I have arrived in the UK!

My flight was at ass o'clock (05:30 in the morning), I was lucky enough to have my bff drive me to the airport in the middle of the night. I froze in the passenger lounge, so that was fun.

I don't remember much of the flight as I was knocked out for a great portion of it, I remember there was a dry omelette and water... and then nothing.

When I landed I realised my phone wasn't behaving like it should, no internet, no outgoing calls, which was distressing. But after I was let into the country by the most unfriendly border force officer ever, I called my cell phone company and got it sorted... mostly. I'm not too concerned.

My mother's cousin (with whom I'm staying) picked me up from the middle of nowhere, where I was dropped off by the bus and we drove to her daughter's house. The best cup of coffee was drunk and short bread biscuits were eaten as we all caught up and eventually had lunch.

I'm dead on my feet, but I still traipsed through London in order to get to the Victoria and Albert museum and buy a ticket for the David Bowie exhibition on Monday. Haza!

I'm currently vegging on the couch with Officer Kalakaua in my hands and I'm watching the Danish drama "Borgen", ah, it's so good, the acting, the pretty English they speak sometimes... Danish sounds very happy, but they all look sad.

Tomorrow I'm letting myself get up whenever and I'll head to the museums of my childhood; Natural History and Science (there's an Alan Turing exhibition it seems.)

Must eat and have another coffee.

Hello Peoples!

I'm using my friend's smartphone at a wifi hotspot to have internet! It's quite magical.

The guest house my friends and I are staying at had said there was wifi all around, but we ended up having to stand in the corner with our laptops on our heads while performing an arabesque to maintain one bar of internet.

Yeah, it was a bit 1990's.

Still, now with the hotspot I'm surfing like normal (minus YouTube and other random bandwidth eating activities).

Let me tell you how much fun we had driving up to the guest house! It has been rather rainy and wintery (though not cold during the day) and as we drove towards the mountain on which we are no situated, we saw not one, but two rainbows! It looked like it was connected through the clouds!

I almost expected a Care Bear to come sliding down. It was rather gorgeous.

I had a three hour nap, fell asleep in my bra and jeans, that's how knackered I was, dude, I needed that nap.

After we all got up (because we all napped) we went to eat and then basically came back to nap some more, only it was already night so it was an actual good night's sleep.

Today we woke up for breakfast made by the proprietors and then we went shopping! I don't really enjoy shopping as an activity, but there was a sale in many of the shops so I got three cardigans and a hat (which was bought for me as a present, much to my delight), so I'm rather more prepared for winter than I was before this short getaway.

Currently, I'm lounging on the big bed while my close mate reads her book right next to me. I'm wondering how long I'll be able to keep my eyes open before I succumb to another nap.

And why the hell shouldn't I. I'm on weekend holiday.

Bliss.

My afternoon siesta lasted three hours.

I woke up feeling quite terrible. In fact I thought I was going to throw up. However, I wasn't going to let that stop me, though it did delay my reflexes and I felt foggy brained for a long time.

But my sister had booked and paid for an evening hike at the excavation sites of Caesarea, and we would walk among the ruins with swinging lantern lights (something the kids found very enjoyable).

So with the above being part of the plans there was much discussion by members of my family suggesting I stay at the cottage and let someone else take my place on the hike, which annoyed me enough to get moving, take a quick scalding shower (I woke up with a fever and thus was feeling cold) and swallow down some paracetamol.

Oh, and our neighbours decided to blast their music again. Cue my bitch-face + a headache (despite the medicine). I was ready to either murder someone or leave.

After taking the medicine, chugging down a bottle of water and eating an apple I felt better, though nowhere near 100%.

The hike was brilliant though. Our guide was a geek! The moat reminded my nephews of Helm's Deep and one of them said it looked like where Aragorn and Legolas fought the Orcs and the guide asked them if they knew who Aragorn's father is and then started reciting The Song of Aragorn!

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

My sister and brother-in-law looked very pleased and I clapped like a moron and bounced like a ball, something I regretted, because, well, fever.

But all our kids, three nephews and a niece, now felt they had the guide all to themselves and latched onto him like limpets.

My sister, who is a Mediaevalist of the Middle East was very impressed with the guide's correct knowledge of the era and the Mamluks who fought the Crusaders. I gotta say, if I had to chose a side, I'd go with the Mamluks, as my sister said, because they won.

They won hard.

In any event, we walked along the shore line and the guide talked about the Romans and their bloody "reality shows" in the Hippodrome and Arena, the Byzantines and their syncretism of Jesus and Sol Invictus, the other multiple temples to the Sun that scattered the shore line, and he recreated, using shadow puppets the Egyptian god Ra's descent into the underworld and ascent into the sky, which was rather entertaining.

By the end of the hike most of the lanterns had gone out, which made the atmosphere even eerier, but I suppose that is the point.

As I said the kids loved it.

The drive back to the resort was a bit of a nightmare, because the paracetamol wore off and the fever attacked me again.

By the time we arrived back I was very wobbly and the short walk had me collapsing on my bed. I was given water and ibuprofen. I changed into pyjamas and was moaning and groaning the whole night, I was told.

I woke up on day 4 (and check out morning) was given more medicine, tea and I nibbled on dry cornflakes.

Thankfully my brother and his family wanted to go home as soon as possible, so I hitched a ride with them and got home long before everyone else.

I continued to be floppy throughout the day, but as of this writing I'm back to normal. I suspect sunstroke to be honest.

This being a beach resort, it is not inconceivable that we would have neighbours, am I right?

Well, one of the neighbouring cottages is putting on a show. I was rudely awakened from my afternoon nap (my coveted siestas by the noise of heavy bases blasting through speakers. I was honestly unsure as to what was happening.

Once I was decently dressed and had my bitch-face on, I went to ask them to ask them to turn it down. They replied that they needed to test the sound before their party tonight.

Obviously I and two of my siblings went to the management to complain. We were led to believe that the management were on our side, considering they immediately alerted security.

Management didn't actually do much.

The saga went on for a good few hours, with my plans of a nap being shot to hell and multiple walks back and forth to management to get our neighbours to shut the fuck up.

I suppose the fact that our noisy neighbours couldn't give a flying fuck goes without saying.

My anti-social heart was extremely cranky at the fact that I had to talk to strangers, but also the fact that old family friends decided to join us for supper. Something I, my father and several other family members were bitter about, because we are 15 people and we ended up feeding up to 20. Not fun for the people applying fire to the food, let me tell you.

I did not feel rested or relaxed. And fuck, I resented all the other people holidaying with us. The fucking chutzpah is just unbelievable.

I was so annoyed and everybody fucking knew it.

I had my bitch-face on.

All our complaining to management did help somewhat in the end, as they folded up their sound system much earlier than they intended. That didn't stop them from screaming into a microphone. I realise not everyone considers the peace and quiet of the beach and isolation all that relaxing but the utter inconsideration made me tear my hair out. I honestly, really, could not understand how these people thought they were being in any way, shape or form, nice to their neighbours. I mean, I don't give a flying fuck about them, they could do me the same kindness and not force their music on me.

Once the family friends left and the music emanating from the resort subsided (yes, the resort had an equally noisy and sonorous activity, one which had a limit thankfully, something I'm sure our neighbours did not) I felt much better.

You know, one of the reasons I kind of enjoy these holidays, family drama and criticism notwithstanding, is the peace and quiet of the sea air and the sunshine, peace and quiet I don't get to have in the city unless I isolate myself.

I had never wished to be somewhere else on one these holidays until this year. This day was nightmarish.

The day, however, was saved by a game of Scrabble, in which my brother in law and I faced off my sister (his wife) and mother, as well as my other sister and her husband. I won.

It was awesome.

I realise my family is a harmonious clump of love, like something out of the Cosby Show, or something equally mushy, where everyday is a Very Special Episode but cripes, I need a break from the break!

I made the decision to not wear a bra other than my bikini top the whole time I'm here.

Considering the days are still hot, the fact that one sweats when it's hot, and the fact that I only brought one bra with me, this was a decision bred from necessity rather than one of preference. I'm fairly busty, despite "only" being a C cup.

As I write this, members of my family are playing a quick game of Scrabble; my mother and nephew to be exact. My father and brother in law are about to light up the barbecue for this evening's meal.

Other than arriving at the beach houses we're renting for the weekend, it was a fairly uneventful day. Packing everything for the whole holiday took longer than the drive from home to the resort.

Being at the beach and with my Tribe (we are 15 strong, with ages ranging from 9 months to 67 years) is a rather fun thing after a crummy year.

Expect some more to come.

I should mention and I'll expand on this later, that when it comes to fanfic, fandom and particularly the scholarship and craft of transformative fiction; it is clear I can only do this with my sisters and in private, lest other members of my family think it's okay to mock me for my interests and my para-academic interests.

Oh gentle readers and beloved friends, I shall miss you.

I've just spend an hour or so stuffing Offiver Kalakaua (my tablet) with ebooks, some of which I spend far too much money on, some gotten by means best not mentioned.

Regardless, I have lots and lots to read this weekend, for you see, it is that time of year again, where my clan collects itself, the entirety of the food (as in far too much, because really? We can't pop over to some shop and get some milk if we need it!?) and sets off on the grand adventure by the seaside.

A long weekend of going to sleep too late due to scrabble, getting up for too early due to fishing and a great many siestas.

Last year I brought one book and barely touched it, opting rather to listen to the podfics I shoved into my mp3 player. This time I'm putting nothing but music on her, so that I can read my the longfics I downloaded and read the ebooks (holy shit, so much lesbian pulp!) I now own.

Lucky me.

It's a family holiday.

I will be back sometime Sunday, and while Officer Kalakaua will be joining me, I very much doubt there will be any wifi for her to hijack.

I might still be around tomorrow morning, depending and how much I'm needed for schlepping.

I wrote a post yesterday just before I headed out to the parade, but Officer Kalakaua ate it alas. I'm still getting used to this whole typing with my thumbs and not touching things by accident.

I also switched on the spell check, which happens to be the autocorrect, so my initial attempts at swearing were a bust. Truly, Officer, I really did mean to say "fuck" and not "fork".

Funny stuff. I may install a chat app just so Imcan screengrab things and send them to Damn You Autocorrect!

Any way, it was a successful march. I'd never taken any formal part in Pride, but the march in Jerusalem is of way more significance due to it's nature as a human rights march, as opposed to the pandering street party that the one in Tel-Aviv is. It's also far more significant due to it being a memorial of the shooting of the gay youth club three years ago, so you know, it's important.

I was very concerned about the police and the border patrol (the border police has more presence in spaces like these as opposed to the actual border), but my own paranoia was just that.

I stood with the security at the entrance to the assembly area and put bracelets on people to prove that they had been checked out by security, so that was annoying - also, the amount of Holocaust jokes were abound.

After standing around for two hours, I and the rest the ushers became the headers, basically making sure there were no people behind us except the police.

I forewent the post-march concerts and speeches, and along with a few other people went to celebrate [sexy!roommate]'s birthday on the grass a bit away from the the assembly.

Long, but rather good day, all in all.

I now have a t-shirt I can't wear ever again, due to it being an usher shirt, not because it was ruined. I also got burnt on the back of my neck.

Just call me Red Neck Mel.

Just dropped the cat off at the vet.

Fuck.

My.

Life.

News, if there is any, as soon as I have more than two minutes at the computer.

Wish is home!

Not only is he home, he bolted out of the carry cage, went to sit in his litter box, came out to munch on some of his kibble and when I stuffed his medicine in his wet food, he chomped it up!

OMG!

I'm so relieved!

Thank you to everyone who commented or otherwise communicated with me over the day.

It has been harrowing.

I really hope he doesn't have to see the vet again.

Just... wow...

Now I feel like I can actually eat a whole pizza! Lucky, my bff will be feeding me just that tonight.

Hello my lovelies.

Shall I regale you with my continuing saga of ordeals, making my unremarkable life a series of events one can only coin as "unfortunate".

I don't remember if I mentioned, but my parents have gone on holiday and I am house sitting for them, spending time like a single lady with a cat. I had procrastinated most of Sunday and Monday away, the most productive thing I had done was write a few words of fic, send out a few resumes and set up a job interview.

The job interview was set for today and there's not much to say about it. The interviewer wasn't impressed by me and so when I get the call back, the rejection shan't sting. Still, as my sister told me as she coached me, "have fun and gain experience". It was fun to dress up and look around a be utterly out of league when it came to this kind of place of employment - high end kitchen design halls just aren't for me I guess.

However, prior to the interview I lamented the fact that my good pants were in the wash and I had no decent shoes!

[Sexy!Roommate], bless her, works a hop and a skip away from my home town and she very generously brought me my good shoes from our flat up north.

I was out of the house for two hours or so.

When I returned, it was like a scene out of Titanic.

My red All-Stars were soaked as I stepped into a puddle of water and I literally gasped. I just, could not believe what I was seeing. I followed the water to my parents' bedroom.

My mother's Crocs were floating.

The pipe of the en-suite sink had burst and was spraying water everywhere.

Every-fucking-where.

I had to call my neighbours to help me turn on the mains for the water and I was holding it together by a thread. A thread.

By the time the plumber came I'd already cried to my parents over the phone - they tell me they are proud of me, that I handled things well. God, I hope I'm never in a real flood or other natural disaster, I would not do well, I tell you!

That said, I did my best to scoop the water - but the carpeting in their room was soaked, as was the carpeting of my childhood bedroom. It was pretty horrific.

There's something poignant and tragic about taking pictures of ruined pillows, boxes and pictures to send off to the insurance company.

And today, the plumber returned to repair and rip up the carpets - had this happened in July or August, we may had been tempted to air our the rooms and let the carpets dry, but in March it's still too chilly and damp.

The cat, of course, is utterly stressed out. He shat all over the place and I've mopped up the floor twice already. It doesn't help that he's old and has a cough. I'm taking him to the vet tomorrow for the first time in... many years. He's a very anxious and indoors-y creature, he doesn't do well with these things, if we're going to understate things.

It's funny, when I spoke to my mother she asked me if I had blogged about my exploits and I said, no, I hadn't. I wasn't sure whether this would read as hilarious anecdote or an over share of pity. I suppose it's a bit of both.

When speaking of all the above to my siblings I reiterated that I must be cursed. How does all this plumbing shit happen to one person, over and over again, in less than six months?

My eldest sister suggested I become a plumber - in my addled mind - that idea is beginning to sound pretty damn good. Don't think I haven't been looking at technical colleges!

I have another job interview lined up soon.

I march on. One soggy socked foot at a time.