Hey, Y'all! Remember Me?
Halooo Lj Elves! Apologies for my rather prolonged absence from lj, but I have been a tad busy of late. I have finally moved house, from darkest Kilburn to hippest Islington! Well, Islington/Shoreditch Borders, really, but N1! N1!And I live right by the canal (though I can't see it from my flat), and on the 5th floor, so I have rather a fab view of Tower 42 and the city. It's a, shall we say government-funded building, which some might refer to as a grotty old council estate with bars on the windows and corridors open to the elements. I prefer to think of it a a gated community. And the flat itself is just great. Big for a one bedroom, with a terrific kitchen and bags of space. The cat and I are very happily ensconced here, although he is still having difficulty navigating the faux-wood flooring at high speed.
Proud as I was of myself for finding the flat, I became even prouder when I discovered my mastery of flat-pack furniture assembly. I even managed to assemble really a rather large futon all by myself, and it had complicated bits! The construction of said futon also means, of course, that i have a spare bed should anyone choose to pop into London for an lj meet up. Yes, I'm looking at you, jonem.
Were that not achievement enough, I have managed to shed quite a bit of that pesky post-grief poundage, and- with the assistance of ravurian, begun a re-styling of meself. He has opened my eyes to the colours blue and purple, two colours I never thought I would or could wear.
Armed with his styling tips, I even wound up at Bicester for a fab day's outlet shopping extravanganza. It's so much fun to shop when you've dropped at least one waist size.
And are ya sitting comfortably? Because I've also managed to get some temporary employment! I have been hired by a tv documentary company to research the unsolved murder of the Black Dahlia.
Whilst true crime has always a subject dear to my heart, I can now tell you that I know far more about Bugsy Siegel, the Bartholin Gland, early methods of tooth veneering, and Androgyne-Insensitivity Syndrome than I ever thought I would. Next up is the Boston Strangler, through which I expect to learn a great deal about how to correctly garrot someone with a pair of nylons and a polyester housecoat. Because one of my first priorities upon moving in was getting my SKY TV set up, I have also of course been able to keep up with the latest on the box, to whit:
Due again in no small part to ravurian, as well as the influence of Fitzroy and Auberon, I have become rather obsessed with ballroom dancing. Not that crappy old Strictly Come Bore Me, but instead its US counterpart, Dancing With The Stars. Much, much better. The standard of dancing is far higher, the male dancers wear less clothing and are way hotter anyway, and Kelly Osbourne is just adorable. Add to that the spectacle of Donny Osmond dancing the Paso Doble as Adam Ant, and the mind fairly reels. Not the Highland Reel, you understand. That dance isn't featured on the show. But the Charleston is!
Also from the US, I have a new favourite sitcom. It's Modern Family (shopwing here on Sky 1), brilliantly written and performed, a true gem. I've even been giving Stargate Universe a go, though I'm not sure I'll stick with it for much longer. Every episode seems to end right back where it started, and Richard Carlysle's "Oooh! Ain't I Mysterious!Get Me!" routine really just deserves a good slap. Body-hugging sportswear is not his friend, may I also just add.
And of course I watched WHO. It was rather odd, and a tad "meh", I thought. Like a rather clever sci-fi chiller ala "Virus" had been landed with an annoying houseguest. The water bit was smart and creepy, but the station looked like it had been built from lego pieces, and the barely two dimensional characters didn't keep it, well, afloat. And with all this dodgy H2O spraying about, why wasn't anyone concerned with how much the Doctor spits when he talks? Not to mention one heck of a dumb ending. And the Xmas special? Mooooore Donna Noble? Really? Can these writers NEVER let anything go?
Speaking of letting go, I must let go of this post now, as I have to go watch yet another Black dahlia doc, and then read up on Albert DeSalvo and his propensity to lie about the wrong things at the wrong time.
Proud as I was of myself for finding the flat, I became even prouder when I discovered my mastery of flat-pack furniture assembly. I even managed to assemble really a rather large futon all by myself, and it had complicated bits! The construction of said futon also means, of course, that i have a spare bed should anyone choose to pop into London for an lj meet up. Yes, I'm looking at you, jonem.
Were that not achievement enough, I have managed to shed quite a bit of that pesky post-grief poundage, and- with the assistance of ravurian, begun a re-styling of meself. He has opened my eyes to the colours blue and purple, two colours I never thought I would or could wear.
Armed with his styling tips, I even wound up at Bicester for a fab day's outlet shopping extravanganza. It's so much fun to shop when you've dropped at least one waist size.
And are ya sitting comfortably? Because I've also managed to get some temporary employment! I have been hired by a tv documentary company to research the unsolved murder of the Black Dahlia.
Whilst true crime has always a subject dear to my heart, I can now tell you that I know far more about Bugsy Siegel, the Bartholin Gland, early methods of tooth veneering, and Androgyne-Insensitivity Syndrome than I ever thought I would. Next up is the Boston Strangler, through which I expect to learn a great deal about how to correctly garrot someone with a pair of nylons and a polyester housecoat. Because one of my first priorities upon moving in was getting my SKY TV set up, I have also of course been able to keep up with the latest on the box, to whit:
Due again in no small part to ravurian, as well as the influence of Fitzroy and Auberon, I have become rather obsessed with ballroom dancing. Not that crappy old Strictly Come Bore Me, but instead its US counterpart, Dancing With The Stars. Much, much better. The standard of dancing is far higher, the male dancers wear less clothing and are way hotter anyway, and Kelly Osbourne is just adorable. Add to that the spectacle of Donny Osmond dancing the Paso Doble as Adam Ant, and the mind fairly reels. Not the Highland Reel, you understand. That dance isn't featured on the show. But the Charleston is!
Also from the US, I have a new favourite sitcom. It's Modern Family (shopwing here on Sky 1), brilliantly written and performed, a true gem. I've even been giving Stargate Universe a go, though I'm not sure I'll stick with it for much longer. Every episode seems to end right back where it started, and Richard Carlysle's "Oooh! Ain't I Mysterious!Get Me!" routine really just deserves a good slap. Body-hugging sportswear is not his friend, may I also just add.
And of course I watched WHO. It was rather odd, and a tad "meh", I thought. Like a rather clever sci-fi chiller ala "Virus" had been landed with an annoying houseguest. The water bit was smart and creepy, but the station looked like it had been built from lego pieces, and the barely two dimensional characters didn't keep it, well, afloat. And with all this dodgy H2O spraying about, why wasn't anyone concerned with how much the Doctor spits when he talks? Not to mention one heck of a dumb ending. And the Xmas special? Mooooore Donna Noble? Really? Can these writers NEVER let anything go?
Speaking of letting go, I must let go of this post now, as I have to go watch yet another Black dahlia doc, and then read up on Albert DeSalvo and his propensity to lie about the wrong things at the wrong time.