Ida Maria is... stella(r)!

I've mentioned them before, but Ida Maria are a brilliant band, and the recent Times interview with the wonderful Ida herself is all the excuse I need to mention them again. Even if it wasn't, their next single "Stella" is released on March 10th too. Utterly recommended.

Whole lotta shakin' goin' on

In the small hours of this morning, I was woken from my sofa-sleep by a rattling and banging that lasted about ten seconds. In my sleep-addled state I thought, "What are next door banging on about now?". Turns out that I had been woken by an earthquake, measuring 5.2 on the Richter Scale. At least I didn't sleep through it.

Work your proper hours

Today is "Work Your Proper Hours Day", apparently - this is the day when the average person who does unpaid overtime here in the UK finishes the unpaid days they do every year, and starts earning for themselves. If you agree that's something worth celebrating, whilst acknowledging that it's also a pretty sorry state of affairs, you may want to read more at worksmart.org.uk/workyourproperhoursday.

There - a whole blog post without emotional frailty, or solipsist teen-like angst. It can be done.

A thousand fireworks

I didn't receive a Valentine's card, but then why would I? I did receive a chocolate croissant for breakfast, waiting for me before work on the wing mirror of my car in a non-Valentine's/Valentine's surprise gesture that really touched me. But that's all.

I did send a card though, and this is what it had written on it:

You are the spark that lit a thousand fireworks;
Bursting and fizzing,
Writing your name across my heart.

This is a quote from Anna Maughan who, I discovered from Francesca, is a director at Urban Graphic, the company behind the Scrawl range of cards that I am more than happy to recommend to you.

I wrote a poem of my own for inside the card, a haiku, but that's personal and I'm not going to reproduce it here. And though I left the card anonymous, and disguised my handwriting, the haiku and other clues were enough for the recipient to work out (with enough certainty to text a thank you) that it was from me. I love the idea of an anonymous card, but what's the point in making it impossible to work out who the sender is? For then the unrequited will surely always remain unrequited?

As it is, despite my clues, the unrequited remains unrequited anyway, but that's another story. On a lighter (?) note, tomorrow I plan to test my theory that saying "I ate a microwaved ready-meal for one" is a sure-fire way to stop people asking how you spent your Valentine's evening.