Pimp My Ride
After the business with the boiler at the start of last month, I found myself living on tuppence'ha'penny a day (or thereabout). This week I got paid, so naturally, my thoughts turned first to some gratuitous spending of cold hard cash.
Except my first purchases were:
- some oil for Woah Mule to make the brakes smoother
- some reflective bike clips because brown flared cords (I know, so Sam Tyler) and bike gears are non-mixy things
- a valve. Don't ask because it's boring and I will sound like the kind of bike nerd I am most definitely not.
I cycled home the other day and discovered I have perfected the ability to shout "oi!" at people who walk out in front of bikes. I was also nearly knocked over on Saturday by a 4x4 - laden with children and toys - deciding to undertake a car that was waiting to turn right and neglecting to check for bikes before roaring through the gap. This means I am also relearning my "swearing at cars whilst slamming on the brakes and getting the pavement-side foot to the ground" skill.
I overcame the practical, pimp-my-ride drift by getting some books (Maise Dobbs and Slaughterhouse 5 - the woman in the bookshop told me "Kurt appears to be having a bit of a revival" as she's been sellings lots of it) and some bedding. It's alarming how depressed I became with the option of buying books taken from me. I didn't even dare go into my beloved charity shops in case I saw something I had to have. Although I am going to one tomorrow morning to collect a Singer hand sewing machine I reserved in the week. This is so that I can resolve the cushion crisis (the new sofabed needs cushions but I hate paying for two bits of fabric quickly sewn together with some padding stuffed in) with the aid of my large stash of old striped cotton, wadding and some offcuts from fabric shops.
I've also worked in a palace and a Top-Secret-But-Everyone-Knows-Where-They-Are-And-What-They-Do government establishment (it has its own creche, which faintly boggles the mind), and completed a massive long-term writing project for the day job. I feel mildly lost without it, although new projects are looming already.
I haven't written up The Time Travelling Brief Encounter, the Justice Ship or the other short story I was idly thinking about. I'm slightly bothered that I can't remember what the third one is. Clearly, an idea which is either not worth fermenting or needs a lot longer in the dark before it is ready. I have read a couple more chapters of a friend's novella, but have yet to feed him back on it because that requires Thought. Tomorrow is MicroCon but thankfully I am merely a paying punter and therefore have had to think of nothing to say. Hurrah.
Meanwhile, Annie over on Going Underground has pointed me at
City Hippy which is a collaborative blog about ecologically aware life in, well, cities. I should read some of the archive there. And Law, who has lured me into watching House by her persistant love of Hugh Laurie, has written up a dire warning for any UK people thinking they might switch to the AMEX Nectar credit card.
Sébastian has merely left two large parallel fang marks in my hand. And licked my bread-and-marmite before I could eat it. I'm going to have takeaway tonight. Because I can. Mwahahahaha.