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Life, the universe, and everything.

In an effort to maintain livejournal, I figure I should actually, you know, continue to blog about life, the universe, and everything.

It is now exactly a week till Christmas Eve and I'm almost entirely finished with my Christmas shopping. All my presents are currently sat on the beanbag beside me in a pile and I've already trodden on one of them twice. Oops.

I've been getting myself entirely too stressed out about organising my adventures next week, to the point of tears last night. I want to spend some time up in London with Moose, but I desperately want to see lazenich, digicowboy and ugerchucker too. There hasn't been a Christmas in six years that we haven't spent at least the day together, sharing gifts and mooching in a pub somewhere. Back when we had a house in Bath, we hosted awesome Christmas parties that only seemed to get larger each year. Since real life snagged everyone away from student living, we've made do with meeting in Southampton or Bath and finding a pub to hole up in. It wasn't ideal by far, and hopefully this will be the last year we have to do it, but it was still festive.

This year, I just don't know what will happen. We all live pretty far apart from each other and DC has only one day off between now and Christmas - next Monday. Luke's calling in sick from work to attend, and I'm praying Sarah will too, or else it'll be such a disjointed, blah week and we won't get to see each other until after Christmas. Bleh.

Anyway, to catch up on life; earlier this month Weird Al finally performed in London and Luke, DC and I headed up to see him.

It was awesome! He walked right past us when he came into the audience to sing I Wanna B Ur Lover, too, which was great! I enjoyed this show way more than the gig Luke and I caught in LA a few years back, because it was more personal and because we got right to the front. As you can see, my photos suck, but tictactoepony got some excellent pics of him.

The next day Luke, DC, Moose and I headed up to Hyde Park Winter Wonderland, just to get a taste of Christmas. It was pretty festive alright, but the rides had been half-heartedly reskinned to fit their holiday theme, with varying results.

...the Hogfather, right?

Anyway, I have to leave for work in a minute. As I speak it's started snowing heavily again outside! Which is exciting and beautiful and Christmassy but heads will roll if it disrupts my travel plans next week. This country's constantly so ill prepaired for snow it's remarkible. One solitary snowflake upon the ground and suddenly it's SNOWMAGEDDON.

One thing I haven't mentioned on Livejournal (or anywhere else for that matter) is the fact that we've really had to admit a partial defeat on Sheila, my beautiful pink Suzuki. Since August she's been in and out of the garage, having constant 'repairs' that seem to do very little. She splutters and backfires and refuses to start and refuses to go. To say I'm sad about this is an understatement. When we moved her from our driveway to nan's property (which is currently being used as a very expensive storage house), I had to drive behind and I cried the entire journey.

In the new year we're getting a new pair of eyes to look at her, because dad still believes it's something relatively simple, but our garage can't seem to put a finger on it. That's the only thing keeping me from being utterly, utterly destroyed by all this. In theory, she'll be fixed in the new year. In theory. We've spent a fortune in repairs - doubled the cost of the car easily, which each time would give us a week of transport before she went back to square one again. The final straw was when she backfired and spluttered and almost ground to a halt, right after dad went out of his way to pick up a new distributor and carburetor, and they either didn't put it in, or only put it in after he complained. And then when he told them about it, they explained that she was "probably damp."

Well, gee.

The long and short of it is dad bought me a little black Ford Fiesta for less than repairs on Sheila have been costing, which is neither exciting and pink nor convertible and 4-wheel drive, but she goes and I'm not scared to drive her, and I can afford to drive her which is something of a novelty for me.

This is her, today, in the snow.

Dad called her Pyddle. Sadly in this family, once a car has been named, you don't rename it. I now drive a small black Pyddle.