My Illustrative Life

International Women’s Day! I hope you all had a good one. I wore purple, and green, but no white. I don’t really own white, because it requires you to be so careful when wearing it.

Have you ever read anything about Suffragette Jewelry? It’s very interesting. In political movements, particularly in the push for rights that are denied due to what is perceived as basic inequalities in the people who have and do not have them, image is terribly important. It’s used as a weapon by both sides, of course, but the underdogs are generally cleverer about it, I think. They have to be - if you can intrigue, visually, you have your foot in the door of a person’s opinions.

I’ve got my mind on the Suffragettes at the moment because I’ve been doing some illustration for Sherin and Orchid’s Political Awareness gig’s fliers. The aim is to get people who aren’t that fussed about voting interested and maybe a little bothered - but first things first: my part’s about getting them (you?) to the event in question.

When I asked for a basic brief, they said they wanted a goat motif involved somehow. Gotta have a gimmick, as the movie said! And honestly, the loose guidelines mixed with the one specific (weird) bit of imagery is right up my artistic alley. When I think “votes!”, I think “for women!”, so this was the natural port of call at the head of my list (if you want to see more, and the images in a later stage of ‘finishedness’, keep your ear to this ground):

I figure, that a goat-headed person is unusual enough to catch the eye of an uninterested party.

I allow that it might be taken as an insult to female voters - that would suck. I took pains to depict a benevolent (but not weak!) goatface, and to keep her posture capable. I’d hope that the pagan / faux-satanic air of subversion would keep the image from appearing straight-up offensive.

But to be honest, people who don’t care about voting probably don’t care about showing respect for women who were prepared to die and endanger for the right. When was the last time you heard someone truly, honestly “sing in grateful chorus, Well done, sister suffragettes?”

If you are me, never. So I am singing it now, via blog via youtube via film via book. Well done, sister Suffragettes! Your movement wasn’t perfect, but whose is? You paved a great road for us, and we shall continue to alleviate the tolls.

If you think you might be interested in giving any sort of help to a London multi-band gig that wants to inspire the yoof of today to care about their ability to vote, send Sherin and Orchid a note. Every little helps! Your daughters’ daughters will adore you.

Remember when I planted a bunch of bulbs including some garlic?

They grew, of course!

>

That’s the garlic. Isn’t it fine? It’s not done yet, as you can see, but when it is.. there will be a lot. And I shall use it ALL!

Irises and crosuses (crocii still sounds better) too, though they’re in or nearing their prime already:

I think this type of iris is so weird looking. Like alien mouths.

I don’t know the names of the individual types of crocus. But I know that they are ridiculously easy to grow; put them in the ground, forget about them, be pleasantly surprised by small flower-cups!

This was an interesting texture - a rose hip that’s shriveled on the plant.

I hope I never stop being amazed at the colours that can be found in wood. This is burburis, which is apparently a very defensive plant. It’s danger-yellow when grazed, I’m told it’s poisonous-bitter, and it’s extremely thorny. Extremely. Ouch.

I spent twelve til four building and tending a bonfire of all the scrubby old dead crud left over at the end of a garden’s winter. It was a job of heaving and smoked eyes, trampling and poking and blowing and propping and coaxing and HEAVING HARDER. Ivy and other scrub tangles as easily as hair if left to its own devices! But I had a big shiny fork to help me, which was nice.

I’ve got no flippin’ clue why or when this went so crap. It was fine and sharp when I finished editing it.. fantastic.

It was a little bit like I had slain a forest spirit-beast; the branches on top of the bonfire were antlers and the weeds were its flankshag. Not the kind of death that makes you a villain, though. The kind that forges respect between the two involved, and makes you responsible for that area of woodland for example.

My mum and sister had half-term last week, so we took an overnighter in Buxton. To walk in nature, and.. look at stuff. We stopped at Chatsworth House (because my sister is a big squealer for Pride and Prejudice), which as you can see above is quite delightful. This is the view from one side of the bridge:

One of several reasons I am proud to volunteer for BW: Waterways are wonderful. So pretty! I drew as much as my freezin’ fingers would let me.

There are links to more pictures (reference/stock) of these gorgeous landscapes in the righthand sidebar.

Also fascinating was the toilet paper, where we stayed. No really, take a gander!

Lots of charming pokey shops, too; antiques and bookshops aplenty. A surprising amount of clothing, in the antiques emporiums in and around Buxton actually - maybe it’s a local thing, but ‘vintage’ seems to be creeping in all over where it was once disdained. I may be being overly romantic.

There was the most excellent bookshop. Second-hand, antique to current, FIVE FLOORS. It had free tea and coffee! That you could make for yourself! It was glorious, and I kick myself for not being in the right sort of mood to really appreciate it. Then again, I really can’t afford to be stocking up on old, old thick books with the sorts of covers that make you want to weep from the perfection of illustration.

Where was my mind? Photographic evidence:

The horrors (and adventures) of my youth.

Truth be told I came out with exactly what I did want - Teacher’s Pet by Caroline B. Cooney, a Point Horror (remember those?) that chilled me so royally that I refused to use the downstairs bathroom for years. I’ve been looking for it for months; I wanted to see if it still had the power.

In the story the heroine finds a rough workmans glove in the woods, which turns out to still have a hand in it. My dad keeps his work gloves in the downstairs loo. I was a nervous and imaginative child!

So, watch out for THAT review, coming soon..

It snowed! The end!

Well, if that isn’t just the best headline I ever saw (ignoring the fact that there are PERVERTS on the LOOSE). Even beats out this one from Sheffield, I think..

Wow.

Today seemed like a ‘first day of Spring’; it was sunny though still cold, and crocuses are coming up. I sat on the front steps and read the first story in The Temple of Death.

The first story in the anthology The Temple of Death happens to be called The Temple of Death. It was written by Arthur Christopher Benson (1862 - 1925(1926?)), a man who seems to have had a rather painful life but who also seems to have been quite dedicated to making the lives of others better, if he could. The introduction to the book mentions he was a teacher, who was of the following opinion:

I am sure it is one’s duty as a teacher to try to show boys that no opinions, no tastes, no emotions are worth much unless they are one’s own. I suffered accutely as a boy from the lack of being shown this.

I get a little of the impression that he wasn’t exactly pro-woman, but I also get no impression that he was anti exactly, either, and it was hardly his fault alone that Eton was for boys, so lets allow him the benefit of the doubt.

Anyway, he also (according to the introduction of my volume, by David Stuart Davies) said that he wrote his (horror) stories for the purpose of the following:

..[To] touch with a light romance some of the knightly virtues which are apt to be dulled into the aspect of commonplace and uninteresting duties.

I have to say, I think that’s marvelous - and a darn fine raison d’être. I admire this man.

As far as I can tell, since A. Benson died in 1925 (or 26? wiki says one, intro says another), these stories of his are public domain. So here are the first two pages of The Temple of Death, read by your host (me). There are just over fourteen in all, and if you’d care to give me con-crit I’d be much obliged and attempt to improve my methods before narrating the next two or so. I’m doing voiceover work at both of my places of employ, and as such I rather need the practice. I hope you enjoy the story.. the devil’s yet to come.

Yesterday my mum and my sister and I visited my Great Aunt, who lives a fair way away in (my ancestral) Coventry, and took her to Coombe Abbey. Coombe Abbey, if you haven’t been, is awesome.

I haven’t taken any pictures of one reason it was so awesome, because that is probably illegal - there were tons and tons of kids there. Loads. I know it’s half term and all, but it was a joy to see youngins running about yelling at ducks, enjoying forest pathways, climbing banks, shouting “I AM THE TALKING BUSH” and shaking branches from inside evergreens which branch from ground-level, walking dogs, and QUITE CLEARLY being on dates. Too cute. If you are ever thinking, “oh alas children do not like nature any more, only wii, how sad!”, you should go to Coombe Abbey (at half term).

It has buildings, and grounds (lots), and just about every type of country landscape you could ask for. There’s a pond at the front of (what I think is) the hotel that has a sort of aqueduct non-bridge pathway across it; on one side it’s nature free and wobbly and undergrowth, on the other it’s nurture - angular and groomed, statues in the water, box-shaped box hedges.

There are paths to follow in various directions, which managed to turn me completely around and take me by surprise. I thought I’d reached a new building, but it was the one we started at. Cunning! The whole place has a sense of mystery though, the way it’s lain out - there’s always something just visible through or past or behind what you’re looking at.

The grounds were really, really pretty. These don’t do them justice because I am not a good photographer (and the camera I was borrowing is kind of weird and colour-bleaching/non-focusable).

Coombe Abbey also contains the spookiest tree-bourne sculpture I have ever seen. The black dog in this picture was being called forcefully by its owners, but I was willing it to stay in the frame long enough for the darn picture to take..

Seriously, is that supposed to be.. what is that supposed to be??

What’s a day out without a fitting outfit? NOTHING, THAT is what!! In a moment of great serendipity, my super-fantastic dreamskirt from Modelle - via the NASTY GAL sale - arrived that morning..

I was sure I would be able to see my own foot through the trunk’s various holes if only I stretched far enough..

I couldn’t.

BONUS: Me totally failing to replicate the awesome height achieved by my first run-up, which my fool sister MISSED CURSE HER.

And with that, I’ll go back where I came from.

Has anyone else noticed that all the Valentines-themed window displays this year are red (with silver or black accoutrements)? Red to hot pink, at least. Where is all the marshmallowy pink, the fluffy powder colours, the teddy bears swearing eternal affection? Everwhere I looked, in town yesterday, there were red satin undergarments with the spindliest of garter belts (they won’t work, don’t you want your sexy to be practical too?), and shiny metallic balloons.

I did consider that it was a display of solidarity with China, any British-Chinese or visiting tourists, Chinese New Year falling today also. Red being an important related colour. But there wasn’t any gold involved, and besides - shop windows don’t tend to be that inclusive.

I hope you’re having a fine day, whatever you’re celebrating or whatever you aren’t. I do think it’s a shame when people are vitriolic against Saint Valentine’s Day, because being martyred because you refused to disallow soldiers to marry is pretty bloody admirable if you ask me. And technically, by visiting my blog, you did. Ha-HAH! I think it’s a day to celebrate, unless you prefer to make it a day for activism - St. V died for the cause of marriage for a portion of the population who higher-ups felt shouldn’t be allowed it. Who knows what his views on homosexuality would be, but luckily for us (and the whole point of this is that) he’s dead - so he can’t complain if we use his Day to say “Hey, Governments - Let Your People Marry”.

I was unconsciously mirroring the red red world, when I ventured out into it to search out records with my newly-drivers’-liscenced sister. My reds were deeper though, because straight-up primary colours make me look startled. And besides, I like the mystery of a slightly dirty hue.

I couldn’t physically be with my beloved for Valentine’s Day - actually, we’ve never been together on The Day (don’t worry! It’s never mattered, either) - and I’m not near any New Year celebrations as I thought I would be so I’m here typing.. Able to say that if you are feeling blue (and so quite out of place) then all you need to do is put on some dreamin’ gear and use that in-head laptop we call ‘imagination’ to fly you to where and with whom you really want to be. Look, I’ll show you:

Oh - and I beg your pardon, happy New Year to China, and anyone who celebrates!

So, you may have noticed that I kid of dig Jane Marple clothing. And it’s true, I do! I’m wearing it today, top and bottom. I think JM is the best brand I ever did have the pleasure of wearing. Or viewing, actually - it may not be couture, but it taps my rhythms just right. It’s a Japanese company, and they don’t sell online - or that widely at all, I believe. A few outlets here and there, one or two official boutiques? I know there’s one place in Australia that carries their lines!

I don’t live in Australia (or Japan) though, and have no plans to visit. Plus, of course, Jane does not come cheap - first-hand Marple asks for more pieces of eight than I’m willing to part with. Thus: Rinkya.

It’s quite easy to feel that Jane Maple is far beyond your possibilities. I found the brand through the first FRUiTS volume and followed it onto the various Street Style LJ comms, and I wasn’t the only one (by far!) bemoaning the impossibility of getting my hands on these gorgeous garments. Proxy bidding services just aren’t a part of a lot of (most?) people’s internet consciousness; I only tried Rinkya after a lot of encouragement from a fellow JM appreciator who wanted everyone who felt the urge to enjoy their clothes! So I’m trying to Pay It Forward: USE RINKYA! IT’S GREAT!

You can find the FAQ here and an explanation of their fee system here - but the gist of the matter is that they let you browse the yahoo!japan auctions without knowing the language, and act as a middle man between you and sellers who don’t ship outside the country (a lot of them, actually!) or speak (or are willing to speak) English (or whatever you speak!). They’re friendly!

But instead of just talking, I’m gonna show you the best Jane Marple items available on Rinkya right now that I’m not going to buy. Because I want to spread the bounty, but I also (like Jackie) want what I want. OK, Let’s go!

Seriously, LOOK AT THESE. They are smart. I don’t wear heels that aren’t made of purple glittery platform, but if I did, they would be these.

Satin. Drop-waist. Lace collar. Pleats. It looks gen-yu-wine twenties good girl (secretly spunky) rich daughter London//country estate, but it ain’t. Which is good, because it means you don’t have to worry that it’ll fall apart!

That’s just pretty. Delicate, yet mysterious.

If you don’t think that The Sound of Music is one of the most stylish films going, you should probably watch it again. You won’t mind, because that film has singing nuns. And Captain Von Trapp is very fruity; it is marvelous to watch once you have realised.

Purple. Textured knit. Thigh-high. Going for only 500 yen.

I WANT THIS. But belts never fit me. Ever.

Spring and summer are coming, and these are so forest-pretty with the promise of secret toughness (leather, wood, brass for stabbing). I don’t wear open-toes shoes because I get pebbles under my toes, and I don’t really like inflexible soles or having my hair being held rigid. I do have one or two very pretty hairslides that I use to keep scarves in place, though, so maybe you could try this for that..?

Interesting but not pointless exploration of jersey! Sweaterdress for cooler weather, check, vest for cooler-than-hot weather, CHECK! I’m not keen on the “Love me”, but if that’s your thing then I say thank goodness for diversity of opinion. I really like the orange sherrrrr-berrrrt with the candypink on the vest; JM uses a lot of off-track colours, actually.

Click the pictures to get to the auctions. They’re all in yen (divide by 100 to get an approximate dollar value), and you need to sign up to rinkya before you can bid (don’t forget to read the rules!). But. The point is: it is worth it. These clothes are well-made and off-beat, and despite the fact that most of them are second hand there are a LOT of clothes still with tags on, or worn only two or three times.

I feel like whenever I buy with this service, I’m supporting my favourite brand. One the one hand by wearing their things, and on the other by freeing up wardrobe space and spare cash for the girls who do buy new. It’s the circle of life, and it moves us all.

Badly taken pictures, because I worry I will get robbed if I photograph on the street.

(To check my map; if you think I’m gonna indicate that I don’t know my way around in public, I laugh at you.)

More coming, if the Cathedral are cool with my sharing snaps from within. I couldn’t find a sign saying “don’t!”, but I don’t wanna assume.

Post up at warmthblog with a tutorial on fixin’ jeans (and making them look even better than they did before).

It’s actually a pretty old tutorial; I did it in.. October maybe? November? Last year and never got round to writing it up properly.

Click the picture to visit, as always!

Sunday Sunday Sunday.

Well, I finally got to reading Tank Girl: Armadillo. I read it in bed, reading reading reading for a decent couple of hours like I always, always used to. Was it good? Should you buy it (or borrow, or.. loan it)? Let’s start at the start! And finish before the end (of the book), FYI; the second half is short stories and suchlike, and I haven’t read’em yet. You can do THAT for yourself.

There’re two prefaces, from the author, and I want you to read this little bit of one of them and understand why I didn’t read past it, in the common room lunch place at work, because of having “something in my eye”.

That’s kind. Kindness and fiction-appreciation are important. Honestly, I think this book is worth the purchase for that sentiment alone.

When I was reading I started out feeling uncomfortable, to be honest. You may be different and probably are but I really don’t find it easy to come in fresh to a story and start yellin’ WOOO, BLOW HIS HEAD OFF! I mentioned in the Jennifer’s Body SPOILERS how touchy I am about cannon fodder. I don’t need ameri-dubbing on my Dragonball to her “I think I see their parachutes!”, or whatever it was. I only catch six pokemon per game if I can manage it, for goodness sake, because shoving them inside a computer seems mean. I’m a big ole bleeding heart and hearing the idol of the novel say Okay, so we shot down a cop in cold blood. So fuckin’ what? makes me go “eeeeehhh” and squirm a bit. But what felt unusual is that the book (author/protag both) seems to acknowledge that. She say the italicised sentences in a page-chapter devoted to explaining how that’s not as muddy as it seems, how I shouldn’t judge her anyway, and how she doesn’t even care if I do. And not in such a deluded, self-convincing, distancing way as the way I put it makes it sound.

I still wasn’t completely cool with the thing of it, though. Which is why it was a relief when everybody revealed themselves to be such complete stinkers who were just as willing to solve problems with murder and carnage and pain as Tank Girl and her gang, only without being fun and kind and caring the rest of the time. In a world of shooting out brains before breakfast, motivation comes to be very meaningful. It’s an interesting authorial quirk, I think - the mixture of boisterous cartoonery and irredeemable-to-the-point-of-2d villains with the 3d motivation and realistic emotional resonance. Tank Girl really does, after a while, become a vessel for violent revenge/lesson fantasies. I don’t really feel ok thinking about feeding grenades to real world despicable people, or people who have crossed or simply annoyed me - it just feels counter-productive and even in my mental Holodeck I can’t ignore that people have.. well, whole people within themselves. But here? These people whose innards I can see are bad, bad, no-good people through and through. I have it on highest authority.

Tank Girl really was my armour, as I read this book.

It’s not just that though; Armadillo is a novel. It has a story. She and her peeps are making war on this one town full of heinous characters, who’ve ruined or messed with the lives of two (really three, I guess, but Sub Girl’s ex is never relevant as her ex) of the crew. It’s full of backstory, and re-weaving of now-story, and I think that makes it backstory for some of the previously published comics cos there’s no talk of any babies. I have no idea how Tank Girl canon works. I sort of don’t want to.

There’s also (I warned you in the post title here, SPOILERS) time travel. Which I enjoyed as a plot contrivance and a method to get extra emotional facts out there, but also because it was a very, very similar method to the one used in the film Somewhere in Time. I really dig that movie; Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour, gorgeous clothing, heart-wrenching plot. Excellent rainy day movie, and the leitmotif is a keeper. Tank Girl yammers on about a movie (and a particular song from it) she accidentally managed to see as a child which no-one else had heard of periodically, too, so I figure this is an extra relevant tangent.

Reading this book made me feel better about things. She’s not “the perfect person” and she’s not, of course, “real”. I’ve said before that reading T.G. comics make me want to dress like myself, not like her, and want to celebrate being myself, not like her. And that’s true, because you know when you read her that if you were to meet her, then she would either think you were rad or disgusting - and thinking that oneself is not rad is not the way to go about encouraging Tank Girls esteem. Plus, she speaks a lot of wisdom:

Buy it.

Wearing today addendum:

You may or may not know, my little (though actually bigger than me) sister is in a band. They do some of their own songs, and cover a bunch of songs in the Queen/The Who vein. I am very proud of her. But because of that, the fact that she can’t drive by herself yet, and the fact that her exams are over for now my family took a daytrip to the town where they’re playing tonight. Let’s explore Moreton in Marsh!

This first thing deserves a paragraph of its own - I walked around a tiny park, and the tiny park had no, I repeat no crisp packets outside of the bin. Say it with me: LET’S KEEP BRITAIN TIDY!

Moreton in Marsh is one of those confectionary towns. It’s “the gateway to the Cotswolds”; the main streets are just picturesque, all big blocks of sandstone, heavy doors (some giant, some tiny), great large windows on antique shops and gift shows and tea shops.

Speaking of tea shops. We ate lunch in The Marshmallow(where I got to read about four more pages of TG:Armadillo). I’d been pulling for Thai, but Dad pointed out that this Marshmallow had been honoured by UK Tea Council multiple times. And I do love a good cuppa. One of the Christmas presents I asked for - and received! Hurray! - was a subscription to the Twinings Tea of the Month club! I drank a pot of “Kenyan” (or.. was it “Kenya”?), because the menu described it as colourful. It was tasty, but it paled, actually, when lunch proper arrived. Cottage pie. Creamed mashed potato. Perfectly cooked vegetables. The end of my Mum’s beef casserole with cobbler. A fair bit of my sister’s portion of veg. A taste of my Dad’s liver and onions. I swear, I coulda kept going and going.

Would you like a loyalty card?
Dad says no. Of course. What do I say? Oh come on, you can guess.

I also enjoyed the wallpaper in the hotel the band’s (I did their logo!) playing at.

I felt just about right in what I was wearing, situationally (sweaterdresses + antiques = Just Right), but I think I’m gonna sew buttons around the inside of the hem and around the lower half of the neckline. I feel OK with a shorter skirt and a high neck, or a lower neckline and a longer skirt, but short and low (I know it’s not extreme. But it is for me! Especially with this long jacket warping perception) makes me feel a bit flashy. Dickies and faux-slips, from now on!

I took some video on the way home. The light was so beautiful, and the countryside really should be seen and appreciated! Good editing practice, too. Which reminds me! Can I get some volunteers to give me constructive criticism on a video? It would be really, really useful!

I’m still adding the new comments format! But I’ve figured out a way to keep them off the front page. Click the title, or normal “comment” button, and see!

First day of British Waterways volunteer Appreciating, yesterday. It was good! I feel useful, I think I am useful, the people are really welcoming, and I get to draw and be creative. OH OH and, I am working where Chucklevision used to be filmed.

TO ME, TO YOU!

Wearing yesterday:

This is actually a picture I took today, though, since I didn’t get home til it was dark. Hence the underskirt secret during picture taking:

Oo la la! Pyjama troosers!

I asked, and I get to wear my DMs in the future. Marvelous.

I just recently ate this:

It was delicious. As well as being an excellent shade of green, pistachios are an excellent flavour!

Having written yesterday about “what I have bought this month”, naturally today I went out and made four more purchases. You’re ruining it for me, I hear you cry! My predictions are all thrown off! Well, that will teach you to make assumptions based in consumerism. But I know, I know, it’s all my fault.. So to make up for it, I’m going to have a go at saying I will do this in a blog entry and then actually doing “this”. It’s not that I’ve given up on all the posts I’ve said I’m going to do - these things just take time! And sometimes, equipment.

Anyhow. Coming up in February (or maybe a bit before), four separate reviews of four separate books.

First, because it’s smallest, this single-issue floppy. I picked it up after finding neither of the trades I wanted in the comic shop that’s technically local to me, but ridiculously tricky to get to, and then having seen both Jubes and Gambit and No-Girl on the cover. Then when I flicked through, Quentin Quire! I think that kid is just adorable, his angstpain is just so all consuming and his anger so impotent — despite his great psychic abilities. And he’s so SURE that he’s RIGHT! Grant Morrison, your work is often groovy.

After I left the comic shop (and after I completely failed to find anything I was after for research in HMV) I wound up in Waterstones, where I found three separate comics - or comics-derivative - books. I feel guilty! Comics should be bought from speciality stores! Or they’ll DIE! But I didn’t seen any of these things in that shop! So to make up for it, here’s a plug..

Anyway. Onwards.

Tank Girl. Always a plus, no? Yeah, even the movie. If you don’t appreciate it, maybe you’re looking at it funny? This is a text-only book, a novel. I bought it for novelty value, honestly - can Tank Girl work without images?? We’ll find out!

Jennifer’s Body: this isn’t a novelisation of the movie, apparently. It’s four short stories about how boys in the school perceive Jennifer. I haven’t seen the movie yet but the commentary on Jezebel was fascinating and I’m planning on a dvd watch; I’m generally interested in less than franchise-y peripheral add-ons to fiction and, yeah, I want to see how the (male) writer adheres to or strays from the feminist slant of the film’s plot. STAY TUNED.

The Complete Nemesis the Warlock vol. 2. I want to read more classic 2000AD in general, more Pat Mills in particular, and a black-and-white phonebook post-apocalyptic epic is just what I need on a rainy day. Plus, my beloved said it was good one time, and he usually has pretty good taste.

SO. Let’s see, huh? I’m excited! I hope you are too! And please, don’t think you’ll be bored if you’re here for fashiony stuff. Don’t expect a review from me that ignores character design.

New Marple!

News from the Agatha Christie Official Site blog: The Blue Geranium is currently being filmed for tv! Excellent. Marple, as you may have guessed, is in my soul. And I rather like the particular theme of this story - some authors fail and just become snotty or preachy when they and their characters take the “magic seems to be real OH WAIT of course it isn’t, that’s ridiculous! Here’s why” route. But Agatha (Ms Christie, I beg your pardon).. she knew her stuff. She manages to avoid putting the focus of the entire story upon the spooks-or-not reveal like an amazon on a stiletto; it’s what happens that matters, not how.

Midsomer Murders (the TV series) does the same issue with marvelous panache, incidentally. I really dig that show.

In celebration of this news, I want to share this link: The The Blue Geranium episode of Agatha Christie’s Great Detectives Marple and Poirot, one of my favourite faaavourite shows. “Great Detectives” is a Japanese show, animated, and believe me I have tried to get DVDs (ones I can watch, even). I’m gonna keep trying! It’s one of the most comfortable shows I know, and I would really, really like to be able to express this to the creators, animators, and all companies involved in its production via monetary exchange. It is such a bane that British Animation is in the dumps, because it means a lot of the shows that make my heart sing aren’t available in Region 2. Venture Bros Season 1 took how long to get here? TOO BLOODY LONG.

Great Detectives has its faults. Miss Lemon is way too young, and Hastings doesn’t bluster quite enough. Poirot is not as irritable as he is in my head (David Suchet, he is perfect) and Miss M doesn’t have quite the bite I feel she should. But I find ‘Maybelle’ perfectly charming: she’s a sixteen or seventeen year old original character, the daughter of Raymond West (mother has no presence; I presume her dead) who takes a job as Poirot’s junior assistant and thereby ties the two detectives’ stories together. They never meet.

I very much enjoy how the opening sequence makes Maybelle’s story. Give it a watch, I think you’ll see what I mean.

And here’s a link I’ll be adding to posts for a while: Craft Hope for Haiti, an etsy store that donates proceeds to Doctors without Borders.