Diary of a Suburban Squeen

I write this sitting on the sofa. Which is less interesting, I grant you, than some other literary openings. Anyway, so much has happened for me to tell you all about, that I'm bound to leave everything interesting out. However, I will try my best, sadly hampered by the fact that I'm about to explode from an excess of chicken korma (mmm, chicken korma).

1. I can't remember whom I have previously button-holed on the subject of chicken korma. If it was you, I apologise. As PG Wodehouse so perspicaciously pointed out once, it is so difficult to know how to pitch your tale, when there is the possibility that bod A may know more of the story than bod B. Anyway, I have never really cooked a curry or anything like it, so it was with some trepidation that I embarked upon a recipe for c.k. that Emma gave me, but it turned out OK and I have now cooked it approximately fourteen times in the last week. Next stop: thai chicken curry, which I love but which I have, again, never cooked.

2. Do any more northerly folk know what's going on at the Tesco-roundabout-end of the Chesterfield bypass? They demolished the glassworks there ages ago, but apparently they're now building a giant (new) Tesco there, and there are rumours that there's going to be a bit of football stadium action on the remaining land - that's going to bugger up the traffic nicely come match days.

3. In re release of Lockerbie bomber as what is dying fairly imminently, WTF FBI man? Scotland's case, Scotland's jurisdiction, Scotland's decision. Fuck off out of it.

4. I'll stop waffling now and get to the nub of LIFE and the only topic about which anyone will have any interest. I'm sure you will all be delighted to hear that my hair has faded quite a lot, and although it is still massively, stupidly red, I no longer look like Jane Goldman, so yay. Also, Helen cut me a bob, which is ACE and also AWESOME (even though Pim's bathroom was apparently covered in my hair for quite some time EVEN THOUGH I totally tidied up after myself).

5. So, ja, the other weekend, I went to Helen's, and we hung out being ineffectual together, and then we went to Pimly's, where she cooked us Mexican lasagna (always a treat, and who knew Nellie Dean could even cook?! I thought she lived on scraps...) and we watched St Trinian's and Mamma Mia - frankly, what could be more glorious? What indeed? I hear you say. And, as mentioned, Helen cut my hair, which was a TRIUMPH because she is unexpectedly skilled in that arena. &Helen;

6. Subsequently, Pim and I went out to dinner at that gourmet institution that is Pizza Express. I had - no, wait for it - chicken caesar salad! I know! *makes I-know face* Who saw that coming? Service was fairly rubbish, as per, but we had a nice meal and chatted and bitched, and then wandered down the South Bank (which may well be MY FAVOURITE PLACE IN THE WHOLE WORLD) to the National, where we sat on the giant grass furniture and met Katherine and brushed our hair like land-locked mermaids and had ice lollies and chatted. All vee nice. We were, however, saddened by the absence of Kathryn, who blew us off for COLLEAGUES SHE PRESUMABLY SEES ALL THE TIME. Pah.

7. The day after that was Thursday (an accurate timeline is crucial), which was my last day at work that week. Now, we have a thing at work where, when it's someone's birthday, we bring in food AS A SECRET and have a little lunch party. However, Emma and I are the only ones who have ever arranged this, and as Emma's last day had been the Wednesday, I was not expecting lunch. We continued our hilarious file purge in the morning, and then I was called into the office in a tiny emergency TO FIND THEY'D DONE ME LUNCH ANYWAY! Woo! It was so exciting! Also, Cath had bought me a bottle of No 6 Pimm's (a sort of Pimm's No 1/vodka hybrid which turns out to be DELISH). All in all, a good day.

8. On Friday, after getting up ridiculously early to pack and blow dry my hair and such like, I bopped to Victoria to meet Katherine and Pim and wend our way up to Chesterfield, where the CBB Summer Frolick was - well, actually not scheduled to take place. It was to take place in Barlborough, the village where my parents live. The mater (eventually) picked us up and we went to Sainsbury's where Katherine shopped for Frolick food and Pim and I wandered around and bought clothes and stuff. Went home and then OHNOES! TRAGEDY! Katie was cutting short her holiday to come up to the old borough of Barl, and had booked her ticket from Cornwall to Sheffield, but tragedy had struck! Fearful traffic along the byways of the west country! No train catching! No movement of any kind! EPIC SADFACES ACROSS THE LAND. In the end, she had to give up the Sheffield plan and buy a ticket back to London. I will not lie. There was a tiny crystalline single emo tear*. Anyway, as luck and the script would have it, I managed to find a relatively decent ticket for London-Doncaster on the Saturday morning, and, with a bit of (FRANKLY GENIUS) jiggery-pokery, I booked it for her. \o/

9. On Friday evening, we had savoury pancakes and my parents were ridic. I love them. They're awesome. Also, on a similar note, Pim and I suspect that our mothers may actually be THE SAME WOMAN. Have you ever seen them in a hospital together? Have you? I didn't think so. I mean, we always knew there was the daughters-of-NHS-managery-women bond between us, but even so...

10. Saturday! Frolick! Tiny plastic Jesus watched over us all, and the Frolick went according to plan (except for the bit where I kept leaving out bits of activity, but that happens with the most well-regulated frolicks). Katie arrived sans problem. The Little School even had a cake stand for all Katherine's cupcakes (lemon cakes = delicious beyond measure). I made quiches.

11. DONNA BOUGHT ME A TINY PLASTIC JIM KIRK! BEST PRESENT EVER! HE IS MY TINY PLASTIC LOVERRRRRRRR! I LOVE HIM!

12. Saturday PM: back to the homestead, and time to open presents! Woo! I was in receipt of a tea towel (a present classic), a giant Cornwall pencil, a thing to make Virgin Mary toast, two pairs of Holy Socks AND PIM KNITTED ME A SHATNER!FACE! YES! YOU HEARD ME RIGHT! AN ACTUAL, HONEST-TO-GOD SHATNER!FACE, LIKE SHE SWORE SHE WOULDN'T! (Yeah, she's weak. Exploit her, people.) IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL I DIDN'T EVEN HAVE WORDS! I LOVE YOU, NELLIE!! Also, Katie made me a birthday card that had me and Jim sailing down an Amsterdam canal, while Spock watched us go, his left eyebrow a picture of emo woe. Fucking beautiful. I love my friends. Then Daddy made us his chicken curry thing, which is always yum, and Katie and I tidied the kitchen and went to bed. A smashing day.

13. Right. Sunday. Got up, had some orange juice and a tea cake. Had a shower. Faffed. Katie and I went to the station with Katherine and Pim and bid them adieu, then Mummy took us on to Grandma's, where I had more presents, and enjoyed Grandma being as ridiculous as ever. Then Chris turned up and there was a bit of chatting, and then we went down the road to see Grandpa, who was much as ever, though he'd managed to bash himself up a bit falling down the drive. Went in the garden to admire decking and fish - all vee nice, actually. We went home and had some lunch, then Mummy took us to Sheffield to catch the old coach back to London. We had a surprisingly smooth, un-awful journey. Had a bit of tea (God's honest pork pie, some tomatoes, some Babybel, some pickled onion Monster Munch, and an apple). Got home not too late, all in all. So, that was my weekend.

Anyway, that's about it. Not much else to report.

In Conclusion

Item: I am in possession of one (1) tiny plastic Jim Kirk and one (1) knitted Shatner!face.
Item: I have new short hair.
Item: I have, this very moment, been outbid on the chest of drawers I want. Damn you, eBay, damn you!
Item: Chicken korma rocks.

Addendum: My little brother, who works for Accenture, has just had a promotion and a 25% pay increase! I am very proud of him, and also very envious! Still, he's been working ridiculous hours, so I think I'd rather have my poorer paying much less working job!




* This is, in fact, a lie.

What ho, peeps! This is just to remind Chalet School people who may have missed the joyous news that there will be a CBB Summer Frolick on 22 August in Barlborough (NE Derbyshire). There will be cake and quiche and jolly games and quizzes etc, and the day should be delightful. Spread the happy word... *g*

For more details, see the thread on the CBB or ask me (Frolick Now; Ask Me How).

Last night, Katie, Emma and I went to see Snakes on a Train at the Bad Film Club. So, yeah. There were snakes. On a train. Involved in some barely explained Mayan curse. There was also a drug-smuggling subplot that made little sense, and at the end the woman turned into a giant snake and ate the train. Good times.

In other news, I go on holiday on Sunday!!! I am sure you have all been on tenterhooks waiting to hear about the ticket situation, but rest assured it has all been resolved, by dint of me ringing the train company and LYING with neither blush nor shame. I will be picking them up at Paddington on Saturday (a day early, mark you, in case of any problems – how practical am I?) and all will be well. Holidays!! Currently I am trying to work out how many books I can take. Normally, of course, I’d take a dozen or so, but I am hampered these days by having to take the tiny tiny shiny laptop, phone, MP3 player, and, more to the point, all their respective chargers and cables etc. So, what with them and some clean knickers, I’ll be lucky to have space for any books. Ho hum. I will think of something.

In other news, my black nail varnish is chipping and I didn’t have time (OK, whatevs, I forgot) to do it last night. I look like a Gothy tramp. Must remember to do that this evening.

So, I’ve been watching some original series Star Trek (always a treat). I watched Amok Time and heard, for what would have been the first time ever, the magic words ‘pon far’. Little did the random bloke who came up with this meaningless collection of letters imagine the impact it would have on fandom, I’m sure. However, I was telling Emma and Katie about that particular episode on the train home last night, and about T’Pring challenging etc, and Spock giving her to Stonn, and Katie remarked upon the total gender fail! in the concept.

Which leads me to a fic rec. Or, rather, an author rec. Pat Foley has a series of Amanda/Sarek-centric fic on her ffnet page and her own fic page (link on the ffnet page). I read these stories quite a long time ago, and have been re-reading them in light of my renewed Star Trek love. They look at Sarek and Amanda’s relationship, their relationships with Spock, T’Pau, the rest of Vulcan society, and the press, amongst others. It’s not always easy reading, because the author really highlights the point that although, as Human and Vulcan, Amanda and Sarek have a lot in common, and are happy in their marriage, there are massive differences in their cultural backgrounds and cultural understanding that cause huge problems, chief of which is how husband and wife interact, and how a wife should submit to her husband. The idea that, due to biological imperatives, a Vulcan wife must be submissive, or at least passive, with regard to her husband, is interestingly explored, particularly because that is so contrary to Amanda’s character and background. I would really, really recommend all her fic, but please note that while some of it is normal gen, even a bit fluffy, some of it could be a bit distressing in terms of sexual themes. But yes, very good, and really fleshes out Vulcan society and characters. Ace work. (Also, she has an indulgently good H/C story where Spock turns into a kid and McCoy has to look after him. Spock joins the Pony Club!!)

CBB Summer Frolick

However, enough of such fol-de-rol! Frolick time! CBB peeps who haven’t been on the board, the Summer Frolick this year is taking place on 22 August in Derbyshire and it’s going to be AWESOME. Maybe even AWESOME SQUARED. The programme and venue details are in the Gathering forum, so bop along. To the forum. But to the Frolick, too. Frolick FTW!

Saturday (contd)

(f) Afternoon Craftiness

We got back just in time to start the afternoon’s activity (creating costumes and scenery for skits), which I SKIVED ENTIRELY due to nervous exhaustion from organising stuff (I am not a natural organiser (as if people hadn’t noticed)). Helen and I went upstairs and ate petits filous whilst spying on people from the window overlooking the hall, which was highly entertaining. Rosie joined us briefly on her voyage to scavenge foliage. There was much giggling. Helen and I, both being THE WORLD’S HUGEST DRAMA QUEENS, should in fact repel each other utterly, but it seems to work OK. After that, we wandered around a bit, and eventually made our way to the Gentian dormitory where Katie was having a little sleepy, and we lay around and watched Bones and were generally idle and snoozy until dinner time beckoned.

(g) Evening Larking

Dinner was to be interleaved the plays (dinner theatre, alive and well in Milton Keynes). Tables were arranged in a suitable fashion and we bagsied one IN AN INCREDIBLY EMBARRASSING DISPLAY OF THIRTEEN YEAR OLD BEHAVIOUR for which I am suitably shamed.

{i} Why did old girls stop sending their daughters to the CS?
Dominatrices at the Chalet School: whips, neon pink net and Pim prancing around with a multi-purpose red beard. It were beautiful.

{ii} Lady Acetylene Lampe
Home to the best scenery ever, which we STOLE and are planning to put up behind the front door at FT. Seriously, it’s gorgeous. Plus, Heather’s St Bernard got a work-out…

{iii} The torrid affair of Miss Annersley and Commander Christie…
This was a tiny bit hilarious (as indicated by the fact they won). Katherine (in a Naval uniform and beard) and Rosie (in the ubiquitous mortar board) whispered sweet nothings in a comedy restaurant, with some inspired silent film-esque narration. How we all laughed, though I’m not aware of anyone weeping gently or sliding off their chair.

{iv} What did Captain Carrick do to make India too hot for him?
Kill Reepicheep, apparently. Puppets and Beth being genius on the organ. It was fabulous, and produced Captain Carrick.

(h) Captain Carrick, and Other Unauthorised Evening Larkings

The most important thing to understand about the rest of the evening is that Kathryn had brought along a bottle of vodka, which our table proceeded to drink in its entirety during the course of the evening. We played Katherine’s Eustacia game (beautifully crafted but slightly confusing once we’d had alcohol) and then moved on to some more impertinent questions (my hair featured heavily, as is only right and proper, as did Helen’s and my respective rights to be considered the queens of drama, not to mention the likelihood of Katherine and Helen having some kind of sapphic cupboard experience, given Helen’s propensity for walking in on naked people), then Captain Carrick joined our merry throng and, being the black sheep that he is, proceeded to wreak havoc in our hearts. We had a bit of tongue action because he loves me best. Helen (WHO IS NOT IN ANYWAY A QUALIFIED COLORECTAL SURGEON) chopped off his bottom and we then abused him as a wine… well a wine-hider, basically.

(i) Helen’s near-death experience

Then Helen CHOKED NIGH UNTO DEATH on water or vodka or life or something, so that was quite funny.

Helen: I am choking nigh unto death on water or vodka or life or something.
Everyone: [ignores]
Helen: [chokes]
Me: Um.
Helen: [chokes]
Me: Are you OK?
Helen: [chokes]
Helen: [flees]
Everyone: [ignores]
Me: [is worried]
Me: Did the satnav choke?

(j) The rest of the evening

We drank more wine and chatted and then Helen and I (being geniuses) made a beautiful sign for Katie that said “Nobody puts The Katie in the corner…” which is funny BECAUSE IT’S A LIE. Kathryn dried it with her hairdryer, and we pinned it up IN HER CORNER. (That was irony.) Probably more stuff happened. We all wound up in Gentian and chatted more and then I very much suspect I fell asleep. This is the end of Saturday.


Still got Sunday to go, but the end is in sight…

Well, golly gee. Have emerged from the other end of the Spring Gather 2009. Woo. I shall now proceed to tell you all about it. Look excited. You know this is going to be a tiny treat.

Friday

(a) Thursday

Well, actually, Thursday evening: Darren came round to collect me and my luggage, Katie’s luggage (well, if a rucksack and sleeping bag can really constitute ‘luggage’) and FIFTY MILLION BOXES OF GATHER CRAP. Returned to chez King, and faffed around quite a bit making door signs (beauteous) and the like. Went to bed.

(b) Bletchley Park

On Friday, we faffed some more and then, once Katherine had arrived, set off for Bletchley Park (where we met Heather and Helen), which was vee interesting apart from the part where we ended up tacked onto the special IBM tour which was filled with slightly strange men in anoraks. Also, I fail at museums, because I hate audioguides, and reading signs and any kind of information. I just like to look (and touch, where possible) and go ooh. Not very educational, but certainly enjoyable. Also, there was a mock up of a 1940s kitchen/living room AND IT HAD A TINY BE-RO BOOK IN IT!!! Awesome. Bought a tiny bit of tat in the gift shop (oh, and spent too much on a very mediocre chilli con carne in the restaurant). Saw the Colossus machine, with a very interesting man talking about it (OK, so real live people talking information at me I can handle), and as with anything to do with the War, I went around feeling a little glow of pride about being British etc.

(c) Fetching Nicola

Towards the end, we managed to lose Kathye and Katherine, get bored, and ended up hanging out in Heather’s car. Then we realised it was time to fetch Nicola from the station. I present an artistic interpretation of the events that followed:

Helen: OMG! Nicola! Let’s go now!!
Me & Heather: Nicola doesn’t even arrive for half an hour.
Helen: Oh.
Helen: OMG! Let’s go now!
Me: The station is literally three minutes away. WE ARE NOT GOING NOW.
Helen: Can we go now?
Me & Heather: Yes, fine, we will go now.
[Three minutes later]
Me: See. Station.
Helen & Heather: Yeah. That’s Bletchley station.
Me: Why, yes, yes it is. Is that not right?
Heather: No, we need Milton Keynes station.
Me: Oh.
Helen: HA HA HA HA!!
Heather: How do we get to Milton Keynes station?
Me & Helen: [look blankly]
Heather: I have satnav!
Helen: I repeat everything the satnav says!
Me: [thinks “ha ha Helen is Tawny Madison” but sadly does not think H or H will appreciate this and says nothing; tells Katie later and she understands and laughs]
Satnav: If you use me while driving, YOU MAY DIE!!! Are you OK with this?
Helen: We are absolutely OK with that, Satnav. You may proceed to direct us to Milton Keynes station.
Satnav: Drive 0.2 miles and turn left.
Heather: Ha! I have already done that. Fail, Satnav!
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the first exit.
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the second exit.
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the third exit.
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the first exit.
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the second exit.
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the third exit.
Me: Does anyone actually know where we are?
Heather: No.
Helen: I’m just repeating everything the satnav says.
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the first exit.
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the second exit.
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the third exit.
Me, Helen & Heather: Milton Keynes sucks.
Me: If we’re even in Milton Keynes.
Helen: I have no idea where we are.
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the first exit.
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the second exit.
Satnav: At the roundabout, take the third exit.
Heather: Ooh! Station!
Me: Ooh! Nicola!
Helen: Ooh! There’s a restaurant that looks like a chocolate box!
Heather: Now, how do we get to Heron’s Lodge?
Me & Helen: We have no knowledge about anything.
Helen: I repeat everything the satnav says. That is my job.
Nicola: [is competent]

(d) More Gatheriness

Um, I’m bored now. More later…

Well, thank heavens that finally actually worked. Rah.

So, yes. CBB Raffle of Chalet School/Girlsown books and stuff. Website is here: Sale of Works. Go, look, buy tickets. Follow instructions carefully because I can't be arsed to chase the stupid. It is in aid of the British Red Cross Australian bush fires appeal. Please pimp anywhere and everywhere you think people may be interested.

If you would like to donate any items, please check out the website and email me.

Boo. It's me. And my hair. (Quite smooth today; I blow dried it.) Once again, I have come on to LJ and then felt completely disinclined to write anything, but here goes. So, um. Yes. New phone. It's shiny and ace and takes photos and everything. I love it quite a lot already.

Jade is going back to Australia after Christmas. I am vee sad about this. *sad face*

Went into Sheen this morning and bought milk and bread and mourned (again) the loss of Woolworths. Why did they close it? Why? (OK. Recent events make that question fairly redundant, but whatever.) Particularly vexing because (a) I broke our whisk and planned to replace it there and (b) our most excellent Woolworths-bought chopping knife has disappeared and I need to replace that too.

Weather was lovely today. Afternoon, I met Jess at Brentford and we tooled along to Staines for Kathye's Christmas gather, which was extremely and also very lovely. Leek and potato soup. Yum. Plan on making that tomorrow, what with plentitude of both leeks and potatoes in FT at the moment. Also maybe celeriac soup. There will be much soup in our future. We could do with a larger freezer. Tant pis.

At Kathye's, Hannah was unfeasibly adorable. I am well on the way to making her think I am AN ACTUAL STAR. Heh. Megan is still not convinced that I am not going to be a Russian queen. I am a little bit naughty. *cheery smile* In more distressing news, some bright sparks thought it would be HIGH-LAR-IOUS to stick about three million knitting needles IN MY HEAD and then see how many could be removed before my hair fell down. Katie filmed it for the mind of the posterity (or for the mind of the film project for my grandparents' Christmas present, whatevs).

Off to Xanthe's for her birthday party tomorrow. Or off to Xanthe's church hall, at any rate.

Sainsbury's last night. I saw a trashy magazine with the following cover:



"Daddy sent me from HEAVEN" What. The. Fuck?! If I may extrapolate from this headline, I assume this woman's partner died and then she had his baby. Vee sad. But I reiterate: what. The. Fuck? Could that be any more arse-cringingly sentimentally twaddlish? Daddy and Mummy loved each other in a special way had sex and then Daddy went to play with the angels died and you were brought home by the stork were born. Daddy did not, in fact, send you from heaven.

Well, this weekend has been quite jolly, all things considered. Went shopping on Saturday and Sunday and spent far too much money, but have acquired some new shoes, a new floaty white nightie (thank heavens, frankly – I have been in deepest mourning since my last one died, and they’re like hens’ teeth), some books (natch), a new woolly jumper (let us all embrace the UNI QLO sale), a random woolly sleeveless cardigan thing from GAP, which I am not quite sure about yet, and various kitcheny things. I am now, obviously, poor like yonder church mouse and will be whinging about such poverty for the rest of February, cheerfully ignoring the fact that it’s entirely my own fault for SPENDING ALL MY MONEY SO I HAVE NONE LEFT.

In domestic matters, I changed my bedlinen, made some mini quiches (as you do), some squash and sweet potato soup, some blueberry muffins and some LEMON CURD which was very exciting indeed, and is quite tasty. We will be eating it ad nauseam this week, as it doesn’t keep. Tonight, I am making pie (chicken, leek, and possibly mushroom), as Chris and Bex are coming for dinner. Also stitched up the buttonholes on the back of my apricot silk blouse so they don’t come undone when I move my arms, leading to indecency and disarray. Did no tidying: my room is again a tip.

In other news, I had the most hilarious email from some disaffected member of the CBB who was apparently outraged on being asked to change the size of his sig:

Delete my details from your site please as I no longer wish to be a member of it. I am not taking part in any forum which queries the size of your 'signature' yet allows you to input the details in that size in the first place

Your mods must have nothing better to do with their time.

You needn't bother to reply to this email because I shan't read any response.

I am a member of various other fan sites and have never been asked anything as pathetic as this.

I did bother to reply to his email, but only in a remarkably immature fashion to say, “Suit yourself, sunshine,” which is possibly not what he had in mind.

The board is down at the moment. Entirely my fault - I forgot to update my card details. I will contact the billing bods first thing on Monday morning, and hopefully it will all be sorted by lunch time or so. Sorry about that!

Well, we had a Sunday of televisual delight, in between the inevitable attempts at unpacking. We started off with Wonder Woman whilst eating our lunch, and what a fabulously genius programme that is! We were particularly taken with (a) Wonder Woman’s giant bottom in giant blue knickers, (b) the cards on the screen – “Making their way to the secret Nazi camp…” and (c) the part where a mad German scientist cloned Adolf Hitler. Oh yes. Later in the day we watched a bit of Dawson’s Creek (first series, with the Jann Arden song, and Dawson and Joey Just Being Friends, and Pacey being so… Pacey.) There was a great deal of Pacey love, in fact, and some bonding over the fact that we had both rented The Skulls merely for his presence. Then Doctor Who. How amazingly fantastic have these two episodes been? There were *fabulous*! Better, possibly, even than The Empty Child. Yes, much love there. And finally Katie made good on her threat to make me watch My So Called Life, and we saw the first episode. Good. Grief. It was like a televisual representation of my relationship with my mother. “Yes, you can do that.” “You say that so you can just hold a grudge about it.” Oh, the joys of teenagerdom. And how much did I hate my mother? I mean, it balanced out, because she hated me too. Fortunate, really, that we both got over it.

In other news, the CBB is a bit broken at the moment, but should be working again shortly.