Friday, May 30
this be the verseThe other night, while grumbling about not wanting to go to post-work drinkies I was somewhat perturbed to hear myself uttering the words "I see enough of the buggers during the day" - a favourite refrain of my father's throughout his teaching career. Wonder if this counts as nature or nurture, or both?
Wednesday, May 28
you know you're premenstrual whenwriting author profiles at work, you find that you have typed the following:
"Bill Bryson is a whingy, self-opinionated Boomer muthafucka who, together with his editor, should be given a good kicking and a style manual. Read Tim Moore instead."
Thursday, May 22
It's not me, it's my evil inebriate twin.(And I have no idea who those other people are either.)
A colleague sent this to me. Now she's threatening to send it to the company newsletter... *Sob* Now I know how Catherine Zeta-Jones feels...
Friday, May 16
U.S. military, media in mendacity shockerThe Guardian's version
The Salon version alleges that before the raid, the US military had sent in a scout with a concealed camera, which would presumably have shown that Iraqi forces had deserted the hospital.
Tuesday, May 13
it was a walk of two halves, and boobies were the winner on the nightAn alternative title to this post might be 'Night of the 30,000 Boobies', since about 15,000 women (and a handful of game blokes) walked in Saturday's Moonwalk. As well as the walkers there were hundreds more marshalls and other volunteers who cooked and served food, gave out space blankets, rain capes and water before the walk and goodie bags and medals at the end, and throughout the evening lined the route, wearing garish pink baseball caps,dishing out more water and words of encouragement and making sure we were all safe, and that we didn't accidentally moonwalk under cars or into bollards.
The evening began at around 8:00 PM when Lisa and I arrived at the gates of the Playtex City in Battersea Park. We said goodbye to Paul and Jack, who drove off into the night, lower lips wobbling slightly. (Sadly, partners and other support persons were not admitted to the sanctum sanctorum. By way of compensation, I texted Jack the following message:
Boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Boobies!
but apparently it just wasn't the same.)
We were fed nutritious vegetarian food and then there were lots of speeches and some live music but by this stage Playtex City had become a heaving mass of brightly-decorated breasts so I wasn't really paying attention to the stage, for all about me were mammary glands of all shapes, sizes, ages, hues and degrees of perkiness, adorned with sequins, tassles, flashing lights, fun fur of all species, flowers, fruit, huge eyes (some of them with huge eyelashes) faces of Dougal from the Magic Roundabout ... Verily, it was a magical place. I will, I assure you, hold true to my promise to post pictures of the gaudy fleshfest on this very site. However the film's still at the lab, so in the meantime, allow me to direct you to Lisa's superb shots of the evening.
We set off at 11:00 PM on the dot. Lisa and I did the Half Moon - the half marathon - which took us down the river, crossing at Tower Bridge and returning up the other side, crossing back at the Albert Bridge and looping around Battersea Park and back to Playtex City to receive our medals, on which was embossed a big bra. There were a variety of walking styles - some people steamed along in a purposeful fashion, elbows pumping, others, like us, were doing a sort of brisk stroll and posing for photos in front of Big Ben and ogling the firemen who had emerged from a couple of stations to watch us. Partners and family members lined the route, taking photos and cheering us on. Members of the public, mostly male, also kept us motivated by leaning out of car windows, hooting and making pumping motions with their forearms. Outside one pub, one guy yelled out 'Who's your daddy?' A very drunk businessman tried to entice us into his silver stretch limo, inside which two more businessmen were carousing on the floor clutching champagne bottles, while Ali G. played on the TV. Still more men just stood, motionless and unblinking, as we moonwalked gaily past.
After crossing Tower Bridge we met up with Paul and Jack, who were sitting on a park bench wearing rather dreamy expressions. Five miles on, when we met up with them again, their eyes had started to glaze over. Around the eleven mile mark we started to get cold, and Lisa suffered a muscle spasm in her hip of the sort and intensity that would have had me sobbing by the side of the road (or possibly dragging myself along on the stumps of my bleeding elbows, depending on what sort of mood I was in). We slowed down, stopped frequently to stretch, and she gamely managed the last two miles at a hobble. We collected our medals and goodie bags (food! cosmetics! a magazine filled with photos of fourteen year old models whose knee joints are the widest parts of their legs!) Then Paul and Jack appeared inside a warm, comfortable car and the last thing I remember thinking is 'Cool! We're heading east! It's been ages since I saw a sunrise!'
It was a fanastic event and I'd definitely do it again. The organisers predict that we'll raise £4 million - I managed about £420, last time I checked, and here at work the retrospective sponsorship is still rolling in. Approached my company for sponsorship and they kicked in £100. Thank you, my corporate masters! And sincere thanks to all the friends and family who sent money and words of encouragement. And special thanks to Paul for driving us there and back, and to both Paul and Jack for for training with us and encouraging us, and for selflessly sacrificing an evening in order to watch a cavalcade of elaborately decorated boobies stream down both sides of the Thames. (And to think that I was worried that they'd get bored hanging around waiting for us to finish.)
Arrived back in Cambridge at 5:45 AM, planning to spend most of the day asleep. Instead of which, much to Jack's chagrin, I was wide awake at 9:30 demanding breakfast before succumbing to a maniacal cleaning frenzy that lasted the rest of the day. Jack's sister Charlotte arrived that evening, and I'm sure she was v impressed with how sparkly the house was. She was over here on the way home from a work trip to Geneva, which by her account is an extremely orderly place, where the trains run on time, jewellers leave their merchandise in the shop window outside opening hours, and use of a lawn-mower on Sundays is forbidden by law lest it disturb religious worship and dutiful family gatherings. Apparently anyone who wants to have any fun (such as, frinstance, riding around on a lawn-mower while clutching fistfuls of stolen jewellery) is forced to cross over into France, where disdain for such restrictions is a matter of civic pride. (Having spent a year there myself, I'm convinced they pass ridiculous laws simply in order to have the pleasure of breaking them.) Was lovely to see Charlotte again after about eighteen months - we spent a couple of relaxing days catching up on news from home and shopping and drinking wine and and taking as little exercise as possible.
And now, I think, it's time to start training for the London-Cambridge bike ride on July 27. My odo currently reads 1,217 miles -- hmmm, wonder if I can make it to 2,000 before the big day?
Friday, May 2
moonwalk updateTook some homemade brownies in to work yesterday by way of encouragement to potential sponsors for the Moonwalk. It worked a treat - people were queuing up to pledge money! Sorry I have no sugary goodies to tempt my online donors. Pictures of scantily-clad women. Here. I promise.
Many thanks to the folks who've made pledges/donations. You're all lovely people. My current total is £350.50. There's still a week to go, though, so keep it coming!
