mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

I left my heart in San Francisco

Lewis (and Hathaway) just saved my web page. I was browsing a site, trying to remember something I saw to drop into a fic, for no other reason than as a minor macguffin to try and get the thing creaking along, and there was the perfect soloution, a charming compromise, to the conflicting desires of designer and executive. Nice one.

Also, am pleased with reaction to first finished fic in ages. Not bad for a very rusty wobbly effort scratched out and typed in a series of limited windows of opportunity. I'd really love to get back to my unfinished JPIII series, but I fear Hathaway is going to be one of those high maintenance, problem muses (I should have known when Hathaway!Muse, the minx, insisted on an unscheduled side trip to Oxford on my last UK visit. This was, what, .00003 seconds after first sighting Hathaway, too, oh dear).

Anyway, you'll be interested to know that yesterday didn't go off as planned, due to there being news crews filming the extreme weather at the designated spot. So that's all okay, for the moment. Mind you, it was fun watching the weather footage and imagining the attempt, during the day.

It was a surprisingly excellent day afterall, yesterday, with caramel slices, a finished fic, nice emails from friends, yum cha and even song. And I finally got my mp3/radio. You'd think that wouldn't be hard, but if you don't want an iPod you're screwed, and screwed I was. I wonder if I can load my Yetis onto it (not a band, I have a stack of Dr Who audios kindly given to me).

Also, The Streets of San Francisco is finally out here on dvd. Squee! (Be afraid, be very afraid - chortle). I loved this show - they were repeating it on telly when I was at uni (way back when), it used to play with The Sweeney, and my friends and I would loll around watching it instead of studying. Good times, good times. (It's probably why I never took to Morse, because I was so the Sweeney girl, back then).

It's still fun, is Streets, with Karl Malden redefining crusty old beat cop and a fresh faced Michael Douglas bringing the smart young educated fast tracked golden boy trope. The episodes are all 70s classics (corrupt old partner, psycho cross dressing serial killers) and it's all very, very 70s cop show (laugh at their card catalogues, typewriters and landlines), and it's bloody good. The music, especially, rocks (even from the kitchen). I was bemused at a particularly dramatic piece while old Karl just parked the car.

"Perhaps finding a parking space in SF is worthy of a sting," suggested the Peanut Gallery (back on speaking terms).

And don't get me started on the fashions and those wide, wide ties. Oh, glorious, trashy fun.

Anyhoo, ran into a friend by the lifts, talked Wodehouse and discovered to my horror while we agreed on the best bits out of the best books they did not hold the Laurie/Fry version in high regard. Heavens! I mean, I still can't watch House without thinking Wooster and to make matters even more confusing Jeeves himself popped up on Bones the other week.

I also managed a sucessful foray to Borders (4/5 items found) but was much mocked in Starbucks. Must give up the rapidly re-acquired Starbucks habit - been living on an apple and a latte a day all week and it's worked for me but Starbucks' lattes are worse than doughnuts sugar-wise so I must desist next week. Sulk. Pout. (I wouldn't want to be around me when I climb down off my sugar/coffee high).

Roll on wet long weekend.
Great Scott: Ridley returns to sci-fi
Sydney stays wet yet
St Giles Fair
A Corpus of Writing-Tablets from Roman Britain
More of the big wet will add to hail storm despair
Breasts seem bigger to Brits
The cheesy secret behind successful decision making
Museums and Collections
Oxford University Museum of Natural History
Pitt Rivers Museum
No case against Henson: prosecutors
Maori mythology, folklore and history
Māori mythology
Family tree of the Māori gods

Tags: lewis, streets of san francisco

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