I an in Christchurch! 'Why the exclamation point,' I hear you, faceless millions that are my readers, exclaim, 'we thought you didn't like Christchurch! We thought, in fact, that you hated Christchurch!'
Ah, dear friends, I do...but I am here for my Best Friend's Wedding. It is just like the movie except that a) we are both girls and b) I am not in love with a member of the bridal party and c) neither of us have the lips of Julia Roberts (thank goodness.)
So I am in Christchurch. It is currently ridiculously early and I am trawling through the reams of crap on the internet to find things to help my friend with his photography project. Last night I filled out an interview about Brass Bands for my (other) friend's musicology project. Let it not be said that I do not make sacrifices.
Everything continues much as normal...I laddered my tights and have to buy a new pair, the property management people think I am fantastic, as they should ("I'm in love with him." "Does he know?" "Yes. He doesn't find it surprising.") My love life is in its usual snafu (do you know where that word comes from? I didn't. If you don't it's worth looking up. I am reading Bill Bryson's Mother Tongue, and have learnt many facts. The only one that's really stuck is that if you were to be transported suddenly back to 600 AD (how is it, by the way, that when you watch shitty movies where Whoopi Goldberg or someone is in this exact scenario, the languages differences never fuck everything up? Just a thought) some of the very few words that you and the Angles would have in common, with pronunciation and meaning remaining the same for almost 2000 years, are 'tit' (in the non-orinithological sense, and YES I made up the spelling of that) and 'fart'. Why is it always these kind of facts that I remember?). So yes, my love life is like the Cold War (first analogy of the day, and you can just TELL that it's going to be a good one because I know nothing about the Cold War whatsoever) in that it seems simple and easy to understand, but it ISN'T. (Learnt this when attempted to do some research on the Cold War (keep typing Cold Wart) by asking Mum, who it turns out knows as much about it as I do).
Can't remember why so many brackets had to die for that paragraph. I will now attempt to compose myself and a paragraph without any brackets at all- a bracketsless paragraph, if you will. This is easy because I don't really have any news except that I have to go out to Sumner- not that I don't want to- for a hen's party brunch. A hen's party brunch is what happens to a hen's night when it is organised by a Christian (and no, I will not take that back. Bugger. Brackets.)
Right, I am going to look for pithy sayings now. I shall leave you with one, in fact. "A halo has only to slip a few inches to become a noose."
(Also ambiguous. If anyone has any more interpretations of this, do let me know.)