Oh yeah; Claire and I won’t be around this weekend: we’re off to Houghton Tower again (again!) for classical music and fireworks from the comfort of a gazebo, which we’ve recently started pronouncing “gay’s bow”. The net result is that Troma Night won’t be at The Cottage – if somebody else wants to host it they can.
I had a strange dream last night: I was training to be a paratrooper in a women’s paratrooper division (do they have any of those?). I was already a woman, of course. I only remember snippets of it, including the training being particularly harsh. Very odd. Odder still, I have a strange feeling that I’ve had the same dream before, years ago, and had forgotten it.