eurovision, cake, suits

This is the chocolate and peanut butter monstrosity L and Sherlock made for Jo and Lisa's Eurovision party tonight. Sherlock said I should help, so I stood nearby and ate bits of it when they weren't looking. I think that counts. (It's delicious.) The marshmallow coating is Sherlock's doing. He was sad we only had two colours. 

And we went suit shopping. With Sherlock. I always semi-expect him to be bored by clothes, but no. He has opinions and he wants to share them. I tried on many terrifying shirts today and bought one that I will probably never wear. It's not bad, really; it's just much brighter than I'm used to. I also got a couple that I will wear and a grey suit. 

Learned about this place from someone in the shop, which custom makes suits (and shirts) online. You send them your measurements, and they send you clothes that fit. Sounds like a brilliant idea to me. Except, of course, then I wouldn't be buying them with L, which is certainly a better experience than I've ever had buying them on my own. 

And soon we'll have cake to eat and Eurovision to mock. Hope you're all having a good day too. 

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. 

car punching

I had another interview yesterday, with Dr B, who thankfully did not google me. He was a bit older and called my phone an infernal device, so I have a feeling google is not top of his list for information sources. He's been doing this a long time though and had some interesting stories. Not sure we're going to suit though. I suspect if he had read the blogs, he wouldn't have approved.

Today, lunch in the park with Lestrade, who could speak and was not wheezing, so that was lovely. Beautiful day.

On the way to pick up Sherlock, I saw someone get cut up in traffic. He started shouting at the man who'd done it and got out of his car at the next light. I thought there might be trouble, which...I suppose there was. Of a sort. He walked up, punched the other man's car, got back in his own, and drove away when the light turned green. He made no impact on the car. I hope he didn't break anything in his hand.

I also looked at more wedding bands.

It's white gold, and the centre bit rotates. Does that make sense? The raised part is not attached to the inner part, so they sort of spin around each other, but they're still connected. There's an animation showing it on the site, but you can only really see it with the one with the diamond in. Anyway, I thought it was nice. Unusual. 

wedding day

We're just back from Jo and Lisa's wedding. Sherlock fell asleep while we were still there and has been put to bed without waking enough to do more than grumble that he wasn't tired at all before dropping off again. Mycroft has retired to his room to be alone and hopefully get some sleep as well. He was, as always, a perfect gentleman, and must've danced with at least five little girls under the age of six, which takes fortitude.

I got to dance with L, which was lovely, and gave me some hope for our wedding, since I managed not to trip over either his feet or my own. Didn't even feel like I would, which I'll give him the credit for.

During the course of the evening, L managed to balance on my head a veil, a flower from the cake (the cake was delicious, by the way), and a button someone had lost. That's just the things I know about, of course. I dread to think what he'll manage for our own wedding.

And of course we got to hear him play. It was beautiful, no other word for it. Such a depth of feeling, too. I wish you could've heard it. I was, and am, ridiculously proud of him, and I know it made Jo and Lisa very happy, you could see it all over their faces.

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. 

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. 

who throws cheese?

Sherlock, that's who. (And, apparently, the USAF...)

Apparently the older children at his school get two shorter playtimes instead of one longer one, so they're not outside at the same time as the little ones. Thwarted in his daily 12:00pm pond visit, he removed the cheese from his sandwich and threw it at his new teacher. Thankfully, cheese is not aerodynamic, and it hit her leg, not her face.

He missed the second playtime entirely through a combination of sulks and time outs and flung himself at me, sobbing and insisting he would never ever go back to school again. Ever. EVER, did I hear him? NEVER EVER IN A MILLION TRILLION YEARS. He hasn't had a meltdown quite this spectacular in a while. He's definitely going to sleep early tonight.

In other news, the sink is leaking...more. Because I tried to tighten a bit of it that looked tightenable and made it worse.

And at work, we got 50 cases of latex gloves delivered. We were meant to get five. They wouldn't take the other 45 away with them, and there are now 45 cases of latex gloves shoved into every free area of the surgery, of which there aren't many. Oh, and someone's child spat on me.

I am also going to sleep early tonight. 

something amazing

Here's a frog we saw while Sherlock was running us around the park yesterday. Or riding rings around us while we tried in vain to keep up. I stopped to take a picture. Or I coincidentally saw the frog while I was already stopped and bent over and panting. Take your pick. 

At breakfast, Sherlock introduced Mycroft to the idea of body painting for Pride (which may now be Sherlock's third favourite 'holiday', after his birthday and Christmas). Mycroft was wary, but not completely appalled. I may end up being the only unpainted member of our party. He suggested Sherlock ought to get painted-on wings, which would look quite nice and more importantly would not be a target, which was one of Sherlock's other ideas. I don't feel like I could reasonably veto that one, but it would make me feel a bit odd. 

Today...well, it's just gone seven, and Sherlock has so far made himself breakfast (cold cereal), spilled half a carton of milk on the floor, tried to soak it up with today's newspaper, dunked biscuits in his cereal milk, and squished up a banana inside its skin and then attempted to squirt it into his mouth with...exciting results. All before L and I were out of bed. 

When I emerged just now he said proudly, 'I didn't wake you up at all! Let's do something amazing today!' I said he could help me clean up banana and milk and then we could do something amazing. Ideas, anyone? 

Things that also need to happen today: (L, don't let me forget!) need to get a birthday card for my mum...and ask her why she has sent me a box full of her wedding china with no note of explanation. 

threatened with a pork chop

Around ten this morning, a very large man came into the surgery, went up to the receptionist, and said, 'I've got a knife, right, so you've got to let me see the doctor right now.'

He had one hand in his coat pocket, presumably holding the knife. The receptionist rang for me to come out. He explained the situation re: his supposed knife. I asked him to step into my office so I could take a look at him.

Once inside, I explained he'd have to remove his coat and shirt, at which point he pulled his hand out of his pocket, grasping not a knife but a paper-wrapped package. 'I don't have a knife,' he said. 'It's just chops. Can I put them in your fridge?'

We put them in the fridge. I listened to his breathing, and the police arrived a few minutes later. He looked confused, said he hadn't done anything wrong, and explained about the pork chops. They took him off in a police car anyway. He left the chops behind.

As if that wasn't odd enough, one of Lestrade's colleagues stopped by an hour later to make sure everything was all right. Said he'd heard that 'Lestrade's doctor was in some trouble...again.' I hope I'm not getting a reputation... 

man in a river

Mycroft and I went to the Tate Modern this morning. Afterwards, we walked along the river for a while. And saw this man...standing in it.

In the water. By the Millenium Bridge. With a microphone. Playing a guitar. An electric guitar. There was an amp on the shore. 

weird cheese

Yesterday, it was weird fruit; today it was weird cheese. I see a weird cheese and fruit platter in our future, since there was a limit to how much weird fruit the weird fruit salad would absorb before overflowing the edges of the bowl.

We have a stout cheese that's sort of geometrically patterned with little triangles and diamonds (my choice). We have a vampire cheese, which is crumbly and inundated with garlic (Sherlock's). And we have Stilton ice cream, which is of course not a cheese, but Mycroft insisted it was close enough. I'm not entirely sure I want to eat that one, but Mycroft says if I don't at least try it, I'm setting a bad example for Sherlock. Unfortunately, I think he's right.

We'd meant to go to the aquarium as well, but there were so many people when we got there that even Sherlock said maybe he could wait for another day. I think we'll have better luck going early. Thanks, incidentally, to everyone who gave us suggestions - I've got them written down. Might save Kew Gardens for when L can come with us. It sounds like something he'd enjoy, though I'm sure he's been before.

L's done for today and on his way home. I'm glad it seems to be going well for him. I suppose I'm also somewhat ambivalent about him going on this course. For reasons I can't seem to pin down. Anyway, it's done now, no sense dwelling on it. 

not just make up, 80s make up

Thank you, Nicky!

The banal details of our shopping trip clearly can't compare to this, so I'll just mention that Mycroft got a shirt with a pattern on (still very tasteful, but I think every single one he owns is solid colour but this), and Lestrade talked me into jeans that are probably too young for me and failed to talk me into ones with some sparkly thing on the bum. 

a story for you

I don't know what made me think of this today, but it's more cheerful than the other one that came to mind, so here you are...

A friend of mine in medical school (and you'll see shortly that I really do mean a friend and not me; this wouldn't have worked nearly so well me, for reasons which will become clear) had a trick she liked to do on public buses.

She would wear a heavy coat and a false moustache, 'borrow' a penis from one of the cadavers, and attach it to the outside of her trousers. She had short hair and the coat covered her chest, and, well , not many people were studying her face.

Someone would go to complain to the driver, and she'd tuck moustache and member in her coat pocket, unbutton the coat, and don an expression of confused innocence.

She did almost get caught once when someone took a photo and brought the police into it...but when he got it developed, it turned out merely to be a close up of the offence, as it were. She now has a very serious job doing genetic research, and I bet she's glad Youtube didn't exist back then.


Also, piercing poll results...

ears	52 (61%)
nose	8 (9%)
lip	2 (2%)
nipple(s)	11 (12%)
other	12 (14%)

So the 12 of you who picked 'other', what are you getting pierced?

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."

revenge of the eighties

This is the exact face I made when I saw the shirt he's wearing in this picture.

raising the dead

Trills wanted to know: It's a well recorded FACT that Medical students throw the best/most outrageous parties. So can we have a story from your uni days please! 


I think the best one was when we didn't take a dead body to the pub with us.

I can't remember whose idea it was (certainly not mine), but I do remember Ian getting the short straw.

When we moved the party from our flat to the pub, Ian was dressed in a hospital gown and painted a pale grey with the help of his girlfriend's make up and some food colouring. He had an arm slung round Will and Alan, and by the time we got through the pub door, they were carrying him.

We parked him at a table, got him a pint, which he didn't touch, and sat with him to watch the match.

He had a toe tag for verisimilitude, but Jamie had decided no one would notice it on his toe (especially since he'd insisted on wearing socks) and had hung it from his ear instead.

We got increasingly concerned looks from everyone in there, customers and staff. They all knew we were med students. Everyone knows what med students get up to with dead bodies.

Eventually someone called the police.

The PC who showed up saw us straight away, came over, started talking to us very seriously about respect for the dead the difference between a prank and a crime, and then Ian tapped him on the shoulder and offered him a pint. I have never seen someone jump so far straight back in one go, before or since.

In conclusion: it's a good thing he had a sense of humour, and in retrospect I'm very glad that wasn't how I met L!

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... 

autumn

Small Hobbit wanted something about autumn...

When I was fifteen or sixteen, there was this massive storm a few days before Bonfire Night - high winds, rain pounding at the windows, loads of damage. Entire trees went down. We heard one go with a crack you could heard over the thunder.

We went to Bonfire Night on Hampstead Heath, and they had all the debris from the storm piled up and fenced off, and... I feel this must've grown in my mind to be bigger than it really was, but I'll tell it like I remember it. The piles were higher than houses, so long they faded off into the dark on either side.

They were already burning when we got there. It was a chilly night, and most people had set up near the fire for warmth to wait for the fireworks. Mum and Dad and Harry did too. Harry and I wandered off pretty quickly after that, in opposite directions.

in trouble again

I'll start with the bad news - Lestrade's flat was broken into tonight. They took about what you'd expect them to take, electronics and so on. The place is a mess, things tossed about, but not too bad apart from that. We sat around and ate takeaway while it was dusted extremely thoroughly for fingerprints, and now we're all home again. L's asleep already, and the boys are now too.

Going back one day...as Lestrade said, we won the match, had a great time afterward in the pub, right up until it was time to go when Sherlock decided it would be a great idea to throw a fit over whether he got to sleep in the fort or not. Which was...

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?