Anyhoo (yes "anyway" was already taken).

Gender
We think http://any-hoo.blogspot.com is written by a woman (63%).
Age
1. 26-35 (28.6 %)
2. 51-65 (20.6 %)
3. 18-25 (19.9 %)
4. 13-17 (16.9 %)
5. 36-50 (7.4 %)
6. 65-100 (6.5 %)
Mood
1. upset (61.1 %)
2. happy (38.9 %)

Hmm.

So you think I'm either my age or maybe my parents' age (I think they're still in that bracket)? And that I'm female and annoyed? Can one have a self-fulfilling half-prophecy?

'Ways, u ent noin wachu tawkin bow, blud, ya get me?

Now, if that doesn't get me bumped into da yoot cats, then I don't know what will. Except I used an apostrophe (for our younger readers, that's a "sidenose") on "anyways", so probably dooms me to the mid-life crisis section.

All this because I don't write like Hemingway?

[Insert pastiche of Hemingway here, full of short sentences, jabbed speech, brassy blondes, not real blondes, but fake blondes, blondes from a bottle, blondes bloody men like, men with rust on the hands, brown dirt on their brown faces, the sea as prison, non-non-or-are-they-sequitors, simp words for simp guys, misogynists, pointless all, violent abrupt, Greene's Pinkie with heat, on heat, packing heat, crusted heat, no commas, sure, what the hell; a semicolon].

Anyhoo,

When I woke up the room was filled with light and silence.

[I forgot to use this in a post, but you can guess what the post would have been about. Yep, that which stops being a good thing about three-hours in]

Anyhoo,

Hurrah, I have internet. Ok, so I actually don't, but my brother has, and he's out at the moment therefore it's mine, all mine (comme le brouillard). So now for the usual apologies for lack of abnormal service. But not having internet probably counts as a reasonable excuse for silence. Anyway, I have seen bloggers recently if not blogged.

First was LondonDan for Pam-Ann (finally learned to type that in the not-showing-my-age way), who was, oh hang on, there was half a post drafted about this, wasn't there? So read that then.

Then came

[Walky Talky Stairs and Co.]

One down, how many to go?

[Can I claim the CIA came and took away my words because they were dangerous? And that's why there's nothing more written here?]

Anyhoo,

Watching this again. It's not my fault. Pam Ann (hurrah I got it the non-showing-my-age way round for once!) kept referencing in her show tonight. 'Twas good but occasionally a bit too, well, she described it as being a pantomime, but parts of it were like those sections during the service of church parade where suddenly the congregation chant some non-sequitur back and then keep doing it with different phrases. Which is fine if you've done it before, but not so much when she could break into a chunk of Sister Act and I might not notice (though it was eerie hearing her echo the inner voice when Roxy the Viking emerged; damn cultural priming).

Anyway, there are probably seats available for next Sunday's performance (unless you happen to have something better to do, like, um, that Christmas number-one maker thing. Hmm, maybe that's where everyone was). By which I mean I bought the cheapest of the cheap seats and found us up/downgraded to the tier below. Which only made the jibes pitched up to the economy gods slightly awkward because Pam Ann was about the only person in the place seemingly unaware that there was no one up there.

Anyway, so I've now spent a Sunday night at the Loldom Platinum and discovered it's got good acoustics because when the microphone popped in and out of existence the word came through regardless.

[What a thrilling thought to end the post on. Must remember to try harder. Anyway, Londondan, lovely guy, fluff filler probably covers the rest of it].

Anyhoo,

Awaiting the Pandora moment (and I don't mean the America Spotify). But it might be a while coming having managed to very effectively kill of this thing (hands up if you're reading this. Hardly looks like Nuremberg out there).

[Again a thrilling post, but then it was to be another post about why I cannot post, except I probably could anyway, but let's not mention that]

Anyhoo,

On further questioning he admitted to having pale stools and dark urine.

The most interesting line to come out of a talk by one these guys, albeit on the medical notes left behind in the lecture theatre. Beyond the hepatitis, it was the usual call for a war-footing, ditching of GDP as anything but a measure of what it is, and wondering why we appear to be waiting for it start snowing technology*.

I am of course leaving out much, because, well, if I repeat what normally gets repeated then the wilful hedonism option does start to look attractive.

So what else has been happening? Well, I've seen both James Corden and Ruby Wax; the former in incongruous shoes on Hantstead Heath, the latter twice in the RA. I quite liked the bit where she gets fired at the wall.

I've played drink while you think with in-laws (not mine but I've yet to work out the correct term for them).

I've been repeatedly disappointed by a recurrent trending topic on Twitter; It's snowing is just misleading when they're talking about Austin or Albany not 'Ackné or 'Ammasmith.

Thought this good.

Failed to finish a children's book yet.

Managed to buy dry-clean-only trousers, but they are quite nice, and labels like that are like the best-before dates on food or the red man on crossings. Scant is a good word, isn't it?

Managed not to buy some skinny jeans**, not because of the mutton trussed as lamb thing, but because I was mostly skinnier. I clearly need a job that I have to get the Tube to (and so spend my days running up escalators) or move back to Exciter. Suddenly the grunge of the Gumtreed doesn't seem so bad; they may be halfway to Hardfortsheer but at least they're in Loldom, technically.

And on that thought I'm off to fortify myself for tomorrow's home hiring hopes.

Anyhoo,

* One day it will. Pray you don't live that long.
** I manage to be so far off the fashion radar I'm probably on its sonar. I think part of the problem is I don't tend to look at the men around me and wonder what their clothes will look like on me. Now try that with a different stress.

[I have no idea]

Love More (knuckles)

The freedom to post Lady Gaga lyrics should I so chose (but only because I tend to hear "you and me could write a pantomime").

"There was a boy, a very strange, enchanted boy. And I have his number".

"With a cheer, not a tear"

Anyhoo,