Category Archives: NaBloPoMo 2007
Onwards and up… err, sidewards
I, naturally, spent the weekend recovering from the extraordinary delights of, basically, flicking the dust-bunnies out from the hindermost parts of my brain and leaving them on display all over the internets. Hello! What did you all do? But I … Continue reading
Done. And done.
You get up late, because you have the morning as study-leave. Studying. Oh yes. Once you’ve realised you have no clean shirts, and had a half-hearted dig through the laundry mountain, and put a wash on, and then realised that … Continue reading
Ow
Two more posts to go, and I stab myself in the palm in a freak knitting accident. I have no idea what happened. I was smirking gently at the television [or, not paying attention - Ed], and knitting a sock. … Continue reading
And then we are confused
I went to lectures, I went to work, I met a friend after work, we had dinner, I trundled home again late in the evening, I have a post to write, oy vey. Did I mention I had a beer … Continue reading
This is what I live for
Dear Slightly Smelly Patron of the Library of Glum, When I tell you we do not have that particular journal in the library, I do not mean we do have it, but I’m not telling you where. I do not … Continue reading
And anyway, it’s educational.
Last week of NaBloPoMo, and what have we learned? …. Anything? Anyone? Oh, very well, I’ll go first. I have learned that: I am a shocking-bad commentator. I keep thinking ‘Oh, I’ll come back and say something later,’ and as … Continue reading
Seven weird things about Reed
Helen has tagged me. I am obediently obeying the tagging imperative. Did you all want to know seven more weird (in my opinion) things about me? That I haven’t mentioned before? Ah well. It’s NaBloPoMo. I need blog fodder. Up … Continue reading
Shibboleth
Among other things, S and I spent some of his birthday staring at a distressingly large crack in a concrete floor. Oh, hey, it was free; and what is the point of being a Londoner if you don’t go and … Continue reading
In honour of the honourable Mr Reed
It’s S’s birthday today. He is 231 in dog years, and therefore highly deserving of breakfast in bed, a day at the art galleries, and all the peach bellinis a man can drink. So he got them. S and I … Continue reading
Scrap this. Start again
Insomnia finally won the arse-kicking contest. This morning I got out of bed and walked heavily into the bathroom door-frame. Twice. I could see at least four door-frames before me, which wasn’t helping, also, I think I may have said … Continue reading