Tomorrow could be boring

Wow, what a hard decision

Well, today's the last day of my little holiday. Had a week off to go to Finland and arrange further wedding related things. Of course, as usual when one has been overdoing things for a bit too long, the minute I stopped working, I became ill.

Sinuses filled with green glue, voice like a scratchy record (and then, very quickly, strangled squeaks, then nothing), I somehow managed to run around in Helsinki with Timo and get everything done anyway. In the evenings we were wiped out and fell asleep far earlier than we're used to.

The wonderful thing is that we now have the go-ahead for our marriage. All paperwork is in order, we've checked the venue, ordered the flowers, and have a final list of things to do (including getting the rings! Minor detail...).

Over the weekend, I have been trying to rest and get myself back to normal. I would rather not have another course of antibiotics if it can be helped! Feeling lots better, though sinuses are still giving me trouble. Part of this resting has, admittedly, happened in front of the computer...

Timo brought home World of Warcraft (WoW) trial disks. Now, we've been avoiding it because we had another MMORPG love, Final Fantasy online. Except the trouble with FF has been that the time sink required for it exceeds what we can possibly commit to. For the most part, I've been doing things like levelling various crafts or breeding giant chicken mounts (yes, really). They're called chocobos and are an integral element in all things Final Fantasy.

I love the Final Fantasy world and in the beginning, it was easy to pick up the online game and get ahead. Unfortunately majority of the game content (quests and so on) really does require you to spend hours on end playing. Sometimes in one go. Many activities are geared to be suitable for large groups only, or require the help of higher level players to complete. In order to gain commitment from others to help you, you must be available to do the same in return. It's only fair and makes sense.

However, being one of those weird gamers that actually prefers achieving things in the fabled world of RL (Real Life) as well as in-game, I don't think I have much choice in the matter of FF. I can keep on paying the monthly subscription to keep my characters and giant chickens "alive", or I can cancel the subscription. Quit. It seems bizarre to be a little bit emotionally attached to a virtual world and its inhabitants, but I've been a fan of the Final Fantasy universe for years and a player on FF online for over 2 years. So quitting seems like leaving something real behind.

How real are online gaming environments? Do they become as real as the time you have put in them? Or the people you "meet" and make friends with?

Is it all just a big waste of time? Is any social, fun activity a waste of time?

I guess when it stops being fun.

So, meanwhile, we've been trying to understand what makes World of Warcraft online such a popular game. It has millions of subscribers (over 6 million, I seem to remember seeing somewhere - sounds ludicrous! That's more than the entire population of Finland!).

WoW seems so easy to get into after FFXI. Granted, in every such game, the first 10 levels of a character are a breeze, after which things get harder. We've tried out different characters, classes and crafts. It's fun, so far. Worth getting a subscription? Not sure yet. It seems to be far better suited to people who want to play for a while, go do something else and come back again. Of course the mechanics, especially towards end game, seem to allow for overwhelming immersive playing style (there's always some Uber gear that can be perceived as a must-have and this type of gear or priviledges or imaginary in-game status always requires making the game your primary activity in life for quite a while). The key difference seems to be that this does not appear to be a requirement. It's an option.

If I'm right about the above and it's in fact possible to play WoW semi-casually, then it might be sold. Just a few more days of the trial left.

It's definitely a nice thought to have something to lose yourself in once in a while. I tried Second Life (and still have my account there), but it seems a little bit pointless. There's not an awful lot to do, unless you want to make a pretty toon and flirt. I made a dragon.

Still. Why do I feel that playing WoW instead of FF online is like cheating? And quitting FF would be like a breakup. Yet I know it seems the logical thing to do. How dorky. I'm surprised at myself actually.

Shaolin Monks

Timo and I don't get out much. Apart from going to work. A lot. Yes, we're exactly as sad and getting-long-in-the-tooth 30-something couch potato-workaholics as those statements imply. I'm not sure how much I mind.

Occasionally I dream of us away somewhere, on a beautiful, relaxing holiday with no computers, televisions, shops, or any of our modern trappings in sight. I had one such a dream last night. It was warm and sunny, but not so warm that we would both get heat stroke. Maybe I was having wishful dreams of our honeymoon. We're hoping to be able to take a week's holiday about a month after our July -07 wedding and go somewhere nice.

Occasionally we manage to have an evening out. And not just any evening; I'm not talking going to the pub, or the cinema (mostly because we rarely do those things either). Our next such excursion will be to see the Kung-Fu master Shaolin Monks at Sadler's Wells. We're going on the 30th of October. Absolutely can't wait! I love the theatre, opera, ballet, performance, stage - and I love Martial Arts. So as soon as I saw this advertised, I shoved the ad under Timo's nose: "Wanna see!".

Twenty Shaolin Monks and five young trainees have travelled all the way from the Shaolin Temple in China, to demonstrate their martial arts expertise.

In a crescendo of kung-fu sequences, the Shaolin Monks are lifted aloft on sharpened spears, splinter wooden blocks with their bare hands, break bricks on their heads and fly through the air in a series of incredible backflips and spins.

This show is the Shaolin legend made real and is definitely NOT to be tried at home!

How cool does that sound? I'm really looking forward to it!

If I can fit it in/afford it; I've been looking at Tai Chi classes locally... but on the other hand, Karate has always drawn me in. Just didn't like the local class being mostly full of adolescents (nothing wrong with that age group, but I really felt like the odd one out). Not sure yet. It comes down to class availability and money.

I'm going to work on a late shift tonight. Got to cover for late night opening and then stay behind to change our promotional displays, ready for Friday. I've spent my morning today arranging November events for my store (we're attending some out-of-hours fairs with stalls & entertainment), planning the next month's rotas, booking my staff on training courses and confirming interview appointments. I've got to be out of the door in an hour. Just sitting here with a face mask on (I look like the Swamp Thing) and sipping a cup of coffee.

There are very exciting things going on, professionally speaking, but I can't mention any of them here. As mentioned in previous entries, they're the sorts of things that I could once only have dreamed of happening. And they're the sorts of things that wouldn't be available to all - not for any kind of price; I have been pinching myself a lot recently because I think I must be dreaming. I feel very, very, very, very fortunate and humbled. I know I've been working hard, trying to reach the right path, making mistakes along the way, and somewhere deep down, I've held a hope - no, a belief - that you simply have to be able to make something of yourself with effort and the right attitude (despite sometimes seeing evidence to the contrary)... and yet, when the possibility of Something Big is now almost within reach, I'm a little stunned. It could all still just be too good to be true.

My chocobo caught the bug

When I'm not at work, or doing work-related activities at home (so, about 2 hours every day, give or take), I sometimes take my mind off things by playing Final Fantasy Online. It's a MMORPG based on the Japanese Final Fantasy series.

Both Timo and I have been playing this game for about two years, but we haven't even got a single "job" to the top level. To do that, you'd need a lot more free time than we have. I've managed to do a fair bit of levelling (collecting experience points through fighting monsters in parties with other characters, thus advancing your character's skills further and unlocking more abilities and options in the game). At the stage I'm at now, I would have to be able to play 6-8 hours uninterrupted to get anywhere in an experience party setting. I can't remember the last time I did that. Must have been when I was recovering from my op last year. That sort of immobalised me a bit.

Luckily, there are activities that you can participate in even if you don't have lots of time to play. You can develop crafting and job skills, manufacture items, harvest raw materials and now, with the latest expansion and update, you can grow your own chocobo. Chocobos are giant chicken-like creatures that are used as mounts in the Final Fantasy universe.

In an older incarnation of the game series, you could breed your own chocobo varieties, race them against oneanother and even attempt to breed the "ultimate" chocobo that could reach areas in the game world that others could not. I really enjoyed all that back then (and yes, I am really quite a nerd).

So when the chocobo eggs went on sale in Final Fantasy Online, I was sure to be one of the first people in the queue! It took four real-life days to hatch and you then have to "look after it"; it's a bit like a Tamagotchi - a virtual pet. You have to feed it a special diet depending on what kinds of abilities you'd like for it to develop, you have to take it out for walks, watch over it and design a care schedule that will be used in your absence (as you are unlikely to be there for your little chocobo chick for 24 hours a day!).

I'm a sucker for things like that! And for the first few days, everything went smoothly, until the chocobo first "got ill". The only medicine that would cure it, apparently, was a special type of wildgrass. There turned out to be a small design flaw in how the supply and demand of this grass was handled. The grass was selling at ludicrous prices in the game's Auction House system and was not obtainable through any kind of quest, or harvesting activity; it could only be grown through a process called gardening. So the people who suddenly realised they had the only units of this special grass in their inventories, pushed up the price to as high as it would go and ripped off the poor chocobo breeders who only wanted to make their little virtual chick better again. Awwww.

Then, a software bug was found in the chocobo raising system. If your care plan included "rest", your chocobo would just sleep and sleep for days, instead of the time period you'd specified. While asleep, it can't be fed, you can't look after it (and these two activities increase the chick's affection towards the owner and prevent it from growing into a moody bird that will just run away at the first opportunity). Of course my choco fell victim to this bug and for the last whole week, I've been coming home, checking its status and finding it still asleep, with its affection for me ever depleting... heart breaking! And the messages that kept coming up were awful: "It's starving". "It seems to be able to tolerate your company." Ouch.

Yesterday evening, my chocobo finally woke up. It has lost all its affection for me, it was starving, but at least - so far - it hasn't run away.

There have been hundreds of times in the past few months when I've thought: "why the HELL am I paying a monthly fee for a game that resembles real life a bit too much with all its ups and downs, chores, lack of money, worries, everything!"

The cleverness of the game is, of course, that it does just that. To quit would be like killing off a real part of your life, however virtual.

Greed?

I want things.

I need some of things I want, but many of the things I want seem to come down to greed.

I salivate at the thought of a new laptop to replace my old, shitty one. But do I really, hand on heart, need a new laptop? Oh, how I could justify that a thousand times. Don't even make me try; it would be too easy.

I want Corel's Painter IX.5 and Heroes of Might and Magic V to go with it.

I wince when I have to walk past those shoes (I've lusted after them for so long). Black Converse trainers with pretty, red hot flames. And the other pair; black and sparkly. Or what about those red boots in that same shop? I have deliberately avoided going anywhere near that shop for some time, as I know I can't afford such frivolity right now.

And the wedding dress thing. I don't know how I can find the dress - something that will be truly unique - without having it made. And having it made will be expensive, right? But I don't want to throw a couple of thousand quid on a stupid thing like that. Not that I even have a couple of thousand quid to throw at things like wedding dresses.

Meh. I quite like the look of Uptight Clothing, but on the other hand, maybe I might be able to get something ready-made from Fairy Gothmother or some other similar site. The Dark Angel is always reliably good quality and they have a bit more class. And yet... I don't know if any of those is even close to what I would feel comfortable in.

And the thing is, if I was given a choice: get a swanky new laptop & some drool-tastic software & get married in a hired get-up, OR have the dress of your dreams, but forgo the other goodies, I think I might choose the technology.

I'm such a nerd. It's embarrassing.

On the other hand, I feel a girly pull towards some kind of incredibly memorable get-up for the "special day" (all together now: awww! Oh hyuk. I think I made myself feel a little nauseous there).

Anyway. This is hypothetical at the moment. Although soon, I will have to decide what to do about the wedding dress-part. The technology, well, if one day I can afford it, great, if not, I will just have to have slobbery Homer-esque daydreams about it.

I have a cow thing

The cows are multiplying. It all started as an extremely nerdy inside joke. You see, once upon a time there was this turn-based-strategy game called Master Of Orion. I never played it, but I did get hugely addicted to its second release, imaginatively named Master Of Orion II. For the sake of brevity, fans had come to call this game series MOO. You may see where this is going.

When rumours begun to circle about a possible - gasp - third version, I was very excited indeed. Imagine the possibilities! I won't expand on the wishlists die hard fans of the series started compiling (for the simple fact that they won't make any sense unless you've played the game), but just imagine someone telling you that soon it would be possible to get rid of many of the frustrating aspects of your favourite past-time (the new reading chair has a set of special features that prevent eye strain and rubberneckedness! Your reading experience has been improved hundredfold! And what about that TV remote? Can't find it? No need; with the new feature in TV watching III you can now control the screen with your mind...). And so forth.

So, along with hundreds, or possibly even thousands of gullible idiots, I pre-ordered the game without having read a single review.

That was a really stupid thing to do. You see, MOOIII sucked. It was awful. Like an Excel spreadsheet with a giant GO button to end turn and minuscule space-y graphics in an attempt to somehow connect it to space-opera. Charts that you didn't really have much control over. It was hideously unplayable, dissatisfying - and worse; it was a giant departure from MOOII, which angered fans even further. Apparently the "original version" had been somewhat similar, but none of us Johnny-come-latelies (the ones who got hooked from MOOII onwards) really gave a shit about that; we wanted our space battles and ship building screens and cool blue-skinned alien babes!

In true Comic book guy style, many of us looked to the Internet to register our disgust within minutes. There was a web address on the MOOIII box. It took us to the official forums for the game publisher. We registered, ranted, connected... and some of us formed a little sub-faction of our own under the Monthy Pythonesque heading "Pirates of the Dwarf Cove" - and to cut the long story short(er), departed, formed our own online community, started arranging real-life meets and left the whole MOO thing behind. It led us together, but it was no longer the single unifying factor.

MOO stuck for quite a while though. We gave each other cow-themed presents. I ended up accumulating many cow print objects. There was the Pirate theme too. I think my most bizarre purchase in a long while was a stuffed cow dressed in a Pirate costume. It sometimes comes with me to special events and always draws attention.

One of the most important things that happened as a result of the Pirate/Cow community thing was, of course, the meeting of soulmates, the coming together of two hearts (and later, pelvises). True love is so amazing, isn't it? I suppose meeting someone of like mind in a community formed around a common interest is less of a coincidence than one could presume, but the fact that Timo was also half-Finnish did come as a bit of a welcome shock. Anyway, that's not what I'm writing about today.

I'm writing about my cow thing. I have a new cow-related obsession. It is closely linked with my ice-cream related obsession (side-thought: can taste preferences be genetically inherited? My mother was practically obsessed with ice cream).

I have discovered... The Skinny Cow (I'd link to their UK website, but they are using the heinous word "indulge" in big, pink letters on the front page and it makes me feel like someone's dragging nails on a blackboard. Plus the US site shows a dazzling array of flavours that us UK consumers can only have slobbery dreams about). I'm trying to cut down on junk food in a desperate attempt not to balloon to size 24 before our July 2007 wedding (I'm trying to slip that wedding thing in haphazardly here and there, so as not to get clammy hands every time I think about it. It's not working yet). However, I seem to suck at trying to give up junk food. I am terrible at it. I've probably managed one day without either ice cream or chocolate. Granted, I don't shovel lard and sugar into my face 24-7, but why oh why can't I go for even one, say, WEEK without polishing off half a bag of Maltesers, or an ice cream cone or two? This has got to stop!

So, The Skinny Cow seems to be a passable compromise. Instead of Ben & Jerry's calorific artery-clogging double-bypass ice cream sandwich, or even a humble portion of Green & Black's vanilla ice cream... I've switched to raspberry and vanilla cones that have 122 calories and 5% fat. Not so horrific. I should also be avoiding dairy and the sorbet-content in these cones is a welcomed component for that reason. Avoiding dairy would be a doddle if there were no such things as ice cream and cheese. I am very happy with Soy milk and Soy yogurts.

Now I just have to find out if anyone does timed locking mechanisms for the freezer compartment of household fridges. Having "low calorie option" ice cream is bloody useless if you eat two in a row...

Football and wedding plans

Timo is at Highbury today, bidding goodbye to the last day there with fellow Arsenal fans and friends of his. He likened it to leaving a childhood home. I think today will be quite emotional for him. I might have been tempted to go with him, except that I am leaving on another work-related trip this afternoon. In fact, I just need to pack my bags and get some paperwork printed off and then I'll be off.

Back late on Tuesday. I've cheated (in the blog sense, I hasten to add!) and written a preview/review post on auto-publish, which should appear tomorrow. I hope you'll enjoy it. It'll be cross-posted to BlogCritics and they'll probably appear at around the same time.

I don't quite know why, but I've been thinking about our wedding plans a lot this week. It seems to be making me jittery for some reason. Not the actual getting married bit, but the "can we really pull off a memorable and enjoyable party?" -bit. I've never attempted to arrange anything of the sort and frankly, I'm not even entirely sure where to start!

The ideal scenario will pan out like this: We'll scout for a suitable location/venue in Finland when we go there in July this summer. Book and make arrangements. In July 2007, we'll gather our friends and family (well, Timo's family; I don't have any left - none that I know and would want to be there anyway)... and celebrate, get married, spend a couple of weeks of blissful honeymoon time in some beautiful cottage by a lake... and return home to make plans for aquiring a larger home. (We love the studio; it's our little nest and I feel secure knowing that it's not rented, but we would love to have more than one room and a bit more of a kitchen wouldn't hurt either!).

Ulp.

Why is all this giving me the heebie-jeebies? I don't even know what kind of a wedding dress I should look out for? Have one made? Or wear something "normal"?

Amazing. I would never have expected to feel like this! And it's over a year away!

Timo is finding all this quite amusing, but I sense he is a little nervous too. Suddenly I'm beginning to understand why people get so worked up about this stuff. Well, not the "why" - just the empathy of being in the situation myself.

Gooner

Embarrassing confession No1: There was a pile of washing up in the kitchen for ehm, a number of days (read: until we ran out of breakfast bowls and coffee mugs). The good part? I cleared it up today. WHEW. Odd how something essentially so insignificant can weigh on your mind. Feel so much better.

Embarrassing confession No2: I just watched the Real Madrid vs Arsenal footie match all the way through and cheered aloud when Henry scored the winning goal. Oh. Dear. (Oh, what's the use! I think I'm a gooner!).

Post-stress recovery

One of the most relaxing things to do after a stressful time, is to loll about in a fragrant bath, head covered in creamy conditioning mask and face in some kind of gook that promises miraculous results in 10 minutes.

Which is exactly what I did this morning - followed by a satisfying breakfast of toasted rolls, baked beans and gorgeous filter coffee by the mugful.

We just finished watching Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events from our Teleport Movie selection (rentals without the bothersome renting process, and cheaper than getting a DVD out of the library, how nice!). One of the most appealing things about these books (of which I own the first few), are the illustrations. They'd translated these well to film, I felt.

Now we're about to watch the original Fever Pitch (a DVD I got in the sale for a few pounds). Since Arsenal is Timo's team, and since I've been half-way through reading the book by Nick Hornby since Timo and I started dating, I thought this might be a nice form of Bank Holiday Monday entertainment.

And this brings me to the core issue I really wanted to write about today: those dreaded New Year's resolutions. I've probably been through the same process as thousands of others - first making a genuine, heartfelt (and as such, incredibly naive) attempt at not only inventing good New Year's resolutions, but then proclaiming to the world that I'll be sticking to them... only to fail after exactly the first time I walk past the ice cream aisle at the local supermarket.

Then, to proclaim all New Year's resolutions Evil, Pointless and self-deluded and resolve to make none whatsoever in a wholly ironic move, equally doomed to failure, as the next New Year somehow always manages to bring about more resolutions.

And now, maybe now I've reached that stage of bemused realism about them; I will assess the parts in my life that I find lacking, or negative somehow and maybe, with the new, fresh year making its presence known by the hanging of an unmarked calendar on our hallway wall, I can begin to make slight adjustments.

Adjustments that will hopefully become new habits.

One. As witnessed by my embarrassing confession of still being half-way through Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch, over a year after having started reading it, I must now face up to the awful truth: I no longer seem to read enough fiction. I surround myself with books, always have done, but now, more out of habit and some odd sense of wishing to barricade myself inside walls created out of mushed up trees and intoxicatingly fragrant printing ink, than out of the old hunger I used to have for devouring the actual stories within.

What the hell happened to my bookwormish nature? Television? Internet? Work? Relationships? Stress? Information overload? Lazyness?

I still read all the time. Newspapers, magazines, emails, blogs, websites, faxes, manuals, guides to taxation and working time regulations, The Guide (a Saturday supplement to the Guardian; an absolute must every week, always read in the bath, by the way - I did not have one today and it felt wrong, very wrong).

When I end up reading a book, an actual book of fiction, it always seems so delightfully refreshing. The act of reading for pleasure, that is. Then I feel guilty for wasting time. Then I realise that reading for pleasure is bloody important if I ever intend to be a proper writer. Then I realise that I should read more.

And then something always comes up - something that creates a strange tension between me and the books; as if the books were not inanimate objects created by people, but actual people with whom I have a damaged relationship.

Book: "Pick me uuuuuup. You know you want to, sweetheart."

Me: "You do look tempting and delicious."

Book: "So what are you waiting for?"

Me: "I don't know. I think I need to check my emails."

Book: "Oh, not THAT again! You're never in the mood anymore! Don't you fancy me? Am I not desirable?"

Me: "No, no, no! I do fancy you - quite a lot, actually - I just... I don't know."

And after a while, The Book and I sulk at each other, don't talk for weeks and end up not having any kind of relationship whatsoever. The whole thing becomes an unspoken wire of tension between us and things go from bad to worse.

In the last 12 months I've started several books and just haven't finished them. They all watch me from the shelves, staring angrily when I paint in Photoshop, mess around on Final Fantasy, or watch Simpsons reruns for the umpteenth time.

Okay, I did finish The Goblet of Fire. In two days.

I can't even say I've regressed to childhood because as a child, I was reading all the time and moved quickly from children's fiction to young adults' and to adults' books. I was reading Kurt Vonnegut and Tolstoy (okay, the latter not by choice - I did go through a strict Russian-style school regime after all) before I was a teenager.

On summer holidays, mum and I took a huge bag stuffed full of books from the Kouvola library to the summer cottage with us for two weeks and once we'd read the titles we'd taken out for ourselves, we swapped and started reading each others'.

I think it's all about time and how it's filled up, or not, as the case may be.

On those summer holidays, I was locked up (well, not exactly, but that's what it felt like as a child) at a remote Finnish summerhouse with no electricity, no running water, no other children, and nothing but a pile of books and "rustic country cottage chores" like carrying drinking water from the neighbour's well, or chopping wood, to occupy me. Grandparents were resting, mother was sunning herself and trying to push me to come out from the shade.

Now, everything is different. So many things to do, so little time. Indulging in fiction consumption gets marginalised on the boundaries of endless Things To Do. Once there is time to relax, it has to happen in small, mindless chunks, or regurgitated "entertainment".

Sickening.

So I'm going to make a real attempt to reignite an old relationship with this Book thing. Reading fiction. Marvellous.

In order for it to work, I think I need a plan. Some kind of time slot. And to finish Fever Pitch.

Two. Gym membership. I'm better now, so I should get back into it. Start a Yoga class, or something. (Should; that dangerous word, see how it crept in there? I meant "want to". Yes). Plus I was given an extraordinarily ludicrous amount of chocolate for Christmas. Some of which came from Hotel Chocolat, which in itself is just taking temptation that bit too far, what with their tantalising offers of chocolate tasting club memberships and so on. Which, by the way, I am drawn towards by quite a bit. Maybe if they packaged their chocolates in boxes resembling book covers?

My gym sent me a pack of one-day guest passes, which I've semi-talked Timo into utilising. If we go together, we could hold each other's tootsies whilst doing stomach crunches. Aww.

Three. Go out and do stuff more. As in - rekindle the love affair with culture, museums, galleries and some (very select) social gatherings (I mean, let's not get silly here; I'll never enjoy the life of a social butterfly). And this one is already rolling into a great start, as I've booked us to go and see the Edward Scissorhands ballet at Sadler's Well's, on the 15th of January, at the start of my two-week post-Christmas holiday. The following weekend, my assistant manager and I will go away together for a spa break in some historic location or another. This is yet to be booked, but we've sworn we'll do it, so we will.

That's it. There are many things I would like to add to the list (become a miraculously happy, self-sufficient person, start to batch-cook healthy food into the freezer on days off, learn Japanese, plant a herb garden, complete at least ten writing competition entries and five book jacket illustrations, stage an art exhibit at the next Eastercon, learn to use Maya 3D software...), but I am not going to be lured into it. By trying to do everything at once, I've often managed to do very little, on balance. Well, okay, I've sometimes managed to do more than most people, but still, it's been much less effective and enjoyable than it could have been.

The most important resolution still stands - the one I arrived at before 2005 turned into 2006 - and that's the one about giving myself a break; about accepting myself as I am and allowing myself some room to breathe. This, I have a feeling, may be the key to everything else.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Shoot, if found at a garden centre

When I was looking for a new place to buy, the criteria went like this: It should be able to accommodate all my books. It should have a distinct lack of mold and damp. It should have a nice bathroom. And if at all possible, could it please have a garden?

That was asking a lot from a studio.

I found almost what I was looking for. The accommodating all my books-bit has turned out not to be such a success; there are piles of them where there, quite frankly, shouldn't be. Like in narrow bits between the the bed and the opposite supporting wall. (Evidence can be found in photos from yesterday). Then again, I could blame Timo because he has just as many books as I do and nobody asked the New House Fairy to accommodate both of our books.

The garden part is amazing. A studio flat with a garden? I was being cheeky. I didn't honestly expect to find one.

After some work, the garden is developing into a relaxing extra space for both of us. Thanks to British weather (I mean this seriously; not in jest!), we get months of use out of it. The weather might not be fabulous on average, but mostly it is such, that one can actually be outside without the risk of death from brain-freeze, unlike for the best part of the year in Finland.

The Finnish summer is exquisite, but so very, very short. The best time to go to Finland is between the beginning of June and middle of August. That's when the sun shines day and night, when the thousands of lakes twinkle at you from between the lush greenery, when the open air markets are full of fresh produce and when almost nobody gets depressed enough to pick a fight with you in the pub just for something to do.

I miss some aspects of Finland, so imagine my delight when I found that The Guardian recently offered its readers Sea Buckthorn and Lingonberry plants via mail order. Lingonberries in particular, are a key part of traditional Finnish cooking and nature. Lingonberries are often preserved "as is" and served with a main course - the tart berry taste goes exceptionally well with certain meat dishes. Lingonberries are also used as filling for delicious flans and pies. The Finnish cosmetics company Lumene even puts some in their products.

Sea Buckthorn is also found in Nordic countries, but the surge in interest for the plant has been fairly recent, after several sources reported exceptional health benefits from its use. I am willing to entertain that these reports could very well be a marketing gimmick, but after I recover enough to eat normally again, I am going to try some of the supplements made from the plant nevertheless. I haven't got much to lose. If the supplements don't seem to be doing anything, I don't have to buy more.

Besides, if I get the Sea Buckthorn shrubs to establish in the garden, I might be able to make my own preserves.

Being delighted about plants and gardening is not something I would ever have expected to experience, much less to write about. A few months ago I saw a stylish 20-something guy in the Mall and his T-shirt read: "Shoot, if found at a garden centre."

Enjoying gardening equals your official degeneration into Being Old. I wonder what admitting to this equals? Being Sad? Then I'm sad. A big sadder than yo mama, saddo Miss sadderton. I love my little garden, I get excited about new plants, I enjoy browsing garden centres and I openly admit to all of it!

Lucky that I live in England where gardening is at least a little bit cool, sometimes. Right? Okay, Charlie Dimmock is probably not cool. Even if every man who's ever watched one of the garden make-over shows she features in has been mesmerized by her jugs (that's if the attention they get by middle-aged men is a yardstick to measure this interest by).

I'll tell you what really is uncool. Appearing in one of those home make-over shows. Of course these guys might disagree. That's some excellent career development there. From a DIY show to The Matrix.

Maybe that means I still have hope?

The most embarrassing confession of all?

I have developed a love & hate relationship with LivingTV. On one hand, it offers oodles of drug-like mind-numbing, incredibly addictive mush. The kind that has managed to make me hooked to the point of SHH-SHHing Timo in the middle of a program.

It satisfies my Inner Voyeur, my Inner Bitch and the almighty Ego that whispers "wow, I'm so much better than...".

On the other hand, it offers offers oodles of drug-like mind-numbing, incredibly addictive mush. And some of it is really rather crap. I feel dirty every time I utter the words: Living TEEVEE. Now it's about to get even worse.

LivingTV, I have a bone to pick with you.

First, you seduced with me with the "soft porn for teenage boys" (Charmed, as described by one of the cast members in a recent documentary).

Homework

Back in 2002, I was lucky enough to attend a kaffeeklatch with the author China Miéville. This took place during the annual British science fiction convention (Eastercon) in Jersey. I'd just read Perdido Street Station and had fallen in love with it.