Psychopath

Some time ago, a friend of mine put this question to me and I didn't hesitate with the answer, which apparently makes me a psychopath. But don't be afraid.
Maybe I just have a brain that works laterally.
Or maybe I'm a psychopath.
If I am, I'm a gentle one. If such a thing exists?
Anyway, I babble. As usual. Here is the question:

This is a story about a girl.
While at the funeral of her own mother, she met a guy whom she did not know. She thought this guy was amazing, so much the dream guy that she was searching for that she fell in love with him immediately.
However, she never asked for his name or number and afterward could not find anyone who knew who he was.
A few days later the girl killed her own sister.

Question: Why did she kill her sister?

First, find your own answer to this question.

Then, check out this link for the answer.

Naturally, you have to let me know if you're a psychopath or not... I have to know if I'm in good company. Or bad company. Whichever.
So, leave me a note in the comments... go for it.
Are you a psychopath?

Being Girly

I blogged before about the fact that whilst I love power tools, whilst also being in possession of a deep love for handbags.
I was having a spring clean today and getting everything really sorted out, as there seems to be a forever increasing number of things on my To Do list.
Anyway, I'm not sure if this is weird or not, but I like a record of the places I've lived. I imagine that in years to come it'll be fascinating to look back at decor and ornaments, I'm intrigued to see how my tastes change.
As I was clicking away with my camera, I thought I totally have to share a little portion of my handbag obsession.

I'm not a follower of fashion, I tend to go my own way and as a result this is the only designer item that I own. My Lulu Guinness fish handbag.
I love it!
I was walking round the Lincoln Christmas market some years ago with my boyfriend of the time, looking at all the craft stalls. We paused by a handbag stall. Well, I paused, he was likely oblivious until I started cooing very loudly about how much I desired this bag.
I knew I had enough handbags and slowly, feet dragging, moved on to another stall.
A little later on, he said he had to leave and I went off home.
Then Christmas came around, he'd left me that night to run back and buy it for me. I love it still. I'll admit the white isn't that practical, but who the hell cares?
I think that I'm really easy to buy for, I'm always, always going to be happy with a handbag, this one, a gift, came all the way from Thailand.
And this one, my newest bag was also gift, which travelled to me all the way from New Zealand. My handbags are more cosmopolitan than I am.
I have hooks over the door to my dressing room, makes for easy handbag storage.
Except.
This isn't all of them.
I'm afraid of ripping the door from the hinges if I add any more.

I actually do use them all. I could probably even tell you when I last used most of them.
Some days, if I change, I'll get through a couple of handbags a day. It's an addiction.
I had a clear out too. I rehomed a couple of dozen of them.
But they're so pretty. In my dream world, I totally have a house big enough to warrant a walk-in handbag room.

Bad Taste

The sun is shining, it's perfect for sitting in the garden.
You go to hang out your washing in the lovely Spring air, only to realise that this is the time of year that some people need to show everyone else in the neighbourhood exactly how bad their taste in music is.
For some reason they are never playing anything that you enjoy listening to, or in fact judging by the reaction of other neighbours, that those people enjoy listening to either.
But these folks with bad taste in music persevere. They must let the world know that their thinking remains inside the box and if it hasn't been on an Ibiza album, well then, it's just not worth listening to.
Why do they never see the sunshine and think that maybe they'll go for a bit of blues. I'd be happy to wander into my garden and hear my neighbours playing a bit of Eric Bibb, maybe some Keb Mo, although if I came out and they were playing the Levellers I'd be super happy (and likely to be leaping around).
To be fair, I live in a peaceful little village, I do love it here. The only downside is the mongrel that bought a little house to renovate very near by.
He's upset everyone in our little patch.
His delivery lorries have managed to hit my Sky dish three times, which I'm overjoyed about.
As for the utter mess he's created. Broken panes of glass stick up vertically from the ground, just begging for a big jugular accident.
And today he's playing goodness knows what rubbish which blares beautifully into my garden.
I'm beginning to loathe him. Deeply.
It's quite a considerate neighbourhood. The most noise you tend to hear is the sound of lawn mowers or a bit of DIY, none of which you ever mind, they're the sounds of summer!
Anyway, his house is still empty, still undergoing renovation, the surrounding area of building site slowly encroaching onto everyone else's space. Rumour has it he plans to live there himself when it's finally completed. I hope not. I sincerely hope we get someone with a good taste in music.

Song Of The Week LVII

As it was St Georges Day yesterday I think this is an appropriate song.

Show of Hands - Roots:

I love how it celebrates being proud of your heritage, whatever it is and wherever you are from and also about knowing those things. Knowing the history of your homes and your cultures, that can't ever be underrated, surely?

Sprung

Spring has truly sprung.
It was so deliciously warm yesterday I decided to do a circuit of my garden with my book. Now, it's only a tiny garden, but the circuit starts at the swing seat, until that's fully in shade, then move over to the bench until the sun starts to make me melt. Then it's back to the house to pick up the blanket I forgot to bring out earlier. Lay down the blanket, prop self up on elbows and delve further into book. At this point Mifford lays against me, where she stays until too hot to even touch, at which point she moves to the shade, then once cooled, it's back to the sun.

I've said it time and again but daisies are my favourite flower. Look at that happy face, petals still unfurling. Makes you smile eh?

That's my vegetable patch. Isn't it wee! I can't tell you how those seedlings excite me.

So, whilst daisies are my favourite, there is something about pansies that make me happy. I have pots of them outside my front door, I swear each and every flower smiles to the sun. In fact they smile at the rain too, they have this joie de vivre about them.

And.... I just don't believe anyone couldn't love daffodils.
Even my sister likes them and I told her they were edible, so she ate a whole one. She wasn't well. I wasn't popular.

The sun was out again today and I decided it was time to hit the countryside on my doorstep. It's a funny thing, I really enjoy walking alone, there's something about setting your own pace, stopping whenever you want without worrying about holding up someone else or a whole group, but there's that concern that you're out in the sticks on your own and that is somehow dangerous.
The world as it is today, is dangerous - not that it hasn't always been. It's not as if murder and rape are new crimes, but we are infinitely more aware of it and there were moments as I walked and didn't pass a single other person that I felt vulnerable. But what are we to do? Stay home, just in case? I don't feel like I can do that, besides which, to be honest I was most scared of this cow:

That one on the left, I think there's evil in its eyes.

It was so incredibly pretty out there, all the spring bulbs having pushed their way through, I only wish I'd taken a proper camera.

The wild garlic is out - so I'm going to go back and harvest a little at some point as I have a recipe for wild garlic pesto. And I do so adore pesto. The idea of a wild garlic version just sounds delicious.
I'm actually really interested in the idea of foraging, I've been sitting with my copy of Food For Free by Richard Mabey and the idea of finding edible leaves right here on my doorstep, wild and free is fascinating. It also seems like a great way to learn more about the flora. I recognise the fauna, having stood quietly on a path and watching a hare potter about in a field, hopping this way and that. There were also so many wonderful birds singing from the skies and trees. I don't think I ever tire of the sound of the skylark, or in fact of the sight of goldfinches flitting from here to there and back again.
So, I recognise the birds and animals well enough, but the plants? Not so much, what's edible? What's going to make me ill? No clue beyond the obvious things that everyone knows. I wonder if there are foragers in my area... time for some investigation I think...

Beastie & Jeff

Let me introduce you to Beastie. I love her. She's clearly a sizeable car and whilst getting on in age, she has the temperament of a kitten not an O.A.C (Old Aged Cat). She likes the accelerator. She likes speed. She also likes to make an uncomfortable rattling sound somewhere around the front right wheel.
Her windows don't work. Should you be foolish enough to try and open one, the window will slide into the door at a 45 degree angle and then pop open the door.
But I love her.
She's comfortable and when she's not around I'm going to miss her like hell.

Now, let me introduce you to Jeff:Jeff is clearly made of different stuff. She has a huge ass. Oh and she's clean. This is something that Beastie was never described as.
However, Jeff and I are having some adjustment issues.
I have realised I am a little too small for her. I'm just 5'1 and I have size 4 feet. These small feet are not designed for Jeff, the tip of my big toe just catches the accelerator. When I gave her a bit of a test, I hadn't realised this, but when I brought her home after getting her taxed I walked into the house, limping a little from the cramp in my right leg and eyed her between narrowed eyes through the window.
I have established it is necessary to wear big shoes to drive her. I think that she and I will learn one anothers foibles, but I currently miss the ease of sliding into the driving seat of Beastie and whizzing off down the road.
Also, Beastie and I, we spent our lives in the outside lane, I loved the sound of her engine roar.
Jeff is just not as nippy. Not even close. Yesterday we were overtaken going up the hill. This has never happened before. And may have added to the resentment I felt when I glared at her through those narrowed eyes.
I find immense pleasure in driving and I feel a little like that has been curtailed.
So, it wasn't love at first drive with Jeff, but I'm hanging in there, for I'm sure she and I will find our own way.
Plus, she's booked in next week to have the bloody awful tape deck removed and a delicious CD player installed. Hallelujah. I cannot even begin to describe how much I miss my music. It's like a dull ache that just won't go away.
So yesterday I was a little unhappy, seeing Beastie sitting on the drive, almost sulking. I felt so sad at the idea of not being able to drive her and I still can't bear the idea of parting with her.
Maybe when she's gone, I'll be able to properly fall in love with Jeff, for Jeff is a super car and deserves her time to shine. Aaaaah.

Brrm Brrrm

I've had my Mum and Step-Dad Tim staying with me for a week, it's so strange going from a house of two with Mifford & I to a house of five, including their dog Louis.

I had to remember to close the bathroom door!
Am I alone in this, but I just never bother as I'm living alone, am I weird?

Well, I know I am, but still...

The really cool thing was that I got to try out lots of different recipes. As a single girl, I don't really bother to cook much for myself, so many recipes make family sized portions and you can't really get a quarter of an egg, you know?
So, I've updated my Food Blog with the lovely things I made, like Lemon & Asparagus Risotto, Blueberry Bagels, Pavlova Roulade with Rose Water Mascarpone, Pak Choi with Cashews, and more...
I think I'll be back to the old cup a soup and pasta from now on.

I also finally managed to find a new car. It was so much harder than I ever anticipated it would be.

Tim & I went browsing for cars last Monday. All day we drove around and I spent many a minute berating this vehicle:

It's not a pretty thing is it? It's an ugly car said I. I'd never have one of those said I.
We arrived at about the last garage of the day and one sat in the forecourt. Once again I reiterated how ugly it was, but joined Tim in his peering in through the window.
"It has three seats in the front!" I squealed.
"Yes" says Tim.
"But that means there's room for me, my handbag AND a passenger upfront! I think I want one! How much is it?"
Tim looks at me and I realise I have done nothing but whine about this car for most of the day.
I have been swayed by the fact it has a seat for my handbag. It's not even that big of a handbag.
But not only that, it's huge, it's basically a van with seating.
Then I discover that the back of the middle front seat folds flat and provides you with a tray and drinks holders. I am smitten. Gone are my loathings for its ugly exterior.
It has a tray! And room for a handbag!

I didn't buy one. It was bloody expensive on the old insurance. Damn shame.
Anyway, I collect Jeff tomorrow, that's the name of my new car.
I'm not sure why I called her Jeff, it just suits her. Even though she's a she and Jeff's clearly the name of a he.
I am suffering with a combination of excitement and sadness.
I am excited to share some adventures with Jeff and to experiment exactly how much stuff I can fit into her spacious interior, but I am sad that the Beastie and I will have to part ways. Tomorrow is the last day I will be able to drive her and I am going to miss her terribly. I enjoyed driving out of town earlier today, in the outside lane, zooming up the hill, engine revving, aware this might be the last time I'm able to win a race up that hill. Dropping from a 2 litre engine to a 1.4 is going to sting a little. I am telling myself that Jeff is lighter than Beastie and will be able to attain a similar level of speed.
Harriet sent me a text to say she'd seen a Jeff-a-like on the motorway, going very fast. She also seems to be excited by the spacious, van-like interior. We are going to be dangerous.

Speaking of Harriet, I went with her today to an ultrasound scan. I totally saw that little, very little, baby of hers put up a hand for a high five. It's true, there's even a photograph.

The garden is full of seedlings. I am beyond excited. Well, with the exception of the Ambassador Pea which is either really lazy or completely useless. Everything else is pushing its way through the soil in an effort to please me.
Also while Mum & Tim were here, my garden got a bit of a facelift, the lawn was edged and, once the lawn becomes lawn, rather than a home for all weeds, it'll be complete.

Oh! My finger didn't drop off! I attack it with a blender and still it remains strong! It also remains bloody sore, but heck, shove a blade through any part of you and it's likely to smart for a while. I think the fact that I sliced right through the nail and nail bed is what's most sore, it's like having a horrible bruise right under my nail. Nice.

That's all folks.... I won't leave it so long next time... honest!

Songs and More Songs

In this busy world days and weeks pass you by, my song of the week has been passed by, and then today the sun was shining in a glorious way and it made me think of summer songs. Those ones that make you want all the windows open in the car as you drive along.
So, I came to catch up in an aural fashion.

Song LI
Cherry Poppin' Daddies - Zoot Suit Riot:


Song LII
Lenny Kravitz - Are You Gonna Go My Way:

Could Lenny be any more beautiful to look at? No, I thought not.

Song LIII
The Cat Empire - The Chariot:

Felix & Harry are pretty easy on the eye too. I love this song, in fact a snippet of it is the ringtone for my phone. I like my phone yelling to the world that it's never yielded to conformity, makes me smile every time.

Song LIV
Katrina & The Waves - Walking On Sunshine:


Song LV
Blur - Song 2:


Song LVI
The Boo Radleys - Wake Up Boo:

Try As I Might, Sometimes I Just Never Learn...

So, I think I've mentioned before that I'm really squeamish. Forgive me if I'm repeating myself, I did a bit of a search through my blog and I hope I'm not.
Anyway, this is my life. I've always struggled with blood and injury and that light headed feeling I instantly get which means I usually have to lay down for a bit.

Some time ago I got a call from my nephew, he'd fallen from his bike and felt he needed to go to A & E, so I hopped in the car, picked him up and we went on our way. We hung around for a bit until the doctor was free. Finally they called his name and we trotted through to be seen. Well I walked and he hobbled. He explained to the doctor how he had pain in both his knee and his wrist. I felt myself starting to get warm. Which is the first warning sign. The doctor started to manipulate his wrist and my nephew winced. Let's bear in mind, that there's no blood. Not a single droplet, just an invisible injury.
I said I'd just step outside of the curtain and wait for him.
I can't have looked good as I leant against a nearby wall as a nurse appeared and asked if I was ok. She had me sit down and I realised my hearing and vision were both a little fuzzy. A short while later my nephew reappeared, no serious injury having been sustained, he was just going to be pretty sore for a bit.
So now, let's remember that I have brought my nephew to the hospital because he is injured. I have no illness or injury.
So with this in mind the doctor suggests my nephew go and collect a wheelchair, in which to push me back to the car.
I'm ashamed.
I did, however, walk very slowly to the car on my own two feet.

What's weird is this. Many years ago I lived in a, shall we say, less savoury area. Personally, I didn't really have any serious problems, but there were some rough elements. I'd had a neighbour move in and she wasn't really the kind of neighbour you dream of and on this particular occasion there was some serious partying going on. The music was loud, I'd banged on the wall at midnight or sometime thereafter, needing to be at work in the morning it was getting more and more frustrating. Finally at some hour more like morning than night, the party still showed no sign of abating and I called the police. I had to almost plead for them to come out but they finally arrived and told them that the noise really had to quieten down. I could hear my neighbour screaming and calling me names through the wall and wasn't entirely looking forward to the next day.
The music died down and I sat in my lounge just trying to calm down before going to bed. There was still a lot of shouting going on next door and suddenly a door slammed, I looked out the window, saw a man stumble down the drive then lay down in the road. I debated what to do, deciding he was clearly very drunk and couldn't be left in the road when I heard, very clearly, through the wall "I can't believe you've stabbed him".
Shit.
I thrust my feet into trainers, ran into the street in my snowman pyjamas and discovered he was gone from the road. I looked down the street and he was stumbling along. I cautiously approached from behind, making sure no one else was coming from the party. He stopped, turned round and looked at me. Blood had soaked through his t-shirt and shirt and was dripping to the floor. It clearly wasn't good.
I uttered the immortal words "Are you ok?" (I mean obviously he had to be feeling great right?)
He looked at me and said "I've been stabbed. Have you got a light?"
I think he was committed to his cigarettes.
A random stranger had arrived, rung for the police and an ambulance. I made the guy sit down and told the stranger not to let him move while I ran home, grabbed tea-towels and ran back and did that whole applying pressure to a wound thing. But it's different when it's not just a tissue to a spot you picked.
That's a shit load of blood from a stabbing.
Weird thing though, not once did I feel faint. It never fails to amaze me how the human body will block out a normal reaction. It floods you with adrenaline and you feel like you can do anything. Until it's over, then it's one hell of a come down. I remember standing there in the street as he was driven off in the ambulance and the police took away the girl that had stabbed him, I was exhausted and suddenly alone. And really quite lost. I had no idea what to even do with what had just happened.

As an addendum to that, I later found out she'd taken a large kitchen knife and gone right through one of his lungs.
I saw him again, spoke to him and said how good it was to see him up and about, he looked down his nose at me and didn't even bother to speak. Nice guy. I felt a brief, insincere moment of regret for having helped him.
A second addendum would be that some time later there was a serious hammering on my front door, I ran down and came face to face with someone I didn't know, but someone that had clearly taken a bit of a beating. She begged me to call the police, the guy that had been stabbed had come back, and was currently next door beating up my neighbour.
I don't miss living there.

Anyway, it is clear that in times of trouble I am able to cope with injury. Given time to think about it I don't cope at all well. Which is unfortunate as I suffer so very many injuries myself.
Which leads me to this weekend.
I had some carrots and parsnips in the fridge that were borderline, so I decided to whizz them up into a soup and freeze portions of it. I'm working on being frugal, it feels good.
I let the carrots and parsnips simmer away and when they were ready I took out my hand blender and whizzed away with it, I love how the texture of the soup changes, as it becomes more velvety as the vegetables are liquidised.
Some time ago, I made soup and very foolishly didn't remove the pan from the stove before whizzing it with the hand blender, this meant the plastic got pretty soft and a little deformed.
As I was liquidising the carrots and parsnips I found myself wondering if the plastic was soft again and if I could pull it back into shape.
I pulled it out of the soup, placed my thumb and forefinger against it and pulled. Unfortunately, the thumb of my other hand was still resting against the on switch and the movement of pulling on the base pressed the switch against my thumb. The blender whizzed into action.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
I felt it hit against my finger.
No pain, just that feeling of impact. I pulled my hand away, dropped the blender and looked away.
Had I chopped my finger off? I really didn't want to know.
I braved a glance. Finger red, but in place.
Here's a question, why is it our first instinct to stick that in our mouth?
I ran upstairs to grab a plaster, hoping that was all I'd need. Sadly as soon as I removed my finger from my mouth it started to drip. This couldn't be good.
I am, at times, my mothers daughter and knew I had to have sterile gauze swabs somewhere.
I flung a gauze swab around it, applied pressure and went to lay on the sofa before I fell down. I just can't cope, but strangely, if anyone else had been around I would have been as bad. Since I was small I've hated and squeaked anytime anyone came near an injury.
I'm sure my Mum will read this at some point and it's safe to say that if she ever said she promised she wouldn't rip the plaster off, she'd go ahead and rip the plaster off. If she said she wouldn't touch, that pretty much meant she was going to touch. I remember many occasions.
"I've got a splinter"
"Let me see..."
"You'll touch it"
"I won't"
"Do you promise you won't touch it?"
"I won't touch it"
"Okayyyyyyy, but don't touch it, just look"
Then before you know it, your finger is in a stranglehold and the tweezers are upon you. You know it's true, Mum!
Still, it was quicker than the extraction of a splinter in my current life, which involves having a poke, feeling faint, needing a lay down, having another prod with tweezers, feeling nauseous. I'm really that pathetic. I am shamed by it, really I am.

I read a quote the other day, I didn't catch the author of it but I think I might be the exception that proves the rule:

"You live and learn or you don't live very long."

For The Love Of Words

And the love of timewasting.

I keep finding myself going back to WordCount. I find it absolutely fascinating.
I was interested to see that vegetarian is more commonly used than carnivore and in fact omnivore doesn't feature at all, which surprised me.
I started to challenge myself to then find more words which didn't feature.
Bathykolpian doesn't which is not really surprising, but it is one of my favourite words that I use to describe myself.
My favourite word is tegulated. I'm not sure why, it's not even something I can easily slip into conversation, but I just like the way it sounds and feels in my mouth. I'm weird that way.
It interests me also that 'he' is ranked in 15th place and 'she' is in 30th.
I searched for the 1975th ranked word, because that's the year I was born, and the word was 'attractive'. I thank you!

Go play, then come back and tell me where your favourite word is ranked... actually, what IS your favourite word?

PS: I just randomly clicked to see what word would appear and in 44,851 place is the word 'kpnlf'. What in the hell is that?

Green Fingers & Square Eyes

On Sunday I roused myself and discovered the sun was shining and the sky was as blue as can be so I decided that it was finally time to get into the garden and start my vegetables off.
I'd already planted my potatoes and Jerusalem Artichokes but I had a couple of boxes of seed begging for their turn in the compost.
So I managed to plants carrots, beetroot, radishes, peas, beans, sweetcorn, leeks, globe artichokes, strawberries and heartsease.
I then ran out of space.
I'd already needed to stage a run to the garden centre to top up on compost and came home with 360 litres of the stuff.
In order to extend my growing area I flattened out and laid down some cardboard boxes, I then took my bucket and tip-toed over to the building site a short distance away and picked up lumps of abandoned broken brick, creating a border for my flat boxes. When I had a full border I dumped a couple of bags of compost onto the boxes, raked it out and abracadabra I had another planting space. It blocks out the weeds below, whilst the cardboard slowly degrades and allow the plants roots from above to work down. Genius I tell you. I can say that as it wasn't my idea. I saw it on TV. Like everything.
Anyway, it's the perfect bed for my lettuces, rocket and spinach.

I have since established that I am an impatient gardener. I planted this stuff on Sunday. Why hasn't it grown already. It's Wednesday! What are they playing at?!

Anyway, the sun was out today and the temperatures were really pleasant so I decided to have a quiet hour in the garden. I took oranges from the fruit bowl and juiced them, I grabbed a book and headed out. I called to Mifford and she joined me, resting happily in the sun as I swung gently on my swing seat. Mifford won't sit on the swing seat, it freaks her out I think. She got on once and I let it gently swing and her eyes started to bulge in terror as she tried to figure out why the hell the world was moving.
My swing seat is in the shade and after a bit the sun was clearly favouring the bench at the other side of the garden, so I moved over and Mifford decided this was the time to join me. We sat in the sun, my nose buried in a book.
A few moments later a fluttering announced the arrival of a huge wood pigeon who perched atop my fence and slowly fell asleep.
I noticed a buzzing close by and looked up from my book, a bumble bee was flying nearby, I watched him a moment as he landed on the lawn. I looked and said "no pollen down there mate", at which point he disappeared under a dandelion leaf (it's a bad lawn) and promptly vanished from sight. I clearly have a bumble bee home beneath the weedy lawn and this vaguely excites me. I stared at that patch of lawn for a while, waiting for him to reappear but eventually decided that he'd gone for a nap.
As I tore my eyes away from his home they came to rest on where I'd first planted my potatoes, my prayers had been answered, the very first tiny shoot had broken ground. I nearly applauded.
If only I hadn't used all 360 litres of compost I bought, those potatoes are going to need earthing up.
I'm feeling all green-fingered!

I'm also feeling square-eyed. I wonder if that's a phrase that translates well or not?
I love television. I do. I'd love to be able to apologise for it, but I just can't.
I really enjoy getting caught up in a new series. The fourth season of The Unit recently started here, I taped the first episode and for the whole of the following day I got a jolt of excitement when I thought about it waiting there for me to become absorbed.
I've only recently finished the fourth season of Lost on DVD and am sincerely wishing I hadn't missed the beginning of season five on TV.
I'm now watching season three of Prison Break which I really like, but I miss all the tattoo views, although I'm quite sure make-up are pleased he keeps his top on these days.
I'm also watching the second season of Dead Like Me which makes me laugh very loudly. I keep checking my Sky Planner to make sure that the end of the season isn't approaching as I'm going to miss it so much.
I actually decided that when I become a bazillionaire I am going to recommission all those shows that were cancelled before I was ready for them to end. Carnivale. Twin Peaks. Dead Like Me. I'll Fly Away. Boomtown. Dark Angel. The 4400. My So Called Life. Invasion. Daybreak. Jericho. Plus all the others that haven't immediately popped into my mind.

If it's crime drama I'm pretty guaranteed to be addicted. Should I be spooked that at the exact moment I wrote that my mp3 player decided it should play the theme tune to CSI:Miami? But really, I just love both the CSI and Law & Order franchises. And of course there's Criminal Minds, which makes me want to be able to profile people. Can't forget NCIS of course. Then there's Numb3rs, which makes me want to actually understand math, beyond 1+1=2, which is currently my limit. Sometimes I stretch to trying to remember my times tables, but only on a good day.
Also on my Sky Planner are The Listener, The Mentalist, Without A Trace, Mistresses - which by the way, when the last episode ended I actually called out "No, don't end now, don't leave me this way!" Damn Cliffhangers.

I look back and think of how I adored Northern Exposure when I was growing up, in fact I still do. And, Rob Morrow looks just as bloody gorgeous in Numb3rs as he did in Northern Exposure. Which can't be fair.
If you have never seen it, I hugely, enormously recommend The Secret Life of Us. I love each and every character in that series and felt like I knew each and every one of them, more than that, I wanted to live with them and be their friend!

I can't wait for the new season of Dexter!
Are they doing another season of Smith? I need to know... maybe it's IMDB time!
Oh and I need to see more of Las Vegas too - I like that a lot!
Maybe I need help for my addiction... or once again, more hours in the day?
There's a new show coming to Living - The Eleventh Hour, I suspect it's going to drag me in too. I seem to be powerless to resist.
I'm not entirely sure that it's a good thing I have a wealth of unseen TV boxsets on my lovefilm list too. Bones is waiting for me, along with Firefly, Californication, Deadwood, Homicide - Life On The Street (which I remember really liking many years back), JAG, Murder One, The Shield, The Sopranos, The West Wing (yeah, I'm behind the times) and The Wire.
I do have an addiction. Oh well, it's a good one, theoretically I can ride an exercise bike whilst watching, so essentially it's good for me. Maybe.