Winter Solstice Invitations

The last time (which was the first time) I held a party. People complained bitterly that I didn't give enough notice. Therefore, consider yourself notified.

I will be throwing the virtual doors of Palais de Roses open next Monday (21st December) to celebrate the Winter Solstice. It's that time of year when we gather to mark the turning of the Wheel of the Year. We give thanks for the blessings we have received and look forward for the lengthening of the days. It's the time of year when we turn inwards and reflect on the goals we will be setting ourselves for the coming year.

It is also the best time to indulge in our friendships and loves. Giving tokens of appreciation. Whether homemade or shop-bought, it's a time for pressies! Woo Hoo!

And I fully expect we'll be indulging in a lot of this:

Let's have a good old knees up!

Corking

I'm on my second cup of coffee, trying to get my brain to start functioning for the final push. Your good wishes and nagging have worked and I've met 2 out of 3 deadlines this week. My final deadline awaits at 11.00 for my Prose submission. I'm almost pleased about my poetry, half of the poems were actually passable, two were only apalling and the last one was not too dire. I am not a poet, but the discipline of writing poetry is so good for my Prose that I didn't want to give it up. I realise that it will pull my overall degree mark down, but as I'm doing the work anyway, I might as well get the marks for it. Oh. Sorry, we've already had this conversation.

I have yet to figure out why, when I have a spate of sleepless nights although I feel like rubbish the next morning, I always feel so much worse, when I do have a good night. Answers on a postcard please.

I was doing my daily news trawl and I came across this article from the BBC Online Magazine. Reminds me of a visit from Hottie last year. She drove me to Waitrose to stock up on wine for the evening. We headed to the Naughtiness aisle, which in Waitrose is the size of a couple of large squash courts. We start looking for appropriate bottles. Hottie will drink anything, I will only drink Red, white wine gives me the most amazing heartburn, and to me tastes like vinegar. We picked up a bottle of Banrock Sparkling Red as a treat, for us and the environment.We're having a look through the shelves and I pick up a bottle and flash it for Hottie's approval. She looks at me as if I've just pulled something nasty from the local JobCentre. "Screw tops, " she informed me. "Are for the seriously alcoholic, or the terminally lazy." At which point I just cracked up. The guy who was standing next to us, trying to chose his poison for the evening, stopped and glared at us. Undaunted, Hottie looks him in the eye and says "How desperate are you if you can't manage to open a bottle with a corkscrew?"

I must admit I do agree with her. Corks are classy. Regular visitors to my abode will atest to my recycling activities, which do not happen often enough. Having your worktop crowded with bottles and corks is far more appealing than empty plastic bottles and squashed tetrapaks. And as was pointed out to me on Friday, if I really was an alcoholic, I would hide the evidence better.

Green is the Colour of My Hangover

Yesterday was relaxed and a bit boozy, to say the least. We cracked open a bottle of red velvet to have with the opening of our pressies and of course had to have another one with lunch. Unfortunately, I can't actually remember very much from carving the duck to Dr Who. I have vague recollections of sending incoherent texts to long suffering friends, but apart from that, nada. Hottie assures me the duck was fine. This was her first experience with roast duck and she tells me I surpassed her expectations. Which is just as well really. When I spoke to my rellies in Trinidad, they expressed surprise that I can actually cook...shows what they know. :-)

When I finally made it out of my pit for Dr Who, Hottie started on another bottle of wine, while I looked pale and interesting clutching my glass of water. We indulged in rubbish television and then Chocolat as promised, which was as fabulous as ever.

Hottie look fabulous this morning. She was chirpy, bright and bouncy ready to take on the world. Biatch! I on the other hand, am feeling like I need to give my liver a very big hug, for looking after me. I feel wretched. I did want to go with her to see Britwitch, but the thought of leaving the safety of my flat is just too much. But I have finally sorted the laundry and have actually done 3 loads, which is a start. I think I will probably have a nap a bit later on and then start gathering my books and notes to get me in the mood for dissertationing over the next few days. I've promised myself a treat at the weekend if I get the bulk of it done. No more procrastination, just action.

Quick Catch-up

This posting is going to be a bit abrupt. I'm pretty knackered and it's late and I can hear my bed calling me. I've done something silly with my shoulder and feeling hormonal on top of things is more than enough to be getting on with.

The journey to Liverpool was great. The train trip was direct and fascinating. I observed loads of different people and landscapes. I ended up making lists of everything that caught my eye. I wish I had a digital camera, I could have taken stills and motion film, so please note: my digital camera fund is now open, don't worry about Yule presents this year, all cheques, notes and coins gratefully accepted.

Met up with Hottie and trekked across Liverpool to the Tate gallery there. Saw Henry Moore and Bruce Nauman. Fabulous, fabulous, fabulous. We had to walk around with our hands in our pockets, the Henry Moore sculpture was so tactile. The Nauman was just amazing, because we'd got there late, they let us in for free and that was long enough. It was amazing seeing some of the pieces 'in the flesh' that I'd seen in books and on the internet. Got more arty cards and Hottie treated me to the exhibition book. She is fabulous and looks stunning with her new flirty-girl hair-cut. She rocks!

Needless to say we polished off 2 bottles of red that night, put the world to rights. Note to Self: remove mobile phone and any communicating devices when drinking. Too many silly texts flying around too late at night. Please Goddess, let my friends not be offended by my drunken communiques!

Spend Saturday in posh Tudor Chester. I would have loved it more had I not been feeling a tad fragile. Hottie, the cow, was bright and chirpy from 8.30. I had to go back to bed to prepare myself for the night out. I got invited to a work leaving do, of one of Hottie's colleagues. Good food, good company and then we went clubbing.

It's been years since I'd been clubbing and clubbing in Liverpool is different to Norwich. We had fun dancing up a storm. Liverpool doesn't seem to do cloakrooms, so we dumped bags and coats in the middle and danced around them. We dodged the drunken hens and stag nights, laden with blown up condoms and all wearing matching t-shirts. I think I'll have to dedicate another post just for the night out. oooo the suspence. But we had fun. Lots of it.

But it was good to be home. Especially after the trip back. Had to change at Nuneaton and Peterborough. I ended up in the middle leg of the journey, in the corridor, leaning against the train loo, squashed up next to a group of boys who looked like they were trying out for boy band of the year. All blonde, wearing the latest street gear, flashing their boxers and i-Pods. Not a fun way to spend an hour and a half.

Anyway, got home. Bliss! Got boy back, he's grown in the last 2 weeks. I'm working the next few days, the shock of it. Still waiting for feedback on my draft CV and begging letters. Fingers crossed.