(no subject)

[nineveh_uk]

It is a Monday, and therefore the office is cold. I thought that after the mild weekend I could get away with a wool jumper and no jacket. I was wrong. Meanwhile the baby pigeons in the nest below the first floor kitchen are now decidedly pigeon-coloured and shaped, and look like they won’t be with us long. Judging by the rate at which the nest is losing its sheltering ivy, this is a good thing. Not being a pigeon, I shall be getting out the electric blanket tonight. Am I 92? Yes I am.

I went to Cambridge for the weekend to vote for the new chancellor, an election that they would rather not have had, but for which they gave all voters a University pin and, afterwards, plenty of cake. The establishment candidate won, which interesting as the others are was a good thing, though runner-up Brian Blessed would no doubt have thrown his heart into it. I also met up with various friends, including a “didn’t expect to see you here, how do you know these people?” moment (which was very nice, but rather unexpected). I also stayed up too late reading Anne McCaffrey novels, though admittedly 7pm is too late to stay up reading Anne McCaffrey novels when one is over 15, and came up with a useful fic scene during the drive.

Finally I realised that when your ‘new’ nice cardigan is 6 years old you are allowed to get a new one. Naturally this year’s colours are all completely wrong.

Comments

[antisoppist.livejournal.com]

Going by the streets of Minehead, people you know just make a habit of following you about the country.

This year's colours cannot be completely wrong when I was just thinking that my jumper situation is verging on the desperate. Curse the bloody moths.

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

They have nice colours, just not the right ones for me. There's a couple of lovely cardigans on the Dickins and Jones website that I'd have in e.g. dark red, but would not look right in the colour they are. It is very annoying, and I don't even have moths.