mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

  • Mood:

one thousand blows

Ah, Doctor Who. Sometimes I wonder just how they get away with monsters who look like this, or is it just me?

Just me, okay, moving on then. It's all my fault. Everything. I freely admit it. It's a fair cop, Guv'nor, and all that. You see, on Tuesday morning the thought popped into my head, just for a second, that I might actually make it through this week. 'Not on my watch, bitch', said the universe, and it's been raining thunderbolts on my foolish head ever since.

To recap, and please excuse the excursion into real life, I'll get back to the precious few fannish fancies I've been allowed towards the end, time permitting, I had to get Friday off, much to the umbridge of managers. This was because I was required for a conference at the hospital. I walk in and there a panel of a dozen people with clipboards, all sitting in judgement of me and condeming me for letting my poor old dear get into this state, not being able to stay home and look after her and being too ugly to have a husband to pay all the bills. Guilty on all counts, m'lord (honestly, by this stage I was thinking I'd have got off easier if I'd buried the old biddy in the rose garden). But since I was judged too incompetent to care for her she was to be put into a home. I asked if I could be a part of that decision, at least. Why don't you pick out the flowers for my funeral while you're at it, interjects the old dear. You're far too fat and stupid, decide the clipboard people.

So that was that. Horribly, I was relieved because I really knew I couldn't keep up the 24/7 supervision required, but that's just between you and me. Unlike others, I've worked in a nursing home for three summers so I think I have a realistic view of what was required, not that I'm consulted about anything.

Saturday it was up early for my PHP course, which was on the other side of town, with weekend public transport, so it took me three hours but I got there and, surprise, excellent teacher, and I actually got it. Yay me, I was thinking. So much easier than CF, which I could never master, and it soothed some long nagging doubts re my basic competencies. We even had a hot lunch included (when I was grimly prepared for yesterday's sandwiches). And, better yet, I somehow managed to get home in time for Doctor Who (as the second bus I took had no concept of speed limits or red lights).

So I was tucked up under the doona with a nice cup of tea and wallowed in Stiff Upper Lip Mr Smith and Evil Smirking Young Harry. Young Mr Lloyd comes across as OTT, or he would if I didn't know a few ex private schoolboys actually that snotty, but I really love it when he goes entirely OTT evil. Hee. Who would have thought he had it in him from watching him in 'Hood. Certainly not I. Enormous fun. Bonus points for creepy little girl with red balloon and lumering scarecrows. The sort of classic old BBC schtick I crave.

On Sunday I awoke to dripping, which became pattering which became good solid rain. Which meant no getting up at 7am to water the garden. Hooray! Wallowed in bed with cuppa and papers (poor old Peanut Gallery got drenched, aw), then coked/washed/ironed to Maverick (an ironic, wisecracking, prefers running away to standing and fighting unless backed into a corner, totally 90s hero before there were the 90s), Brisco County Jr (an episode that had actually screened out here this time, and it's so sad, all that optimism about the coming century, when we all know America went backwards instead of forwards, and I'm just talking the old Y2K panic, never mind anything else) and The Protectors.

Man, I love that show. I love the credits (Peanut gallery laments that his breakfast wasn't half as exciting, no exploding bridges with his toast), I love Bobby, I love how it's more proto-Profs than even the New Avengers (especially the episode we watched, which seems to have been recycled), love the "stamp on all your toys" scene in another ep (coincidence or homage?), loved the Russian spy with the bad Bela Lugosi accent and I love Tony, because, dear god, he was so damn pretty (but could his outfits be, er, um, any less flamboyant? Does he shop at the same gentleman's outfitters as Mr King?). Also, I love Bobby Vaughn, bored with the show already and not giving a shit - he even flips the bird in one scene to camera and if I had time I'd cap it but I don't so you'll have to take my word for it.

Monday wasn't anything flash but it was nice and relatively sane and I got to watch what would have been Tuesday's episode of Bones on dvd. It was the really embaressing comic book one, the sort of cringingly bad episodes they used to make in the 80s. In fact Bones often feels very anticque in stories, characters and production values. There were, again, a lot of really bad blocked scenes that made me think the DOP hadn't yet adjusted to widescreen or HD. I should not see lighting cables trailing over gaffer taped marks on the floor, you know? Or the fact that DB was going all DT with a pair of sneakers in a couple of scenes - I really don't think it was supposed to be on camera (mainly because it was in the shot with the cables, etc).

Tuesday. The thought. The karma. The unanswered pleas to make it stop now. Mum was rushed back to ICU so it's back to square one again. Work is just awful - now they've locked me out of the system by way of using the limited licences clause. Talk about closed shop, I really don't have a role anywhere, but working on the old stuff certainly keeps me busy, I don't get home until after nine. Really awful day at work on top of everything else, and I had technology playing up on me.

Wednesday. More work merde and nasty people of the highest order, but at least I had another course to go to, this time a content management system (if nothing else I'll get a few more lines on my CV before they kick me out). It was okay, I got it okay, and I got two cups of tea and a tiny button muffin. I had a cabcharge (whoo) so I was going to go straight to the hospital but the other lot didn't have one so I handed it over.

Before you go huh, let me explain that it was Mr R who required it, and Mr R is like, well, drop dead gorgeous (there's a lot of Gale Harold in there) and I was just powerless to resist his request. Of course you may have my cabcharge and strand me, just acknowledge my existence for two seconds. Pathetic I know, but Miss H also finds herself a slave to the girly swoon when Mr R is about (and I object to the smug married who evinced surprise at myself and Miss H carrying on like the younger Bennet sisters re Mr R. We might be grizzled old spinsters with no lives but we ain't dead yet. Even my dying mother managed a blip when I showed her the Clive mags - and I know I shouldn't be waving Clive mags about in an ICU but I need to keep her attention to stop her drifting off into Paranoia World and for that I need props and props is whatever I have in my bag so it was Clive or the computer couse notes, n'est-ce pas?) - I suspect Mr R gets everything he ever wants, and then some, without ever having to ask for it. Just one of those golden people who float through life on their smile .

Which at least demonstrated to me, rather overtly, Much's pathology, because I couldn't understand why, in my fic (still all in my head, alas) Much can be a rational being with his own hopes and needs in his own right but is just so bewitched, bewildered and bedazzled whenever Robin is around into abandoning any thought that doesn't revolve around Robin.

Well, just like that, then, since I ended up miles from nowhere and not entirely sure how that happened. Anyhoo, my ensuing travels took me past Borders and I picked up the two Clive covers at least. Missed so much these last few months (espicially the Simm one), but I got those. Not that I ever have time to scan, and they're out and about anyway, but I just wanted to have. Just a bit of sugar to make the medicine of my life go down. I thought of actual sugar, too, but Treats From Home was closed. Pout.

So, there was a snap bus strike, wasn't there. It took me forever to get on a bus, so I only had about ten minutes before the end of visting hours, but, though looking poorly, I had reasonably lucid non vindictive mother, for the first time since I took her out for her birthday lunch in June, which was a treat. Still a bit loopy, but she was always that, but at least none of the screaming paranoia I usually get (hence my banning, but since the hospital staff are as clueless as they are incompetent and uncaring I figured I could risk going again). What a treat. An actual almost conversation.

Got home super late, changed over disks on machine (I'll never watch the stuff, there's stuff I taped from my uni days I ain't had time to watch yet, but it's the principle of the thing), collapsed on bed.

Thursday. More work merde, and when I said I could prove how clever I am, I didn't factor in sleep deprivation or upset, making it hard to find/deduce the simplest of coding errors. Ack. Mother was even worse, but I read to her and that seemed to go down okay, though she kept erupting that she wasn't hungry. Because I used to make sure she ate before, when I used to get there in time for her dinner, she now thinks I'm a soup nazi. Can't win, never mind.

But it was miserable to see her go so downhill so fast, especially when I'd been having happy fic thoughts to myself on the bus, then, whammo, brutal fucking awful reality. Ouch. It makes me feel like I'm still in primary school. Well, most days are like that, but this week more than ever, because every freaking time I try to think of something happy, like Doctor Who, I get a phone call or email and it's clobberin' time again.

Which is why it reminds me of primary school, because there was a girl there who would beat the crap out of me if I ever smiled, did something well, got a gold or silver star in class, answered a question correctly or anything. She made my life an effing miserable terror, and even worse was the time at some parent day when her mother loudly pointed me out as the horrid child who never smiled. I must have been some toy in their sick games. A few years back I heard she'd killed herself, and my response was, I'm afraid, a very unsympathetic "I win, how about that." I really hope she felt some of the lifelong misery she'd inflicted upon me. Bitch. I hated her. She fucked me up.

Anyway, that's what this week is: constant blows. Hard, heavy blows, often blindsiding me whenever I dare not to be miserable for just one second. I've rather had it, to be honest, and I've got work all this weekend, too.

So no, I don't think I'll be able to get through this week with any sort of grace at all.

And did I mention my ankle is still giving me jib? Though not so much today because I had to switch across from off the shelf painkillers to behind the counter at the chemits with the Achtung! warning labels ones, which I didn't want to do because, you know, next stop rehab with Lindsay Lohan and Amy Winehouse, whom I loathe, but since I was shaking on the bus the other night with the effort of staying upright and not screaming, well, enough is enough.

Which seems to be the theme of my week. Enough, already.,,2154392,00.html
It's arrived: the feminisation of the net
The Protectors,,2066494,00.html
Gatiss thriller heads for TV,,2001320029-2007380843,00.html
Is TV show now Doctor Hwo?
Things that go bump in the outback
British dwarf's penis gets stuck to hoover
List of Doctor Who monsters and aliens
Kristen Bell, Heroes, Multiple Episodes [Squee!]
Mourners remember 'Mr Manchester'
Ancient chewie leaves experts gobsmacked
Misogyny bares its teeth on internet
Red Baron Scenic Flights
The Gaiman is on
The public figures who believe in the mystical significance of numbers,,2150906,00.html
Norton pulls screenwriter hat on for The Incredible Hulk
Star Wars duo 'least convincing'
Out-of-body experience recreated
Matt factor
McQueen's Ferrari fetches a million
Say hello to It-boy Natt, son of the Modfather
Geek odyssey
We'll miss Tony's stories
The man who made Madchester
Scoop! Without a Trace Locates Spike!
Life on Mars pic,,2149421,00.html
Danes say sorry for Viking raids on Ireland
Gladiators strike a blow for tourism
Shipwreck that shook Sydney to the core,,2152344,00.html
The Bourne misogyny,,2150651,00.html
Morals make people fat
Obesity 'caused by infectious virus which turns cells into fatty tissue'
Keep Calm
Bus drivers head down civvy street
Noise of modern life blamed for thousands of heart deaths
Viggo 'Promises' A Naked Bathhouse Fight
Eerie saga of the vanishing bees
"Logan's Run" races back to big screen
Egypt footprint 'could be oldest'
Never gonna give them up
Constable sketch found in British Library's archive
Exclusive: Kristen Bell's First Interview Since Becoming a Hero!
Around a county in 40 facts: A (very) brief history of Somerset
Image of the Fendahl
List of Doctor Who villains
Ausiello on Pushing Daisies, Heroes, CSI and Supernatural!
T. rex 'would outrun footballer'
Dean leaves trail of relief in Mexico
Why is Australian tourism obsessed with 'big' things?
Fall TV schedule will show the softer side of ... guys
Terracotta warriors tear down British Museum
Great ape find forces rethink on man's evolution
Ancient diamonds are oldest parts of Earth's crust
Heavens above, now Google reaches for the stars
Blinky the double-headed cow euthanased
Simpsons quotes enter new Oxford dictionary
Silence seekers told to put up or shut up
Ape's fossilised teeth help fill evolutionary gap
The many faces of Napoleon
Tags: brico county jr, clive owen, doctor who, robin hood, the protectors

  • My tweets

    Tue, 12:50: RT @ klia00: ABBA would be proud! 😊💗 Tue, 12:50: RT @ met_greekroman: Gold earring, late 4th–3rd century B.C.…

  • My tweets

    Mon, 12:40: RT @ timritchie: Standing on Barangaroo Reserve, looking across the harbour to North Sydney on a chilly morning with colourful dawn…

  • My tweets

    Sun, 14:12: RT @ SketchesbyBoze: being neurodivergent is cool because I may not be able to repair a car or read directions on a map but I can…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded