“How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.”

“The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.”
- WB Yeats


Well, here goes nothing,

A strange automated call from my bank, five more attempted claims on my terminated debit card. Most interesting was the 57p from a pet store in the USA ?!?!?!? Blimey big scale fraud eh? I can only assume my card has been cloned.
My missing £569 still hasn't been returned alas - soon, soon, soon!

I was essentially blackmailed into staying late at work today, we have been struck with a lot of sickness, and a heck of a lot of maternity leave, staff are thin on the ground, but only in the numerical case in my instance.

I spent the whole of "Good" (!) Friday in t'house , in my 'night' clothes. I was feeling very depressed (so?) and spent the whole day in front of the TV with a cosy blanket (at least in my mind that's what happened). Speaking of TV, the long awaited return of Red Dwarf to TV was about as exciting as a wet sparkler, ie not at all. It looked nice, but was lacking the one essential element of a comedy show - comedy!

And speaking of TV , I'll be sad to see 'Life' go, one of the few 'cop' shows I actually watch (but more importantly enjoy - it's funny see). The finale made no bloody sense at all, an attempt to tie up loose ends in the face of almost certain cancellation.
Which naturally leads me onto the clumsily titled 'Terminator The Sarah Connor Chronicles'. Season two has been, well mostly humdrum (don't get me started on the forced relgious overtones), and it was almost painful watching Shirley Manson literally learning to act in front of my very own eyes. But heaven forbid! - the last few episodes have been , well, quite good! However it's a case of too little, much much too late, and It must surely be cancellation time. You all know how much I admire Ms. Manson, but I really cannot imagine any other parts she could play. She just about (just) carries off the part of an emotionless, naive killing machine (with red hair), that speaks in monotone (albeit a fabulous Edinburgh accent, I absolutely adore Edinburgh, although it will always now remind me of Barbara, and another of my wonderfully executed faux pas) . Whereas as a singer she is animated, alive, enigmatic, colourful, and above all gorgeous (and Scottish - if Scotland ever becomes independent, please, please take the North East with you, after all I'm nearer to Edinburgh than most of Scotland, plus I work in the NHS, I want all the freedoms you wonderful Scots enjoy, maybe I would just emigrate).
Apologies SM, every journey begins with a single step.

Rambling ends...

fab! groovy! etc!

“When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.”