venice

Greg texted me from work today to ask if I wanted to go to Venice this weekend. As in, the day after tomorrow. I got the text while I was trying, along with a police sergeant, to corral a large angry cat who had mauled an intruder. I'm not quite sure how that got to be our job - I expect we didn't step back fast enough when someone asked for volunteers.

I read it in a quiet moment in between cat-catching and treating the claw marks on the man's face. He lucky he didn't lose an eye. That cat had some strong feelings about him. Anyway, I was a little distracted so I just stared at it for a moment, typed back 'yes' and got on with my day.

It actually wasn't until I got home (to find dinner waiting, because my lovely husband got home first) and got leapt upon by a much smaller friendlier cat and a larger friendlier Sherlock (and my husband, who licked my face in case I was missing the dogs at all) that I fully grasped the concepts of 'Venice' and 'two days from now'.

Me: What do you mean Venice this weekend?
Sherlock: We're going to Venice??????
L: *gives me a hopeless look that indicates that Sherlock is not coming and that he hasn't told him this yet* One of my cousins is getting married. We're invited. Might be a nice holiday?
Sherlock: We're going to Venice???????????
Me: All right, but...what do you mean Venice this weekend?????

In my defence, I'd just got off a 12 hour shift and worked pretty much all twelve hours of it. Turns out what he meant by Venice this weekend was that we're going to Venice this weekend. Who would've thought, eh?

Sherlock is, much to his horror and everlasting crankiness, not coming along, for various reasons, including my firm belief that he would manage to hurl himself or us into at least five canals. 

paris, mainly in the rain

Paris! I actually only have pictures of the Eiffel Tower right now...and to be honest most of the photos we've taken have been of ourselves making ridiculous faces in front of various monuments to send to the boys. Got one back from Mycroft standing solemnly in front of the shop where he works holding an ice cream just out of Sherlock's reach. 

We climbed all of the Eiffel Tower that you can climb... 

I'm quite glad you can't climb all of it. This is from the second tier:

And from the third...

I think we did better than we would have before we started the half marathon training though. Today...rain. Hiding in a church from the raining. Getting briefly naked together as we changed clothes in a church in the rain... And Giverny, very briefly, in between the rain. We'll be home in time for dinner! Probably. Unless we get washed away.

Yesterday, among other things, we did this...

You can see ours a bit to the left of the pink ones. Hopefully it'll be there for many years to come, but part of the Ponte des Artes collapsed earlier this year under the weight, so who knows... 

The other things we did yesterday included a lot of walking and talking and eating, all of which we do at home, but it's different. I've been to Paris before and honestly not liked it all that much - not that I disliked it, but compared to other places it seemed a bit grey. Being here with L makes it seem like an entirely different city. I really can't describe how lovely this trip has been. 

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.

forever and a day

It's been ages since my last post...by which I mean about five days, I think? Italy got the better of me. I don't think I did a single productive thing while we were there, unless you count eating. Which I do. It would've been incredibly remiss of us not to eat...just about everything on offer.

It was really lovely, if slightly confusing on both sides, meeting L's family. They were confused by us, our relationships (mine and L's, the boys and ours - the only one that really made sense to them was Sherlock and Mycroft, but that's not all that different from home). And Sherlock and I (mostly me, Sherlock to some extent) were confused by basically everything everyone said, because half the time L thought he was translating, he was actually just repeating what they'd said in Italian...

He's still speaking in Italian occasionally, and now that Mycroft's back at school, I've got no one to translate. I did learn a few new words though, most of which I would prefer to keep Sherlock ignorant of.

And...I didn't check my email at all for the last two days we were there. Came back to the news that I have my first shift this Friday. I'm looking forward to it.

And here, have some pictures.

just going out, part xxi

We are at an undisclosed location in the countryside. Undisclosed to me, that is, because I fell asleep on the drive here, and no one will tell me where we've ended up... Doesn't matter that much, I suppose. It's green, and the dogs are enjoying because allowed to tear around in huge circles, leaping at dust motes and biting at grass. The grass must be particularly threatening. I just saw Deimos pull up a chunk of it by the roots and try to devour it savagely before he remembered it tasted like grass and spat it out again.

We're walking. We have a packed lunch to eat at some point. I have only the haziest memory of packing it, because for some reason I woke up around six and did it before I went back to bed. I think I thought it was a school day or something, which doesn't explain why I thought we all needed one. I think I'm becoming gradually more like one of the undead early in the morning. I suppose because L usually deals with things then, so I don't have to force myself to. Still, good job I'm not in medical school now, I'd never make it.

-

Sherlock, last night: Can I have the middle of the paper towel roll when it's done?

Me: Probably. Why? (it's always better to ask)

Sherlock: So I can be an anteater.

Me: How are you going to get your tongue through there to eat ants?

Sherlock: I will have a prosthetic tongue with a stick and gum on the end so I can stick things to it.

Me: Of course you will. Silly question. 

avebury

After talking about it for only two years or so, we finally made it to Avebury today. Lovely day, if chilly. We had a picnic, Mycroft and Sherlock and the dogs played tag, Sherlock tried (unsuccessfully) to climb ancient stones that were as unconcerned about him as they have been about generations of children doing the same while their parents' backs are turned for two seconds. He said he would've managed it with both arms full functioning.

I was a little worried about the dogs and the sheep, but they were both very good (the dogs and the sheep, that is). The dogs watched with fascination and lolling tongues, and the sheep wisely kept their distance, drifting away whenever we got too near. They had more trouble from Sherlock, who wanted to touch one, and kept trying to creep up them. Frustrating for him, endlessly entertaining for the rest of us.

I have no pictures for you, sorry. It seemed like the sort of day that didn't really require cameras or phones, except for a few pictures of the boys to send to their mum, because I try to do that most days. Here's someone else's photo though, which is much nicer than mine would be anyway.

Failed success by Esen Tunar

Also, here's a video about how ice flakes are formed, courtesy of Innie. I'm sure Sherlock will be snow mad once again when he sees it.


And now, a second attempt at sleep. Good night, everyone. 

spider legs

3D fractals

There's a lot more of them at that link. They look like whole alien worlds. Just amazing.

Well...let's see. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow. Sherlock has helped me pack twice so far. I've removed:

• his book on mummies (interesting, but not exactly a good size to fit in a smallish bag)
• a container of black glitter
• three kinds of gum, including the nicotine variety
• two kinds of tea (a nice thought, but I'm reasonably sure they still have tea in Birmingham) 
• a small, plastic fish
• four pressed leaves
• a candle
• a book on bees
• a carrot
• L's uniform hat

I'll leave it up to you to decide which is the most inexplicable. It's either the carrot or the hat, for me. Spider is going to be the most difficult, I think. Her legs stick out no matter what I do. I hope whoever cleans the room at the hotel isn't bothered by spiders. 

Things I am taking include, boringly, clothes, The Mauritius Command, laptop, toothbrush, etc. Trying to decide if I can get away with wearing boots most of the time, because I can fit normal shoes or trainers, but not both. I'll probably go with the trainers and then not run the entire time I'm there. That's always the way it goes, isn't it? No? Just me? Right. 

Sherlock says he has a surprise planned for me while I'm gone... He also says L approved it, so I am extremely curious and only mildly concerned. 

artistic and other sorts of doom

I talked to Mrs N today about the possible painting class. She said they might start it as soon as March, and that Lestrade was so very kind to have volunteered to help out... I told her I wasn't sure how often he'd actually be able to do it since he's usually at work at that time...and she said she was sure I could fill in for him when he couldn't make it. She's tricky. You've got to watch her all the time or, apparently, you end up covered in small painty fingerprints.

I skipped krav maga yesterday to go with L to visit his mum (which was good, I think, in that she seems more or less resigned to my existence now?) so I went today. The instructor likes to demonstrate on me because, he says, it's important not to rely too much on body mass. Which I think is perilously close to a short joke, though I won't call him on it, because he's a bit terrifying. So I'm once again lightly bruised in various places, but it feels good to work my body that hard. It's a good class.

There are two upcoming FME courses, one in Birmingham and one in Manchester. One's quite soon, starts the 11th I believe, and the other's in early March. Lestrade, any preferences? 

odd things you think about

Lestrade posted in the comments of his blog about thinking when he was a kid that the sensation of his heart beating was caused by it swinging back and forth on a pendulum. It made me think about some of the strange notions we get when we're young.

L posted a picture of me long ago, in a post far, far away (that I cannot find). I was four or five, I think, and wearing a suit for my great uncle's funeral. I barely knew him and wasn't too upset about it, but I absolutely refused to go up and see him in the coffin with my parents and Harry. They all thought it was because he was dead, but that part didn't bother me. I wouldn't go because I was convinced he would be naked.

No idea where I came up with that. I suppose it makes sense in an odd way that you'd be buried in the same state in which you were born, and I wasn't old enough to realise that his friends and family would not want to see that. I would tell my parents why either, because I thought they'd say something along the lines of, 'Well of course he's naked! That's just the way it is, come along.' And then I'd have to go. So I wouldn't explain and instead, I seem to remember, hid under a table.

on the way

Lestrade's driving. Mycroft and Sherlock are glaring at each other in the back seat. Sherlock spent ten minutes poking Mycroft, and I didn't notice until Mycroft finally lost his calm and stuck a wad of gum to Sherlock's forehead.

Gum has been removed and Sherlock has been told to keep his hands to himself. I'm having flashbacks to car trips with my parents and Harry. Except Harry stuck the gum to the top of my head, and I ended up with almost no hair after mum was done cutting it.

I think we'd better stop and eat soon. Food always helps in these situations, and those two are meant to be sharing a tent tonight. A tent room. I'm still not used to tents having rooms. When did that start happening anyway? At what point did some tent designer say to themselves, you know, I think this tent needs to be more like a house? Let's add a kitchen and some statuary. Impractical? Oh, maybe just another room then. 

fully equipped

We now have enough cold weather gear to launch an expedition to the North Pole, although Sherlock has pointed out that we should wait until we've baked biscuits because when we get to the North Pole, we'll want them to celebrate with. I told him I didn't think they'd last that long. He said he'd make extra. I also got a hoodie, so I can test it vs jumpers and prove L wrong.

I know it hasn't been that long, but I feel sure Mycroft has grown since the last time we saw him. Lestrade was joking about him being taller than I am, but honestly it's not going to be that much longer.  He's far more grown up and dignified than I was at fourteen. We got sushi today, and he uses chopsticks like he's been doing it his whole life. That sounds silly when I write it out, but at the time all I could think was that he's growing up so fast.

 He's brought home a computer game called Minecraft where you build things out of blocks, which makes it sound like a game for small children, but you can build literally anything you can think of and there's some sort of wiring system and...I'm really not sure. He thinks he can make a computer in it. And he's helping Sherlock build his boat virtually before building it in reality.

We're now awaiting L's presence for biscuit creation, and I'm simmering the beef and broccoli thing, which ought to be done by the time the biscuits are. 

grim grey palisades

We went to Spike Island. Over the years, it's had a monastery, a prison, a fort, and more recently a prison again. The prison was closed down in 2004, and now it's just a tourist attraction. 

The fact that it was a prison before it was a fort certainly shows, doesn't it? The weather was decidedly grey when we went to visit, and it made the whole thing still more foreboding. 

let's rewind

I think Lestrade mentioned some of these, but...

Things Sherlock tried to pack on Sunday, for your entertainment:

A smaller bag inside his bag, so that he could bring 'nearly twice as many things!' back with him as he took with him.

Spoons.

A dog.

Mycroft.

The attempt to pack his brother was mainly in retaliation for Mycroft working out how to put books in collections in the Kindle before he did. There is, at the moment, only one Kindle, because Sherlock went unexpectedly Luddite on us and declared that he only liked real books. Of course, now that we're here, and Mycroft has unlimited book access and he doesn't, he wants one desperately.

Oh, and I didn't fall asleep in the airport, whatever L says. Don't listen to him. I think I did sleep on him  for most of the flight though.

And now we're here, and it's...honestly one of the nicest places I've ever been. It's strange. I'm still not used to being able to afford proper grown up holidays that don't involve sleeping on someone's sofa. I know I ought to be; I'm certainly old enough, but it still seems faintly unreal.

I'm writing this next to the pool. You can hear wind ruffling the leaves, hear the waves rolling in, smell the salt. Just woke up from a bloody awful dream, but I don't even care as long as I don't wake up from this. Trying to decide whether L would be cranky if I woke him up for a very late night swim... 

packing, a drama in three parts

Act I, scene i, the kitchen. 

Lestrade is getting ready to leave for work. Mycroft is drinking orange juice and eating toast. I am hunched over my tea in a protective fashion because that is my standard morning position when I'm not forced out of it by the divers alarums and excursions that so often fill our lives.

Sherlock rushes in, dumps a pile of things on the floor, and rushes out again. The things are as follows: a microscope, a large green towel, one of Lestrade's rare ties, a small live frog (how?), a packet of biscuits, part of a computer with some wires hanging off of it, and his book on mummies.

Mycroft, Lestrade, and I stare at the pile.

Act I, scene ii, Sherlock's bedroom. 

I enter, with my tea held before me like a particularly ineffective talisman. Sherlock is wrestling his suitcase out of his wardrobe. With the handle extended, it is as tall as he is, so this isn't going well. I ask what he's doing. He replies with a look that says it should be blatantly obvious that he's trying to force his suitcase into submission. Fair enough.

I remind him that I said we'd start packing later in the day, and that we're not leaving until Monday. He says that if we all get it done sooner we could leave earlier. I explain that this is not how it works. He nevertheless proceeds downstairs with his suitcase.

Act I, scene iii, the sitting room. 

Lestrade is pursuing a small, live frog. Mycroft is restraining the dogs from pursuing a small, live frog. Sherlock has retreated into the kitchen to pack all his belongings which haven't yet run away.

I contemplate taking my tea back to our room and locking myself in, but instead send L off to work and take over the frog hunt myself. It takes close to an hour. It's an agile frog.

Later in the day, we'll have to take it back to the park. For now, it's in a glass bowl, regarding me with a hurt expression.

Tomorrow, no doubt, act two. 

stargazing

Hello, this is Mycroft. A few people have asked when I plan to go on the stargazing trip I mentioned. I'm going today, actually, and I've arranged with Mummy for Sherlock to go and stay with her until I get back. I thought Lestrade and John might want some time to relax, and they can't really go anywhere since Lestrade needs to be available for work.

This is a picture of the inside of our balloon being inflated. I think Lestrade has a lot more of what the city looked like from above, especially the football stadiums, so I expect he'll post some of those. 

Sherlock and I are leaving today, so I need to pack and wrap up my telescope now, but I wanted to show you a poem that John showed me first. It's called The Old Astronomer to His Pupil, and this is the last part, which I like especially: 

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

not-a-date night

When he was ready (clean shirt and socks, both very important for dates I'm sure), Sherlock went outside and knocked on the door...because he remembered Lestrade saying it didn't count as a proper date otherwise...

He must've gone online looking for places to go, because he had the address written down to give to the taxi driver. I was not allowed to see it in advance, and I was...mildly concerned about where we'd end up. But it was, to my relief, a perfectly ordinary Japanese restaurant - or mainly ordinary.

He said he was looking for sea urchin sushi and found this place instead (I'd link but they don't seem to have a website). They do okonomiyaki, which is sort of...a cross between an omelet and a pizza? I'd never had it before, but it was quite good. You get to pick what goes in it, and, most important to Sherlock, they cook it right in front of you. Here's a picture of mine being cooked:

We also had a few bits of sushi while it was cooking, but not sea urchin. Sherlock told the waiter we were on a date. The man cooking our okonomiyaki said he was from Hokkaido, and Sherlock asked him many questions about it. Sherlock also told him we were on a date, which caused...a bit of confusion. 

Having traumatised the staff, we headed out for... Oh, wait, I'm forgetting. 

At the end of the meal, Sherlock produced L's bank card from his pocket and said he would pay... He swore L gave it to him of his own free will, so I let him. I have no idea what the waiter thought, but he looked amused.  

We went to have liquid nitrogen ice cream - chocolate for him, and blueberry muffin for me. Had a nice walk, discussed various things, such as why bananas grow upside down (it's probably the right way up from the banana's perspective), the point of the Olympics, and why they shouldn't give misleading information on QI (Stephen Fry is still in his bad books over the bronze sky incident). 

We came home, and he presented me with a somewhat wilted collection of reeds and grasses, which he forgot to give me before we left. He said he thought they'd be better than flowers because they came from the pond we built and that he was careful to take all the bugs off and leave them at school. 

He's so sweet sometimes it amazes me. 

just going out, may be some time

Sherlock's taking me out tonight (any minute now...he's just putting a clean shirt on). I don't know what we're doing, it's a surprise. I'm...amazed, amused, and touched.

I was also amazed and touched by everything L did this week to look after me while I was ill. And occasionally amused. He claims still not to be able to taste things properly after trying that napalm soup he made me. It was perfect though. And he picked up Sherlock from school, entertained him, fed him, and still somehow managed to do his job.

As he said, I know there are single parents who have to do that all the time, and I have no idea how they manage. It's my actual job, and I still get a lot of help, from L and Mrs H and Anthea when she's here, and even the boys, now that they're more used to the concept of chores.

Right, time to go... Hope you all have a lovely evening. I'm sure I will. 

hollandaise

He wasn't joking about the breakfast in bed. I woke up to tea and eggs benedict, all made from scratch.

Me: You can make hollandaise sauce?
L: Where did you think it came from?
Me: A jar at the supermarket?

Although honestly, I'm not sure I've ever seen it at the supermarket, and I know I've never had it at home. It was excellent, of course, much better than when I've had it in restaurants, and presented on a tray with a rose and everything. I was very impressed. (That sounds flippant when I read it over, but I really was. Am still. Not used to that sort of thing.)

This is the mill:

We've been out walking most of the afternoon. It's chilly and quiet and peaceful. The only thing you hear is the water and the wind. 

how i got arrested in egypt, twice

Once was a case of mistaken identity. Someone who looked like me (by which I mean: was English, not a giant, and had sort of indeterminately coloured hair) had started a fight with a man who was selling chickens. I presume over the price, but that was never entirely clear. Anyway, he hurt the chicken seller pretty badly, got laid into by a couple of the chicken seller's friends, and then ran off.

Meanwhile, nearby, a friend of mine had lost her dog (chihuahua, named Biscuit). I was running after Biscuit. Biscuit was so small as to be pretty much invisible to the naked eye. The police saw a man fitting their suspect's description running away.

They shouted, and when I realised it was me they wanted, of course I stopped. I'd lost sight of Biscuit in the crowd by then anyway. Things were complicated by the fact that their suspect spoke Arabic and I didn't. They thought I was being difficult. I was completely confused.

They took me in, and I was there for about eight hours, even after the chicken seller came to have a look and said I was not the man in question.

Everything worked out in the end. They found the man who did it. Biscuit found her way home. I was released, albeit with some resentful looks for not being who they thought I was.

The second time I don't remember very well. I was pretty ill. I suspect the food at the hotel where I was staying. I'd gone out to get bottled water and something I could stomach, but it was all too bright, too loud, I was dizzy, there was vomiting. Not pretty. I was taken in for being (they thought) drunk and disgusting in public.

It was probably for the best. They realised their mistake pretty quickly and gave me water and crackers rather than throwing me out on the street, which was kind. By that evening I was all right to get back to the hotel on my own, and a few days later I was fine. 

everywhere

DW asked in the comments of L's post if I'd managed to hurt myself carrying him off to bed and I'm writing it down here so I can remember for the next time I have a similar brilliant idea. Answer: yes. Not badly, but yes. Shoulder: certainly better than this time last year, but (key point) not as good as it was ten years ago. Or even two. Good job, self.

Liz wanted to know: How about places you would like to go on holiday? Either to show the boys different areas of interest or just because you've always wanted to go!


Oh...everywhere? Italy, obviously, to meet L's family and see Venice and Florence and Rome and...well, everything. I think the boys would really like Japan, and then there's New York City of course, with its blog readers and cupcakes and so on.

I'd really like to see Pripyat (the town near Chernobyl) though obviously I wouldn't want to take the boys along for that. No matter how much Sherlock would probably enjoy it. I have no idea whether L would be interested or not.

Camping in Yellowstone Park would be amazing, and there's some massive national park in Alaska too (even though it's apparently full of bears and mosquitos) that I've seen pictures of and it looks so...wild. I know that's the point, but it's still impressive.

Let's see... Anywhere in France that isn't Paris. I'd go to Paris too, but I've been once already and I think the taxi drivers try to run you down on purpose.

I'd like the boys to see Egypt and the pyramids and all that and hopefully I could avoid being arrested again. Let's see... The Great Wall. Australia (all of it). The Amazon, mainly for Sherlock, since he's the only one of us excited about the concept of spiders bigger than your head instead of terrified sensibly cautious.

...Maybe you would've been better off asking where I don't want to go? This isn't a remotely realistic list, of course, but it's nice to think about.