Flaming Zinc

After slogging away all weekend, and studiously ignoring a pile of freshly delivered DVDs from Amazon, I happy to report that all three essays were completed. Hurrah. So tonight I am kicking back and watching Bleak House.

A quiet studious week looks like developing into a quiet studious weekend. I am all consumed with finishing my formative assessments and Alex has a cold. Thankfully, the essays for Ancient Philosophy and Greek Literature are practically done (bar a little bit of tweaking and some spinning straw into gold with fracking Democritus). Which just leaves Greek History *whimper*. By the way why did none of my colleagues laugh with my response to the usual Friday rhetoric “Any plans for the weekend?” with “The decline of Sparta”.

Is that odd?

I sat very quietly at my desk today and knocked out an okay-ish draft of my philosophy essay. Of course the desk in questions was located in the office rather than the flat, so I whilst I was a diligent student I was a slightly below par worker bee. Oh well, I have three formative assessments (aka essays) due by Monday and needs must. My dilemma is which Greek literature title to pick; do I go for something interesting and time consuming (Illustrate ways in which Greek tragedies draw on story patterns from Homer) or opt for the familiar and a passage from The Odyssey that I practically studied to death during A-levels (the meeting between Odysseus and Nausicaa)? Answers on a postcard please.

Having an Eliza Doolittle moment, or would it be a Henry Higgins moment?

I have spent all day working on my philosophy essay, or rather I have spent all day feeling like I am bashing my head against a brick wall. Frustrated is an understatement. Twenty minutes ago I would have sold my soul, and the soul everyone on my floor, to have the ability to stretch my thoughts on Democritus (aka the father of materialism) into the required 1,500 words. Sadly the materialism up for discussion is not excessive purchasing of books and DVDs on Amazon. But, I think I might have just got it…

From the wonderful Chasing Daisy and Birdy…

Mysteries in novels and dashing brave heros

Studying emperors as crazy as Nero

Tacklin’ the tragedist who wrote about kings

These are a few of my favourite things

Over priced tee shirts and flashy new gadgets

British tv shows, especially about magic*

Emails and texts and telephone rings

These are a few of my favourite things

Fleecy warm clothing and tight fitting jeans

Hard yoga classes taught by hellish fiends

Starbuck, Apollo and Friday nights in

These are a few of my favourite things

When your job bites

When the wind stings

I simply remember my favourite things

And then I don’t feel so bad….

*Jonathan Creek rather than Paul Daniels

Wonderful Electric was shooting the breeze about tipping cabbies, and it got me thinking about my favourite taxi related story.

I left several things to the last minute in the run up to our wedding, flowers were one and the other was booking cars. I ended up using a private hire car firm (aka taxi service) for getting my little entourage and I up into town to the registry office, and then to shuttle guests to the reception. It was doomed. The taxi I booked picked us up at my mum’s and drove into town making good time, but our wedding coincided with a protest against the Iraq war. Roads were closed and people were a marching. Since our driver claimed he didn’t know central London that well he dropped us off a couple of miles from Westminster Registry Office with the parting words “You’ll be better off in a black cab”. Picture bride, mother of the bride and two bridesmaids without a carriage. I was in my element, I strode into the road and with bouquet in mid air I hailed a cab in double quick time.

Just like in the movies, only better!

The cab driver was as pleased as punch to have picked up a real live anecdote. We made excellent time and he dropped us at a pub so we were able to have a drink before the main event….

…unfortunately after the ceremony the cars that were due to shuttle us got stuck in the protest and let’s just say that we didn’t end up in the Merc that I had faithfully promised Alex…..

I saw this graphic tee on threadless and it kicked off the following email chain**.

Flaming Zinc - I must buy this tee when I get paid

Younger Brother – That’s a shocking tee! Bears would never do that!

Flaming Zinc - So you don’t want one and will I be lynched by a mob of rowdy bears if I dare to wear the tee?

Younger Brother- It will be like the Danish cartoons but the protesters will be shorter and furry

Flaming Zinc - Hehehe

enter Husband – Hahaha! And the protest will consist of a lot of shuffling around instead of stone throwing…

Younger Brother - You will end up with the Teddy Bears Picnic calling a furry jihad on your arse!

Flaming Zinc - I am so buying that tee I am trying to read Greek lyric chick on chick poetry and am not getting it

Younger Brother – Sounds cool, what’s the poems about? PE teachers in comfortable shoes?

Flaming Zinc – Older women and girls frolicking in olive oil and drinking oozo

Younger Brother - Sounds like a regular night in the Vanborough Tavern

** In the interests of entertainment the original wording may be slightly tinkered with, spellings corrected and a general culling of exclamations.

Prescribed romance doesn’t really work for us, I hate to conform and more importantly I have an aversion to restaurants in mid February. So tonight we are kicking back with kebab, chips and champagne. For desert there is House and a ridiculous expensive box of French chocolate (that will be rationed out for the month).

Every few months or so I get a craving for a slice of David Mamet’s distinctive dialogue. Btw ever wonder how he communicates at home?

-Did you do the laundry?

-The laundry, did I do the laundry?

-Yes, the laundry. Did you do the laundry?

I digress, it was The Spanish Prisoner that first hooked me. A twisty turny thriller if ever there was one and then there is the erudite comedy State and Main. I love that his films are peppered unabashedly with nepotism. Tonight I held Alex hostage and forced him to watch Spartan (with only a minor homage to the Greek dudes I love so much) a taut political thriller with Val Kilmer. There is some mainstream Mamet on the horizon as he is developing a tv series about undercover operatives, The Unit.

It has been snowing for over 12 hours. I ventured out this morning to hunter gather some coffee and breakfast. I was going to be good and get raisin bran muffins, but after tramping through a couple of feet of snow thought better of it and speared a couple of lemon danishes instead. I did not risk frost bite for rabbit food. Now I cocooned in the flat hoping that our groceries from Fresh Direct will be delivered. Like old Mother Hubbard our cupboards are bare; bar the chocolate covered blueberries, white chocolate maggots and champagne from Christmas/New Year festivities. Luckily we are still full from dinner last night. We went to a Mexican restaurant where they make the guacamole right in front of you – has the ring of an old West Wing episode.