Tags: stuff


Stolen Marquis Update

The marquis has arrived safely in Nagoya, after travelling for roughly 24 hours. He likes the hotel and says all seems calm and orderly. He did have to sit on the tarmac at Nagoya airport for 45 minutes before being obliged to fly on to Tokyo and take six more hours getting back to Nagoya, which was tedious. The plane made an extra stop to let off emergency supplies for transportation (Nagoya is nowhere near the affected areas) and he asked if he could disembark too, but it was not to be. The cabin crew tried quite hard to help him, but couldn't get authorisation. (He only had carry-on luggage.) He's now gone in search of food before bed.

Purloined Marquis Shock!

Reports have reached this office of the theft of The Marquis earlier today from Marquis Towers. An Evil Power (TM)(Mrs) is believed to be behind this outrage. The Marquis was last seen been escorted to a Sinister Dark Vehicle headed for a location referred to only as 'Heathrow'. A source close to The Evil Power (TM)(Mrs) suggest that this theft may last for as long as a week and that during that time The Marquis may be shipped to A Foreign Destination. Sources close to the marquise tell us that she is 'underwhelmed', 'fretting', and, most tellingly 'late with our breakfast.

The marquis' employers have elected to send him to Nagoya for a week. It's a long way from those areas of Japan effected by the earthquake and tsunami (and, indeed, the power station). It's been on again off again on again all week, which has been somewhat stressful, but despite their country (let's call it A) deciding to remove their own citizens from the whole of Japan, his immediate bosses are happy, it seems, for him to go. (Their bosses, who are in a more sensible country, are recommending avoiding areas of Japan that are affected by the earthquake damage and where there are food and power shortages.)
I'm pretty convinced he'll be safe. Part of me is slightly startled that [Company Name Redacted], who he's going to see, still want foreigners turning up for a business meeting when arguably resources might be better directed elsewhere for a while. But economic life goes on. I'm not impressed by his colleague from country A who has dropped out using the circumstances and potential danger as an excuse (though coming, as he does, from the country that's consumed itself out of iodine tablets in the last week, this is perhaps understandable). But I never like it when he's away for this sort of length of time. I miss him and the house feels weird.
The cats are pointing out that they are still here and that the effect on them is far greater. Play Human is away. The standard of Play they'll receive for the next week will be grossly inadequate.
Living With Ghosts

Puff, pant, puff

And the rewrites on the first five chapters, as asked for by nice editor, are done. Colour me happy. I've had a lot of fun with this, in fact and am feeling a bit more love for Grass King again. Again, no word count today, but here's another snippet.

"She glanced across at him, said ‘I used to use a hatpin. But the lock on my old bedroom was a lot smaller than this one.’ In her hand was the small stiletto she kept in her bodice. She waved it at him. ‘I think this should do.’
‘But…’ Jehan said. And then ‘How?’ There was always something new with her. Something else to startle him.
She smiled, ignoring the but. ‘My uncle used to lock me in when I annoyed him. So I learnt how to let myself out. It was a lot safer than climbing down the ivy.’
‘Oh.’ His sisters would never have done such a thing. He thought they wouldn’t, anyway."

In other news, I have new kettle. And thus tea. And thus life is good.
And even better, the marquis comes home from Germany tonight: I shall be heading off to collect him in about an hour. And then tomorrow comes cleaning and looking at ch. 6 and packing and heading off to Herefordshire for my mother's birthday.
And then off to France on Sunday for a week's skiing. My life is full of go.

Skirt of the day: blue flouncey.
I'm thinking of starting a photographic record of the members of the skirt mountain. Possibly with cats. What do you guys think?

In which I am an idiot.

So, yesterday, it being fairly bright and crisp here, the marquis and I decided to go for a walk in a local country park. It was lovely -- waterfowl, trees, happy dogs and lots of mud (fun for the under-fours, if their behaviour can be trusted). However, the mud was also in the car park, and, leaving, I skidded and went into a fence post. Result: dented bumper and associated damage. The idiot girl strikes again.
Car is now at the car spa, awaiting mending. Bill anticipated as around £800 (around $1250, for the USians). That about accounts for the payment for the sale of the German rights of Living With Ghosts, then. Bah, humbug.
Of course, this run of poor luck that I've been having this new year may be good in other ways. (I have a theory that luck is limited, and there is only so much to go around, so me having rubbish stuff may be good for others. Well, I can hope.)
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Silly Rules

It's a new year. Happy New Year, people.
I don't do resolutions -- the marquis made me give them up a while back as I am too good at frighteningly punitive ones. But, having said that, and with his permission, I have made one for this year.
I'm giving up paying attention to silly rules acquired from other people.
What, you may ask? Let me explain.
I have a silly rule. It goes like this: 'If I ruled the world, nobody over the age of 10 would be allowed to appear in public wearing shorts (short pants, for the USians) unless they are exercising/playing sport/on the way to or from doing same.' I don't like shorts, I find them aesthetically ugly. I don't wear them. My characters don't wear them. In my world, nobody would wear them, except as outlined above.
I occasionally express this thought, and other people laugh at me or express disagreement. As far as I know, no-one has every felt that they should obey this rule just because I expressed it. (If there is anyone out there who avoids wearing shorts at me, however, then thank you! It's not necessary, but it is appreciated.) I don't expect other people to obey it, I have to say (even if I wish they would. But that's my problem).
Everyone has silly rules, things they don't like or wish others wouldn't do. Most people ignore these.
I don't. I am far too prone to taking stray remarks as absolutes that *must* be obeyed lest I cause terrible offence. Even if the person is not there and has probably forgotten what they said. And if I do find myself breaking one of these silly rules, I feel horribly guilty, I stop enjoying whatever it is, I feel I am a bad person.
This, frankly, is daft. I'm not talking rules around courtesy or consideration. I'm talking the 'Kari hates shorts' kind of rule. I waste time and energy fretting and feeling I should make amends even if the person in question is miles away and will never know that I read X type of book/dyed my hair X colour/wore X item.
So, as of this year, I'm resolved to stop doing this. Yes, desperance, this means I may occasionally wear blue in your presence. I know you hate blue. You know I like blue (and I know you don't mind if I wear it, because you're a grown up and you don't expect me to adopt your rules, and you think it's daft that I do). It means I will read certain subgenres without fretting (even if Y thinks it's a waste of time), enjoy cloudy weather, talk to friendly dogs, and generally let myself have my own reactions to minor things rather than feeling obliged to be a walk-on in my own head.
So there.
I also need to do some work around more serious rules, like the one that tells me that if someone else expresses a need, I must prioritise that over everything else in my life, even if to do so causes me direct damage. But that's a lot harder.... I'll keep you posted.
Meanwhile, anyone want to share their silly rules? I promise to flout them.

Smug (moderate)

My kitchen, it shines with a mighty glow. They can probably see it from the space station. I have Nice Clean Kitchen. And the ironing pile is conquered. No writing done, alas, because I am disorganised otherwise, but I have cleanth.
The marquis, of course, will come home and use the kitchen. He has the strangest ideas about what kitchens are for sometimes...1

Skirt of the day: long silky purple, with red crinkle doing petticoat duty. It's cold out there.

1 They are for keeping in bright shiny order, of course. Not for anything messy, like that cooking business.
Goth marquise

These wheels are not my wings

On Tuesday, I drove 230 miles solely and simply to take desperance out to dinner, stayed over night in a cheap hotel, and then drove back yesterday. I spent 9 hours on the road for about 4 hours with Chaz. As he said, it was a completely mad thing to do, but... Well, this is why. Collapse )
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Inventions U Like

So, last night, Ish decided to play dirty stop out and drive us nuts with not coming when called. He eventually strolled in at around 12.30, looking smug and wondering what all the fuss was about. And this reminded on an invention I really want.
I want a GPS locator as part of a cat's identity chip, such that when said cat plays hookey, I can log on and see when he or she is.
(I know there are radio collars, but they're not very practical as they presently stand.)
I want someone to hurry up and invent this, please.
What inventions do you really, really want?
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An appeal

It occurs to me that I've been slacking rather with this blog recently, and mainly just posting metrics. Because, you see, I don't really know what to post about. My life just isn't that interesting. So: what would you lot out there like me to write about? My rant about the excessive amount of chocolate in fandom and books? Why I have so many skirts? What music I listen to? Places I've visited, books I've read... Even that messy Celtic history stuff? The humidity is eating my brain and I need some suggestions.
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    hot hot
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Comme ci, comme ca

So, in the Good column:
I am up-to-date with the laundry.
Lovely afternoon yesterday with tamaranth
New dress! (Black and white and short.)
Cats are happy
The marquis, who was feeling unwell yesterday, is much better today.
I'm in the middle of reading a series of fascinating recent feminist books.

In the Bad column:
I am not up-to-date with the ironing,
Or with my writing,
Because my shoulders are cr*p plus I seem to have some kind of sleeping virus
Fascinating feminist books are fascinating, but they also make me sad, at how much ground we have still to go and how much the gains of the 70s and early 80s have already been eroded

Skirt of the day: cream patchwork.