Uneasy lies the head that wears a Throne.

I'm a big fan of the German Christmas market in Birmingham - I'm sure the German ones are even better, but there's no hope of someone in my job getting enough time off to visit one.

This year I decided to drag some of the rest of the family along, to share the fun. Carer had been visiting the new house for a week, and could stop off on the way back to Leicester, as he has to change in Brum anyway.

So Mum, Carer and I caught the train to New St and emerged amid the stalls lining an even longer stretch than the last time I visited. We enjoyed looking at craft stalls and the smells of delicious looking German foods. Eventually, after buying Mum a trendy new woolly hat and enjoying Bratwurst for lunch, we headed for the merry-go-round, which is always fun.

Then I was surprised to see some familiar faces, the_marquis and na_quis on the ride. :-) I left the rest of family with a wall to rest their weary legs on and went to attract their attention - fortunately the family bellow was enough to attract the_marquis's attention and we waved as they went round (and round ;-D).

We were able to meet when they finally finished rotating, and to go and catch up with na_lon, who was patiently waiting on the other side. :-) It was lovely to see them, and na_quis claimed she remembered me, though I wouldn't blame her if she didn't - it must be six months since I saw her and that's a long time at that age.

We went our own way after a few minutes more chatting and introducing n_q to the rest of the family, to take Carer back to the station and get him on his train. Then we did a little bit more shopping, and caught the train back ourselves.

I had a great day and I think the rest of the family enjoyed themselves as well - a nice break from the standard Christmas rushing around.

We're gradually getting settled in and the cardboard boxes are ceasing to be the main form of decoration, though it'll probably be a while before we're completely unpacked.

I've got a new wardrobe and chest of drawers coming tomorrow, so once I can get them sorted out I think my room will start feeling more like home, rather than somewhere I'm living out of boxes and temporary storage.

The bus journey is working pretty well, though obviously it makes the day longer - still, at least my phone means I can read email and catch up on the kink meme on the bus. :-)

It's dark when I get home in the evenings, but the last couple of days of decent weather have meant I could at least take some pictures of the garden.

( See under here )

It's a lot smaller than the old house, which was exactly what we wanted, but I'm looking forward to sitting out in it next year, weather permitting. :-)

1. Open up your music player. Hit shuffle.
2. Record the first few lines of the first 20 songs that come up that do not give away the name of the song. Skip instrumentals, but don't skip the embarrassing ones.
3. Make hapless journal denizens guess the song names and artists. Google is cheating. For musical songs, the name of the musical is acceptable in place of the artist.
4. Least hapless journal denizen wins admiration. That's right, just like a lobbyist in budget season, the points don't matter.

( First lines under here )

I'd be very impressed if someone got all of these, though many of them were ridiculously mainstream in their day.

To test the new Dreamwidth posting page.

Thank you to magog83 for the link to this beautiful piece of fanart.

( Merlin and Arthur, seriously slashy but fully clothed. )

adair, over on sutcliff_talk quoted from Rosemary Sutcliff's autobiography, Blue Remembered Hills.

...the first of my brain children that I can remember was called Wild Sunrise, a saga of the roman invasion of Britain told from the British viewpoint. Its hero, Cardoc, was a young British chieftain, as Victorian-English as anything out of Whyte Melville's Gladiators. his adventures went on for ever, because I loved him so much I could not bear to part with him; because, also, I could not think how to bring them to a close. Eventually I did finish the story somehow and stowed it tenderly away in a dark corner. In due course, probably when my father and I moved house after my mother died, it sank without trace, which all things considered is just as well. I should hate, even now, for any eyes but mine to read Wild Sunrise, not so much because it was very bad as because so much of me was in it, naked and defenceless. It would be a form of indecent exposure.

Is is any wonder her books appeal to fans so much? She's so obviously one of us. :-)

After hearing and enjoying Dimitra Fimi's paper on Puck of Pook's Hill and the Book of Lost Tales, I was interested by who already knew the Kipling story and who didn't.

I grew up reading my Kipling from an Omnibus edition that had PoPH, both Jungle Books and the Just So stories, so I thought of all of them as equally well known but it seemed as if that wasn't the case.

There's ninth_eagle
"This is a community for fanfiction, fanart, icons, discussion, and historical resources related to The Eagle (2011) and Rosemary Sutcliff's novel The Eagle of the Ninth."

The Dreamwidth feed is ninth_eagle_feed, if you prefer to see the entries on your DW reading page.

There's also the wonderful new comm for fans of Sutcliff's books in general sutcliff_talk
"This is a venue for discussing works by and about historical writer Rosemary Sutcliff, and related subjects."

and the feed is sutcliff_talk_feed

(Thanks to bunn for the link to the second one.)

And cesy has asked about these icons...


Eowyn, who has been my favourite character in Lord of the Rings since the first time I read it at the age of 11. These days I think it has as much to do with feeling for her situation as an uncomplicated enjoyment of her heroism, but I still can't understand anyone who can read her story and think Tolkien didn't like or understand women.


Inara, because she's gorgeous and competent, and I'm a silly romantic who wishes Mal/Inara could ever have worked.


Methos, the world's oldest Immortal, when asked where he'd been lately. He had a tendency to drift in and out of our hero's life, trailing snark and sprawling on things, and he hit my, pretends to be uncaring and amoral, but really it's because he cares too much, buttons sooo hard.


John Sheppard, or at least, John Sheppard's arms. There are lots of sides to the character, the amiable goofball, the surprisingly intelligent flyboy, but the super-competent soldier is definitely part of the appeal.


Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, the longest running Who character of them all. One of my earliest fannish memories is when I was 9 and reading "The Making of Doctor Who", which featured the UNIT era in detail - those stories about the viewer complaining about them blowing up the church in The Daemons and the senior army officer who was quoted as saying that Lethbridge-Stewart was like a lot of their younger Brigadiers. It primed me to love the character, and nothing I saw on screen ever contradicted it.

Do ask me about more icons, or ask me to pick 5 of yours.