Flaming Zinc

On the subway home tonight I heard a strange noise. It sounded alien to be and I was a little wary as I looked up from reading Quentin Crisp’s The Naked Civil Servant. I appeared to be going over a bridge. Bugger. No good comes from deviating from your normal schedule and taking in a little evening yoga at an unfamiliar studio.

I had been completely absorbed by Mr Crisp’s exploits, and that I had not noticed that I’d inadvertently boarded an ‘N’ express train rather than the more friendly local ‘R’ or ‘W’ (I had been focusing on not getting on the ‘Q’ that goes to Brighton Beach). At first I had been rather pleased that it did seem to be speeding its way down the island. Zooming past 42nd, 34th, 14th, The fact that is missed 23rd, 9th, Prince, City Hall, Cortland Street didn’t register. I guess I was just tired and eager to get home to Hugh Laurie (well, you know what I mean).

Why is it from the moment you realise that you are on the wrong train to the point at which it comes to a halts equates to roughly seven ’subway’ years??? I ended up in Brooklyn, deepest darkest Brooklyn*. Where I looked like a complete WASP on the platform (complete with yoga accessories). I shouldn’t really complain as it only took 45 minutes to get back on track, in the right direction. But, I was kicking myself for not paying attention.

*Mother, in case you are reading this and worrying. Don’t. Remember where I lived in Manchester? The delights of Levenshulme, that locale was far more colourful than anywhere I went on my little adventure.

In a few days time I will be off to Brigadoon. Okay, Lochgilphead is not quite a mythical village that only appears every two hundred years but it’s not far off. Thursday night I am flying from NY to London, then getting the shuttle up to Glasgow, and hopefully meeting my uncle Johnny who’ll drive me 3 hrs to the west coast locale. Door to door I will have to travel for nearly twenty four hours to get to this family wedding. Despite having to jack myself out (no internet and dodgy cell reception) I am looking forward to spending some time with my mum and brother. And eating fish, or perhaps a battered sausage, and chips out doors by the loch.

What a (slight) yawn the season finale of the usually exciting Desperate Housewives turned out to be! Obvious that Rex was not long for this world and that psycho Zach is probably Mike’s illegitimate spawn. At least Tom stood up for himself, with the I’ll have a go minding the kids and pushing the hoover about a bit and you can get back out earning! Oh, yeah and I guess the new family, the Applewhites, have a secret hidden in the basement (the live kind).

Tonight is the two hour crash and burn to this series of 24…the clever money is on a BIG cliff hanger. I am missing Jack being on the outside rather than working with the system and I don’t think Tony is long for this non-reality.

I got let off work early due to my Star Wars induced fatigue. Nothing like being rewarded for silly behavior. I have to say that it was totally worth queuing for six plus hours. I am going to have to watch it again in a week or so, as there was just too much to take in. Whilst waiting for my galactic review here is my gripe for the day, we have a communal laundry and there has been a load of dry washing in the tumble drier since I got back at half four! This has slashed my drying ability by half, and I am forced to make intermitted trips to see if they have been claimed.

I am not entirely surprised about how this evenings events unfolded. A suspicious mind coupled with severe British cynicism does not produce a human who is trusting of others. Especially, in a world that is dumbing things down to the lowest common denominator. But, as far as I am concerned Wednesday 12:01am occurs two minutes after Tuesday 11:59 pm. It does not equate to Thursday 12:01am. No fucking way. There are very few things you can set your watch by, but TIME should be one of them.

I would have given them the benefit of the doubt if the ticket had read midnight, which could be ambiguous. But, by including a minute you are giving sixty seconds of clarity. Or so I thought! For weeks I have been complaining that I don’t have enough time, I should follow the example of the movie theatre people and simple redefine the length of a day.

So there is no Episode 3 tonight, I am forced to ground hog it tomorrow. Luckily, House is on tonight otherwise I might not be responsible for my actions.

Update: House was brilliant. An outstanding episode (and I, unlike the great unwashed, do not give out such praise lightly) that featured a really neat “hypothetical” that gave way to the explanation of how a misdiagnosis damaged his leg. There are just too many reasons why this show is sooo good. The ensemble gelling, the writing, the wonderful Mr Laurie, nifty graphics and the fact that we have an intelligent lead who recognizes the importance of pop culture.

House: I don’t have to watch The OC, but it makes me happy.

I’ve turned a little sci-fi geeky at the moment. At work I was accused of being “One of those people” . I assume that referred to my forth outing to the midnight showing of Episode 3. I am sure that after Wednesday I’ll have worked out of my system all tales set in galaxies far, far away (for a while). In the meantime, my musings on the final three Enterprise episodes… Manny Coto has done an excellent job of reanimating the series, so why did they let Messieurs. Braga and Berman fiddle with the final episode?

The two part arc (Demons and Terra Prime) focused on how the establishment of the Federation was under threat by xenophobes. There was a heart breaking sub plot involving T’Pol and Trip’s test tube born bairn, yet another stirring performance by Jolene Balock (so still yet emotional). I really thought the finale was going to see the development of their relationship, unlike Alex who thought the whole saga would turn out to be a holodeck adventure. We were both wrong. Instead B&B gave us a flashback episode to a dull, painting by numbers adventure (were someone only died because of an EU requirement) that Troy and Riker from TNG were accessing for advice. Yawn. But, maybe the crappy unsatisfactory ending was mirroring the crappy unsatisfactory cancelation!

I appear to have morphed into a black hole. Friends and family write and email. I digest and then forget. Okay not forget, just can’t squeeze in a reply. I used to be a prolific communicator. At times I worried that I was one step away from being classified as a spammer. I have a dozen or so responses to pen, but I am playing hooky with ecto (more fun). These days I just prefer to express myself thru this medium.

I mislaid a letter this week. That action set off a chain of events which fed my anxiety. I am a natural born worrier (chicken licken and I are cut from the same cloth). I see all eventualities and occasionally tend to focus on the negative. I still haven’t received my registration forms for my course, all these wild Machiavellian scenarios come to mind. Of course when I found my acceptance letter and realize that I wont get the forms till the 2005/06 regulations are published. And that isn’t going to happen till the end of the month. Big sigh of relief. The glass is half full side to this, is that I now have a bit longer to save up for the first years fees.

I should be in bed, as I have an early morning yoga class, but I just had to say that in seven days time I will be queuing up to see the 12:01am showing of Star Wars. Life is good: fabulous husband, greencard, a job I enjoy, about to start college again and Wookies! Shame about Enterprise ending on Friday – I guess you can’t win them all!

Cornwall, in the south west of England, is to me a mystical place. Probably the result of too many summers spent exploring coves and reading about King Arthur’s adventures. Ladies in Lavender is set in a pre-World War II Cornish village and has a hazy fairy tale feel. Two old dames, Judi Dench and Maggie Smith, find a young foreign man washed up on their beach. Their quiet routine is disturbed, and they have a new lease of life but not without it dredging up missed opportunities. All the way thru I was waiting for something terrible to happen. It doesn’t, and yet it does. You know the happy ending will be destroyed by the out break of war.

Admission should have come with a big slice of cake and a cup of tea as I left the pictures absolutely starving (even the star gazer pie looked good).