mandragora

But, oh, it's lovely to see Bush back down on the steel tariffs. Listening to the self-aggrandising crap he spouted was laughable, because he knows and we know that he was beaten by the EU.

Take that, Bush. So, you impose an illegal steel tariff with your usual 'fuck you, we rule the world and the rest of you can just lump it'. But. It's an election year and the rest of the world knows how to hit you where it hurts. We'll impose tariffs of our own in return. Only we won't put it on steel, no, we'll impose tariffs on, oh, I don't know, maybe orange growers in Florida, for example. Because if you don't win Florida then you probably won't win the Presidential election...

What's interesting is that, sans the bad language, this is pretty much how the BBC, who strives to at least appear to be reasonably impartial has just explained the Bush back down. Complete with comments about Bush's 'we rule the world' attitude. Gosh, he really is unpopular everywhere except (parts of) the US, isn't he.

ETA: yes, the illegal steel tariff that Bush slapped on to protect American steel is something I feel strongly about. It's not just that tariffs are an incredibly bad idea in any event but that's my father's pension you're mucking around with, you cretin. My father worked in the steel industry all his life and saw the industry shrink drastically during that time. If it shrinks any more, his pension could met away. If that's due to market forces that's one thing, but being due to the actions of a reactionary, right-wing, privileged spoilt brat of a US president is quite another.

There was much bitching and moaning in the House of Mandragora when temaris' DVDs of Due South Seasons 1 and 2 arrived at Chez Tem on Friday. 'Cos I'd ordered them at around the same time she had, earlier even, but mine hadn't arrived.

Turned out that they had, and I suspect that they were shipped in the same packet from Canada. Wonder what the person checking the packing thought about two dS season 1 and 2 DVDs going to the UK. They probably didn't realise that the two addresses are geographically close, though *g*.

Unfortunately for me, the Post Office/Consignia/Royal Mail (pick whatever name they're going by this week) didn't get round to attempting to deliver the parcel to my part of London until Friday afternoon. When I was at work. And the parcel was too big to go through the letter box. So, they left a note instead, asking me to go to the local sorting office to pick up the parcel. Which I didn't get to see until I was on the way out of the house on Saturday to go the hairdressers. The result was that by the time I got out of the hairdressers the sorting office was closed (closes at 12 noon on a Saturday). (Hair is looking a lot better than it was, BTW.)

I've now picked the parcel up. When I've got no time to watch the DVDs. Sigh.

I did think it might be my parcel from amazon.co.uk, which I was promised within 3 to 5 working days. That would be two weeks ago... Looks like I've got the same problem as stageira with amazon.co.uk. Or maybe it's the UK postal service.

In other news I have an ear infection. Foolishly I waited to go to the doctor's a week after the first symptoms, consisting of shooting pains up one side of my head, appeared. I'm now on antibiotics - again - which should clear it up in due course but the pain is particularly bad today. Have just gulped down some paracetamol in the hope this will lessen the pain.

And, I faxed a form requesting appointment for tests for the cause of my anaemia about 3 weeks ago. Have just received message from the hospital saying that they can't read the form properly and can I post it... *would bang head against wall, except that, well, ear infection*

I am so tired of being tired. And sick. I'm beginning to forget what it felt like being healthy.

Now back to drafting a proof of evidence.

Paul Bettany and Russel Crowe were on 'Jonathan Ross' tonight promoting 'Master and Commander'.

Bettany was in fine form, alluding to the sexual chemistry between him and Crowe in the film, and commenting that 'it was easier second time around' (he co-starred with Crowe in 'A Beautiful Mind'). Lots of jokes about seamen, and how the voyage lasted a loooooooong time. And then he commented about the sex scene with the goat...

Good smutty fun.

Master Bates made an appearance when Crowe was on, as well.

Must go see movie, now it's finally opened in the UK. Crowe commented that he was really looking forward to it opening in Britain, because every British person who went to see it would come out feeling inches taller. As opposed to the Old Enemy, I suppose...(cue obligatory English/French joke. Because the Scots, at least, were never really enemies of France).

and is somewhere I've visited several times, because I love it so much - the sights, the history, the people. I doubt that the family friends who live there and whose hospitality I've enjoyed are physically hurt. But their livelihood is likely to be affected by the recent bombings.

It sounds as if the British Consul-General is dead. If it was the Kurds I don't know what I'd be feeling right now. But I doubt very much that the Kurds would deliberately target British interests in Istanbul. It looks as though Al-Quaeda has struck again.

I mourn for Istanbul.

It's been over forty years since the Welsh football team qualified for a major championship. Tonight they're playing Russia, at home. And, they actually have a chance of, well, not losing. And thus qualifying for the European cup.

So, I'm cheering them on. After hearing the singing just before the match I'm feeling all tingly and my Welsh-blood is stirring.

Hmm, I can't believe I wrote that. *g*

I'm wishing good luck to Scotland, too. But tonight my hopes are with Wales. Because, over forty years.

I'm watching Top of the Pops for the first time in...I don't how long, years, probably. Actually, it's more accurate to say that I can't be bothered to turn over the channel and ToTP is just on.

And I caught one of the latest British boy bands, called Phixx (who have come about as a result of a TV programme called 'Popstars: the Rivals'). So, totally manufactured, like all boybands come to that. But gosh, they're pretty.

The look is post-apocalyptic distressed, all (artfully) spiky hair, artistic tattoos and strategically ripped clothing. Song was called something like 'Hold Onto Me' and featured five (one for each band member, of course) gorgeous female doms adorned with PVC miniskirts, chains and whips.

So, I was quite enjoying the scenery (song was crap, but, really, who cares) when, whoa! Three of the doms ripped off their boys' t-shirts exposing really rather lovely and well-muscled chests. All of the boys were then wrapped in chains, and dragged backwards and chained to the doms' chairs.

All I can say is that the audience appeared to be enjoying it. I was too. Why weren't boybands like that in my day?

Oh yeah, Shane Ritchie (WTF!) has just come on and sung a 'Wham' song. Guess most of the audience are too young to remember the Wham boys singing the original with shuttlecocks stuffed down their shorts... Ah, happy memories.

So, I've come back from Z-con with a ridiculously large amount of fridge magnets, courtesy of the favourable exchange rate at present. I kept on thinking to myself 'bargain, bargain' at the prices. And then I thought of the price that British industry is paying at lack of competitive exports (penalty of growing up with a father whose business was exporting goods all over the world). But yes, the magnets are very pretty. Still, I can't help wondering what my cleaner thought of them when she came round to do the weekly clean today. *g*

The largest contingent are Due South, but I have rather a lot of Smallville, plus a lovely couple of Jack 'n Will. Then there are the Firefly magnets (all of them featuring Cap'n Mal, funnily enough...), plus one of Josh Lyman (love that Josh). They go nicely with my existing Bodie 'n Doyle and Duncan 'n Methos magnets. Gosh, I love pretty men. 'Cos I'm that shallow.

I only picked up a couple of zines at Z-con, both Pros. I enjoyed them both, although I couldn't help wishing that the Rosemary Callahan zine had used the services of a Brit-editor. All the gottens kept on throwing me out of the rhythm of the story - there's no way Bodie or Doyle would say 'gotten'. Other than the Americanisms, though, it was a good read, especially considering that I'm not a huge h/c fan and the zine was h/c based. It also has a lovely Lovett cover. And no, I wasn't there when the Lovett picture at the auction sold for $3,000 (was sick in bed in the hotel room at the time), but I heard about it.

The fact that any fannish item sold for that much money highlighted the difference between an American and British con for me. I can't imagine any item of that nature ever selling for that type of money at a British con. I remember being gobsmacked at reading how much items auctioned off for charity at US Highlander cons raised compared to the prices that similar items fetched at UK cons. Wonder why that is - something to do with the 'good value for money' ethos that (used to be) drummed into the head of every British person I knew, I wonder.

As for the con itself, I don't propose to do a full con report as other people have already done it and very well too. ( However, I do have a few thoughts. )

Am back from Z-con and Chicago, but somewhere along the line I picked up some horrible bug that I have had for a week (a week!) now and that just Will Not Go Away. I have completely lost my voice and whilst some may say that is a good thing *eyes certain 'friends' suspiciously* with work looming on Monday this is not good. Ditto the coughing fits, lack of energy and general yuckiness.

So, yes, I am feeling pretty damn miserable. I'll try and post a (short) con report, 'cos honestly I don't think I can better those I've read, plus my impressions of Chicago, which to sum up are very positive, despite not being up to as much sightseeing as I'd've wished - thank God that Tem was in relaxed mode re seeing the sights. In short, Chicago is now on my list of favourite US cities.

Best thing about the con - seeing so many friends again and hopefully making new ones. That was so much fun, despite me retiring to bed early at every opportunity.

I did a bit (um, a bit by my usual standards) of shopping in Chicago and bought a fair amount (typical British understatement) of DVDs. As a result I'm planning to get rid of several videos in PAL format, as follows:

All of season 1 of Highlander (now have both seasons 1 and 2 on DVD - whoo hoo!).
Sorority Boys
The Sixth Sense

Sooo, does anyone want them? Going free to a good home. If you're in London we should be able to arrange to meet up and I'll hand them over, otherwise please can you reimburse me for postage.

I'm also planning to buy the entire Professionals ouvre on DVD and so will have an entire set of Pros vids to give away in due course, so LMK if anyone would like those, as well.

Forbidden Planet has moved. I repeat, Forbidden Planet has moved. Went to visit FP tonight and arrived at the usual place to discover that it is now an 'annex' which sells comics only and nothing else. A brand spanking new 'Megastore' has opened a few minutes walk away, on Shaftesbury Avenue. And gosh, is it ever shiny, bright and new. No more dimly lit basement, now a pair of sunglasses would not go amis when entering the store. Which is big. Much bigger than the old one, although I think the description 'megastore' compared with, say the Virgin Megastore on Oxford Street may be a tad generous. But still, more room has gotta be a Good Thing. More room for books and DVDs, and comics, and magazines and videos and did I mention books?

I'm telling everyone now that the new store is on Shaftesbury Avenue because the map FP has produced can only have been drawn by a demented monkey on crack. I mean, I know that area but I could not work out from the map where the damn store was. So, to save anyone else from wandering around (in the pouring rain in my case) the new Forbidden Planet is towards the end of Shaftesbury Avenue as you walk eastbound towards Holborn, on the left-hand side of the road. So, if you're walking down Charing Cross Road towards Leicester Square then turn left down Shaftesbury Avenue from Cambridge Circus.

Got that everyone?

Am feeling all nostalgic now 'cos when I first moved to London FP was a tiny little shop just off Charing Cross Road. The new megastore is its third incarnation. So, a definite success story and perhaps indicative of the way that SF and fantasy culture has gained increasing acceptance in recent years.

And, oooh yeah, the final Tiger and Del novel by Jennifer Roberson is finally out in paperback. *Happy sigh*

Flight is booked, so am now committed.

So looking forward to seeing various people who I know are going.

Damn you! *glares at certain people on her friends-page* Because of you I've spent way too much time reading various RPS stories recently. And very good they are too.

Because those damned RPSers have recced some of the bloody creme de la creme, haven't they? So of course they're good.

*glares*

Yes, I blame you julad with your damnable links to various well-written stories. And then uschickens compounded the offence by emailing me with a copy of a story that is no longer available on the net, not to mention another bleeding link.

Not only have I found myself searching out Nsync (and yes, I do know that I'm spelling it wrong) websites to look at pictures of the band so I can work out which is which but I also found myself idly musing what their music sounds like. Oh, I know I'll have heard their records, but I've never actually paid attention to them so don't consciously know what they sound like. I thought to myself for one moment, wonder if I should go and search out the music, too. And then I caught myself, because, dude (to use a word commonly found in Nsync stories *g*), I mean boybands. Really not my thing.

However, I think I can understand better why so many people fell so hard and so fast for the fandom. But I'm still bewildered at the lack of discretion shown in publishing the stories. Maybe it's the lawyer in me, but if I wrote RPS I'd be password protecting any website containing RPS stories like mad.

On the plus side, when I was in Sainsbury's earlier today looking to see if there was any Nsync CDs on sale so I could see if I recognised any of the song titles (for the record there were none although there were lots of other boyband CDs on offer. I conjecture that this means that Nsync aren't as big in the UK as in the US) I came across a copy of The Undertones Greatest Hits. And so I pounced. Because. The Undertones, best band of the 1980s that never made it big. Ah, the memories.

I occasionally get dragged along to 80's music club type affairs and watch the DJ spinning record after record with a bored look on their faces. Until I go up and ask them if they've got any Undertones. I have never yet failed to see their face light up and moments later Teenage Kicks (it always seems to be Teenage Kicks) is blasting out. And if the dance floor wasn't packed before, it is then. Undertones, never fails.

Must go and play the CD.

So, I was 'volunteered' to be a panelist on the RPS panel at the forthcoming 'Connotations' con. I think that I was dragooned, er suggested on the basis that I should be able to remain calm and reasoned, as I argue for a living.

Well, either that, or the con organisers *looks suspiciously temaris' and moonletttuce's way* wanted someone who, um, isn't shy in making her opinions known and hoped for fireworks.

*g*

Anyhow, I'm representing the 'anti' position on the panel, with someone who is into RPS (naturally) representing the converse.

I don't read RPS myself because, actors/musicians and their lives? Yawn. They bore me, frankly. But then I've never done the star-struck teenybopper thing. When my contemporaries were into boybands I was into *cough* Mr Chekov of Star Trek *cough*. So, it's not surprising that RPS holds pretty much zero attraction for me.

But so do loads of fictional people fandoms. Thank God. Otherwise I'd never sleep.

I've had some interesting conversations on the subject of RPS with those people who are into it. Some RPSers have said that popslash, for example, 'feels' different to them from actorslash, on the basis that boybands are a manufactured product etc. Which seems to suggest that some RPSers have (ethical?) problems with actorslash but not with popslash.

So, I'm asking for help from those of you who are into RPS, do you/did you have any ethical concerns when you first got into RPS and, if so, how did you 'get over'/reconcile yourself to those concerns?

An argument often put forward by anti-RPSers is that RPS could possibly cause distress to those people who are the subject of it. I gather that some individuals who are RPS subjects have stated that they don't mind it in which case, fair enough. Although this presumably doesn't take account of stories in which their nearest and dearest also feature, and sometimes in a negative light. So I understand, but as I don't read RPS I'm quite happy to be corrected if this isn't (sometimes) the case. However, I have read comments by RPSers to the effect that if they knew that any of the people featured by them in their stories objected to RPS they would take their stories down in an instant.

Which is interesting to me, because I'm pretty sure that in an analogous situation I wouldn't behave similarly. Suppose that TPTB of 'Highlander' for example went on record as saying that they disapproved of all fanfiction, especially slash as it degrades the characters and their (copyrighted) universe etc. Would I take down my (sole) Highlander story? Would I hell!

Leaving aside the copyright issue (my personal view is that I'm probably not breaking copyright by writing fanfiction iae) I wouldn't take down my story. I don't see that my fanfiction affects TPTB's ability to make money off the Highlander product in any way, so I'm not hurting them. There is a long, long tradition of building upon the creations of others for one's own enjoyment. Many myths come into that category, myths that re-date copyright by several millennia. Copyright came into existence for a good reason, to allow artists to make a living. But provided that they can still make that living once they've released their creation for the enjoyment of the public then to a certain extent they lose 'control' of that creation, on the basis that if it's sufficiently inspiring then other people are going to want to play in their sandbox. If they get their feelings hurt by that, well, 'Deal with it', say I.

Certainly many FPSers know that TPTB in their fandom have a hostile attitude towards fanfiction, but it hasn't stopped them from writing it.

And something of the same argument can be made about RPS. Boyband members know that they are going to be the subject of millions of teenage fantasies. The fact that they might also be the subject of fantasies by somewhat older women who don't want to marry-them-and-have-their-babies-when-they-grow-up (as well as some teenagers of similar mind) but would rather fantasise about them and their fellow band members in all sorts of interesting scenarios may come as something of a surprise, but is it that much different from those '[insert band member of choice] and me' fantasies out there?

And actors similarly know that they're going to be the subject of many a fantasy. Goes with the job. So long as it's not 'in their face' then what's the harm? Of course, the question then arises of what's 'in your face'. I tend to think that when it comes to real person stories, and far more so than with fictional person stories, discretion is in order.

But leaving that aside, the fact is that some arguments used against RPS can also be applied against FPS. Certainly, there are at least some blurred lines out there. For example, some who object to RPS don't have any problem with stories in which historical personages are featured, even when this includes speculation on their sex lives. And yet, there is no doubt that the concept of RPS squicks some at a very basic level in a way that FPS doesn't. Even though some 'kinks' such as mpreg, bdsm, rapefic for example, are squicks to some readers they don't seem to induce the same level of revulsion that RPS induces in some people.

As for me, the more I learn, the more I think 'shades of grey'.

So, please, comments. Help me formulate my thoughts so that I'm aware of the possible arguments out there and can do justice to them all in a reasoned way at the panel.

They lied!

So, London has just experienced a mini-version of the great US/Canada power blackout. There was an interruption to the National Grid and the lights went out...over part of London, anyway. Was weird. Where I work in the City power was uninterrupted but buildings 5 minutes walk away were plunged into darkness.

As was the Tube and the trains. Pretty much the whole of London's public transport system ceased to work. During rush-hour. When it was pissing (and I mean *pissing*) down with rain. First I knew about the problem was just as I was on my way out of the office at 7pm, only to meet colleagues coming back to impart the glad tidings. All tube and train stations in the City were shut.

Gulp.

Tried the public transport websites. They were crap, but the Beeb imparted some info. I decided to walk towards Moorgate (15 minutes walk away) to see whether by some miracle the overground train was working. Not that I could actually get the overground all the way home due to a severe fire on a railway bridge on Tuesday that had produced a similar nightmare journey home. I'm in court tomorrow, so I was dragging a trolley full of papers behind me as I splashed up the street. Thankfully I had a brolly. Lots of people didn't...

The queues for the buses were *frightening*. Each was literally hundreds of people long. Not to mention that as I never really use the buses I had no idea whether any of them actually went anywhere near where I live (about 8 miles away). I was pondering glumly how long it would take me to actually get onto a bus as I neared Moorgate (could tell the station was not open) when I had a stroke of luck.

A (packed) bus came along destined for 'Wood Green'. Yes, only a couple of miles from where I live. And surely I could pick up another bus from there. But, damn, I wasn't at the bus stop so surely it wasn't going to--

Woo hoo! A chap just in front of me flashed his London Transport travel pass at the driver as the bus crawled up the street and it actually stopped and opened its doors! The chap and I jumped on (squeezed on is perhaps more accurate). The bus stopped a bit further up the road. The driver let a couple of passengers out but didn't let anyone on, fearing a mass stampede by the poor drenched beleaguered bastards at the bus stop.

The Blitz/Dunkirk spirit was alive and well on the bus. We wee all cheerful because we were:
(a) out of the rain
(b) actually travelling somewhere. Slowly.

I lent my mobile to make a phone call to a woman whose battery had run out, someone else was handing round sweeties, people were actually (gasp!) chatting to one another and volunteering information as to the best route to get home, as many people had decided to get on the first available bus that was going in vaguely the right direction.

Eventually, the bus reached its destination. End of the line. Oh shit! Buses to where I need to go were extremely thin on the ground. Looks like walking was the only option. Now normally a couple of miles walk is no problem at all, even in the pouring rain and dragging a document trolley behind me. Trouble is, as a result of the train-fire on Tuesday I ended up walking a couple of miles that day as well, in unsuitable shoes.

My feet are *wrecked*. Multiple raw blisters.

But. I had no choice. I started walking and noted grimly just when my feet started to bleed. And then, second bit of luck. A taxi - and honest-to-God taxi! Available for hire! Yes!

the taxi-driver didn't actually know anything about the powercuts, as she'd only just started her shift. She was rubbing her hands in glee at the thought of all those fares, though. *g*

Finally staggered through the door at 9.15pm. Two and a quarter hours to travel 8 miles. Now, that's progress.

And my office is on the fourth floor (fifth floor in US parlance). Today I was in the office. All day. Not that I'm bitter or anything.

When I arrived this morning at about 9.30am I dashed to open all the windows and put on the fan. But, alas, there was no breeze.

Later, as I toiled over my hot, hot, hot computer I realised that having the fan on accomplished precisely nothing. I swear, the air as it wafted past was so hot it felt like it came from a fan heater. The air in the City was acting like a sort of giant super conductor. All this when the City was pretty empty as well - God alone knows how it would have been on a working day.

Left the office around 5.30pm bearing an unfortunate resemblance to a little wet rag. Reached the tube station, girded my loins (figuratively), took a deep breath and descended...

Into cooler air!

See, usually the air in the tube is hotter than above ground, but today it was so hot that it was actually cooler inside the tube than above-ground. Weird. Freaked me out a little.

Today is officially Britain's hottest ever day since records began, 350 years ago, And where was the hottest place? London. And where is the hottest place in London? The City. And where did Mandragora spend Britain's hottest ever day? Yep, in the bleeding hottest place in the country.

On the plus side, saw POTC in a lovely air-conditioned cinema yesterday and thoroughly enjoyed. A repeat viewing is on order.

No real spoilers, except to say that I wasn't thinking slash so much as threesome...

No, I really am. Why, just in the last 2 days alone I've won two separate lotteries, one for $500,000 and the other for $700,000! Gosh, I'm now a dollar millionaire. Okay, not yet a millionaire by British standards, not with the present exchange rate, but it's just a matter of time, right? What with all these wins can another be far away?

There's only one problem.

I really can't remember entering either of these lotteries. Or, well, any lottery at all. I don't even do the National Lottery, aka 'Lotto', except very occasionally when I'm feeling charitable.

But, hey, free money, right? So, scanning the email notifications of my winnings. Hmm, one of them is apparently sponsored by Microsoft. 'Cos, the mighty corporation is known for its warm and generous personality... I'm sure the fact that Microsoft is sponsoring a lottery will be splashed all over its website. Hang on, I'll just go take a look.

Um, no.

Okay, but what about the other lottery? Well, there's a huge prize fund. Doesn't say who the sponsor is, though. Oh, but, hang on a minute. To claim I need to contact - in both cases - companies based in Holland. Apparently the money is 'sitting in a bank in London' in my name. But how do they know what that is? 'Cos in both cases they've written to me at the mandragora email address?

And how do I claim anyway? Oh I see, I have to give them details of my bank account. Ooooh, and I mustn't let anyone else know or else I'll be disqualified...

Ooops!

Do you think--?

Could it be--?

Oh God. Could it possibly be *gasp* a scam? Does this mean I haven't won a total of $1.2m after all...?

Is the Pope Polish?

Wonder how many suckers are gonna fall for this one?

I've obviously got onto some spam list as I've also been continously spammed recently by various variants of the notorious Nigerian help-me-get-several-million-dollars-out-of-an-account emails. Variants include some coming from Sierra Leone (more topical?), plus one which amused me the dependents of a deceased Nigerian lawyer who worked for one of the Shell subsidiaries in Nigeria. Thing is, one of my closest friends is a Shell lawyer who has worked on several major projects in Nigeria (her stories make fascinating anecdotes). Thoughts that went through my head on reading the email is that the perpetrators really don't know how much lawyers who work for Shell earn (the pay is good, but not that good) and it will be worth sending my friend the email to see if Shell might like to expend a bit of energy in tracking the perpetrators down. They've got the resources and would be doing the rest of us a favour.

Other things: HAPPY BIRTHDAY alsoa

And, this afternoon off to see pirate-slash. Yay!

Before, that. Work. Again.

Last week was luverly. Especially seeing Maz, T'lyr and whitecrow again. And alsoa of course. Goes without saying.

But it's been ages since I saw whitecrow, T'lyr and Mazzy. Far too long. Had the pleasure of whitecrow and alsoa's company again on Friday night, round at my place where there was (yet more) Firefly pimping. And another one bites the dust. Whitecrow was converted and will be buying the DVD when it comes out. I had in mind that this is due to take place in October but alsoa thinks its December. Rats!

Bought SXF magazine on Saturday and read a review of Firefly. The salient points were that Firefly was doomed from the beginning, that an anti-establishment show wouldn't wear well in the US in the present political climate. It's a point, although I tend to suspect that the lack of marketing and screwing around with the running order probably contributed more to the show's tragic demise.

Clearly SXF recognises quality when it sees it, though, referring to Firefly as:

'without a doubt the best thing to have hit SF TV for ages

and

Firefly was SF for adults.

That's it exactly. SXF acknowledges the strength of characterisation, the wit, the humour and calls it Joss Whedon's finest achievement.

Tomorrow night it's the last ever episode.

Sob.

Whitecrow stayed at my place on Friday night leading to some wistful reminiscing and wishing that smaragdgrun was here. Last time I had whitecrow to stay, Smara was here too. Wish you were here, Smara!

And, oh yeah, am officially World's Crappiest Hostess - managed to have no milk and no bread in to feed the poor, starving whitecrow for breakfast. She was forced to make do with *ahem* a rice cake...

Bought a few books on Saturday and now face the agonising choice of what to read next. Serendipitously I just finished The Catch Trap by Marion Zimmer Bradley, which is a gay novel set in the world of the circus, specifically the flying acts, in 1940s and 1950s America. It's a pretty good novel, IMO, and my gratitude to uschickens for donating it to the Brit-girlies before she (alas) departed for home.

So, the question now is do I read the latest Michelle West novel in the Sun Sword series? This is precisely the type of fantasy I like best, multi-layered, intricately woven, well characterised and with some fascinating world building.

Or do I go for the Hidden Warrior by Lynn Flewelling, which is guaranteed to be both well written and slashy as hell. I could follow the exploits of boy-Tobin who-everyone-thinks-is-a-girl, with all the complications that flow from that.

Possibly I should read Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner, in preparation for the sort-of-sequel, which has recently been published. Definitely slashy, but most importantly it's meant to be a good read.

Then there's an Andre Norton novel, three novels published as one, called Warlock. Norton's Witchworld series was one of my favourite reads in my formative years. Still remains a favourite. And this one has witches and slavery and telepathy. Yum.

Finally (but not least) there's another instalment in Kate Elliott's Crown of Stars series. Another fine fantasy series and if I don't like it quite as much as her Jaran series this still remains a favourite.

Decisions, decisions.

Of course, this means that I'll be putting off (yet again) reading Order of the Phoenix, which alsoa kindly lent to me. *looks guiltily alsoa's way*

Wonder if I'm the last person of a fannish bent who intends to read OotP but hasn't actually yet done so...

Off to bed to try to sleep in the exceptionally hot weather (by British standards). The talk is of breaking records. Oh, joy!

I had planned to do some work this weekend but it's now 8.45pm on Sunday evening and work has eluded me. Yes, I have masses of work to do, but I'm going to have masses to do tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that etc. Until January 2004.

Faced with that and the fact that I've got a couple of weeks until the next deadline I haven't done that dictation I brought home with me. The dictation machine is looking at my accusingly as I type. Together with the file. Oh well, no doubt my secretary will thank me tomorrow for not walking in first thing Monday morning to several tapes worth of typing.

So, not only did I not do any work but I went shopping too. Self-restraint out the window. I braved Oxford Street in the heat yesterday (no, I don't think that insanity is endemic in the family. Well, we don't mention Great-uncle Jim and Cousin Neil. Much). Now the sensible thing to do if you're shopping in the world's busiest shopping street is get there early and get out early. So I got there for midday. Ahem, yes, well.

I've got a couple of friend's birthday's coming up. They were born 30 minutes and 60 miles apart. Their personalities are...remarkably dissimilar. Thus suggesting that astrology is bunk. So, shopping for birthday presents called.

And the final score was:
One trouser suit (Next - reasonably priced). Black (naturally, so can be worn at court).

One jacket (Designer. Reasonably priced? Er, not so much) Colour, lilac. Will go very well with the four pairs of lilac shoes I've got. And thank God I thought the matching
skirt was hideous, so I was spared having to buy that as well.

One pair of black high heeled stiletto mules (because the 5 other pairs of black mules I've got just aren't enough. Hey, they were on sale. And they have *fabulous* heels).

And, one, two, three...um, ten new tops. But I did resist the lilac blouse I was tempted by. Am still tempted by. May go out and purchase some time. Possibly tomorrow (unfortunately, shop has a branch in the City).

Birthday presents. Nil.

Ooops!

It was...okay. For a ball consisting of a bunch of lawyers. Wore some very pretty jewellery, courtesy of alsoa, who dashed round on Tuesday evening on a Mission of Mercy. Thing is, to go with the shoes and the evening coat I really needed gold jewellery and I don't possess any. At all. I tend to wear silver or white gold, as I think the colour suits my skin-tone more. But silver simply Would Not Do for this particular outfit.

Looks like I successfully pimped Alsoa vis a vis Firefly. Love, love, love Firefly. Am gutted it was cancelled. Now to pimp others. Hmm, who shall I start with... Looks temaris's way.

Back to the ball. Must admit was depressed by how fat I looked in my long black sheath dress. Sigh. Hate what the advancing years are doing to my waistline. It gets harder and harder to keep the weight off. Bugger!

But the ball, as these things go, wasn't too bad. The food was edible (and I've been to several corporate shindigs where it wasn't), with a decent menu and was served quickly. Yes, all of that should happen at one of London's top hotels but it certainly isn't guaranteed.

The speeches were actually amusing, particularly the one by a member of Her Majesty's esteemed judiciary, who had quite obviously cut quite a figure when he was at the bar. Definitely a piss artist. Lots of black humour abounded. For example, the judge had been junior counsel to Donald Neilson AKA the Black Panther, who was convicted of the kidnap and murder of heiress Lesley Whittle, together with 4 other murders. The case was one of the cause celebres of the 1970s. Neilson was sentenced to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. He was 40 years old at the time. The judge, together with leading counsel, who was One of the Characters at the Bar, went to visit their client in the cells after the judge had sentenced him.

"Never mind, Donald," leading counsel said, clapping a friendly hand on Neilson's shoulder, "after all, life begins at 40."

Ahem. And yes, Neilson is still inside and is expected to die in prison, subject to any appeal under the Human Rights Act, of course...

Wimped out fairly early, as I knew I'd be working both today and tomorrow. Have too much work to do. Which is bloody annoying. Want to write fanfic. No time. However, am shortly off to a barbecue in sunny Surbiton. Hope the North Circ's okay...

And don't think that I can be bothered to go out and buy it, either. I don't like carting a hardback book around, because it weighs too much to easily carry around and I'm usually weighed down with things like legal papers, which are more than heavy enough in and of themselves. Of course, I always have a book on me. But in paperback.

And no, I can't spend the weekend reading it. I've got things I must do, including reading yet more of a seemingly unending stream of legal papers. Spent all week in court so am way behind on the paperwork, plus being involved in a five-day hearing is knackering. jacquez, this is why I haven't got back to you yet re Chapter 2 yet, for which my apologies. I will get back to you over the weekend, I promise.

It looks like I'm one of the few people who is largely unmoved by the Potter-love. Don't get me wrong, I like the books and enjoyed reading them. Ditto watching the movie-versions. And I have a soft spot for Harry/Draco (but then the sexual tension between not-friends is a kink of mine). But I'm not salivating over the prospect of reading Order of the Phoenix like I would be over a new Guy Gabriel Kay or CJ Cherryh novel, for example.

That said, spoiler whore though I am, I am curious about whether/who dies. But I'm relying on some of my friends (looks alsoa's way) to tell me.

Off to read some legal papers.

So, the Firefly love continues. I adored this week's episode, loved the way it played with the cliches with a nod and a wink.

Mal fought a duel for Inara's 'honour', in spite of her protests, against the evil, but hot, aristocrat. Such fun.

Kaylee got to dress up like a wedding cake, and although the ruffles had me wincing on the good taste stakes, she did indeed look 'adorable'.

Loved the plan the crew had to break out and rescue Mal. They were all talk and no action. Giggle.

Why did they cancel it? Why?