It's been a Dylan Hunt of a Xmas.
As you recall, I was off to deliver cakes and biscuits to my various interoffice clients, but I found precious few would partake of my special occassion treats.
Do I really look that suspect?
Sure there was that incident with the laxatives in the chocolate cake back in high school, but that was a group activity. I might have been in school in the 80s, but it may as well have been the 1880s as far as our Head was concerned. We weren't allowed to play football, etc but we were instructed to bake cakes for the boys team. Having being raised by hairy armed feminists in my government school, this edict rankled, so we had our revenge. Those ancient Greek sisters would have been proud. Understand that we were young women and it wasn't so much a malicious prank as a genuine and heartfelt political protest/act of terrorism.
I've never knowingly tainted food before or since, except I think some amonia went into the xmas cake, but that was an accident, I was trying to clean the kitchen while it was cooking, having no time to spare.
I also managed to get into Mother's bad books by finding a kilo of sweet, succulent, juicy fresh prawns on Xmas Eve, in this town, which is practically a super power. Mother was non plussed at this startling achievement and dissed them all night, to my distress (as I'd trotted home like my old dog, tail up and grinning).
So I decided to go on my usual xmas light walk, to try and get me into the proper spirit. The spirit of bah humbug as it happens. In my rounds I was chased by the Hound of the Baskervilles (truly), nearly run down by a swerving car of drunken, yelling yobs and my two very fave houses whose displays define Xmas for me were black and empty soul sucking joyless pits of despair.
Xmas day was stinky hot and xmas lunch, the full roast served in 42C sticky heat, made me as sick as a dog.
Tried in vain to watch the second last playing of JP3 on cable but despite protests was constantly interrupted. Fared better with Follow The Fleet which trotted on later. Ah, Fred, by xmas lights, the best part of the day. Even a small breeze got up. Watched Stargate (Prisoners, 1969) and passed out at last.
Boxing Day dawned and it was still too hot so I took a book and sat under the tree and sure enough cold mucky weather blew in (I broke the drought trying to read Mansfield Park under the tree).
Endured a visit to the rellies but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. The cousin I actually like was visiting from Japan so we caught up. My Aunt's three day old defrosted prawns cleaned me out like a whistle.
So here I am, food poisoned, flu ridden, crippled, pmessy and, wait, it gets even better. I took my insect bite, the one that looked like a third nipple by Tuesday and now looked wholly like something out of Doctor Who, down to the chemist because nothing else was open and she said it looked like a parasitical infestation. Hello Farscape! And Merry Xmas! Guess I won't be watching Alien this week.
It's probably a tick, or two, or three. Oh joy. Oh happiness. Just what I wanted for Xmas!
Now that the temp has finally dropped below the maximum safe operating temp for my dvd etc, instead of ten degrees above it (thanks to my storm summoning), I've been able to watch some Galactica (at midnight, so I don't get interrupted). I was thinking, should I be a good girl and watch it in the order intended, rather than the order EC7 showed it, or should I be a bad girl and just skip straight to Murder on the Rising Star?
For those not familiar with the episode it feature more man candy than you'll ever see on network television before or since. The sort of costumes not normally seen outside of a mardi gras parade. Our mardi gras parade. Good grief. I blush at the very thought of those skimpy outfits. Talk about coming of age.
Ah, the 70s, what a great time to be a kid, tv wise: Galactica, Wonder Woman, The Incredible Hulk, The Six Million Dollar Man, Bionic Woman, Fantastic Journey, Logan's Run, Blakes 7, Return of the Saint, Charlies Angels, SWAT - lotsa fun stuff.
Xmas is also meant to be the time of good cheer and good will to all men and the hot summer evening started with shots fired then an entire Jerry Springer tableu of fightin' and feudin' defactos and their hos and extended families spilled onto the streets for some screaming, fisticuffs, hairpulling and full on rampaging and rioting up and down the street until a brace of cop cars and paddy wagons came with sirens screaming to round them all up. Who needs television and thank frell, just when I thought the place was starting to go middle class on me.
Poor Mother, who loves a neighbourhood scandal, slept through all of it. I spent the next day putting the front yard to rights.
I did end up getting to see ROTK - I was afeared, like most things, it'd go away before I ever got a chance to see it. Another lunatic bus ride (I'm going to start wanting to be paid for having to sit up the front and guide the bus driver along the route) and I got to see the first session of the morning. Big screen but sans air conditioning. Oh well, you can't have everything.
Maybe I was just suffering seasonal fatigue, but I was underwhelmed. Perhaps a second or third viewing will set me to rights. Too much poor passive agressive Sam and his high maintenance bitch, Frodo. Barely any Legolas, who seems to have moved onto Gimli (ack) and Aragorn annoyed me by dropping Eowyn like a stone. Not one for the gentle 'it's not you, it's me' brush offs is the One King, but never mind, Eowyn seems to have moved onto Faramir with unseemly haste. Old Daddy Elrond plastered a rictus grin on his face and tacitly approved the mixed marriage of his dear daughter to a smelly human. I know well that rictus smile from my own family :D
Still, Merry and Pip seem happy together (hello, yes, yet more hobbity slash) and Peter didn't seem to know when to draw the curtain down. Yes, I know there are three thousand appendices, but do we have to film them all? God only knows what the dvd will be like.
Made the mistake of dragging Mother along (there was shopping to do as well). Had to put up with her making a show of tapping her watch during Aragorn's big Braveheart moment and picking her nose through Frodo's tearful goodbye to Sam. Arrrgh, this is why I should go alone. However, I was on hand to push a loaded trolley up round six levels of shopping centre - the supermarkets are always six levels away from the bus station and there's only one ramp per level so you have to corkscrew your way up a two or three block wide mall - this was my workout for the day and if you scoff, you run around two city blocks six times with a full trolley.
Finally escaped to my room and here I had, at last, a few hours peace. Watched some cable stuff featuring, do I dare admit to it, Hugh Grant (horrors) and then, after owning the damn dvd for a year, as yet uncracked open, I finally saw Enigma, on cable.
What a sterling little film, and Brit boys ahoy. We had Dougray looking all ill and worried, Jeremy proving he could fill in for The Saint, tossing off The Roger left, right and centre. That's a technical term, btw. The Roger is that look Simon Templar gives people of doubtful sincerity, described as thus in a Saint script, and Jeremy displayed his mastery of the form in this fillum. Piece de la resistance though was Matthew Macfadyen, in full uniform, with an eye patch. Wibble. Dribble.
Aside from the UK man candy it was a cracker of a film. I swear the role Kate played was written for Saffy (aka Julia Sawalha of Press Gang) as it just screamed Saffy. Damn US exectutives. The other delight was the John Barry soundtrack, that sounded so Bondlike at times as to cause titters and the humming of well known Bond scores whenever Russian spies etc were mentioned.
If you haven't seen Enigma, do. I highly recommend it and I'm deeply ashamed it took me this long to get around to it.
So now I'm back, and busy clearing out oodles of spam from my inbox when I'd rather be writing fic. Didn't get any fic written over Xmas, natch. Didn't get online either. I had to keep the line open in case someone called (highly unlikely), it was too hot to operate Del Boy (like me he gets cranky and careless when overheated and overworked) and I couldn't be arsed, quite frankly. The whole thing was too hot and prickly to write anything, even an email. Dammit, I knew I didn't get drunk enough.
My one highlight was my dvd of Pirates of the Carribean which somehow, by some fluke, arrived on Xmas eve. Magic.