This has lasted a three-hour round-trip commute in a Very Warm Tube, many meetings (some of which outside), and two hours at the allotment, a significant chunk of which was spent ripping up carpet, hence the bonus leaf. It is not a great photo but I think it nevertheless illustrates that (1) I have finally got my head around what the "wrap it around the central braid in a spiral" section of the instructions was attempting to communicate, and (2) this is Definitely Working For Me as an option.
(Brief foray into lab today, and it transpires that this is also pretty much as satisfactory as I had anticipated, which is a great relief in anticipation of upcoming Long Lab Days The Last.)
This is recently-washed hair, after a day of Doing Stuff including Going To The Gym, and was also my first attempt, so -- yep, it's messy, and also I will... do better at dividing my hair next time, but I'm tolerably pleased with it as proof-of-concept. It is indeed remarkably comfortable to wear.
When it came to be time for Papa's funeral, Adam very kindly drove me down to Cornwall in a van again, and we loaded the Tramper and the mobility scooter of the Other Wheelchair Saga (which I... need to tell you) into the back, and then he drove us back; since then, the Tramper has been sat on our patio (and, after divers alarums and excursions, plugged in to the exterior socket) and the mobility scooter has been sat in the living room (see above re: saga).
This morning, while we were eating scones, A looked out the window and remarked that the weather was fine... and prompted me to actually go for a walk with him to take it for a test drive.
It was Hard Work in the sense that I had very little lateral support from the seat and as such was doing a lot of core activation -- but we did somewhere over a five-mile round-trip, including a bunch of hills and a bunch of incredibly muddy paths that would have been completely impassable in any of my other chairs and a bunch of just... haring off into the woods because I could. I visited the SQUARE WATER we keep driving past and learned about an entire architectural tradition I'd been oblivious to! I visited the obelisk! I caught a shiny Swablu! I went on [photo] a WALK in the MUD (me with a Tramper off-road mobility scooter, on a muddy path through some woods).
I kept zooming off delightedly because I could. I kept giggling to myself. I kept bouncing gently in place. (I kept dropping my phone, and am going to install a handlebar mount.)
I have investigated ramps to make it easier to get it on and off the patio; I will be talking to my mother about buying it off her rather than selling it on, because really, at the point when this is the face I was pulling solidly for two hours?
Me, delightedly holding out a tiny takeaway raspberry-meringue creme brulee in my cupped hands.
Not Disabled... Enough! Accessible venues are a lie. Charming in parts & the performer was a sweetie; my main take-home, though, was that I really should get my act together to write a comedy show to take to Edinburgh next year.
Women's Hour, by Shit Theatre. YES YES YES. Content notes galore, but handled excellently and respectfully and it made me laugh a lot; the venue gets a solid 3.5/5 for accessibility, and the performers get a 5 as far as I'm concerned. Music-singing-physical theatre; we are contemplating designating Friday afternoon For Repeats and doing this again then along with Black.
Hearts of Folk. I was self-flyering for this one -- I was amused by the image and assumed it would be a bunch of folk music that the useless ex and I would quite enjoy and sebastienne would tolerate for the sake of watching our faces. ... IT WAS NOT FOLK MUSIC. It was, however, an excellent and loving pastiche of vicious music-scene gossip and folk in general. Absolutely delightful. Adored it. A+ self-flyering, would self-flyer again.
Rent (from New York). Holy SHIT I had never seen Rent before and was familiar with only one of the songs (and a filk of it at that). I. I. I started fucking bawling my eyes out (in the best possible way) partway through the first half, and continued bawling my eyes out all the way through the second, to the extent that enough of the actors noticed it that I was deemed In Need Of Hugs when they were going off after final bows. I. It was amazing. Beautiful singing, beautiful physical work, band in the pit jamming misc other shite during intros and breaks, beautiful set design given the constraints of the Fringe, yes yes yes fucking yes, maybe I will be more coherent about it on another occasion but basically yeS YES Y E S.
Saucy Jack & the Space Vixens. Right around the corner from where we're staying, and it had loud bass and brightly coloured lights and lots of glitter and was pleasantly mindless and pleasantly unabashedly cheerful and was a good way to wind down (provided not paying too much attention, ha) after the above, which, yeah, BAWLING. (I have decided I can only manage one show that makes me cry that much per day.)
ADDITIONAL SPECIAL BONUS MENTION TO Chapter 1 of Ancillary Mercy, which arrived in my e-mail today and which I read in the foyer while waiting to be let in to Rent, and promptly flailed about to anyone who would listen (vass, reply to come when it's not way past my bedtime and I am actually situated so as to have internet xx)
Today I am mostly in lab, with 20-30 minute breaks between flurries of activity in the main room that is currently at 16degC WHICH IS AN IMPROVEMENT ON THE 13degC IT WAS WHEN I GOT IN AT 7.30. (By all means tell me it isn't that cold! Then you get to sit stationary on an uncomfortable wooden stool in significant wind chill. "But Alex," you are perhaps thinking, "your laboratory is indoors," and you'd be right - but it's a clean lab, with the entire air volume of the suite of rooms being replaced 50 times an hour, with additional positive pressure inside the flow hoods, so it is in fact non-trivial.) Hence: bad selfies.
Deep navy blue jumper with bizarre drawstrings at waist, probably from a charity shop, acquired when sorting through Mama's clothes after her death; checked too-large-for-me shirt largely invisible, definitely acquired from a charity shop by Mama for Papa (when it turned out not to fit she attempted to give it to Middle Brother, who disdained it, which is how I ended up with it); fringed dip-dyed scarf/shawl in dusky blues from a charity shop but this time acquired by me; disconcerting-shade-of-green corduroy trousers acquired from eBay this week; and, of course, the boots (courtesy as always of the boything ♥):
On Monday, I briefly attempted to be Fashion for the sake of a meeting with my supervisor:
(Me, wearing green corduroy trousers, a black top 3/4-length sleeves and a dark green flower print, and a green sparkly lace scarf wrapped tightly around my neck.)
This was, in fact, a Scarf Of Shame; I generally think it's polite not to be visibly covered in bruises at my boss. ( Scarf Of Shame Was Required... ) And then yesterday I had a Somewhat Irritating Time Of It with respect to airlines and stomped home at 4pm to get changed for the evening-in-Brighton. I more or less hit the point of "fuck it", and went out wearing a skirt in public for the first time in ages, along with a heavy-duty steel collar that clearly disconcerted some people... ( Read more... ) It was... interesting, the effect wearing a skirt in public had on people's willingness to approach me. ( Content note: harassment, being approached by strangers. )
On Saturday I am going to a gently Midsummer-Night's-Dream-themed party. I mentioned this to my housemate. She decided that the best possible response was to create for me an ivy harness and smear me with mud.
The harness/waistcoat/whateverthehellitis is clearly a thing of beauty. I'm feeling a bit awkward about myself and bodies and such, but here is a sketch of what I might end up dressed like (several constituents are Sadly Absent).
(There are not words for how much I am looking forward to top surgery, and being able to stalk around topless without wrong -- in particular at the moment, given the recent weather, I've been longing to wear my ridiculous flouncy black linen skirt and my ridiculous slightly-heeled knee-high teal DMs and Troll Maiden Accepts An Apology and the ink that will happen on my chest.)
Yrs trly, pulling the "I have been in lab for four hours and it's only just 11am" face. (On the plus side, I am making progress!)
The thing on my head is my lizard-print stretchy tube, wot I originally acquired for keeping my hair out of my eyes on hikes but have discovered is extremely useful for keeping hair out of eyes in lab when I am not supposed to be touching my face (in this image I am smooshing one cheek with the hand I am resting my chin on, with no gloves - that's because it's the other lab I'm not supposed to touch my face in, but I'm going backwards and forwards frequently enough that it's not worth the hassle of taking off the lizards). Also feat.: The Sky Above My Planet, my Roger Waters The Wall tour hoody (which I keep in lab for when COLD), and one of my favourite black shirts (acquired about ten years ago after a punt trip in torrential rain).
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