Canberra Raiders

I am proud of purplerainbow. She is writing slash.
And in other news...

An auspicious start to the day. My alarm went off at nine thirty, I turned it off, rolled over and fell asleep again. Ten minutes later my mother burst in. "Iona, getupineedyourhelp!"
Of course, I grabbed my glasses and went after her. "What?" I demanded, as politely as usual. I'm as much of a morning person as ever.
"The man, you know the man!"
I resisted the urge to throw something at her. "What man, for crying out loud?"
"The man who's coming to fix the bathroom!"

[Ah, yes. The man who's coming to fix the bathroom, the latest of many. The first one came once, said he needed to fetch something and never came back. We found out later he'd emigrated to Australia. The second one did a fairly good job, but my mother didn't trust him and didn't want him to come back. She wouldn't tell me why, but I later found out it was because he was wearing a Canberra Raiders T-shirt.]

"What about him?" I asked.
"I told him to go to number 79!"
"Why?!"
"He was at number 29!"
"Why?!"
"I don't know!"
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Ring him up!"

I found the phone, dialled 1471, got him back, told him where to come (No.97!) and shortly afterwards the gate-bell rang.
He came, he did whatever it was he was supposed to do, and then he left. Not that it will make a difference - my mother uses my bathroom and not her own, for no reason I can determine.

And then she left, with her final words being: "Get ready for school tomorrow."
"I'm not going to school tomorrow."
"Yes you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are!" she exclaimed and departed.

No, I'm not.

She has gone to work three hours late. Even Pedar was late, because the gate had frozen shut during the night. Pouring the contents of the kettle over it seems to do the trick.

So, now what?

Frost

It's cold. It's so cold, the frost that accumulates during the night doesn't melt. The temperature in here is a nice and chilly 10 degrees. That is according to the thermometer above the computer. I'm sorely tempted to take a shower, but ah, I don't know...

I have been thinking in a random fashion about my birthday. My actual birthday is not going to be good. I don't accept that, but there isn't much I can do about it. And my beloved parents have possibly learnt from last year, and are asking me fairly far in advance what I want to do for it. The truth is I don't know...
Becca was lucky. Her favourite singer ever (Darren Hayes) was playing in Manchester on her birthday. She was alerted to this by a piece of spam she accidentally opened. She didn't know where to find out more, but luckily I was around(!) One visit to Ticketmaster and it was all arranged.
Well, I checked. Something Corporate are playing on my birthday.

In San Francisco.

Much joy there, then. So, what do I want to do? Becca was traditional with her birthday, with that sleepover and the party-that-shouldn't-have-been. This is all well and good, I guess... but I don't want to do that.

And it's my birthday. I reserve the right to do what I want. But not knowing what I want is a different matter.
I don't even know what I'd like to get. I appreciate how hard I am to buy for, but still. My parents don't have to buy Christmas presents for me, maybe that's why they don't get much practice.

My mother was telling me something yesterday. She said that on the day I was born, Liverpool received its heaviest snowfall before or since. By the time it got light, the city was at a standstill because of the drifts of snow.

This was supposed to be a post to amuse snowdrop24, who is as bored as me, but it seems to have become an extension of my thoughts, as always. I can't think of anything amusing at present.

It's so cold. I don't know what the temperature is outside, either, but it's freezing in here.