Hurrah! Ophelia's quite excited, as Desdemona and Demetrius are getting married!!!
More importantly, Ophelia gets to be a bridesmaid, and is thus important enough to talk about herself in the third person.
While celebrating, Ophelia also debates the conundrum of what to wear to Jamie's New Year party....
27 December 2005
11 December 2005
Happy 50th Post!
Less than a week before the gruesome twosome move out. Changes are afoot. Mother spent the entirety of last week nagging me about sorting out removal men, which I did yesterday. Spent twenty minutes arranging things with the amusingly named duet of PJ and Raja for next Monday. A week, and then no more Obnoxious Flatemate EVER. Wonderful.
Fled the flat at half past midday to find coffee and hunt out a present for Jamie. Bought Michel Thomas's Spanish course, too, as I'm back on interpreting duty in July in Barcelona with the band. Learning the language from scratch sounds a bit dire, but it's a lot better than being nurse and thus responsible for vomit and sanitary towels. Last year in Italy, we had a steady procession of at least four girls who hadn't come prepared and one boy with a nose bleed that lasted the whole journey from London to Lake Garda.
Rather pleased that Pullo and Vorenus in Rome turn out to be real. Was re-reading Colleen McCullough's books and came across them unexpectedly, then looked up the right bit in De Bello Gallico. It's V.44, if you're interested. They're in the wrong legion.
Fled the flat at half past midday to find coffee and hunt out a present for Jamie. Bought Michel Thomas's Spanish course, too, as I'm back on interpreting duty in July in Barcelona with the band. Learning the language from scratch sounds a bit dire, but it's a lot better than being nurse and thus responsible for vomit and sanitary towels. Last year in Italy, we had a steady procession of at least four girls who hadn't come prepared and one boy with a nose bleed that lasted the whole journey from London to Lake Garda.
Rather pleased that Pullo and Vorenus in Rome turn out to be real. Was re-reading Colleen McCullough's books and came across them unexpectedly, then looked up the right bit in De Bello Gallico. It's V.44, if you're interested. They're in the wrong legion.
28 November 2005
A two-pronged plug is a very odd thing
Hmm. It seems Jamie has found the entrance to my lair.
I'd like to say that I did know you had tonsilitis, but only after that post, if you recall. And no, this wasn't meant to be secret, it's just you don't use msn, so it never came up in conversation.
Blurgh. Three year 8 groups tomorrow. Ugh.
I'd like to say that I did know you had tonsilitis, but only after that post, if you recall. And no, this wasn't meant to be secret, it's just you don't use msn, so it never came up in conversation.
Blurgh. Three year 8 groups tomorrow. Ugh.
27 November 2005
Have gifted myself some lovely, fluffy socks from Gap. One of the things in which one can find true joy is a pair of comfy socks. Or three, in various colours of stripe. I have a theory about feet and hands: if you keep them the right temperature, everything else will follow. It takes longest to get blood to them, so, theoretically, if they're right, everything before them has to have been right. A slightly tautological argument, but thus it stands. Hence, if you're too hot in bed and you stick your feet out, it solves the problem. I have terrible trouble with sleeping bags: I can't roll the bottom up under my feet, so they get cold and I can't sleep properly.
Fled from flat to shop with H and discuss Desdemona's terrifying dress sense (tee hee). Since S is still under house arrest, Des, it's going to have to be you who gets married next. We've got it all planned out - that and H's dream house complete with stripper barracks and boudoir (which she pronounces quite strangely).
Everyone is going out with Dutchmen. R (can't remember whether I've mentioned her. Trainee Accountant) shagged one last the night before last (6'4") and Jamie announced that one of our mutual friends was out on a date with another one last night (height as yet unrevealed). Bah. I want one. Failing that, a Roboraptor.
Hmm. Listening to the Goblet of Fire soundtrack. Jarvis Cocker seems to have rhymed "spectre" with "out to getcha". That's been a hum of mine since I was 8. I've always thought it was crap, but never been able to eradicate it from my memory. Apparently I'm a songwriting genius after all.
Fled from flat to shop with H and discuss Desdemona's terrifying dress sense (tee hee). Since S is still under house arrest, Des, it's going to have to be you who gets married next. We've got it all planned out - that and H's dream house complete with stripper barracks and boudoir (which she pronounces quite strangely).
Everyone is going out with Dutchmen. R (can't remember whether I've mentioned her. Trainee Accountant) shagged one last the night before last (6'4") and Jamie announced that one of our mutual friends was out on a date with another one last night (height as yet unrevealed). Bah. I want one. Failing that, a Roboraptor.
Hmm. Listening to the Goblet of Fire soundtrack. Jarvis Cocker seems to have rhymed "spectre" with "out to getcha". That's been a hum of mine since I was 8. I've always thought it was crap, but never been able to eradicate it from my memory. Apparently I'm a songwriting genius after all.
26 November 2005
Gotta love painters of chubby women
Reubens definitely had better taste than most men of today. That's all I'm saying. Every single woman he painted definitely has a less than svelte midriff.
Having posted my gown to my jolly pal in Plymouth (she gets to wear it for her school awards thingy - pah), I thought I'd go and see about the only major exhibition left in London that I haven't seen. I've taken to doing this on a Saturday, to get out of the vicinity of the fuckwit. Said Obnoxious Flatmate and I seem to have come to an unspoken understanding - literally. We simply pretend we're invisible to each other. The exhibition was pretty good.
On the way, went on a Christmas present research mission. Mother's pestering me and threatening to ring at seven tomorrow morning if I don't come up with some ideas. I'm thinking a Nintendo DS... to make up for that Gameboy I never had. :p
Having posted my gown to my jolly pal in Plymouth (she gets to wear it for her school awards thingy - pah), I thought I'd go and see about the only major exhibition left in London that I haven't seen. I've taken to doing this on a Saturday, to get out of the vicinity of the fuckwit. Said Obnoxious Flatmate and I seem to have come to an unspoken understanding - literally. We simply pretend we're invisible to each other. The exhibition was pretty good.
On the way, went on a Christmas present research mission. Mother's pestering me and threatening to ring at seven tomorrow morning if I don't come up with some ideas. I'm thinking a Nintendo DS... to make up for that Gameboy I never had. :p
20 November 2005
Prospect of Tranquility
A descision has been made. The Gruesome Twosome are moving out on the 18th of December. Now, since we all have to hand in our keys together, that means I am too. Thus, dear readers, that means we have less than a month left in each others' (not sure about that apostrophe) company. I've managed not to exchange a single word with Obnoxious Flatmate all week, which has improved our relationship immeasurably.
Isn't Goblet of Fire awesome? The acting has improved, the CGI is spectacular, and Alan Rickman looked like he was wearing Armani. Felt a bit cheated by the brevity of certain bits, such as the World Cup, but in general, pleased with the film. Shame they skipped the blasting of the rose bushes, though. Much funnier than the previous three, also.
Jamie has a sore throat, despite which he manages to moan about it quite manfully, i.e. a lot. Kept him company yesterday while he sat on the sofa ensconced in a duvet and blanket watching crappy TMF number ones.
Just had coffee with H. Apparently S's father and brother have found out about her secret boyfriend and put her under house arrest so that she can't see him. Her mum's in Sri Lanka sorting out a bloke for her middle sister, and won't be back for a couple of weeks, so S is housebound in the company of two hurt, suspicious men. Said boyfriend, as I think I've said before, is actually eminently suitable - it's not like he's a non-Tamil unemployed guitarist or something. However, the menfolk remain as yet unconvinced that he isn't just after a visa. Very Jane Austen.
Desdemona has far more fun than me. It's not fair. All I have to look forward to is the year 11s going on study leave at the end of this week.
Bah.
Isn't Goblet of Fire awesome? The acting has improved, the CGI is spectacular, and Alan Rickman looked like he was wearing Armani. Felt a bit cheated by the brevity of certain bits, such as the World Cup, but in general, pleased with the film. Shame they skipped the blasting of the rose bushes, though. Much funnier than the previous three, also.
Jamie has a sore throat, despite which he manages to moan about it quite manfully, i.e. a lot. Kept him company yesterday while he sat on the sofa ensconced in a duvet and blanket watching crappy TMF number ones.
Just had coffee with H. Apparently S's father and brother have found out about her secret boyfriend and put her under house arrest so that she can't see him. Her mum's in Sri Lanka sorting out a bloke for her middle sister, and won't be back for a couple of weeks, so S is housebound in the company of two hurt, suspicious men. Said boyfriend, as I think I've said before, is actually eminently suitable - it's not like he's a non-Tamil unemployed guitarist or something. However, the menfolk remain as yet unconvinced that he isn't just after a visa. Very Jane Austen.
Desdemona has far more fun than me. It's not fair. All I have to look forward to is the year 11s going on study leave at the end of this week.
Bah.
12 November 2005
3-2
Watching the game against Argentina. Bloody hell.
Now why couldn't they have done that in the last World Cup?
Now why couldn't they have done that in the last World Cup?
Make the brushstrokes go away...
Saturday seems to have been designated art and chillaxing day. I usually creep out of the flat at about 11, trying for as little interaction with the gruesome twosome as possible - managed no speech at all today. Glorious feeling of freedom hits me as I walk up and down the hill to Costa, where I avoid ex-Year 11s and buy a small vanilla latte. I used to get an almond croissant as well, but the combination of those two and trains doesn't always turn out well. First sip of coffee produces an almost post-orgasmic glow. I try to speak to people as little as possible.
When I was at university, I craved company all the time. Couldn't stand to spend more than an hour on my own. Never would've imagined desperately needing a day out of contact with anyone. The longest conversation I've had today was with the woman who entered my membership details into the Tate computer.
The Degas etc exhibition was very good. Much more satisfying than Munch at the Royal Academy. Going round to Jamie's tomorrow for lunch and an Almodovar film about bondage.
When I was at university, I craved company all the time. Couldn't stand to spend more than an hour on my own. Never would've imagined desperately needing a day out of contact with anyone. The longest conversation I've had today was with the woman who entered my membership details into the Tate computer.
The Degas etc exhibition was very good. Much more satisfying than Munch at the Royal Academy. Going round to Jamie's tomorrow for lunch and an Almodovar film about bondage.
05 November 2005
Six Weeks til the End of Term
Fairly banal week. The problem with teaching is that one feels the grind of doing the same thing at the same time every week more profoundly, methinks. Happily, the schedule changes every year.
Highlight of the week was the first episode of Rome. Apparently my head of department recommended this to Year 9 (13 year olds)... oh dear. What struck me most, unexpectedly, was the opening credits - no blaring trumpets and creatively animated Pompeian graffiti. All the more excellent for not being anticipated. Accuracy's generally good, other than shifting the death of Caesar's daughter back two years. I loathe Octavian (should really be called Octavius at this stage, but I'll let that go), so well done Max Pirkis for making him seem an utter tosser. Raaah. Having Mr Collins (David Bamber) play Cicero was a stroke of masterful genius. The two characters are very similar, which I'd not considered before: sycophantic, yet self-important. Perfect.
One of my form has invented a religion: Ishism. We've decided that we'll all espouse this and its principle creed of having as many relgious holidays as possible. I'm going to Oxford to see Helen and watch fireworks tomorrow. In the rain. And I've left my umbrella at school.
Ungh.
Highlight of the week was the first episode of Rome. Apparently my head of department recommended this to Year 9 (13 year olds)... oh dear. What struck me most, unexpectedly, was the opening credits - no blaring trumpets and creatively animated Pompeian graffiti. All the more excellent for not being anticipated. Accuracy's generally good, other than shifting the death of Caesar's daughter back two years. I loathe Octavian (should really be called Octavius at this stage, but I'll let that go), so well done Max Pirkis for making him seem an utter tosser. Raaah. Having Mr Collins (David Bamber) play Cicero was a stroke of masterful genius. The two characters are very similar, which I'd not considered before: sycophantic, yet self-important. Perfect.
One of my form has invented a religion: Ishism. We've decided that we'll all espouse this and its principle creed of having as many relgious holidays as possible. I'm going to Oxford to see Helen and watch fireworks tomorrow. In the rain. And I've left my umbrella at school.
Ungh.
Well, this is depressing...
| This Is My Life, Rated | |
| Life: |  6.1 |
| Mind: |  6.6 |
| Body: |  5 |
| Spirit: | 6 |
| Friends/Family: | 5.6 |
| Love: |  0 |
| Finance: |  7.7 |
| Take the Rate My Life Quiz | |
30 October 2005
Renewing the Flatemate cull call
Grumph. Came back from the flicks to find all my marking had been moved and put in one pile. Obnoxious Flatmate wasn't even sitting on the sofa where it'd been. Removed self crossly to room for two hours to work and listen to Robbie.
Pause. Relax. Less than two months left with the annoying buggers. Interestingly, they've managed to create enough mess for an army in the kitchen since they arrived back from Ross-on-Wye while I was out. Not that this is hypocritical or anything. No, siree (and other cowboy exclamations).
Stephen very good on Jonathan Ross last night - oddly put on with Jade Goody, whose way of describing a Brazilian wax is "waxing the lala". Didn't really say anything new, although we did learn the name of his nephew in the 'book/cool' anecdote. He managed to get one over on JR by overpowering him with his own use of compound words. I do miss his glasses, though.
Went to see Zorro on own. A small boy called Sam sat next to me and seemed to like the explosions a lot. Quite sweet. Massively broody at the moment (don't laugh, D.). Must stop planning baby names that go with Lyull's surname. Symptom of insanity and posessiveness. Arrhgh. Turning into Bridget Jones.
Had an ache in the left side of my chest since about lunchtime. Ow. Hurray, however, because the clocks go back tonight and I have an extra hour in bed in the morning.
Pause. Relax. Less than two months left with the annoying buggers. Interestingly, they've managed to create enough mess for an army in the kitchen since they arrived back from Ross-on-Wye while I was out. Not that this is hypocritical or anything. No, siree (and other cowboy exclamations).
Stephen very good on Jonathan Ross last night - oddly put on with Jade Goody, whose way of describing a Brazilian wax is "waxing the lala". Didn't really say anything new, although we did learn the name of his nephew in the 'book/cool' anecdote. He managed to get one over on JR by overpowering him with his own use of compound words. I do miss his glasses, though.
Went to see Zorro on own. A small boy called Sam sat next to me and seemed to like the explosions a lot. Quite sweet. Massively broody at the moment (don't laugh, D.). Must stop planning baby names that go with Lyull's surname. Symptom of insanity and posessiveness. Arrhgh. Turning into Bridget Jones.
Had an ache in the left side of my chest since about lunchtime. Ow. Hurray, however, because the clocks go back tonight and I have an extra hour in bed in the morning.
28 October 2005
Buried in magazines
Was led astray by the free posters in this month's Empire. No idea what Walk the Line's about, but the black, yellow, orange and red poster is very cool. Oh - apparently Johnny Cash. Nope, still none the wiser.
Nothing much to report today. Met H in Harrow. She's spent £3000 on braces, which I'd consider a bit superfluous - and not entirely sensible, given she's going into teaching. Went on a total Fry bender on the net last night, meaning that I didn't go to bed till half one, so didn't get up till eleven. Bit tired as a result.
Thinking of moving to Finchley Road, if I can get through to the rentals guy, who never seems to be at his desk. Wrote Lyull's card. It's a little more risque than usual...
Nothing much to report today. Met H in Harrow. She's spent £3000 on braces, which I'd consider a bit superfluous - and not entirely sensible, given she's going into teaching. Went on a total Fry bender on the net last night, meaning that I didn't go to bed till half one, so didn't get up till eleven. Bit tired as a result.
Thinking of moving to Finchley Road, if I can get through to the rentals guy, who never seems to be at his desk. Wrote Lyull's card. It's a little more risque than usual...
27 October 2005
Ophelia's Attic...or Luxury Apartment?
News on the accomodation front. Came back to the flat this morning to find Sane Flatmate bewailing the 'bad' news: our landlady has written to say we have to move out by the 31st of December.
Turned on the soundtrack to 10 Things I Hate About You and secretly did a happy dance up and down the kitchen.
This does, of course, mean that I'm going to be spending the rest of the weekend flat-hunting, and probably ending up moving in horrendous weather and paying loads in rent, for I vow never to share again (forsooth). However, if this means I never have to hear Obnoxious Flatmate sing Tequila Sunrise ever again, the endeavour will be worthwhile.
New template doesn't seem to have a links section. Once I work out how to put on in the html, you'll all be reconnected to the world, so don't moan, Desdemona!
Turned on the soundtrack to 10 Things I Hate About You and secretly did a happy dance up and down the kitchen.
This does, of course, mean that I'm going to be spending the rest of the weekend flat-hunting, and probably ending up moving in horrendous weather and paying loads in rent, for I vow never to share again (forsooth). However, if this means I never have to hear Obnoxious Flatmate sing Tequila Sunrise ever again, the endeavour will be worthwhile.
New template doesn't seem to have a links section. Once I work out how to put on in the html, you'll all be reconnected to the world, so don't moan, Desdemona!
26 October 2005
Ophelia dissolves into a puddle
Gorgeous day.
Met Jamie for lunch. Felt very important asking reception to summon him. By this point I'd already bought The Ode Less Travelled and vowed to buy a new Moleskine to practise writing iambic pentameters. TOLT turns out to be a textbook for writing poetry in proper forms, which is something I've always wanted to be able to do. The actual writing of poetry wasn't something I was ever taught. Stephen's entirely right to say that learning something artistic requires structure and proper terminology. Otherwise you end up with the poetic equivalent of Pollock.
Running with the theme of art, I went to see the Munch exhibition at the Royal Academy, which was rather dissatisfying. Not the state of the exhibition itself, which was wide-ranging within its theme and extensive, but the artist and his technique. I can't muster up respect for artists who paint in a way even I could manage. I admire Vermeer and artists like him, because they replicate reality with minutely accurate skill. That's something I don't seem to be able to do very often, so I enjoy seeing it. So that started me thinking about what qualifies art, which was touched upon later by...
The divine Stephen Fry. Who was on fine form on the subject of poetry at the Institute, be-cardiganed and be-bow-tied. Hmm. Word invention not going well. He rattled through the rationale for writing a book on writing poetry, which is basically the same as the intro to the book, and read from the sections on ballad and villanelle. Usual hilarity, including necessary condemnation of the French and certain newspapers, e.g. "We must all blame something. Sometimes we must give a name to our pain - hypothetically, let's make it the Daily Mail", which was much approved of. Brilliantly Stephanic explanation of the basic use of language to represent something we can't see: "If you say bounce, I don't think of...clitoris - sorry (slight embarrassment at mental processes)" I think his definition of art, which was in response to a question, ammounted to an expression of feeling, of which we are all capable - essentially, it's something that makes us feel like we're human.
Queued up afterwards to get TOLT signed on the verge of fainting from nervousness. The comparison between chocolate and poetry was made manifest by a chap walking up the queue with tin of Roses. Yum. In front of me were a trio of German-speakers, to whom Stephen gamely tried to speak in German. I think he's reasonably competent, but they reverted to English, so it didn't get complicated enough to judge properly. Got the book and my ticket scribbled all over. Noted to SF that his revealed interest in poetry cast a new light on the Hippopotamus, which I'd (ironically) considered his least autobiographical novel. Went away very happy and with a grin that lasted all the way home and beyond.
Go and get the book. Read the book. Read the amusing bio on the back of the dustjacket. Oh, and those of you who've seen the preview clips of this week's QI, fear not - the centre parting isn't permanent. The specs, however, seem to have vanished.
Met Jamie for lunch. Felt very important asking reception to summon him. By this point I'd already bought The Ode Less Travelled and vowed to buy a new Moleskine to practise writing iambic pentameters. TOLT turns out to be a textbook for writing poetry in proper forms, which is something I've always wanted to be able to do. The actual writing of poetry wasn't something I was ever taught. Stephen's entirely right to say that learning something artistic requires structure and proper terminology. Otherwise you end up with the poetic equivalent of Pollock.
Running with the theme of art, I went to see the Munch exhibition at the Royal Academy, which was rather dissatisfying. Not the state of the exhibition itself, which was wide-ranging within its theme and extensive, but the artist and his technique. I can't muster up respect for artists who paint in a way even I could manage. I admire Vermeer and artists like him, because they replicate reality with minutely accurate skill. That's something I don't seem to be able to do very often, so I enjoy seeing it. So that started me thinking about what qualifies art, which was touched upon later by...
The divine Stephen Fry. Who was on fine form on the subject of poetry at the Institute, be-cardiganed and be-bow-tied. Hmm. Word invention not going well. He rattled through the rationale for writing a book on writing poetry, which is basically the same as the intro to the book, and read from the sections on ballad and villanelle. Usual hilarity, including necessary condemnation of the French and certain newspapers, e.g. "We must all blame something. Sometimes we must give a name to our pain - hypothetically, let's make it the Daily Mail", which was much approved of. Brilliantly Stephanic explanation of the basic use of language to represent something we can't see: "If you say bounce, I don't think of...clitoris - sorry (slight embarrassment at mental processes)" I think his definition of art, which was in response to a question, ammounted to an expression of feeling, of which we are all capable - essentially, it's something that makes us feel like we're human.
Queued up afterwards to get TOLT signed on the verge of fainting from nervousness. The comparison between chocolate and poetry was made manifest by a chap walking up the queue with tin of Roses. Yum. In front of me were a trio of German-speakers, to whom Stephen gamely tried to speak in German. I think he's reasonably competent, but they reverted to English, so it didn't get complicated enough to judge properly. Got the book and my ticket scribbled all over. Noted to SF that his revealed interest in poetry cast a new light on the Hippopotamus, which I'd (ironically) considered his least autobiographical novel. Went away very happy and with a grin that lasted all the way home and beyond.
Go and get the book. Read the book. Read the amusing bio on the back of the dustjacket. Oh, and those of you who've seen the preview clips of this week's QI, fear not - the centre parting isn't permanent. The specs, however, seem to have vanished.
24 October 2005
Pea Brain
Obnoxious Flatemate's quote of the day:
(Upon watching University Challenge) "Hey, these questions are quite hard..."
Uh huh.
(Upon watching University Challenge) "Hey, these questions are quite hard..."
Uh huh.
The ode to happiness
Very excited, as I'm going to hear Stephen Fry talk about his new book on poetry ('The Ode Less Travelled') tomorrow at the Institute of Education. Jamie didn't want to come. Don't understand his lack of interest. Must think of something more interesting to say in the signing queue this time. Asking about pens didn't really reach the required standard of interestingness last time. Oo - didn't realise it was out already: http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/009179661X/qid=1130173716/sr=8-1/ref=sr_8_xs_ap_i1_xgl/202-6784694-8896654
Will have to buy one to take with me.
Am back from the grim north, obviously.
Will have to buy one to take with me.
Am back from the grim north, obviously.
23 October 2005
The Rival
D has set up her own blog from darkest Nottingham. She claims this is to disprove everything I say about her (she wasn't keen on the Parisian schoolgirl comparison).
Yeah, well you might like it. Or you might have taste.
Nurrr.
Yeah, well you might like it. Or you might have taste.
Nurrr.
On old age and publishing
In Nottingham with D. This is, in fact, D's laptop.
We ventured into the student bar last night. Utterly overwhelmed by how young all the freshers were. I teach kids who look older than them. Coming to the sad conclusion that I've finally grown out of university.
Was reading the various educational articles in the Times this morning in Beeston (which, amusingly, has as its principle attraction a statue of a beehive and a beekeeper). Astonished and confounded to find used 'curriculums' instead of 'curricula' and two occurrences of GSCEs instead of GCSEs - both in articles on the state of education.
O tempora, o mores.
We ventured into the student bar last night. Utterly overwhelmed by how young all the freshers were. I teach kids who look older than them. Coming to the sad conclusion that I've finally grown out of university.
Was reading the various educational articles in the Times this morning in Beeston (which, amusingly, has as its principle attraction a statue of a beehive and a beekeeper). Astonished and confounded to find used 'curriculums' instead of 'curricula' and two occurrences of GSCEs instead of GCSEs - both in articles on the state of education.
O tempora, o mores.
22 October 2005
Quite Obnoxious
Alan Davies is a wanker.
If he didn't work on early on that the main premise of QI was for him to give the obvious answers that the average person would give, and Stephen Fry to correct him, then he's as thick as he sometimes allows himself to seem.
Bit late to be moaning about it now - note that he hasn't stopped filming the series. Grrr.
Yes, I do worship Stephen. And his brain.
If he didn't work on early on that the main premise of QI was for him to give the obvious answers that the average person would give, and Stephen Fry to correct him, then he's as thick as he sometimes allows himself to seem.
Bit late to be moaning about it now - note that he hasn't stopped filming the series. Grrr.
Yes, I do worship Stephen. And his brain.
16 October 2005
Ophelia begins spinal growth
I asked him.
He rang back (finally), we had a chat about the file I'd emailed him, where I hang my knickers to dry and the fact it's half term next week. As he was about to hang up, I said:
"Just before you go - it's been bugging me all week: why d'you care about what my mother thinks?"
"I don't. It's just the couple of times I've met her... like the time in Safeway, she was a bit..." and he tailed off without really explaining what she was. "But I don't care, no."
Now, that incident he mentioned happened about four or five years ago. It's been preying on his mind that long. Interesting.
Thoughts?
p.s. Yep, all in one sandwich. Tasty.
He rang back (finally), we had a chat about the file I'd emailed him, where I hang my knickers to dry and the fact it's half term next week. As he was about to hang up, I said:
"Just before you go - it's been bugging me all week: why d'you care about what my mother thinks?"
"I don't. It's just the couple of times I've met her... like the time in Safeway, she was a bit..." and he tailed off without really explaining what she was. "But I don't care, no."
Now, that incident he mentioned happened about four or five years ago. It's been preying on his mind that long. Interesting.
Thoughts?
p.s. Yep, all in one sandwich. Tasty.
09 October 2005
Cogitation
Have discovered the best sandwich in the world:
Cheddar
Mustard (French, naturally)
Roquette
Parma ham
Smoked salmon and cream cheese
Surprisingly yummy. Or it was then. Feeling slightly yucky now.
Have been mulling the question of the day over in my mind all day - and inflicting it on various others to see what they think. Jamie thinks Lyull's testing the waters - though what for, we're not sure. My pal the accountant in training reckons he's hung up on the age difference and is trying to reassure himself that it doesn't matter. Flatmate and flatemate's mother think I should ask him. To be fair, there was a lot about age in yesterday's various conversations. Maybe that is what he thinks...
Proposed conversation:
"Why did you bring up my mother having a problem with us?"
"Is there an us?" (He theoretically says)
"..I'd like there to be..." (I theoretically have the backbone to reply)
Hmm.
Cheddar
Mustard (French, naturally)
Roquette
Parma ham
Smoked salmon and cream cheese
Surprisingly yummy. Or it was then. Feeling slightly yucky now.
Have been mulling the question of the day over in my mind all day - and inflicting it on various others to see what they think. Jamie thinks Lyull's testing the waters - though what for, we're not sure. My pal the accountant in training reckons he's hung up on the age difference and is trying to reassure himself that it doesn't matter. Flatmate and flatemate's mother think I should ask him. To be fair, there was a lot about age in yesterday's various conversations. Maybe that is what he thinks...
Proposed conversation:
"Why did you bring up my mother having a problem with us?"
"Is there an us?" (He theoretically says)
"..I'd like there to be..." (I theoretically have the backbone to reply)
Hmm.
08 October 2005
The Lunch of Joy
I stressed this morning. Thought Lyull wasn't coming, as he'd not rung to tell me what time he was pitching up. Despaired and went food shopping, whereupon he rang and left a message with my flatmate. Then I panicked and put on the Kaiser Chiefs.
Lunch was rather pleasant. The veal saltimbocca went to plan - except for the fact he doesn't like potatoes, which is both odd and something I didn't know - and was hailed as a reasonable cook. My painting was also compared to Michelangelo (at least in theme). I didn't mess up or say anything incredibly stupid. Thus, verdict on the afternoon is a definite improvement. Good foundations for future building.
Sigh. Would bloody well help if I could actually get up the nerve to finish the house - or demolish it forever. He did say something odd: can't remember how my mother came up, but he said "I think your mother thinks it's odd that we're still in touch.", to which I replied, "That's her problem." He agreed and said nothing more on it, but I don't understand why he brought it up. Is he worried that she'd disapprove? Is it his way of saying he thinks it's odd? I suppose it is, really. Not many people stay in touch with their sixth form tutors. Even if they do go to the same Oxford college and end up in the same profession.
Not many people are in love with the same man for seven years without telling him.
Lunch was rather pleasant. The veal saltimbocca went to plan - except for the fact he doesn't like potatoes, which is both odd and something I didn't know - and was hailed as a reasonable cook. My painting was also compared to Michelangelo (at least in theme). I didn't mess up or say anything incredibly stupid. Thus, verdict on the afternoon is a definite improvement. Good foundations for future building.
Sigh. Would bloody well help if I could actually get up the nerve to finish the house - or demolish it forever. He did say something odd: can't remember how my mother came up, but he said "I think your mother thinks it's odd that we're still in touch.", to which I replied, "That's her problem." He agreed and said nothing more on it, but I don't understand why he brought it up. Is he worried that she'd disapprove? Is it his way of saying he thinks it's odd? I suppose it is, really. Not many people stay in touch with their sixth form tutors. Even if they do go to the same Oxford college and end up in the same profession.
Not many people are in love with the same man for seven years without telling him.
02 October 2005
Much better.
You're cunning and ambitious, and the type of
person who always achieves their ends, which
makes you a SLYTHERIN! You share the same
house as Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, and Lord
Voldemort (also known as Tom Riddle).
Which Hogwarts house are you in? (Harry Potter)
brought to you by Quizilla
Not happy about this
The HP Family Quiz made by Sapphire.
Borrowed this idea from Clare. Not happy about being a Potter. Maybe I could be one of the family that goes bad and is sorted into Slytherin?
Tipping the sugar was a bad plan
Feel a bit guilty about moaning about all the effort for open day, now. Die Fuhrerin gave me a bottle of fizziness to show her appreciation. Feel vaguely on top of things at the moment, work-wise. First real year is a definite improvement on being an NQT. Get paid more too. We five FQTFOs (Fully Qualified Teacher - Fuck Off) look upon the new bunch and wonder why they're so stressed.
I picked up a fab book in Books Etc in Covent Garden yesterday. The only Joanne Harris book I've ever read is Chocolat. Her work always seems to revolve around France and food - until this one. Two principle characters: wannabe grammar school boy plotting murder and scandal and near-to-retirement codgerly Latin master. The latter reminds me of the protagonist in Stephen Fry's Hippopotamus: Latin tags, slightly buffoonic and totally unaware of the other side of the plot. Elements of the narrative are quite familiar - it doesn't feel like JH is working from experience here.
Doing Sunday cleaning while the duo are out. Bathroom beginning to feel like a minor realm of hell.
I picked up a fab book in Books Etc in Covent Garden yesterday. The only Joanne Harris book I've ever read is Chocolat. Her work always seems to revolve around France and food - until this one. Two principle characters: wannabe grammar school boy plotting murder and scandal and near-to-retirement codgerly Latin master. The latter reminds me of the protagonist in Stephen Fry's Hippopotamus: Latin tags, slightly buffoonic and totally unaware of the other side of the plot. Elements of the narrative are quite familiar - it doesn't feel like JH is working from experience here.
Doing Sunday cleaning while the duo are out. Bathroom beginning to feel like a minor realm of hell.
27 September 2005
The aftermath of open day
Knackered. The problem with assuming that a job is yours to do is that you end up doing it. Still, so long as we keep all the stuff from the displays for next year, it shouldn't be such a problem in the future. Spent this morning (very early) backing up titles for the main display board. Was awake even earlier, thanks to Obnoxious Flatmate thumping around on his way out to a job trial in the City. He's very fortunate I didn't go out and yell at him in the manner my mind was considering.
Managed to get every parent tour group coming into my classroom to have a look. Suspect someone bribed the prefects to make my life hell. Ignored them for the most part and continued entertaining Year 8 with tales of heroes.
Managed to get every parent tour group coming into my classroom to have a look. Suspect someone bribed the prefects to make my life hell. Ignored them for the most part and continued entertaining Year 8 with tales of heroes.
25 September 2005
Tiny update
Hurray! Contact! Lyull's coming to lunch on the 8th. This is excellent, because obnoxious flatmate will probably be at work. Even if he's not, I can get rid of the both of them more easily than I could have done in the evening.
Carefully chosen subject of invitation postcard (our mutually favourite painter) was noticed, so brownie points to me! Now have to work out what to feed him...
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Carefully chosen subject of invitation postcard (our mutually favourite painter) was noticed, so brownie points to me! Now have to work out what to feed him...
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Waiting for the bathroom floor to dry
Reader, I'm hungover. Ugh. Rum's being added to my list of drinks I'm never imbibing again. Had a total transport crisis on the way home from Jamie's housewarming party last night. Was quite a merry party, actually, totally overpopulated by people from our College, most of whom I hadn't seen since graduation. Nevertheless, spent much of the time talking to Andy the Dentist, Jamie's friend from school. Was instructed to examine the cut on his chin, received reparing the damage done in some kind of accident. Usually consider him quite boring, but he improves with alcohol. May have kissed him on the cheek when I left. Can't remember.
Anyway, the transport crisis. Half the tube was up the spout, as per, so attempted to walk to the nearest station that was actually open. Got horrendously lost, ended up at another station which wasn't open and then somehow boarded a bus that happened to stop at Baker Street. Decided the Bakerloo was at least heading in the right direction. Had a very odd conversation with an Irishman, who insisted on shaking my hand three times and saying slainte a lot. Suspect this frightened the man slumped next to me. Having reached the end of the line, first got lost coming out of the station (don't ask), then realised there were no taxis and my mobile had run out of credit. Resorted to what anyone would do in such circumstances and panicked. Was rescued by my beloved mother and taken back to the parental domain. Have only just got home (another taxi driver: two children out of school, one still in) and still feel icky.
Worse: STILL no messages from Lyull, despite answerphone. Bounder.
Anyway, the transport crisis. Half the tube was up the spout, as per, so attempted to walk to the nearest station that was actually open. Got horrendously lost, ended up at another station which wasn't open and then somehow boarded a bus that happened to stop at Baker Street. Decided the Bakerloo was at least heading in the right direction. Had a very odd conversation with an Irishman, who insisted on shaking my hand three times and saying slainte a lot. Suspect this frightened the man slumped next to me. Having reached the end of the line, first got lost coming out of the station (don't ask), then realised there were no taxis and my mobile had run out of credit. Resorted to what anyone would do in such circumstances and panicked. Was rescued by my beloved mother and taken back to the parental domain. Have only just got home (another taxi driver: two children out of school, one still in) and still feel icky.
Worse: STILL no messages from Lyull, despite answerphone. Bounder.
24 September 2005
23 September 2005
A surfeit of blue cheese
Hurray, for 'tis Friday.
Ahhh - look at my mobile sitting there quietly on the table. It's almost a miracle it's there. It must've slipped out of my pocket when I got to the other school I teach at (for all of an hour a week) and I couldn't find it when I finished. Started walking home, determined to ring the taxi company.
(Talking of which, learned the entire life story of my driver on the way there. He was in the police for 32 years and was educated by nuns before that, who later offered to teach him Russian.)
Found a note on the mat when I got in from ma mere. Apparently, a small boy from said school picked my phone up and took it home to his grandmother, who rang my mother, who picked it up. Amazingly lucky.
No contact from Lyull. Not impressed.
Ahhh - look at my mobile sitting there quietly on the table. It's almost a miracle it's there. It must've slipped out of my pocket when I got to the other school I teach at (for all of an hour a week) and I couldn't find it when I finished. Started walking home, determined to ring the taxi company.
(Talking of which, learned the entire life story of my driver on the way there. He was in the police for 32 years and was educated by nuns before that, who later offered to teach him Russian.)
Found a note on the mat when I got in from ma mere. Apparently, a small boy from said school picked my phone up and took it home to his grandmother, who rang my mother, who picked it up. Amazingly lucky.
No contact from Lyull. Not impressed.
19 September 2005
Very warped day
Had probably the most peculiar lesson ever recorded this morning. Having read the part of the Cyclops in the voice of Goldmember from Austin Powers ("my fazhher, Poseidon"), Chief Toerag launched into the Oompaloompa song, accompanied by full backing chorus. Surprisingly, this was in tune and very authentic. He then demonstrated his own version of "wake me up when September ends", altered to be "wake me up when the lesson ends".
Came into afternoon registration to discover my form have invented their own imaginary friend. Tom seems to write on the board and answer the register. They've finally gone mad, even by my tolerant standards. Still, makes a change from them planning how to conquer the world, beginning with Luxembourg and Figi.
Apparently teachers laugh nine times every hour. Think I managed a hell of a lot more than that today.
Came into afternoon registration to discover my form have invented their own imaginary friend. Tom seems to write on the board and answer the register. They've finally gone mad, even by my tolerant standards. Still, makes a change from them planning how to conquer the world, beginning with Luxembourg and Figi.
Apparently teachers laugh nine times every hour. Think I managed a hell of a lot more than that today.
18 September 2005
Marking is just so much fun
Jamie had one of his hangovers that takes the entire day to get over yesterday, so the evening was rather less exciting than I'd expected. Hmm. He never did get round to telling me why G.A.Y. had been so amusing. Forgot to ask. I came home and watched Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which I'd luckily finished before Obnoxious Flatmate got home and wanted to know what the hell the dolphins were doing. Marvin Hangman is fiendishly hard, for those of you who haven't tried it.
Having my hair cut yesterday got me thinking about something. I've always thought that the huge amount I pay to have said hair shorn is worth it simply for having my hair washed and head massaged. That's definitely something I'd have done every day if I could. Spent the journey to Jamie's thinking about other things (that don't come under the obvious food, air and sex) that would be totally acceptable if they happened every day:
1. Having head massaged.
2. Five minutes of absolute silence.
3. Buying a new dvd/book (and not running out of money).
4. Being whisked off feet by a tall and gorgeous man (who would then probably pull a muscle).
5. Watching something absolutely hilarious.
It's difficult to think of things one wouldn't get bored of after a while. Today certainly hasn't been full of these things. I've been marking coursework since I got up. Very smug to find that Mr Overconfident has arsed up big time. That'll teach him not to listen to the audio guide on school trips. Jamie texted to apologise for being pathetically ill, which was unexpected. Still haven't decided how to arrange dinner with Lyull. That word reminds me of seagulls.
Hm.
16 September 2005
Woohoo!
New Harry Potter trailer's out! Looks utterly amazing.
http://movies.aol.com/movie_exclusive_harry_potter_goblet_clip/trailer_extra_large
http://movies.aol.com/movie_exclusive_harry_potter_goblet_clip/trailer_extra_large
15 September 2005
Discrimination Support Group
There's a minority group in the world that's unsupported by campaign groups and never features in the media. For many years, I thought I was alone in suffering from the condition until I found others of my kind. It's time we stood up against ignorance and obscurity. PHOTIC SNEEZERS UNITE!
Direct light (not only sunlight) makes me sneeze. The photic sneeze reflex (PSR) affects maybe one in eight of the population. Apparently, the cause is a cross-connection between the tear ducts and the nose, irritating the latter and causing one to sneeze when the eyes moisten in bright light. Basically, our faces are confused. Actually, it's not an unuseful characteristic: when you really want to sneeze, the solution is readily available.
But have you ever come across any fictional characters who're also photic sneezers? Any celebrities confessing that lightbulbs cause them to pull out their hankies? Any reality shows where participants are exposed to amusing types of light for the entertainment of the viewing public? No! We are neglected and ignored.
Anyone else out there?
Direct light (not only sunlight) makes me sneeze. The photic sneeze reflex (PSR) affects maybe one in eight of the population. Apparently, the cause is a cross-connection between the tear ducts and the nose, irritating the latter and causing one to sneeze when the eyes moisten in bright light. Basically, our faces are confused. Actually, it's not an unuseful characteristic: when you really want to sneeze, the solution is readily available.
But have you ever come across any fictional characters who're also photic sneezers? Any celebrities confessing that lightbulbs cause them to pull out their hankies? Any reality shows where participants are exposed to amusing types of light for the entertainment of the viewing public? No! We are neglected and ignored.
Anyone else out there?
12 September 2005
Gradual disintegration
Tits up doesn't even begin to cover it.
Remember how I said I'd been out on Friday with lots of other people who teach the same subject as me and couldn't remember much about it? Well, I'm starting to think I might have embarrassed myself a lot more than I thought, judging by the understanding grin my head of department's been giving me all day. If that wasn't bad enough, I committed the ultimate faux pas this evening by ringing long-term yet unrequited love of life (to be shortened henceforth to Lyull) during the last hour of the fifth test. Having been instructed to ring back later, he then didn't answer the phone the two times I tried, having checked the tv magazine first this time. Wanker.
What pisses me off is that he tends to wait for the answer phone to click on before he answers at all, so he can see who's ringing. This means (if you know he does this) you end up burbling for a couple of minutes waiting for him to pick up, meaning that you don't have time to leave a proper, coherent message once you've realised he's actually not there at all.
Jamie thinks it's funny. Have to admit, life is a bit like something out of Bridget Jones at the moment. The best thing was the cricket result - the urn is ours!
Remember how I said I'd been out on Friday with lots of other people who teach the same subject as me and couldn't remember much about it? Well, I'm starting to think I might have embarrassed myself a lot more than I thought, judging by the understanding grin my head of department's been giving me all day. If that wasn't bad enough, I committed the ultimate faux pas this evening by ringing long-term yet unrequited love of life (to be shortened henceforth to Lyull) during the last hour of the fifth test. Having been instructed to ring back later, he then didn't answer the phone the two times I tried, having checked the tv magazine first this time. Wanker.
What pisses me off is that he tends to wait for the answer phone to click on before he answers at all, so he can see who's ringing. This means (if you know he does this) you end up burbling for a couple of minutes waiting for him to pick up, meaning that you don't have time to leave a proper, coherent message once you've realised he's actually not there at all.
Jamie thinks it's funny. Have to admit, life is a bit like something out of Bridget Jones at the moment. The best thing was the cricket result - the urn is ours!
11 September 2005
Persona non grata... so it seems
I delayed getting up this morning. Having decided to speak to slightly saner female housemate about her obnoxious boyfriend's outburst last night, I was waiting for him to go out to work. She, however, is apparently not speaking to me. Can you imagine that these two are nearly thirty? How is this such a big deal? Some of you will remember my entries when their families were here - I might blog-moan, but I didn't say anything at all to them. I think I've been bloody accomodating these last five and a half months. Thought I might've bought myself some credit, e.g. for an undisturbed romantic dinner for two (see yesterday's first post). Buggered that up, it seems.
Cricket's going reasonably. They've just rained them off for a bit. Maybe someone will injure Shane Warne during the interval. Wouldn't that be a shame?
Cricket's going reasonably. They've just rained them off for a bit. Maybe someone will injure Shane Warne during the interval. Wouldn't that be a shame?
10 September 2005
Stunned.
Jesus. Said obnoxious flatmate's just stormed in and yelled at me for apparently spoiling their evening. WTF?? I was under the impression I lived here too.
Die, flatmates, die!
Now, I usually remember everything I've done/said when out and imbibing alcohol. Thus, having quite patchy memories of last night is a bit worrying. Especially since I can't at all remember the conversation my head of department and I had on the way home. Could be embarrassing on Monday. Hazy record of asking the long-time but unrequited love of my life to dinner. Stupid idiot's lost my number, though, so I'll have to ring him and arrange things.
That stopped me from being too irritated today, despite the hangover and my throroughly obnoxious flatmate, who's just got arsey about me watching the Last Night of the Proms because he's convinced one can watch it on the internet. Idiot. All he wants to do is watch the end of Sleepless in Seattle on video, for Christ's sake. After all the talking he does through anything we're watching, I think I have the right to watch something I watch every year that's on live. This morning, he interrogated me about the paying of the bills (had been waiting for a new chequebook) and the cleaning of the bathroom, which he accused me of not having done. Twat. What was really insulting was that he implied I had money problems and might need to borrow some to pay the bills. Considering I earn a vast amount more than he does and don't get kicked out of my job every week or so, I thought that a bit rich.
Spent the day with Jamie, discussing both of the above and wandering round the National Gallery. He's started slicking his hair back. Oh dear.
That stopped me from being too irritated today, despite the hangover and my throroughly obnoxious flatmate, who's just got arsey about me watching the Last Night of the Proms because he's convinced one can watch it on the internet. Idiot. All he wants to do is watch the end of Sleepless in Seattle on video, for Christ's sake. After all the talking he does through anything we're watching, I think I have the right to watch something I watch every year that's on live. This morning, he interrogated me about the paying of the bills (had been waiting for a new chequebook) and the cleaning of the bathroom, which he accused me of not having done. Twat. What was really insulting was that he implied I had money problems and might need to borrow some to pay the bills. Considering I earn a vast amount more than he does and don't get kicked out of my job every week or so, I thought that a bit rich.
Spent the day with Jamie, discussing both of the above and wandering round the National Gallery. He's started slicking his hair back. Oh dear.
05 September 2005
The greatest quality of mind next to honour...
The great landmark of the first day of the academic year has been passed. Fairly bloodlessly, happily. Not without a tiny bit of vomit, though. There this boy was, quite merrily chatting to his friend and copying down exercise book rules, he suddenly clamped both his hands over his mouth and proceeded to explode. All over my brand new classroom. No cause as yet determined. Call in House.
Other than that, I quite enjoyed today. The elevens had interesting things to do - the Trojan War and immortality - and the younger ones are all cute and co-operative. Doubt the honeyed haze will last for long.
Other than that, I quite enjoyed today. The elevens had interesting things to do - the Trojan War and immortality - and the younger ones are all cute and co-operative. Doubt the honeyed haze will last for long.
04 September 2005
Officially the hottest place in the country
Jamie came over for stew. He doesn't venture up here very often. Moaning and laziness, mainly. He'd forgotten he'd asked for stew (and soda bread), which, having spent three hours shopping and slaving proverbially over a stove, was not what I wanted to hear. Watched a reasonable film with Gael Garcia Bernal as a dodgy priest and read the Sunday Times. Interesting to see that Kanye West's taken up the race card with Bush. It's very obvious from the news pictures that most people left in NO are black. There're three hundred Britons out there too; consular staff aren't being let through. Two of my friends were out there literally a week before the hurricane hit - they've probably got some of the last pictures taken of the city as it was. Ah - some of the Brits are back. That's excellent. Can it be possible that a city in the US is having to ask for aid from NATO and the EU? Disgraceful.
Bush: "We need more manpower" - now where would that be, Georgie?
Rounding up the last few things to do before school starts properly tomorrow. I've written up a register rota, planned all four lessons and colour-coded my timetable. Could do with another holiday.
Bush: "We need more manpower" - now where would that be, Georgie?
Rounding up the last few things to do before school starts properly tomorrow. I've written up a register rota, planned all four lessons and colour-coded my timetable. Could do with another holiday.
03 September 2005
Ophelia's Cinema
(switches into the third person)
Ophelia has discovered that her dvd collection has reached disastrous proportions. Therefore, she's going to list them to shame herself into vowing never to buy another... until Kingdom of Heaven comes out next month.
1. Judas Kiss (watching it at the moment).
2. Kinsey
3. House of Flying Daggers
4. Master and Commander
5. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
6. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
7. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
8. Spartacus
9. Ben Hur
10. Gladiator
11. Cleopatra
12. Rasputin
13. Sebastiane
14. Quills
15. 10 Things I Hate About You
16. She's All That
17. Absolute Power (the BBC tv series, not the film)
18. Manchild (ditto, although I'm not sure there is a film of the same name...)
19. Pride and Prejudice (tritto)
20. Sense and Sensibility
21. Emma
22. Star Wars
23. The Empire Strikes Back
24. Return of the Jedi
25. Close My Eyes
26. Hero
27. Onegin
28. City of God
29. The Sound of Music
30. Shrek
31. Shrek 2
32. My Fair Lady
33. Amadeus
34. Blackadder (complete set)
35. Goodbye Mr Chips
36. Alexander
37. Dogma
38. Galaxy Quest
39. Austin Powers
40. AP: The Spy Who Shagged Me
41. AP: Goldmember
42. Vanity Fair
43. Being John Malkovich
44. Bridget Jones's Diary
45. The Edge of Reason
46. Chicago
47. Eddie Izzard: Sexie
48. A Knight's Tale
49. Buffy: Once More With Feeling
50. Moulin Rouge
51. Troy
52. Bright Young Things
53. Peter's Friends
54. The Sixth Sense
55. Cruel Intentions
56. Life of Brian
57. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
58. O Brother, Where Art Thou?
59. The Phantom of the Opera
60. Michael Collins
61. Intolerable Cruelty
62. A Midsummer Night's Dream
63. Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves
64. LOTR: Two Towers
65. LOTR: Return of the King
66. Love Actually
67. The Hours
68. Merchant of Venice
69. Alfie
70. The Thorn Birds
... Oh my God. I actually didn't think I had quite that many. Prize for anyone who can work out the connection between the films in purple. Not that it's difficult. I can't find Love Actually: I'm thinking the flatmates have fed it to the goldfish. They've both gone to Windsor today, so relishing the rarity of being on my own.
Ophelia has discovered that her dvd collection has reached disastrous proportions. Therefore, she's going to list them to shame herself into vowing never to buy another... until Kingdom of Heaven comes out next month.
1. Judas Kiss (watching it at the moment).
2. Kinsey
3. House of Flying Daggers
4. Master and Commander
5. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
6. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
7. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
8. Spartacus
9. Ben Hur
10. Gladiator
11. Cleopatra
12. Rasputin
13. Sebastiane
14. Quills
15. 10 Things I Hate About You
16. She's All That
17. Absolute Power (the BBC tv series, not the film)
18. Manchild (ditto, although I'm not sure there is a film of the same name...)
19. Pride and Prejudice (tritto)
20. Sense and Sensibility
21. Emma
22. Star Wars
23. The Empire Strikes Back
24. Return of the Jedi
25. Close My Eyes
26. Hero
27. Onegin
28. City of God
29. The Sound of Music
30. Shrek
31. Shrek 2
32. My Fair Lady
33. Amadeus
34. Blackadder (complete set)
35. Goodbye Mr Chips
36. Alexander
37. Dogma
38. Galaxy Quest
39. Austin Powers
40. AP: The Spy Who Shagged Me
41. AP: Goldmember
42. Vanity Fair
43. Being John Malkovich
44. Bridget Jones's Diary
45. The Edge of Reason
46. Chicago
47. Eddie Izzard: Sexie
48. A Knight's Tale
49. Buffy: Once More With Feeling
50. Moulin Rouge
51. Troy
52. Bright Young Things
53. Peter's Friends
54. The Sixth Sense
55. Cruel Intentions
56. Life of Brian
57. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
58. O Brother, Where Art Thou?
59. The Phantom of the Opera
60. Michael Collins
61. Intolerable Cruelty
62. A Midsummer Night's Dream
63. Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves
64. LOTR: Two Towers
65. LOTR: Return of the King
66. Love Actually
67. The Hours
68. Merchant of Venice
69. Alfie
70. The Thorn Birds
... Oh my God. I actually didn't think I had quite that many. Prize for anyone who can work out the connection between the films in purple. Not that it's difficult. I can't find Love Actually: I'm thinking the flatmates have fed it to the goldfish. They've both gone to Windsor today, so relishing the rarity of being on my own.
Two days back and I'm exhausted. Managed to sleep through the Simpsons, which I wasn't pleased about. Ungh. Just cut the inside of my lip with a slipped thumb nail. I cut my lip playing blind man's bluff once when I was about nine. The gunge that covered the cut for weeks afterwards was horrid. I couldn't help trying to bite it off, because having the rougher texture there was irritating.
I started feeling guilty about Dave. One of my friends at school was explaining how she'd broken up with her repetitive date because he didn't contact her for days. There was everyone nodding and agreeing that it was awful that he didn't think texting her between dates was necessary. Bloody men, and so on. I thought that was exactly what I was doing. However, given the intention that he not ask me out again, not necessarily a bad idea. He certainly didn't press it on msn this evening. My one word answers may have had something to do with it.
The little ones were in for the first time today. I say little - they're twelve. Zipped around trying to rope in the ones meant to be doing Ancient Greek, which failed, because they were all being dragged about on tours of the school. One of which was being conducted by one of the history teachers, who'd managed to split his trousers before his form arrived. Hard to believe, but apparently not one of them sniggered when they went up the stairs behind him.
Strange that it's the weekend again.
I started feeling guilty about Dave. One of my friends at school was explaining how she'd broken up with her repetitive date because he didn't contact her for days. There was everyone nodding and agreeing that it was awful that he didn't think texting her between dates was necessary. Bloody men, and so on. I thought that was exactly what I was doing. However, given the intention that he not ask me out again, not necessarily a bad idea. He certainly didn't press it on msn this evening. My one word answers may have had something to do with it.
The little ones were in for the first time today. I say little - they're twelve. Zipped around trying to rope in the ones meant to be doing Ancient Greek, which failed, because they were all being dragged about on tours of the school. One of which was being conducted by one of the history teachers, who'd managed to split his trousers before his form arrived. Hard to believe, but apparently not one of them sniggered when they went up the stairs behind him.
Strange that it's the weekend again.
01 September 2005
The Reluctant Headteacher
"Come on dear, it's time for you to get up and go to school!"
"But Muuummm.. I don't want to go!"
"You have to, James."
"Why?"
"Because you're the headmaster."
Not that unrealistic. Not proper school tomorrow, just training days, but getting up at half seven is still going to be horrific. Spent most of my last day of freedom sitting in the park reading Master and Commander and trying to get comfortable on my tartan picnic mat.
Still avoiding Dave. Badness. I'm starting to understand people who dump via text, condemned though they be.
"But Muuummm.. I don't want to go!"
"You have to, James."
"Why?"
"Because you're the headmaster."
Not that unrealistic. Not proper school tomorrow, just training days, but getting up at half seven is still going to be horrific. Spent most of my last day of freedom sitting in the park reading Master and Commander and trying to get comfortable on my tartan picnic mat.
Still avoiding Dave. Badness. I'm starting to understand people who dump via text, condemned though they be.
30 August 2005
I fell in love yesterday. It's black, high collared and velvet and has gorgeous ornate buttons. The jacket is joyous, even though the weather means I won't be able to wear it very often for another month. The result of going to Oxford Street resolved not to spend any money.
The following conversation was overheard at the bar in the King William IV in Hampstead:
"I went onto the heath with him yesterday."
"Oh?"
"It was excrutiating. All he wanted to do was cruise."
"Slut."
"Welsh slut. How's your mother?"
"She's getting another budgerigar. The other one died, you know. Lived for five years, though, which isn't bad for a budgerigar."
"Didn't she have another one before that?"
"Yes, but it was ill a lot. Used to sit on my shoulder. Mother and I used to watch 'Allo 'allo - you remember how it was on on a Friday? We'd always have Fry's Turkish while we were watching. The budgerigar died during that."
"Maybe it was the Turkish delight that killed it."
"Mm..."
Back to Tacitus.
The following conversation was overheard at the bar in the King William IV in Hampstead:
"I went onto the heath with him yesterday."
"Oh?"
"It was excrutiating. All he wanted to do was cruise."
"Slut."
"Welsh slut. How's your mother?"
"She's getting another budgerigar. The other one died, you know. Lived for five years, though, which isn't bad for a budgerigar."
"Didn't she have another one before that?"
"Yes, but it was ill a lot. Used to sit on my shoulder. Mother and I used to watch 'Allo 'allo - you remember how it was on on a Friday? We'd always have Fry's Turkish while we were watching. The budgerigar died during that."
"Maybe it was the Turkish delight that killed it."
"Mm..."
Back to Tacitus.
28 August 2005
Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look
I've just been watching the horrendously inaccurate monstrosity that purports to be historical (stop for breath) that is Empire on Hallmark. I've only seen the first two episodes, though, so maybe they'll find a copy of Plutarch or Cassius Dio for the third part. I hate films/tv things about the Roman republic, because they never bother to get in an historical advisor to whom they actually listen. If all historical advisors were as feisty as Robin Lane Fox on Alexander, Hollywood would be the better for it.
I'm avoiding Dave. There's an email waiting in my inbox which I'm sure notes this fact, which I'm also avoiding. Trying to track down Jamie tomorrow to see what he thinks about said mess of doom. Given that tomorrow's a bank holiday (that's a national holiday for no apparent reason), he's still in the back of beyond rather than in the Metrop, so it might have to wait till tomorrow evening. I fancy a day wandering around something cultural, but I don't know what. I did Frida at the Tate the other week, which was very good.
Mother's on again about finding "nice young men" and says I should "join something". Sigh. The Scottish army have gone, leaving the flat relatively empty, finally. I've been experimenting with coconut, recently. I've found it goes very well with satay - here's some I prepared earlier.
Trite though it sounds, yay for having a readership! Thanks for the comments, guys.
I'm avoiding Dave. There's an email waiting in my inbox which I'm sure notes this fact, which I'm also avoiding. Trying to track down Jamie tomorrow to see what he thinks about said mess of doom. Given that tomorrow's a bank holiday (that's a national holiday for no apparent reason), he's still in the back of beyond rather than in the Metrop, so it might have to wait till tomorrow evening. I fancy a day wandering around something cultural, but I don't know what. I did Frida at the Tate the other week, which was very good.
Mother's on again about finding "nice young men" and says I should "join something". Sigh. The Scottish army have gone, leaving the flat relatively empty, finally. I've been experimenting with coconut, recently. I've found it goes very well with satay - here's some I prepared earlier.
Trite though it sounds, yay for having a readership! Thanks for the comments, guys.
27 August 2005
And introducing...
If any of you watch the Catherine Tate Show on BBC2, you'll know about the couple who kill themselves laughing over mundane stories. Dinner with Dave felt a bit like that last night. I did try to find his story about how a power cut caused by an overfilled kettle meant he didn't get a cup of tea until eleven amusing, I really did. Essentially, I'm bored. The fatal blow to any potential relationship came when he said he doesn't read much. Soundeth the knell of doom.
Texted this to Jamie (GBF and fellow bibliophile), who asked a) why I hadn't slept with him (Dave, not Jamie - let's not get into that), and b) why was I dating him if I didn't want to sleep with him. It's all so very simple in Jamie's mind: if it likes you, shag it. That's a bit harsh, actually - he really has quite housewifely ambitions. Jamie concluded that I have man issues and am basically an emotional fuckwit. Not sure I entirely disagree. He did agree that not reading was a profound sin, however.
I hadn't told the Coven about Dave, quite wisely as it turns out. The Coven consists of four members. It used to be five, until F moved to the US to marry a millionaire and have babies. Having met at school, we've never really left the area for more than a term, and we all work relatively near to where we lived as kids, so the Coven's remained the same since we left full time education. The other three members are D, H and S.
D is going back to university this year, having spent the year temping. She's the only one with a proper boyfriend and has absolutely no idea what she wants to do with her life, other than it involving writing in some way. The master's she's planning on doing isn't exactly vocational. D dresses a bit like a cross between a Parisian school girl and Cher in Clueless. I've known D since we were 10 at Guides - present buying has become very difficult.
H is a wannabe nympho. However, being Muslim, she's in line for an arranged marriage when her mother finally finds her a man she actually likes and who can pay for her designer handbag habit. H is in the doghouse with me at the moment for blurting the existence of Dave out to the other two and D's boyfriend in Cafe Rouge. She has a thing for goalkeepers and Irishmen.
S is waiting (in Jane Austen mode) for her older sister to get married so that she can tell her parents she's found a lovely boy. Said lovely boy is eminently suitable; he's religious, reliable and Tamil. Perfectly acceptable... in theory. S is obsessed with marriage and small children. Her arm has to be clamped to her side to prevent her from waving at tinies in the park. S is the only one of us qualified to drive.
So that's the Coven. H got very excited about Dave when I first told her (had to tell someone), but then she's desperate to go to someone's wedding. Doesn't matter whose it is. We spent a couple of hours drinking coffee and scaring D's boy. They also think I'm too fussy. So the world is unanimous.
Conclusion: no man is worthy. Must advance the space programme to investigate compatible life on other planets.
Texted this to Jamie (GBF and fellow bibliophile), who asked a) why I hadn't slept with him (Dave, not Jamie - let's not get into that), and b) why was I dating him if I didn't want to sleep with him. It's all so very simple in Jamie's mind: if it likes you, shag it. That's a bit harsh, actually - he really has quite housewifely ambitions. Jamie concluded that I have man issues and am basically an emotional fuckwit. Not sure I entirely disagree. He did agree that not reading was a profound sin, however.
I hadn't told the Coven about Dave, quite wisely as it turns out. The Coven consists of four members. It used to be five, until F moved to the US to marry a millionaire and have babies. Having met at school, we've never really left the area for more than a term, and we all work relatively near to where we lived as kids, so the Coven's remained the same since we left full time education. The other three members are D, H and S.
D is going back to university this year, having spent the year temping. She's the only one with a proper boyfriend and has absolutely no idea what she wants to do with her life, other than it involving writing in some way. The master's she's planning on doing isn't exactly vocational. D dresses a bit like a cross between a Parisian school girl and Cher in Clueless. I've known D since we were 10 at Guides - present buying has become very difficult.
H is a wannabe nympho. However, being Muslim, she's in line for an arranged marriage when her mother finally finds her a man she actually likes and who can pay for her designer handbag habit. H is in the doghouse with me at the moment for blurting the existence of Dave out to the other two and D's boyfriend in Cafe Rouge. She has a thing for goalkeepers and Irishmen.
S is waiting (in Jane Austen mode) for her older sister to get married so that she can tell her parents she's found a lovely boy. Said lovely boy is eminently suitable; he's religious, reliable and Tamil. Perfectly acceptable... in theory. S is obsessed with marriage and small children. Her arm has to be clamped to her side to prevent her from waving at tinies in the park. S is the only one of us qualified to drive.
So that's the Coven. H got very excited about Dave when I first told her (had to tell someone), but then she's desperate to go to someone's wedding. Doesn't matter whose it is. We spent a couple of hours drinking coffee and scaring D's boy. They also think I'm too fussy. So the world is unanimous.
Conclusion: no man is worthy. Must advance the space programme to investigate compatible life on other planets.
22 August 2005
Cookie Doughitis
I think I have ice cream poisoning. Again.
Feeling much better about Dave tonight. Went into crazy phone call avoiding mode earlier, only to realise that it wasn't him trying to phone at all, rather my very jolly friend in Plymouth. Ended up on msn anyway, which was good, because his gloriously wry sense of humour comes across much better via that medium. Both a benefit and a curse of instant messaging.
We're going out on Friday. I'm hoping my mouth will have stopped hurting by then.
Feeling much better about Dave tonight. Went into crazy phone call avoiding mode earlier, only to realise that it wasn't him trying to phone at all, rather my very jolly friend in Plymouth. Ended up on msn anyway, which was good, because his gloriously wry sense of humour comes across much better via that medium. Both a benefit and a curse of instant messaging.
We're going out on Friday. I'm hoping my mouth will have stopped hurting by then.
And so -
So. I spent most of this evening thinking the whole thing with Dave wasn't going anywhere. Not even the slightest attempt to hold my hand during the film (which wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be). He's much taller than I remembered from last week.
Sorry. This isn't turning out to be particularly articulate. Anyway, so had a drink afterwards. Turns out he's good at killing spiders, which could come in handy. At about half ten we went back down to the tube station, because he'd parked his car at a friend's house, apparently. Now, last time we did the whole cheek kiss thing before parting. Wasn't sure what his plan was this time - could hear my brain going "cheekcheekcheek...oh, no - he's going in... definite lips here...". And thus spit was exchanged. Quite pleasantly.
I do like him. He has a nice laugh and is quite good looking. He's never going to satisfy my need for drawn out saga and drama, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Half my brain - the suspected commitment-phobic half - is getting quite nervous at this lurch into relationshipland. The other half insists this is what I wanted - what anyone sensible would want. The SCP half continues to get edgy at the prospect of phone calls and the like. The other half says stop being so bloody stupid and deal with it. It's a good thing.
Greetings to Helen: something to read with your tea.
Sorry. This isn't turning out to be particularly articulate. Anyway, so had a drink afterwards. Turns out he's good at killing spiders, which could come in handy. At about half ten we went back down to the tube station, because he'd parked his car at a friend's house, apparently. Now, last time we did the whole cheek kiss thing before parting. Wasn't sure what his plan was this time - could hear my brain going "cheekcheekcheek...oh, no - he's going in... definite lips here...". And thus spit was exchanged. Quite pleasantly.
I do like him. He has a nice laugh and is quite good looking. He's never going to satisfy my need for drawn out saga and drama, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Half my brain - the suspected commitment-phobic half - is getting quite nervous at this lurch into relationshipland. The other half insists this is what I wanted - what anyone sensible would want. The SCP half continues to get edgy at the prospect of phone calls and the like. The other half says stop being so bloody stupid and deal with it. It's a good thing.
Greetings to Helen: something to read with your tea.
21 August 2005
Lazing on a Sunday afternoon
I was woken up this morning by two texts, a phone call, screaming children outside and my flatmates making a hell of a lot of noise, as per usual. Obviously there were half hour intervals between these. Reasons not to live with other people:
1. They're inevitably pedantically neat or not tidy enough in comparison to your own habits.
2. They leave random things in the living room (such as snare drums).
3. They take up vast amounts of space in the fridge, freezer and shoe rack.
4. You have to put up with their hordes of relations staying just in case you ever want anyone to stay.
5. They talk through your programmes.
However, their presence does make the rent cheaper. I've about an hour and a half before needing to think about going out. Watching the film version of A Midsummer Night's Dream. It's not thrilling me at the moment, but then I was never keen on the comedies anyway. Can't complain about Rupert Everett in minimal clothing, though.
1. They're inevitably pedantically neat or not tidy enough in comparison to your own habits.
2. They leave random things in the living room (such as snare drums).
3. They take up vast amounts of space in the fridge, freezer and shoe rack.
4. You have to put up with their hordes of relations staying just in case you ever want anyone to stay.
5. They talk through your programmes.
However, their presence does make the rent cheaper. I've about an hour and a half before needing to think about going out. Watching the film version of A Midsummer Night's Dream. It's not thrilling me at the moment, but then I was never keen on the comedies anyway. Can't complain about Rupert Everett in minimal clothing, though.
20 August 2005
And in the beginning, there was the word...
And the word was banana. Actually, that's made me think of how annoyed I am with George Bush and the general ridiculous principle of teaching 'intelligent design'. Note how the creationists have to rename their brand to make it sound slightly less rednecked. How long is it till the next American election? Let me say from the outset that I thoroughly disapprove of all religious influence on education. Although, admittedly, it's difficult not to influence children in some way or another. I personally try to convince them to write poetry and skip around happily with small animals.
Rather upset about Mo Mowlam, still. It seems to be a tradition for Labour politicians to die tragically early, recently. Perhaps it's a plan to make the party more endearing. Sorry, this wasn't meant to be a cynical paragraph.
Which reminds me that there's a point to this blog. Well, more like there isn't, actually. Actually, there's definitely a point in my mouth at the moment. I have a feeling my right bottom wisdom tooth is coming through again. I had the top two out a couple of years ago, when putting anything into my mouth besides soup became problematic. They told me the bottom two couldn't come out in case something went wrong and my tongue lost feeling. Which wouldn't be much help with said soup. No idea how babies cope with this.
Reasonably excited am moment. Going out with a decidedly lovely boy tomorrow for the second time. Said boy (whom we shall rename Dave) actually texts randomly, dresses inoffensively and has excellent taste in comedy. This sudden rush of reality is a little daunting. Ophelia hasn't been associated with a love life in some time. Hence what appears to be an attempt to recreate my teenage years that never were by going to the cinema. Will try to avoid snogging in the back row, however, as the arm generally gets in the way and causes discomfort.
Will let you know how it goes.
Rather upset about Mo Mowlam, still. It seems to be a tradition for Labour politicians to die tragically early, recently. Perhaps it's a plan to make the party more endearing. Sorry, this wasn't meant to be a cynical paragraph.
Which reminds me that there's a point to this blog. Well, more like there isn't, actually. Actually, there's definitely a point in my mouth at the moment. I have a feeling my right bottom wisdom tooth is coming through again. I had the top two out a couple of years ago, when putting anything into my mouth besides soup became problematic. They told me the bottom two couldn't come out in case something went wrong and my tongue lost feeling. Which wouldn't be much help with said soup. No idea how babies cope with this.
Reasonably excited am moment. Going out with a decidedly lovely boy tomorrow for the second time. Said boy (whom we shall rename Dave) actually texts randomly, dresses inoffensively and has excellent taste in comedy. This sudden rush of reality is a little daunting. Ophelia hasn't been associated with a love life in some time. Hence what appears to be an attempt to recreate my teenage years that never were by going to the cinema. Will try to avoid snogging in the back row, however, as the arm generally gets in the way and causes discomfort.
Will let you know how it goes.
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