incandescens | those Canaan days

Because, you know, the past is always wreathed in glowing nostalgia, like unto a cone of light in a dj.

A meeting tomorrow on the project I've been working on for a while, involving paediatric attendance and stuff, for which I'm technically doing the statistics. I've been putting together a pile of graphs in the hopes that the professor in question will be able to find something he likes. Otherwise it'll be a case of "no, not quite like that, or quite like that... I don't suppose you could do a pie chart?" He'd better like some of the graphs I've done. Or -- or I'll go and do them all over again. Beat that as a threat.

Seriously, I am quite enjoying it, and the professor is a nice chap who even goes to the trouble of getting me a mug of coffee when I go across to the South Academic Block for meetings, and the data is showing interesting points. If the entire project were annoying, I wouldn't complain as much, I'd just put it in the "can't be cured must be endured" category and move on. Shou ga nai.

Online discussion. Subject of bats comes up. They are neat, one person comment. They're cute, like little deer mouse with wings, another person comments. I'm imagining giant bats with machine-guns attached to the ribs of their wings, say I.

Oh, now this I do remember. It was several years ago; a group of friends and I were up on holiday in Scotland, having grouped together to hire a property belonging to the National Hallmark Trust. Big old place, called Gargunnock, in middle of countryside, croquet equipment in shed, constant drizzle -- even in July -- everyone taking turns cooking, lots of gaming going on, because we were all gamers. Board games, role-playing games, live-action role-playing games. Plus drinking and sitting around the fire (a log fire, even) and reading ghost stories. Plus playing croquet out on the lawn in the drizzle. Plus just sitting and talking or reading.

So I was running a game: it was originally French, from Siroz (the company who produced the original In Nomine, for aficionados) and I'd translated it because it just looked insanely fun to play. 9 characters (all Archangels or Demon Princes) meeting up in a pub on Earth because apparently God was dead, and they had to decide what to do about the whole War thing now. Most of us making some attempt at costume. Drinks ongoing, because naturally since it was theoretically set in a pub, there would be alcohol around. (In fact, Malphas kept on refilling Baal's glass with Cointreau in an attempt to influence the Prince's opinion. Jo did a wonderful job of playing Malphas, Prince of Discord, as Toady Supreme in a rather splendid velvet waistcoat.) Anyhow, she says, this was at night, and we had the windows open -- and a bat flew in. Flapped around for a minute or so before Jo/Malphas shooed it out.

Naturally, given the setting, we all agreed that it had to be a diabolical message of some sort, but none of the Princes would admit which of them it was for. Spoilsports. :)