We had storms yesterday that were, in the immortal words of Douglas Adams, like someone was pouring the Atlantic Ocean over us, through a sieve. Just buckets of rain, the kind where it hits so hard it bounces back at you, so if you're out in it, your umbrella does you essentially no good at all since you're getting it from above and below, and it's trying to jump up your trousers as well as run down your collar.
Sherlock loved it, which I could've predicted, involving as it did the opportunity to get wet and muddy, and exciting amounts of thunder and lightning. He didn't get as much of a chance to jump in puddles as he would've liked because I did actually take a taxi to pick him up from school instead of the tube. It was less the thought of getting wet than of being packed in a confined area with a lot of other wet people, smelling...wet.
Mycroft and I walked the dogs in it earlier, and we both had to change everything we were wearing when we got back. The dogs ran around gleefully, rubbing up against every available surface to dry themselves off, and then they flopped down by the radiator and grinned. You could almost see the steam coming off them.
There's two days left in the poll, but I'm calling it now. No Country for Old Me has 66% and nothing else has even made it to 15%. The last one will be up shortly.
True or false: telling my parents everything that's happened since I got out of hospital by sending them my blog address is a bad idea? On the one hand, obviously it's kind of a low thing to do. On the other, denial, avoidance, and repression are basically how my family functions, so perhaps they'd prefer it that way.
Sherlock loved it, which I could've predicted, involving as it did the opportunity to get wet and muddy, and exciting amounts of thunder and lightning. He didn't get as much of a chance to jump in puddles as he would've liked because I did actually take a taxi to pick him up from school instead of the tube. It was less the thought of getting wet than of being packed in a confined area with a lot of other wet people, smelling...wet.
Mycroft and I walked the dogs in it earlier, and we both had to change everything we were wearing when we got back. The dogs ran around gleefully, rubbing up against every available surface to dry themselves off, and then they flopped down by the radiator and grinned. You could almost see the steam coming off them.
There's two days left in the poll, but I'm calling it now. No Country for Old Me has 66% and nothing else has even made it to 15%. The last one will be up shortly.
True or false: telling my parents everything that's happened since I got out of hospital by sending them my blog address is a bad idea? On the one hand, obviously it's kind of a low thing to do. On the other, denial, avoidance, and repression are basically how my family functions, so perhaps they'd prefer it that way.
59 comments:
Truish, with a side of false. I mean, it's a bit harsh, but at the same time, it's probably easier to say and "hear" in writing than in person.
How about a personal email outlining the big changes (eg, not in the Army, working as Nanny/fosterer, in a long term relationship), with a pointer to the blog post that explains how it all happened?
More personal than just a URL; less personal than denial and repressive silence face to face.
You've reminded me I've neglected my poll completely.
I really don't know about your parents. Can I go back and delete all the comments that make everyone think I'm filthy-minded? Will they mind? I don't think it's low...possibly sensible. It depends how soon after you might see them and all sorts of things.
Nameless - not a bad idea, thanks. That's probably the way to go. Or maybe even an actual letter.
L - They wouldn't mind. As long as you don't try to talk to them about it or anything, which I can't imagine you'd want to.
On the one hand, it's probably better to tell them in person. On the other, boy, do I ever wish it was an option for me? (Dad has a computer, I think he has an internet connection, but he's never even given me an email address.) And it does give them a chance to react without dealing with their upsetting you with the initial reactions. (Later ones, I'm afraid, you'll still have to deal with.)
I think Nameless has the better idea. Plus, you can talk up the best parts with whatever their buttons are.
Yeah, Nameless seems to have the right idea - make it a bit personal, tell them the main points, and let them discover the rest.
Should probably warn Harry too? In case she gets a barrage of questions? I don't know. I'm probably the last person in the world anyone should listen to for advice on such matters!
Just know that whatever they do or say, we'll all be here for you.
It'll be fine. I don't think they'll care much, honestly. Not enough to make a fuss at least.
I'm sure if you asked really nicely She Who Must Not Be Named would get you tickets for the Wimbledon Final
(Go Murray! (I live in hope))
Well, that's my quota of good ideas for the year sorted :-)
I don't think they'll care much, honestly. Not enough to make a fuss at least.
I have no idea if that's supposed to be a good thing (ie, they're going to be accepting and non-judgemental) or a bad thing (literally, they don't care that much). Also, you know that it's noticeable sometimes that you say less (here, at least) the more fussed you are by something?
Lestrade - "Can I go back and delete all the comments that make everyone think I'm filthy-minded?" That's a hell of a lot of deleting :-p
Also, you know that it's noticeable sometimes that you say less (here, at least) the more fussed you are by something?
I think Lestrade would tell you it's the same in real life as well.
Trills - Yeah, but at what point does the bill come due and I'm suddenly expected to sneak off in the dead of night and steal top secret government papers from France or something?
I'd echo "something in writing that summarizes and highlights", but would lean more toward a letter than e-mail unless e-mail is going to be significantly faster and less painful.
You probably need to tell them about the blog, but I don't know if it's necessary to highlight it. It depends on how comfortable you are with their following it and Lestrade's blog.
Considering that I talk to one or both of my parents on the phone every day to exchange stories and just chat even though I've not lived with them for . . . *thinks* . . . eight years now? I'm not the person to ask.
Go with your gut is my best advice. (The first time I typed that it said go with your guy. Which is also sound advice.)
TTFN,
Bronwyn
I'd tell my parents in person, it's always the best way for us to talk to each other directly. But I don't know yours, so I'm not able to tell, if that's a good advice.
I'm with Bronwyn, Go with your gut sounds fine.
Thanks, everyone. Really. I was sort of expecting to get told off for not telling them in person, or at least phoning.
at what point does the bill come due and I'm suddenly expected to sneak off in the dead of night and steal top secret government papers from France or something?
Come on, John, you can't say that that sounds more strenuous or challenging than raising the two smartest children in the world, can you? Think of it as a vacation!
I think you should definitely send the personalized letter or email, but I'd hold off on linking to the blog, if only because there are discussions about whether to tell your parents about your life on here - that might be hard for them to read, knowing that all of these strangers on the internet knew more about your life than they did.
Sounds like fun in theory, but I'm sure it's not like in films. It's probably all waiting around for contacts in smelly alleys or having to chat up boring people so they'll tell you all about the new sort of locks their company makes. Or something.
As long as you don't have to seduce anyone for information...
I have the same concerns. Not that I think Mrs Holmes would force us to do anything like that, but I don't like the idea of using her as some sort of fix-all.
Motorbike parking I can live with. Fixing the law/having her use her secret powers on my behalf...not so good.
Nameless - Not THAT many, surely?
Danger - we could make two new blogs, and just transfer the posts about baking, digging ponds and wholesome stuff like that?
And, having thought about it, I'd be torn if it were me. (I did have the horrible thought that one day, if he ever bothers getting in touch again - if he's still alive - this could be me and my Father one day). Anyway, I'd either want to send a letter and not engage in any dialogue until I'd had a report back from Nicky or someone on the likely reaction, or I'd just turn up, with all of you, and sort of use shock-and-awe. Flood them with everything at once and not allow them to have the sort of reaction they would one-on-one.
ps. I'm surprised we get a mobile signal here. I don't know why - obviously a nuclear power station probably wants mobile signals! But it seems so...desolate.
I'd draw the line at necking for information, don't worry.
I doubt they'd get that far into the blogs anyway, when I think about it. Certainly they wouldn't keep up with them. A letter's probably best.
John-as-femme-fatale is a hilarious image. But if he's going to be a proper spy girl he needs some ridiculous, punny and vaguely filthy name. Like Pussy Galore or Ivana Onatopp.
TTFN,
Bronwyn
Danger Sparkles?
Hey, hey! What do you all think James Bond was doing? He seduced people for information all over the place and did not have breasts OR a remotely silly name.
Okay, so you're going to be seducing girls with silly names then.
The name's Watson. John Hamish Danger Watson.
What's your trademark drink? Tea...stirred not shaken?
I could seduce men with silly names as well, Orio Martin Finchley Lestrade.
I'd be all for that.
You'd have to pump me for information.
And insinuate myself into your...confidence.
I'm not talking to you over here, now that we've all thought up 'silly names' for you. Yet you've just implied that my actual name is silly.
Very rude.
How are you going to make it up to me?
As it happens, I thought I might take you out to dinner. You know, if you're free.
what, now? I mean, tonight? Or some other time? And for you, I'm always free. (that's clearly a hideous lie, given the job, but you know what I mean.)
Tonight. Now-ish, actually. I asked Mrs Hudson this morning, and she said be happy to keep them for dinner as well, and feed them sugar till their heads explode, though she didn't actually say that part.
Really? Of course I'm free.
I'm going to overdose on you. I won't be able to go cold turkey on Monday.
Where did you have planned?
It's a surprise. Not the kind that requires a tie, don't worry.
Wow, right. Do I need to change out of my jeans? (If it did need a tie, I'd have to borrow one. I think I've got one, in my desk at work for court and one black one, for funerals, at home...that's it.)
Nah, jeans are fine. It's not terribly fancy.
And can we get there on public transport? I would love to take the bike...but I'd also love a few glasses of wine or something.
I'm excited!
Excellent. My evil plan is going as...planned.
Evil, huh?
(I am ready to go...just as soon as I can persuade Sherlock to let go of my leg. I think he thinks you've seen quite enough of me today already.)
Tell him he can stay up till we get home. And maybe we'll even bring him some of whatever fabulous dessert we're going to have.
(Technically more sneaky than actually evil, I suppose.)
Danger, he may act like he's 35 sometimes, but he's five! There are laws against...oh, you mean actual dessert, like, sweet things to eat?
(apologies for anyone who things the above filth is...well, filth. And in bad taste.)
He's made me do that thing you taught him...swearsies? And apparently I'm in trouble if he isn't still awake...I have no idea how that's supposed to work. But he has let go. Let's get out of here!
Ha, this is what comes of ill thought out euphemisms. Should've called it "doing taxes" or something.
Aww. I'm surprised he remembered that.
You're going to be in trouble then, I doubt he'll make it till we get home. He's got that going-to-crash look.
I know he has! So, given he may kill me in my sleep, you better make my last night a proper one to remember.
I'm all yours.
(And of course he remembers it! It's the most solemn of all promises...or something. He was very serious about it.)
Well, it's a very serious promise!
I'm all yours.
And my evil plan has come to fruition. Excellent. Mwahaha.
So the downgrade to 'sneaky' was very temporary...we're now back to evil.
Evil sounds so much better. No one calls themselves a sneaky mastermind.
I would just like to say it's almost cruel to be talking about rain like that. It's dropped *down* to 115F (46C) here. We've gotten 1/4 inch of rain in the last 10 months, and it's been "record rainfall." Please, please, please send some of that rain here!
Wow, where are you, Desert Wanderer?
We've been having a very dry few months (for the UK, which doesn't mean it's that dry...just not raining quite as much.) And then that - one day of torrential rain, when you couldn't even see the other side of the street.
Now it's gone back to being grey, but dry. I'll get Sherlock and Mycroft to invent a rain machine. Or, given it was all Danger's fault, lend him to you to perform his rain dance.
Let's just say I may have seen a rock on which was scratched "Danger was here."
If anyone could invent a rain machine, it'd be your boys. I'd settle for just a cloud. When I first got here, we hadn't seen a cloud in literally months. Then, one day, there was a perfect round ball of fluff, all alone in the sky. People talked about it for days. "Did you see that cloud?!" "Yeah, man. It was awesome!"
Or maybe you should have the boys invent something to keep "wet dog smell" out of a house. Sounds like you guys will need it!
Heh. A mate of mine described it as wearing a hat every day for your whole life and then having it ripped off. Kept saying his head felt naked.
I feel like an invention to remove wet dog smell would probably make more money than a rain machine, which is pretty sad when you think about it.
That's a good description. It's also like walking in a hair dryer. 30mph winds. On the plus side, free exfoliation treatments!
I wonder what it is about dogs that makes them smell so when wet. Do cats do the same? Do different dogs smell differently? Do the different smells last for different periods? I would imagine a St. Bernard would smell more rank (ranker, Mycroft?) than a beagle.
Cats don't smell the same, but cats are generally smart enough not to get wet in the first place either. They also don't have perpetual bad breath the way dogs do, which doesn't make sense at all.
Oh, hairdryer! Yeah, that's very good.
Whereas, where we are, it's been raining almost every day. (We've had a couple of days of no rain the last few days which has been remarkable.) It does mean that everything is very green, and the pollen has been out of this world.
I find it very interesting that you're the one who started blogging, and who got L into it, but he's the one who updates more often. (I could probably join Overthinkers Anonymous as well.)
I used to do it every day, but I suppose I feel like a lot of stuff doesn't need both of weighing in on it, and his accounts tend to be more interesting than mine - at least, to me.
Rain and I currently have a very love-hate relationship. After 10years of drought, which ment that the government put in strict water-saving measures (4min showers-Noooooooo!), I love that the drought is gone and I can shower for as long as I like. On the other hand it's only been a few months since it rained so much that the city flooded and the 2-story house I was renting went almost completely under. Now everything I own is what I took with me in a suitcase :(
I like reading both your and Lestrade's posts on the same subjects; you both have different perspectives, you see different things. It's interesting.
(Um, that is entirely without wishing to sound like I'm entitled; obviously it's your blog and your choice when to write and when not to. It's just that this reader is equally interested what both of you write)
Thanks. And I suppose his are mainly more interesting to me because they're not mine - I already know what I think. (I'd actually like to get him to write about the case we met on. I barely knew him then and had almost no idea what he thought of it all. Maybe if he runs out of current crimes to blog about, heh.)
And no, you don't sound entitled, just expressing an opinion, which you've every right to do!
My accounts are not more interesting. Yours definitely are.
I suppose I could do my version, you could do your version...and we could see how they totally fail to coincide?
You only think that because you already know what you think. :P
Yeah, sure. A bit at a time maybe, when there's nothing else on.
Post a Comment