Sauntering Vaguely Downward

Y'all, my intentions were good. We were going to watch one episode of The Good Place and have a glass of wine and then I was going to think up an unscientific poll.

But now the bottle of prosecco is mostly empty and we're two eps away from the end of Series One and I'm sorry but we need to finish the wine because bubbles are no good on Day Two and this series is the funniest most compelling damn thing I've watched in ages and I totally ship Elinor/Tahani and whoa this sentence is loooong.

Love you All! Byyyyyeeee! (Where are the chilli peanuts And the remote)

I have 12 minutes to make this post. I'm drinking in a Viennese pub

I got nothing else Xoxo

So Christmas day was manic as ever but I feel the two following anecdotes are worth relating. Cannot add photos because the internet here is appalling and we now have tweenies hammering it, so that will have to wait until later.

Anecdote 1
[Keiki receives a green Lamborghini remote control car. He has trouble operating it.]
Humuhumu: Keiki, let me show you how to do it.
Keiki: Okay!
[Humuhumu drives the car around at top speed around blind corners.]
Humuhumu: Now you have a go.
Keiki: Okay! Thank you!

Anecdote 2
[About half an hour before the airing of the Christmas Special of Doctor Who]
Niece, who is 10 and three quarters: The Doctor is finally a girl!
Grandma: Yes, hmmm, not too sure about that.
Amazing Niece: What are you talking about, it’s Jodie Whittaker! I can’t wait.
Grandma: I think we’ll have to see what she’s like.
Adorable Niece, decisively: Pfff. No, we don't. It's going to be brilliant.
Me: I love you, Niece.

I am so full of hope for the next generation. <3 <3 <3

9. Maintaining an indifferent attitude toward the consumption of (unfeasibly large quantities of) alcohol. One of the things that always drove me nuts in the States is the mainstream view on booze. If you’re not teetotal or restrict yourself to drinking only the occasional glass of wine with a meal, many people will view you as a borderline alcoholic - or just plain alcoholic. I much prefer the more relaxed British attitude. I concede that it’s not without problems. Witness most town centres late on Friday or Saturday night after people have been out binging: not a pretty sight. Or the reaction to people who are in fact teetotal, which I’ve seen vary from gentle teasing to outright mocking so often that I breathe a sigh of relief when I’m with a group that takes an order for lemonade in its stride and without comment.

But I like that I could, back in pre-sprog days, go to the pub almost every day after work for a pint or two and no one would consider that unusual or problematic. I could even drink to excess - and occasionally still do - and no one would be considering an intervention. I like that I can take my students for a beer because it’s, y’know, legal for them to drink. I like that I can bring my child to the pub for a meal.

I look forward to being even less concerned about other people’s booze consumption levels than I already am.

Here is what I did on Wednesday.

0600-0645: Wake up in Richmond, roll out of bed, go for 6 km run by the Thames. Marvel nostalgically at its beauty, fitfully wish I still lived in the area.

0645-0830: Invigorating shower. Breakfast. Several cups of herbal tea to rehydrate. Read Edith Wharton for a little while.

0830-1100: Travel from Richmond to Mullard Space Science Laboratory (MSSL), which is part of University College London but is inexplicably located in a converted mansion in a field in deepest darkest Surrey, between Guildford and Dorking. Several trains are involved, none of which are on time.

1100-1200: Listen to lecture about 10 years of science discovery by the multi-spacecraft Cluster mission. (I have had a hand in calibrating magnetometer data from eight of those 10 years.)

1200-1230: Lunch, catch up with other operations folks I haven't seen before.

1230-1300: Set up my interactive for the dry run of the Royal Society Summer Exhibition stand about Cluster, the "Aurora Explorer". Gentle retired folks from the University of the Third Age (U3A) arrive to hear outreach talks on space science. Gentle retired folks mistakenly assume that tea and cakes being laid out on the buffet tables are for them.

1300-1400: Dry run with the other exhibitors. Return to the room for our meeting, discover there is no tea or cake. A second round of tea and cakes is ordered.

1400-1500: Logistics meeting about the exhibition. On departing from the meeting, discover there is no tea or cake left. Conclude that retired people survive on diet consisting entirely of stolen tea and cake. Shake our heads at appalling standard of care for the elderly. A third round of tea and cakes is ordered.

1500-1645: Dry run of the exhibition for the U3A visitors. Strive womanfully not to resent their having eaten all the cakes.

1645-1730: Debrief/postmortem meeting. Discover scraps of cake and tea are still left from third round. Rejoice. Consume.

1730-2100: Travel from MSSL back to Cambridge. Receive phone call from drunky bloke during the journey, who entreats me to come out and join the other drunky chemists after I've got home.

2100-2130: Arrive home, pet cats, change dress, freshen up, drink large glass of bourbon, phone for taxi.

2145: Join drunky bloke at restaurant where chemists are finishing their meal.

2215: Move to pub, drink rum.

2300: Pub shuts. Move to bar. Continue drinking rum.

0000: Sudden simultaneous need to dance strikes entire group. Move to club, The Kambar, which is playing eighties music. Shake booty for a couple of hours.

0230: Mindful of impending bodily collapse, go home.

0300: Bed.

This morning, I showered, dressed, stumbled to the station, got on the train, removed my coat and sniffed the air, thinking, "Damn, it's 8 AM. Why does my train smell of beer? It's a bit early!"

At Kings Cross, I got on the Piccadilly line and sniffed the air, thinking, "Damn, the Tube smells like beer, too! What's going on?"

At Gloucester Road, I disembarked from the Tube and stepped out into the station. As I donned my coat, I thought, "Damn, even the station smells like beer...wait..."

My coat is in the washing machine.

ETA: For those unfamiliar with English geography, here is a Google maps plot of my journey. Total distance: 140 miles. Key: A=Richmond, B=Clapham Junction station, C=MSSL, D=Victoria station, E=Kings Cross station, F=Cambridge.