Saturday, October 11, 2008

DSC_2839 - Keep the home fires burningMother Dearest*, absent-mindedly while perusing the BBC News website (it won't have changed in the last 3 minutes), after we'd been discussing the joys of the FTSE, the Evening Standard standard of logical journalism in free London papers (every story starts with 'how dare they'; consistency be damned), the strange ability to always read Kaupthing as Kaput-thing, how now would be a good time to go on holiday to Iceland, except for the whole bleak midwinter thing they've got going on there - the clue's really in the name, unlike the Viking PR'd Greenland, which could well be green by now: What's the capital of Iceland?

Me, wondering if it's worth filling in yesterday's Guardian Quick Crossword or if I can do the whole thing in my head, so equally absent-mindedly: Reykjavik [Thank Firefox for inbuilt spelling checking as my version came out a bit more Croatian; I knew it had a j in it]

Mother Dearest (well, she has to be as she's the only one I've got, the world not having invented lesbianism before I was born, except for the two who shared the upstairs at the surrogate grandmother's even though we already had the proper number of grandmothers and who were always referred to as 'the girls' - the upstairsers not the grandmothers - despite being some while away from being such things, and still it took me a startlingly long time to realise the gruff one with the short, almost boxy hair might be... oh, I never thought of it like that): No, it's about four ninety.

Mass hilarity ensued. Or rather I gave a snort of faint amusement or possibly surprise that my mother has a sense of humour and can set jokes up better than I can and has the audacious gall to actually be able to remember more than just the punchline of them (yes, I know, as they admitted, it probably came from the News Quiz or somewhere, but I hadn't heard it so it was new to me). And then my father chimed in with "Or four bob" and I gave him a look along the lines of "oh, do stop revelling in your anachronisticity" and there endeth the attempt at normal family life.

* I've not seen it. And in our house we mostly used the hangars for duels and impromptu and a tad ineffective bows. And hands up if you ever bothered to make that Blue Peter fire-hazard-in-waiting Advent "Peace on Earth" piece of tat. And yes, I have already managed to discover that the tune in my head that I've been mouthing the words to without thinking about it was Oh Come All Ye Faithful. Damn, normally I make it to at least half-term (or possibly that's my it's-not-unseemly threshold).

Which is all one way of saying "my, isn't packing fun. And dusty". Better get back to it.


PS. Extra bonus points question: name three things that I will forget to take.

Packing: you are moving into a new and more permanent abode? Or they are?

Bonus points question: If I told you what you were going to forget to take, you probably wouldn't forget them any more. But how about: photos of the area that used to be your room before you packed up and moved out.
@ mq: he said, rather mysteriously, in his last entry "although I am saying this when I am about to disappear for a while (perhaps, hopefully)." so maybe he's being shipped overseas for a while. I remember Dubai being delightful [or, at least, more delightful than it was at other times ] at this time of year.

As to what you'll leave behind, some less-than-vital but much loved item of clothing.
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