(no subject)
My saga of continuing proof that BA are a pile of shite continues. This time, they managed to send my bag to Gatwick, not Heathrow. So the laundry I brought home to wash ended up being washed by mum, because she is awesome, and the presents for H remain sitting on my dresser, as I had no desire to bring them all the way back to GE with me.
iBro spent an hour and a half waiting to pick me up from the airport whilst I filed the necessary reports for missing baggage. But the drive home was nice - evening skies and clear roads - and we had fish pie for dinner, before he slipped on and off out into the night. We seem to only spend our lives in passing now, and it makes me really sad, to think that we amount to little more than passing moments as a family. On the other hand, the indecisiveness regarding cars and trains and collections did my temper no favours, when I was trying to ascertain how I was getting to H's on Saturday, as the shipment from Oz with all my parents stuff still hadn't arrived.
But the Saturday morning drive to H's was soothing, to say the least. The simple fact of having my hands on the wheel, the run of the road beneath me, and the southern counties rolling past in a drape of hillsides under the summer's end sky reminds me time and again why I love coming home to England.
Of course, being greeted at H's not only by her, but K, and
architectonic with Eggs Benedict just completed the picture. It's almost like there was never time apart, but just the satisfied "click" as we slid back into each other's lives. We spent a lazy Saturday in Chelmsford, possibly the lowest point of the weekend just for the sheer location, but there was food and drink and shopping (mildly) followed up with THe Mummy 3 in the cinema, which was so awful it was brilliant. A virtual penny dreadful of the 1950s, Indiana-Jones-esque escapades, but rescued by the brilliance that is John Hannah, and the utter grace and beauty that is Michelle Yeoh when she's fighting.
Of course, Weatherspoons on a Saturday night in Chelmsford ran a close second for horrendous-ness. The interesting fancy dress of one group was a car-crash vision. No matter how much I wished to avoid it, my eyes could Not Stop sliding back to the overly large lady who had dressed in an all-in-one bar/vest type top, but completely forgone clothing on top of it. And thus, we were all treated to the reality defying power of her bra strap that struggled to contain her, as well as the flesh that bulged around and out from under it. Whilst it's all very well and good to be comfortable with your shape, at least wear clothing that fits and doesn't require squeezing!
Sunday was round after round of eating, the requisit Bank Holiday BBQ a resounding success with the lack of rain, and the smatter of sunshine that left us sitting on the decking outside, enjoying food and drink and company. It's a decent reflection of our friends, that, turning up to H's unBirthday BBQ, we are elbows deep in food preparation within moments of arrival, and tend to feel lost if we aren't able to contribute.
Saying goodbye, on the other hand, never gets easier. And whilst I'm fairly certain I'll be seeing H&K within weeks, the fact that
architectonic is soon to be miles and countries away on the other side of the planet is a little heart-breaking. Even if I am determined to spend this or next New Years down there with her.
I arrived home to find all traces of M gone, as she finally moved into her new place. The only trace of my temporary roomie was the box of chocolates and note of thanks. It's strangely empty now.
Monday was a waste of a day at work. The handover process has begun, but with half the team out of the office, it's even quieter than nornal, and everyone took the chance to leave as early as possible. Including me. But the rubbish quality was ameliorated by heading out to catch up with Vix and M. We ended up walking to Carouge to find an ice cream bar, and sat in the place slurping our ice creams as we watched the rollerbladers head off on their evening tour of the city. Our trip home was interrupted by the Red Lion pub, and the bottle of wine we split as we rambled and ruminated on life and boys, what else...
I think tomorrow may need a "spring clean" the head post. Work and job hunting are getting me really down, and I guess if I don't ask myself some tough questions, I'm never going to stop floundering against the current and start swimming to the top, for want of a naff metaphor to use.
iBro spent an hour and a half waiting to pick me up from the airport whilst I filed the necessary reports for missing baggage. But the drive home was nice - evening skies and clear roads - and we had fish pie for dinner, before he slipped on and off out into the night. We seem to only spend our lives in passing now, and it makes me really sad, to think that we amount to little more than passing moments as a family. On the other hand, the indecisiveness regarding cars and trains and collections did my temper no favours, when I was trying to ascertain how I was getting to H's on Saturday, as the shipment from Oz with all my parents stuff still hadn't arrived.
But the Saturday morning drive to H's was soothing, to say the least. The simple fact of having my hands on the wheel, the run of the road beneath me, and the southern counties rolling past in a drape of hillsides under the summer's end sky reminds me time and again why I love coming home to England.
Of course, being greeted at H's not only by her, but K, and
architectonic with Eggs Benedict just completed the picture. It's almost like there was never time apart, but just the satisfied "click" as we slid back into each other's lives. We spent a lazy Saturday in Chelmsford, possibly the lowest point of the weekend just for the sheer location, but there was food and drink and shopping (mildly) followed up with THe Mummy 3 in the cinema, which was so awful it was brilliant. A virtual penny dreadful of the 1950s, Indiana-Jones-esque escapades, but rescued by the brilliance that is John Hannah, and the utter grace and beauty that is Michelle Yeoh when she's fighting.
Of course, Weatherspoons on a Saturday night in Chelmsford ran a close second for horrendous-ness. The interesting fancy dress of one group was a car-crash vision. No matter how much I wished to avoid it, my eyes could Not Stop sliding back to the overly large lady who had dressed in an all-in-one bar/vest type top, but completely forgone clothing on top of it. And thus, we were all treated to the reality defying power of her bra strap that struggled to contain her, as well as the flesh that bulged around and out from under it. Whilst it's all very well and good to be comfortable with your shape, at least wear clothing that fits and doesn't require squeezing!
Sunday was round after round of eating, the requisit Bank Holiday BBQ a resounding success with the lack of rain, and the smatter of sunshine that left us sitting on the decking outside, enjoying food and drink and company. It's a decent reflection of our friends, that, turning up to H's unBirthday BBQ, we are elbows deep in food preparation within moments of arrival, and tend to feel lost if we aren't able to contribute.
Saying goodbye, on the other hand, never gets easier. And whilst I'm fairly certain I'll be seeing H&K within weeks, the fact that
architectonic is soon to be miles and countries away on the other side of the planet is a little heart-breaking. Even if I am determined to spend this or next New Years down there with her.
I arrived home to find all traces of M gone, as she finally moved into her new place. The only trace of my temporary roomie was the box of chocolates and note of thanks. It's strangely empty now.
Monday was a waste of a day at work. The handover process has begun, but with half the team out of the office, it's even quieter than nornal, and everyone took the chance to leave as early as possible. Including me. But the rubbish quality was ameliorated by heading out to catch up with Vix and M. We ended up walking to Carouge to find an ice cream bar, and sat in the place slurping our ice creams as we watched the rollerbladers head off on their evening tour of the city. Our trip home was interrupted by the Red Lion pub, and the bottle of wine we split as we rambled and ruminated on life and boys, what else...
I think tomorrow may need a "spring clean" the head post. Work and job hunting are getting me really down, and I guess if I don't ask myself some tough questions, I'm never going to stop floundering against the current and start swimming to the top, for want of a naff metaphor to use.