See You Next Wednesday
Wednesday, December 29
 
Twas the week betwixt Xmas and N’year...

On Christmas Day I went to lunch with my mum. Allegedly there would be a group of friends from her work and their thirty-something children. When we got there I met mum’s friend and her husband; two of their three sons in their early twenties who left half way through lunch to drive to Melbourne for the cricket; her mother, who didn’t have her hearing aid with her; and her brother, amongst his first words were "I have two maths degrees". And I managed to let the dog out. Eventually another work colleague arrived with a child in her thirties (and a son-in-law), so there was literally "a group of friends from her work and their thirty-something children".

Conversational highlights:
"Which statesman would you rather have had as the President of the United States of America on 11 September 2001?"
"Lincoln."
misheard as "Clinton."
"Clinton? Are you mad..." misheard as "Lincoln? Are you mad..."
and
"I’m going home to read a paper which probably only ten people in Australia could understand."

Christmas Day wasn’t good, but it was good enough.

Boxing Day

I went to Dave and Fiona’s for Boxing Day where everyone was tuckered out from all the fun they had had the day before (damn them). Evan was on his last day in town and was determined to enjoy it despite the low ebb, so good for him. Dave, Evan, Fiona, James, Linda, Simon and I went to the movies and saw The Incredibles, which was nice. I swapped Linda for Ticket to Ride and Citadels on the way back from the theatre. Alastair, Dave, Evan, James, Simon and I finished the day with boardgames, which was nice.

Boxing Day was nice.

Katie came.

She has a few weeks to see if she can find an Honours course down here before she has to officially accept one she has been offered in Cairns. Some people think Canberra shuts down for two weeks over Christmas, but it’s like this all the time. Well, my Canberra is and maybe it’s just me but why should she have to suffer? Poor girl.
 
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This may not sound like the snappiest line from 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), but it evidently caught the imagination of John Landis, who has worked references to a mythical film of this name into most of his own movies - memorably as the grotty British skinflick watched by an assortment of lycanthropes and zombies in the climax of An American Werewolf in Paris [sic] (1981). Ghastly Beyond Belief, Neil Gaiman and Kim Newman

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