Years ago I got an e-mail from a blog reader, who I didn’t know, saying something along the lines of particularly enjoying those posts which were more than just an account of the last few days. I have to say that this has rather haunted me ever since, given that such posts are rather few and far between. Not that I don’t try: as it happens, I have not one but two unfinished draft posts lying around, but I’m disinclined to publish them on the grounds that most people who read this are already sick of being told what I think. (Ideally, I’d have the skills to produce catchy Auto-Tuned music videos on the same themes, but alas.) Ho hum.
Now, for a FAQ:
Q. Why do you have time to blog anyway? Shouldn’t you be working or something? Get a job!
A. That’s actually two questions and a statement, hypothetical you. But anyway: good news! Next week I’ll be starting on this fun research project, so there. And it’s something nice and short-term, so I can still get my travel plans in order for afterwards. More soon.
Now that I’ve laid your mind to rest, let me ramble on about last week for a while. Matt and Caroline (and, for a while, Laura) came round on Wednesday night for wine and Pringles (we don’t change), and since the two of them were staying the night (hmm, yes, hope that was OK with you Tash ) we were able to loll around into the early hours listening to Bat For Lashes, laughing at drunken photos from Cambridge times and forcing Caroline to sign up for Twitter. And then it was the next morning, whereupon I rashly promised to make scrambled eggs for us all and then felt the incredible weight of peer expectation as they sat and watched. Honestly, never has a mundane task felt more of an achievement than when those eggs emerged onto that toast in a satisfactorily edible state. I know Matt and Caroline – they’d have never talked to me again if they hadn’t…
Friday night was spent with my dad (aww) in the pub (aww) with
Jamie J.P. Buxton, whose new book – I Am The Blade – I can show off about by saying that I read an earlier version in manuscript ages ago. But genuinely, if you are looking for a good book for children – this is on the assumption that I don’t have any readers that young – you should totally pick this up, because it’s (a) great stuff and (b) has a sequel on the way if they get hooked. Anyway, it was a lovely evening, although my mum was amused the next day at our abject failure to discuss any people or families. (It was more ‘will 3D TV will catch on?’ and ‘what do we actually know about the middle ages?’ and ‘Tolkien’s a bit of a racist, isn’t he?’ and so on.) Like I said: lovely.
Come to think of it, we also spent quite a bit of time critiquing the shoddy social and economic policies of that genocidal tyrant ‘King’ Uther in Merlin, which is timely given that the show which I pretend to enjoy ‘ironically’ (but really just enjoy) is back back back. Since I feel incapable of sitting down to watch it on my own, it was off to Oliver’s on Sunday for wizard watching and general fun. We also watched Notes On A Scandal which creeped me out even more than it did the first time, and I spent much of the journey home looking out for Judi Dench hiding menacingly in the dark. Brrr.