pictures, links, murder plots - what more could you want?

2012-01-18, 3:06 p.m.
Tuesday

I cant tell if its my steam-punk laptop or diaryland that is being a monumental tool this evening as its crashing more often than George Michael in a Landrover. L has gone to a pool match and the girlies are with their daddy so I am sat here, on my Jack Jones, without so much as the gory details of YOUR lives to amuse me. Pah.

I suppose that it does mean that I will actually crack on and write this entry instead of buggering about reading yours, so its not all bad.

Hang on, Im being distracted by Professor Brian Cox.

Photobucket

There. He�s gone. He just instructed people to �switch over to ITV� if they didn�t think man had walked on the moon so its just as well L isn�t here � he�s a twat conspiracy theorist par excellence and would have leapt for the remote, thus rendering it necessary for me now to have to watch The Exit List, which may or may not be a quiz but which has some Welsh people on it, bickering with each other.

Jooj fancies Brian Cox. My daughters have strange taste in men � I cant think where they get that from � with Jooj its brains that appear to make a man scrummy as she has also confessed an unhealthy (yet ever-unlikely to be fulfilled!) interest in Mr Stephen Fry.

Photobucket

Treacle is of simpler tastes but is currently mid-crush on Robert Downey Junior.

Photobucket

And Brendan Frazer.

Photobucket

Hmmm�..boyish action hero, anyone?

I dont know why I felt it necessary to insert pictures there. Its not like those chaps aren�t well known, or anything. I guess it breaks the entry up a bit.

Im also guessing from the references to Messrs Downey and Fry that you can deduce, my dear Watson, that we have been enjoying something of a Sherlock-fest of late, here in the Palace of Many Sins. Saturday night we went en famille to see A Game of Shadows. And we jolly well enjoyed every minute of its silliness, thank you very much even tho there were five boys from school sat in the same row as us, meaning that I was too embarrassed to take off the (VERY itchy) hat I had worn to the cinema, thinking that I would only have to wear it in the car and could then take it off, in the dark. Except cinemas aren�t actually that dark these days, are they, and Id had to ask the boys to move along out of our seats so they were already having a good nose at us (as any idiot knows, teachers sleep at school and aren�t human. They certainly don�t have husbands, or go to the cinema, or eat sweets, or wear jeans) and I didn�t feel brave enough to add �shiny head� to the list of �things we didn�t know about teachers�.

So, the film. I especially liked the bit where Watson�s wife got pushed off the train, as its something I think about doing every time I see her face. Poor Kelly Reilly, Im sure she�s a perfectly nice lady in real life but there�s something about her when she�s acting that just makes me want to slap her face. Her AND Helen Baxendale who isn�t even in it but still makes me feel�like��..

Actingactingactingacting *shudder*��� *slap* *slap*���. *shove* *shove*�� �AAaaaaaaaeeeeeegggghhhhhh� (in stereo) *trails off into nothingness*�..chuffchuffchuffchuffchuff ��..aaaaaand relaxxxxx

(In case you were wondering, that was me, despatching the pair of them, with due alacrity, off any particularly precipitous viaduct of your choosing. Whichever one�s nearest your house. Im not picky.)

When I am not ruminating on the grisly murders of largely undeserving English actresses, what else have I been up to?

Firstly, I have been actively engaged in �feeling much better� which is a state in which I would be happy to remain but which I know will only last until next Thursday when I have the next lot of chemo and go back to feeling wretched again. With the benefit of hindsight I have worked out that it is the steroid (Dexamethasone) which they give you for 3-4 days each time - to stop the chemo killing you - which makes me feel so ill. Ive had bad reactions to steroids in the past and it would be fair to say that these reactions stop pretty much as soon as I stop taking the steroids. If I was taking them long term I might have to consider trying to find something else to take but as its only four days of near-psychosis every three weeks I think it would probably be just as well to ride out the storm. I�ll talk to my consultant next week, cos it aint pretty; the crying and shouting and irrationality and frustration and anger and all the rest of the things which make me want to kill everyone and then turn the gun on myself. PMS on Acid is how I described it to someone today.

Anyways, things were pretty bad here for the early part of last week as you know and on Thursday I decamped to my sisters to try to lessen the death toll, even though I wasn�t sure I was really up to the drive. That I began to feel restored within about 6 hours of being there/finishing the course of steroids gives weight to my argument, I think, or it may just have been the proximity of a) someone to talk to who has other things to talk about than cancer and/or jazz harmony b) edible food (L cant cook. He really cant. And when Im ill I don�t want to. There�s only so much toast a body can eat, boys and girls) c) a bed with nobody snoring in it. Sis and I went to Bognor Regis and I bought a pair of leopard print pyjamas. They are the first pair of pyjamas I have owned since I was eight. I have bought them in readiness for going into hospital when its time for me to have surgery but have found them remarkably useful for sitting about in after Ive had a bath. L finds it hysterical that I take them off before I get into bed.


Dumbass Things My Students Say

Why has you got that turban thing on your head tho, Miss?
Because I am having cancer treatment and it has made all my hair fall out
(cue: lots of questions about cancer and a relatively contrite apology for being insensitive, which I rebuffed because �asking questions is how you find stuff out, silly�)
Oh, right. We wondered why you was wearing it. We thought you had gone to be a Muslim, Miss.
*sigh*


In other news, my dear friends The Allens, over at milk and honey acres posted a link to a website which will dialectize chunks of text. OMIGOODNESS its such fun! Go HERE immediately and try it out � you just put in your text (or a URL if you want to do a whole webpage) and choose your dialect. I wholeheartedly recommend translating your diary into Redneck or Cockney or Jive or Moron, depending on which of these is furthest from how you already speak. Hours of innocent fun, dear readers.

And then there�s Shite Shirts which is a fabulous concept�.but a terrible name. Well, OK, it�s a good name but I really wish they didn�t feature it quite so prominently on the shirt as it renders them unwearable in polite company and I think that�s a shame. They aren�t actually �shite� after all, they�re nice shirts, just unusual, and are totally wearable in the right circumstances. I certainly don�t think theyre quite as much of a �novelty� item as their website would have you believe (definitely not at �33 a pop, lads). They seem nicely made and of good quality but the big ole badge on the front kind of renders them �boorish stag night only�, doesn�t it? Perhaps Im getting old.

Treacle scored 9/10 on the Fit or Fugly App on Jooj�s phone. This both amuses me and makes me strangely proud.

Later
S
x





back - forth