"We could be heroes... just for one day."
Dec. 29th, 2004 10:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenI am having yet another university-related crisis. I don't want to talk about it. I mention it only because it accounts for my relative silence over the last few days, and may well account for more silence, LJ and RL, in the future.
Anyway. Two nights ago, I was moodily writing an essay and watching VH1's 100 Greatest Songs Ever (no. 11, With or Without You) when the resident Lesbian Odd Couple and Ron arrived threatening turkey. They were being spontaneous, they said. I'm ill, I said. They got lost, they said. In Formby? I said. It's the Armpit of the Universe, they said. It's not, I said.
(Really, it isn't. It's a quiet English village that is no harder to get to than most. Besides, this from someone who lives in Ormskirk!).
Come, they said (they wouldn't be spontaneous again till half ten next Tuesday). I told Pedar I was being forcibly taken for turkey (as Colleen's family Christmas turkey was obscenely large) and he merely looked at me. Go, he said.
I have no choice in these things. I clambered into Ron and off we went, attempting not to get lost on the way. We went via Southport, past Homebase, and I said in passing, "When Colleen invades Poland..."
Thing is, she so will. One may remember our brief and frightening segue into Cheethamist political theory some months ago; in short, it involves the brutal segregation of half the population and death by manual labour for the other half. I will vote for her when she stands as a Green MEP, so help me god.
The turkey was in sandwiches and part of a buffet. The three of us sat on Colleen's bed, in her sci-fi den of a room, and watched the DVD version of Once More With Feeling and plotted a roadtrip to Wincanton in Somerset. I want to go just to take a picture of the sign; it is, if we remember, the town twinned with Ankh-Morpork. Ankh-Morpork. This can only be good.
Clare delivered me home in the end, after driving me for miles down winding scary roads, and I fell straight into bed. At ten pm. Yay for still being ill.
Talking of which, Jane dropped in on me yesterday, for Christmas present exchange and sitting there and giggling. This is the way my encounters with Jane always go. We meet. We giggle. We glance at the clock and discover three hours have passed. As usual, I have no idea what we talked about, but the time swept past as quickly as ever.
I am ill. It is beginning to be annoying. And in the name of all that is good and holy, I ought to throw out these socks.
Anyway. Two nights ago, I was moodily writing an essay and watching VH1's 100 Greatest Songs Ever (no. 11, With or Without You) when the resident Lesbian Odd Couple and Ron arrived threatening turkey. They were being spontaneous, they said. I'm ill, I said. They got lost, they said. In Formby? I said. It's the Armpit of the Universe, they said. It's not, I said.
(Really, it isn't. It's a quiet English village that is no harder to get to than most. Besides, this from someone who lives in Ormskirk!).
Come, they said (they wouldn't be spontaneous again till half ten next Tuesday). I told Pedar I was being forcibly taken for turkey (as Colleen's family Christmas turkey was obscenely large) and he merely looked at me. Go, he said.
I have no choice in these things. I clambered into Ron and off we went, attempting not to get lost on the way. We went via Southport, past Homebase, and I said in passing, "When Colleen invades Poland..."
Thing is, she so will. One may remember our brief and frightening segue into Cheethamist political theory some months ago; in short, it involves the brutal segregation of half the population and death by manual labour for the other half. I will vote for her when she stands as a Green MEP, so help me god.
The turkey was in sandwiches and part of a buffet. The three of us sat on Colleen's bed, in her sci-fi den of a room, and watched the DVD version of Once More With Feeling and plotted a roadtrip to Wincanton in Somerset. I want to go just to take a picture of the sign; it is, if we remember, the town twinned with Ankh-Morpork. Ankh-Morpork. This can only be good.
Clare delivered me home in the end, after driving me for miles down winding scary roads, and I fell straight into bed. At ten pm. Yay for still being ill.
Talking of which, Jane dropped in on me yesterday, for Christmas present exchange and sitting there and giggling. This is the way my encounters with Jane always go. We meet. We giggle. We glance at the clock and discover three hours have passed. As usual, I have no idea what we talked about, but the time swept past as quickly as ever.
I am ill. It is beginning to be annoying. And in the name of all that is good and holy, I ought to throw out these socks.
