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( More on Slings And Arrows )
I ended up writing half a fic for the show last night, and planning the other half, which is ridiculous, as I now don't have time to edit, re-read or indeed finish the bloody story. I hate to do this now I'm getting fannish and comfortable, and indeed hate to do this at all, because as we have already seen this week, I don't deal with transitions well. I don't mind change, honestly; it's the process I don't like.
Which is a roundabout way of saying, I'm leaving for a while. I'm flying to New Delhi tomorrow morning. I'll be there less than a day - in the evening, I'm going north on Shatabdi to a place called Kalka, which is where the trains stop, and then further north into the foothills to Solan, a small hill station where various bits and pieces of my family, and indeed, Mani, my dearest-friend-who-keeps-killing-goldfish, are already gathering. Next week, some of us, myself included, are going to Vaishno Devi, a mandir halfway up a mountain. From Katra, the base village, we'll trek along the pilgrimage route for twelve kilometres upwards, with the land and sky getting colder all the way up. Even in June, I'm told, it's icy cold at the top, and you go barefoot - you can't take anything made of leather to the site.
In a strange, indefinable way, I'm looking forward to the experience of it. There are three darshans at the top, cut into the rock, natural formations, and apparently there are so many hundreds of people that you have to wait hours to see them. (I like the word "darshan" ever since I realised one of its derivatives is darshanshastra, "world-understanding", or in English, philosophy.)
No, I think I'll enjoy myself, it's just the change, and it's such a change, into suffocating heat and culture, and without the safety net of well, all you guys, that I'm wary.
See you all on the flipside, I guess. I think I'll be more or less incommunicado - I'll try and get online every few days, but it may or may not happen, depending on the state of technology everywhere I go. I'll be back mid-July, with an expanded mind and a re-write of the Aeneid, and I hope you all have a lovely few weeks.
I leave you with what may be my favourite moment of television this year, Geoffrey Tennant in a moment of lucidity: "Oliver Welles is dead! I poured him into the river and SWANS ATE HIM!"
Love you all. G'bye.
I ended up writing half a fic for the show last night, and planning the other half, which is ridiculous, as I now don't have time to edit, re-read or indeed finish the bloody story. I hate to do this now I'm getting fannish and comfortable, and indeed hate to do this at all, because as we have already seen this week, I don't deal with transitions well. I don't mind change, honestly; it's the process I don't like.
Which is a roundabout way of saying, I'm leaving for a while. I'm flying to New Delhi tomorrow morning. I'll be there less than a day - in the evening, I'm going north on Shatabdi to a place called Kalka, which is where the trains stop, and then further north into the foothills to Solan, a small hill station where various bits and pieces of my family, and indeed, Mani, my dearest-friend-who-keeps-killing-goldfish, are already gathering. Next week, some of us, myself included, are going to Vaishno Devi, a mandir halfway up a mountain. From Katra, the base village, we'll trek along the pilgrimage route for twelve kilometres upwards, with the land and sky getting colder all the way up. Even in June, I'm told, it's icy cold at the top, and you go barefoot - you can't take anything made of leather to the site.
In a strange, indefinable way, I'm looking forward to the experience of it. There are three darshans at the top, cut into the rock, natural formations, and apparently there are so many hundreds of people that you have to wait hours to see them. (I like the word "darshan" ever since I realised one of its derivatives is darshanshastra, "world-understanding", or in English, philosophy.)
No, I think I'll enjoy myself, it's just the change, and it's such a change, into suffocating heat and culture, and without the safety net of well, all you guys, that I'm wary.
See you all on the flipside, I guess. I think I'll be more or less incommunicado - I'll try and get online every few days, but it may or may not happen, depending on the state of technology everywhere I go. I'll be back mid-July, with an expanded mind and a re-write of the Aeneid, and I hope you all have a lovely few weeks.
I leave you with what may be my favourite moment of television this year, Geoffrey Tennant in a moment of lucidity: "Oliver Welles is dead! I poured him into the river and SWANS ATE HIM!"
Love you all. G'bye.
