Rootbeer and Daleks

Nyssa just now, while watching telly: “It looks real but it isn’t. I’m being media smart!” Hehe

As much as it stinks having James away, there are certain benefits. For example, we can eat things that he doesn’t like, namely sloppy joes and anything involving barbeque sauce (I know, I know, freak). Tonight we made root beer floats, another American speciality he abhors. Grandma R was lovely enough to bring along a bottle of root beer concentrate last time she was here. I use a super shortcut recipe that will make hardcore enthusiasts balk (like, short as in dissolving sugar and concentrate in hot water then dumping into sparkling water) but it tastes fine. Cornish clotted cream ice cream makes it lovely. My sort of fusion cuisine ;).

I was quite depressed earlier in the year because I didn’t manage to get Joseph (me) to the Manchester Doctor Who exhibition. As it turns out, there is going to be an even bigger one in London, which will happen to be on the way when we go to the Isle of Wight in April. James’ very best friend forever is finally getting married later in the year, and this is their alternative to bachelor/ette parties. Suits me down to the ground, must say. I haven’t really looked into what there is to do, but I’m fairly certain there will be beds and quiet so I’ll take along knitting and books and be peachy. When we go through London I’d like to take the kids to Camden to buy some weird trinkets and people-watch, but I wonder it’s like post-fire. That really was a shame.


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