On Monday, I prommed.  On Tuesday I hid at home and knitted Annis. On Wednesday, I went to morris practice and then to a leaving party.  I left the leaving party late: in my defence, there was both gin and cava and some ghastly shot involved.  On Thursday, I took my poor sore throat home, did work from 8.15pm-8.45pm and then waited around for someone else to let me know they'd successfully completed their work (they did not, owing to their completing the work and then managing to get locked out of their email account), and watched Fantastic Mr Fox.  On Friday I prommed with Q.

I had my S.O.P.H.I.E. umbrella on Friday - I'd been soaked earlier in the day when cycling, right down to the underpinnings, and I wanted something that covered.  Q was horrified when he realised what he was holding onto outside the pub, while we all sheltered from the rain.  He is ultra-conservative, and has come from a very sheltered background (I've no idea why he hangs around with me: I hang around with him because I am a lazy such and such who appreciates getting seats for the Proms at £6 a pop, and who is trying to re-educate him to a rather more liberal, live-and-let-live stance).  He doesn't understand London girls: apparently, we disagree where the girls in Canada don't.  He doesn't understand homosexuality (it makes him feel physically ill.  I told him he didn't need to understand it, just accept it and let everyone get on with it in peace if they so desired).  He makes the Daily Wail look left wing on occasion.  This evening, as I was explaining about Sophie Lancaster, I found myself point out that "I am sure that Sophie and her boyfriend were perfectly well washed that evening.  Just wearing different clothes."  I think I may be on a losing battle with this one, and probably ought to give up.

But if I give up trying to show the guy the error of his ways, what does that make me?  It's tricky.  People should be allowed to think and believe what they wish to believe.  But then, again, they should also understand that everyone needs this freedom, and that it's not fair to be prejudiced against other groups even if you don't understand them.

I'd like him to stop throwing mud about with quite such wild, gay, abandon.  It's messy.  I think there may be hope: he's a product of his upbringing.  Terribly polite but really should not, currently, be let out of the confines of the Carlton Club.

So, that was Friday.  The Prom (37) was awesome.  You could listen again (it's in two parts).  Or Watch.  The violinist gave us Paganini for heaven's sake.  And looked like the cat who'd got the cream by the time we got to the pub.  Deservedly so, I'd say.

Saturday was full of friends: a birthday party, then heaps of errands.  I have chosen new curtains for the spare room, and intend to combine them with a blackout blind so Jo can sleep during the day.  I bought dye, but not salt (and still need salt.  Sigh: I thought I had some).  I have a picture frame, and have put that up in my bedroom where it looks utterly stylish.  Everyone was very patient with me while I faffed about failing to choose yarn.  I did manage to buy buttons.

Today, I had a slow start.  So did Boots, but it finally opened, allowing me to order photo prints, go and get stuff from Sainsbury, drink coffee while reading The Lady (so civilised), and then collect them.  I also managed to achieve 10 film cannisters from the photo counter (we want empties for camp), in direct contrast to Boots in Piccadilly Circus who looked really confused by the request, went to ask the cashiers on the other side of the store, tried to sell me 35mm film, and didn't actually have any kicking about apart from two that still contained film.  Prints acquired, I've managed to frame 3, put up another picture (skulking in the sewing box since, oh, 2005), mend my pillowcases, make curry, trace the route for the Brownies walk, bring most of the Guiding paperwork up to date, launder the sheets, and send the accounts to my Dad.  I've also managed to find two copies of the Guiding Musical Activities Scheme (now defunct), and a second copy of the walking scheme WITH THE MAM TOR ROUTE TUCKED INSIDE!

Why yes, I am a little excited about this latter discovery.  I am doing this walking qualification, thankyouverymuch. But not with the Welshman as walking partner (that we had cocktails last night is neither here nor there, so I'm not telling you any more about it.  So nyah).  And not in a hurry neither, for that qualification.

Still to do:

• mend skirt hem that got tangled up with bike brakes on Friday
• sew button onto Sophie's hat
• eat supper
• make up the bed
• buy yarn
• Something else, I forget what... 
• I remembered: Pay people.

xxx

Lots of late nights, lots of gin (I think I drank my bodyweight in gin), lots of dancing.  I learnt two new Cotswold morris dancing traditions (Bampton and Longborough - I can still feel the Longborough in my calves 48 hours later, it was such. hard. work. as it's very slow music to dance to - lots of opportunity to think, lots of opportunity to get it wrong).  I rejoined my morris side, I bimbled round Sidmouth, and I took a fair number of photos and some video (currently uploading to the laptop).

It was a folk week, and it was a weird week.  It was completely and utterly divorced from reality.  It was like being in some sort of strange 1960s free-love-hippie experiment at times, with all sorts of interesting pairings and people pulling each other.  I rarely went to bed before 4am.  I was up at 9am.  This added to the surrealness of some of the week.  I spent my time with Hammersmith Morris.  The Morris Dancer (no, I am not adding him to my list of swains, shut up at the back), had very kindly arranged for me to go to Sidmouth folk week on a Hammersmith Morris Partners' Ticket - for free - so I supported them.  Lotsly.  I'm pretty much at the point where I wish they would expand their repertoire a little, as I'm not sure I want to watch Trunkles again.  No. Really.

Anyhow, I took lots of photos when it was sunny, and none while it rained - wet cameras is why I ended up buying a new camera a fortnight ago, and finally managed to take the perfect photograph of Smiffs leapfrogging.  This has been something that I have been trying to do for years.  It's possibly harder with the new camera, as the shutter delay is vastly shorter, and I'm not quite used to it yet.  Plus I always want to press the shutter button on the beat, and that doesn't work either.

I spent a reasonable amount of time sitting on the beach.  I played with S's daughters (I went out with S just after I first joined Xanga, and there is probably a picture or so from 2004 there).  They are both lovely.  The elder is a little wary of me, but the younger is 18 months old, and just at the age where the whole world is her friend.  She is lovely. Giggly, chattery, and toddles over to have fun.  Doesn't mind being cuddled either, but is far too active to want to stay in the same place for very long.  We spent quite some time putting the lid on a paper cup, and taking it off, and putting it on, and pretending to drink from it, and putting stones in it.  It is a very stony beach at Sidmouth.  I decorated the Morris Dancer's arm.

Of course, what you really want to see is a double set of Smiffs dancing Sweet Jenny Jones.  Ta Da. (Here if it doesn't embed)

My highlights.  A Rosza with The Morris Dancer.  Schottische with S.  Various dances with my Uncle - there was not enough ceilidh dancing, as I didn't manage to make it to any of the afternoon ceilidhs.  Hammersmith's spot on Tuesday night, with the Committee Band playing for them: the atmosphere was completely and utterly electric, and I am so pleased that I was there.  Sitting and drinking gin until the wee small hours, talking rubbish and singing Flanders and Swann (quietly).  Buying some simply gorgeous wool in a local shop.  Watching the jig competition, and persuading a rather fine dancer and the best melodeon player I know to dance and play with me next year.  Learning Longborough, because when I got it right, it felt superb.  Learning Bampton, which was so bouncy and fun.

My lowlights.  Rain.  Missing half the last LNE because I was dealing with Smiff rugby jerseys, and carrying things about the place (I can be too terribly helpful, sometimes).  Muddy showers.  Calf ache.  Appalling indigestion from a gammon steak (thought I was going to be sick on the Morris Dancer's shoes, which was really unhelpful).  Falling off the airmattress on numerous occasions, and sleeping on a downhill and sideways slope.

And now, I need a list

• write up notes from novel begun on station platform
• Brownies Accounts
• Brownies Admin - sort out the route map, find the Wildlife Explorer Badge Documentation
• Go to the supermarket
• Finish the laundry
• Email Sir about Fair Isle
• Upload photos and film
• Tidy the sitting room
• Finish unpacking
• Mend the pillowcases

I suspect I ought to get dressed first.

xxx