the wedding

I seem to have ended up mostly with pictures of the food, which I'm sure won't surprise any of you. The amount of cheese was... Well, this is only a fraction of it. 

The dessert, a sort of Eton mess type thing:

Post-ceremony ice cream...

Sherlock was very excited about the swords, about getting to hold one, about them cutting the cake with one...pretty sure the swords were his favourite bit. Or the number of people around who were prepared to have mock pirate battles with him using sticks or forks or in one case pieces of cheese. 

There was also a bouncy castle, which we did not get kicked out of. I really thought we might, but honestly there were more adults than kids in it. If you define 'adult' purely in terms of age. It was Spence's idea. I'm not at all surprised. Even Mycroft went in with us for a bit. 

I think both he and Sherlock danced more than we did. There were a number of girls around Mycroft's age who asked him, and Sherlock asked...nearly everyone I think? And danced by himself when no partner was forthcoming. 

And now...it's our anniversary. Seems like quite a nice way to spend it, and I admit I'm very glad L got home in time. No anniversary is ideal when spent apart, but particularly the first one - that didn't seem quite fair. Life isn't, of course, but as Sherlock says: well it should be!

cucumbers and cats

Cucumber: the first of many. There are a million flowers and quite a few tiny cucumbers as well. This is the first moderately full sized one. Sherlock picked it and did not heed any warnings from me or Mycroft about the prickles all over it. He took them personally. I've seldom seen anyone that annoyed with a plant.

Also, L sent me this...

It's a book...of newspaper articles...about cats that hate cops. I think he's trying to say something about Maf. It's a weak case, considering how often she sleeps on his shoulder while he sits on the sofa. She's cleaning the top of his ear right now, and he's poking her every few seconds before it tickles, but she's determined.

She's doing all right with the dogs - holding her own. Using them as transport and things to jump off of in order to get onto the kitchen counter or the top of the table. I'm waiting for she and the dogs to start working in concert. With her brains and their brawn, I think they could get the fridge open. Then we'll really be in trouble. 

the tennis

Well...Federer's in the final. I wasn't expecting that, to be honest, even though I put him down to win the whole thing in our tennis pool. I thought he'd go out to Rafa in the semis. Now that there's a chance he might actually win the whole thing, I'm bizarrely nervous. I've also done something to my back and may end up watching the final from a prone position on the sofa while avoiding any sudden movements.

I've been at the allotment a lot (that and the back may be related), and things are coming along surprisingly well. Sherlock wants us to plant watermelons, but I think it's too late (?) and also given the planting instructions, they might well take up the entire allotment. Space 6-8 feet apart! Still, maybe next year. Fruit seems to be our downfall (blueberry bush shows no sign that it might ever consider producing anything except leaves).

Mycroft is doing well in his new job, to no one's surprise. We went for a visit and Sherlock did not consume their entire supply of ice cream, although he is now convinced that, having got it once for free, he will get free ice cream there forever. Presumably even when he's grown. I tried to pay for it this time, but the woman who runs the shop thinks he's 'precious and a very polite young man' and since he actually is very polite with her, I didn't want to press the issue.

In other news, Murray's seeing someone, and she's apparently tennis mad. They went and camped in the queue for tickets. Murray said it was a lot like the Army but with less nudity and more swearing. Not sure if he was serious or not. He sent me pictures, one of court 18 and part of his finger and one of someone who had a Federthemed umbrella:

hawkeye

I feel like L posted this already in the comments somewhere, but in case he didn't, here is Rufus the pigeon chasing hawk of Wimbledon. And if anyone knows who's doing the voiceover, I would really like to know. He sounds so familiar.

One of the first times Sherlock watched tennis with me, one of the commentators talked about Federer's dislike of Hawkeye, and Sherlock was convinced for days that Hawkeye must be an actual person, because who would dislike a computer system, that just wouldn't make any sense, right? I have a picture he drew somewhere of Hawkeye scowling. He had an eyepatch I believe.

We have Mycroft home again with all his things, all over the living room, and all his dogs, also all over the living room (and Anthea, not all over the living room). He said there was no point taking it all up to his room as he'd have to bring it down to wash most of it tomorrow, which I think means he's turning into an actual teenager. Also his shoes have formed a nest with L's by the door to trip unwary newcomers.

And now I should probably get to bed. L and I have been up talking about the op he has coming up, which I mention only as an excuse for being up so late because I know you lot will worry otherwise. It's...not ideal, but nothing too bad. And of course if it goes well, the result will be a very good one, so fingers crossed. 

puzzlewood

We went to Puzzlewood. Here are some photos which are definitely not ours - they're much too good.

It's really...I feel like the word magical gets overused a lot, but it seems apt in this case. Even shared with a load of other people with children to entertain over half term, it was pretty amazing. Makes you wonder what it would be like to come upon it unexpectedly, alone, like walking into A Midsummer Night's Dream.

That's my opinion, anyway. Sherlock had his own ideas: i.e. it was a very large, green pirate ship, particularly the bridges. Well, obviously, right? There was a lot of stick fencing, primarily between Sherlock and the air, but at one point he called Mycroft's dogs (not present to defend themselves) blackguards, and there was a duel. Invisible flintlock pistols at (nowhere near) dawn, fairly tame piratey insults exchanged...

S: Your mum's...a hopeless landlubber!
M: She gets a bit seasick, that's all. I think that's uncalled for.

I sent the video to Mrs H. She firmly denies getting seasick at all, ever.

plotting

We went to see Mycroft today and took him out for a while. There was a sporting even at his school that he was keen to avoid, so we rode the bikes for a while and got a late lunch and walked for a while. Saw a man walking a small pig, which led to questions from Sherlock about various animals bred to be smaller than they were originally and why couldn't anyone make a giraffe small enough to fit in the flat? Or tiny dinosaurs, or, for that matter, very large dogs? Mycroft pointed out that we had two very large dogs already.

He seems happy enough at school, although he says he would prefer the word 'resigned', or possibly 'plotting a coup'. He may or may not be joking about the last one; it's a bit hard to tell sometimes. He also says I'm not allowed to say I can't believe he'll be sixteen this year, because one year does follow the next and given my age I ought to be used to it by now. Which is a fair enough point, but... Well, I won't say it.

He'll be at university in no time, which I suppose won't be all that different from having him away at school. Except I hope he'll like it better. And/or plot a coup. Either one.

Lestrade asked what he was going to do for his requisite teenage rebellion, and he said he was planning to get a passage from Tacitus tattooed on his back. Which also may or may not have been a joke. Anyhow, he's home next weekend, and we'll be very glad to have him. Tattoo or no. 

an exciting new year's eve

Greg had to work New Year's Eve, you'll all remember. And if you saw the comments on his post, you'll know he didn't make it all the way through his shift. I seem to remember the comment starting "Well, there was this man with a knife," which is not a comforting way to start a comment explaining why you're at A&E, by the way, just a tip. But he'd stepped on a bottle and fallen the wrong way on his ankle, so it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

Murray and Mrs Hudson were there to watch the fireworks on television, so I left the boys with them and headed out across the city. Things I inadvertently collected along the way:

-three hugs from perfect strangers
-one unfortunately wet kiss
-two handfuls of sweets
-a plastic necklace, spray painted gold, with a pyramid hanging from a long chain
-almost a dog

I got the dog back to its owner, and I can only hope the dog got its owner home. Otherwise he's still singing on a street corner.

Got to the hospital, did the requisite waiting around while I checked his ankle. Got an X-ray, eventually, and it was...two or three in the morning by the time we got home, I think? Which actually isn't bad at all, considering the holiday, but apparently he picked the right A&E to get sent to.

Came home to find Murray dead asleep on the sofa and Sherlock dead asleep on Murray. Took a picture to torment them in years to come. Murray's drooling a bit in it. Mycroft was reading in a chair with the dogs on either side of him like bookends, and Mrs Hudson had sensibly gone to bed, although she left us some orange cake, which was very kind.

Got Sherlock to bed, got Greg to bed, got Murray a blanket...and then I went to bed and passed out on Greg, leaving him to stare at the ceiling (sorry, L!). I think one of my resolutions last year was not to let anyone I love end up in the hospital. Glad I didn't make that one this year - I try to keep them for at least a few weeks...

Anyone else doing New Year's resolutions? Broken them yet? 

day off

Yesterday the boys went off with their mum, and Greg and I took a bike ride. We saw floods...

And more floods...

And cows. Not pictured. Mainly they're not pictured because I (completely understandably!) mistook some mooing for my phone vibrating, and L was laughing too hard to take any photos. And I was too busy trying to look stern and then watching him actually have to sit down and wheeze slightly to take any. I still maintain it wasn't that funny. 

I've had seven texts from him today. 

1. moo

2. bananas? [this was in response to mine about did he want anything from the shops]

3. moooooo

4. moooooooooo

5. you love me really

6. what do ghost cows sound like?

7. moooOOOOooOOOOOoooo

I do love him really, and it's a good thing... 

Here are some pictures Mycroft took last night and this morning at his mum's. The first one is the fire Sherlock lit mainly by himself with help from Mycroft (according to Sherlock's report, that is):

And the second is from a walk they took. Lovely, isn't it? Looks like a painting.

And now we're all back together once more, and we've had pizza, and the Christmas tree is lit up. Sherlock and Mycroft are fiddling with Sherlock's microscope, and L and I are semi-conscious on the sofa with dogs drooling on our feet. 

it distresses us to return work which is not perfect

“Many years ago I sent an old, beloved jacket to a cleaner, the Sycamore Cleaners. It was a leather jacket covered in Guinness and blood and marmalade, one of those jobs … and it came back with a little note pinned to it, and on the note it said, ‘It distresses us to return work which is not perfect.’ So that will do for me. That can go on my tombstone.”

--Peter O’Toole

Apart from being a wonderful quote and a rather wonderful thing to potentially have on one's tombstone, his description of the jacket reminds me very much of L's. Blood and Guinness and marmalade... He'd probably blame me for the marmalade. 

Well. That was a very full weekend. Seems like it's been about a week since Friday. Sherlock's play was...sort of a cross between Noah's ark, minus Noah...and minus the ark...with something about the environment and climate change thrown in? I think. There was definitely a flood, at any rate. And at the end when the crops were growing properly again and not flooded out or dried up, all the carrots got up and danced around. As they do. It was great. 

Nicky and her family came to visit, and Mycroft and Carla got to go off by themselves for a while, so I assume Mycroft is currently winning the battle he's waging with his mum. Either that or she's told the security people to especially sneaky, but I think Mycroft would spot them. He's had a lot of practice. The dogs went with them. I'm not sure how much good they'd actually be if something happened, but they're certainly intimidating. 

He and Carla each got one tree decoration while they were out, and now Sherlock is mad for all of us to go out and get ours as well. We're behind on his Christmas schedule, apparently....

something from outer space

Found an article online today with the most amazing pictures, of which the photo above is one. Want to guess what it is? Looks a bit like something from outer space, I thought.

Anyway, once you've considered, you can check out the article and see how close you got.

Mycroft and I went to the Tate Modern today and saw this, among other things. There's also an exhibit coming in April that looks interesting...like it's made out of fluorescent tubes or something. I probably should've read about it, but I didn't, so that's the best I can do.

We picked up Sherlock from school, and he fluctuated between grump and excited and grumpily excited...with a side order of excitedly grumpy. His play is tomorrow, and L has just put the finishing touches on his thundercloud costume. He's also working tomorrow. Sherlock spent a large part of the evening trying to get L to promise to be there, with L explaining over and over that it might not be possible. A contract signed in blood was mentioned, and I had to intervene.

Mycroft is menu planning for Nicky and Co.'s impending visit...I think wasabi mashed potatoes sound amazing. L and Sherlock are less convinced. 

till time and times are done

Mrs Hudson has just been up to have me try on something she's making for L for Christmas... Should be interesting.

This is our last Mycroftless weekend for a while - he's home on the 6th, although their mum called today to say she might take them on a trip if L and I going away somewhere, which would be lovely for everyone, especially Mrs Hudson, who will probably be thankful for a little peace and quiet by then. It's funny how we always think the flat feels so empty when Mycroft leaves, when of course it is - there's double the number of living beings in the flat, and the dogs count for two people each in terms of chaos. Or about 13 degus each. Whichever unit of measurement you prefer.

Plus Anthea, of course, but she's a sort of...chaos sink (like a heat sink for chaos). Everyone's better behaved with her around. Especially security. I suspect them of telling urban legends about her while she's away.

I've promised Sherlock we can go and buy tinsel tomorrow. I'll let you know if I survive, but at least it'll get us out of the flat so L can get some rest. Right now, Sherlock's online researching Christmas traditions. I've already had to veto the one about actual candles on the tree.

Did any of you actually go out and shop on Black Friday? Got your Christmas shopping done yet? Ready to hide under the bed and wait till the holidays are over? 

three years

L and I went out for dinner last night, a nice Italian place. He says I smile indulgently at him when he speaks Italian to the waiters, but I don't think that's indulgence he's seeing.

We talked a lot about the fact that it's been three years since we met, and most of the conversations went like this:

Can you believe it's been that long? 

I know, it seems strange. Do you remember how small Sherlock was?

And Mycroft was only 12! 

We must've said those lines, or approximations of, at least five times in the past few days. It doesn't get any less strange. And yet, three years isn't really that long. I was in Afghanistan longer than that. Half the time, it dragged by and it seemed like I'd been there forever, and half the time it seemed like nothing at all, but that was more dependent on what was happening.

This...seems like a whole other life. One that I'm still astonished and grateful for, daily. 

shirt full of mushrooms

I saw a man today with a shirt full of mushrooms. He was holding the bottom of it out in front of him to make a little basket for all of them. I don't know what sort - he was moving fast, and I didn't get a good look. Might not have been able to tell if I had. Brown and dirty is the best I can do. He passed me on the street, muttering something about 'thieving bastards'. I assume he didn't mean the mushrooms themselves, but who knows.

When I told Sherlock this after school, he wanted to know why I hadn't stopped him and asked him what he was doing with a shirt full of mushrooms. I don't think he would've taken well to being stopped and questioned, frankly.

Post-mushroom-man, I met L for lunch. It was lovely to have him out of work early, and we went to a nice Vietnamese place. Banana fritters and honey-gringer ice cream for dessert. And then home, briefly, before it was time to pick up Sherlock.

I just talked to Mycroft, who apparently spent the last hour on the phone to his mum, trying to explain that she can't keep having him followed around by security for the rest of his life... I think she disagrees. The next few months should be interesting. 

nothing but the night

We had a good day today (despite the subject line). Went to the off road place. Sherlock and Mycroft are doing really well and came out on the trail with us for a while. It's hard to believe Mycroft will be able to get his own bike soon if he wants to. I suppose it makes sense than time seems to go faster when you're older, since any given amount of time is proportionally less of your life, but even so, the pace at which this year has gone by seems a bit ridiculous. 

This weekend, in particular, was a blur, and Mycroft is back at school already. He and Anthea seem to be engaged in some sort of war in which he tries to work out her birthday and she smiles serenely like he hasn't got a prayer. Since I assume he'd need her real name to find out her birthday, and since I assume that information only exists on some top secret computer somewhere, I'm...slightly concerned. But he assured me he wouldn't do anything illegal because 'that would be cheating'. 

I've been thinking, as I know L has, about the boy who died on Friday and inevitably about people I haven't been able to save. About how many people will go their whole lives without watching someone die. About how Sherlock and Mycroft have already seen that and the ways I know it's affected them. No real conclusions. Just a lot of think about. 

14 seconds

L came up with this fact for me today: in Britain, an ambulance is called to someone suffering the effects of alcohol every 14 seconds. Between my training and now the FME work, I think I've seen at least half of them. I realise that's not remotely possible, but trust me, it feels like it. 

Our allotment has tiny pumpkins. You could wear one as a very small hat, or perhaps carry one around in each hand if you wanted to look festive? I suppose you might, if you had very small hands, try to carve one, which is exactly what Sherlock wants to do, even though Reg has promised him one of his, which are a more reasonable size. (Obviously, he wants to carve that one, too. I think his end goal is to fill the flat with orange, staring faces so that one night, when one of us comes home late, there will be some sort of Pumpkin Incident.) 

Mycroft is on an overnight trip with his astronomy group and so will be a day late coming home for half term - but then we've got him all week, which we're all looking forward to. We might try some more museum roulette. Mycroft said his friend had improved the app and added a few more museums. Should be a good time. I have no idea how this year is going so fast though. Currently trying not to think about it. 

quiet

Mycroft, Anthea, dogs, books, and luggage have all been returned to Harrow. Also various new clothes, old computer parts, and a mountain of baked goods. Sherlock asked me at one point if it were possible to mail a person in a box and travel that way, if you weren't going very far (read: to Harrow, for a sneaky visit to your brother). When I said no, he then wanted to know if you could send a body that way. Because if you can't visit your brother via post, the next best thing is to send him (for example) a stuffed bear? Not sure.

We saw a stuffed bear, by the way. Yesterday. In a petrol station. I regret not asking for an explanation.

The countdown to bedtime has begun. We've been letting him stay up late for the holidays, but I think it'd better be back to normal tonight. You can tell he's tired. Also, L and I have a lot of sewing on of name tags to do. We tried a few days ago, and Phobos swallowed one whole trying to lick my hand. 

honeymoon

Mycroft is back at school on Tuesday, Sherlock shortly thereafter. We've been talking about the honeymoon a bit, with Sherlock ruling out places that are too nice and interesting for us to go without him. I was thinking about trying to see the aurora borealis, but, apart from it being a fairly long way if we want to ride the bikes, I think Sherlock and Mycroft both might be a bit cranky if we went to see those without them.

It is a good year for it though, apparently. I read that it peaks on an 11 year cycle, and the peak is either this year or last year, depending on which article you read. September and March are supposed to be the best times. You can stay in a glass igloo if you want to:

Anyhow, more realistically, L mentioned Prague last night, and I was looking at Lugano, in the Switzerland, which seems like a nice place, but there are about a thousand other places that would be good too, I'm sure - if anyone has suggestions, let us know?

Editing in this pic of Sherlock's cake - it's delicious :)

tiny frog

Or possibly toad. We found it on our walk today. Sherlock was delighted, but seems to have got over the urgent need to take every bit of wildlife we find home with him, which is a relief. He still asked, but didn't seem too disappointed when we said no. 

Back to normal tomorrow. Maybe then I'll be able to sort out the day in my head. Right now, it's still a sort of happy haze.

butterflies and helium

Today, we went to see butterflies. It seemed like they were everywhere. They landed on your hair, he landed on your arm, and one landed on L's nose. I wish I had a picture of that one. We do have pictures of a lot of them, although none with the boys in them can be posted here, of course. And I don't have them to post because I haven't got them off the camera and...I'm too lazy to do it right now.

Sherlock was desperate for more land on him, but he was his usual self, a little manic ball of energy, always moving. It didn't encourage anyone to get too close, including butterflies. He did get a few, but Mycroft got more simply by standing still. I think he had five on him at one point.

The whole experience was so incredibly strange. Something about interacting with wild things that aren't afraid of us. I had a bird land in my palm once, and it felt like that.

Also, here is this...thing. L found it. It's pretty amazing.

days in the sun

All of us went to visit Steve's grave today. We stopped for flowers on the way there. Sherlock usually has a multitude of opinions on picking out flowers, but this time sulked as far away from us as he could get without actually leaving the shop.

It was the same when we got to the cemetery. He doesn't like the idea that Lestrade and Steve might've ended up together and that, therefore, the four of us...wouldn't. It's understandable. I won't say I didn't feel a little odd being there myself. Simultaneously sorry I'll never meet him, because he meant so much to L, combined with the knowledge that if he were alive, my chances of meeting him through L would be slim to nonexistent.

Sherlock actually wanted me to pick him up, which he hardly ever does anymore. I managed it for about two minutes, and I can still feel it in my bad shoulder, even thought I wasn't using that arm. Might have to be the last time, but I always say that, don't I? And then he got down to kick the heads off dandelions.