June 9th, 2002

Picocon

Literary Criticism solicited: EMC chapter 1

Be aware that this little story is aimed at an adult audience.
It was written for a site which specialises in fiction with a "grand-illusion" type magical theme.
Part of the intention when I wrote it was to test the bounds of what was acceptable on the site concerned.
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  • Current Mood
    optimistic optimistic
Picocon

One of the singers in the band at church has very efficient lungs

I just came back from Church.
I haven't been for ages -- since the weekend before DFC.
(There was DFC, another weekend away, then China, then Plokta.con)
Now one of the girls at Church has changed into her summer plumage -- a thinner blouse with a button or two undone.
Picture the scene: "Hi, Douglas. Tea or Coffee?" -- "Eh? Oh, sorry, I wasn't listening."
Remember that unless I'm looking at her lips I can't hear what she's saying.
Picocon

Tales of China 00 -- Introduction.

I don't know. People are obsessed with my trip to China even when I'm talking about the Holy Hooters on view at St Paul's.
On my return from China a week or two ago flick pressed me to put the news into my LJ but I couldn't be arsed. Now green_amber has asked me what I was doing in China so I suppose I must bow to public pressure.
I went to China on the 16th May and returned on the 26th.
Been there -- done that. The T-Shirt you will have seen if you went to plokta.con.
Tales of China will follow in a series of short articles spread over the next little while.
  • Current Mood
    rushed rushed
Picocon

Tales of China 01 -- Heathrow departure lounge.

For the Air China flights, we are instructed, we have to be at the airport three hours before take-off.
My mother told me "Half past five, so we must be there for half past two."
Therefore, on Thursday the sixteenth of May, my mother and I arrived at London Heathrow shortly after lunch.
We studied those screens which dangle from the ceiling in Terminal Three, looking for our half-five flight.
Nothing.
Consternation! Were we a day early? Were we -- horrors -- a day late?
My dear sweet mother dug out the tickets and we studied them.
Eight thirty-five. Eight thirty-five.
Man, these passengers are prompt. Very very prompt.
Once a long time ago, ZZ9 had an airport lounge party. I wasn't there. But now, I know what it must have been like.
Still, I got to introduce my mother to Starbucks.
("Orange juice? Mother, this is a coffee shop.")