Yay, going to London twice in the next week during my time off!

First on Saturday with Louise to see Phantom of the Opera (can’t wait, it’s been 2 years since I last saw it), and then next Thursday to meet up with Zack, a friend from America. Will be the first time I’ve met him in person, so really looking forward to it. Then Louise’s birthday - God, she’s going to be 20, that’s scary! - on Sunday, Dad’s birthday (don’t worry Dad, I’m not giving away your age!) on Wednesday, then Wolverhampton on Friday for the weekend James Marsters/Tara Benson thing, again with Louise. Busy week!

“Oh no, love,” the lady with the measuring tape in the fitting room cubicle told me today, shaking her head. “You’re wearing a bra two cup sizes too small. Hold on, let me go and get you a DD, that C won’t fit you properly.”

And off she went, leaving me somewhat shocked to say the least. I know I’m not small up top by any means, but I just stood there as I waited for her to come back, repeating to myself in disbelief - a double D!? when did that happen!? I guess like the sign in the shop window said, “90% of women are wearing the wrong bra size”. At least bra sizes are constant across all shops, though. For example, I can go into any number of shops to find clothes, and chances are that a different size in each shop would fit me. It’s a fact that’s often bemoaned by women across the country - why, oh why, won’t clothes manufacturers agree on specific measurements and stick to them?
Mind you, the lady with the measuring tape with spot on - the DD fitted perfectly.

Saw something I hadn’t seen in a long time this morning whilst waiting for the bus - a Reliant Robin. For those not in the know, it’s a three wheeled car - two wheels at the back, one in the front, dead centre - made of fibre glass. They were called ‘plastic pigs’, allegedly because they were a pig to drive. They also were the butt of many jokes..eg:

Q: What do you call a Robin at the top of a hill?
A: A miracle.

Q: What do you call a Robin with two exhaust pipes?
A: A wheelbarrow.

Q: How do you execute a handbrake turn in a Robin?
A: Stick your arm out the window and grab a lamppost.

I tend to have fond memories of the Reliant Robins, as the factory where they were made was in my home town, and we drove past it frequently when I was a kid. Looking through the gates as we passed by, I remember seeing rows upon rows of these strange little three-wheelers. They stopped producing them in the late 80s/early 90s, if I remember right, and the old factory was demolished a couple of years back.

The Kaycee Nicole debate rages on at Metafilter. There’s a lot of mixed opinions on there - some I agree with, some I don’t. Some people feel that BWG owes the Living Colours reading public an explanation. I don’t. He was a victim too. He publicised Kaycee’s site, urged people to read it, help her, talk to her…but why should that mean he’s responsible for the emotional response to the revelation that Kaycee was not real?

And whilst I’m waxing philosophical, who’s to say any of us are real? Don’t we all hide behind alternate personas on the internet? Some of us have more ‘reality’ about them, i.e. more of themselves, personal stuff. Others are just nameless digital constructs. That’s the uncertainty of the internet. But, if the Kaycee saga is anything to go by, it’s clear that it’s not easy to completely hide your identity..

And so the truth comes out.
Kaycee Nicole was not real. Her year long blog was a fake. There were apparently some truths in the blog (which has now been taken down by BWG), but does that soften the fact it was a lie?

I don’t in any way condone what Debbie did. She says that the blog was an amalgamation of three people she had loved and lost due to cancer, but her credibility is such that that too could be a lie. I doubt I will ever understand how somehow could write an account like Kaycee’s, but I do understand that there were some beautiful sentiments in there. Debbie asks for forgiveness. I never knew her - 90% of the people who dug for the truth on MetaFilter never knew her. Who am I to judge?
I guess I’ll just be a little more cynical from now on..

I got sent a Metafilter link - did Kaycee Nicole really exist? There’s a lot of mixed (and strong) opinions on there, and it amazed me how much trouble people had gone to trying to dredge up evidence for or against the existence of Kaycee Nicole. Personally, I don’t know one way or another. I didn’t even know about Kaycee until the mention Ev made of her, along with condolences, on the front page of Blogger. What I do know is that reading her blog moved me literally to tears. I freely admit it. Whether it was a hoax or not is a moot point.
It it was a hoax, then the cynics and conspiracy theorists are vindicated. Big deal. They don’t know the despicable person who made it all up. Why should they care, when it comes down to it?
If it was real, Kaycee’s family and friends are grieving, and people should leave them alone.
There are people out there who go through what Kaycee (real or fictional) went through. Cancer is real. It was a moving account, and you can believe it, or not. It’s as simple as that.

Went to see Captain Corelli’s Mandolin later on. It was a good film, but it left me all brooding..I’ve seen a number of films recently featuring historical, factual war - Captain Corelli, Enemy at the Gates, Saving Private Ryan not so recently, and Pearl Harbor is out in just a few weeks. I’m lucky to live in a time where I’m not affected by war, or the afteraffects of a war - no rationing, blackouts, air raids - but seeing films like that, where the atrocity of war is recreated so vividly, brings it all home that there was a time like that not so long ago. And I’m sitting here wondering how to put what I want to say into words, but at the same time I know that once I finish writing it, I’ll go do something else; maybe get lunch, or watch tv, or go out into the back garden to get some more sun. And within an hour or two at most, I’ll have pushed the thoughts aside and not think about it again until I re-read the post, or watch another war film. Maybe it’s better I don’t say anything.

You would think that getting the director to do a quick letter confirming my salary - a two or three line affair at most - wouldn’t be a problem. 5 or 10 minute job, tops. But no..apparently he has to speak to the financial director, who’s out of the office today, and also to the accountant, who’s an external contractor. Why, is what I want to know? It’s not like he doesn’t have the authority as the managing director! Farcical management bureaucracy is alive and well…

Back in Sheffield, finally - got in ’round about 8.30pm, but just haven’t gotten round to catching up here yet.

Caught the train down to Bristol on Friday night after work - the train was delayed by 50 minutes, which was a good start, but I was actually feeling pretty laid back, so I didn’t mind that much. Had a seat reserved on the train, so when it came I could relax…and I did. Really gorgeous evening and journey, sun setting, that strange pink-tinged clouds/rays of sun effect in the sky. I’m not usually one for waxing all poetic, but it was so pretty. Got into Bristol in a really good frame of mind, and Alex and Rik were there to meet me. Got a Chinese on the way back to their house, chatted some, and got to sleep relatively early - for me, anyway! It was kind of refreshing, actually.

Saturday morning Alex and I went out for a drive in her sporty little roadster, a bright red Mazda MX5 convertible. Not that I’m a car groupie in the least, but I have to agree that it’s a Nice Car, even if I wouldn’t want one myself. The weather was good, so we had the top down as we zipped out into the countryside. (Note to self: tie hair back on next journey in open top car. That scene from Bridget Jones’ Diary, when Hugh Grant drives her in his convertible, and she loses her headscarf - the hair explosion when they finally get to the hotel? Not exaggerated!)

In the afternoon the three of us headed off to see the SS Britannia. It’s being lovingly restored in dry dock at Bristol Harbour, and you can actually get on board it. (I always end up on culture trips when I visit Alex and Rik - castles, museums, ships, local places of interest. They’re my “grown-up friends”, I think. I really enjoy it, to be honest. I wouldn’t have seen anywhere near as much culture if it weren’t for them!) Anyway, the ship..it’s amazing, in a word. It’s huge, it’s beautiful, there’s so much history to it..just being on it, and seeing the parts that have been restored, and then the parts that haven’t been touched yet, that are all exposed wood, rusted iron..the atmosphere of it all is great. We also saw the Matthew, which is also in Bristol Harbour. It’s a rebuilt replica of a 15th century ship that was technically the first European ship to reach North America - and it’s tiny! Looking at it, and going on board it, it’s incredible to think that a ship of that size made it across the Atlantic Ocean 500 years ago. In fact, in 1997, a crew used the replica boat to recreate the journey of the Matthew - and they had to stop 3 times because of complications or bad weather!

Sunday, we went out to B&Q. It’s Alex’s birthday on Tuesday and she wanted some plants for her garden. So, we went out and I got her two rose bushes, a rhododendron (sp?) and some sweet peas. I’m not a good gardener at all myself (although my tulips are coming up finally, hurrah!), but her garden is coming on really nice. I hope those plants do well. Sunday mid-afternoon I caught the train back - it was on time, my God! - and discovered the train would actually be stopping at Tamworth en route. So, much to my own surprise, I gave Mum a call and said I would be staying there overnight, given that it was the Bank Holiday Monday. I had originally planned to go out to the cinema and catch some films on the Bank Holiday, then all of a sudden I’m changing my mind and getting off at Tamworth! Again with the spur of the moment thing..I’m sure I’m doing that more ‘n more of late…

Anyway, Monday..*gorgeous* day. Loz and I walked out to Polesworth Market - which I’d never been to before - and it was jam packed. Ended up buying a pair of sunglasses, which admittedly I did need. Soaked up the sun on the walk, got some air, walked the dog..all good. By the time I got the train back to Sheffield (an hour late, quelle surprise!) I just felt weekend-weary. I swear that I could do with another couple of days off! Isn’t it always the way?

According to the Anagram Server, my name is an anagram of Neurotic Camel. I’m not quite sure how I should react to that..!