Imaginal Casements

Had a very nice day today - went out to Hebden Bridge (a nearby town about 45 minutes away by train, in the middle of some very pretty countryside) because they were having one of their regular Rag Markets. Which is basically an excuse for local crafters to sell off some of their stashes (or other spare fabric/beads/yarn/etc), plus a few other stalls. The local fabric shops held mini-sales with the intent of creaming off some of the influx of shoppers. And since I came out of it with some nice fabric (from both the Rag Market and the shops), some Swarovski beads, and a pleasant day's excursion, I'd say I profited all round. I even got back to Leeds in time to do my grocery shopping comfortably, though I admit that walking home with both the groceries and my purchases was a bit of a weight. Still, healthy exercise. And the weather was - well, if not exactly bright and sunny, it was mild enough for a light jacket rather than a heavy coat. So all around, a very nice day.

Rounded off by a good episode of Doctor Who this evening. The current season - it's hard to realise we're now at episode 3 - is being good solid stuff, and I hope it continues.

Still coughing a little, but my cold is a great deal better. Thank goodness. This may also be linked to the fact that work has managed to turn down the central heating, and we are no longer stifling, sweating, and about to fall asleep. We are a little cool (one of my coworkers who is very sensitive to the temperature is back to borrowing my at-work shawl) but I'd take that any day over being too hot.

Half the week gone, half of it to go. Most of my coworkers are currently trying to work through a set of tests on the upcoming ICD-11 classification (still in development, not yet implemented). The tests are being very frustrating, mostly due to a lack of coding guidance and an incomplete index. It's a safe bet that anyone at their desk who breaks out in moaning or cursing is doing so because of the line coding exercise. Alas, I'm doing it too. There is no mercy.

---

“So,” he finally said, “the newest witch who dares sneak into my domain and plot against me. Have you not learned, wench, that all those who came before you failed?”

“Oh, forgive me, most noble Graf!” Irene begged humbly. She knew that her German was a little too modern for this time and place, but sounding foreign could only increase his paranoia. “I was a fool to come here. I cast myself at your feet and beg for mercy!”

The Graf looked surprised. “You admit your guilt?”

Irene looked down at the floor, trying to squeeze out a tear or two. “You have bound me in iron, your grace, and there is a crucifix on the door. I am bound and my Satanic Master will no longer help me.”

Deep in edits (and apologies for not being around otherwise), but I think I see some improvement.

New season of Doctor Who started tonight. Quite a fun episode - I found it much brisker than the previous season, and less weighed down by baggage. (Okay, I also admit that I didn't particularly like Clara, so personal bias is probably involved.) But so far it's entertaining, and I'm willing to be entertained.

Cold has reached the dry cough stage. This is something of an improvement, but I wish it would hurry up and get gone for good. Or at least till the next one comes along.

A rather hectic day. Glad it's over.

Roll on the long weekend.

I have tasted some of the palinka (fruit brandy, brought back from Budapest - apricot brandy in this case) and found it good.

I don't know if it actually is good for colds (of which I have one), but it's certainly made me feel better.

(And yes, I probably will be moving over to dreamwidth. I need to get it done. So much to do, so little time, etc.)

Somewhat restored to life and a regular schedule and UK weather. Still not looking forward to work tomorrow, though.

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Feng Lun’s nostrils flared. The two men in his squad – yes, Irene decided that was the best term for it – moved to flank him. “You, on the other hand, are a junior servant of the Library of no particular rank or importance. You feel you have the right to stand here and make demands of me?”

Irene stared him in the eye. She couldn’t back down now. She’d be weakening her own position in his eyes, and in the eyes of the entire dragon contingent. The Library had to maintain its independence in this peace conference – even if they were the weakest of the three factions present, they weren’t subordinate to either side. “I’m not making demands,” she said, keeping her voice neutral. There had to be some way to de-escalate this. “I’m informing you that I am required to check with my superiors about my orders.”

Feng Lun snorted. “If you are trying to force my hand, you have succeeded. Restrain her –“

Truly there is no irritation like checking up on a hotel's history, and finding out that they only moved the entrance onto the Rue de Rivoli less than twenty years ago, and that at the point when you're setting the story it was round on the Rue du Mont Thabor. So goodbye to those elegant paragraphs of descriptive prose which you wrote based on the lovely online photographs.

Oh well. This is one of those things which it is good to find out sooner rather than later. Plus it means I can have someone sneaking in on the Rue de Rivoli side, if "sneaking" is quite the right word for "walks across well-lit road in the middle of the night".

Off to Budapest tomorrow. Travelling late afternoon (well, mid-afternoon if you count "leave in time to get to the airport well before flying"), getting in late evening. I've been really looking forward to this, so fingers crossed all goes smoothly, and watch this space.

Apologies to anyone who noted my absence: this last week I've just been so tired on getting home from work that I've flopped, frequently napped, and woken up with no real time to spend on my computer or get anything done. Hopefully life will ease up a bit when I've finished the SNOMED CT content course I'm doing.

Possibly my holiday in Budapest next week will also help. (Whee!)

---

Vale nodded again. “And the site of the crime?”

“Le Meurice. That’s the hotel where most of the Librarians are staying, and where we’re holding the meetings. It’s quite close to here – south towards the river and then west along the Rue de Rivoli.”

“Where’s everyone else staying, if they’re not staying there?” Irene asked.

“The dragons are at the Ritz, and the Fae are at the Grand Hotel du Louvre,” Bradamant said.

Vale frowned. “Didn’t they turn that place into a department store?”

“Maybe in your world,” Bradamant said, “but not here. Now please come along – if you want to get a look at the crime scene before Paris starts waking up and all the factions expect you to visit them first.”

“I am hardly the one delaying us,” Vale said, somewhat unfairly. “Lead the way.”

Had excellent time in London with Lucienne on Sunday, but came home shattered. (We investigated Old Spitalfields Market and Petticoat Lane market, and both did some spontaneous shopping, and then we had dim sum in Chinatown. It was brilliant.)

I then spent most of today off work (having booked the day off) and doing a final read-through on book four before handing the current draft back in. And being shattered. I have a stinking headache for some reason. Not sure why.

And since I have a nine o'clock meeting tomorrow, I should probably get to sleep at a reasonable hour.

Many thanks to fadeaccompli and Liz Bourke for information about Saint Ijanel. This invocation to her, from a 10th century Greek hagiography:

“Holy Saint Ijanel, let me arise and go forth by day without hindrance. Holy Saint Ijanel, let me arise and go forth by night without fear. Let me rise up into battle with good courage. In peace, let me arise into wisdom and understanding. Let me rise up against tyranny with justice in my heart. Let me rise up in the morning. Let me rise up at noon. Let me rise up at the going-down of the sun. Holy Saint Ijanel, guard me and guide me until the last day, when all shall arise into glory.”

And this excellent psalm to her, by fadeaccompli:

Ijanel is my saint; I shall not linger.
She maketh me to rise up from soft couches:
she leadeth me unto the work waiting.
She restoreth my nerve:
she leadeth me in the paths of productivity for my deadlines' sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of doubt,
I will fear no hesitation: for thou art with me;
thy goad and thy hook they encourage me.
Thou preparest a racecourse before me in the presence of mine doubters:
thou anointest my hands with ink; my spirit runneth over.
Surely action and determination shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will stand at the riverbanks with Ijanel for ever.

I'm now tempted to call a Librarian Ijanel at some point. Plus maybe needing an icon to her for my own procrastination...