I really am exhausted. Not entirely surprising, but still annoying. Up late last night, seeing Two Towers, as remarked previously, which finished around 11.30pm, then seeing to a few other things after that, then up at a tolerably bright and early hour this morning (9am -- all right, so that's not particularly early, but my body's used to sleeping in at the weekends) and heading into London, which is about an hour and a half by train either way, to do some Christmas shopping.
London was -- well, London is London in any case, and the London on the last Saturday before Christmas tends to be just a touch packed with keen shoppers, not to mention bored shoppers, annoyed shoppers, shoppers being dragged along by spouses, shoppers getting their children under control, and, well. London is London. I love it. I was there for three years as a student. But it can be a tiring place.
I did the shopping which I wanted -- traded in some books and comics at the Notting Hill Gate Book and Video Exchange, and acquired a couple of Astro City graphic novels in exchange. Then I went into more central London, and picked up my brother's Christmas present -- some Philip Glass CDs, as I think he likes them, and a book for my sister, and then to the Italian food shop Carluccio's, where I got my father some Italian cake for his Christmas stocking, and my brother a small jar of saffron for his.
And that, I believe, hope, and pray, is all my shopping done. Fingers crossed.
The oddest part of today was getting home to find that a Christmas card had arrived from a family I know; when I was at school, the father was the Computer teacher, and the mother was assistant librarian, and I babysat their children a few times. (Sorry, "childminded", as said children were between 8 and 13 or so, and did not like to be referred to as babysitting objects.) And now I find that the oldest is a lieutenant in the army and working to eventually become captain.
But, but, I cry, they were children. I remember them being children. Who went and shifted the world while I wasn't looking?
My mother informed me that everyone has at least one experience of this kind. I suppose they do. It's just -- they were children. It was twelve years ago, but . . .
Demiurge snickers at somewhere else. Apparently Orbit Books had a "name a Culture vessel" competition for the next Iain Banks book. || Turner says "Winner- chosen by Banks- was 'Reasonable Doubt'. Top 5 were 'SWEPT ALONG BY EVENTS, CONSOLATION OF DREAMS, IMAGINARY FRIEND, NOTHING PERSONAL and REASONABLE DOUBT'."
Neha says "Awww! I'm sorry I missed that one."
Neha wanted a ship called "Jam Tomorrow"
Demiurge cracks up at (elsewindow) more Culture ship names. The WHAT ARE THE CIVILIAN APPLICATIONS?, ULTIMATE SHIP THE SECOND, NO MORE MR NICE GUY, and I KNEW YOU'D SAY THAT.