I have recently received some terrible news about a close member of my family. I'm putting it under a cut because it is just that disturbing.

( Oh Dear Lord )

I hold in my leafy little hands a great prize. No, it's not a winning lottery ticket. I shall not build it up any more as I am certain most of you will be quite underwhelmed by this object which made me squeal like a pig in a power-shower. I now own a copy of Vol. 21 of the Quarterly Review published 1819.

I can hear crickets.

This book contains a review of Percy Bysshe Shelley's Laon and Cythna/Revolt of Islam. It's not a good review, but it was a conservative publication and Shelley wasn't well liked for his opinions and views. Shelley's work is hard to find in early editions because so few were ever printed, and it is particularly hard to find anything published while he was alive. So much of his work was unsuitable for publishing at that time due to its radical content and the social and political conditions. So, for me, this is the next best thing: An article in the Quarterly Review about his work, released while he was alive. For anyone that is interested, the review is by John Taylor Coleridge and it contains a spooky prediction of Percy Shelley's death.

"Like the Egyptian of old, the wheels of his chariot are broken, the path of 'mighty waters' closes in upon him behind, and a still deepening ocean is before him ... finally, he sinks 'like lead' to the bottom, and is forgotten."

Never forgotten, mate. You got that bit very wrong.

I'd had my eye on this puppy for quite some time on Ebay and it was only the shipping cost from the States that put me off, doubling the cost of the book. Finally though, I managed to flog that unwanted Alice Cooper ticket and bought the object of my desire with the proceeds deposited into my Paypal account.

Oh, oh, and when I opened the booked, which is in the most fabulous condition btw, a little moth flew out. I have an American moth flittering around my desk. OMG, what if it's Percy! He always liked to travel!

Grandfather was round the side of the house when he suddenly started screaming: 'Ahh! What's that?! It's a black thing! OMG!'

Me: Aww, it's that cute little Staf puppy from two doors down.

Grandfather: No, it's a rat!

Me: No, it's not. It's a puppy. Look, it's cute and fat and its tail waggles in a delightful manner.

Grandfather: IT'S A GIANT BLACK RAT!!!

Me (in Brian Conley voice): IT'S A PUPPET!!!!

'Old people's logic' defies all other forms of Earth reasoning. I have just been told off for using a torch to locate a little, lost, black puppy in our large, black, back garden. Apparently if you actually use a torch, in pitch black circumstances for example, it runs the batteries down. Ah, see, I didn't realise that.

It's not that I don't get the logic, it's just that it would make a teeny bit more sense if said torch wasn't a gigantic, heavy duty, rechargeable until the end of time itself, bastard of a spotlight.

Puppy found, by the way.

Okay, fine! Yes, I did put a rooster hat on my cat and photographed him! Yes, I did bribe him with cheesey treats! And yes, I really do feel absolutely no guilt whatsoever!






Look, this is nothing new. Have I ever mentioned the Buckaroo hat?



Or the time I put a Chewit on his head and he sat there for a full five minutes before he became suspicious?



The shame.

This post was brought to you by the letters C, A and T and also by the number ohgodwhatwasIthinking?

I had myself a mini-breakdown this morning, which mostly consisted of tears, a squeaky voice and dramatic gestures of letter-tearing and arm-flailing. Why? Because the nightmare that began on Sept 1st, when some fuckwit arsehole stole my debit card numbers, is still ongoing. I'm still missing hundreds of pounds and on top of this two different companies sent me overdue notices with extortionate charges because I've failed to pay. Believe me when I tell you that I've done everything in my power to pay despite only having money left in the form of credit cards. Is it my fault that someone stole from me? Is it my fault that when I try to pay no one seems to want my money? Is it my fault that the businesses that I have chosen to deal with are run by a bunch of idiots?

I have since calmed myself, phoned both Muppets R Us and Numpty Ltd and demanded the charges are removed and have paid what I genuinely owe (let's see if they bother to put the payments through this time). Then guess what happened? I get a phone call from my credit card company to say that someone has today used my card fraudulently. Card cancelled. That's the third card I've had cancelled in two months, and I've still got absolutely no closure from the first incident.

The only places I've used the card this month are Amazon, Play.com and the Hilton Birmingham. The only place that I also used my debit card with is Amazon. Really? Or is the problem my internet security? I use Norton, but even if I used none, would someone be able to get my details when I'm not even physically entering them because both Play and Amazon have them stored on what it meant to be a secure website. Seriously, someone throw me a bone, preferably one wrapped in £50 notes.

My month-long, self-imposed internet ban is finally over and I took my exam on Wednesday. Since then I've been on an emotional roller coaster - up, down, loopy and wondering why I got on the damn ride in the first place. Yep, as expected, I got struck down with nerves on the day, I panicked and totally messed up the poetry question, which I should have aced firstly because it was a broad, piss-easy question, and secondly because I love the subject, know it inside out and could talk about it for hours. My Percy Shelley Love knows no ends and in particular my knowledge of him stretches far beyond the course content.

So I fear I have failed. My only hope is that my essay on Henry V and Othello is good enough to get me a shit-load of marks, because my poetry marks will be minimal and the essay in the prose section was wobbly and weakly argued. Please cross your fingers for me.

Felt very depressed yesterday over all this, mainly because I feel I've let myself down, but also I think I'm on a bit of a post-course come-down. All of a sudden I had nothing to do except worry, fret, mentally smack myself and cry. So I cleaned. That cheered me up -- it was nice to actually see carpet instead of piles of books and papers and pads and files and folders. For a while there I actually thought I had wallpaper in the style of yellow Post-it notes. I've stuffed all my Uni gear in the corner of the room and disguised it with shoes and handbags. I'll drag it all out again in one lump if I have to re-sit. Results late December and it's going to be the longest two months of my life. In the mean time, I've forced myself to get a grip and realise that if I do fail it's not because I'm thick; it's because I panicked and blanked and then everything rushed at me all at once and I couldn't think straight in the little time I had left. And the weird thing? It might not have happened if I'd had a harder or more narrow question. I'm also going to put it down to bad time management and lack of exam experience. Anyway, I've tonight registered for next year's course -- arts, past and present -- because if I don't get back on the horse now it's going to wander off up a mountain and fall off the other side. Yes, I have lassoed my pony! Yahoo! I will not be defeated!

Right, back to catching up with emails 'n' stuff. Then, this weekend, I'm so going to do absolutely nothing.

Last night dreamed that I was at a Supernatural convention with Kitty. I desperately wanted to buy an edible candle in the shape of Nightwing, but I didn't have the catalogue number so that fucked that.

Today I have revised the relationships between European social and political history and Pride and Prejudice and Frankenstein. I've come to a weary halt at the British Empire and now I'm waiting for a baked potato.

Notes to self: Collecting antique books is a hobby for people much richer than you. Also, you did not need that Percy Shelley keyring.

You know what I hate? Those tatty little catalogues that drop out of women's weeklys. My Grandad likes to trundle down to the corner shop once a week to buy Take A Break, so every Thursday I come home to find a trail of leaflets and catalogues leading from the front door, up the hall, over the dog's bed and finishing at Grandad's armchair. Every week I find him pondering the possibilities of a shoe horn that can crank a pair of loafers on from three doors down and giant-sized clippers that can supposedly cleave off the toenail of a grizzly bear (with fungus infection). Today I've yet again managed to find grandad the same things but better quality and half the price on Amazon. Express delivery, no less. Come oooooon, Elvis alarm clock!

The actual reason for this post is just to say that I'm going to be a bit quiet for the next month. I've got an exam mid October and I need every moment to revise. My last assignment came back with a good result (hurrah!) so I'm motivated to make one last colossal effort because if I fail this exam after all the hard work I've put in, I'll never forgive myself. I'll still pop up here and there and I'll be taking fleeting looks at Twitter and Facebook, but other than that, I will be mostly unavailable. I shall miss you all lots. See you on the other side.

I have just sent off my final OU essay for this year. I know I always seem to feel the exact same thing but this time I really mean it. It's a load of crud. I couldn't seem to answer the question without sounding like I had a hard-on for Henry V and like I'd been one of The Rover's scourned exes. So much for an ambivalent response. Oh well. Too late now.

Also feel horrid. Siiiiick! Under the cut are a few photographs from my daytrip on Sunday to the London Eye, Aquarium and the Merlin Premiere. I thought they might cheer me up while I contemplate failing my exam in October.

( Fishies )

( I'm surprised my babies haven't packed their trunks and run away )

My throat hurts. Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Poor baby. He just can't cope with all the publicity.


( But look how beautiful! )

Have been practicing with brand new sooper dooper camera, this time in low-light conditions sans flash. My model was a ginger cat I found lurking beneath my duvet. I can't tell you his name because he's undercover, but he sometimes goes by the alias Popsicle and Mummy's Little Pineapple.

As I knelt in front of the bed, camera aimed like a small nuclear device, Popsicle became afraid, remembering the introduction of the APS, the Disposable and finally the Digital. 'Don't be scared, little Poppett, there's no flash. I'm practicing in low-light conditions.' Like a couple of fools, we both trusted me.


( Erm ... )

Someone has taken my debit card details and tried to charge two rather large amounts today. The bank phoned to confirm if it was really me and my reply was a high-pitched and squeaky 'Youhavegottobekiddingmenoway!!!' Conclusion: card cancelled.

Anyone got any advice on protecting myself online a little better? What precautions should I be taking to ensure no one can get hold of my personal details? Can anyone explain cookies to me? Can people use them to get my card numbers? Should I turn them off?

In other news, I have been without a bath or shower for a week. I'm going to a friend's place tomorrow lunchtime to use her shower because I can only wash out of a sink for so long.

I am totally addicted to the True Blood soundtrack.

I have been called out several times recently for the amount of time I take to answer my emails/check Facebook/Twitter etc. I'll say this as succinctly and politely as I can: it is not personal, I have a busy life, and I will not become a slave to any online socialising site. The next person that tries to tell me exactly when I should reply to them gets banned/blocked/removed from my address book without fuss or tantruming. You make my life difficult and I therefore can't be bothered with you.

Right, time to take some photographs in low light.

Go my my new camera today, which I have bought for the express purpose of taking high quality snaps at the various cons I'm attending over the coming year. Unfortunately it's not just a matter of point-and-click to get the best results so I need to practice and fiddle.

Under the cut are four photographs I have just taken of my dog, Indy. I'm hoping that I'll understand enough about what I'm doing so I can take pictures at the Merlin event on Sunday.

( Sit ... sit ... sit ... SIT!!! )

The bottom of my foot just fell off and I was nearly sick.

IS THERE ANY PART OF MY BODY WHICH IS NOT DISEASED????

You expect it from some sources. Often it will make me laugh. Sometimes I will make a note and regale my work colleagues with tales of 'I saw this sign, right, and it said -- wait, you'll love this -- "Please ask a member of staff if you require assistants. With a 't', yeah? Assistants with a 't'! Hahahahaha! Yeah, I'd like some assistants. One to carry my shopping, another to rub my sore feet and I'll take an assistant for my dog.' It's fun. Who hasn't read Eats, Shoots and Leaves and busted a rib?

But sometimes, it just plain aggravating, especially when it comes from a source that should know better. I'm talking about Newspapers. Sometimes I see why they do the things they do, especially the tabloids. They go for maximum impact, fair enough. But what I saw today left me scratching my head and after a while realising that the smoke rising above me wasn't from my cigarette but from my brain where I'd set it alight with rage.

Quote marks. Often used to imply something isn't as it seems. 'Hey, Whathisface just called in "sick". Third time this month he's has a "migraine".'

Sign on a market stall: "Fresh" strawberries. Yum.

This morning, on a newspaper billboard, I saw this: Girl, 16, "raped" on her walk home. Wtf? Srsly? What kind illiterate idiot decided quote marks were the way to go when the word rape carries its own impact in four simple letters? Must have been a "journalist".

This is the most hilarious video I've seen since the drumming gorilla. Check out the marmot.

Walking home today I saw a newspaper billboard outside the local corner shop. It read 'FAMILY SAVES ORPHANED BUNNIES'.

Now, I'm thinking it's got to be one of two things. Either I live in The Shire where only cute hobbity things happen such as butterfly balls and teddy bear picnics, or this family saved those poor bunnies by swinging from a burning building, sliding down a giant tube where they fell into a gushing river where they all nearly drowned but were saved at the last minute by Michael Jackson back from the dead in a funny hat.

I must buy this newspaper to find out. My god, I fear the power of advertising!

Yes, I am the prat who just walked through Sainsbury's underground car park with my umbrella up.