mini-shindig ...
I should mention I'm crap with time. I have no concept of time, possibly because it's never been something I feel should apply to me. I am still 5 and count time by the number of sleeps to something. So when a fellow Browncoat and all around good laugh, Clare, messaged me to say she would be in Cardiff for a book signing by John Barrowman and would I be around, I naturally said yes and hoped like hell I actually would be because the date she told me meant nothing to me at that point.
Fast forward a couple of weeks or so and gossi emails me for a random chat as we do and we decide he should come visit at his earliest convenience. Which turned out to be this weekend. All is good. I, luckily, get out of bed with enough time for a cuppa and a ciggie before I have to go collect him from the station on Saturday morning. We return. We drink tea. We catch up. We're interupted by R2 beeping at me from the kitchen. It's Clare, texting to say she's in Cardiff and will be at Borders for an indeterminate amount of time and will text when they're done if I'm still up for a drink later.
Oops. So that's what today's date is!
But, by a sheer stroke of genius (read: luck) Gossi and Clare know each other as well. We're one big Browncoat family ... despite the fact I was wearing a sort of crimson-y leather jacket, Gossi wasn't wearing a coat and I'm pretty certain Clare's coat was either dark blue or black. Brown is the colour of our soul ... or something.
Anyway, Gossi and I decide that heading to Borders to laugh at Clare would be a good plan. I decide I need a new handbag and a purse (I bought a watch instead, unfortunately not one with the date on it as well), make Gossi promise not to let me buy too many books (I didn't buy any), we need to eat at some point and I have no food (mmmm, Burger King) and I haven't had a mocha in 2 days.
We're (read: I'm) amazed (read: completely blown away) by how many people were queuing up for John Barrowman to sign a book for them. There were at least a couple of hundred. Clare had started queuing at 12.30, bearing in mind he wasn't due to arrive til 1.30. I found out this morning that some people started queuing at 7.30 in the morning! Um ... it's just John!
So we hung out for a bit with Clare and her friend, Katey, and Katey's Mum then wandered off for food, shopping and, hopefully, some warmth. After an hour we wandered back to discover she'd moved maybe 300 yards. People were being turned away. Freezing, we recced ahead, reported back that John was just signing books as fast as he could, and headed back into Borders for coffee (mmmmmmm).
Half an hour later, Clare finally joined us. All for a squiggle in a black marker. Weird.
It gets weirder. This weekend was the weekend for soap-making. I've never made soap. Gossi's never even thought about making soap (but jumped at the idea once I mentioned it, particularly when one of his friends suggested beer soap). Neither of us knew what to expect; if it would explode, if the fumes would kill us, or if the soap would be useable.
gossi's Guide to Soap-Making
This is Gossi's scientific explanation for the process of making soap. I am thinking of submitting it to Wikipedia.
Step One:
Buy various substances from t'interweb for soap making. I did not pay much attention to what, since I am an idiot. Get some gloves, grow some fear for your life, read a book about soap and prepare for anything. This process could result in making Mogwais, which is bad, as the process also involves liquid. This could create a hole in the universe, allowing millions of Gremlins to travel through and attack idiots on the streets. Actually, that sounds quite good. Do that.
Step Two:
Take some caustic soda and mix it with The Other Thing I've Forgotten from The Soap Stuff you got. Cackle like a mad scientist during the process, but try not to inhale the fumes as you may die. Unless you are Jeremy Kyle, in which case suck it in like a fine Cuban cigar.
Step Three:
I've missed out a few things, but it basically involved something to do with making mash potato and heating things to exactly the same temperature. When you've done all that - just fudge your way through it, you've only got a 5% chance of blowing up you and your neighbours house - mix the solutions together and whisk "gently but purposefully". And then "briskly". For between 5 to 50 minutes. Or an hour and half, as we discovered. At this end of this process your arm may fall off, but it's worth it: SOAP!
As a side note, you may notice this photo looks like NHS Chicken soup. If you do f**k up and explode yourself, that's what you will be eating for the rest of your life.
Step Four:
Carefully add anything you'd like to mix with the soap and whisk. Examples: beer, wine, spirits.
Step Five:
Empty the pan into a cardboard container, stash it away for 36 hours and try not to peek! Dance around and smile, for you MADE SOAP.

Step Six:
Take your beer/wine/spirit soap, bathe yourself silly, then go to work smelling like a brewery. Get sacked, loose your property and go and live outside a McDonalds in your nearest city centre. Don't worry, at least you'll have the beer soap to sell (and treasure).
Gossi
So, all in all, I had a fab weekend. Soap has come out of box tonight, a little squishy and looking a bit battered but my kitchen smells of soap and in three weeks (yes, three!) I get several bars of soap to dish out (pardon the pun) to the nice peeps who've volunteered to human trial my experiment for me ... including Gossi. He's never gonna come visit again ....
Fast forward a couple of weeks or so and gossi emails me for a random chat as we do and we decide he should come visit at his earliest convenience. Which turned out to be this weekend. All is good. I, luckily, get out of bed with enough time for a cuppa and a ciggie before I have to go collect him from the station on Saturday morning. We return. We drink tea. We catch up. We're interupted by R2 beeping at me from the kitchen. It's Clare, texting to say she's in Cardiff and will be at Borders for an indeterminate amount of time and will text when they're done if I'm still up for a drink later.
Oops. So that's what today's date is!
But, by a sheer stroke of genius (read: luck) Gossi and Clare know each other as well. We're one big Browncoat family ... despite the fact I was wearing a sort of crimson-y leather jacket, Gossi wasn't wearing a coat and I'm pretty certain Clare's coat was either dark blue or black. Brown is the colour of our soul ... or something.
Anyway, Gossi and I decide that heading to Borders to laugh at Clare would be a good plan. I decide I need a new handbag and a purse (I bought a watch instead, unfortunately not one with the date on it as well), make Gossi promise not to let me buy too many books (I didn't buy any), we need to eat at some point and I have no food (mmmm, Burger King) and I haven't had a mocha in 2 days.
We're (read: I'm) amazed (read: completely blown away) by how many people were queuing up for John Barrowman to sign a book for them. There were at least a couple of hundred. Clare had started queuing at 12.30, bearing in mind he wasn't due to arrive til 1.30. I found out this morning that some people started queuing at 7.30 in the morning! Um ... it's just John!
So we hung out for a bit with Clare and her friend, Katey, and Katey's Mum then wandered off for food, shopping and, hopefully, some warmth. After an hour we wandered back to discover she'd moved maybe 300 yards. People were being turned away. Freezing, we recced ahead, reported back that John was just signing books as fast as he could, and headed back into Borders for coffee (mmmmmmm).
Half an hour later, Clare finally joined us. All for a squiggle in a black marker. Weird.
It gets weirder. This weekend was the weekend for soap-making. I've never made soap. Gossi's never even thought about making soap (but jumped at the idea once I mentioned it, particularly when one of his friends suggested beer soap). Neither of us knew what to expect; if it would explode, if the fumes would kill us, or if the soap would be useable.
gossi's Guide to Soap-Making
This is Gossi's scientific explanation for the process of making soap. I am thinking of submitting it to Wikipedia.
Step One:
Buy various substances from t'interweb for soap making. I did not pay much attention to what, since I am an idiot. Get some gloves, grow some fear for your life, read a book about soap and prepare for anything. This process could result in making Mogwais, which is bad, as the process also involves liquid. This could create a hole in the universe, allowing millions of Gremlins to travel through and attack idiots on the streets. Actually, that sounds quite good. Do that.
Step Two:
Take some caustic soda and mix it with The Other Thing I've Forgotten from The Soap Stuff you got. Cackle like a mad scientist during the process, but try not to inhale the fumes as you may die. Unless you are Jeremy Kyle, in which case suck it in like a fine Cuban cigar.
Step Three:
I've missed out a few things, but it basically involved something to do with making mash potato and heating things to exactly the same temperature. When you've done all that - just fudge your way through it, you've only got a 5% chance of blowing up you and your neighbours house - mix the solutions together and whisk "gently but purposefully". And then "briskly". For between 5 to 50 minutes. Or an hour and half, as we discovered. At this end of this process your arm may fall off, but it's worth it: SOAP!
As a side note, you may notice this photo looks like NHS Chicken soup. If you do f**k up and explode yourself, that's what you will be eating for the rest of your life.
Step Four:
Carefully add anything you'd like to mix with the soap and whisk. Examples: beer, wine, spirits.
Step Five:
Empty the pan into a cardboard container, stash it away for 36 hours and try not to peek! Dance around and smile, for you MADE SOAP.

Step Six:
Take your beer/wine/spirit soap, bathe yourself silly, then go to work smelling like a brewery. Get sacked, loose your property and go and live outside a McDonalds in your nearest city centre. Don't worry, at least you'll have the beer soap to sell (and treasure).
Gossi
So, all in all, I had a fab weekend. Soap has come out of box tonight, a little squishy and looking a bit battered but my kitchen smells of soap and in three weeks (yes, three!) I get several bars of soap to dish out (pardon the pun) to the nice peeps who've volunteered to human trial my experiment for me ... including Gossi. He's never gonna come visit again ....