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hathycolSo, I've tried to write this post three times now and the window keeps on randomly shutting. There are no words for how much I hate this bloody computer. However, omg! The Sound Of Drums! GALLIFREYAN ROBES MOTHERFUCKERS. Of all the bits of Gallifrey that just got canonical, that was my favourite bit. Jesus, but I'm lame.
Erm, yes, anyway. I'm back in Ormskirk (and back at work; today I freaked out which is an amusing story for the end of this post) but I have been tremendously busy albeit not very important. However, I can finally do my trick of arsing around on the internet and tell you about my exciting life. I'm sure you're all transfixed.
Go and see it. Seriously. Just do. I may have broken a rib laughing. It doesn't just repeat all the old jokes from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, upon which it is loosely based - it changes the context, adds many more humourous songs, puts it more into today's times and generally is possibly the most enjoyable two hours of all time. It is physically impossible not to laugh. I can't decide what my favourite part was - although the fact that they did go to Camelot, and it was a very silly place rates highly
So Simon and I wandered home through a slowly dimming London, hand-in-hand past the Wicked cast giving out autographs (I thought of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spockette and smiled) and generally felt wonderful.
I do so love London. We went to Camden the next day, drinking tea in the bright sunshine and having great fun people watching and browsing stalls (well, I had fun and Simon obliged me). I like people watching. I like just wandering around and seeing people interact and how they dress and walk and talk. In another life I think I was maybe an anthropologist; it's certainly part of history I really enjoy.
What worried me a little, though, were all the security announcements. It was... I don't know. They're a part of life, yes, fair enough, but when did we get to the point where it bcame common place? When you stop and listen to them, they are terror-mongering. Deliberately so, in my opinion, encouraging us to report 'suspicious behaviour' to the police. And I know that's probably a good thing, but allowing the police to have a go at a suspicious person always seem a bit... well... suspicious to me. It reminded me of the sort of post-apocolyptic British film - Children of Men or something.
But still. Spamalot! Go and see! Cry with laughter!
Erm, yes. After that, I came home. Well, there was a gap of two days but none of that is for this audience.
Anyway, home on Thursday and off to a wedding on Friday. This was the wedding of an old friend from college, Sasha, who I haven't see for about a year now. There was a group of us who were friends in college, known genially as the A15 crew; due to distances, I haven't seen all of them for a year and only a couple more regularly, generally the ones on my side of Wigan. So I was nervous; that no one would remember me, that we wouldn't have the same rapport. We've all changed; I'm marrying a bloke, whilst two of the Determindedly Hetrosexual Girls have become a couple, and we've all got cars, and some of us have mortgages, and hey, one of us was getting married.
It was a little scary. We all looked a bit different, a bit older, but in the end, we have a roaringly good time. The marriage itself was lovely - Sasha looked beautiful - but none of the A15 crew (can we be that anymore if the room has been destroyed?) were invited to the wedding breakfast. The evening do was at 6.30 but the wedding was done by midday.
So all of us went for a meal instead, and told stupid stories, and cried with laughter at some point, and ate far too much, and all got lost in what may have been the worst convoy in the history of ever. Typically it was me, who didn't know the area at all, who managed to get cut off from the five cars in front. Argh!
But yes, a fabulous time, and we all danced like it was, er, 2005, at the evening do. It was a shame I had to leave early.
So, my summer holidays became. Y HELO THAR FULL TIME EMPLOYMENT. Of all the things I could freak out at - they are multiple and involve MRSA amongst other things - I did remarkably well today. What caused the problem?
Well. I go into B's room, and she's a lovely woman who just needs me to pass her thinfs and sorts herself out, which is marvellous for me. I pass her the towels, and she says "Oooh, love, there's a spider or something on that."
I have an issue with spiders. Quite big issues, involving screaming and hiding and making other people help me out. However, I assumed it was a little one and tried to quell the rising nausea. As I turn it around, one of the big brown house-spiders - you know, size of the palm of your hand and scuttles in that hideous way - leaps up the towl at me. I fling it away, and, determined not to make a prat of myself, say in an increasingly high-pitched voice "I'm just going to take my shoes off and kill it," wondering if I was, in fact, going to throw up or just sweat out my internal organs through sheer mind-numbing fear. It was LOOKING at me. It scuttled a bit more menacingly.
"Just brush it onto the floor, it's unlucky to kill spiders!" she tells me happily. I give in and say - all in what was a high but calm voice - "I'm really sorry, B, but I can't cope with this. I'll be back in a second."
I ran for it, and luckily bumped into not, say, Matron or a senior nurse, but a fellow carer. "K!" I wailed. "I know this is pathetic but there's a spider on the towl and it's really big and I'm really phobic and I'm sorry but I can't deal!"
K, God love her, goes in, shoos it out of a window, and comes out. She proceeded to make me sit down, saw how pale I was, made me put my head between my legs and then gave me some water because she thought I was about to pass out. Actually, just thinking of it again, I feel a bit faint, but I got back in there and did my job admirably, still sweating profusely.
After that, to be honest, all the manky stuff and the sad stuff and the depressing stuff seemed okay because at least no one people scuttle at you.
And now I am going to go away and watch a film on telly or something because I am working again tomorrow. No spiders though. I hope. If there are, I'm quitting.
Erm, yes, anyway. I'm back in Ormskirk (and back at work; today I freaked out which is an amusing story for the end of this post) but I have been tremendously busy albeit not very important. However, I can finally do my trick of arsing around on the internet and tell you about my exciting life. I'm sure you're all transfixed.
Go and see it. Seriously. Just do. I may have broken a rib laughing. It doesn't just repeat all the old jokes from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, upon which it is loosely based - it changes the context, adds many more humourous songs, puts it more into today's times and generally is possibly the most enjoyable two hours of all time. It is physically impossible not to laugh. I can't decide what my favourite part was - although the fact that they did go to Camelot, and it was a very silly place rates highly
So Simon and I wandered home through a slowly dimming London, hand-in-hand past the Wicked cast giving out autographs (I thought of
spockette and smiled) and generally felt wonderful. I do so love London. We went to Camden the next day, drinking tea in the bright sunshine and having great fun people watching and browsing stalls (well, I had fun and Simon obliged me). I like people watching. I like just wandering around and seeing people interact and how they dress and walk and talk. In another life I think I was maybe an anthropologist; it's certainly part of history I really enjoy.
What worried me a little, though, were all the security announcements. It was... I don't know. They're a part of life, yes, fair enough, but when did we get to the point where it bcame common place? When you stop and listen to them, they are terror-mongering. Deliberately so, in my opinion, encouraging us to report 'suspicious behaviour' to the police. And I know that's probably a good thing, but allowing the police to have a go at a suspicious person always seem a bit... well... suspicious to me. It reminded me of the sort of post-apocolyptic British film - Children of Men or something.
But still. Spamalot! Go and see! Cry with laughter!
Erm, yes. After that, I came home. Well, there was a gap of two days but none of that is for this audience.
Anyway, home on Thursday and off to a wedding on Friday. This was the wedding of an old friend from college, Sasha, who I haven't see for about a year now. There was a group of us who were friends in college, known genially as the A15 crew; due to distances, I haven't seen all of them for a year and only a couple more regularly, generally the ones on my side of Wigan. So I was nervous; that no one would remember me, that we wouldn't have the same rapport. We've all changed; I'm marrying a bloke, whilst two of the Determindedly Hetrosexual Girls have become a couple, and we've all got cars, and some of us have mortgages, and hey, one of us was getting married.
It was a little scary. We all looked a bit different, a bit older, but in the end, we have a roaringly good time. The marriage itself was lovely - Sasha looked beautiful - but none of the A15 crew (can we be that anymore if the room has been destroyed?) were invited to the wedding breakfast. The evening do was at 6.30 but the wedding was done by midday.
So all of us went for a meal instead, and told stupid stories, and cried with laughter at some point, and ate far too much, and all got lost in what may have been the worst convoy in the history of ever. Typically it was me, who didn't know the area at all, who managed to get cut off from the five cars in front. Argh!
But yes, a fabulous time, and we all danced like it was, er, 2005, at the evening do. It was a shame I had to leave early.
So, my summer holidays became. Y HELO THAR FULL TIME EMPLOYMENT. Of all the things I could freak out at - they are multiple and involve MRSA amongst other things - I did remarkably well today. What caused the problem?
Well. I go into B's room, and she's a lovely woman who just needs me to pass her thinfs and sorts herself out, which is marvellous for me. I pass her the towels, and she says "Oooh, love, there's a spider or something on that."
I have an issue with spiders. Quite big issues, involving screaming and hiding and making other people help me out. However, I assumed it was a little one and tried to quell the rising nausea. As I turn it around, one of the big brown house-spiders - you know, size of the palm of your hand and scuttles in that hideous way - leaps up the towl at me. I fling it away, and, determined not to make a prat of myself, say in an increasingly high-pitched voice "I'm just going to take my shoes off and kill it," wondering if I was, in fact, going to throw up or just sweat out my internal organs through sheer mind-numbing fear. It was LOOKING at me. It scuttled a bit more menacingly.
"Just brush it onto the floor, it's unlucky to kill spiders!" she tells me happily. I give in and say - all in what was a high but calm voice - "I'm really sorry, B, but I can't cope with this. I'll be back in a second."
I ran for it, and luckily bumped into not, say, Matron or a senior nurse, but a fellow carer. "K!" I wailed. "I know this is pathetic but there's a spider on the towl and it's really big and I'm really phobic and I'm sorry but I can't deal!"
K, God love her, goes in, shoos it out of a window, and comes out. She proceeded to make me sit down, saw how pale I was, made me put my head between my legs and then gave me some water because she thought I was about to pass out. Actually, just thinking of it again, I feel a bit faint, but I got back in there and did my job admirably, still sweating profusely.
After that, to be honest, all the manky stuff and the sad stuff and the depressing stuff seemed okay because at least no one people scuttle at you.
And now I am going to go away and watch a film on telly or something because I am working again tomorrow. No spiders though. I hope. If there are, I'm quitting.
