Small things

Finally managed to hook my blogger account up with the right Google account. I haven't achieved anything else today so I guess that's something.

Things my nephew has asked me so far this week

- When he will die and go to heaven

- Who the devil is

- Why we can't see God

- Whether boys can marry boys and girls can marry girls

- Why people who "have English skin" have children who look the same

- If Siska is his friend.

Things I should do

- Wash the dishes

- Bring in the washing

- Learn how to make bulleted lists on Blogger

- Tidy away the few clothes left on my floor

- Continue on my quest to tame the hamsters

- Watch The Big Lebowski

- Finish reading Brighton Rock and Love in the Time of Cholera

- Domestos the loo

- Make tea

- Read National Geographic, Time and Empire

- Update my blog with reviews of the movies I've seen recently. And the books I've read.

- Write down the rules to Shivvy so The Sister won't cheat

- Plan the fun yet educational things I will do with The Nephew next week

- Watch The Happening and Afterwards

- Take out the rubbish

Things that are a problem

- I have so much I could be writing about, I just don't seem to have the energy to translate my thoughts into words.

- My car's suspension is making a clunky sound.

- I haven't been to see a movie in three weeks.

- I can't see the floor of my room for all the clothes and rubbish strewn about.

- I have no clean clothes because they're all over my floor, so I'm wearing odd bits that don't quite go together.

- My hamsters think I'm the devil and shriek when they see me.

- The digital switchover is coming and I am not prepared.

- My Weightwatchers leader is emailing me and I'm going to disappoint her tomorrow with my lack of weightloss.

- I haven't sent my Canadian penfriend a letter since December and she probably won't like me anymore.

- The price of petrol makes me want to cry.

- It's two weeks till pay day.

Beside myself

Or, I should be beside myself, that is, outside of myself, that is, separating myself from my emotional reaction. What choo' talkin' 'bout, Liz?

The biggest disagreement my Zen-Like Friend and I have about Zen-like things is my determined position that to be detached from our emotions isn't honest, that we're shortchanging ourselves from the human experience when we say we want to be outside of our feelings.

But I'm starting to wonder if there isn't more of a place for that, and I'm thinking particularly in work situations. I mean, I'm not saying that I'm going around at the moment inflicting my emotions on everyone. But earlier this week someone sent me an email that I thought was unfair. I told my boss what I thought, she agreed, and then I made a further comment, which she said was me being sensitive.

Which is fair comment from her. I am over sensitive. I'm hypercritical of myself, so external criticism, no matter how oblique, is hard for me to take. I do try not to let it take over my brain.

What she means by sensitive is emotional - I react to work situations in an emotional way, which is not appropriate. I'm not crying or snapping or anything. But I'm coming to realise that when you allow an emotional reaction to take over from a logical reaction, you're also opening the door to a situation where you could start ascribing unfair motives to people's actions, or feeling resentful about a meeting, or, or, or. Whether you like it or not, emotional responses are messy. And no, you're not necessarily going to inflict your emotions on people, but allowing the reaction means that you're making it easier for that to happen.

There has to be a middle ground. I have to be able to be honest with myself, and experience my emotions, without it affecting my work. I should be professional, and professionalism is detached. There is only the work, and getting that work done to the absolute best of my ability, to a high standard, on time, to deadline. That's what matters. Not the fact that one of my co-workers drives me batty at every opportunity. Her I can experience emotionally when I get home.

Midweek sushi adventures

Yesterday I randomly decided at about 5:30pm to blow off any ideas I had about working late (regretting that now) and going for sushi in London. I called H and A to find out if I could lure them into joining me and all credit to them, they did. Spontaneous friends make me happy. Such a great evening.

Twitchy

Right eye keeps jumping. Fringe keeps getting caught in hinges of my glasses. Spot on jawline keeps itching.

If I were a cartoon character, there'd be a close up of my red-rimmed, vein popping eyes right about here.

Sleep cycles from hell

I was thinking about this the other day, and I remember walking home from high school and swearing to myself that I would improve my sleeping habits. I'm still swearing.

A fit of organisation

I decided tonight to rearrange my bookshelves. Yes, it's 10pm, so what? It's not like I have a full day planned for tomorrow or anything. It's not like I need to stand in an atrium trying to talk academics into accepting e-books as the next wave of educational development, having arguments with the Anti-Apple Contingent over whether we should have gone for the Android platform, the one that hasn't actually been released yet.

Seriously brain, I don't think I needed to rearrange my bookshelves tonight. Especially since I'm caught in the classic dilemma of whether I should go for alphabetical stacking, genre-based stacking, or Nick Hornby stacking - autobiographically.

Decisions, decisions. Might have a cuppa while I consider my options.

Modern science se gat

One of my medications leaves me bruised and bleeding. The other has a local anaesthetic that makes my tongue and throat numb. So I can never sunbathe again, and I can't taste anything after 10pm.

There must be more to life than this.

A dialogue, of sorts

After buying two £1 scratchcards with a £5 note I found randomly on the ground in Tesco and purloined with a feeling of guilt and trepidation.

Me: I always find it quite decadent to scratch a scratchcard with a £2 coin.

Her: Or even a £1 coin.

Me: But then I worry that I'm tempting fate.

Her: The universe won't let you win because you're scratching with a £2 coin.

Me: No! You do not deserve a million! You have money!

Her: So really you should scratch with a penny.

Me: Or a button.

Her: Or just use a fingernail.

For the record,  I scratched with a £2 coin and won nothing. She scratched with a £1 coin and won...£1. There's a lesson in there somewhere.

Catfish

Go and see it. Don't read about it, don't watch anything about it. Be unspoiled, watch it and then come back here because I'm dying to talk about it.

Christmas playlists

Every year I rely on Der Fuhrer's inspired Christmas mixes. This year I made one of my own, my favourite carols for my own amusement.

Once In Royal David's City - Sufjan Stevens
Angels From the Realms of Glory - Annie Lennox
O Come, O Come Emmanuel - Belle and Sebastian
Silent Night - Josh Groban
Oh Come All Ye Faithful - Twisted Sister
Away In a Manger - Mindy Smith
O Little Town of Bethlehem - Sarah McLachlan
O Holy Night - Faith Hill
The First Noel - Crash Test Dummies
Hark! the Herald Angels Sing - Johnny Cash

The end of the road

Can't...wrap...anymore...presents. Fingers are bloodied stumps. Hands are covered in ink. Have lost the ruler I was using to tear up the wrapping paper because I've lost the scissors. The sellotape is growing carpet fluff. I need more wine.

Dreams

I dreamed I was running across some paving, running so hard my watch fob fell open. I stopped and stared and thought, I didn't know that could happen. And then I saw a tiny gold key, nestled inside the works of the watch. The key fell and I lost it, got down on my hands and knees and began to search. I couldn't find it, but it was suddenly there, back where it was supposed to be. I closed the watch and went on my way.

Precious little baby

Dear Universe

Was it really necessary to have my car's heater and windscreen wiper fail this week, this week, in which snow, ice and pestilence are supposed to make landfall. And after I just forked out £130 to make my car all nice and spanky new.

That's not very nice, is it?

No, not nice and all.

Dear Glands

Please stop swelling.

I already have the cold sore and the red nose. I don't need to look like my nephew's hamsters on top of that.

Love and kisses,

Liz

A very Keatsian day

Went to Stowe Landscape Gardens with my Zen-like Friend today. It was just alive with autumn. And sheep. And rain. It was an enjoyable way to spend a day, in undemanding company, walking about wet fields, admiring the grey and red and the orange and the yellow that make an English autumn. And then we had good food and I decided I should expand my house search to include Buckingham and now I'm home, in comfy pyjamas with a cup of Horlicks. I like it when I look forward to the week with a clear mind, because I haven't squandered the weekend.

I'm not sure how I can expect to find grace

I'm so blatantly unprepared for it. In my mind, and in my surroundings, and in my soul.

Stamp of something or the other

The other day my boss was bemoaning her lack of a stamp, and I gave her one from the book I carry in my wallet. I very rarely post anything domestic - when I post it's generally overseas. But to not have stamps in your wallet? Barbarians at the gates. Visigoths sacking Rome. The end of all civilisation.

I wander how, I wander why

Last night I had a dream that I had to fix the electricity box outside. This was mixed with a fear that my car had been stolen. I kind of remember walking across my room, and opening my back door. I definitely remember waking up standing on the frosty patio. I thought to myself, huh, I don't need to be fixing anything. That's not my job, I can go back to bed. Which I did.

And then I woke up this morning and tried to figure out how to barricade my door, because it was below freezing last night. Good thing I woke myself up.

All the drama in TV, movies and books seems to come from one thing...

Miscommunication.

It's a little boring.

Dear Sally Hawkins

You are forgiven for inflicting Happy-Go-Lucky on us for two reasons: 1) Made in Dagenham, and 2) I just realised it was you who played Anne Elliot in the last, really good adaptation of Persuasion.

Leap

A leap, the leap. To leap. Leapt. Will leap. Have leapt. Leap now. Leap later. Leap.

Growwwwwwwwwwwwl

Growl growl growl.

Central Park

100_2246, originally uploaded by liz_isabella.

Ms Ellis goes to New York City (and Philadelphia)

I’ve yearned to go to New York since I was about 12 or 13 and, I’m ashamed to say, I saw Lois and Clark: the new adventures of Superman. Yes, I know, it was “Metropolis” but it was New York I saw. And then all through high school I saw movies about New York and yearned. Yearned, I tell you.

And now I can say I’ve done it.

And it was spectacular.

I left on 25 September for the US, flying into Newark, where I was met by some friends. I then drove with them to a town near Philadelphia, and we spent a wonderful few days enjoying martinis, chatting, walking, going to the Museum of Art (scene of Rocky and the Staircase of Doom), eating wonderful Italian food, martinis and chat. We also did a side trip out to Lancaster County and the marvellous town of Intercourse, and saw the Amish. It sounds weird to put it like that, like the Amish a breed of something rare and we went to the wilderness to spot them, but I found it interesting anyway. The countryside is particularly agricultural, with actual red barns and sheds. And horses and ponies, the place was lousy with equines. We stopped off to sample quilts and arty things, and I discovered my favourite sub-genre of romantic fiction – Amish romance novels. All very passionate with a stern moral core. Hilarious. I would have made a very bad anthropologist.

I then went up to New York City by train. It was quite dark when I got there, so I didn’t see much, but I headed for my friend’s apartment and we went out for dinner and to see her bookshop (mysteries – I saw about five I wanted but settled on two). And then the next day I woke up and realised that I was in New York. In New York. There was just the tinge of disbelief to the whole week. And even now, a week later, it doesn’t feel real. How could I have been there?

I took myself off to Times Square (I took the subway for a week, by the way, and not one delay announcement did I hear – take that London Underground) and then walked up Broadway to Central Park. I had to duck into Lindy’s for breakfast because the rain came showering down, so I tucked into pancakes and fried eggs and bacon with liberal doses of maple syrup and read Wolf Hall and people watched. Once there was a break in the weather I carried on on my way. My first stop was The Frick Collection, an amazing little art gallery. It was the bequest of a millionaire industrialist with flawless taste in art. He had this house built around his collection, and it’s been left essentially as his. It was staggering – Holbeins mixed with medieval bronzes, Whistlers mixed with Van Goghs, Monets sprinkled about, and an indoor garden with fountain. It was definitely a favourite, and I enjoyed the seemingly haphazard arrangement a lot.

After that it was on to the more staid and formal Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was very imposing and enormous, so rather than get struck down by art fatigue, I decided to only see the 18^th and 19^th century European galleries. Even that was substantial, but it was so worth it. The Van Goghs, the Monets, the Cezannes, the Turners. I nearly cried.

And then it was off to Grand Central Station, to meet M and tuck into oysters and clams, seafood soup and lobster roll. Grand Central Station is like a cathedral, with its big arched windows and the celestial map on the ceiling. We went down to the lower floors to the Oyster Bar, which is where the famous whisper dishes are set into the ceiling. As we were talking I tipped my head back and I could hear my echo. It was very disconcerting and, well, fun! The oysters and clams – holy shellfish Batman. I haven’t tasted oysters that good since I was in South Africa, and the clams…well, I hate to say it, but Mozambique didn’t match up. They were so crisp and fresh, with that delicious meaty, salt water taste.

The following day was beautiful – warm and sunny and clear – so I took in the islands. I went down to Battery Park to get the ferry and was met by oceans of people. Huge crowds who were all thankfully going to Liberty Island rather than Ellis Island, which was my destination. Between the buskers, Wolf Hall and a cheddar cheese pretzel, I was barely aware of the standing around. The buskers would ask us where we were from and then play the national anthem. They knew Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika, which I was impressed with, but they kind of segued into Turkey in the Straw, which was funny. The security to get on the ferry was mad - almost worse than the airport. The Ellis Island museum was really impressive - great displays, wonderful audio guide. The photos really moved me, seeing these people landing with just the clothes on their back and various bags and rucksacks and whatnot, the things they didn't think they could live without. Just setting out. Mostly because they had no choice, but it was an incredibly brave thing to do. My trip was bookended nicely on Thursday.

I woke up really late and then had to race to make it to the Tenement Museum, which was just genius. Having seen the immigrants arrive at Ellis Island, it really closed the story to then visit an area where immigrants tended to settle. The tenement block the museum is in has been furnished to represent different time periods, so you can get a sense of what life would have been like, and how that reflected what New York was like at the time. Just to celebrate the area we went to Katz's Deli for delicious pastrami sandwiches and...oh my God...pickles. So nice. Katz's has been there for years, as in, a New York institution, and it's where the orgasm scene was filmed in When Harry met Sally (that sold it for me in advance). My sandwich was served by a really interesting guy, and we got into a debate with him over the country's defence policies, so the pastrami was even yummier for that.

On Friday it rained, but in a nice holiday way. I went back to Times Square and then just wandered idly around, finding landmarks and taking pictures of them like a tourist. I eventually ended up at Union Square, where I went to see The Social Network (excellent movie all round), and then M and I went to PJ Clarkes for a hamburger and proper onion rings. England does not know how to make good onion rings. I nearly smuggled them out to take on the plane with me, they were that good.

Saturday was a gorgeous day, lovely and warm, so I finally took my longed for trip up the Empire State Building. It was very kitschy, but the view really is worth it. Next time I go (and there will be a next time), I'll go right to the top, at night. See it from a different perspective. I left the crowds behind and headed for Central Park, which was surprisingly idyllic. I sat and read Wolf Hall, and ate a hotdog and another pretzel and revelled in just being there. It was a nice way to end up.

It's always weird when you get something you've wanted for a long time. You're left kind of feeling, well, what next. I loved it - the atmosphere, the food, the thing, you know, that thing. It made me glad and happy to be able to do it, and want to do it again. I'm going to find a globe and spin it and put my finger down and point my nose in that direction and go.

Strange things I feel guilty about

I just put my organic vegetable box delivery on hold until I get back from the US. This is not the thing I feel guilty about. The thing I feel guilty about is asking the nice man not to send any more carrots. I shouldn't be picking and choosing - I should be making something with everything. But I'm so sick of carrots.

And damsons.

But I've kept the damsons. I will eat the damsons. In penance.

Corporate woes

Yesterday, in a meeting with a particularly frustrating person, I broke my pen in annoyance (it's a branded pen, and has this little lip that used to be good for flicking back and forth).


My boss just reported that another colleague of ours had a meeting with same frustrating person this morning and broke her branded pen, in exactly the same place.

Scott Pilgrim vs The World

Here's a question - is there a name or subgenre for slacker type movies? You know the kind - they narrate everything, they state the obvious with undercurrents of irony, they have great soundtracks and characters wearing hoodies and tshirts with movie slogans or 80s video game characters on them. I'm just going to call them Slacker Flicks, and as Slacker Flicks go, Scott Pilgrim vs The World is mind-blowingly awesome.

Based on graphic novel by the same name, the general gist is that Scott Pilgrim - unemployed, plays in a band, kind of an arsehole when it comes to girls - meets a girl at a party and must have her. But as soon as he begins to make a move, the League of Evil Exes, an organisation made of all her previous boyfriends and a girlfriend, challenge him to duels and feats of strength.

It's excellent, really excellent. The dialogue is funny and intelligent, the plot moves quickly without losing you or suffering from endless amounts of exposition. The League of Evil Exes is brilliantly crafted.

The beauty of this movie, and probably why I enjoyed it so much, is that it's structured like a classic platform video game. Scott has to move through all the levels until he final meets the Big Baddie, who he must defeat. This opens it up for tons of little visual gags - all the bad guys turn into a shower of Super Mario coins when Scott dispatches them, the little 1up button appears when he collects enough coins.

Between that, the funny dialogue, the soundtrack and the wonderful characters, I can't stress enough how awesome this movie is.

But seriously, is there a name for this genre? There really should be.

Roadtrip!

When The Mother, The Sister and I all get together, insane laughter usually follows. When we play boardgames with my dad, he spends most of his time telling us to stop laughing, then gets fed up and leaves the game. So we're containing our glee in a car and driving up to Aberdeen for my cousin's wedding and none of the male members of our family (all three of them) are invited. It's going to be the Ride of Valkyries.

Now we are 29

I've been 29 for three days. I always expect to feel different, to feel a year older, but really all that happens is that I imagine the day I was born, and I wonder about what it was like being born, and then I get back to normal.

And this year, everything is hopeful. Can't get much better than that.

Visualisation is the key

I wonder if the reason calendars and dates confuse me is because of the way I see dates in my head. I see the year in one big, long 3D box, with marks for the months, weeks and days on it. The date I need or I'm thinking of rises up so I can see it.

Just lately though, my mind is treating September differently - right after August the box does a sharp left-hand bend, and then I can't see the rest of the year. I guess I'll find out when it turns September.

New York, New York

Today I bought my ticket for New York - this time next month I'll be there!

I can't wait!

Salt and Moon

I saw both these movies over the weekend, Salt at the cinema and Moon on DVD.

The both have something in common - they both reveal all the information up front, with a final twist to produce tension.

In Salt, it kind of works. The premise is that Evelyn Salt, a CIA agent, is accused of being a member of a Russian sleeper cell. Almost immediately we know that this is in fact true. But will she fulfil her mission? Is our understanding of her mission accurate? It's very interesting to watch the plot unfold, although it is fairly predictable - we're waiting to be tricked. But the writing is sufficient, and Angelina Jolie is gorgeous, so it works.

As for Moon... I'm fairly disappointed in Moon. The trailer made it look like a paranoid, claustrophobic masterpiece, but really it was meh. We know everything almost immediately, but there's no tension at all. Even the addition of a countdown doesn't make you care about the characters and what happens to them. There's no atmosphere at all (ha, lunar joke). It's simply a case of the story not living up to it's potential. Oh well.

Trailers: Scott Pilgrim vs The World (ooooooh) and The Girl Who Played With Fire (aaaaaaaah).

How I discovered I buy too many scratchcards

The checkout lady at the Tesco round the corner from my house brought me a scratchcard without me even having to ask for it. Uh oh.

But it's not like I have a problem or anything. I only buy them every so often. I don't need them or anything. I can give them up any time I want. Really.

Wet experiments

Yesterday, as I drove home in a downpour, two little girls were playing outside with their umbrellas, dipping them into a massive puddle of water. Why? To see how much water they could hold, I imagine.

I would have done the same thing. I still have to resist the urge to play outside when it rains.

Less stuff doesn't necessarily make you a better person

I'm not loving this article, mainly because a few of the people who live these minimalist, digital vagabond lives handily crash on people's sofas. How is that removing the burden of everyday things? It feels to me like this is just another way of abdicating responsibility and making yourself a burden on others.

I can appreciate the appeal of decluttering, and getting rid of "stuff". I've done it - but I still have a lot of things that other people might consign to the "stuff" pile, but which mean something to me, and acquiring more of those things (DVDs and books particularly) makes me happy.

I don't know. "Digital vagabonds" make me pissy because they seem pretentious.

Heebie jeebies

Doesn't matter that I know the twist at the end of The Sixth Sense, and that I've seen it at least ten times, it still freaks me out. I plan to hide under the duvet for the rest of the evening.

So many people

Today was filled with friends. I've spoken to them, emailed them, texted them and messaged them. I have so many friends. When did that happen? I'm so glad it did.

Why words matter

Continuously preparing for the worst

Things are going pretty well at the moment: contract at a job I love has been extended, allowing me to earn enough money to keep me very comfortable; The Cocks have moved out, making The House a much less fraught place; I'm planning my yearned for trip to New York; a sushi restaurant has opened up right here in The Hellmouth; and I have more books than I could ever possibly read.

So on balance, things are really looking up. But instead of revelling in the joy of relative contentment, I'm fretting about how I don't make enough of my time, that I'm not visiting stately manors and museums every weekend, and whether I'm really working hard enough to deserve my job (I'm not).

So I'm back to creating my lists of goals and penances, my schedules, my notes to myself - all the paraphenalia that accompanies me when things go pear-shaped in a vain attempt to prevent things from going more pear-shaped. They're all still here. Just in case.

Ode to a loser

I think I may have found the gateway to a new past time that could cement my reputation as a geek and anorak: a website that allows you to listen to air traffic controllers from around the world, live!

How cool is that? I sat at work this morning and edited a study unit on Wales and Welsh culture, and listened to air traffic control at OR Tambo Airport.

Well, it made me happy.

My two selves

I'm watching Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist and hemming some trousers.

More crying

The Sister was here over the weekend, and because we're suckers for punishment we watched Sunshine Cleaning and Up. They were both fantastic, but oh, the wailing, the moaning, the sobbing. I think The Sister used an entire packet of tissues. I was hard core and used my sleeve.

Signs that I'm turning into a sap

I sobbed through the last 15 minutes or so of Toy Story 3. Proper, gulping sobs. Just thinking about the final scene brings a lump to my throat. What a sap.

It's never what you think it's going to be

Just after I got my car I was trundling down the motorway to London when a truck threw up a little piece of gravel and chipped my windscreen. I've been quietly fretting about that windscreen, and sure enough, when I took my car for it's MOT a few weeks ago, the mechanic said that it would fail if I didn't have it checked out. Thankfully I have windscreen insurance (I didn't with my previous car, and it got its back window smashed up by some ASBO louts). So it was free to have the chip fixed, but the technician said it was hit or miss. It was just on the verge of being too big for the MOT to ignore. So I sent it for its MOT this morning, fretting about this chip, not wanting to fork out the £50 excess it will take to replace it.

And of course the car failed. The potholes created by the foul weather we had this year have done their work well, and I need to replace both shock absorbers (£150 worth of work), and I need to replace my one tyre (I don't know how much that will be, I can't bring myself to call and find out).

And the windscreen? Wasn't even mentioned.

Typical.

After watching When Harry Met Sally for the millionth time I have decided...

...that Sally is really quite boring. Harry is totally wasted on her.

This is what I do with my time

I just spent half an hour adding movies from Empire Magazine's review pages and articles to my LoveFilm list. That list is now up to "392 unique titles".

I'm never going to have time to watch them all, but I just can't help stockpiling for a rainy day...

Tired

Happy.

But tired.

If I were a vegetable...

I'd be a pickled onion.

In which things continue to stay the same

I'm reading, drinking tea and eating a piece of toast with strawberry jam.

Of course, I've managed to spill jam all over my mouse.

Why can't I be graceful? The nursery rhyme said I would be: "Tuesday's child is full of grace." Such crap.

When I die and return to this earth as a new version of myself, I want to be graceful. Graceful. Elegant. Chic. Not constantly jammy.

Some things don't change

I've just been perusing the internets for a likely-looking Star Trek convention to go to. Sigh.

Small things amuse small minds

I just watched an enormously pregnant cat scaling the wooden fence to get into next door's yard. I found it hugely amusing. But it's been a long day.

Catch up

Ack! So much happening, not enough posting. Um, I got my contract at University extended and I'm thrilled. I went to the New Forest. I've now been in The Hellmouth for a year. My car needs to be MOTed next week and I'm hoping it won't cost a bomb to do. I'm going to Lugano, Aberdeen, Amsterdam and New York. The Nephew will be 4 soon. I've not been to any movies because they're all shit. I've read about 10 books in the last month. I'm glad the world cup finally ended, but I really want a Fick Fufa tshirt. And we had a month of sunshine. It's bucketing now though.

MS Society Wheel and Walk

MS Society Wheel and Walk, originally uploaded by liz_isabella.

We made it! A lovely 5km walk along the River Ouzel in Leighton Buzzard. We even got fancy medals.

Content

I've just finished Nora Roberts' new book, and now I'm listening to Vampire Weekend and reorganising my bookshelves.

I'm feeling quite content, strangely so.

Imperfect theories

I've been noodling about with an imperfect theory for ages now, turning it over in my mind, unable to make it work but unwilling to let it go.

I had a thought that really the best thing we can do is make the best of what we are given. So in any given moment, have a job and enjoy that job. Go and see a movie and enjoy that movie. Live in a house and enjoy that house. But as my Zen-Like Friend reasonably pointed out (damn you, reason, damn you), that implies that you shouldn't then be grasping for anything else. So, essentially, you're living in a house with a bunch of morons, but you're making the best of what you're given, so you have to enjoy that house, really make it work for you, rather than frantically finding a different job and saving like mad in order to escape the house you're supposed to be making the best of.

You should just be happy with what you have.

I'm not sure where to go from there. Are the ideas of being happy with what you have and working for something better mutually exclusive? Should they be?

This brings me to another theory I used to have, which is that the ultimate goal should be contentment. The moment you feel content is the highest achievement the world can offer. The Best Friend called that boring.

So now I have two imperfect theories, and a desperate desire to move, and I only know what I know: that I'm coming up to a year of living in Milton Keynes and while I dislike it for so many reasons, I have a wonderful job, a good salary, and a great car, and those three things make everything else less, well, shitty.

I don't know. I really don't.

I'll tell you what you can do with your Wavin' Flag

Has any song ever had lyrics more inane than the Football World Cup song?

"We all say/When I get older I will be stronger/They’ll call me freedom/Just like a wavin’ flag/And then it goes back"

What?

Tropic Thunder

I was going to say that this was the best movie that Tom Cruise has ever made, but then I remembered I love Jerry Maguire. But the latter is despite Tom Cruise, rather than because of. So I stand by my opinion, Tropic Thunder is the best movie Tom Cruise has ever made.

In which I survey my kingdom

About the only good thing about the house I live in is that I have double doors that go out onto the patio. The patio looks out onto a half mown lawn because my landlord got bored half way through mowing it. But I'm definitely thinking that on Friday, when I get paid, I'm going to invest in some patio furniture. So while I don't actually have my own place, at least I'll have some furniture to take with me.

Oh wait, I forgot about my three bookshelves. They'll go with me too.

Oh, and I have the chair I'm sitting in.

And a green footstool.

So I have three bookshelves, an armchair, a green footstool and some patio furniture.

Wow, am I all grown up or what?

Dear Mr Twat in the BMW

I was not going slowly! I was going 60! I probably should only have been going 50. So please slow down, do not follow me, and do not attempt to cut me off at the roundabout.

Liz

I think I might be the only person in the world who actually likes the new Doctor Who

I can't help myself, but I do. I don't think the writing has been as top notch as it could have been - some of the plots are just wound up way too easily - but I've enjoyed most of this season.

But the Pandorica...I'm really interested to see how they resolve that one.

Tales from The Nephew's world

I spent my holiday last week taking care of the ever more precocious Nephew. He was in fine form - everything was either amazing, terrible, heartbreaking or boring. No middle ground with this kid. I enjoyed it, but man am I knackered.

Some gems included us going on "a bear hunt". Cue Auntie Elize's flat rendition of Teddy Bears' Picnic, which had to be sung multiple times. Then I tried to get him turned around so we could get home, and had to pretend to see a bear wearing trousers and a hat disappearing into the distance.

"NO, Auntie Elize, my sense of direction says the bear when that way," he answered, pointing in the direction he wants to go in. No, no, no, I say, my sense of direction says he really did go round the corner towards home. Eventually he agreed and I mumbled: "I've got your sense of direction right here." "No! Give it back! I need my sense of direction."

We then went to The Parents' place, so he got to hold my ipod and skip the songs he didn't like (all of them). But then he got to Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries, which he immediately fell in love with. "Let's listen to that scary song again. I like scary songs. Where's the scary song? Is there a scary person in the scary song? On the television, there's a scary person in the scary movie. Let's listen to the scary song. Oh, that's very scary. I like being scared. I can't hear the scary song. Make it loud! No that's too loud. Oh, the scary song is done, let's listen to it again."

On the way to The Parent's place in Reading, you have to cross a teeny little toll bridge over the Thames, in a town called Pangbourne (it's gorgeous there). Anyway, I couldn't find my wallet and I didn't have the 40p toll loose with me, so the woman let me through. I told her I'd pay double when I came back through (and which I did).

"Auntie Elize! You didn't pay the lady! That's wrong, you were supposed to give the lady the money! Why didn't you give her the money?"

Then, when he saw The Father: "Hi Papa! Auntie Elize didn't pay! That's wrong, isn't it?"

Tattle-tailing little brat.

The biggest reason why living with somone wouldn't be such a bad idea

If I woke up starving on a Saturday morning, but too lazy to do anything about it, he would be conveniently placed to make me french toast and a cup of tea.

Lessons I have learned from sushi

1) Wearing a white shirt is always a bad idea.

2) Nigiri falls apart when you forget it in the bowl of soya sauce because you're reading.

3) Too much ginger can give your tongue blisters.

4) Count the dishes as you go.

5) The good stuff always appears on the conveyer belt as you're getting up to leave.

Greeting the morning with a song

Or should I say, an earsplitting rendition of Fall at Your Feet by Crowded House. I wish I could sing, but I can't. I am very, very atonal, flat, and can't keep to a melody to save my life. It's like one of those cartoons, where I open my mouth and all these little crooked notes come out in a speech bubble and then all the windows shatter.

But I do love a good song, and singing along to a good song, and no-one can hear me in the car. I hope. At least I didn't do jazz hands. That would have been unsafe.

Banks are the Enemy

Arrgghh! Stupid bank!

I have two accounts with my bank, and they're interconnected.Two weeks ago I cancelled the debit card on one, because I got paranoid about Amazon. No problem, Ms Ellis, we'll issue you a new one and you'll have it within 5 working days. Two weeks later and the card isn't here, in the mean time I've been using the debit card on the second card. Today I called the bank to say that the replacement card hadn't arrived. No problem, they say, we'll cancel the card we ordered and order you a new one to go straight to the bank branch, that'll keep it safe. That'll take 5 working days. Wonderful.

So this evening I toddled to the atm to get out a little money, and...yes...that's right...those idiots have cancelled the card for the second account. So now I have no debit cards. I can go into the branch tomorrow with two forms of ID and a statement and plead my case. The new card will be with me in...5 working days.

I'm betting right now that they've managed to order cards for the same account.

Idiots!

Note to Self

Find spellcheck on Blogger and USE it.

Three years

Today, I've been in the UK for three years. I've moved a lot, seen more of my family, met a lot of people, liked some of them enough to make proper friends with, cemented older friendships, seen a lot of movies, read a lot of books, worked at a lot of jobs, and travelled quite a bit.

I've also lost a perfect job, been on disasterous dates, lived with some very unpleasant people, and been diagnosed with an incurable disease.

But today, today is the point. Today I'm happy. Today I'm looking forward and backward with equal amusement, and my anxiety is only a tiny voice in the background. Today I think about all the good things, and ignore the bad things. Today I decided to stop looking back quite so much, because even when you're looking back with no regrets, too much introspection gives you a migraine and a vague feeling of discontent.

Today is the day that matters. Tomorrow will take care of itself.

Monday politics

I just had a fun morning - last Friday an email went round saying that a senior cabinet minister would be delivering a speech on the economy this morning on campus, and to apply if we wanted tickets. I did that, and got my confirmation this morning, and went off to the university library to find the place crawling with journalists and police, because it was the prime minister.

Of course, the speech was basically his version of the old song, We're Screwed, So Screwed, So Very Very Screwed, with a rousing chorus of It's Not Our Fault We Have To Make Major Cuts, Blame Gordon Brown, but it was fascinating to watch. A good start to Monday!

Surreal conversations with The Sister via Facebook

21:40 Juanita

hi, do you have mum and dads home number please? also, did i leave my charger there? (possibly plugged in behind your bed side table)

i know you are thinking it's typical!! haha

21:41 Me

It's 123456789

And yes

:)

21:42 Juanita

pants. thanks

21:42 Me

have you ever watched peep show?

it's brilliant, really brilliant.

21:44 Juanita

nope, is it worth a look is it?

21:44 Me

it's on 4OD on youtube, and I would definitely look.

But then, I have a deep and abiding love for David Mitchell.

Who I think I may be turning into.

Why am I turning into a 40 year old man?

Why?

21:45 Juanita

ha!

21:45 Me

No!

Not ha!

No, no, Elize, don't be silly.

You're not turning into a 40 year old male comedian.

You're imagining things.

not HA!!!

21:46 Juanita

i dont think you are turning into a man, whatever you may think

21:47 Me

Thank you.

21:47 Juanita

i am multi tasking and talking to mum so i cant type lots.

21:47 Me

No, that's fine.

21:47 Juanita

i will reassure you properly in a minute :):)

21:48 Me

Too late!

21:48 Juanita

don't be like that

21:48 Me

Sniff!

21:49 Juanita

boo-friggin-hoo :-)

It's raining

Fat drops of cool water on a warm afternoon. It's not dark, or overcast, the water is just falling from a perfect summer sky.

I love the rain, because it feels a little like a miracle every time it falls. Because it has a hundred faces, and as many emotions. The water falls and we receive the smell and luxury that comes with it.

But rain always makes my heart ache. I never feel more alone than when it rains. I stand on a balcony, or a stoop, or a street, with my hand stretched out, feeling the cold drops land.

Romance

"I'm not a romantic. I'm very practical."

"[You're] an insatiable romantic. A woman who combs her hair on a moonlit beach, wears filmy white, and treasures a valueless memento thrives on romance."

"I also clip coupons and watch my cholesterol."

Nora Roberts - The Right Path

Last night's episode of Dr Who

Mawkish, very mawkish indeed.

It's time for another Ipod 10-Track Experiment

Recently someone told me I had a lot of love songs on my ipod. This is more amusing than the person who told me this possibly realised, as The Best Friend, who has long bemoaned my ability to turn even the happiest song into a funeral march, can attest. But in the interests of scientific research, I have dusted off Der Fuhrer's Ipod 10-Track Experiment in order to come to an unbiased, objective opinion.

And so the 10 randomly shuffled songs are:

1) She's Got Her Ticket - Tracy Chapman
2) Superfly - Harris Tweed
3) Doo Be Doo - Freshlyground
4) I Have a Dream - ABBA
5) Portions for Foxes - Rilo Kiley
6) I Stand Corrected - Vampire Weekend
7) All You Wanted - Michelle Branch
8) Scarborough Fair - Simon and Garfunkel
9) Poker Face - Lady Gaga
10) Feels Like Home - Chantal Kreviazuk

Ok, ok, that last song is pretty sappy. So sue me!

Gone

the wind
took you to where
It wanted to
go.

it swept your self
to hidden
places
away
from the place you called home.

it swept your self
and it took you
and it left you
here.
here.
here.

where nothing grows,
but those who cling
Live.

Deepest Devon (or, The Mysterious Invisible Puffins)

On Friday morning I hit the road for a visit in Deepest Devon, to see my Zen-like Friend and take a trip to Lundy Island, a tiny spit of land off the coast, famous for its views, deer, feral goats, ponies, and birds, including puffins – more on that later.

I left pretty early, and a good thing too, since I managed to take a wrong turn almost immediately. But I managed to reorient myself and trundled on down south, singing at the top of my lungs and watching the scenery get greener and more interesting. I decided to ignore the satnav in favour of a more circuitous, scenic route. So I got off the motorway near Bristol and then headed for Minehead, and Lynton, and then cut away from the coast (so blue!) and into Exmoor via Porlock (so steep!). I was thrilled to see the ponies, most of them with foals alongside, and the view was just astounding. I stopped at one point to try and get a picture, but it was impossible to capture.

I eventually managed to find Woolacombe, which is where we were camping, and sat in the sun reading while I waited for my friend to arrive. After he got there we had a much needed cup of tea and then we were off. We headed on a short walk down the road, where I met my first stile (Sidenote: Stiles are not made for short people, with short legs, and a complete lack of grace). There were some funky sheep, who stared at us with blind panic in their sheepy eyes, but there were also more ponies! And some paragliders! And a sparrowhawk! And ponies!

 Ponies!

Years ago, my family travelled around the UK in a camper as part of a holiday. Apparantly I have been to nearly all the places I visited this past weekend before, I just don't remember any of it. Probably because I was reading my way through a Five Find Outers and Dog book, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, I did remember the ponies, and it was lovely to see them again in their scruffy glory.

I also got my first sighting of Lundy, where we were heading on Saturday, which filled me with glee.

We then headed back and went down the town of Woolacombe, sourced some lunch in the shape of pasties (I thought they were called tiddyoggies when in Devon, but apparantly not), and then trekked up the hill to Mortehoe, which was very rugged and cool. We spent ages spotting some oystercatchers, which are about as cute as you get in the bird world, and I got to turn down that page in my birdbook, which is always satisfying. 

Mortehoe

And then it was dinner in a jampacked Croyde, and my first glimpse of Saunton Sands, which was as beautiful as any of the beaches at home, just about half the size. We stopped on a cliff road overlooking the beach, and it instantly became my favourite spot.

We had a little time for stargazing (red, red moon) but we had to be up at o dark thirty to catch the ferry to Lundy.

Woke up the next morning to rain, of course. It was a weirdly cold, warm, misty, windy, rainy, drizzly, freaky kind of day. It was very atmospheric and I loved Lundy like that, but it would be super to see it in the sunshine. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

A short essay on puffins: there's all this hype about how Lundy is a puffin haven. It's on all the brochures, and all the tickets, and on the websites and everything. Until we got to the booking office to board and my friend read a different poster that said that ACTUALLY there are only three pairs of puffins on the whole island, so ACTUALLY we would be pretty lucky to spot any of them (we didn't, as it happened).

PA is displeased with false advertising ("I don't act for cameras!")

But we didn't let the false advertising get us down, and after agreeing to lie but how we had spotted a puffin even though we hadn't (it was THIS big! And it had RAZOR teeth!), we boarded the ferry. And got very, very wet. We had the Guardian with us and decided to sacrifice the money, sport and jobs sections for something dry to sit on. Eventually we headed upstairs and I found the perfect spot to lean against the railing and rock backwards and forwards as we went through the rough water. It was so cold and blowy, but it felt energising. And then out of nowhere some small dolphins appeared and they began playing alongside the ferry. For ages they were jumping through the surf and the wash, and we could see them cruising along under the water. They looked so happy, I guess, and carefree. It was almost as if we had an escort.

 On the ferry and on Lundy

And then we finally got to the island, which rises suddenly from the water. Sheer, sheer cliffs, with that ominous, exciting look that you expect of tiny islands. We had been spotting lots of birds as we came over on the ferry, but the island itself is a bird paradise. We saw shags, Manx shear-waters, cormorants, oyster-catchers, razorbills, and guillemots. It was thrilling really. We glanced briefly at the buildings (a castle, a pub, a church, a lighthouse – all will need to be explored in more depth on another visit) but hellbent on finding our puffin we hit the trails immediately. We basically walked the island along its edges, getting blown to pieces by the wind, getting drenched by the mist. But it was so much fun, and I only twisted both of my ankles twice. And gracelessly clambered over two more stiles. We spotted the deer, ponies and feral goats, we even spotted some seals, but the puffins remained determinedly out of reach. Better luck next time, I guess. Nobody seems to have heard of Lundy much, and I don't know why, because it's an idyll. My friend commented that it was like a retreat. I'd really love to go back and stay there for a few days, and walk every inch of the place,and hopefully see it in some sunshine.

We all boarded again and headed back to Bideford on the mainland, and spent the whole return journey waiting for more dolphins to appear (and eavesdropping on the conversation of the two older women sitting next to us – one was telling the other about how her husband proposed, and her parents weren't happy because he was a soldier, it was quite amusing). We landed and headed back to the campsite.

I was due to leave on Sunday, so we stuck close to home, and took a shorter hike through the surrounding farmland. We stopped to catch our breath and say hello to a little shetland pony called Archie, and took our ease on a bench, and then got so caught up in identifying some house martins and some swallows, we got nicked for trespassing. She was pretty nice about it though, and told us about the other birds she'd spotted, but we did hasten on our way. Up. The. Longest. Hill. Ever. And then when we made it to the top of the hill, I got myself stranded in a massive boggy patch. I was in knee deep, and managed to leave a shoe behind after my friend gave me a heave out of there. I tried not to think too hard about what else was inside the mud, but it smelt fabulous. Sigh. That's me. Always smooth.

Anyway, we headed out shortly after, and got some Rick Stein recommended fish and chips (scampi for me), and watched some kids muck about a skateboarding ramp. We headed down to the beach then so my friend could go surfing. I watched and wandered along the sand and got myself quite homesick, with the smell and the sounds.

And then I got in my car and drove back, feeling satisfied and happy and content and sad all at the same time. I always feel a little flat after going somewhere new, because I always expect myself to be new too. I think it's also that I've been looking forward to this trip for ages, and now I need something new to look forward to. I love this part of being a grown up. It makes it all worthwhile.

Insurance

Him: It's looking nice and sunny for your arrival!

Me: Excellent! We may need to sacrifice a small child to Ra every day this week, just to be on the safe side.

Him: Consider it done.

This moment

I was sitting at my computer at work, editing some courses that need updating. As I was unravelling the XML (stupid farking XML), something caused me to think about a friend, which in turn made me think of Rhodes, and suddenly I had a little vision of my 21-year-old self, walking the streets of Grahamstown, sitting in lectures, and getting merry at Friar Tucks. It seems so impossible that that person was me, but it was me.

It was so long ago, and just an instant ago. And I thought, I existed in that moment. Now I exist in this moment. All I know is that I have a memory of prior moments. A long chain of moments, some of them clear, some of them hazy (and getting hazier by the moment).

Seeing The Sister in the hospital nursery. Seeing a 50 pence coin for the first time. Photos on the first day at school. Camping on empty beaches. Walking on the firing range at school. Getting detention. Getting an A for the first time. Being told to stop breathing, or else, by someone at school. Having my first dance to Please Forgive Me, by Bryan Adams. Getting all my hair cut off and getting contact lenses. Going to see You've Got Mail, over and over again. Singing the Happy Birthday song at Spur, over and over again. Finishing Matric, R500 richer. Sitting in my room in Beit after my parents left, wondering what the hell came next. Being shmoozed by an oily guy with a borrowed guitar. Having The Best Friend rescue me when oily guy dumped me right before my first journ exam. Obsessing over someone I couldn't have. Staring at the ceiling of my first digs, with Siska lying on the bed next to me, silently supportive. Staring at the ceiling for days, wondering if this was it. Sitting in Michael the Therapist's office. Being told over and over again that I have the right to my feelings, that I don't have to feel guilty. Cutting someone off. Falling down the stairs in Friar Tucks. Wishing I had the strength to take myself out of an equation. Driving home from Rhodes for the last time, with all my worldly possessions in a bakkie. Stopping for biltong at Storms River Mouth and remembering four years earlier. Going to Newlands for the first time with The Father, and watching Jacques Kallis score a century. The Mother forcing me to apply for the position at The Southern Cross, even though it was the closing date. Going for the interview and thinking shiiiiiiiiit. Finishing my first day at work, and thinking, so this is it then: working life. Listening to shit loads of illegal music. Eating a lot of sushi. Hurting my back and getting my driver's licence, despite being barely able to walk. Going to see Counting Crows by myself at the Vellodrome and seeing Marissa for the first time in years, and rekindling an old friendship. Saying goodbye to The Mother at the airport. Saying goodbye to The Father at the airport. Having my first Christmas with The Best Friend's family and playing 30 Seconds. Learning Tai Chi. Seeing My Family at Gatwick. Feeling Jamie kicking in utero. Standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower with Rob. Saying goodbye to My Family at Gatwick. Making it all the way to the passport checkpoint before crying and then crying all the way home. Saying goodbye to Siska in her crate. Doing Karaoke in Stardust and laughing my arse off. Meeting a new person, who was there and then was gone. Selling all my books. Putting my hand on a bible and swearing allegiance to Queen and Country. Leaving Cape Town for the last time and feeling a pang of, now what? Kayaking on the lagoon in Maputo. Eating my weight in prawns. Bribing our way over the border. Getting my passport. Phoning The Sister to tell her I'll be arriving the day after tomorrow. Getting a taxi all the way from Heathrow to Reading, because I was that desperate to just get going. Surprising The Mother and The Father. Meeting Jamie for the first time and him holding out his arms for me to pick him up. Waking up with pins and needles, and thinking that's weird. Going for the interview in London and thinking, that's the job. Commuting for hours and hours and hours and hours, through the longest winter of my life. Watching the doctors put electrodes on my feet and trying to get a nerve reaction. Thinking: uh oh. Getting a diagnosis. Being more freaked out than anticipated. Living with a psycho bitch. Seeing Counting Crows and Goo Goo Dolls in Hyde Park. Moving into my own flat. Buying up books to replace the ones I sold. Having The Best Friend visit for a lovely long holiday. Being done, done, done with the magazine. Having consolatory margheritas with Hayley. Getting the Perfect Job. Having the the Perfect Job go under. See The Hellmouth for the first time and think: uh oh. Sit at Retail Company and bang head against desk repeatedly. Doing many, many, many crosswords. Doing the reading at The Sister and The BIL's wedding and making it all the way to the end before losing my composure completely. Still being at Retail Company and slowly losing the will to live. Saying goodbye. Having Jamie tell me: "Auntie Elize, I luff you." Going to see The Lion King, and drinking far too much red wine with Hayley. Watching food porn. Buying a car. Going for the interview at University. Getting the job.

And here I am. In this moment.

Book Meme

Take the nearest book next to you and answer the following questions:

(I really should have done this meme earlier this week, when I was reading something slightly more edifying.)

Title and Author:
True Betrayals by Nora Roberts

Is the book dedicated to anyone? If so, whom?
To Phyllis Grann and Leslie Gelbman

What is the first sentence?
When she pulled the letter from her mailbox, Kelsey had no warning it was from a dead woman.

Turn to page 47. Please share the first sentence of the first full paragraph.
"Miss Naomi's down to the stables."

A very, very long time ago

When I was about four or five, we lived in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t even in the middle of nowhere, it was on the dim outskirts of nowhere, at the end of a dirt road going to the middle of nowhere.

I couldn’t be further from this place if I tried, but for some odd reason, the smell of Buckinghamshire in May is giving me olfactory nostalgia. There’s this insistent scent of mown grass, daisies, slow moving water, and, perhaps most mystifying of all, pomegranates.

Pomegranates.

Inexplicable.

The Lego Gasman Cometh

Long December

Spring, originally uploaded by liz_isabella.

"I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself to hold onto these moments as they pass." Counting Crows - Long December

Bridging the gap

Sometimes I wish I was a character in a book that I was reading. It would be so much easier to see, in black and white, what people are thinking. What they see when they look at you. It would be so much easier to live up to other people's expectations if I could see them written down - it would be so much easier to live up to my own expectations then too.

I write so many scenes in my head, and have so many conversations with people there - people I know, and people I've made up. If you know me in life, you've probably featured in something I've dreamed up. I argue with people there, and laugh with them, and tell them I love them, or I hate them, or I admire them, or I never want to speak to them again.

And then I meet them in the here and now, and they're real people, with their own inner lives.

And once again I'm left with the feeling that the older we get, the more like islands we become.

Quietly sealing parts of ourselves off from the outside, lest we lose them forever.

Notes from the peanut gallery

I fully cop to the fact that I'm...well, not a political geek, but a "way things work and seeing these things acted out in front of me" geek. So I've been in my element this last week. First voting, which I love to do, and then watching the results come in, which is always enjoyable, and then seeing the politicians and media handle the hung parliament, which was fascinating.

And in spite, or maybe because of, the coalition - although we don't know all the details yet, and I reserve the right to change my mind later this week - I'm glad I voted for the LibDems. I've been impressed with the way Nick Clegg has handled himself (although I was unimpressed by the fact that they had been having talks with Labour, that didn't sit well).

This has been my first real exposure to an election process here. Shortly after I moved here, Tony Blair resigned and Gordon Brown stepped in. I wasn't working at that point and I watched BBC news as they followed the new cabinet walking up Downing Street. The names were totally unfamiliar, the process was totally unfamiliar. Who were these people? Did I like them? Did I know what they stood for? What came next?

And slowly the names became familiar. Their policies and foibles and fights and tiffs became familiar. And suddenly I know what's going on. Kind of. I'm still only half guessing on a lot of it, and parliamentary politics is complicated, but it's nice to feel a little more a part of the country. It makes it a little more like home.

Which is a little sad in it's own way, because no matter how much I read News24 and the M&G, it's hard to stay on top of what's going on politically in SA. I do try, but I think so much of politics is context. Have I lost my context? That remains to be seen.

It all remains to be seen.

In the long twilight

, originally uploaded by liz_isabella.

Wood blewits

Wood blewits, originally uploaded by liz_isabella.

Hanging on to the light

Every year I'm surprised by the change in light, how the day hangs on until the last possible moment.

An old song, rediscovered

Music from the wildnerness

My Zen-like Friend is off in the wilds of Devon, living the perfect life.

This is my favourite of his recent musical offerings.

You can listen to it here.

I admit it

I was HOPING for a hung parliament, just so I could see what would happen next.

It's like an experiment in parliamentary politics!

Except that the Torys' spending cuts scare me.

And I depend on the NHS quite heavily.

And, um, my job depends quite heavily on HEFCE funding.

And I worry that Nick Clegg won't be strong enough to hold off Cameron strong-arming.

Oh my God! What have I done?!

Random arguments

I was just remembering an ongoing argument we used to have with The Father when we got old enough to make our own sandwiches for school. Well, The Sister used to make sandwiches, I didn't bother. He used to get very het up about how she cut "doorstops" and "how would that look".

I wonder if he even remembers that argument.

Dear Nora Roberts

I don't know about this whole quartet thing. Savour the Moment wasn't bad. I mean, I don't think you could write a crappy book. And I was very excited to read this one, so I guess I am invested in the series. But to be honest, I'm not deep down feeling the characters. I'm curious to see what you're going to do with the last book, and I'll probably read this one again, because you are rereadable. I don't know. I just don't think this was your best.

I've got my eyes peeled for your next standalone though. Search and rescue dogs? Yeah, there's a tearjerker waiting to happen.

Don't you wish things were different?

But then nothing would be the same.

Hmmmm

The fence around my front yard is gone. When did that happen?

There are days

There are days when I can only think of
You.

There are days that begin with the thought of
You,

And end with the remembered
moments
places
glances
times
(so few, really).

(isn't that sad?).

And I talk to You in the dark.
In whispers that only my Soul can hear.

(isn't that sad?).

The September Issue

I really wanted to see The September Issue when it was in cinemas but I managed to miss it. I found it on DVD today and it was a really interesting perspective on Vogue and the world of fashion. It's not a world I tend to inhabit or find particularly interesting. What was interesting was seeing how they came up with ideas for shoots and designs, and how those ideas were carried out. I do wonder about the more editorial side though, because the film really focussed heavily on the images and designs. Although that said, isn't that the base of Vogue?

One thing that did jump out at me though was that this is a magazine driven by some insanely strong, ambitious women. I think I'd find them terrifying on a daily basis!

I really like fly on the wall documentaries, and this one was a lot of fun. It almost makes me want to buy a copy of Vogue. Almost.

Getting old

I went to a surprise party yesterday for one of my good friend's 30th birthday. Her husband invited us all to a really great restaurant and then we did the "surprise!" part and ate a lot of food and drank some really nice red wine and had champagne. And as I was sipping my champagne I realised that I was the only single person there.

In the day to day, my oneness doesn't really cross my mind to be honest, although just lately, with so much going on, and so many new discoveries I've made, and places I've gone, and great meals I've eaten, it sometimes strikes me that it would be pretty nice to share them with a plus one!

But back the restaurant, where I'm choking on my champagne. Yes, I think that it's the time in my life I'm hitting now. I really am getting old.