The beach at Brighton. 90% of my photos look basically like this - sand plus water - so I don't know how exciting they'll be to someone whose holiday this wasn't. Except for the ones I took in the mist, which generally look like I aimed the camera into a bowl of cream of something soup.
The mist was much more dramatic than soup in person, you'll just have to trust me. Spooky and rather Gothic, with strange shapes suddenly looming out of it at you. Of course, most of the time they turned out to be lost tourists wondering where the nearest loo and/or pub was. Even so, the mist was almost better than the sun.
Did they paint them on purpose so we'd have some colour in our photos? Kind of them, if so.
Sherlock wanted to drive this thing so badly. I wouldn't have expected it, because god knows he's not one of those boys who can spend all afternoon in a sandbox with their toy trucks and cranes. He doesn't stop and stare at construction equipment (generally; he does like the wrecking balls), but confronted with one close enough to touch and potentially hotwire, well, it was a different story altogether. They use it to push the pebbles back down the beach after the winter storms. I'm pretty sure that's not the use Sherlock had in mind for it.
Here's our hotel...
Oh no, wait, sorry. It wasn't quite that posh. That's the Royal Pavilion. This is our hotel:
Still pretty impressive, no? I was bloody impressed anyway. Definitely the nicest place I've ever stayed. L and I shared a room and the boys shared another one down the hall and didn't kill each other or cause any explosions. I was very proud.
Lestrade's covered most of the major events (rock throwing, etc.) and really the best part was that there weren't any major events. Just all of us together with no school and no work and a lot of fresh air and good food.
I'm tempted to keep writing and tell you about this evening as well (L brought his guitar...among other things) but it's the night before he leaves for the conference, and he's pretty insistant I should shut down the computer now. Good night, internet.
55 comments:
It looks like a nice place to visit! I think the greatest achievement of this trip is that Sherlock and Mycroft stayed in the same room and both of them are still alive and unscathed. Congratulations! :D
So have you heard Lestrade play yet? I'm sure I'm not the only one who would love to hear a report...
A very belated happy birthday to you, John, and I'm glad your weekend away went so well. I hope you adults had an opportunity to unwind (wink wink).
Should we worry that Sherlock wants to hotwire construction equipment? I wouldn't want Lestrade to have to arrest him for grand theft moving vehicle a few years down the road.
Sorry, that was me posting under the wrong profile.
Tell Sherlock that bulldozers aren't as much fun as they look. Threshers on the other hand, can be. Especially when you run over interesting things.
Toodle,
Bronwyn
I thinly three of us were sad to leave because it was relaxing, and Sherlock was sad to leave because he hadn't solved any murders, or who burned down the pier in the first photo.
It was lovely though. And yes, Lawless, we did...unwind.
(which makes a change from winding Danger up, which seems to be my speciality.)
Will I never learn to re-read my posts I do on my phone? Apparently not. 'think', not 'thinly'. Not much about the holiday was thin, with the cakes, hotel breakfasts, fish and chips (still cannot believe you don't like mushy peas) and everything.
It's teabreak. I'm missing you and this isn't a very interesting session.
What's it on? Do you do yours today?
Lupe - It was really wonderful, the whole trip. I'm still sort of blown away by it. No one's ever planned that sort of surprise for me before. And yes, I'm daily grateful that Sherlock and Mycroft are getting along better than they used to.
Elizabeth - He played a couple of songs for us last night. There was an article of clothing involved that I blame you for entirely.
lawless - Thanks! I'm doing my best to impress on Sherlock the concept of "other people's property." It's a work in progress. Unfortunately I'm 80% sure that if he put his mind to it he probably could hotwire the thing.
Bronwyn - …Threshers sound if anything more dangerous than bulldozers. He'd probably love them.
It's on the use of psychological profilers in murder cases. not much to do with the actual psych assessment, just when the budgets will allow us to use them. Case studies. Learning to put a price on catching a murderer.
Mine's tomorrow afternoon. When everyone will want to be in the bar or a local pub. Still better than Sat morning, when everyone will be hungover.
L - be glad I don't like mushy peas, so you can have mine. My mum used to make them out of a tin and all I can picture is this cylindrical mold of greenish sludge whenever I'm presented with them. It's unnatural.
...That does actually sound pretty awful, I'm sorry. When are you done for the day?
Depends how many people have questions. I think there's a compulsory 'get to know each other' drinks session after. Probably be able to escape by 7.
That makes me sound anti social, which I'm not. I just find these thongs a bit cringey. Bunch of coppers living on past glories. Listening to endless stories about past cases.
"these thongs"
I am laughing so hard right now.
And mushy peas are lovely. especially mushy pea fritters.
Oh god. Never mind bloody security word verifier thing, there should be a big bloody reminder to check you've just written what you think you've written.
That said, thongs are cringey. And horrible. Generally speaking. Especially on men.
You're trying not to picture them all in thongs now, aren't you? Best of luck.
Sadly the conference room doesn't come equipped with sick bags. And sorry, even the thought of you n a thong only raises one thing in me. A laugh.
Saw too much of that sort of thing when I worked in that bar. Left quite an impression.
They are pretty horrible - thongs, not your fellow policemen. You didn't have to wear one at this infamous bar, did you?
No, I didn't. They didn't want to drive customers away! Some others did - or chose to. We could wear what we wanted, within certain guidelines. I mean, I wouldn't have gone out dressed like it. Unless I wanted my head kicked in.
But it wasn't so bad. Punters liked it.
Now I've got to know. What did you wear precisely?
If anyone somehow manages to read this over my shoulder....
Generally, I wore black jeans, sometimes leather ones, and leather waistcoat, or a sleeveless t-shirt. Occasionally just the trousers. Depending how hot it was in the bar. And I was underage (for sex, not for drinking), so I mainly worked behind the bar, away from wandering hands. The club was legit, even if it skirted the edges on some things.
Just depended what I felt like. As long as the punters were spending, the management didn't care. They wouldn't put up with you not flashing a bit of flesh, or making an effort.
And it's one place I'm CERTAIN Nicky doesn't have bloody photos of. Because she would probably have killed me if she knew I worked there, at the time.
I do like a good thresher.
http://www.travelpod.com/travel-photo/thesairs/1/1251733257/old-case-threshing-machine.jpg/tpod.html
But combines are amazing. http://www.bbc.co.uk/essex/content/image_galleries/tendring_show_07_gallery.shtml?5
Toodle,
Bronwyn
Bronwyn - that second one looks specially designed for eating people.
L - That's not half as risque as I was picturing. I'm glad, considering how young you were. It sounds like not a bad place.
Yup, I was a sweet, innocent young thing. Still am. Well, apart from the 'young' bit.
It was the bad old days, when everyone kept their heads down and made sure they didn't attract any unwanted attention from the police or the media, as AIDs was on the rise and it was all our fault...so it wouldn't be worth the club to risk any rumours of illegal stuff going on. I mean, any more than it did by just existing.
Kind of mad to think that when I was born it was still illegal to have gay sex...and now here we are with a blog. Gives you some hope for humanity.
I was a sweet, innocent young thing.
This must've actually been true at some point in your life, though I'm finding it hard to picture. You make me feel innocent sometimes, which takes some doing, believe me.
As for hope for humanity, I'm not sure I've actually got any of that, but the past few months have been some help.
Not to get sappy or anything, but if Sherlock and Mycroft are the future and you're guiding their development successfully enough that they're getting along ok these days, then I feel pretty hopeful for the future.
Ok, I lied, that was pretty sappy.
Innocence is overrated.
And you do have moments of startling optimism...so I think there's some hope lingering inside you somewhere.
I don't suppose my job does much to help, though. I might need a serious optimism boost (possibly provided by you hanging onto me with a nice throbbing...engine between out thighs, next week...) after all this.
Tomorrow morning I have 'Ritualistic and Honour Killings', then get to present mine, and Saturday morning I get 'Rape and Serious Sexual Offences - Fluid evidence and victim support from report to trial', followed by 'People Trafficking - The Road West', Sunday morning I finish up with 'Guns, Gangs and Knives'.
The best thing so far has been the hotel's helpful signage system. Meaning that tomorrow, there will be boards up with signs saying 'Ritualistic and Honour Killings - Beaufont Suite, Ground Floor'. Hah.
our thighs...
Good god Orio, your schedule would make me suicidal. No wonder you need a dose of Danger at the end of your days.
L - Ha! I'm glad the hotel staff know you're policemen. That could get awkward otherwise. What's yours called by the way? Did you tell me and I forgot? Your schedule sounds horrific, frankly. They ought to give you a holiday somewhere sunny after just for getting through it.
kholly - I've got all the hope in the world for Sherlock and Mycroft - and most of the kids I know. We're all generally fine as individuals. It's our species I worry about.
I did, and yes, you forgot.
The long title is 'High Profile Crimes - Crime Scene Procedure, Evidence and Press Management'. otherwise known as 'Dead bodies and how to get the press off your back'. It's all about using the press to your advantage, releasing only the information you want known about, that sort of stuff. And how killers can use the press against us - like in the Yorkshire Ripper case. With case studies. Sadly no crime scene re-enactments, though. And no jam.
And yes, the hotel STAFF know we're police...the guests are sort of oblivious, though. But I somehow doubt any of them sill stray into the rooms, with those sorts of signs up! God help everyone if there's a crime in the hotel over the next few days...
Oh I do remember this now, or rather I remember Sally being amused or possibly outraged about you giving a lecture on how to manage the press. Are you sure you couldn't work some jam in? Maybe to appease the press?
If this was a mystery novel, someone would do a ritualistic and/or honour killing in the Beaufont Suite tonight while you're all in bed.
There's a DCI here from somewhere in Wales who I might kill. One of those over-friendly loud blokes who talks about the women here as if they were just provided for his enjoyment.
And I think Sally misunderstood. If I'd been doing a piece on press conferences themselves it would indeed have been laughable, because I bloody hate them. This is much more on the management side of what we tell them - not how we tell them. And 'get stuffed' doesn't even feature on my list of 'what to tell them'. I shall consider it a challenge to at least get the word 'jam' in.
ps. DO NOT tell Nicky where I am.
Oh, and Mycroft, you might...er...want to see if you could help Nichola Ida Marigold Lestrade get her internet sorted out. BT seem to have encountered and error with it, and I'm sure you'll fix it faster than they could. Out of the goodness of your heart. And in no way admitting any sort of guilt.
Lestrade, your schedule reminds me of a class I took in college called "Ethics of Gender." That was the only class that ever made me feel physically ill. Everything we read had to do with rape, abortion, violence... lovely times. I think I was mildly depressed that quarter.
Anyway, I'm glad you have Danger to cheer you up when it's all over. :) Nothing like a good hug (or throbbing... engines, right) to cheer one up.
L - If you do kill him, be sure to do it in a ritualistic manner.
I'm afraid I'm on Nicky's side in this. I doubt she'll actually have you arrested. (Are those your real middle names? They sound made up.)
They're made up. And you shouldn't take sides. It's sets a bad example, or something.
Annoyedwabbit - yeah, it's a bit mentally battering, I admit. I shall do my best not to have nightmares. I should get myself a little woolly-jumper wearing teddybear, and name it 'Danger'.
Actually made up or you're just going to deny all knowledge of them?
Well, I won't pick on you when you're far away and faced with such a depressing day tomorrow. Maybe I'll send you a gift basket instead. With jam. To be delivered in the middle of your talk.
You'll never know.
And if you do that you will trigger a massive bomb scare. Which wouldn't be a bad thing...
Of course they're his real middle names! Why would I make up something like that?
Oooh, because you're an evil little sister, and too far away to pinch me?
They're not.
He played a couple of songs for us last night. There was an article of clothing involved that I blame you for entirely.
Are you saying that this nightmare became reality? Did you beat him over the head with his own guitar?
More importantly, did you wear it?
I would totally wander into rooms with those signs. That would be amazing. The signs at my conferences always say things like "Our Lost Boys: A Study of the Psychological Development of Learning-Disabled and Emotionally-Disturbed Pre-Teens in the Secondary Educational System". Or always a personal favorite "Pedagogical Procedure and Potential Litigation - A Panel Discussion of the Conflict Between the Nurture Model and Our Litigious Society".
I tend to stick with ones on childhood psychology, teaching the profoundly gifted and anything gory or explosive. Less hideous that way.
Best of luck to you, Lestrade. Better you than me. Though, if you like, I can start sending you really awful jokes to help brighten your day! I've an endless supply.
Toodle,
Bronwyn
Elizabeth - I might've tried it on. Briefly. But only because it was a gift.
L - She could've made up much worse ones. Those aren't even as bad as Hamish, which I think proves they must be real. Martin Finchley.
I suppose I can always hope you might forget by Sunday.
But I think Finchley is much, much worse than Hamish. It isn't even a name - it's a London Borough.
Elizabeth - it wasn't exactly like the one in the picture. It was more...personalised. And he wore it all night. Whilst singing.
Your mum didn't find you at the East Finchley tube station, did she?
Elizabeth - don't listen to him. How can you trust a man with a name like Finchley?
Danger - probably. Maybe I was the first in a very long line of inadvisable men she picked up in odd places.
Elizabeth - probably more than you can trust a man with a name like Danger, eh?
Ridiculous. You're not inadvisable at all.
I think Nicky would disagree right now...
Maybe right now, but not in general I'm sure.
Don't mind me. I'll just sit back, grin, and watch the sparkles fly.
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