My cat died.

I'm gutted. I had her for 15 years. She used to run out onto the driveway when she heard my car coming home, and wake me up at 2am because she was lonely, then sit on my bed and purr. She was a fantastic cat, and it just breaks my heart.

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So the Hack has just been made redundant.

Rats. Rats. Gigantic, hairy, plague-bearing rats.

I have two codes for Dreamwidth. If you want one, comment - comments are screened.

Just saw Star Trek.

Bloody hell, that was fun.

My Harry Potter WIP has been nominated for the Dramione Awards! How very cool :D If it was one of you guys - thank you so much! What a fab surprise :D

Why is fanfiction.net so shit? Every time I want to update, it has a fit and refuses to upload. ARGH. ARRRRRGH.

Also, the Hack has got us tickets to see Boyzone at the O2 on Friday. He has to interview them, so likely I will be surrounded by delicious Irish accents. I was never much of a fan back in the day, but my inner fourteen year old still had a stargasm at the thought.

Does anyone else remember the hideous cream knitted polonecks they wore in the video for Love Me For A Reason? Oh, nineties. I miss you. I miss you so.

He has also caved and agreed to take me to see Star Trek on Sunday at the IMAX. We went for dim sum and cocktails on Monday with some of the old crew from M&S Brent Cross and after hearing they liked it, he was finally persuaded it was for normal people and not just hopeless geeks like me.

Borders have a 3 for 2 on all kids' books at the moment, so I bought Scott Westerfeld's entire repertoire (there is a whole thinky thoughts post to come on the Uglies series), Marcus Sedgwick's latest, because I love a bit of gothic horror, and The Demon's Lexicon, because it's a fab book, and I'd like to reread it.

The Hack is absolutely Twitter-obsessed. He proudly tells me each day how many followers he has (296, in case you were wondering.) Apparently Richard Bacon is tweeting him. Who is Richard Bacon? I don't know, but I suspect it's not a match for the picture in my mind, which is of a large cartoon piece of streaky bacon who happens to be called Richard.

The ever-awesome savage_midnight sent me a pile of books which I am slowly going through. I am quite enjoying the Karen Chance books, which are cracktastic, and somehow compelling.

Anyhoo, back to work tomorrow. First day on the new job. Wish me luck - I'll need it.

So, to go with the new flat, a new job. I've been promoted to womenswear manager at Watford. Yay!

Also, I went to see Romeo and Juliet at the Globe last night. It was a truly awesome experience - we were in the yard, the standing area, and the stage was right in front of us. Despite the drizzle, we had a great time - the actors sang and danced before the show (with lutes! I've never heard a lute played before), and during the play often came down into the yard.

It was one of the funniest adaptations I've seen - Mercutio and Benvolio were hilarious. Tybalt oozed sexy menace, Romeo and Juliet were a pair of idealists, and the Nurse was brilliant - funny, affectionate, practical.

Also, my ticket was free! A lovely man asked me if I was going to buy a ticket, and on learning I was, said he had one spare. Hurrah for random kindness from strangers!

Alas, in true London fashion, it was balanced with random weirdness from strangers. There I was, reading The Touch of Twilight in the tube when he approached, clearly scenting weakness, or possibly just my fabulous BPAL Lick It Again perfume. He waved some religious iconography in my face and asked if I was saved.

I explained that no, no, I wasn't, but I wasn't religious.

As it turned out, those were not the droids he was looking for. Cue five minutes of frothing rage as he told me at the top of his voice I was going to burn in hell. It is kind of hot in the tubes, but I wouldn't call it hellish. As the train arrived, I made sure I took a different carriage and spent my return mercifully undisturbed.

So, promotion, production, perdition. What a start to the week!

So we've been in the flat over a week now and it remains awesome and lovely. There was a brief kerfuffle over the extractor fan (I know, will this excitement never end?), which both the Hack and I thought was broken. Nay, it turned out neither of us are smart enough to spot the BIG RED SWITCH.

I saw the wonderful spiral yesterday. We had plans to see Coraline in 3D but that fell through as there is apparently no cinema in London showing it after eight which offers you a chance of catching the last tube. So instead, we went to this fab little tapas place I know behind Leicester Square, and had delicious food and equally delicious conversation.

She's leaving England now, and I'll be sad to see her go. So a trip to Canada is on the cards next year, where I shall undoubtedly get hopelessly lost all over the place and be wide-eyed and touristy. She also left me gifts of BPAL and books and maple syrup, which I am fast developing an addiction to.

The Hack has nabbed himself a free holiday to Andorra ("Is that the one with the landmines?" I asked innocently, and watched as a fearsome conflict took place on his face between terror and greed. Muahaha!) This leaves me a few peaceful days in the flat next week to read and write in the evenings. Hurrah!

I went to see Jason Mraz live a couple of weeks ago at the Apollo. I can confirm that he is fantastic live - it was a really chilled, fun atmosphere. My best friend and I boogied away merrily, despite the fact I only knew the early stuff and she only knew his one chart-topper, I'm Yours. The Hack got us tickets to the afterparty, so we went and schmoozed. I had to sprint for the tube, but she got to meet him later, the jammy devil.

I am really wanting to see the new Star Trek film after all the razzmatazz on my flist about it. (You guys are responsible for half my current addictions, I'll have you know. Yes, you.) It looks pretty damn awesome. Would love to hear any views on it, please!

The deposit is in my bank account. IT'S OVER!

I am still going through my Tudor phase. It is such an interesting period - and there is some great Tudor-period fiction out there. CJ Sansom is my current love, but I also have a penchant for Phillippa Gregory (vinagrette, I know you've just lost some respect for me, but I love a bit of historical pulp fiction.)

Smallville Season 2 is on its way to me. I caved at last...

Now, back to a book and a cuppa.

The deposit troubles are over at last. We only lost £120 for the carpet, as - surprise surprise - it was more than a year old. This means I can pay off a big chunk of my debt, and can officially relax, and never ever have to deal with that wretched truth-impaired man again. I'm sending our estate agent flowers - she has done a fab job on our behalf.

Time for a celebratory dance, methinks.

There is something about the new flat - several somethings - which remind me of home. Mum and Dad's home, I mean. The door into the living room has glass panels in, which is just like the one leading into the dining room. The walls are the same magnolia. The quality of the light is similar - soft, golden, summery.

I keep expecting one of the cats to pad into the room, or my mum to ask me if I want a cup of tea, and then I remember they're a hundred miles away, and I feel older and sadder and a little lost.

I think, then, of that old saying that you can never go back, and I know it's true. It lodges somewhere in my heart, somewhere between grief and acceptance. It's not that I don't like the life I have. It's not that I don't love my career or my independence or my friends. But sometimes it's all fraught and complicated, and I feel very tired, like I'm older than my bones and my skin.

It would be nice, then, to hear my mum asking me if I want sugar with that cup of tea. That would be a decision I could say yes or no to, and the answer wouldn't matter. Time would be soft and golden and summery as the light.

I guess that's what the past looks like through a film of nostalgia. Because even as I sit here and type this, I know that it wasn't really like that. There were other times - times of teenage emo angst and times of anger and frustration.

But when I think of home, none of those things come to mind. Instead I think of sunlight through the bay windows, and the cats sitting in the strawberry netting, and the rapeseed turning the hills into vast yellow flags. The bad things fade: the good things shine.

So I hope that when I look back on the last few months, stress and tears and apathy and emptiness will be driven out like the shadows that they are, and this too will become soft golden summery shining. I hope that as I go forward I will recognise the shadows for what they are, for what they will be: nothing, fading under the best of what is yet to come.

I can never go back. I know that. But I can go forward, and hope.

It seems quite apt that I have a new journal to match my new flat. So here it be!

EDIT: Oops, didn't realise this would show as a normal entry. What I meant to say is that I also now have a Dreamwidth account. Come and say hi!

So, unsurprisingly, the fight for our deposit is now on. Our landlord is an utter liar. ( fun fun fun )

...and we're moved. Every inch of the old flat glitters. Cinderella has nothing - nothing - on me. The new flat is heaped with boxes. The only things that have been unpacked are the bed and the books.

Now to fight for the deposit. After a takeaway. After.

Wish me luck. I shall try and put up some pictures of the new place.

It's moving day tomorrow. I've spent the last four weeks or so obsessively cleaning the place. The damp in our room is particularly horrible. I suspect I've started to get a mad glint in my eye every time the Hack goes near one of the many bleached, vinegared, salted and scrubbed surfaces. The flat smells a little like a chippy at the moment, but it's pretty damn clean.

The stress of the last four months has been immense. New job with M&S: old tricks from the landlord. Viewings of flats. Debts. Too little sleep and too much sugar. But enough of these tiresome and depressing things.

I've had some fun days out with friends. I saw In The Loop, which was the first time I've laughed so much in ages. It was political satire of a vicious, biting and utterly hilarious sort.

Work is going well. I've had a member of the Board visit me, and it went swimmingly. My boss called me a commercial animal (heh). But which animal...? Dread to think.

My library of books has become a touch unwieldy. Packing them has taken a long time. I haven't had as much free time as I'd like recently so I actually have an unread pile for the first time in my life.

I slipped and fell this morning coming out of the bathroom. My feet just went: I imagine I looked like one of those cartoon characters making those binkabinkabinka noises as their feet whirl in the air before they splat onto the ground.

Alas, not as amusing for me. It bloody hurt. When I went to Ikea to pick up a rug to hide the burn mark on the carpet, people were giving me odd looks. Realised what with the cut arms and bruised hands and limp, I looked like I'd gone a couple of rounds with an angry cricketer.

Found all my BPAL scents. BPAL, how I've missed you. Et Lux Fuit was particularly cheery with its flower-sunny-honey yumminess.

I reread Secret Vampire this morning, right before measuring my length on the tiles. It's still a pretty good book - stands the test of time, despite those little details that just screamed 90s. Ethnotechno, LJS? Really? Also, Phil's awesomeness is far more apparent now. I feel like writing fic about him, which was surprising.

I think I'll reread the rest of Night World. After all, we may see Strange Fate sometime next year (if there's anyone on my flist who didn't know, LJS, like Wispas and leggings and other 90s paraphernalia, is back. Yes, that is a unicorn. No, I don't know why.). And it means I can avoid Nightfall a little longer.

I must also recommend Ilona Andrews' Magic series. It's what urban fantasy was meant to be. It's exciting, sexy, funny, breathtaking, mischievous, and a cut above most of what's out there. The latest, Magic Strikes, has just come out. I was up until 2am reading it. Get it. (Or borrow it from me. Whichever. It's fab.)

So. I have procrastinated enough. Back to packing and cleaning. Tomorrow, I'll be in a new flat.

...aka the 'car crash' season.

( Cut for rambling )

...he proudly displays a picture of hiself next to Pete Docherty, a man for whom cocaine is just a condiment, and despite the terror evident in his eyes, believes he's done something worthwhile.

Renegotiated my contract with Orange yesterday. Got 300 minuts, 100 texts, unlimited landline call and a shiny new phone for a tenner a month. At last! Orange are not being crap!

In other news, I am having a big rewatch of Buffy. I had forgotten how gloriously daft that show is.

Also, new job. Now in Watford. Farewell hideous Brent Cross customers! Long may you throw phones at unsuspecting managers, wreak havoc in mobile scooters and somehow mistake the fitting rooms for toilets (no, really</>, they do.)

<lj user="graffititype">, I got your books today from Amazon! (Well, from my landlord, in whose porch they have probably been sitting while they've been holidaying, but still...) How awesome!

 I've already read <i>The Door in the Hedge</i>, and I'm starting <i>Hunter's Moon</i>. You are ten thousand types of brilliant! Thank you thank you thank you!

In other news, I'm alive. Retail just spent the last six weeks being enormously hideous, so several 60 hour weeks later, I have surfaced.

Also, exciting stuff! We are getting a new bookcase because the books no longer fit anywhere. And it's a mere 12 days until my holiday starts, and 17 until I go to Ireland for the very first time.

Much love,
Ki

( Spoilers ahoy! )

 Verdict: Like their creepy, creepy love, I thought that film would never end. See with friends. Take booze. Mock dialogue all the way home. And remember, kids! Nothing's more attractive than crying hystyerically and begging a man never to leave you. It's like their crack cocaine.

I am sending out Christmas cards next week, so if you want one, comment here!

Will post about Twilight soon...