Anyhoo, Himself pootled across to the land of the long white cloud on Thurs and I'd originally put in for the two days off to get some serious housework done, but I was still reeling from a really bad ToM so I pretty much waved him off and crawled back into bed. In fact, I did exactly that.
I snoozed, I watched a few episodes of Demons, and one Lewis. Now I know I'm on the outer here, but I didn't mind Demons. As Buffy ripoffs go I've seen worse and it had its problems, but it also had potential (but that gets you nowhere and nothing these days). The main problems were Phil's "American" accent, but considering he does most of his stuff using accents, I wasn't as put off as some (I still have real problems with Damian and Hugh though, it will never sit right with me) and it wasn't as bad as young Mr McGregor's attempts at an American accent (one thing that has stood Aussies in good stead since the twenties is the fact that while our shores may be awash wth American media, it has meant our actors can and have faked it since the talkie was invented).
The real problems I have with Demons are the theme tune, which sounds like something from Sid and Marty Croft, and then the sub par "monsters" looking like something from rent-a-ghost wander in. I suppose they were trying to pitch young but went a bit too Saturday Morning for my tastes, especially as the stories struggled to go darker as the series, what there was of it, progressed. It's hardly Hex, but it tried. I liked the conceits of bastardising the Dracula text (perhaps not if I was a purist but as I experienced the Count on Sesame Street before ever reading the book I could never, ever be a purist for that particular text) and I liked the supporting cast (although they killed off some of the more interesting ones) and I was bemused that casting a pretty boy in the lead meant they could do the brooding hero rooftop shots while he was feeling the burden of slayerdom. Two for the price of one, you might say. Yes, it was a cutprice Buffy, but I liked it. Sigh.
I could have wished they'd made Rupert (I know, Rupert!!!) a touch more morally grey, and my but VHjnr got over the whole EvilDad (tm) thing pretty quickly - it was more a passing nod to daddy issues than any real exploration thereof. And the vamp trying to live clean, well, they're the new black again right now, aren't they. Sad to say, I actually liked Ruby. As the spunky torch burning gal next door, well, she was far less annoying than she might have been, and having been through the whole 'no girl understands me' sobbing on the shoulder thing by one's greatest love myself, I guess I empathised way too much, like I always do (tissues, tissues).
On the whole, I liked it. A few more shadows, a few less campy monsters, it coluda worked. Worked for me (well hello, Christian, how about a little sugar for grandma...)
Meanwhile the episode of Lewis revolved entirely around my fridge magnet (from the Ashmolean), which I'd only picked up because I liked the painting and it reminded me of one I'd seen before as a child (possibly it, or soomething like), but now I know more about it than I ever needed to. This story gave us a chick of the week for Hathaway and a rather worrying she's barely legal, Lewis! flirtation for Robbie. Wasn't best pleased with those developments, but they still kept on with the comments about the boys being joined at the hip, as were. The story was daft in the extreme, but there were some nice moments, pretty scenery and lots of Hathaway pulling faces like Hugh Laurie in just about anything he made before House.
For tea it was day one of my left over challenge, in which I attempt to make proper grown up dinners from stuff in the kitchen because I wasn't up to a run to the shops. In truth, I cheated a bit as, because of having to make all those sandwiches, there were a lot of likely leftovers lurking in the fridge.
As my old grapes were starting to looked tired and the smoked salmon wouldn't last another day, I made leftover pasta (all those odd bits left over in packets, we keep them in a container of pasta oddments) with smoked salmon, cracked pepper, grapes and mascarpone cheese. Brilliant. All washed down with some alarmingly cheap plonk (which I had picked up with the milk and papers).
For Friday I decided to get the washing done. It wasn't as warm and sunny as Thurs, but that couldn't be helped. Did some weeding, watched some more Demons. Also indulged in some Bergerac, Maverick and had Top Gear and the Daily Show on while I made tea. Which was left over pizza. Basically I found some pita bread that hadn't been used or turned green and used that as a pizza base onto which I slapped my leftover cheese slices, leftover ham slices, one tomato, sliced, and some oregano from the garden, with a grind of salt and pepper. It turned out quite well. Washed down with the alarmingly cheap plonk again.
Saturday was awful. Hung out the clothes again and proceeded, as it was sunny, onto some serious weeding. I was having quite a lovely day and had paused to have a cuppa when the arrogant neighbour decided to start chopping my trees down. Fair enough lopping off over hanging branches but he was leaning over the fence to chainsaw the trees off level with the fence. Gone wentbeloved trees planted by my parents. I eventually had to call the police to stop him.
After that I wept buckets and then hopped online and surfed until I was reminded that Mr Tennant was in Foyle's War, which I watched, and enjoyed (I was so upset I couldn't calm down during an earlier screening of Dr Who) and then there was an excellent edition of Rage with Japan and Orange Juice and The Smiths and the Cure and Souxsie and the Stranglers and the Saints and Haircut 100 and I cheered up at last. It was Japan that really cheered me up, though. I'd been humming them off and on of late (what a girl sans working mp3 player has to resort to), and when the old clip started, teenaged squee ensued.
Sunday. Wot a grey day. Up with the, well, lorikeets to bolt down and get papers and milk, then race around house trying to do a tidy as a frantic call yesterday delivered some help via a car full of arms, legs and clipers and saws and string and we managed to prune and tie back the remaining trees as much as possible (going to have to get a manny in to get the really high branches). I've no idea why now, when I thought it was part of the fencing project I was negotiating with the landlord, but whatever. We worked in the rain but it was done, with no appearance from the other side. I'll probably come home and find the rest of the trees gone, but I tried. Why everyone has to be now, right this minute and be so nasty about it when others slope by without doing anything they've ever promised to do.
Never mind. Scratched, soaked and tired I waved them off and sat down with a cuppa to watch the remainder of Merlin (being repeated) and The Saint and then I dozed off for a bit. I was only just up and mucking about online when Himself arrived home, right as Merlin started (so I saw bits, heard none, but my Bradley is so pretty on the lounge telly) then I made leftover pizzas again, served, regrettably during Bones. I mean, I loved Bones, and enjoyed it immensely, but ew, gross.
And that's where the trentacles came in. No, nothing to do with Bones, it turns out Himself went to see the giant squid they've got pickled at Te Papa and brought me back a stuffed plush squid, whose tentacles dangled over the gift bag in a way that is far more comical than you might believe.
Now I have a toy lobster and a toy squid. That is bypassing quirky and heading straight on to weird. Oh well. I had a hot chocolate and new warm house socks cheered me up no end.
Thus ends my weekend. Now I'm back at work and it is seriously shitty. I'm excluded from everything now. Why I bother to show up I do not know. I know, it's all my fault, I'm a bad person, I deserve all this. But I'd rather be warm and happy, if it's all the same to you.
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