Hullo!

Three things to blog about today, and structure is always meant to be a good thing. So, in this blog I shall:

1- Discuss Cambridge and its Shire, including a short mention of the Genius Cloud.
2- Advertise something, but nicely. (Bonus: a discussion of why this does not mean I need to quit the SWP.)
3- Be Generally Happy

But not in that order, because that order's stupid.

I'll start with the ad.

(Imagine that the following is a voiceover, ooh, by Eley himself, why not?)

"SF is whatever we point to when we say it, and this means that we can really be creative. Escape Pod is a podcast produced by Escape Artists Incorporated, and if you like SF, or just free-thought, you really should head over to escapepod.org. Whether we're being provocative or just thought-provoking, we're always interesting- and you can be sure of that. Or at least, that my brilliance when doing a girl-voice will entertain you. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy this subtle and strange-sounding reference: it's Story Time."

(Why does this not mean that I am a traitor? Because since I live under capitalism, it is impossible for me to escape it, except through revolution. This is also why boycotting is of limited effectiveness: it doesn't change the system. Not talking about science fiction podcasts on my blog does not change the system. You could, if you wanted, argue that I re-enforce the values of capitalism. But to that I would say: perhaps, but I wear enough badges to balance it out.)

So, onwards.

This blog is being typed on a really stupid-looking, supposedly ergonomic, but really really stupid-looking keyboard, in my aunt's house, which is of course in Fen Ditton, in Cambridgeshire.

It is cold here. I miss the heat island effect- a lot.

But, it has been good seeing the cat, the nerd, and the academic (Radar, Jim, and Rosie, respectively.), and it was also good getting to meet Dominic's Cambridge Friends yesterday. How do I describe them? Irfan looks a lot like China Mieville, if you squint. Joe, the Nazi, was too quiet to argue with; Sophie is quite obviously a lovely person, despite her private-schooled past; Michael is a cynical Irishman who likes Salad Cream on chips, so that's all good; Owen isn't studying architecture at all; and I can't remember anyone else properly. However, I feel the very most important thing to blog is: these strange, strange students actually have their names outside their doors. Like in the films; like in the books (oh, I should mention the libraries, shouldn't I? Oh, this counts.)! Honestly...

And now: for general happiness:

I'm happy today, because I have bought two new necklaces that could only be improved by being unicorns, but so could everything, so, oh well. I also bought really Nice Socks to be Worn in Drama, a one-pound red, shiny purse that looks a little Colleen-ish, but will scuff and look rather nice when it does, and two DVDs (Dr. Strangelove and 2001: A Space Oddesey. As Amber said: "The second one has famous music."). I'm going back to London tomorrow morning, so that will be nice, and I swear, with Steve Eley as my witness, that I will work on my case study.

So, yesterday, Emily and I went with Sophia to The Otherwise Club Ball (Ur, it's a club for HSE people, who are, by the way, utterly normal and very good at coping and being sociable when meeting new people. It provides non-school trips, game-things, and non-lessons, as far as I can tell.)

I should really talk about the main event, so: it was in three main parts. The first had a live band, with a really quite cute guy on the 'cello, playing classical music very well indeed. The second part, and the most awkward, was the Specific Quiz, during which the teams (I managed to get the 'Cellist on our team) had to answer twenty-one questions. An example: "Where was I going when I was only an hour and a half late?". Another: "Who died twice in one week on the Canoing Trip?".

It goes without saying that this was much harder and more annoying than Trivial Pursuit. Emily and I played with balloons and the twirly things on sticks stuck into the piles of stale sandwiches.

Then we sang "Happy Birthday" seven times.

Then there was rather acidic champagne. Sophia had half a glass, and was really very drunk. I had the same. I really was perfectly sober.

Then there was cake, and music. This time it was what was referred to as "rock". Yes, you guessed it, it was The YMCA, and The Jackson Five.

Nonetheless, it was a nice night. It was good to see Sophia, and really good to see Emily- I hardly ever get to talk to her these days.

EDIT: The following has been brought to my attention: Sophia is a lier; she drank five-and-a-half glasses, not one half of a glass. This is of the cheap, acidic champagne. Infer what you will.

Further EDIT: That may seem mean. I don't mean it as mean. I just mean, "Wow, she drank a lot. And of that quite bad champagne! How remarkable!". Also: I know I know nothing of wine. I am not claiming it had a bouquet of anything at all. I swear.

Don't you love it when, in a moment, two completely different long-term strands of thought are pulled together? By an author blogging about your favourite song, or a quote you know being found in another context? I like it, anyway.

This has happened three times, and every time it has been something to do with Neil Gaiman. I believe I should therefore name him in my blog, and also subtly recommend him, as well as link to his blog, which I think is polite bloggingness, here.