tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39195462011-06-08T06:23:02.615ZRise· the biggest excitement of last week ·kittynoreply@blogger.comBlogger5941100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-939151112003-05-07T08:00:00.000Z2003-05-07T08:00:43.973ZInvitation
Erzsebel would be delighted if you could join her for tea this afternoon at Rise 2, which is now open to take your orders.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-938670682003-05-06T15:28:00.000Z2003-05-06T15:28:51.633ZMake your own tea; I'm busy.
Have you seen how much I've cut from my blogroll? Second thoughts, don't look, it might be you. If it is, please don't be offended. I can easily click through all of my main reads without actually coming back to this list, so small is the circle of my blogosphere. I promise to comment more, to make up for it.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-938571912003-05-06T12:11:00.000Z2003-05-06T12:11:03.260ZToday's task is to get angry, but I just can't do it. Too damn busy, and if I were to break things, it would be for all the wrong reasons. Rise v2.0 will not be available today, which I know will sorely disappoint you; nor will there be a teabreak. But soon, I promise, all your dreams will come true........kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-938507942003-05-06T08:31:00.000Z2003-05-06T08:31:33.836ZThe Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!Here is how you matched up against all the levels:LevelScorePurgatory (Repenting Believers)Very LowLevel 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)Very LowLevel 2 (Lustful)ExtremeLevel 3 (Gluttonous)HighLevel 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)Very HighLevel 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)HighLevel 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)ExtremeLevel 7 (Violentkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-936481532003-05-02T13:26:00.000Z2003-05-02T13:41:55.000ZLast night I went out for a farewell meal with Upsetter and Páfrány, to Ket Szerecsen, which surpassed all our previous experiences of the place. The food was really good, the service was pleasant, and considering we had quite a slap-up feed, 15000 HUF isn't a lot of money. Afterwards we sat outside Karma again, this time testing their mojitos - and they're excellent. Karma should officially be kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-936461912003-05-02T12:45:00.000Z2003-05-02T12:45:13.180Z
Forget poetry. Forget art. Next week's theme is evil dwarves. Or something. kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-936451182003-05-02T12:19:00.000Z2003-05-02T12:19:31.466ZIMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT ABOUT TODAY'S TEABREAK
Blogger has been stroppy with me all day, so Mark offered to host the teaparty. Then blogger decided to function - typical - but you know, it's 30 degrees here, and I've been sick this week, and I fancy a break, so I'm happy to lend him my pinny and little frilly hat.
So if you're thirsty, and you always are, Cafe Londonmark will be open shortly. kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-936013242003-05-01T16:12:00.000Z2003-05-01T16:13:47.000ZOn the breaking of commandments.
Here's Gert's interesting post about adultery:Do people have affairs to make up for a shortfall, or to seek new variety, in their physical life? Or is it because they want to be with that person and the existence of another is immaterial to that.And here's aj's:You can't kid me that some peoples sex drives are so high they just can't help it, it's just a total kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-936001212003-05-01T15:49:00.000Z2003-05-01T15:50:56.000ZInstallation Art Thursday Teabreak
That's break as in break, break from art. Nothing here but tea, coffee, and fondant fancies. I did borrow some of Vaughan's doilies, though, and there's a bottle of Grolsch for Sue, who is living in babysitting hell today.
I notice, mind you, that Pete and Mark haven't installed anything. Have you seen how much you can get away with charging for this stuff? Orkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-935928542003-05-01T13:27:00.000Z2003-05-01T13:27:47.170ZAnybody fancy a cup of tea?kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-935880152003-05-01T10:49:00.000Z2003-05-01T11:00:48.000ZInstallation Art: Kisses of Me, Kisses of You.
Look, poetry is what I do. So if my art is to be context-specific, then poetry is what it will be. I'd like to thank my creative assistant, Peb, for practical help and encouragement during the creation of this piece.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-935861432003-05-01T09:29:00.000Z2003-05-01T09:29:58.740ZIt's May Day.
It's also the two-year blogiversary of Acerbia, so D gets a double shot of ribena today.
It's also Installation Art Thursday, today's assignment having been set by Gert.
It's also 2 days, 4 hours, 52 minutes, 16 seconds plus one hour, I know until I get home.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-935561752003-04-30T21:50:00.000Z2003-04-30T21:53:04.000ZTonight we moved my furniture out. It was all rather grim. In particular, I disliked the part where the removal man hoisted the bottom half of my antique desk on to his back, and then held his hands out for a box. We tried to get it all done before T got in from work, but he turned up half way through, and lent a hand. There was an atmosphere, of course. Grim. But done.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-935347572003-04-30T15:12:00.000Z2003-04-30T15:12:31.893ZAs happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment.
John Steinbeck · Of Mice And Menkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-935251382003-04-30T11:42:00.000Z2003-04-30T11:42:33.070ZI am sick and I have no content today, so go and read someone else's blog instead. I would offer tea, but you know, I think you should be offering me tea, and I should be tucked up in bed.
My furniture is being moved round to Upsetter's tonight, and luckily most of it is already packed. You may be interested to know that it is 3 days, 2 hours, 39 minutes, 17 seconds until I land at Heathrow.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-935214052003-04-30T09:28:00.000Z2003-04-30T09:30:35.000ZGirar, girar, girar.
Vaughan eschews the poetical and demands Performance Art, dahlings, and he and Mike proceeded to use the Audblog thingy to record what can only be described as... well... poetry. Hah!
I would do the same, but for one thing, that would be copying, and for another thing, I have already run T's phone bill up to an astronomical level, with mysterious long phone calls to Englandkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-934711652003-04-29T15:46:00.000Z2003-04-29T15:46:38.000ZBy popular demand, a teabreak, with darjeeling for the grown-ups and blackcurrant for the kids, I mean, for Acerbia Dave.
Pete demanded a glass of wine and a bite, but he might just have to wait until Saturday for both.
[Sorry, how nauseating. I'd promise to stop, but he's a bad influence.]kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-934634482003-04-29T13:25:00.000Z2003-04-29T13:25:49.643ZThe things I will miss about Budapest
· Sunday night bloody marys with my brother, in Cafe Aloe. We never had time to make it into a long-standing tradition, but we know that we would, given half a chance. It was great, for a little while, to spend so much time in his company, having moved further and further away from each other, geographically, since I left home. It's nice to be so closely kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-934559342003-04-29T09:45:00.000Z2003-04-29T09:45:33.136ZToday's Poem was requested by Stuart, who immediately changed his mind, lest such a poem should get me into trouble. So, if it does, it's his fault.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-934551192003-04-29T09:15:00.000Z2003-04-29T09:15:11.306ZSo far, clerihews are here and of course here. kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-934546622003-04-29T08:56:00.000Z2003-04-29T08:56:58.613ZIt's official. Pete and I are the The biggest excitement of last week Get that? Last week. Our moment as passed, and now we can slink out of the spotlight and get on with our lives. This is a nice feeling.
But if you're here from Troubled Diva
Caught up in the gossip-fever
Then leave a comment, do;
but it ought to be a clerihew.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-933941512003-04-28T12:09:00.000Z2003-04-28T12:09:15.643ZEver-curious Gert asks for the definition of an iambic pentameter. The observant among you will have noticed that I've been posting sonnets for the last couple of days, to help everyone get into the pentameter party spirit.
This definition tells us that a sonnet is a fourteen-line poem in iambic pentameter with a carefully patterned rhyme scheme, and the good old Guardian manages to get it rightkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-933931252003-04-28T11:39:00.000Z2003-04-28T11:39:03.270ZSo, now that I have carte blanche to be cheerful, let me tell you what a lovely day it is. The sky is blue, and I have been out doing stuff in Hungarian. In fact, I have experienced both ends of the dealing-with-hungarians spectrum today.
In the bank, I had several things to do, including asking for a copy statement, and I accomplished the whole thing without a word of english, and the woman kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-933871582003-04-28T07:59:00.000Z2003-04-28T08:05:03.000ZI'm a literary genius, The Guardian said so when I took this quiz, which I found at Prolific. I got full marks, but, outrageously, it said that I had answered one question incorrectly:Which existentialist French writer's work of fiction inspired the Cure's Killing an Arab?
La Condition Humaine, by Andre Malraux
Nausea, by Jean-Paul Satre
L'Etranger, by Albert Camus
kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-933501512003-04-27T17:38:00.000Z2003-04-27T17:38:51.000ZWriting about Pete
Shh... he's gone out, I can talk about him. Don't anyone tell him, though. It seems that I will have to answer my own question. You might remember that the whole reason this blog arose in the first place was because I wrote about my marriage on The Umbrella Stand, and T hit the roof.
I felt then that it was my journal, my record, my place to express things, and if it was okaykittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-933480522003-04-27T16:48:00.000Z2003-04-27T16:48:51.933ZOther Stuff Progress Report
Life isn't all about MT, you know. I have other stuff to do as well, like sit at the computer chatting all day, when I should really be thinking about packing. In fact, I have done some packing. I travelled out this time with a scruffy blue suitcase, about five years old. I am leaving that here, and travelling back with the most disreputable-looking suitcase ever. Yeskittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-933431102003-04-27T14:47:00.000Z2003-04-27T14:47:00.733ZMT Progress Report
If I sit here and look helpless for long enough, someone will come and help me out, I know it. Perhaps if I hitch up my skirt a little bit, or look like I'm about to cry...
MT has made me feel stupid, which wasn't very nice of it. Yesterday Stuart solved the problem and tidied up the mess I had made. Today Pete sort of held my hand and showed me how stuff worked. I feel kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-933143012003-04-26T22:18:00.000Z2003-04-26T22:18:40.746ZI've just been to see The Pianist with Upsetter and Páfrány. What a dreary film. Its most entertaining moments were the couple of times that a girl in the audience answered her mobile phone, and the bit during the big piano playing part towards the end, where the tape broke and the screen went blank. No, seriously, there was one stunning scene showing Warsaw, bombed to a husk. Other than that, itkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-932973292003-04-26T15:02:00.000Z2003-04-26T15:02:18.343ZI wouldn't generally describe myself as a typical shopaholic kinda girl, but I have just had a most satisfying shopping spree, and indeed there were shoes. Two pairs. And I'm quite pleased about the whole thing. And I haven't finished yet.
When I got my loot back to the flat, I noticed that both pairs of shoes are remarkably similar to shoes owned by my little sister. And now that her feet are kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-932537472003-04-25T18:25:00.000Z2003-04-25T18:59:56.000ZMT Progress Report
I want you all to know that, now that you have gone home and stopped distracting me, I have been able to concentrate on this MT thingy. I have currently reached the part that says Now that you have installed the system, you are ready to start using it. Yeah, blogger, your days are numbered.
I have almost certainly spoken too soon - we'll see.
[Update: of course I spoke too kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-932483882003-04-25T16:46:00.000Z2003-04-25T16:46:26.890ZMisheard lyrics
This annoys me. I looked up the lyrics for Pulp's I Spy, and was puzzled to read the following:And thousands of tiny dryna-slides running a path,
running a path to the corner of your eyes.dryna-slides? It's dryness lines, surely?
Worse than that, if you look up the same song on any one of a number of lyrics pages, they all tell you the same thing. They can't all have made the kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-932471272003-04-25T16:24:00.000Z2003-04-25T16:25:06.000ZAn Abbey National customer today credited weblogging, or 'blogging', for the satisfactory response he received in his dispute with the bank.Worked for him; but blogging about the Abbey National never helped me when they were being difficult.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-932446022003-04-25T15:40:00.000Z2003-04-25T15:47:54.000ZSee, Zed met the Twat via the internetwebthingy, as well. That's just... sigh... so romantic.
It's odd, but my stats have gone through the roof in the last two days. I have never had more than 100 visitors in a day before. Don't you lot ever consider that this might just be some elaborate publicity stunt, like Chris Evans and Geri Halliwell? Well, okay, that's not the case, and I just wanted to kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-932409672003-04-25T14:41:00.000Z2003-04-25T14:41:28.503ZYour limerick break is served...
It is true that today's teabreak
Has been unusually hard to create
To write it in rhyme
Took lots of time
And I'm finding it difficult to concentrate.
I've a vat of earl grey to go round,
and cakes, buns and biscuits abound
for Gert, Mike, Vaughan,
and Aquarion,
and Karan, now that she's found.
Mark stated that he would like tea,
But I suspect he'd prefer a kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-932300232003-04-25T08:43:00.000Z2003-04-25T08:43:19.480ZI think that we ought to make
Time for a Friday tea-break
So please let me know
If you're going to show
And I'll go and bake you a cake.
Haikus will still be okay
But limericks are the theme of the day
You can blame Vaughan
For this change in form
He started it yesterday.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-931916212003-04-24T18:32:00.000Z2003-04-24T18:32:00.303ZWell that was fun. Thanks for entertaining me all day, it really does drag here otherwise, even though there is plenty of stuff I should be getting on with. I am feeling under the weather: sore throat, headache, grumpy. I just had to listen while T phoned his mum [because she called him earlier], and spend the entire conversation hinting that we had split up, but not actually telling her. It was kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-931683222003-04-24T09:45:00.000Z2003-04-24T09:45:23.783ZHaiku for the Ghouls [Over there on the right]. Damn good idea, Mark.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-931276842003-04-23T18:44:00.000Z2003-04-23T18:47:18.000ZWhat am I doing to move on from T? Gert asks, and I've been considering quite what she was asking.
If the question is about practical stuff, there are a whole lot of nice easy answers: Over the next nine days I will be tidying up my life in Budapest, cutting off the ends, and sealing them so that they don't unravel. My furniture, that I inherited from my granny, is going to be moved to my kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-931032472003-04-23T09:58:00.000Z2003-04-23T14:28:31.000ZTunisia 7/7 Go and start at the beginning. [Update: now fully illustrated!]
Oh yes, first leg of the long journey home today. Just that bloody ten day stopover in Budapest to worry about. Eager to be off, I'm packed by 10am, and then T ruins my beautiful efficiently loaded suitcase by demanding his washbag, which is at the bottom.
Lots more hanging around. I'm reading The English Patient, and Ikittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-931028052003-04-23T09:42:00.000Z2003-04-23T14:32:51.000ZTunisia 6/7
Last night was bad. Last night was the row that I was expecting, him asking for reasons, poking and probing and opening up wounds. Horrible, horrible.
This morning all is calm again. After breakfast we take the 30-minute trek along the beach to the medina. It's cooler, but the sea is still a pleasing shade of turquoise, the sand is gratifyingly white. We have money left and we kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-931009072003-04-23T08:32:00.000Z2003-04-23T14:16:58.000ZTunisia 5/7
Day 5, book 5. So far all I have done is complain. Here's some more. Let me tell you what package holidays are like.
First of all, I get to act all superior at Ferihegy airport, because I've spent so much time there. I can tell what size the plane is from the gate number. Oh yeah, I'm a real pain in the arse. We fly with Tunisair, in a noisy, badly pressurised cabin, but the food kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-931008102003-04-23T08:29:00.000Z2003-04-23T14:30:41.000ZTunisia 4/7
Up shortly after 6am, how barbaric! Bus trip with about 50 Magyars and a hungarian-speaking guide, two-hour drive to Tunis, past dusty miles of olive groves. In the town, the guide [appropriately named Gabi, pronounced Gobby, she never shut up] leads us into the heart of the souk and abandons us to be picked up by touts and salesmen. This souk is marginally less tourist-oriented thankittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-930999862003-04-23T07:59:00.000Z2003-04-23T14:12:17.000ZTunisia 3/7
This morning, at last, the sun was out and the sky was blue. After breakfast we walked along the beach all the way to town. I walk with him but not with him, barefoot in the icy water. T notices that I'm more relaxed, now the weight is off my mind, and it's true. The clouds have cleared in my heart as well as in the sky.
Now I'm lying, hot, by the pool, disturbed by children's kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-930994802003-04-23T07:42:00.000Z2003-04-23T14:09:44.000ZTunisia 2/7
We woke up early, because I had left the curtains open, and the sunrise flooded the room. Breakfast was fun; the staff expect us to speak hungarian, and are delighted when we don't, and ecstatic when I speak french. Heh - the Tunisians don't recognise that I speak it with the accent of a savoyard peasant, so I don't get that eye-rolling that they do in France.
Checked out the kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-930978862003-04-23T06:53:00.000Z2003-04-23T06:53:19.880ZTunisia 1/7
It's sunny in Budapest, and the forecast for Tunisia is still grey. We have to fill most of the day before heading to the airport. I packed our case and he complained it was too heavy, as he does every single time, ever. I reassessed it; the heaviest item in it is his washbag, but I take out a few bits and pieces and he seems happy.
We wandered round a shopping centre, then stopped kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-930706812003-04-22T21:36:00.000Z2003-04-22T21:36:24.406ZWell I'm back, but only as far as Budapest, which really isn't far enough. I have taken many, many photos; I have written notes, of course, which I will present to you tomorrow. I have listened rather detachedly to T going through the mill since I told him I was leaving. I don't like to see him hurting, but there is only so much support I can give him.
Tomorrow I will try to swap on to an kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-928300752003-04-18T10:00:00.000Z2003-04-18T10:00:53.873ZToday the sun has come out for the first time, and really, isn't the weather bathetic? T and I have relaxed, we are doing okay, and I have nearly finished my third book.
I'm just sort of closing my eyes and waiting for it all to pass. Home soon. Thanks for all your nice comments. Zed: he's my soon-to-be-ex-husband.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-927722522003-04-17T11:43:00.000Z2003-04-17T11:43:42.343ZTunisia is wet and gloomy, and last night I told T I was leaving him. He took it well at first, but then it kind of hit him, and it was awful. He cried. It's difficult to write about at themoment, but I thought you might be nterested.
I know it's earlier in the holiday than I meant to tell him, but he kept on asking. He has been blaming himself a lot, which is hard to argue with, but hell, at kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-925936122003-04-14T17:22:00.000Z2003-04-14T17:22:35.466ZGone fishing.
I may not get a chance to post again for a week. Or to send email, or talk on IM. Feels a bit weird. I'll miss you.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-925876792003-04-14T15:38:00.000Z2003-04-14T15:40:10.000ZFateless
I kindly offered to purchase copies of Fateless for any members of the Bp book club who were unable to find a copy in English. I know it's odd, but I've been organising the book club meetings and sending information to new members all the time I've been in England. This month I'll actually make it to the meeting, presumably for the last time.
I ended up with four copies as well as my kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-925809112003-04-14T13:29:00.000Z2003-04-14T13:29:24.000ZNow tell 'bel she's a clever girl:EU-foriaNo, not for making the pages; Upsetter did that, of course. But I remembered his instructions for using the ftp thingy in Dreamweaver.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-925794442003-04-14T12:55:00.000Z2003-04-14T12:55:05.640ZOh, I quite like being here with money in my pocket, although technically it's not in my pocket anymore, it's in various cash registers, and I have barely even started yet.
And I like being here and not caring what the hell T is doing. I don't know or care why he has to work until 8, I'm just happy not to be in his company; the next week will be more than enough, thank you very much. Oh, I knowkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-925710012003-04-14T08:11:00.000Z2003-04-14T08:15:57.000ZI was going to show you photos, but I've somehow failed to install ws_ftp on this pc; perhaps it knows I'm nervous of T catching me uploading stuff and discovering Rise or erzsebel.com. I will have to try again, I suppose.
I was going to show you photos of the parade that took place yesterday, celebrating Hungary's YES vote in the referendum about joining the EU. They called it EU-foria, and it kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-925285022003-04-13T15:43:00.000Z2003-04-13T15:43:59.000ZWelcome to Budapest. T managed to get my arrival time wrong, so wasn't at the airport to meet me. The flat is in a disgusting state. There is still evidence of the tart, but it isn't conclusive. He's acting as if all is well. I'm just acting.
In January I wrote He and Pigger and my flat and my books and that city and my brother nearby = home. Now I'm here and all I want in the world is to be kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-924274542003-04-11T14:05:00.000Z2003-04-11T14:48:47.000ZI'm making the tea today. And I'm going to make myself comfortable while I do it. Gratuitous use of inline styles coming up (closes eyes and prays to the Gods that control Blogger's weird text input system):The requests for beverages this week have been astronomical, in the sense that they haven't been astronomical at all.
There was quite a large demand for tea, so I took the liberty of putting Petenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-924209332003-04-11T11:24:00.000Z2003-04-11T11:24:48.140ZPlease leave your orders for tea, cakes, alcohol and WD40 here. Unusual requests will be particularly welcome today, as my stand-in tealady likes a challenge.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-924186052003-04-11T10:00:00.000Z2003-04-11T10:00:05.233ZDetangling Conditioner Update
Thank you for all the suggestions. Waitrose Ultra Sleek Hair Serum is currently winning. I already owned this, but had not realised its superpowers. I thought it was just good for stopping the little frizzety bits from sticking out so much. It also makes your hands soft.
But I'm still willing to take more suggestions, because I'm very un-brand-loyal, and there's kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-924175912003-04-11T09:22:00.000Z2003-04-11T09:22:49.590ZAddendum
If you don't see me here for a few days, it's because I either have better things to do, or I'm travelling. Early next week I will be travelling again; posting will be sporadic. Please assume, unless you hear otherwise, that it's all awful; and I promise to give you all the unpleasant details the moment I get back. I know you only come here for the Sturm und Drang.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-924175222003-04-11T09:20:00.000Z2003-04-11T09:20:32.170ZHurry hurry hurry. Today is my last day before three weeks off. Today I have a million things to do, from taking a moment to try and comb my hair [still tangled], to establishing if we have legal grounds to dismiss someone. Again. I hate doing that.
So if you want a teabreak, you will have to do it yourselves, unless someone else would like to host it?
And, as Sue has pointed out, today we willkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-923638892003-04-10T15:12:00.000Z2003-04-10T15:14:32.000ZTeabreak is BACK, with style, panache, and macaroons.
In fact, we have tea for the lads [Upsetter, PeteDotNu, Mark and a new guest, D from Acerbia] ...
cocktails for t'lasses [Peb, Gert, Zed and another new guest, Lisa] ...
and an interesting selection of http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/ancient/250theocritus15.html" title="scroll down, there really are dainty cakes">dainty cakes, for you all kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-923536832003-04-10T11:37:00.000Z2003-04-10T11:37:42.000ZMaybe we will have a teabreak today. I have been neglecting you lately, haven't I? I do apologise, I am somewhat distracted. If you would care to leave your requests in the usual place, I shall see what I can do. Or would you rather wait until tomorrow and have a cocktail party? It will have to be early, though; I have a train to catch.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-923508232003-04-10T09:57:00.000Z2003-04-10T10:02:06.000ZIt was snowing this morning. Just a whirl of tiny round white flakes, like [ooh, can't use that simile] like, like, oh why do words fail me when I am trying to write something important? It was snowing, and the snow was special.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-922808572003-04-09T09:54:00.000Z2003-04-09T09:54:05.623ZI have decided that the laptop will be more comfortable travelling in the big bag. Also, I can't get everything in the small bag. I am concerned to note that I have lost my ability to travel light. I packed a case last night and I don't think I can lift it. It contains, amongst other things, two issues of Empire and an animation book for Upsetter, two packets of chocolate digestives, one bottle kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-922211322003-04-08T14:03:00.000Z2003-04-08T14:03:32.576ZDo you think that pink suits me?kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-922109822003-04-08T09:24:00.000Z2003-04-08T09:24:35.530ZNow here's a question. Since January, my laptop has been sitting quietly on my desk, accumulating peripherals [it now has its own keyboard, and a really cool optical mouse with a red light]. I have to give it these offerings, because I worry that it will get bored now that it doesn't travel so much.
My laptop case is enormous, shiny and black. It makes me feel important when I board aeroplanes.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-922102882003-04-08T09:00:00.000Z2003-04-08T09:00:56.000ZThe hills were no, not alive with the sound of music, don't be silly. The hills were peaceful. It's a circular walk from my house, which thank goodness is already half-way up the hill; and it takes an hour, including lots of time to stop and stare at kestrels.
I'm really starting to like living on my own, although I do find myself talking to the TV more often than might strictly be considered kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-921563602003-04-07T16:13:00.000Z2003-04-07T16:13:18.356ZIt's a beautiful evening. I could work off all this excess energy by going for a walk in the hills. It's nice up there in the fresh air, and what a view, and all that lovely peace and quiet. That's my plan.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-921450822003-04-07T12:44:00.000Z2003-04-07T12:44:10.670ZAren't you happy just to be alive?kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-921370442003-04-07T08:26:00.000Z2003-04-07T08:26:59.293ZThis week, I mean to do some work. Substantially more work than I did last week. This is my last week before three weeks in Budapest/Tunisia, which I am now looking forward to with a strong feeling of acid in my stomach, for a whole collection of reasons, including having to tell T I'm not coming back; saying goodbye to the city and the flat and Pigger and those particular dreams of the future; kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-920814782003-04-06T08:55:00.000Z2003-04-07T08:01:31.000ZIn my role as IT guy, I am sitting in the dark trying to sort out my mum's computer. It's ancient, it runs on clockwork and Windows 98. It took about four hours to download her new internet security thingy, and then it told me that I couldn't install it without upgrading to IE 6. I haven't a clue what I'm doing here, I just hope that I don't break it completely.
Next week, I mean to purchase my kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-920531502003-04-05T19:52:00.000Z2003-04-07T08:00:42.000ZQuite a weekend. The whole experience of travelling to Armpit to see the parents is much enlivened by lengthy conversations with each of them, on the subject of my marriage, or what's left of it.
I accidentally got absolutely stocious with the stepmonster on Friday night, and, amongst other things, I told her I was leaving T. Then of course I had to tell dad, and then of course I had to tell mumkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-919805632003-04-04T13:42:00.000Z2003-04-04T15:27:19.000ZI've just ordered four copies of Fateless by Imre Kertesz, for book club members in Budapest. Amazon sucked me in again, and I accidentally bought a CD off my wishlist, as well.
When Sue started her bookshelf project, she compared wishlists with bookshelves, and suggested that they said a lot about the person. I think I would disagree. My wishlist represents the things that I didn't rush out andkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-919754582003-04-04T11:15:00.000Z2003-04-04T15:27:39.000ZOops. I was very late for work today. And I appear to be somewhat dazed, but it's rather nice. Talk amongst yourselves.
ShoutOut
This post has comments which consist of Mark talking amongst himself.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-919197762003-04-03T15:58:00.000Z2003-04-04T15:27:58.000ZToday in my role as the IT guy, I have assisted a colleague whose laptop was obviously not functioning correctly, because he was unable to see a certain file. I solved this problem creatively, by training him in the correct operation of the horizontal scroll bar. Now he can see the file.
A job well done, I'm sure you will agree.
ShoutOut
This post includes sarcastic commentskittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-919021852003-04-03T08:34:00.000Z2003-04-04T15:28:19.000ZI dreamt last night that T drove me to Heathrow to catch my flight to Budapest, and at check-in I found that I had forgotten my passport. He behaved like an arse, vanished off somewhere, and then insisted on a five hour round trip to go and get it.
Anxiety about returning to Budapest, anyone?
ShoutOut
This post contains comments featuring dream analysis by Petekittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-919011952003-04-03T08:04:00.000Z2003-04-04T15:28:32.000ZEspecially for Sue
And actually of interest to me: a blog by expats called Lost In Transit. Although in fact I am now an ex-expat, aren't I?
ShoutOut
This post includes comments from Sue thanking me for the linkkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-919000312003-04-03T07:34:00.000Z2003-04-04T15:28:44.000ZBee's Knees
My sunglasses match my little purple suit exactly.
ShoutOut
This post contains comments in which Sue demands links and 'bel complies, followed by much discussion of purple clothing.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-918409272003-04-02T13:20:00.000Z2003-04-02T13:20:49.560ZMy first job took me [via a winding route] to Plymouth. Plymouth is a nice city, although a little bit far away from everywhere else in the country. The town centre isn't too busy, and the sea is only just over there. Good pubs but not enough decent restaurants, attractive long streets of townhouses, and Plymouth Hoe, where my #1 wedding photos were taken, is one of those places where I could kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-918374862003-04-02T11:46:00.000Z2003-04-04T15:29:02.000ZI am frightening my colleagues with an unprecedented level of cheerfulness. I have even cracked the occasional joke, although I won't repeat them here, because your collective sense of humour is far more sophisticated than the one that prevails in this office.
However, I have noticed that the participation level is shockingly low today. What do I have to do to persuade you to leave comments? kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-918321022003-04-02T08:53:00.000Z2003-04-04T15:29:18.000ZSo far this week, blogger has been out of action for an entire day, the commentses have lost their numbers, and I am easily swayed by peer pressure, so I am looking at 34SP and MT, and talking to Upsetter about the design that I can't see in my head, but I know exists. I hope the weather is crappy when I'm in Hungary, because I can see what I'm going to spend most of my time doing [apart from kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-918306212003-04-02T08:10:00.000Z2003-04-04T15:29:43.000ZAnother two hours in the fracture clinic yesterday, and it has finally been confirmed that I wasn't imagining the whole thing. In fact, not only was there a definite scaphoid fracture, but my little finger was/is broken as well. That would explain the pain I have in my little finger, wouldn't it?
I did comment that the hungarian medical professionals, the doctor in A&E, three trauma specialists,kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-917683872003-04-01T12:04:00.000Z2003-04-02T13:55:17.000ZReturn to normal service. Blogger today is clearly as flaky as I was yesterday. And I say normal service, but in fact, what's normal today is quite different to what was normal on Friday. I want to write something big and significant at this point, but the one person who would understand what I was wittering on about already knows what I mean, so I'll shut up.
Back here on earth, we will be kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-917154362003-03-31T16:28:00.000Z2003-04-02T13:58:43.000Z... in my experience poetry speaks to you either at first sight or not at all. A flash of revelation and a flash of response. Like lightning. Like falling in love.
JM Coetzee · Disgrace
This post contains comments, mostly by Pete and Stuart.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-917044192003-03-31T12:43:00.000Z2003-04-02T13:59:54.000ZOur research into influencing the blog*spot ads sort of fell at the first post, but we are now entertaining the theory that perhaps blog*spot doesn't have any shoe ads. I'm willing to give it another shot, but in keeping with today's central theme of hopeless incoherence, I don't know what we should try. Karan suggests cars; is that okay with the rest of you, or would you prefer something kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-916963252003-03-31T08:18:00.000Z2003-04-02T14:00:33.000ZCommentses are working, just the numbery bit that isn't showing. Don't ask me. I blame the hour change.
Or it could be the same marked inability to concentrate or to formulate useful and constructive thoughts, that I appear to be experiencing this morning. Don't come here expecting to read anything coherent today.
This post contains two comments about it being Mondaykittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-916951862003-03-31T07:48:00.000Z2003-03-31T07:48:40.140ZSomething changed · Pulp
I wrote the song two hours before we met.
I didn't know your name or what you looked like yet.
Oh I could have stayed at home and gone to bed.
I could have gone to see a film instead.
You might have changed your mind and seen your friends
Life could have been very different then but something changed.
Do you believe that there's someone up above?
Does he kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-915495642003-03-28T15:18:00.000Z2003-03-28T15:18:28.873ZBoot Camp
It's not working, you know. The ads are still for foodstuffs and beverages. Stuart's theory is being ripped apart by the evil force that is blog*spot. And I'm bored of shoes now. I wonder if we could try for chocolate instead. Maybe blog*spot just doesn't have any shoe adverts.
But out of the kindness of my heart, I have searched high and low in order to fulfill your shoe and boot kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-915466842003-03-28T14:24:00.000Z2003-03-28T14:24:18.920ZVisitor #7000 has been and gone, and according to my stats, it was not Mark, who was in fact #7001.
Visitor #7000 was, as I feared, an unknown from the far reaches of eastern europe - on Russian Federal Time, no less, on a google search for rise of Saddam Hussein. Visitor #7000 requested neither booze, shoes, nor a poem, and therefore I take great pleasure in conferring the honorary title of kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-915389312003-03-28T10:53:00.000Z2003-03-28T12:47:34.000ZAt the time of writing, sitemeter is showing the attractively curly number 6966. If my maths is correct [and usually it isn't, but I used a calculator], then in 34 visitors time, it will hit 7000, which is less curly, but quite pleasing anyway. If you are visitor number 7000, you are obliged not only to order a drink and a pair of shoes boots, but to request a poem. Preferably one that I haven't kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-915356702003-03-28T08:57:00.000Z2003-03-28T09:07:18.000ZRandom stuff
See how I'm practicing with titles, for the day I move to MT?
This afternoon's Shoes'n'Booze will be early, as I hope to leave the office punctually, that is to say, skive off early this afternoon. I have things to do and people to see. Leave your orders now or you will miss the boat.
Google search of the day: free+sample+letter+let+know+dad+how+i+ mush+i+dislike+his+wife. Rise kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-914924132003-03-27T18:00:00.000Z2003-03-27T18:00:14.466ZPoetry is good for you. But is that too many words on one page? I was going to move the daily poem over here; what do you think?kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-914868122003-03-27T16:21:00.000Z2003-03-27T16:24:39.000ZI am calmly retyping this, after a tragic notepad crash. This afternoon's teabreak features all the usual tea, coffee, olive oil, and vodka, but if you want the vodka, you will have to fight Zed for it, and she does have quite an evil way with a pair of socks, so do take care.
For those of you who did actually want footwear of some sort [is this turning into a foot fetish page?], my diligent kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-914770622003-03-27T13:13:00.000Z2003-03-27T13:13:11.250ZShoebreak will be back on today. Thing is, I was writing a long whiny post about epiphanies when I got the call from the company darn sarf, and I lost both my thread and my motivation to moan about stuff. So on to more important matters, like shoes. I also want to discuss with you the matter of adverts. More on this later. Please leave shoe orders in the usual place, and my band of highly-skilledkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-914717032003-03-27T10:25:00.000Z2003-03-27T10:25:26.390ZGoodness me, and other non-emotive expressions of astoundment. Some company darn sarf has just phoned me up, at the prompting of our mutual external auditor, to ask me to give them two days training on auditing to ISO 9001:2000. I said um.............. okay then, and now they want me to send them a quote.
Hang on a minute! We only pass audits due to sheer good luck, for reasons like the boss kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-914152882003-03-26T15:24:00.000Z2003-03-26T15:25:32.000ZNo shoebreak today. I'm sulking. He's booked a week in Sousse. I know, I'm being churlish.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-914088292003-03-26T13:14:00.000Z2003-03-26T14:50:13.000ZI couldn't make a sentence, I couldn't even say what I meant to say.
It has been observed that I can be somewhat reticent when I don't have a keyboard in front of me or a couple of glasses of wine inside me.
Gert suggests that perhaps too many people are taught to bottle up their emotion, that is un-genteel to express anything other than a measured equilibrium.Obviously some people are born kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-914021022003-03-26T09:38:00.000Z2003-03-26T09:40:47.000ZOften heard in these parts: Angry muttering, following contact with T. We spoke on the phone last night, and he is talking about booking a week in Tunisia for April. I don't want to go to Tunisia. My position on this is uninformed; perhaps there are lots of interesting things to do in Tunisia that don't involve camels. Perhaps Tunisia really isn't just a beach on the Med and a hoard of people kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-913575252003-03-25T17:59:00.000Z2003-03-25T17:59:19.403ZRarely heard in these parts: gleeful chuckling.
Heh.kittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-913524492003-03-25T16:23:00.000Z2003-03-25T16:23:47.640ZToday's shoeparty takes place in one of those discount shoeshops, where the shoes are all stacked up in their boxes, and the assistants don't pester you while you're trying them on. So there won't be any of those designer shoes here, oh no. Sorry Mark.
I did manage to find a pile of vegetarian shoes, where
Gert might be able to find the sandals she asked for yesterday. Possibly even in matchingkittynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3919546.post-913443712003-03-25T13:53:00.000Z2003-03-25T13:53:22.216ZCan I interest anyone in a pair of shoes?kittynoreply@blogger.com