in which Bethy gets computer rage

By the time you read this I will have restarted my PC approximately 23536384 times with at least 6 of those times being because the sodding thing has frozen for no apparent reason or because it has forgotten that it’s connected to the wifi. Piece of crap. Ok, so it’s pretty old now as far as computers go but I have had no issues with BigMalcolm since I’ve had him and right now I can’t afford a new one. Cue frantic copying of all my photos (about 30Gb of them) and 28Gb of music onto the external hard drive. Technology is amazing but my word it can suck big time!

I bought a diary. Yes, a diary. A nice red 18 month Moleskine. So now I need to find things to fill my life so that I can put them in the diary. Technically I could put “had tea at the deli” pretty much every day but I’d rather put reminders and appointments than things that I did without being planned. It would be nice to have some sort of plan. Any sort of plan. Something to look forward to. So far I have reminded myself to buy train tickets on Friday for when I go to London at the beginning of December, and drawn a T-Rex eating Monday because even dinosaurs hated Mondays.

I love dinosaurs. I am very much enjoying Planet Dinosaur on BBC, except when they decide to rather brutally kill the cutest baby dinosaurs I’ve ever seen. I actually screamed at the TV and started crying. That’s how I roll, crying at dinosaur programmes. To be honest I can pretty much cry at anything. I cried at a Lego advert this morning on the grounds that it was “awesome”. They built a house for goodness’ sake! It’s not like the John Lewis advert last Christmastime. Oh God, I am welling up just thinking about it. It was the one where the people all bought presents (because, funnily enough, that’s what people do at Christmas), a little boy hangs a stocking on the dog’s kennel in the snow and Ellie Goulding sang Your Song. I actually burst into tears in the middle of the store last year because it came on the TV when I was in the Christmas department. They’ve already put Christmas in (even I think it’s too soon) and I’ve already cried at pretty baubles. Loser.

I now have 3 Christmas magazines. These will increase to at least 8 in the next 9 weeks, probably more.  The Boy will not be impressed by this. I care not, they make me happy. Which reminds me, when I get paid I need to buy pickling onions and vinegar. Oh yeah homemade pickled onions. I need to get my arse back in the kitchen. Last year I made awesome stuff – hot chocolate mixes, cakes, cookies, preserved clementines. It would be nice to give only homemade presents but due to ungrateful puny humans I don’t think it’ll be possible. Those who like lovely things however, I will make the effort for. Such things I should write in my diary for they do need some degree of forward planning.

I have stopped crying. I am now wondering if I will be able to sleep tonight. My very dear and indeed oldest friend Owen has just posted this on my Facebook.  Pierrot Lunaire was one of our set works for GCSE Music, and is possibly one of the most bizarre things I have ever listened to and gave us one of our favourite misheard lyics – “long und hard und brown!” when it was something to do with long brown hair, but in German sprechgresang we heard differently.  In other music news I seem to now be able to tolerate the ukelele, formerly only known to me as the “uke-f*cking-lele”. It must be awesome ukelele though, no country or bluegrass. Use the uke to play music it was not intended to play, like Metallica or Nirvana. Then it becomes fun and not evil. This cannot work on a banjo though, the banjo is the most evil instrument. regardless of what it is playing.  It is the musical cousin of wasps and Comic Sans. I need to learn to ignore Comic Sans, it is apparently everywhere now. I’ve taken it off my computer and the work PC so that it can’t accidentally cause rage. Someone once used it in an email to me. The email simply read “lol”. Oh my God. That was possibly the worst email ever.

I do not like posts without photos so I shall end this with a picture of Eric the knittedsaurus helping me with my blanket, which I hope to complete this coming weekend when I have purchased more black wool (which I have diarised).

Eric the knittedsaurus

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