I am become a human sewing pattern.
It's been, by my standards of late, a whirlwind few months.
All began with an expedition to find the fabled Goldsmiths' Hall, wherein we gazed on the wonderous work of master silversmith Hiroshi Suzuki.
Having marvelled at the variety and beauty of finishes achievable with nothing more than a sheet of silver and a hammer, our expedition retreated to find sustenance at the Candy Cafe, where we were able to partake of Bubble Tea and Malay Toast and watch Murder She Wrote playing on a small screen in the background. It transpires that the play is vastly improved by the removal of sound, and the creation of one's own running commentary on events. This was followed by an investigation of the many and varied delights of London's Chinatown, including the purchasement of supplies such as Matcha Tea (for the creation of Green Tea cupcakes) and brightly coloured tapioca pearls (for home chemistry experiments in the creation of personalised bubble tea).
There followed a slight hiccup with timelines, wherein an alternate version of my good self living in another universe attended variously Chinese New Year, a steampunk exhibition, a manga drawing class, and a chocolate festival. Sadly, in this timeline, such events were not, for a variety of reasons, available to me. The good news is that several of these events will be repeated in some form next year, so I shall place them in my diary and make assiduous efforts to find my way to them.
I did however find myself on an Odyssey, and a strange and wonderous one it was. I had never been before been on a journey through a space which existed in several extra dimensions, and it was at times a bewildering experience. Several times I encountered shades of other lost souls wandering the passageways in search of some relief. Eventually I discovered a place of peace at the centre, where the harmonics of the universe converged to create a soothing atmosphere, and our lost souls could commune with those still suffering from The Headache (which I gather is the result of imbibing the strange local sedatives). Luckily I had the foresight to dress appropriately for the occasion and was therefore able to gain easy entry.
Several good people carried the newfangled photographic devices about their person and I obligingly and with good humour did pose upon their request to gain an image. I was able later, to witness several of these portraits, however they all appeared to be of the same outfit, presumably a result of the mix up with the time-space arrangement of the locality.
This consequently led to the idea being mooted of a photography shoot, in order both to have some record of one of the different costumes, and also to give the talented lladnaar further chance to experiment with portraiture technique.
For this event a church yard location was chosen, with the church to serve as changing room to preserve some modesty. Alas, on arrival the church was disconcertingly, and against all odds, closed! I therefore scurried to the rear of the building where my modesty was discreetly preserved by means of my good friend holding up my coat to protect me from prying eyes. This may not, I fear, have been entirely successful as it transpired the former graveyard was quite overlooked.
Having possibly scandalised that neighbourhood, I decided to retreat to my house in the country and concentrate my efforts on practising my flights of fancy in the form of both cupcakes and the reading and writing of fiction. On the cupcakes there will be more written in an imminent missive.
On the reading I have latterly finished Jasper Fford's most excellent and provoking "Shades of Grey", the closure of which left me unsettled and questioning. I also read and passed on to a friend the delightful "Wicked Gentlemen" by Ginn Hale, as first recommended to me by melusinahp, and which I enjoyed greatly. I am considering making one of my periodic forays into what can only be most loosely described as 'art' in order to attempt a depiction of the two gentlemen in question.
Of the writing I have thus far completed and sent off three small fictions for attendees at the hp_uk_meetup, have another in with betas, a fifth almost written, and a sixth under development, all for the same delightful company. I have also completed an entry for a competition, which I hope will be looked upon favourably by the selecting public, and another is under way. In all, I believe I have written some 11,000 words over the previous five weeks, not counting the poem a day for poetry month, in which I participated but did not exhibit. There are still three works which are not yet underway but must be achieved soon if I am to make deadline. *fans self* I am quite overcome! Pass the smelling salts, please!
And the sewing pattern? In all the excitement I managed to do myself an injury, or rather to aggravate an injury sustained during my travels around the globe. This necessitated emergency physiotherapy, involving the use of high-technology combining the best in ancient Chinese medical arts and the newly-fangled intense light beams, followed by reliance on a walking stick for over a week. My dearest was given instruction in the arcane arts of acupressure and in order to facilitate him in judging the best place to lean painfully on me, was given guidance in the form of semi-permanent markings. Thus I am become a human sewing pattern. Or perhaps a join-the-dot form of entertainment.
All began with an expedition to find the fabled Goldsmiths' Hall, wherein we gazed on the wonderous work of master silversmith Hiroshi Suzuki.
Having marvelled at the variety and beauty of finishes achievable with nothing more than a sheet of silver and a hammer, our expedition retreated to find sustenance at the Candy Cafe, where we were able to partake of Bubble Tea and Malay Toast and watch Murder She Wrote playing on a small screen in the background. It transpires that the play is vastly improved by the removal of sound, and the creation of one's own running commentary on events. This was followed by an investigation of the many and varied delights of London's Chinatown, including the purchasement of supplies such as Matcha Tea (for the creation of Green Tea cupcakes) and brightly coloured tapioca pearls (for home chemistry experiments in the creation of personalised bubble tea).
There followed a slight hiccup with timelines, wherein an alternate version of my good self living in another universe attended variously Chinese New Year, a steampunk exhibition, a manga drawing class, and a chocolate festival. Sadly, in this timeline, such events were not, for a variety of reasons, available to me. The good news is that several of these events will be repeated in some form next year, so I shall place them in my diary and make assiduous efforts to find my way to them.
I did however find myself on an Odyssey, and a strange and wonderous one it was. I had never been before been on a journey through a space which existed in several extra dimensions, and it was at times a bewildering experience. Several times I encountered shades of other lost souls wandering the passageways in search of some relief. Eventually I discovered a place of peace at the centre, where the harmonics of the universe converged to create a soothing atmosphere, and our lost souls could commune with those still suffering from The Headache (which I gather is the result of imbibing the strange local sedatives). Luckily I had the foresight to dress appropriately for the occasion and was therefore able to gain easy entry.
Several good people carried the newfangled photographic devices about their person and I obligingly and with good humour did pose upon their request to gain an image. I was able later, to witness several of these portraits, however they all appeared to be of the same outfit, presumably a result of the mix up with the time-space arrangement of the locality.
This consequently led to the idea being mooted of a photography shoot, in order both to have some record of one of the different costumes, and also to give the talented lladnaar further chance to experiment with portraiture technique.
For this event a church yard location was chosen, with the church to serve as changing room to preserve some modesty. Alas, on arrival the church was disconcertingly, and against all odds, closed! I therefore scurried to the rear of the building where my modesty was discreetly preserved by means of my good friend holding up my coat to protect me from prying eyes. This may not, I fear, have been entirely successful as it transpired the former graveyard was quite overlooked.
Having possibly scandalised that neighbourhood, I decided to retreat to my house in the country and concentrate my efforts on practising my flights of fancy in the form of both cupcakes and the reading and writing of fiction. On the cupcakes there will be more written in an imminent missive.
On the reading I have latterly finished Jasper Fford's most excellent and provoking "Shades of Grey", the closure of which left me unsettled and questioning. I also read and passed on to a friend the delightful "Wicked Gentlemen" by Ginn Hale, as first recommended to me by melusinahp, and which I enjoyed greatly. I am considering making one of my periodic forays into what can only be most loosely described as 'art' in order to attempt a depiction of the two gentlemen in question.
Of the writing I have thus far completed and sent off three small fictions for attendees at the hp_uk_meetup, have another in with betas, a fifth almost written, and a sixth under development, all for the same delightful company. I have also completed an entry for a competition, which I hope will be looked upon favourably by the selecting public, and another is under way. In all, I believe I have written some 11,000 words over the previous five weeks, not counting the poem a day for poetry month, in which I participated but did not exhibit. There are still three works which are not yet underway but must be achieved soon if I am to make deadline. *fans self* I am quite overcome! Pass the smelling salts, please!
And the sewing pattern? In all the excitement I managed to do myself an injury, or rather to aggravate an injury sustained during my travels around the globe. This necessitated emergency physiotherapy, involving the use of high-technology combining the best in ancient Chinese medical arts and the newly-fangled intense light beams, followed by reliance on a walking stick for over a week. My dearest was given instruction in the arcane arts of acupressure and in order to facilitate him in judging the best place to lean painfully on me, was given guidance in the form of semi-permanent markings. Thus I am become a human sewing pattern. Or perhaps a join-the-dot form of entertainment.