Diary of a Suburban Squeen

What ho, darlings! I feel I should do a proper post, and keep you all enthralled with charming little tales of my recent exploits, but I fear I should find it tedious, so bullet points ahoy!

1. Despite having received some excellent prompts (thank you), and despite having had ideas for all of them, I am no closer to writing fic. Sadfaces. Ah well, it may come to me in time.

2. Dentist again today. Next time I will be getting filled. :-(

3. I have, in the last week, read my GGBP-sale fun-in-the-fourth books, and highly enjoyed them. I read Val Forrest in the Fifth first, which was my least favourite, but only because the other two were so good. I liked the Withers-iness of her lodgings! Then I read Evelyn Finds Herself, which I absolutely adored - definitely the best school story I've ever read. Hearty recommendation to everyone! And then I finished off with The New School and Hilary which was also ace. I now need to find more books by Josephine Elder and Winifred Darch.

4. In that vein, I ended up on the Greyladies website. I want to read all their books! Does anyone have any I can borrow, please?

5. The pater has now flown off to Qatar and will be living there until further notice (for work - he hasn't gone AWOL). Mater bearing up manfully - well, womanfully, really.

6. My brother broke off his engagement, had a relationship with someone else, handed in his notice at work, set up his own business (properly registered at Company House, I am given to understand!), and is trying to work things out with his former fiancée. It is something of a roller coaster.

7. I have two holidays planned this year, and while neither is at all exotic (1. Dorset; 2. Katie's parents in France), I am looking forward to them both tremendously! I also have a "staycation" at the end of April (oh, I can see you all harking back to the glory that was Staycation 2009).

8. I WANT A LITTLE HOUSE IN ROEHAMPTON!

9. I dyed my hair bright red a little while ago. It's like Hitler marching on Moscow...

10. I have some bright yellow ranunculas (?sp) in a vase. They're gorgeous. Also, I invested in some very superior fake flowers in IKEA for my room. I approve.

11. Katie will be home very soon, which means I have to get up and make dinner. I AM COSY. But dutiful (mostly).

12. There is a children's book fair in Bath in April. I shall, I think be going. This is fun. I like Bath. I like children's books. I like April. I cannot lose. *thumbs up*

13. Earlier this year I read Hilary McKay's sequel to A Little Princess, Wishing for Tomorrow. This was ace and people should read it. Ditto Celia Rees' The Fool's Girl, which is about Viola and Orsino's daughter coming with Feste to find Shakespeare to help with a plot to save Illyria, and in the process telling him all about her parents and how they came to meet etc. It was really fab and brilliantly written. Also recommended.

14. I have also read adult books, though none are springing to mind right now.

15. I recently realised that I still haven't read Eva Ibbotson's last book before she died (so sad - she's one of my favourite authors), so that will be a little treat at some point.

16. Theatre: saw The Heretic at the Royal Court on Monday, which was really very good - very funny, and also thinky (you know how I like that), largely about the necessity of Proper Scientific Thinking and not taking anything on faith, or just because Everyone Says. Also saw Becky Shaw (twice) at the Almeida, which I also enjoyed very much. Student production of Arcadia at Westminster School - very good, particularly Bernard and Chater. Hannah was a bit inconsistent (in terms of characterisation rather than acting), and there wasn't really enough distinction between 13-year-old and 16-year-old Thomasina, but overall, vg. And did I mention seeing Hamlet at the National before Christmas? Rather disappointing, anyway. What with that and the godawful All's Well That Ends Well, the National and Shakespeare is not proving a good combination for me. Ooh, speaking of, I see Roger Allam won the Olivier for his Falstaff - jolly well deserved, sir!

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.

Lo, for the wonder of the festive season. Last night we had mashed potatoes. I do like a bit of mashed potato. Sadly I had forgotten to get any leeks (leeks in mashed potato is verily the food of the gods), but c’est la vie. Made stock out of the chicken body and bits, which was quite exciting, though it took three of us to decant. Well, I say three. Katie and Paul did it, and I watched. I also took on an advisory role on Katie’s packing. I felt that I contributed. Had a chat with Grandma (ooh, must remember to post that card…), vee jolly. Rang Chris to make sure he hadn’t taken our request of Yahtzee for Christmas as a joke, and the woolly baa lamb had already bought it for us, so yay. I had my Christmas card from Katie which was a piece of MS Paint-ed Battlestar Galactica genius. Ah, Apollo… Ce soir, I will make hers, and have, I think, a spot of egg-fried rice with spring onion, prawns and leftover chicken, as I will be toute seule. Also need at some stage to wrap my family’s presents, as haven’t done anything about them.

( And thinking on’t, I’d better have a list, because I’m slightly disorganised on that front… )

♥ We were graced with Pim’s company last night, which was vee nice. I made the previously mentioned aubergine and mozzarella penne, though I am struggling with the exact cube size necessary for optimum taste. I think slightly smaller is better. I look forward to my next effort. Katie: I’m planning to do bbq chicken for Friday – please can you remind me to take the chicken out of the freezer ce soir?

♥ I rang up Chris to check he’d been to visit the grandparents, and had a rather disturbing conversation with him viz my entire family is being weird and implody and it’s incredibly crap. And our parents tell us nothing. Nothing at all. Sorry, I don’t really want to go into all the problems, but I did want to go wah, so forgive me if I sound leady and crap.

♥ I have instigated a challenge entirely inside my own mind to write Supernatural (and possibly other fandoms; I shall not at this stage tie myself down) using Babylon 5 ep titles. Which is all well and good, but they’re all slightly, I dunno, suitable for Dean about to die. Basically. The Coming of Shadows. All Alone in the Night. Ship of Tears. Deathwalker. Dust to Dust. I mean, blimey! But I shall carry on regardless.

♥ We’re off to see HIGNFY tonight – huzzah!

♥ I have swapped to decaffeinated coffee in my mochaccino.

♥ Thanks for the hat, darling.

Am quite tired and am in fact in bed. With my laptop. And a random wireless connection (possibly the pub's; possibly not; who knows?). Ah, the joy. Have just installed the very exciting Office Professional Edition 2003, including Access and everything, that arrived in the post (well, it came and indeed went in the post - Katie picked it up from the parcel office for me this morning on her to claim MSCL). But oui, we are all moved in. Pimly stayed last night and did sterling work helping us pack then and this morning. Then Chris and later Kitty bopped up and we moved things about whilst waiting for Darren and Kathye and the van. There was much moving, though I soon ended up relegated to amusing Hannah, and was essentially useless for much of the day. We had a late lunch, dosed the long-suffering cable man with coke, then la famille King bopped off (we had lost Pim and Kitty earlier in the day). Katie, Chris and I went to the pub across the road for a quick drink in their tiny backyard, and then went home, collapsed on the sofa, ordered pizza and watched Top Gear. There's lots more to say, really, but for now I can do no more than echo Samual Pepys: And so to bed.

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve done a proper update, so I’ve probably got lots to say, all of which will disappear when I actually get down to it. As is the way. Maybe if I start from the end…

1. Back at work after the Easter long weekend. Pah. Am still muddling along with my survival curve for hip replacements, which is looking quite jolly now, even if Excel won’t chart my graph in the right format. Still, at least the data is accurate. And it has all been quite joyful.

2. Xanthe and I bopped back down to London last night with minimal strife (though we were invited by the coach driver to favour everyone else with a spot of karaoke… we declined…), and actually arrived at Victoria twenty minutes ahead of schedule! We entertained ourselves royally by playing Hangman (and good grief but we are erudite souls… yes indeedy…), Qui Suis-Je? and reading aloud (Xanthe gets points for translating random bits of German on the spot – my contributions were limited to recognising the words ‘schwester’ and ‘kopf’). Also eating our rather splendid tea.

3. Visited the grandparentals yesterday morning. They seemed to be in relatively fine fettle. I introduced Xanthe to Willis, and the other half of the grandparental chintz. The mater and grandparentals spent much of the visit being indignant about things (most of which could be traced back to the existence of a Labour government), and grieving over the loss of Jessup’s Hospital.

4. I stole Xanthe away for Easter and took her home to put in a little box. Sadly could not find box suitable to my purpose and was therefore obliged to let her roam free. Free to be poked in the eye by my father, for example. From what I can gather, this was in the nature of a scientific experiment on his part (to see if her eye was real, perhaps?). My mother was on fine form, and in particular seemed to get some kind of bizarre kick over pushing Xanthe round Lyme Park as speedily AS IS HUMANLY IMAGINABLE. The National Trust loses about fifty million points for being crap on the whole wheelchair access front. They get one back for having a house which has arms sticking out of embossed ceiling bits in order to commemorate the Frenchman whose arm was chopped off at the Battle of Crecy in order to provide young Sir Peers with Lyme Park in the first place. And I suppose they can have another one for having pretty gardens. And, let’s go wild, another one for a house with a pretty façade. Still, that’s a deficit of 49,999,997. Not good, National Trust!

5. Socks as an Easter present. Mine are stripy, and look like something out of the Worst Witch. Am rather pleased. I will go so far as to say they are better than last year’s knickers…

6. Saw le petit frere, who seemed on passably good form, though only exchanged about three words with anyone, and those were of a sporting nature. We played catch on Sunday, and he killed my hand dead. The brute.

7. I have probably forgotten about a million things to post about, but that will do for now. Oh, we made scones. They were a bit crap. Made chocolate cake. That was better. Also created the world’s best sundae. Because, y’know, culinary genius.

...that a young man of twenty in possession of an open bottle of wine must be a COMPLETE AND TOTAL WANKER. As Little Owl and I discovered whilst waiting at Lee for our train. Two blokes (and girlfriend) were both knocking back wine from a bottle apiece, harrassing a couple of Polish girls sitting next to us, leaping back and forth between platforms ACROSS THE RAILS, and coming *this close* to being eligible for a charge of public indecency. It makes one weep for the future of the nation. Anyway, have come home and am being comforted by Johnny Cash and yogurt and raspberry/strawberry compote (very nice - will endeavour to save you some, Katie). Am tempted to write of my despair with The Youth of Today to the Times, signing myself "Disgusted of Richmond".

As, in fact, I am similarly tempted to do on the subject of Oyster cards. The Oyster card is a fine, fine invention (though I will admit to being a little troubled by their earlier advertising campaign, whispered forth on station speakers throughout our fair capital, about how it was better and easier and would make the world a happier place, because shades of 1984, tbh) and should be embraced by everyone. It is cheaper and far more convenient.

Except, of course, when it comes to topping up the beknighted things, because then they turn, on a dime, as they say, from a sailor's friend to an albatross around his neck. Most of the stations I frequent have a paltry number of Oyster card ticket machines, all of which have ginormous queues at them, in comparison to the fifty million normal ticket machines that NOBODY IS USING. Now, obviously I appreciate that the Oyster card is (relatively speaking) a new introduction to the London transport system, but the fact remains that if they wish to get everyone using them, TfL needs to provide an infrastructure which makes the whole process as painless as possible. Waiting in a queue for the best part of a quarter of an hour (as I have experienced at Waterloo on one occasion) is A BAD THING.

And let's not even touch on Richmond where, despite being a terminal stop on the District Line, has decided to foreswear tube ticket machines altogether, and half their ticket booths refuse to have anything to do with Oyster cards. WTF? Rawr.

But yes. La. On a lighter note, I was on leave today, which is always pleasant. Although I didn't manage to have a lie-in (actually up in time to exchange words with Katie, which is unusual on a normal day), I prepared myself for the day in a leisurely fashion, and bopped off to Ealing Broadway to meet up with Chris and Bex, who were doing a spot of house-hunting there. (For those who might not otherwise be aware, mon petit frere et sa petite-amie are moving down to London next month, which is Jolly, Jolly Exciting, parce que he is a fine young chap, albeit gradually turning into our father.) We dined on toasties at a select coffee house, and chatted of this and that (chiefly TV and politics - both fine topics). Then they went off to look at flats and I investigated the shopping possibilities of Ealing (not particularly inspiring, on their main drag, at any rate, though I bought some relatively cheap shoes - shiny (literally), brown, flat, and with little velvet bows (in a non-twee-ish-annoying way, obvs) - which is always satisfying).

After my sojourn into Ealing, I returned to the PF, did very little, then rang Xanthe, chatted for a while, then realised that if I wanted to get to Brownies in time, I would actually have to leave. So I left. (See my through logic there...)

Sadly, I was about twenty minutes late to Brownies, on account of stupid trains not working properly. Bastards. Unfortunately, Katie was on la meme train, so we were both sadly delayed. The Brownies this week were slightly mental (although still, under the insanity, their usual rather cute selves (I don't really like the word 'cute' but I can't think of a better one of the top of ma tête so it will have to do)) so it was a job of work for all of us to keep them in line. We were doing Brownie traditions stuff and they all enjoyed themselves so yay (not, obviously, that I can take any credit for the programme, but whatever...), and I felt quite useful and not standing-about-like-a-lemon, so huzzah for that. I quite enjoy being Puffin, and will be going along with them next week to visit the fire station.