I'm eating a bacon roll. I ought to be working, but realised that no sensible work would be done when all I could think about was coffee and food. Most of the Yard's food isn't much to write home about. But after years of feeding hungry police officers, bacon rolls they can do well.
Breakfast (very quiet, this morning, with Sherlock not making his presence felt) seems like an awfully long time ago.
Anyway, main point of this post is because Danger's agreed to come to Pride with me this afternoon. And possibly the boys - he'll bring them with if they want to come. Sherlock may decide that a million people celebrating love is a bit much. Mycroft may decide that being with the two of us whilst we're soppily in love is a bit much. Or maybe they'll both want to come. (John promised to have A Talk with Sherlock about the acceptability of loudly talking about/asking people questions regarding their look/preferences/life choices). His manners are coming along...but he doesn't understand why people wouldn't want to explain to him exactly why they choose to dress the way they do, or anything else, loudly and in public.
(Sherlock, in case you read this, I'm going to have at least one crutch with me, if not two, the way my knee is feeling, add that to my ribs and there is NO way I can carry you on my shoulders. So don't come down here thinking I'm going to be your trusty steed for the afternoon, right? But I will buy you ice cream, and we don't have to walk for miles of you don't want to.)
I'm really looking forward to it. Haven't been for a few years. Will definitely be very, very proud to have John by my side. Will thoroughly enjoy holding his hand and kissing him in public and knowing it's just normal. I often want to do such things but...well, it's not always a good idea. But today, it will be perfect. And we will celebrate that.
We'll try and add a few comments here during the day, a sort of rolling-blog entry.
161 comments:
I hope that there is much joyful, celebratory, public snogging (and not much loud "but why is that man wearing pink feather pants and no trousers?") :-D
I'm a blue chapering omi
You're a whatnow?
Yay, Pride! So much fun--have an amazing time, guys.
Thanks! The boys have decided to come with us too. Mycroft looks slightly uneasy. I assume because he knows about the more outrageous aspects. Sherlock looks unconcerned. But then he doesn't get 'the point' of it.
Nameless - it's Polari slang. Means I'm a gay policeman. I was just going to tag it 'i'm a queer cop' or something. But that seemed more fun.
I'm pretty sure it was your offer of ice cream that decided Sherlock. And he checked to make sure he could ride on my shoulders since you're not up to it.
Ice cream and transport - what more does anyone need?
You might be carrying me by the end, too. You'll definitely be carrying one of my crutches when I hold your hand down Regents.
Now I've got my legs out, am I going to end up with tan lines of my stitches?
And I know they'd probably have gone mad in the crowds...but we should have bought the Hounds and entered them into the Pride Pooch competition. Although perhaps Mycroft would object.
Ah, right - thanks. See, you're as educational as the rest of us :-)
You guys having a good time?
We're just heading up to Regent St, having had something to eat. We'll sort of meet the parade halfway, then tag on the back with all the rest of the 'ordinary' folk down to Trafalgar Square.
Hope you all are having fun! :D And a good snog, too. :)
We are! Both counts.
Sherlock is exercising his talents as a fashion critique. And has just danced to Bucks Fizz. And got a round of applause from people around us.
Mycroft just looks slightly mortified by the people shunning clothing for things like pouches, rollerskates and wings. I don't think they measure up to his high standards of sartorial elegance.
It's good for him. And he is more relaxed that he was to start.
What does poor dapper Mycroft wear on hot summer days? I'm out among throngs of tourists in my own town this weekend (as it's the 4th they're all flocking here) and I can't imagine anyone here meets Mycroft's standards of dress either. Though they are slightly more dressed than the folks surrounding you right now.
It sounds like you're having a glorious day - I'm so pleased that you're all together!
kholly - I wouldn't call it hot really, but he has gone for short sleeves. The shirt still has buttons though. Truthfully I think the sartorial choice that's appalled him the most is L's flip flops...
It's good for all of us, Danger.
When Sherlock's finished quizzing the blokes next to us about why one has the other on a leash, we might get ice cream. Or maybe iced coffee, in my case.
Ah, he's just informed them that John thinks I need to be kept on a leash, and I don't think he knows why they're laughing...
what's wrong with my flip flops!?
Oh god. I did talk to him, I swear. They're being very patient with him; I'm impressed.
I think they're fine, but if I were to interpret Mycroft's earlier look of horror, I'd say the color has something to do with it, and probably also the fact that they're flip flops and you're wearing them in public, with him. Heh.
They are. And he hasn't asked anything outrageous. Just genuine curiosity. It's a good thing...I think.
I was getting ready to grab him and slap my hand over his mouth earlier, when he pulled that Drag Queen's skirt. But he only asked about colour choice, nothing else! I think your talk worked.
Before everyone reading this imagines I'm wearing pink sparkly flip-flops, I must add mine are brown leather. With orange stripes. There's nothing wrong with them. Anything else with shorts looks stupid.
I didn't say there was anything wrong with them! I did enjoy implying they were sparkly pink though.
Hmm.
And can't believe you said on your journal that I had no call for jealousy.
Out of the hundreds of thousands of people here today, I swear half of them are staring at you.
Now you're just being silly. Regardless of who was or wasn't staring (and they weren't), for some reason I seem to be in love with you. Not men with wings, or leashes, or roller skates, or even extremely fit tennis players, just you.
Ha, you're the silly one, for not realising how utterly gorgeous you are.
And don't worry, I think the searing kiss you just gave me has assured them all you're entirely unavailable.
Maybe I shouldn't have said I was jealous. Maybe I should have said they are.
I'm just utterly, stupidly, madly, lucky.
(But you're saying next year I don't need to get my wings and rollerskates out?)
btw, for anyone interested, we've headed into Soho, which is one massive street party, and brilliant. Although I'm not sure how long we'll stay. Sherlock is looking a little tired. Hell, I'm a little tired.
But you're saying next year I don't need to get my wings and rollerskates out?
I'd dare you if I didn't think you might actually do it.
We're all a little tired, and Sherlock's getting heavy. And I've just barely stopped him pulling someone's wig off.
I'd have to practice skating. Mycroft could probably help, with his ice skating skills.
Home? Before Sherlock gets more than glittery make-up as a souvenir?
And take away to eat tonight? I don't think I'll want to move.
Definitely home, definitely takeaway. If we get it on the way home, we won't have to move again all night.
You, Doc, are so much more than a pretty face.
I love you. I've loved being with you today. I've loved showing everyone else how much I love you and not for one minute feeling self conscious.
And I'm very pleased and happy that the boys decided to come with us.
(You got a photo of Sherlock in the wings, right? We'll need that for blackmail when he's old enough to cause us real problems.)
It was a wonderful day. Even better than I'd thought it would be. Thank you.
I'm very glad they came as well. I really thought Sherlock wouldn't, with his attitude toward mushy love stuff in general. He's already asked if we can go back next year.
(Oh, not just photos. My phone does video capture as well.)
Excellent. Save it, we'll send copies to places Sherlock can never find them and delete them.
I think he's realised it's not all snogging and hand holding. There's also dancing and fun and oceans of glitter...and a lot of very patient people who don't mind answering his questions.
I'm really glad you enjoyed it.
There's a short piece the BBC have done here, everyone, about the history of Pride:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-london-13965769
It's...well, it's good. It makes me remember things. Not all good things. But it does indeed give me hope.
It sounds awesome. I'm glad you all had such a great time and I hope Mycroft isn't too scarred by the fashion faux pas! (I can't believe the plural of faux pas is faux pas.) I hope the glitter make up isn't too hard to get off Sherlock's face.
Mycroft did give me a very alarmed look at the wings/rollerskates conversation. But I think he's coping. hah.
The difficulty is catching Sherlock to remove the glitter. He does really love glitter.
If he thinks he's sleeping in it, he's mad. I'd never get it out of the sheets.
Who doesn't love glitter... well maybe you don't, as vacuuming glitter is one of your chores and I imagine that's a time consuming task.
Oh, but you're so good at getting sheets clean, Dearest. Heh heh
Azure - I never imagined you could make a whole chore out of glitter vacuuming. Until I met Sherlock.
I have a lot of practice getting...certain things out of sheets, true enough. Glittery make up is not on that list though.
I'm having a bit of trouble getting it off his face, actually. I may have to ask Mrs Hudson for tips.
She left some sort of make up remove up here from last time. Sherlock may have used it all in an experiment though.
Sounds like you guys had an awesome day :-D
The BBC also has some pics of today at http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/in-pictures-14002479. (I did look for a group comprising a small child in fairy wings and glitter, an slightly uncomfortable but immaculately dressed teen, beaming doctor and grinning hobbling copper but couldn't see anyone who looked like you lot :-p)
Nameless - that guy in all the pink feathers - he's the one who Sherlock asked what bird he'd killed for them. He was a really nice bloke. complimented Sherlock on his make-up.
And yeah, we were gloriously ordinary and lost in the crowds.
Triumph. Both of them in bed and asleep and it's only nine!
You've picked up some kind of magical powers from that fairy-dust glitter, Danger.
want to watch some crap TV and cuddle on the sofa?
You know that was a silly question, right? And you've got the glitter on you too now. In your hair. Heh.
I'm growing to realise I may never be glitter-free again, around this place. Just tell me it's a colour that suits me.
And if before you collapse you wanted to stick the kettle on, y'know, I wouldn't stop you.
Well, it's silver, so it goes with your hair.
Yeah, sure. Ice for the knee too?
Well, it's a step up from pink.
Ice sounds divine. It feels kind of...hot. and a bit...I dunno. You should be a Doctor y'know...
You know, I think I may have heard that before, once or twice...
I like to think I'm helping you keep your skills honed, by attracting all the sorts of people who want to kill me.
I shall try to make up for my unoriginality in comments by being startlingly original elsewhere in our relationship.
Oh, you are, but please don't think I'd mind if you stopped getting nearly killed for a while. Or forever.
That sounds interesting...
I'll do my best. But sadly in my job, meeting murderers sort of means I'm doing it right...
I shall tell you more...but not on here. Sorry you lecherous lot.
I don't mind you meeting them, it's them running you off the road I have a problem with. Forget doing your paperwork, I'll trail after you and play bodyguard if you're not careful.
John, you could be like the Shadow! Lestrade wouldn't even know you were doing it. That would have to be a totally separate yet awesome blog.
yeah, I wasn't entirely happy with that either. Still, they don't do it often.
At least I wasn't on my bike at the time, though.
And there is absolutely no way you should be allowed to put yourself on the line for me, you daft sod.
It seems today was a great day, very well deserved for all of you.
So I guess Sherlock loved Pride, what about Mycroft? Did he like anything about it?
Mycroft likes watching people - any people - so yeah, I think he had a good time. He just finds the more flamboyant side of it all a bit unnecessary, I think! Mycroft is more about understatement than overstatement.
At least I wasn't on my bike at the time, though.
I'm not even going to think about that.
If there were any practical way to do it, I would. As it is, I suppose I've got to stick to patching you up and bringing you ice and tea.
Me neither. Although I have a feeling you wouldn't have been crying about the bike...
I think I need a bath. It's a bit late though. And I refuse to get up any earlier than I have to tomorrow. (I figure I can have a bath if I stick my right leg up on the side and don't get the stitches too wet?)
But if I stay here and start watching Lethal Weapon 3 I may not move until the end.
And I know you would...not that I'd want you to. And I will try not to cause you more work again.
I could come along and wash your back if you like. Or...something along those lines.
Are you back to work tomorrow?
Only half a day, like today. 7-1ish or something. I might have to bring a bit home, too. Still catching up from being off.
Maybe we could get out on the bike after? I don't want to ditch the boys, but it'd be nice to get you and the bike all to myself. Only for an hour or so.
That would be lovely. I'll ask Mrs Hudson if she can watch them. Maybe we'll get more spider biscuits. Where do you want to go?
No idea. Anywhere that isn't the city. Anywhere you'd like to go? Oh, shit - do you want to watch the tennis? I forgot. watch the tennis if you want, we'll go somewhere another time.
No, I'd rather go riding with you.
Which is not to say I won't record it and force you to watch it with me later, because I will.
Sounds like the best of both worlds.
Going to scrub my back then? Or at least help me back out of the bath when I get stuck.
Yeah. We need a bigger bathtub.
You need a bigger flat! It's like Picadilly bloody Circus in here with all the dogs, security, boys and us sometimes.
The bruises on my chest have gone that incredibly horrible yellowy green colour.
It's nice! Cosy. I like having everyone around.
The ones on your bum have too.
Mmm. I like you having people around, since the...incident.
It is, however, very nice to have you when you're alone, too.
How did I get bruises on my bum?? I was sitting in a car! I will be forced to blame you for any bruises near my bum. And therefore insist you kiss them better.
Yeah, I might've made those up so I could watch you try to crane your neck round to see them. Heh. I'll still kiss them better though.
If I'm with you, I'm not alone.
Bastard.
I don't count. You're alone, I'm just there...with you.
This isn't getting better.
I expect Roger the Unicorn is there too.
The three of us are alone. With each other.
I need to be cleaner, then asleep, really quite soon, before I completely lose all coherence.
Sorry. No wait, I'm not. :)
You count the most. Even when you're not here, I don't feel alone anymore.
Right, let's get on then. You'll have to put your phone down at some point, you realize.
Even when you're not here, I don't feel alone anymore.
That's...just about the nicest thing I think anyone's said to me. And good. I'm glad.
Putting it down now. Well, on to charge in the bedroom, anyway. I will be in that bath within the next minute.
Sounds like you had a wonderful afternoon! I love going to my city's annual Gay & Lesbian Fair. The mental image of Sherlock in wings and glitter made me smile like a loon. :)
Had a wonderful afternoon yesterday, having one again today. Nothing like having a beautiful machine between you legs, and a beautiful man hugging you from behind...of course, couldn't object to the man taking the place of the bike, either.
As long as that doesn't mean your bike will be hugging you from behind.
Ha, no. The few times my bike and I have gone rubber side up have generally not been entirely pleasant. Not that the bike is particularly heavy, but it's always the hot bits that manage to squash you. And not the same sort of hot bits as you have...
I should hope not!
Also I've just checked the tennis scores...can that even be right? 6-4 6-1 1-5? Come on, Rafa, get it together.
6-1. Which is bad, right? But 1-5 is good? or am I getting that the wrong way around?
Does Mycroft have to play tennis at Harrow? Having seen the shop that sells the uniform, I'm in awe at how much stuff they need! I think I had a couple of pairs of trousers, a couple of shirts, one tie and one jumper.
Definitely no tail coat...
Heh. Well it depends on who you want to win. It's Djokovic two sets up, Rafa has one set now, and he's doing better in the 4th. Finger's crossed.
He'll love it though. Everyone will be properly dressed at all times.
I want whoever you want to win. Want you to be happy.
I'm not looking up who won the MotoGP. Want to watch it later.
He will indeed love that everyone will be in waistcoats and tails and hats and all that.
One day, maybe, he'll think I'm properly dressed. If he ever sees me in my uniform. It's probably the only time he'd ever think that of me.
He just needs a slightly wider definition of properly dressed, which we are helpfully here to provide.
That shop was a bit terrifying though.
My definition is 'wearing enough to avoid arrest', pretty much.
The bloke in the shop was terrifying. And clearly thought we were going to try to steal all the straw boaters or something, the way he was watching us.
And you putting on a posh accent to enquire about cricket whites almost made me totally lose it.
Heh. You held it together admirably I thought. Almost completely straight face. Do you think he bought it?
Bloody hell, are we going to have to sew name tapes into everything he owns for the laundry??
What do you mean, 'we'? I think you'll find I'm in no way employed for such tasks. Sounds like a perfect job for a Nanny to do. Surely the army made you label everything too?
Well, he answered your questions. So...dunno if he just couldn't bring himself to tell us to sling our hooks, or if he bought it.
Presumably we'll have to go back with Mycroft and actually spend however many hundreds of quid on the stuff, some time over the summer? Unless Mrs H swoops in and does that task.
If you can sew, you're helping, and so is Mycroft. He ought to at least know a running stitch and how to reattach buttons. Maybe they're iron on. God I hope they're iron on.
I think we ought to go, yeah. I'm sure she could get it all delivered, but I think it'll be important for him to do it himself. I'll try to prevent myself doing the accent when we come back.
Me? Can't sew a stitch.
Iron on?? A little down market, one thinks, Daah-ling.
If you don't do the accent now, that bloke'll think I've dragged you down to my level.
In fact, I might drop my London accent and revert to Westcountry. He'll probably actually shrivel up and die in front of us.
Although then Mycroft would hate me, so maybe not.
Open day's in a few weeks, isn't it?
I hope neither of you did anything embarrassing.
And it would be nice if you would come when I had to get my uniform (provided there were no silly accents). But if Mummy wanted to come too, that would be fine.
How is that even possible? What do you do when you lose a button?
Maybe I can use seam tape. Do you think these people hire someone to do it all? They do, don't they. I can't see Mrs H doing it herself.
I might drop my London accent and revert to Westcountry.
Ha! You are right, Mycroft would hate you. Better not. But I would love to the man's face if you did.
Yeah, quite soon. Have to look up the date again and write it down somewhere. What am I saying, I'm sure Mycroft has already.
When do I lose buttons...when you rip my clothes off. Ergo, your fault, and you should sew them back on. But actually, the dry cleaners sort it out, usually.
Of course they have 'people'. Although I reckon if you mentioned it to Mrs Hudson she'd bite your arm off to do it. Right up her rue, that is.
Yeah, what are we going to do without him? We'll have to get a wall planner on the fridge or something, mark in important events.
Mycroft - us, embarrassing? Don't know what you could mean.
Gmail has a calendar thing. Maybe we should start using it. Then he can see it at school. And, um. Continue to keep us organized...
I do sew them back on! And it is not always my fault you lose them. But you ought to learn, it's not hard.
Anyway, I'm teaching Mycroft whether he likes it or not. Yeah, I'm sure Mrs Hudson will help, but she shouldn't have to do all of them.
You and criminals are the cause of most of my lost buttons. And the judges so far have resisted the calls to have them sew buttons back on as punishment.
Actually, now you've amassed an army of the three of you for sewing duty, I'll admit I can sew. How do you think we coped as kids? Every bit of school uniform we had was hand-me-downs or second hand. I don't claim to do a great job, but I can sew. Patches and buttons, mainly.
There new ice in the freezer? Or did I use it all last night? Knee's a bit stiff from riding. Ribs are a bit tender from you grabbing me when that utter knob in the 4x4 pulled out in front of us. Might get traffic to send him a warning letter for being a dickhead.
In fact, I might drop my London accent and revert to Westcountry. He'll probably actually shrivel up and die in front of us.
Just don't call him "my lover"; I've found that people who aren't from the South West *really* don't understand.
I'm shocked you can't even sew a button on; I had the impression you were relatively self-sufficient (maybe I just assumed that because of the cooking?). Definitely sounds like John ought to be teaching both Mycroft and you.
Nameless - yeah, learned that early on when I came to London! It didn't occur to me that it was a weird thing to say. Along with 'My Treasure', and an assorted smattering of other words, apparently unused outside the Westcountry. I mean, 'gurt' obviously means...well, gurt. And it is entirely possible to have a conversation which only involves vowel sounds.
And as I just said above - the 'I can't sew' was a rather successful ruse to get out of it. I can, in fact, handle a needle and thread competently enough. I just don't fancy sewing 8 million labels on, especially not to Mycroft's high standards of workmanship.
I don't claim to do a great job, but I can sew.
Ha! I knew it. Well, I didn't, but I didn't know how you'd coped all your life without. I couldn't see Bryan sewing your buttons back on, somehow.
There's more ice, I'll get you some. And sorry about that. I was startled.
Anon- Just don't call him "my lover"; I've found that people who aren't from the South West *really* don't understand.
I am imagining the man's face if he did. It would be hilarious.
And what on Earth does gurt mean?
YOU were startled. Christ, I nearly dropped my load. It must be your super-powers, making us invisible again. And you did perfectly - a few weeks ago we'd probably have had a serious testicle-on-the-tank situation, but you were the perfect pillion, and my jewels remain undamaged.
(And no, Bryan didn't sew my buttons back on. Oddly enough.)
Maybe I will. He'd probably have a heart attack, so your embarrassment would be short lived, Mycroft.
You can if you want to. It won't make anything any worse.
And if I have to learn to sew, then so does Sherlock.
Buttons are BORING. I want to make wings that really fly.
Gurt means big - well, literally, great - as in "a gurt dollop of clotted cream". Mmmmm, clotted cream... (your spam challenge says "binge". Clever spam challenge).
I can, in fact, handle a needle and thread competently enough. I just don't fancy sewing 8 million labels on, especially not to Mycroft's high standards of workmanship.
I like the way you now assume that you've gotten out of it.
Mycroft - I'm sure that John and Lestrade won't do anything to embarrass you at the shop. But I'm slightly worried that you think "It won't make anything any worse", because that implies that things are already bad?
Sherlock - don't we all?
Nameless - You from the Wezzcountry then?
Danger - Gurt means...umm. Well, if I say you're 'gurt lush' (which you are) it means you are really luscious (meaning highly desirable). If I say that London is gurt big, it means it's very big.
I don't think it's used much outside the Westcountry.
You're making me nostalgic for sunny days in the fields, welly wanging, all that sort of stuff.
Mycroft - it won't be bad! It looked lovely when we went today. And it definitely doesn't take long for us to get there on the bike. There were a few boys around the town, looking pretty relaxed and happy.
Are we giving Sherlock sharp things, currently?
Sherlock - the other day you were desperate to try and give me stitches. I'd far rather you started on buttons.
And did you wang your wellies gurt far? (Can you say gurt far? I like it, good word.)
In theory, Sherlock ought to be pretty good at it, with his tiny little fingers. He can give it a go.
Sherlock - no wings or stitches until you practice the basics first. Sorry, that's the way life works. Boring things nearly always come before fun things.
I like the way you now assume that you've gotten out of it.
Right? He's so optimistic.
I'd probably say "a gurt long way" but yeah, you can sort of use it whenever you want. We're easy going like that.
How can I not be optimistic at the moment - glorious day, wonderful people around me, full of the joys of the season, me. And the strong possibility of a day off this week, to spend leading Danger astray in some way.
Oh, that'd be nice. Maybe we could go for another ride? If it's later in the week and your knee's feeling better.
You didn't really throw wellies, did you? I'm having trouble picturing it. I think it's the leather and guyliner throwing me off.
Anon - Of course it'll be bad. School in general, and boarding school in particular, is about conformity. I do not conform.
Of course I wanged wellies. It was like a rite of passage. And mainly before I was old enough to have my own interests (or a bike, and therefore a means of escape).
We could definitely go for a ride - the knee is fine, I just want to ice it so it doesn't get worse again. It's stiff, not...hurt. (I have a feeling that the doctor in you will not accept the two are differnt.)
Mycroft - I for one hope you never conform. You're brilliant as you are. I'm sure Harrow will be a great place which will allow you to continue expanding both your knowledge and yourself in a way you want to.You know we'll support you whatever you want to do, right?
Amazing.
No, but the reluctant patient in me does.
Mycroft - everything L said, yes. I know it seems like it would be easier to be like everyone else. Maybe it would be. But then you wouldn't be you, and that would be a very sad thing. We'd miss you terribly, for one. The world's a better place with you in it, just as you are.
Lestrade - yep, grew up in South Devon. Not much of an accent though, not even back then. Although people do laugh at the way I say "pasty" as if it has three As, and apparently when I'm drunk or tired I do start stretching my vowels. Did you mention you grew up in Somerset, or am I imagining that?
Right? He's so optimistic.
It's really quite sweet.
Mycroft: a school is a collection of several hundred individuals, all panicking about the fact that they don't fit in or conform (except for some of the terminally stupid ones). There are many different ways of "not conforming", as you will have noticed yesterday. There are some ways of not conforming that are quite aggressive, pushing it into people's faces that you don't want to be like them; there are other ways of being yourself without necessarily challenging other people (and they have as much right to be themselves as you do). Sometimes, it's all about managing the situation. It strikes me that you might be rather good at that aspect of things, if you let yourself.
It doesn't matter if you challenge them or not. And I don't want to be good at it. I only want to be left alone.
I've no idea if I've mentioned it, but yeah, Somerset. And I'm told the same thing - drunk, tired, excited...and those vowel sounds can't be long enough. It was confusing, as a kid, because Italian vowel sounds are all short and pure. Couldn't be more different.
And I'm not sweet.
Danger - I'm going to force you to wang a welly if we go and visit Nicky now. Just to prove yourself worthy of dating a Wezzcountry boy.
And you'll have to hold your hand up and solemnly recite the Westcountry oath.
Mycroft - I know it's hard not to, but you should try to stop worrying about it. You've set your heart on going to the place, and soon enough you'll get your first taste of meeting your new classmates - and Nameless is right, not one of them will be entirely confident. And even if they act it, they'll still have some worries. Believe me, everyone probably thought I was horribly arrogant as a kid, but it was only because I didn't want people to see that I was terrified inside.
You're incredibly sweet. I'd be happy to wang a welly with you. Sounds like fun.
And you'll have to hold your hand up and solemnly recite the Westcountry oath.
...What?
I'll try.
You're not going to visit Nicky while I'm at school, are you? We're all going in the summer? I want to come.
Sounds like fun.
Well, compared to other things to do in the area...yeah.
As for the Oath...we'd have to change the words a bit, you being a grockle. but essentially:
I can't read,
And I can't write,
but that don't really matter,
'Cos I come from the Westcountry,
And I can drive a Tractor
Of course...if you say that with a Westcountry accent, it sort of rhymes. 'Ma'er, with a glottal stop, and 'Trac'er'...Oh, I'll just recite it to you, complete with accents.
(Maybe 'cos my boyfriend's from the Westcountry...')
Mycroft - We can go in the summer. And if we do ever go in term time, we'll make sure it's a weekend and we can fetch you to come with us. Deal?
Grockle... You realize this means you actually do speak a foreign language Mycroft's unlikely ever to master? Or if he does I can't wait to hear it.
Grockle - tourist, furriner (foreigner). Meaning it's not a foreign language. You lot are the foreigners.
I think Mycroft would shudder at the number of consonants dropped.
And the fact everything in the Westcountry is 'he'.
And a lot of other things, actually.
We got any ice cream? Or has Sherlock eaten it all?
Only strawberry. Want some?
Lestrade, say the oath again. I bet I can say it like you do.
Mmm. Nah. 'S okay. Unless you feel like...uh, no, it's okay.
Mycroft - okay. Try not to giggle through it this time? Remember this is how I really used to talk, before coming to the city. It's not a 'silly accent' as John calls it.
I did not call it silly! It's only funny because I'm not used to it from you.
Unless I feel like what?
And the fact everything in the Westcountry is 'he' Including the cat, when 'he' was having kittens.
Have you watched the MotoGP yet?
I suppress it brutally, because people assume you're completely stupid if they hear the accent - country bumpkin, that stuff. Silly/funny, same thing.
I forgive you though.
Unless you feel like **censored**
Smallhobbit - exactly. I grew up thinking everything was male, whether it gave birth or not!
Yes, watched it a bit ago. Glad Rossi got some semi-decent points. And Sideshow Bob didn't knock anyone off today... I hope Colin Edwards does better.
It's not a silly accent, it's just an accent. It's harder to say it right than a lot of languages though because I already know the words.
Sorry, love. Won't do it again. I can make it up to you later with censored strawberry ice cream?
Thanks, Myc.
And yeah, but people's perceptions (thanks to TV etc.) are that it means you're thick.
but you're doing very well, should you ever need to convince someone you're a wurzel.
roft.
Mycroft.
Sorry.
Danger - you don't need to make anything up to me. not your fault.
You can make it up to me without the ice cream, how's that?
Is wurzel the opposite of grockle?
It's what people call people they consider to be country-folk. If that makes sense
And, of course, the popular band...Google or YouTube them. A bit before your time. but indicative of the stereoptype of people where I come from.
You can make it up to me without the ice cream, how's that?
Sounds significantly less chilly. Excellent.
And it was my fault, I was the one laughing. It's okay to tell me if I'm being a dick, you know.
You weren't being a dick!
Sorry, I'm tired and I'm probably not doing a very good job of communicating. And on here I need to learn all these smiley faces you lot do, to show I'm not saying things in a grumpy way.
All right! Just checking. You're very good at hiding things that actually do upset you.
(I do still find it hilarious when Mycroft does it, I'm afraid.)
You're very good at hiding things that actually do upset you.
I know it's entirely wrong for me to be pleased about that. But I am.
Although you seem to have an unnerving way of making me confess.
It's sort of a vital life skill, I suppose. Unfortunately. I imagine the police force has that in common with the army - let it show that something really gets to you and no one will let up about it again ever.
Although you seem to have an unnerving way of making me confess.
Good.
Police force, army, family, everyone.
I wouldn't say good. But...well, I don't know. Probably better, sometimes.
I'm still not sure I should have told you when Bryan came to the flat. Wasn't like you could do anything apart from get angry.
But I don't want to lie to you either. So...anyway, no point talking about it. Happened now.
Families shouldn't be like that though. Which is why I'd rather apologize when it's not needed than risk not doing it when it is. ...If that made any sense.
I don't know if you should've, but I'm glad you did.
Yeah, makes sense. but...you don't need to. I mean, I don't feel like you're like that.
I'm glad I did in as much as I'm glad you came with me when I had to see him, and I'd've hated you to find out from him or something, and it all to have looked bad and underhand and all that.
He did mention it, didn't he? I remember thinking at the time it was like he was purposely pointing out what an arse he was and I wondered why.
I'm just glad because I'd always rather know than not, even if I can't do anything to help.
I think he actually started by saying "When Greg and I met the other week" to gauge your reaction - clearly hoping I hadn't told you. And when there wasn't one he decided to change tack and make me feel like shit.
Might take you to Soho again on my day off. All the places we couldn't go with the gruesome twosome in tow. I did promise you a while ago...
Ah yes. Yep, he's a dick.
All right. I was thinking about that yesterday. Was going to suggest it if the boys hadn't decided to come along, though it might've been a bit crowded.
It may have been indeed.
Plus I might need some sort of guarantee that I'll have you to myself for a few hours after we get home.
I can resist everything, except temptation, y'know.
So Bryan, the tosser, used to call you Greg, any chance that's one of the reasons you don't seems to like your very nice name?
At least there is Greg, the florist...
I do not conform.
Mycroft, you hold on to that for as long as you can. Because you're not wrong, your school will be full of people willing to get in your face to try to make you conform. But they won't all be that way and you'll find your friends eventually. People with imagination enough to come up with their own ideas of living and don't need the safety of conformity to have someone else think it up for them.
I was thinking of your sewing discussion this afternoon. Apparently I ran over a nail and so on my way home from work I had to change out a flat tire. It was a skill that my dad required me to have when he helped me buy my first car. And I always thought of it as the kind of thing a woman should know how to do so you aren't just dependent on others to do it for you.
Which contrasts to other advice I got at about the same age. My great aunt said a woman should never admit to knowing how to sew because once she does all the men will make her do their sewing for them. As I was never very good at lying I tackled that by just never learning how. So there's me, perfectly capable of changing a flat tire but absolutely hopeless at changing a button.
I don't mind my name. It's just no one ever calls me it. Not really my choice.
Yeah, Greg...it'll be John's first day at work soon. And I think it's down to me to write.
I should start doing polls on the next twists and turns of the story.
Kholly - I think changing a tyre takes slightly more 'learning' than sewing a button. I mean, you could do both, applying common sense, but there are probably more 'tricks' to making changing a tyre easy.
L - Plus I might need some sort of guarantee that I'll have you to myself for a few hours after we get home.
If you can do it Thursday, we should have till 5/5.30 if I arrange it right.
kholly - Buttons are easy! The only real trick to it is wrapping the thread around your stitches a few times to make the button stand up off the cloth. Much easier than tyres.
I shall ban all crimes on Thursday. And Wednesday, in case it spills over.
I think you should take it as your sole task this week to 'arrange it right'.
Excellent plan. Let the criminals know. (And you do know you're really not well enough to go out chasing after them, right? All paperwork, all the time.)
Leave it to me. I've got it well in hand.
I think maybe I'm weird because I think you should be telling your SO about the important/upsetting stuff in your life not because they can do something about it, not because they might find out later, but because when you're sharing your life with someone, you, well, share your life, even the stuff that happens when they're not around.
But I'm not a stoic soldier/copper - when I'm upset, *everyone* knows about it, one way or another :-p
Ref the new poll: dear god, they're on facebook and twitter too. *weeps*
I have nearly (unbelievably) caught up on my paperwork backlog. Which doesn't mean more will not immediately appear. But does mean I may leave the office, occasionally.
Well in hand, huh? I do like it when you have things well in hand...
I do like it when you have things well in hand...
I know you do. Oh, you'll like this one. Earlier, I nearly typed "I still have some dick left in me from the army"... Meaning, well, the army tends to amplify whatever dickish qualities you already possess. NOT meaning what it sounds like, obviously.
That...sounds extremely worrying.
I think I should take you in hand right now and perform a very thorough search to ensure you only have appropriate dicks in appropriate places. And definitely no leftover army dicks anywhere.
I can't remember what it was now, but my phone is intent on inserting the word 'bugger' into things I write.
Oh. The other day, I think I invited you for a hug on the sofa. Phone tried to upgrade that to a Bugger in the sofa...
Wouldn't mind that either. Bed's probably a better idea though.
I really wasn't up to it at the time. The phone was promising things I would fail to deliver. I'd have had to stick it on vibrate and give it to you. Make it fulfil its own promises.
Bed sounds like an excellent idea.
So the theme I'm noticing here is that a Westcountry accent is regarded in London, the way a Texas accent is regarded anywhere north of the Mason-Dixon line. It's a big red sign screaming "yes, of course the fact that I drop my r's means I have an IQ approximating that of an amoeba, thanks for asking! Also, my parents are first cousins!"
Yes, I had a thick drawl growing up. We moved briefly to the northeast, and I learned to mute it substantially (and to talk a hell of a lot faster) to prevent people from finishing my sentences for me. Jerks. I'm not bitter - I'm better.
But to this day I take pride in the fact that should I so choose, I can lapse back into a drawl that very few non-Texans (and oddly the stray Scot) understand.
Toodles,
Bronwyn
I'm told I don't have much of a Texas accent, but I drop the "y'all" anywhere north of Kansas. I would pay good money to hear Mycroft's take on "Wezzcountry" language.
Mycroft - You might find that as you get older and school offers more opportunities for leadership, your nonconformist streak will be more of a social asset than an obstacle.
Nameless - the 'not telling' part, for me, anyway, is usually more to do with trying to protect them - misguidedly, I'm sure. Which is why I'm trying not to do it anymore. John doesn't need me to protect him from the big wide world.
But it is also because its far easier to hold it all together when someone isn't being sympathetic or nice to you. Sometimes telling someone else something means you have to face up to it yourself.
And I for one know I'm not entirely ready to do that all the time.
*laughs* If I want people to stare at me, I talk to them in a the Hague accent. I grew up in the big city (well, lived there for the first 15 years anyway) so I can do it pretty well. My mom was incredibly strict about it though, never allowed us to speak anything but proper Dutch. (And right she is, because the accent is bloody awful to hear)
Result is that no one can ever pinpoint where I'm from, exactly. I take over accents incredibly easily though, if I allow myself. It's funny.
Lestrate - Maybe you could use the accents to throw bad guys off when talking to them? Make them underestimate you?
Gurt means big - well, literally, great - as in "a gurt dollop of clotted cream".
Huh. The Aussie national anthem has the line 'our home is girt by sea', meaning surrounded by, presumably. Wonder if they're from the same root word.
But it is also because its far easier to hold it all together when someone isn't being sympathetic or nice to you.
So very very true.
Lestrade - I think it's clear that you're making a big effort to not be over-protective of John; it's really impressive (there is no way to write that without sounding sarky, sorry).
And I absolutely get the whole "sympathy" thing. The quickest way to turn me into a blubbering heap is to be nice to me when I'm feeling like crap.
I suppose I was (still am) just stunned - baffled - that you're still not sure that telling John about Bryan's visit that time was a good idea. From a stranger's perspective it just seems like such a self-evidently right thing to do. Anyway. Butting back out now.
Hope the rest of today got better, not worse.
I don't know how to explain.
I suppose - what did it gain? If I hadn't been with John and that had happened I'd never have told anyone.
As it is, I am with John, I told him, he worried, the boys worried, everyone went through cycles of anger and worry and pointless dissection of the situation. Everyone feared it might happen again.
I could have avoided all that, for them, by not telling them. nothing about the situation would have changed, except they would have been spared all of the above.
But...I did tell him. And I can't change that now. And I'm not saying it was the wrong choice. I just can't be sure it was the right one.
OK, I have about a dozen responses to that, but none of them really matter given the fucking shit day you've just had, so I'm sending you a hug and hope you get home to the boys, brownies and your boyfriend very soon.
You don't have to censor yourself.
Like I said, I'm not suggesting either my course of action or my feelings are right or wrong.
It's human nature to second guess yourself, isn't it?
And thanks.
Let's call it biting my tongue, rather than censoring myself; it's taken me years to learn there's a time and a place for lecturing people on the Internet, let me have my moment of uncharacteristic self-control :-)
If you really want to continue the conversation, tomorrow or whenever, just say. Or don't, if you prefer; you'reunder no obligation :-)
Sounds like you should be home soon; hope you have a much more relaxing rest of the evening.
Bronwyn
I can confirm that this scot at least has NO problem with a texan drawl (nooo problem at all depending on who's speaking it!! ;)
L - sorry today has been shit, glad you went home. It's hard to learn to lean on someone when you've trained yourself to be solo all the time - certain that John is worth it though!
Kira
xoxo
Lestrade, I'm sorry you had such a horrific day, I glad you got to go to your boys and have brownies. On another note, how am I only one of three people who think the Wurzels are genius?
Back when my parents were still together and my older brother and I were tiny we used to go to Wales every summer. (My mum and her family still go a lot but he sort of lost custody of that holiday location in the divorce.)
My dad had an old Mini Clubman and the radio didn't work and we would sing the solid six hours it took to get down to the south coast of Wales and Combine Harvester was one of our staples. They're genius and I like their cover of Don't Look Back in Anger more than the real one.
I hope you have a better tomorrow!
Ladyeigh,
I have no problem with Scottish accents either. I think it's because the two share a certain lyricism of texture and a kind of lilting rhythm. After all, an awful lot of displaced Scots, Welsh and German settled Texas back in the day.
Or it could just be the R rule. There is a certain daily requirement of R's that have to be used in spoken English. Thus, when people in the Northeast U.S."pahk the cah in Havahd Yahd," people in Texas invent in "erl wells". It strikes me as similar to the British/Scottish accent comparison.
TTFN,
Bronwyn
Didn't the Wurzels do a song about Weston-Super-Mare? I haven't had a chance to visit yet, but it's definitely on the list. I hear you'll always find a welcome way down there...
(I'm so close to coming home I can practically taste it.)
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