This past weekend consisted of the following elements for me:
Going clockwise from the top left, we have:
1) Singing: I accompanied a friend for two sections of the Eisteddford this weekend. Friday evening and Sunday afternoon. I had forgotten how nasty and horrible everyone can be backstage at these events, but how kind they are to each other’s faces. Believe it or not, the dressing room of a dozen manicly-nervous competitors is not a wonderful place to be.
2) Crying: As I said on Friday night, it isn’t an Eisteddford unless there are some tears. Boy was I not disappointed. Not only were the performers regularly returning to the dressing room with tears rolling down their faces, but we actually got an on-stage break down. One poor competitor ran off-stage, wailing, mid-way through her song and didn’t attempt her second song. This is what eisteddfords are about. At least, for me.
3) Sleeping: (well, that’s what came back when I google-imaged “sleeping”) Often not getting to bed until the early hours of the morning, I slept in quite late (never past 11am!). I did manage 11 hours of sleep on the Saturday night, going to bed at an oddly-early 10:30. I managed to disgust quite a few people with this fact on Sunday.
4) Aliens: I finally sat down to watch a classic which I had never had the chance to see before – Aliens! I hadn’t seen any in the series, and probably should have started with the first, but I enjoyed it anyhow. It sure is a stressful movie though. It should have had an intermission or something (that’s something I often do when I’m watching something on DVD), because as much as an hour before the end of the movie I was exhausted and wanted to scream “Just give up Ripley! It can’t be that bad a way to die!”.
I’m also taking part in ‘Big Blogger’, another blogger’s initiative to get some real hate flowing amongst the blogging community. I don’t want to link to the site until he posts the first entry in case he writes something horrible and I want to denounce him and his whole organisation, ala Michael.
I suppose you could’nt find an image of you fleecing my quilted two ply, nor one of you hiding cutlery on the floor for me to step on at 2.00am, i must say the splade (yes i’m a child of the 70′s) look’s rather alluring protruding between my first and second toes.
Next time I might just leave something out for you to actually tread on, instead of imagining up faux injuries.
No, i really do have a splade hanging out of my foot, in fact i’m collecting a whole range of things on the soles of my feet from my carpet .. i’m not sure but i think i may have a collendar under there.
Eisteddford – isn’t that a Welsh word? Eist – dead eddford – boring
One would hope that there were some tiaras to accompany the tanties.