Thou Art

Last week I attended the ukelele fest that was Thou Art; an indie-esque festival in the depths of Suffolk. There were a lot of cool people there; I slightly felt like I was soaking it up by osmosis. There were so many brilliant things about it, so here are just a few:

Bunting:

Art on trees:

Face-painted tambourine wielding singers:

But best of all - amusing signage:

Next year you should definitely go.

Working 9-5: Tales of a Dolly Parton Cliche

Ah, how I love the smell of Metros in the morning. It's like the news, only less substantial. The long commute to and from work has been providing plenty of amusements - highlights include the guy I sat down next to who whipped out a pack of cards and proceeded to practice hand-cardy-flick-poker-type-things for FORTY MINUTES, the young teenage girls clearly on their way to have 'the best time ever' taking photos of themselves in various train related poses - including putting rubbish in the bin - and finding it hilarious (oh to be young again), or the Hooray Henry yesterday morning barking a very rude joke about hung parliaments which I'm too polite to repeat. Or I can't remember it.

The real fun, however, begins in the office. Some professions have built-in excitement - as a doctor, or a fireman, or florist (go with it) - you know every day will bring the ups and downs of life, death, love and loss. And burns. If like me, you're a thrillseeker in academic publishing...you have to seek pretty hard. Which is why it made my day last week when, after handing me a list of herculean tasks (e.g. emailing) my manager picked up an author's file and said this:

"Now this might take you a little longer...I want you to try and get in touch with this guy. We haven't heard from him in a while, I'm not sure we have current contact details for him...also, we think he might......be dead."

This is a true publishing mystery - it has everything: late manuscripts, missing people, potential death, and a large file. I am now keeping my eyes out for a deerstalker hat so I can get to the bottom of the puzzle as Arthur Conan Doyle intended.

I have no real way of linking to this, but I just think it's amazing. Parton sings 9-5 with Minnie Mouse.

Being Heliocentric is Fun

The lovely people at Information Is Beautiful have imagined what would happen if our solar system was a music box. It is incredibly awesome. I could try and explain but it would be easier if you could just go here and press play...

A Tragically True Story

A wise man once said that the course of true love does not run smooth, and he was correct. I shudder to think what he would have to say about this story...

Once upon a time a sprightly young lady was..(ok it was me)...I..was conversing with a young gentleman who shall henceforth be known as Arty Fringe Guy. AFG was lovely. He talked about art and photography in such earnest yet animated tones that it was clear there were parts of his soul that had not yet been crushed by groaning yoke of adulthood. I tried to keep up and impress him by saying things like "yeah... apertures...darkrooms...uh huh. I love David Bailey".

It was all going rather well. That is, until he leaned in dangerously close...part of me thought "woah there, hun, I mean it's not that I'm not flattered but this is a place of business!" (Did I mention we were in the staffroom at work? Cause we were)..but then again I also thought fair enough, can't complain, he is AFG after all. It became abundantly clear pretty quickly, however, that his intentions were not romantic when he said this:

"Are your teeth...bleeding?"

There are multiple tomes on dating and the best way to attract members of the opposite (or same) sex..none of them advocate bleeding from the mouth in such a way that you look like a vampire. People may say want to bang Edward Cullen but it is not the same thing. (I don't want to admit to watching Twilight, but on the Edward/Jacob debate..maybe just pick a guy who isn't a mythical creature? Just a thought.) Needless to say, AFG pretty much ran away. And so did my dignity.

Make Tea Not War

I mentioned before that I once made a comic about making a cup of tea... if you ever for a second wondered what that would be like, wonder no more...

In which I burst onto the job market like the blazing sun on a glorious spring day

It has finally happened. I am fully percent employed. Take that, recession! I now feel like a slight fraud, blogwise, as one of the reasons for this whole blogging thing was to distract me from unemployment and chronicle my uselessness. All four people reading this can, however, rest assured that there will be many tales of employed incompetence/surburban office japes to come...and there's lots of potential for more hilarious eavesdropping during the many hours of my commute. For those interested, this is the job I hobbled to the interview for with a limp, got lost, and admitted to only joining my extracurricular activities because they were attended by Certain Gentlemen. These practices were not mentioned in any of the numerous interview books I read, an omission I intend to rectify as soon as possible.

Having acheived the short term goal of Gainful Employment, I should probably draw up some longer term Life Goals To Make Me a Better Person. I'm considering oragami and re-learning the Cello. Suggestions are welcome.

CS Lewis = Badass

The jury is out on whether I can get away with the word 'badass'...I've been inspired by Lauren Leto, Literary Blogger Extraordinaire, but then she is American. I think they might have a monopoly on the word 'badass'. Perhaps I should use the phrase 'Extremely Good Chap' instead. CS Lewis is an Extremely Good Chap. He said this, and it is Awesome:

"Critics who treat adult as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence. And in childhood and adolescence they are, in moderation, healthy symptoms. Young things ought to want to grow. But to carry on into middle life or even into early manhood this concern about being adult is a mark of really arrested development. When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up."

In the spirit of Lewis and childish things...this place is AMAZING:

http://www.pollockstoymuseum.com/