nineveh_uk (nineveh_uk) wrote,

On a good weekend

Things since the end of last week have been going rather well. I actually spent a couple of satisfactory days at work doing something that was both interesting and challenging, with the challenge a positive rather than terrifying one, in which I moved from a position of “why on earth am I doing this, I don’t know anything about it, and I haven’t got any information” to producing a piece of work that I was actually proud of, that I hung around late to finish, and that my boss was extremely pleased with. It was what I came here to do. It’s not enough to make me hang around longer than necessary, but it might promise that the next couple of months could be less depressing. I now need to channel the feeling chirpier into thinking hard about what happens next.

My parents visited for the weekend, which was great fun, though they were distinctly unimpressed with some aspects of Oxford, specifically with Cornmarket, the litter, and the number of beggars, all of which compared unfavourably to the middle of Leeds. The weather was fine for once, and we wandered round pre-historic sites and stately homes, my mother was rendered incapacitated with laughter over Scouts in Bondage and I introduced my father to the delights of George Manville Fenn. I still don’t ‘get’ the idea that one must achieve a certain distance from one’s parents (translate: not really get on very well in company with one another for longer than a few hours on a Sunday) to be a full-fledged adult. The alternatives are not rebellious teen followed by polite but distant adulthood vs. sad sack living at home until 55. I don’t want to live with my parents any more, but I do wish I lived closer, and a major reason for wanting a car is to make seeing them easier. I love staying with them, and talking to them, and emailing them, and I realize more and more with every year how oddly rare this is and how lucky my sisters and I are, and that not everyone gets such sheer pleasure from the company of their natal family. There are downsides, of course – it appears that the one physical trait I have inherited from my father may be his eyebrows – but I would not swap my family for the finest family in the world.

It seems that the rediscovery of my work ethic also applies to fanfic, and last night I wrote 2000 words and finished the Romilda Vane fic, with added Snape and Andromeda. I found myself feeling a bit sentimental; it’s taken forever and at times I’ve been rather uninspired by the whole thing, but if I am hopelessly jossed come the 21st it’s a decent end to go out on.

Finally, proof that I have been in fandom too long: I read the Radio Times cover headline (with picture of Daniel Radcliffe) as "Potter’s Preggers" instead of "Potter's Progress". My youngest sister used to live next door to Daniel Radcliffe. She was unimpressed by his guitar playing.

ETA: 12:08 am. I am about as likely a salsa dancer as teenage!Bellatrix. My (Danish, female) neighbour really, really owes me.
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