I'm Alive
So, back in Sheffield, and at work, of which less said the better.
The title is a dual reference: partly to my last post (in which there was fear), and partly a nod to the fact that my corruption of
boobook's music taste has now reached the point at which she will voluntarily listen to Helloween tracks.
Anyway, I went away for the weekend, and did stuff:
Friday: drive down to Swindon. Fairly uneventful, except for the huge thunderstorm we encountered on one of the motorways (M69 or M40, or possibly both, since I don't pay any attention to which road I am on unless I am navigating). The lightning was incredible: the section of motorway we were on was mostly unlit, and each lightning flash literally lit up the whole sky.
First meeting with the parents seemed to go well.
Saturday: drive from Swindon to Hythe (which actually required me to navigate, using map books and stuff; something that nobody has trusted me with for years). Got there well in advance of the ceremony, so had a quick wander round the town and some food before showing up at the church.
The wedding was very, very religious. Not "we're getting married in a church because it's traditional" religious, but "the couple are both practising Christians who have actually brought down their own pastor/vicar/guy who does the sermon" religious. This heightened my normal being-in-church discomfort*, but their wedding and their choice. I did have to sing though; I'm sure that wasn't fun for anybody who could hear me. Among the songs that we had to sing was 'Amazing Grace', which caused me a moment's confusion: while it is obviously a hymn, popular culture and other things tie it so much to the Deep South of the US that I found it odd to be singing it in England.
We weren't invited to the meal part of the reception, so decided to pop over to Southampton to check in to our hotel. It should apparently take about 30 minutes to make the journey: it took us an hour, partly because the traffic was evil, and partly because we missed the turning that we were supposed to make (I, having not read a map for ages, didn't quite notice the different symbols for 'roundabout' and 'junction').
We found the hotel, checked in, and collapsed for a bit (boobook was tired from all the driving, and I hadn't slept well for the two nights previous). The hotel room was... ok: I've stayed in worse. The bed was comfortable (and the headboard had a weird bit of artwork that bore a strong resemblance to the Silver Surfer), but the shower was evil, and the tap in the sink didn't give drinking water (presumably so that you'd pop down to the bar for bottled water, and then die of a heart attack when they told you it was £2 for a 330ml bottle). Then there was food and driving back to the reception (the bit we were invited to).
Usual reception things: speeches that went on for too long; there was the occasional funny bit though (like the fact that the big food thing we had missed had been a hog roast, which all the innocent Christian types kept referring to as a spit-roast). There was wedding cake (3 layers: one chocolate, one carrot, one fruit. The fruit layer was nice, didn't try the others), beer (likewise), and wandering round chatting to people that I didn't really know (but who were all very nice).
Then there was the throwing of the bouquet (boobook made quite a play for it, which disturbs me ever so slightly) and the seeing-off of the newly-wed couple, shortly followed by the kicking out of the guests. A bunch of us went to the pub for a bit, where I had my beard photographed by a random stranger and we told each other many bad jokes.
Back to Southampton for that sleep thing. It was at this point we realised the other major flaw in the hotel: it was on Southampton High Street, just over the road from what appeared to be a strip club (For Your Eyes Only doesn't sound like a normal pub to me), and near many many pubs. And the hotel was running a disco. And the window was extremely reluctant to shut. Chalk up night 3 of me with little sleep.
Sunday: Up fairly early (boobook, who got more sleep and is also the sweetest person in the world, made me tea in bed, even going down to reception because they didn't have milk in the rooms), breakfast at the hotel, then driving to Swindon for parental meeting MKII (and roast dinner). All went well there, which was groovy. Then it was the long drive back to Sheffield, on which there were a couple of stops because we were both getting very tired by this point. Disturbingly, at one of these stops we bumped into one of my workmates, which was very strange in a small world kind of way.
* I always feel slightly uncomfortable in churches because I'm agnostic-atheist (I don't believe it's possible to prove or disprove the existence of God, or in fact any higher power, and while I tend to work on the principle that there isn't one, I'm aware that my own beliefs require me to acknowledge that I could be wrong about that): being in church reminds me that if I am wrong, God is probably watching me being in church, and possibly isn't too happy about it.
So that was the weekend.
Quick question for English geeks out there: running the spellchecker over the preceding text had thrown up a spelling error for 'practising' (context for those not reading behind the cut, the phrase is 'practising Christians'). Now, as I recall, 'practise' is the verb and 'practice' is a noun, which would mean that my spelling is correct, but Dictionary.com disagrees with me (of course, it's American, so it's probably wrong). Just wondered if anybody out there who knew more about English than me would like to comment on it.
Anyway, it's just about home time now (this post has taken about 2 1/2 hours to write, although I did have to work a bit, and there was a fire alarm as well), so I'm going to go away. See people later.
The title is a dual reference: partly to my last post (in which there was fear), and partly a nod to the fact that my corruption of
boobook's music taste has now reached the point at which she will voluntarily listen to Helloween tracks.Anyway, I went away for the weekend, and did stuff:
Friday: drive down to Swindon. Fairly uneventful, except for the huge thunderstorm we encountered on one of the motorways (M69 or M40, or possibly both, since I don't pay any attention to which road I am on unless I am navigating). The lightning was incredible: the section of motorway we were on was mostly unlit, and each lightning flash literally lit up the whole sky.
First meeting with the parents seemed to go well.
Saturday: drive from Swindon to Hythe (which actually required me to navigate, using map books and stuff; something that nobody has trusted me with for years). Got there well in advance of the ceremony, so had a quick wander round the town and some food before showing up at the church.
The wedding was very, very religious. Not "we're getting married in a church because it's traditional" religious, but "the couple are both practising Christians who have actually brought down their own pastor/vicar/guy who does the sermon" religious. This heightened my normal being-in-church discomfort*, but their wedding and their choice. I did have to sing though; I'm sure that wasn't fun for anybody who could hear me. Among the songs that we had to sing was 'Amazing Grace', which caused me a moment's confusion: while it is obviously a hymn, popular culture and other things tie it so much to the Deep South of the US that I found it odd to be singing it in England.
We weren't invited to the meal part of the reception, so decided to pop over to Southampton to check in to our hotel. It should apparently take about 30 minutes to make the journey: it took us an hour, partly because the traffic was evil, and partly because we missed the turning that we were supposed to make (I, having not read a map for ages, didn't quite notice the different symbols for 'roundabout' and 'junction').
We found the hotel, checked in, and collapsed for a bit (
boobook was tired from all the driving, and I hadn't slept well for the two nights previous). The hotel room was... ok: I've stayed in worse. The bed was comfortable (and the headboard had a weird bit of artwork that bore a strong resemblance to the Silver Surfer), but the shower was evil, and the tap in the sink didn't give drinking water (presumably so that you'd pop down to the bar for bottled water, and then die of a heart attack when they told you it was £2 for a 330ml bottle). Then there was food and driving back to the reception (the bit we were invited to).Usual reception things: speeches that went on for too long; there was the occasional funny bit though (like the fact that the big food thing we had missed had been a hog roast, which all the innocent Christian types kept referring to as a spit-roast). There was wedding cake (3 layers: one chocolate, one carrot, one fruit. The fruit layer was nice, didn't try the others), beer (likewise), and wandering round chatting to people that I didn't really know (but who were all very nice).
Then there was the throwing of the bouquet (
boobook made quite a play for it, which disturbs me ever so slightly) and the seeing-off of the newly-wed couple, shortly followed by the kicking out of the guests. A bunch of us went to the pub for a bit, where I had my beard photographed by a random stranger and we told each other many bad jokes.Back to Southampton for that sleep thing. It was at this point we realised the other major flaw in the hotel: it was on Southampton High Street, just over the road from what appeared to be a strip club (For Your Eyes Only doesn't sound like a normal pub to me), and near many many pubs. And the hotel was running a disco. And the window was extremely reluctant to shut. Chalk up night 3 of me with little sleep.
Sunday: Up fairly early (
boobook, who got more sleep and is also the sweetest person in the world, made me tea in bed, even going down to reception because they didn't have milk in the rooms), breakfast at the hotel, then driving to Swindon for parental meeting MKII (and roast dinner). All went well there, which was groovy. Then it was the long drive back to Sheffield, on which there were a couple of stops because we were both getting very tired by this point. Disturbingly, at one of these stops we bumped into one of my workmates, which was very strange in a small world kind of way.* I always feel slightly uncomfortable in churches because I'm agnostic-atheist (I don't believe it's possible to prove or disprove the existence of God, or in fact any higher power, and while I tend to work on the principle that there isn't one, I'm aware that my own beliefs require me to acknowledge that I could be wrong about that): being in church reminds me that if I am wrong, God is probably watching me being in church, and possibly isn't too happy about it.
So that was the weekend.
Quick question for English geeks out there: running the spellchecker over the preceding text had thrown up a spelling error for 'practising' (context for those not reading behind the cut, the phrase is 'practising Christians'). Now, as I recall, 'practise' is the verb and 'practice' is a noun, which would mean that my spelling is correct, but Dictionary.com disagrees with me (of course, it's American, so it's probably wrong). Just wondered if anybody out there who knew more about English than me would like to comment on it.
Anyway, it's just about home time now (this post has taken about 2 1/2 hours to write, although I did have to work a bit, and there was a fire alarm as well), so I'm going to go away. See people later.