“And that wasn’t even a very extreme version of that look”, Willie is thinking to herself.
There are of course lots of Indian restaurants in this area, not least by the Quayside below Tyne Bridge. This isn’t supposed to be any particular one, because it’s not so easy to find out what one of them might have looked like on the inside in 1998.
For starters, Willie’s mum is having Bhuna prawn on puri, and Willie is having vegetable samosa (deep fried pastries). Mmmm …
Flashbacks to chapter 6, page 24, and of course chapter 8, page 18. :3
Which brings me to …
* * *
Public announcement:
If I actually had anything in my real life that even faintly resembled the relationship between Willie and Aeron, I would not feel any need to draw comics about it.
(PEOPLE, STOP INSULTING MY CHARACTERS.) V`(oo)´V
OK, I’m not gonna insult your caracter, but I admit that after the “and I barely have time to spend it… Haha…” I really got this extremely irritated feeling of “you really think you can impose on me with this”, immediately followed by the half-desperate half-annoyed “please change subject now I don’t want to loose my evening explaining things you would never really listen to, and I don’t want to keep this image of you”.
Don’t worry … it’s only insulting when people try to suggest that my characters would be based on me and various (inferior) men in my life. Like the eternal question, “Is Eva you?”, which perhaps says more either about the wet dreams of the person asking the question, or their inability to comprehend the concept “imagination” …
But, yeah, Willie’s mum is kind of scary. :o/
I wonder if Goscinny had been ordered menhirs?
Well, I guess speaking trivial by pointing out that many authors feed their imagination with their own (direct or second-hand) experience also, and go beyond that if good (like, the step Alexandre Dumas son of missed). That often makes mature comics more sensible and relevant (see the difference between Axe Cops and Bearmageddon – I don’t care if the hints to Ethan’s teenlife in a small town are genuine or not – they are definetly interesting)
I must admit that I sometimes ask myself questions like: does something from your father reflect on Willie’s mum as well as on her dad? But that’s because of very specifical circumstances you can guess. With any author that wouldn’t be a member of Ainur’s family I would only enjoy the very relevance of the dialogues and characters – which I do a lot in Driftwood.
Well, my stories work like dreams: they take small details from my consciousness and weave something entirely different out of it. I don’t plan them much or decide much about them, but they just come to me.
So, yes, there are little things here and there in my stories that are from my real life and from stories I’ve heard. Both of Willie’s parents have a few elements from both of my parents, but in totally different ways. They also have elements from many other people.
I guess if you know my family, you can at least guess a bit which elements those are, but it’s pretty pointless to draw any conclusions about our family based on my comics, or about my comics based on my family. :o/
None of my characters are based on one specific real person. That’s why it’s irritating when people want to believe that they are …
… And of course it’s *especially* insulting when people suggest that such an obviously idealized character as Aeron would be based on some specific annoying real man in my life. :oD (He’s for a small part based on my best sides, for a slightly larger part on what I would want to be like, what I would want a man to be like in general, and what kind of partner a person like Willie would probably need (right now?) — plus thousands of tiny fragments of other people, real and fictional.)
Eh eh. Now you’re starting to be part of history yourself, so you’re loosing the monopoly of speech about you. At some point it’s good that Céline isn’t the only one allowed to speak about Céline, isn’t it?. Of course in your case I doubt that anybody who actually tries to draw conclusion on you from your comics has any serious ground for that.
Anyway I don’t want to go on a fight with you on that I read On The Internet that you’re able to kill a man by biting his throat.
Haha, I remember the awful meal Mum had when we went to Norway in 1989 (or something?)! Was it “karbonade”? Anyway, I don’t want to start picking details, but for someone who does know our family very intimately, it’s a fun game. (A bit painful or embarrassing too, because of the memories, mais c’est la vie…)