weekend and stuff

Weekend spent lazing, fooding, Oyster Festivalling, tried one's first oyster and have decided I'm with the trolls on this one :

'What's an oyster?'
'It's like two pieces of precipitated calcium carbonate with this slimy thing in between.'
'Sounds tasty. D'you have to eat the slimy thing?'

...Yeah. it tasted of sea salt and lemon juice due to having been squirted with the stuff. That's about all I can say about it. According to Dad the Cornish oysters are the absolute best oysters around when fresh and in season, like these are, and all I can really say is 'meh'.

So instead, I snaffled all the other food and samples and walked along the beach and enjoyed the glorious weather. It was terrible. Really.

On saturday, we decided to go out rather than sit on tenterhooks for the rugby - got back for the last ten minutes and went 'augh'. Was fairly clear that South Africa's defence were rather evil.

Dropped into the second hand bookshop. Manfully resisted buying the Fenn book in there. I do not need Trapped by Malays, no matter how manly it might be. And from the thickness of it, it was probably very manly indeed. (For those who have no idea what I'm going on about, think Edwardian Boys' Own Adventures. In which the British Empire is supreme and everyone in them is very, very, very *manly*. Completely heterosexual. *Especially* any Officers and NCOs stranded far from their regiments. It's so manly in some cases that they could be singing 'Macho Man'.)

Pondered shopping for a hoodie (my only one at the mo is my ancient black Nike one which is raggy and has turpentine stains up the sleeves) but sadly, they were all in the £40+ region, aside from a few on sale which I didn't like the design of at all. Surf shops, you fail.

Claire at work has received a cowbell in the post. No idea who sent it. Who sends a cowbell?

Listening to a recording of By Jeeves and currently sitting through a song where the audience are laughing their heads off at something on stage and ... augh. I want to see what they're laughing at.

I want a Chuck icon. Unfortunately, yours truly is crap at icons. And I haven't seen one I like enough yet to use.

Still nowhere near a plot for nano, unless you include pondering flashbacks for the WW2 one where one Captain Harkness met a Professor Jones.

un-recs and nano whining

the un-recommendation :

I like face masks. That and moisturising every day are pretty much the only beauty regimes I actually stick to. While I adore Lush stuff, I'm quite happy with generic cheap Boots or Superdrug comes-in-a-tube mud or peel-off. Deciding that my skin needed a bit more of a thorough pore cleanse than the peel-off goo can achieve (it's more like a skin-glow refresher than anything, even though it's fun), I pulled out the Superdrug Mud Therapy I'd bought a couple of months back and applied. Waited til it dried.

...And then I tried to get it off. GAH. Mud's normally fairly easy to get off, right? Takes a few minutes and a bit of rubbing, but it does come off pretty easy. This stuff was more like that awful slick glue-paste you get in primary school - you know, feels horrible, vaguely slick/sticky, takes loads of scrubbing to come off? EW. What did you *do*, Superdrug? Your previous mud-based masks were completely fine.

My skin feels fine, clean etc after actually getting it off, but the effort and icky feeling it took to get it off has had me having second thoughts about using it again.

Nano is still eluding me something chronic. :headdesk: Every time I try to write out basic plots - one line per major scene/chapter is my usual way of blocking, then add a few more details - I write about two words then go 'gaaaah'. I'm pretty sure if I just had them as my usual 'original fic that writes itself when I am *trying* to write fanfic with actual plotbunnies' I'd be able to just babble away. Bollocks.