ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
Last Tuesday, Bunn expressed the intention of leading me all the way from Cornwall to Devon, where she would abandon me in a mine-riddled forest for me to find my own way home, or die trying. (Or something like that.) Curiously, I was more than happy with this suggestion, so waved a cheery goodbye to a dopey Pellinor - "I'm off to get abandoned in a forest!" - and headed off.

Curious things ensued )
ladyofastolat: (Winter is coming)
We spent Easter adventuring in Westeros - or, rather, Essos. This write-up will be of no interest at all to anyone who wasn't there - and of minimal interest to those who were, since, well, they were there. However, it's good to have a record for future reference.

How to annoy people in Essos )
ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
On Sunday, the adventurers returned from their sojourn in the Western Lands beyond the Tamar. Many Things had they performed, and great were the mountains of food and towering was the pile of empty bottles left after their carousing. Many are the tales that could be told, but for now, let me tell you the Tale of the Deathless Tomato.

The Tale of the Deathless Tomato )
ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
So we were staying in the Wye Valley Youth Hostel (and that's another story.) It's in Welsh Bicknor (so called because it's in England) and it's a strange place: the former rectory of the church next door, a church that sits in the wilds of the river bank and appears to administer to nobody at all except for passing water creatures. In the grounds is a dark abandoned railway tunnel. Across the river (in English Bicknor, so called because it's in England) is a deserted 1930s factory complex, long lines of red brick warehouses; I am sure I once killed zombies in a place just like that. The lane down to the hostel is steep, narrow and pot-holed, with a precipitous drop on one side, and a wall of stone on the other. (Even in our small car it felt scarynarrow.) A hairpin bend lies half way down, and there are no passing places whatsoever.

Confused ramblers, missing castles and undead white van men )
ladyofastolat: (Jayne hat)
We spent last week adventuring in the far reaches of space (or the not-so-far reaches of space, since Space is Big.) This was the continuation of the campaign we started two years ago, which culminated in a super-powerful Ancienty chap telling us that All The Things were at risk unless we joined him in his fight against The Destroyer. We decided that said super-powerful Ancienty chap was a capricious, arrogant twit. We suspect strongly that other characters in other campaigns have tangled with said Destroyer, who is also a capricious, arrogant twit, but our current characters don't know this. "Can we have a year to think about your job offer?" we asked, and, faced with the news that All The Things were potentially under threat... we decided to ignore it, and continued to visit wacky tourist attractions, search for elephant tusks, buy quirky robots and go to concerts.

Duct tape was the prevailing weapon in our arsenal, most notably when we spent about two hours trying to work out how to detain 4 prisoners in the toilet of our passenger shuttle. Few guns were fired, and these often ineptly. One of the few fights we engaged in involved using pasties as a weapon. (It made a strange sort of sense at the time, honest. We were on a mining planet, you see?) The most passionate debates - apart from the duct tape/toilet thing - revolved around PR and marketing strategies, HR and recruitment issues, childcare, contract law and the financial management of ailing steel farming companies. Can we conclude from this that we are getting old?

We found the elephant tusks, and all finished happily for every past owner who had become fond of them during their chequered career! We rescued an 8 year old telepathic girl from a life of brain probes and hideous tesssts! We saved a planet from being crashed into by a comet! We launched the career of a rubbish film star! We discovered a boy band! We captured a pirate! (This was the long-term nemesis of Pellinor's character. I thought that he would feel a little sense of sadness at finally being rid of his nemesis, but he is made of less sentimental stuff, and captured him without a qualm.) We even got a medal ceremony! I have always argued that all games should end with a medal ceremony, ever since I took 2 days destroying the Death Star, only for the game to cut instantly to credits without letting me bask in my hard-won victory.

As well as fighting fictional pirates, most of us ventured into Plymouth - most of us in appropriate costume - for a pirate-themed metal gig, which was fun, but very very hot. Two days later, the dreaded lurgi began to sweep through the party, clearly the fault of those pesky pirates. It reached me on the journey home. I thought I was past the worse today, and ventured into work, but was sent home after a few hours, on the grounds that I was "as white as a sheet," and was sitting inside shivering in two coats, while everyone else was in short sleeves and saying how hot it was. Illness is giving me interesting dreams, though. Last night, I dreamt a long and very vivid adventure prompted by the government making possession of 20-sided dice a capital offence...
ladyofastolat: (We do not sew)
We spent the long Easter weekend adventuring in Westeros, finally wrapping up the plot that started some six years ago. Despite many of us proving incapable of throwing any number that wasn't a 1, we managed to piece together the evidence and conclude that Balon Greyjoy was about to rebel against King Robert. In our part of the world, this was to take the form of an enormous attack on the Wall by land and sea, done by wildings and the Brians of Skagos, all armed and coordinated by Iron Islanders. We sent out ravens hither and yon, and all the right people were warned and took appropriate action. Westeros was saved. Yay! Go us!

Yeah, so we possibly woke up and enraged the Others along the way, but who how hard can they be? We also broke the skeleton of the legendary hero who might one day rise with his legendary entourage (also broken) and wield his legendary axe (which we kind of, er, stole) against fell enemies that only he can slay, but who believes in such legends nowadays? Oh, and thanks to our warnings, the Lannisters are far more powerful than they would have been had the Greyjoys hammered them, but they're loyal subjects of King Robert - long may he and his descendants reign - so this can only be good, right?

Along the way we learnt:

- That maester training allows maesters to unerringly hit the 140 character limit of a raven message with no rephrasing or crossing out.
- That there is a very fine line between gnomic wisdom and utter nonsense.
- That walking into a wilding camp saying, "Hi! I'm friends with your sworn enemies!" isn't a very sensible idea. However, if you're accompanied by someone who has just finely honed their bluff skills by getting a bun from the kitchen (no, I don't know how this works, either), the seemingly inevitable disaster can be... er... evited?
- That mastiffs are less effective than they're billed. (Alas, poor Gelert!)
- That off-duty Iron Islanders spend an inordinate amount of time ferrying around loaves of bread
- That the hornier the helmet, the tougher the foe
- The true meaning of "slighting" a castle
- That everything is more difficult when you have wet underwear

Inside

Oct. 22nd, 2012 02:54 pm
ladyofastolat: (Jayne hat)
Although I spent most of the week doing healthy and improving things outside in lovely scenery (*ahem*) we did spend a small amount of time lounging on cat-covered couches, eating cheese and throwing dice.

Roleplaying )

Outside

Oct. 22nd, 2012 01:49 pm
ladyofastolat: (Misty Glastonbury)
This post is an attempt to convey the impression that I haven't just spent 9 days sitting on a couch eating cake.

Pictures of Outside )
ladyofastolat: (Default)
Much of yesterday's roleplaying was toilet-dominated, too, and involved length discussions on interior design and plumbing. From there we moved on to custard, and today we made a lot of money selling enormous quantities of custard to miners, though we are not entirely sure why they need so much. Now we have made HUGE mega amounts of money transporting a wealthy loony to his home planet, so that's nice.

The roleplaying session has been very dominated by digressions, so in that tradition, I see something rather disturbing on the BBC. "Faecal matter can be found on just over a quarter of our hands, new research suggests." How many hands do the writers of this article possess, and does anyone know that the BBC website is being written by many-handed aliens?

Plumbing

Oct. 14th, 2012 09:14 am
ladyofastolat: (Jayne hat)
So, we've found a mysterious, deserted ship, full of dazzling technology the like of which we have never seen before, with vast corridors full of plants we have never seen before, and what do we focus on to the point of obsession? The toilet facilities. Some people probably don't deserve to be a roleplaying party. :-D
ladyofastolat: (Default)
We got home from Mitcheldean this afternoon, having returned via Winchcombe and Calleva Atrebatum. This will probably be a short write-up, since sitting hurts (as does standing, lying down and walking, which is rather unfortunate.) There are pics.

Mitcheldean day by day )
ladyofastolat: (Jayne hat)
Last week was spent doing some epic roleplaying in Cornwall, while ridiculously unseasonable weather blazed unseasonably in the great Outside beyond the windows, and numerous animals sprawled around us, beneath us and upon us. After finding a missing turban and failing to win a balancing competition, we travelled to "Gleen of the 17 Pillars", where we spent about two days smiting cults, visiting doomed astronomers, rescuing mud men, getting into bar brawls, feeding goats, chatting to actors and enjoying fine dining, all the while failing utterly to notice (and in fact getting rather impatient with) the increasingly blatant hints we were getting from all the NPCs about the existence of an 18th Pillar, hidden in plain sight.
 
After playing a cryptic dice game with a mysterious man, and receiving gifts and a training montage from another mysterious man who may or may not have been the same man, and may or may not have been a man anyway, we ended up with the party divided. Half of us thought that the Person We Had Previously Thought Of As The Big Bad really was a Big Bad - or at least a Big Misguided - and that we needed to help the Wise Mentors stop him, while half of us decided that he could well be a Big Misunderstood Good who needed to be aided in his quest to destroy the Wise, Yes, But Actually Bad Mentors. Much Philosophy was involved, and upon the results of our discussion the fate of the universe depended.
 
Luckily, at this point we fell splat into a monster-infested ziggurat, so had rather more important things to deal with, and spent several happy days falling into spiky pits, grappling vampires, scuttling gratuitously across ponds, nearly getting killed by three-armed ogre-like things, befriending a depressed brain, resisting the siren-like lure of an illusory oompah band, summoning fire elementals and invisible albatrossesses to do our dangerous work, and chucking everything we found into the tent that followed us everywhere on ostrich legs, except when it got skittish and scared.
 
These dungeon adventures culminated in the truly terrifying Tomb of Horrors, which tried to kill us in several hundred differently hideous ways, and turned us into a sad little huddle of naked, baffled people, lost in the dark. We finally escaped, to much rejoicing - we even got a badge! - only to find ourselves facing the confrontation upon which the fate of existence depended. The Big Bad Who Might Really Be Good was facing the Wise Mentors Who Might Actually Be Bad! Naturally, we piled in willy-nilly, variously shouting warnings and offers of help, and hurling artefacty swords at various protagonists. Mentor Number One got squished by a teenage girl with a big chest. Big Bad Who Might Really Be Good got imprisoned for all eternity deep below the earth. My character got imprisoned for all eternity deep below the earth. One Mentor remained. The "he's a Big Bad really!" party scented victory... and then an ENORMOUS invisible dragon turned up and squished Mentor Number Two, and the Aeon ended in a rain of dragons and a brawling party looking up at the sky, going, "Wut?"
 
It was all rather unexpected, but once the dust (and dragons) had settled, we all concluded that it was really rather good. :-)
ladyofastolat: (Default)
We got back yesterday evening from a week of over-indulgence in the Forest of Dean, which was followed by a day falling asleep all over my parents' house and a day struggling to find the energy to dance at a folk festival, after which we decided that we were Too Exhausted Even For Bellowhead (and this is truly exhausted indeed) and came home a day early.

Write-up and photos behind the cut )

Oven

May. 26th, 2011 10:06 am
ladyofastolat: (Default)
Gah! The oven man finally turned up, one week late. Now he needs to order us a new element. There's a "strong possibility" that it will arrive by tomorrow afternoon, and if it does, he will be able to fit it some time after 4 tomorrow. The problem with this is that I need to get all the weekend's shopping done before 4, since I need to take the cats to the Hilton for 4.30, and the first Wightfraggers are arriving just after 5. But how can I do proper shopping unless I know whether we'll have an oven this weekend, or not? I'd hoped to make biscuits this afternoon, and Pellinor was going to make an enormous chocolate cake tomorrow, but those won't happen now. I guess we'll just have to subsist on cheese.
ladyofastolat: (Winter is coming)
The long Easter weekend was spent rampaging around Westeros while eating cheese and rhubarb.

...you're sure of a big surprise )

Pancakes

Mar. 5th, 2011 04:06 pm
ladyofastolat: (Default)
In the last few days, I've seen at several very different things described as the "traditional" way to serve pancakes. I know that a pancake in America is different from a pancake in England, and a pancake in Scotland is different yet again, and other countries are doubtless different, too, but these sources were, as far as I can tell, all talking about English-style pancakes. Therefore, out of curiosity, I was wondering what my Friends list (whether English or not) would consider to be the classic or traditional (or "right"?) way to serve pancakes.

(My answer would be "rolled up with lemon and sugar", by the way.)
ladyofastolat: (bellowhead)
I seem to be Facebooking rather more than LJ-ing at the moment, probably as a result of getting my new phone. It lends itself to a quick "I am doing X" Facebook style update, rather than the lengthier LJ stuff. So what have I been doing since the last LJ update? )
ladyofastolat: (Jayne hat)
I'm not a very good roleplayer. I'm in awe of people who can channel their character who hours on end, having long conversations entirely in character, or even thinking in character. While I can channel characters easily enough when writing a story, it just doesn't work in a roleplaying situation. I can't act, I can't sustain speaking in character, and I get easily distracted into out of character digressions or puns. Fortunately, the groups I've roleplayed with have a similar style, so I enjoy our sessions immensely.

However, I think I'd enjoy them even more if I put more thought into character creation. Even though I can't do immersive roleplaying, I can at least give myself an interesting, rounded character to play with. Several of the ones I've played recently are merely a name and a collection of skills. In several cases, the actual character creation has been done by the GM, which can make it harder to get a handle on the character, but that's no excuse; Bacchus, for example, manages to come up with immensely detailed character concepts, even if the actual rolling up of the character is then done by someone else to fit his outline. With Traveller, another problem comes from the fact that there is so much backstory to this universe that I always get daunted and run away whimpering, so my character exists in a vacuum, but this is not an excuse I can use with A Game of Thrones.

For five days of last week's eight day gaming session, I played a character - Lady "Bubbles" Chatterley - that was created for me as a joke. Some years ago, on a long, booze-fuelled evening during a roleplaying weekend, we all rolled up joke characters for each other, trying to create a character totally against each person's preferred type. The following year, we all played those joke characters for a little while during the week, and I chose to play her again for most of this week. She turned out to be great fun to play. Her skills - which included driving tracked vehicles, bribery, brawling and an insane level of handgun skill - suggested a interesting past life for a noble woman in her 50s, and I had far more fun with her than I've had with many other characters. In contrast, the character I played at the beginning and end of this week was basically "chap with engineering 6" and little more.

And so I resolve in future to be more creative when it comes to characters. My first exposure to RPGs came on the computer, with games like Baldur's Gate. I saw my character more as the hero of a fantasy novel than as a character for me to play, so normally went for handsome heroic men. This has carried over into roleplaying as a whole, in that I always play human males. Next time I create a character, though, I will definitely consider playing someone from interesting alien race, or a quirky character with an interesting background.

I will also try to write something from the point of view of each character that I play. Bacchus played with us for the first weekend via Skype, but missed the rest of the week, so I started writing up a brief in-character diary of what he was missing, so he wouldn't be too confused if he managed to join in again at the end of the week. I'd only intended to do one day, hoping that another character would cover the second day, but I really enjoyed it, so carried on. I'm a person who thinks through writing, so the fact that I was sitting down each morning and writing an account made a huge difference.

So here, for the sake of completeness, is said diary, though I doubt it will be of any interest to anyone who wasn't there.

The Diary of Lady Bubbles Chatterley )
ladyofastolat: (Jayne hat)
I write this surrounded by a mob of cats. The servant they keep for morning feeding has gone to the vet with a critical mass of dogs, and the cats are Not Happy. They are headbutting me, pawing me, shouting at me, leaping all over me, sneezing over me and in general trying to command me to feed them instead. I fear that I have very few minutes left before they realise that I, too, am made of meat, and take appropriate action.

This would be rather ironic, since we've spent the last two days desperately averting a hideous death by flesh-eating grub. We were supposed to be rampaging around a fantasy world (with goats), but a hideous scheduling mix-up of doom led to a last minute change of plan, and we're now playing entirely different characters in outer space in the far future. (Here's a helpful tip: when planning something, never let whole months go by in which you only ever talk about "the Friday" or "the Saturday" without confirming that all parties are using "the" in the same way.)

More )
ladyofastolat: (Jayne hat)
Yesterday morning, while sewing pies, I was watching David Attenborough's Life of Birds, which I found on some obscure channel. (It's amazing how often I can go through several hundred channels and fail to find a single thing that I'm willing to watch while sewing.) Honey liked it, too. Then, at the end of the third one I'd watched, he told us that the next episode would be about birds feed on mammals. The next episode started with ducks, and then moved on to herons and divers and the like. I find this all quite worrying. All these years, I've been treating ducks as mild-mannered pretty things that jostle for bread, but all along, they've been slaughtering voles and kittens under the cover of their dabbling and comical quacks.

Then, in the afternoon, we did our first role-playing game conducted via modern technology. We only had occasional technical problems - a microphone that wouldn't work, and an attack by a fake virus scanner that claimed that the laptop was riddled with threats, and refused to shut up about it until we handed over our credit card details to buy the solution. (We didn't do this, I hasten to add.)

Apart from that, it all worked very well. We had an online dice roller, we could have a seven way conversation via Skype, and people could type private messages if they wanted to plot without the others knowing - probably even more subtle than grabbing the GM during a real game and walking into another room. Strangely, although we all had the ability to talk to each other, many of us spent half the time communicating with the group by text. Since we were all sitting at our computers, any idle question that came up could be answered always immediately by a breathless messenger from the monastery of Saint Wiki, who fortuitously came racing up to our party and told us the answer to the question we'd just been musing about.

Our game setting was 1453 in Constintinople, currently assailed by 100,000 Turks. (The number was stressed so often that we became desperate to kill just one of Turks, to mess the number up.) Our vitally important mission seemed to involve an awful lot of time hanging around the baths in a brothel. Actually, we should probably have stayed there, since when we ventured out of the brothel, we ended up fighting a killer crocodile in the sewers, with rather serious consequences for various party members' limbs. But it all ended happily, because I found my One True Love, and we are now going to be together forever more, and anyone who tries to part us will feel the sharp end of my rather small dagger. So there.
ladyofastolat: (Winter is coming)
The last few days have been spent adventuring in Westeros. Food wise, I had good intentions that crumbled shamefully quickly in the face of lemon cakes and beef and bacon pies. Game wise, I had good intentions that shamefully crumbled in the face of too many 1s. However, we did manage to use most of the various sails and figureheads that I spent the last few weekends making. Pictures below the cut.

Longships and Brians )
ladyofastolat: (Winter is coming)
This weekend, a doughty band of heroic adventurers set off to rid the eastern Westerosi coast of pirates and slavers. Departure was delayed for a while since, to paraphrase Spinal Tap, no-one knew who they were or what they were doing, but eventually everyone managed to find themselves in a vat of Lego men. The ensuing epic voyage was one that bards will sing for years to come, distinguished by many deeds of startling competence and heroism. However, since I am nothing if not modest, I will record a few tiny little lessons that need to be learnt:

Epic adventuring )

Wightfrag

May. 28th, 2009 01:07 pm
ladyofastolat: (Vectis)
Last weekend was yet another of our annual May Bank Holiday weekends of carnage, cake, cider and mayhem. A few weeks ago, I was really worried by the fact that we had more people coming than we had room for, and I'd resigned myself to sacrificing my bedroom and sleeping in a tent. Then lots of people dropped out, and we ended up with a fairly small group of 7 adults and one 5 year old.

It ended up being great fun )

New Year

Jan. 5th, 2009 12:18 pm
ladyofastolat: (Default)
Firstly, here's a belated Happy New Year to anyone who wishes to be wished it.

We spent New Year chez [livejournal.com profile] bunn and [livejournal.com profile] philmophlegm, with an assortment of cats, dogs and other people. Features of the few days included:

New Year shenanigans )
ladyofastolat: (Jayne hat)
Sorry for post overload, but here are some pics of strange goings-on over the last week. Image heavy post alert!

Pics )

Home

Sep. 28th, 2008 06:52 pm
ladyofastolat: (Default)
After eight days in which Internet access has consisted of snatched moments on the ten inch screen of the teeny tiny laptop, my desktop monitor seems so scary big that I want to sit at the far end of the room and type with bread-sticks.

I suspect the last week will be one of those things that will take so long to write up properly that I will never quite get around to it. It involved unimaginable horrors in various places, comedy accents, heroic trans-dimensional dunny men, a posse of redshirts, cats of various degrees of evil, real dogs, putative dogs, sleeping with fishes, Outside, sparring, shooting people, cake, crisps, zoider, lovely food, horrendous cacophony, dodgy geographical skills in Trivtionary, peregrines, dead rodents, and much, much more. All in all, it was great fun, though I do wish I could persuade my body clock to adapt to the same time zone that everybody else lives in.
ladyofastolat: (Default)
Well, we haz very occasional internet, due to... well, there's no beating around the bush here - due to, er, borrowing unsecured wireless from the pub down the road. It's very intermittant, and only findable by standing on one leg in the big bay window (which is a few inches away from the main street, passed by hundreds of scarecrow visitors), holding a computer above your head with one hand. Sadly, should the pub people come stomping out to find the culprit, I fear that we would be unable to plead much innocence. This does also make LJ updating slightly tricky.

Yorkshire, part 2 )

Yorkshire

Aug. 12th, 2008 12:53 pm
ladyofastolat: (Default)
Writing from an internet cafe in Grassington, where wireless access is free, but we feel duty bound to order a fresh pot of tea every half hour to pay our way. I think I'm twice as wide now as I was when I got here.

Yorkshire, so far )
ladyofastolat: (Default)
1. I saw a book in the library called "Milling: a complete course." I'm enjoying imagining its content.

2. I was looking at a new series of children's history books. The covers of the monarch books are illustrated with a picture of said monarch, and one other item. Henry VIII has a chopping block, Victoria has an Albert, Elizabeth I has a... pineapple. Why?

3. Was dancing on Monday night (only the Playford dances; leg still bad from Walk the Wight) in a place full of midges. I now have no bites at all on my arms, which were bare on the night, but bites all over my legs, which were covered by very thick tights. Do these things have pneumatic drills in lieu of jaws, or something? Dire horror stories were told about Scottish midges and ticks, in advance of our Scottish holiday next week. General conclusion: we're doomed.

4. The world is Too Hot.

5. Played games all weekend, but I think the time has come and gone to write about it. Suffice it to say that tentacles are great, back-seat amoebas are annoying, boozing in the pub helps you build castles, and Dracula is very elusive.
ladyofastolat: (Default)
I have just taken seventy-one bottles to the bottle bank. Seventy-one!

I am now about to discover if Chinese takeaway chips from two nights ago look remotely edible if bunged in the oven for a bit. I rather suspect not, but it's worth a try. Discretion has proved the better part of valour with the egg-fried rice - discretion, plus the dire warnings that people at work were giving me about it. ("No! No! Don't do it! You'll die!")

My computer lost all my saved passwords and internet history over the weekend. Odd.

Cats are happy, though - especially since Pellinor's found out last night that he needs to be in London today, tomorrow and Thursday, so is staying over. Once his home time comes and passes, the cats will realise that not only have 11 full-sized stompies and 2 little stompies gone, but the long-term resident Twelfth Stompy has gone, too. What rejoicing there will be!

Latest Indiana Jones 4 musing Spoilers )

Wightfrag

May. 27th, 2008 10:25 am
ladyofastolat: (Default)
I have this strange urge to eat nothing but dry bread and water for the rest of the week. However, since my fridge is full of strange dregs of various cheeses, fragments of assorted cold meats, eggs and egg-fried rice, and the rest of the kitchen is full of small amounts of multiple cakes, kettle chips, toffee and bizarre alcohol, I suspect this is Not To Be. By Friday, I suspect dinner will consist of toffee ommelette washed down with chilli crisps, but "Waste not, want not" was the guiding principle I was brought up with (along with "He who thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall" and "Saves washing up") so I don't really have a choice in the matter.
ladyofastolat: (Default)
How can it be possible that we need two suitcases (one of them so heavy that I can't lift it), a very large bag, and two crates just to go to one banquet?
ladyofastolat: (Default)
Ugh. Getting up for work today was not at all pleasant, after a week and a half off, and several days of New Year late nights. At least it's only a three day week.

New Year gathering )

New Year Resolutions etc. )

Oh, and Happy New Year to all. (At what date does one stop saying "Happy New Year" in lieu of "hello", even to people you've not seen since the previous year, I wonder.)

Cats

Dec. 9th, 2007 07:39 pm
ladyofastolat: (Killer Kitten)
First thought upon opening the door to our own house after a weekend chez [livejournal.com profile] chainmailmaiden and Bacchus: "These aren't cats! They're bloated, ginormous, lazy mutant feline hippos that scream and shout like banshees." (You could fit about ten of one of their cats into one of ours.)

Second thought: "Ooh! Lemon cake!" (and not too squashed after being carried around for two days, in a bag beneath lots of second-hand books)

Third thought: "I'm too tired to write anything more at the moment." (Staying up until 3 a.m. on Friday, drinking, is not too clever.)
ladyofastolat: (Default)
1. An open letter to Cumbria Council )
2. Things that go 'eek!' in the night )
3. A 'short' game - with gratuitous nudity )
4. That was almost brilliant! )
5. Gateaux sans ingredients )
6. A shop of hugeness )
7. The triumph of the West )
8. Battle scars )
9. Mummy bird and croquet horses )
10. Not enough singing )
Er... and the rest )

By the way, I find a week's backlog of LJ rather daunting, so when I've been away, I tend to just skip everything that I've missed, and resume from when I get back. So if I fail to react to people's new sextuplets, traumatic accidents with lawn mowers, rhubarb-related arrests, and the like... Sorry!

Confusion

Aug. 12th, 2007 08:12 am
ladyofastolat: (Default)
We're off on holiday in an hour. It turns out that we're going to a different place than I thought, and on a different day. Oops.

Confusion and incompetence. )

So now, finally, I think we're ready to go, and I think we even know where we're going. Pellinor did his preparations yesterday, and the dining room is now full from floor to ceiling with enough armour, camping equipment, costume, mead, and did I mention the armour? to feed an army. I did a good lot of writing, so am happy. And we're all packed, and ready to go.

Now I'm wondering if I've aiming for the right year, the right week, or even the right country...

Wightfrag

May. 29th, 2007 05:56 pm
ladyofastolat: (Vectis)
Another Whit Bank Holiday weekend, another Wightfrag. The weekend in summary:

- Bad Stuff: Philmophlegm had to drop out at the last minute. Prince Eldarion came, but was ill all weekend, poor thing. "Bethran" had someone bump into his car. I hope the others didn't return home to find their homes burnt down, or similar awfulness. Oh, and the rain. Not that we need nice weather when playing computer games, but I got so impossibly drenched on a short trip to the shops, the cats turned into sodden sponges, and the curtains were almost torn off into the garden. It was stupid weather for May.

- The game of mega ginormousness: Some of us played Axis and Allies. "I don't want to play one of those games that takes all day and only gets finished at ten," I said. "It won't!" Pellinor reassured me. He was right. It wasn't finished until midday the next day. Skordh's notorious obsession with heavy bombers paid off for once, and, helped by freakishly good die rolls, he proceeded to rampage across Europe, wipe out the Soviet Union, and reduce the UK to a few men cowering in London. Unfortunately, his ally ended up inpregnable in Japan, unable to move off it or do anything at all, due to a horrible number of American Mega Ginormous fleets of Doom.

- We now have a ridiculous number of empty bottles. We also have enough left-overs to keep up going for most of the week, as long as we don't mind bizarre dinners, such as party rings with salsa, and Battenburg cake with pate.

- The cats still haven't quite reassured themselves that the Eldarion monster has gone. They can just about cope with full-sized stompies, but the concept of something that looked like a big stompy, but was cat height, just threw them utterly. They're still looking for him under beds and behind cupboards.

- We seem to have acquired a worm hole, since cats and people kept on cropping up on the far side of the house from the places they were known for a fact to be. There is no other possible explanation for this. Wormholes it is.

- Unreal Tournament was played a lot. We even managed some co-operative games, in which none of us killed anyone else, except bots. Console games of choice included Wario Ware on the Wii, Eledees on the Wii, and Lego Star Wars on anything that could play it.

- I am tired! Next weekend is a folk festival, so it will be another weekend of very late nights and too much drink. I just want to stay at home and go to bed.
ladyofastolat: (Bagpuss yawning)
Here is a quick guide to decision making, from the inspirational business guru: Wightfrag.

How to make a De-sishun )

More on Wightfrag later, perhaps. For now, I'm off to bed, having been up until 3.30 last night, and awake again Too Early this morning. I've not wanted to even look at a computer all afternoon or evening.

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ladyofastolat

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