I SO want to do this: Circus Space (the whole-day introduction to circus skills)

Anyone want to come along with me?

How beautiful? (and yes, I know it’s old news, but - well, you have to marvel, don’t you?)

This weekend I have, among other less noteworthy things:

- Made a new header for the blog
- Read The Handmaid’s Tale (again) and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (and have as usual read far too quickly so will have to revisit these at some point)
- Eaten both of today’s lunch and dinner in two instalments
- Bought two gorgeous little summer dresses from H&M (plus boring black work skirt, whose only real redeeming feature is the fact that it, shockhorror, actually fits)
- Rubbed hands in glee at the ASOS order that’s in the post
- Done a wardrobe clearout (to make space, natch)
- Received a compliment
- Written my last set of committee minutes (for now - or at least I will have, once I manage to stop procrastinating)
- Procrastinated
- Started to plan trail routes for the Lakes in July (54 days more to go *squee*)
- Tried to figure out Welsh orthography
- Slept till 11
- Decided that I should give myself a break and that really, I can be quite cute when I put my mind to it, even if I’m a slob at heart. But that too is acceptable.
- Rewritten this post too many times, and then remembered the inevitable fact that it will never be perfect or complete. And that too is acceptable.
- Been happy.

Am off now to finish pesky minutes, have a hot shower, and then, all lotioned and coddled, do splits and read The Name of the Rose.

I’m mortified to have to confess that just two weeks ago I read 1984 and The Hobbit for the very first time. I’ll chalk these up against my erudition quotient now.

In a bit of a binge session, the same week I also happily ate my way through the following (again):

- Call of the Wild, Bâtard, Love of Life, White Fang
- This Time of Darkness
- The Phantom Tollbooth

Ah, nostalgia. I’m building up my childhood collection of books for my babies when I have them (still have on my wishlist the Time Quartet (L’Engle), Marianne Dreams, the Smiler series, etc.), upon which time I shall read them great and gory stories, which they will love just as much as I did, all housed in a glorious little library with a battered antique leather club chair and bookcase upon bookcase, which I will but need time and love to make complete, and which is replete with the scent of Ah! Books.

No, I’m not sure that’s a word either. But I really meant to talk about my cousin Marsha’s recently-launched store on etsy.

Marsha is one of those SuperPeople everyone knows, where everyone can’t quite figure out how come the rest of us must be resigned to a mere 24 hours in the day while Marsha gets a preferential offering of 28 or so. Somewhere in between managing everything else she’s also decided to set up her own jewellery business.

Here are three pieces she’s just made to order for me:

So I thought I would spread the word. They’re seriously lovely, and though there are loads of fabulous items already up for sale in her store I think the best bit is being able to request customised pieces. Even if you only have the vaguest of ideas about what you want - she’ll be able to come up with suggestions and tweak them with you as you go along.

I could get used to this personal jeweller business.

For H-L and Dene:

“Until the middle of the 19th Century, this quiet little village’s name was only twenty letters long, and had a space in it. The place pootled along quite happily as Llanfair Pwllgwyngyll (meaning ‘St Mary’s church near the pool by the white hazels’) for centuries, attracting very little attention.”

Until, of course, the railways came, and in a last-ditch attempt to secure some of this tourist traffic for its own coffers, Llanfair(etc.) rechristened itself as Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychweyndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch (the church of St Mary in the hollow of the white hazel near the fierce whirlpool and the church of Tysilio by the red cave).

Regrettably for Llanfair(etc.), of course, I’m reliably informed that the only real tourist draw in Llanfair(etc.) is taking your picture next to a sign with the longest place name in Britain. It’s a wonderfully easy trick, which explains why, “with remarkable competitive mean-spiritedness, just down the road, the miniature railway in Gwynedd recently gave its old Golf Halt station a new name nine letters longer than Llanfair’s.”

So now Gorsafawddachiadraigodanheddogleddollonpenrhynareurdraethceredigion (the Mawddach station with its dragon’s teeth on the northerly Penrhyn drive on the golden beach of Cardigan Bay) now has the longest place name in Britain.

“We look forward to Llanfair PG upping the ante further by changing its name to Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychweyndrobwllllantysiliogogogochaoeddarenwlle- mwyafhirymmhyrdain (the church of St Mary in the hollow of the white hazel near the fierce whirlpool and the church of Tysilio by the red cave which used to have the longest place name in Britain).”

– Bollocks to Alton Towers: Uncommonly British Days Out - Robin Halstead, Jason Hazeley, Alex Morris and Joel Morris

I think that in the end we are both lesser and greater than what we see in ourselves and what others see in us. Everywhere there are words I wish were mine; intellect I could only ever aspire to; beauty I covet; strength I envy. And perversely, the words, intellect, beauty, strength I do have - whatever their worth - I deprecate. Of course, the only logical outcome of this is that the more I try to fashion myself into the person in my head, the more I disappear. And so it happens that the words I have painstakingly crafted to reflect the person I think I should be are eventually the most stilted version of me I can imagine, and the words with which I am ultimately happiest are the ones in which I have forgotten to pretend.

1. Got blown away by the wind.
2. Don’t wear pointy high heels when you have to run round campus half the day.
3. Can’t write for toffee.
4. Retail therapy.
5. Have to wrap present for little munchkin who will be two tomorrow. Have no clue about munchkin presents - hope have not bought wildly inappropriate gift.
7. Want my duvet, a DVD and an ice lolly.

That is all.

These 3D pavement chalk drawings are amazing.

In other news:

Me: Marsha told me that we should wait till next month to go to Bicester cos that’s when their sale starts. She went last weekend.
Him: Anything left?

Last night I dreamt that I put my baby in the tumble dryer and you had to dial a code on the telephone to teleport the baby. Then I forgot what code I’d put into the telephone so couldn’t find out where I’d teleported the baby to.

Me: {relating dream} It was awful. I was really distressed! I couldn’t find my baby anywhere.
Him: Well, that will teach you to put your baby in the tumble dryer.