caput mortuum

Hi this is Sherlock and today I learned that there used to be a colour of paint that was made from ground up Egyptian mummies, it was called caput mortuum or mummy brown or some other things but those two make the most sense. We had a man come to our school today to talk to us about painting and they might do an extra class sometimes that people could sign up for and I think I'd like that but we didn't get to do any today because Mrs N said they didn't have all the things and it was too messy but I think I would take the class if they do it.

The painter's name was Mr Berns with an E, not like fire, and he also restores paintings for a museum but I don't remember which one, and he said there are paints no one uses anymore because they are poisonous or no one can get the things to make them now, and we said like what, and he told us a lot, but mummy brown was the best and when I got home I looked at it on the internet and I found a thing that gives a FAKE MUMMY RECIPE for if you couldn't get real mummies.

Take the carcase of a young man (some say red hair’d) not dying of a Disease but killed; let it lie 24 hours in clear water in the Air: cut the flesh in pieces, to which add Powder of Myrrh and a little Aloes, imbibe it 24 hours in the Spirit of Wine and Turpentine...

I don't see why he should have red hair though or even be young. And also this which is about what the mummies looked like before they were made into a colour.

“They gave noisome smell at all, like pitch, beinge broken; for I broke of all parts of the bodies to see howe the flesh was turned to drugge, and brought home divers heads, hands, arms, and feete for a shewe.”

And John said it sounded a bit disrespectful making dead people into paint but I don't think it's worse than putting them in museums and I think that if I could be a paint when I die that would be all right although only if I got used by a really good painter.  

stop that

Mycroft's back to school with bat biscuits of various flavours. Sherlock was excited enough about the app he and Mycroft put on L's phone to not be too sad about it. He actually told Mycroft he'd miss him, which was...astonishing. Usually it's 'I hate you and your stupid school!' which means the same thing of course, but I've never heard him actually say it.

So far L's app has told him to 'stop that', 'ask Sally to do it', 'kiss John' (I approve), and 'stop shouting at the television', among others. It has eerily good timing. When it told him to stop shouting at the television, he'd just told off Brian Cox for having silly hair. Not really shouting, but still...pretty good for a presumably non-sentient app.

And here's this:

The road from Muonio to Kilpisjarvi in Finnish Lapland is known locally as the "Northern Lights Route".

If you click on the picture, it should take you to the photographer's flickr page. There are a lot of other really beautiful photos there. I'd like to drive that road someday. 

contents under pressure

Lestrade's off work today, Mycroft's coming home...and Sherlock still had to go to school. He felt, obviously, that this was monstrously unfair. He flung himself on the floor and refused to get dressed, relented only when told that if he was going to be that way he wouldn't be allowed to go along to fetch Mycroft, and got dressed as slowly as was humanly possible. I wouldn't actually have believed it was humanly possible for Sherlock until I saw it. He was like a film played at half speed. With zombie noises dubbed over the dialogue.

He made zombie noises at his toast as well. And all the way to school. I walked with him, and Lestrade stayed home to do nothing around the flat, because he ought to have a chance to do that once in a while. On the walk he gradually sped up until the zombie noises became more akin to growls and I was suddenly walking a small, bouncy wolverine to school.

School, by the way, is a wonderful invention, and all teachers deserve medals for bravery. And a pay rise.

I explained to Mrs N what she might be dealing with, apologised, and left her to herd everyone into the art room. Hopefully that'll calm him down a bit. It usually does. Maybe he'll draw something for Mycroft.

And now L and I have until afternoon to do absolutely anything we like. 

off the map

Disused tube stations:

There's not all that much information about them at the site (it seems mostly to be an art project), but still interesting. Here's some more on St Mary's, with pictures. 

And a tour of the station:

I find it fascinating, the things that people build and then forget about, brick up, or pave over, like repressed memories in London's brain.

snow and pinstripes

It snowed. I believe Sherlock may have mentioned it once or twice. It's very pretty, or at least the parts that haven't been turned into grey sludge by the traffic are very pretty. 

Sherlock has done his best to spend every waking moment outside and actually chose to walk to school today rather than have us take him on the bikes so he could be out in it longer. Amazing.

L and I dropped him off, had a run that ended with cold fingers, dripping noses, and a desperate desire for coffee. We went home rather than inflict our sweaty selves on some unsuspecting coffee shop. There were showers, coffee, toast, etc., and he talked to me about accent colours for the wedding, which seemed premature, since we don't know where we're having it, exactly when we're having it, or in fact any about it except that it will occur at some point in the future. But since we can't decide about any of those things, perhaps accent colours are a good place to start? He was talking about lithianthus purple (I had to look it up too), which is...extremely purple. But you can't get married in a beige jumper, and it is a nice colour.

Harry texted to say it should be a bee-themed wedding. I'm not even sure how that would work, but Sherlock would probably love it.

After lunch, we went to look at suits, which was like entering some sort of time warp composed of fabric, polished floors, and terrifying neckwear. We only went to two places, and then suddenly we were almost late to pick up Sherlock. I'll let L tell you about the shopping. The only thing I definitely decided was that I don't want to wear pink pinstripes, ever, for any reason, and I don't know how anyone could wear them without looking like a super-villain.

twist and shout

The video I wanted to show you of sea worms eating a dead seal won't embed, so here is a fish with a see through head:


 

It snowed a fair amount. Mrs N looked like she was more than ready for the day to be over when I picked up Sherlock. Two of Sherlock's classmates told me about all the things they'd done in the snow because their parents weren't there yet, and apparently they couldn't wait to tell someone. 

Sherlock and I went directly to the park and stayed there. I thought at some point he'd admit he was cold, or want hot chocolate, or...something, but I underestimated his ability to ignore everything but SNOW. We had a snowball fight, and made a small, lopsided snowman, built a very very small snow fort that Sherlock could just about fit into if he curled up tight and ducked his head down. L joined us when he got out of work with a surprise snow attack on Sherlock, stuffed some down my jacket, whereupon I was forced to rub snow in his hair...

And then pizza. After I finally convinced them both we had to go inside at some point. You should've seen their sad sad little faces...

L also explained his dancing plan for the wedding. Not sure I should tell you all what it is yet...might wait until I'm sure I can actually do it... 

marriage of true brains

Interesting photos from a professor of neuroscience, Eran Gilat.
Found while googling ice brains with Sherlock.

We had lunch with Jo and Lisa today. They seem to have every detail of their wedding firmly under control. Lisa said she started thinking about it two years ago. Lestrade and I are planning to get married this spring or summer, and we haven't even started. The more I think about it, the more it starts turning into a mental game of 'who can I afford to offend by not inviting them?'

Well...that's overstating it. Obviously, I don't want to offend anyone, and it's possible my parents may not even want to come. It's a long trip for them, and they're getting older. But once you get outside immediate family, any hypothetical guest list seems to grow exponentially until you're inviting your cousin's dentist, and there's tulle draped over everything, and ice sculptures of zombies eating ice brains.

I told Harry I thought twenty people would be more than enough, and she laughed at me until I was forced to hang up on her. But Harry's wedding was enormous, and she probably would've invited our cousin's dentist, if we had cousins. She might be right to laugh though. When I count up the people I consider immediate family these days, there's already 11 of them, and that's not counting me and Lestrade.

Texts, after I hung up on her.

Harry: you should run away and get married in vegas
Harry: by elvis
Harry: wearing elvis costumes
Harry: WHILE SKYDIVING

permanent

In her continuing efforts to brighten my life and/or make her brother cringe, Nicky sent me this:

the perm...

I imagine the very serious face is due to him imagining Nicky using it against him in the future. Smart boy.

In other news, I've been looking into the FME training course. The next one in London isn't for quite a while yet. The ones coming up are all far enough away that I'd have to stay there for the week. Not sure how Mrs H would feel about me being away from the boys for that long...or for that matter how L and Mrs Hudson would feel about it, since they'd be the ones making up for my absence. The course summary looks interesting though. 

walk down the street, there's no one there

Stealing L's lyrics-as-subject line thing for this. Though since I started writing this last night after L was asleep, and then fell asleep in the middle of it...I can no longer remember why I thought the lyrics were relevant. Anyhow, here's some cheese we got that Sherlock wanted me to take a picture of because it came wrapped in leaves.

I've been thinking about time recently. One of the things I realised while talking to Dr E a few weeks ago is that I do more now than I did in the Army. Which seems impossible. I remember days when I barely got to eat, didn't sit down for more than five minutes, riding so high on adrenaline that I could barely sleep even when I got a chance. But those are the sorts of days that stick in the mind, aren't they? I know perfectly well there were also days when we sat in the on call room and played cards, or read, or drew on the walls (they were unfinished plywood; it was practically an invitation). 

Now, the things that I do are constant. Pack Sherlock's lunch, walk him to school, do the shopping, go for a run (...usually), do the cleaning, the laundry...and then, astonishingly, it's usually time to pick him up again. I don't know how just those few things can take up so much time, and there are days when I feel I must've lost several hours into a rogue, travelling time warp. 

I thought I'd have a conclusion for this when I started writing it, but I don't. Just vague confusion and the continuing sense that I ought to be doing more. Perhaps with more of a sense that it might actually be possible. 

Anyway, go and read this man's blog post instead. He knows how to write a conclusion, and it's a good cause. 

super powers

Someone asked in the comments of L's blog what his preferred super power would be. Pretty sure mine would be sleep. Just...sleeping through the night, no nightmares, no waking up and wandering around and worrying. The ability to nap instantly anywhere would be great too. I used to be able to do that. Doesn't seem to work very well anymore. 

delicious camels

Puff pastry camels

L and the boys made these today. Mycroft got some to take back to school and Sherlock posed a lot of them in a line inside one of the cupboards, so that when I went to get a mug there were camels staring at me. L insists it's an Italian tradition. I think he just wanted an excuse to use his camel pastry cutter. Or a justification for owning it. Or a reason for its existence. Or possibly just  to tease me about camel rustling again. Were I going to rustle camels, I would start with these. 

They're very good. You just cut them out and sprinkle on sugar before you bake them as far as I could tell, and you could make them in any shape, if you're the sort of person who has pastry cutters, or just into squares in you're not. 

After such a long time having him home, it seems very strange to have Mycroft gone again. I know we've said it before. Quiet. Empty flat. Just doesn't stop being true. We miss him a lot. 

...And he must've been reading the comments on L's post because he just texted me to say 'I'm not DEAD, you know.' Heh. We know! And we want you to do what you want to do, and have fun doing it. Just never doubt we'll be happy to see you when you come home. 

victory, of a sort

Sodium acetate crystals.




But I suppose everyone's more interested in an explanation of the picture of me that L posted...

L was closest with his guess about it being in Egypt. I'd gone to see Laura and she was out at some event for the museum, so I was wandering around Al Azhar park. Met this guy who worked at the US Embassy, we had dinner, met up with some of his friends, played poker. Played some more poker. Played more poker than was advisable, especially after I ran out of money, which didn't take long.

I lost the watch my parents gave me when I graduated from medical school, and that was about it for things of any value I had on me. It wasn't too bad though, considering one of the other guys lost his fancy gold cuff links, and the third lost his car. I still think our host was cheating, but at least he was a good sport about it. He said he'd let us bet our clothes against what we'd lost...and gave us dresses out of his wife's wardrobe to wear so we could ante up. I suppose the entertainment value made up for the lack of monetary value. Maybe? It seemed logical at three in the morning. I won my watch back, the other guy won his car back, but the cuff links stayed with our host.

And then we watched videotapes of old American football matches while they tried to explain the rules to me...until I fell asleep. It didn't take long.

The picture is from the next morning when Laura came to fetch me. I was only slightly hungover and still triumphant about getting my watch back. I put my own clothes back on shortly thereafter, but not in time to avoid being seen the owner of the dress. Luckily for me (and her husband) she had a good sense of humour. Laughed so hard her orange juice came out her nose. 

strangers in the night

All four of us went riding today, Mycroft with me and Sherlock with Lestrade. Sherlock kept up a running monologue for nearly the whole time, punctuated by singing We Will Rock You at the top of his lungs. Even over the singing, I could hear Mycroft rolling his eyes.

Came back home and found a late Christmas card from Murray, mailed from Australia. Citizens of Australia, beware: if you see a manic looking Englishman with a terrible beard coming toward you, do not engage, or you'll spend the next three hours paying for his beer and wondering why you're doing it. He has a talent.

He says he's coming back home soon, which he'd better be, because his mum has called me five times so far to ask when that's happening. He either didn't come home after Afghanistan or didn't tell anyone and left again immediately. Neither would surprise me.