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Sunday, April 2nd, 2006
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10:17 pm - Lent
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This is embarrassing.
If you're the nice anonymous person leaving sweet comments about the blog (or lack of) would you mail me, already? The address is down there on the left, somewhere.
Hell, mail me anyhow.
No, really.
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| Saturday, March 11th, 2006
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5:41 pm - a pause for thought
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I'm just stopping to wonder why on earth I write this. Is it really a good idea?
I'm not so sure at the moment. 
[Edited for clarity]
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| Sunday, March 5th, 2006
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12:24 pm - two things
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1) My next-door neighbours had friends over last night, and whist they weren't exactly loud, whatever they were doing involved almost constant *whooping*. I am still puzzling over what it was. My best guess is currently Irish dancing. I do not think that this is an especially good guess.
2) The new curtains completely transform the downstairs of my house. The old curtains were long and dark, and these are short and light. They're lovely actually; but I'm finding it vaguely unsettling, as though I don't live in *my* house any more.
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| Saturday, March 4th, 2006
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7:53 pm - open or wrapped?
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I'm not exactly sure where this is. Hove, possibly. Jones eventually appeared two hours late this morning (must remember in future to take *two* hours off her given arrival time instead of one) and after I had chided her for a good thirty seconds ('hello darling - you're bloody hopeless, you are')we drove in the general direction of Brighton with the intention of going to a place called Shoreham-by-sea. Which by some odd quirk of fate is not included in the index of my road map. I've wanted to go there ever since I saw a photograph of it on someone's flickr page. It wasn't until we were halfway there that I realised the photo was of wet pebbles and a starfish, which though picturesque is hardly a good measure of what a place will be like (although - starfish...can't really go wrong can you?). We managed to find the place on the map though, and set off with the idea that it was 'slightly to the left of Brighton' . Anyone who knows me well will realise that this is in no way guaranteed that I would turn in the right direction when I got to Brighton; because 'left' depends entirely upon which way up the map happens to be, doesn't it?
By a spectacular stroke of good fortune the M25 was actually flowing, so it took about an hour and a half to get to the outskirts of Brighton, whereapon traffic jam-related panic struck and I hoved off towards Worthing. Jones assured me that this was in fact completely in the opposite direction to Shoreham, so when a signpost appeared I allowed myself a brief moment of triumph. I may even have cheered.
Further small mercies had us stumble vaguely down to the town, to a car pack with actual spaces, and into a chip shop, all with disturbing ease. The appearance of an empty bench in the sun overlooking quaint little bobbing boats had me swearing to buy a lottery ticket tonight (I forgot, dammit). Several charity shops, a chelsea bun and more cups of tea than strictly necessary later, Jones insisted I find her some proper seaside. By this time I had taken to muttering 'passive aggressive' under my breath at her, though in a loving way.
Once again we found beach huts and a parking space with no difficulty. Jones routemarched me up and down the beach ('it's good for you, Emms') while I stumbled about putting stones in my pockets and taking cliched photographs. There was a period of comedy running for which I must take complete credit, though Jones practised more. My performance was so stunning that a small child almost dropped her ice cream: so a job well done, in my opinion. We lay on the shingle and looked at the moon, and then had a stone throwing competition. It was a draw.
A speedy drive back up the motorway and I am home, with achy legs and no real need for dinner. I declare the trip to the seaside a resounding success.
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11:28 am - ooh look, the sun's shining
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Friends for dinner last night, which was lovely - and the good thing about six women eating together is that the clearing up process is extremely painless. Fortunately I wasn't one of the girls who 'wasn't eating' so I have no guilt issues this morning about the fact that my jeans feel a little *tight*. And profiteroles for breakfast is all part of a healthy balanced diet, innit?
We were up til about 2am gossiping and plotting. It's a special skill of teachers that they can talk shop for seven hours, on top of a full day's work. I don't think we talked about anything else all night. If we did no doubt it was food.
All in all a really lovely evening. It turns out that staying up til 2 and drinking twice the normal amount makes seemingly simple tasks like hanging curtains extremely challenging. Still, they're up. Last night John Lewis rang and mollified me by promising to deliver them *early*. Bloody early. I had a wonderful fifteen minutes when I thought I didn't have a hangover because my head hadn't caught up with my body and rushed around opening boxes and tidying up until I wilted in front of the computer and had to go back to bed.
I'm supposed to be going to the seaside with Jones, but she's already an hour and a half late. Bloody students.
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| Friday, March 3rd, 2006
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5:55 pm - kill kill die die slash slash slash
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According to the couriers my curtains got delivered to the branch, because ' we weren't given an address'.
'I gave an address' sez I through gritted teeth.
'You'll have to take that up with the branch, Miz Clark' sez them, cheerily.
I call the branch. I point out that I was there when I gave the order and that I GAVE MY ADDRESS.
'Why yes of course you did, we don't accept orders without an address' sez the branch.
Somebody is shitting me. Who can I hit? Seriously. I've been sitting on my butt here all day waiting waiting waiting and now I really really NEED someone to hit. They stole my day off. They must die.
current mood: really seriously fucking irritated
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12:00 pm - 'oover 'oover 'oover
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I am trapped in the house waiting for a delivery. There is only so much cleaning a girl can do, and really I want to go out to a cafe to draw and drink coffee, and I want to go to the library. Instead I am sitting around contemplating the possibility that I need a new hoover as mine has ceased to suck; and the fact that I may have to wait til 6pm for the van to arrive. Booooh.
IP logging is off. Ask me a question, tell me a secret. Post anonymously. Go on: i'm boored.
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9:03 am - squeak
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Repeat after me: the only good mouse is a dead mouse.
The little bastards have chewed through the bit of wood I blocked up the hole with, and my kitchen is once again under mouse-attack (Who am I kidding - *the* hole? This house is like swiss cheese). I made the ultimate sacrifice last night during the break in my signing class and didn't finish my Kit Kat Chunky so I could bait the mouse trap. The major insult is that the chocolate is still sitting there untouched this morning. My chocolate.
I guess I'll browse the 'used cats' pages again, then.
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| Wednesday, March 1st, 2006
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9:00 pm - a brief moment of grammatical angst
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DJ's, CD's, LSA's aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
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| Monday, February 27th, 2006
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7:31 pm - I watched bad films this weekend
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I was going to write long intelligent reviews but you know what? I can't be arsed. So:
Kinky Boots - ought to have been visually exciting, funny or even romantic but failed, failed, failed.
Millions - ought to have made it's mind up whether to be a heist film, an 'Our Ma's dead' film or a seriously surreal portrait of how primary schools really really aren't. Actually it managed the latter, but who wants to see a film about that?
In other news I finally started to find 24 (series 1) exciting. It's taken 6 episodes. I forsee an evening on the sofa with Keifer. Marvellous.
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