mandragora

So, a few weeks ago I pitched a hissy fit about the (stupid) new visitor regulations introduced by the US at their airports and grandly announced that I would no longer be visiting the US.

That was before I remembered that I'd promised my mother and sister that I'd help out in taking the nephews to Disneyworld (Auntie M is the only one who not only is willing to go on all the rides but actually enjoys going on them).

And before I received the offer of a free flight to the US, with a choice of Atlanta, Boston, New York or Washington.

The free flight comes courtesy of the Daily Mail. No, of course I don't read the Daily Mail! But my mother (who is in some ways typical of women of her age and class) does. She passed on the voucher to me on the basis that I was the only member of the family likely to use it.

Thus, because I am a hypocrite, and because, hey, free flight! I now have the dilemma of where to go of the four cities on offer and when.

The only city I haven't been to of the four is Atlanta. And it must be said that there are certain attractions there, such as thermidor! and laurakaye! And I did say that I'd like to visit... This is leaving aside that Atlanta has, I gather, a very different 'feel' from other places I've been to in the US, which I'd like to experience.

Then there's Washington. I didn't have enough time to explore last time I was there. I really liked the city, which was a surprise, as I didn't think that I would, and would like to see more. And it also has LJ friends, such as smaragdgrun! and justacat!

Then there's New York. Ah, New York. Love it! I don't think I've met in person any of the LJers on my friendslist, but this would be a great opportunity. Assuming they would want to meet me, of course! It has been a while since I was last there, plus I could do the out of the way places, having seen all the major NYC tourist attractions.

Last, but not least, there's Boston. I didn't manage to see everything I wanted last time I was there, so this would be a good opportunity to see more. I would like to meet a certain curmudgeonly LJer of my online acquaintance, but I know he's shy so no joy there. But it's a lovely city in its own right.

I also have to travel between November 2004 and April 2005, so most places are likely to be a tad on the chilly side when I visit them. But that's okay, I'll just get the thermals out. In addition, because it's a free flight I may not get my choice of either destination or preferred time, so have to be flexible and list 3 choice of dates and all of the destinations in preferred order.

Incidentally, if anyone reading this can be similarly flexible, the offer states that friends can travel at 'preferential rates'. I don't know what they are, but could make enquiries if anyone is interested.

But. What do I do? Which city do I list first? Anyone want to meet up with me if I come visit your city?

Go read this letter which is copied in its glorious entirety on starfirenz's LJ. Thanks, starfirenz for the laugh, the letter made me giggle madly.

So, even HM Inland Revenue actually has a sense of humour...

Yes, it's silly but there's a (really not serious) suggestion that London should become a republic. And take back its tax revenue. London on its own would become the eighth wealthiest country in the world, and unless my calculations fail me, if we stopped subsidising the rest of the UK the revenue that would accrue back to its 8 million inhabitants would be approximately £1 million or so for each man, woman and child...

Gosh, it's becoming more attractive by the minute. *g*

Seriously, though, London's infrastructure is suffering and has for years. Diverting back a small percentage of that tax revenue to help with repairs is not a bad idea.

Thanks to seiyaharris for the heads-up. More info on the idea can be found on the Beeb's website here.

hurts. Just watched Asylum.

( Read more... )

Busted's rendition of Teenage Kicks, that is. And it's nice that a new generation of fans are getting hear a classic song, not to mention one that defined my youth. *g*

But.

The Undertones did it better.

They didn't get to No 1, but then in those ancient days of yore bands had to sell a hell of a lot more records to get to No 1 in the UK pop charts than now.

And, I have to admit to a bit of snobbish worry that when I'm blasting out my copy of the Undertones' version of "Teenage Kicks" in the car people are gonna think that I'm (whisper it) listening to Busted. Yep, it's official, I'm getting old.

And knackered. Haven't posted much lately because I've been way too tired. I've been dragging myself through the day and collapsing exhausted at night and falling into bed early. Last night I went to bed at 9.30pm, which is ridiculous. Even taking into account my 6.30am start that's still 9 hours 'rest' (despite the fact that I was exhausted it took me ages to get to sleep). But I used to get by on 6 hours during the week and perhaps 8 hours at the weekend with no problems at all.

Last Saturday I went to a friend's house for the day. It was lovely to get out of London (they live in a gorgeous Berkshire village), enjoy a good lunch and good company, not to mention a long walk. But I paid for it the next day. Sunday I was barely capable of doing anything. Staggered to Sainsbury's, did the ironing and that was pretty much it. The rest of the time I slumped listlessly on the sofa, couldn't even be bothered to watch a DVD or video. Ouch.

I've finally succumbed and booked a doctor's appointment to see if anything can be done about the chronic fatigue. It's just as well I booked the appointment, which is for Monday, as I've now got an ear infection. Oh joy. All this when I'm very busy at work and am in the midst of recruiting a paralegal team to help out on one of my cases, so I can't be ill as I've got too many people depending on me to tell them what to do until they're really up and running.

This self-pitying whinge brought to you courtesy of Mandragora Productions.

smug, sanctimonious git!

Just caught his performance regarding the detainees at Guantanimo Bay on the BBC News at Ten. I found him to be deeply repellent. It's rare that I react with such hostility to a politician (they have a job to do and I recognise that even if I don't like what they're saying). But to see that bastion of privilege and wealth crap on about how the detainees are not 'common criminals' but are terrorists who will stop at nothing to attack 'us' if they're released made my blood boil.

Where's your proof? Why haven't these people had access to legal advice and been tried in an impartial and properly appointed court of law? As a lawyer I can't begin to express how much the denial of these people's basic rights offends me.

Some of them may well be terrorists, who should be locked up in punishment for their crimes for a substantial period of time and to protect the public from their actions. But the point is that we don't know that they are because they have been denied all access to justice.

It stinks.

To quote TH White "Might does not make right". Pity that the present US administration seems to be unaware of this.

Enormous sighs of relief all round...

( Yes, it's the end! Of the WIP, anyway. )

Is there no end to this rubbish?

( Chapter 7 )

And there's no escape.

( Chapter 5 )

And there's more

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On your heads be it.

The ST:Voy story was meant to be a rewriting of the entire third season. Back when Voyager was actually still worth watching. However, I only got so far and then lost interest. Part of it was that Voyager was sucking badly at the time and it was hard to keep the enthusiasm going. In addition, I knew that if I was going to finish the story it would need some heavy rewriting.

The first part of the story, which some of you have seen before, badly needs tightening up to incorporate editorial comments. Also, Tom is rather pathetic in this and needs a spinal cord injection. And, can we say cliche alert? *g* I think you'll all know when.

Oh, and it doesn't have a title. I never got round to thinking of one.

( Those who are brave enter here )

Specially for those who care. Deeply care. Deeply, deeply care and weren't even the slightest bit amused by my fridge woes. Nope. Not even a smidgeon (and who might just happen to be called raincitygirl).

Success! The fridge is definitely degrees colder than it was when I switched it on a few hours ago. And amazingly I could tell this just a couple of hours after it was switched on. Because I'm so amazingly intuitive that it doesn't take me (obviously unlike the fridge engineer) the full eight hours to work out whether or not a fridge is, y'know, actually working...

Have moved back my stuff from the Good Neighbours and am now going to make a much delayed trip into the office to face the mountain of post that my assistant told me yesterday is waiting for me. Oh joy! But at least I now have a working fridge. Hurrah!

So, the saga of the fridge continues. The engineer finally turned up, after several calls from myself at 7.30pm last night and proceeded to 'fix' it. Or so he said. I had to leave it off overnight to defrost, because part of the problem was that the frostfree fridge had frosted up.

So, I did as I was told, left it open to defrost and switched it on at 7am this morning. I was a bit concerned that the interior fridge light, which was working yesterday, didn't come on but thought that maybe the bulb had gone, which I can easily replace.

10.30am, opened the fridge door. Hmm, no change in the ambient temperature at all. Still room temperature. Although the freezer is working. I realise it wouldn't be that cold yet, but shouldn't something have started to happen. Ring the engineer. Apparently a fridge can take up to 8 hours to get to optimum temperature, he says. Well, yes, but surely after 3 and a half hours I should be noticing something...? Mention the interior light is not working. The response is that it was last night. Like I didn't know that. He suggests I call him back in a couple of hours.

I wait for 3. 1.30 pm, fridge is still warm inside. Nothing is happening. Nothing. Nada. Niet.

Ring the engineer again, he tells me to put the fastfreeze button on. This is fastfreeze food in the freezer. Which is working. Quiet how that will miraculously make the fridge work I know not. I know it's not going to work because it is patently obvious (except, apparently, to the engineer) that there is a fault somewhere, probably of an electrical nature.

One a half hours later, cautiously open fridge door. Still nothing. Effing fridge is not working. As I knew was the case 4 and a half bleeding hours ago.

Will leave it for 30 minutes and ring engineer. Am not looking forward to being patronised again, but at least he won't be able to use the 'it takes 8 hours for a fridge to get cold' excuse on me at that point.

Wanker!

Why are we waiting, why, oh why.

So, my 10 months old fridge stopped working last week. By Friday night I finally admitted defeat. It wasn't the the fridge door had been left open, it was the fact that the damn thing wasn't working at all. Oh, and the frost free freezer was frosting up nicely.

So, first thing Saturday morning I phoned the manufacturer. To listen to an answerphone message that they were closed until Monday... So I phoned the supplier. Who put me onto the manufacturer. Who was closed until Monday.

First thing Monday morning I phoned the manufacturer. It took me 20 minutes to get through to them but to their credit they said that they'd send round an engineer the next day. And that he would arrive at any time between 8am to 6pm.

Luckily, I can work from home, which is what I've been doing all day whilst waiting for the engineer. And waiting. And waiting.

At 5pm the engineer phoned. He was about 4 miles away and would be with me soon. I'm still waiting...

I've just phoned him again, he says he's on his way. He better be!

And, oh joy, the hospital tests for my anaemia have been postponed from 17 February to 11 March. But that's okay, I've only been waiting for an appointment since October...

The client asked a couple of silks (most eminent lawyers in the land) who are both involved in his complicated and lengthy case case about the verisimilitude of the BBC's Judge John Deed (about which Mandragora has been heard to rant. At length).

Pause.

Then, "Well, the shagging on the desk in the judge's Chambers is about right."

*g*

They wish.

Prompted by the emergence of fandom_scruples.

*Absolutely* we should protect the children from anything that might sully their darling little eyes. And ears.

I mean, look at me. All those Greek myths from the age of 5 onwards. Graduating to *gasp* Georgette Heyer at around age 10 or 11. And let's not mention when I was 13 and was the purveyor of smut in school. All those Harold Robbins and Jackie Collins I had stashed away in my school bag. (And if I'd known then about slash you can be damn sure I'd have had a stash of slash ready to hand out like smarties, too).

So, take my experience as a horrible learning lesson, oh children. Because, yes, it could happen to you too. After reading copious amounts of smut whilst underage you too could grow up to become... a lawyer!

The horror, the horror...

So, one of my resolutions for 2004 is to get back to writing. In that spirit, here's the beginning of a long HL story that I started in...2002. Ouch! I don't know when it'll be finished but hopefully some day I'll be able to write 'Fin', or 'Finis', or 'The End'. Not wanting to start a flame waror anything. *g*

( Read more... )

Just in case you didn't know, London is a big city. Actually, it's not. It's a very big city.

Today I went shopping in the West End, having decided not to Do The Sales earlier in 2004. They were so busy this year that everything pretty much sold out in a few days. Today by contrast was quite slow for a Saturday. My kind of shopping experience.

So, I got the two birthday presents I went for. And a pair of trousers, two tops and a pair of boots. The latter are gorgeous, pointed-toe black suede ankle boots with silver grey embroidery on the toes and up the side. And actually they were in the sale, half price no less. Which had the effect of making them expensive as opposed to horrendously expensive.

And then it was time to set off to 'Forbidden Planet' (can't go shopping in the West End without going to FP). So, I'm wandering down Charing Cross Road when suddenly I'm engulfed in a hug and a cry of, "Happy New Year!" It was stageira who was just on her way to Borders, having just been to Forbidden Planet.

I've lived in London for many years and have never before bumped into anyone I know whilst shopping in the West End (Ikea on the North Circ near Wembley is another matter). Even more coincidentally, I'd hoped to meet up with olympia, as we were both planning on shopping in London today, but, alas, she couldn't make it. I met Stagie through Olympia. Small, small world.

So, as it was lunchtime Stagie and I sloped off to Wagamamas for a bite to eat and chat. Then it was back to the shopping. I bought books, but rationed myself to four. Restrained by my normal standards.

Prompted by today's news that apparently all visitors to the US will shortly have to submit to having their fingerprints and mugshot taken upon entry to the US's fair *cough* shores.

Oh sure, the US is hitting the poor and non-white countries first (racist? Much!). But apparently the exempted countries from this outrageous invasion of civil liberties will lose their exemption by the end of 2004.

And, if so, bye bye US. I won't be visiting you any more.

This saddens me more than I can say. I've been to the US several times from my first visit in 1981 to my most recent last October. And it now looks like it may well be my last.

No more fannish cons in the US. No more (and this saddens me deeply) visits to friends I've made there. But, please, do come to Europe, where we don't make you have you fucking fingerprints taken!

But. Jesus. To photograph and fingerprint everyone who visits the country. What is this? The Stalinist Soviet Union mark II?

ETA: I'd be pretty reluctant to visit the US even if the exempted countries remain free from the mugshots and fingerprints. Because to target all citizens of any country in this way is utterly abhorrent. Shame on you home of the 'free', shame on you. Shame on your fucking Government, anyway.

DHL are crap.

Several weeks ago, in the dim mists of time of yore I ordered the complete Professionals DVD box set from amazon.co.uk.

And lo, two days after placing said order did they cause the DVDs to be sent out. By DHL.

Who (in an abrupt change of syntax) duly delivered the items to my door. When I was at work.

Now, in the normal course of events one would think that the DHL person would put a note through my letter box. You know, something along the lines of, 'We tried to deliver a package but you were out, so please contact us at the below number to arrange for delivery'. That sort of thing.

But no. The thought that if they didn't actually tell me that they'd tried to deliver a parcel to me I might not actually know that the parcel was sitting at their Enfield depot evidently didn't cross the idiot DHL person's mind.

It was only after I contacted amazon about the delivery (working my way through their labyrythine contact pages) that the truth came to light. To their credit amazon got back to me very quickly (within 2 hours) with all the necessary info to enable me to sort out the problem. Delivery is now going to take place at my office address on Monday.

Anyway, if anyone is waiting for an amazon.co.uk parcel which qualifies for free delivery and hasn't received it even though it was shipped more than 5 working days ago, it's worth contacting amazon. Y'know, just in case DHL forgot to let you know that they have your parcel and need to arrange for delivery...

I'm sitting here admiring an absolutely beautiful bouquet of flowers that were delivered to me from counsel's chambers today. They're of a seasonal nature, all white and green and tastefully partly sprayed in glitter. It's not just a bouquet, it's a work of art.

Sadly, it's a grovel bouquet, to apologise for counsel's chambers screwing up in getting some papers to leading counsel for a court hearing on a Monday morning. As a result of their cock-up I had to make a special trip into the office on a Sunday to sort out a new set of papers. I frequently end up working at the weekends, it's part of the job. However, to end up having to work due to someone else's neglect (as opposed to unexpected developments in the case, or sheer weight of work) is something else again. Hence the bouquet. It smells lovely, too.

Office party tonight. I shall go along later, too much work to do to knock off at 5.30pm. Gotta work Saturday, too. Why yes, this is the sound of Mandragora whinging. But I do it so well, sez I.