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The pressure to blog

Willow

I intended to post about my trip daily. You know, like, as it happened. For like, documentational purposes. And since you’re reading this, you know I failed dismally. Mostly because I was either stupidly busy (having fun or working, in equal parts) or asleep. And a lot of stuff that I thought I would post about, still requires further and more processing. Maybe later.

I made a couple of big life decisions in the last two weeks, cause you know, wasn’t doing enough of that this year. So it’s all weird and in process.

But. Thought to reduce the lack of blogging due to paralysis by analysis, I’d post snippets.

I watched a looooot of television on the planes. I had packed all kinds of entertainment, in the fear I might get bored or overtired. Trust me, me overtired and then bored? Very not pretty. On the flight to Toronto, I had a bunch of work to do, which I did. The future that brings wifi on a plane meant I even got to email versions of it to Helen and get her edits back and do that a couple of times in 13.5 hours. I worked on a website upgrade and a few of other things.

But other than that, I watched Seasons of TV. Seasons. More than one. In one go. Cause it takes nine years to get to Canada and back again. I caught up on Nurse Jackie S4, Episodes S2 and tried out Veep (meh) on the way there.

On the way home, I watched Seasons 1 and 2 of Downton Abbey (well, came two eps short of the end of Season 2.) And so. It turns out that “costume drama” is not totally yawn boooooring if the era of the clothes is one you love. This was new to me. And omg how gorgeous are the clothes and jewellery? That necklace that Mary wears to dinner, I covet muchly. Anyway, Season 2 is just a crying fest, no? It’s so tragic and heartbroken. And filled with despair. I’m sure every time Jonathan looked over at me I was sniffling into my tissues. Anyway, it’s filled with WWI stuff and I’m watching this and crying over the horror of war etc and thinking about how I hate war. I’m a pacifist. But aside from that, I can’t stand anything to do with war – fiction or non fiction. I’m not into it. At all.

And I’m marrying into the military.

And that, my friends, sums me up.

 

 

Mirrored from Champagne and Socks.




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