MAN ABOUT TOWN

Finished the final Harry Potter last night, after crying three times while reading it, and laughing out loud so much that it drove Mike out of the lounge to his bedroom. Strangely anticlimactic yet simultaneously satisfying; crying out for a good editor; expository dialogue; scenes that dragged on way too long. And yet... Rowling captures something - that time in adolescence when hope hasn't turned into idealism, when you're still innocent but no longer naive - she catches it and runs with it, so that the books sometimes startle and delight, whether it be with the death of a much-loved character, driven home with cruelly economical use of words; or an unexpected moment of trancendent joy that feels utterly, perfectly right . *sigh*

A couple of people have recently mentioned of late that the frequency with which I've been posting has reduced somewhat. To these people I say, "well aren't you the observent ones!" For a couple of reasons (workload, too tired to go out, having some virus-thing for the last week or so) it's true I've not been posting much. Thus, anecdotes about dinner with that lovely couple , Mr and Mrs Path-Android; seeing both the play and the film of The History Boys , and enjoying both despite their flaws; the excellently entertaining way my Eurovision night played out at the soon-to-be-reverting-to-its-non-rock-and-roll origins Spanish Club; none of that has been recorded for posterity on this here blog. So, you miss out on my self-indulgent ramblings, and I miss out on recording my day-to-day life, as this blog is as much my diary or journal as it is anything else. Such is life. That said, ever since I became the Chair of Fringe a few weeks ago I've also been cont...

Never have your iPod lying beside you as you masturbate/have sex. Cum-splattered iPods stop working. This is going to be fun to explain when I take it in for repairs...*blush*