On a good weekend

[nineveh_uk]

Things since the end of last week have been going rather well. I actually spent a couple of satisfactory days at work doing something that was both interesting and challenging, with the challenge a positive rather than terrifying one, in which I moved from a position of “why on earth am I doing this, I don’t know anything about it, and I haven’t got any information” to producing a piece of work that I was actually proud of, that I hung around late to finish, and that my boss was extremely pleased with. It was what I came here to do. It’s not enough to make me hang around longer than necessary, but it might promise that the next couple of months could be less depressing. I now need to channel the feeling chirpier into thinking hard about what happens next.

My parents visited for the weekend, which was great fun, though they were distinctly unimpressed with some aspects of Oxford, specifically with Cornmarket, the litter, and the number of beggars, all of which compared unfavourably to the middle of Leeds. The weather was fine for once, and we wandered round pre-historic sites and stately homes, my mother was rendered incapacitated with laughter over Scouts in Bondage and I introduced my father to the delights of George Manville Fenn. I still don’t ‘get’ the idea that one must achieve a certain distance from one’s parents (translate: not really get on very well in company with one another for longer than a few hours on a Sunday) to be a full-fledged adult. The alternatives are not rebellious teen followed by polite but distant adulthood vs. sad sack living at home until 55. I don’t want to live with my parents any more, but I do wish I lived closer, and a major reason for wanting a car is to make seeing them easier. I love staying with them, and talking to them, and emailing them, and I realize more and more with every year how oddly rare this is and how lucky my sisters and I are, and that not everyone gets such sheer pleasure from the company of their natal family. There are downsides, of course – it appears that the one physical trait I have inherited from my father may be his eyebrows – but I would not swap my family for the finest family in the world.

It seems that the rediscovery of my work ethic also applies to fanfic, and last night I wrote 2000 words and finished the Romilda Vane fic, with added Snape and Andromeda. I found myself feeling a bit sentimental; it’s taken forever and at times I’ve been rather uninspired by the whole thing, but if I am hopelessly jossed come the 21st it’s a decent end to go out on.

Finally, proof that I have been in fandom too long: I read the Radio Times cover headline (with picture of Daniel Radcliffe) as "Potter’s Preggers" instead of "Potter's Progress". My youngest sister used to live next door to Daniel Radcliffe. She was unimpressed by his guitar playing.

ETA: 12:08 am. I am about as likely a salsa dancer as teenage!Bellatrix. My (Danish, female) neighbour really, really owes me.

Comments

[tudorpot.livejournal.com]

I still don’t ‘get’ the idea that one must achieve a certain distance from one’s parents (

When my parents were alive, I too enjoyed spending time with them, spoke with my mum by phone every few days even when living across the ocean. Some of my best trips were in their company. Enjoy. Did you go to Bladen (sp) My Mum and I went to Oxford for a few days some years ago, visiting Churchill's grave was special for her. We really enjoyed our dinner at the Trout.

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

Blenheim? In which case no, because I can easily get there by bus, so we concentrated on places that one really needs a car for.

It is amazing how modern telecommunications have shrunk the world, for we lucky ones in the west, at least. No more "My daughter's emigrated to Canada, I'll be lucky if I see her in ten years."

[tudorpot.livejournal.com]

Even before that my parents- who emigrated here from England made a point of keeping in touch with family. My grandmother spent many summers here- special as it was unusual and very costly, but my parents felt it was a good way to spend what little they had.

[tree_and_leaf]

So when do we gt to see the great work?

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

I am formatting it now! And it isn't that great. If it were, I would have been able to work in Andromeda saying "Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering".

[parelle.livejournal.com]

but I would not swap my family for the finest family in the world.
Perhaps you have that family already :) I'm still working on power/authority balance issues with my parents, but hopefully it'll get better.

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

Nah. The finest family in the world would agree with me that "The Wedding Singer" was rubbish. Good luck with your issues - a work-in-progress is at least possessed of inherent possibilities :-)

[aerama.livejournal.com]

Hey now, that's really quite fantastic - getting involved in something that takes hold of you like that and proves to be "what I came here to do." Very rare, and great when it happens, even if you still have an eye on the light at the end of the tunnel.


I don't think I've heard that idea that one has to achieve a certain distance from one's parents...emotionally as well as physically, I'd imagine. Or maybe I have but just disregarded it because I hate adages that people spout ponderously. So I don't "get" it either.
I'm glad you have what you have with them, and yourself.

Nothing wrong with eyebrows!! Unless yours don't suit...*imagines all sorts of possibilities*

Oh, good for you on the fanfic! Will have to check out, indeed....

Gary Oldman can just teach DanRad the finer points of the guitar. *grin*

Salsa dancing!?

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

My eyebrows are pretty decent (anti-monobrow plucking not withstanding), but my father's look like Gandalf's, and I fear that one or two of the hairs in mine are starting to grow outwards a bit. Please! no!

Salsa dancing!?
Having gone out for a drink with my neighbour, we ended up in a place with a salsa class on. I managed to hold out through the couples dancing, (I Do Not Do Latin Dancing), but was dragged onto the floor in a moral support capacity for the general hopping around bit.