mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

grumpy old woman

Wednesday: Am feeling vaguely accomplished today. Yesterday, after feeling so awful, I perked up a bit after a cup of green tea and managed to get on top of my inbox at work, buy a new top in the sales, visit mother in hospital, catch a taxi to the shops, stagger home (uphill, all the way) with four heavy bags of shopping, do the washing up, cook tea, wash up again and shower and stuff and still catch about ten minutes of Doctor Who and Bones. That's each, mind. I'm very pleased with myself indeed.

Would have liked to have seen more of telly but beggars can't be choosers and at least they were just repeats (though I'd not seen the Bones one). As I was scoffing tea through the finale of Doctor Who, it being Rose, I noticed quite a few (whopping) errors of continuity, which is really quite unforgiveable since a quick google to the nearest fanboy page would be all that was required in fact checking, but never mind.

It wasn't a bad day at work, though one of my colleagues decided to tease me by insisting on an animated logo, even though the regs frown upon animations in all their forms most sternly. I quite agree. I loathe jumpy flashing (and, god forbid, noisey) little icons and feel that anyone so compelled to use them must suffer serious esteem issues, the sort of issues recently alluded to in the latest RTA anti-speeding campaign. Harumph.

And while I'm on the subject, just love all those icon/pic pages with rules and rules (worship me! WORSHIP ME!!!), but the one that really had my teeth grinding was some person who insisted on all credit due when using her icons, the bulk of which had been fashioned from scans made by my own fair hand (I could so tell, because sometimes I do a noticeably crap job, and it's like a watermark) but did she credit me? No she did not, by gum. The hypocritical sticky fingered bitch. Harumph.

I mean, you know me, I've always been 'share and enjoy', but to see someone being so precious and proprietary over the sweat of my brow, well, it''s, pretty much SOP, really. Which is probably why I'm so peevish about it. Never mind. Just have to vent these things occassionally, I'm sure you understand.

Any way, the other amusement at work was learning that a colleague had been presented by a bag full of her cat's baby teeth by the vet. She couldn't understand why the vet should give her such things. I had to inform her it was because she was a spinster of a certain age and the vet probably thought she dressed the cat up on weekends and took it for strolls around the park in a perambulator and no doubt she'd want the teeth to sew into a pillow or somesuch.

She shuddered, but it got even funnier when her flatmate rang, alarmed to discover a bag of teeth on the table. So I teased her about her serial killer trophies and whether or not she was going to make a necklace out of them and she was all harumph and it was so much fun.

Then I was scolded for being so cruel as to wish out loud that the loud pop we heard was someone taking pot shots at the bus driver revving his diesel belcher below my balcony. I know they weren't serious because no one here is a fan of the fumes de bus. Ah, carbon monoxide, my old friend (cue scene alarmingly like Blue Velvet).

And now I'm pondering about what I'm going to do tonight. I've been told that I should read the paper to Mum, and I have done so dutifully, but I can hardly see today's headlines curbing her somewhat outspoken opinions re foreign doctors any. Oh dear. Equal parts bemusement, embaressment and mild horror, I should think (well, she is of that generation and she was always causing me to make with the Sam eye-rolly but now the stroke has wiped out the last slender shreds of self censorship, so it's a nonstop cringe fest these days, oh dear). Ah well, should be entertaining, in a 70s sitcom kinda way.

Thursday: So anyways, it was quiet, too quiet, with the manager away (ah, bliss, the sort of bliss you get when a jackhammer stops) and the email kaput (not even a newsie from the Herald, which is usually a good test of 'hello, hello, is this thing on?') so I took some very much owed time in lieu and gave myself a wee bit of an early mark off to see the Arts of Islam exhibition at the art gallery.

It was brilliant, and not just in a nice knick knacks kinda way, though it was that. I, personally, was thrilled because it filled in the blanks and connected so much of what I'd seen in the last year, because there were so many influences: Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Venetian, etc. There was an Iranian painting very much in the style of those two mad Buddist monks I adored from the Japanese scroll exhibition, there was a version of the Ramayana from the Hindu exhibition, there were Chinese styled vases, Venetian styled glass, a page from a Qu'ran that I saw another page from in Venice (or was it Budapest?), there were the saddles and chests I do remember from Budapest, there was a version of Judith and her head of Holofernes copied from a European master (reminding me of the National Gallery). It just all nicely segued up.

I also loved the big brass bowls (glad it's not me with the can of brasso), the huge intact and very fancy glass vases, the animal shaped incence burners (collect the set!) and a glazed vase that I actually actually see the pencil marks on before the artisan had slapped the paint on. I wish I'd seen this stuff as a kid, I might not have been so disheaterned that my stuff never turned out with factory precision, because this vase was very slapdash, and yet very beautiful. And under glass, let's not forget that. I also really loved one bowl whose pattern, a gentleman seated surrounded by animals, and whose pose and clothes and the whole design exactly matched the Gundestrup cauldron. I wonder if anyone else has noticed? It's not like the areas never traded, after all (the Celts were in Budapest).

That was the other great thing, the trading, the obvious melting pot of design influences (o, happy, the age without American copyright laws). Gorgeous stuff, all taken and adapted and passed on, from Japan to England, via the middle east of course. That old silk road magic. It was lovely to see. All those Chinese, Indian and Italian influences, just for starters. It also showed a free movement of ideas, stories and philosophies. My favourite was the book where someone had shoehorned Mohammed, Buddha, Jesus, Joseph, Noah, a few more Biblical characters, a few Hindu chaps and some emperor gods into one narrative, sort of like the super friends, or more possibly the league of extraordinarily holy gentlemen, with all their origin tales and best adventures. It'd make a great series, only it'd be the last thing you ever did. Oh, for a more cosmopolitan and curious age.

I was bemused/interested to see that in 16th and 17thC illustrated works Mohammed was often depicted (!), but wearing a veil over his face (though there was often a bit of beardy chin peeping out beneath the veil). Try producing a similiar work these days (no, really, don't). Just fascinated by that. Funny how ideas of tolerance and expression wax and wane.

But the absolute star of the exhibition for me was the astrolabes. Oh, loves so much. So much way cool, I'm speechless. Just...way cool. Arabic/Hindu/Greek (for the astrolabes contained all three languages and terms, again with the mulitcultural) astronomy rocks. Totally. There was also a really neat compass/sundial that lined up Mecca in six different latitudes (v. impressed). It also looked really really cool, all brassy and gadgety, the sort of thing the Doctor should have lying about.

So that was really, really impressive little collection. After that I had less than 15 minutes to run across town (from the art gallery steps to George St) in the wrong boots. I made it - just. Caught the bus to hospital and showed Mum the book of the exhibition, which she liked. She was looking more tired today (and just when I was going to report that she'd stopped looking like a latex cast off from the Henson Creature Workshop) and was a bit loco parentis again, asking me to take her down to the bank (we're not at home, dear) and when I told her it was the fourth of July, ie American Independence, she said that must be why she could hear all the cheers on the harbour (um, nobody cares and we're 50km inland). Oh well, at least she wasn't upset over the foreign doctors wot have come to murder us in our beds.

Got home late though, and tea, which was supposed to be Thai noodle soup, was now just noodles. Ah well, the beans and pasta last night ended up as noodle soup instead (somebody blended the beans into a liquid instead of a paste) so I suppose it works, after a fashion. Didn't watch the Chaser repeats, watched eppy 308 of Doctor Who instead.

This was good, though I'd heard such raves (and spoilers) I was naturally a tad underwhelmed, which was unfortunate, especially as it was ticking all my boxes for creepy old English building (the dead spit of one I'd imagined for a very old story o'mine, which was more than a little influenced by DW anyway), creepy school children and classic old creepy scarecrows and the creepy little girl with the red balloon. Minus points for the looney tunes piano drop (purlease, though I suppose I would have loved it at eight so I'll let it be). I did like the idea of the Doctor disguising himself as mortal - too bad all the reveals had already been revealed though, and I found the Great Love Affair a very rushed and forced affair. Can you say zero chemistry? I knew you could.

And Harry, dear Harry. Well, it was a treat to hear him actually get lines for a change and I'd read that he was marvellous in this - um, not quite. A little too OTT in the creepy, the mime was too funny (but being on Robin Hood he should be used to making a complete tit of himself) and what was with that silly walk? But I loved the surprised squeak me made when he bumped into the 'we've blown our budget' invisible spaceship. Would that he made that surprised squeak on RH (evil thoughts abound).

That said, I did very much enjoy the story (just wasn't deeply into it, but I think I was just tired) and I might even watch part deux tonight in lieu of the silly Heroes finale. But despite all my grizzles and nitpicking, I gotta say thanks to the Who folks for getting me through this month, and my, David looked hot in the Confidential, even if he ain't no Fred Astaire (contrary to his declarations - too funny).

Still bemused at rolling up to the local shops in a taxi though. It felt awfully posh. I mean, I've been in a limo pulling up at a film premiere in New York, but this felt much more extravagant.

Or possibly the whole New York thing was ruined for me by a now ex-friend who so clearly did not want to be there, which is of course why she accepted my invitation to be my plus one. I don't know, it was my winning ticket but we did everything she wanted and nothing I wanted, just to try and please her but nothing worked and she never spoke to me again. I don't know what I did wrong but if one is going to be a sour faced bitch riding around in a big black limo in New York then I suppose we can say there's just no pleasing some people. Sigh.

Never mind, I had my pulling up in a taxi moment at Woolies. Just too bad Jake wasn't there - grin.

Went for a walk in the park hoping to lift some of the grumpy, but forgot it was school holidays so alas there was no pastoral peace for this not so wee girlie. Then there was this woman who expected me to help her lift her pram down the steps and normally I do but this time I was thinking 'you and your thousands and thousands of dollars in entitelements and bonuses and leave and the rest, just for lying on your back and waving your legs in the air while I have to susidise your child care through taxes and have to work over twelve hour days just so you can pick the brat up from child care and now you want me to carry him for you as well? I don't think so' and I suddenly realised that maybe I was just a wee bit hormonal. Just a tad (though my rant was not without fair point, as I am penalised massively financially for being a spinster and the hours I have to work around folks with kids mean it's not like I'm ever gonna get a turn, so there).

But yeah, grumpy, sleepy, dopey...and hungry. Uh oh.

Oh, so that's what all the peoples and helicopters were about. D'oh.

Meanwhile, it's a cold and windy day. It's almost Scotland cold, albeit Scotland in spring time. I even saw some poor sods washing bowling down the street, pegs still attached. No, I didn't go chasing after it. Little Miss Cranky Pants today, or hadn't you noticed. I did notice the DT lookalike that I saw three times going in three different directions as I ran my errands. It really was starting to get a bit RTD but then I lost him. Pout.

"Doctor? How did you get my new number?"
The Doctor beats bureaucracy
The Astrolabe
The Arts of Islam
Jake Gyllenhaal
Watch out! Your TV will soon be watching you
Anger as warship clears streets
Here Kitty! This cat's a monster,,2117652,00.html
Law stars in climate change ad

Tags: david tennant, doctor who, jude law, stephen fry

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