In which my brain explodes
Having two jobs is not wise, I have decided. Going back to the job I left 18 months ago, however briefly, might mean I have money coming in, but it's also making me revisit a hell of a lot of stuff I thought I'd managed to ditch back then. Come January, it looks like I'll be working two days at parliament and three days back at the hospital, which is theoretically a good way of working things, but also perhaps a disaster waiting to happen. We shall see.
And I still haven't gone ice skating yet!
Honestly, London must have the most fake ice rinks of any non-icy city in the world, and I've managed to never even set foot on most of them. And I love skating!! The problem, it seems, is finding anyone to go with...
My xmas checklist is going pretty well... we made (fabulous) eggnog, wrapped presents and watched The Grinch with mince pies on Saturday night (there was also watching the last few eps of Gilmore Girls finally, but that wasn't very Christmassy. End of an era, but not exactly seasonal, methinks).
Friday night was the Frost Fair, which was fun as per usual. Didn't manage to see the huskies this year, and there weren't any stilt walkers etc as late as we went, but the stalls were nice and the mulled wine was rather lovely.
I still have to somehow fit in the German Market (if not the ice rink) at Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park, as it seems like the only place left to get my lebkuchen this year. And I will have me some tacky iced german gingerbread cookies if it kills me, oh yes...
All that's left otherwise is Oxford Street (but I may give that a miss due to a sudden attack of, er, common sense), my mad dash to nearest shopping mall on Xmas Eve, and, er, watching Dead Again on Xmas Eve night. Don't even ask. Traditions make no sense if you stop to think about them...
The kitten is growing up and gorgeous already - the vet said she was insanely small for her age but that really hasn't stopped her attacking everything in sight (and then running off to hide in case that plan backfires). She's adorable, and slightly insane, and still a very small baby at heart. I couldn't work out why she was crying and scratching when I put her in her furry kitten bed last week, until I realised she thought it was her mum and was trying to suckle through the fake fur... gah, that might be the saddest thing I've ever seen. Kit is now not allowed in that bed unless it's cove red with a fleecy throw, I've never seen anything look quite so pathetic.
On another note, the BBC adaptation of Cranford finished on Sunday, and I've never been left in tears by a costume drama quite so much before. The death rate was quite astounding, and I was quite distraught at the thought of poor Sophy Hutton not getting her adorable doctor after all the scandal last episode...
One of the most intriguing things about it was the character of Mary Smith; obviously based on Elizabeth Gaskell herself, but not the obvious romantic heroine or even the main protagonist in such an ensemble cast. She was just the sensible, compassionate outsider who came to stay in town, saw what needed sorting out and made sure it all happened as it was supposed to. Letter-writer extraordinaire and Dr Frank's surgical assistant whenever he needed to amputate something, she was cool, calm and collected and did it all wearing newfangled glasses. It was like a British Victorian Amelie in a corset, and I'm missing Cranford already... now just to wait for the DVD in February...
And I still haven't gone ice skating yet!
Honestly, London must have the most fake ice rinks of any non-icy city in the world, and I've managed to never even set foot on most of them. And I love skating!! The problem, it seems, is finding anyone to go with...
My xmas checklist is going pretty well... we made (fabulous) eggnog, wrapped presents and watched The Grinch with mince pies on Saturday night (there was also watching the last few eps of Gilmore Girls finally, but that wasn't very Christmassy. End of an era, but not exactly seasonal, methinks).
Friday night was the Frost Fair, which was fun as per usual. Didn't manage to see the huskies this year, and there weren't any stilt walkers etc as late as we went, but the stalls were nice and the mulled wine was rather lovely.
I still have to somehow fit in the German Market (if not the ice rink) at Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park, as it seems like the only place left to get my lebkuchen this year. And I will have me some tacky iced german gingerbread cookies if it kills me, oh yes...
All that's left otherwise is Oxford Street (but I may give that a miss due to a sudden attack of, er, common sense), my mad dash to nearest shopping mall on Xmas Eve, and, er, watching Dead Again on Xmas Eve night. Don't even ask. Traditions make no sense if you stop to think about them...
The kitten is growing up and gorgeous already - the vet said she was insanely small for her age but that really hasn't stopped her attacking everything in sight (and then running off to hide in case that plan backfires). She's adorable, and slightly insane, and still a very small baby at heart. I couldn't work out why she was crying and scratching when I put her in her furry kitten bed last week, until I realised she thought it was her mum and was trying to suckle through the fake fur... gah, that might be the saddest thing I've ever seen. Kit is now not allowed in that bed unless it's cove red with a fleecy throw, I've never seen anything look quite so pathetic.
On another note, the BBC adaptation of Cranford finished on Sunday, and I've never been left in tears by a costume drama quite so much before. The death rate was quite astounding, and I was quite distraught at the thought of poor Sophy Hutton not getting her adorable doctor after all the scandal last episode...
One of the most intriguing things about it was the character of Mary Smith; obviously based on Elizabeth Gaskell herself, but not the obvious romantic heroine or even the main protagonist in such an ensemble cast. She was just the sensible, compassionate outsider who came to stay in town, saw what needed sorting out and made sure it all happened as it was supposed to. Letter-writer extraordinaire and Dr Frank's surgical assistant whenever he needed to amputate something, she was cool, calm and collected and did it all wearing newfangled glasses. It was like a British Victorian Amelie in a corset, and I'm missing Cranford already... now just to wait for the DVD in February...