(no subject)

Yesterday was an intensely childfull day! Six months ago the curator sat me down for a brainstorming session. (Basically this involves her asking me things that begin 'Last time you" insert type of event "how did you organise it/pay for it/clear up after it/how much money did you make/was anyone hurt?" My answers of course vary and then we start thinking about how we can make it better or different or more lucrative.) This is boring and eventually I start to fantasise and make suggestions that get more and more extreme and impractical until she says "Now don't be silly" and lets me go back to work. On this occasion one of my dafter ideas was to make a life size set of plate armour out of papier mache - a real set of repro costs about 3 grand so I reckoned I'd be saving her money. Unfortunately she remembered this when planning a craft event for the Abergavenny Arts Festival and submitted it as a child's event. So there was me yesterday with twelve kids in the rain - couldn't do this inside, too messy - in the South West Tower splashing plaster of Paris all over a roughly human shaped chickenwire armature. We'd abandoned the plate armour idea as too complicated and the papier mache as too slow but plaster is quick and has the great advantage of being incredibly messy. We all got filthy and the knight got fatter and fatter as the plaster built up in great big splodges. The kids had enormous fun but the end result is hideous! It looks as though we've dipped the Hulk, the Hulk in a frock, in batter and he's still waiting to be fried. Jenny had been dropped off to join in and she was an enormous help, mixing plaster like a professional and afterwards helped me to clean up, carry everything back inside and put it all away. She worked really hard. By five o' clock we were both soaked to the skin, shivering, sneezing and had plaster set in our hair. I'll have to buy a copy of the Free Press next week as their photographer came and took masses of pictures. I hope they print a decent one of Jen because she deserves it.
Then I got home and Mini-Goth and Mega-Goth, that's Laura, Mike's girlfriend, and Mike himself had painted all the woodwork on the landing and done a really decent job too.
( Cut off here to spare the sensibilities of non-parents. )

It was too early to get up and do anything useful so I went back to bed, but by then Paul had got restless and was grumbling in his sleep. He often has these little conversations with himself, nothing intelligible, just low level muttering with the occasional recognisable word. This went on for some time..sigh...then he settled down and gave a deep sigh of satisfaction and said (Homer Simpson voice appropriate) "Mmmmmm...wood." Now, I know that 'morning wood' is sometimes considered a problem by gentlemen who do not have the time or means to deal with it as it deserves but I also know my husband and have no doubt that he was enjoying a happy dream of several planks of seasoned oak.
Betaing camillabloom's fics has a peculiar effect on me. After going through Greased Lightning earlier this week I couldn't rest until I had drawn Snape in bed socks. Why this image had stuck so firmly in my mind I can't think but I will admit that it was the 'Snape in bedsocks' part of the drawing that came easiest even though the 'Sirius with chips in motorcycle leathers' bit is the thing I would sooner see coming through my door. One day I'll crack the 'posting pictures on LJ' problem and then there'll be no escape but until then my LJ is a bedsock free zone and you can rest easy.