April 2002

April 30th, 2002. It's a conspiracy

Strange dream last night. Basically, I was creating a TV adaptation of the Umberto Eco novel Foucault's Pendulum. I wasn't just writing the script, but was inside the programme -- although I was careful to design it so there was a good ending in the first episode, so it would work well as a pilot for a mini-series. Then, I went outside, and the sky was yellow and the landscape in shades of brown and umber, with black seagulls that looked like paper cutouts flying round in flocks.

Went out on Saturday night with Kristin and one of her friends. We saw About A Boy, then went to The Egg, which wasn't as good as it usually is (apparently)

Stumbled out of bed this morning and put the kettle on as normal. Pouring my tea, I was sure I saw some sort of black blob drop out of the kettle. fifteen minutes later, reached the bottom of my mug and almost swallowed a boiled moth. EW EW EW EW EW -- ran to the kitchen for something to rinse my mouth out

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April 25th, 2002. Curiouser and curiouser

People have been going in and out of the flat upstairs all day again. When I popped out, a couple of people were stood at the door holding lots of expensive-llooking audiovisual equipment -- one of those big fluffy microphones, for one thing. So now, I'm intrigued. I want to know what they're up to up there. Maybe, if I turn the stereo up loud enough, they will come and complain and I can ask them what they're doing.

Yes, I know I'm nosy.

Just when you thought I couldn't get any geekier: I had half an hour spare this afternoon, so I reordered all my CDs. By colour, the colour of the spine of the CD case. The plain-white and plain-black shelves don't look that nice, but there's a lovely graduation of the rest from dark red through orange to green and then blue.

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April 24th, 2002. Now that hurt

Woke up at 5am today (the cat wanting to get inside and eat, as usual) and an eyelash fell in my eye. OWOWOWOWOWOWOW. And then, I got woken up early because someone in the flat above my bedroom kept moving heavy things about. Thiump thump thump thump thump. Must be someone new moving in.

Another thing about Richard and Judy. When they're interviewing someone and that person mentions a celebrity, they don't just cooly go "uhuh" like most celeb interviewers would. Judy shouts "Ooooh! We've met him!" just like a normal person might, someone who doesn't meet famous people very often. I think it's probably a point in their favour.

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April 23rd, 2002. Keep England For The Welsh

Bored this afternoon, so I ended up watching Richard & Judy. They were trying to suggest some symbols to represent Englishness -- it being St. George's day and all -- and kept going on about King Arthur, suggesting Excalibur as a national motif, and so on. Don't they realise that the King Arthur myth was all about stopping the English from settling in Britain? It would hardly be appropriate.

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April 22nd, 2002. Sadly, Delia was unavailable

Caitlin's Cookery Notes, Episode Zero. Omelette.

It's not exactly a quick recipe -- at least 90 minutes if you include the potato-boiling time -- but it tastes nice, and for the last half-hour you just have to wait for it to cook.

Ingredients:
4 large eggs
4 small new potatoes
1/2 onion
1 slice ham (optional if you don't like meaty things)
1 clove garlic (also optional if you can't stand the stuff)
1/2 tsp wholegrain mustard
1/2 tsp pesto
Mixed herbs (or whatever herbs you like)
Cheese (any so lonhg as it's grateable and not too strong)
Seasoning
Oil

Boil the potatoes -- you can do that bit beforehand if you want. Peel and chop the half-onion and finely chop the garlic. Crack the eggs into a mug, add the mustard, pesto, herbs, salt and pepper, and a dash of water. Beat, then leave to stand. Slice the potatoes into chunky slices, about 4mm or so thick. Chop the ham. Fry the onion and garlic until it starts to go pale, then add the ham. Fry a bit more, then add the potato. Keep frying until the potato slices are starting to brown and the onion is nicely caramelising. Take off the heat and add the eggy mixture, stirring a bit and making sure the fried stuff is evenly spread out. Sprinkle grated cheese and a pinch of herbs over the top, and cook on a low heat for 20-25 mintues, until it's all solid. Sevres 2 if you eat it with something else; have with white wine and follow with a nice light, citrusy pudding.

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April 21st, 2002. Is there a beautician in the building?

Ages ago now, Velliope told me that I should wax my legs instead of shaving them. Better for sensitive skin, apparently. So today, I got around to trying it.

I have to say, it's not as painful as advertised. The stereotypical image is that you rip off a strip of wax for the first time and are screaming in agony. But it's not that bad. It does hurt. It hurts a lot. But I didn't actually scream.

Maybe, though, this was because I wasn't doing it right. My skin was still hairy afterwards. It wasn't as hairy, but the hair was still there, and some patches didn't seem touched at all. Yes, I know this is the first time I've tried it and I'm probably doing it slightly wrong, but I don't want to go for six months with random hairy patches on my legs whilst I practise. So anyway, halfway through I thought "why go through with all this pain if it doesn't actually work properly?" and gave up. Now i have one waxed leg and one shaved one. I'm trying to pretend it's some sort of scientific comparison.

Also this wekend, I've been trying to perfect my Spanish omelette recipe. One, I burnt. The next, I overcompensated a wee bit and didn't manage to cook it at all. i think I've got it just about right though I might write it down and post it here so i don't just forget it by the next time I want an omelette.

Vel is supposed to be moving to Glasgow soon, as it happens. Maybe I should ask her to wax my legs for me; then I might learn a bit quicker and without the hairy patches.

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April 19th, 2002. About time, too

Ever since I redesigned the site I've been meaning to update the links page, and this afternoon I finally got round to it. So, there's lots of new links to search for now. If you think you deserve a link there, prod me.

Also ever since ... (blah blah), the links page has said: go to the home page for a few links that you don't have to search for. I finally got around to doing that too -- there's a handful of the sites that I look at regularly listed over there -------> now.

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April 17th, 2002. Got that in a size 10?

« previous part

This month I won £50 on the Premium Bonds, so today I thought I'd go and look for clothes, and maybe get some ideas for a wedding outfit. I know it's only April and the wedding I'm going to is in August, but I wanted to be prepared. Andway, I searched round every branch of Armstrong's and didn't find anything. I was thinking maybe some tweed trousers, but they're a bit expensive. Part of the problem is that each of their shops has two or three racks of clothed attached to each wall, one about the other, so you can't really see what's way up near the ceiling. They have a ladder you can borrow, but I daren't use it for fear I'll fall over than thwack the assistant on the head, knocking over everything in the shop in the process. In any case, you can't really browse through everything whilst you're stood on top of a stepladder.

So yes, I want to go back and go through everything again, but it will look a bit odd if i keep going back to these shops every day and not actually buying anything. I can't be bothered with waiting. I thought about spending an extra fiver and going to Glasgow to shop, but I don't know where any of the decent cheap clothes shops in Glasgow are (except one), and I'd probably end up meeting people and spending lots of extra cash on booze.

next part »

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April 16th, 2002. Achoo!

I can't stop sneezing. Must be the hayfever season again. Somewhere I have a small stockpile of terfenadine pills, from before they got banned for being rather nasty to the liver. Mmm, strong antihistamines. Must find them.

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April 16th, 2002. What Is, Is

As I was saying, I went to the theatre on Saturday. It's not often I do something at all cultured, so it wassomething to be relished.

I wouldn't have gone if I hadn't been comped, of course. I went around to the stage door and asked for the manager, saying "A friend of mine's in the company, and he said you'd give me a tcket." Fortunately, he seemed to be expecting me, and he took me round the front of house and told the ushers to sit me somewhere.

The play was rather good, and I'm not just saying that in case William was reading. As it's really a children's play, I was dreading the theatre being filled with squalling brats, but fortunately they weren't that bad (although I was a bit surprised that the family in front of me was sat watching the play and eating a pizza. This isn't your living room, you know). I definitely laughed at several of the jokes, even though I can't remember what they were (apart from the "This isn't India!" line below), and the play was just the right length to stop me getting bored (I do have the attention-span of a five-year-old, of course).

After it was over (they didn't do curtain calls), I blustered my way backstage again. I was explaining to the stage door keeper that I knew someone, could he call him please, when the wardrobe master walked past and said "Oh, are you waiting for William?" Either I look distinctive, or they don't get many backstage visitors. After he'd showered we went to Favorit for some food, and then on for a (rather late-starting) night out at CC's, because one of the technical people (sorry, I forget all the job titles) had just been dumped by her girlfriend (by SMS, the bitch) and was desperate to pull. She didn't, but I think we all had a good time anyway.

As you might realise from reading the About page, I tend to like supposedly-twee indie-pop, rather than the sort of cheesy chart-dance-pop they play at CC's. And, proverbially, I never dance. Therefore, it automatically follows that I can't have been dancing all night to cheesy chart-pop-dance music, can I?

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April 14th, 2002. Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells

But talking of the Queen Mother... Ho Ho Ho.

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April 14th, 2002. "This isn't India! This is Leighton Buzzard!"

So, I had an actor friend staying the past week or so, which was nice. He's currently playing in The Borrowers, and is mid-way through a 6-month tour of the UK and Ireland, a different town every week. He cooked me yummy food, and last night we went out after his show and got very very drunk. Details to follow (when I get round to it).

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April 8th, 2002. Royal family: the p0rn movie

All this Queen Mother nonsense is getting a bit much for me now. She was old. Now she's dead. I mean, it was hardly unexpected.

Buying a daily paper this morning, I couldn't help noticing the headline on the front of one of the right-wing tabloids; I can't remember which. It was about the size of the queues to nose at the QM's coffin: "River of Love". Gave me entirely the wrong mental image, I can tell you.

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April 7th, 2002. No need to panic

I was sat around not doing much last night, when I suddenly thought: "Oh no! It's the parents' silver wedding anniversary tomorrow!" I have never been able to remember when their wedding anniversary is. Never, ever. Even the times I've remembered to buy a card, I've forgotten to write it or post it or something. But I thought I really should remember this year, because it's the silver anniversary and everything.

So, in a big panic (this morning), I rushed out to a nice card shop and bought a nice card. I phoned them too, because I thought I'd better say "Congratulations!" and all that. "No, it's not today," quoth the mother. "I'ts Thursday." Bah! At least I will remember it this year, after all.

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April 5th, 2002. Nutter Alert

Was in the pub last night --- well, afternoon really. We were having a quiet drink, when a mad drunk bloke suddenly attaches himself to us. And he won't shut up. Or go away. Neither of us are brave enough to tell him to piss off, so we just sit there whilst he rambles on about his life, his likes and dislikes, and ogles every girl that walks past.

Fortunately, we were in luck: a couple we knew wandered past and lured him away, giving us a chance to nip out and run to another bar a long, long way away. We really didn't want there to be any chance of him bumping into us again.

I wish I was better at dealing with nutters like that. All I could do was sit and smile and say "uhuh" and "ah, yes" every so often, trying very hard not to giggle. I mist have said about ten words in total, whilst he went on and on about how great it was when he worked on the railway, his skill with a shunting pole, how he hates "arseholes" and likes girls with large breasts. Here was him going: "She was a double-G cup, and a dirty girl too" and I was just sat there going "uhuh? Oh really? I see" and so on; thinking OHMIGOD GET ME OUT OF HERE.

More people-watching: in the second bar we went to, there was a very cute-looking couple stood by the bar. He was tall, dark, seventies-style shoulder-length wavy hair, beard and moustache; the beard only covering the parts under the chin. His outfir would have shouted "funeral clothes" on anyone else -- black suit, white shirt, black tie --- but it just went with his face and hair so nicely, it just made him look smart and in-touch. His girl was dark-haired and dark-clothed, came up to just about his shoiulder, and lent her head against him.

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April 2nd, 2002. Recovery time

So, yes, I went to Dundee, and had a lovely time at Rachel's house, together with Dimitra, Jeremy, Paul, Lorna and (of course) Belle. We drank lots, ate more, and watched cable TV with the lights out. It was more fun than it sounds, honest.

Then, yesterday, I met up with a big pile of people from Sinister --- too many to list, really --- and got very drunk before going to a Belle and Sebastian gig. We were supposed to be having a picnic, but it was raining (well, it was a bank holiday) so we sat in the pub all afternoon instead. After we left the pub and set off walking to the gig, we passed Stuart, their lead singer, walking the other way. I was the only person who actually recognised who it was (fans? us? hah!), and I didn't dare say anything until he'd passed. We shouted "STUART!!!" at him from fifty yards down the street, and he turned and waved at us. I think he might be a wee bit scared of his fans --- ooh, no idea why that would be. Obsessive, us?

Incidentally, I realised the other day that the webserver hosting this site is slightly broken. If you're usuing a recent Nescape or Mozilla then this page shoulds look OK, but the rest of the site might not. I'll get around to fixing the rest of the pages sometime (or ,hopefully, the server will get fixed instead).

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