July 29, 2011

Follies, vehicular and personal

 

It has not been a good couple of days to have ME in.  Not that there are ever good days to have ME, but the perniciousness of it varies.  In theory we and our visitors were going to have an excursion today—I’d even done my homework and got up a little list of possibilities—and I was wondering how I was going to fudge this since while I am beginning to recover from this particular bagged by the bad guy situation* it’s kind of a slow process and the standard excursion set up of driving to somewhere, doing something when you get there and driving home again sounded a little extreme to me.  I’m still in the crawling [note:  crawling] up behind the Lord of the Nazgul with my sword phase, it’s been kind of a long few days, I’m not feeling my best, I’m not sure anything useful is going to happen even if I manage to stick my sword in him, ** and I may need to go lie down again afterward.

            And then when our visitors arrived yesterday—after unforeseen adventures including a blocked-solid M25***—their big fancy brand new wheelchair-adapted car was going BLINK BLINK BLINK I NEED A MECHANIC BLINK BLINK, so they left it at Third House and we experimented with getting Luke and the necessary support paraphernalia into Wolfgang, during which it was proven that Wolfgang has some tardis blood . . . and that Luke and Andraste are amazing, but we kind of already knew that.

            This morning I rolled out of bed†, performed the slo-mo version of a hellhound hurtle, but since we’re finally having some SUMMER WEATHER†† we were all content with an ambling pace, and came home via Third House to find out what was going on.  What was going on was that the RAC††† bloke had come and done the Professional Long Face and Andraste, looking somewhat shell-shocked, was waiting for the frelling tow truck, with no idea whether any of them would be going anywhere any time soon. . . . It’s okay, I said, Third House is not fully booked for the rest of the summer hols:  the Duke of Clarence doesn’t arrive till next week.‡ 

            So Aaron, Luke, Percival, hellhounds and I variously strolled down to the mews to infest Peter, leaving poor Andraste to her fate.‡‡  And questions therefore of excursions were (on my part at least) not entirely regretfully set aside, since Wolfgang is only part tardis.  Luke, Percival, Aaron and I played a game of Thurn and Taxis‡‡‡ in which I totally ploughed them under, coming in with twice as many points as any of the boys, by the excellent strategy—which I have used before on such occasions with this family—of doing exactly what I’m told.§

            The good news is that the Frellingmobile only needed its gerkinblitch replaced and they had one in stock.  Yaaay.  Jubilation, not to mention the return of Andraste before she’d spent all their remaining holiday money on downloading books from amazon to read while she waited for the garage to do something besides drink coffee and complain of their backlogSo there was a certain amount of perhaps superfluous jollity around the supper table tonight, assisted by—ahem—champagne.  Usually I have the sense to wait till I’ve eaten something before I start hitting the champagne but when there are six of you you don’t want to linger, so I didn’t.   Meanwhile, when I was helping them unload yesterday I had discovered an Interestingly Shaped Object which upon application Percival admitted was his guitar.  Oooh, I said.  In response to nagging, I mean gentle request,§§ he brought it with him today and after supper . . . played.  And sang.§§§  What it is to enjoy performing.  Although the fact that he has a, you know, voice, helps.  He’s now started taking proper voice lessons and apparently great minds think alike because we’re singing a lot of the same stuff for our teachers, whereupon Andraste said, okay, Robin, now you sing something!

            No, I said.  I haven’t had that much champagne.

            Oh, but performing is good for you, they said, more or less in harmony.  And we’re friendly! 

            I still blame the champagne, and my already-ME-weakened defenses.  And the warm furry bonding moment of finding out that Percival also loves Vaughan Williams’ Songs of Travel.  Not this time, I said, weakly.  Next time.

            Okay! they said (still in chorus).  Next time!

            Remind me to have pneumonia. 

* * *

* I think

** I love it that in hindsight, with the whole paranormal/urban fantasy thing as huge as it is now, that Tolkien, the one true god of high fantasy, can be seen to employ . . . zombies.  Well, the undead anyway.  And as a metaphor for ME the Nazgul will do nicely.  The whole of Book One of the FELLOWSHIP will do rather too well as a description of being hunted down and nailed by the beggar.  And unfortunately most of us don’t wake up in Rivendell with Gandalf at our bedside in the next chapter.^  

^ Yes, I know there are five books to go . . . and that Frodo ultimately can’t go home to the Shire and relax.  At age eleven that was the first time I’d ever run into—or at least recognised and taken in—the fact that stuff changes you.     

*** http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M25_motorway  Blocked-solid is its natural state. 

† And fell to the floor and lay moaning 

†† No sweater with my shorts.  —Which is a pity, because I’m wearing my fabulous £18 steal.^  The Mauncester knitting shop apparently—I had no reason to know this before February this year—every now and then sells off all the gorgeous high-level knitted stuff that their staff makes and that they hang about the place in a showy and come-hither manner^^, for pretty much the price of the yarn.  Or less.  Yowzah.  

^ It’s pink.  

^^ The appropriate yarn and the pattern always prominently displayed, for people like me to look at, laugh painfully, and head for some other yarn to fondle for comfort. 

††† http://www.rac.co.uk/ 

‡ Speaking of the undead. 

‡‡ Technology is wonderful.  We had a pretty much running commentary of what was going on with Andraste by text. . . . And I have found it very amusing to spend a couple of days in the company of people as techno-addicted as I am.^  I may or may not have told you that my lust for an iPad was partly fuelled by hanging out with Percival and Luke . . . whom I am now going to trump with my iPad 2 . . . of course supposing it ever dranglefabbing arrives. 

 ^ In their rather more clued in ways. 

‡‡‡ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thurn_and_Taxis_(board_game) 

§ When this was reported to Andraste, who lives with three games-mad boys, she said crisply, Just so long as the girl wins. 

§§ I’m older than he is.  He has to do what I say.  Ha hahahahahahahaha

§§§ Including The Four Chord Song  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pidokakU4I

which had me crying with laughter and I only recognise about half of the songs.

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