mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

age shall weary them

Gone and rooted me ankle again. That's what I get for playing weed twister in the garden (left foot between azalea and geranium, right foot between other azalea and dying geranium, right hand between bottlebrush and some withering native...).

Oh well. Got sunburnt too, and for someone shamefully in the red right now, I was Spendy McSpends on Saturday. Well, we needed a new vacuum cleaner because having to sweep up after the other one is simply not on. The shops lured me in by advertising a suitably butch looking machine going by the macho moniker of 'piranha', but of course, there were none to be had when I got there (yes, we have no piranhas, we have no piranhas today). So I had to settle on a more expensive but equally butch sounding model called 'combat'.

Let's hope it does better than the pathetic asthmatic wheeze of the old old lady one (and I think that says all you'd want to know about the state of the place, when only a vacuum called Combat! will do).

Since they wouldn't let me have delvery for just the vackie, and like hell was I walking home with it, especially with my weight in magazines already in my backpack (ooops, especially as no one ever cares), so I bought a much needed evaporative cooler as well. Couldn't afford air cond at all, so this will have to do. We'll give it a whirl, anyway.

I also bought a summery party dress. I could hear the old crone in my ear demanding to know where did I think I was ever going to wear it and what a waste of money it was, since it would never be worn, but I'd long, long, long coveted such a dress, and I am still feeling the bitter sting of only having office clothes to wear out, so I bought it anyway, because it looked, well nothing can ever look great on me, but not circus freak bad. By sunset I had a party invitation. So that's how it works.

Telly. Not much. Got home late on Fri and couldn't get online (grrrr!) so I ended up watching The Brief on ABC because I was all cross and grumpy and at sixes and sevens and it had Dean Lennox Kelly in it and I've a soft spot for that particular lad. It actually wasn't bad in a dependable Friday night Brit crime show way, and as much as Alan Davies annoys me intensely, I liked the social justice of the story, hackneyed though it may have been (I've not had a soapbox crime show for a while, it's been wall to wall nutters and scorned lovers of late).

Saturday was mostly me running around and stuff but I watched a couple of surviving Troughton Dr Who episodes while I was flopped on the couch being all heat stroked. Damn, but why did thay have to wipe all the really cool Troughton episodes, and with Jamie too. A pox on them wot dunnit. They were really cool, what little remained, with cybermen and yeti, and dearest Jamie being such the action hero. Loved Jamie's spacesuit in the cyberman one (the zips drew the eye, I must say) and was that really Jerome Flynn's father? With an antipodean accent? Loved the yetis. Loved Jamie dismissing the yeti as dead (and you've been on the show how long now? tsked the Peanut Gallery). Had to replay Jamie saying "beastie" twice, because I am so easily amused. Discovered that the Troughton "I have a cunning plan..." expression is also hereditary. Discovered that Jamie's tartan was red from viewing the extras. Sigh.

Oh yeah, the moonwalking cyberman were a giggle, but the cyberman who was all like "you and yo bitch is so going down, shoutout to the Mondo collective" just had us in fifty fits. Okay, so you had to see it. Also, tubby luvvies in form fitting scifi jumpsuits never fails to raise a titter.

Other than that it was onto #10 and the lesser cybermen (dunno what, but they're just not creepy like the old ones, not at all, they just look like Metal Mickey on steroids) with lots of running around Wales (the Peanut Gallery tsked and suggested that not even on an alternate earth would one walk steeply uphill from Pimlico to the Thames). I do like the whole "my favourite button: send" bit, which makes up for a lot of ho hum elsewhere, alas quickly ruined by the breakdancing cybermen. Oh well (and #2 didn't seem to have any qualms about ejecting them out into space).

Then it was Life on Mars, the football hooligans one. The masterful pub sequence. The Hillsborough sermon. Lovely. And the whole foreshadowing with Sam and his daddy issues.

Also watched the last episode of New Tricks and tried not to think that this was what pretty, pretty, so damn pretty Joe was going to look like in forty years time. Peanut Gallery snorted with amusement at the very idea. It will happen. Have you seen the state of some of my beautiful boys of late, the ones staring down middle-age, if not actually already sucumbed? Sigh.

Oh yeah, caught a YouTube version of the Doctor Who thingie, the one with Peter Davison. I lost it at the celery. After that, I was just cryin'. Too bloody brilliant. Funniest thing I've seen in a long time.
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Tags: doctor who, life on mars, sam troughton

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