Determination

This is not nice lurgy. I know that lurgy is never nice, but this takes the biscuit, this does. Achy, feverish, bunged up, completely sapped of all energy and just plain ill. I am supposed to be going out for shampoo base and other sundries and I can barely move. Whee.

Oh well. I can either ditch the whole thing and curl up in bed and die, or I can go and get the shopping done and then curl up in bed and die. I'd rather be productive.

And again, TfL's Journey Planner is ridiculous. It's giving me all kinds of insane ways to get to Stamford Brook (there's an herb shop on King Street that I'd like to try), for instance getting bus to Archway, getting on Central Line, going across to Shepherd's Bush, getting a bus... Whereas, when I look at the Tube map, the easiest way to get there is to get on a 221 or 125, board the Piccadilly Line and then sit on it until you get to Hammersmith, then get the District line for two stops. I'm telling you; the people who coded TfL's Journey Planner were on lots and lots of crack. Lots.

Oh, Canada

Managed to drag myself as far as Covent Garden on my errands. dodgyhoodoo said that we were all in dire need of comfort snack-food, and I heartily concurred. So I made the Canada Store my first stop.

Can I just say that Covent Garden is packed to the gills with nothing but rude fuckers? I got shoved repeatedly on my way to the lifts coming out of the station, one person cut in front of me immediately before I hit the barriers, and then it was nothing but tourists standing around talking about inane crap on public thoroughfares, groups of people milling around and not paying attention to where they were going to the extend that they shoved me right off the pavement into oncoming traffic, and generally being utter and complete pains in the arse. What is it about so many people on holiday that they feel like they absolve themselves of all responsibility the minute they get off the fucking plane?

Anyway. Went to the Canada Store, or rather, the Canada Shelves in the Colonies Store (it contains bits from Australia and New Zeland as well) for snackie things. Super Nibs (the cherry-flavour plastic, as corone used to call it), Chewy Chips Ahoy chocolate chip cookies, maple & brown sugar oatmeal (another of my great comfort-when-ill foods), Orville Redenbacher microwave popcorn, two Coffee Crisp bars (one each for me and dodgyhoodoo), some Montreal Steak Spice and a can of A&W root beer for me. Next time I go, I'm getting pickles. There was just a lot to carry. A lot of it will be game-snacks, but if we're watching anything I'm vaguely interested in tonight, I will pop myself some microwave popcorn, add melted butter and some salt, and happily munch away at that. (I miss American cinema popcorn.)

Then to Neal's Yard, where I made my purchases (a few amber glass jars and BaseLine shampoo and conditioner) and nearly got trampled. Then off to Watkins', where I got grapefruit, chamomile and tea tree essential oils to continue my wild and aromatic experiments. Then I was really overtired and hacked off with the whole thing so I came home.

We watched the last disc of Eva when dodgyhoodoo came back from lunch with weaselbitch. I warned him that it was not to be watched when the brain was foggy and unwilling to be strained. I did warn him, but he insisted. Anyway, that was fun and now there'll be dinner and such. I suppose I should take the time while dodgyhoodoo is cooking to mix up various of my soap, shampoo and conditioner concoctions. No rest for the weary.