As holly pricks and ivy clings, your fate is none too clear

After dropping Sherlock off at school this morning John and I went for a jog. Was the sort of morning where your whole body hurts - fingers and feet are cold, skin is chilled by the wind, lungs ache because the air is so cold...

So naturally we had to find a large warming breakfast and hot coffee/tea!

I think I need to invest in some new thermal layers anyway. The bike trip yesterday was pretty freezing too. The wind chill is phenomenal. SO I should get something good for running as well as biking.


Sherlock is desperate to get decorations up for Christmas - which will most certainly wait until Mycroft is home. But we might encourage some home-made paper chains or something. And there's still bee-innards to be made. So even if it's freezing cold tomorrow, there's plenty to do.

November feels like it's lasted forever. But I can't believe it's only just over 3 weeks until Christmas. That just feels...stupid. Unbelievable. And having spent last year at Christmas with John and the boys...I can't believe we've got another one! We have traditions... it's great.

I am completely dreading the fact that next year it really really will be my turn to work Christmas Day.

Put on a ragged sweatshirt, I'll take you anywhere you want me to

Got over to see Mum today. Don't particularly feel like talking about it.

Saw a lot of flooding on the way. I hope everyone who reads this is okay, and the worst is over now.

It was quite nice, to open the bike up all the way there and back, even if it was just motorway riding. Freezing cold, but apart form that, couldn't have asked for better riding conditions. Really good.

Who was asking about Christmas lists? Obviously the first things I'd want would be world peace and everything...but after that, an amazing adventure bike, and a few months to travel the world on a lovely big bike...BMW? KTM? Something like that...

I know, I know, it's a BMW... Danger will never let me hear the end of this...

Anyway, I've got the next two days off, and tomorrow I intend to spend all of it with John, doing nice things.

If I Could Fly Like Birds On High

Well you all seemed to enjoy yesterday's post. So have some more abandoned places.

I've never been to these, either. But sometimes I think about them, out there in the ocean, battered by the weather, basking in the sun, watching the ships come and go, and all the time, every second of every minute of every day, deteriorating a little more, and being reclaimed by nature.

They're Maunsell Forts. They sat out there, with their...crews? Whatever you'd call them. Not only facing the waves, wind and weather, but also the Luftwaffe.

I imagine it was lonely, but at the same time, a place of great comradeship.

Anyway, there are lots of lovely pictures of them and similar, if you look them up.

Tomorrow I'm going to Bristol to see Mum. I'm...not exactly looking forward to it. But I think I'll feel better for seeing her. I'm trying not to get my hopes up much regarding what to expect.

Worn out places, worn out faces

One of the jobs I've got on at the moment is a bloke found dead in an old factory.

The factory's odd... I mean, it's not, it's like loads of places, but it's one of those abandoned places that just looks like, at the end of the working day, everyone just walked out, shut the doors, and never came back.

I like places like that. Have done since I was a kid. We used to climb in through windows, get into buildings. Nothing illegal, not really, but just...we just wanted to know what was in there. Find things, paperwork, old machines, pictures on walls, photos...clothes, boots... Almost looks like he could have been left there then. It wasn't a violent death. He's just sitting, leaning against the wall. Guess if you believe int hat sort of thing, it's where his soul abandoned his body.

Anyway, ages ago I found a website with a guy who goes about taking photos of places like that. So I thought I'd share one of my favourites.

I know i'm far from perfect, nothin' like your entourage

For those of you who missed Sherlock's complaints about me on John's blog - we were both feeling pretty crap, so he was all cuddled up on me on the sofa, and accused me of breathing noisily and having an unnecessarily loud heartbeat.

In trying to persuade John to join me on the sofa now Sherlock's gone for an early night I promised to subdue any annoying bodily functions, and John said:

I don't know, your heart's pretty loud... Guess I'll risk it though.

Which just made me think of this. Lovely voice she's got - fantastic writer. Wish I had even a quarter of her talent. I sang it to John...very quietly. But you can have the proper version.

Sorry, not up to much more of an update than that. My eyeballs feel like they're trying to burrow into my skull.

And your mind, your tiny mind

After breakfast today we walked through the city a bit, discussing the killing room sat Smithfield (used to talk to a bloke who worked there - he said when it was new the killing rooms were 15' square. When he worked there they were 10' square because of all the blood and gore that was never cleaned off the walls - they only sluiced the floors.) Discussed when they used to drive the animals down to the market, through London, alive.

Then ended up near Monument - which none of us had ever climbed before, so we did.

It's got one friend, That's the undertaker

Today the weather has been horrible. Rain, rain, rain, some more rain... probably the last gasp of hurricane Sandy - we always get it a while later.

Anyway, this meant, as always, we had one seven year old, hopped up on life, confined within four walls.

And who wanted to make many things...cake, biscuits, milkshakes, a pie, a halo, wings, shoes with wings, a degu run the size of the flat, a fort, a maze, a sausage-making machine, a new dance move, some prog rock involving a violin and a guitar, a new no1 Christmas song, some streamers, and the stinkiest stink bombs in the world.

When faced with such a list, John came up trumps. And presented him with this:

He can't be wounded 'cause he's got no heart.

Nearly forgot to post.

And now I don't know what to say.

Mum's doing as well as can be expected. Nicky's doing a great job of visiting her, talking to the doctors, all that.

Sam and Rach have also been in to see her. Danny hasn't. But then, neither have I.


So I'll resort to posting YouTube videos. My version of poetry...

I'm not sure I ever have sung this to John. Might do that now, before I hit post...

The sound is quite quiet on the video. But it is old (Older than me, Sherlock, so clearly ancient!)

A clapped out, living, loving wreck

Firstly, Happy Thanksgiving to any of you celebrating.

And thanks for all your support about Mum. She's not doing so well right now, pretty confused, and on top of the stroke being forced to give up on the drink, fags and whatever else...so yeah, it'll be a long hard road. I hope she's got it in her.

Anyway, onto happier things -

Sherlock's been wanting to play Christmas songs - I've been refusing until he picks a few - I'm not going through a million of them! But in thinking Christmas songs, I naturally thought 'Slade' - who wouldn't?? So then I followed John around the room playing this, watching him valiantly try to keep a straight face while Sherlock heckled about the lack of Christmassyness and overdose of soppiness...

Then I showed Sherlock this video. And haven't stopped laughing since. I shall hand over this post to him now, and let the rest of you have a laugh:





Lestrade showed me this video and he's been singing it and PEOPLE REALLY LOOKED LIKE THAT ONCE with that hair he says and had stupid shoes like that and trousers that weren't even long enough  and Lestrade even said he had some trousers with the squares on and people had hair that was cut as bad as that AND HE REMEMBERS IT and this song is from last century and they still had television then and I told Lestrade all that and he keeps laughing and so does John and those people singing were doing it nearly 50 years ago which is half a century.

We're all drug takers, Give us something tonight

I'm back home, which I'm very glad about. John's been amazing, researching the local healthcare options for Mum, once she's released. Taking care of Sherlock, and answering a million questions. Keeping Mycroft up to date.

My blood relatives...well, Nicky's always been the most reliable person in our family. She's always been the peacemaker, the negotiator, the one who strikes deals and works out the fights so no-one's pride is too bruised. Rachel's always been the quiet one. Watching the rest of us and only saying her piece when pushed - or allowed to get a word in edgeways.

Danny. Danny's pretty much always wanted the exact opposite of whatever I say. And I don't know if that's because of him or because of me. I didn't get on with his Dad, I've never really got along with him. And Sam, his little brother (who is the spitting image of his Dad, and who I haven't seen since...well, it's been over ten years, anyway. So that was a surprise.) who goes along with whatever Danny tells him to do.

And me.

And today we all fell perfectly back into our old roles within a few minutes of meeting up. Like we haven't learnt anything growing up.

So I start by saying Mum's going to need help with getting sober and staying that way, and getting better from all this, and it just descends into an argument about who's ever nearby to help and who's always trying to run other people's lives and christ knows how but ends up with Danny equating me marrying John to Mum and all her marriages, as if that's got any relevance to anything.

At which point I walk out, which is what I always used to do, too. Bloody brilliant.

Anyway, what matters is that Mum's in the best place to take care of her and get her on the road to recovery, and Nicky knows that she can agree to whatever they say is best for Mum and the money doesn't matter - because living with John my outgoings are very small, so I can cover all that without anyone else having to worry about their own families struggling.

And now we just wait and see what happens as she sobers up and starts therapy.

I can't think of any lyrics that don't seem staggeringly insensitive.

As most of you will know, I'm at my mum's house.

She had a stroke earlier. Luckily...well, sort of luckily her partner was in the house. He noticed after a bit. Called an ambulance.

The doctors said the chance of having a stroke is much higher just after drinking. And higher in alcoholics. And now higher after having one...

Anyway, now I'm in her house, messing about. Tidying.

She's got drink next to her bed. She doesn't when we visit. It's different, seeing a place when someone's  just left it.

Bit like a crime scene.

So, they think she'll probably be okay, after some therapy and stuff. They'll know more tomorrow, when they do a brain scan. They think she was lucky, though.

Feels like a murder but that's alright

Do any of you actually check up my titles? I often wonder... just occasionally I'm very pleased with them! But I entirely understand that you don't want to spend time trying to track them down.

Anyway, today after...ah, I can't tell you how many cups of coffee, or someone will probably call me an ambulance or something - I got called (well, sort of volunteered a bit) to a squat - a crack house. Someone had called in saying there was a body. Didn't leave their own name, annoyingly.

The whole place was just...well, every bodily function had a pretty good showing. Needles everywhere, drugs paraphenalia, parephenalia. Paraphernalia... that one. And a body, as promised.

So we spent hours digging through it, bagging, tagging, sampling...there will be more DNA register hits from one room than we normally get in ten murder cases, I'd guess.

It was a total mess, and a pretty depressing look at society. And I really don't enjoy digging about in that sort of gear - there's a very real fear of getting stuck with a sharp of some kind.


And all this after being woken up early by Sherlock tugging on my hand to tell me he missed Mycroft. Poor kid. Anyway, we got him sorted and by the time John was up and heading for the kettle he was already planning some form of bubble machine extravaganza. I can't keep up.


I think Sherlock's said he's doing something for the school show that involves singing. And maybe dancing... I think Mrs N is trying to get their class to do something all together. Good luck to her :)

You know your stripper from your paint

Well, lunch seemed successful. Which is nice :)

We're all now lazing about looking stuffed and wondering if we can ever move again.

As you all appreciated the last picture I got from the 'sky cops' (India99/98/97) I thought you might like another one. Not fireworks this time - but hopefully just as interesting?

Hold on tight, cause I like the sense, of speed, and I like the sense of you.

Had a lovely day today. Bit of a lazy morning, then off to the off-road bike place.

It was pretty muddy, so there wasn't much chance for doing jumps and stuff - our bikes weighed about three times as much by the end of the ride with all the mud stuck to them!

But it was brilliant - we were filthy, from the spray, puddles, falling off, landing in puddles, pushing each other in puddles, riding along a stream...yeah, just fantastic.

Sherlock and Mycroft had fun too, and at the end Mycroft had a go on the bikes again and Sherlock rode pillion with me, just on the practice track. He is nearly big enough...

But he's also very excited about getting the next size up of violin - we should try and do that in the week, I need to go to the music shop anyway, so we should go and see if he's ready for a 1/2 size yet.

He declared my book 'boring' once I'd read a bit of it to him. I think he thought it would tell him how to solve murders, not just how to deal with the press, paperwork, court papers and all that... obviously there are a few things that would help you...but it's mainly how to comply with the rules and build a strong case, not how to track down the murderer and grab them.

Today was just one of those days were...I can't believe that I'm this lucky. I can't believe the person I was 5 years ago was really me. Things have changed so much, so dramatically. Things I could never have hoped for have happened to me. It's just amazing. My life is amazing.

Step beside the piece of the circumstance

Right, now peace has (sort of) descended, after Sherlock stealing one of my books for his own intellectual gain.... I shall attempt to write this entry and think about my presentation.

So...sorry, I can't even remember who asked about first responders (by which I don't mean medical first responders - I mean the first officers on the scene of a homicide/attempted.)

John is now laughing because he's reading chapter titles form my book.

Bet he wishes I'd brought home the snappily titled: "Template Protocol for the management of detainees who are suspected of swallowing or having packed drugs or foreign objects into body orifices or cavities"

Anyway...

yes, whoever it was, the very first priority is to establish if the 'body' is really dead. It becomes incredibly embarrassing for all concerned if they are discovered to be alive after an officer's been reeling out crime scene tape for half an hour and drinking tea given to them by locals and not rendering first aid.

So you always get a contaminated scene, basically. What the officers need to know is how to preserve it as best as possible. So, for instance, establishing a single entry/exit and walkway. Sketching/photographing the scene before moving things. Noting where the things were moved to. Starting the Crime Scene Log. ensuring no one enters the scene without protective clothing.

If the victim is still alive, then someone travelling to hospital with them, in case they can identify their attacker, or note a dying declaration (which can be used in court.) Preserving their clothes, getting a pre-transfusion blood sample preserved for evidence. If they die on the way to hospital/in hospital, making sure all the medical equipment used is left in place and not removed.

Obviously, there's lots to talk about, hence them wanting me to run a presentation!

But ask away, if you have specific questions.

I'm going to put Sherlock to bed...

Oh, and just to add - please sign this petition. The law they are trying to pass is completely horrific. If John and I were to live in Nigeria when this bill was passed we could be sentenced to death, just for being us. Jailed for ten years, just for living together, or holding hands, or wishing to be married. Please help people not as lucky as we are.  www.allout.org/nigeria-veto 

For the next three weeks I went huntin' them nights

After non-stop pestering from people at work today to play the guitar, I finally did tonight - but not for them. Just for the regulars in the pub and John.

It went pretty well. Not perfectly - I'm a good deal short of perfect right now, but well enough that people seemed to like it.

I'd instructed John to do nothing whilst listening. Which he failed to do. He was performing all sorts of breathing and blinking type things, and talked to people, and jiggled his foot in time, and ...well, the list could go on and on. Plus his usual glares were absent and he looked all soppy. Terrible behaviour.

Anyway, with a few months more practice I think I might be ready for the wedding.

Knowing you're there every day, Makes me high in my own special way

Right, recipe time! Sorry, it's all in UK measures, so anyone in a part of the world where you don't use proper weights and measures, you'll have to convert :) It's a Dan Lepard recipe.

It should be a really rich, reddish brown, moist cake.

1 tsp vegetable oil
3 tbsp dark cocoa powder
100ml boiling water
50g dark chocolate, broken into little pieces
½ tsp bicarbonate of soda
100g unsalted butter, softened
175g soft muscovado sugar
125g condensed milk

1 large egg
150g superfine self-raising flour
1 tsp baking powder

Rub the oil inside a deep oblong cake tin (about 22cm x 11cm, or a 2lb loaf tin), and line the base and sides with baking parchment.

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4. Stir three tablespoons of cold water into the cocoa until you have a smooth paste, then whisk in the boiling water. Straight away stir in the chocolate and the bicarb, and leave to melt and fizz.

In another bowl, beat the butter, sugar, condensed milk and the egg until very smooth (use an electric mixer). Sift together the flour and baking powder, beat half of this into the egg mix, fold in the chocolate mixture, then beat in the remaining flour until smooth.

Scrape evenly into the tin and bake for 40-45 minutes. Stick in a skewer: if it comes out with a few crumbs sticking, the cake is ready. Remove from the oven, leave to cool in the tin, then turn out once cold. You can have it as it is, but it's nicer with icing on top - this recipe for icing makes a LOT. You possibly could manage to fit it all on the cake, but it's more fun to find a willing partner and spread it on them. (I jest. John would kill me with his laser eyes if I got chocolate on the bedsheets.)


2 tbsp treacle
150g light soft brown sugar
3 egg yolks
4 level tbsp cocoa
4 level tbsp cornflour
300ml milk
250g dark chocolate (or half milk and half dark), finely chopped
75-100ml boiling water
50g unsalted butter, softened
2 tsp vanilla extract

In a saucepan, beat together the treacle, sugar, yolks, cocoa, cornflour and milk until the mixture is smooth. Then bring it to the boil, whisking often so it doesn't scald on the base. Remove from the heat, beat in the chocolate and enough boiling water to make it smooth and creamy. When just warm, beat in the vanilla and softened butter, a knob at a time. Use immediately, as it will firm quickly.

And there you go. In our flat, it didn't last a day. But then we do have Mrs H, security, John and a Sherlock.


I'll let John tell you about our day today. It was lovely. :) Bikes, boyfriend, baking. Doesn't get much better!

And the sugar that dripped from the violin's bow made the children go crazy

Ahh, lovely day.

Was woken at an ungodly hour by Shortstuff, who was far too lively for someone who'd been up in the night after a nightmare.

Removed him from our bed because John was still valiantly trying to sleep. Made porridge. Didn't have a hangover.

John and I had a gloriously lazy morning after dropping Sherlock at school, coffee, picked up my bike, more coffee, until John went off to see Dr E. So, to fill the time while he was gone, I decided to bake a brown sugar choccy cake with chocolate treacle icing. Which turned out very well - but the icing was way too much to fit on the cake! John helped me dispose of some of it though ;)

Sherlock thoroughly enjoyed having a slice after school - we ran to the school, because a. I need more exercise and b. it meant we could cool down by walking home. Neat.

So, the other day, Anon asked: "Do you have any advice on how to mentally physically and emotionally prepare for a new relationship having left one that was far from good?"

There's an awful lot of words, But there's no communication

Well, Wow, you lot. Half a million pageviews. Half a million!

That's...not something I ever imagined could happen.

Thank you, to all of you, whether you read or comment or...well, just thank you.

This is just a quick post, really, to say...drinks are on me ;) Party!

The Met have celebrated by putting up the Christmas tree outside NSY... don't tell Sherlock!

I'm dragging John off to a secret location...to do something...secret. I hope he enjoys it.

Soothe my mind and set me free

Well... I thought today would be calm, we didn't have a lot planned.

I had a word with Sherlock this morning, before John was up, about today being Armistice Day. He's already done a bit at school, and they'd got poppies - and drawn pictures of them - and even looked at a little bit of war poetry. So he was already ahead of the game, really. So then I said about the eleventh hour, and he agreed he'd be quiet.

He took that very seriously, as it turned out, and turned on the radio so we could 'hear the silence', and shushed us all in plenty of time so we wouldn't miss it. And he stayed still and quiet the whole time, which I was very impressed about, because two minutes is a long time.

I didn't know if John would want to do anything...be alone, or go to the cenotaph, but we just stayed in. So I gave him a hug for the two minutes.

It took us a while to realise he'd also unplugged the phone - and the internet - to ensure we had silence. Security came up to ask if everything was all right and check we weren't all hostages!

Anyway, then Sherlock disgraced himself a bit later by having made himself a sheet of ice to form a dagger with and try and stab me - me being the available test subject. Nothing personal...

I thought he'd hurt himself at first, but he'd just got a really cold hand, creeping up on me, and then when his ice dagger didn't actually stab me, but slid through his hand, I think it hurt. Anyway, he's banned from the internet now, and got a good telling off. He's a bit sulky.


So, anyway, as Sherlock is temporarily off the blogs I thought we might try another

Lestrade's Upstanding Column Of Love...

So, ask away. Anon posting is welcome, as usual. Have at it, commenters of the world....

*Please note, all replies may be utter bollocks.

And curse Sir Walter Raleigh, He was such a stupid git.

bit tired. busy day.

So I give you, Oxford Street's Christmas lights for 2012:

Yup, Marmite. That is indeed an Elf vomiting in a hat...

Other than that bright spot, I'm already sick of Christmas adverts, music and all that. It's November!!

The moon comes up...and the music calls

Nearly missed a day! But Sherlock is now asleep (he is currently bunched up in a tiny corner of his bed, asleep on his face, in a right tangle of arms and legs. I don't know how he can sleep like that!) John is looking like he might drop off at any minute. And I'm still annoyingly awake.

Tomorrow I have to try and write my appraisal, catch up on the latest paperwork, files, and try to get a bit further on a few cases.

I think it's amazing how forensically aware gangs are these days, and it's making life very difficult as an investigator.

What would you guys do if you'd shot someone, to try to destroy/hide evidence?

There's also doubtless ACPO reports and best practice recommendations stacking up. It can be hard to keep up with the cutting edge of evidence gathering/forensics when we're busy.

And there's talk of running some sort of course, as an SIO, for first responders, on identifying categories of death, and acting accordingly...because I've got so much free time to do that!

My head will be alphabet soup with all the acronyms by the end of tomorrow.

This is, of course, if no one gets murdered...

The tune that is yours and mine to play upon this earth

Right, as Sherlock noticed tonight, I'm always a bit late home on a Thursday.

This is because, all those weeks ago when I went for a drink on my own, I found a little pub that has an open mic night on a Thursday. And it seemed...nice. Quiet, friendly, a mix of talent. And Jo and Lisa recently asked if I would play a few songs at their wedding reception.

When Jo and I first met I was still playing a lot - to audiences. I suppose she thought I still was. Anyway, I sort of agreed, but then I wanted a bit of practice, where no one I knew would be watching.

So I decided to give it a go for a while. Didn't bank on Sherlock, PI, rumbling me quite so soon.

Getting Right Down To The XYZ Of It

RR asked:

How about what kind of learner are you? (Like....hands on, books, one-on-one teaching, listening to someone talk, figuring it out by yourself....what way of learning new things works best for you?)


I think that really depends what it is. As a young copper, doing my exams, it was books, then talking it over with my peers, to check we all understood things the same way. I need people to challenge me, quiz me, make me argue my points. Which is good, because that's what I get, in court.


But anything that is practical, it's got to be hands-on, with a bit of guidance, but I can't stand watching people demonstrate and not letting you get stuck in.


Computers that goes double for - can't cope with anyone who does things for you, to 'show you'. Need them to tell me what to do, but let me do it.


I'm not very good at listening to people talking in a teaching way - I zone out a bit.


But I'm also happy to just get stuck in and make my own mistakes. I know it's sometimes handy to learn from other people's, but sometimes the lesson sticks better when it's your own. Guitar playing, cooking, I just give it a go. Mistakes don't matter.


So, all that is what I try to keep in mind with Sherlock. Not doing things for him, letting him make mistakes, no matter how annoyed he gets at making them, letting him figure things out and only stopping him when it would be dangerous not to. But he has a fairly good capacity to listen, too, when he's interested. Although zero capacity for it when he's not...which we're working on.


I'm very proud of him today, for talking to the girl whose boat he thought was good.


And just to prove mistakes don't matter - I have no clue why this bloody thing has decided to highlight this entry. Sorry about that. Edited - Mycroft fixed it!

Something lewd in a low down accent

RSF was rather taken with the word 'tosspot' when I used it to describe someone today.

So I thought we could have a post on slang/favourite words.

Some of mine are unprintable...but a few of my favourites:

wanker, tosspot, bollocks, Oik, pillock, numpty, tosser, sod (as in 'off' or 'it all'). Kholly just reminded me of another - toe-rag. Brilliant.

I feel Brit slang is seriously misunderstood by a lot of Americans. (I have, for instance, been told that 'bloody' is a terrible, terrible word we will be mortally offended by!) so feel free to ask any questions, if you're not a local ;)

In other news - which of these should I get John for Christmas? Or do I just throw caution to the wind and buy both??

KHolly asked what I wish someone had told me when I was 7 and 14, that I'm making sure the boys know now...

That's a hard one. I've sort of answered a part of that before, slightly, in regard to relationships.

But otherwise... I think, when I was 14, I probably needed someone to tell me I wasn't an adult. No matter how much I thought I was, or had to be. I wasn't. I was still a child. Albeit with maybe more responsibility than many. I wish someone had told me that. I wish someone had been there so I didn't feel like I had to be responsible. And I hope that Mycroft, now, is only as responsible as he wants to be, and lets John and I help out with all the times he doesn't want to be.

As for being 7...I don't remember that much about being 7. Probably needed telling that I was, actually, a mortal being. And that negotiation was more effective than arguing. But I hope a lot of the advice I'd give myself was completely irrelevant to Sherlock, because his life, is, I hope, very different to mine.


I don't know. I still barely feel qualified to be raising another human being, let alone offering sage advice.

I Am Staying Right Beside You

I was going to post a picture of some mice on the tube. One was down in the pit, eating a bone - chicken, I imagine, and then a little, young mouse, was peering down from the track, but couldn't get down there. You could see the longing in every line of its tiny body. But they were both brown, and it was a little hard to see them on the picture.

But then I showed Sherlock these pictures and he said I HAD to post them.

Fireworks over London last night, from India98:

I Just Wanna Try To Do Things On My Own

Today, Zeph asked about something I'd like to learn that I haven't yet.

It's a hard question! (My gut instinct is to say 'learn the guitar'. But there would be protests, I know)

I'm always so busy I don't feel like I've even got time to think about learning things, let alone do it.

I suppose...I'd like to be able to make things. Like, carve stone, or...paint. Wouldn't it be great to be able to paint lovely pictures. Or even draw well! But I don't know...do you really learn painting and drawing, or do you...I don't know, learn a bit, but need a lot of natural talent too?

And carving things...where would I put them? Can't imagine the National Gallery would be clamouring to take them in...

This will probably sound silly, but it would be pretty nice to learn how to do that sort of really artistic bondage, too :) although I actually have no desire to tie anyone up! Quite the opposite, actually... But whenever I've seen pictures it always looks so lovely. The name completely escapes me. Kin...something and I want to say Subaru...Shubaru? You can all Google. Just maybe not at work or in the library ;)

And That Is When My Spark Got Hot

RR asked what my favourite saying was.

So I've been thinking about that. I'm sure that John, Mycroft and Sherlock can share things I say a lot...but my favourite saying, I think, is something my Nonna used to say.

She was a very straightforward lady. No nonsense. Said what she thought, told you if she disapproved. Didn't let you feel too sorry for yourself.

 Which was lucky for me, because it meant when my Dad did a runner she wasn't worried about what to do, about whether it wouldn't be welcomed by Mum if she still had a part of our lives. She just said that just because he'd gone, didn't mean she was. And her and my Nonno were a big part of my life.

So, here's her favourite saying, really:

'Siccome la casa bruci, riscaldiamoci'.

Which means, 'Since the house is on fire, let us warm ourselves.'

Don't Be A Coconut

Right. ReReader asked if we'd be doing our effort instead of writing novels - which means posting every day, I think.

I'm not sure I have the brains to post every day! But I can try.

However, you lot need to suggest/ask/quiz/prod and generally give me some ideas. Anything. I will do my best not to be offended. Might even revive Lestallion's Upstanding Column of Love, if I get desperate.


Sherlock gleefully informed me, when I got home, that John and I could get married in a court. (An old one, converted into a hotel.) I think that's a bit much like work! I'll swear in instead of saying my vows...

Trying to plan somewhere to go and watch fireworks with Mycroft. And over the weekend Sherlock and I (and John, if he stops putting chilli in things) will make biscuits to take to him. And I've promised Sherlock some form of toffee-apple cake/pudding.

The atmosphere in the flat is still lethal to most forms of life, after John's relish earlier. Feel like my mucous membranes are melting. I'm amazed the degus survived.