Sunday Summary Monday Missive | updated with edits because I'm pedantic like that . . .

Hello and Happy Monday (ha! is there such a thing?!) to my lovely FOQ Family!

Thankseverso for Bearing With and not lobbing mushrooms or parmesan/goat's cheese/feta, olives or foam cushion innards at me (all things I cannot even be doing with) after my shock "Summary's going to be a day late, deal with it, please and here, have some fudgy nuts"

{for these are they -- look upon them and be awed!}

announcement on Wednesday.

Sometimes, friends, life happens. And while life makes excellent blog fodder© (#blogfodder), one needs to actually live that life in order to garner the fodder and now I'm just jabbering so I'll lock it up and continue with a rather whistlestop tour of my week wot was and ... what's that you say, Dr Evil?

(OK. Sorry. Consider me zipped.)

So, this week (or, last week? What week even are we in?! Are we in December yet?! No? One more sleep 'til December? ... Good, that helps (!)), I have mostly been ...

Reading

very slowly and sporadically on account of spending the remains of my waking hours doing all the other things, or trying to give my brain a break by:

Watching

The Coroner

The Goose

and the Hope Cove scenery just about redeemed this series, I tell thee.

Because there's no credibility in a storyline that has both the coroner and her twinkly-eyed pseudo-quasi-love-interest sarge conveniently hiding in a suspect's wardrobe while she confesses a crime in a moment of poorly-staged nookie. Nosireeee.

Still. Look!

Recognisable scenery!

{Hey! Check out my seamless transposition! << and no, I don't say that to all the boys |
Screenshot (minus Norgstar) from The Coroner | BBC}

Writing

Oh heck yes, I only ruddyflippingwell DID. IT.

50,000 words!

And I finished early!

Suppose it must be about time for the next creative endeavour, eh?

Bill's Bill's Bill's 

No, friends, I have not taken leave of my firmly-ensconced grammatical senses.

On Thursday night, I headed to Soho for a splendid supper at Bill's with workmates past and present: Clare, Miranda, Jillian; Sarah, Charlotte and Sue, my current team-of-sorts, oh, and honorary teamster Katerina. And very nice it was too!

We had a good ol' catch-up and some velly nice wine and some velly nice food.

You really can't go wrong with a Bill's ...

... or so I thought.

Bill's, sadly, seem to have tainted my favourite dish (macaroni cheese) with MUSHROOMS AND TRUFFLE OIL.

I mean, seriously? Who does that?!

So I ended up opting for something completely different (and I'm not good on the departure front but this was definitely worthwhile): ribs. A veritable xylophone of ribs. Because it came with coleslaw, mostly.

And I chased it up with a lemon meringue cheesecake that looked a little bit like this:

{Actually it looked a lot like this given
that was, er, the actual one.} 

'Twas lovely to have a more casual evening out with the workies and to catch up with the shenanigans of Miranda and Clare before Christmas when our diaries get absolutely mad and in spite of best intentions we risk not seeing each other for months.

I did attempt to get a panoramic photo of everyone together, but it wound up looking like thiiiiiis (with apologies to Miranda for the time lapse on her face and to Sue who's shrouded in shadow on the left there):

{L-R for the benefit of Ma QB, not that you can really tell who's who anyway, Clare, Sue (in the dark), Sarah, Katerina, Miranda, Jillian and Charlotte}

And the second attempt, with Clare taking the camera to try to fit me into the picture, ended up like thiiiiiiiiiis:

{What. The heck. Just happened. To my nose?!!}

Yeah, let's just not go there.

Ooh, cue for a bauble selfie:

Then, t'following evening, I got up to even more

Reuniting ...

... with former workmates (must be that nostalgic time of year again)!

Yea verily, on Friday night, I met up with my ol' Templar Publishing buddies in Dorking, and I tell thee ... none of them, not one of them, has actually changed a bit. Youthful bunch of youffs.

It was a right old time tunnel and jolly lovely to see everyone there assembled. Only slightly alarming to realise how small the publishing world is, though ...

Then, then, not quite content with having been the quintessential social butterfly moth

for two nights on the trot, I headed out on Saturday afternoon to take part in a completely full-on, hard-work but totally worth every minute Gospel Workshop, run by musical aficionado, legend, and fellow rapid orator (man alive, he talks fast!) Ken Burton. You may remember that name from, er, stuff on the telly. Or in fact this blog post last year (the tone and content of which bears a considerable resemblance to, er, more recent posts this year -- funny, that).

Anyway, in spite of the bafflement of 80% of the choir who attended, who weren't quite sure which part they were supposed to be singing as things were rolling differently from our usual Tuesday night shenans, we ended up producing a rather lovely sound.

After a cheeky hot chocolate with my Lovelies in residence:

{Charlie, Jos, Fern and Alun with a couple of swimming pools' worth of choc} 

{I have no idea what the girls were laughing at but heck, I love this photo}

and a quick trip home, I headed out uhhhhhhgain

on the bus, to spend a fabulous and nostalgic evening with more of my Lovelies, Jess and Mandy! We ordered takeaway (verrrrry nice), ate a phenomenal amount of popcorn (oh, just me then), was served Prosecco by a very polite young man (Jess, your kids are fabulous) and played an impromptu game of Dodge the Cute Snuffling Pug as she runs for yer wine glass.

Oh and we also watched at least four back-to-back episodes of truly rather scary (for the fashions alone) 1980s children's serial Moondial on DVD!

{Scared faces ON! | Ooh, mind the pug}

Those of us of an age may remember this adaptation of the Helen Cresswell children's novel about a sundial that takes a young girl time-travelling to free two child ghosts:

The videos have, unsurprisingly, disappeared off YouTube now the DVD has been released ... but hey! It's on DVD, y'all!

I was expecting it to be a lot cheesier than it was. But no. It was still pretty freakin' creepy. Especially Miss Raven, the ghost hunter. *shudder*

Now kindly allow me my own little trip back in time ...

Why yes, that is a little QB and Sis (soz, Sis ...) at Belton House in 1988, where Moondial was filmed, on the actual Moondial. And yes, we're both wearing green trackies and an anorak. It was the 80s. We don't judge.

{That there is my transported-through-time face. Not my dozy ten-year-old
nitwit face. So we're clear. Sis looks cute. If reluctant.}

Where are we up to? Saturday? Good, right.

Then, on Sunday night, I was ...

Rockin' the Halls …

… in the audience for the "MOST" (Maidstone, Orpington, Sevenoaks and Tonbridge) contingent of Rock Choir at the Fairfield Halls, Croydon.

Hence my lamentable absinthe last night, for our very own Ma QB was there! Hurrah for Ma QB!

The Concert Hall has some truly delicious acoustics, and the combination choir sounded fantastic; the soloists were terrific, especially the young lass hitting that money note in All I Want for Christmas (which as we know is a very hard song to sing).

RC even had a live string section for some of the renditions, including Time after Time and, my personal favourite, Someone Like You -- cue the inevitable sob-fest. Every time. Gets me every time. (Which reminds me, this is also worth a watch. Sheesh. That voice. | Adele at the BBC in case you wonder what I'm on about.) It was magic, actually. Proper magic.

And the a cappella Christmas pieces including Carol of the Bells and a mash-up/mix of a collection of Christmas songs was actually a little bit hair-raising.

In the good way.

Oh and they also sang Backstreet Boys. Who doesn't love a harmonised Backstreet Boys cover, eh?!

---

Right, I was going to mention my truly enriching trip to IKEA on Friday afternoon, and the resultant (albeit temporary) flatpack fail (it's OK, I put it all back together the right way round eventually...) but I've run out of time, it's late, and I just want to post this bad boy and go to bed.

But first, the necessary:

Pinterest Pin of the Week

Weekly Web Finds

• Queen Lucy Mangan on a Black Friday Revolt | on The Guardian | via Ma QB

• My work friend Eloise has written this excellent article on applying common sense to the media: Caution: Common Sense Ahead | I'll admit I struggle with ardent discussions of politics ('coz I is a bit uneducated, and left and right wings are fings wot birds have) but still. Worth a read.
• The funny things Tube drivers say | on The Londonist | very possibly via Caroline R

Aaaand I think that's all for now.

OK, I'm skedaddling but hopefully usual service should resume next Sunday.

Thanks for checkin' in!

qb xx

Sunday Summary | best knocked back like a shot of Apple Sourz

Howdy, FOQ, hope we're all keeping warm!

How is it Sunday evening all over again?! How is it late November?! How is it nearly December?!

I'm afraid this week's Summary is ever so slightly less prosaic and poignant than last week's but please just sit back and enjoy it for what it is. It tries so hard, it really does. It just wants to be loved. As do we all.

---

This week, I have mostly been ...

Reading ...

... grown-up books again, and non-fiction to boot. Namely this one:

I'm trying not to get any ideas. Really I am.

But 11,000 miles along the Pacific Crest Trail? Pah. Easy. Could do it in a week.

... Said no sane person. Ever.

Watching

... The Coroner. Not because of its sterling performances, realistic dialogue and excellent attention to police procedural detail (pah -- OK, Claire Goose isn't bad, for someone whose surname is, well,

GOOSE.}

But because of the location.

Does this look familiar to you?

{Screengrab from The Coroner | BBC}

Waaaaait ...

I've only flippin' been there!

{In the very position occupied by La Goose! | Photo by Norgstar}

Why, yes, friends, The Coroner was filmed partly in and around Hope Cove, where me little Norgstar and I took our late-summer holidays (which you may remember from this colossal post way back in September-time).

Thankfully The Coroner is a daytime broadcast and not prime time, or HC would be swarming with tourists, and nobody wants that, but it's rather lovely to see this beautiful place on t'actual telly.

{Gif ripped lovingly from The Coroner | BBC}

Look! That there ... is here!

And Norgs and I only flippin' ate here as well!

{That'll be The Cove Cafe Bar, then! | Screengrab from The Coroner | BBC}

Ahem. Sorry. Got a bit overexcited there.

Still. If you're based in the UK with access to the BBC site and videos, have a look at this little teaser for optimal seaside-scenery ogling. (And no, I have not a scooby how to embed the tricksy little beggar.)

Writing

The end is (nearly) nigh, my friends: this time next weekend, I shall, I hope, be hurtling towards that magical 50,000 word target. And you know I'll hit it.

The last few hours may result in this sort of behaviour:

but what the hey. Who's to judge?

The current scores on the doors are as follows:

The Plan for Today (once I've done the sexy exciting ironing I decided not to bother with last Sunday -- I'm such a little rebel) is to hit that 40,000 word target.

(But not until I've posted and publicised this 'ere post, of course.)

And no, Jos, I still don't know why I give myself these pressures and deadlines. Pure madness, I tell thee. MADNESS.

Shoppin' and Droppin'*

On Monday night I rocked up to a superlative invite-only charity Ladies' Night held by the fabulous ladies of the Scope shop, Horley, notably my lovely Charlie. There were clothes to be rummaged through, Prosecco to be delicately soused on, hands to be massaged by Leonie (with scrummy Body Shop goodies), and nibbles to, er, nibble. And cake! Much of cake!

Oh but did I mention the clothes?! We tried, and we buyed. We trought and we bought.

(I'm going to stop there with that line of wordplay, I think.)

And the good ladies raised £250 for Scope in the one night, which was amazing! Such a great idea for an event especially near Christmas when we're all selling our thermals/internal organs on the internet for cash.

{Hmm ... ooh, black! Jos zones in from the sidelines |
Photo courtesy of visionsphotography.co.uk}

Plus I came away with a gorgeous little mint cardigan, a smashing pink blazer, and this year's Christmas party dress as cunningly pre-selected for me by Charlie and Jos.

{Don't be fooled by the heels ... | could barely flippin'
balance. But pretty dress, no? |
Photo courtesy of visionsphotography.co.uk}

Seriously, girls, you get me -- ya get me?

* I dropped my boulder-holder on the dressing room floor when getting changed (as apparently black sports bras and dresses don't go very well together -- who knew? Same with patterned socks and ballet pumps but that's one faux-pas I won't be making again for a while ... ;-)). Came out to show the assembled lovelies what I was trying on. Went back in. Boulder-holder went missing. 

Five minutes later it reappeared in the stock room.

You couldn't make it up.

Celebrating Jos' Birthday

Why yes, our fabulous Jos turned 21 all over again on Tuesday, so I headed on down to Horsham (which by the way looks extremely pretty at night -- will have to give it a proper look-over in daylight) to celebrate at the Buenos Aires Restaurant with the Gang: Ken, Amber and Finn, and Charlie and Al.

Oh and Jos too. She was there. ;-)

{Yay, birthday girl in a tiara, natch!}

And it was deliciosa. Sadly I was much too stuffed after empanadas (aka Argentinian pasties):

{#Don't cry for me, empanadas ...#}

and half a cow (BA specialises in all steak, all the time) to even contemplate dessert but the Disaronno-laced hot chocolate that the birthday girl had? That looked pretty good.

No idea where the Disaronno came from of course. No idea at all ...

Happy Birthday, Jos, you fabulous individual, you -- keep doing what you're doing:

Rockin' OUT

... to the phenomenal sound of Permageddon, 80s rock covers band.

{That's them, in the melee ...}

It was one of those "shall we? Eh, what the heck, yeah, let's!" decision-making moments for Natalie and me and I think we're both flippin' glad we went along. Our original plans for our evening in (sadly rare as they are, still) were to eat, drink, hang out and most likely take more selfies and other arbitrary photos, ahem:

{Er ...}

{What even ...?}

but aforementioned plans were slightly stymied when Natalie's phone did what Samsung Galaxies are often prone to do -- and conked out completely.

So out we did go to shake it off, Taylor-Swift-style.

Not only was it an excellent stress-relievin', head-bangin', generally fun night out, it was also an opportunity for Natalie to meet some of my Voicerox Lovelies-and-Friends (and the Lovelies-and-Friends to meet Natalie).

Of course, the poor lass was utterly bereft without her phone #RIPGalaxy so being the good friend I am, I lent her mine to play with all night. Which might explain all the selfies and the random shots of the door to the Gents' toilets that I found on there today.

Natalie ... ????

In residence last evening were Jos, Paul, Pete, and Rebecca who'd invited us to the gig in the first place -- so for that we thank her muchly even though we failed to get a good photo of her!

{:-)} 

And a random young-Danny-Dyer-look-alike (or so I'm told):

We definitely missed Charlie, though -- maybe next time, chick?

Anyway. I think they all got along OK:

{Natalie tries to educate young Paul in the Art of the Selfie}

{When friend-worlds collide ... but in a good way!}

Oh, and yes:

Thanks for noticing! ;-)

After much of Malibu ('er) and wine (me) and a shot of Apple Sourz which may or may not have been the best decision ever made all night (me and 'er), we were feeling decidedly gentle today. Need arose for a fry-up. Because, well, it's tradition now. Like chips in the bus stop, which also happened.

{Isn't she gorgeous?!}

Pinterest Pin of the Week

{Aw, snap ...}

(Bi-) Weekly Web Finds

• IMO possibly the fairest and most passionate article on the response to the Paris attacks that I've read in the media thus far | Sali Hughes for The Pool
• Short story vending machines press French commuters' buttons | on The Guardian

• Swimalator | When a swim team gets bored at the airport, this happens -- it's brilliant! | via Facebook | Video credit: Kelsi Worrell

• Artist Gemma Correll tackles sexism with great humour | on the Independent | via Caroline R

{via here}

• If you need a good weep (and sometimes you just do):

look no further than the Sainsbury's Mog's Christmas Calamity advert (which has propelled the excellent Judith Kerr back up the UK book charts): 

and the John Lewis Man on the Moon advert which is so painfully close to the bone that you can't watch it without feeling awfully sad about the state of the world.

• In contrast, here's something deliciously silly: Meet the man behind kids' TV's most annoying puppet | on The Guardian

And finally, I leave you with this because it's Sunday and I can.

Have good weeks.

qb xx