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Don't change for anyone....
....Don't change just lie
Created on 2004-08-18 10:18:31 (#4233143), last updated 2006-03-29
250 comments received, 354 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
69 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 1 Memory, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | la_cienga33 |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 12-23 |
| Location: | Glasgow, United Kingdom |
BioI'm hopeless at these kind of things so here goes!
Hi. I'm Pauline, I'm 16 and I come from Glasgow. I like chilling with my mates and just generally being me! I like listening to my music and watchin my DVD and having ridiculously stupid conversations with my pals! Just your typical teenager!
I recently studied this poem in Adv. English and I love it!
(mainly becausz it rhymes, whereas hardly any of the rest of them do)
A Subaltern's Love Song By John Betjeman
Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn,
Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
What strenuous singles we played after tea,
We in the tournament - you against me!
Love - thirty, love - forty, oh! weakness of joy,
The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,
With carefulest carelessness, gaily you won,
I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn
Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss joan Hunter Dunn,
How mad am I, sad am I, glad that you won.
The warm-handled racket is back in its press,
but my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.
Her father's euonynous shines as we walk,
And swing past the summer-house, buried in talk
And cool the verandah that welcomes us in
To the six o'clock news and a lime-juice and gin.
The scent of the conifers, sound of the bath,
The view from my bedroom of moss-dappled path,
As I struggle with double-end evening tie,
For we dance at the Golf Club, my victor and I
On the floor of her bedroom lie blazer and shorts
And the cream-coloured walls are be-trophied with sports,
and westering, questioning settles the sun
On your low-leaded windows, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
The Hillman is waiting, the light's in the hall,
The pictures of Egypt are bright on the wall,
My sweet, I am standing beside the oak stair
And there on the landing's the light on your hair.
By roads 'not adopted', by woodland ways,
She drove to the club in the late summer haze,
Into nine o'clock Camberley, heavy with bells
And mushroomy, pine-woody, evergreen smells.
Miss joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
Ican hear from the car-park the dance has begun.
Oh! full Surrey twilight! Importunate band!
Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl hand!
Around us are Rovers nad Austins afar,
Above us, the intimate roof of a car,
And here on my right is the girl of my choice,
With the tilt of her nose and the chime of her voice,
And the scent of her wrap, and the words never said,
And the omnious, omnious dancing ahead.
We sat in the car-park till twenty to one
And now I'm engaged to Miss Joan Hunter Dunn
Hi. I'm Pauline, I'm 16 and I come from Glasgow. I like chilling with my mates and just generally being me! I like listening to my music and watchin my DVD and having ridiculously stupid conversations with my pals! Just your typical teenager!
I recently studied this poem in Adv. English and I love it!
(mainly becausz it rhymes, whereas hardly any of the rest of them do)
A Subaltern's Love Song By John Betjeman
Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn,
Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
What strenuous singles we played after tea,
We in the tournament - you against me!
Love - thirty, love - forty, oh! weakness of joy,
The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,
With carefulest carelessness, gaily you won,
I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn
Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss joan Hunter Dunn,
How mad am I, sad am I, glad that you won.
The warm-handled racket is back in its press,
but my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.
Her father's euonynous shines as we walk,
And swing past the summer-house, buried in talk
And cool the verandah that welcomes us in
To the six o'clock news and a lime-juice and gin.
The scent of the conifers, sound of the bath,
The view from my bedroom of moss-dappled path,
As I struggle with double-end evening tie,
For we dance at the Golf Club, my victor and I
On the floor of her bedroom lie blazer and shorts
And the cream-coloured walls are be-trophied with sports,
and westering, questioning settles the sun
On your low-leaded windows, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
The Hillman is waiting, the light's in the hall,
The pictures of Egypt are bright on the wall,
My sweet, I am standing beside the oak stair
And there on the landing's the light on your hair.
By roads 'not adopted', by woodland ways,
She drove to the club in the late summer haze,
Into nine o'clock Camberley, heavy with bells
And mushroomy, pine-woody, evergreen smells.
Miss joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
Ican hear from the car-park the dance has begun.
Oh! full Surrey twilight! Importunate band!
Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl hand!
Around us are Rovers nad Austins afar,
Above us, the intimate roof of a car,
And here on my right is the girl of my choice,
With the tilt of her nose and the chime of her voice,
And the scent of her wrap, and the words never said,
And the omnious, omnious dancing ahead.
We sat in the car-park till twenty to one
And now I'm engaged to Miss Joan Hunter Dunn
ConnectInterests (59):
adam brody, alcohol, alex kapranos, bert & ernie, books, borders, bugsy malone, cameras, cartoons, cd's, chocolate, clothes, cola, converse, cord, crisps, denim, disney, donnie darko, dreaming, dvd's, family, franz ferdinand, friends, green, guys, h&m, harry potter, holly, hugh jackman, ice cream, irn-bru, jake gyllenhall, jane austen, jude law, lotr, money, mp3player, music, photos, pizza hut, posters, pulp fiction, radio, ryan adams, shoes, snow, spiderman, the killers, the o.c, the strokes, topshop, trains, umberellas, venice, wellies, xylophones, yachting, zebras
External Services:
 | la_cienga33@livejournal.com | |
 | polly_wolly3@hotmail.com | LJ Messenger Status: offline |
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