She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain When She Comes...
Why am I suddenly posting? Why, because I'm supposed to be packing, of course. I always mean to post to LJ, but it takes a deadline of two more days and half a house left to pack for me to sign in and actually do it.
It's so lovely to be here. What's new?
Not the mountain cottage we're moving into on Friday (sign lease, get keys tomorrow). It's probably Federation-built and un-Sandra-Sullied by any gawd-offal '70s retrofit. (Isn't 'retrofit' one of those annoying buzzwords like 'redux' used to be?) It's got old timber floorboards, stained glass windows, slow combustion fireplace, pressed tin ceilings and hall walls, high ceilings, period pendant lights, and a wood-burning Kooka/Aga in the kitchen, only it's a Bega and it's defunct. There's two gardens separated by a wire fence and gate. I think the back one might have been an orchard once.
Todd passed me my beverage and nearly let go before I'd gripped it properly. Here's me: "WOAH! Don't let go til--" and he's all frozen in position, which is funny. "You don't have to tell ME, I was a boy scout." Oh God, I think. "Oh God," I say, "I bet you were a terrible boy scout, weren't you?" He says he was. "Were you?" "Yeah, I was pretty bad. I wasn't that interested so I only half-arsed it." Ah, fair enough. "I did make a nice bar of soap for my mom though using old bars of soap."
It's so lovely to be here. What's new?
Not the mountain cottage we're moving into on Friday (sign lease, get keys tomorrow). It's probably Federation-built and un-Sandra-Sullied by any gawd-offal '70s retrofit. (Isn't 'retrofit' one of those annoying buzzwords like 'redux' used to be?) It's got old timber floorboards, stained glass windows, slow combustion fireplace, pressed tin ceilings and hall walls, high ceilings, period pendant lights, and a wood-burning Kooka/Aga in the kitchen, only it's a Bega and it's defunct. There's two gardens separated by a wire fence and gate. I think the back one might have been an orchard once.
Todd passed me my beverage and nearly let go before I'd gripped it properly. Here's me: "WOAH! Don't let go til--" and he's all frozen in position, which is funny. "You don't have to tell ME, I was a boy scout." Oh God, I think. "Oh God," I say, "I bet you were a terrible boy scout, weren't you?" He says he was. "Were you?" "Yeah, I was pretty bad. I wasn't that interested so I only half-arsed it." Ah, fair enough. "I did make a nice bar of soap for my mom though using old bars of soap."