Where did I get up to? Ah yes, Tom and I were standing on the steps of the Sacre Coeur being mushy. Well the hunger kicked in and we wound our way down the hill back a little square of bustling people and restaurants. We ate moules frites and drank wine in a cosy restaurant, with a German family speaking English on our left and an American couple speaking French on our right. Crowds passed chattering and waiters applauded when plates and glasses were smashed.
I really enjoyed the convivial atmosphere of the evenings in Paris. This was 9pm on a Sunday, shops were still open and people were happily bumbling around.
We went back after that, and after a lovely hot bath, I curled up in bed grinning over my book.
In the morning we sat in the dining room for the continental breakfast buffet, peering over the cafe curtains at the tall elegant buildings. I had a brioche with Nutella for my sugar high, a bowl of fruit salad, cheese, ham, boiled eggs, orange juice and a very strong coffee. After that we took the Metro to the Champs Elysee and strolled down it indulging in a little leche-vitrine, what the french call window shopping, literally 'licking the windows'. I cooed over the macaroons in Lauduree, and Tom critically eyed the cars in the huge automated show rooms.
Eventually we arrived at the Place du Concorde and gazed up at the obelisk, relishing in the diagrams carved into the plinth that show how they managed to transport the it and raise it. We decided that each of the four sides were different, and that they must name some very important people as there were a lot of Kartouches in the inscription. We strolled on ward then through the gardens watching fairy lights being strung in trees and leaves fell and wove themselves in my Hair.
Then came the Louvre. The glass pyramids really are fantastic, reflecting the fabulous ornate buildings surround them, and they house a subterranean reception area that is filled with light. I loved the lift for wheel chairs and pushchairs that was a circular platform that rose and fell but was the centre of a spiral stair case for the rest of us.
No art for us, no Mona Lisas. We were there for antiquities. We strolled though Egyptian, Greek Roman, Syrian, Phoenician wondering with awe. I am surprised at how much of my A level French comes back to me, as I carefully tried to translate the labels. We must have been in there for hours and hours and I think Tom thought he'd lost me as I dived in and out of worlds I read so much about. Hunger struck again though, and we went to the cafeteria for lunch. Tom had a lovely piece of salmon with rice and ratatouille and I had a large plate from the salad bar. It didn't go especially well with the red wine we were drinking, but it had all sorts of lovely things like smoked mackerel in it.
When we were bored of antiquities and wondering around beautiful back streets we came back the to hotel to change. Tom managed to outdo himself even further, as we were going the ballet at the Opera de Palais Garnier, the huge opera house. I put on my green dress, which while cruel is lovely, and my white satin gloves and gazed adoringly at Tom as we flew under the city in the Metro. The opera house is opulent to the point of sublime and ridiculous, all baroque curlicues and gilt and marble. It took my breath away. Walking the wide stair cases, I felt like I should have been in a ball gown, even thought there were people there in jeans and t shirts as well as tuxedos.
It only got better. An usher unlocked a door, and there was a curtained box with little chairs, and a mirror and bench. All the seats in the dress circle are boxes that work their way around the whole sweep of the auditorium. We were more towards the centre and I had a perfect clear few of the stage. The ballet was a version of Wuthering Heights, alternately contemporary and classical. I'm sure Tom had no idea what was going, indeed I found the story fairly hard to follow but the dancing was something else. When they were supposed to be frolicking in fields, you could see the immaturity and childish nature of the movements letting you know they were young. Hundreds of tiny balls fell from the ceiling, and like a weeble toy, righted themselves and flowers popped up unexpectedly. Later dancers supposed to be Heathcliff's visions of Catherine performed the same movements canon, but with some flying on ropes, or dancing on hidden platforms that made them look like they were floating. I especially loved the use of depth, of the movement travelling up and down stage rather that just presenting moving 2d pictures across the stage like a film.
Even the time Tom and I spent trying to find a toilet in the interval was amazing. We went through many doors and came upon a suite of rooms, clearly used for receptions as there was bar in the central one. These rooms had beautifully painted ceilings, views out across the surrounding streets, inlaid panelling. It was like something out of a Bond film casino. We stood for a while hand in hand watching the people below and the others theatre goers.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Paris Part 2.
Where did I get up to? Ah yes, Tom and I were standing on the steps of the Sacre Coeur being mushy. Well the hunger kicked in and we wound our way down the hill back a little square of bustling people and restaurants. We ate moules frites and drank wine in a cosy restaurant, with a German family speaking English on our left and an American couple speaking French on our right. Crowds passed chattering and waiters applauded when plates and glasses were smashed.
I really enjoyed the convivial atmosphere of the evenings in Paris. This was 9pm on a Sunday, shops were still open and people were happily bumbling around.
We went back after that, and after a lovely hot bath, I curled up in bed grinning over my book.
In the morning we sat in the dining room for the continental breakfast buffet, peering over the cafe curtains at the tall elegant buildings. I had a brioche with Nutella for my sugar high, a bowl of fruit salad, cheese, ham, boiled eggs, orange juice and a very strong coffee. After that we took the Metro to the Champs Elysee and strolled down it indulging in a little leche-vitrine, what the french call window shopping, literally 'licking the windows'. I cooed over the macaroons in Lauduree, and Tom critically eyed the cars in the huge automated show rooms.
Eventually we arrived at the Place du Concorde and gazed up at the obelisk, relishing in the diagrams carved into the plinth that show how they managed to transport the it and raise it. We decided that each of the four sides were different, and that they must name some very important people as there were a lot of Kartouches in the inscription. We strolled on ward then through the gardens watching fairy lights being strung in trees and leaves fell and wove themselves in my Hair.
Then came the Louvre. The glass pyramids really are fantastic, reflecting the fabulous ornate buildings surround them, and they house a subterranean reception area that is filled with light. I loved the lift for wheel chairs and pushchairs that was a circular platform that rose and fell but was the centre of a spiral stair case for the rest of us.
No art for us, no Mona Lisas. We were there for antiquities. We strolled though Egyptian, Greek Roman, Syrian, Phoenician wondering with awe. I am surprised at how much of my A level French comes back to me, as I carefully tried to translate the labels. We must have been in there for hours and hours and I think Tom thought he'd lost me as I dived in and out of worlds I read so much about. Hunger struck again though, and we went to the cafeteria for lunch. Tom had a lovely piece of salmon with rice and ratatouille and I had a large plate from the salad bar. It didn't go especially well with the red wine we were drinking, but it had all sorts of lovely things like smoked mackerel in it.
When we were bored of antiquities and wondering around beautiful back streets we came back the to hotel to change. Tom managed to outdo himself even further, as we were going the ballet at the Opera de Palais Garnier, the huge opera house. I put on my green dress, which while cruel is lovely, and my white satin gloves and gazed adoringly at Tom as we flew under the city in the Metro. The opera house is opulent to the point of sublime and ridiculous, all baroque curlicues and gilt and marble. It took my breath away. Walking the wide stair cases, I felt like I should have been in a ball gown, even thought there were people there in jeans and t shirts as well as tuxedos.
It only got better. An usher unlocked a door, and there was a curtained box with little chairs, and a mirror and bench. All the seats in the dress circle are boxes that work their way around the whole sweep of the auditorium. We were more towards the centre and I had a perfect clear few of the stage. The ballet was a version of Wuthering Heights, alternately contemporary and classical. I'm sure Tom had no idea what was going, indeed I found the story fairly hard to follow but the dancing was something else. When they were supposed to be frolicking in fields, you could see the immaturity and childish nature of the movements letting you know they were young. Hundreds of tiny balls fell from the ceiling, and like a weeble toy, righted themselves and flowers popped up unexpectedly. Later dancers supposed to be Heathcliff's visions of Catherine performed the same movements canon, but with some flying on ropes, or dancing on hidden platforms that made them look like they were floating. I especially loved the use of depth, of the movement travelling up and down stage rather that just presenting moving 2d pictures across the stage like a film.
Even the time Tom and I spent trying to find a toilet in the interval was amazing. We went through many doors and came upon a suite of rooms, clearly used for receptions as there was bar in the central one. These rooms had beautifully painted ceilings, views out across the surrounding streets, inlaid panelling. It was like something out of a Bond film casino. We stood for a while hand in hand watching the people below and the others theatre goers.
I really enjoyed the convivial atmosphere of the evenings in Paris. This was 9pm on a Sunday, shops were still open and people were happily bumbling around.
We went back after that, and after a lovely hot bath, I curled up in bed grinning over my book.
In the morning we sat in the dining room for the continental breakfast buffet, peering over the cafe curtains at the tall elegant buildings. I had a brioche with Nutella for my sugar high, a bowl of fruit salad, cheese, ham, boiled eggs, orange juice and a very strong coffee. After that we took the Metro to the Champs Elysee and strolled down it indulging in a little leche-vitrine, what the french call window shopping, literally 'licking the windows'. I cooed over the macaroons in Lauduree, and Tom critically eyed the cars in the huge automated show rooms.
Eventually we arrived at the Place du Concorde and gazed up at the obelisk, relishing in the diagrams carved into the plinth that show how they managed to transport the it and raise it. We decided that each of the four sides were different, and that they must name some very important people as there were a lot of Kartouches in the inscription. We strolled on ward then through the gardens watching fairy lights being strung in trees and leaves fell and wove themselves in my Hair.
Then came the Louvre. The glass pyramids really are fantastic, reflecting the fabulous ornate buildings surround them, and they house a subterranean reception area that is filled with light. I loved the lift for wheel chairs and pushchairs that was a circular platform that rose and fell but was the centre of a spiral stair case for the rest of us.
No art for us, no Mona Lisas. We were there for antiquities. We strolled though Egyptian, Greek Roman, Syrian, Phoenician wondering with awe. I am surprised at how much of my A level French comes back to me, as I carefully tried to translate the labels. We must have been in there for hours and hours and I think Tom thought he'd lost me as I dived in and out of worlds I read so much about. Hunger struck again though, and we went to the cafeteria for lunch. Tom had a lovely piece of salmon with rice and ratatouille and I had a large plate from the salad bar. It didn't go especially well with the red wine we were drinking, but it had all sorts of lovely things like smoked mackerel in it.
When we were bored of antiquities and wondering around beautiful back streets we came back the to hotel to change. Tom managed to outdo himself even further, as we were going the ballet at the Opera de Palais Garnier, the huge opera house. I put on my green dress, which while cruel is lovely, and my white satin gloves and gazed adoringly at Tom as we flew under the city in the Metro. The opera house is opulent to the point of sublime and ridiculous, all baroque curlicues and gilt and marble. It took my breath away. Walking the wide stair cases, I felt like I should have been in a ball gown, even thought there were people there in jeans and t shirts as well as tuxedos.
It only got better. An usher unlocked a door, and there was a curtained box with little chairs, and a mirror and bench. All the seats in the dress circle are boxes that work their way around the whole sweep of the auditorium. We were more towards the centre and I had a perfect clear few of the stage. The ballet was a version of Wuthering Heights, alternately contemporary and classical. I'm sure Tom had no idea what was going, indeed I found the story fairly hard to follow but the dancing was something else. When they were supposed to be frolicking in fields, you could see the immaturity and childish nature of the movements letting you know they were young. Hundreds of tiny balls fell from the ceiling, and like a weeble toy, righted themselves and flowers popped up unexpectedly. Later dancers supposed to be Heathcliff's visions of Catherine performed the same movements canon, but with some flying on ropes, or dancing on hidden platforms that made them look like they were floating. I especially loved the use of depth, of the movement travelling up and down stage rather that just presenting moving 2d pictures across the stage like a film.
Even the time Tom and I spent trying to find a toilet in the interval was amazing. We went through many doors and came upon a suite of rooms, clearly used for receptions as there was bar in the central one. These rooms had beautifully painted ceilings, views out across the surrounding streets, inlaid panelling. It was like something out of a Bond film casino. We stood for a while hand in hand watching the people below and the others theatre goers.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Paris Part 1
Paris Paris Paris. (pics to be added when I get them)
I feel like the cat that got the cream, or who always lands on its feet. This is Tom. He is quite frankly a ridiculously generous man. Yesterday was my 21st birthday, and as his gift to me, Tom took me to Paris.
We start this tale of decadence and joy bright and early on Sunday morning. I mean very early. Leaving the house at a quarter-past-seven in the morning early. In the sleepy haze I managed to forget my camera after having taken a photo of my very nice new luggage. Fortunately, my phone has a snazzy camera, and we bought a disposable one once we got to France, so pictures will follow when I get them uploaded.
Then the fun began. We got a bus to the big station in Southampton, Southampton Central in a bid to catch the train to London Waterloo. All trains to Waterloo were being cancelled left right and centre as engineering work further up the line had overrun. After mild panicking I did the only thing thinkable, I pestered the station manager for advice. He told me in the most roundabout way possible that we should leap on the Virgin Train to Manchester that was sitting at Southampton Central, as this was stopping at Guildford, and we should be able to catch a London Train there. I can see now why Andy raves about Virgin Trains. They were very smooth and professional and I would have been quite sorry to leave if I’d not been getting off it to go to PARIS!
One of the funniest bits about the Eurostar is trying to actually get on it! The trains are so long you have to walk for what seems like miles down the plat form with your bags. We were in carriage 18 on the way out so had quite a way to walk. The trains are furnished in that slightly industrial modernist way that seems to define French style, think La Defense and the Pompidou Centre. Grey plush and brown leather interiors with seats with very angular squared off head rests. I loved all the little touches like there being two overhead racks, a large shelf for bags, a narrower one with a chrome rail for coats and smaller items, and the little foot rests that folded down from under the seat front so that vertically challenged people like me could sit in comfort.
We passed gently through England and then more speedily through France when the TGV speed train could let rip. Watching the rolling hills and patch work green of England disappear through the tunnel, we were soon greeted by the vast expanses of soft brown earth that looks dusty and dry and the big industrial parks intersected with popular trees that makes up French countryside between Calais and Paris.
Once at the Gard du Nord, I wondered around in a slight daze with a skip in my step. All around me were the bubbling lilts of French voices and announcements. We scurried through the crowd trying to find the right metro line and bought snzzy little tourist passes that let us use the Metro, the RER and the buses for three days sans limites’ The Paris metro has a very distinctive smell and is very different from the RER that intersects the city and takes Parisians out to the suburbs. The metro stations are funkier, with bright colours and widely spaced seats. None of these communal benches for the RATP, but 8 individual seats spaced along the platforms. I liked the fact that the RER trains were double deckers and had bigger stations.
Our hotel was on the Rue de Pepinere, that ajoined the Boulevard Hausmann, him of the famous ‘boulevard-isation’ of Paris, near the church of St. Augustin. The hotel was lovely, our room overlooking the courtyard of bay trees in pots, and breakfast being served in a dining room that peeped onto the street. Having dropped off our bags we explored the neighbour hood and ended up wondering around the church of St. Augustin. It was a lovely quiet respite after our bustling journey. I loved the plaques people had put next to the statues of saints, noting thanks for prayers answered.
That first evening in Paris, we caught the Metro to Monmartre and fully swallowed the Hollywood and tourism version of Paris. It was like concentrated Paris. There was a brass sextet playing jolly tunes, a street fair (celebrating Chilean food and wine of all things), quaint little shops, winding roads, mad drivers, kids running around and an amazing view. We dived in to a little grocers and bought bread and garlic sausage so Tom could have a sandwhich as he was starving from the journey. We sat and ate in the Place des Abbesses while children played foot ball in the little square and mopeds zoomed around us.
Sacre Coeur was phenomenal. I think it is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever been in. We arrived just as mass was finishing and sat to listen to the end of the service. Even though it was filled with worshippers and tourists, it still felt amazingly holy. The mosaic above the high altar was so intricate and glowed in the lighting as if it was a fragment of the sun, it took my breathe away. We wondered around it, looking at all the side chapels, the paintings and the candles left by others. We walked out to the setting sun. I could see all the major sights from my vantage point outside the Sacre Coeur, and giggled with Tom at the buskers covering Princes’s ‘Purple Rain’ for the crowds soaking the autumn evening sun and the fabulous view on the steps of the church. Paris truly is the most romantic place I've ever been, and felt wonderful to be sharing this with someone who means so much to me.
I feel like the cat that got the cream, or who always lands on its feet. This is Tom. He is quite frankly a ridiculously generous man. Yesterday was my 21st birthday, and as his gift to me, Tom took me to Paris.
We start this tale of decadence and joy bright and early on Sunday morning. I mean very early. Leaving the house at a quarter-past-seven in the morning early. In the sleepy haze I managed to forget my camera after having taken a photo of my very nice new luggage. Fortunately, my phone has a snazzy camera, and we bought a disposable one once we got to France, so pictures will follow when I get them uploaded.
Then the fun began. We got a bus to the big station in Southampton, Southampton Central in a bid to catch the train to London Waterloo. All trains to Waterloo were being cancelled left right and centre as engineering work further up the line had overrun. After mild panicking I did the only thing thinkable, I pestered the station manager for advice. He told me in the most roundabout way possible that we should leap on the Virgin Train to Manchester that was sitting at Southampton Central, as this was stopping at Guildford, and we should be able to catch a London Train there. I can see now why Andy raves about Virgin Trains. They were very smooth and professional and I would have been quite sorry to leave if I’d not been getting off it to go to PARIS!
Our train to Waterloo from Guildford was also delayed, so upon reaching Waterloo it was mad dash through the crowds to the Eurostar Departure areas. Chaos ruled there, with problems with the ticket barriers creating large crowds. I have to say I really saw the difference between the French and the British ends of the Eurostar. Admittedly, we came home on the penultimate train so the crowds seemed less manic, but the staff at the French end all seemed much more serene and in control.
The baggage label from Euroster "Sorry I'm already spoken for"
The baggage label from Euroster "Sorry I'm already spoken for"One of the funniest bits about the Eurostar is trying to actually get on it! The trains are so long you have to walk for what seems like miles down the plat form with your bags. We were in carriage 18 on the way out so had quite a way to walk. The trains are furnished in that slightly industrial modernist way that seems to define French style, think La Defense and the Pompidou Centre. Grey plush and brown leather interiors with seats with very angular squared off head rests. I loved all the little touches like there being two overhead racks, a large shelf for bags, a narrower one with a chrome rail for coats and smaller items, and the little foot rests that folded down from under the seat front so that vertically challenged people like me could sit in comfort.
We passed gently through England and then more speedily through France when the TGV speed train could let rip. Watching the rolling hills and patch work green of England disappear through the tunnel, we were soon greeted by the vast expanses of soft brown earth that looks dusty and dry and the big industrial parks intersected with popular trees that makes up French countryside between Calais and Paris.
Once at the Gard du Nord, I wondered around in a slight daze with a skip in my step. All around me were the bubbling lilts of French voices and announcements. We scurried through the crowd trying to find the right metro line and bought snzzy little tourist passes that let us use the Metro, the RER and the buses for three days sans limites’ The Paris metro has a very distinctive smell and is very different from the RER that intersects the city and takes Parisians out to the suburbs. The metro stations are funkier, with bright colours and widely spaced seats. None of these communal benches for the RATP, but 8 individual seats spaced along the platforms. I liked the fact that the RER trains were double deckers and had bigger stations.
Our hotel was on the Rue de Pepinere, that ajoined the Boulevard Hausmann, him of the famous ‘boulevard-isation’ of Paris, near the church of St. Augustin. The hotel was lovely, our room overlooking the courtyard of bay trees in pots, and breakfast being served in a dining room that peeped onto the street. Having dropped off our bags we explored the neighbour hood and ended up wondering around the church of St. Augustin. It was a lovely quiet respite after our bustling journey. I loved the plaques people had put next to the statues of saints, noting thanks for prayers answered.
That first evening in Paris, we caught the Metro to Monmartre and fully swallowed the Hollywood and tourism version of Paris. It was like concentrated Paris. There was a brass sextet playing jolly tunes, a street fair (celebrating Chilean food and wine of all things), quaint little shops, winding roads, mad drivers, kids running around and an amazing view. We dived in to a little grocers and bought bread and garlic sausage so Tom could have a sandwhich as he was starving from the journey. We sat and ate in the Place des Abbesses while children played foot ball in the little square and mopeds zoomed around us.
Sacre Coeur was phenomenal. I think it is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever been in. We arrived just as mass was finishing and sat to listen to the end of the service. Even though it was filled with worshippers and tourists, it still felt amazingly holy. The mosaic above the high altar was so intricate and glowed in the lighting as if it was a fragment of the sun, it took my breathe away. We wondered around it, looking at all the side chapels, the paintings and the candles left by others. We walked out to the setting sun. I could see all the major sights from my vantage point outside the Sacre Coeur, and giggled with Tom at the buskers covering Princes’s ‘Purple Rain’ for the crowds soaking the autumn evening sun and the fabulous view on the steps of the church. Paris truly is the most romantic place I've ever been, and felt wonderful to be sharing this with someone who means so much to me.
Paris Part 1
Paris Paris Paris. (pics to be added when I get them)
I feel like the cat that got the cream, or who always lands on its feet. This is Tom. He is quite frankly a ridiculously generous man. Yesterday was my 21st birthday, and as his gift to me, Tom took me to Paris.
We start this tale of decadence and joy bright and early on Sunday morning. I mean very early. Leaving the house at a quarter-past-seven in the morning early. In the sleepy haze I managed to forget my camera after having taken a photo of my very nice new luggage. Fortunately, my phone has a snazzy camera, and we bought a disposable one once we got to France, so pictures will follow when I get them uploaded.
Then the fun began. We got a bus to the big station in Southampton, Southampton Central in a bid to catch the train to London Waterloo. All trains to Waterloo were being cancelled left right and centre as engineering work further up the line had overrun. After mild panicking I did the only thing thinkable, I pestered the station manager for advice. He told me in the most roundabout way possible that we should leap on the Virgin Train to Manchester that was sitting at Southampton Central, as this was stopping at Guildford, and we should be able to catch a London Train there. I can see now why Andy raves about Virgin Trains. They were very smooth and professional and I would have been quite sorry to leave if I’d not been getting off it to go to PARIS!
One of the funniest bits about the Eurostar is trying to actually get on it! The trains are so long you have to walk for what seems like miles down the plat form with your bags. We were in carriage 18 on the way out so had quite a way to walk. The trains are furnished in that slightly industrial modernist way that seems to define French style, think La Defense and the Pompidou Centre. Grey plush and brown leather interiors with seats with very angular squared off head rests. I loved all the little touches like there being two overhead racks, a large shelf for bags, a narrower one with a chrome rail for coats and smaller items, and the little foot rests that folded down from under the seat front so that vertically challenged people like me could sit in comfort.
We passed gently through England and then more speedily through France when the TGV speed train could let rip. Watching the rolling hills and patch work green of England disappear through the tunnel, we were soon greeted by the vast expanses of soft brown earth that looks dusty and dry and the big industrial parks intersected with popular trees that makes up French countryside between Calais and Paris.
Once at the Gard du Nord, I wondered around in a slight daze with a skip in my step. All around me were the bubbling lilts of French voices and announcements. We scurried through the crowd trying to find the right metro line and bought snzzy little tourist passes that let us use the Metro, the RER and the buses for three days sans limites’ The Paris metro has a very distinctive smell and is very different from the RER that intersects the city and takes Parisians out to the suburbs. The metro stations are funkier, with bright colours and widely spaced seats. None of these communal benches for the RATP, but 8 individual seats spaced along the platforms. I liked the fact that the RER trains were double deckers and had bigger stations.
Our hotel was on the Rue de Pepinere, that ajoined the Boulevard Hausmann, him of the famous ‘boulevard-isation’ of Paris, near the church of St. Augustin. The hotel was lovely, our room overlooking the courtyard of bay trees in pots, and breakfast being served in a dining room that peeped onto the street. Having dropped off our bags we explored the neighbour hood and ended up wondering around the church of St. Augustin. It was a lovely quiet respite after our bustling journey. I loved the plaques people had put next to the statues of saints, noting thanks for prayers answered.
That first evening in Paris, we caught the Metro to Monmartre and fully swallowed the Hollywood and tourism version of Paris. It was like concentrated Paris. There was a brass sextet playing jolly tunes, a street fair (celebrating Chilean food and wine of all things), quaint little shops, winding roads, mad drivers, kids running around and an amazing view. We dived in to a little grocers and bought bread and garlic sausage so Tom could have a sandwhich as he was starving from the journey. We sat and ate in the Place des Abbesses while children played foot ball in the little square and mopeds zoomed around us.
Sacre Coeur was phenomenal. I think it is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever been in. We arrived just as mass was finishing and sat to listen to the end of the service. Even though it was filled with worshippers and tourists, it still felt amazingly holy. The mosaic above the high altar was so intricate and glowed in the lighting as if it was a fragment of the sun, it took my breathe away. We wondered around it, looking at all the side chapels, the paintings and the candles left by others. We walked out to the setting sun. I could see all the major sights from my vantage point outside the Sacre Coeur, and giggled with Tom at the buskers covering Princes’s ‘Purple Rain’ for the crowds soaking the autumn evening sun and the fabulous view on the steps of the church. Paris truly is the most romantic place I've ever been, and felt wonderful to be sharing this with someone who means so much to me.
I feel like the cat that got the cream, or who always lands on its feet. This is Tom. He is quite frankly a ridiculously generous man. Yesterday was my 21st birthday, and as his gift to me, Tom took me to Paris.
We start this tale of decadence and joy bright and early on Sunday morning. I mean very early. Leaving the house at a quarter-past-seven in the morning early. In the sleepy haze I managed to forget my camera after having taken a photo of my very nice new luggage. Fortunately, my phone has a snazzy camera, and we bought a disposable one once we got to France, so pictures will follow when I get them uploaded.
Then the fun began. We got a bus to the big station in Southampton, Southampton Central in a bid to catch the train to London Waterloo. All trains to Waterloo were being cancelled left right and centre as engineering work further up the line had overrun. After mild panicking I did the only thing thinkable, I pestered the station manager for advice. He told me in the most roundabout way possible that we should leap on the Virgin Train to Manchester that was sitting at Southampton Central, as this was stopping at Guildford, and we should be able to catch a London Train there. I can see now why Andy raves about Virgin Trains. They were very smooth and professional and I would have been quite sorry to leave if I’d not been getting off it to go to PARIS!
Our train to Waterloo from Guildford was also delayed, so upon reaching Waterloo it was mad dash through the crowds to the Eurostar Departure areas. Chaos ruled there, with problems with the ticket barriers creating large crowds. I have to say I really saw the difference between the French and the British ends of the Eurostar. Admittedly, we came home on the penultimate train so the crowds seemed less manic, but the staff at the French end all seemed much more serene and in control.The baggage label from Euroster "Sorry I'm already spoken for"
The baggage label from Euroster "Sorry I'm already spoken for"One of the funniest bits about the Eurostar is trying to actually get on it! The trains are so long you have to walk for what seems like miles down the plat form with your bags. We were in carriage 18 on the way out so had quite a way to walk. The trains are furnished in that slightly industrial modernist way that seems to define French style, think La Defense and the Pompidou Centre. Grey plush and brown leather interiors with seats with very angular squared off head rests. I loved all the little touches like there being two overhead racks, a large shelf for bags, a narrower one with a chrome rail for coats and smaller items, and the little foot rests that folded down from under the seat front so that vertically challenged people like me could sit in comfort.
We passed gently through England and then more speedily through France when the TGV speed train could let rip. Watching the rolling hills and patch work green of England disappear through the tunnel, we were soon greeted by the vast expanses of soft brown earth that looks dusty and dry and the big industrial parks intersected with popular trees that makes up French countryside between Calais and Paris.
Once at the Gard du Nord, I wondered around in a slight daze with a skip in my step. All around me were the bubbling lilts of French voices and announcements. We scurried through the crowd trying to find the right metro line and bought snzzy little tourist passes that let us use the Metro, the RER and the buses for three days sans limites’ The Paris metro has a very distinctive smell and is very different from the RER that intersects the city and takes Parisians out to the suburbs. The metro stations are funkier, with bright colours and widely spaced seats. None of these communal benches for the RATP, but 8 individual seats spaced along the platforms. I liked the fact that the RER trains were double deckers and had bigger stations.
Our hotel was on the Rue de Pepinere, that ajoined the Boulevard Hausmann, him of the famous ‘boulevard-isation’ of Paris, near the church of St. Augustin. The hotel was lovely, our room overlooking the courtyard of bay trees in pots, and breakfast being served in a dining room that peeped onto the street. Having dropped off our bags we explored the neighbour hood and ended up wondering around the church of St. Augustin. It was a lovely quiet respite after our bustling journey. I loved the plaques people had put next to the statues of saints, noting thanks for prayers answered.
That first evening in Paris, we caught the Metro to Monmartre and fully swallowed the Hollywood and tourism version of Paris. It was like concentrated Paris. There was a brass sextet playing jolly tunes, a street fair (celebrating Chilean food and wine of all things), quaint little shops, winding roads, mad drivers, kids running around and an amazing view. We dived in to a little grocers and bought bread and garlic sausage so Tom could have a sandwhich as he was starving from the journey. We sat and ate in the Place des Abbesses while children played foot ball in the little square and mopeds zoomed around us.
Sacre Coeur was phenomenal. I think it is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever been in. We arrived just as mass was finishing and sat to listen to the end of the service. Even though it was filled with worshippers and tourists, it still felt amazingly holy. The mosaic above the high altar was so intricate and glowed in the lighting as if it was a fragment of the sun, it took my breathe away. We wondered around it, looking at all the side chapels, the paintings and the candles left by others. We walked out to the setting sun. I could see all the major sights from my vantage point outside the Sacre Coeur, and giggled with Tom at the buskers covering Princes’s ‘Purple Rain’ for the crowds soaking the autumn evening sun and the fabulous view on the steps of the church. Paris truly is the most romantic place I've ever been, and felt wonderful to be sharing this with someone who means so much to me.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
ATTENTION SIMON STEVENS - YOUR HAT HAS BEEN TAKEN HOSTAGE!
Simon Stevens, your hat has been taken hostage.
We demand a Nintendo Wii for the chaplaincy, a good wheel of cheese and lots of wine, (communion
or otherwise).
How much do you value your hat?
You have till term starts to meet our demands!
ATTENTION SIMON STEVENS - YOUR HAT HAS BEEN TAKEN HOSTAGE!
Simon Stevens, your hat has been taken hostage.
We demand a Nintendo Wii for the chaplaincy, a good wheel of cheese and lots of wine, (communion
or otherwise).
How much do you value your hat?
You have till term starts to meet our demands!
Monday, September 17, 2007
A global corporation with a heart?
Perusing the Blog of the Cyber Priest, I was pleased and shocked to realise that Microsoft seem to realise students are poor. To quote him directly:
"What you get
Microsoft Office 2007 Ultimate Edition includes:
- Word 2007
- Excel 2007
- PowerPoint 2007
- Outlook 2007
- Groove 2007
- Publisher 2007
- OneNote 2007
- InfoPath 2007
- Access 2007
Are you eligible?
To be eligible for this deal you must:
- Hold a valid email address at a U.K. educational institution ending in .ac.uk (for example, a.student@st-andrews.ac.uk)
- Be actively enrolled with at least 0.5 course load
...if you’re a student (or are starting university/college this year) then head over to The Ultimate Steal website and pick yourself up a copy.
You do have time to settle in to university or college first though, the promotion ends at 23:59 GMT on 30 April 2008."
Now I'm not tempted, being quite happy with OpenOffice, which is free, but it seems like a cracking deal. I wonder if it's legit, or a ploy to lock users into Mirosoft, or if its a fraud?
A global corporation with a heart?
Perusing the Blog of the Cyber Priest, I was pleased and shocked to realise that Microsoft seem to realise students are poor. To quote him directly:
"What you get
Microsoft Office 2007 Ultimate Edition includes:
- Word 2007
- Excel 2007
- PowerPoint 2007
- Outlook 2007
- Groove 2007
- Publisher 2007
- OneNote 2007
- InfoPath 2007
- Access 2007
Are you eligible?
To be eligible for this deal you must:
- Hold a valid email address at a U.K. educational institution ending in .ac.uk (for example, a.student@st-andrews.ac.uk)
- Be actively enrolled with at least 0.5 course load
...if you’re a student (or are starting university/college this year) then head over to The Ultimate Steal website and pick yourself up a copy.
You do have time to settle in to university or college first though, the promotion ends at 23:59 GMT on 30 April 2008."
Now I'm not tempted, being quite happy with OpenOffice, which is free, but it seems like a cracking deal. I wonder if it's legit, or a ploy to lock users into Mirosoft, or if its a fraud?
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Nothing to report. Honest.
I know I know. Nothing to see here.
August was a strange month. I've been trying to get better and be busy and not let myself wallow in the mean reds.
I've been out dancing and partying, making new friends, having arguments, flirting, eating, dancing, listening, watching and hoping. But I'm not sure how much I want to or can record here.
I've decided, with my rapidly expanding waistline due to the gym being shut by the time I get in from work, that exercise really is a drug. I actually miss the gym, and the couple of afternoons I've spent in the dance studio with the lovely Mel have in improved my mood so much that I have actually bounced across the room for the rest of the day. Mel and I have been working on a dance to Drops of Jupiter by train, a modern balletic piece, which would be very Merce Cunningham, but it has more emotional depth. This is Mel's first real choreographic endevour, and I think I shall describe it here as a memory aid for us both.
The dancers enter upstage left, and do 4 slow queen walks on the diagonal to down stage right performing a gradual port de bra in through a contracted first with an internal focus opening into a first arabesque, looking at the high right hand. The legs finish with the right foot on the demi behind the left with the leg in fondu. On the appropriate beat in the music, they swap arms sharply so left arm high, and change to an external focus looking beyond the left hand. They then perfom a pose turn to the right, turning up stage, turning 180 degrees, arms still in arabesque. They then hover with feet in demi pointe open parallel facing upstage, take two little steps and reach their left arm out, letting the right fall, hitting the word"Jupiter" in the song lyrics.
They then perform two very slow triple runs with figure of eight arms, staring with the right foot, arms circling to the left first, then the right, very much in time with the music, travelling from stage left to stage right accross the back of the stage. They then suddenly swing their arms across their body to stage left, plie - in in fourth with left foot in front, dropping their bodies over the left side. Uncurling, into a bent over flat back position, they run backward, hands devlopee - ing to an outstreched shape in line with the line of their back, in a semi circle to down stage, facing stage right.
They circle their arms into a a high upwards reach as they pivot on the ball of their feet to stage left, then drop into a lunge, weight leaning over the back foot, right shoulder opening to the audience, right arm, heavily dropped behind the body line. Slowly in time with the gradual beat of the music they have 4 queen walks circling upstage to face stage left, the left arm pushing away from the body with the wrist flexed, the left arm held in first, gently circles under the right hand and over in a cycling action .
That's enough of that for the moment. There's a lovely bit a bit further on after gap we've not yet filled where we developed the flexed hand motif through to the arabesque motif whilst quickly running through a allego section of sisson, pas de bourree, assemble, form stage left to stage right. It fits the beat of the music exactly.
There's been lots of crafty endevours going on. Christmas knitting has been started already, with a mysterious Green stripy thing for Tom on the needles, half a hoody for Sarah being churned through, and a spotty tea cosy to be made as requested by Andy. There's also going to be some custom t- shirt making for various people, probably using bleach dying and stencils, and some pillow case making.
The lovely Karuna gifted me with a fantastic selection of fabric from her trip to Nepal, and what I don't use for pillows will be turned into a top for me. There has been a gamut of dress making now my sewing machine has reached me, and I am mending the red spotty dress I sewed by hand, planning to make up a muslin for my party dress that I really need to start on since its in the second week of October, and making a Princess Leia as Jabba's slave girl outfit for a party on saturday. I don't have the stomach or the confidence to do the full on Gold bikini, so I took a brown tankini top, ripped the side seams, added eyelets, and laced the whole thing up with gold cord. It then has gold swirly cord in the appropriate places on the front, and I've sewed pieces of red fabric to front and back to emulate the swrily fabric that covers her nether regions. It looks alot more like this:
Than this!
My other crafty endevour had been an oil pastel of my two cousins and my uncle, the newest of the two who will be be my godson as of Sunday. I'm very very proud of it and will add pics when I can.
Do you feel updated?
August was a strange month. I've been trying to get better and be busy and not let myself wallow in the mean reds.
I've been out dancing and partying, making new friends, having arguments, flirting, eating, dancing, listening, watching and hoping. But I'm not sure how much I want to or can record here.
I've decided, with my rapidly expanding waistline due to the gym being shut by the time I get in from work, that exercise really is a drug. I actually miss the gym, and the couple of afternoons I've spent in the dance studio with the lovely Mel have in improved my mood so much that I have actually bounced across the room for the rest of the day. Mel and I have been working on a dance to Drops of Jupiter by train, a modern balletic piece, which would be very Merce Cunningham, but it has more emotional depth. This is Mel's first real choreographic endevour, and I think I shall describe it here as a memory aid for us both.
The dancers enter upstage left, and do 4 slow queen walks on the diagonal to down stage right performing a gradual port de bra in through a contracted first with an internal focus opening into a first arabesque, looking at the high right hand. The legs finish with the right foot on the demi behind the left with the leg in fondu. On the appropriate beat in the music, they swap arms sharply so left arm high, and change to an external focus looking beyond the left hand. They then perfom a pose turn to the right, turning up stage, turning 180 degrees, arms still in arabesque. They then hover with feet in demi pointe open parallel facing upstage, take two little steps and reach their left arm out, letting the right fall, hitting the word"Jupiter" in the song lyrics.
They then perform two very slow triple runs with figure of eight arms, staring with the right foot, arms circling to the left first, then the right, very much in time with the music, travelling from stage left to stage right accross the back of the stage. They then suddenly swing their arms across their body to stage left, plie - in in fourth with left foot in front, dropping their bodies over the left side. Uncurling, into a bent over flat back position, they run backward, hands devlopee - ing to an outstreched shape in line with the line of their back, in a semi circle to down stage, facing stage right.
They circle their arms into a a high upwards reach as they pivot on the ball of their feet to stage left, then drop into a lunge, weight leaning over the back foot, right shoulder opening to the audience, right arm, heavily dropped behind the body line. Slowly in time with the gradual beat of the music they have 4 queen walks circling upstage to face stage left, the left arm pushing away from the body with the wrist flexed, the left arm held in first, gently circles under the right hand and over in a cycling action .
That's enough of that for the moment. There's a lovely bit a bit further on after gap we've not yet filled where we developed the flexed hand motif through to the arabesque motif whilst quickly running through a allego section of sisson, pas de bourree, assemble, form stage left to stage right. It fits the beat of the music exactly.
There's been lots of crafty endevours going on. Christmas knitting has been started already, with a mysterious Green stripy thing for Tom on the needles, half a hoody for Sarah being churned through, and a spotty tea cosy to be made as requested by Andy. There's also going to be some custom t- shirt making for various people, probably using bleach dying and stencils, and some pillow case making.
The lovely Karuna gifted me with a fantastic selection of fabric from her trip to Nepal, and what I don't use for pillows will be turned into a top for me. There has been a gamut of dress making now my sewing machine has reached me, and I am mending the red spotty dress I sewed by hand, planning to make up a muslin for my party dress that I really need to start on since its in the second week of October, and making a Princess Leia as Jabba's slave girl outfit for a party on saturday. I don't have the stomach or the confidence to do the full on Gold bikini, so I took a brown tankini top, ripped the side seams, added eyelets, and laced the whole thing up with gold cord. It then has gold swirly cord in the appropriate places on the front, and I've sewed pieces of red fabric to front and back to emulate the swrily fabric that covers her nether regions. It looks alot more like this:
Than this!
My other crafty endevour had been an oil pastel of my two cousins and my uncle, the newest of the two who will be be my godson as of Sunday. I'm very very proud of it and will add pics when I can.
Do you feel updated?
Nothing to report. Honest.
I know I know. Nothing to see here.
August was a strange month. I've been trying to get better and be busy and not let myself wallow in the mean reds.
I've been out dancing and partying, making new friends, having arguments, flirting, eating, dancing, listening, watching and hoping. But I'm not sure how much I want to or can record here.
I've decided, with my rapidly expanding waistline due to the gym being shut by the time I get in from work, that exercise really is a drug. I actually miss the gym, and the couple of afternoons I've spent in the dance studio with the lovely Mel have in improved my mood so much that I have actually bounced across the room for the rest of the day. Mel and I have been working on a dance to Drops of Jupiter by train, a modern balletic piece, which would be very Merce Cunningham, but it has more emotional depth. This is Mel's first real choreographic endevour, and I think I shall describe it here as a memory aid for us both.
The dancers enter upstage left, and do 4 slow queen walks on the diagonal to down stage right performing a gradual port de bra in through a contracted first with an internal focus opening into a first arabesque, looking at the high right hand. The legs finish with the right foot on the demi behind the left with the leg in fondu. On the appropriate beat in the music, they swap arms sharply so left arm high, and change to an external focus looking beyond the left hand. They then perfom a pose turn to the right, turning up stage, turning 180 degrees, arms still in arabesque. They then hover with feet in demi pointe open parallel facing upstage, take two little steps and reach their left arm out, letting the right fall, hitting the word"Jupiter" in the song lyrics.
They then perform two very slow triple runs with figure of eight arms, staring with the right foot, arms circling to the left first, then the right, very much in time with the music, travelling from stage left to stage right accross the back of the stage. They then suddenly swing their arms across their body to stage left, plie - in in fourth with left foot in front, dropping their bodies over the left side. Uncurling, into a bent over flat back position, they run backward, hands devlopee - ing to an outstreched shape in line with the line of their back, in a semi circle to down stage, facing stage right.
They circle their arms into a a high upwards reach as they pivot on the ball of their feet to stage left, then drop into a lunge, weight leaning over the back foot, right shoulder opening to the audience, right arm, heavily dropped behind the body line. Slowly in time with the gradual beat of the music they have 4 queen walks circling upstage to face stage left, the left arm pushing away from the body with the wrist flexed, the left arm held in first, gently circles under the right hand and over in a cycling action .
That's enough of that for the moment. There's a lovely bit a bit further on after gap we've not yet filled where we developed the flexed hand motif through to the arabesque motif whilst quickly running through a allego section of sisson, pas de bourree, assemble, form stage left to stage right. It fits the beat of the music exactly.
There's been lots of crafty endevours going on. Christmas knitting has been started already, with a mysterious Green stripy thing for Tom on the needles, half a hoody for Sarah being churned through, and a spotty tea cosy to be made as requested by Andy. There's also going to be some custom t- shirt making for various people, probably using bleach dying and stencils, and some pillow case making.
The lovely Karuna gifted me with a fantastic selection of fabric from her trip to Nepal, and what I don't use for pillows will be turned into a top for me. There has been a gamut of dress making now my sewing machine has reached me, and I am mending the red spotty dress I sewed by hand, planning to make up a muslin for my party dress that I really need to start on since its in the second week of October, and making a Princess Leia as Jabba's slave girl outfit for a party on saturday. I don't have the stomach or the confidence to do the full on Gold bikini, so I took a brown tankini top, ripped the side seams, added eyelets, and laced the whole thing up with gold cord. It then has gold swirly cord in the appropriate places on the front, and I've sewed pieces of red fabric to front and back to emulate the swrily fabric that covers her nether regions. It looks alot more like this:
Than this!
My other crafty endevour had been an oil pastel of my two cousins and my uncle, the newest of the two who will be be my godson as of Sunday. I'm very very proud of it and will add pics when I can.
Do you feel updated?
August was a strange month. I've been trying to get better and be busy and not let myself wallow in the mean reds.
I've been out dancing and partying, making new friends, having arguments, flirting, eating, dancing, listening, watching and hoping. But I'm not sure how much I want to or can record here.
I've decided, with my rapidly expanding waistline due to the gym being shut by the time I get in from work, that exercise really is a drug. I actually miss the gym, and the couple of afternoons I've spent in the dance studio with the lovely Mel have in improved my mood so much that I have actually bounced across the room for the rest of the day. Mel and I have been working on a dance to Drops of Jupiter by train, a modern balletic piece, which would be very Merce Cunningham, but it has more emotional depth. This is Mel's first real choreographic endevour, and I think I shall describe it here as a memory aid for us both.
The dancers enter upstage left, and do 4 slow queen walks on the diagonal to down stage right performing a gradual port de bra in through a contracted first with an internal focus opening into a first arabesque, looking at the high right hand. The legs finish with the right foot on the demi behind the left with the leg in fondu. On the appropriate beat in the music, they swap arms sharply so left arm high, and change to an external focus looking beyond the left hand. They then perfom a pose turn to the right, turning up stage, turning 180 degrees, arms still in arabesque. They then hover with feet in demi pointe open parallel facing upstage, take two little steps and reach their left arm out, letting the right fall, hitting the word"Jupiter" in the song lyrics.
They then perform two very slow triple runs with figure of eight arms, staring with the right foot, arms circling to the left first, then the right, very much in time with the music, travelling from stage left to stage right accross the back of the stage. They then suddenly swing their arms across their body to stage left, plie - in in fourth with left foot in front, dropping their bodies over the left side. Uncurling, into a bent over flat back position, they run backward, hands devlopee - ing to an outstreched shape in line with the line of their back, in a semi circle to down stage, facing stage right.
They circle their arms into a a high upwards reach as they pivot on the ball of their feet to stage left, then drop into a lunge, weight leaning over the back foot, right shoulder opening to the audience, right arm, heavily dropped behind the body line. Slowly in time with the gradual beat of the music they have 4 queen walks circling upstage to face stage left, the left arm pushing away from the body with the wrist flexed, the left arm held in first, gently circles under the right hand and over in a cycling action .
That's enough of that for the moment. There's a lovely bit a bit further on after gap we've not yet filled where we developed the flexed hand motif through to the arabesque motif whilst quickly running through a allego section of sisson, pas de bourree, assemble, form stage left to stage right. It fits the beat of the music exactly.
There's been lots of crafty endevours going on. Christmas knitting has been started already, with a mysterious Green stripy thing for Tom on the needles, half a hoody for Sarah being churned through, and a spotty tea cosy to be made as requested by Andy. There's also going to be some custom t- shirt making for various people, probably using bleach dying and stencils, and some pillow case making.
The lovely Karuna gifted me with a fantastic selection of fabric from her trip to Nepal, and what I don't use for pillows will be turned into a top for me. There has been a gamut of dress making now my sewing machine has reached me, and I am mending the red spotty dress I sewed by hand, planning to make up a muslin for my party dress that I really need to start on since its in the second week of October, and making a Princess Leia as Jabba's slave girl outfit for a party on saturday. I don't have the stomach or the confidence to do the full on Gold bikini, so I took a brown tankini top, ripped the side seams, added eyelets, and laced the whole thing up with gold cord. It then has gold swirly cord in the appropriate places on the front, and I've sewed pieces of red fabric to front and back to emulate the swrily fabric that covers her nether regions. It looks alot more like this:
Than this!
My other crafty endevour had been an oil pastel of my two cousins and my uncle, the newest of the two who will be be my godson as of Sunday. I'm very very proud of it and will add pics when I can.
Do you feel updated?
Monday, August 20, 2007
Some Thoughts on Things that I think about on Trains
- What is it about knitting with double pointed needles that fascinates non-knitters? Someone likened it to knitting with a hedgehog. It just seems so logical to me. You knit across one needle, get to the end, move on to the next. In fact knitting seems to amaze people, at least the people I come across. So few people seem to do anything with their time except watch films and TV and sit on the Internet nowadays.
- My house was flooding. This is not fair. The water pipe under the floor boards, under the stopcock was spitting out water everywhere. The only sign I have of this was a sound much like the roaring of a waterfall. I phoned the water board, I phoned the landlord. The mains water has be turned off now till its fixed and I'm camping at a friends.
- I think I like noisy trains better than quiet ones. Noisy ones mean I can listen to my music and take notice of the words for once. This month it is Newton Faulkner, Fluorescent Adolescent by the Arctic Monkeys, and lots and lots and lots of Regina Spektor. I want to be able to sing like her.
- I have a sewing machine. I am so making many things. Starting with net curtains for my very large window.
Some Thoughts on Things that I think about on Trains
- What is it about knitting with double pointed needles that fascinates non-knitters? Someone likened it to knitting with a hedgehog. It just seems so logical to me. You knit across one needle, get to the end, move on to the next. In fact knitting seems to amaze people, at least the people I come across. So few people seem to do anything with their time except watch films and TV and sit on the Internet nowadays.
- My house was flooding. This is not fair. The water pipe under the floor boards, under the stopcock was spitting out water everywhere. The only sign I have of this was a sound much like the roaring of a waterfall. I phoned the water board, I phoned the landlord. The mains water has be turned off now till its fixed and I'm camping at a friends.
- I think I like noisy trains better than quiet ones. Noisy ones mean I can listen to my music and take notice of the words for once. This month it is Newton Faulkner, Fluorescent Adolescent by the Arctic Monkeys, and lots and lots and lots of Regina Spektor. I want to be able to sing like her.
- I have a sewing machine. I am so making many things. Starting with net curtains for my very large window.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Why I wish I was an engineer...
Image from XKCD.com
There just isn't the Historians equivalent really. Feel free to correct me if you've found one.
Life is going well at the moment. I came home yesterday having spent the evening listening to cool jazz to a bunch of sunflowers, yellow gerberas, pink snapdragons, and green chrysanthemums. It was a lovely surprise.
I've bought alot of my art back from home. If anyone wants a bit for their wall, they're welcome to place their order. Email or text me.
Why I wish I was an engineer...
Image from XKCD.com
There just isn't the Historians equivalent really. Feel free to correct me if you've found one.
Life is going well at the moment. I came home yesterday having spent the evening listening to cool jazz to a bunch of sunflowers, yellow gerberas, pink snapdragons, and green chrysanthemums. It was a lovely surprise.
I've bought alot of my art back from home. If anyone wants a bit for their wall, they're welcome to place their order. Email or text me.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Ding Dong the witch is dead!
Well...now the high speed shrug is done and should be winging its way to my sister to wear to the wedding soon. Pictures when I get one of her in it.
And now for my reference - White bean and tomato stew. This has to be one of the tastiest things I've made for a long time. I was literally using my fingers to scrape bits out of the bowl after I'd supposedly finished it. Let for garlic and onions burn a bit if you can stomach it the little smokey bite is lovely.
White bean and tomato stew.
2 cloves of garlic,
1 red onion,
1 can of cannellini beans,
1 can of chopped tomatoes,
2 rasher of smoked back bacon,
1 tbs of olive oil.
A splash of red wine.
Finely chop the onion and garlic and fry until soft in the olive oil
Roughly chop the bacon and fry until crispy.
Drain the beans and add to the pan. Cook until softened slightly.
Add the chopped tomatoes and simmer down.
Add the red wine and simmer over a low heat until the stew has reduced by a 1/3 or a 1/2 depending on how thick you like your stew.
Voila. This was great hot, witha side of courgettes cooked in red wine, and lovely cold for lunch the next day. Nice savoury umami ness to this, probably the garlic and bacon eh?
And now for my reference - White bean and tomato stew. This has to be one of the tastiest things I've made for a long time. I was literally using my fingers to scrape bits out of the bowl after I'd supposedly finished it. Let for garlic and onions burn a bit if you can stomach it the little smokey bite is lovely.
White bean and tomato stew.
2 cloves of garlic,
1 red onion,
1 can of cannellini beans,
1 can of chopped tomatoes,
2 rasher of smoked back bacon,
1 tbs of olive oil.
A splash of red wine.
Finely chop the onion and garlic and fry until soft in the olive oil
Roughly chop the bacon and fry until crispy.
Drain the beans and add to the pan. Cook until softened slightly.
Add the chopped tomatoes and simmer down.
Add the red wine and simmer over a low heat until the stew has reduced by a 1/3 or a 1/2 depending on how thick you like your stew.
Voila. This was great hot, witha side of courgettes cooked in red wine, and lovely cold for lunch the next day. Nice savoury umami ness to this, probably the garlic and bacon eh?
Ding Dong the witch is dead!
Well...now the high speed shrug is done and should be winging its way to my sister to wear to the wedding soon. Pictures when I get one of her in it.
And now for my reference - White bean and tomato stew. This has to be one of the tastiest things I've made for a long time. I was literally using my fingers to scrape bits out of the bowl after I'd supposedly finished it. Let for garlic and onions burn a bit if you can stomach it the little smokey bite is lovely.
White bean and tomato stew.
2 cloves of garlic,
1 red onion,
1 can of cannellini beans,
1 can of chopped tomatoes,
2 rasher of smoked back bacon,
1 tbs of olive oil.
A splash of red wine.
Finely chop the onion and garlic and fry until soft in the olive oil
Roughly chop the bacon and fry until crispy.
Drain the beans and add to the pan. Cook until softened slightly.
Add the chopped tomatoes and simmer down.
Add the red wine and simmer over a low heat until the stew has reduced by a 1/3 or a 1/2 depending on how thick you like your stew.
Voila. This was great hot, witha side of courgettes cooked in red wine, and lovely cold for lunch the next day. Nice savoury umami ness to this, probably the garlic and bacon eh?
And now for my reference - White bean and tomato stew. This has to be one of the tastiest things I've made for a long time. I was literally using my fingers to scrape bits out of the bowl after I'd supposedly finished it. Let for garlic and onions burn a bit if you can stomach it the little smokey bite is lovely.
White bean and tomato stew.
2 cloves of garlic,
1 red onion,
1 can of cannellini beans,
1 can of chopped tomatoes,
2 rasher of smoked back bacon,
1 tbs of olive oil.
A splash of red wine.
Finely chop the onion and garlic and fry until soft in the olive oil
Roughly chop the bacon and fry until crispy.
Drain the beans and add to the pan. Cook until softened slightly.
Add the chopped tomatoes and simmer down.
Add the red wine and simmer over a low heat until the stew has reduced by a 1/3 or a 1/2 depending on how thick you like your stew.
Voila. This was great hot, witha side of courgettes cooked in red wine, and lovely cold for lunch the next day. Nice savoury umami ness to this, probably the garlic and bacon eh?
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
oOHH
| ENFJ - "Persuader". Outstanding leader of groups. Can be aggressive at helping others to be the best that they can be. 2.5% of total population. |
personality tests by similarminds.com
oOHH
| ENFJ - "Persuader". Outstanding leader of groups. Can be aggressive at helping others to be the best that they can be. 2.5% of total population. |
personality tests by similarminds.com
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Note to self
Twinkle on his relationship with his parents:
"I have nothing to say to my parents, so they get to the moaning straight away"
"I have nothing to say to my parents, so they get to the moaning straight away"
Note to self
Twinkle on his relationship with his parents:
"I have nothing to say to my parents, so they get to the moaning straight away"
"I have nothing to say to my parents, so they get to the moaning straight away"
Sunday, July 29, 2007
More running down....
For the rest of this week, in between working fairly hard, I have been keeping very busy and all sorts of things.
Firstly counselling. I appear to be making quite a lot of progress. I have been assessing my feeling regarding my relationship with Rob, and my low self esteem issues. I have moved from guilt to anger, which is apparently a good thing, and I've made some realisations about myself. One is that the problem does not always lay with me. My low self esteem makes me think the problem is always with me, when it could be other people, and I have to work out a way of assessing and coping with that. The other thing is that I'm often accused of being fickle, changeable and shallow, changing my character for the people I'm with. However in light of the above issues, I've come to realise that I'm not necessarily changing my character at all, and its not a problem with me. My character is just fluid, and I have many complex parts that I reveal to different people as I see fit. That was a big deal for me. Other people may have a problem with it, but that's just me.
Anyway other things....
Andy and I went pubbing on Tuesday and caught up on the weeks events.
Wednesday my boss lent me her copy of the latest Harry Potter book. Wednesday then was LOTS of reading, and a review of that will follow as well. In simple and shorter term, I found it much better written than the last two, much darker, and the fight scenes were really exciting and pacey. Wednesday was also a really pleasant evening at the cinema with Nick, enjoying the Orange Wednesdays deal of 2-4-1 cinema tickets for Orange mobile owners. We appeared to be the only people left out of our group of friends who'd stayed in Southampton, wanted to see the Harry Potter film, and not yet seen it. That meant of course, we saw Harry Potter and giggled together at bits other people didn't seem to find funny, and dissected the quality of the film making on the drive home. Nick also valiantly jump started the car of a poor couple who'd run down their battery.
Thursday was exciting for me! I started a mini revolution at work, mentioning that I was going late night shopping in Southampton with Tom. Half the office decided to take advantage of the late night opening too, and we spent Friday morning discussing our purchases. I abused Primark, sent happy thoughts to the poor people in Chinese or Bangladeshi sweatshops who probably worked so hard for so little to make my cheap clothes and shopped. I bought a yellow shirt dress, a beige dress with a jewel toned floral pattern, sunglasses and a belt. The beige dress is for my Uncle's 50th birthday party as I have to look quite smart and grown up for it. Tom then whisked me off to the big 24 hour Tescos so I could get some groceries having no food in the house, and we ate a picnic supper watching the yachts at Hamble. I love the sound of the masts clanking like slightly off note bells in breeze.
Firstly counselling. I appear to be making quite a lot of progress. I have been assessing my feeling regarding my relationship with Rob, and my low self esteem issues. I have moved from guilt to anger, which is apparently a good thing, and I've made some realisations about myself. One is that the problem does not always lay with me. My low self esteem makes me think the problem is always with me, when it could be other people, and I have to work out a way of assessing and coping with that. The other thing is that I'm often accused of being fickle, changeable and shallow, changing my character for the people I'm with. However in light of the above issues, I've come to realise that I'm not necessarily changing my character at all, and its not a problem with me. My character is just fluid, and I have many complex parts that I reveal to different people as I see fit. That was a big deal for me. Other people may have a problem with it, but that's just me.
Anyway other things....
Andy and I went pubbing on Tuesday and caught up on the weeks events.
Wednesday my boss lent me her copy of the latest Harry Potter book. Wednesday then was LOTS of reading, and a review of that will follow as well. In simple and shorter term, I found it much better written than the last two, much darker, and the fight scenes were really exciting and pacey. Wednesday was also a really pleasant evening at the cinema with Nick, enjoying the Orange Wednesdays deal of 2-4-1 cinema tickets for Orange mobile owners. We appeared to be the only people left out of our group of friends who'd stayed in Southampton, wanted to see the Harry Potter film, and not yet seen it. That meant of course, we saw Harry Potter and giggled together at bits other people didn't seem to find funny, and dissected the quality of the film making on the drive home. Nick also valiantly jump started the car of a poor couple who'd run down their battery.
Thursday was exciting for me! I started a mini revolution at work, mentioning that I was going late night shopping in Southampton with Tom. Half the office decided to take advantage of the late night opening too, and we spent Friday morning discussing our purchases. I abused Primark, sent happy thoughts to the poor people in Chinese or Bangladeshi sweatshops who probably worked so hard for so little to make my cheap clothes and shopped. I bought a yellow shirt dress, a beige dress with a jewel toned floral pattern, sunglasses and a belt. The beige dress is for my Uncle's 50th birthday party as I have to look quite smart and grown up for it. Tom then whisked me off to the big 24 hour Tescos so I could get some groceries having no food in the house, and we ate a picnic supper watching the yachts at Hamble. I love the sound of the masts clanking like slightly off note bells in breeze.
More running down....
For the rest of this week, in between working fairly hard, I have been keeping very busy and all sorts of things.
Firstly counselling. I appear to be making quite a lot of progress. I have been assessing my feeling regarding my relationship with Rob, and my low self esteem issues. I have moved from guilt to anger, which is apparently a good thing, and I've made some realisations about myself. One is that the problem does not always lay with me. My low self esteem makes me think the problem is always with me, when it could be other people, and I have to work out a way of assessing and coping with that. The other thing is that I'm often accused of being fickle, changeable and shallow, changing my character for the people I'm with. However in light of the above issues, I've come to realise that I'm not necessarily changing my character at all, and its not a problem with me. My character is just fluid, and I have many complex parts that I reveal to different people as I see fit. That was a big deal for me. Other people may have a problem with it, but that's just me.
Anyway other things....
Andy and I went pubbing on Tuesday and caught up on the weeks events.
Wednesday my boss lent me her copy of the latest Harry Potter book. Wednesday then was LOTS of reading, and a review of that will follow as well. In simple and shorter term, I found it much better written than the last two, much darker, and the fight scenes were really exciting and pacey. Wednesday was also a really pleasant evening at the cinema with Nick, enjoying the Orange Wednesdays deal of 2-4-1 cinema tickets for Orange mobile owners. We appeared to be the only people left out of our group of friends who'd stayed in Southampton, wanted to see the Harry Potter film, and not yet seen it. That meant of course, we saw Harry Potter and giggled together at bits other people didn't seem to find funny, and dissected the quality of the film making on the drive home. Nick also valiantly jump started the car of a poor couple who'd run down their battery.
Thursday was exciting for me! I started a mini revolution at work, mentioning that I was going late night shopping in Southampton with Tom. Half the office decided to take advantage of the late night opening too, and we spent Friday morning discussing our purchases. I abused Primark, sent happy thoughts to the poor people in Chinese or Bangladeshi sweatshops who probably worked so hard for so little to make my cheap clothes and shopped. I bought a yellow shirt dress, a beige dress with a jewel toned floral pattern, sunglasses and a belt. The beige dress is for my Uncle's 50th birthday party as I have to look quite smart and grown up for it. Tom then whisked me off to the big 24 hour Tescos so I could get some groceries having no food in the house, and we ate a picnic supper watching the yachts at Hamble. I love the sound of the masts clanking like slightly off note bells in breeze.
Firstly counselling. I appear to be making quite a lot of progress. I have been assessing my feeling regarding my relationship with Rob, and my low self esteem issues. I have moved from guilt to anger, which is apparently a good thing, and I've made some realisations about myself. One is that the problem does not always lay with me. My low self esteem makes me think the problem is always with me, when it could be other people, and I have to work out a way of assessing and coping with that. The other thing is that I'm often accused of being fickle, changeable and shallow, changing my character for the people I'm with. However in light of the above issues, I've come to realise that I'm not necessarily changing my character at all, and its not a problem with me. My character is just fluid, and I have many complex parts that I reveal to different people as I see fit. That was a big deal for me. Other people may have a problem with it, but that's just me.
Anyway other things....
Andy and I went pubbing on Tuesday and caught up on the weeks events.
Wednesday my boss lent me her copy of the latest Harry Potter book. Wednesday then was LOTS of reading, and a review of that will follow as well. In simple and shorter term, I found it much better written than the last two, much darker, and the fight scenes were really exciting and pacey. Wednesday was also a really pleasant evening at the cinema with Nick, enjoying the Orange Wednesdays deal of 2-4-1 cinema tickets for Orange mobile owners. We appeared to be the only people left out of our group of friends who'd stayed in Southampton, wanted to see the Harry Potter film, and not yet seen it. That meant of course, we saw Harry Potter and giggled together at bits other people didn't seem to find funny, and dissected the quality of the film making on the drive home. Nick also valiantly jump started the car of a poor couple who'd run down their battery.
Thursday was exciting for me! I started a mini revolution at work, mentioning that I was going late night shopping in Southampton with Tom. Half the office decided to take advantage of the late night opening too, and we spent Friday morning discussing our purchases. I abused Primark, sent happy thoughts to the poor people in Chinese or Bangladeshi sweatshops who probably worked so hard for so little to make my cheap clothes and shopped. I bought a yellow shirt dress, a beige dress with a jewel toned floral pattern, sunglasses and a belt. The beige dress is for my Uncle's 50th birthday party as I have to look quite smart and grown up for it. Tom then whisked me off to the big 24 hour Tescos so I could get some groceries having no food in the house, and we ate a picnic supper watching the yachts at Hamble. I love the sound of the masts clanking like slightly off note bells in breeze.
I'm going to skip forward and back as i please now...
There's too much to get through. My review of 'Pride and Prejudice' at Mottifont Abbey to follow soon.
I spent last weekend at 'The Party 2007' at Lydia's Field near Hastings, a small music festival run by Lydia for her family and friends. The train journey there was fantastic. Rain poured nearly the whole time, and I got to show of my new wellies and my mac in sac. I've not travelled in and around London much, but negotiating Clapham Junction by myself was a challenging and enlightening experience. It sounds so silly doesn't it? But I was proud of how I managed to get my self on all the right trains. I also love people watching, and observing how different people live.
On the Hastings train there were a couple of children travelling with their grandmother, clearly going to stay with her for the weekend. I think they got off at Eastbourne. You'd never know that she was their grandmother though. Fashionably dressed, good hair, thin without being skinny, coral pink nails and be-Ipod- ed, I would have said mother rather than grandmother, if I had not been intently eavesdropping and heard them talking about their absent daughter/mother. They were so interesting. Clearly not wanting for money, the girl had just come back from summer camp and was filling the grandmother in on the gossip and what little Italian she had picked up. I think slightly to the grandmother's annoyance as she appeared to be an Italian teacher. They were so interesting, I wish almost that I could have followed them home and got to know them. But anyway...
The sun came out at Collington Beach, and by the time I got to Hastings, I felt so silly in my wet weather gear. I met up with Matt, who had invited me to the festival and we went to the supermarket to get supplies for the weekend.
The festival/party/whatever was great fun. Only really knowing Matt there forced me to talk to lots of people, and for once I was myself and people seemed to like it. I out geeked geeks on sci-fi and code, learnt a bit of poi, tramped through muddy woods to get fire wood, paddled in streams and swang on swings. The latter I had not done for years and years, and I felt so fabulous flying high in air. Such wholesome outdoorsy - ness was just what I needed.
It rained all through the Saturday night, and I did get a but damp but the sun came out so brightly on the Sunday that I could channel Kate Moss a la Glasto 2005 and waft around ing hippy dress and wellies. I got sun burnt listening to The Beautiful Word who I swear were the highlight of the weekend for me. Folky, clever harmonies, lovely dresses, bongos and glockenspiel, I was entranced. And desperate to get a CD. After that we sat by the fire and got gently drunk whilst trying to fan the flames .
It rained on the Sunday night, and was damp on the Monday and the journey home was full of knitting on the shrug I need to finish by Wednesday! Oh My!
I spent last weekend at 'The Party 2007' at Lydia's Field near Hastings, a small music festival run by Lydia for her family and friends. The train journey there was fantastic. Rain poured nearly the whole time, and I got to show of my new wellies and my mac in sac. I've not travelled in and around London much, but negotiating Clapham Junction by myself was a challenging and enlightening experience. It sounds so silly doesn't it? But I was proud of how I managed to get my self on all the right trains. I also love people watching, and observing how different people live.
On the Hastings train there were a couple of children travelling with their grandmother, clearly going to stay with her for the weekend. I think they got off at Eastbourne. You'd never know that she was their grandmother though. Fashionably dressed, good hair, thin without being skinny, coral pink nails and be-Ipod- ed, I would have said mother rather than grandmother, if I had not been intently eavesdropping and heard them talking about their absent daughter/mother. They were so interesting. Clearly not wanting for money, the girl had just come back from summer camp and was filling the grandmother in on the gossip and what little Italian she had picked up. I think slightly to the grandmother's annoyance as she appeared to be an Italian teacher. They were so interesting, I wish almost that I could have followed them home and got to know them. But anyway...
The sun came out at Collington Beach, and by the time I got to Hastings, I felt so silly in my wet weather gear. I met up with Matt, who had invited me to the festival and we went to the supermarket to get supplies for the weekend.
The festival/party/whatever was great fun. Only really knowing Matt there forced me to talk to lots of people, and for once I was myself and people seemed to like it. I out geeked geeks on sci-fi and code, learnt a bit of poi, tramped through muddy woods to get fire wood, paddled in streams and swang on swings. The latter I had not done for years and years, and I felt so fabulous flying high in air. Such wholesome outdoorsy - ness was just what I needed.
It rained all through the Saturday night, and I did get a but damp but the sun came out so brightly on the Sunday that I could channel Kate Moss a la Glasto 2005 and waft around ing hippy dress and wellies. I got sun burnt listening to The Beautiful Word who I swear were the highlight of the weekend for me. Folky, clever harmonies, lovely dresses, bongos and glockenspiel, I was entranced. And desperate to get a CD. After that we sat by the fire and got gently drunk whilst trying to fan the flames .
It rained on the Sunday night, and was damp on the Monday and the journey home was full of knitting on the shrug I need to finish by Wednesday! Oh My!
I'm going to skip forward and back as i please now...
There's too much to get through. My review of 'Pride and Prejudice' at Mottifont Abbey to follow soon.
I spent last weekend at 'The Party 2007' at Lydia's Field near Hastings, a small music festival run by Lydia for her family and friends. The train journey there was fantastic. Rain poured nearly the whole time, and I got to show of my new wellies and my mac in sac. I've not travelled in and around London much, but negotiating Clapham Junction by myself was a challenging and enlightening experience. It sounds so silly doesn't it? But I was proud of how I managed to get my self on all the right trains. I also love people watching, and observing how different people live.
On the Hastings train there were a couple of children travelling with their grandmother, clearly going to stay with her for the weekend. I think they got off at Eastbourne. You'd never know that she was their grandmother though. Fashionably dressed, good hair, thin without being skinny, coral pink nails and be-Ipod- ed, I would have said mother rather than grandmother, if I had not been intently eavesdropping and heard them talking about their absent daughter/mother. They were so interesting. Clearly not wanting for money, the girl had just come back from summer camp and was filling the grandmother in on the gossip and what little Italian she had picked up. I think slightly to the grandmother's annoyance as she appeared to be an Italian teacher. They were so interesting, I wish almost that I could have followed them home and got to know them. But anyway...
The sun came out at Collington Beach, and by the time I got to Hastings, I felt so silly in my wet weather gear. I met up with Matt, who had invited me to the festival and we went to the supermarket to get supplies for the weekend.
The festival/party/whatever was great fun. Only really knowing Matt there forced me to talk to lots of people, and for once I was myself and people seemed to like it. I out geeked geeks on sci-fi and code, learnt a bit of poi, tramped through muddy woods to get fire wood, paddled in streams and swang on swings. The latter I had not done for years and years, and I felt so fabulous flying high in air. Such wholesome outdoorsy - ness was just what I needed.
It rained all through the Saturday night, and I did get a but damp but the sun came out so brightly on the Sunday that I could channel Kate Moss a la Glasto 2005 and waft around ing hippy dress and wellies. I got sun burnt listening to The Beautiful Word who I swear were the highlight of the weekend for me. Folky, clever harmonies, lovely dresses, bongos and glockenspiel, I was entranced. And desperate to get a CD. After that we sat by the fire and got gently drunk whilst trying to fan the flames .
It rained on the Sunday night, and was damp on the Monday and the journey home was full of knitting on the shrug I need to finish by Wednesday! Oh My!
I spent last weekend at 'The Party 2007' at Lydia's Field near Hastings, a small music festival run by Lydia for her family and friends. The train journey there was fantastic. Rain poured nearly the whole time, and I got to show of my new wellies and my mac in sac. I've not travelled in and around London much, but negotiating Clapham Junction by myself was a challenging and enlightening experience. It sounds so silly doesn't it? But I was proud of how I managed to get my self on all the right trains. I also love people watching, and observing how different people live.
On the Hastings train there were a couple of children travelling with their grandmother, clearly going to stay with her for the weekend. I think they got off at Eastbourne. You'd never know that she was their grandmother though. Fashionably dressed, good hair, thin without being skinny, coral pink nails and be-Ipod- ed, I would have said mother rather than grandmother, if I had not been intently eavesdropping and heard them talking about their absent daughter/mother. They were so interesting. Clearly not wanting for money, the girl had just come back from summer camp and was filling the grandmother in on the gossip and what little Italian she had picked up. I think slightly to the grandmother's annoyance as she appeared to be an Italian teacher. They were so interesting, I wish almost that I could have followed them home and got to know them. But anyway...
The sun came out at Collington Beach, and by the time I got to Hastings, I felt so silly in my wet weather gear. I met up with Matt, who had invited me to the festival and we went to the supermarket to get supplies for the weekend.
The festival/party/whatever was great fun. Only really knowing Matt there forced me to talk to lots of people, and for once I was myself and people seemed to like it. I out geeked geeks on sci-fi and code, learnt a bit of poi, tramped through muddy woods to get fire wood, paddled in streams and swang on swings. The latter I had not done for years and years, and I felt so fabulous flying high in air. Such wholesome outdoorsy - ness was just what I needed.
It rained all through the Saturday night, and I did get a but damp but the sun came out so brightly on the Sunday that I could channel Kate Moss a la Glasto 2005 and waft around ing hippy dress and wellies. I got sun burnt listening to The Beautiful Word who I swear were the highlight of the weekend for me. Folky, clever harmonies, lovely dresses, bongos and glockenspiel, I was entranced. And desperate to get a CD. After that we sat by the fire and got gently drunk whilst trying to fan the flames .
It rained on the Sunday night, and was damp on the Monday and the journey home was full of knitting on the shrug I need to finish by Wednesday! Oh My!
Friday, July 27, 2007
Sunshine in a rainy day part 2
It rained on my very early journey to work from Westbury to Fareham. Work is fairly dull as I'm the admin assistant. However as is the way, the people are fabulous, it pays well and is fairly flexible, so I will complain no further. Thursday evening turned out to be especially manic and especially British.
Armed with a picnic, a waterproof jacket and a brolly, I had been invited by godparents and assorted friends to go and see a production of "Pride and Prejudice" at Mottisfont Abbey, a National Trust property near Romsey. The sky was ominous, and the air chilly so I but on my stiff upper lip and hoped. Sat in our deck chairs in the grounds of the house, we daintily nibbled at our unusual picnic items such are dried mango, ginger cake and dark chocolate. The play was excellently produced, cast and costumed.
The rain held off until the end of the second act and then it came down with a vengeance. In a spectactularly display of Britishness we were told that they'd carry on through the rain as far as possible. Half the audience left, and the other half became a sea of umbrellas. The cast were given, clear plastic rain ponchos and carried on with many a hilarious adlib...
"Come walk in the rose garden with me Jane, but don't for get your umbrella!"
...and so on. They even had real horsesand a carriage to take the cast to and from the stage. I was especially impressed with the way they utilised the abbey as scenery, it becoming the outside of Pemberly, or the doorway into an unseen ballroom as the play required.
Perhaps the best bit of the whole evening was the rip off the Darcy in a wet shirt from the BBC's artistically licenced adaptation. In the pouring rain of the evening, Darcy in a wet shirt strolinghis grounds make perfect sense. He was also quite handsome so that helped. Alot.
Armed with a picnic, a waterproof jacket and a brolly, I had been invited by godparents and assorted friends to go and see a production of "Pride and Prejudice" at Mottisfont Abbey, a National Trust property near Romsey. The sky was ominous, and the air chilly so I but on my stiff upper lip and hoped. Sat in our deck chairs in the grounds of the house, we daintily nibbled at our unusual picnic items such are dried mango, ginger cake and dark chocolate. The play was excellently produced, cast and costumed.
The rain held off until the end of the second act and then it came down with a vengeance. In a spectactularly display of Britishness we were told that they'd carry on through the rain as far as possible. Half the audience left, and the other half became a sea of umbrellas. The cast were given, clear plastic rain ponchos and carried on with many a hilarious adlib...
"Come walk in the rose garden with me Jane, but don't for get your umbrella!"
...and so on. They even had real horsesand a carriage to take the cast to and from the stage. I was especially impressed with the way they utilised the abbey as scenery, it becoming the outside of Pemberly, or the doorway into an unseen ballroom as the play required.
Perhaps the best bit of the whole evening was the rip off the Darcy in a wet shirt from the BBC's artistically licenced adaptation. In the pouring rain of the evening, Darcy in a wet shirt strolinghis grounds make perfect sense. He was also quite handsome so that helped. Alot.
Sunshine in a rainy day part 2
It rained on my very early journey to work from Westbury to Fareham. Work is fairly dull as I'm the admin assistant. However as is the way, the people are fabulous, it pays well and is fairly flexible, so I will complain no further. Thursday evening turned out to be especially manic and especially British.
Armed with a picnic, a waterproof jacket and a brolly, I had been invited by godparents and assorted friends to go and see a production of "Pride and Prejudice" at Mottisfont Abbey, a National Trust property near Romsey. The sky was ominous, and the air chilly so I but on my stiff upper lip and hoped. Sat in our deck chairs in the grounds of the house, we daintily nibbled at our unusual picnic items such are dried mango, ginger cake and dark chocolate. The play was excellently produced, cast and costumed.
The rain held off until the end of the second act and then it came down with a vengeance. In a spectactularly display of Britishness we were told that they'd carry on through the rain as far as possible. Half the audience left, and the other half became a sea of umbrellas. The cast were given, clear plastic rain ponchos and carried on with many a hilarious adlib...
"Come walk in the rose garden with me Jane, but don't for get your umbrella!"
...and so on. They even had real horsesand a carriage to take the cast to and from the stage. I was especially impressed with the way they utilised the abbey as scenery, it becoming the outside of Pemberly, or the doorway into an unseen ballroom as the play required.
Perhaps the best bit of the whole evening was the rip off the Darcy in a wet shirt from the BBC's artistically licenced adaptation. In the pouring rain of the evening, Darcy in a wet shirt strolinghis grounds make perfect sense. He was also quite handsome so that helped. Alot.
Armed with a picnic, a waterproof jacket and a brolly, I had been invited by godparents and assorted friends to go and see a production of "Pride and Prejudice" at Mottisfont Abbey, a National Trust property near Romsey. The sky was ominous, and the air chilly so I but on my stiff upper lip and hoped. Sat in our deck chairs in the grounds of the house, we daintily nibbled at our unusual picnic items such are dried mango, ginger cake and dark chocolate. The play was excellently produced, cast and costumed.
The rain held off until the end of the second act and then it came down with a vengeance. In a spectactularly display of Britishness we were told that they'd carry on through the rain as far as possible. Half the audience left, and the other half became a sea of umbrellas. The cast were given, clear plastic rain ponchos and carried on with many a hilarious adlib...
"Come walk in the rose garden with me Jane, but don't for get your umbrella!"
...and so on. They even had real horsesand a carriage to take the cast to and from the stage. I was especially impressed with the way they utilised the abbey as scenery, it becoming the outside of Pemberly, or the doorway into an unseen ballroom as the play required.
Perhaps the best bit of the whole evening was the rip off the Darcy in a wet shirt from the BBC's artistically licenced adaptation. In the pouring rain of the evening, Darcy in a wet shirt strolinghis grounds make perfect sense. He was also quite handsome so that helped. Alot.
Just to Say...
From the theSartorialist.com
...Ow! Hot! Why is men's fashion so much easier than womens? Men if you want to dress well go the Sartorialist and take notes!
Just to Say...
From the theSartorialist.com...Ow! Hot! Why is men's fashion so much easier than womens? Men if you want to dress well go the Sartorialist and take notes!
Sunshine on a rainy day part 1
Rain, let’s start with rain. It is a bond that ties up and pervades almost everything that happened recently bar a few glorious hours. My heart goes out to those being evacuated from their homes, and facing battles with insurance companies over damaged properties. I am grateful that the rain here has been little more than an annoyance. I was going to say a minor annoyance, but it’s actually quite annoying really.
No wonder I was surprised when the sun came out on my trip home lst Wednesday for the memorial concert for Nigel Gillespy, my old headmaster who sadly died a brain tumour shortly after retiring last year. I had been asked along with members of my old dance company by our then teacher Beth Brewer to recreate our piece based on the music from the sound track of Schindler’s List. We cut the part in the stretchy body bags, thinking it insensitive and focus instead on the balletic section to the main theme of the music. It is very beautiful music.
I swear sometimes I control the weather or vice versa, superb warmth and blue skies accompanying my excitement at a day in the dance studio. It turned out to be a day in the gym, but one can’t have everything. I was so excited that the energy practically crackled off me, quivering with anticipation.
My expectations were met. I felt like I was flying all day, releasing all the pent up energy as I danced. The catching up with old friends also filled the day with bittersweet nostalgia. We were realising that there is a fairly substantial chance that we shall not dance together again. It was lovely to dance with Sarah, a kindred spirit from my school days. However it was especially wonderful to see how far Luke had come on from the reluctant 13 year old lad. Having just finished a dance foundation course, and off to audition for London school, I was so happy to see the amazing skills he is learning, and not a little jealous. Following a dream is hard, and tiring, but the happiness it brings is enormous. I wish I was just a little less cowardly sometimes.
The performance and indeed the whole concert went really well. The performances were touching and competent. I followed it with catching up with more old friends in the pub, and the swapping of new contact details. I wonder how many of these people I’ll actually see over the next few months.
No wonder I was surprised when the sun came out on my trip home lst Wednesday for the memorial concert for Nigel Gillespy, my old headmaster who sadly died a brain tumour shortly after retiring last year. I had been asked along with members of my old dance company by our then teacher Beth Brewer to recreate our piece based on the music from the sound track of Schindler’s List. We cut the part in the stretchy body bags, thinking it insensitive and focus instead on the balletic section to the main theme of the music. It is very beautiful music.
I swear sometimes I control the weather or vice versa, superb warmth and blue skies accompanying my excitement at a day in the dance studio. It turned out to be a day in the gym, but one can’t have everything. I was so excited that the energy practically crackled off me, quivering with anticipation.
My expectations were met. I felt like I was flying all day, releasing all the pent up energy as I danced. The catching up with old friends also filled the day with bittersweet nostalgia. We were realising that there is a fairly substantial chance that we shall not dance together again. It was lovely to dance with Sarah, a kindred spirit from my school days. However it was especially wonderful to see how far Luke had come on from the reluctant 13 year old lad. Having just finished a dance foundation course, and off to audition for London school, I was so happy to see the amazing skills he is learning, and not a little jealous. Following a dream is hard, and tiring, but the happiness it brings is enormous. I wish I was just a little less cowardly sometimes.
The performance and indeed the whole concert went really well. The performances were touching and competent. I followed it with catching up with more old friends in the pub, and the swapping of new contact details. I wonder how many of these people I’ll actually see over the next few months.
Sunshine on a rainy day part 1
Rain, let’s start with rain. It is a bond that ties up and pervades almost everything that happened recently bar a few glorious hours. My heart goes out to those being evacuated from their homes, and facing battles with insurance companies over damaged properties. I am grateful that the rain here has been little more than an annoyance. I was going to say a minor annoyance, but it’s actually quite annoying really.
No wonder I was surprised when the sun came out on my trip home lst Wednesday for the memorial concert for Nigel Gillespy, my old headmaster who sadly died a brain tumour shortly after retiring last year. I had been asked along with members of my old dance company by our then teacher Beth Brewer to recreate our piece based on the music from the sound track of Schindler’s List. We cut the part in the stretchy body bags, thinking it insensitive and focus instead on the balletic section to the main theme of the music. It is very beautiful music.
I swear sometimes I control the weather or vice versa, superb warmth and blue skies accompanying my excitement at a day in the dance studio. It turned out to be a day in the gym, but one can’t have everything. I was so excited that the energy practically crackled off me, quivering with anticipation.
My expectations were met. I felt like I was flying all day, releasing all the pent up energy as I danced. The catching up with old friends also filled the day with bittersweet nostalgia. We were realising that there is a fairly substantial chance that we shall not dance together again. It was lovely to dance with Sarah, a kindred spirit from my school days. However it was especially wonderful to see how far Luke had come on from the reluctant 13 year old lad. Having just finished a dance foundation course, and off to audition for London school, I was so happy to see the amazing skills he is learning, and not a little jealous. Following a dream is hard, and tiring, but the happiness it brings is enormous. I wish I was just a little less cowardly sometimes.
The performance and indeed the whole concert went really well. The performances were touching and competent. I followed it with catching up with more old friends in the pub, and the swapping of new contact details. I wonder how many of these people I’ll actually see over the next few months.
No wonder I was surprised when the sun came out on my trip home lst Wednesday for the memorial concert for Nigel Gillespy, my old headmaster who sadly died a brain tumour shortly after retiring last year. I had been asked along with members of my old dance company by our then teacher Beth Brewer to recreate our piece based on the music from the sound track of Schindler’s List. We cut the part in the stretchy body bags, thinking it insensitive and focus instead on the balletic section to the main theme of the music. It is very beautiful music.
I swear sometimes I control the weather or vice versa, superb warmth and blue skies accompanying my excitement at a day in the dance studio. It turned out to be a day in the gym, but one can’t have everything. I was so excited that the energy practically crackled off me, quivering with anticipation.
My expectations were met. I felt like I was flying all day, releasing all the pent up energy as I danced. The catching up with old friends also filled the day with bittersweet nostalgia. We were realising that there is a fairly substantial chance that we shall not dance together again. It was lovely to dance with Sarah, a kindred spirit from my school days. However it was especially wonderful to see how far Luke had come on from the reluctant 13 year old lad. Having just finished a dance foundation course, and off to audition for London school, I was so happy to see the amazing skills he is learning, and not a little jealous. Following a dream is hard, and tiring, but the happiness it brings is enormous. I wish I was just a little less cowardly sometimes.
The performance and indeed the whole concert went really well. The performances were touching and competent. I followed it with catching up with more old friends in the pub, and the swapping of new contact details. I wonder how many of these people I’ll actually see over the next few months.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Not as bad as I thought
I got the breakdown of my marks for this year:
73 Old Testament Texts
71 Group Project - The Romans in Hampshire.6
8 Gender and Society in France since 1789
60 Latin Stage 1
Giving me an average of 68. Annoyingly 2 marks away from a first. However, I consider them amazing. I can do anything I want, even when it feels like my world is crumbling.
Roll on next year.
I had a lovely weekend. A much needed lie in in my new double bed, shopping, spending time with darling friends, a cheap and cheerful Chinese meal and a night of wicked dancing on the Saturday. Sunday saw pancakes and more lolling around in Andy and Mels fabulous house, a decadent nap and church. You heard that right church... I've been asked to be godmother to my newest cousin. So I'm biting the bullet and trying to get over my irrational fears. I also had fish and chips, watching Scrubs with friends.
I feel quite alive at the moment. Like someone turned the lights on.
73 Old Testament Texts
71 Group Project - The Romans in Hampshire.6
8 Gender and Society in France since 1789
60 Latin Stage 1
Giving me an average of 68. Annoyingly 2 marks away from a first. However, I consider them amazing. I can do anything I want, even when it feels like my world is crumbling.
Roll on next year.
I had a lovely weekend. A much needed lie in in my new double bed, shopping, spending time with darling friends, a cheap and cheerful Chinese meal and a night of wicked dancing on the Saturday. Sunday saw pancakes and more lolling around in Andy and Mels fabulous house, a decadent nap and church. You heard that right church... I've been asked to be godmother to my newest cousin. So I'm biting the bullet and trying to get over my irrational fears. I also had fish and chips, watching Scrubs with friends.
I feel quite alive at the moment. Like someone turned the lights on.
Not as bad as I thought
I got the breakdown of my marks for this year:
73 Old Testament Texts
71 Group Project - The Romans in Hampshire.6
8 Gender and Society in France since 1789
60 Latin Stage 1
Giving me an average of 68. Annoyingly 2 marks away from a first. However, I consider them amazing. I can do anything I want, even when it feels like my world is crumbling.
Roll on next year.
I had a lovely weekend. A much needed lie in in my new double bed, shopping, spending time with darling friends, a cheap and cheerful Chinese meal and a night of wicked dancing on the Saturday. Sunday saw pancakes and more lolling around in Andy and Mels fabulous house, a decadent nap and church. You heard that right church... I've been asked to be godmother to my newest cousin. So I'm biting the bullet and trying to get over my irrational fears. I also had fish and chips, watching Scrubs with friends.
I feel quite alive at the moment. Like someone turned the lights on.
73 Old Testament Texts
71 Group Project - The Romans in Hampshire.6
8 Gender and Society in France since 1789
60 Latin Stage 1
Giving me an average of 68. Annoyingly 2 marks away from a first. However, I consider them amazing. I can do anything I want, even when it feels like my world is crumbling.
Roll on next year.
I had a lovely weekend. A much needed lie in in my new double bed, shopping, spending time with darling friends, a cheap and cheerful Chinese meal and a night of wicked dancing on the Saturday. Sunday saw pancakes and more lolling around in Andy and Mels fabulous house, a decadent nap and church. You heard that right church... I've been asked to be godmother to my newest cousin. So I'm biting the bullet and trying to get over my irrational fears. I also had fish and chips, watching Scrubs with friends.
I feel quite alive at the moment. Like someone turned the lights on.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Knitting tentatively
My mood is black, blue at best, and following Simon's advice, I'm trying to do the things that make me happy.
Thud by Terry Pratchett is a very good book. I bought it with some book tokens I discovered whilst moving house, and it was definately worth the trip to the book shop. In Pratchett's usual witty and amusing way, he has Commander Vimes trying to stop all out war between the trolls and dwarves. However, this being TP, its is actually a commentary on racial intolerance and fear of the unknown. It has both made me laugh out loud on the train and ponder my own actions. 8/10.
I am currently knitting a shrug for my sister based on a blue one I made her last year. It is a top down raglan of my own design, 4ply white yarn of 5mm needles for a loose and drapey effect. So Far I've managed about 3 inches, some of which was knitted last night in the dark whilst touring accross country lanes in a friends new car. Sarah's hoody is on hold fo rnow, as Ellie wants this shrug by the first week of August.
Hopefully a bbq and a trip to the cinema and cooking a roast for all my friends in Soton will help with the blackness. It's a bit like being chased by a huge dog this week.
Thud by Terry Pratchett is a very good book. I bought it with some book tokens I discovered whilst moving house, and it was definately worth the trip to the book shop. In Pratchett's usual witty and amusing way, he has Commander Vimes trying to stop all out war between the trolls and dwarves. However, this being TP, its is actually a commentary on racial intolerance and fear of the unknown. It has both made me laugh out loud on the train and ponder my own actions. 8/10.
I am currently knitting a shrug for my sister based on a blue one I made her last year. It is a top down raglan of my own design, 4ply white yarn of 5mm needles for a loose and drapey effect. So Far I've managed about 3 inches, some of which was knitted last night in the dark whilst touring accross country lanes in a friends new car. Sarah's hoody is on hold fo rnow, as Ellie wants this shrug by the first week of August.
Hopefully a bbq and a trip to the cinema and cooking a roast for all my friends in Soton will help with the blackness. It's a bit like being chased by a huge dog this week.
Knitting tentatively
My mood is black, blue at best, and following Simon's advice, I'm trying to do the things that make me happy.
Thud by Terry Pratchett is a very good book. I bought it with some book tokens I discovered whilst moving house, and it was definately worth the trip to the book shop. In Pratchett's usual witty and amusing way, he has Commander Vimes trying to stop all out war between the trolls and dwarves. However, this being TP, its is actually a commentary on racial intolerance and fear of the unknown. It has both made me laugh out loud on the train and ponder my own actions. 8/10.
I am currently knitting a shrug for my sister based on a blue one I made her last year. It is a top down raglan of my own design, 4ply white yarn of 5mm needles for a loose and drapey effect. So Far I've managed about 3 inches, some of which was knitted last night in the dark whilst touring accross country lanes in a friends new car. Sarah's hoody is on hold fo rnow, as Ellie wants this shrug by the first week of August.
Hopefully a bbq and a trip to the cinema and cooking a roast for all my friends in Soton will help with the blackness. It's a bit like being chased by a huge dog this week.
Thud by Terry Pratchett is a very good book. I bought it with some book tokens I discovered whilst moving house, and it was definately worth the trip to the book shop. In Pratchett's usual witty and amusing way, he has Commander Vimes trying to stop all out war between the trolls and dwarves. However, this being TP, its is actually a commentary on racial intolerance and fear of the unknown. It has both made me laugh out loud on the train and ponder my own actions. 8/10.
I am currently knitting a shrug for my sister based on a blue one I made her last year. It is a top down raglan of my own design, 4ply white yarn of 5mm needles for a loose and drapey effect. So Far I've managed about 3 inches, some of which was knitted last night in the dark whilst touring accross country lanes in a friends new car. Sarah's hoody is on hold fo rnow, as Ellie wants this shrug by the first week of August.
Hopefully a bbq and a trip to the cinema and cooking a roast for all my friends in Soton will help with the blackness. It's a bit like being chased by a huge dog this week.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Dream 02/07/2007
Dream:
I had been running around my new house all day moving things. Then the HBP (more on him another time...) arrived and we sat around chatting about my new house. For some reason I decided to show him my wardrobe, and before I knew it, (and as things often happen like this in dreams) we were getting...ahem... busy in the wardrobe. And then I woke up.
Interpretation:
House
To see a house in your dream, represents your own soul and self. Specific rooms in the house indicate a specific aspect of your psyche. In general, the attic represents your intellect, the basement represents the unconscious, etc. If the house is empty, then it indicates feelings of insecurity.� If the house is shifting, then it suggests that you are going through some personal changes and changing your belief system. If you live with others in your walking life, but dream that you are living alone, suggests that you need to take new steps toward independence. You need to accept responsibilities and be more self-reliant.
Man
To see a man in your dream, denotes the masculine aspect of yourself - the side that is assertive, rational, aggressive, and/or competitive. If the man is known to you, then the dream may reflect you feelings and concerns you have about him.
Talking
To dream that you are talking does not have any significance unless it is unusual or bizarre. Consider also if what you say evoke strong feelings or behavioral reactions. The dream may simply be highlighting your need improve your communication skills or learn to express yourself more clearly.
Wardrobe
To see a wardrobe in your dream, represents a transitional period or phase in your life. Alternatively, the dream may highlight issues with your self-image and how you portray yourself to the outside world.
Kiss
To dream of a kiss, denotes love, affection, tranquility, harmony, and contentment.
Sex
To dream about sex, may be your libido's way of telling you that it's been too long since you have had sex. It may indicate repressed sexual desires and your needs for physical and emotional love.
I had been running around my new house all day moving things. Then the HBP (more on him another time...) arrived and we sat around chatting about my new house. For some reason I decided to show him my wardrobe, and before I knew it, (and as things often happen like this in dreams) we were getting...ahem... busy in the wardrobe. And then I woke up.
Interpretation:
House
To see a house in your dream, represents your own soul and self. Specific rooms in the house indicate a specific aspect of your psyche. In general, the attic represents your intellect, the basement represents the unconscious, etc. If the house is empty, then it indicates feelings of insecurity.� If the house is shifting, then it suggests that you are going through some personal changes and changing your belief system. If you live with others in your walking life, but dream that you are living alone, suggests that you need to take new steps toward independence. You need to accept responsibilities and be more self-reliant.
Man
To see a man in your dream, denotes the masculine aspect of yourself - the side that is assertive, rational, aggressive, and/or competitive. If the man is known to you, then the dream may reflect you feelings and concerns you have about him.
Talking
To dream that you are talking does not have any significance unless it is unusual or bizarre. Consider also if what you say evoke strong feelings or behavioral reactions. The dream may simply be highlighting your need improve your communication skills or learn to express yourself more clearly.
Wardrobe
To see a wardrobe in your dream, represents a transitional period or phase in your life. Alternatively, the dream may highlight issues with your self-image and how you portray yourself to the outside world.
Kiss
To dream of a kiss, denotes love, affection, tranquility, harmony, and contentment.
Sex
To dream about sex, may be your libido's way of telling you that it's been too long since you have had sex. It may indicate repressed sexual desires and your needs for physical and emotional love.
Dream 02/07/2007
Dream:
I had been running around my new house all day moving things. Then the HBP (more on him another time...) arrived and we sat around chatting about my new house. For some reason I decided to show him my wardrobe, and before I knew it, (and as things often happen like this in dreams) we were getting...ahem... busy in the wardrobe. And then I woke up.
Interpretation:
House
To see a house in your dream, represents your own soul and self. Specific rooms in the house indicate a specific aspect of your psyche. In general, the attic represents your intellect, the basement represents the unconscious, etc. If the house is empty, then it indicates feelings of insecurity.� If the house is shifting, then it suggests that you are going through some personal changes and changing your belief system. If you live with others in your walking life, but dream that you are living alone, suggests that you need to take new steps toward independence. You need to accept responsibilities and be more self-reliant.
Man
To see a man in your dream, denotes the masculine aspect of yourself - the side that is assertive, rational, aggressive, and/or competitive. If the man is known to you, then the dream may reflect you feelings and concerns you have about him.
Talking
To dream that you are talking does not have any significance unless it is unusual or bizarre. Consider also if what you say evoke strong feelings or behavioral reactions. The dream may simply be highlighting your need improve your communication skills or learn to express yourself more clearly.
Wardrobe
To see a wardrobe in your dream, represents a transitional period or phase in your life. Alternatively, the dream may highlight issues with your self-image and how you portray yourself to the outside world.
Kiss
To dream of a kiss, denotes love, affection, tranquility, harmony, and contentment.
Sex
To dream about sex, may be your libido's way of telling you that it's been too long since you have had sex. It may indicate repressed sexual desires and your needs for physical and emotional love.
I had been running around my new house all day moving things. Then the HBP (more on him another time...) arrived and we sat around chatting about my new house. For some reason I decided to show him my wardrobe, and before I knew it, (and as things often happen like this in dreams) we were getting...ahem... busy in the wardrobe. And then I woke up.
Interpretation:
House
To see a house in your dream, represents your own soul and self. Specific rooms in the house indicate a specific aspect of your psyche. In general, the attic represents your intellect, the basement represents the unconscious, etc. If the house is empty, then it indicates feelings of insecurity.� If the house is shifting, then it suggests that you are going through some personal changes and changing your belief system. If you live with others in your walking life, but dream that you are living alone, suggests that you need to take new steps toward independence. You need to accept responsibilities and be more self-reliant.
Man
To see a man in your dream, denotes the masculine aspect of yourself - the side that is assertive, rational, aggressive, and/or competitive. If the man is known to you, then the dream may reflect you feelings and concerns you have about him.
Talking
To dream that you are talking does not have any significance unless it is unusual or bizarre. Consider also if what you say evoke strong feelings or behavioral reactions. The dream may simply be highlighting your need improve your communication skills or learn to express yourself more clearly.
Wardrobe
To see a wardrobe in your dream, represents a transitional period or phase in your life. Alternatively, the dream may highlight issues with your self-image and how you portray yourself to the outside world.
Kiss
To dream of a kiss, denotes love, affection, tranquility, harmony, and contentment.
Sex
To dream about sex, may be your libido's way of telling you that it's been too long since you have had sex. It may indicate repressed sexual desires and your needs for physical and emotional love.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Dancing + person with a good camera = Things I want to paint!
Thanks to Peter for taking the pics. I think there maybe some self portraiture going on this summer...where did I put the oil pastels?
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