My hour for tea is half-past five, and my buttered toast waits for nobody.

Monday: It's an ill wind and all that, and there is one good thing to have come from the McCarthy witch hunts, albeit indirectly, and that is Shakespeare's Globe theatre, dream project of Sam Wanamaker, father of Zoe, who ended up in London as a result of being blacklisted.

I couldn't make the screening of Much Ado About Nothing, which I had been squeeing about in anticipation for weeks, and I was, and remain, completely gutted, but, bless 'em, the Globe just got back to my hastily thumbed email to say that they would certainly think about venues closer to my locale (which is kind, as Sydney transport is nowhere near London transport) and that Much Ado would be out on dvd from The Globe shop by years's end. So yay. Not as much fun as being there, or seeing it on the big screen, but still very much yay because I thought I'd missed out.
( more: in the air tonight )

FRIDAY: Ooh, I'm getting in trouble for not reading emails. Sorry. Been really, really busy and it's way too hot for my poor old wheezing lap top. It's supposed to get up to 47C on Sunday. Everyone is saying to stay home on the weekend. Mmmm...no (and the peanut gallery is promising to wear something diaphanous, which fair boggles the mind).

And on that bombshell...no, never mind. Been a bit upset this week, more than a bit to be honest, but I've heard negativity leads to mass unfriending so I'll try to keep a lid on it. One must be peppy and entertaining above all things (even tho the server was down, my software wasn't working and my keyboard was dead, all before I'd made my first cup of tea. Keep smiling. Must not show them I'm rattled).

So there's not a lot to say about yesterday, which mercifully, I had off and even being up to my elbows in cockroach poo and worse while cleaning both kitchen and bathroom, it was still way better than being at work. Got the laundry done, carried about 27 buckets of water about the garden, cause I also had to wash out all the bottles of ex sauces etc from the ex fridge that I discovered had been left for me, for a week, in the hot sun. Mmmm, tasty. Still way better than being at work, though. And at least I've managed to get the food dye stains on my hands down so now I just look like a smoker, not a bank robber (though which is the least socially acceptable these days?) but I still smell disturbingly of old chutney and pickles, etc. All the oils of Araby won't sweeten this little hand, etc, etc.
( more: in which Murphy's Law is proven )

WED: Well, I have a few new baubles for my tiny, tiny tree, which is something. I actually got some tree hooks for free as there was none left but a half used, half chewed packet and the girl gave to me for free as I'd suffered enough (I'd related the sad, sad tale of my ex decs and the queue behind me almost turned into a support group as fellow tinsel-philes shuddered at the thought of suffering same).

I like that though, being declared having "suffered enough". Would that I could use that as a pass for other equally fractious facets of my life.

And I like the wee little elf I found. He looks very Rankin Bass, hence the appeal.
( more: tv repeats )

It was a weekend of vintage tv dectectives, timelords, tarzan's grip and interesting rashes. Oh yeah, and folks other than me are having sex in my underwear.
( more: when London landmarks attack )

This week is brought to you by The Man Who Was Thursday. Even Lewis namechecked it: "I've heard of that story - The Man Who Was Thursday." (Dexter 1994, Daughters of Cain)

It's just one of those freaky coincidences where a song or name will just pop up everywhere until you're quite sure you're going mad, like Sam Tyler mad. So for me, this week has been wallpapered by The Man who Was Thursday. I suppose it befalls me to now actually read the bloody book (good luck find a copy in this bookshop shy town - better dead than read).
( more: dogs and monsters )

"Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue."
( more: cool for cats )

I'm not sure when I'll be able to post this, as still with the whole lack of access issue, and lack of spare time otherwise (indeed, last night I foolishly spent a few hours sleeping when more correctly I should have been online cleaning out the inbox), but I live in hope. Also, with all my fave shows going off the air I should be less distracted by the siren call of hunky ghostbusters, sneaky spies, chaps in tight trousers or the romantic lives of old school coppers.
( more: the love that dare not speak its name - not on network telly, at any rate )