Normally camo pants are great for gardening (all those pockets) and the baginess is great for playing privet twister, but they do appear to be a magnet for the wildlife.
And I was actually enjoying myself. Not a lot of traffic around for a week day so I took the opportunity to sit in a sunny patch out the front and weed around some of the paths. Which pleased the magpies no end, I had nine happily following along behind me at one point. At least my mad bug finding skillz impresses somebody. And I'm glad they got some protien. It's one of the reasons the local wildlife has been so naughty of late: increased food prices has meant a great reduction in birdie num nums (as well as our own kitchen). But you try explaining the world economic downturn, the credit crunch and rising fuel prices to forty hungry magpies.
Other than that? Getting online (took for ever), and watching telly: Lewis, Doctor Who and Torchwood. The Lewis I wanted to watch because I needed a fix and needed to revisit the source once more. This time it was the last (I think, Seven showed 'em out of order so I remain confused) episode, you know, the one where Lewis goes after the aristos who treat him like dirt. Oh yeah, that episode. Anyways, this is the one that opens with the sweaty boys playing squash, well, until Lewis retires from the field clutching his back. Okay, was that just a sulky tanty move, and is squash really how he threw his back out? Anyway, we get cranky Lewis for the rest of the episode, but Hathaway endures and gets his own back being snarky. I did like how, when Lewis is being chewed out by Innocent (back in bitch mode for this episode) Hathaway moves up. It's just a sweet protective, loyal, got your back move. I love it.
But I had forgotten Hathaway's violent violet socks. I'm not sure how - traumatic repression perhaps? I'm afraid I stand solidly with Jeeves on the subject of purple socks. Honestly, Hathaway, aren't they just a tad flamboyant? Who really knows what lurks deep within the heart of Hathaway. I do like the moments when he occassionally cuts loose though. It's always the quiet ones. Maybe somedays he's just tired of being reliable dog geyser person.
Not that he ever lets Lewis take him for granted. I read somewhere that Lewis the show is actually subversive, with the working class copper in charge of the posh totty, but sadly, I don't really think so. Hathaway is way too passive agressive for that. I don't know, it kind of goes both ways, and it depends on the episode. Sometimes Hathaway seems to be chaffing at the bit (oh, imagery!), sometimes Hathaway is openly insubordinate, but then he's also learning to be steadfastly loyal and at other times he's like the perfect little student learning at the side of his gruff and bad tempered master.
Whatever, Hathaway is a mystery wrapped in an enigma and their relationship he has with Lewis is a constantly evolving and complex and often contrary thing. But push come to shove (ahem), I'd say Hathaway's the one in the saddle (okay, can I stop now? sheesh).
Sorry, it's Lewis. It's all he thinks about, I swear. I keep wanting to get back to the case, but all he can think of is Hathaway. Is there anything more distressingly embaressing than a middleaged man obessed with a shiny new love?
Even those too cool for school French were all like 'shudder' at the idea on Spiral. Saw the last episode, which sort of explained stuff, and it turns out poor Benoit wasn't quite the sleaze he was painted to be but he's three quarters dead now so too late. Meanwhile his guilt racked buddy is going for happy hand in hand walks in the countryside with his detective girlfriend...on the way to a grisly crime scene. I mean, really, is that appropriate? You don't see British detectives skipping hand in hand through strawberry fields on the way to a crime scene (though I'd pay good money to see it - grin).
Doctor Who was the Lazarus one, and the Peanut Gallery was also all 'eh' over the fishy creature drowning on Sunday's ep but he reckons that since the alien died in Ordeal and since the hacks on Who couldn't be bothered editing the Ordeal script, thus it went. Hey, at least nobody sang "Beautiful Dreamer". Small mercies, eh?
Anyway, thanks to The Buildings That Shaped Britain, which we've been enjoying even though we think the toff presenting it is completely wrong most of the time (informal Georgian/Victorian households?! Has he never read about the social death of being caught at 3pm in a 2pm dress?) there is much to enjoy, and we were able to properly appreciate the double gothic arch in the background of the Doc's miserable attempt at Quasimodo or whatever.
Then I decided to watch the penultimate epsode of Torchwood (or tried to, my disk be horribly scratched, so it impeded the viewing pleasure somewhat). Not that there was much pleasure to be had with the origin stories which were pathetically lame and ruining of thousands of fan fics, all of which were infinitely better (even the ones with massive typos). (Please, no origin story for Hathaway, it ruins the fun). And why bother making characters interesting just before you, you know? It's become a sad trend of late to give a 2D character some interesting dimension just before they, you know.
Oh, no it ain't. It's Sapper Salt syndrome all over again (from Danger UXB, when a minor background character suddenly got a character history you knew they were for it). It's the equivolent of somebody getting out the family/sweetheart photo in a war film. It's shamelessly and mechanically manipulative is what it is. And unfair, too, like you couldn't be bothered to give the poor schmoe any character beforehand, when they might have had the chance to bloom and grow?
Grumble. And like I said, super-jerky-jumpy-o-vision did not help sell the episode.
Oh well. Back to the salt mines. No one appreciates my efforts here, but at least the magpies rate me a whiz at worm finding, and if Lewis is very lucky, he might get some more Hathaway action sometime tonight. He might indeed be in luck as I've done all the ironing.
Oh, I was going to thank a friend for supplying the bulk of these links, but then I thought I'd better not. Just so as you know, the giant flying turd one is all down to me, cause me and the Peanut Gallery giggled over this one for a good twenty minutes, children that we are (the fact that the rampaging giant inflatable dog turd went on to terrorise poor orphan kiddies was just the icing on the proverbial, imho).
Giant dog turd causes havoc
That's a giant inflatable dog turd, blowing in the wind, pulling down power lines
Giant inflatable turd escapes moorings and brings down electricity line
Tourists' most embarrassing questions revealed by English Heritage
Kirk Family Spoilers For New Star Trek
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Franz Ferdinand stream new song online.
Don't Believe The Hype: Radiohead Haven't Recorded The "Score" To "Choke."
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Don't worry, Woody: anxiety is in the genes, study finds