last bit also feels like the girl being able to fight her corner and tell him off is being used to suggest it therefore didn't matter - not to suggest that there were probably lots of other girls who didn't want his hands on them but didn't know how to say no. It's also quickly followed by a quote of another apple scruff saying he took care of them like a big brother and they all loved him. Which is fine. But teenage girls feeling as though the creepy guy who is being nice to them in order to take advantage is just being nice to them, doesn't mean much. It's creepy that he was trying to befriend the young vulnerable girls that idolised anyone who worked with Beatles, you've literally just said he was doing it in a 'transactional manner'.

*** The author used a pseudonym for Arwen - a young woman that Mal had an affair and a child with. He wrote in his diary when the child was born, and visited them, "gifting the boy with an oversize teddy bear from Harrods". Personally I think 'chose to move on' covers an awful lot of pain very glibly. Imagine having to give your baby away after six months, imagine what she went through. It is not a small thing that he carelessly got a young woman pregnant and then offered her nothing.

**** I think we all live in Beatles fandom knowing that the people we enjoy did awful terrible things, but sometimes it's good to confront how bad it was, even if we'll never know who was involved in this particular incident. Or how often it happened to other women. Whether Beatles were involved here or not, they were around this, they were inside it. They were influenced by and friends with horrible people. Imagine writing that in your diary like it's a good joke that you were having tea with her mum while she was going through that, and not how awful that would actually feel if you had a heart. The author adds that this incident affected Mal, saying, "His “demon” persona was still alive and well, to be sure, but there would be perceptible shifts in his outlook as the group’s touring days moved forward." I didn't really pick up on these, so I'm not sure how so.

[hsfan94]

You Belong With Me

AN: another older one from the drafts that I’ve finally found an ending for.

Y/n moved in with Harry back in 2016, after he discovered he couldn’t handle being alone for long periods of time. They had been friends for a little over a year and she was struggling to afford a place on her own in any of the three cities she worked in (NYC, LA, London), so they made arrangements to share his places. Y/n hesitated when he pitched the idea for a few reasons. For starters, he had been seeing Kendall Jenner at the time. She knew they weren’t doing anything more than “having fun”, Harry’s words, but she still thought it might be weird for him to live with one girl when he was sleeping with a different one. The other reason was that she had been in love with him, so getting more time to be domestic with him was dangerous.

However, not even a year into it she realized she worried too much. They were seldom at the same house for more than a week at a time with each other because they had different and busy schedules. She even asked Harry if it actually helped him and he said just knowing someone else lived there and seeing her stuff soothed him tremendously.

To tell the truth, she never expected them to still be living together years later. She always assumed Harry would eventually get serious with someone and give her an eviction notice. She held her breath every day the year he was with Camille. She kept expecting them to take that step as it was the longest he’d been with someone in the time she’d known him, but they never did. Camille was sweet and would never admit to it but Y/n’s pretty sure she played a part in their breakup. When she told Harry that Camille might not have been comfortable with him having a roommate he brushed her off saying, “We were at different points in life. We wanted different things.” She had trouble believing that after Fine Line came out.

When the pandemic hit they finally got to spend more time than ever together under the same roof and Y/n got used to it. She liked watching movies and tv with Harry. She liked cooking with him. They got very experimental in the kitchen. She liked going on hikes and trying at home workouts together. She even liked getting drunk and playing games, especially two person Twister. All of the things they did she liked, but what she loved was the fact that they felt and acted like a couple. One night the illusion had been so strong that they almost kissed! She’d be lying if she said she didn’t expect them to cross that line but sadly they never did.

When he came home to pack a bag in November, because he had to do a quarantine somewhere else due to someone on set testing positive, she felt the intimacy bubble pop. She could feel it deep within her that things would change from that day forth and they did. Two months later she found out he’d been sleeping with Olivia Wilde since October, which she’s not even sure how that’s possible, and they had been dating ever since. She was honestly shocked. She for sure expected this one to fizzle out faster than the rest but it didn’t. It kept going. What made her sadder was that they had hardly been in the same city the last two years let alone at the same house. So, she had just been waiting patiently for him to kick her out. He knew she could afford it now. The only thing that bothered her about leaving Harry’s house was the woman lined up to take her place. They weren’t right for each other.

Tonight was the first time in months Harry and Y/n had been at the same house. She had come to London to work on a project and he was there on a little break before his European tour started. They were staying at his place in Hampstead. It was her favorite for many reasons but one of those being that it was his first place he ever bought himself and it gave her insight to what he was like before they met. She should have expected to not be the only house guest he had but she was still thrown off guard when he came in, not alone.

The door slammed against the wall and voices bickered in the distance.

“I just don’t understand why you were rude to the waitress.” Her Harry spoke.

“She asked you for a picture. Why does it matter? They make a living wage here.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. She worked as a waitress for a couple years before her entertainment career kicked off and people that were rude to service staff were the worst kind if you ask her.

“God you don’t get it. It’s about being nice. And it didn’t bother me that-“ He stopped speaking when his eyes landed on his best friend cooking dinner in the kitchen. The frown that had taken over his face amid the argument turned into a bright smile at the sight before him. “Y/n! I totally forgot you said you were going to be here this week.”

He walked over to her and gave her a hug. Over his shoulder she saw his girlfriend shoot her a death glare.

“Yeah. I hope I’m not intruding.” She knew she was.

“Not at all. You live here. How could you be intruding?”

“Seriously?” It was muttered under Olivia’s breath but she knew they could hear her.

“What are you cooking? It smells lovely.” He glanced at the pots his friend had momentarily forgotten and ignored his girlfriend completely.

“Miso ramen with salmon and tofu.” She stirred the broth again and flipped the fish in the pan.

“My favorite. Too bad I already ate.” He seemed like he wished he hadn’t gone out with Olivia at all now. “Well, I’d hate to disturb your plans. We’ll get off to bed.”

He sauntered towards his pink stairs expecting her to follow him and she did so like a petulant child. Just before they reached the top Y/n heard her say, “Why is she here? Can’t she afford to live alone by now? She’s 26.”

Y/n was not offended. In fact, she thought that was rich coming from a 38 year old who was not only dating a 28 year old but acted like she was only 20.

Y/n thought with their retreat the night would be peaceful but shortly after they disappeared their argument got louder.

“I’m not doing this with you again!” Harry screamed.

She could only hear bits and pieces from both of them.

“Kick her out,” Olivia said.

“I don’t know what else you want from me. We’ve made it this far, isn't that enough proof?”

“How am I supposed to trust you?”

“Me!? Trust me!? You’re the one that was with someone else.” She had never heard him this angry.

After that she decided to put on music to tune them out. She had many reasons she didn’t like Olivia but the main one was the Harry she brought out. Y/n’s Harry was calm, easygoing, loving and happy but above all drama free. Olivia’s Harry was dark, angry, haunted and all over the tabloids and internet gossip. It might have had nothing to do with her and everything to do with their compatibility but either way it broke Y/n’s heart to see him this way.

~~~~~~~~~

The next morning she decided to put as little strain on their relationship as possible. She made them both breakfast and after they came down to see her plating the food, she told them to enjoy and made a swift exit. Before her escape she caught some glares and words from Olivia.

“This wont make me like you or fix our living arrangements.”

Even though she knew Harry would chew her out for it Y/n couldn’t help but let it get to her. She thought about the living arrangements comment all day and decided she should talk to Harry that night.

On her walk back to the house she remembered the day he proposed the idea.

“Live with me. It’d fix both our issues.” He had blurted out randomly amid her rambling about the state of rent prices.

“Won’t it get weird? Like if we have partners and stuff?”

“No. We’ll make it work. Come on, it'll be fun. Like we’re in university, I never got to do that.” He was persistent, she gave him that.

“Okay. But just till I can get on my feet or you find a replacement.” She winked at him and he laughed.

She had been joking about the replacement but now she feared he had taken her seriously.

Stepping off the tube, Y/n decided to take the longer, more scenic route to their house. As she walked she thought about the night they almost kissed.

Harry almost fell over trying to spin the wheel.

“Oi! Okay… It says right hand on green.”

Y/n had never been this drunk before. She chalked it up to wanting to keep up with Harry but now she regretted it as she was trying to remain in her twister position. Upon hearing his instruction she realized moving her hand to green would put them in quite the compromising position. She did it anyway.

“Hey there. Don’t get any ideas, love,” he said, peering down at her.

Her face was practically in his crotch.

“Don’t worry. I’m not interested.” She smiled up at him.

“Ouch.” He went to spin again but drunkenly lost his balance and fell on her.

“Oi! Harry! That hurt.”

They both laughed and when they collected themselves she became aware of how close they were. His hips were perched between her legs and she could feel his breath on her lips.

“Your eyes have a bit of green in them. I’ve never noticed,” he said. He brought a hand up to her face to swipe her hair away from her cheek.

“Yeah, they’re hazel. It’s like a cross between brown and green.”

He started to lean in and just when she thought they were about to kiss his head fell to her shoulder.

“Can we just sleep here? I don’t think I can get up.”

And they did sleep there that night. On the floor, tangled in each other.

She walked through the outside door of their house not even remembering coming out of the park or the rest of the walk. She had been lost in her thoughts. She was relieved that he was home alone.

“Harry?”

He was in the kitchen, at the island reading a book and drinking something out of a mug.

“There’s my favorite girl!” He turned to face her.

Her heart clenched and fluttered at his words.

“We need to talk. Is Olivia here?”

“No, she took the kids to the zoo.”

It made her uncomfortable that he was dating someone with kids because it made her think about him being a father to kids that weren’t hers.

“Okay cool.” She took the seat next to him, facing him fully.

Just as she was about to start his phone rang.

“Hang on.” He glanced down to see who it was and rolled his eyes. He got up and walked to look out the window as he answered. “What’s up, Olivia?”

Y/n wasn’t sure what had happened in the time she was gone but she assumed they were still fighting.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the zoo with the kids?”

She wished she could hear the other end but she just pretended to be busy.

“How did you forget it’s not your day?”

A bit of silence.

“No, I’m busy.”

More silence.

“Why are you still on that? It was a fucking joke! You’ve known me long enough that you should know that.”

More silence and then he shook his head.

“I’m not doing this with you right now. Bye.” He hung up and came back to his spot like nothing had happened.

“You okay?” She asked.

“I just don’t know what happened. We had been drama free and then for the last few months she’s been picking fights. Getting angry at my jokes, at my job and at my relationship with you. It’s exhausting. I just want one good day.”

She felt horrible for potentially making his day worse but she had to bring it up.

“About that… I don’t think we can do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Live together.” She paused to take a deep breath. “We’re getting too old for it.”

“What? Where’s this coming from?”

“Last night. I felt like I was intruding.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t intrude when it’s your house.”

“It’s not my house though, Harry. It’s yours. You bought it with your own money a decade ago.”

“But you live here.”

She sighed. She stood up and walked over to turn on the kettle.

“Do you not like living together anymore?” He sounded so hurt.

“Harry, you’re in a serious relationship now. Things are just different.”

“How are they any different from when I was with Camille? You didn’t threaten to move out then.” His voice was getting louder, like he was getting angry.

“No, but I probably should have. Then you might still be together.”

“That doesn’t make any sense Y/n, I’m with Olivia now, I’m over her.”

“I just mean I don’t want to cause another breakup.”

“I don’t know what to say.” He just stared at her from across the island.

“Look, Harry, I love you and I have thoroughly enjoyed our arrangement but things are a lot more complicated now then they were back then.”

He stayed silent. After a moment he came around the island and stood in front of her. He slowly pulled her into a tight hug.

“Okay. If that’s how you feel, I won’t try to convince you otherwise, but at least stick it out a little longer yeah? Until you secure another place. I’ll help you look for something and my door will always be open for you.”

They didn’t say much else after that. Luckily that night, Olivia stayed somewhere else so Y/n could have a moment to think about everything in peace.

~~~~~~~~

Harry was terrified. Y/n telling him she wanted to leave was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. That conversation between them hurt worse than any breakup he’s ever had. He wasn’t really sure why though.

He was also confused. It sounded like she didn’t actually want to leave but more like she felt she had to. He also didn’t understand why she brought up Camille and why it seemed she wished he was still with her. Did she miss Camille? He knew she and Olivia did not get along but he couldn’t recall her and Camille ever interacting much either.

He was hurt. He wanted her to stay. He wanted her, period. He knew he’d fucked up. He always fucked up. The truth is Y/n was the last thing he had left of his time in the band. If he lost her he wouldn’t have anything that reminded him of that time in his life. Sure, he could call the boys whenever, but Y/n was someone who liked him before he was successful on his own and that meant something to him. She was genuine. They had never really had a fight before. That night was the first. If you could call it a fight anyway.

He felt ashamed. Over lockdown, they had been so close to becoming what he wanted them to be but he got scared. The night they almost kissed was his favorite memory to date. But the next day, because he was scared, he went and did something stupid.

There was a knock at his trailer door. Even the smallest of sounds sent a pounding through his head. He rushed to open it to make it stop.

“Hey, sexy thing, are you ready for your scene?” It was Olivia.

She had started calling him names like that pretty early on. He was bummed at first because this was his first time to have a main part and he was excited to work with professionals only to find out how unprofessional the director truly was. He had gotten used to it though.

“No. I got too drunk last night.”

“Alone?”

“No, me and my best mate live together. She used to be a bartender and we were experimenting with new recipes. She’s a heavy pourer, that's for sure.”

“You poor thing.” Olivia had entered the trailer and was now inappropriately close.

“What are you doing?” He said, backing up into the wall.

“Don’t think about it.”

He knew he should have said no, but he was so tired of pining over Y/n. He had given her so many chances to make a move and she never did. He hadn’t thought that this thing with Olivia would turn into what it had. He thought for sure back then it was a one time thing but she kept wanting to do it again and then one day she was claiming she loved him. Then, factoring in that she had ruined her family for him, he felt obligated to be with her. He wasn’t happy. So, Y/n was the best thing in his life and she was threatening to leave. He didn’t want to force her to stay so he didn’t say much when she brought it up but now he wished he’d said more.

The next day he had already felt a shift between them.

He stumbled down to the kitchen to find her there making chocolate chip pancakes.

“You’re like a proper housewife, you know that?”

She didn’t smile at his joke. In fact she hardly looked at him. His heart cracked.

“Come on, Y/n. Don’t do this.”

Silence. She put his food on a plate and placed it in front of him. She turned around to make herself a latte with the espresso machine he bought just for her. When she came to sit beside him and still said nothing he snapped.

“That’s enough!” He had never heard his own voice so loud.

She flinched away from him and he had never wished to die more.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” He reached for her and she finally looked at him, allowing him to grab her hand.

“Y/n I can’t do this. I didn’t say anything last night because I didn’t want to force you to stay but I can’t live without you.”

“Harry, I’d just be moving out.”

He shook his head aggressively.

“You don’t get it. I can’t live without you. I don’t want you to go, you're all I have.”

“That’s not true and you know it. If anything it’s the other way around.”

They had both forgotten their food.

“You are. It’s been hard not being in the same place at the same time but when we are, it brightens my day. When I came home the other night and you were in the kitchen cooking dinner, it was like a dream. It’s all I want, for the rest of my life.”

“Okay, but don’t you want it with someone you love? You don’t need your silly best friend when you have a girlfriend.”

How could someone be so dense?

“Never mind.”

“It’ll be okay I promise. In fact, I’m mainly looking at places in the neighborhood.”

They didn’t talk much more about it. He couldn’t handle it.

That was in May. It was now November. And he hadn’t seen his pretty best friend in so long. She had come to the first two New York shows as she was working on stuff in New York that week, but that had been over two months ago. So much had happened. When she came to those shows it was the first time he’d seen her since the moving out conversation. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg but he was trying not to upset Olivia. He’s not sure why now because they’ve had so many fights since then. Including a big one in September that led to them breaking up and he hadn’t been upset by it either.

He was getting ready to go on stage when there was a knock at the door.

He rushed to open it. There she was, standing in front of him like a dream.

“Y/n.” It was no louder than a whisper.

“Hey. I know you’re about to go on, but maybe after the show we can talk?”

He nodded so fast he thought his head would fall off.

“Okay. Great. I’ll see you in a few hours.” She turned to leave but he wouldn’t have it. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to him.

“There’s no need to run away. You can hang out until show time.”

He had her in a tight hug.

“I just… I need to get a drink and find my seat.”

“Seat? You’re not gonna stand with Jeff and them?”

“No. My friend bought tickets before she realized I could get us VIP access.” She laughed like it was a joke but it hurt his feelings. How did she have a friend that didn’t know that? He talked about her to all his friends all the time. “Plus, your girlfriend is here and I don’t want to cause any issues.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you after?”

She nodded and left. He felt empty. It was like he had already lost her. He pushed his feelings down and went on stage pretending to be the happiest man alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n was nervous. She lied about a friend buying tickets. She didn’t want him to know it was her choice to be further away. She figured he knew anyway. She had been putting space between them since May. She knew that if she wanted to stay in his life, she needed to get over him and she couldn’t do that being around him all the time. So, she was nervous because she was going to tell him she found a place. Not just one though. She found three flats, one for each city. That news wasn’t so bad she supposed but she was scared to tell him that they weren’t in his neighborhood. She lied before. Y/n couldn’t afford to live in North London, Malibu or the upper west side in Manhattan, but she didn’t want to hurt him anymore than she had.

When Harry started singing Kiwi she excused herself and made her way to his dressing room. She was surprised no one else was waiting there.

She was sitting on the couch in his dressing room when the door burst open.

“Hey stranger.” She smiled at him. He looked terrified and she didn’t know why.

“Thank god. I thought you left.” He closed the door behind him.

“I said I wanted to talk, didn’t I?”

“Yeah but I saw you get up and leave and then you weren’t outside the door.” He made his way to the couch and sat beside her. “What did you want to talk about?”

She sighed. “I don’t know how you’ll take this.”

He was silent so she continued. “I found a place. Well more than one.”

“Oh.” He stood up and went to change.

“I haven’t signed anything yet, it's not a done deal.”

“Okay? Why is that important?” He didn’t look at her once.

“They aren’t in your neighborhood.”

He turned around at that.

“I thought you said you were only going to look at places in the neighborhood. Do you really not want to be around me that badly?” His face was drenched in hurt.

“No! Not at all.” She stood up too and made her way over to him. “I just can’t afford the same areas you can.”

“That’s not all it is and you know it.” The hurt was now mixed with anger.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. You’ve been keeping your distance. We’ve hardly seen each other or spoken since May.”

“We’re busy people, H.”

“That's bullshit and you know it. I always make time for you.”

He pulled on his sweats and walked to the vanity.

“I don’t understand why you’re mad.” She followed right behind him.

“Because my best friend doesn’t like me anymore.” He whipped around to face her as he spoke. “I’m not mad either. I’m fucking depressed.” She thought she saw the shimmer of tears forming in his eyes.

“Hey.” She cautiously reached for his hands and held them in hers. “I love you. It’s just been hard to be around you lately.”

“Why? What did I do?” He held her hands tighter.

“You did nothing. It’s all me.” She looked at their hands. She couldn’t look at him as she came clean. “I’m in love with you and having to watch you be with someone else, it’s gotten to be too much. I have to move out because if we keep living together, I’m going to start to believe you love me too. Don’t you want to live with someone you love? Don’t you want to come home to the person you love most cooking for you after a late night and cuddle them to sleep?”

She looked back up to see him smiling.

“I do want that.”

“See. And you could have that with Olivia, I just need to not be in the way.” She started to step back but he held her tighter.

“I don’t want it with Olivia.”

“What?”

“I don’t love her. Not the way you are insinuating.”

“Then why are you with her?”

He took a deep breath.

“Because I couldn’t be with you.”

Her mouth fell open.

“What?” It was barely louder than a whisper.

“That night we got drunk, do you remember?” She nodded so he continued. “Well, I almost kissed you but I knew it would ruin everything so I didn’t. Then the next day, on set, Olivia made a move and I don’t know, I was tired of being alone.” He couldn’t look at her, he was ashamed of himself.

“Are you serious?” She sounded angry so he looked up to see her face and it was indeed set in a frown. He let her continue. “Harry, you have to be the dumbest person I’ve ever met.”

She put distance between them and he missed her the minute she let go of his hands.

“You have never been alone! I don’t know why you can’t understand that. Being single and being alone are not the same thing. You have always had me. We fucking live together.”

“You don’t get it, Y/n. It’s so hard being around someone you are madly in love with and can’t have.”

She looked at him stunned.

“I don’t get it?” She shook her head. “Harry, I’m not the one who brings other people around! In the time we’ve known each other, how many guys have I dated, do you know?” He couldn’t recall so he shook his head. “None! Because I have only had eyes for you.”

His heart jumped, he didn’t get time to bask in her words because she continued.

“I’ve had sex and been on dates but only at the extreme difficulty of having to pretend they were you. Meanwhile you have come around with at least four different women and practically rubbed it in my face that you didn’t want me. And now you’re just here telling me you don’t even want to be with the woman you’ve been with for two years. The one that I have to see treat you like shit. The one I’ve watched break you down into this shell of a man all because you didn’t want to be alone.” She started to cry. “And for what? Because I told you I should move out because seeing you with someone else kills me inside and living with you is all I want but it confuses the hell out of me because we aren’t together.”

“Hey, Angel, don’t cry.” He walked over to her, feeling the need to be delicate since she was mad. “I’m so sorry. I genuinely had no idea you felt that way. I wish I had known sooner.” He gently raised his hands to her cheeks and when she didn’t pull away, he began stroking her tears away with his thumbs.

“Why can’t you just call it what it is, H? You are scared of something real. Something that has the potential to be the end of the road.”

He leaned his forehead against hers and started to talk in a soft voice. “You’re right. I am scared. Because like I said I can’t live without you and I’ve been doing everything in my power to keep you but clearly I’ve made some mistakes. I just… I love you so much and so intensely it scares me and I don’t know it just felt like you didn’t feel the same so I’ve tried to move on but keep you close at the same time. It backfired clearly.” He chuckled a bit.

His words made her peer back up at him with a smile. It was the first time he actually said the words. The first time she heard them.

“Yeah it did. Look how much time we’ve wasted.”

His heart skipped. Did that mean?

“Time we’ve wasted? You aren’t mad?”

“I am but just because we could have done this sooner.”

Before he could say anything she pulled him into a heated kiss.

He pulled back after a minute. “Does this mean you’re not going to move out?”

“It means I’m going to move out of my room and into yours.”

He smiled and kissed her again. He pulled her flush against him and spun them around to push her against the vanity counter. Just as he was about to lift her onto it she pulled back.

“Wait… you have a girlfriend.”

“No I don’t.”

“What?”

He placed her on the counter and came to stand between her legs.

“We broke up. Like a week ago.”

Instead of responding, Y/n moaned and pulled his lips back to hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him as tight to her as she could.

She came up for air and said, “Good. You belong with me.”

He hummed his agreement of, “I belong with you,” and dove right back in.

His tongue slipped between her lips ever so lightly. It just gently brushed hers and caused her to buck her hips against his.

Her hands snaked into his hair and pulled gently. She had been waiting to be with him like this for so long that she was going to take advantage of it. She lowered her hands to his shoulders, brushing his neck as they passed it, and pulled him even closer.

Harry was hard. He knew if they kept going he wouldn’t be able to stop so he pulled back.

“Baby, if we don’t cool down, I’m gonna have to fuck you right here.”

“God,” she groaned. “Please do.”

“You want to? Right here? You don’t want it to be more special?”

She cooed at him. “You’re so cute, my love. But I’ve wanted to do this since I was nineteen. I can have it be special later.”

“Okay then.” He dove back in finding a place on her neck to attach his lips to. She threw her head back and arched her back giving him more access.

While he sucked on her neck he started undoing the buttons on her top. Once he popped the last one, he made his way down to her chest. His lips traced a path with his tongue coming out every so often to lick at her skin.

When he reached his destination he reached around to undo her bra. When it slid off her body he let out a single “fuck” before he dove onto the left one, kissing and sucking vigorously.

“Fuck, Harry.” She put her hands back on his head and pushed him into her chest even more.

He moved to the right one whispering, “fucking perfect” before mimicking his movements from before. Y/n was going crazy above him and it was everything he had ever dreamed of.

“Harry.” She pulled his head up as she spoke.

“What?”

“Take your clothes off right now.”

Without another word he stood up straight and yanked his sweats off. He came back between her legs and carefully pulled her leggings down, stopping to kiss her legs every so often. When they were both naked, he came back to stand in his original position. He felt her reach down and grab him, to guide him to her entrance but he stopped her.

“Protection?” It was all he could say.

“The pill.” She matched his energy perfectly and that was why he loved her so much.

He pushed in and it was everything they both could have dreamed of.

“You feel perfect,” he whispered against her ear and then gave it a little nibble.

“You too.” She wrapped her legs all the way around him to hold him as close as possible.

His thrusts were slow and tender, as if still trying to make their first time special but it was perfect. She could feel every detail and the dragged out pace allowed for her climax to build slower and eventually release in one of the strongest orgasms she’d ever had.

She could tell Harry was close. She ran her hands through his hair again and whispered, “Let go, baby, let go.” And biting into her shoulder he did just that, as if he’d just been waiting for permission.

They stayed still, just breathing heavily, for a moment and then she felt her shoulder dampen.

“What’s wrong, Honey?” She softly combed his hair with her fingers, scratching at his scalp every so often.

“I just… I don’t…” He paused to take a deep breath, then leaned back so he could look in her eyes. “I don’t deserve you. As a partner or friend. I’ve been so shitty and oblivious and ignorant and an ass-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” she cut him off. “You are an amazing friend to me. You gave me a place to live for the last six years and you’ve given me opportunities to come see the best live shows I’ve ever seen.” He smiled at that and she kissed him lightly before continuing. “And if you feel for me how I feel for you, I bet you will be a phenomenal partner. Have you made some mistakes, including ones that hurt my feelings? Yes. But that’s over now. It’s just you and me against the world.” She brushed her thumb over his lips and they puckered to kiss it. “You’re stuck with me now though. You can’t get rid of me if you tried, so I hope that’s okay with you.” She giggled and he did too.

“It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. I promise I’ll never hurt your feelings like that again. You are the most important thing in my life and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you.”

She kissed him on the mouth. “Good.” She kissed him again. “Now I don’t know about you rockstar, but I’m starving.” He let out a loud laugh, and she realized they were still connected and winced a bit. “How about we get dressed and go get pancakes or something?”

“Pancakes sound great.” A mischievous smile took over his face as he untangled them and helped her off the vanity. “But how about we go home and make your pancakes,” He paused, the smile dropping for dramatic effect as he added, “naked?”

She cackled. She didn’t answer right away. She just put her clothes on (well she put on the t-shirt Harry had never managed to fully change into and her leggings) and he did the same. Then finally she turned to face him.

“Alright. Let’s go home.”

“And round two after pancakes?”

“Is this gonna be my life now?” She giggled. “Cooking and fucking on an endless loop?”

“I sure hope so.” He smiled sheepishly.

She leaned up to kiss him again.

“Me too! Now let’s go!” She grabbed his hand and led them out of the room.

[pynkhues]

helloooo I just read the newest chapter of your fic and I've already left a comment but once again it is so BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN like all of that series <3

I was curious tho, if you don't mind me asking, how come you chose London/specifically Hampstead Heath as the setting for Louis' house in this one? I used to live near there until a year and a half ago and the detailed descriptions of the Heath brought back such unexpected memories, I could really see myself being right there with them and I missed it so much. I'm guessing you chose it maybe because it's got a history of cruising and this is the cruising fic? In any case you get extra yearning points from me for that one lol. I wish I could've gone there at night sometime, but unfortunately that must feel lots safer for vampires than for human women🥲 (I actually recently read Pandora and the first thing she does after she gets turned into a vampire is go outside to roam the streets at night without being afraid - SO REAL)

Hi! Thank you so much for your very kind words, I'm so thrilled you liked it! And I don't mind at all. Somebody actually asked me after I posted Part 1 why I based it in London, and I answered it here, but have some more detail, haha. Basically last year I read a couple of books about gay men in London in the 60s and 70s who became pretty powerful as titans of industry in music, art and business.

One was The Velvet Mafia: the gay men who ran the swinging sixties (excellent book!) which covered a lot of different industry figures, and the other was The Beatles' manager, Brian Epstein's memoir, A Cellarful of Noise, which he wrote at the peak of Beatlemania in 1964 and is really pretty haunting given he died in 1967 at the age of 32. It's also a really great book, and Brian is such a sweet, complicated, interesting man, and it was his death that really signalled the beginning of the end for The Beatles who I don't think ever really recovered from the loss of him. (I'm very bummed the bio pic that came out about him last year was such a disaster! He deserves a good and compassionate film.)

I wasn't actually reading either of these books with IWTV fanfic in mind, I just have a personal interest in that time period and that scene (and Brian, actually, as a lifelong Beatles fan), but when I was trying to think of where I thought Louis and Armand might have lived at various points, I kept thinking of parts of both books. They're really well written, but also really position London as a place where these guys could not just survive but claw their way towards social and economic power while still being persecuted (homosexuality was illegal in the UK until 1967, and the bill decriminalising it was ratified, tragically, one month to the day before Brian overdosed on sleeping pills - accidental or intentional remains a mystery). The space these people carved for themselves and the dangerous situations they were often forced into (a lot of them were brutalised and blackmailed, even as they came into enormous wealth and launched career after career of musician and artist), just really came to the front of mind as I was plotting?

It felt like in another life, Louis could have been one of them, especially as a lot of them faced intersectional discrimination too - Brian was both Jewish and gay, and faced anti-semitism as well as homophobia, in a different, albeit not dissimilar way to the way Louis' character on the show faces the intersectional discrimination of racism and homophobia) and I kind of have headcanons with that fic that he probably did exist briefly in that scene, albeit moreso in the art space.

So yeah! That kind of motivated me to put him and Armand in London for a period of their marriage, and I think Louis' returned to it because of memories of that chapter of his life, less about Armand, and more about working that scene. I also liked the idea of Louis moving back into a house after so long in the penthouse in Dubai, and I really loved the idea of him having a conservatory overlooking either a garden or a park instead of the city as a symbol of him regrounding himself in his own life (and maybe starting to want to re-lay roots).

The Hampstead Heath choice specifically was for exactly the reason you said, haha - it has such an iconic history as a cruising site, and from researching on gay subreddits, it sounded like it was still a very active spot for it / is back on the rise there (although it seems like from a lot of those posts, cruising is back on the rise everywhere). The other cities Louis mentions when he and Lestat are having sex are also specific (well, Paris and San Francisco are both in the show, of course, but Sydney and Shizuoka both have really established cruising sites too [McMahon's Point is notorious in Sydney, but Lady Bay Beach is a gay nudist beach and cruising site which I think both Louis and Lestat would get a kick out of, haha, and is the one I was thinking about in the earlier scene when Louis' thinking about boys he's fucked on beaches. Sempu Park in Shizuoka also has a reputation - and apparently cruising sites are pretty rare outside of Tokyo in Japan - which I just thought was an interesting thing to slip in). But yes, Hampstead Heath being an active cruising site still is kind of important for the last chapter, haha.

It's all a bit convoluted and probably more specific than it needs to be! I fall down a lot of rabbit holes when I write, which I hope makes it all connect better and resonate more, but a lot of the time it's also just a way for me to find my way into a story.

[heyho-simonrussellbeale]

Having played parts from Prospero to Stalin, Hamlet and now the poet AE Housman, Simon Russell Beale is convinced he has one of the best jobs in the world. Why? Every new role offers a new area for intellectual investigation, not least when he gets to take on the logical arguments and ‘linguistic fireworks’ of one of his friend Tom Stoppard’s plays, he tells Fergus Morgan

You cannot complete acting – but if you could, Simon Russell Beale would be coming close. Over a three-decade career, he has taken on dozens of classic roles in canonical plays: Konstantin in The Seagull, Ferdinand in The Duchess of Malfi, Oswald in Ghosts, Lopakhin in The Cherry Orchard, Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, the title characters of Edward II, John Gabriel Borkman and Uncle Vanya, and loads more.

And, when it comes to Shakespeare, there are few parts the 63-year-old has not played. Hamlet? Tick. King Lear? Tick. Macbeth? Tick. Richard II and Richard III? Tick, tick. Benedick, Iago, Malvolio, Leontes? Tick, tick, tick, tick. Falstaff and Prospero? Tick, tick.

With a theatrical résumé as comprehensive as that, where does Russell Beale go next? In a recent interview with the Telegraph to mark the release of A Piece of Work, the memoir he “slightly sheepishly” wrote, the actor said he would be keen on playing Cleopatra. Why not? It would not be his first foray into gender-swapped Shakespeare: he played both Hippolyta in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Desdemona in Othello as a schoolboy.

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t being serious,” Russell Beale says. “I was being facetious, although I did see Mark Rylance do it 20 years ago and it was sensational. It is one of the great parts, but I don’t think that would work. It would probably be too scary for the audience.

“I would love to do Falstaff on stage as I’ve only done that on film,” he continues. “I would like to do another King Lear. I wasn’t particularly happy with my Macbeth, so I’d quite like to do that again one day. I’m getting a bit old now, though, so it has become slightly difficult. Perhaps one day I should try my hand at directing. I don’t know, really.”

Before he has a go at directing, or revisits Lear, or has a stab at Cleopatra, Russell Beale will be playing poet AE Housman in Blanche McIntyre’s revival of Tom Stoppard’s The Invention of Love at Hampstead Theatre in north London. Our interview is taking place via Zoom, with Russell Beale – black jumper, big beard – sat in an office somewhere inside the Swiss Cottage venue.

“There’s a very good novel here about Booth, the man who assassinated Lincoln,” Russell Beale remarks, browsing the bookshelves in front of him. “Anyway, nice to meet you.”

Russell Beale’s pre-interview bookshelf inspection confirms what he subsequently says about his character, about his approach to playing parts and about his professional motivations. He is, first and foremost, driven by an insatiable intellectual curiosity. He once described acting as “three-dimensional literary criticism”.

“I have one of the best jobs in the world, really,” he says. “Every single project potentially offers a new area of study. I know that sounds sort of dry, but if someone says: ‘I’d like you to do a play about a poet in the late 19th century who also happened to be the greatest classical scholar of his time,’ I think: ‘Wow.’ And, for a very short period of time, I get to become a bit of an expert on AE Housman.

“Or take Samuel Foote,” he continues, referencing the 18th-century actor and title character of Ian Kelly’s play Mr Foote’s Other Leg, which he played at Hampstead in 2015. “Doctor Johnson called Foote the most famous man in England, but I’d never heard of him. Now I could tell you all about him – where he lived, how he was arrested for sodomy and the legal case that followed. That sort of intellectual buzz is, I think, the most interesting thing of all about acting.”

Different jobs have different intellectual appeals, says Russell Beale. Some plays are stimulating for their historical subject matter. Shakespearean work is all about “digging around in this incredibly complicated, malleable script to find the emotional life of a character”. Other projects are attractive on a conceptual level, he says, like Joe Hill-Gibbins’ drastically cut, fast-forwarded staging of Richard II at London’s Almeida Theatre in 2018.

“I was far too old to play Richard II,” Russell Beale says. “I’d sort of assumed that was one part I would never do. Then along came this director who wanted to do it in a completely different way. It was incredibly cut down. It was staged straight-through with all the other characters milling around on stage. That was the challenge there.”

From screen to Stoppard

Where, then, does Russell Beale’s work in film and television fit in, beyond boosting his bank balance? His screen CV is not as formidable as his theatrical résumé, but it still encompasses Armando Iannucci’s comedy The Death of Stalin, the latest series of HBO’s blockbuster House of the Dragon, and the forthcoming Downton Abbey film.

“I suppose I just do that for fun, although I do have an interest in how those projects work,” Russell Beale says. “Take House of the Dragon. I remember wondering how they physically achieve a show like that. That was intriguing to me. I thought: ‘How the hell do you do a great big castle in a thunderstorm?’ It was this huge set with water literally cascading down the walls. The sheer skill was extraordinary. That was fascinating.”

If any writer could satisfy Russell Beale’s voracious intellectual appetite, it is Stoppard, whose plays frequently dazzle with their virtuosic use of history and intertextuality. Think of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, his existential 1966 riff on Hamlet that echoes Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. Or 1972’s metaphysical murder-mystery Jumpers, perhaps the most philosophically and athletically gymnastic play ever written.

Those Stoppard plays are the only two that Russell Beale has performed in until now. He played Guildenstern at the National Theatre in 1995, having previously performed in the play as a teenager, then took on the lead role in Jumpers – the philosopher George Moore – at the same venue in 2003. That production transferred to New York, and provided Russell Beale’s Broadway debut. The New York Times critic Ben Brantley hailed a “dazzling” performance of “sharp inventiveness and peerless emotional depth”.

“I’ve only done two Stoppard plays, but I’ve always been quite fierce in defending him against accusations of being over-intellectualised,” Russell Beale says. “Stoppard is intellectual, of course. He plays intellectual games. But what Stoppard always comes down to is people feeling passionate about something, usually another person. That, I think, is fundamentally the most important thing about his writing.

“Rosencrantz and Guildenstern is about two men who are lost in a world they don’t understand,” he continues. “Jumpers is about trying to cling on to a broken marriage. I saw The Real Thing recently at the Old Vic, which I saw with the great Stephen Dillane a couple of decades ago. That play is more directly about love than anything else.”

Playing with words

The Invention of Love, which premiered at the National in 1997, begins in the afterlife. Housman, dead at 77 in 1936, stands on the bank of the mythical river Styx, preparing to board a ferry. The play then unfolds through Housman’s memories of his time studying classics at the University of Oxford, with the older Housman – played by Russell Beale – interacting with his younger self, played by Matthew Tennyson. At the heart of its fizzing academic ideas is Housman’s unrequited love for fellow scholar Moses Jackson.

“The play is very complicated,” says Russell Beale. “This morning, we were rehearsing this very elaborate scene with all these 19th-century academics playing croquet. Stoppard ties in so many references to Victorian cultural icons like Jerome K Jerome and Henry Liddell and Lewis Carroll, too. Everyone has these great arias about philosophy and art.

“Underneath that, though, it is about an old man remembering his love for another man,” Russell Beale continues. “It is about a particular event in their lives, a rowing trip on the river when they were both at Oxford. It is about memory. It is about what you do with a love like that. It is about what a love like that means at the end of your life.”

The “incredible enjoyable” challenge of performing the play, says Russell Beale, is really getting to grips with its intellectual complexities and “linguistic fireworks” – as is the case with most Stoppard plays. If you can master the tongue-twisting dialogue and head-scratching arguments, he says, then the profoundly emotional core of the drama will come.

“Years ago, I remember the actor John Wood, who was one of the great language magicians, talking about Bernard Shaw,” Russell Beale says. “Now, I don’t particularly like Bernard Shaw, but Wood said that if you observe all the punctuations that Bernard Shaw set down as indications of when to breathe and so on, he does the work for you. “It is sort of like that with Stoppard,” Russell Beale continues.

“It is like a technical exercise. You have to end the sentence when it ends and make sure you give yourself gaps to breathe. And then it is about the clarity of the argument. The play does explore emotion. The word ‘love’ is in the title, after all. But performing it is not an emotional thing. It is more about a series of arguments. If you can get the grammatical, syntactical construction of the sentences, and then the actual logic of the argument, then you are on your way.”

It helps, says Russell Beale, that director McIntyre read classics at Oxford herself.

“My God, she does know what she is talking about,” he says. “I have no idea what I’m talking about when it comes to Latin or Greek, but she does have that string to her bow.”

The admiration is mutual. Via email, McIntyre says that she finds Russell Beale “extraordinary”.

“I think he is our greatest living Stoppardian actor,” she writes. “The wit and depth of feeling he brings to the character are breathtaking. It’s a privilege to watch him work.”

It helps, too, that Russell Beale is friends with Stoppard, who turned 87 this year. In fact, he adds, he received a first-hand insight into the playwright’s process of putting The Invention of Love together nearly 30 years ago when performing at the National. “I met Tom, I think, when we did Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,” Russell Beale says. “My memory is that he was writing, or thinking about writing, The Invention of Love at the time, because I remember he gave me a lift home once because he was driving in the same direction, and he started talking about Oscar Wilde and Housman on the way.

“I’ve known Tom for years now,” Russell Beale adds. “He was in last week, actually. He was on great form. He likes revisiting his plays, I think. He reads the script very intently, as if he is rediscovering it. It is rather lovely to see him do that. It’s quite moving, actually.”

Russell Beale was born in Penang in what was then Malaya – now Malaysia – in January 1961, one of six children of military physician Peter Beale, who would later become the British Army’s surgeon general, and his wife Julia, who was also a doctor. He was sent to boarding school, first at St Paul’s Cathedral School, where he was a chorister, then at Bristol’s Clifton College.

It was there that Russell Beale first discovered his love for performance, both theatrical and musical – he is an accomplished pianist, oboist and singer, and frequently presents radio and television shows about classical music. He has often credited a stern English teacher called Brian Worthington with instilling in him that respect for intellectual rigour and academic curiosity.

He went on to study English at the University of Cambridge, where he threw himself into student drama and made friends with Tilda Swinton, then trained at Guildhall, initially as a singer before switching to acting, graduating in 1983.

He started his professional career at Edinburgh’s Traverse Theatre, but his big break came two years later with a role in Women Beware Women at London’s Royal Court, alongside a young Gary Oldman. It was not until 1991, however, five years into his long relationship with the Royal Shakespeare Company, that Russell Beale felt like he could fully express himself on stage, when he was cast as Konstantin in a production of Chekhov’s The Seagull staged by the company’s director Terry Hands.

“Until then, I’d done a lot of comic parts,” Russell Beale says. “That was the first time somebody said: ‘No, you can do something serious. You can play someone with an emotional life that is serious.’ Terry did it deliberately, I think. He thought: ‘Here’s this guy who is being typecast and I’m going to cast him against type.’ And that changed my life. It led to people suggesting I do Hamlet and other stuff. I am enormously grateful to him.”

It was Hands, too, who forged one of the great collaborations of Russell Beale’s career, with director Sam Mendes. The pair first worked together at the RSC in the 1990s on productions of Troilus and Cressida, Richard III and The Tempest, then at the National Theatre on Othello in 1997 and, at the Donmar Warehouse, King Lear in 2014 and Twelfth Night in 2002, as well as on the globe-trotting production of The Lehman Trilogy in 2019.

“Sam and I have been doing stuff together for 30 years and it was Terry that put us together,” Russell Beale says. “Sam actually called me when Terry died in 2020. I was in the dressing room for The Lehman Trilogy in New York. He was very emotional. He told me Terry had died and that he was the one who had originally put us together. Terry was the one who said to Sam: ‘I think you’d like that actor over there.’”

There is an alternate reality in which Hands never cast Russell Beale as Konstantin in The Seagull and Russell Beale continued working as a comic actor. He would no doubt have been successful – witness his hilarious turn as spymaster Lavrenti Beria in The Death of Stalin – but he would not have plumbed the remarkable depths he has in this world.

What makes him stand out as an actor – and what has earned him countless accolades, including three Olivier awards, two BAFTAs, a Tony and a knighthood – is his ability to incarnate familiar characters in unexpected ways. He has played the majority of the most famous roles in the classical canon, but his interpretations are always invested with a distinct air of isolation or awkwardness. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that he has frequently approached those roles at an unconventional age.

“In retrospect, my career sort of looks like this marvellous plan, but it wasn’t,” he says. “It was all an accident. I’ve done all the parts at the wrong age. I was a very old Hamlet and a very old Benedick, and a very young Richard III and a very old Richard III.”

Empathy with outsiders

Nicholas Hytner, another director with whom Russell Beale has a long relationship, having starred in his stagings of The Alchemist, Much Ado About Nothing and Collaborators at the National Theatre in 2006, 2007 and 2011 respectively, and, more recently his versions of A Christmas Carol and John Gabriel Borkman at the Bridge Theatre in 2020 and 2022, has said of Russell Beale: “He has extraordinary empathy with outsiders, the wounded, the foolish, the warped and the lonely. He hears their music and can sing it.”

“What did he say?” asks Russell Beale. “I’ve not heard that before. That is the most beautiful, lovely thing to say. And yes, I’m always excited by those characters. The most interesting parts are those that are looking in from the outside or confused about their position. I don’t know what that says about me. I’ve never interrogated it. I refuse to.” 

If Russell Beale does not interrogate his own interest in playing isolated, uncomfortable characters on stage, does he ever interrogate theatre’s wider role in society? “That’s a very interesting question,” he says. “I suppose it is always in the back of your mind. Perhaps theatre is a bit of a sideshow now, although Wicked has just been turned into a film, for God’s sake. The biggest movie of the year started as a theatre show. Perhaps theatre only has a relevance when it is adapted into a medium now.

“No, I don’t think that, actually,” he adds. “That implies it is all about numbers, that something is only important if a lot of people see it. I don’t believe that. I still believe theatre has weight and relevance. I suppose I would fall back on the Tom Stoppard argument in The Invention of Love: ‘There is no little too little to be worth having.’”

[goldenlinixx]

current!harry x taylorrussell

'til we're grey and old xx

4am shows on the lock screen as harry turns his eyes to his iphone on the bedside table. "great" he thinks to himself. "definitely way too early" so he stays in bed a little longer and turns back to the other side. harry has to smile, despite the darkness he can recognise the naked silhouette of his beloved taylor. he carefully pulls the blanket back over her beautiful body and pulls her close to him and back into his arms.

"come here love. you're really cold" he whispers softly to her back. "mhh" was all harry got in reply. despite the fact that taylor still seems to be half asleep, she can't help but seek out harry's hand and cuddle it close to her chest. harry has to smile again, unbelievable how much he loves her.

three hours later and harry really can't sleep anymore. he decides to get up carefully because tay, on the other hand, still looks so peacefully asleep. "stay a little longer, my heart. i can't sleep anymore and i'm already going for a walk with root“ harry whispers into the ear of sleeping taylor and gives her a final loving kiss on the forehead. he quietly closes the door to their shared bedroom and heads straight off to greet their dog root, who can hardly wait for her morning cuddle.

another three hours later, taylor is now woken up by the beautiful sunlight streaming into the bedroom. harry must have opened the curtains before he even left the room. they both usually sleep in total darkness, but he knows just as well that tay loves to be woken up this way. it won't be that long before taylor has to leave for her play in new york, so the mornings at harry's home, which has definitely become their home together, are all the more precious to them. harry will always accompany her to new york for a few days at a time. she couldn't be happier about it. hampstead is their home together, but when harry is with her and by her side, any place in the world is her home.

before tay sets off in search of her boyfriend, she slips into one of harry's t-shirts, which are far too oversized for her small body, but she loves it so much anyway. taylor doesn't have long to go in search of her boyfriend. soft and almost cautious guitar sounds tell her that she simply has to follow the path into the living room. she has to smile. taylor is sure that she knows the song, but she immediately recognises that it's not one of harry's own songs.

… I met you in the dark, you lit me up

You made me feel as though I was enough

We danced the night away, we drank too much

I held your hair back when

You were throwing up

Then you smiled over your shoulder

For a minute, I was stone-cold sober

I pulled you closer to my chest

And you asked me to stay over

I said, "I already told ya

I think that you should get some rest"

I knew I loved you then

But you'd never know

'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go

I know I needed you

But I never showed

But I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

Just say you won't let go

Just say you won't let go…

... are the lines she can catch. with quiet steps she comes closer and closer to harry's voice and finally stops in the doorway. taylor never thought that you could ever feel so much love for a person. completely lost in thought and in his voice, harry sits there cross-legged on their sofa, his blue guitar on his lap. short loose adidas shorts, the twpk tennis socks, a white loose vans shirt and his meanwhile very fluffy hair again and that dark beard shine in her field of vision. he is so incredibly attractive, talented and at the same time so beautiful. root has also found her place next to him and listens to the wonderful voice and the guitar playing of her dad. taylor has to smile, a morning couldn't start better. one note of harry's wonderful voice and the world around her is forgotten. it's not just harry's wonderful and soulful voice that is given space, you can literally hear his incredibly happy grin in every sentence.

"good morning h"

only now harry realise that taylor must have been standing in the doorway for quite a while watching him.

"hey baby" he has to return her smile. "how long have you been standing there?"

"long enough to know that you absolutely have to keep playing"

"come here first, love" he carefully puts the guitar down in front of him so that he can pull taylor firmly into his arms. taylor doesn't need to be told twice and looks for the direct way there. before she lets herself fall into his strong arms, she can't help but touch his lips for a loving good morning kiss. they both lose themselves in the moment before taylor carefully interrupts him.

"how did you come up with james arthur?"

"i just had the song in my playlist on my morning round with root and it made me think of us. so i wanted to try it out. but i wanted to make it my version and an even more soulful and slower version and i would like to sing it just for you."

Tay nods lovingly. "keep playing h. i want to hear it to the end then"

after harry has positioned his guitar on his lap again, taylor also positions herself in the cross-legged seat and rests her head lovingly on harry's shoulder. harry's careful guitar sounds now find their rhythm again and taylor closes her eyes.

..I'll wake you up with some breakfast in bed

I'll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head

And I'll take the kids to school

Wave them goodbye..

the line makes taylor smile and her eyes open automatically. "can‘t wait" she whispers into harry's ear and presses a loving kiss to his neck.

harry then briefly interrupts his singing and looks deep into taylor's eyes. "me neither“ he whispers carefully before leaning forward to kiss taylor in confirmation and then smiling slightly into the kiss. they both know exactly what the other is thinking now, without throwing any more words into the room. they are both so deeply in love and so sure of each other so they could not wait anymore until taylor's play in new york is over so that they can leave their plans of babies and starting a family in the hands of fate rather than their own.

..And I'll thank my lucky stars for that night

When you looked over your shoulder

For a minute, I forget that I'm older

I wanna dance with you right now

Oh, and you look as beautiful as ever

And I swear that everyday you'll get better

You make me feel this way somehow

I'm so in love with you Tay

And I hope you know..

taylor carefully raises her head so that she can look directly into her boyfriend's eyes. she forms a soft but clear "you are everything" with her lips. harry smiles deeply and continues to play the next lines without taking his eyes off taylor's beautiful eyes.

…Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold

We've come so far, my dear

Look how we've grown

And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

Just say you won't let go

Just say you won't let go

I wanna live with you

Even when we're ghosts

'Cause you were always there for me when I needed you most

I'm gonna love you 'til

My lungs give out

I promise 'til death we part like in our vows

*So I wrote this song for you, now YOU know*

That it's just you and me *'til we're grey and old* …

even though the song still has a few more lines to go, harry stops here and carefully puts the guitar back down. instead, harry places his warm hands on taylor's cheeks and brushes away the tiny tears that his beautiful voice and his very own version of the song seem to have brought to taylor's eyes.

"hey baby. are you crying?"

"kind of but it was so wonderful. i love your voice, your guitar playing and you so much. thank you h."

as a thank you, harry can't help but plant a long loving kiss on taylor's lips.

"i love you tay. i love you so much. until we're grey and old, i'll sing you every love song in the world okay?"

"until we're grey and old, yes. I love you too.“

—————————————

heey all, the oneshot was created when exactly this song landed in my playlist by chance. my head didn't want to let go of the idea of harry singing the song and then of course for taylor.

i love them both so much. i wish them nothing more than a wonderful future together! <3

i hope you like it!

celine xoxo

[foxes-that-run]

Grapejuice

Harry loves a double meaning, which he does particularly well in Grapejuice. It includes a nice call back to Perfect and touches reflecting about someone he needs in his life but it’s complicated.

Harry put a bowl of peaches and a carnation in the lyric video. A reference to Maroon’s “Carnations you thought were roses, that’s us”

Zane Lowe (38:30) suggested the song is about dependency in alcohol and Harry spoke about Fine Line rather than Grapejuice, Zane tried a few times to bring dependency and the song up. The Harry reflected on peers who went through the peak of fame alone without the band (49). If the human race can be saved by avoiding a topic Harry Styles is our man.

Harry also didn’t play Grapejuice for a year after the first 2 album release shows. Then on 13 May 2023, he added it to the setlist in Horsens and played it to the end of the tour.

When was it written

That is not known, however Rob Harris (of Jamiroquai), Richard Adlam and Hal Ritson who live in Britain worked on the song. So I assume it is from the period that Harry went back to the UK in the summer of 2020, before Italy.

Lyrics

Yesterday, it finally came, a sunny afternoon I was on my way to buy some flowers for you (ooh) Thought that we could hide away in a corner of the heath There's never been someone who's so perfect for me

The first verse refers to Perfect's "And I might never be the one who brings you flowers" and the song title. While in Perfect it was not a romantic love, they were perfect to hang out Grapejuice is more mature in intent in this first verse, seeing the person is perfect for him and wanting to spend time with just them in his local area, Hampstead Heath.

But I got over it and I said "Give me somethin' old and red" I pay for it more than I did back then

However, true to the One Direction song, he doesn't buy his muse flowers, he asked for an old (flame), Taylor referring to her album Red which is in part about him. This is a double meaning, he does mean a bottle of aged red wine, and his ex who's album is Red.

There's just no gettin' through Without you A bottle of rouge Just me and you

But there is no one else for him, in MMITH: "'Cause once you go without it / Nothing else will do" and As it Was: "In this world, it's just us" 20 times it was only each other.

Likening his muse to a bottle of wine is also intentional, they have likened their relationship to a substance dependancy before in Clean " Ten months sober, I must admit / Just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it", MMIH “gotta get better / give me some morphine.” and DBATC "I get drunk, but it's not enough"

'Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

Harry said to Rolling Stone about Taylor:

"I like tipping a hat to the time together. You’re celebrating the fact it was powerful and made you feel something, rather than ‘this didn’t work out, and that’s bad.’ And if you run into that person, maybe it’s awkward, maybe you have to get drunk … but you shared something."

Sittin' in the garden, I'm a couple glasses in I was tryna count up all the places we've been You're always there, so don't overthink I'm so over whites and pinks

Harry has expressed similar sentiments of enjoying Taylor as a person in his life, in a parallel in Little Freak: "I was thinkin' about who you are Your delicate point of view,"

Harry is thinking about his muse, and says they travel to many places together. To me the line "You're always there, so don't overthink" is an acknowledgement that the muse is always in his heart, to not overthink and become jealous. Because he continues to say he's so over people that are not Taylor.

Being so over whites and pinks are sweeter, less stong wines than Reds, it's way to say no one else will do, he is over dating people who are not his muse.

I pay for it more than I did back then

Paying more for it now than back then is also a double meaning, the wine has increased in price and emotionally it costs more to spend time with this person. Harry and Taylor sing a lot about paying for being together.

There's just no gettin' through Without you A bottle of rouge Just me and you 1982 Just me and you There's just no gettin' through The grape juice blues

Harry wants nothing more than to share a bottle of wine his muse. The grape juice blues are feeling depressed, he wants to be with his muse, it is fraught and the drink because they are awkward.

1982 adds up to 20. Red Wine is in many of their songs:

Olivia: "This isn't the stain of a red wine, I'm bleeding love"

Little Freak: "Red wine and a ginger ale / But you would make fun of me for sure"

Maroon: "The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me" and "Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top , that's how"

Clean: "You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore"

The 1: "Rosé flowing with your chosen family"

One

Harry starts the song with 1, 2, 3 and ends on 1 (I.e let’s start again) Taylor also counts 1, 2, 3 after “you didn’t a number on me but honestly baby who’s counting” in So it goes.

[bellstrom]

════════════  (WANTED) CONNECTIONS  ⋆  PINTEREST  ════════════

Full Name: Harvey Moran

Age & Birthday: 29 / October 11th, 1994

Occupation: Owner of Through the Grapevine Winery (since feb '24)

Preferred Pronouns & Gender: He/him & cis-male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Birthplace: Hampstead, UK

Length of time in Briar Ridge: 15 years

Neighborhood: Beach Front

🖋 Played & Penned by: Leo Woodall / Syd

Welcome to Briar Ridge … HARVEY MORAN! ... He is best known for [ his family's construction company 'MORAN CORP' ] and [ the result of that was him becoming the new owner of GRAPE VINE WINERY after buying it from a well-known and respected elderly couple in Briar Ridge ]. What is really important to know about them is [ that he's often misunderstood and continuously feels out of place in every space he puts himself in. ].

Harvey was born in Hampstead, UK, and moved to Briar Ridge at the age of 17. Although his parents had every intention of keeping him within their reach, they couldn't say no to their only son when he asked them to go to university in the US. With the promise of considering taking over the family business, Harvey was off in search of what more life could offer him.

At university, Harvey studied botany on a whim. While he tried to not take his privilege for granted, he didn't exactly go to uni in the US for its prestige in academics. Something was missing, something that felt out of place within him. Harvey was convinced he would find that elsewhere, so he told himself it didn't really matter what he studied; it was the experience.

Harvey never had a hard time getting along with someone. He carried a type of confidence that never made him doubt himself, and many seemed to like that about him, including Maika Bishop, who he quickly started dating after meeting her on campus. Love hit Harvey at first sight incredibly hard, and every question he had in life seemed to find an answer in Maika.

The next four years only solidified Harvey's adoration for her, and with graduation coming around in the next few months, he realized he couldn't be without her. He knew he was getting ahead of himself by proposing on Valentine's Day, but Harvey was a romantic, and he couldn't think of a better moment to start their lives together than the night that started it all. Lit candles formed in a circle in the backyard of her place, and while he expected to be met with tears of joy, he quickly realized it was not joy Maika was experiencing. He could suddenly feel the pain in his knee drilling itself into the concrete, bringing himself to stand when she started confessing things about her sexuality, feelings for their mutual friend, and a rejection ...to put the cherry on top.

To say that night changed him would be an understatement. Harvey was hit with the realization that he was back at square one, wondering if he even went anywhere and if he was just blinded by love this whole time. Devastation struck him, but before he crawled back to his safety net, Harvey wanted to give himself one more try. One more chance to find that something that he hoped was still out there.

Most would call what Harvey intended to put himself through a 'gap year.' He had prepared to travel for a bit and cross some countries off his bucket list, but he ended up staying an extra year and a half due to some unforeseen circumstances*. Despite trying to avoid those privileges, it's what saved him and eventually earned him ownership of Through the Grapevine Winery and a free ticket back to Briar Ridge.

It's been a few months, and while Harvey's yet to completely digest what he's been through, the looks people have been giving him lately have not been going over his head. He's learned recently that his parents had bought the vineyard from an elderly couple, and while he wants to believe it's the new ownership that's the issue (and not someone in his *late* twenties taking over thanks to mommy and daddy's wallet) he's determined to turn things around. He's done searching and wants to make something of himself with what he's got— even if was on a silver platter.

* Said unforeseen circumstances is a wanted connection in which Harvey and another muse could've gotten into some trouble overseas within the past two years which ended up in his parents rescuing both of them via money. Read more HERE.

[freakingoutthesquares]

PULP: I Spy Summer Festival Programme, 1996

Do you have good childhood memories of summer?

Yes. At the start of the six weeks of holidays from school, you've got the feeling of endless immensity and, for the first couple of weeks, carries on feeling like that. That's brilliant, and it's what everybody wants from a holiday. I'm trying desperately to tie it in with the festival.

The festival is a microcosm for that sort of thing, you’re getting a city condensed. Glastonbury is the archetypal festival, and the first time I went, we went to Stonehenge to watch the sunrise and I was taken in by it all. I had on this all-white outfit, for some reason, and I decided to hitchhike to Glastonbury from there. I felt very incongruous with all these grotty travellers, and I was walking down the road like a ghost and it was brilliant, I really got into it. Glastonbury was a great thing, but by the end of it there all these hippies dragging about in the mud, and it seemed so ugly. This beautiful spring birth thing ended up in mud and decay and disaster.

Do you have any particular summer memories?

Yeah, North Yorkshire, really, which makes you think of the kind of Hi-De-Hi sort of thing, but actually it has a coastline which is incredibly romantic in a kind of Brontës sort of way. You can find little secret coves, and if you're lucky there will be just half a dozen people looking for shellfish. I tend to get quite geological on holidays trying to find fossils and rare stones. On the beach you can occasionally find Amethyst and Amber and Jet. The Jet comes from an undersea petrified forest of monkey puzzle trees. I once found a huge piece of Amber and I like the weird local stones that you don't get anywhere else. Of course, when they dry out, they go dull, which is disappointing.

What would your ideal summer days be?

It would have to involve a picnic and a slight amount of swimming in a natural location. That's why I wouldn't live in London and have to go swimming in Hampstead Heath or whatever. (I did go swimming in London once and it wasn't a very edifying experience.) Family and friends would be there. I know exactly where I would be, but it's a very specific place in Derbyshire and hard to describe.

Summer music.

It depends on the place. One thing I found out about America was that music you couldn't listen to in England, because it would just be a joke, makes sense when you're driving across the desert. And awful Italian music that you wouldn't dream of listening to: when it's hot and you're in Italy you wouldn't listen to anything else.

How about here?

There's a lot of nice classical music Vivaldi, Verde and Beethoven have very good Summery songs.

Do you put your speakers on the windowsill?

What, to inflict it on the neighbours? No, that's very anti-social. But I tell you what I did like the idea of getting. A Peacock. They make a right good noise. It's really melancholy.

It's horrible. Don't you like it? I love it. I think it's great. I haven't had personal experience of them and maybe they're a bit impractical in the city.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

How is all the touring going?

This particular bit of touring is perfectly comfortable (often with touring all becomes a bit of a grimy drag) but there is not much in the way of excitement. America was very exciting, believe it or not. I have the usual Anglophile disdain of America, but I started really liking it. I was travelling on the bus with the crew, which make all the difference. (Russell was travelling with the crew because of a morbid terror of flying.)

What memories do you have of touring?

The most exciting single thing that happened was when we played this God-awful little festival in the Midwest with all these Hick farmer types and bodysurfers, and it was incredibly still in the audience. Garbage were playing and the place was so dead that me and Candida went down the front to watch them and they were very good. By the end of Garbage we were quite fired up and decided, “Yes, we will get changed and jump about.”

Then our driver, who was an amateur Storm Chaser (he looked a bit like Anthony Perkins) had been watching the weather for the last two days, and he insisted that we leave quite early because he knew there were some storms ahead. We ended up turning all the lights off on the bus to watch this immense black cloud with lightning inside, which illuminated the cloud so you could see its internal organs, and we were listening to the local weather and it was saying ‘people in Springfield get inside the basement now, get out of your car and into a ditch! Being inside the car is no protection against the tornado!’ You could hear the panic in his voice. Then about 40 miles in front of us, you could see it pass by the road, and we followed it on the map.

We were getting near this cloud, which was about 30 miles away, and even though we couldn't see it, we knew we were in the flight path of this tornado. There was this one point where we've got in front of the cloud, but the driver was getting really agitated by the storm and needed to stop the bus to clean loads of bugs off the windscreen and Candida wanted to hire a taxi and drive into the centre of the tornado. I was tempted, but we’d driven past some of the damage that the tornado had caused. You know, I want to see a crocodile, but I don't want to put my head in its mouth!

I was very impressed with Candida. The driver had previously been saying, ‘Oh, I'd stop here, but I don't think the little lady would like it.’ She didn't give a damn. It was quite frightening and great.

Everything that day all seemed to be tied up with this Garbage business because we got to the next town and all over the toilet was all this Pulp and Garbage graffiti signed Ian. It transpired that it had been written by Ian Astbury (of the Cult) the night before. All this stuff like ‘Pulp and Garbage united together in pain and death meet up in the year 2000 and come to my city together’ or something and I was just thinking, ‘how did he know that there was this vibe happening?’ I've never met him, but I really want to meet him now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Do you feel different when it starts getting hot and sunny?

Well, yeah, it's that gland in the top of your head that starts getting over heated.

What happens?

You know what happens? There's a gland at the top of your head that activates sexual interest.

That's not true.

It is. That's true. Sunlight is the best for it. I think just getting a hot head isn't enough. I think it might be the ultraviolet that activates this gland.

Do you start screaming at girls and hanging out of cars?

Not really, but we can't help it, we’re chained to our own biology.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[rickie-the-storyteller]

Happy Storyteller Saturday!

Are there any places, objects, or even people in your stories inspired by or directly borrowed from your real life?

Share a snippet if you like 💜

Hi!

This is a good question. I take a lot of inspiration from my life, and from people I meet/places I've been. I think writing is super unique and kind of an intimate way of expressing oneself because every writer lives a different life and gets inspiration from their own experiences.

My main WIP right now is Steph's Crew. It is set in London in the year 2010. There isn't a specific reason for this... it was just a simpler time for me lol. I was still in primary school, and there wasn't anything that was bothering me or causing me any significant stress, Phineas and Ferb was still a running show... it was a pure time in my life. Plus, I used to go to London a lot growing up for day trips and stuff with my family, and I still do now (and we used to live there when I was really little. I'm going to university in London in September as well).

London is also a really big and diverse place where you can meet all kinds of different people and do all kinds of things. A lot of places in my story are fictional (e.g. the school that they go to), but I do incorporate some real places, too (e.g. Hampstead Heath and the London library).

Some of the inspiration for my characters come from people I meet (like friends from school, family members, etc). A lot of that is unintentional tho lol (e.g. one of my characters is super pessimistic and hates The Vampire Diaries... I read back over their scenes and realised that I have a classmate that's just like that. I ended up telling them, and they were super flattered that I "wrote their biography" - even though their character isn't even all that important to the story lol). Most inspiration comes from me, though. Like, things in my life and different facets of my own personality. A big example of this is Dylan and his family drama. He comes from a broken home and lives with a single parent (who he has a lot of conflict with). That's how I was brought up. I don't handle his problems the same way he does, but I did use his character to imagine how life could be if you chose to handle things differently.

I would give snippets, but I don't want to give too much away before I'm ready to... my project is still in development, and I do want to make some finishing touches to my chapters before I start posting some actual chapters. If that's ok.

Thanks for the ask, @winterandwords!

[fallingsunflower]

I had to go to Hampstead recently (suuuuper nice area) and tbh I went for a bookstore but it felt lowkey weird. Like I couldn’t imagine just strolling by his house unless you lived there 😭

I feel like you're a celebrity who has come to visit my city because I've been following you for a while and I've been thinking "what if I bump into sunflowerdiscussion today" then realise I don't know even know what you look like 🤣😭 but yeah it's so cool you're in London and have visited places near where I live 😃 I hope you're enjoying it and having a great time!

This is the best ask I’ve ever received 🥲 I was ALLL over this week and a half 😭 like literally you name a place in London and I was probably there. It was definitely a great time to visit ♥️ I wish we could all meet in person LOL

[properlyhome]

Top 5 Reasons You Should Consider Buying Property in North London

North London is often overshadowed by the more famous areas in the city, but it’s quickly becoming one of the top choices for property buyers. From its unique blend of culture and convenience to its relatively more affordable prices, there are several reasons why North London could be the perfect place to buy a home. If you’ve been thinking about buying property in this part of the city, here are five reasons why you should consider it.

1. More Affordable Than Other Parts of London

One of the most attractive aspects of North London is that it offers better value for money compared to other areas in the city, especially central London. While areas like Chelsea or Mayfair are known for their sky-high property prices, North London gives you access to spacious homes and more affordable options without sacrificing convenience. If you’ve been struggling to find a property that fits your budget in other parts of London, this could be your chance to buy property in North London without breaking the bank.

2. Great Transport Links

North London is known for its excellent transport connections. Whether you're commuting to work or simply exploring the city, getting around is easy with numerous underground stations, bus routes, and overground services. Popular areas like Islington, Camden, and Highbury & Islington are well-connected to the rest of London, making North London an attractive option for people who want to enjoy both the city’s vibrancy and the convenience of having quick access to everything it has to offer.

3. A Blend of Urban and Green Spaces

North London offers the best of both worlds. It has all the energy of urban living with its trendy cafes, bars, and restaurants, while still being close to some of the best parks in London. Whether it’s the expansive Hampstead Heath or the peaceful Regent’s Park, North London provides plenty of green spaces where you can unwind, exercise, or enjoy a weekend picnic. This combination of city life and natural beauty is a major draw for people who want a balanced lifestyle.

4. Strong Investment Potential

The property market in North London has shown steady growth over the years. As new developments and improvements to infrastructure continue to take shape, areas like Tottenham and Enfield are gaining attention from investors looking for properties with long-term growth potential. If you’re looking for an area that’s not only great for living but also has solid investment potential, North London is a great option. With the right property, you could see significant returns on your investment in the coming years.

5. Expert Guidance from Property Consultants

Navigating the property market can be tricky, especially in a city as big as London. That’s where London property consultants come in. Working with a consultant can help you find the right property based on your budget, lifestyle, and long-term goals. They have extensive knowledge of the market and can offer expert advice, making the process of buying property much smoother. Whether you’re a first-time buyer or an experienced investor, having a consultant on your side can make all the difference.

Conclusion

Buying property in North London is an exciting opportunity for anyone looking for a combination of affordability, convenience, and growth potential. With its fantastic transport links, green spaces, and urban culture, it’s no surprise that more and more people are choosing to buy property here. If you want to make sure you’re making the right decision, working with a property search agent in London, can help you find the perfect property that suits your needs and goals.

Ready to explore the North London property market? Visit Properly Home today and get expert help with your property search!

[ukstudyway]

Private Flats in London Available for Short-Term Rent: A Convenient Solution for Travelers and Busin

London, a city that merges centuries of history with the modern hustle, is an irresistible destination for travelers and business professionals alike. For many, finding the right accommodation is key to a successful visit, whether for a weekend getaway or an extended business trip. In recent years, the rise of private flats available for short-term rent has become a popular choice, offering a flexible, comfortable, and often more affordable alternative to traditional hotels.

Why Choose a Private Flat?

Opting for a private flat over a hotel provides a range of benefits, especially for those looking to experience London like a local. Here are some reasons why short-term rentals have gained popularity:

Space and Comfort

Private flats generally offer more space than hotel rooms, often including living areas, kitchens, and multiple bedrooms. This is particularly appealing for families, small groups, or professionals who need a dedicated workspace.

Home-Like Amenities

One of the main draws of renting a flat is access to full home amenities. Most short-term flats come equipped with kitchens, allowing guests to cook meals, and laundry facilities, which is convenient for longer stays. These perks create a more home-like experience, providing greater comfort and independence.

Prime Locations

Private flats for rent in London can be found in virtually every part of the city, from the bustling heart of Westminster to the charming neighborhoods of Notting Hill and Camden. This variety allows visitors to choose accommodation that suits their specific needs, be it proximity to work, tourist attractions, or quieter residential areas.

Cost-Effective

Compared to hotels, especially in central London, short-term flats often come at a lower cost, particularly for longer stays. Additionally, the ability to cook at home or do laundry can help save on expenses during a stay.

Flexibility in Booking

Private flats offer flexible booking options, which is ideal for both spontaneous travelers and those needing a place for just a few days. Short-term leases can range from just a couple of days to a few months, accommodating a variety of travel plans.

Types of Private Flats Available

London’s short-term rental market caters to all tastes and budgets. Whether you’re looking for a luxurious penthouse overlooking the Thames or a cozy one-bedroom in a trendy neighborhood, there’s something for everyone. Here are some common types of flats available:

Luxury Apartments

For those seeking the ultimate comfort and style, high-end apartments located in areas like Kensington, Chelsea, or the City of London come with designer interiors, concierge services, and often, breathtaking views of the city skyline.

Family-Friendly Flats

For families or larger groups, spacious multi-bedroom apartments with kitchens and common areas are widely available. These flats are typically located in quieter neighborhoods, such as Hampstead or Richmond, offering peace and proximity to parks.

Cozy Studios

Solo travelers or couples may prefer a smaller, more intimate space, such as a studio flat. These are often found in trendy areas like Shoreditch or Soho, offering a perfect balance between style, affordability, and access to the city's vibrant nightlife and dining scene.

Top Areas to Stay in London

The location of your flat can greatly impact your London experience. Here are some of the top neighborhoods for short-term rental options:

Covent Garden: Known for its theaters, boutiques, and lively atmosphere, Covent Garden is perfect for those wanting to be close to the West End and many of London’s iconic landmarks.

Notting Hill: A beautiful, bohemian neighborhood famous for its colorful houses and the Portobello Road Market. It's a peaceful area with plenty of character, making it an ideal choice for those seeking a quieter yet charming stay.

Shoreditch: A trendy, artsy area known for its street art, unique cafes, and thriving nightlife. It's a great location for younger travelers or those who enjoy staying in the heart of London’s creative scene.

Southbank: For those who want to enjoy views of the Thames and be close to cultural landmarks like the Tate Modern and Shakespeare’s Globe, Southbank offers a variety of modern flats.

Canary Wharf: For business professionals, Canary Wharf is the financial hub of London, with sleek, contemporary flats just minutes from the offices and transport links.

How to Book a Private Flat

Booking a private flat in London is easy and can be done through numerous platforms, such as Airbnb, Booking.com, and VRBO. Additionally, there are specialized agencies that offer short-term rentals, often providing more personalized services such as airport transfers and local recommendations.

When booking, it’s essential to check reviews, the flexibility of check-in/check-out times, and any additional fees such as cleaning charges. Many flats also offer discounts for longer stays, so it’s worth inquiring about special deals.

Final Thoughts

For anyone visiting London, whether for leisure or business, renting a private flat for a short-term stay is a practical and enjoyable option. Offering more space, convenience, and flexibility than a hotel, these flats allow guests to truly immerse themselves in the London lifestyle, with all the comforts of home. So, the next time you plan a trip to the UK’s bustling capital, consider staying in one of London’s many private flats—you might never want to book a hotel again!

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Private flats in London available for shortterm rent

London private flats available for rent

[heyho-simonrussellbeale]

While other theatres across London are pulling their pantos up on stage, Hampstead remains resolute in its ongoing mission to revive some of the lesser-known Tom Stoppard plays. No dames and innuendoes here. No, instead we get a three-hour dreamlike reflection on Latin love poetry, via the life of scholar and poet AE Housman.

Starting with the death of Housman, met by the mythical ferryman on the shores of the river Styx, with a couple of puns about boating terminology, The Invention of Love spins out plotlessly from there. It cues up speech after speech, difficult to follow, showily clever, taking in aestheticism, manuscript transmission, Oxford in the late 19th century, the origins of the legislation that led to Oscar Wilde’s imprisonment, beastliness, buggery, and much, much, much more. Merry Christmas everyone.

But Blanche McIntyre’s subtle, uncluttered production – taking place on a mostly empty stage – puts all focus on the text (makes sense, given that is what the play is all about) and delivers a pretty good case for the play being, if sometimes impenetrable and partly in Latin and Greek, a bona fide masterpiece.

Although best known now as the author of A Shropshire Lad, Housman was also the greatest classical scholar of his generation and happened to be at Oxford at the same time as Oscar Wilde. Stoppard’s play teases these strands into reflections on what it means to lead a life well-lived, especially for gay men in the 19th century. Wilde lived fearlessly and unashamedly. Housman was the opposite. He was all repression and sublimation of his sexuality into a dedication to classics. On day one of university he falls in love with his sporty, ruddy-cheeked, very straight classmate Moses Jackson and loves him for the rest of his life. He never does anything about it, just quietly pines from afar forever. “I would have died for you but I never had the luck,” he repeats over and over.

Though nothing much happens in the play and it is hard to follow, it’s also weirdly fun to be swept along by speeches ad infinitum about Latin manuscripts – how it’s a miracle that any of them survived at all, at the mercy of monks and mice and moral puritanism for centuries.

And there are several very beautiful moments, not least Simon Russell Beale’s older, cynical Housman – slightly muttery, doddery, needing the loo – sitting next to his younger self, played both gently and intensely by Matthew Tennyson, and arguing the toss about life and love. Older Housman has become obsessed with the placement of commas and the meaning of individual words in poems. Younger Housman reminds him to see the wood for the trees, and to remember that the poems are actually about love. Tennyson stands and almost sings his lines, arms outstretched, showing wonderfully how even love for a subject as seemingly staid as Latin grammar can be enriching and infecting.

That’s where McIntyre really manages to blow a lot of the dust away. Though the production does drag a bit, becoming bogged down in the thickness of its words, when McIntyre homes in on what the play is about – love – it comes alive. There’s Housman’s love of Latin, with Tennyson and Russell Beale delivering long, impassioned, joyful speeches about it. And there’s Housman’s love of Moses Jackson, no less real for its being drenched in shame and the impossibility of its return. This is what the play is about: the invention of love – and the fact that it is reinvented every time it’s felt. Not to mention the fact you’ll feel about a thousand times cleverer after seeing it.