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.

frasassi caves

Today, we went to the Frasassi Caves. This is on the way there: 

And these are the caves:

You're not supposed to take pictures, so we didn't, but there are plenty online if you want to see more. It was... I don't know. Beautiful, of course. Astonishing, fascinating. But more than that, too. There's a feeling of stillness and age and time there that I've only rarely experienced before. 

On a sillier note, Harry sent me this picture:

We might need one... 

i got the job

I was expecting to be told thank you and we'll let you know in a week or two. Instead it was thank you and when can you start. Bit of a shock. I told her after 2 June, and she looked harried, but I don't see how I can start sooner. We leave for Italy at the end of this week. Which is very, very soon I suddenly realise.

She said she'd email me some information, and I have things to sign, and I should know my first shift date before we get back, assuming we have wifi there, not sure about that.

Meanwhile, I have laundry. And packing. And cleaning. And...something to confirm for tomorrow. But for now, I get to meet L and tell him the good news in person. :)

PS: telepathic rats

baggage handling

After lunch, L took me on a mystery tour of London. He said we were going to pick up one of my birthday presents...somewhere. I was surprised he didn't want me on the back of his bike so he wouldn't have to give me directions, but as it turned out, my bike was a necessary part of the proceedings, because I was getting real, rain-proof, lockable luggage for it: 

Obviously it looks better on my bike (because it's my bike), but this gives you a general idea. It's all somehow coded (magnetically? Electronically? Magically?) to open with my ignition key, which is amazing - how do criminals get by these days? Stealing things must be much more complicated - and it all fits perfectly. It's made by BMW so they ought to know how to put things on their own bikes. It'll be perfect for the FME job; I can keep all my things in it and not worry about someone wandering off with them if I turn my back for a minute, and there'll be conferences and so on I'll need to travel for (and Spider fits, I checked, although she does take up almost an entire bag on her own). It's a wonderfully thoughtful gift, and I have an amazing fiancé. 

-

On a completely different note, here's the story Sherlock wrote for school a little while ago. He asked me to post it here. 

-

fulgurite

L sent me this picture of fulgurite, which looks amazingly like a dragon about to eat someone. It's made when lightning strikes sand and fuses parts of it together. 

Quite a lot happened yesterday. Today. Depending on how you look at it. Mycroft's parents' evening went pretty well. All of his teachers had nice things to say about him. I tried to pay attention and ask useful questions, although how useful anything I had to say would really be is debatable. I mean, it's different at Sherlock's school, but I don't really think Harrow takes anything any of the parents say all too seriously. 

L claimed to be nervous, but looked suave and cool, if slightly damp from the ride. He made it extremely difficult to focus on what everyone was saying. Mrs H looked like she was trying not to scare anyone, which I must say is not her usual look and does not come naturally to her. She's very charming when she wants to be though. 

Afterward, we got to take Mycroft home...into the sugar-fueled disaster zone of hurricanes Sherlock and Harry. They made a batch of cupcakes with edible glitter. Mrs Hudson got two. Mycroft got one. L and I got none. The entire batch of cupcakes was gone before dinner. I don't know how Sherlock and Harry didn't explode, but a walk afterwards was necessary. 

Things happened. Harry is now apparently planning L's stag do. I am sensibly terrified. 

Woke up around three and had a chat with Harry, who was sleeping on our couch. It was...good. We'll probably never be close the way L and Nicky are, but maybe we can do better than we have been. 

perils of the internet

I met with one of the people on my interview list today. We were scheduled to meet next week, but she had some time and called to ask if I were free, so we had lunch. She seems nice. We chatted for a while. And then she admitted that she'd googled me. And found the blogs. And I felt as if I'd showed up to the meeting in nothing but my pants.

So. That was interesting. I suppose I have to assume that people are going to do that. I'm lucky Sarah didn't, really. Although in a way, it might save a lot of time. If someone doesn't want to meet me after reading the blogs, I wouldn't have wanted to work with them anyway, so there's that.

Dr A (not even her actual initial; I'm calling them A, B, C etc for now) seemed fine with the madhouse that is my life and said she might even keep reading, at least until we get Sherlock bone-chandelier up, because she wants to see how it turns out. (So, if you're reading this...hello.)

It's an odd feeling. Partly because I'm used to presenting a professional front, but also partly because until L and the boys, there hasn't been all that much that... You know, even as I type that sentence, I realise it's not true. If I'd been keeping a blog in my thirties...probably anyone reading it would've thought I was writing fiction. Anyway. Odd day. 

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. 

minor suns

Back to normal, I suppose, at least until L gets his time off settled and we can get away for a while. Mrs Holmes thinks it's a good plan as well and might even join us for part of it. I don't think we'll be saying anywhere public where we're going, except that it'll have sun (fingers crossed) and hopefully a beach.

L has already painted a vivid picture of himself in (bright) yellow (short) shorts playing air guitar on a pair of jeans - I suppose not actually air guitar, but perhaps laundry guitar? Denim guitar? - when Mrs Hudson brought Laura up to see us.

I wasn't there to witness it, sadly, but L's shriek summoned me fairly quickly, so I got to see his outfit and Laura's reaction to it at least. Or I should say Laura and Mrs Hudson's reactions to it, since Mrs H seemed suitably impressed and told him his shorts fit very nicely (they do).

For those of you not of a mind to keep up with my exes, Laura is the one, as L put it, who has a tiny dog and got me arrested in Egypt. The tiny dog, Biscuit, has since passed on, but she has another now named Vespasian. She gets them from a breeder named, no joke, Mrs Strange. She is, too; I've met her.

L streaked off to put some clothes on, I made tea and introduced her to Sherlock and Mycroft, and we all talked for a while. Or four out of five of us talked, once L returned, and Sherlock glared. Later on in the evening he said she couldn't have me back, which explained the glaring. She kindly refrained from saying she wouldn't want me back, but I know it's true - neither of us would've known what to do with each other in any sort of long term romantic arrangement.

L said he was going to hold my hand possessively on the way to the restaurant, and did so, which I suppose means Sherlock wasn't the only one who was worried, though I hope L knew he had nothing to worry about. Though I'd probably feel the same if his exes showed up out of the blue as mine now seem inclined to do.

Over dinner, Laura told everyone a bit about how we met and kindly left out the fact that I couldn't pay for dinner because I'd lost nearly everything I had in a card game in some bloke's basement. That was an interesting night.

So...there was pizza and ice cream, and Sherlock was won over by garlic bread the the promise of camel riding if we ever go to Egypt. We all stayed up far too late and had a lovely time. I might see her for lunch before she goes back, but I think she's leaving fairly soon, so maybe not.

And now back to bed for hopefully an hour or so before Sherlock's up. It's been a long couple of days. I think I want to just be in bed with L more than I want to actually sleep. 

on the ceiling

After Sherlock's exciting announcement that he got blood on the ceiling from the cut on his finger, I feel the need to point out that it was only because he was waving it around so wildly. There was also blood on the floor, cupboard, Mycroft, and one dog.

It's sunny for the moment. It's supposed to rain later I think, so we're off to swim while we still can. It's meant to be hot today, and it's fairly warm already. (To those inclined to scoff at our weather, the high is meant to be 31C/88F, which is hot nearly anywhere.) The coloured sunblock is a huge hit with Sherlock, who is painting stripes all over himself right now. I'm going to have a hard time getting him to put a shirt on until we get to the pool, I think. Not to mention keeping him from getting pink, red, and orange stripes on the sofa before we leave.

...And I see the dogs are slightly striped as well. Right, going to wash off dogs now and then to swim, and then who knows.

motorcycles i shouldn't even be considering

The Triumph website lured me back with their design-your-own feature...

But then there was this BMW...

...that I really, really like, I mean look at it. That 'other bikes' menu doesn't work for me, by the way. I think they're trying to tell me that there are no other bikes.

I shouldn't even be looking at this, I was going to get something used. And I especially shouldn't be looking at it at work! 

seeing blue

Once upon a time, on an unnamed base in an unnamed country, which may or may not have contained a great deal of desert terrain, dust storms, and devious goats, there were six officers.

These officers were not what one might call well liked. These were officers who had been known to regularly get their undergarments back from the laundry with a faint pinkish tinge. Not one, but four of these officers found a small goat in their offices at various points during that goat's stay with us. It was installed on their desks with a bowl of tinned fruit and nowhere, so to speak, to...go.

I should say, at this point, that while I might possibly have had some knowledge of the goat's location, what follows was nothing to do with me.

One night, there was a comedy thing that a lot of people went along to. The next day, I was stopped in the hall by Officer A (not even his real initial). He said, and this is a direct quote:

'Doc, you have to help me. I'm pissing blue asparagus.'

I started at him for probably too long while trying to switch those words around until they made sense. In my head, it went something like this: there is no asparagus here, fresh or tinned. Asparagus urine smell. Does his smell for some other reason? Has he somehow found and consumed actual dyed blue asparagus? Some other (blue?) veg he thought was asparagus? Is the asparagus a red (blue?) herring? Does he just mean he's pissing blue? 


He was just pissing blue. And he had thoughtfully brought me a sample. Which was really and truly unnecessary because I knew what it was. He insisted I take it anyway.  I thanked him and departed. (Note please that it was in no way in my job description to receive anyone's blue urine. There were a number of other people he should've given that sample to. I don't know why he chose me; that's just my life.)

Through the course of the day, I was stopped by two more of those officers (the other three had the sense to present their blue urine to the appropriate people). More direct quotes:

'Is it normal to pee blue?' (A: 'No. No, it isn't.')
'I think I might be dying.' (A: 'Why, is your urine blue?' Cue panicked face from Officer C.)

The thing is...while the methylene blue part was relatively easy to figure out (it was pretty well known at medical school and considered incredibly passe as a prank)... I did open that sample. And it genuinely smelled like post-asparagus urine. I have no idea how they accomplished that.

In closing, I just googled asparagus pee, and found this eminently reasonable request:

It's said that in a venerable British men's club there is a sign reading "DURING THE ASPARAGUS SEASON MEMBERS ARE REQUESTED NOT TO RELIEVE THEMSELVES IN THE HATSTAND."

kids today

Roger Federer won the Basel tournament yesterday. He played Kei Nishikori in the final. Nishikori did really well, despite the score, never gave up even at the end. He's going to be a good player. Basel is Federer's home tournament. He used to be a ball boy there, and he buys the ball kids pizza after the final every year. That's the trophy in the bottom left, looking smaller than it is. For a relatively small tournament, it's a truly ridiculous size. 

A number of people have asked for war stories, so... 

fast track

Not a requested topic, but you're going to hear about my first bike riding lesson anyway. We went to Hendon, where Lestrade got his police training, and he convinced them to let us borrow their training track for a bit.

He went round a few times first, to take advantage of the lack of a speed limit show me how it was done. No wheelies, though. Mycroft's Housemaster clearly made an impression.

Then there was the lecture portion of the outing, with each point repeated several times and a Very Serious Expression. I'm relatively sure he was more worried about me than the bike. Probably.

And then I got to have a go.

It was brilliant. I want to go back. And then I want my own.

Maybe next time L will make fewer anxious and horrified faces. I wasn't going that fast. 

pond digging

A surprising number of people showed up to ogle Lestrade help us dig this morning. Six mothers, four fathers, one confused Swedish au pair, plus L and I, Sherlock and Mycroft, and an assortment of everyone's children, who ranged in age from Barely Walking to Old Enough to Use a Shovel. The dogs of war came too, and I think they must have some herding dog in their dubious lineage; they're not much at digging where we want them to dig, but they're pretty good at keeping the little ones out of trouble.

I'm pleased to report that no one turned up in high heels or a suit and tie. I did have my doubts. No one except L and the Landscaper had much idea what we were doing, but fortunately digging is not a complicated or mentally strenuous activity (my sergeant in basic training would've said, "If it was, we'd get real soldiers to do it!" - he said this about nearly everything we did), and L supervised the construction of the raised beds.

ft. zinderpillow

L's still asleep. In a last ditch effort to keep Sherlock from waking him, I suggested we build a pillow fort. Sherlock needed the concept explained to him, and then he got this look of wonder on his face and I knew I was in trouble.

An hour later, all the furniture is pushed round to serve as walls, every pillow in the flat is employed as either floor or interior dividing walls except the ones L is currently sleeping on, and all manner of blankets, sleeping bags, rugs, things... Lots of things. Everything, possibly. It's like a tornado went through a soft furnishings shop and dumped it all here.

Only it was a very careful tornado and seems to have laid everything out in a maze. I know Sherlock and Mycroft are in here with me somewhere. But where? 

sanity: trace amounts

None of us are [is] (thank you, Mycroft) [my tag still says I'm 12] (...I'll see what I can do about that) happy Lestrade is away, obviously. Only one of us rang his superintendent and explained very carefully why he shouldn't be sent away again, or, if he was, that we should go with him. Especially if there were wolves. Three guesses who it was, and the first two don't count.

violence

L got the boys off to school this morning and then stuck around to help me get the dogs and all our stuff moved out of his flat and back to ours, so I'm writing this from the sofa and looking at a flat that's been so thoroughly cleaned that it looks...possibly better than before. L's off to work after lunch for a while and clearly worried about leaving me alone (note: I will be fine). Glad to be home.

Before all this, No was ahead in the poll nearly 2 to 1. Now it's split almost 50/50. Interesting. Related? Or just a bunch of people weighing in late? Well, I say late, but I'm sure most people don't check in on my meanderings every day.

Anyhow. Yesterday. No, the day before, right. Painkillers ate a lot of yesterday.

I was napping on the sofa, which was probably lucky. I'm sure it's why they didn't see me right away. They started smashing stuff, I woke up, they came at me. Which strikes me as a bit stupid - if they've been told to smash the place up and do it when it's empty, surely that implies their boss doesn't want them attacking the people who live there?

beachy photos

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. 

who doesn't love crime scenes

I wen to Tesco for Mrs Hudson, got Lestrade's nicotine patches, stopped for coffee. All in all, I was only gone an hour and a half or so. Maybe less.  Lestrade stayed with the boys, and they were all clustered around his computer talking about some crime scene  seminar he's meant to be writing when I left.

When I got back, Lestrade was unconscious on the floor, bleeding copiously from a head wound. Sherlock was examining it with a magnifying glass, and Mycroft was trying to keep Phobos from licking up the blood.