Zzzzzz...

Quite an emotionally draining week, taking in conflict with two dear friends and culminating in no fewer than four nightmares last night (it was like having every single emotional fear and issue played out for me in glorious Technicolor). Which is a cruddy excuse for not having compiled a post of my birthday weekend, but there it is.

Highlights from this week:

Pancake breakfast with flatmates

My flatmate getting on to the MSc course she wanted, and being there to congratulate her

My friend Helen landing her dream job in Bristol

Sitting on my bedroom floor drinking wine with The Boy last night, feeling like teenagers at a party (do teenagers drink wine? I think I did. And Archer's, but the less said about that, the better)

Finding what's likely to become my go-to summer dress (please let us have a summer!)

Have a lovely weekend, and don't forget to call your mums on Sunday!

Weekend!

waterloo book market, originally uploaded by rupertsanfordscutt.

It's been a quiet week, resulting in an "and erm... that's it!" after only a few minutes on the phone to my mother. I'm still very glad of the weekend, however. Sadly, I won't be seeing as much of The Boy as in previous weekends, but I'll happily amuse myself.

Plans include:
Bike riding (and mastering which way my gears go - whoever thought of making the gears go in opposite directions for each hand?)
Mooching for yet more books - have only bought two this week.
... And drinks for my birthday (which is on Monday)!

I should also cook something this weekend, I fear I'm getting rusty. As fun as pate on toast is, it doesn't compare to homemade lasagne. Not after a whole week of it for lunch anyway.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Girl put your wellies on

Splosh, originally uploaded by www.AlastairHumphreys.com.

After last year's resolution to "be better", I seem to be spending a lot of time at the moment thinking about the kind of person I want to be as I'm growing up (and hopefully working towards becoming that person!)

For example, I recognise that right now, I'm not motivated by money (which is handy, as if the museums sector takes a funding cut of anything near this order, there'll be a distinct lack of it soon enough). Instead, I'm motivated by learning more about and contributing to my profession, and by the work of my peers.

As the upheaval of the last 12 months in my personal life is replaced by something altogether more sane, I think about what sort of friend I want to be and who I want to be friends with (much as I tried to avoid it, the breakup of my relationship last year led to the loss of some mutual friends: largely due to awkwardness on my part). I want to be more gracious in my actions, and now punctuality (my eternal demon) seems to be under control, extend that organisation to acknowledging birthdays and the like.

I also consider what my personal goals are for the long term, particularly with regards to relationships. On a walk through the park with The Boy on Sunday, we passed lawns almost completely submerged from the previous nights' heavy rain. Later, when we had holed up in a pub with a fire and brandy, I told the boy that one day I hope to have the disposition and character to round up my children and take them to a park on a rainy Sunday afternoon, and have a competition to see who can find the deepest puddle. Later still, once conversation had moved onto work, we talked about the age-old issue of having the confidence to commit one's ideas to paper. Then The Boy gave me this year's New Year's Resolution:

"Girl, put your wellies on"

I think I'll keep him.

The "I *heart* Thomas" project: the assembly

After a last minute assault on T's alma mater

* photo *

five of us assembled in Fergus and Tristan's sitting room to print photos and put together the album. In a way, it felt a little like a wake. We joked that should Thomas turn up unannounced, we'd have a hard time explaining what were doing there without him!

Pizza and wine was consumed, with one of the X-Men films playing in the background (no idea which one). Indeed, The Boy was heard to ask "what's the difference between Ian McKellan and Patrick Stewart?" Later, conversation naturally turned to mutant powers of choice. I'll never look at leaven or cuttlefish ink in the same light again...

As the album took shape, we couldn't help but feel it was all a bit... twee. A little bit of the teasing Thomas comes in for at every meeting was needed. After much debate, the following addition was settled upon:

* photo *

Finally crawled in to bed around 2am (with stunning fog inside the station at Stratford), album safely stashed in my bag.