(no subject)
A hot hot night, and a full, full, yellow yellow moon above.
We went on an excursion to a historical house (in England one might even call it a stately home) which has, miraculously in these parched days of yellowing parks and crispy foliage, a lush green grounds and a charming mansion. In it all the fantastical 1870s architecture and furniture was painted cream by a descendent in 1938 and so it's a strange mixture of 'ornate italianate victoriana' and 'gin slings by the hollywood-style pool'.
Then a drink was had at a nice bar near where I live (I am proud to finally live in a neighbourhood of salubrious salons) and thence to the Night Market at the Queen Vic. Where there were untold thousands of people (I didn't order them!) and crafty trinkets for sale and a gigantic plateful of yummy paella, and an icecream down in St Kilda on the way home in the hot thick summery night. My feet have blown up like balloons!
Now I have my fairy lights on, Badly Drawn Boy playing, and am sitting here naked (yes, naked.) and wet-clean-haired and happy drinking Southern on the rocks and I love, love summer nights like this.
Oh yes, last night I finally, finally watched the first 3 eps of Rome (special_trille, I think it was you who kindly gave them to me?) and it's really good. I'm an aficionado of late-repubican Rome stuff, oh god, give me a bit of Cicero and a bit of Metellus Pius and Pompey being pompous and Julius Caesar being devious and fucking everyone's wives and I'm entirely happy. This series has it all! Unlike the novel Imperium by Robert Harris, which was a totally likeable working of Cicero's early history but seemed to add, really, hardly anything to my life. I never thought I'd say this, but Colleen McCullough did it much better.
I was so thrilled by Rome (well, it's just good yummy Roman stuff) I immediately dove onto my internets and ordered Nero, which had only 70% to do with the fact that it stars Hans.
Don't tell me you don't remember Hans.
We went on an excursion to a historical house (in England one might even call it a stately home) which has, miraculously in these parched days of yellowing parks and crispy foliage, a lush green grounds and a charming mansion. In it all the fantastical 1870s architecture and furniture was painted cream by a descendent in 1938 and so it's a strange mixture of 'ornate italianate victoriana' and 'gin slings by the hollywood-style pool'.
Then a drink was had at a nice bar near where I live (I am proud to finally live in a neighbourhood of salubrious salons) and thence to the Night Market at the Queen Vic. Where there were untold thousands of people (I didn't order them!) and crafty trinkets for sale and a gigantic plateful of yummy paella, and an icecream down in St Kilda on the way home in the hot thick summery night. My feet have blown up like balloons!
Now I have my fairy lights on, Badly Drawn Boy playing, and am sitting here naked (yes, naked.) and wet-clean-haired and happy drinking Southern on the rocks and I love, love summer nights like this.
Oh yes, last night I finally, finally watched the first 3 eps of Rome (special_trille, I think it was you who kindly gave them to me?) and it's really good. I'm an aficionado of late-repubican Rome stuff, oh god, give me a bit of Cicero and a bit of Metellus Pius and Pompey being pompous and Julius Caesar being devious and fucking everyone's wives and I'm entirely happy. This series has it all! Unlike the novel Imperium by Robert Harris, which was a totally likeable working of Cicero's early history but seemed to add, really, hardly anything to my life. I never thought I'd say this, but Colleen McCullough did it much better.
I was so thrilled by Rome (well, it's just good yummy Roman stuff) I immediately dove onto my internets and ordered Nero, which had only 70% to do with the fact that it stars Hans.
Don't tell me you don't remember Hans.