Curse of the working classes

By tomorrow evening I shall be in the Land of Freem an' Moxy, attending one of these dreadful conferences that blight an otherwise charmed life. However, I've set myself up with several pleasurable distractions for the week- my dad and step-mum travelling down to southern California to spend the weekend with me in between sessions, and by room-sharing with friend and colleague R.
R is not necessarily a calming influence, but we courteously take turns to decompensate at these stressful events in a manner both comforting and profitable. Each of us have received and dispense a robust form of CBT for this, and share a similar Myers-Brigg pattern. When worst's come to worst and there's simultaneous fugues, memorable Thelma and Louise road trips like those in Iceland and Majorca have ensued. My tasks this afternoon have included making sure we both have sufficient nylon legwear and our prescribed drugs to last the trip- a peculiarly modern entry on the travelling checklist. As usual, R will be hauling 'big blue', a portakabin in the shape of a suitcase, at least half of which is makeup, and I 'little red', a neat carrycase which sometimes passes for handluggage. That's not in the Myers-Brigg inventory.

Big blue


Meanwhile, I'm hoping that the army of monarch butterflies who over-wintered in central California this Xmas might be taking another stop-off in southern Ca before they hit their breeding grounds in Mexico over the summer, 6 generations after hatching in Canadian milkweed meadows the previous year. By this generation, the larval stage is short and the winged adult stage much prolonged. It transforms the meaning of 'lifespan' when these have a macro-cycle, dependent on latitude and temperature. Here's hoping there's a monarch grove nearby at which to zone out.



Also, there will be excellent Mexican food and margheritas, California rolls as sushi, avocado and alfalfa sandwiches, avocado and mango salsa in Titan portions. Too much avocado is not a state I've ever experienced. And if we're observant, there'll be blue pachuco tattoos on the hands of the waitpersons.







I've taken the precaution of downloading onto the laptop Galloway's testimony so I can play this as required and ad libitum, as well as hear more about Kebz's babby when it arrives. Just hope the Galloway .ram file passes security safely, now that there are X-rays, fingerprints, iris scans, ionoscopy, tardis booths, magic wands, searches for deadly razors, lighters and nail scissors as well as smelly foot inspections as a matter of course now, when entering the evil empire. Travelling companion R, with her striking looks and East European passport, never fails to attract the special attention of security officers, brought up on James Bond films and the Cold War, at entry airports.

Also to be tested will be whether streaming online Dr. Who can be received on Saturday evening. BF has been tasked with recording MES on Jools tomorrow night, but I won't be holding my breath. At that hour he'll still be playing Star Wars ™ special edition Trivial Pursuit ™ with the kids, since letting them stay up and eat crap is his secret babysitting weapon. They're suspiciously happy about him taking charge while I'm gone, presuming that since my head zips up the back I'm ignorant that anarchy prevails in my absence. However, one of the physiological changes irrevokably induced during childbirth is to grow eyes on the back of the head that see clear across the Atlantic Ocean. So they'd better be good.



P.S. Welcome to the passers-by who googled for 'quinsies', 'wandering jew', 'chinese star signs' [ion- whit? Did I spraff off on rats one time?] and 'Thierry Meissen'.