Travelled to Melbourne

Home again, home again, jiggety jig.

Except slightly deaf. I slept like a baby on the plane, and did not wake up until the pressure in my ears alerted me to the fact we were coming in for landing (the announcement was even after that), so I did not do my standard am snot-filled, will be cautious routine. I can hear things, but all the sharp clarity of my usual hearing is gone. J tells me that this is what it is like to be the standard Gen X-er who stood in front of, not climbed on top of, all those speaker stacks in the 80s.

I hope it will have cleared up in the morning, but will be visiting the doctor if not.

In cheerier news, I caught up with my wonderful friend and her short person, who was hilarious. "You can see my toys!" he declared, and later, after tickling me, attempted to lick my shoe. Ah children, you  surreal young things! And yummy homemade scones. Mmmmmmm ... I left her with a packet of Jaffa Cakes, not the fairest exchange.

The very effective tram system brought me back to the hotel where my bag was still being stored (The Pensione on Spencer St, decent prices, decent rooms, great service), and then I decided to walk up the hill for my bus to the airport. Melbourne does not think that people who do not know where the bus interchange is need to know where the bus interchange is, so I then walked back down the hill and made the bus with at least 75 seconds to spare. And then waited at the airport for a long time ...

... and the car had a flat battery when I came home (because we always forget to drive anywhere). Nice try, Melbourne, but you have neither J nor the kitties, so I will do whatever it takes to get home. (With my new books and clothes and happy trip memories!)

Travelled to Melbourne

Home again, home again, jiggety jig.

Except slightly deaf. I slept like a baby on the plane, and did not wake up until the pressure in my ears alerted me to the fact we were coming in for landing (the announcement was even after that), so I did not do my standard am snot-filled, will be cautious routine. I can hear things, but all the sharp clarity of my usual hearing is gone. J tells me that this is what it is like to be the standard Gen X-er who stood in front of, not climbed on top of, all those speaker stacks in the 80s.

I hope it will have cleared up in the morning, but will be visiting the doctor if not.

In cheerier news, I caught up with my wonderful friend and her short person, who was hilarious. "You can see my toys!" he declared, and later, after tickling me, attempted to lick my shoe. Ah children, you  surreal young things! And yummy homemade scones. Mmmmmmm ... I left her with a packet of Jaffa Cakes, not the fairest exchange.

The very effective tram system brought me back to the hotel where my bag was still being stored (The Pensione on Spencer St, decent prices, decent rooms, great service), and then I decided to walk up the hill for my bus to the airport. Melbourne does not think that people who do not know where the bus interchange is need to know where the bus interchange is, so I then walked back down the hill and made the bus with at least 75 seconds to spare. And then waited at the airport for a long time ...

... and the car had a flat battery when I came home (because we always forget to drive anywhere). Nice try, Melbourne, but you have neither J nor the kitties, so I will do whatever it takes to get home. (With my new books and clothes and happy trip memories!)

Success, medieval sellotape, and deafness

Hooray, hooray, my last fest fic is submitted! Now I can finally get back to writing other things. And beta-ing. I just found a story on my hard drive that arrived a few days ago and I not only have no idea why it's there, I have no idea who it's from. Fairly impressive even for my brain of sievedom.

The exhibition that I went to Melbourne for was excellent in terms of the items chosen to show, and the arrangement of them into groupings. But there was something to be desired about the interpretations -- this is the museum term for the little blurbs of paper that are stuck beside things, the blurbs on the wall, the blather in the catalogue and so on.

( cut for the anorak-allergic )

Maybe I just need a T-shirt that says 'History Nerd, please do not discuss period films with me'.

As to the ears, bad news, they are absolutely stuffed with fluid, though I have managed to avoid perforating either eardrum. The tubes, which I insist on remembering as Etruscan, though I think it's eustachian, are both solidly manky. Unless I have a miracle recovery overnight, this means I am not flying to New Zealand on Monday. I can then either see if I am up to going on Tuesday or Wednesday, or else reschedule for when sno is back from Europe and the US. WE ARE CURSED, SNO!

J thinks this is hilarious, BTW. I am hoping that he will soon find my inability to hear anything and demands that he repeat himself as annoying as I find his on a normal day. Cookie is sitting beside me and Monster is sitting on my foot in a bid to reassure me that they still love me.

Success, medieval sellotape, and deafness

Hooray, hooray, my last fest fic is submitted! Now I can finally get back to writing other things. And beta-ing. I just found a story on my hard drive that arrived a few days ago and I not only have no idea why it's there, I have no idea who it's from. Fairly impressive even for my brain of sievedom.

The exhibition that I went to Melbourne for was excellent in terms of the items chosen to show, and the arrangement of them into groupings. But there was something to be desired about the interpretations -- this is the museum term for the little blurbs of paper that are stuck beside things, the blurbs on the wall, the blather in the catalogue and so on.

( cut for the anorak-allergic )

Maybe I just need a T-shirt that says 'History Nerd, please do not discuss period films with me'.

As to the ears, bad news, they are absolutely stuffed with fluid, though I have managed to avoid perforating either eardrum. The tubes, which I insist on remembering as Etruscan, though I think it's eustachian, are both solidly manky. Unless I have a miracle recovery overnight, this means I am not flying to New Zealand on Monday. I can then either see if I am up to going on Tuesday or Wednesday, or else reschedule for when sno is back from Europe and the US. WE ARE CURSED, SNO!

J thinks this is hilarious, BTW. I am hoping that he will soon find my inability to hear anything and demands that he repeat himself as annoying as I find his on a normal day. Cookie is sitting beside me and Monster is sitting on my foot in a bid to reassure me that they still love me.