Rosemary's Journal

Socks and Puppets

2009-06-28T12:35:12Z

http://www.socksandpuppets.com/game/game2.html

Make stuff for people! Get stuff in return! Feel warmfuzzies!

Socks and Puppets signup deadline is Tuesday; this is a friendly neighbourhood reminder :)

Socks and Puppets

2009-06-14T20:28:33Z

So, ahdok is running another game of Socks and Puppets in July.

S&P is a game in which you request a present, eg "a dragon" or "something about Finland" and then spend about half an hour each on making a small gift for three other people. At the same time, three people are making something for you. Then everyone is happy and has presents :-)

There is a website, it is here: http://www.socksandpuppets.com/game/game2.html

Sign up! Spread the love! Make stuff! (any form of creative wossname is encouraged, be it writing, drawing, crafting...)

Spit in a jar FOR SCIENCE!

2009-02-11T13:22:57Z

The KCL Department of Twin Research and Genetic Epidemiology is looking for UK-resident gay and bisexual cisgendered women to provide DNA samples for their research into the possibility of genetic basis for homosexuality. All you need do if you are one and want to take part is spit in the jar they provide and send it back to them.

"The study conducted by the Department of Twin Research and Genetic Epidemiology aims at complementing ongoing research on gender identity and female sexual orientation and clarifying the amount of the genetic contribution by assembling a sample of bi- and homosexual woman large enough to enable the use of genetic association studies.

The direct benefits to research you as a subject include the knowledge that you are participating in research of biological and social importance; Regarding general benefit to society, the proposed research could contribute to further understanding of genetic contributions to sexual orientation, gender identity and important general areas (genetics and sexuality) within biology, in addition to being of significant interest in society in general.

Participation will simply involve you donating a small saliva sample which only takes a few minutes and filling in a short questionnaire. This can be done either in the privacy of your home or by visiting our Department at St. Thomas’ Hospital.

To take part in this study you need to be female, between 18 and 89 years old, and consider yourself as either bi- or homosexual.

If this is you, and you would like to take part you will need to:

- Be willing to complete a brief questionnaire regarding details about your sexual orientation and ethnic origin which only takes a few minutes;

- Give a sample of saliva into a plastic pot which is sealed and posted free of charge to the Department of Twin Research and Genetic Epidemiology.

If, having read this you either require more information or would like to participate in this exciting study please email us at andrea.burri@kcl.ac.uk with your email and current postal address.

Thank you very much

We look forward to hearing from you!

Andrea Burri MSc
Clinical Psychologist
Department of Twin Research and Genetic Epidemiology
King´s College London
St.Thomas´ Hospital
London

He's got rhythm

2009-02-10T22:20:40Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YN9pGgg8YlQ

Barack Obama speaks, set to music by Microsoft Songsmith.

His every word is perfectly on the beat- which really starts to explain why he's such an engaging and even hypnotic speaker.

*quiet fangirling*

Alan Renshaw, 1918-2008

2008-11-26T23:57:03Z

So, my grandpa died yesterday, not entirely unexpectedly, painlessly and peacefully, and with family at his side. Pretty much the best way possible for him to go.

Grandpa had a stubborn streak a mile wide when it came to doctors. The only time he ever saw a medical professional in his adult life was when his foot was run over by a double-decker bus. Ironically, this means that they have to do a post-mortem for legal reasons as he has no medical notes :P

Which is pretty much how I'll remember him, really- someone who was always very self-sufficient (and, of course, the small bit of me that is still four and being held up by him so I could pretend to be an aeroplane...)

I have one little request: no comments of random sympathy, as they make me twitch violently. I have not turned comments off as usually this is only done when someone makes a controversial post they know is wrong, and it also makes me twitch violently ;-)

Socks And Puppets Pimping Time

2008-11-16T15:02:06Z

So, my friend ahdok is running a small-scale handmade-gifts-only secret santa type thing over December.

It's called Socks and Puppets, the webpage is here , and the deadline for signing up is November 25th. Everyone will send three hand-made presents and is expected to spend about half an hour making each one, so it's a nice low-committment game that nonetheless should yield some interesting little gifts :)

All are welcome to join in- we've had one person from Finland we've never heard of sign up already...

Oh, and an alternative summary of the rules is here...

Music Meme. Why not?

2008-09-21T22:00:42Z

Meme stolen from ahdok

Step 1: Put your iPod/media player on random.
Step 2: Post the first line from the first 30 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the song.
Step 3: Let everyone guess what song and artist the lines come from.
Step 4: Bold the songs when someone guesses correctly.
Step 5: Looking them up on Google or any other search engine is cheating.

I had to cheat a bit to remove all the purely instrumental tracks, but here we go...

1. Reveal to me the mystery, can you tell me what it means?
2. I don't wanna be crippled and cracked
3. Within myself there are a million things spilling over
4. Ooh, I bet you're wondering how I knew about your plans to make me blue
5. She said, there's something in the woodshed
6. 6:30 winter morn, snow keeps falling, silent dawn
7. Show me show me show me [TITLE], from your heart and your soul show me [TITLE]
8. Economic forecast soothe our dereliction
9. My girl she's asleep now
10. I'm a soldier, znachit ya I otvetchik i sud'ya (yes, really)
11. [TITLE] where have you been since they crowned you in glory
12. We're not Iron Maiden and we're not from England
13. Baptised with a perfect name
14. You can look but you can't touch
15. All the ducks are swimming in the water (*sigh*)
16. I want to take his eyes out just for looking at you
17. [TITLE] to days gone by
18. Denying the lying, a million children fighting
19. I smell women, smell 'em in the air
20. This is dangerous
21. We all face the same way
22. The time has come for the worlds to unite as one
23. Reaching upward I'm earthbound
24. Another misspelled rhyme written in the book of time
25. Friends say it's fine, friends say it's good
26. We're no strangers to love
27. When you were young and your heart was an open book
28. Blessed with an eye to see things as they are
29. Come into my life, regress into a dream
30. Nuapurista kuulu se polokan tahti (sorry...)

Mooncup: For Science!

2008-08-29T23:20:02Z

So, I got one of them Mooncup thingies.

The Mooncup itself is great, though also you get to see the gory details close at hand so it probably isn't for those people who'd rather pretend periods are blue with no clots and goop in.

Insertion is easier than the internet told me it would be- I seem to be using the "fold it in half and Just Shove" method which isn't usually detailed on websites, but I suspect I am pretty resilient to these things. Anyway, I must be doing it right because it's not leaking.

Haven't tried it for particularly heavy bleeding yet as I bought it on Day 3. But I can't imagine it'll work much differently.

Further experiments: Apparently the average blood loss during menstruation is 35ml, with 10-80 considered the "normal" range. The Mooncup has volume gradations on the side. (I am very glad that the STUPID STUPID PERIOD LEAFLET we got in school saying "you only lose a tablespoon of blood" appears (at least, according to Wikipedia) to be incorrect.) The obvious experiment will be conducted in a few weeks' time.

But.

I think the box is talking bollocks. Apparently "one woman uses 10000 tampons in her lifetime". So, as I was happily wandering home, I worked out that at my rate of 15 tampons per period and 11 periods a year, I'd have to menstruate regularly for sixty-one years to use ten thousand tampons. IE, until I'm 75. I think not.

Is this just me? Do I get through far fewer tampons than anyone else? I'd love to know...

rjw76 @ 2008-06-16T11:00:00

2008-06-16T10:02:28Z

http://comic.socksandpuppets.com

It's ahdok's webcomic, and rather good.

Nightwish Ticket

2008-03-26T20:59:38Z

Anyone want to see Nightwish at the London Astoria tomorrow? (that's THURSDAY 27th)? ahdok and I are going and have had someone pull out. Ticket with booking fees etc is just over £20, doors at 7.00.

Please EMAIL ME at my username @cam.ac.uk if you're interested as I am really, really crap at remembering to read livejournal comments.

rjw76 @ 2008-03-16T13:53:00

2008-03-16T13:55:09Z

http://www.matchitforpratchett.org

Does what it says on the tin.

Tasty Tasty Bandwagon

2008-03-04T11:32:35Z

There seems to be this meme. It goes like this:

1. Choose a few of your own characters.
2. Make them answer the following questions.
3. Feel free to go ahead and add some questions yourself!!
4. Then tag three people. (I am ignoring this bit, it is Silly.)

1. Who are you?
A Weaverite. And a doctor, a midwife, a lover, a craftswoman, and an accidental accountant. In no particular order. Oh. My name? Fiona Marshall. I was born a Campbell, though not, I hasten to add, any close relative of Laird Bartholomew.

2. Do you have any brothers or sisters?
I'm the oldest of four, and I miss them.

3. How old are you?
Twenty-six. I'd say you shouldn't ask a lady her age, but what difference would that make to me?

4. What's your height?
Five feet five. Taller than Cousin Will, whatever he wants to claim.

5. Are you a virgin?
I *am* married. Not that I was one for the nine years preceding that, but...

6. Who's your mate/spouse?
Stuart Marshall, the most irritating man in the New World. I love him to bits.

7. Do you have any kids?
Not yet. Ask me again in a few years.

8. What's your favorite food?
Proper Malathian broth. Like soup, except with so many lumps of meat and vegetables you can stand a spoon up in it, and it has barley in the bottom.

9. Have you killed anyone?
I've let people die. That's not quite the same thing.

10. Have any secrets?
Not from my family.

11. Do you love anyone?
Yes. See answers 1, 2 and 6.

12. What is your job?
Following Stuart round, picking up the pieces of his conversations, and turning them into numbers that actually work. Um. By which I mean, running the administrative side of Marshall Enterprises. Also, seeing patients, occasionally delivering babies, and running the household.

13. Boy or girl?
Man.

14. What do you do to relax?
Useful things; Knitting, sewing or weaving, usually. Or Stuart.

15. There's a person who's teasing you; what could you do?
Shoot them. I could sew their wound up perfectly competently afterwards. Stuart would argue that the answer is be indignant and then jump on him, but this is only because I haven't shot him yet.

16. Let’s say you have a person who you really care about but she/he doesn’t know about your feelings. How do you tell her/him?
Erm, last time it was by having sex with him. Shame the whole crew worked it out before me, though.

17. What do you regret most in life?
Not finding the Weaver sooner.

18. Do you like your maker?
I honour and respect the Gods.

1. Who are you?
Lieutenant Lucille Starshine Rivers, Journeyman Peacekeeper of the Warlocks. That's Lucie to you unless we're both on duty or you want a pint of water dumped on your head. Yes, I'm green. Don't make any assumptions from that.

2. Do you have any brothers or sisters?
Three brothers, Two sisters.

3. How old are you?
105. That's late twenties in your terms.

4. What's your height?
Tall enough.

5. Are you a virgin?
I think that one is an absolute, unequivocal no. With added no.

6. Who's your mate/spouse?
Uh. I'll try to deny that Sam is, if you like. It's not like there's any exclusivity going on...

7. Do you have any kids?
No, but I have two nephews, a niece, and there's my cousin's children, and... well, I think I'm one of nature's aunts.

8. What's your favorite food?
Very spicy soup. Spot the mixed-race elf.

9. Have you killed anyone?
I've been a warlock for forty years; that would be a yes. I hope they all deserved it.

10. Have any secrets?
No. There are things I don't usually tell people, but that's more for their sake than mine. Um. You *actually* want to look in my bedside drawer? OK...

11. Do you love anyone?
Sam. *looks down and shuffles feet*. And Edgar, but you all knew that.

12. What is your job?
Keeping the peace.

13. Boy or girl?
Either or both, separately or at the same time.

14. What do you do to relax?
Fight, drink, shag. Preferably in that order.

15. There's a person who's teasing you; what could you do?
Smack them round the face or drop cold water on them.

16. Let’s say you have a person who you really care about but she/he doesn’t know about your feelings. How do you tell her/him?
"Would you like to go to bed with me?" tends to work. Even if they say no, they *know*.

17. What do you regret most in life?
That I have to watch humans I love die of old age as I remain young.

18. Do you like your maker?
My parents? Yes. The Elemental Lords... let's go with "revere", shall we?

Pimp My Mathmo

2008-01-17T18:58:54Z

Ralph is actually managing to start looking for a job. Sadly he doesn't know enough about the local recruiterpimps, and doesn't have the "social network" that I do, as in he is even quieter and asocial than me :)

So, where should someone with an applied maths degree with some programming experience, mostly in Java and JUnit but a bit of PHP and C looking for a techie job in Cambridge or environs that involves maths and programming (he's not too fussed about proportions) start looking for a job, and who should he throw his CV at?

Also, which recruiterpimps are merely bad, and which ones should he not touch with a bargepole? (this may be related to the previous question...)

He's not too worried about money and will take a relatively crappy job. No time limits as Caius are rather unwilling to let him go (but he is leaving before my PhD stipend runs out dammit :P)

Help appreciated, chocolate and hugs will be given if desired :)

Wedding Photos!

2007-11-26T20:48:36Z

http://picasaweb.google.com/JamesRBowe/RosieAndRalphSWedding2?authkey=6EZk0bzSUdI

Lookit! Photos!

(the gingerbread heart was a joke present from the best man's uncle, by the way...)

IRC fix

2007-10-30T12:12:22Z

To any of the Cambridge University lot suffering from IRC deprivation due to the loss of the SRCF this morning, #larp and #assassins exist on server zeus.jesus.cam.ac.uk

jooooiiiin usssss...

Pufferfish the Mead Fairy

2007-09-27T19:00:57Z

Some of you may have noticed that I am getting married soon.

The Treasure Trap Medieval Banquet will be on November 24th (date changed because site has been booked for 1st December since September 2006).

These events require Mead, and therefore I will be buying copious quantities of mead from http://www.moniackcastle.co.uk in a few weeks' time.

If anyone wants in on the order, please email me at this username at the obvious place. It generally comes out at about £6 per bottle of mead/wine/whatever.

Or comment here, of course.

:D

2007-09-10T18:23:32Z

I seem to have become engaged.

It doesn't feel any different from not being. Much.

The answers to the inevitable questions:

I do not have an engagement ring and don't want one. Sorry.
I am keeping my name.
Hopefully as soon as is sane.. umm... maybe November, and it'll be quiet.

I am now going to count how many instances of each of these I get in real life.

Result!

2007-08-31T22:17:16Z

I crosslinked my protein!

While I'm not usually given to deliberate attention-seeking, I got a result today which means that several months of planned PhD work are likely to, well, work. Also it means I have something to write about on the poster I have to make in three weeks time.

So there you go.

Also, larp tomorrow. Mmm, masochistic nympho fire mages with big sticks. (thanks to lupie_stardust for the icon...)

A Very Fine Line

2007-08-27T18:42:27Z

More Maelstrom fic, I'm afraid. This one's pretty long. Cross-posted to lrpdrabbles

I am at the place the Sons of Set call Lamentation, it is perhaps two or three in the morning, and I am curled up around Stuart, who seems to be having rather less trouble sleeping in this blighted, stifling place than I am, and generally I am content. But for some reason, tonight is different.

I'm not generally given to this sort of introspection. Perhaps it's the atmosphere here, or having helped around the edges of the biggest fight I've seen at a festival, but there is a thought running through my head that I wonder what proportion of other people here in the New World could say:

I have never killed a person.

But I've let people die, and tried to tell myself I was in no state to do anything else-

The Queen Mary Inn, Nordon, Malathia, October 1652

I've been away from home to study medicine in Nordon for a month now, and as expected, I feel on top of the world, independent, and also invincible. I will learn.

I've nipped down to the Queen Mary for a quick pint; it's not the nicest of taverns, but early in the evening it's still quiet, and I'm talking to a captain about a voyage and an investment. I'm probably flirting with him- he is rather easy on the eye, after all- and I'm definitely irritating him by pointing out the numerical flaws in his grand ideas.

We conclude a deal, and I start to head home. I realise too late that he's following me, the world blurs for a few seconds, and I'm being held to the wall in the mouth of an alley, a knife to the back of my neck.

"Think you can outsmart me?" he snarls. "Think again."

I don't struggle. He wants my body or my money, or both. He's not trying to kill me... yet. I just have to keep my head...

He's fumbling with the buttons on his breeches now, intent on his prize...

...and in the short moment there's less pressure holding me to the wall as he lifts my skirt, I manage to grab the tiny knife I keep in my bodice, spin round and drive it into his thigh. I've been learning basic anatomy and surgery, of course, and I get lucky. There's a spurt of blood from the artery I've hit, and he staggers backwards clutching at the wound.

My screams for help attract a passing watchman, and I'm dimly aware of a crowd starting to form as two well-executed blows to the head drop my attacker to the floor, still bleeding. Someone puts a cloak round me and passes me a hip flask with something strong in it, and I splutter out the story in between sobs and sips of what I only hope was brandy. I'm still gripping the knife.

Occasionally, someone casts a glance at the captain, still out cold, and still bleeding. Nobody moves to help him, though, and I'm in no state to.

Ten minutes later, the watchman looks me in the eye, and then leans over the captain, and feels for a pulse.

"He's dead."

I nod. Nobody could survive a wound like that untreated for that long.

They take me inside, and give me a warm drink, and nobody says anything, but we all know we could have saved him, and we all know we made individual decisions that he hadn't deserved it.

And I cry, but that's all right, because they think it's from the shock.

-or that if I didn't make the decision, someone would do something worse-

Buckleigh Village, Highland Malathia, September 1653

I am twenty-one, and, hopefully, a bit older and wiser now I've been away for a year. I've come home for Jamie's eighteenth birthday, and am looking forward immensely to the party tomorrow. It's getting late, and I'm thinking about going to bed, when there's an urgent knock on the front door.

I light one of the big lanterns, wake Angus, and open the door. The rider turns out to be someone I vaguely recognise as the baker's son, and he peers at me as if he's not quite sure who I am, either.

"Fiona? I heard you were home, and it's Mrs Macleod, she's having the baby and it's all going wrong and we can't find the midwife and..." He trails off, and I swear under my breath. I grab my medical bag and one or two more instruments, trying not to let the poor lad see the scalpels, and motion him out to the stable. Angus has saddled another pair of horses, and we set off.

I push my way past the worried-looking gathering of people in the McLeods' house and head upstairs to find pretty much what I expected: a woman no older than me screaming and writhing in pain, and another- her sister, I thought- holding her hand and trying as best she could to reassure her. I get as much of a dose of vineweed into the poor woman as I can, and when she's calmed down a little, I take a look.

"Can you save the baby?" the other woman asks, out of earshot. The wrong question.

I decide to be honest.

"Yes. Or the mother. Not both."

She turns, saying "I'll put it to her husband, then."

But before she can leave the room, I grab her arm.

"I will force no-one to make that decision," I say. I look her in the eye. "Comfort her, look after her, (I gritted my teeth) nature will take its course, and your sister will live." I wasn't going to go into the specifics, and a well-placed blanket would prevent either woman from seeing them.

I didn't kill that baby. But I let her die, for the sake of her mother. Eighteen months after that, she had a fine, healthy son, and the following year, a daughter.

I've let people die, and I try to tell myself I had no choice-

Amun-Sa Over Ocean, December 1656

The fighting was nearly over, and the cleanup was beginning. I hear the gunshots, come running, and now I'm kneeling by the side of an avian, thankfully unconscious, with a terrible gash across her chest and abdomen. She's lucky; she's lost a lot of blood, but her lungs aren't punctured. I've got to her quickly enough that she should live, though the healing will be long.

I begin to stitch, concentrating on stemming the blood flow as much as I can, Stuart standing guard over me just in case someone decides to have another go at her and misses.

Instead, I'm roughly pulled off her, trailing catgut and bandages, by a Gnoll soldier in heavy chainmail.

I try to argue, but the soldier says she's broken the law. I ask what she did; he mumbles something about politics which I don't hear but don't ask him to repeat. I look at Stuart- he looks back, uncharacteristically tenderly for a public place- and the unspoken agreement is to step back. We do, and he holds me tight as we watch her life bleed out through my half-done stitching.

I have never killed a person. I hope fervently that I never have to, because it worries me that I think I could.

I stop dwelling on the thought as Stuart stirs, and his hand moves across my body...

I am content.

Costumes!

2007-08-16T14:50:09Z

http://www.southlondontheatre.co.uk/phpBB/viewtopic.php?topic=7013&forum=2

By which I mean, English National Opera are having a costume sale on Saturday, and lots of people I know might be interested in going.

I would like to go on my own because I kill people if I try to shop in company. But that doesn't mean people shouldn't be told :)

Edited: I have been persuaded to go with people. We'll be there about 11.30. Don't blame me if I kill you...

Doomed

2007-08-11T18:34:23Z

New craft: inkle weaving. As if I didn't have too much stuff on the go at once already.

Win

2007-08-05T22:34:23Z

Final score for housework this weekend:

Five loads of laundry
Cleaned bath, basin and toilet
Tidied out bathroom cupboard
Two loads of washing up
Cleaned kitchen sink and draining board
Cleaned oven
Hemmed tablecloth
Mended a shirt

Now I just get to wait to be overly smug at Ralph when he gets home tomorrow :)

More MaelFic. Dammit.

2007-08-04T17:59:47Z

Oops, I did it again. This time as a set of four drabbles (and they are all 100 words, I feel unreasonably happy about this) based on a very apt Weaver teaching, which some of you may recognise...

Disclaimer: we never defined precisely what happened on board ship during the voyage over. I'd rather it stayed that way, but I've written one possible and plausible take on it because I wanted to.

It probably also counts as the first (and only) time she fell in love; seeing as that bandwagon's there, I may as well jump on it :P

----

Stand and look at the thing you desire. Study it carefully.

She'd certainly been doing that a lot. Rather more than she perhaps should have. She wondered if he'd noticed; half of her hoped he hadn't, the other half hoped he had. She thought he'd been looking at her, too.

He was certainly *worth* looking at, if you could get past the sphere of ego and recklessness. She'd begun to suspect that the recklessness was put on, at least in part, to wind her up, but she didn't mind too much because it meant he found her worth winding up.

And, she had to admit, he had a very fine arse.

Decide if it is a thing worth pursuing at all,

Her previous relationships had ended in explosions and screaming matches. On the other hand, she'd shouted at Stuart quite vociferously a couple of times already. He'd shouted back, slightly to her surprise, which had made her wonder...

Points against: Might do something stupid and get himself killed. Ego. Handwriting. That damn smirk.

Points for: Intelligent, competent. Copes with being screamed at, apparently. Weaverite- good in general, good chance of... inventiveness.

Grudgingly, Fiona mentally added "ego" to the latter list as well. And, sighing, "smirk".

She was doomed, she realised. One way or the other.

...what if it *did* work out?

or if, when you finally catch it,

They were through the Maelstrom. Stuart had been pretending it was easy, of course, even when the ship tilted so far that water had covered the deck, and Fiona had looked over the side and seen the sky.

She'd stalked up to him, furious. She'd tried to shout, she really had, and he'd tried to shrug it off. They'd ended up looking into each other's eyes, so much going unsaid, but understood.

A raised eyebrow, a mutual shrug... then they reached out to each other, and their lips met.

Two minutes later, Stuart's cabin door was firmly closed and bolted.

it will prove simply to be something that was yours all along.

The crew had known it was inevitable. There'd been cheers, whistles, and... was that the clink of coins being exchanged?

She'd found a secluded corner to gather her thoughts- she'd have to talk to Stuart fairly soon- and apparently, had gone unnoticed by the off duty deckhands:

"Hey, Morris, did you hear-"

"Course I heard, Ross. This is a ship. Walls are a bit thin."

"Thanks for that. You owe me three riel, it's the 11th."

"Damn you. I had the 13th."

Fiona turned.

"Oi, if you're making money off me, you owe me a drink when we reach port..."

----

I kind of want to post this (and the previous one) to lrpdrabbles. I am very nervous about this, so I am going to bluntly attention-whore:

If you think I should post this to lrpdrabbles, tell me so I will feel a bit better about doing so.

Thank you. Normal service will now be resumed.

All the cool kids are doing it

2007-07-26T21:53:55Z

Jake, Stephen, Ric, Emma and everyone else on #maelfroth who's written something tonight, it's all your fault! You made me do it!

Cut to save the friends pages of those of you who don't care about or haven't a clue about Maelstrom larp...

Fiona remembered the words of the old, well-travelled Rukhi priest again: "Find the right opportunity. Grasp it with both hands, don't follow it blindly, but make it your own. You'll know it when you see it."

She'd heard some ship's captain was in town recruiting for a shipping company to go to the New World, her nosy side had taken over, and she'd decided to investigate. Half an hour later found her in one of the dockside inns, quietly observing, and irritated with herself that she liked drinking alone in rough taverns as much as she did. She kept a hand on her pistol, though, and checked that the nastier and pointier bits of her medical kit were within easy reach.

She continued to drink from the tankard in front of her, watching and listening to this Stuart Marshall easily and confidently chatting to the people sitting at nearby tables. Occasionally he wrote down a name in what, Fiona suspected, as she tried and probably failed to subtly glance at it, was an entirely haphazardly organised notebook. *And* his handwriting was terrible.

"So," she thought. "Disorganised as hell, but confident. Seems to know what he's talking about. Can probably get across the Maelstrom without sinking the ship. Not so big on the small details, it seems. I can probably do something about that- it can't be much worse than the farm accounts, can it?"

A slow, treacherous thought from her hindbrain told her that he was also really quite attractive. She banished that one quickly enough- he was far too smug and overconfident, and she knew from experience that such things tended to end in what might charitably be called explosions...

Her mind returning to business somewhat abruptly, she realised it was getting late. It was now or never, and she'd always regret not knowing what would happen next if she turned away. She took a step forward.

"Good evening. I'm Fiona Campbell- I understand you're looking for a ship's surgeon?"

...so yeah, that's what I did instead of more unpacking and tidying this evening...

rjw76 @ 2007-07-01T23:15:00

2007-07-01T22:17:09Z

How bad would it be to "upgrade" to a Plus Account (the free one with adverts) to get more userpics?