2024-02-14

sovay: (Lord Peter Wimsey: passion)
For Valentine's Day, [personal profile] rushthatspeaks and I hung out on the talkie window in lieu of having a car and [personal profile] spatch and I went out in the freezing sunset before we lost the light on the slope of the hill we now live on. I photographed moss, sunset, lichen and snow, and he took a picture of me after dinner.

This is just another century. )

Rob has a sinus infection and has been self-medicating with the television comedies of David Croft. So far Hi-de-Hi! (1980–88) has introduced me to some of the most disastrous public speaking since the Market Snodsbury prize-giving, Oh, Doctor Beeching! (1995–97) through the transitive properties of filk earwormed me with music-hall, and I can't believe no one has ever informed me that You Rang, M'Lord? (1988–93) contains, in addition to some surprisingly sharp politics, a fabulous butch. As of the latest episode, she's joined a new golf club, the old one having been stuffy about her plus-fours: "Much younger set. They don't mind girls in the bar, chaps can wear suede shoes, and you don't have to be a gentile."
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