We went to see Eddie Izzard last night in Stockholm. First time I have seen a stand-up comedian live, and it was funny. Stupid adjective to use really, but nonetheless suitable.
I can see similarities with him and Ricky Gervais, and currently I prefer the latter.
Very glad, though, that I had the chance to see him, and Jo and Maria seemed to be laughing most of anyone in the place.
Well I think so, since I didn’t get tickets. Despite sitting in front of the computer for several hours, clicking refresh to try and get into the ticket office site.
I’m pissed off for a few reasons:
1) the main reason for not getting in was due to traffic-overload. Since the site, ticnet deals exclusively with booking tickets, they should get their fucking act together and get enough bandwith! DM are not the only world-famous band to play in Sweden. Coldplay (got tickets for them, thank you) tickets also went on sale recently, and probably had the same problem. We wouldn’t know because we obtained ours another way (see below).
2) What in the world possessed ticnet to allow a purchase of 10 tickets per person. This is a stupid amount, and begging anyone who gets into the site to buy the maximum amount, then go and sell them on the black market. This is where we will have to buy our tickets, at twice their original value. At such events, 6 should be the absolute max one can buy.
3) Coldplay allowed fans who had signed up to receive their newsletters the chance to buy tickets before they went on public sale. Although this would not have stopped the problem, at least some DM fans would have been able to have got tickets (ie Jo and I).
All in all, a right balls-up. Still, when trying to get DM tickets I noticed Eddie Izzard is coming to Stockholm, so I snapped up two (I stress, two, not eight or ten). Not all bad, then.
We introduced our Furby, Domo, to Freya today. It had been sleeping for quite a while when Jo decided to give it some more batteries to chew on.
Freya found Domo, as it called itself, quite charming, and gladly cuddled and kissed it, while Jo made it dance and played hide-and-seek with it (I feel terrible calling it “it”, but we have no idea what sex it’s supposed to be).
Horror of horrors: Whilst carefully feeding it (ie putting one’s finger in its mouth), after it being awake for a glorious 5 hours or so, its beak broke. In a whirring fit Domo tried to call for help, but with its top-jaw hanging limply away from its face it was a useless and pathetic plight. I am still haunted by it, I can tell you.
So, Furby is dead. How a broken beak can lead to a total b(r)eakdown is beyond me. I’m sure if I broke my nose I’d be able to carry on in a reasonable lifelike manner. I suppose human and Furby anatomy are vastly different.
Today we went across the road to pick cloudberries, a delicay in Sweden mainly due to its behaviour.
Cloudberries, unlike a lot of other berries, do not grow in clumps. Or indeed on the same plant. No, the cloudberry is a solitary chap, growing close to the ground and preferring marshland. Which is possibly why they cost a small fortune in shops.
There is nothing quite like an outing to the swamps to search for a rare fruit, especially one which refuses to produce itself at a pickable level. Of course, being summertime and being a swamp means an added attraction: mosquito city.
I’m reasonably used to these little bloodsucking bastards by now, but this was ridiculous, even for my standards. Even a frequent application of mosquito repellent didn’t deter the swarm, and Jo even managed to get bitten on the lip.
Our total catch was a bucket’s worth. This is a pretty good harvest, considering the cloudberry’s anti-social growth-pattern. It’s just a pity I do not have a fondness for them.
No, not an anti-Microsoft sentiment, but a general statement about renovation.
I’ve been stripping the windows of our house’s relaxation room for the last week. It’s turning in to a long and painful process, and taking far longer than I had hoped.
Still, I’m trying to do the job well, since the windows we have are quite unique, being as old as they are.