And the Mississipi's mighty

Firstly, before I forget, one may remember my incredibly neurotic hang-ups regarding original characters in fanfiction, but that said, I need a name for a bit-part male character who could have been a student at Oxford in 1985. Suggestions on a postcardcomment? Thanking you all kindly.

So, internet went kaboom. I spent an hour on the phone to BT and was treated to a three-minute recorded message, the gist of which was it's their problem, not ours. Which makes it all the less satisfying to shout at my computer. It came back a couple of hours ago, but I was busy watching Ocean's Eleven, again. It's fun.

But I digress. I got home from work yesterday in a thoroughly good mood. Once again, I am profoundly glad I'm no longer a waitress. My job suits me. Once again, we were neatly divided between people buying the well-known books - Darren Shan, The Da Vinci Code, Alexander McCall Smith, etc. - and the terribly obscure. There was a tie between the two most obscure - a textbook, Critical Chain Management (huh?), and The Healing Power of Flax.

The first one is now on special order, and the system had never heard of the second. Can't say I'm all that surprised.

I mentioned Darren Shan again because the woman from last week came back, looking nervous. "I came in last week, and had to bring a book back..."

"Because I bled on it," I said resignedly, and was surprised when she laughed.

"Yes! I thought it was funny, you know, you bled all over a book about vampires..."

I'm so glad she actually got the joke. Not that I did it on purpose, mind you. Anyway, she's after the next books in the series - specifically, numbers ten to twelve in a trilogy volume - which we're pretty sure hasn't been published yet. Anyone - Sam? - want to contradict me, go ahead.

In fact, I'm so okay with this job, I've volunteered to do Wednesday, and possible some Wednesdays afterwards. If Tony agrees, that lifts my monthly wage to a hundred and fifty quid, which I am perfectly happy with. As I was leaving today, I noticed the open/closed sign is from A Series of Unfortunate Events. The side that was facing me read as follows:

"Rejoice! We are CLOSED and you cannot buy any of Lemony Snicket's terrible books!"

I flipped it over to tease Gary - poor boy has to work till five-thirty - flipped it back again and walked out into the village. You can't get from one side to the other without meeting someone you know. Actually, the vast majority of Pritchard's customers expect us to know who they are without being told, and generally we do. It's a small bookshop - not the only one, there is another Pritchard's in Crosby - and there is no higher level of management than Tony. There's no official procedure for anything - the business holds together through people's collective memories of where everything is.

The weather is terrible. It's not raining, but the wind is holding water so you get spattered anyway. I got a pasty from Sayer's simply for the hand-warming factor. I was tempted to go down to the shore, but I can't face the cold; it must be bleak out there today. And it's not nice cold, either - it's raw and wet everywhere. Still, I'm in a good enough mood - half term, yay, and I have nothing too pressing to do with my time.

Today involved more bad weather, because Patrick wanted to meet me to give me my birthday present.

I wonder if I have a beacon on my head that broadcasts "geek!" at all and sundry, but he gave me the Starfleet Technical Manual. I was much too pleased, and flicked through it to see engine schematics, lists of regulations and all manner of things. It's a pity I don't do Star Trek fic, really.

He also gave me... well, I don't know what it is. I really don't. It's about three feet tall and made of builder's foam painted in all the colours of the rainbow. But I don't know what it is. I thanked him with all sincerity - he wins the prize for this year's most original birthday gift - but I don't know exactly what it is or what to do with it. He said it could lurk. It does lurk, in just the manner of Dirk Gently's fridge.

Anyway, I ought to go to bed. purplerainbow and I are going shopping tomorrow with a vengeance.

St Valentine's Day

Um. I have tried to write this in five different ways in the last couple of minutes and deleted it every time.

Okay. Um. I went out with Hannah today, and stuff happened, and it's Valentine's Day, and god, I'm actually getting girlie just writing this, but we're together. Yeah, like that. It felt right.

The slightly longer version (yeah, while you all scrape bits of hathy_col off the ceiling) is, we spent the day together, shopping and talking, and we ended up in Costa in Waterstone's just as night was falling. Hannah wanted me to try this thing called a Chocolissimo, which is nothing so much as a fondue you drink with a chocolate spoon, and she ordered one which we ended up sharing. And while I was sitting there with the chocolate dripping onto my fingers, I started to wonder about the difference between this, what we have, this friendship that runs so deep, and what we could have if we only thought about it.

Argh. Kill me for my prose.

We talked about it for a while, and she drank chocolate stuff and we giggled (I can't eat melted chocolate!), and ended up kissing quietly while both entirely sober in a public place. And there are bad things (which we discussed) and good things (very good things) and all in all, carpe diem, my love. Seize the fish. :)

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.