Dec. 19th, 2008

avevale_intelligencer: (killus)
It is, of course, probable that this is just a cold and I am a typical man making a lot of fuss about nothing.

On the other hand, the pain killers have stopped handling the pain, the decongestants aren't handling the congestion, and I can't sleep despite going to bed at eight o'clock. So my money's on the rank outsider which is actual flu, like what the flu jab I had was supposed to prevent.

In other news, despite the onset of this I have managed to paint the walls of the dining room*, to go with the new wooden floor we now have in there, and get all the furniture back in time for [livejournal.com profile] aunty_marion's visit. Pictures may follow at some point. The conservatory, also now floored and skirting-boarded, will be next, but probably not quite just yet. The plan is to replace the carpet in the living room (horrible), hall (just old), stairs (frankly unsafe) and landing (to go with the stairs) some time in the New Year when we have money again. At which point they'll all need painting.

And on that joyful prospect, I'm going to try and go to bed again. Good night, world.

*We do not speak of the fact that I managed to get completely the wrong colour and paint completely the wrong wall with it last night, thus necessitating a hurried repaint this morning. The Countess assures me that she will find a use for the rest of the tin. Somehow.
avevale_intelligencer: (Default)
I was woken by Jelly pretending to be sick on the floor, which is a habit he has developed when I don't immediately spring from my bed and feed him. And as I got up my back went SPROING.

Unaccustomed flailing about with paint rollers and humping furniture about (stop it) will do that, I guess. The Countess asked me if I had been laying funny, and I did chicken impressions, which probably means I'm actually on the mend. That or there is no cure.

Nice birthday present from [livejournal.com profile] dickgloucester here. Also thank you to whomever for the V-Gift.

Breakfast, and then off on the hunt for Lem-Sip, I think.
avevale_intelligencer: (Default)
Minstrel (WINOLJ) has written an excellent filk of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah," responding to the fact that it seems to be becoming a Christmas hit, and pointing out that it isn't actually a religious song. Thinking about it, it seems to me that as a song of pain, loss and loneliness, some might think it almost absurdly appropriate for this season, although the people who are singing it are probably not among that number. It highlights the fact that too many singers, or more likely the people who choose their songs for them, do not actually Read The Words before they start singing. Or haven't seen Shrek.

The fact, of course, is that people will take their own meanings away from any song, whether or not the meaning was there to start with, just as fanfic writers find worlds of meaning in the most unpromising sources that the creators never intended them to. And if someone hears "Hallelujah" and finds in it reason to be uplifted at this time of year, why the frod not?

I've been reading The Moving Toyshop by Edmund Crispin, which apparently Gareth Roberts, famed realWho and nuWho writer, has said is "more like Doctor Who than Doctor Who is." Re-reading in the light of that comment, I can see what he means. I've always felt Pertwee could have played Gervase Fen brilliantly, and the principal female character in this particular book, mutatis mutandis, is Jo Grant to the life, including being (like Jo) not as fluffy or airheaded as she seems to the casual reader/viewer. Replace the original rather sordid conspiracy to murder with an alien plot to take over Oxford, and it would work brilliantly.

The Countess has had a shower, and apparently we're going out at some point. I have had a Lem-Sip and may at some point start to feel better. You never know.

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