Spent the last hour pissing around with dying laptops and TalkTalk disks trying to get my mother (okay, and me) temporary internet access until her shiny new computer arrives next week. Worth the effort, as it turns out, and I shall type very quickly before the damn thing bluescreens me again. Some things just have to be shared.
My Dad phoned me up this morning, started whittering on about where he'd moored his boat north of Coventry miles from anywhere and how he'd got his chainsaw out to harvest firewood. I tuned him out at that point because these anecdotes usually end with 'and I saw a most unusual six hundred year old beech coppice'. Also, I was wrestling with cables and trying to concentrate. When I tuned him in again he was saying 'and what do Emus eat anyway?'
( Conversations about stray animals )

Sha'n't be around the next couple weeks because I'm seriously sick of computers that don't work properly. I'll be over there, smashing looms.

In the less-than-two-months since I quit smoking I have put on a whole stone. Also, I still want a f****** cigarette.

My kid's birthday on Thursday, and her party on Saturday. My first ever kiddie's party. I've always managed to bribe/distract her with outings before. It's going to be hell. I hate parties. And children.

My Mum got knocked off her bike last weekend by another cyclist, last week she had a broken thumb, now it's not broken, she'd ripped a tendon or something. I don't even know what she's done to it, she's too squeemish to describe it in anything but euphemisms. She wouldn't let me go to the hospital with her but I suspect she stuck her fingers in her ears every time someone used a phrase like torn ligament. She was scheduled for surgery today but she just called and said they've decided to put it in a cast for a couple weeks instead, see if it fixes itself. I'm not sure if that's a changing medical opinion or if she just bottled it. Either way, I'll be doing her washing up for a few more weeks. I hate cyclists.

Got a new computer last Monday, new compared to the last one at least. Blew up last Wednesday. I exaggerate slightly, but there were sparks and fusing of electrics and a burnt smell. Strangely, it worked just fine afterwards, but I'm a little reluctant to use it. I'm hoping it's the house rather than the computer because my reading lamp blew up the other week, cable at the back popped open and kinda melted, scared the crap out of me. Wasn't even switched on.

My half-sisters came down for Halloween, took the kiddie trick-or-treating then gorged themselves until they were too full to move. They were strangely conscientious about not dropping their wrappers on the floor. I moved the armchair yesterday to vacuum and found it stuffed full of not only every single wrapper but also enough sweets and chocolate bars to keep a five year old busy for a week. It must have taken my rat hours to gather them all up and make herself a nest out of food. And explains why she's been getting steadily fatter the less I feed her.

And cards. I failed last year. This year, I'm organised, ready and eager to celebrate all types of winter festival by posting pictures of snow. If you've given me your address before, I probably still have it, though it never hurts to make sure. Comments are screened. Don't be shy.
My address is 37 Starwort Path, Blackbird Leys, Oxford OX4 6RN, and if you're going to send me a card could you address it to Rosy and Jennifer? Partly because I don't want to put my surname where Google can find it, mostly because the child whinges that I get more post than her. Like I wouldn't put the utility bills in her name if I could.

And while I'm collecting addresses, are there any David Hewlett fans on my flist? I have a spare copy of Cypher, in which he has a ten minute turn, and also Redemption, the SG-1 Season Six two-parter in which McKay has a large part. Free to a loving home, if anyone would like them.

Every year my mother grows marrows, and every year we all agree that the only thing more disgusting than a marrow is a marrow cooked by my mother. This year she conned me into making her eight more raised beds, little knowing that I was aiding and abetting the growing of yet more marrows.

So help me out, flist. What can I do with eighteen marrows? Last year I made jam but it was a) pretty gross and b) mouldy within six weeks. Ideally, the kind of thing you can make in bulk, freeze, and feed eccentric parents with over winter. Bonus points if your recipe includes squash, pumpkin, onion, carrots, apples or corgettes (zuchinis).

( tl:dr bitching about my mother )

And a conversation I had with the kiddie yesterday

Jen: Are these my trousers?
Me: No, these are your jacket, dummy.
Jen: Mum! You mean this is my jacket.

I'm raising a grammar Nazi. I'm so proud.

I'm in Oxford. My house keys are in Bath. My Mum is in Bridgwater with her spare key. We broke into her house, so I'm not sleeping on the streets tonight but... There might actually be less spiders on the streets. The kiddie is refusing to sleep here and I can't really blame her. Eighty percent of the living room floor is covered in apples, pumpkins and courgettes. They're passed their best. The spare bed is covered in onions. They used to be on the floor, but there's no floor space left. Basically, she's a health hazard. And possibly a danger to herself. She hasn't even retired yet. The place is creepy enough in daytime, but at night the spiders all come out to eat each other. I'd say sod school and be on the train back to Bath but I have a job interview tomorrow. I'll be going in today's jeans. And our rat is sat in her cardboard carry case. She's already chewed a hole in it. We call her a pet but she's basically feral and if we lose her in this house I don't think we'll ever see her again. At least she wouldn't starve.

On the up-side, internet. Theoretically, I've had internet all weekend, but I've been baby-sitting three teenagers and they're all bigger than me now so, they get priority. Heh. At least I'll have fanfic while I'm sitting up all night fending the spiders off.

And you can have photos of my summer holiday. If I can remember how to post them. Boy, it's been a long time.

( Whitsand Bay, Cornwall )

And yes, I did promise at least three people I would have a new chapter of Dreidel up by September. I, uh, lied? Sorry. I'm not yet willing to admit it's abandoned, but it's been a long time since I wrote anything at all, so I really hope no-one is holding their breath. As ever, defriending is noted without rancour.

And one last random fact. It's been eight days since my last cigarette. This is the third time I've managed as much this year. Contrary to what people tell you, the first week is the easiest. For the first week, you can tell yourself 'it'll get easier'. I'll have cracked by Friday.

Chapter Six of Yellow Ribbon here, all parts here. And seeing as I've neglected linking back, also ficlet for Porntoberfest and even tinier ficlet for the ABC Exchange

1/ There's no particular reason for me not posting since September. I'm just dull.

2/ Signed up to Seasonal Spuffy. That's not actually the confession, though it says nothing good about my impulse control. I, um, I don't read Spuffy fic any more. I have stuff from the last two SS's bookmarked, and some of it sounds really good, and I know I like the authors but I just haven't been in the mood for Spuffy. At all. Very occassionally, I might revisit an old favourite. I have no idea why I keep putting my name down and worse, I have no idea what I'm going to write. None. If I rack my brains any harder they're going to fall out my ears. So, if you have a spare plot bunny/vague idea of something you'd like to read/random sentence you're just dying to see used in a fanfic... Prompt me. Please.

3/ Dreidel. Not abandoned, I swear. I've nearly finished the next chapter, there's maybe another four after that. But... My posting rate is not going to get any faster, and I'm not going to be starting anything new (except, hopefully, for SS, which will, obvously, be posted to SS). Any new chapters will be up on BSV and TSR. So, feel free to defriend me. I won't cry. If you were just here for the Spuffy fic, well, check back in three years or so and I'll have finished Dreidel. In the meantime, you can avoid the bi-annual spam.

4/ If I've snuck up and stealth-friended you recently, I'm ashamed to say that's pretty much standard behaviour from me. I lurk. It's probably because I'm reading your SGA fic.

And lastly, some advice. Don't watch the first four seasons of SGA in three weeks. It's not good for a person, and things will atrophy. Apparently, Dr McKay is my strange crush for 2009.

Over a year? Really? Doesn’t time fly?

Thanks to slackerace, beta-ing this fic for over two years now. And thanks also to my dad, bringing his internet to visit so I can post at two in the morning.

Previous parts are here in memories or here at my website.



( Chapter Eighteen )

Bought a rat at the end of August, for the child. Really, for the child. Actually, she wanted a flamingo, but the flat's a little small for a lake so we compromised. She's called Lola (as in Charlie and... not L-O-L-A) and is mostly brown. She's also mostly wild, and lives off cables and furniture. We're working on that. When I was in sixth form, I had a brown hooded rat called Angel, who was sociable to the point of annoying and used to accompany me to school whenever I felt I could get away with it. Lola is taking a little more work. This is exactly the only part of my life that is possibly interesting enough to bother sharing with anyone. I need a new fandom.

Here is my Life on Mars ficathon entry. Thanks to kispexi2 for her beta work, not yet thoroughly implemented. And the one written for me by t_eyla.

Spent four days trying to get this stupid computer to download iTunes. I've broken it. It starts fine, then the speed goes down and down, until it gets to 1kb a second. So, trip to my mother's, bribing the child with the most horrendously unhealthy sweets and Robin Hood Prince of Theives. Yes, she's only four, but she wanted to see it. It kept her quiet, okay? She'll grow new teeth. I'm going to hell, probably, but...

I'm no longer the only person on LJ who hasn't seen Dr Horrible.

Two weeks ago, after several heated disagreements with Daniel, my next door neighbour, about what he ought and ought not encourage his child to do, particularly to my child, (and after two years of putting up with the foul-mouthed, aggressive and constantly present little brat) I said she couldn't play in my house any more. Kayley lasted two days without a built in child minder and then she's effing and blinding at me for picking on her kid every time I won't let her in. I pointed out her kid had been trying to hit mine with the rusty end of a discarded broomstick under the proud eye of her father.

Things got worse rather quickly, and by Wednesday hit the point where Jen stops asking why she can't go outside to play with the other children and is too scared to want to. Kayley and Daniel and two of her chav friends, other neighbours, swearing at me when ever I go outside or banging on my door at one in the morning and offering to kick my head in. Or sometimes, for variety, trying to kill each other. Like the staunch and stable person I am, I've run to stay at my Mum's. Haven't stayed here overnight for years, because every tiny crevice that isn't crammed with clutter is full of daddy-long-legs spiders, which happen to be my least favourite kind of spider. Apparently, they're less disturbing than my neighbours. On the up side, there is internet. And considerably less ants than last year.

I'm going on holiday tomorrow, a week in a caravan in Dawlish Warren with my Mum and sister. Having done it two years previously, I wasn't looking forward to it all that much, my Mum is best taken in smallish doses. Feeling very differently today, and wondering whatever I'm going to do when I haven't got my Mum to run to. I'm going to spend all week not allowing her to eat clotted cream, the only vice she has likely to prove fatal. And dealing with the guilt of knowing my child is miserable and not knowing what to do about it.

So hugs to LJ, and its defriending/banning system, and the throngs of polite and rational people who make it so I've never been tempted to use either. And hugs in particular to kispexi2 for the beautifully random Rhinoceros and pfeifferpack for the unexpected feedback, you both cheered me up yesterday. And pfeifferpack , I'm sorry about Dreidel. It'll be finished one day, if I live long enough. I try to make amends with a hastily-written and sucky 500 word ficlet. Naturally I want Buffy to admit to herself and the others that she was not some innocent victim of Spike but an abuser herself....bout time she came clean ... I always wanted that and never got it.


( This was as close as I could get. And it may be slightly tainted by recent RL. )

My Dad's gone off to the Wilds of Gloucestershire. Or the wilds of somewhere where there's no 3g signal. Okay, I don't really remember where he's gone, there was definitely a river involved. Possibly a canal. I wasn't listening, because he brought his modem, and left it behind. To get to the point, I have internet. And a laptop, on loan. I'm typing this from my bed, I feel so decadent. (I'm not still in bed, that would be taking decadence too far, even for a weekend. I'm just sitting on it.)

( So I spam you with family photos, because I can (eta - I couldn't. 2nd time lucky, hopefully) )


And I have a random HTML question. I've found a site that tells me how to break a page into sections and jump to those sections from the top of the page. Is it possible to link to one of those sections from another page? And if so, how?

If anyone's interested, the page in question is a list of Life on Mars fanfiction recs

It's raining a lot. Oxford will soon be underwater again. The local news will show endless new office buildings built on flood-planes, three foot underwater, and idiots asking 'how could this happen?' and nobody answering 'because you built stuff in the way of the frigging Thames, you moron'. Osney Island, the bit that made national news in the summer, was built on a sandbank in the middle of the biggest river in England. Just in case any of you were wasting sympathy. And for a random bit of ranting, I'm sick of hearing 'isn't it ironic how we can get floods and droughts at the same time'. No. You tarmac over the country, and every time it rains try and get that water to sea as fast as possible through pipes built back when people were sane and didn't do that. Causing both floods and droughts. It's not irony. It's stupidity.

And then there's my usual whinges about no home internet, coupled today with whinges about Seasonal Spuffy because I got very wet getting to the internet cafe to post my entry. I'm resenting that, because my fic really sucks and was in no way worth getting wet over. And I needed a couple more months to finish it, by which time it might have stopped raining. I really don't know why I signed myself up. I didn't want to start another Spuffy fic, I think I've proved I didn't really have one in me, I haven't even read most of the fics already up yet. It's been horrible trying to finish it, I've been getting very cross and I don't have anyone to be cross at because it's entirely self inflicted. No doubt I shall do exactly the same next season.

Was listening to Humphrey Littleton's obituary program on the radio this morning. It was about 60% PMT but I had to have a little cry over that. Been listening to I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue since before I knew what innuendo was, and I'm kinda shocked, which is weird. I was always glad Clue was prerecorded so every time one of them said 'is Humph dead?' I could be sure the answer was no. But some people have been so old for so long you expect them to live forever.

ETA: I have no idea why my journal thinks it's last December. That wasn't me, LJ have gone crazy.

My dad has got embroiled in some nasty argument with a bunch of old biddies who run a small nature reserve. Now he has gout and can't cause as much trouble as he'd like, he wants to provoke them from a distance by making his own website. Or rather, having me make a website for him. So I've spent two days trying to learn about this HTML stuff. Not quite as hard as I was expecting - I was surprised to find I've been using HTML on LJ, I just didn't know what it was.

So for practise, I made a website for my fanfiction.

http://constance-b.bravehost.com/index.html

Well, okay, I've half made a website for my fanfiction. It's going to take me another four hours just to put the paragraph breaks in to Dreidel. I'm really starting to appreciate the effort that goes into such things as bulletpoints. But still, I'm very excited. My dad's never getting his mobile modem back.

THERE IS INTERNET IN MY HOUSE!

My Dad persuaded my Mum to get one of these mobile modem things (they wouldn't give him a contract, having no fixed address) but he has gout, and is stuck in the middle of nowhere (okay, outside Reading) unable to move his boat and come and collect it. So I'm going to exercise it for him, because I'm so kind.

Now he wants me to help make him a website, a case of the blind leading the lazy. I'm weighing up the advantages of regular modem-borrowing against the technophobia. I suspect it's generally better for my health not to have internet - I'm about to spend the next week downloading new forms of patience and watching youtube clips.

My child is on an all-day nursery trip today, I get to luxuriate in five whole hours of internet, TalkTalk willing. Don't ask me why her nursery is still open. Easter holidays start two weeks after Easter, this year, presumably to make it harder to visit relatives in counties where they have their Easter hols at, like, Easter.

And hey, LJ is striking. http://beckyzoole.livejournal.com/394838.html Haven't had the time to follow exactly what they've done wrong (this time), but I do like the idea. And as long as LJ can't tell the difference between me boycotting and me just being too far from a computer to log in, then I shall be joining. Anything is better than everyone running away to a new site. No running away to new sites, okay? I'll never have time to follow.

Some bastard taught my four-year-old how to use Paint at nursery. The program, not the substance. Okay, it's not as bad as teaching her that strangers are evil, or that you should open toilet doors with a paper towel, and I suppose I can't complain. (And boy did I complain about the stranger danger thing. Am I the only person in the world who would rather just supervise their child, than teach them every one they don't know is out to get them? When did Paedophiles become more important than manners? And she's four, last week she cleaned my toilet with her toothbrush, a fact I only discovered when she told me it tasted funny. She's already got every germ going, and probably bred a few new ones. Is she going out of the toilet to perform surgery? No. She changed nursery at Christmas, the new one made me sign a form giving permission for them to seek medical help in an emergency. I worry about leaving my child in the care of people who would check for the correct form before calling an ambulance.)

Oops, wrong rant. I'm not complaining about teaching her computers, at least, I'm trying not to. But now she's realised that the big, boring-looking box mummy types into is actually a giant toy, and now, instead of just wanting my attention every time I get near the internet, she wants the bloody computer. Needless to say, I did not get online at the weekend. Probably for the best - last time I got online I signed up for Seasonal Spuffy, despite deciding very definitely not to. How the f*** did that happen? And now I'm wasting today's time whinging, when I have fic to post.

Beta'd by the superlative kispexi2, saving you from my cheesy porn phrases.

( Yellow Ribbon, Part Five )

Ahh, sweet internet... Half term, a stomach bug and TalkTalk have left me very deprived. I have nothing to say, per usual, except I've missed you all. I had to read a book this week, I ran out of fanfiction.

And thank you muchly louise39 for the card. I'm still young enough to get excited by oldfashioned post, especially when it comes with exotic stamps.

I have been worrying about slash fic, and more specifically, why I seem to have started writing it. Not worrying in an 'OMG, I'm gonna go to hell' way, it just puzzles me. I used to avoid it. I don't find the sight of two men kissing erotic. I'm vaguely squicked by the idea of two men having sex. I'm a girl, I don't have a prostate, my own experience of anal sex is pretty much 'that bleeding well hurts, I'm not doing it again without substantial sexual bribery' And that's still true. So why have I started writing fics where the whole point is to get two men into bed?

Because I'm weird, according to the person reading over my shoulder. (Hazard of borrowing people's internet. She didn't use the word weird, but she's definitely giving me funny looks now.) And it's fair comment. But I'm very far from alone. And if 'because they're weird' is the answer, how is it all these slash writers share the same weirdness? Every kink has its own little corner of the Internet, that's to be expected, how come slash is the one that's nearly taken over? I don't know if anyone has done a proper survey, but it seems to me, pretty much half of all shipper fic is slash. That's a lot of weirdos. It's very curious. I've been hanging around fandom too long to think it that strange, but it is. It's very strange. There's no Mills and Boon equivalent, out in the real world, few trashy gay romances written for women, but here in fandom - pretty much 50/50. And I'd like to know why.

( Please don't expect any kind of sensible answer to be under the cut. Just lots of rambling. )

And I have one more reason, which only really occurred to me after far too much thinking about Ashes 2 Ashes. If Sam had been a girl in Life on Mars I'd probably have happily shipped it for a little while. I wanted a het ship. Now, in A2A, I'm being given exactly that, but I don't want it. Not just because Sam and Gene is now my OTP in that fandom. First up, I resent being told that they've added sexual tension to make the program more appealing to women. It makes me think murderous thoughts about Matthew Graham and if I end up liking A2A I'll feel bad about it. I resent being given what I want, I'm petty like that. But more germane to my slash puzzlings, I don't trust the writers not to screw it up.

I could watch Life on Mars, and ship Hunt/Tyler, secure in the knowledge that the writers couldn't ruin it for me. They could ruin the ending, but not the ship, because it's not and never would be a canon ship. And I think that applies to most slash pairings. Life on Mars was never going to show Sam and Gene getting romantic, so they couldn't show it badly. I was able to invest in that relationship, because of that. And it's not necessary a good/bad writing issue. Even if I'd managed to have the same kind of blind faith in the creators of LoM that I managed for Joss Whedon, I don't think I'd even want to see how that relationship might have played out on screen. If it's not a canon ship they can't show it reaching a conclusion. They were never going to take away my UST by making them a couple. And I can't think of any heterosexual examples, where you could be sure Male Character and Female Character weren't going to end up together and boring, except in closed canon. Maybe that's why I just can't get into Torchwood. There are no two characters, regardless of gender, generation or species, that might not jump into bed at any second.

so 11/ Because it's not a canon ship.

Eleven whole reasons. I'm not sure that's enough to explain why so many fandom members prefer slash. Or why they don't seem to apply to mainstream media. If anyone has a better answer, I'd like to hear it. And if anyone knows how it can be possible that I don't know myself why it is I do the things I do, I'd like to know that too. In fact, I think this is probably my longest ever non-fic post by a wide margin, I'd be quite impressed if anyone got this far. You can just consider this post one long advert for rough-drafting.

Sequel to The Seat with the Clearest View and If is for Children, Part Two, Part Three Yellow Ribbon, Part One Part Two

For my own nefarious reasons I've played around a little with the timeline of the final episode. 2.06 never happened, 2.07 happened in November, not July. If MG can write pre-finale Christmas fanfic I feel I'm entitled. This chapter picks up about two weeks after the last part.

Many thanks to kispexi2 and her colour scheme for the beta and gentle prodding (and the ego-stroking). Thanks to liquorishflame for details about the final episode. If anyone could furnish me with the name of the place Danny Croucher worked/was found dead at I'd be grateful.


( Yellow Ribbon, Part Three )

( Yellow Ribbon, Part Four )

My little girl is spending Christmas with her Grandparents in Doncaster, so I've spent Christmas Eve, my first child-free day this year, redecorating her room. Four o'clock this morning I was still assembling a bed, blasting Christmas Carols. Then my Mum had to drag me out at ten to have 'family time'. She thinks me spending Christmas day on my own would be a terrible thing, despite being an atheist. Personally, I think this is the best Christmas ever.
Tonight, I shall be varnishing furniture and building a desk. Just as soon as I've eaten enough food for three people, which is apparently a pre-condition of my mother letting me out of the house.
Wishing you all a merry Christmas, and a happy new year. May your day be filled with family, laughter and Dr Who specials.