June 29th, 2010

White Collar 3

the best-laid schemes

(last) Tuesday: Anchors aweigh

The prisoners were all on the bus again. I don't know why my bus has become an unofficial prison transport, but it has. They take up three quarters of the bus and this morning they were being particularly abusive and offensive so I got off at the nearest stop to the station and caught the train in instead. It costs more, takes longer (cause I have to wait for it), but at least I had peace and quiet. I even got out my wee spiral notebook and scrawled off a scene. Collapse )
white collar

o' mice an 'men

(last) Wednesday: Puma? Puma!

I fangirled Sir Ian McKellan last night. I have no shame. He was sweet, kind, patient and indulgent, and I heart him, big time.

Yeah, I went and saw Waiting for Godot at the OPera House last night. I was so excited (well, I was, up until June, which as soured me on all things, somewhat) and twas a pity it was a rubbish day (I was running so late I had to dash through the rain straight to the Opera House, skittering on the well pavers) and then I had to check my work bag so I was left holding my most essential stuff in a plastic shopping bag and, let's just say I grew tired of the tut tutting of those other, well heeled folks and their designer bags. And my period started during the interval, which at least explains why I was so very unwell and unhappy, but seriously? Already?

So yes, the play. Well, what on earth can I, a mere pleb, say about Godot? Is it about God, life, death, the pathos of the human condition, or two ageing and absent minded bums comically arguing about nothing for two acts? At least it was funny, Sir Ian wickedly so, absolutely wickedly so (he should employ that shameless scene stealing in some of his more mainstream films, it'd improve them no end) and I sort of settled down and really enjoyed the second act (for the first I was beyond woozy and flustered, sorry).

I liked it, I've finally seen it and it was such a treat to get a proper West End production touring out here. Proper London theatre, for the price of a bus fare. Amazing.
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mr flibble

gang aft agley

(last) Thursday: Just. You. Wait.

Sorry about that. I completely and absolutely intended to post this last night but after a day when I thought I just might get through it all (and it had been a big day) with some shred of dignity, after dinner had been cooked and eaten and everything washed and put away, just when I thought I might have a little me time, bang went the cramps.

So, no computer, no writing, posting and not even any telly watching. Certainly not Chuck, which is probably just as well, anyway, as I was singing "Just you Wait" while doing the dishes, only it wasn't 'enry 'iggins who was 'aving to wait, was it? Rather cathartic, though, belting out lines like:
"Done," says the King with a stroke.
"Guard, run and bring in the bloke!"

Heh. I mean, is there any better wish fulfilment song? I mean, really?
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tell me why

So, it's going to be one of those Mondays. Change dropped, wrong order in the coffee shop, servers and connections down, got hissed at several times for not getting out of the way of far more important people quickly enough and I have a headache and I'm utterly miserable. Now is very, most definitely, the winter of my discontent.

Yes, the coffee shop, that American one. I seriously only went in their for the coffee grounds (the abundant slugs in the garden find them anathema). That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I just ordered tea, anyway. Don't ask. Looks like they were having a Monday, too.

Speaking of American coffee chains and their greatest customer, I gotta say, seriously, Matty, lay off the frappuccinos. Everytime I see a pap photo, there he is, clutching one. Every friggin' time. Matty, my dear boy, there will come a day, as it must come to all of us, when you'll have that frappuccino too far and we'll be talking the Vegas years, n'est-ce pas? So quit while you're still cute, my lovely one, because being not cute is not fun, trust me on this. Seriously, really not fun.

At least it explains all the sugar-hyped hijinks in some of the interviews - grin.
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able to leap tall buildings

It appears I'm having a Tuesday as well. Same as before, repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Oh, and see what passes for news worthy cold weather around here. That's 24F in American, I think. And, given the lag since the last time we had a winter this cold, you'll now know why I have no warm jumpers or coats in my wardrobe and why I am thusly effing freezing me tits off, as we say here. Cause usually, the warm fluffys, not needed here. Please send hot tea and warm, puppyish actors to snuggle with, cause I think it's gonna be another three dog night tonight.
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