well the weekend flew by in a haze, landing me back at monday where it all begins again.

friday night, we hooked up with the neighbours and cracked open a bottle of champagne to celebrate jonno’s newly acquired british citizenship! his application has been approved, and his ceremony is on the 20th July. All together, it took ten working days for his approval (as part of a pilot scheme) as opposed to the 6 months it takes most other people. Hooray! So we popped some good bubbly, then took the party up the road to our local bar.

Amazingly, we were actually clearheaded enough to go rock-climbing the next day. Kerryn, tracey, chris, a heavily pregnant tonia, j and i headed out to harrison’s rocks in groombridge, kent, where we’d gone last year, so if some of the pics look a little familiar, that’s why. and though there are no pictures to prove it, i actually did do some climbing. we hadn’t been since about november last year, so there was more than a little rust on the muscles, but overall it felt good, and it was nice to spend the day outdoors. pics are here for your viewing pleasure.

sunday was the lord’s day of rest at our house. we chilled out, i did some cooking (traditional southafrican meal of bobotie,yellow rice, and tomato onion salad) and watched “assault on precinct 13″ (need i point out this was j’s choice of dvd?) in which the only redeeming feature was ethan hawke. followed by (you guessed it) “world’s wildest police videos”.

last week’s dialogue gem:

(police officer is testing a driver who is obviously dui, and upon closing his eyes to touch his finger to his nose, starts to fall. officer catches him before he goes down like a sack of potatos.)

DUI suspect (in a thick southern slur): “thanks man. that’s more than what catfish would do.”

this has become our catchphrase for the past fortnight, for obvious reasons…

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well I haven’t blogged in about a week,but I have a really really good excuse this time: sun. It has been *almost* hot for one full week – this is british summer. blink and you’ll miss it. this is the only week I will get to wear my sandals and linen shirts. you might think, that because it’s only june, there’s probably still plenty of chance of warm weather ahead. but you would be wrong. i’ll never forget my first summer here. about the middle of july, there were ten sunny days of 30C weather in a row. i put away my duvet and scarfs, broke out the sunglasses, and tidied the bikini line in preparation. then, just as suddenly, it got chilly and wet again. after a week or so, i was complaining to a co-worker, asking when it was going to get warm again, and when summer would return. she said, deadpan, “that was it!” I was so sure she was joking, i laughed out loud.

two full summers and no tan later, i understand. my bathing suit is rotting in the back of a drawer.

the worst thing about british summer is how much people moan about it. you’d think the entire nation had just been transported in a blazing fireball to the middle of the saharan desert, for all the bitching they do. like the wicked witch of the west, “i’m melting, i’m melllllllltinngggggg!!!!” these are the same people who start wearing tanktops and flipflops before the crocuses even break snow cover. then they like to go on holiday to places like morrocco and the french riviera, and *still* complain about the weather. it’s completely illogical.

and of course, no place here has air-conditioning, *proper* air-conditioning. they have chillers, which are basically just window fans blowing lukewarm air on you. you might as well leave your fridge door open to cool the house down – you’d be hard pressed to raise a goosepimple. because there is pretty much no need to invest sums of money in a real appliance which would get one week’s worth of use a year. and the tube is an oven – about 10C warmer below ground, stuck in a tin can on rails, which they cant do anything about, because the whole system is so antiquated. but again, it’s not exactly a funding priority, since the rest of the year, who cares? these days, by the time my 15 minute journey is over, i need a fresh pair of underwear.

but i will say that personally, for the most part, i like being hot. i pointed out to jonno that this is the first week in a year where I haven’t complained about being chilly. i’d also like to point out that about 3 weeks ago, i still had the heating on. i was still keeping my cardigan at work.

so, if I love sun and warmth so much, why the hell am i electively living in london, of all the godforsaken wet and dreary places?

damned if i know.

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So we went to see weezer on tue night.

the concert was at the brixton academy, and i was encouraged as we went in to see a decent sprinkling of the over-30s. before their modest fame, they were a college band, therefore, to my mind, if you aren’t actually old enough to have *been* to college yet, you should not be allowed to purchase concert tickets. but that’s just the grumpy curmudgeon in me talking.

the opening act was a canadian duo called teegan and sara. back when i was in boston, i used to hear them on my indie/folk morning radio station all the time, and *HATED* them. I found incredibly whiney and annoying. I am please to report that they appear to have matured quite a bit, and grown a few guitar riffs, and are (grudgingly) … not bad.

i adore weezer. i think they’re creative and playful and rockin’. so I was really looking forward to this concert. and the band delivered. they played most of the old faves, and a pleasant number of new songs. they played my all time favourite “say it ain’t so”, and my standby “i want a girl who laughs for no one else”. they skipped my other two songs (”Dope Nose” and El Scorcho”, which I was heartily disappointed in, since i’d practiced singing “I’ll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon!” at the top of my lungs all around the house). But it was hard to be upset. They sounded great, looked great (good god rivers cuomo is cute!), and put out a lot of energy.

but a few songs in, i observed something very curious – no one in the crowd was dancing. not only were they not dancing, they were *standing still*. everyone in the place was stock-still like a statue, with the exception of me and the wierdo chick in front of me (and what she was doing could not properly be called dancing, but more along the lines of full-body electroshock spasm.) I couldn’t get over it. the only time they did not have all the animation of lumps of clay, was when the band played “island in the sun” (imo, their *worst* song) but clearly all these people had paid nearly £30 a ticket just to hear this, because they began listlessly waving their fists in the air. even the encore applause was half-assed, and nearly petered out before the band came back on stage. what a bunch of sad wankers – it really put a damper on my enjoyment.

and now I read today that weezer and the foo fighters are touring together. *in the u.s.* why, god, why?

in other strange observations: there’s this girl I see on the tube fairly frequently. I leave my house at exactly 8:12, and stand at the same spot on the platform every day. she must do the same, since i see her about 2-3 times a week.

it’s odd enough that i see this stranger regularly enough to know her habits (and, by extension, she mine). but the wierdest bit is that every single time i see her, she is wearing the exact same outfit, without fail. olive shirt, black pants, black heels. and by the same oufit, i mean that she is wearing the exact same clothes every day. sometimes i see her a few days in a row, sometimes it’s several days in between. every time. the exact. same. thing.

i can’t figure out what her deal is. it’s not a uniform – it’s office style dress. and surely unless she works at a different place every single day (my original theory being that she was a temp who only had one suitable outfit), people must notice. and when does she wash them? and how is she not embarrassed and humiliated by the multitude of fashion faux pas she’s committed? not only is it the same exact outfit, but it’s not even a *nice* outfit at that. is she a superhero? or some sort of spy? maybe she’s spying on me?

one of these days, i am going to have to give in to the overwhelming temptation to ditch work and follow her to see where she goes. because this has been going on for months now, and i’m beginning to lose sleep. it’s a puzzlement, and i *must know*. i feel compelled to stalk her and unravel the mystery, and i’m fairly certain that no jury in the world would convict me.

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ick – the weekend is over and it’s back to work.

And as per usual, the weather was lousy all weekend, but Monday morning? bright and glorious. but of course.

can’t say we did a whole helluva lot this weekend. i did manage to catch up on some sleep a bit, which helped enormously. Saturday, i *think* we made it as far as the post office and the video store. watched “criminal” which was quite good. maggie gyllenhal is amazing. however, you’ll be shocked and astonished to hear that i fell asleep during the first viewing. yes, again. why my body decides movie time is nap time is a mystery for the ages.

sunday the ex flatmate came by to collect the *mountain of shit* she has left in our lounge for the past three weeks. hooray for that. booo for taking the muffin tins and ironing board with her. not that i use the ironing board, mind you. but it was nice to know it was there.

the moved *mountain of shit* also means we have massive voids in the living room where the telly and the beanbag used to be. we’re talking great prarie plains of space. if i still had the inner ear balance of a twelve year old, i could do cartwheels in there.

so we headed off to pick up the telly which my dear, sweet, thoroughly socialist colleague donated to me. being a socialist has nothing to do with it (after all she obviously has a television) but i find it endearing to debate with her and wind her up. anyway, she wouldn’t take any money for it, so i baked her a batch of cookies (cookies are the universal answer to every social situation, i’ve found) and bought a bouquet of flowers. the *free* telly now has pride of place in the lounge, but looks a little forlorn. the ex-flatmate’s telly was 840 feet across if it was an inch. and the free telly does not have a remote, so i am getting sooo much more exercise now! did i mention it was free?

after all the moving and wrangling and cleaning which ensued, we had a bbq in the rain. i like to call it “chickens in the mist”. the neighbours came and ate, and then we sacked out for the evening.

at this point, i am going to admit to j’s and my guilty sunday night pleasure. yes, well there is *that*. but also, there is “world’s wildest police videos”. now the international flavour of this show leaves a lot to be desired – either that or the whoppingly vast majority of the *WILDEST* police videos occur in Georgia and alabama, with a smattering of louisiana thrown in. if you believe this show, all we’d need to do to eradicate crime, would be to detach those states, float them out to sea and sink them with a giant bomb. (sorry you’re lumped in there with those bad boys as well, florida, but geographically, i can see no way around it. besides, there’s also the giant sin known as disneyworld.)

in any case, if you have not yet caught this compelling piece of television programming, i highly recommend it. not only is there the overwrought drama of the narrative dialogue (things such as “*these* criminals thought they were in for a funny joyride when they stole this car, but they won’t be laughing when they feel the long arm of the *law*”. i just made that bit up, but i swear to god, it’s so much more hilarious than that, and they really do say things like “long arm of the law”, although since it’s just a narrator’s voice, it’s impossible to tell if it’s with a straight face.) but there is *also* the host’s distinctly george plimpton-esque glow-in-the-dark teeth combined with orange tan, and the unbelievably d-grade re-enactments. it’s enough to inhibit bladder control.

so every sunday evening we watch this before going to bed, and it’s just our little weekly ritual. definitely takes the edge off the back-to-work blues.

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not-so-big news on the job front: i got a “promotion”. why is this only not-so-big news, one might very well ask? well in the first instance, i didn’t want the job to begin with. i was basically offered (dumped) a whole new workload, just before I went to south africa. i had two choices, namely a) say no (and you’ll just have to imagine the strikethrough on those words because i can’t seem to create that effect in blogger, and saying no was not an option) or b) agree to do the work and get a new job title. the fact is, i was gonna have to do the work anyway, so why not get the “promotion” that went with it?

why do i keep putting the word “promotion” in quotations? another fine question. well, dear reader, i don’t think it’s really a “promotion” if you have to apply for it. yes, the council can’t do something as simple as “promote” someone. they have to create a whole new job post, then advertise it, then make you apply for it, then make you interview for it (assuming you get shortlisted). did i mention i am already doing the work anyway? and have been for the past 2 months? now granted, i should take this all with a grain of salt, because i was, in fact, the only person stoopid enough to apply. so really, it was me vs. me. if, after jumpiong through all those hoops i *wasn’t offered the job*, or *didn’t take the job*, i would still have to do the work anyway. to compound the idiocy, I was supposed to take a test – luckily i was exempted from that somehow – and i was supposed to be formally escorted to the interview room.

i work on the fifth floor of the building. the interview room is on the seventh floor. i come in at 8:30. the interview was at 9:00. they wanted me to go downstairs to the reception on the main floor, so they could escort me back upstairs for the interview. if that doesn’t just beggar belief, i don’t know what does.

the council is *not* that formal. i basically show up at work wearing pyjamas most days. so i really have just *no* clue what this kind of rigamarole is supposed to accomplish.

the other reason it’s not a “promotion”, is that i get no real pay rise to go with it, as i am on the highest spinal point of my payscale, and the new post will start me out at the lowest spinal point on the scale directly above it. I think it works out to something like £50 per paycheque.

so, yep. i basically went through all this insane myriad nonsense, to get a job i don’t even want, for the princely sum of an extra £1.60 per day. not even enough for a stinkin cup of coffee.

Aside: when I was home, my sis gave me a pair of work pants that she doesn’t wear anymore. I’m wearing them today, and they smell like the Body Shop’s “White Musk”, which is what she bathes, shampoos and perfumes herself with. Everything she owns smells like it. It’s kind of comforting.

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david sedaris in the new yorker

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for ladies! we can buy your great farts!!

oh good. now they won’t go to waste or anything.

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so today i thought i’d dress up for work a bit. usually i do the whole “smart casual” look, unless i can’t be bothered, in which case, i wear cargo pants resembling pyjama bottoms. but i’ve recently done my annual ironing (no, i’m not kidding. i drag all my clothes out of the closet and iron all of them in one go, these usually occurs about once a year and comprises the entirety of my ironing experience.), and so had a lot of freshly pressed office clothes. I put on this bright blue button down shirt and some black trousers, and have been getting compliments on the shirt all day. then i make my annual ironing joke, and say thank you. anyway, i now remember why i don’t wear this shirt very often, and it’s not because i don’t iron. it all came to me in an instant when i took off my jacket going into a meeting, and realised i was a little chilly. one of the buttonholes is a bit too big, and one of the buttons a little too loose. yep, you guessed it – i flashed my boss.

realised i haven’t told you about the dublin trip yet. last Saturday, j and i went to dublin for the day, as a belated birthday present. we left early in the morning, and came back late at night. you can do that when you live in the uk.

our flight was scheduled to depart at 7:30 am, so were up and out of the house by 4:30, thinking that would give us plenty of time. big, big mistake.

i don’t know why i always think it takes exactly an hour to get everywhere. for example, ask me how long it takes to get to the airport, and i’ll tell you an hour. how long to get to siberia? oh, about an hour. in reality, of course, it takes an hour just to get out of london. this does not include the extra twenty minutes needed to wander around clapham common 3 times trying to find the sign for the 205 south circular heading east. sometimes the uk is just dumb. add a 50 mile stretch of motorway to your journey *after* you get out of london, and what you end up with is two very late boys and girls.

we made it to the airport by the skin of our teeth, made it to the plane (after the security guard asked j to remove his baseball cap so he could “search his sunhat”. now, to my mind, a sunhat is a big floppy straw thing with a bow that ties under the chin, so who calls a baseball cap a sunhat??? someone over the age of 80, that’s who. this poor man could barely see over the xray machine.) and arrived safe and sound in the centre of dublin by 9:30. after wandering around for some breakfast, we ended up in a coffee shop, where as we were lazing on the couch, i opened the drawer to the giant coffee table and found some lovenotes between strangers in the drawer – two ships that pass in the night kinda thing. it was cute and romantic, and i took it as an auspicious omen.

unfortunately that auspiciousness did not extend to the weather, which was intermittently spitting on us or blindingly sunny from one moment to the next, the entire bloody day. j will never again make fun of my pink umbrella. it also meant we spent a good deal of time indoors, immersing ourselves in the local saturday culture, namely hanging out in pubs drinking guinness. which is not a bad way to spend a saturday, all in all.

anywhoo, we wandered around some more to see the castle, (which looks not at all like a castle, but more like a castle mashed with a 60’s office building) and the churches (lots of tourbuses full of old age pensioners trying to work digital cameras with shaky hands), and the shopping district (no surprises there) and settled down for the afternoon in the temple bar district, starting off at the aptly named temple bar. which was actually quite cool, until the hoardes began to arrive, and we found ourselves surrounded at our table by a group of indeterminate europeans (polish? flemish? we never could quite figure out what language they were speaking) who were drinking wine directly above my head whilst ashing over my shoulder. in the end, it didn’t matter where they were from – turns out “rude” is the same in any language.

we decided to go for lunch (irish stew, natch) and then wandered around a bit more, before ending up back at a bar. we were seated outside people watching, and there was a young blond southern woman seated at the next table. the panhandlers were getting pretty annoying, working up and down the street multiple times. and each time, this woman instead of saying “sorry, no” and turning away, kept telling them she didn’t have any change, or going into this elaborate discussion as to why she couldn’t help them out. the bigger mistake was continuing to talk to them after they made her for someone who, if they harrassed enough, would hand over bills. she just had that look about her. anyway, this was all very entertaining to watch for several minutes, but then an old mother, teenage daughter, and baby came over. i’m not going to call them gypsies, but they were pretending they didn’t speak english, and the blond lady was trying to explain to them that she paid for her drink with a credit card, and didn’t have any cash. after watching her struggle for a while, i *had* to do something, because even i am not that coldhearted. i came over to her table, put myself between her and the beggars, and put on my firm-confrontational attitude with them, telling them to leave. they just would *not* go, kept pretending they didn’t understand, but it’s amazing how quickly the lightbulb came on when i said i was going to get the manager. she watched me go into the bar, smiled at me through the window, then skipped off down the street. ha!

this of course lead to a conversation with the blond, who was a law student from Louisiana. Typical spoiled “travelling on Daddy’s money” kinda girl, but more liberal than I expected, and we somehow ended up talking about politics and the war on drugs, when suddenly it was time to go catch our plane home.

strange things about dublin:

it’s not very big. we walked the whole downtown about three times during the course of the day.

it’s chockablock with americans. i swear i heard more americans in 24 hours there, than i have in my entire 2 years in the uk.

it’s not very old. for such a historic city, there was amazingly little old stuff around. or maybe there is if you look for it, but we didn’t really have the time.

it doesn’t have nearly enough atms.

anyway, it was a fun day, and nice to visit a new place.

view the pubcrawl here.

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moshi moshi!

feel like I’ve been neglecting the linkage for too long, so here’s a few interesting tidbits i tripped over today:

universe in a box: scientists create a computer universe complete with 20 million galaxies. almost as amazing, it took only 25 million MB memory.

for a chuckle (i can only assume that was the intent!) the conservative magazine human events has listed their 10 most dangerous books of the 19th & 20th centuries. just don’t read and think at the same time.

creationism: god’s gift to the ignorant

in la la land: schwarzenegger digs up a road to fill a pothole for the press. ahhhnnie, that’s just not right.

made choc chip cookies yesterday (oh about 5 dozen or so) and thought i’d pass along this nestle tollhouse cookie recipe. I’ve had to explain to my flatmates and several peeps at work, why this is the *definitive* chocolate chip cookie, but really should’ve just pointed them here. None for you, all for me

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