alexwearspants

Hmmmn. I think that someone has used my email address to sign up to one of those match-making sites. This is just ... well, a little sad really. *shrugs* Oh well.

In other news, my fridge is better! I admit it, I have not mentioned the illness of my poor fridge here, but suffice it to say that with the slamming waves of heat we had a few weeks ago, the poor dear simply gave up. By which I mean I was able to use the freezer as a fridge, and the fridge as, well, nothing really. I suppose if I'd wanted I could have made it a cupboard.

But then a few days ago, to my utmost delight (tinged, I confess, with a slight edge of horror) I found that the left-over champignons I had left there for breakfast had frozen. So had my pasta. So had my milk. Did I mention that my boundless joy would have been replaced with a large chunk of irritation had I not been so overflowing with the joy that is boundless?

However, I have a freezer that freezes, a fridge that cools, and I have proved that once again sheer laziness positive thinking in not calling a tech will win the day! Why? Because it's maaaaaagic children. Maaaaaaaaaaaagic.



I have been watching more of my Granada Sherlock Holmes, and I really do believe we are getting up to the peak of the series. Edward Hardwicke's Watson plays perfectly off Brett's Holmes, and they both have that feel of actors with a common purpose who have grown comfortable with each other. ( The Six Napoleans. Foreign and emotional? How very OOC. )

( The Sign of Four. No really. We're not gay. )

( The Devil's Foot. Ok, you got us. We really really are. )


Three days til The All-American Rejects! And I should really write up what I thought about Wicked. And those book reviews. I have a hella backlog on those book reviews. (Oh, yes, I am still doing those. Delay of eight weeks you say? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.)

But now? I leave you with this. My absolute favourite song from Wicked. Well. Absolute favourite for now.