Electric Quaker II

Aufughgh….

…In future, I think, I shall learn not to drink coffee that’s been standing in the maker for the last five hours. Still, it’s woken me up, and that was something I did need very much.

Currently feeling rather low and feeble, again, mostly because I don’t seem to have anything to do. There’s no end of things I could be doing, of course, and I’m pretty eager to get on with more than a couple of them, but they all seem to be things I can’t do yet. I’d like to start re-building my music collection, for example, but for that I need the PSU (which wasn’t delivered yesterday, because the courier went to the wrong address. Berk.), and I have to wait until that arrives. A lack of creative expression. That’s the problem, really…

And so on. Lazy though I am, I always preffer it if things move when they need to, and forced inactivity drives me nuts, although not quite as well as absinthe does… Frankly, I’m only blogging this for the sake of something to do, and I’ve polished my shoes about eight times today, which included rubbing in a bunch of nikwax which, predictably, temporarily buggered the shine, ’till I repolished them.

Quite why I need highly polished shoes full of holes (1 1/2 on the left one, 2 on the right) I’m not sure, but at least it gives me something to do before Troma.

It’s an especially silly paradox that I should get all keyed up about things I cannot yet do like this, and then lose any inclination to write essays, etc, as soon as I’m told about them. Bloody stupid, if you ask me, but I’ve yet to work out a solution to that. I think however, the difference is that the former is full of things I really want to do, whereas essays are things which I’ve been told to do, without, usually, anyone instilling any special attatchment to them beforehand.

Never mind. All it means in practice is that I’ll start belting along as soon as I can, and then end up with nothing left to do three weeks from now. Providing I don’t fall asleep first.

Only In Aber Moments: Number Seven

OK. Background. We’re walking back from the flat, and I’m damn drunk, and explaining to Ruth how the Miss Marple tapes I’ve got read by Joan Hickson are great (because Paul had played the Miss Marple theme) and from there we get onto the Red Dwarf tapes read by Chris Barrie, and thence to my Allo Allo tapes read by, er, yon bloke who played Rene.

And that’s when things went weird, because a bloke with long brown hair in a sweet full-length greatcoat followed the Aber Principle: “I may butt into this conversation, and nobody will mind,” and he did so thusly:

Bloke: Excuse me – you mentioned Allo Allo?
JTA: Yeah?
Bloke: Well it’s just that the bloke who played, er, Colonel Von Strohm went to my school, just as a random claim to fame, there…
JTA: Cool! Er, where’s that, then?
Bloke: Er, Monmouth.
JTA: Not, er, Habs Monmouth?
Bloke: Yeah, it was.
JTA: With green blazers?
Bloke: No, that was Habs [somewhere]. We had blue blazers, which was pretty cool. Like business suits. How come?
JTA: O, er, I’m from Adams’ Grammar in Shropshire. We’re Habs with maroon blazers, which are naff. And then Blue in the VIth form. And my mate Statto from school is now at Oxford with Chloe Beech from Habs Monmouth.
Bloke: O, right. I used to go out with Chloe.
JTA: ?
Bloke: Er, yeah, I’m Owen.
Ruth: Hah, that’s my brother’s name. I’m Ruth, and this is JTA.
Bloke Who Is Called Owen: [shaking hands] Well that’s a neat co-incidence, isn’t it? And all from random comedy.
JTA: Just a bit!
Owen: Just shows you, really, doesn’t it? Comedy is the key to life!
JTA: Well that’s certainly true!
Owen: Ah, well go carefully! I’ll say hi next time I see you!

And off we went…

Pretty much the coolest thing that’s happened to me in years, that was, and all because Aber is sufficiently Bohemian that you can butt in on other people’s conversations to say “That bloke went to my school!”

Beautiful stuff. Feeling incredibly happy, atm, which is probably a deadly mix of amusingly extreme co-incidence and absinthe, but I’m hoping for a cup of tea, soon, and I think I may yet be sobering up…

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!

Er.

Paul has jsut told me that blogging when drunk is a bad plan, bvut I blame that on the, er, the absinthe, which I cannot spell, but which is burny and hot and then a soprt of cool happy thing.

And anyway, I havent;’ updated anything for aages,so there we go. I think my typing is buggered just atm, but I’m n ot sure I can be bothed to fix it. Hey ho…

Er. Tiring week, all things considered, but at least it’s looking up right at the moment, and I have drunk geek night, which means I didn’t win at Settlers of CAtan… Which is a pity, but I thought I ourght to update things, which is a pity, but I’ve not blogged for days now, and I’m still here and everythings going OK.

So now you know. Er. Inasmuch as you ever cared…

Ah well. I need to go now, becausde I’m getting tired of fixing up all of the typos what I keepn making for all of this things. aND Presently I need to go and sleep anyway.

Anf I;’m going to regret this anyway, because It’s going to look nasty wtih commas and things out of joint… aCTUALLY maybe aPaul was right. My fingers have wobbled.

Meh…