sprezzatura: (Smoke & Mirrors)
Bleurgh, November. Possibly my least favourite month, because at least in February the days are getting longer and you know spring isn't far away. November, however, has very little to recommend it. Summer is a distant memory, the clocks have gone back, it's not Hallowe'en any more and the festering season looms large in front of you like a big, black, fierce animal ready to guzzle up all your money/time/enthusiasm for life. November Spawned a Monster, said Morrissey, and he was bloody well right, I call it Christmas.*

Ed and I had a lovely time in Whitby, for the most part, although Saturday was a bit stressful, and I think we missed out by not being there during the day on Friday. Mostly because of the weekend crowds, I only went to the market for about five minutes, and if I hadn't have needed to collect a pre-ordered item from [livejournal.com profile] needler I might not have bothered to do even that. We didn't set foot in the Elsinore at all. The problem with only living an hour's drive away is that we always seem to end up being part-timers, even if we have accommodation in Whitby itself. Next time we will be more organised and make sure Ed gets time off work.

We spent Friday night at Wasteland in Raw, which I really enjoyed, but it was a shame it had to finish so early. Saturday was DV8 at Laughton's, the first time I had ever been there for something other than the 80s night, and as [livejournal.com profile] rainbowskye observed, the absence of skipping ropes, conga lines and Nelly the Elephant took some getting used to. Band wise, I loved Grooving in Green and the March Violets, quite liked Glass and Ulterior and did not enjoy Black Moth at all, which was a shame because they had the best T-shirts. I believe O Children played as well, and I would have liked to have seen them but we ran out of energy during the Violets' set and had to go home to bed. Sunday was my favourite night, spent, apart from a quick drink in Laughton's to say hello to [livejournal.com profile] broom_stick, [livejournal.com profile] thedemoncrowley and others, at Nostalgia, which is probably the best club night I have been to since the 1990s.

The weekend also included dinner at Casa Nostra with [livejournal.com profile] miss_dark and [livejournal.com profile] dedbutdrmng, and - randomly - Kate-who-I-used-to-go-to-school-with and her husband, because the world is the size of a pin cushion. There was a predictable trip to the Fisherman's Friend with various Usual Suspects before I left on Monday, though remarkably I did not have any cake.

As I have now been home for almost forty-eight hours, I think it's probably time I unpacked the car.

*Though these days, the retail industry seems to think August Spawned a Monster.
sprezzatura: (Jordan Witch)
I have had quite a busy weekend, and I may post about it in more detail tomorrow but I am determined to stick to my pledge of updating daily throughout October and I have neither the energy nor the inclination to write a long post now.

For much of the weekend I have been elbow deep in Fimo, having developed an obsession for making sliced cane beads with the intention of turning them into Hallowe'en bracelets. I have mastered cobwebs and Frankenstein's Creature-inspired monster faces but I need more practice with skulls, and to improve upon the experimental pumpkins which look a bit basic at the moment. I would like to be able to show you a photograph of my efforts but Tia chewed up the USB lead for my phone last week, and I have no idea where the camera is.

I have spent much of this evening a Fallout: New Vegas widow, as I suspect I will remain for the next fortnight. However, Ed graciously allowed himself to be parted from his XBox for an hour to allow me to watch Single Father, which is still relentlessly miserable and a bit mad, but well-acted and enjoyable and Mmmm, David Tennant. I still haven't seen any of Downton Abbey, partly because of the schedule clash, but mostly because until last Monday we had absolutely no idea it had even started. We saw a trailer at the cinema the other week, and remarked several times on the posters, but as we never watch ITV ever, we had no idea when it was on. Not wishing to imply that the two would be mutually exclusive, but is it any good, or is it just a serialised remake of Gosford Park?
sprezzatura: (Default)
Gah, I forgot to post yesterday! As it is still October 10th over most of the Pacific, I'm saying this counts.

Lovely day, went back to the reservoir of last week. Tia charged straight in and went swimming even when there were no sticks to chase. She's really got the hang of it now and has taken to it, one might say, like a duck tolling retriever to water.

That flimsy joke is about all I had upon which to hang this entry. I will try and make Monday's more engaging.
sprezzatura: (Filthy Look)
Today feels like Sunday. I suppose that is because I've had most of my weekend already.

It was all a bit last minute really, though it shouldn't have been. [livejournal.com profile] margotmetroland had got the tickets for last night's acoustic Oysterband gig at the Union Chapel a couple of months ago and I had planned to drive down in the morning, leave the car at Metroland, get the tube into town and wander around for a bit before going to meet Moz and [livejournal.com profile] drpete before the show. Then, earlier this week, my car developed a Suspicious Rattleā„¢ that, due to cancellations and rearrangements of various appointments, I did not have time to have dealt with, so the London plan was abandoned. It was only at about 11am yesterday morning that the train suddenly became a practical option, so I bought tickets, had a quick lunch with my mum on the way to the station and off I went.

[livejournal.com profile] drpete met me at Kings Cross and we made our way to Islington, discussing trad goth bands and Young Persons' Music while we waited for [livejournal.com profile] margotmetroland in the pub. She arrived in time for a quick glass of wine, and then we followed the growing trickle of people in Oysters T-shirts to the Union Chapel. The gig was all kinds of excellent: the venue, the support act ( Dan Mangan, who was a jolly nice chap) and obviously the Oysters themselves. This year, I did not cry over any crap Welsh seaside towns, which I'm sure came as a huge relief to Moz and Pete. After a traditional last chorus of Put Out The Lights, they, er, turned some of the lights back on and it was time to go home.

Unlike usual, Moz and I managed not to stay up for the entire night putting the world to rights and we went to bed at a relatively respectable 1.30am. Just as well, because in order to get a train that did not take three and a half hours to complete the two hour journey, I had to be at Kings Cross at 10am.

The journey home turned out to be an exercise in reminding of everything I hate about public transport. The train was packed leaving London, and although it looked like things were going to get more peaceful at the first stop, the man who sat down opposite me seemed utterly determined to engage me in conversation. I am rarely interested in making small talk with random strangers on trains, especially not when I would prefer to be asleep, and especially especially not when they are carrying copies of the Daily Fail. Things got even worse after the train stopped a second time, and filled up with race-goers in cheap suits and obnoxious perfume. I was very, very glad to get off the train half an hour later, and into Ed's car, where Tia greeted me as though I had been away for decades.

After we had collected K from my mum's, I finally got chance to watch last night's one off TV drama The Song of Lunch. In case you missed it, it was basically 50 minutes of Alan Rickman reading a poem on a voice-over, while acting it out alongside Emma Thompson. It was all lingering looks over Italian food and dwelling on past regrets. I can't imagine a more perfect piece of television, or at least, not one that could be shown on a mainstream channel before the watershed. Hopefully there will be news of a DVD release soon, or I will not get anything done at all this week as I will be forced to keep watching it until it is removed from iPlayer.

I had vague intentions of going to Darklands tonight but I'm tired and I'm saving my corsets for Whitby, so we're watching Doctor Who repeats instead. Not sure what the plan is for tomorrow but I suspect we may end up heading back to Swinsty Reservoir to give Tia another swimming lesson.
sprezzatura: (Tia Bear)
I am so proud of my dog! She learned to swim today, or at least, she learned to enjoy it. We went to Swinsty Reservoir, which is a favourite spot for all of us. She likes going in the water, but normally she just paddles and doesn't like getting out of her depth. Today, however, she found sufficient motivation to take the plunge properly, in the form of a stick bigger than she is!

Pictures )
sprezzatura: (Cherry Red Girl)
Cut for spoilers )

I'll shut up now.

Excellent bank holiday weekend involving visits to Bradford, the pub, the beach and my mum's house, and featuring various people I haven't seen in ages. Tomorrow K and I are going to see Seth Lakeman in Buxton. How were your weekends, viewers
sprezzatura: (Head)
Poor journal. How I have mistreated you these past few years. What was supposed to be an outlet for reviewing events, sharing opinions and keeping in touch with friends has become a vehicle for lame humour and attention whoring. Lack of time and feeling intimidated by others' superior talents have kept me from posting much besides disposable polls and trivial one-liners for too long. My LJ was never going to be a blogger's answer to The Ritz but that needn't have meant it descending to the level of some ghastly East End WMC where people trade scandal and swear words over their pork scratchings while some brassy, fat old barmaid flashes her stretch marks in a sagging market stall boob tube.

I wouldn't be seen dead in a boob tube, and I don't want to be that barmaid any more.

A comment [livejournal.com profile] kirstenlj made at lunch time on Saturday and, pretentiously enough, a play we went to see that evening made me think I was missing an opportunity, and that I should take more time to document thoughts, memories and photographs, not for the entertainment of other people but because they are important to me. The bad news we heard later that night made it all the more relevant. As I'm sure you've noticed, I'm not religious. For me, life is about experiencing as much as possible and gathering mental souvenirs, knowing people and being known, seeking immortality in the minds of friends and loved ones, not saving Nectar Points for Paradise. I know it sounds wanky and I wish I could think of a better way to express it, but the way we are remembered is our best chance to make a mark on the world. Just because, for most of us, it's more likely to be a gentle scratch rather than the deeply gouged initials we may all secretly hope for is no reason not to record our experiences. To that end, I am resolving to update this journal with proper content at least once a week from now on.

Self indulgent, you say? Yes, I suppose it is. I'm not asking you to read it. In fact, I'm more likely to ask you not to. I would like to reduce the size of my friends list, and I've gathered a number of people over the years on communities or friends' journals with whom I've turned out to have little in common and little to say to. I'm sure the feeling is mutual. If we never speak or see one another, you're here out of habit or politeness and you would like to unfriend me without fear of offense, then please go ahead and I will do the same. I'll probably have a bit of a trim in the next few days anyway.

Meanwhile, in the spirit of good intentions, this is What I Did at the Weekend. )
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