Selfish in the City

Dear (incredibly silent) blog readers,

it's strange how noises affect us.

When I was a little girl, I spent years in a very quiet flat. When I moved with Mother to the flat where I still live, I remember my surprise when I could hear the near-constant flow of cars in the street; the very first night, I barely slept.

I quickly got used to it. I got used to the hubbub of my city...

Right under my flat, there's a restaurant. The one that was there when I was a little girl was owned by noisy plonkers (well, it was a bikers' meeting point). A few years later, new owners: they did most of their cooking in the flat below, and my bathroom often smelled of tomato sauce.

The restaurant was bought by a happy bunch of idiots last September (works from 9am to 6pm five days a week for weeks!). Then the works stopped, and they opened.

On Friday, January, 17th, 2014, I (finally?) noticed an odd noise, kitchen-side. It was two in the morning, I was typing something at my desk (on the other side of the flat), and there was an engine purr; I instantly feared that my boiler was acting up.

It wasn't the boiler.

I listened carefully, walked to my kitchen window, opened it, and then... Life as I'd known it went down the drain: the little idiots downstairs are using the properly antediluvian A/C unit that the restaurant owners before them had never used.

They're using it 24/7, and it's so loud that I always hear it. It's like being in an engine room day and night.

It's really strange how noises affect us. The constant din is making me extremely tired, extremely tetchy (let's face it, my usual, if extremely rare, version of Mrs Hyde would sound like Minnie Mouse compared with my current state), and even though I realized that there was an issue just over a week ago, it's possible that my body registered the trauma before I consciously did.

When I wake up, I feel some odd chest pressure now.

As of last night, my left arm is cramping.

No, I am not calling an ambulance.

As soon as I could, I complained to my building manager, but I cannot know how long it's going to take the council estate offices to react (after all, they're all far away from the din).

All my neighbours are growling, but I've been informed that only one other tenant did complain officially, like I did; the others are cowardly doormats.

If I don't hear from the manager on Monday, I'll have to call her.

I may have to call the police... All that because a happy bunch of idiots are selfish (if the restaurant owners don't know how noisy they are, they're decerebrated - no other possibility). They simply don't care.

I was still healing from the Great Freezing of my nerve VII, but I'm collapsing again, and it seems that my heart cannot stand residing in an engine room.
I can't sleep properly, and no one cares. On top of making me super tetchy, I can't concentrate, and I forget tiny things. Basically, things don't look too good.

So... if I end up liquefied on my linoleum, half-eaten by my cat, the idiots downstairs will have killed me.

Merlin! What a cheerful post!

xx,

Dru

ps: testament still in my black box, in the tax folder.

[NOT] Modern Art

My black ink's okay, but the colours are......... Well, there seems to be a clogged nozzles issue, don't you think?

*sigh*

I didn't need more maintenance thingy (and the printer was off for just a fornight, for Merlin's sake!).

Now... considering the art market, perhaps I've got something here...

ps: if you can make suggestions to rescue my Canon MP240, please, leave a comment!!!

Writing News

Well, I've got writing news and a spot of editing news.

About my first play, Paper Cranes, my lovely, adorable brother (*waves*) kindly edited the beast. I'm still working on the cover, and I want to draw (perhaps with SketchUp if I can get it to do what I want) the four sets for the three acts.

You'll get updates about that.

I'm up to chapter 3 of my fantasy novel, Death in My District, and it's a monster plot (I already have about eighty A4 pages *gulp*).

My Sci-Fi PI stories, Muff&Sherly, were meant to be short stories, but it turns out that the very first story introducing most of the characters is going to be longer than... oh, say A Study in Scarlet, for example.

Well, it's not about length or whatever, and I think [Note self: ask my test readers for confirmation] that they don't feel long and boring. The plot bunnies are talkative, but not in a sleep-inducing way (I hope!!!).

Muff&Sherly, Story 1, shall be finished very soon, and then I'll have other plot bunnies to work on (I have eight other stories for that universe that are fully outlined, but I'll work on another universe for a bit).

Perhaps I'll work on a story about a dolphin family.

Perhaps I'll work on the mad plot that was generated when I corrected a quiz with my students: The Story of Red Riding Robin Hood and the Zombie Mutton (don't ask!).

Perhaps, and it's quite likely, I'll write the film script I've had in my head for years: the adaptation of Mireio, the novel by Mistral, (with dialogues in Provençal, which almost guarantees that it'll never be filmed, but I've been wanting to write that script for years, and I think the plot bunny just attached itself to my ankle).

I'll keep you posted on all the bunnies.

Happy New Year!

According to the local standards of the place where I'm currently parked, I still had a few days to wish you all a happy new year.

So...

Dear friends & relatives,

May 2014 be a wonderful, fantabulous year for you, and the ones you love!

Love,

Dru

And here's a lil' bonus that I found:

 

Dru's Rules

I've got rules (and that started long before NCIS was even created, so there's no Gibbs link).

I've decided to officially publish my list of rules (and to add to it when the need arises).

Rules:

#1 Don't piss me off before breakfast (or I'll bite your head off)

#2 Respect is not a one-way street

#3 Never dare me

#4 Never bet with me

#5 I'm allergic to idiots, twats, wankers, plonkers and assorted cunts. Be one with me, and face the consequences
#6 It's never too late
#7 There's always a way
#8 Life is not a competition
#9 Never go to a gay pub with straight blokes
#10 Never, ever go to Chinatown without a shopping trolley (my arms shall thank me for that one, as I'm never reasonable there)
#11 Be very careful when you use "but" around me ('I like cherries, but I like pomegranates, too' <- fine / 'It's sad she was hurt, but what was she doing there alone and dressed like that?' <- not fine, and I'll ignore you after that stupid "but")
#12 Never do business with someone who starts using your name without even asking if you're all right with it.

Pretty simple, isn't it?

[Music] Waltz, for Mary & John by Sherlock Holmes

Hello, and Happy New Year, my sweet (mostly silent!) readers!

First, I'm recovering from a stay out of town, and I'm planning a lil' something for the new year (in the continental tradition... so I've got until January 31st to cook that).

Then... I've been happily feeding my Sherlock addiction.

I'm (extremely slowly and clumsily) learning to play scratch the violin (all that because Mother wanted to buy a wheelbarrow, but that's another story), and I must say that Sherlock is kindly providing me with things to fight with learn to play.

On Sunday night, we got a glimpse of the score of the waltz Sherlock wrote:

I went looking for a complete score of it, hoping that good musicians fans of the series would upload one somewhere.

I've found a few now, but a few notes in what I found where bothering me (that's the compulsive palaeographer in me speaking: I kept looking at the screencap I'd made!). Being stubborn (and a tad OCD), I did this:

As usual, if you spot something wrong or... something... whatever... TELL ME! I swear that I won't bite.

Update on Mrs Hyde...

So... I'm still angry about my students' behaviour, but it's a cold anger now. The Vesuvius has mutated.

Today was interesting.

As I informed today's batch of students that discipline wasn't "just" a word in the dictionary and that everything in my own rules (they got a copy of them at the start of the semester) would be enforced, a few of them looked profoundly lost (one still hasn't understood what's going on - yes, people, it's that bad).

One pointed out that she didn't want to imagine what the others had done to annoy me so much, and another one told me that in years, he'd never seen me be that angry and the situation was quite a surprise. 

Ah!

Apparently, they're more used to my quiet, kind and peaceful side, but a dose of Mrs Hyde can't hurt them (not the good, obedient ones, at least. The others.......... *cough*).

Giving an Inch?

Well, I'm done giving an inch, because of a "last straw" situation that exploded today because of people who keep taking a mile, or ten.

Oh, I'd love being like H.H. the Dalai Lama, but I'm not. Obviously.

Yes, I like it when everything's smooth and I don't have to bark at people, but things have been nutty and barmy these past few weeks, and I'm too exhausted to keep trying being nice.

The main pains in the... neck are a handful of students.

Most of them are nice. A few are delightful. A few have been raised by rabid gremlins with no social graces whatsoever.

Just today, I caught two students playing ping-pong texts right in front of me. When I asked the culprits what was so important (the rest of the class could see how furious I was - coz I was), the most annoying of the two answered that they had to share important things (Riiiight. Tiny lil' problem: mobiles are forbidden in my classroom, and they know it - well, to be honest, they should know it, but I'm not convinced that their brains are all there, so... you know). Important things? *snort* Whatever.

When I added that I'm not blind, the same culprit was all surprised. [Note to all students: most teachers may be older than you, but that doesn't mean that they're senile. Or blind. Or stupid. Or gullible. Thank you.]

It made them laugh that I scolded them. Lovely.

Oh, and earlier, they'd branded me a Scrooge because I refused to lend a piece of equipment (that I would need in the next five minutes) to a student I'd never seen before, and who was in Merlin knows which classroom. The visiting student was less annoying than mine, who refused to understand that my "No!" was final.

I could say that I'd like a word with their parents, but perhaps the poor parents aren't guilty and aren't to blame for the behaviour of their offspring.

Of course, I'm dealing with (so-called) young adults, but they can't be bothered to respect that I'm the one in charge.

Now, I'm just one teacher attempting to give them lessons in something that they view as minor, boring, and uninteresting.

I blame their head teachers, who see them once in a blue moon (and thus leave them all alone to their own devices), who tell them to treat them like friends (Probably because they want to pretend to be cool and so close to their young-ish students... Bloody hell! Since when did I give the students permission to be so buddy-buddy with me? Oh, wait! That would be never!), and who keep telling them that my class is useless.

I'm boiling.

Usually, I find quiet again once I get home, but not this time - hence the "last straw" situation.

I feel a Vesuvius coming up, and it won't be pretty.

I've tried explaining things nicely. I've been patient...

... I've had enough.

In years of teaching (not saying how many, but I didn't start two years ago), this is the first time that students manage to anger me this much - and that I keep being angry outside of my classroom!

The poor lil' bunnies are going to be all surprised, but life's freeking too short, and I'm not going to let them drive me nuts (I've got colleagues for that).

Time to get the rolling pin out and crack the whip - but I bloody shouldn't have to do that!

To paraphrase the great Dr Leonard H. McCoy: I'm a teacher, not a copper. And I'm not their mother.

[Recipe] De Lanor Pie

If this looks like something you know (because you're Italian or from the south of France), you probably know it.

Someone (who deserves to fade into oblivion) gave me the recipe, and I added a few things, making it my own. And so, this is a de Lanor pie. 

You'll need:

* 2 (big, but not giant) courgettes

* 1 big leek

* 5 small-ish potatoes

* 1 onion

* 200gr pâte brisée (or shortcrust pastry)

* oil

* salt

* freshly ground pepper

* Cayenne pepper

* Worcestershire sauce

These proportions are for my (23x23cm) square glazed clay dish. You might have to adapt a few things.

1 - Peel the potatoes, cut them into small cubes, put them into a pot with water on the stove and when they boil, add some salt. Softly boil until cooked, but make sure they're not too soft. Don't drain them just yet.

2 - Cut and slice the onion. Add to a pan, pour some oil (just a little bit) and sauté the onion on medium-high heat.

3 - Cut the leek in two (use as much green as possible) and slice it as thinly as possible. Add to the pan and stir.

4 - Cut the courgettes lengthwise in four or six without peeling them, and slice them as thinly as possible. Add them to the pan and stir. Add salt, pepper, Cayenne pepper and Worcestershire sauce to taste. When the courgettes are soft, drain the potatoes, add them to the pan and stir for a couple of minutes.

5 - Cover the clay dish with a thin layer of pâte brisée. Add the vegetables (be careful: if the courgettes give out too much water during cooking, get rid of the liquid with a spoon before adding the vegetables onto the dough).

6 - Roll out the remaining pâte brisée to the same thickness and cut it to fit as lid on the pie. You'll have extra bits of dough; use that to decorate the lid. Use a fork to make small holes (and a few pretty patterns, as well).

7 - Put the dish in the oven (mine goes from 1 to 10, and I set it to 7 for this).
In 20 to 30 minutes, when you get a nice golden crust, your pie is ready.

Bon appétit !