It was really great to catch up with friend, and to get outside and away from my desk. So very nice.
We kvetched about the weather and the state of the econonomy like a couple old nanas, grizzled about copyright laws and grumbled about our lacklustre tech, raved about what we'd last listened to on Radio Four (if the Beeb firewalls that I'll be devastated), what we'd last read, what books we were looking for (the market here sucks so it's always a quest to find even the most standard classics of books), what tv we'd watched, etc.
We also grimaced about Zimbabwe holding all those Hartnell episodes. Send in the SAS! I mean, they send them after imaginary WMDs, so why can't they send them in to liberate the tapes? What is the point of them, then? Ditto MI5 and MI6. Useless, the lot of ya.
I was also going to grumble yesterday about the lack of appreciation for the Lindisfarne bible of a website I made (over 300 pages all hand coded because there was no budget for a cms or overtime and I've gone blind like Donald Pleasance in the Great Escape doing it) but then one of the directors decided to send me along for this (free) junkety thing that I'll tell you about once it happens as a reward. Okay, so somebody appreciated my efforts (even though it's still more than a bit 'I went blind and all I got was this stale muffin').
TV? There should be a new rule: no blondes after 10pm. Because I really can't stay up every night watching Merlin dvds (and other stuff). Ah well, next week I won't have to worry because True Blood will beat the curfew and we'll finally be up to Mr Viking Frightwig Vampire, aka The Lovely Alexander. Yay. Last night? Bill hanging around his skanky vamp pals, and what did he expect, letting them slobber over Sookie and then seemingly confused that the girl got upset over it. He's really not dated a mortal chick for a while, has he?
Thursday: Okay, the no blondes after ten rule was hard to keep, especially as they were offering up young Laurence on two channels, but I was firm (Hathaway is going to kill me).
Not that I slept much, still tossing and turning trying to remember stuff, Matter of Britain stuff. Not that I can, and really, sometimes I wonder the point of reading all this stuff if I can never remember it when I need to. Thank goodness for Google.
I'm wondering now now if Uther will ever move from thinking his boy has a guardian angel with all his miraculous escapes, to some more sinister line of thought. I mean, Uther seeing the dark side in everything, what are the odds? And whom would he suspect? The boy born of dark magic or the bumbling twit by his side?
Oh, is that a plot bunny humping my leg? Quite possibly.
I'm also wondering if Uther would start to wonder at the wisdom of placing this Merlin, this boy off the streets, about whom he knows absolutely nothing, so close to his son, especially as Merlin is so overfamiliar with Arthur (and so often found at the scene of the crime, so to speak). Sure enough it's keeping to the tradition that Arthur follows Merlin's lead, but I can't see dear old Dad being happy at what he would see as undue influence. Would he try and break them up? Trump up charges (even if they were true)? Because, traditionally, Merlin is this overly influential Rasputin-like character (and by the end of series one he's a major player, and can you imagine Merlin done as the Wire?).
And how is Gwen going to deal with this power behind the throne? Well, we all know how. Poor Gwen. Your destiny is: royal beard. That kinda sucks. (No kids? Hubby always off with the lads? Uh huh).
Friday: You early got well shot of me yesterday. I was trudging back from the shops (in need of some plain tops for work due to not having done the washing proper since, well, January, due to rain and work commits) and there was this almighty crunch as I walked past the building site but I didn't pay it much mind as my own building is a dusty and dangerous construction site and I'm used to it now. Curiosity was picqued later when I saw all the emergency vehicles and cordons cutting off the road on the way home. I really wasn't bothered at all until I caught the news, which gleefully described the squishy death I'd somehow missed out on, as the whole building is in the process of collapse and about to come crunching all the way down.
So, despite trying to go to bed early and letting the pvr watch my telly for me (Dexter and LOM), though I did catch young Laurence in Becoming Jane, or bits thereof, in the early evening, I tossed and turned all night fretting about faling buildings and there was this dark haired youth who reckoned he knew the reason for the building's collapse and I was wondering who died and made him an architecural engineer, but upon waking, still all feverish and exhausted, I am bemused at how my poor subconscious mashed up real life falling buildings, and legendary ones. Heh.
Merlin on the brain much? Why do you ask?
Anyways, since I left work early (or rather on time, fer once) I caught an episode of Maverick. It was the more than vaguely F Troop-esque one where they scare off the Sioux by pretending the fort is haunted. The peanut gallery complained that for a comedy episode there's a lot of brutality and horror and he felt like getting all Buffy and pointing out that the Sioux weren't without legitimate grievances. That said, it's a really cool episode (but when the idiot young officer shows up it really swerves hard into F Troop territory) and I was mighty impressed by Mr Garner's leap into the saddle (all in shot so it wasn't a stuntman, ditto the fast gunplay he trew off the other day, very impressive). Ah, for the days when actors actually did some of the work themselves. I gotta say, it quickens a girl's heart to see such impressive feats of the manly arts, it really does.
What else? Mowed the front lawn, so we're no longer the disgrace of the neighbourhood, whle it was still light. Didn't do the back because we have no lawn there to speak of any more (I swear the front only survived because of that burst pipe).
Meanwhile, I'm wondering if they'll have a canonical food fight in Merlin, as the arrival of the round table (flatpack, Ikea) is appareently preceded by a massive foodfight that gets out of control, starting with bread and wine cups being thrown, then weapons being drawn. I mentioned this to the peanut gallery who said he could just imagine Barbera Windsor getting a cream bun down the cleavage. Okay, perhaps not. I was just bemused, it sounded very Wooster-y there, for just a moment. Merlin done as Wodehouse? Heh.
Btw, thanks to the friend who sent the Catherine Tate clip. I'm not sure if I'd seen that before (my viewing of CT is patchy at best), but if I ever had a need to see young Colin waving around a dildo, consider it sated. And the leering wink Liam throws the young lad, talk about the big bad wolf - smirk. Clearly, gormless and gay is Colin's schtick. He'll go far on the BBC with that.
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