Returning home

Yet another round of apologies to people who want to comment but can't...always seems odd to me that Disqus and Blogger are as incompatible as they seem to be, but it's certainly the case...these technologists should learn that 2+2 = 4 before they start trying to do the more complicated sums.

We're back to blissful normality at home for a few short days.  The Cat returned last night and is staying until Sunday.  Naturally enough, as with all good students, in the time between her arrival at 10.30 and going to bed a couple of hours later she ate us out of house and home.  No doubt she will stay in bed until the middle of the afternoon, and then stay in pyjamas for the rest of the day.  It's is delightful to have her back of course, hear how things have been going (very well) and to just have her around.  I'm not going to even try and understand why it is that Uni students want to come home during term time...I never did, nor do I remember any of my contemporaries...but they all seem to to their parents delight.  Anyway, it's good to have her for a few days.  Hopefully I will find out more about what she's been up to..The Cat and The Cat's Mother talk every day, but it can then be a challenge worthy of Hercule Poirot to get that information relayed onto me. The Cat's Mother doesn't tend to pass things on assuming that through a process of osmosis we will all get it. If I'm foolish enough to ask a generalised question like "How's The Cat getting on?", I'll get an answer back "Very well." So I'm none the wiser.  I have to learn to ask some very, very specific questions which generally require me to have some prior knowledge to ask them.  Anyway, outside of her course work I gather she's involved in two drama projects...one called August, the other of which I know nothing.

The house will begin to empty out early on Saturday when The Boy goes off on a ten day ski instructors course in Austria, and then The Cat heads back down south-west on Sunday which will leave us in a very empty house next week.  I suspect The Cat's Mother and I should sit down and talk about this in a sensible, grown up way rather than just stumble into it feeling a little bit glum.

If you haven't yet seen it, I would highly recommend you hot foot it down to your local cinema to see Captain Phillips.  It's a supreme film which racks up the tension from the start so that by the end you've chewed your nails all the way up to your knuckles.  It's a simple story, well told with the highest quality acting from the entire cast.  Well drawn characters with some terrific camera work, especially in the lifeboat helps make this one of the best films of the year.  That's praise indeed from someone who generally can't stand Tom Hanks' acting.

Not hurting

It was probably a little ambitious to think that we would make The Hurts gig on Saturday night.

There were no tube trains over the weekend from our neck of the woods, so the only real option was to drive, and then park in some of the dodgiest streets of East London.

Obviously another contributing factor was that I'd arrived home at 7.00am after my nightride.  Again, I'd probably been a little ambitious - I hadn't been on the bike since my accident and to pile on the misery I'd had a nasty cold and cough that I'd struggled to shake off.  So I was really quite unfit.  But with another 400 people all dressed in halloween outfits of one sort or another - mine was a glow in the dark skeleton - I was sort of carried along with the enthusiasm of the mob.  During the course of the ride I discovered that there is a mountain in North London (well it felt like it) and that even puncture-proof tyres do get punctures.  I discovered that curry is brilliant at two in the morning, and that it's easy to get lost when that puncture separates you from the rest of the crowd - if you look at the picture you'll see towards the left a spur where I crossed the Hammersmith Bridge and then had to retrace my steps.  But what struck me most was how time stands still at a certain moment...I know pretty much what time it was and where I was until 2.30, but then until six thirty and my return to base I had no feeling for time ticking by at all.  I was revived by a pretty excellent bacon and egg sandwich and glass of champagne, and decided to cycle an extra 25km home. (Un)Fortunately the rain came down as I approached Stratford, so I was able to find a kindly taxi driver who took me and my bike the rest of the way home.  Phew

I don't think I've ever been so exhausted...but a long snooze until lunchtime revived my spirits....if not my enthusiasm for going out again

Who says advertising doesn't work?  Many years ago, I saw this advert:



And then rushed out and bought a Velvet Underground album...and today seems a good day to remind myself of both the ad and the song