I have weird German choklit with a mystery (because the wrapper's in German) ingredient that I am unable to identify, but which is crunchy. Could be anything. Could be woodlice. I bought it in the junk shop in Bicestershire yesterday, because I'd been out walking around too long and was getting dizzy, and it worked well enough to get me home without fainting. But it is. Weird.
I also have boots. Calf-length boots, for the first time in years, instead of just ankle boots. Today I got the train up to Banbury which, although run-down and chavvy, has the advantages over Bicestershire of having some vestiges of character, a degree of ethnic diversity, and some halfway decent shops. Well. Halfway may be pushing it. Maybe a third of the way. But still: an improvement. Not that I bought anything much, my cashcard keeps not-working, and it's embarrassing. But I did get boots. (See above.) They are, I reluctantly admit, chunky old-lady boots from Evans for Fat Birds, but still. Boots. Yay!
I wanted some winter skirts and some beeeeeg sweaters, but all the skirts in Matalan looked cheap and nasty (they are always cheap and, undoubtedly, sweatshop produced, but sometimes wearable), and I never can find beeeeeg sweaters any more, I am still wearing the same ones I have worn for about ten years now, and it is starting to look like it. Dilemma. Still, I was just as happy not to buy anything in Matalan as, sweatshop labour aside, they are currently plugging the The Dark is Rising movie, which I am avoiding like the plague, or any other scabby thing.
Other things I might've bought, but didn't, include two Chalet School paperbacks from the second-hand bookshop down one of the back streets (I'm hoping there may be some at the Penn bookshop), and a film called The Science of Sleep, which I'd never even heard of, which is what living in a backwater, arse-end-of-beyond cesspit will do for your cultural sensibilities, but looks wonderful, and the new Polly Jean Harvey album. But Christmas is coming (two more sign-ups for sn_holidays today, and one of them is out_there, which is marvellous news), and I'm not made of damn money. Sadly.
Many questions about Everest on QI tonight. Thanks to Jeremy on Sports Night, I shall forever know that it's 29,000 rulers high. But it's the last ten yards that'll kill you ...
Now I feel sick. What was in that choklit, I wonder? Maybe it really was earwigs. It is nearly as big a mystery as why my nephew Simon is pictured on Facebook with no shirt on and holding a BLOODY GREAT BIG GUN
Friday, 5 October 2007
Thursday, 4 October 2007
I can see clearly now ...
I have nothing to report, really. I just wanted to mention that it's incredibly sunny - brilliant, height-of-summer sunshine, with not a hint of autumn or chill about it. Took me the hell by surprise when I walked into Bicestershire in my winter coat just now, I can tell you.
I have a week off work, and fully intend to spend most of it sleeping. Stuff the housework. I have discussed it with Phoebe and Mintaka, and they are fully behind this plan. I've been to the dentist this morning (hence the trip into Bicestershire), and that's as much forethought as I care to bother with.
Judy went to the monthly Wolvercote SF meeting last night and is now home with a tummy bug. These two facts are unrelated. But that's nothing, we are going to a christening on Sunday. I am not sure which is more likely to burst into spontaneous flame, the church or our pagan selves. Prior to that, we have to survive a visit to my Mama. Explaining that we are visiting on Saturday, not Sunday as usual, will be strenuous, or so past experience tells me ("HELLO, MUMMY. WE THOUGHT WE'D COME AND SEE YOU TODAY." "You mean tomorrow." "NO. I SAID 'TODAY', AND I MEANT 'TODAY'." "Is today Sunday?" "JUST FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT, LET'S SAY IT IS.") - but, on the other hand, means we can drop by the Penn Bookshop on the way.
I unconditionally love everyone who's signed up for the sn_holidays challenge over on LJ, and would hug them if they would stand still long enough and didn't all live in far, faraway places. Them as should've but haven't, however, are in grave danger of getting coal in their stocking this year. Or would be, if I had the faintest idea where one gets coal these days. I might have to improvise with a charcoal briquette, and how unfortunate does that sound? Almost as bad as Jeremy stealing Casey's provolone. We don't get a challenge to our very own selves all that often, and why, for the love of god, would you not want to join in? After all, every gift fic written is a gift to the whole of the fandom, not just the recipient, and don't we deserve that?
(Speaking of Jeremys, how very disconcerting to start getting messages from my 40something brother over Facebook, of all things. I assume he's on there to make sure his daughter doesn't go running off with any paedophiles. Or with anyone else, come to think of it. Although cruel people might say ... no, never mind.)
I suppose I should take advantage of the weather and go and sit in the garden, or something. But 'bed' is so much more enticing. I'm sure it'll be hot again ... sometime.
I have a week off work, and fully intend to spend most of it sleeping. Stuff the housework. I have discussed it with Phoebe and Mintaka, and they are fully behind this plan. I've been to the dentist this morning (hence the trip into Bicestershire), and that's as much forethought as I care to bother with.
Judy went to the monthly Wolvercote SF meeting last night and is now home with a tummy bug. These two facts are unrelated. But that's nothing, we are going to a christening on Sunday. I am not sure which is more likely to burst into spontaneous flame, the church or our pagan selves. Prior to that, we have to survive a visit to my Mama. Explaining that we are visiting on Saturday, not Sunday as usual, will be strenuous, or so past experience tells me ("HELLO, MUMMY. WE THOUGHT WE'D COME AND SEE YOU TODAY." "You mean tomorrow." "NO. I SAID 'TODAY', AND I MEANT 'TODAY'." "Is today Sunday?" "JUST FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT, LET'S SAY IT IS.") - but, on the other hand, means we can drop by the Penn Bookshop on the way.
I unconditionally love everyone who's signed up for the sn_holidays challenge over on LJ, and would hug them if they would stand still long enough and didn't all live in far, faraway places. Them as should've but haven't, however, are in grave danger of getting coal in their stocking this year. Or would be, if I had the faintest idea where one gets coal these days. I might have to improvise with a charcoal briquette, and how unfortunate does that sound? Almost as bad as Jeremy stealing Casey's provolone. We don't get a challenge to our very own selves all that often, and why, for the love of god, would you not want to join in? After all, every gift fic written is a gift to the whole of the fandom, not just the recipient, and don't we deserve that?
(Speaking of Jeremys, how very disconcerting to start getting messages from my 40something brother over Facebook, of all things. I assume he's on there to make sure his daughter doesn't go running off with any paedophiles. Or with anyone else, come to think of it. Although cruel people might say ... no, never mind.)
I suppose I should take advantage of the weather and go and sit in the garden, or something. But 'bed' is so much more enticing. I'm sure it'll be hot again ... sometime.
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