A sparsely-updated blog by a crazy woman with bad taste in almost everything.
It’s been fun, since Saturday, waiting for people to finish The Book That Shall Not Be Named so that we could huddle in dark corners to discuss it without hysterical accusations of spoiling. I even set up an IRC channel on intersocs, and people have been dribbling in, saying “I can’t believe it’s over” and then leaving.
In a bizarre turn-up for the books, it’s raining again. I’ve never been particularly bothered by the lack of summery weather before, but there’s something so depressing about the almost inevitable fact that everything this summer is going to get rained out and ruined.
Many things give me joy:
Charlotte and I were just wandering around town, checking out secondhand bookshops and having coffee and being exhausted and stuff, and then BAM, the octagon is filled with HORDES of bagpipers. there’s some kind of competition on today I think.
Don’t you just love the feeling you get when you’ve been engrossed in a book for hours and you’ve completely disregarded reality, to the point that you’ve forgotten that there’s someone else in the room, and you finish the book and it feels like you’ve been asleep for a hundred years?
A hastily-written introduction to your host