the fog

I am hoping it is not going to snow at all. I hate snow - I mean, it looks pretty, it's fun, but it's fucking nasty to walk on, bloody cold, and gets everywhere. I'm such a grump with the cold.

The grump is not being helped today by the raging headache currently occupying most of my skull. It appears to be pushing my brain out, because I spent most of the day in a complete fog. Although that may have been caused by the tramadol I was prescribed - which I'm not sure about; I think the headache is also a result of the tramadol. I'm genuinely not sure if a painkiller that gives me a splitting headache and massive brainfog is going to be worth not having a sore back - I take painkillers so I can function, not so that I can spend the day sitting on the sofa in a heap going "whaa?" I might keep them for the really bad days, of the sort where I wouldn't be trying to go anywhere anyway.

I've finished my first essay for uni, or at least I've reached the point where I've run out of sensible things to say. I'm not happy with it (when am I ever?) and I don't really want to hand it in, but the deadline is tomorrow, I don't know what else to say, and I hope that it gets a halfway decent mark. Either way, I get plenty of feedback before I have to write the next essay - for which I need to choose both a movement and a gender/sexuality theorist to interrogate it with - and I'm sort-of looking forward to that. It'll be interesting at least. I just need to ask my tutor if we can meet somewhere easier to access, as his office is up so many flights of stairs I'm pretty much ruined for the rest of the day.

Talking of stairs - dear people who own/run large buildings: you have a lift. Please ensure it is accessible to those of us with disabilities that neccessitate the use of a lift. Thanks. (Dear boss and fellow employee: thank you for running all over the building to find the lift and get it to take me up to the office, you guys rock so very much).

Have some pictures from a trip to the British Museum (incidentally: my former primary school teacher is awesome. We got carted all over the museum to look at a tiny wee cup with men shagging on it; clearly, she has had a great influence on me).

my camera lives!

I gave up searching the house, and bought a new camera cable last week - no doubt the old one will now appear, but last night I finally got around to uploading the photos that had been waiting since september.

Crystal Palace:

Crochet:

Boy Wonder's Graduation:

Frankie & The Heartstrings at the Lexington

And London with Patience's family and Lauren. I still haven't got the ovaries to write about Owen's funeral. It happened, it was lovely and terrible all at the same time. The urge to hug Patience & his family repeatedly has still not subsided. But we went into London and there was sightseeing and doc martens and tattoos and I hope it helped for a little while. I took photos, until I decided it was raining too much.

***

I have an urge, at the moment, to embroider. I think I shall. I want it to say something like "rational secular humanism condones this mess" but I don't want to cross-stitch, which is my usual medium for words. I want to do something more arty.

I should write my essay, do my job stuff, and do the household budget though. And the washing up too.

Indigo says "rrrrraaaaargh scawy monstar!"

Haircut, Haircut, Wedding.

This is G, who I moved in with because I love. This is G shortly before moving.

G decided that the hairy hairy hippy look was no longer for him - he wanted a haircut. I threatened to kick him out if the beard went, so it was agreed that he would have a haircut. He lost his nerve, I made the fatal mistake of saying I was all psyched up and he couldn't do this now. So he did it.

Scary.

I then decided that if he was going all drastic on me, I would also get my hair cut and go back to my pink, which I'd been missing terribly. Particularly in time for my oldest and dearest friend's wedding.

I modified my graduation dress - namely by lopping off the sleeves and shoulders, and turning it into a halter neck. Then, what with autumn suddenly arriving and it being a church affair, I got a cardigan. Et Voila -

So off G and I toddled to deepest Surrey, and I did a reading while trying not to cry (I sobbed through the vows. I'm a massive wet blanket at weddings, and Ellie's was particularly special). Apparently it was decently done. Simon sang during the signing, and I cried again. Ellie looked stunning and Rich just beamed.

Then we pottered off to the reception, where there was pimms and silly games and then speeches were made by the father of the bride, the best man, and the groom. Rich's speech made me cry (it made Ellie cry too, and Melie had a sniffle as well; I don't know about the rest of the people).

There was lots of food after the speeches, and lots of drink, and we all got thrown out into the sunshine to drink more while the people who worked at the venue tidied up for the disco.

The disco was brilliant. Possibly because we were all hammered. Rich and Ellie danced, and it was beautiful - then Rich danced with his mum, and Ellie with the best man and then her brother, and everyone else joined in. At some point - my grasp of time becomes hazy after the dancing started, but it was definitely before we danced the macarena, Ellie threw her bouquet and Melie caught it (and we were all very excited).

Did I mention the bad dancing?

Sayaka, Avalon, G and I caught a taxi and the last train home, which tied things off nicely.

Didn't G and I scrub up nicely?

Fibro, Yarn, Kent... weekend as usual then

This morning, after getting up very early, and meeting the lovely Ryn at the station - she brought me pancakes. They were quite possibly the best pancakes in pancake history - we headed down to sunny Kent to meet with the downright adorable Patience and everybody's favourite Metalouise. It was very sunny, and we sat in the beer garden of Patience's local and knitted (well, they knitted, I crocheted, with my gorgeous yarn from Planetariumfish). Look at this yarn. Is it not fucking gorgeous? I'm making it into a slightly lacy cowl, and possibly some fingerless gloves. I don't normally wear limey green shades, because I'm scared of them, but this was just too pretty - I like the bruisey flashes of deep red and purple.


So, anyway. We were in Kent for World Wide Knit in Public Day, and all was well. Cider and chips and other excitement was consumed, talking was done, and I got sunburned across my shoulders because I'm cool like that. Oh yes.

I felt the need to take this picture on the way home:


Ryn and I hopped back on the train to London when the pub shut mid-afternoon (boo!); a few stops out of London Bridge, some of the local chavs decided to sit next to us. Their conversation was scintillating - I sound like such a bitch, but seriously, dude, you're barely 14, and your grasp of politics and geography has come from the headlines you glanced at while turning to page three of The Sun. Do fuck off now. Cow that I am, I abandoned Ryn at London Bridge to sit through their conversation for a few more stops, and got on the DLR home. And saw this:


Home was reached, G talked to, food consumed and I was dressed for Brackers' birthday party. So I pull on a cardi and say the magic word* to Indigo. Oh hai body fail time. I can haz working legs please? About halfway through our walk, I'm rapidly reaching the point where it looks like I'm going to need a zimmer frame in the immediate future (that would at least give me a reason to be moving so slowly). The fibromyalgia the doctors are thinking I might have - or lupus, but it's never lupus - is playing up.

I hate this. I hate not knowing if I'm going to make it home without a trip to the hospital because I can barely walk, or feeling like I've run a marathon and been beaten with sticks when all I've done is get up and make a cup of tea. I hate the headaches and how it turns me from a fairly self-sufficient person to someone who can barely make it down the stairs. It's fucking ridiculous, and I know it costs me friendships because I can't go out and do things - or stay in and do things, or I can't listen because I'm barely conscious, or can't type a coherent sentence. This week has been pretty good - I've been to the library, had meetings, walked Indigo, all sorts. And this evening I keep having to retype words because I can't fucking spell any more. So I'm going to bed.

*walkies!

Nova Iorque - A Cidade| New York - The City

A cidade: é outra escala, maior!




The City: another scale, bigger!

the dog...

in his new bed.