"Making signs?" I asked.
She was also making signs.
Right. I have foamboard, paper, markers, scissors, duct tape, a candle burning, ginger/lavender tea in a Hope Not Hate mug, my fight music playlist playing, and no plan. This should be fun.
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Dept of, PSA: I was very positive some months ago about Matt Cook's Queer Domesticities (2014), formerly only available as hideously expensive academic press hardback: this is now out in paperback and Kindle/ebooks editions at more eligible price (though over the book launch attended, will draw a veil, because it might be something to do with my current mood).
Dept of, Animal Facts: you know (well, you might) that in 'Rikki-Tikki-Tavi', Kipling states that the mongoose does not have natural immunity to snake venom. He wuz wrong, though it only applies to the venom of certain kinds of snakes. (Yes, dr rdrz, I ran and found out.)
Dept of Preening and Gloating: 'Reliable because... compiled by a very respected British scholar', i.e. Dr oursin.
Dept of O Tempora o Mores: trying to do some research-related reading on ideas about child psychology in the 1920s, came across the significant blamey finger-pointing of the early 1920s about the deleterious effect of the movies on the kiddiez, yea, even unto addiction: with a few changes these would serve just as well for modern-day jeremiahs on the deleterious effects of the internet.
Dept of, Get in there and ask for the money: on the way back home after family festivities, the train we were aiming at was cancelled and we were thus an hour later than anticipated getting back. A chap in the waiting room as we were hearing the message about train cancelled and which one to get instead, was filling in a form for compensation, and said we were eligible. I therefore went online when we got home and put in a claim, and lo, behold, mirabile dictu: we have just had refunds of a considerable portion of the fares in question.