It's been years since I've been to a Festival of the Arts event - the tickets are usually pretty expensive and anyway I've become such a homebody.
But Neil Gaiman and Simon Schama (of History of Britain fame) are two of the writers who are taking part in the Writers and Readers programme. I really enjoying Schama's History, while Gaiman is the boy's all time favourite auther.
So we are going, recession be damned!
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
yeah baby yeah!
I've been "reading" Fashionable clothing from the Sears catalogue - Early 70's. It's just terrific.
My first thought when I saw the word "Sears" on the library book spine, was that it couldn't be very interesting - after all, aren't they purveyors of el cheapo pre-fashion-conscious, mass-market American clothing? But I had a quick squizz and then checked it out. And in the last week I've been poring over every page, going goo-goo over the dresses, tunics and shoes.
What I wasn't expecting was that I could actually see myself happily wearing some of those outfits (but not with the corresponding hair-dos and make-up - and probably not in those synthetic fabrics).
Now, I was only ten in the early 70's. So you can't blame my sudden love for early-70's fashion on nostalgia (though I do remember flared trousers, and the advice in Woman's Weekly magazine was to avoid them if you have short legs). Although the recent 60's and 70's revivals might have something to do with it.
What I love are:
I'm not so crazy about the dress-over-trouser look, but I was quite surprised to see it there. I'd always thought this was a recent trend started by Kiwi women who wanted to hide their bums. But there it is, in an early 70's American mail order catalogue. I guess American women wanted to hide their bums too, even back then.
It feels kinda cool to be able to slot myself into the late 60s-early 70's fashion peg. But I'd have to be careful to avoid the paedo-chic look, because some of those outfits are really only suitable for teenagers.
I've since gone back to the library and checked out the Early 50's version of this book, but it's not nearly so inspiring. It's probably because womenswear of this era was all about the cinched waist, and if I tried to do that to myself I'd faint.
My first thought when I saw the word "Sears" on the library book spine, was that it couldn't be very interesting - after all, aren't they purveyors of el cheapo pre-fashion-conscious, mass-market American clothing? But I had a quick squizz and then checked it out. And in the last week I've been poring over every page, going goo-goo over the dresses, tunics and shoes.
What I wasn't expecting was that I could actually see myself happily wearing some of those outfits (but not with the corresponding hair-dos and make-up - and probably not in those synthetic fabrics).
Now, I was only ten in the early 70's. So you can't blame my sudden love for early-70's fashion on nostalgia (though I do remember flared trousers, and the advice in Woman's Weekly magazine was to avoid them if you have short legs). Although the recent 60's and 70's revivals might have something to do with it.
What I love are:
- tunics
- A-line dresses
- mary jane slingbacks
- crazy prints
- big, flappy collars
- contrast trim
- coats with topstitched like it was going out of fashion
I'm not so crazy about the dress-over-trouser look, but I was quite surprised to see it there. I'd always thought this was a recent trend started by Kiwi women who wanted to hide their bums. But there it is, in an early 70's American mail order catalogue. I guess American women wanted to hide their bums too, even back then.
It feels kinda cool to be able to slot myself into the late 60s-early 70's fashion peg. But I'd have to be careful to avoid the paedo-chic look, because some of those outfits are really only suitable for teenagers.
I've since gone back to the library and checked out the Early 50's version of this book, but it's not nearly so inspiring. It's probably because womenswear of this era was all about the cinched waist, and if I tried to do that to myself I'd faint.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Monday morning meetings
I don't know why, but I have an awful lot of trouble staying alert at our staff meetings. They are always on a Monday morning, when you'd think people would be at their most alert - but not me. I manage to keep my eyes open, but thank goodness I don't have to do anything other than listen and nod my head occasionally.
They must all think I don't do much because I never speak up to tell everyone what I've gotten up to in the last week. I doubt they think I'm just tired from my wild and crazy weekends.
On the other hand, afternoons are not a great time for meetings either because of the great possiblity of post-lunch drowsiness.
Perhaps there is no good time for a meeting.
They must all think I don't do much because I never speak up to tell everyone what I've gotten up to in the last week. I doubt they think I'm just tired from my wild and crazy weekends.
On the other hand, afternoons are not a great time for meetings either because of the great possiblity of post-lunch drowsiness.
Perhaps there is no good time for a meeting.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
A long and winding road
To recap: I started out with a pair of men's Lacoste faded denim jeans, which the boy had thrown out because the knees were ripped.I had a grand vision of turning it into a shell top, sorta like the kinda you might to work under a jacket, but denim. A bogan corporate look, if you will.
Unfortunately, it looked very very bad on me.
And here is what has happened to it since:
I found two pairs of old jeans of my own, and decided to add them to the top and make a dress. The jeans were both different types of denim and different shades of blue.
I couldn't decided whether to go deconstructed and obviously made from 3 pairs of non-matching jeans, or to aim for a more sophisticated look. In the end, I put the whole thing through a navy blue fabric dye to even up the colours.
What I didn't forsee was that the white thread I'd used on all the seams and topstitching would not dye. Also, it was supposed to have an empire waist, but something happened there...
So now I have a very Seventies-look denim dress, perhaps a bit home-made looking but I guess that was part of the Seventies thing too, no?
Here it is anyway. I'm gonna wear it for a while before deciding for sure, but I'm thinking of adding either a minimal ruffle down the centre front, or else a row of small white buttons (blue would have been better but I got 3 kinds a blue goin' on here).
Saturday, November 14, 2009
I know what I like, but I may not know anything about fashion
A friend of mine very generously shouted me a ticket to a design school fashion show. I was keen to check out what the creative young things are doing these days.
There were some nice tailored items that I could imagine being worn by fairly normal people in the street, many fanciful outfits that I thought belonged in the Wearable Arts awards and a few that were kinda uninteresting. There were clothes that made music when the models walked (cute, but potentially life-threateningly annoying), clothes refashioned from jeans (a nice idea but hardly original), and architectural constructions that looked like their creator was channelling Issey Miyake.
Obviously, the outfits looked like they were designed for 20-25 year olds.
Funnily enough the award-winning collections were, almost without exception, the ones containing the clothes I just didn't get and couldn't imagine anyone wearing outside of avant garde fringe theatre.
Although, perhaps some of my less-than-positive reactions were the result of fashion-fatigue. At 2.5 hours (with a 20 minute break in the middle), it was awfully long.
It was great fun though, and well worth the half hour walk in gale force winds to get there.
There were some nice tailored items that I could imagine being worn by fairly normal people in the street, many fanciful outfits that I thought belonged in the Wearable Arts awards and a few that were kinda uninteresting. There were clothes that made music when the models walked (cute, but potentially life-threateningly annoying), clothes refashioned from jeans (a nice idea but hardly original), and architectural constructions that looked like their creator was channelling Issey Miyake.
Obviously, the outfits looked like they were designed for 20-25 year olds.
Funnily enough the award-winning collections were, almost without exception, the ones containing the clothes I just didn't get and couldn't imagine anyone wearing outside of avant garde fringe theatre.
Although, perhaps some of my less-than-positive reactions were the result of fashion-fatigue. At 2.5 hours (with a 20 minute break in the middle), it was awfully long.
It was great fun though, and well worth the half hour walk in gale force winds to get there.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Finding gods
We've been watching a TV series called John Safran vs God. It's really quite interesting. Safran's an amusing Aussie who, in this series, explores a wide variety of religions around the world.
Although he's funny, he doesn't mock the faiths (okay maybe a little, but only occasionally). He's (mostly) genuinely curious and open-minded, whether he's trying to find enlightenment in a Buddhist monastery, participating in a Voodoo ceremoney or being smeared with chicken blood in an African magic ritual (to undo a curse on Australia's soccer team).
So, really, this show would be more accurately titled John Safran looks for God.
The last episode was really quite freaky. Safran decides that all his toe-dipping into the religious pools around the world may have left him vulnerable to demon posession and visits an exorcist. The freaky thing is that, in the exorcist's hands, Safran really does behave like there's something bad and weird in there somewhere. Even his camera crew admit they've never seen him act like that before. It certainly didn't look like an act to me. The whole thing ends with Safran, who is Jewish, giving into the exorcist's pressure to become Christian, as "the next step" in his cure.
Unfortunately, there's no debriefing afterwards - so we're left with no idea as to what Safran remembered of the experience later, or whether he regrets giving up his Jewishness.
Although he's funny, he doesn't mock the faiths (okay maybe a little, but only occasionally). He's (mostly) genuinely curious and open-minded, whether he's trying to find enlightenment in a Buddhist monastery, participating in a Voodoo ceremoney or being smeared with chicken blood in an African magic ritual (to undo a curse on Australia's soccer team).
So, really, this show would be more accurately titled John Safran looks for God.
The last episode was really quite freaky. Safran decides that all his toe-dipping into the religious pools around the world may have left him vulnerable to demon posession and visits an exorcist. The freaky thing is that, in the exorcist's hands, Safran really does behave like there's something bad and weird in there somewhere. Even his camera crew admit they've never seen him act like that before. It certainly didn't look like an act to me. The whole thing ends with Safran, who is Jewish, giving into the exorcist's pressure to become Christian, as "the next step" in his cure.
Unfortunately, there's no debriefing afterwards - so we're left with no idea as to what Safran remembered of the experience later, or whether he regrets giving up his Jewishness.
Saturday, November 07, 2009
A party
What a week - it started with funeral service, ended with yet another cold and in the middle was a (in my humble standards) great Guy Fawkes party.
The party was held at a co-worker's home up in the hills overlooking the harbour. She has this amazing house whose walls are almost completely comprised of glass and it sticks out from the hill like a big glass elevator on one of those fancy high-rises. I only knew the hostess and two others, but the other guests were really easy to chat to, so I had a really nice time. It reminded me of the old days when I used to go to parties full of strangers and pretend to be tiddly just so's I'd have an excuse to brazenly break into conversations uninvited.
At 9pm, we all went out onto the deck to watch the fireworks display on the harbour. Nothing beats actually being on the harbour, craning your neck to watch the lights explode like an imitation supernova, but even from the hills it was quite spectacular.
It was also bloody freezing, and all because I was too lazy to go downstairs to retrieve my jacket.
Is it just a coincidence that I've now got a cold, or is it really possible to "catch a chill"?
The party was held at a co-worker's home up in the hills overlooking the harbour. She has this amazing house whose walls are almost completely comprised of glass and it sticks out from the hill like a big glass elevator on one of those fancy high-rises. I only knew the hostess and two others, but the other guests were really easy to chat to, so I had a really nice time. It reminded me of the old days when I used to go to parties full of strangers and pretend to be tiddly just so's I'd have an excuse to brazenly break into conversations uninvited.
At 9pm, we all went out onto the deck to watch the fireworks display on the harbour. Nothing beats actually being on the harbour, craning your neck to watch the lights explode like an imitation supernova, but even from the hills it was quite spectacular.
It was also bloody freezing, and all because I was too lazy to go downstairs to retrieve my jacket.
Is it just a coincidence that I've now got a cold, or is it really possible to "catch a chill"?
Monday, November 02, 2009
We said goodbye
Funnily enough, for a person who claims to have far too much black in her wardrobe I did not have a plethora of funeral-friendly outfits. Of course, it didn't really matter what anyone wore, because our faces were not exactly festive.
The place was completely packed; cars parked each other in and there weren't enough chairs for all the folk who'd come to say goodbye. The casket entered the room accompanied by a Maori chant which I don't know the name for - like a powhiri but probably different. Members of the family and old friends, often overcome by emotion, recounted anecdotes from the editter's life and reminded us of the qualities that endeared her to us - the super-quick wit, the scarily sharp memory, the ease with which she made friends and her way with children.
Of course, I teared up as soon as we arrived and didn't stop until the end of the service.
I would have liked to stay after the service ended; to join in with the the reminiscing would have made it easier for me to walk away with happy memories in my head. But I had to get back to work, so we said our goodbyes to the ones we knew - only to return because someone's little blue Chevrolet Cruze had parked us in (which no one would admit to owning, but which mysteriously disappeared soon after I made the request public).
The place was completely packed; cars parked each other in and there weren't enough chairs for all the folk who'd come to say goodbye. The casket entered the room accompanied by a Maori chant which I don't know the name for - like a powhiri but probably different. Members of the family and old friends, often overcome by emotion, recounted anecdotes from the editter's life and reminded us of the qualities that endeared her to us - the super-quick wit, the scarily sharp memory, the ease with which she made friends and her way with children.
Of course, I teared up as soon as we arrived and didn't stop until the end of the service.
I would have liked to stay after the service ended; to join in with the the reminiscing would have made it easier for me to walk away with happy memories in my head. But I had to get back to work, so we said our goodbyes to the ones we knew - only to return because someone's little blue Chevrolet Cruze had parked us in (which no one would admit to owning, but which mysteriously disappeared soon after I made the request public).
Saturday, October 31, 2009
No more Letters from the Editter
My dear friend, who was ill for the last few months, has died.
I can't think of anything to add to that, except "Goodbye - I'm gonna miss you".
I can't think of anything to add to that, except "Goodbye - I'm gonna miss you".
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Our battery collection
For months now, I've been avoiding putting our used up batteries into the household rubbish - because somewhere, I read or heard that those things are full of heavy metals and ought to be disposed of in a special way. So I hung up a plastic shopping bag to collect them, fully intending to find out where they should go and then taking them there.
The bag has gotten pretty heavy by now, and the boy voiced fears that it can't be healthy having a big bag full of toxic thingamies hanging around in the kitchen. So I finally got around to going on the 'Net to find out what I'm supposed to do with it.
And it turns out that there is nowhere nearby that recycles them.
So into the kitchen bin they go.
The bag has gotten pretty heavy by now, and the boy voiced fears that it can't be healthy having a big bag full of toxic thingamies hanging around in the kitchen. So I finally got around to going on the 'Net to find out what I'm supposed to do with it.
And it turns out that there is nowhere nearby that recycles them.
So into the kitchen bin they go.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
lunch date
The boy asked me to look after TLM for an hour in the middle of the day today, and I thought, cool - I can take her out for a fluffy and then check out the Yayoi Kusama exhibition together.
It was only for an hour, and that hour went by so quickly -
She charmed the pants off my co-workers.
We had lunch at a nearby cafe (a fluffy and a sausage roll for TLM, a hot chocolate and a potato-top pie for me).
TLM insisted on climbing over every raised flowerbed.
She hugged each and every one of the koru (unfurled fern fond)-shaped pillars surrounding the Civic Square.
We checked out the polka-dotted City Gallery facade (it sooo reminds me of the Dr Seuss as Robert Lopshire book, "Put me in the zoo", about a spotted creature who can throw his spots onto any surface). But we didn't go in because the queue was too long.
TLM ran free and wild around the Civic Square, leaping about on the boat-shaped seating and frolicking on the grass.
Bliss.
It was only for an hour, and that hour went by so quickly -
She charmed the pants off my co-workers.
We had lunch at a nearby cafe (a fluffy and a sausage roll for TLM, a hot chocolate and a potato-top pie for me).
TLM insisted on climbing over every raised flowerbed.
She hugged each and every one of the koru (unfurled fern fond)-shaped pillars surrounding the Civic Square.
We checked out the polka-dotted City Gallery facade (it sooo reminds me of the Dr Seuss as Robert Lopshire book, "Put me in the zoo", about a spotted creature who can throw his spots onto any surface). But we didn't go in because the queue was too long.
TLM ran free and wild around the Civic Square, leaping about on the boat-shaped seating and frolicking on the grass.
Bliss.
Monday, October 19, 2009
When plus-size women can't be plus-size models
I read the other day about the tiny-sized Ralph Lauren model who was sacked for being too fat. She's a size 4, which means she's about a size 10 in New Zealand sizing. Now, you know and I know that that is not fat. And apparently the preferred dress size for a plus-size model is 8-10 (which is probably about a 14 in NZ sizing).
Apparently the reason models have to be so thin, is because the sample clothes that designers send in to be worn on the catwalk (and in the magazines) are so small. And the reason they are so small, is to save money on fabric.
Well, I have the solution.
Why doesn't the fashion industry just model all new collections on Barbie dolls?
The construction might be a bit fiddly, but they'd save a ton on fabric.
Apparently the reason models have to be so thin, is because the sample clothes that designers send in to be worn on the catwalk (and in the magazines) are so small. And the reason they are so small, is to save money on fabric.
Well, I have the solution.
Why doesn't the fashion industry just model all new collections on Barbie dolls?
The construction might be a bit fiddly, but they'd save a ton on fabric.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Spring coat sprung
Now that I've put all the buttons on (close-up of the buttons over on the right there) and worn it out a couple of times I have to say you were right, dear commenters.
I do like this coat. Although it definitely looks better on me if I don't button it up all the way - and better still if I don't button it up at all.
Also, the term "spring coat" is a bit of a misnomer. Because around these parts, the kind of coat you'd have to wear in spring is a rain coat.
Friday, October 16, 2009
I been exercising
On Wednesday evening, in between driving 'round to my mum's to dial up her insulin pens and having dinner, I managed a 20 minute session on the Wii Fit (and I did another 30 minutes tonight).
And I might be hooked. It's really fun, and some of it even feels like exercise (inasmuch as it works my muscles and I feel a little tired afterwards). With Wii Fit you get yoga, muscle workout, cardio, balance games and some other games which I forget what they're for.
My favourite exercise is still the yoga. But my favourite game is the downhill skiing. I still can't do the whole run without ramming into at least four flags.
The board records my every movement, so I know that my left side is way weaker than my right (which is interesting because I'm a leftie so my left ought to be stronger). It feels good that my balance is apparently pretty good and my lunges are better than the lunges of a middle-aged woman who hasn't been to the gym in four years.
Maybe the novelty value will wear off eventually, and maybe I'll soon reclaim these evenings for sewing. But I aim to make the most of that novelty for as long as I can.
And I might be hooked. It's really fun, and some of it even feels like exercise (inasmuch as it works my muscles and I feel a little tired afterwards). With Wii Fit you get yoga, muscle workout, cardio, balance games and some other games which I forget what they're for.
My favourite exercise is still the yoga. But my favourite game is the downhill skiing. I still can't do the whole run without ramming into at least four flags.
The board records my every movement, so I know that my left side is way weaker than my right (which is interesting because I'm a leftie so my left ought to be stronger). It feels good that my balance is apparently pretty good and my lunges are better than the lunges of a middle-aged woman who hasn't been to the gym in four years.
Maybe the novelty value will wear off eventually, and maybe I'll soon reclaim these evenings for sewing. But I aim to make the most of that novelty for as long as I can.
Monday, October 12, 2009
I yearbooked myself
Can you see which one of these footballers is me?No? Well check out the Lennon-ist on the right.
Another year older
Apparently people at my work are allowed to take the day off on their birthday, but I didn't because I had taken so much time off sick already this year. Then on the weekend my thoughtless sibling told me I had to take my mum to her follow-up appointment with the eye specialist this afternoon.
So, my birthday today was full of joyful activities such as:
1. a long staff meeting, followed by a panicky hour of cramming work in and then
2. 2 hours of sitting, zombie-like, in a public hospital waiting room (for a 2 minute consultation) and then
3. feeling slightly guilty for not going back to work for that last hour of my working day, because all that spring air was giving me a sinus headache.
But the boy and TLM did give me some lovely artistic birthday presents:
1. a tiny wee dolly made by a ceramics artist (because I told him that I never had dollies when I was a kid)
2. a bright red t-shirt, one size too small (but with a beautiful screenprint on it - it just needs to be bigger and blacker, really)
3. a hand-made mug, to go with some bowls by the same artist that I got for Christmas last year
4. and a lovely hand-made birthday card created by TLM, who may or may not be an artist but sure has the right amount of flakiness.
Oh, and a birthday muffin (that is, a cake. Just in case you were thinking that was a euphemism).
So, my birthday today was full of joyful activities such as:
1. a long staff meeting, followed by a panicky hour of cramming work in and then
2. 2 hours of sitting, zombie-like, in a public hospital waiting room (for a 2 minute consultation) and then
3. feeling slightly guilty for not going back to work for that last hour of my working day, because all that spring air was giving me a sinus headache.
But the boy and TLM did give me some lovely artistic birthday presents:
1. a tiny wee dolly made by a ceramics artist (because I told him that I never had dollies when I was a kid)
2. a bright red t-shirt, one size too small (but with a beautiful screenprint on it - it just needs to be bigger and blacker, really)
3. a hand-made mug, to go with some bowls by the same artist that I got for Christmas last year
4. and a lovely hand-made birthday card created by TLM, who may or may not be an artist but sure has the right amount of flakiness.
Oh, and a birthday muffin (that is, a cake. Just in case you were thinking that was a euphemism).
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Suspiciously chivalrous
When I was at school it was mostly only the rebellious kids who didn't give up their seats on the bus for adult passengers. These days it's remarkable when a kid does give an adult their seat. In fact, I still haven't forgiven those rude people who stayed seated when I waddled onto a crowded bus, 6 months pregnant and dying to take the weight off my feet.
So why did a young man offer me his seat on the bus this afternoon?
He wasn't doing to chat me up - because he didn't.
It's possible that he caught sight of my "mature" hands and - putting that together with my old-man newsboy hat, deduced that I was an unsteady old biddy.
Or, he saw how voluminous my A-line coat was (not the one I've been sewing - that one is only just big enough) and mistook me for a pregnant lady (where the hell was he 4 1/2 years ago?)
Hopefully, he did it because my oversized bag looked really heavy (it was - it was full of library books about women's fashion).
But I'll never know. It was nice to have a seat all the way home though.
So why did a young man offer me his seat on the bus this afternoon?
He wasn't doing to chat me up - because he didn't.
It's possible that he caught sight of my "mature" hands and - putting that together with my old-man newsboy hat, deduced that I was an unsteady old biddy.
Or, he saw how voluminous my A-line coat was (not the one I've been sewing - that one is only just big enough) and mistook me for a pregnant lady (where the hell was he 4 1/2 years ago?)
Hopefully, he did it because my oversized bag looked really heavy (it was - it was full of library books about women's fashion).
But I'll never know. It was nice to have a seat all the way home though.
Monday, October 05, 2009
A Dora bill
Oh yeah, and here is a photo of TLM in her Dora skirt - which she is wearing with Dora socks.
Should it stay or should it go?
I STILL haven't finished this coat yet, but right now I'm not sure I should bother.
What I have left to do is:
I'm not thoroughly happy with this coat though:
So anyway, do I spend the extra time and money on finishing it, or is it a dead loss?
It's not all bad though - I have learned enough that, if I were to make this coat again, the end result would be much more satisfactory (though I reckon I could find a more flattering style).
Like:
What I have left to do is:
- Get three buttonholes put in professionally (or sew on some snap buttons) and sew the buttons on
- Unpick the lining hem and re-attach it so that the back pleat doesn't sag funny
- Re-do the sleeve hems because the sleeve lining is way too long
I'm not thoroughly happy with this coat though:
- the back pleat doesn't sit right when it's on, though it looks fine on the hanger
- Most of the plaids don't match up from bodice part to skirt part
- the skirt part really sticks out
- the fabric is a little bit distorted, maybe because I machine-washed and line-dried it prior to cutting
- I'm not sure this style and pattern is very flattering on me
So anyway, do I spend the extra time and money on finishing it, or is it a dead loss?
It's not all bad though - I have learned enough that, if I were to make this coat again, the end result would be much more satisfactory (though I reckon I could find a more flattering style).
Like:
- stay away from any fabric that has obvious must-match pattern on it
- don't use fabric that is super-frayable and super-duper-snaggable (it makes unpicking really really hard, and the floor really really messy)
- be careful putting in that back pleat, and don't be in a hurry to undo the tacking that keeps it in place
- don't machine-washing a loosely-woven cotton tweedy fabric in the hope that it will tighten the weave.
- If you don't look good in high necklines, just accept the fact that you need to wear a scarf with that coat - then go out and buy a really nice one.
Friday, October 02, 2009
We don't do Daylight Savings by halves...
...but we bluddy should.
Right up until the night of the changeover, I had been waking up half an hour earlier than normal i.e. 7am. This gave me time to get TLM and myself ready for the day and also half an hour to just hang out.
But last Monday, I suddenly had to get out of bed half an hour before I was awake. So all week I've been late in to work, and still can't get to the sleep at the new bedtime.
I propose that in future we do Daylight Savings in two phases - the first phase is at the beginning of October, when we move our clocks forward by thirty minutes only. The second phase is a few months in, when we move our clocks forward by another thirty minutes. Taking it slowly will decrease the amount of tiredness in the first week of each time change, and indirectly cause greater happiness for everyone. Well, for me anyway.
Right up until the night of the changeover, I had been waking up half an hour earlier than normal i.e. 7am. This gave me time to get TLM and myself ready for the day and also half an hour to just hang out.
But last Monday, I suddenly had to get out of bed half an hour before I was awake. So all week I've been late in to work, and still can't get to the sleep at the new bedtime.
I propose that in future we do Daylight Savings in two phases - the first phase is at the beginning of October, when we move our clocks forward by thirty minutes only. The second phase is a few months in, when we move our clocks forward by another thirty minutes. Taking it slowly will decrease the amount of tiredness in the first week of each time change, and indirectly cause greater happiness for everyone. Well, for me anyway.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)