Musical instruments

Explanations and such later! Right now I need some help, as I always seem to do. Would anyone know, or know anyone who knows, where I might get some musical instruments to smash up?

Seriously. I'm after prop-guitars and drums and anything like that, that can be smashed on stage at minimal expense. (In London area for preference.) OULES people, I'm looking at you, too - where do you get your props? Thank you all, I appreciate your putting up with me.

Home, hearth and DSL.

Aaaaaah. That is the sigh of the contented Raven. I am staying with my friend Mani - who is my oldest friend, bar none; I've known her since I was seven months old - with her lovely family in Essex, and my mum is here too. And after twelve hours of frantic activity and running around like a mad thing, I am curled up in pyjamas in an armchair in a room with warm light, a border collie, a real log fire and accompanying woodsmoke, and that loveliest thing in the world, wireless network connection that is now connected, and people who are my family and my friends, and again: aaaaaah.

I fell asleep last night at half past ten. This is utterly unprecented. Well, probably not, but it is in recent history. And I got up at half seven, and I had no idea until today what that even looked like. And now, I am very tired but utterly, utterly relaxed, and strangely proud of myself for being so utterly relaxed. As my brain goes, this is very, very good behaviour. Well, this is the day: I got up ridiculously early in a strange house belonging to people I only met yesterday, got dressed in the quiet, walked fifteen minutes through school-run traffic, handled bus and Tube to get to White City, went to first day at new job, got through eight hours of said first day at new job, handled bus and Tube in reverse to get back in the dark, was back for all of five minutes, threw clothes and laptop at my bag, was driven out to kittie party at house I didn't know, hung about for twenty minutes, and was picked up by Mani and given lift here. On the way back through the winding country roads we put Dragostea Din Tei on top volume and I started to relax. But all through the day I didn't have a single mental blip. I got a bit fraught in the afternoon, but no anxiety. And I've had the sort of day that should have brought it on in spades - days featuring nothing but one trip to town were bringing it on in Hilary - and I'm tempted to conclude that when I'm busy, I get better.

So! This is good. And working for the BBC is really rather good. I can't tell you now why I need smashable guitars - ask me on May 28th - but thank you all for your help, it's really appreciated. Today was spent doing a thing they call "logging" - matching broadcast dialogue to an original script - which is terribly hard work, headbreaking in the way coal-mining is backbreaking, but curiously rewarding. I didn't do much of anything else beyond looking for smashable guitars, because of long, long health-and-safety questionnaires, but still. I enjoyed myself when I wasn't exhausted. BBC White City is gorgeous, utterly gorgeous. I walked out of the Tube with the rush of people, walking through the grass and the park benches with the sunlight gleaming off glass and chrome and white stone, with people walking on the green, and honestly, honestly, my immediate thought was the opening scenes of Brave New World. That's what it was like. So utterly beautiful.

And they looked after me, too, pointing out the vast quantities of food on offer - the first thing my boss said to me was, "You're new, would you like a muffin?" - and told me to get my hair sprayed red for Comic Relief. I felt like my brain was falling out by the end of the day, but in the good way. And now I have two days of not doing anything - no real work, no academic work - and wireless internet for all that time, and on Sunday I should be seeing Claire and Ben, and all is joy.

But re: internet, yes, this is going to be a problem. I have it at work but feel guilty over using it. It's probably safest to assume that I am reading my email - not necessarily my flist, though I am trying - but not replying to it. If you really want to talk to me, ring me. I'd rather not post my number here, but I'll have the internet with which to email it to people over the weekend.

Dinnertime. Aaaaah.