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"Your Hand Is Yaying?" she said...
Mar. 27th, 2006 01:11 pm...but in its defence, it had just been kissed by Emma, so it had good reason to.
A lot happened - all weekend.
Thursday night saw Caroline and BUST Emma winning their semi-final of the S-Factor, with a highly rehearsed performance of All That Jazz that broke the magic 80+ barrier and ensured three of the six finalists contained BUST membership. BUSMS is represented with one group, random others with the other two. Once again, I repeat that not coming last will do me just fine, whatever Elizabeth says.
The Arts Gala on Friday night was the farce it looked like being, and while I was quite pleased to see that I was on one of the official display boards on view to the public (as my hippy wearing Juilin's shirt during Rhythm of Life - I did look good and I was caught in a great pose), I was on it as a member of BUSMS and would have had to say nice things about them if I was questioned that night. Such things annoy me.
The actual show I have no idea about the outcome of - I was performing out of my element for a cause that doesn't affect me to people who wouldn't appreciate it, so having finished my section I was gone before the interval. Of what I did perform (an east African call & response piece with GASP and a scene from Much Ado with BUST), it seemed to go well, though the applause was only polite as opposed to enthusiastic. I hate appearing in front of uncaring audiences.
Saturday saw Emma, Jon and myself heading towards Bristol, only to turn around at Temple Meads and go home when Dori rang to say that Exalted had been cancelled because Alex had made other plans (after we'd cleared this date at the last session?) and Hobbit was having an identical to shit moment and lying in bed unable to move with a migraine (fair enough, not his fault).
So, in the absence of anything else to do, Emma and I went for lunch at Le Petit Cochon on Widcombe Parade. Food was excellent, service was appalling - go if you want a good meal but don't mind waiting for it.
Further to having nothing else to do, we took advantage of Jon's planning ahead with plot and threw together a WFRP session to take up the rest of the afternoon. Pieter once again showed he is a dumb blond who can't understand the subtler things about life, by physically preventing the party talking to the only ghost in the haunted house we'd been dumped in that hadn't attacked us on site. In his defence, it was the only ghost in the house that didn't attack us on site, but that didn't seem to matter to the rest of the people. Oh well, we've just woken up devoid of any memory, so rather than being one step up from a perambulatory stat sheet, Pieter now is a perambulatory stat sheet, but a perambulatory stat sheet with dice that behave - I am now getting my fair share of successes with my shiny metal dice. About bloody time. Tonight we get to spend the evening working out who we are...and who's in charge.
With even less to do on Saturday night, Jon, Tim, Emma and I went along to the cinema to see V for Vendetta. Truth be told, it was quite good. The irony of John Hurt playing what was essentially Big Brother should not have been lost on people, and he seemed to have fun with the role. Hugo Weaving had one of the hardest jobs in acting - get your character over without facial expression - and carried it out beautifully; everyone understood who V was by the end of the film. Good British supporting cast, Natalie Portman looked slightly out of her depth (so what else is new), and the right people lost at the end. A more damning portrayal of the tenets of Christian fundamentalism I have never seen, offering unequivocal proof to anyone who wasn't aware that it was no different - or less unacceptable - than religious zealotry towards any other faith. I'm not sure that blowing up Westminster Palace was the best way of showing it, but it got the point across.
Sunday dawned and I got on a train, bearing a large bouquet of flowers, a boxed card and a vase. My destination: Bournemouth, and the Riviera Hotel therein, where mum and her mum were arriving later that afternoon for a few days stay. The kicker: she wasn't aware I was going to be there. The mission: get to the hotel and arrange the flowers in enough time to be sitting in the foyer nonchalantly drinking a coffee when she walked in. Thanks to the bar supplying me with water for the vase, and a very kind gentleman offering me his pipe knife to help trim the flower stems, mission was accomplished in plenty of time, especially given that they were late arriving. The coffee I drank was given to me gratis when the barmaid heard what I was doing, and everything was going to plan until I saw the car arrive, and mum walked into the hotel to check in.
Straight past me.
I found this so hilarious that I had to call home and tell Dad what had happened, and had just enough time to do so before the two of them walked in and finally noticed I was there. Mum was appreciative.
I had a couple of hours in their company, but the last feasible train back beckoned and I was feeling pretty crappy as it was so I got back in time to almost collapse with all my joints aching like bastards. A night of very little sleep ensued, and caused me to be late into work this morning, though it now seems to have cleared up. I call that a twelve hour virus.
Right, now to get tidied up and head out to Khadija's to finally get my manicure, bought for me all those weeks ago for Valentines day. Then shopping, home to finish the WFRP character sheet in Excel that will allow me to easily produce a clean sheet for each session, and the session itself. Today looks alright as it draws to a close.
A lot happened - all weekend.
Thursday night saw Caroline and BUST Emma winning their semi-final of the S-Factor, with a highly rehearsed performance of All That Jazz that broke the magic 80+ barrier and ensured three of the six finalists contained BUST membership. BUSMS is represented with one group, random others with the other two. Once again, I repeat that not coming last will do me just fine, whatever Elizabeth says.
The Arts Gala on Friday night was the farce it looked like being, and while I was quite pleased to see that I was on one of the official display boards on view to the public (as my hippy wearing Juilin's shirt during Rhythm of Life - I did look good and I was caught in a great pose), I was on it as a member of BUSMS and would have had to say nice things about them if I was questioned that night. Such things annoy me.
The actual show I have no idea about the outcome of - I was performing out of my element for a cause that doesn't affect me to people who wouldn't appreciate it, so having finished my section I was gone before the interval. Of what I did perform (an east African call & response piece with GASP and a scene from Much Ado with BUST), it seemed to go well, though the applause was only polite as opposed to enthusiastic. I hate appearing in front of uncaring audiences.
Saturday saw Emma, Jon and myself heading towards Bristol, only to turn around at Temple Meads and go home when Dori rang to say that Exalted had been cancelled because Alex had made other plans (after we'd cleared this date at the last session?) and Hobbit was having an identical to shit moment and lying in bed unable to move with a migraine (fair enough, not his fault).
So, in the absence of anything else to do, Emma and I went for lunch at Le Petit Cochon on Widcombe Parade. Food was excellent, service was appalling - go if you want a good meal but don't mind waiting for it.
Further to having nothing else to do, we took advantage of Jon's planning ahead with plot and threw together a WFRP session to take up the rest of the afternoon. Pieter once again showed he is a dumb blond who can't understand the subtler things about life, by physically preventing the party talking to the only ghost in the haunted house we'd been dumped in that hadn't attacked us on site. In his defence, it was the only ghost in the house that didn't attack us on site, but that didn't seem to matter to the rest of the people. Oh well, we've just woken up devoid of any memory, so rather than being one step up from a perambulatory stat sheet, Pieter now is a perambulatory stat sheet, but a perambulatory stat sheet with dice that behave - I am now getting my fair share of successes with my shiny metal dice. About bloody time. Tonight we get to spend the evening working out who we are...and who's in charge.
With even less to do on Saturday night, Jon, Tim, Emma and I went along to the cinema to see V for Vendetta. Truth be told, it was quite good. The irony of John Hurt playing what was essentially Big Brother should not have been lost on people, and he seemed to have fun with the role. Hugo Weaving had one of the hardest jobs in acting - get your character over without facial expression - and carried it out beautifully; everyone understood who V was by the end of the film. Good British supporting cast, Natalie Portman looked slightly out of her depth (so what else is new), and the right people lost at the end. A more damning portrayal of the tenets of Christian fundamentalism I have never seen, offering unequivocal proof to anyone who wasn't aware that it was no different - or less unacceptable - than religious zealotry towards any other faith. I'm not sure that blowing up Westminster Palace was the best way of showing it, but it got the point across.
Sunday dawned and I got on a train, bearing a large bouquet of flowers, a boxed card and a vase. My destination: Bournemouth, and the Riviera Hotel therein, where mum and her mum were arriving later that afternoon for a few days stay. The kicker: she wasn't aware I was going to be there. The mission: get to the hotel and arrange the flowers in enough time to be sitting in the foyer nonchalantly drinking a coffee when she walked in. Thanks to the bar supplying me with water for the vase, and a very kind gentleman offering me his pipe knife to help trim the flower stems, mission was accomplished in plenty of time, especially given that they were late arriving. The coffee I drank was given to me gratis when the barmaid heard what I was doing, and everything was going to plan until I saw the car arrive, and mum walked into the hotel to check in.
Straight past me.
I found this so hilarious that I had to call home and tell Dad what had happened, and had just enough time to do so before the two of them walked in and finally noticed I was there. Mum was appreciative.
I had a couple of hours in their company, but the last feasible train back beckoned and I was feeling pretty crappy as it was so I got back in time to almost collapse with all my joints aching like bastards. A night of very little sleep ensued, and caused me to be late into work this morning, though it now seems to have cleared up. I call that a twelve hour virus.
Right, now to get tidied up and head out to Khadija's to finally get my manicure, bought for me all those weeks ago for Valentines day. Then shopping, home to finish the WFRP character sheet in Excel that will allow me to easily produce a clean sheet for each session, and the session itself. Today looks alright as it draws to a close.
