South Park Self


Some ridiculously twittish man phoned me from Grahamstown this morning, had a 45-second phone conversation in which I answered his question with flair, aplomb and relentless accuracy, and then completely omitted to actually put the phone down when the conversation ended. This meant that my phone was tied up for nearly two hours with either (a) the sound of him having a pointless and imbecile conversation with his girlfriend in the background, or, (b) if I jiggled the cut-off button, an engaged signal. If I followed course (c) and put the phone down, it promptly rang, and if I picked it up, returned me to (a). This meant that my morning was actually curiously peaceful, apart from the string of students at my door, since no-one could phone me and I couldn't phone out. I am also vindictively pleased to think of the size of his phone bill. Twit.

Right, have emerged from the fog of student queries for long enough to actually make some arrangements for next week, after a certain amount of gentle prodding by concerned citizens. Ye Grand London Gathering for purposes of Socialising With Extemporanea is set for Tuesday evening, 8pm, at the esteemed residence of Scroob, as per her kindly invitation. Should you wish to attend this select and convivial occasion but are unclear as to the Scroobious location, please email me for addresses and directions and what have you. It would assist were you to bring something booze-shaped, or substitute; we will probably order pizza by way of comestibles. It would probably also assist if you let me know you plan to attend. (I've been playing way too much Echo Bazaar. Can you tell? My socialising is all in the Victorian idiom).

Since Scroob is located in the wilds of Islesworth, I am dividing my extemporaneous presence, and will also be present, for One! Night! Only!, positively your second-last chance, at rumint's game on Monday evening. Which I believe we are diverting into the fell practice of Munchkin, which makes a simple Extemporanea very, very happy.

Should any of you be unable to attend either of the above gatherings but still be desirous of improving your acquaintance with me, I am likely to be wandering vaguely about London, quite of my own accord, on Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning, and am entirely up for random lunch rendezvousez, or suchlike.

Am all excited now. Shall go and have a celebratory tinker with my conference paper. Why did that last phrase sound dodgily euphemistic?
  • Current Mood: excited excited
  • Current Music: new Arcade Fire, STILL.
Re bringing of booze: no vodka, please, we have it a-plenty.

Also, on arrival please don't ring the doorbell, come right in and go straight into the lounge, do not loiter noisily in the hall. Don't worry, you won't have to whisper all evening, only please to keep the actual arrivals relatively low-volume, thanks you kindly.

Since you find yourself socializing in the Victorian mode, I shall simply have to inquire as to whether you've read Soulless by Gail Carriger, yet?

It's a Victorian urban(e) fantasy with vampires, werewolves, ghosts...and the preternatural heroine who's really death to them all. But that's so...impolite. She'd really rather be having tea and treacle, reading scientific journals and whacking impudent people with her umbrella.
I have not read it, nor yet heard of it, but lo! you interest me strangely. Shall add to various wishlists forthwith.

I also rather enjoyed Kage Baker's novella "The Women of Nell Gwynn's", which is a sort of steampunky spy story with prostitutes.
Ah, I have just seen this. Will be there. Though, what with getting back to North London and work the next day, I may have to leave by 10pm or so.

Edited at 2010-08-09 10:46 pm (UTC)
I'd imagine no worries if you want to be there a bit earlier just to hang out - I may go out in the morning, but will be there in the afternoon. Will check with Scroob and let you know if there are any problems.