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Strange weekend
So the weekend was very good in parts. B-Movie was good - last month's was satisfactory, but lacked a certain something - but this month they've got it back all right. Plus, the curse of beer wasn't completely operational - we managed a little somewhat elderly Spitfire before it ran out. Got away pretty clean from the pummeling of sweaty punks apart from one nasty dent in the back of my right hand which was pretty sore the day after. Crashed at MBM's which was fine apart from a bad attack of microscopic bladder syndrome - naturally such a thing will strike when crashing in the room with someone else, so that you must struggle in and out of underpants every 2 hours.
On Saturday I went off to Regent's Park and met up with MBM, Ingvar, and Rob Mortimer for poi, juggling and bicycle tech - since I am totally uncoordinated I settled for bicycle tech. Rob's recumbent trike is a truly lust-inducing machine - he let me have a little spin on it which was enormous fun. MBM unsportingly refrained from burning down the nearby children with fire poi.
Up to Cambridge just in time for the Veizla, which went very well - I must look over the alcoholic babblings written on my menu. Irritatingly even though I managed to run off something for Vicky, I completely forgot to bring a copy of Boku No Sucky-Sucky, which I really must expose Cambridge types to at some point - I know there's some yaoi fans there who need their fragile little minds blasted.
I engaged in an epic struggle with Sarah Amery's bicycle before going to the Aftermath - however, this was completely futile, since her husband had had his saddle stolen. The Aftermath was pretty good - worries about a shortage of booze were neatly forestalled by Helen with a bottle of absinthe which I sipped gently at - however it's the first time I've really had any in meaningful consequences, and I discover I really like it, which is certainly handy for a drink that rots your brain out through your ears.
On Sunday morning Huw and I scraped ourselves off the floor and staggered down to John's for a punt - then off on the Summerthing to Grantchester. I got to punt which I haven't for a good year or so - turns out I'm still pretty good at it. However, above the rollers I did end up in the Cam quite a bit - once swinging on the swing, and then several times because someone who shall remain nameless kept losing the pole. We arrived at Granchester where curiously I was completely spared from hayfever, ate a sort of super-Jomslunch, gurgled a little more green falling-down juice, crawled back again - to my embarassment, my arms were too feeble to bridge-hop.
Then things didn't go so well - I left my bike keys at John's, and had to get Becky to drive me down there in a tearing hurry. Thanks, Becky...
The other downside to the whole thing is the hideous sunburn (yes, I know, I should have worn sunscreen) - not just to the head and neck, but to the arms (luckily I wore cycling gloves to punt, sparing me the hands) and the tops of the feet. This was bad enough that I felt weird and shocky on the way home - the bike and I limped across London and back to Bracknell, and I collapsed with Wednesday mopping my fevered brow, and today I still feel pretty damned crappy.
On Saturday I went off to Regent's Park and met up with MBM, Ingvar, and Rob Mortimer for poi, juggling and bicycle tech - since I am totally uncoordinated I settled for bicycle tech. Rob's recumbent trike is a truly lust-inducing machine - he let me have a little spin on it which was enormous fun. MBM unsportingly refrained from burning down the nearby children with fire poi.
Up to Cambridge just in time for the Veizla, which went very well - I must look over the alcoholic babblings written on my menu. Irritatingly even though I managed to run off something for Vicky, I completely forgot to bring a copy of Boku No Sucky-Sucky, which I really must expose Cambridge types to at some point - I know there's some yaoi fans there who need their fragile little minds blasted.
I engaged in an epic struggle with Sarah Amery's bicycle before going to the Aftermath - however, this was completely futile, since her husband had had his saddle stolen. The Aftermath was pretty good - worries about a shortage of booze were neatly forestalled by Helen with a bottle of absinthe which I sipped gently at - however it's the first time I've really had any in meaningful consequences, and I discover I really like it, which is certainly handy for a drink that rots your brain out through your ears.
On Sunday morning Huw and I scraped ourselves off the floor and staggered down to John's for a punt - then off on the Summerthing to Grantchester. I got to punt which I haven't for a good year or so - turns out I'm still pretty good at it. However, above the rollers I did end up in the Cam quite a bit - once swinging on the swing, and then several times because someone who shall remain nameless kept losing the pole. We arrived at Granchester where curiously I was completely spared from hayfever, ate a sort of super-Jomslunch, gurgled a little more green falling-down juice, crawled back again - to my embarassment, my arms were too feeble to bridge-hop.
Then things didn't go so well - I left my bike keys at John's, and had to get Becky to drive me down there in a tearing hurry. Thanks, Becky...
The other downside to the whole thing is the hideous sunburn (yes, I know, I should have worn sunscreen) - not just to the head and neck, but to the arms (luckily I wore cycling gloves to punt, sparing me the hands) and the tops of the feet. This was bad enough that I felt weird and shocky on the way home - the bike and I limped across London and back to Bracknell, and I collapsed with Wednesday mopping my fevered brow, and today I still feel pretty damned crappy.
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sorry...
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However, I believe you are now officially responsible for the sun, so I am blaming the sunburn entirely on you. :-)
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And I know. Bit over enthusiastic with the sun there I feel.
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Just as long as none of you have any fevers or aches or pains, or nausea or bruises or anything else resembling Weil's disease*... (One trip to Addenbrookes for that punt party is plenty)
*Would I wind you all up and make you paranoid? Would I?
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ains, loss of appetite, and nausea when lying down."
I have no fever nor chills. The only aches and pains I have are induced by pummelling sweaty punks. I certainly haven't lost my appetite, nor am I nauseous.
I feel pretty crappy, but not in this way, I'm glad to report.
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And I'm not ill, though everything hurts from the exertion of punting.
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I have a strong suspicion I would have neither known nor cared if you hadn't bothered, to be honest.. I was out for the count..
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Erm, I'm not sure that would be a good idea.
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Her bike's been fixed now, apparantly.
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