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Ugh

Quick weekend update etc.

Without going in to it too deeply, someone at work cocked up and caused me to have to dump everything and work exclusively on clearing up theri mess. Was at it until midnight on Friday so am working at home today to try and get the bloody thing over with so I can actually do what I'm paid for (person X is now on holiday, y'see).

Meanwhile, seemed to do lots of stuff over the weekend. Went on the London eye with Corey on Saturday before heading down to the Tate Modern and eating bad things, packing him off home to pack and meeting Mackay to see the X Men 2 movie which we hadn't seen. (curiously, one of my first thoughts when I came out was mistakenly, how you didn't notice the special effects - before slaping myself and saying...duh. But, the mark of the film then was to make the special effects so smooth and integrated that they all seemed perfectly valid and not stupid cgi nonsense etc, etc). It's a really great action movie with a surprisingly large amount of sexual tension thrown in which is curious - there was almost no blatant "woman becomes limp, man snogs" - er... well there was none of that at all, in fact - unlike The Matrix, which the more I think about it the more abysmal it becomes. Anyway, the point is Ian McKellen has a great time, and you really dig his character for it, he almost laughs his way through, he's enjoying playing the baddie so much. And the script is very good. Shame they killed Jean though, I mean... seems a bit daft given the strength of her powers - that was the only plot point that made you go "eh? if you thought about it too hard.

Ah and once again Huge Ackman had that rough and ready shag look down to a T. I saw what he actually looked like at I think it was the MTV movie awards and was most disappointed.

Anyway. So I've told you a bit of the plot so I hopw you've seen the film. Sorry about that.

Suffered an excrutiating headache coming out of the cinema which I could only put down to dehydration after pottering about all day in the heat with one small bottle of water. For a while I thought it was Migraine heavy and felt like someone had caught a spare thread running through all the muscles in my head from my eyebrows up and tugged. Hard. Nausea, shaky, loss of balance... the works. A short while later after emergency paracetamols (sorry sprog) and a walk in the air I managed to sit down in a dark, quiet restaurant and drank a litre of water. Almost none of it came back out. Ulp. Must be more careful.

Consequently whilst sitting in the sweltering ICA on Sunday, I drank about 3 pints of iced water in the same number of hours! The Comica festival talks - well, two of them were ... well, the first one anyway, a wasted opportunity. The first one was DIY, web and grow your own offline comics, basically. The people on the panel either didn't really do much on the web, didn't use it to it's full potential or got other people to do it for them; the talk moderator cut off questions and stopped anything sensible coming out - and even worse didn't really know how to operate the computer! . We were just sitting there gnawing our fists. to top it off an excrutiatingly irritating man in the audience kept blethering on about computers and aren't they just a distraction? Shouldn't we all just be photocopying this stuff for free like the groovy underground days? AAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.Jones had his eyes closed and I think would also have had his fingers in his ears. When he asked a question about the changing forms of narrative the panel answered in monosyllables.

The second talk was really just a short conversation with Mike Carey (seems like a nice bloke, doesn't really write stuff that's my cup of tea) and in the second part, Warren, who "played the crowd". Which was good fun. He was being talked to by thing, whatsisname - the bloke who'd managed the session before so they did a lot of reminiscing, whereas Carey was more "interviewed" - by a bloke who began everything he said by stating "But I mean... what's it been like in the last couple of years?... But I mean... how do you go about your writing?". But I mean WHAT! Grrr.

After Warren's talk I came over so hungry I needed to eat NOW so didn't hang out and chat / drink etc but went to Melati's with Tom Coates and had a very good meal before coming home completely knackered.

So now we're officially in to week 17. By the end of the week sprog should be 6"'s long. Which is nearly a handspan. Er, well... nearly. Waren told me to stop being so paranoid about feeling him but you forgot, dear heart - this is the space where I let out all my paranoia so I can *not* be paranoid everywhere else! Anyway, I felt very tiny bumps and nonsense yesterday when I lay with my hands on my belly for about 20 minutes, all quiet like.

It's no wonder people imagine there is a telepathic link between mother and child... it feels as if there logically be one, given that you are linked up by a fairly hefty piece of biological machinery to the wee bugger, who is alive inside you. I must say, I find myself trying to send messages to him. My mother swore she remained quite telepathic with me for years and I have no reason to doubt her other than rationalistic logic. Ok, that's a fairly big reason but I will dig my heels in, in a non earth-mothery way and say look - we still don't really know everything, by the by. There's always the possibility that it could be true.

Aaaaaanyway. the large and horrible workload awaits.

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