?

Log in

Aug. 27th, 2015

About two weeks ago I started having terrible anxiety dreams about having to move out of London. Awful. I kept waking up really cross and nervous and freaking out about having to leave the life I've built for myself.

I realised last week it was the prospect of going back to Ormskirk for the weekend. Ah well.

The good thing is that I survived, as did Richie, and Megan's party went well. It was in what can only be described as a Proper Grim pub, the kind with carpet on the dancefloor. I accidentally ate meat ("The quiche is vegetarian!" *bites down on quiche* "Except the quiche Lorraine"), drank lots of really cheap drinks and at one point danced to Shake It Off with my Dad. I didn't dance with Dad at my own wedding, for goodness sake. But it was ace.

I woke up the next morning having a PROPER FREAK OUT because I had no memory apart from leaving the pub but vividly remembered not being that drunk. Turns out my future brother in law shut a door on my head. Still, Drunk And Or Concussed Colleen was kind to Morning Colleen, as I took off all my make up, sorted out my hair, and neatly sorted my clothes. Apparently I went home, drank two pints of water and quietly went to bed. It's all good.

But yes, I don't want to move back to the north, not for now. It's not that I don't miss people up there. And I recognise that London is dirty, and it's always busy, and the only way I'll be able to afford a house is by becoming a high class hooker, and it takes me forever to get to work. But I love the pace, and the food, and the people. I like my job, and my flat, and my life. So, yeah. Anxiety dreams.

Aug. 19th, 2015

WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT HAS LIVEJOURNAL DONE TO MY FUCKING FRIENDS PAGE

I am going to stay on LJ because too much of my life is on it, but basically this is me saying fuck it and focussing on Dreamwidth. I am also very reluctantly on tumblr now, username hathycol, don't know anything about it or have anything posted there but yeah.

ugh.

Aug. 18th, 2015

I turned 28 last week, which felt faintly traumatic. I had a plan for a birthday get together but due to summer holidays, convention panels that people were by all accounts being awesome on, the Royal Northern Opera and my own poor preparation it ended up as just me, Richie and Fiona at the local pub on a Saturday night. On Sunday we went to the Gladiator Games which was super awesome good fun, though. An outdoor event I was initially a little dubious about, it was basically a load of historic reenactors doing a gladiator tournament. It was gloriously violent, took place in the blazing sunshine at the old Roman amphitheatre (oh London, I love you) and at one point had Fiona and I howling abuse along the lines of STICK HIM WITH THE POINTY END. Brilliant fun, so not a bad weekend in itself! Plus Louise was staying on Monday and Tuesday night, so Tuesday evening we got far too much curry and drank wine and all was lovely.

I, just, er. I sort of feel like I should be achieving a little more for someone who is now Nearly 30. I found myself having a rather unpleasant self dislike spiral, which led to just wanting to sit in the loo and have a cry at work. Which, again, is sort of bad. ("Everyone hates me! I look like a moose with leprosy! I'm a terrible wife! I'm a fraud at my job!") I'm not being helped by the engineering works on the Tube, which means I have to take a roundabout route to work that involves a lot of walking and in the evening running for the first train roughly going my way at Liverpool Street and hoping for the best. It has mostly not been the best. I'm getting up a lot earlier, which means my body clock and the light it expects is all a little bit wrong, too.

SO. On Thursday I came home and watched Parks and Rec and Yonderland (the latter, by the way, is making me cry with laughter) and on Friday I went out with work. And I tried to constantly tell myself that okay, I may not have bought a house or learned to ride that motorbike yet, but I am an exceedingly well qualified person! Educationally and professionally! And I may not yet particularly like my body (it's a problem, at the moment) but 18 year old me would be flabbergasted, I tell you, that I have finally learned to apply ALL of the make up, yes even the difficult eyebrow stuff, and ALSO have the confidence to mostly say 'fuck it' and just whack on some vestiges of goth eyeliner for work pretty much EVERY DAY. And that I am capable of picking out clothes APPROPRIATE FOR THE SITUATION. And I'm in a place in my life where when my tights ladder uncomfortably around the toe, I have the disposable income to BUY ANOTHER PAIR OF TIGHTS ON MY LUNCH rather than be in pain all day. And I can socialise with DIFFERENT KINDS OF PEOPLE in WEIRD SITUATIONS. I ca also COSPLAY AT CONVENTIONS. And I have LOTS OF FRIENDS who are, incidentally, amazingly well-rounded and brilliant individuals, so if they like me there must be something right about me, right?

On Saturday, Richie and I went out for Michelin star Peruvian food. There's a sentence I wouldn't have believed when I was 18. I wouldn't have much believed it when I was 25, actually. But he had a voucher through work for a nice meal out and we just went for it. I asked cheerfully and confidently if certain items were vegetarian, ordered them, and then ate them, even though I didn't know what the flavours were. Because I am so much more open minded about food, and I wanted to be that ever since I blossomed out of the significantly pickier teenager I was. I can order wine and talk confidently about it in restaurants, some very nice ones I have been lucky enough to try, but I am also pretty bloody good at ordering in Pizza Express now. Many worlds.

And I still write - ok, it's fic, but it makes me happy - and generally there are lots of good things in my life. Although I really do think I might put some effort into getting my bike licence before I'm 30, because why the hell not?

Er. That was all a bit angstier than I meant.

This weekend I'm going to Ormskirk for Megan's engagement party. I know, I'm as shocked as everyone else despite several hundred words before this regarding ageing and the passing of time.
I have had a godawful day so I have come home, finished this off, and decided to post it. This is my attempt to try and negotiate my desire to write completely canonical fic but at the same time to acknowledge that I am a die-hard Clint/Natasha shipper and that I love the Hawkeye comics. And I love that Tony is the only Avenger you ever see in his apartment. As such...

Also: this is for stupidore, who accidentally cameo-ed in this before I'd realised. Sorry Katie.

Title:The License
Author: hathy_col
Rating: Teen and up (some swearing)
Disclaimer:I own nothing.
Summary:"Slow down there a second. One of the other things I've been doing is monitoring internet chat about all of the Avengers, even trying to see what's being passed around the dark web. A group in the last couple of days has been talking about a marriage license for you, so if that exists..." Stark looked, for him, unaccountably nervous. "You have a nice life out there, Barton, and I don't want to be the one that bursts that little dream, but it might be time to move them."

Clint stayed still for a moment. "A marriage license?" he said cautiously. "That's all?"</b>

Below the cutCollapse ) A03 link

Aug. 3rd, 2015

It's been a busy couple of weeks for us. A couple of weeks ago Richie and I went up for the Now Traditional (i.e. it's happened more than once) Birmingham Beer Bash with Philip, Kirsty, Andrew and Ali. I travelled up with the most horrendous laryngitis so on Friday night so when we arrived I mostly communicated via the medium of pointing at stuff. We went to a little basement bar and it turns out that cider is a great cure for a terrible throat. I had at least two conversations by the end of the day.

The next day we had a leisurely breakfast/lunch type thing before a very slow mini-pub crawl of Birmingham. Andrew and Richie were there with the intention of organising Philip's stag do with some of his West Midlands friends, so that was organised as we sampled some of Birmingham's culture (pubs) and fine people (barpeople).

Later in the day we headed to Digbeth for a large beer festival, which also had some awesome food options, and we sat around and talked for hours, sampling beers and burgers (or cider and homity pie in my case) and just... talking nonsense. Also, talking! The cider made my voice come back, but also burnt through my vocal cords and led to a fascinating nosebleed part way through the night. Whoops. It was just... a really lovely night, getting to catch up. The next day was somewhat more painful but Richie and I made a slow way back to London and tried to relax for the rest of the week.

This was made a little more difficult by Richie winning employee of the year in work on Tuesday, which was something of a surprise! POWER COUPLE BABY. We were out on Tuesday anyway as we had tickets for a female version of Jekyll and Hyde (not that good) but on Thursday we went out and had a blow out meal to celebrate our general awesomeness. We went to the OXO Tower and ate a delicious meal, I drank English champagne, and afterwards we went out to an ancient wine bar and drank expensive wine. I dread to think what my credit card thinks of me right now but hey ho. It was a splendid night, made better by coming home to discover that my CIPD certificate had come through and I am now a fully associated member with a Level 5 Diploma in Human Resources Management. More letters after my name, baby!

Friday was a long day at work but it turns out that thing about posh wine not making your hungover might have something in it after all. Wahey! I got through the day and came home to desperately pack before running back out to get the night bus to Edinburgh. I thought it would be a much more amusing story of my horrible night on the bus it turns out with a blankey, pillow, eyemask, earplugs and sleeping tablets these things are remarkably easy to cope with. I fell asleep just out of Victoria and woke up in Morningside. I had travelled up for Grahame's 30th but due to a combination of factors it sort of ended up being just me. Still, it ended up being a lovely day. Maisie is now a REAL PERSON and also a tiny tornado of terror and energy. Good grief, toddlers are difficult. I finally met Alba, who is the opposite of her sister. Much more peaceably, unbelievably happy and adorable to cuddle. Both girls were taken by various grandparents for the night, and we had a night in with terrible films and First Contact and takeaway. Yummy yummy and good times.

The Sunday day time travel was much less fun. Ah well.

And now it is another week and ohgod if I don't get some sleep next weekend I will quite possibly die.
So this weekend I had a weekend with the lovely Tali and Lucy and we went to LFCC AND DID SOME TOURISTY SUMMER STUFF. We were totally awesome like that.

Tali arrived on Friday night, a Friday I had not spent productively. Although I had a productive Friday morning, I went out for a birthday lunch with some of the admin girls. On the way back, it dawned on us there were no directors in. So we hid in the basement bar of the building and had a large glass of wine before I went back to work, which was in retrospect a terrible idea as I managed to totally forget that I was meant to take Monday for a training course. Whoops.

However, I was correctly distracted because Tali was on her way! Her satnav, despite trying to send her somewhere else, actually led her directly to my work. We went home very slowly due to problems with the buses and spent a lovely Friday night chatting and watching some TV. We had a leisurely morning, too. Lucy was due to arrive just before 11, so I cooked brunch for us both. I had French toast for the first ever time a couple of weeks ago so I decided to make it for us, with fruit and enough sqooshy cream to drown a battleship. It was jolly nice, if I say so myself.

Lucy arrived not long after we'd washed up, so after a cup of tea we headed out into the wide world of London. One of my favourite things to do is to go for Borough Market for lunch and then amble along the South Bank, and we were rewarded with brilliant weather. Plus Lucy and Tali liked the market, which doesn't necessarily always happen as it's very crowded! We ate delicious food. It was the first time I'd ever eaten koshari, an Egyptian street food that is basically "HERE, HAVE SOME CARBS WITH YOUR CARBS" (seriously, it's rice, pasta, vermicelli noodles, tomatoe sauce, lentils, chickpeas, AMAZING DELICIOUSNESS) and we sat in the shade at the corner of the market and consumed. We then toddled back for enormous cookies and pieces of cake and some cider from the cider stall. What more can you ask for than a delicious lunch like that with your friends?

Digesting, we perambulated along the Thames and managed to snag a table as a riverside pub, so drank expensive drinks again in the shade while the river gently sloshed and we waited on Richie. Crossing Blackfriars bridge we went to The Blackfriar pub which I had heard had an amazing interior; it was in fact full of REALLY FREAKY MONKS HEADS so we grabbed a table outside as soon as could!

Fiona joined us post-quiddithc practice and we got some more food before heading home. It was an evening of Psychobitches, showing Tali The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt for the first time (we shouted "WHERE IS YOUR ADULT?" on more than one occasion the next day) before the depressing realisation that those of us who were con bound had to get up in about six hours. Oh dear.

SHAME! SHAME! or: LFCC the only dayCollapse )

It was a lovely note to end on. We trundled our way home on a crowded set of Tubes, feet aching, sweating desperately, but overall happy. Tali left pretty much as soon as we got home, which was a shame simply because it's always nice to have friends around.

So that was my weekend. I am now full of con lurgy and in the process of losing my voice, which is fun. However, this weekend it's time to see more friends and go to Birmingham for a beer festival, so I shall ignore this and pretend to be healthy. Woo!

henry fuseli ain't got nothing on me

I can't remember if I've ever mentioned it, but I very occasionally get the world's most mundane sleep paralysis. For those not in the know, sleep paralysis is where you wake up but can't actually wake up - your brain is up and alert and your eyes are sometimes open but all of your muscles are still frozen, like they are when you're in deep sleep.

Anyway, my version of it is very irregular - once a month or so - and deeply boring. It's invariably when I have a long lie in, and there's no one in the house, and I 'wake up' but am just stuck there is a dull groundhog day style of events, where I 'see' myself waking up, walking around and moving, doing all the things I need to do that morning, but instead stuck in bed staring at the ceiling. I normally shout at myself to wake up for a bit. It's pretty lame. I sometimes read articles about it and go, well, hey, at least I get to experience this fascinating world in a dull way. It's considered to be one of the driving forces behind people who experience alien abduction in their sleep, or the older myths of the succubus and incubus. This is the quite famous picture of it, of a swooning woman with a demon on her chest (you can't move, you see, so a demon was thought to be pressing you down) with a menacing horse thing leering over her. I just hallucinate about making the bed in the broad daylight. They're not dreams, whatever you see - you are awake, they are hallucinations, they're quite strong.

UNTIL LAST NIGHT.

I woke up at some point in the middle of the night, and watched some sort of squat humanoid in a red cloak walk into the room and stand over Richie, just staring at him. It had no interest in me but I could tell it very clearly had malicious thoughts towards Richie. I couldn't see the face or any features other than this red cloak. I did, however, feel it was clearly malevolent. I then realised I couldn't move and started shrieking at myself WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP, after an unknown about of time I did, the hallucination disappeared and I promptly started to hyperventilate, which woke Richie up. I launched myself at him and clung onto him like a distressed koala for much of the rest of the night. "Go back to sleep," I tried to tell myself but my body was pretty much "NOPE THAT WORKED OUT SUPER BADLY LAST TIME"

I'm still a little unnerved. Richie left the house before I got out of bed this morning (I fell back asleep when the sun came up) so I didn't have the chance to tell him about it, but when I was describing it to him this evening I felt genuinely chilled again. I would like to return to that dull one about cleaning the bedroom, thanks.

So as you can imagine I was in a super good mood at work today. Argh. Happy Monday.

Jul. 11th, 2015

Richie is in Aberdeen for a funeral, sadly; I am therefore home alone and rather than spending the time usefully catching up on telly or writing I have been stupidly productive instead and cleaned the flat from top to bottom. I cleaned the oven and the cupboards in the kitchen and everything. Madness, although that said I do enjoy the sensation of being in a beautifully cleaned space, particularly one that was increasingly looking like a bomb had gone off. I do have all of this evening spare, which I plan to use finishing off a Firefly rewatch and ordering pizza. Ordering a takeaway for one feels like the highest form of decadence for me so at least I'm rewarding myself for my labours.

It is currently ridiculously hot in London. A couple of weeks ago hit 36 degrees, which was unholy. Getting the tube was death. Working in the office was unpleasant, to say the least. Fortunately that only lasted one day and now it's just moved into a somewhat balmy summer instead.

I feel like I should write about all the exciting things I've done recently, but there really isn't a lot. A couple of weekends ago Richie and I went to to Hampton Court Palace and had a picnic in the grounds on deckchairs with historical figures on them. We got slightly tipsy on smuggled in booze, and I saw a woodpecker! Which is about the most exciting thing ever, the green on it was so beautiful. I'm not sure when I got so into birdwatching, but there we go. I do get excited when I see a rare bird for the first time ever.

Anyway. I am now going to have some wine and watch some telly and waiting for my pizza. Om nom nom.

Jun. 28th, 2015

I am not the best advertisement for the coil right now. Some icky girl stuff!Collapse )

Apart from all of that ickiness, my moods are a bit all over the place. I keep getting arbitrarily tearful, so I'm trying to do happy things. Last weekend I saw Iona and Tali and we spent hours in a pub near Euston, chatting about stuff (how to punch people FOR SCIENCE, scrofula, other things!) and enjoying each others company, which made me feel better.

This week in work has been intensely busy as I am covering for someone else's job, but I finished college! Finished! Forever! Soon I shall be officially qualified, as soon as I get my certificate through. This is a mercy and I have no intention of going back to that college. I will perhaps get the next level of qualification when I can face the thought of Yet More Education, but not right now. I'm liking having my weekends back! We went out for dinner after college on Tuesday and I decided that I am... er... not going to miss the majority of the class, if I'm honest.

Also this week I work I won the monthly prize for People and Community, which is exciting, as it was for all of Hitachi Consulting EMEA, which is QUITE A LOT OF PEOPLE, and covers, you know, a third of the world. Gosh. I won for my work on Ladies Yay, which made things a bit awkward when I had not one but two Ladies Yay meetings with people who do a great deal more for the wider organisation. Ah well. They were interesting meetings, and the one on Thursday night consisted of gently drinking wine on the South Bank at a pop up bar. Yeah, my life isn't too bad sometimes.

Although, super annoyingly, I have missed out on tickets for Saturday at LFCC because I was waiting until payday. Bah.

Jun. 15th, 2015

I try not to complain about post con blues after Milton Keynes, mostly because one time my post con blues were 'I came home on Sunday and they put my dog down on Monday', which, you know, worst ever.

A new second will now be Mirena coil insertion/lining biopsy Monday, where I yelped in pain during, cried with pain on the bus home and am now lying in bed having cracked into my emergency codeine with a hot water bottle. I was okay with the speculum and biopsy bit but the inserting bit was Really Fucking Painful.

I did not think ahead and buy ice cream. Terrible decision, Past Colleen!
This year's MK Collectormania - the sixth in a row for me! - was a change of pace. I went straight from work, and due to no longer having a car I had to take the train. This meant I had my own weight in baggage. We also went out for lunch with a recruitment agency on Friday, so by the time I left work I was also slightly tipsy. GOOD TIMES.

As it was hotter than hell in London, and there were problems on the line, I spent too long waiting in Euston for a train. Fortunately, the trains to Milton Keynes from London are both frequent and very fast, so I was there in very little time and trundled over to the Travelodge, where I found Lucy and four beds. FOUR. Ironically, there were only three of us. It felt like some kind of weird karmic retribution for all the times we slept on the floor...

Lucy and I spent the evening chatting, swapping fic recommendations and youtube videos, and Ann turned up much later on due to chaos on her trains getting down. We continued to stay up late and chat. It was just... lovely. I don't see these ladies often enough!

i just wanted to build a snowman! or, saturdayCollapse )

gul dukat a submissive love slave! or sundayCollapse )

We left in the afternoon, and Lucy kindly dropped me off at the station as I hastily changed dresses in the backseat of her car. Classy, as always, that's me.

I got back in good time and had a lazy Sunday afternoon. Now it's Monday, which I have taken off work because I am sensible, even though I ended up awake at 8am because apparently twelve children screaming their way through a trampoline is how the people in the house behind us like to spend a morning. I'm finishing typing this up, have updated facebook with pictures of the weekend, and now I'm watching Firefly because, frankly, I can. Having also eaten lunch I'm going to wash up, sort out the laundry and then organise my autographs as they have now outgrown the folders I have! Then I might just read the Ms Marvel and Hawkeye books I picked up BECAUSE I CAN.

Jun. 10th, 2015

So last week was actually okay, for the rest of it. On Thursday I was running a Ladies Yay event (still not its real name), which was meant to be a joint event between us and the mothership, except it was at our buildings and I organised everything. Hm. I found out about three hours before it was due to start that the HR director and a lot of the senior HR team of said mothership were coming over to participate. ARGH ARGH ARGH I cried in my head and got on with things.

Anyway. The event went well! And afterwards we Mingled with the copious amount of food and wine I had brought in. And maybe it was due to having not eaten all day, maybe it was relief the event had gone okay, maybe it was annoyance that said HR director didn't even bother to talk to me afterwards (hm) and maybe a big chunk of it was irateness that I was still working even though I wanted to cry a bit for a lot of last week but after nearly everyone had gone four of us stayed back and got totally blotto.

Friday was a blurry hellhole of a hangover but, you know, I felt better for it.

The weekend was a remarkably pleasant one. I spent a lot of Saturday afternoon in Holland Park for John's birthday, where we sat in the sun and drank prosecco next to the open air opera bit, with people warming up. It was bliss. Richie and I spent the evening by ourselves at home, talking about stuff, and then for reasons that made sense at the time, watched the finale of Stars in their Eyes 1993. Marti Pellow won, if you're interested.

On Sunday I FINISHED MY COLLEGE WORK, or at least the first draft of it all. I skipped off with joy into the sunny afternoon and went for a walk down the River Lea and across Walthamstow Marshes, which is turns out finish pretty much exactly at the other end of our road, next to a pub. We have lived here for three years. Had no idea. FAIL, SELF.

It is now Wednesday. I have now given in ALL of my college work so it's just a case of keeping everything crossed that I pass this and then I am DONE DONE DONE with college and officially qualified. Woo!

This weekend I am off to Milton Keynes Collectormania which is going to be SUPER FUN. I have, in a moment of insanity, decided to cosplay as Gamora. A test run was moderately successful, but hell, it'll be fun and Gamora is hella awesome. This is the first Collectormania since I was... er... 16? I think? that I am having to take the train to. It also means that I have to take all my stuff to work on Friday. So, you know, obviously the best time to require loads of baggage up to and including a wig. I can't wait to see everyone, though. I have the Monday off to ensure that I am no longer too green and also to get biopsy and coil fitted on Monday afternoon, which promises to be painful, but I have decided to have Monday as a day just bingewatching TV because - and this is important - for the first time since September I don't have any homework to to. That's a big old silver lining.

Jun. 3rd, 2015

So yesterday I went to the consultant. I worked from home all morning and trundled out on the bus, past the old greyhound racing stadium and through an estate in Chingford. Cut for ladyparts discussion and slightly invasive medical proceduresCollapse )

The long and short of it is that both of my ovaries are riddled with cysts and I have a 'very clear cut' case of polycystic ovarian syndrome.

Once we had got over the jolly probing expert, I got dressed in an undignified manner and was sat down for the more serious part of the appointment. The good news - and I am horribly shallow as I say this - I am not going to develop hirsuitism if I already haven't. This was... a bigger relief than it should have been.

However.

1. The reason I struggle to keep weight off is not, actually, just because I eat too many crisps. I need to keep an eye on this, though, because something something hormones insulin diabetes early death. I did not understand the science. But, you know, a future of salads which I already knew.

2. The acne will NEVER GO AWAY so just deal with that.

3. I am at a much higher risk of uterine cancer because my womb is not flushing itself out because I'm not having periods because where I should be producing eggs I am... not. I flat out refused to go back on the Pill ("I don't want to have to go through all of this again! This is what started this in the first place!") which the consultant agreed was fine, because the coil was a better option. Which was plan a! So that's good! I have been put on some epic hormones to kick start a fake period and then in ten days I'm going to have a biopsy to check all is as it should be and get the coil put in.

4. Even if they took out the coil: I am very unlikely to conceive naturally. I am, at best, ovulating about once a year and what I'm producing is 'probably not great'. Also I am a lot less likely to successfully carry said miracle sprog. There are treatments, but... not under my own steam, basically.

I had a meltdown trying to fill the prescription. The first chemist didn't have it in stock, and the second told me that the prescription was written out wrong and I had to go back to the GP. "It's from a consultant," I said.

"Well, it's wrong."

"Even I can read this. What is the problem with it?"

"It's not formatted properly. Go back to the consultant."

"I AM HAVING A VERY BAD DAY I CANNOT JUST GO BACK AND THIS IS TIME SENSITIVE."

"Well, it's a CONTROLLED DRUG, do you even KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?"

"YES ACTUALLY," I snarled, grabbed it back and stormed out of Boots in tears. Fortunately the Co-op pharmacy had it and filled it with no questions. And I felt better for a bit of a controlled meltdown, so that's something.

I am... I dunno. I think I'm just angry. I mean, logically this is frankly neutral at worst. I'm getting the coil I wanted A YEAR AGO. I didn't want kids anyway, if you exclude the annoyance at the amount of money and time I've spent peeing on sticks in the last year. And I come from a family of people with diabetes from eating too much so I was already being sensible with what I eat and I do rather enjoy vegetables anyway.

But I am furious. I am angry that my body has betrayed me and I am angry that choices have been taken away from me. I may be glad to have an answer and to at least know how to go forward but I am just... angry. I am angry that the choice was been taken away from Richie, too. Which is a bit silly, but. There you go. I know people - a lot of people! - on my flist who suffer from much worst Pesky Reproductive System Problems so I think I am being a little precious. Which makes me feel worse about myself. Sorry everyone.

I have told mum, in between telling her this was bloody private and needed to stay as such and I had no desire to let grandad know thank you. I will tell people, at some point, but I need to process this and be able to talk about it rationally. It feels better to get this down on (virtual) paper, at least.

May. 28th, 2015

Yeah mum, please do tell Grandad all about the private ladybits medical issue I am having that I am mortified about, that's a surprise conversation I really just wanted to have.

*screams*

Don't mind telling friends but really unhappy discussing this with elderly relatives before it's even fully diagnosed for fuck's sake.

May. 27th, 2015

The first, and the most important thing I want to say, is that this weekend I saw Mad Max: Fury Road and it is just as good as everyone says it is. It is possibly better. There was a point, about 2/3 of the way through, where I realised that if I was trapped in a room and had to watch nothing but this film for all eternity, I would probably be okay. It's an brutal art-house dystopian feminist action masterpiece and yes, there is a guitar that doubles up as a flamethrower. Who killed the world, indeed.

Which is why it's a bit pants that in the last 24 hours I have sold my car and sort of mentally spent some time trying to shout at myself WHAT WOULD FURIOSA DO THE WHOLE POINT IS THAT YOU ARE NOT DEFINED BY YOUR CAPACITY TO BEAR LIVE YOUNG FOR FUCK'S SAKE at myself. I think I am more upset about the car, actually, to be fair, but.

To go back to the start: Cut for some medical stuff including ladybitsCollapse )

So even though I had something of an answer about what the hell is going on with my body, and even though selling the car is a good thing, I still felt fairly pants yesterday. And now writing about it again I want a glass of wine.

Or to ride across the desert on a motorbike, screaming ONE MAN, ONE BULLET, but that's just a Wednesday.

May. 23rd, 2015

So last weekend my parents came to stay, which led to two very busy and full on days. Highlight was most definitely Sunday afternoon. Richie and Mum went to see The Lion King, and Dad and I trundled up to see Denmark Street while it's still open (sodding gentrification). Dad playing the guitar is a thing of beauty and wonder, and he wandered around a few of the shops and played away at a few of them. He talked himself out of buying a guitar, despite my protests that he totally should. We then went to The Spice of Life because I wanted to see if there were any jazz vampires there - I then had to explain to Dad about Rivers of London and indeed the concept of jazz vampires - and had an overall lovely day. Even the bit where I also had to explain the concept of Japanese Lolita fashion, because a group of girls walked in and he was understandably baffled.

I miss my parents quite a lot, sometimes. It's been hard finding time to phone, recently, and I should work on that more. I don't have parents that just jaunt down to London, and lord knows I don't just jaunt up north, so. Hm.

Anyway.

The busy weekend, which came immediately after an equally busy weekend, meant I spent this week in a haze of exhaustion. It is not a mindset I encourage with a ridiculously busy week of work and the deathly knowledge that you need to pull out another 2,000+ words on employment law and then script and record a podcast (YES REALLY) about equity and fairness in pay and reward management. The last one only has to be about five minutes but still. Argh. Then I am DONE with college, however, popping in only to do admin and officially pass and give myself even more letters after my name. BECAUSE MY NAME NEEDS MORE LETTERS, OBVIOUSLY.

All that said: tonight is Eurovision! Wahey! We have a few people coming around, a fridge full of party snacks, and this afternoon for a break from revision I am dropping off some tins for the food bank before, er, buying more food and booze because this party has got a tiny bit bigger than we were expecting. I mean, the UK is going to get trounced anyway, but it's always a fun evening.

But first: employment law. Ugh.

May. 14th, 2015

Well now, THAT was a weekend.

After my Unexpected Company Presentation Thursday, I spent the evening scurrying around the house and trying to get the car ready. David and Fiona turned up quite late on Thursday, and I went to bed just as the exit polls came out.

I woke up at 6.30am. Now, normally this in itself would be traumatic, but discovering about the government was frankly not the news I needed. I decided to ignore matters, turned off my phones, and worked on chivvying everyone out of the door on time. It was a glorious morning, which helped, and we made excellent time when we headed up the A1. We stopped for a big breakfast on the way, and spent a lot of time chatting, gossiping and getting excited for our weekend away. It was a difficult drive towards the end, particularly up the million miles of extremely bumpy track with a car full of four adult humans and requisite baggage. Still, we arrived at our location as the weather turned... grim, for lack of a better description.

That said, the location was lovely. A completely private farm with a field next to a beach full of these beautiful large tents, with chickens and rabbits and lambs in the middle. We were shown to our tent - well, actually, someone else's and then we moved quickly - and it was beautiful. A big scrubbed table, a wood stove, a cupboard with a double bed in it (Richie insisted we take that one), a seperate room with a double bed and one with bunkbeds. Utterly splendid. But, well... chilly. Philip arrived at about the same time and he and Richie went off to commence best man duties with Andrew, and David, Kirsty and I bumbled tried to find a big supermarket so we could get a metric ton of booze, some food and also some extra layers. We couldn't find one in Dunbar, which was concerning. We managed to get the metric ton of booze and the food but not so much the extra layer. Hm. We headed back to the now Quite Cold campsite and unpacked, put on wellies and hoodies, and hoped for the best. Some other people had turned up and we had a bit of a uni catch up and drank cans of cider around a fire. Ann and Alex had turned up by this point too and we grimly drank cider to try and keep warm.

As the sun set, the rain started to fall. We ended up back in our respective tents, and tried to get the stove warmed up, to little avail. In the end we drank copiously and danced to music on phones for some exercise and some warmth. I spent the evening sleeping wearing leggings and my thick tracksuit bottoms I'd bought along as my pajamas. Argh!

We awoke the next morning and finally managed to get the stove going. This meant that after ninety minutes tea became an option, and Kirsty got the gas tank refilled so we had some hot water going in the shower and toilet ensuite. HALLULUJAH. The weather was slowly improving as well, and we found out by midday that the ceremony was going to be on the beach after all. Richie and Philip were looking after Andrew that morning and the rest of us sat around, drank tea, and very slowly got ready for the wedding itself, Kirsty getting Andrew's kilt at the right levels, and we tried to drink prosecco without them noticing. With an hour to go, the sun started to shine. The wedding party went off to do what they needed to do, and us guests trooped to the beach very slowly.

For the ceremony itself, the weather simply couldn't have been more beautiful. Or the whole thing, actually. The beach was a private stretch of the East Scottish coast. They had an archway set up with bunting made from old pages of the Beano, and the music was played by the wedding guests, using kazoos. The Jurassic Park theme tune and the The Final Countdown, to be precise. They had written their own vows, and if you have ever met Ali and Andrew you'll know the surprise with which they made me cry. It was just really lovely. After the ceremony, they served punch and had games to play on the beach while the photos were being taken place; they're really striking, with the endless blue sky and completely abandoned beach, the wedding party getting to pose with the umbrellas that the night before had looked like a real certainty to use.

The evening meal was just simple outdoor tables and chairs with a hog roast, although by the end of it I had accessorised my wedding outfit with two cardigans, leggings and Converse because it was COLD again. As the sun gently sat we danced in the yurt they had set up to music from back in the AltSoc days and got cheerfully trashed. I took lots of pictures, danced like a loon, caught up with old acquaintances and overall had a completely awesome time. I went to bed at 2am, which was super fun when we had some extra people in our tent on the sofabed. I mean, we knew they were coming but yeeaaahhhh.

Sunday was a much quieter day. We had all of the leftover pork in our shower, although we obviously moved that as we got ready and had a very slow, lazy day with the stove on throughout. I went to the shops and bought The Observer ("WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE CONSERVATIVES WON THE ELECTION" etc) and you would be amazed how mad people went for some dead tree news. Our tent was briefly very popular. Later in the afternoon I went out for a walk along the beach and it was like the end of the world; as though I was the only person left in all the world, only the noise of the ocean, the seabirds and the exfoliatingly brisk wind brushing the sand up in my face. It was magnificent, though.

We spent the evening with people dropping in and out of our tent. We spent hours talking about Doctor Who and the odd fandom it has.

(Me: I mean, I love you guys, and without DocSoc most of us wouldn't be here, but... I dunno, it's weird sometimes.

Andrew: Try writing for Den of Geek. Never read the comments.

Me: One time I was accused of being in a secret cabal that controlled fandom. I wouldn't mind but I wasn't even accused of being a ringleader...

Everyone: What.)

It was just such a lovely, chilled out day. Andrew and Ali were happy, we were all reasonably warm and comfy, I drank lots of wine, it was just... a nice time with my friends, with some fresh air and animals and time out of the city. And what else can you ask for, really?

We dashed back to London as quickly as we could, having slept in but we needed to get Fiona back to London by 4pm. Lots of Pro Plus for me and we made it back by 4.10pm. Well done me.

So that was my weekend. My skin looks like hell and I'm still exhausted but eh, that's what you get I suppose?

This week I have been invited on to the core steering committee for my Ladies Yay group. This is... quite a big honour, actually, given that there are about seven women on it and I have been asked personally. There's a COO on it and it runs all of the organisation for all of Hitachi and the EMEA region. Blimey. However I can't think about that right now, and I have to finish my college course first. Mum and Dad are staying this weekend so basically time is running out. For now, though, I think I might just get an early night. At least tomorrow is Friday!

OH YES AND ALSO I bought a HOLIDAY today. It's very much a cheap holiday to Corfu but hell, it's all inclusive and it'll be sunny. Roll on September.

May. 7th, 2015

Company presentation afternoon. Based on past experiences I knew the MD would ask me for a slide on HR achievements at the last minute. I was prepared for that. I had a lovely slide and I'd even shiftily shoehorned a plug for my Ladies Yay (still not it's real name) organisation event next month.

I was not prepared to be asked to then present this to entire worldwide company with all of seven minutes. O HAI India and New York and London and Manchester.

Thank god I do not have a fear of public speaking. And that I'm having a tolerably good hair day and wearing my favourite work top. (I got applause and a well done from a few staff I don't know that well afterwards too.)

I am now skipping post work drinks and am instead going home as am technically on annual leave now. A weekend of glamping at a wedding in Scotland awaits, once I sort the car out, pack, and steadfastly ignore the election happening today. (I voted Labour! But I am sick of the pundits and talk.)

May. 4th, 2015

Bank holiday weekend! I am currently skiving off continuing with my assignment on employment law (genuinely debating ignoring the real question and doing 3000 words on the philosophical construct of employment law and seeing if they notice) and instead watching daytime telly with my hair wrapped up in a t shirt. I am experimenting with something delightfully named 'plopping' which is apparently a thing advised for curly hair. At the moment I look like someone has decided to combine a turban and Princess Leia. Still, hopefully it make my hair settle in slightly neater curls, which would be handy. Next weekend I am going 'glamping' for Andrew and Ali's wedding and I could do with a low-fi way of ensuring my hair doesn't look too awful...

This week has been a good one, all things considered. At my appraisal, where I was very pointed re: my low-pay-for-the-sector, I was apparently listened too. I have been given a payrise and a bonus. I had some epic plans to go on holiday with said bonus, although what's actually happened is the bed, which was already sounding a little dodgy, has got awful. As such I'm off out this afternoon to start looking for new beds. Ah well. We should still be able to afford to go away for a week at the end of September, rather than the planned two weeks. Can't complain, really.

The next month promises to be insane for me. I've got this wedding, my parents are visiting, I need to finish off my last two college assignments (yippee!) and I have lots of work stuff on. And, apparently, I may end up assembling a new bed as well.

Also, I do not often post to A03 but I am bewildered and delighted to see the last thing I posted has got quite a lot of hits. I don't know, maybe it's not a lot, but it seems like a lot to be. Over 1000! Is that good? It certainly feels positive. VALIDATION, YEAH.
So I have seen Age of Ultron! And I have seen all of Daredevil! And I have lots of complicated feelings on them both, mostly focussed around Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov and Wilson Fisk NOT LIKE THAT and not in that order. So I ignored all of that and wrote this.

Title: Coda
Author: hathy_col
Summary: Not all of the MCU were involved in fighting Ultron. Doesn't mean they weren't paying attention. (or: five post credit scenes we will never see. probably.)
Rating: Gen
Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Fic under the cut.Collapse )

AO3 link here
"The thing is, I mean, there's times when you look at the universe and you think 'What about me?' and you can just hear the universe replying, 'Well, what about you?'"

Unity appeared to consider this. "Well, what about you?"

latest

August 2015
S M T W T F S
      1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
3031     

syndicate

RSS Atom
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Haze McElhenny