I just found this pic in the ol flist and it reminded me that there's always time for dress up fun at the castle:
Meanwhile, I'm still boggling at the [SPOILER!] Telegraph mentioning Janto. Nice spoilers, btw (which I then rather shabbily gave away to the Peanut Gallery by giving Spike two thumbs up as I walked past the telly while Buffy was on - he's quick that one, like guessing another tv character on another show was toast when I brought home bargain bin action figure, and what's with romantic entanglement = certain death in Brit telly these days?).
Am also feeling ever so slightly smug - which is extremely dangerous, but there you go. Thanks to an unforecast wet weekened, which thoroughly stuffed the washing (and everything else on the to do list), I managed to get some stuff that I wanted to do done over the weekend, for the first time in nearly two years. So that was something.
I also managed to dub off some stuff off the IQ, including the track five only version of Rome (for some reason Showcase played Rome with only the background surround sound track going, ie no dialogue, and it took them twenty minutes to get someove over to the sheds and wiggle the cables - I saw
cable wiggle before the sound came back). Anyway, as we had to make our own dialogue, poor Titus and Lucius were chatting away like the chav aviators in Armstrong and Miller. It worked a little too well, I fear. So if you ever see me use phrases like "random and shit", "he was disrespecting me" and "I have a note" with Pullo, you'll know from wence it sprang.
Worse, after dubbing Armstrong and Miller, I had to sit through Emma that Sunday night (can't stand Kate Beckinsale, Samantha Morton, Ms Bond or Mark Strong and this had the lot of 'em). Lots of sub adolescent giggling during the dancing scenes, I can tell you.
Anyway, you've probably noticed a bit of scanning going on - all thanks to a very rare wet weekend (driest May ever) which put the kybosh on all washing/watering/weeding and thus freed up an afternoon to devote to more wordly pursuits. There's more to come, if the wet weather continues (mind you, the weekend was forecast as fine, so it's anyone's guess, really).
It was fun, too, because I knew when to look up for Rome while scanning (hello, nekkid Purefoy at one o'clock) and I find Titus...calming. He makes me laugh. Which is as good as whistling through my work, in my book. Oh, I've really enjoyed Rome this week. Really, really.
Which probably brings me in a roundabout way to why I wasn't on last week. Quite simply: headache from hell. It lasted all week (and is still buzzing around), starting on the drive home from Canberra, but it reached a crescendo on Wednesday and I went home, threw up and crawled into bed and it was while I was watching Morse (of all things) that I realised (to my mild and initial horror) my poor wee brain had been reset back to gay pr0n mode. Yippee. So everything has been watched with slash coloured glasses this week, and it's been rather fun.
Crap for coding though, as I seem to use another part of my head entirely for code and it's either code or slash and right now slash is in the ascendency. Shrug. Whatever. It's way more fun. I even wrote a pwp on Saturday. It's not good (and I'm not just attempting modesty here), but I've not written in years so it was more basket weaving therapy than shooting for the Booker prize. Meant to type it up today but I missed the bus and there went my window of o. (due to complete lack of p. t. I was nearly two hours late, for the want of thirty seconds at the outset). Did I mention that slash brain is a flake?
Also, been reading far too much Wodehouse of late (I realised that when the characters nearly had a d. and m. in the pwp, before they wisely went back to bonking).
Anyway, Canberra you ask? Oh yes, went down for the Turner and Monet exhibition. Forgot to pack The Impressionists but I did pack the Yellow House and it was fun to watch the show then see the paintings. Alas, I couldn't hook up the wee player to the hotel tv (got the sound to work) so we had to watch it in squinty vision - possibly the origin of The Headache. Shrug. It's not like I could pre-test the plugs on the hotel telly.
Never mind. It was a late start, even later than I expected with tardy friend (I was expecting her an hour after the ETA but it was more like two) so I watered the garden and it started sprinkling while I watered so I had my big coat on, which I then forgot it because I'd chucked it over chair on the kitchen, not back over suitcase as was proper, but never mind, Canberra was never as cold or damp as my back garden.
Once past the ever-outlying burbs the sun came out and we had a lovely stop over in Berrima, though the very pricey and snobby Inn where we had lunch didn't quite live up to either the snobbery or the price. Oh well. Paying for that made us evens for petrol, at least (yep, that pricey). Next time it's back to the cafe, methinks.
Got into Canberra at sunset and had a walk around the ANU grounds, where we were staying (cheap accom.) which is more like a leafy suburb than a campus. Some gorgeous old buildings, especially the Art School which is like an Art Deco icecream cake.
Dinner was at Boffins which evoked the Orient Express, right down to the little lamps on the tables (still with the art deco). I had the seared 'roo, and it was divine, washed down with a cheap bit of French plonk (cheaper than local? Help me, I'm in Bizarro land) and we tottered back, narrowly avoiding the plight of dropping into the misty fishpond on the other side of the path - a common fate, apparently, after particularly fine nosh ups. Watched wee dvd player, as before.
Rose to find the world enshrouded in fog. I couldn't even see the enormous, threatening bronze Winston from across the road (I feared I'd have Harryhausen nightmares of Winston stepping down off his plinth with menances to wreak carnage and ruin but I didn't, at least, not that night, had Harryhausen-esque Rome dreams later during the week). It had all burned off by the time the travelling companion was up and about and we made it to the gallery just in time for opening. She considered me an OCD pest, but later appreciated beating the herds for we had the paintings and rooms almost to ourselves to delight in while behind us the bovine crowds trod around slowly, five or six deep, which is the worst possible way to view a painting, imho.
The reviews for this show weren't good, and whatever scholarship they intended, it was just a bunch of pretty landscapes and it worked for me. Mainly European and Australian (only a token Kiwi, as far as I know, none I recognised) and two works that were of Yosemite but by a German so technically, no North American stuff. Which was odd, but maybe the Yanks don't do dreamy landscapes and this was what this was, dreamy vistas. Lots of Impressionist stuff, you know, Monet et al, and of course Turner and Constable, and some of my fave Streetons. There was a strking Russian work of bare trees, a lovely juxatposition of a French and Victorian streetscape (100 asa and 400 asa, to put it simply, the difference in light that has always got me) and some forest scenes by Van Gough, which were mercifuuly green (I'm with Gauguin on the whole "Arrrgh! Yellow!" thing). It was amusing because Van Gough's forests had used every green in the box - there was clearly a man who didn't have to pay for his own paints. Some lovely Monet stuff though, a couple of watery views that seemed to ripple (alas my pics of ripples in Lake Burley Griffin didn't turn out). In short, I loved it. Well worth the effort of getting down there.
Drove back admiring the painterly views (funny how one views everything though oil painted glass after a good art show) but I think the dappled sunlight, when we finally hit trees in the southern highlands, did for me. Stopped off in Mitttagong for pies and habadashery.They actually had a haberdashery shop (none where I live) and I managed to fill most of my list of zippers and buttons and the like.
Got home in time for tea.
Spent the rest of the week struggling through work and watching telly (Rome, Morse, mainly). Watched Silent Witness and Spooks (Adam = pretty) on Friday, and, oh yes, Inspector Rex on Thursday. Again I ask, this is a kid's show? It's a bit, um, edgy, even by my standards. Certainly there's precious little of Moser left to the imagination. Oh my. Apparently naked Austrians are okay in these repressive times (don't even get me started on the whole Henson thing). Alas, the IQ spazzed at the nudity so I can't make a copy for anyone - pouty pouty (and I'm surprised Stocki was revealed later to be married, given his carry on in this episode, though no one and nothing can match Rex for bunny boiling).
Poor Lewis in Morse though. Forever being verbally abused, and rarely being happy about it. It's only made slightly bearable now from knowing that one day Lewis' ship will come in - grin.
Oh, yeah, my gift of a wet weekend also meant I had time for a couple of dvds. I picked the "I love my not quite dead gay ex-priest DS" episode of Lewis (such a classic) and an episode of Young Indy that I picked out having a vague memory there was "someone" in it. That someone was Marc Warren (eerily unchanged) playing the Red Baron no less. Also with Craig "Bad Accent" Kelly as Fokker and Jon Pertwee as an extremely camp German general (or something, it was all very panto). Loads of silly fun. Too tragic about the ye olde cgi though.
Better go. Flakey brain isn't much for the old Protestant work ethic, but I'd better do something, I suppose. I find it very amusing. It's like being my own evil twin.
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