Tiddley-pom

[chaletian]

What I did today: not very much. Certainly not any work. Basically, I spent the day emailing the usual suspects (who don’t seem to have received many of my emails, so I feel a bit like an invisible friend), and spending an ABSOLUTE FORTUNE on Amazon. Fortunately, this means I have made giant strides on the Christmas present front, so I am feeling broke but virtuous. I have spreadsheet for presents and it’s almost starting to look promising. I found a David Lynch film that my father hasn’t got yet, so will be the Best Daughter Ever come Christmas day. Also found a Fannie Flagg Southern Cookbook for my mother, and trust me when I say this will most definitely cement Best Daughter status. With bells on.

Yesterday (just to bop around the space/time continuum a little), we went to Darren’s birthday celebrations, which were very nice (though I borrowed a couple of books, and people kept STEALING them from me, which I think was jolly mean), and I played on the Nintendo (?) bongo drums lots and beat practically all comers – get me. I am a bongo genius!! And it’s not often one gets to write that… Katie and I got quite obsessive in the end (gosh, what a surprise, I hear you say, because we don’t have addictive personalities or anything), and were bongoing away with gusto. At least Richard had more or less given up his back-seat bongoing by then… *g*

Mon petit frere is in Chicago for the next two weeks. Did I mention my envy? Why can’t the NHS send its new employees off for a fortnight’s training in a foreign land? Other than, obviously, the perennial lack of cash.

C. Ah, C. One of the doctors she works for does an undergraduate symposium thing every four months or so, when students have to go round a group of patients and diagnose them. They have three minutes per patient. (Yes, it’s speed medicine!! Must diagnose! Must diagnose!) C rings the 3-minute bell. And, I swear, to hear her talk, you’d think the bell-ringing thing was the most complicated, crucial part of the whole proceeding. I’ve lost count of how many randomly passing doctors she’s informed of her mad bell-ringing skillz. The woman is barking.

Just received an email from FOCS. They have, not surprisingly, decided to pass on my uber-brilliant CS/BtVS crossover drabble. I cannot find it in myself to blame them. I was, however, encouraged to submit something else due to my general brilliance. Yay. So, I should probably WRITE THAT BLOODY GRIZEL ARTICLE! I am such a procrastinator.

Ooh, and some ideas, svp. My paternal grandparents are always a bit tricksy to buy for come yuletide, as they don’t really seem to *do* anything. So I thought, this year, it might be a plan to construct a sort of Christmas hamper type thing (viz, bopping round Waitrose and buying anything that looked nice that they wouldn’t buy normally) and putting it all in a pretty box. I like this plan. However, do any of you have any good ideas about what sort of thing to include in such a beastie?

Comments

[balooky.livejournal.com]

Was it Keeping The Sonnalpe Safe or a completely new one? *hopeful*

Your new layout is lovely.

[mrs-redboots.livejournal.com]

I once bought a Fortnum and Mason hamper for my grandmother which came in a wicker basket. I forget what was in it - I think there was tea, and shortbread, and pate, and half a bottle of champagne, but I can't remember; the point was the basket is still in use - my parents have used it for picnics ever since!

How about filling it with those lovely Christmas cheeses - Wensledale and Cranberry, for instance, or White Stilton and Apricot. Then there is lovely butter - you can get (in Sainsbury's, I don't have a local Waitrose) that wonderful French butter with sea-salt crystals. Then a packet of oatcakes to eat such richness off of from.... and maybe, if you still feel generous, some smoked salmon and/or lumpfish caviar.....

[b-liz.livejournal.com]

I used to buy my Grandma mini jars of jam, because she said it took so long to get through a normal size one, so this gave her more variety rather than strawberry or whatever for however many months.

[xanantha.livejournal.com]

Why can’t the NHS send its new employees off for a fortnight’s training in a foreign land?

They would send you to India to see the people who are doing your jobs (as in, you actual jobs, le typing of NHS letters and so on) over there, in a bid to scare you into accepting less pay or something. Mmm-hmm *nods*