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golden pheasants have white eyes

Sunday ends, and I'm coming back slowly from a long weekend of liver abuse and sunshine-and-rain, England in March giving me daffoidills and grape hyacincths, finally, from the claggy mud in my dark back garden. The glittering pyramid of CDRoms erected by a Fusion (the arts centre formerly known as Bloomin Arts) in Manzil Gardens is taking on a tattered air under the twin assault of spring gales and Bacardi Breezer bottles slung at it by bored underage clubbers. It still has what it takes to attract photographers and two-year-olds, though, and after dark it throws back the street lights in all the colours of the rainbow. I interrupted a man with a very big lens on Saturday to take five shots with my Tesco's value camera. As I left, apologised for getting in his way. "Not at all," he said, "You were a welcome addition." It's the big furry coat that does it. People stroke it, sometimes they ask first, sometimes they apologise first and sometimes they don't even notice what they're doing. "Is it real?" someone asked me, in the Zodiac. No, it's all in your mind.

Fetched up at Adrian's today, doing his and George's hair, responsibly stopping him being grey and her being ginger. Hennaing Adrian went OK-ish, not 100% happy with his temples (it's a very bright, light batch) but near disaster on George's hair when I put it on and realised it had gone the distinctive dark purple of dye gone off (the colour of most red home hair rinses in the 70s). It turned out she had bought it over a year ago on special offer -- quick, rinse it off! Thank god it didn't burn ... and I did rescue it after with another dye. I also put some pink over my fading-out black after my 3/4 hour shower when I got back from work on Friday. Work ...

Still thinking about tomorrow. I'm supposed to be going to work. I don't want to go. I get the feeling I'm going to lose this job/leave this job. As usual, when considering leaving a job, shot straight off to Amazon to spend money and remind myself why I need a job. Bought a Lemony Snicket book (a sort of popularist Dahl-Gorey cross) and some more fucked up Icelandic stuff as the thing I was looking for wasn't available.

Damn this. I'm going to look at YU's cutie dolls (pretty japanese doll photos with lovely englishish descriptions) until I want to sleep.

"Little Miss Dollikin is the doll which a joint curves to freely."


( 3 worms — Feed the birds )
17th Mar, 2002 16:02 (UTC)
Wish I was in England watching hair being dyed and the daffodils poking up their heads. They have pretty pear blossom here, but Sundays are days I seem to go for lonely drives to the comic shop and buy music.

Well, today is also BAPA-writing day so it could be worse. No,what am I saying, I hate writing mailcoms. Commenting on other peoples' Livejournals is much more fun.
18th Mar, 2002 01:14 (UTC)
Yeah, when are you coming back?
18th Mar, 2002 06:09 (UTC)
Not sure yet. June is the stated end of project & return home, but our go-live date has been delayed by a week or ten days so far and who knows if it'll stop there. Once integration testing finishes, we have the opportunity to take holiday so maybe I'll make a break for jolly old England in April? Difficult to know when's going to be a good time, that's the thing.
( 3 worms — Feed the birds )