Friday: Woman chokes to death on own drool. My dear, dear friend, while tsking me for my shameless drooling over toy boys just happened to have a magazine featuring said toy boy (funny that - grin) and she just sent me some scans of young Mr Farrell. Defibrillators! Oh...my...god...can we say drop dead gorgeous????
Forgot to mention the only highlight of Friday. Bro came home with a Madness dvd, which I insisted he play immediately. I was such a fan of the Mads and a couple of songs brough back school so vividly in a Proustian moment that I could practically smell my maths textbook. Yikes. We played the dvd joyfully (One Step Beyond, Night Boat to Cairo, Baggy Trousers, Grey Day, My Girl...) up until Wings of a Dove, where Madness well and truly jumped the shark, alas, so we popped the dvd and by then it was time for Stargate anyway. It was the black hole one. No Danny, Jack history angst and the introduction of Major Davis - whose appearance coincides with missing Danny, the first truly Super Sam episode and the first real appearance of dumb as a box of hammers Jack. Hmmmm. So, it's all Maj. Davis' fault? I knew there was a reason I didn't like that little weasel.
Monday: Man, I'm gonna miss the view from here. This morning I was watching it bucket down over the city in great sheets of rain, while it was a perfect morning out here: bronze/egg shell blue early morning skies, fluffy lilac tinged clouds, birds flying past so perfectly placed in the scenery you'd think they were cgi birds.
Last Friday, still in daylight saving time, it was pitch black and I was marvelling over the stars and the street lights twinkling away like a jewelled carpet. Sigh.
Still, it was lovely to see the dawn. I no longer have to wave the bus down with my pink throbbing disco light stick, though once again the lunatic howling up the front of the bus was the driver, mounting footpaths left, right and centre. Forget terrorism, I've much more chance of being taken out by an arsefaced bus driver.
I don't know why people are so worked up. I went to school in the 70s and 80s and we had bomb threats at school all the time (two for real) and there was the Woolworths bombing and the Hilton bombing and when I was a young teenaged file clerk I used to have to deliver documents to courthouses all the time which were always being blown up by anti-Family Court nutters. No one gave a shit back then, so why now? (shrugs)
I was having a discussion with a friend re wars, especially WWI and the social fallout from it, especially for those who survived the carnage in France, the badly led troops, the massive waste of life, the basting of towns and fields into hellscapes. It influenced theatre, poetry, films and books. All Quiet on the Western Front, Edward Thomas, Lord of the Rings, etc.
I mentioned how the US missed the worst of both previous wars, and was reminded that American pilots signed up early for both in Canada and England. Yep, knew that. British war movies, classics one and all, often have a Yank pilot or two, probably with an eye to overseas sales :D. Seriously, though, the fact that Americans did sign up, either out of adventure or duty, is not one of those unspoken war things. I've seen it referenced in films, books and comics, usually as a way of getting an American hero into the action early (we will not mention the excreable U751 here).
No claws, it's just that any movie featuring a cast of Brits usually has an American included for US sales, qv The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and their Tom Sawyer ring in. Just stating a sad fact of life. I'm surprised they didn't add a Yank to Ned Kelly (now that was claws - grin). The reviews do lament that the Kelly story has been Westernised. Oh well. I shall decide when I see it. as much as mother accuses me of only going to see Orlando in a bath, I did write a long paper on Ned and his social issues for uni, and I got an A for it, so there.
As for war and hardship, we still had rationing (and blackouts) up until the early 80s. Ditto the UK. Bill Bryson says the UK in the 70s could have been mistaken for a communist country, so grim were things supermarket wise (and it's still the same at my local supermarket). I think though it means I'm used to making do, rationing, saving up for treats and I could manage those living in a primitive house shows better than the people they do get, mainly because I am living in 1940s house (no mod cons). At least watching that Frontier House I now know my Californian friends aren't stuffed in the head, as I feared they might be, rather they're just Californian (grin). If I was that Tenessee woman I'd have had that Californian family chopped up and buried in a shallow grave in the woods long before now :D.
Asks friend: And this did not teach you folks to stop doing things overseas on a whim???
Nope. My Manchester born friend, noting the obscene amount of battles commemorated on the local war memorial, and not even any recent ones, either, wanted to know why we'd had so many conflicts when we'd never technically been invaded. Bombed by the Japanese in WWII and bothered by the French in the Napoleonic Wars, but never actually invaded.
It's the whole stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere thing, or as it's more politely called, the tyranny of distance:
1. The whole if there's a brightest point in the galaxy, we're the farthest point from it thing. Everything exciting happens on the other side of the world and we want in, dammit.
2. The Yellow Peril. Real and not entirely unjustified fears of our Asian neighbours to the north has us pitching in to any conflict with the proven mistaken idea that the US and/or UK will then feel they owe us to help us out if we get in trouble. To date whenever we really are in trouble none of our allies have swept to our aid and we've had to save ourselves. This doesn't mean this hasn't shaped our foreign policy since European settlement. This time fer sure...
3. It's a long way to Tipperary, and anywhere else for that matter. Travel is still prohibitively expensive and service is still one way to get to see the world. Yes, we're willing to get shot at to get out of this place. And we want to get out of this place - it's boring and one big country town and nothing cool ever happens here, see above.
4. Look at me, look at me! We're still here. The fear of being forgotten, overlooked, not considered important. We're needy, desperate to please and we have small man's syndrome.
That's about it. Fear and boredom. And you thought it'd be deeper than that. Nah. We're a simple peoples.
Back to work...though there's nothing much in the in-tray, yet. I should be polishing up my western but I'm a little too tired and drained for that. Brain won't work. Spent the weekend labouring away, the high point which just has to be scrubbing birdshit off the back veranda. I just love my life.
TV: On Saturday I managed to find a couple of hours to play a few episodes off my Invisible Man dvds, picking episodes as yet unscreened out here (big razzies to Channel Ten) and I thoroughly enjoyed that. Watching one episode I was suddenly reminded of an episode of I Spy set in Hong Kong. I put it on and there was the same actress, in pretty much the same role, as a gun runner. Holy Hannah, you mean I have a database of obscure I Spy guest stars as well as locations rattling around in my noggin? No wonder I can't learn anything new. So I settled in for a couple of I Spys as well, loverly stuff. Then it was Andromeda. I'm losing interest in Andromeda as they've lost the few things I really liked about it but the guest blonde this week was actually amusing, so that was new. A dolly bird with spunk - highly irregular on a cheap SF show. Didn't really watch anything else as it's next week that EC9 starts it's Spinster Saturday Super Hour with Smallville - at last. Yes, it's is the crazy cat lady time slot. I was told that years ago, that only spinsters spend Saturday night in, which is why a lot of tv I watch is programmed to be on then. This is true, though it's the lack of public transport of any sort that has me a house prisoner, rather than the lack of a social life. You know I prefer to go out on my own anyway. Ended up watching a bit of Star Trek, because it was the one with the Gorn (Arena). The Gorn sounds exactly like my brother first thing in the morning, and just as mean, too. Good thing Bro eschews the mardi gras little jumpsuit though. Yikes. Decided to catch up on a week's worth of telly, which meant Angel. Hoo ya, fucking A. This was brilliant. Finally, something on telly that has me cheering and laughing and ooohing like I'm at a panto or something. Loved Lilah's wicked impersonation of Drop Dead Fred. Loved Dark Pistol Packing Wes. Oh man, he is so cool! The whole bit with the shot gun, very T2 but I still loved it. Loved the whole Wes/Gunn standoff but he still cradled hurty Gunn at the end, awww. Loved Angel being thrown through the column and all the wire fu. The only icky parts were anything that featured Cordelia. Eeew. Other than that, rocking! And what was with the William comment? (no, don't tell me, I'll find out).
After that I watched Enterprise and so much for their no Romulans promise but the whole defusing a mine noble sacrifice get to know Reed plot worked rather well and I liked it. Of course there was no real peril as we knew the Capt was going to save Reed, but a nice bottle episode nevertheless. Thankyou for mentioning The Royal Navy. At least not everything in Enterprise is Americanised.
Sunday was a day of work, though I did catch a bit of David Franklin as Brutus in Xena. Et Tu, toga boy? Also saw a bit of Orly in some E! type show, watched the Frontier Americans bitch and moan to teeth grinding levels, watched a bit of Knight's Tale and tried my best to sleep (this work thing is really, really bothering me, as my fitful dreams will attest).
Put the mockers on myself gloating over the beuatiful morning. It is now pissing down outside, all cold and wet and nasty. Cue Madness' Grey Day on the old turntable. Speaking of which, turns out that music I've been hearing in the background while trying to read or sleep in my room this last week or so was not a first break schizophrenic episode, as I'd feared. Rather, Aged Parent, fossicking about in my rooms in ways that are strictly verboten accidentally backed into my stereo and, flustered by the electrickery device, could only manage to turn it down, not off. And so it played, loud enough for me to occassionally catch what I thought were snatches of tunes inbetween heavy lorries and low flying airplanes and she finally copped to it when I fretted I must surely be going mad because I swore I could hear music playing somewhere as I tried to read the Sunday papers. I'd not even checked my stereo as the last time I'd had time to play cds, and that was while cleaning, was before Xmas. The little light was buried beneath a pile of cds. That'll learn me. At least I'm not going nuts, at least, I wasn't imagining music.
Mind you that's not the only spot of gaslighting I had to endure last week. Somehow, stuff I'd done, and co-worker had done, on the work site had vanished. Not merely the changes we knew we'd made but the emails advising of the work and that the work had been done. CW suspects the Matrix had been reset, and I suspect that's fairly close to the truth. I've had that happen before when other work pages or home pages have suddenly reverted to versions days, weeks and even years old. I suspect a system failure and a failure to make daily backups so an old backup was used - and thus things vanished. Freaky though. We've no proof we did the work yet we know damn well we did. It's all a massive plot to break me. Nice try, but I'm tougher than that.