An Unlikely Crew
Question: What do a stage magician, a police officer, a lady academic, a spiritualist medium and an elderly priest whose faith is somewhat shaken have in common?
Answer: They all found themselves in a London auction house on Friday 29th February 1924 at a point where what I shall fondly refer to as shenanigans occurred. And who knows down what dark and sanity-blasting paths they shall thenceforth be led?
Yes, after weeks of messing around putting the campaign together, those mad fools who've agreed to be the players in my first Call of Cthulhu campaign in two decades actually started it. Mysteries began to unfold, duplicity was performed, and so far, no one's gone screamingly insane. But it's early days yet.
Simon - this is why I didn't call yesterday by the way as I'd said I might. Sorry about that.
School Reunion
I'm writing this (though not posting it obviously) on a plane. It's a Virgin Atlantic plane, with the very very cool V-Port system in place (video-On-Demand, basically, but with music and games thrown in), and over lunch I took the chance to rewatch Doctor Who Series Two Episode Three (School Reunion) again.
When it was first broadcast, I said that I thought it was entirely possible that I had a new favourite episode of DW ever, and on watching it again, I've decided that it's not possible any longer, it's definite.
Yes, I know it has flaws (though really not that many), but I'm blinded to them, because this is *my* episode (and that of everyone my age who used to watch DW even casually) - Sarah Jane Smith is possibly the only female crush I've ever had.
Things are that beyond great about this episode:
- Everything about the Doctor's first re-encounter with SJS in the staff room. Tennant/the Doctor's quite evident adoration of the woman shines through, and there's simply no way in a million years that Ecclestone, great actor though he is, could have pulled that off.
- Everything about the first scene between the Doctor and SJS where both of them know who the other one is.
- Every single moment involving SJS and Rose from "Who's she?" onwards, but especially the way the Doctor gives Sarah Jane the sonic screwdriver when Rose is clearly expecting to receive it, and obviously especially;
"The Loch Ness Monster" "Seriously?" - Also, special mention to the way Tennant plays the follow up, when the Doctor arrives and is confronted with that great male nightmare, being laughed at by women.
- The scene between SJS and the Doctor in the cafe ("Aberdeen!"), and the scene he has with Rose outside; "You can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can't spend the rest of mine with you." There's *never* been a Doctor Who scene like that before, ever.
- Sarah being the one who reminds the Doctor that everything ends, in the moment when she clearly realises that after years of waiting for him she has to move on (and that she actually was learning all that time she spent travelling with him).
- "Oh my god. I'm the tin dog." And finally, most brilliantly;
- "He replaced you with a new model... He does that."
There's so much more, and there are obviously so many more great episode of Who, both new and old, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that there's never been, and never will be, another which speaks to the teenaged boy inside me as effectively or as affectingly as School Reunion does.
One Of Those Postings
Where I apologise for having been quiet for a few days. But work has been *amazingly* demanding. It's all sorts of things - hefty requirements from existing clients, significant prospect activity, and the end of a major accounting period have all hit since I got back from the honeymoon. So - apologies.
Back
We've returned from the wilds of Suffolk, rested and thoroughly spoiled by a weeek, rather than a weekend, in our favourite place to visit. We've actually been back since Sunday, but I've been drawing out the break as much as possible.
We went for walks in the woods, and for the first time got the boat across to Orford Ness and went tromping across the rather eerie and certainly a bit creepy National Trust land thereon. We ate *lovely* food, mostly at the hotel, and explored a bit by car. We contemplated hiring bikes, but the weather was never really quite right.
We also did a certain amount of crashing, particularly in the afternoons, including one day when we actually had a nap (!!).
Broadly speaking, I think it's safe to say that it was exactly the honeymoon we wanted.
EDIT: Oh yes, and as can be deduced from David's own posting, we watched a *lot* of Battlestar Galactica series two.
What All The Fuss Was About
So.... there was a ceremony. Brief, simple and to the point.
There was lunch with our collected familes here. Very yummy, and a good opportunity to get caught up.
And then after a few hours to rest and chill, there was a party. 130 or so people eating, drinking, and apparently being merry all (with only a tiny number of exceptions) wearing red or black or both.
When we get some photos from the evening (we had our camera with us, but when were we going to get to take photos?) I'll post up some to show off our frankly rather fabulous outfits and the gereral meleé, but for the time being I'll just say - 2000 hand-sewn beads each. (Not that we did the sewing, I hasten to add.)
And now we go away for a week to the wilds of Suffolk to be pampered and give ourselves the opportunity to do bugger all. Blogging, if it happens, will be sporadic. See you soon.
Pre-Dawn
My usual weekday routine involves setting the alarm for around 6am (sometimes 6.10 is I'm feeling kind to myself). But I'm usually awake a little earlier.
Weekends I usually try to allow myself at least a bit of a sleep in, but it frequently doesn't work. Today for instance I've been awake since 5am, and up since 5.30, as it was just one of those mornings when it was clear I wasn't going to get back to sleep.
So the big day is shortly going to start dawning, the cat is having a minor fit thundering round the flat, and I'm sitting here with a nice cup of tea.
David and I both confessed minor nervousness last night, but it is pretty minor. I don't think it's strong enough to cause either of us to do a runner or anything, but it was actually a nice moment, because if he's anything like me, I've frequently felt that today isn't looming with enough import. At lunch yesterday I mentioned that in an odd way the party tonight has often felt like it has greater significance than the 'ceremony' this morning, but I think that's because that's where most of the decision making and planning has gone. The legal side of things involved one meeting each at the Register office and then we just turn up. This evening has, over the course of the last six months, had the potential to be everything from a huge blow-out at Eltham Palace to an intimate affair on the London Eye. I think we're both absolutely certain that where we've come to in that decision making process is exactly right, but it's been far and away the focus of all thought.
So now the birds have started singing, which means that The Happiest Day Of My Life™ will shortly dawn.
And joking aside, I have a strong feeling that that's exactly what today is going to be.
Outfitted
So that's it. Last night we picked up the bespoke part of our outfits for tomorrow evening, and that's it. Nothing else to do except turn up and sign ourselves over to each other, eat lunch and then get ready for the party of our lives. The outfits are great, by the way. I can't remember if at any point I've mentioned here that we've themed the party Red And Black, and we will be partaking wholly in the theme ourselves. I'm not going to give away any further details, but I'll make sure I post up at least one photo before we leave to go away on Sunday.
The Final Countdown
It's less than 48 hours to go, and I *think* everything is now absolutely pinned down. There's food, there's drink, there's rings, there's cars, there's outfits, there's cake, there's witnesses, and there's family arriving by the car and trainload tomorrow.
There are random emails arriving from people who hadn't responded saying that they're going to try to come, and messages from a few people to say that due to family crises, family excitement and in one case the BBC, they can't make it.
And apparently a hundredweight of parcels was delivered at home today.
All I have to do now is get everything done that has to be out of the way at work so that I can go away for next week.
Albert Bridge
I love Albert Bridge (the one across the Thames between Chelsea and Battersea Bridges).
I love its style. I love the way it looks lit up at night.
And I love most that there's a sign at each end noting that troops crossing the bridge must break step. This is obviously to avoid issues around its integrity being affected by rhythmic movements, and to avoid the 'wobbly bridge' syndrome that affected the Millennium Bridge.
And I understand why. This morning while I was at about the halfway point waiting for the traffic to clear, a group of horse-riding and horse-leading men from the barracks in Chelsea were crossing the other way. About eighteen to twenty horses all told, half with riders.
And you could feel it from the minute they got on - the bridge was bouncing.