You had plenty money 1922

Um. So, there was cornwall, where it rained a lot, I stuffed myself (seriously, how long does this stuff take to come off your waistline? It goes on easily enough...) and got a lot of present shopping done. And couldn't cross the street at one point due to the santa fun run.

Shopping for me was relatively restrained: one skirt, a jumper, 7 dvds, couple of pairs of tights, earrings, fudge.

When I got back, all I heard and saw were the hands stuck out as my friends and family demanded fudge. Which included the pre-xmas cocktails with Jen, Jane and Meg. 'I have presents I looked for and deliberated over and all you want is the fudge?' 'FUDGE. NAO. GIMME.'

Also see pubmeet. Anyone with chocolate was attacked. (Gideon brought post Argentinian wagon wheels, with the marshmallow replaced by dulce de leche. Cue sugar coma.) Lots of ... yeah, pubmeet people devolve into seals when you dangle fudge in front of them. There was the listing of films set at christmas but not about christmas (anything Shane Black wrote - Lethal Weapon, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Long Kiss Goodnight - we're waiting for the christmas tree in the background of Iron Man 3) squee about fan stuff, x-men fanfic.

Saw Haunted Child at the Royal Court with Ben Daniels and Sophie Okenedo (Queen Liz Ten to Dr Who fans). Great performances but deeply freaky. About a bloke who has a mental breakdown and gets picked up by a cult and his wife trying to deal when he comes home. Me plus the bloke sitting next to me agreed it's not one you'd want to see twice even if it is impressive.

Ladykillers as adapted for the stage by Graham Linehan is hysterical. Everyone's brilliant, the stage is amazing and you won't believe how they do the heist.

Feeding the Five Thousand - mum cut down on the food so there wasn't the acres of leftovers we couldn't use, the sprogs nicked my disney dvds as usual, and Alex was very hungover.

Yesterday: got twitchy, contemplated hauling out the ancient aerobics dvd as it would be cold and muddy outside. Menu music starts up. Ten minutes later, I had mud up to my eyebrows and was going 'mmm, fresh air.'

Pubmeet happened. Where we all went 'SQUEE AVENGERS TRAILER SQUEE', encouraged people to watch The Fades, talked 'Supernatural is the US does UK horror, just with prettier people', discussed the Degas exhibition at the Royal Academy* (specifically the relationship with photography and how it changed from a freakshow you took the piss out of and tried not to resemble in the 1870s to a really important reference tool by the late 1890s - seriously, go see) and grumbled about galleries not being very good at providing decent merchandise. It's generally agreed the Tate, the Dali museum, the Globe, and the Centre Pompidou are best at it. RA: It's all very well providing postcards at one end and £75-150 jewellery and silk scarves inspired by, but hello, the mid-level stuff? Bags? T-shirts? YOU CAN MAKE MONEY FROM THIS. WE WANT TO BUY THIS.

The duty manager came over at about half one to pick up some glasses, asked us to hide the krispy kremes as it's branded food, we pointed out that we'll be here all day, eating lots of food and drinking lots and do so every month, he got curious and asked what for, Jackie pointed at the London Sci-fi pubmeet sign. He went 'oooo'. And then joined us at 5 when his shift finished, and called his girlfriend the comic geek in.

Pete, Smitty and I discussed Captain America/X-Men/Iron Man crossovers. X-Men First Class and Erik. The fact that Iron Man Noir is a real bloody comic and not just an AU someone thought of where Tony Stark is a rich playboy Indiana Jones whose adventures get recorded for an adventure magazine by Pepper. Smitty and her evil ideas for extending the idea someone's only posted a couple of bits of, where Erik's dad gets Dr Erskine to get Erik out of Germany when he goes to the US, and then when Erskine dies in '42, he gets adopted by Howard Stark and grows up to be the Stark heir. (Tony is, by this stage and current film timelines, a menopause baby given that he would've been born in the 60s and Maria's pretty much the same age as Howard. I also pointed out the evil idea someone had that Maria was the girl who snogged Steve. Tony: 'So, the girl you kissed... point her out in this photo. Oh god. You snogged my mother.') Cue me doing a quick 'okay, Einstein came over in '33 and never left due to Hitler coming to power, Goodbye to Berlin (book Cabaret is based on) is '30-33, erik would've been... er... 6 or so, given his powers don't develop until '43-44..., might want to check when the kid trains happened to the UK for further date stuff.'

*I mentioned that I'd seen this on sunday. Cue Taz going 'DEGAS? WHERE? GIMME.' ...I did not know she liked this. Also, as there was lots of anatomical study, which meant I was provided with the very odd realisation that I have the figure of a 19th century ballet dancer. Seriously. shortarse, short body, hourglass with really big muscled thighs.

:sigh: cold appears to have set in. Guzzling fisherman's friends to combat sore throat and blocked sinuses. At least I'm not leaving a trail of tissues.

At the pubmeet yesterday, Gideon and Jen announced that they had a special gift for me from Picocon.

Cue them presenting me with a video of 'Ewoks : The Battle For Endor'. Whilst I gaped in horror, entire pubmeet fell about laughing, it was revealed it had been saved from the nitrogen bath of dodgy merchandise (you bid to be the one who gets to smash it with a hammer after it's been dipped in nitrogen) because they knew someone who would experience horror and torment by being given this. Rest of pubmeet has demanded I watch it and post a detailed review with live tweeting. THEY ARE SICK, SICK PEOPLE. Let no-one tell you otherwise.

There was gossip about Comic Relief, tormenting of Pete with MOAR AMYS and other such stuff.

Watched Rugby. cringed and grudgingly clapped Ireland when they won because they were playing decent rugby. Unlike England, who did not appear to know where the field was.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt has been cast as Albert Falcone in the new Batman. Heather will now squee somethign chronic. And wait for the eames_arthur lot to start writing creepy weak-seeming (actually psycho serial killer starting a gang war) mobster's son meeting tactical genius built like a brick shithouse criminal slash.

And later I'm off to watch various West End stalwarts sing Michael Bruce songs in the bar of Mamma Mia.

Jackie and Shaun's wedding was most fun. Lotsa dancing (dammit, just because I'm wearing a full-skirted 50s style dress does not mean I'm a spinning top!) it turns out that if it's only 6 people doing Star Trekking, it starts looking like some sort of folk dance, though the rellies all looked a wee bit alarmed during people falling to the floor for 'He's dead Jim' (it looks a tad realistic) and all that happened was that the other dancers start pointing at the collapsee, and oh god. So much mead. We think everyone pretty much drank at least one bottle, and me and Alycia drank so much that we had to hold onto each other to stay upright to get to the taxi rank.

Pubmeet: spent morning utterly fine and watching cookery programmes. So many various types of mash that Taz spent the journey going 'want mash WANT'. Had toast... then got on tube and the hangover of 'queasy and drained' set in so spent a portion of pubmeet curled up in dozy all in corner, occasionally sneaking jalapenos. Of course, there was the point I emerged from my ball to see all these flashes going off.

Pubmeet : a place where geeks discuss writing, politics, slashing the World Cup (yes, several footie fans and the existence of John Terry), mockign the Australians' attempt to play footie, the glory of Matt Smith, seeing what the shrieking/cursing level will be after putting ice-cold pint glasses against Heather's back when she least suspects it, caber tossing being the only legitimate time you're required to wear undies underneath a kilt, Spitting Image, and want traditional English stodge pudding (Wetherspoons understands our needs). When one person makes 'hmmm... pudding...' noises, and ends up having to go up to the bar with a list written on the back of a Post office receipt. 'That's 2 waffles with chocolate sauce, one cheesecake with compote, one treacle sponge with custard...' I love the word pudding. Unlike the word dessert, it conveys the idea of stodge with added custard and the happy inability to move more than 2 inches for a good while after eating one portion.

There was also happy relaying of stuff that happened at T2, discussion of Church of England paganism, Cthulhu and World War 1 and precisely how to get the necessary Blackadder cameo in there (yes, we really do discuss fic writing), researching maggots and the lovely things they can do to organic tissue with pictorial examples, and citing Regeneration and its source books for recovery from shell-shock during WW1 (Cthulhu fic again), 90210 (blame Brian Austin Green), and the forthcoming sacrifice of Justin Bieber to the volcano gods on Aug 23rd (date for your diary). Remember, kiddies, we can sacrifice him to the nearest volcano and just hope a god is listening. The gods don't mind generic sacrifices. They'll also take Bieber fangirls since there's a limitless resource.

Oh, and aeshna_uk and mingmerciless are fucking evil. Not as evil as David Cameron for fomenting the idea that Labour are a Star Trek convention in the first place, but still, evil. They went on to figure out which political parties are which fandoms. I think Lib Dems were B5, the Greens were Farscape, North Korea were the Whedonites. (look, we're badgering her to post the coherent version)

Pete? uknova, and biomedcentral.

Pubmeet, this month, was marked by certain assertions : one is that Robert Downey Jr can resurrect any franchise because he is that awesome. Especially if the main character has an addiction. Our main vote is She-Ra (yes, especially if it involves a blonde wig and the miniskirt) but we're quite happy for him to play The Doctor in Authority. But only if Alan Tudyk turns it down and resists the full-on strong arm.

gmh is evil, and responsible for horrible things. Some of which you already know about. However, it gets worse.

There were twitter conversations about whether Jaffa Cakes were one of your five a day. I asserted that they were in fact their very own nutritious food group. Somehow we added 'how to make a Jaffa Cake inedible', so yours truly volunteered Marmite and Jaffa Cakes. Later, there was the marmite war between those of who love marmite and the unbelievers.

Gideon turned up at pubmeet, and at one point produced jaffa Cakes. i pointed out that he was a fool for letting anyone know he had them. Then he produced a jar of marmite. And reminded me of the twittering and laid down the gauntlet. (admittedly the pubmeet has also been the scene of the durian taste test)

I probably made the most trepidatious faces you've ever seen before biting into it. And actually? It's not bad. Essentially tastes like marmite on oatcakes with a slightly sweet edge, and the aftertaste once you've swallowed is slightly salty Jaffa cake. Intrigued, the others tried it, and all agreed with this assertion (all of them quite surprised). We also tested the version where you put the marmite on the chocolate side, which produces very little aftertaste. And then Chrissy and I kept on eating the marmite.

Oh, and possibly the rudest inhabitants of the booth ever. They'd been there before us, we quite carefully tried to keep to one side, but due to sheer numbers filled it up, though still trying not to intrude on their table. Then they stood up and cursed us out for pushing them out. Er, what? We were trying to be reasonably quiet and we didn't even put a pint on their table as we're quite within our rights to do in a pub when there's a bunch of tables next to each other.

Reading Redcoats by Richard Holmes. Immensely detailed, lots of first person entries and snippets, but it's a severe slog. Got to about the halfway point, but sadly getting more convinced that what I'm probably going to do this time around is the the 1920s Upstairs Downstairs fic and refer back to this the next time I do a nano set in this world that has, er, more of a concrete plot. So in the meantime, going to finish this, watch Gosford Park again, look up transport details and valeting in the 1920s, and stuff about lifeboats and shipwrecks. taraljc, prepare to be harassed for obscure details.

Pubmeet, there was the usual geeking, general sneering at SGU, happy squee sounds about the recent Big Bang Theory eps, the fun and big plot holes that is Flash Forward, and laughing our heads off at the cover to Jim's new Trek novel. The cover is fucking hysterical; it looks like a Mills and Boon. Considering Jim is a specialist in robots, big actions sequences and military geekery, we have no idea what the publishers were thinking.

spent day in pub. consumed : one jug of pimms (didn't taste quite right - group conclusion was too bitter due to not enough fruit salad), four measures of baileys + milk, soss-beans-chips, mint bombe.

v. little gossip. lots of chat and discussion and bouncy (and once again jim harping on not understanding why people slash supposedly straight male characters while me and Cathy eyerolled a bit - he's never going to get it, even after I told him 'look, women and men who slash see relationships differently from you. You see sex as spoiling it. We see it as bonus or natural segue.) Laban brought his small daughter Maddy along. Maddy is being brought up as a geek, with a love of dressing up in superhero costumes, and today was wearing a Batgirl t-shirt. We were all suitably jealous of her childhood. Me and Alycia spent much time playing with her. Glared at the various people who suggested that there was a resemblance. Maddy may be blonde, cute, and excessively bouncy. However, she appears not to come with an inbuilt sarcasm and scepticism device, nor is she visibly plotting your downfall. Also, when she does the cute big eyed face, she's trying to get something with it. She's not doing it as a joke.

Being Human? See Julie Gardner carefully not mention Phoo Action debacle and fudge anything about them not getting casting done on time. And the characters had started out in a sitcom pitch which wasn't working until they thought of the supernatural twist. oh, and filming the pilot meant they got to see what worked/didn't work much more clearly than going straight into filming, which you don't normally get to do these days.

Anyway, the verdict (sans major spoilers) : we may pout about no Guy Flanagan and Andrea Riseborough, but you forget within a minute of starting because Aidan and Leonora are *fab* (Annie is cuter and less awkward). And laugh yourself stupid. George is... George. :happy sigh: And Russell Tovey is more adorable than an adorable thing, who poshes up his accent for George and did a George hand-flail for us when demonstrating how he got into George mind-set.

They may say the pilot is no longer canon, but it essentially starts a few days/one week after the pilot (they're settled in and comfy with each other and George is asking the landlord about the taps). Pilot still valid. We get to see how everyone became what they are in the intro.

They de-sterotype glam gothed the vampires! HURRAH! (remember how that was one of the bits that just didn't work? Lauren suddenly going glam vamp, etc) Herrick is far, far creepier now that he's very very normal and re-cast. There's this mid-conversation turn on a sixpence that is said in the exact tone which is just eeep.

George and Mitchell : COUPLE.

Pubmeet : THEY ARE ALL EVIL. five minutes before I leave due to sleepiness, I get attacked and proceed to puncture the eardrums of everyone else in the pub because pubmeet crowd decide it's tickle-the-Heather time. Hmm. pondering costumes - Black Canary or Meggan for superheroes night, and either Mary or Pearl for Hub 2... (mary is problematic due to having to buy an entire new bloody outfit and wig. Boots I remembered on sunday that I have the ones from Padme that I can paint black)

Sunday : meant to watch new BSG ep and several other things but got attacked by nausea/headache at 1pm. WoOt. Struggle into London, get to Leicester Square @ 6pm, by which time I'm finally not nauseous, figure I really should get summat to eat - and of course the only thing that I can get that doesn't require sitting down is pizza slice. which I only ate half of due to it being lukewarm. Blegh.

Mandy Patinkin evil. ( the man is evil )

Dear womb : a period would be nice. I've been having twinges for four days now, but no blood. Paranoia of 'okay, it'll be starting soon... no it isn't.' causing me to carry my mooncup on me constantly is getting annoying.

and now, hygienist appt. Please be on time?

or rather it crashed, and I lost allllllll my tabs when it restarted, without even the usual option of 'it closed unexpectedly, restart session?'. Like, a good few weeks' worth of ones that I'd left open, thinking I'd get round to them eventually. Sadly, no. Because I got past the 6 day bit in history and couldn't see/distinguish from the ones I actually *wanted* to read. Bollocks. Suspect the ones I wanted may be older. :mutter:

:pokes empty foil wrapper: Whaddya mean the Tardis egg is all gone? I'm sure it was here a minute ago.

Watched No 1 Ladies' Detective Agency with parentals (who're addicts of the books) and yes, pretty, the supporting characters are brilliant and it's fun, but my god Caitlin Moran was right in the Times Metro TV review column. Vicar of Dibley does Botswana. Need to d/l He Kills Coppers.

Just so you know, we hate psmorrison. Pubmeet, which was for once held in the o'Neills on Cannon St (rather than its usual Holborn location) due to that being nearer the Stone which Sloopy was renting out for his birthday in the evening - costume encouraged, but due to the fact that all my costumes that fit are *skimpy*, I failed and went as Jenny Sparks. Which is essentially a union jack vest top. Though later, me and Giles did a swanky pilots' double-bill escort for ksbpooks on our hunt for Domino's as he was dressed as Original Capt. Jack Harkness and I had my flying jacket and white scarf on. Flying gear goooooood when weather is fucking freezing.

Anyway : the reason we hate Paul. The pubmeet lot find it extremely amusing that yours truly, when tickled in the correct place, squeaks and emits very high-pitched noises, and have been known to attack for the hell of it. Jackie, Shaun, Claire, Sonya and Chris did this. Then Paul got out the camera and started encouraging them to do it more so that he could video it. I ended up on the floor. And accused him of low-grade encouragement of happy-slapping. WE HATES THEM ALL.

Have fabric for the swiss Miss outfit. Need to cut and sew, and then tweak hood of Jedi Chef robe and make headgear. :eyes play.com: I don't need a lightsaber, I don't need a lightsaber...