"Let's take it back to the start"
Jul. 28th, 2007 04:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moogingIt appears that I have managed to return from the House in the Middle of Nowhere relatively unscathed, read-out (not there is such a state of being) and slightly Potter-enthused, although I suppose that's a slightly common affliction right now.
So, hello.
Okay, so I've talked waaaay too much in this post. Also, I think I've managed to catch up with most of my friends list, but if I've missed anything you'd rather I hadn't (I know I got to skip=200, so, er, forgive me if I got slack at some point), please tell me!
I'll be going to my aunt's on Thursday, for about a week, so I'll be around a bit but not a lot (contactable by email always!) and then the week after I'm going to stay withstrangeumbrella for a few days (pleeeeease don't let the floods have done anything to that particular stretch of railways, pleeeeeease) and then when I come back, I'm going to see Tilda Swinton give a talk at the Edinburgh Film Festival.
TILDA SWINTON, in case you missed that.
Oh, happy times for all.
PS: I just set my mood for this post and the picture made me cry.
So, hello.
The house was actually quite nice. I mean, it used to be a train station (which added to the whole WHY IS THERE NOTHING ANYWHERE NEAR THIS PLACE GOOD GOD feel of it, and also meant that it was a converted train-station-house, which in turn meant that every single room had a picture of a train, or a black and white photograph of the train station when it was a train station, or an old train station sign, or a poster about trains or original train station colours on the walls. The dining room (and I don't know what it was before) had several pictures of trains on every wall. It was like living in a museum. Like living in a museum where the Ghosts of Train-Dependence Past had died. The kitchen was painted in Ye Olde Train Statione Coloursy, which were yellow and green. Mmm, fetching.
Now, despite this, it was actually a really nice place. It had two acres of land (it had it's own wood, for god's sake), a separate Games Room (snooker and table football, but there was a pool table in the lounge), the Original Ye Olde Train Statione Platforme (which sadly became the Place Where Bad Tennis Was Played for the duration of our stay), lots of green, a large stretch of gravel drive with it's own mini-roundabout in front of the house, a table tennis table in the conservatory and lots and lots of rabbits in the garden.
(Side note re: the rabbits. There were four that we saw on a regular basis and we named them. The big black rabbit was called Roger (my little sister named him) and he had a terrifying habit of staying Very Very Still for a long time (also, he had a black tail, which I thought was somewhat useless to him as a rabbit, as I thought the whole point of rabbit-tails was to be white, in order that all the other rabbits could be warned when there was some danger by the Bobbling White Tails of Imminent Pie-Making, so Roger-the-big-black-rabbit was clearly endangering his whole species, but never mind). The little black rabbit (who I never once saw) was called Roger-Bodge (er, I don't know why, that was my little sister again). The Evil Rabbit of Hell and Doom (seriously, imagine Mad-Eye Moody as a rabbit and you have him - yes, okay, Moody is a good guy, but he looks a bit like crap) was named Frank (by my mother and I) on account of him actually looking like Frank the Rabbit of Hell and Doom from Donnie Darko, and terrifying us both. My grandmother insisted that he was young and sweet; we knew that he was the bringer of the apocalypse, as he had bloodshot eyes and quite possibly an alcohol problem. Then there was Frank Junior, who was the sweetest thing in the world, had an unfortunate Hell-Demon for a father and very large eyes. That was a lot of irrelevancy, erm, oops?)
Sadly, there were only three bedrooms upstairs, and one bedroom downstairs, riiiiight at the other end of the conservatory from all the other rooms. This bedroom had a step down into it's own little hall, a step up to access it, had beds on casters on a laminated floor, an original furnace, a leaky sink, a poster proclaiming 'NEWCASTLE TO LONDON IN FOUR HOURS' with a gigantic picture of a train in fetching soothing shades of electric blue and silver, white walls so as best to show up the damp, a Big Damn Pillar in the middle of the room for no reason, a smell of cottage cheese as an omnipresent friend and a Big Damn Skylight in the middle of the ceiling, right over the beds, too high up to draw the blind on.
I, of course, took this room (because otherwise it would have been given to my grandmother, who is elderly, infirm, slightly unstable medically and would not have coped). I clearly took this well.
ME: Er, hello, Spirits of the Past, I shall be sleeping here.
ROOM: *eerie silence of every horror movie*
ME: Oooookay then.
ROOM: *scratching at the windows*
ME: Kindly desist.
ROOM: *is cold and damp and wet and despite the thick walls, does not block out the noise from the spa room next door where my mother and step-father liked to spend their evenings*
ME: SHH PLEASE. *covers over the head*
ROOM: LA LA LA VERY VERY LIGHT AHAHAHAHAHA LA LA LA.
TIME: *is 4 in the morning*
ME: For fuck's sake.
TAP: *drips*
ME: MY SANITY, SHE IS GONE
Anyway.
My mother tried to lighten this torment by hiding three Roses chocolates in different places in the room for me every night, which was very nice of her but a) I am very very bad at finding things, b) the clues I always needed were the Vaguest Things Ever (ME: WHERE ARE THE CHOCOLATES?, MOTHER: *wiggles arms*, CHOCOLATES: *are hidden in the curtain loops on the curtain pole*) and c) I would have liked just to have eaten the things, but never mind.
Also, the fact that we suddenly found ourselves on private land with enough space to move the large car around meant that I was forced to have a driving 'lesson' every night, in order to 'teach me the basics'. We did three point turns on my fourth night in the car, and on the last night, I had to drive round the roundabout thing. Mainly, these few minutes went like this:
ME: *hates the steering wheel with a passion*
STEP-FATHER: All you need to do is praaaaaactise!
ME: *hates the gear-stick*
STEP-FATHER: All you need to do is praaaaaactise!
ME: *hates turning the steering wheel*
STEP-FATHER: All you need to do is praaaaactise!
ME: *hates driving*
STEP-FATHER: Time to reverse around a corrrner, tra la la lee laaaaa!
Though, I mean, I sound bitter and twisted about the whole holiday (OH GOD I AM SO GLAD TO BE HOME I WILL NEVER LEAVE AGAIN), it was kind of nice in an odd way (I AM HOME HOORAH).
Now, despite this, it was actually a really nice place. It had two acres of land (it had it's own wood, for god's sake), a separate Games Room (snooker and table football, but there was a pool table in the lounge), the Original Ye Olde Train Statione Platforme (which sadly became the Place Where Bad Tennis Was Played for the duration of our stay), lots of green, a large stretch of gravel drive with it's own mini-roundabout in front of the house, a table tennis table in the conservatory and lots and lots of rabbits in the garden.
(Side note re: the rabbits. There were four that we saw on a regular basis and we named them. The big black rabbit was called Roger (my little sister named him) and he had a terrifying habit of staying Very Very Still for a long time (also, he had a black tail, which I thought was somewhat useless to him as a rabbit, as I thought the whole point of rabbit-tails was to be white, in order that all the other rabbits could be warned when there was some danger by the Bobbling White Tails of Imminent Pie-Making, so Roger-the-big-black-rabbit was clearly endangering his whole species, but never mind). The little black rabbit (who I never once saw) was called Roger-Bodge (er, I don't know why, that was my little sister again). The Evil Rabbit of Hell and Doom (seriously, imagine Mad-Eye Moody as a rabbit and you have him - yes, okay, Moody is a good guy, but he looks a bit like crap) was named Frank (by my mother and I) on account of him actually looking like Frank the Rabbit of Hell and Doom from Donnie Darko, and terrifying us both. My grandmother insisted that he was young and sweet; we knew that he was the bringer of the apocalypse, as he had bloodshot eyes and quite possibly an alcohol problem. Then there was Frank Junior, who was the sweetest thing in the world, had an unfortunate Hell-Demon for a father and very large eyes. That was a lot of irrelevancy, erm, oops?)
Sadly, there were only three bedrooms upstairs, and one bedroom downstairs, riiiiight at the other end of the conservatory from all the other rooms. This bedroom had a step down into it's own little hall, a step up to access it, had beds on casters on a laminated floor, an original furnace, a leaky sink, a poster proclaiming 'NEWCASTLE TO LONDON IN FOUR HOURS' with a gigantic picture of a train in fetching soothing shades of electric blue and silver, white walls so as best to show up the damp, a Big Damn Pillar in the middle of the room for no reason, a smell of cottage cheese as an omnipresent friend and a Big Damn Skylight in the middle of the ceiling, right over the beds, too high up to draw the blind on.
I, of course, took this room (because otherwise it would have been given to my grandmother, who is elderly, infirm, slightly unstable medically and would not have coped). I clearly took this well.
ME: Er, hello, Spirits of the Past, I shall be sleeping here.
ROOM: *eerie silence of every horror movie*
ME: Oooookay then.
ROOM: *scratching at the windows*
ME: Kindly desist.
ROOM: *is cold and damp and wet and despite the thick walls, does not block out the noise from the spa room next door where my mother and step-father liked to spend their evenings*
ME: SHH PLEASE. *covers over the head*
ROOM: LA LA LA VERY VERY LIGHT AHAHAHAHAHA LA LA LA.
TIME: *is 4 in the morning*
ME: For fuck's sake.
TAP: *drips*
ME: MY SANITY, SHE IS GONE
Anyway.
My mother tried to lighten this torment by hiding three Roses chocolates in different places in the room for me every night, which was very nice of her but a) I am very very bad at finding things, b) the clues I always needed were the Vaguest Things Ever (ME: WHERE ARE THE CHOCOLATES?, MOTHER: *wiggles arms*, CHOCOLATES: *are hidden in the curtain loops on the curtain pole*) and c) I would have liked just to have eaten the things, but never mind.
Also, the fact that we suddenly found ourselves on private land with enough space to move the large car around meant that I was forced to have a driving 'lesson' every night, in order to 'teach me the basics'. We did three point turns on my fourth night in the car, and on the last night, I had to drive round the roundabout thing. Mainly, these few minutes went like this:
ME: *hates the steering wheel with a passion*
STEP-FATHER: All you need to do is praaaaaactise!
ME: *hates the gear-stick*
STEP-FATHER: All you need to do is praaaaaactise!
ME: *hates turning the steering wheel*
STEP-FATHER: All you need to do is praaaaactise!
ME: *hates driving*
STEP-FATHER: Time to reverse around a corrrner, tra la la lee laaaaa!
Though, I mean, I sound bitter and twisted about the whole holiday (OH GOD I AM SO GLAD TO BE HOME I WILL NEVER LEAVE AGAIN), it was kind of nice in an odd way (I AM HOME HOORAH).
So, yes, in my holidaying tactic of Never Leaving To Go Into the Countryside (although they did once drag me up a large hill, in which I got a huge blood blister on my foot (no, really, it's about the size of my thumb nail) I read lots and lots.
I re-read His Dark Materials trilogy, which I loved if anything probably more than last time I read them, being slightly older and therefore appreciating that they may possibly have caused some controversy in the church, as there is some such talk of the Church Being Evil and yet Incompetent and also that God Is Responsible For All Bad Things And Is Also Bad Himself, and a couple of gay angels (who I adored and wanted to hug for the rest of my life), but, er, no, I really do love that series. I still wish Nicole Kidman wasn't going to play Mrs Coulter though. Plus, I want a daemon.
Right, er, I also read the Regeneration trilogy, which I need to read again and again and again and the last one made me cry very very very hard, until I had to put the book down and try to stop the wailing before I could read the last few pages. (Prior wrote to Rivers before That Thing I Am In Denial About). No doubt I shall be having several lengthy conversations about these books when I am at the House of Maddie in a couple of weeks (!!!).
Also, I loved every single Prior/Rivers interaction, and Rivers made my heart hurt a lot, and Prior is all kinds of awesome, and WAH. *cries a lot*
I don't know, I really liked Regeneration (and I still cling to the fact that in my head, Sassoon/Graves is a True Thing) and then I really liked Eye in the Door and then I really liked Ghost Road, and I can't pick a favourite. If anything swung my favour one way, it'd go to Regeneration for the simple reason that there was more Prior/Rivers interactioning, which is one of my favourite things in the whole world, so there. (When they finally figure out what it was that broke Prior and he just goes "is that all?" and he's so angry, and so broken, and Rivers is comforting him in the only way Prior will allow (with head-butting, oh god) argh argh argh).
Pshh, I don't know. I just love the way Rivers is protective of Prior and yet completely indifferent somehow, and then he cares that bit more for him, and he's so tested by him, and Prior just doesn't like it but knows there's something he needs with Rivers, and then when he can't go back to war and he's so upset and there's that hint of resignation under all the...the...it's not self-loathing, I don't know, the resentment at himself, and I'm not even saying anything now, so I'll shut up.
I re-read His Dark Materials trilogy, which I loved if anything probably more than last time I read them, being slightly older and therefore appreciating that they may possibly have caused some controversy in the church, as there is some such talk of the Church Being Evil and yet Incompetent and also that God Is Responsible For All Bad Things And Is Also Bad Himself, and a couple of gay angels (who I adored and wanted to hug for the rest of my life), but, er, no, I really do love that series. I still wish Nicole Kidman wasn't going to play Mrs Coulter though. Plus, I want a daemon.
Right, er, I also read the Regeneration trilogy, which I need to read again and again and again and the last one made me cry very very very hard, until I had to put the book down and try to stop the wailing before I could read the last few pages. (Prior wrote to Rivers before That Thing I Am In Denial About). No doubt I shall be having several lengthy conversations about these books when I am at the House of Maddie in a couple of weeks (!!!).
Also, I loved every single Prior/Rivers interaction, and Rivers made my heart hurt a lot, and Prior is all kinds of awesome, and WAH. *cries a lot*
I don't know, I really liked Regeneration (and I still cling to the fact that in my head, Sassoon/Graves is a True Thing) and then I really liked Eye in the Door and then I really liked Ghost Road, and I can't pick a favourite. If anything swung my favour one way, it'd go to Regeneration for the simple reason that there was more Prior/Rivers interactioning, which is one of my favourite things in the whole world, so there. (When they finally figure out what it was that broke Prior and he just goes "is that all?" and he's so angry, and so broken, and Rivers is comforting him in the only way Prior will allow (with head-butting, oh god) argh argh argh).
Pshh, I don't know. I just love the way Rivers is protective of Prior and yet completely indifferent somehow, and then he cares that bit more for him, and he's so tested by him, and Prior just doesn't like it but knows there's something he needs with Rivers, and then when he can't go back to war and he's so upset and there's that hint of resignation under all the...the...it's not self-loathing, I don't know, the resentment at himself, and I'm not even saying anything now, so I'll shut up.
Then I went to Manchester with my dad and step-mother on Monday/Tuesday, and we saw OotP, and I read DH last Saturday, and I need to see/read both of them again before I can form an opinion (although one thing stands out for me from both) because all the way through the film I was trying not to react to anything because of who I was with and the first time through DH I was just utterly on edge (I love these characters, shut up, I'm sad) so I want to see the film again to really see the film, you know, and I want to read the book again to really take it in.
Shh, I'm quite sad.
Also, as is to be expected I suppose, I've been thrown back into my Potter-love (I swear, it was only Doctor/Rose and Remus/Sirius that got me through the end of Year Nine, Year of Hell) and have therefore spent the last few days going Remus/Sirius/Remus/Sirius (rionaleonhart, that does not mean multiple versions of them, step away from the crack fic!) and I love them to itty itty pieces. (anyone have any R/S recs?)
Go readshoebox_project. Do it now.
So, yes, consider this your warning that some Harry Potter stuff may be flailing around here fairly soon.
Shh, I'm quite sad.
Also, as is to be expected I suppose, I've been thrown back into my Potter-love (I swear, it was only Doctor/Rose and Remus/Sirius that got me through the end of Year Nine, Year of Hell) and have therefore spent the last few days going Remus/Sirius/Remus/Sirius (
rionaleonhart, that does not mean multiple versions of them, step away from the crack fic!) and I love them to itty itty pieces. (anyone have any R/S recs?)Go read
shoebox_project. Do it now.So, yes, consider this your warning that some Harry Potter stuff may be flailing around here fairly soon.
Okay, so I've talked waaaay too much in this post. Also, I think I've managed to catch up with most of my friends list, but if I've missed anything you'd rather I hadn't (I know I got to skip=200, so, er, forgive me if I got slack at some point), please tell me!
I'll be going to my aunt's on Thursday, for about a week, so I'll be around a bit but not a lot (contactable by email always!) and then the week after I'm going to stay with
strangeumbrella for a few days (pleeeeease don't let the floods have done anything to that particular stretch of railways, pleeeeeease) and then when I come back, I'm going to see Tilda Swinton give a talk at the Edinburgh Film Festival.TILDA SWINTON, in case you missed that.
Oh, happy times for all.
PS: I just set my mood for this post and the picture made me cry.
