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five toilet rolls!
Dec. 24th, 2009 02:56 pm"Every time we meet up recently, something epic and weird always happens."
"Yeah, I suppose. Tribbles, not a blizzard."
"OH GOD HOW FREAKED OUT WOULD I BE IF IT WAS RAINING TRIBBLES."
The best part was, I actually contemplated what would happen if it did, in fact, rain Tribbles.
To add some context to the sitation:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
loneraven and I are in the same geographical location. This is a rarity, at the moment, so we decided to celebrate it by going to see Ianto Panto. Okay, it was actually called Cinderella but the important part was that it contained Ianto, in a Panto. A panto, or indeed pantomime, is a traditional British hangover of the music halls. There is always a dame of some description, bad singing, and a cry of "IT'S BEHIND YOU!" from the audience. I never went as a child, as my Dad Can't Be Having With Them. (See also: why we never went to Disneyland.) Iona also had no memories of pantomime as a child, so we girded our respective loins and drove out into the dark of Preston to try and find Ianto Panto.
We survived the cold, and even managed to find a parking space, after getting epically lost (my fault) and then we got lost again trying to find the theatre, which has to be a new low even for us. Still, we made it in just as the lights wee going out and settled down for pantomime. Personally, I didn't know what to expect, and I was very alarmed by the presence of hordes of BBC Lancashire veterans and someone called Fifi that may or may not be a Flowertot. The small children seemed to love it/him/her I know that much. There seemed to be a distinct lack of Ianto.
BUT I NEEDN'T HAVE PANICKED. Gareth David-Lloyd appeared and lo! he was the best thing in it. I'm not sure if we were meant to be wildly slashing Prince Charming and Dandini, but we were anyway. He was fabulously funny, with floppy hair and pink sparkly outfits and even singing along to High School Musical. Also there was an alternative Twelve Days of Christmas. They should record him singing "five toilet rolls!" and market it because ohemgee best thing ever. I was actually weeping with laughter at points. Plus, the whole cast appeared to have been on the gin over the interval, as one of the ugly sisters fell off a bench. This was an accident. I laughed anyway.
So it was a wonderful night, and full of good cheer we headed out into the night. There was a bit of snow, but nothing to panic about. Then sddenly it began to fall in large, swirling flakes, obscuring the road ahead of me (the road in question was the M6) and forcing all drivers to go slowly through a beautiful but treacherous landscape. I can't thank Iona enough for her patience; she put up with me mildly burbling, and didn't even panic when I had a nasty wheelskid at the bottom of a hill. SHE IS AWESOME IS TRUFAX.
We walked through the virgin snow at midnight, marvelling at how crisp and white it was, and yes, wondering what it would be like if it rained Tribbles. LOOK I'M NOT THE KLINGON IN THIS SCENARIO.
It was just the kind of night I needed, really, as work is kicking my arse. I was meant to finish for Christmas at 2pm on Wednesday; I left work at 4pm, in the end, and went in this morning, too. We've stopped answering the phone, as the abuse really isn't worth it. One man informed me, after I tried desperately to explain that we were getting it out as fast as physically possible and that I was sorry but it as out of my hands, etc, etc, that it was people like me using this kind of excuse that was responsible for THE DECLINE OF THIS NATION. I am responsible for a lot of things, over the last few days, and I have recieved a lot of abuse, but being responsible for THE DECLINE OF THIS NATION is officially my new favourite.
But now, finally, it is Christmas. I have a glorious stretch of time off work, there is food in the house, the turkey is defrosting and the garden is a veritable winter wonderland. I feel... vaguely festive. And sleepy. But, you know, festive.
"Yeah, I suppose. Tribbles, not a blizzard."
"OH GOD HOW FREAKED OUT WOULD I BE IF IT WAS RAINING TRIBBLES."
The best part was, I actually contemplated what would happen if it did, in fact, rain Tribbles.
To add some context to the sitation:
loneraven and I are in the same geographical location. This is a rarity, at the moment, so we decided to celebrate it by going to see Ianto Panto. Okay, it was actually called Cinderella but the important part was that it contained Ianto, in a Panto. A panto, or indeed pantomime, is a traditional British hangover of the music halls. There is always a dame of some description, bad singing, and a cry of "IT'S BEHIND YOU!" from the audience. I never went as a child, as my Dad Can't Be Having With Them. (See also: why we never went to Disneyland.) Iona also had no memories of pantomime as a child, so we girded our respective loins and drove out into the dark of Preston to try and find Ianto Panto.We survived the cold, and even managed to find a parking space, after getting epically lost (my fault) and then we got lost again trying to find the theatre, which has to be a new low even for us. Still, we made it in just as the lights wee going out and settled down for pantomime. Personally, I didn't know what to expect, and I was very alarmed by the presence of hordes of BBC Lancashire veterans and someone called Fifi that may or may not be a Flowertot. The small children seemed to love it/him/her I know that much. There seemed to be a distinct lack of Ianto.
BUT I NEEDN'T HAVE PANICKED. Gareth David-Lloyd appeared and lo! he was the best thing in it. I'm not sure if we were meant to be wildly slashing Prince Charming and Dandini, but we were anyway. He was fabulously funny, with floppy hair and pink sparkly outfits and even singing along to High School Musical. Also there was an alternative Twelve Days of Christmas. They should record him singing "five toilet rolls!" and market it because ohemgee best thing ever. I was actually weeping with laughter at points. Plus, the whole cast appeared to have been on the gin over the interval, as one of the ugly sisters fell off a bench. This was an accident. I laughed anyway.
So it was a wonderful night, and full of good cheer we headed out into the night. There was a bit of snow, but nothing to panic about. Then sddenly it began to fall in large, swirling flakes, obscuring the road ahead of me (the road in question was the M6) and forcing all drivers to go slowly through a beautiful but treacherous landscape. I can't thank Iona enough for her patience; she put up with me mildly burbling, and didn't even panic when I had a nasty wheelskid at the bottom of a hill. SHE IS AWESOME IS TRUFAX.
We walked through the virgin snow at midnight, marvelling at how crisp and white it was, and yes, wondering what it would be like if it rained Tribbles. LOOK I'M NOT THE KLINGON IN THIS SCENARIO.
It was just the kind of night I needed, really, as work is kicking my arse. I was meant to finish for Christmas at 2pm on Wednesday; I left work at 4pm, in the end, and went in this morning, too. We've stopped answering the phone, as the abuse really isn't worth it. One man informed me, after I tried desperately to explain that we were getting it out as fast as physically possible and that I was sorry but it as out of my hands, etc, etc, that it was people like me using this kind of excuse that was responsible for THE DECLINE OF THIS NATION. I am responsible for a lot of things, over the last few days, and I have recieved a lot of abuse, but being responsible for THE DECLINE OF THIS NATION is officially my new favourite.
But now, finally, it is Christmas. I have a glorious stretch of time off work, there is food in the house, the turkey is defrosting and the garden is a veritable winter wonderland. I feel... vaguely festive. And sleepy. But, you know, festive.
