On the Subject of ... Masters, serenades and songs of black humour

My hopes and theories have come to life: that's right my Master's back.

*giggle*

Snooped through the Internet and found details of the upcoming regeneration episodes of Doctor Who. The cast to be precise: Jack, Donna, Sarah Jane Smith, the 11th Doctor and of course... the Master

*giggle giggle maniacal laughter* Oh, Master.... Mr. Saxon... *love-sick sigh* my gorgeous time traveling genociding psycopathic alien.

(What? Villains are attractive. 'Specially is suits.)

Thanks to Fallow I'm currently still on a sugar-like high. So, I thank her for introducing me to the Gothic Archies, they sing the most amazing things.

If I ever get serenaded I want it to be with their song Shipwrecked.

*sings*
I can't think of a single thing I'd rather do
and that's why I had to get rid of the crew
So I lopped off their heads and dropped them into the sea

Very romantic.

Their songs:
Shipwrecked
The world is a very scary place
Walking my gargoyle
and other's...

*sigh* Sugar High....Bubblegum-Goth....

On the subject of...Frog legs, Psychopath-looking Doctors and June air.

Some of the people I know are currently on a short visit to France, may you enjoy it there.
As for my Mud and Fallow. Well it's right up Fallows alley, she's been there many times; as for Mud. I hope that she'll enjoy her first time in a foreign land and be willing to travel alot in the future (with us two of course.)

As pretty much always I don't have time for a well written article of philosophical line of thought. However two notes:

1. The Eleventh Doctor is upon us!!!
2. And there are rumours that the Children of the Earth (short 3rd season story line) will be aired in June... (On BBC1, which is a big deal)
   

On the subject of... lyrics and dry tissues

Two artistic (meaning, not word for word) translations of Russian songs with lyrics I love:

Она идет по жизни смеясь

She goes through life laughing,

She's as light as wind

Nowhere in the world

Her face won't hit the dirt

A tried method of dealing with questions

Like they're not even there

In everything there's sunlight

She goes throught life laughing

Meeting and parting

No regrets in parting easy

and meeting each time

And all the new faces

Quickly mixing

Into a melting circle

Of friends

She goes throught life laughing

As a guest she's like at home

Where everything is known

Luck is with her

Life is Sucessful

With no exceptions

All with amazment

Watch her leaving

Not noting the night that are spent crying

By the one who goes throught life laughing.

The original, does sound much better however this is the best translation I can give. The tune is amazingly catchy (in style I personally call old-style rock) and it was sung by Машина Времени (Machine of Time).

Иностранец (part of lyrics)

Gift me with the first dance,

Take me away with you,

Far and wide I am a foreigner,

And everywhere I'm like their own,

Like a boat upon the ocean,

I have lost the shore my own,

Far and wide I am a foreigner,

Take me, mother, home.

The Original

Подари мне первый танец,

Забери меня с собой,

Я повсюду иностранец,

И повсюду я вроде бы свой.

Словно лодка в океане,

Затерялся берег мой,

Я повсюду иностранец,

Забери меня, мама, домой

Maybe this will tell you something about me. Maybe it wont. Don't over analyze it please. The original was sung by Валерий Меладзе (and the words and the music were by his brother).

I also suspect that at somepoint I shall take upon my self to translate Russian into English (I do take suggestions).

And finally...

Last weekend: Mother wonders if our visa will let us visit England.

Chance of going to England (for a quick holiday visit): 98%

This saturday: A week of finding absolutely no information and being always re-directed.

Chance of going to England: 60%

This sunday morning: Andrew saying that on the Internet there are tales of similar problems.

Chance of going to England: 10%

This sunday afternoon: Found confirming information in Wikipedia.

Chance of going to England: 0.1%

Chance of running out of dry tissues in the house: 90%

On the subject of...Visiting relatives.

Today, around midday my grand (or is it great?) uncle arrived at the airport in Melbourne. His flight was from San Francisca (where he stayed with other relatives) to Sydney to Melbourne.
This means that as soon as we came big fest. A lot of food, drink and laughter and talking. Russian style. So at the moment I believe I'm slightly drunk. One glass of champagne can do that to you if you're a light weight.

I probably will come when I'm more in my senses and edit this entry.

Amy W, don't worry I will email tonight or tomorrow, I am SO so glad to hear from you.

Lovely Dovely

Fresc.

On the subject of... Australian Winters in Melbourne

I never thought I say this but I can't wait till September. Not because it's my birthday, or because I miss seeing my friends but because: maybe...maybe it will get a bit warmer.

We have the heating on constantly (and it's very odd type of heating too, there are floor vents in every room and the heating blows warm air periodically through them.) Not that it's of any use. The whole place reminds me of the dratted trip to Cornwall were we stayed in a caravan, during winter holidays with no heating. Its like that. Only worse somehow.

I suspect that it's that way because, well it's Australia. Where are the parrots, and kangaroos and hot weather? Maybe that's it.

Or maybe it's because I'm constantly ill. You know not fully... but, under the weather I guess.

Or quite simply maybe it's the cold. The fact that I haven't felt warm for so long, the fact that even thought I'm wearing two jumpers and knitted socks I still can feel the cold. My hands and fingers and feet are still cold and numb.

All I want is a room somewhere,

Far away from the cold night air.

With one enormous chair,

Oh, wouldn't it be lovely.

Lot's of chocolate for me to eat.

Lot's of coal making lots of heat.

Warm face, warm hands, warm feet,

Oh, wouldn't it be lovely.

On the Subject of...Science.

And I don't mean the science that we do at school but the science at an laboratory like MSSL. Now MSSL belongs to UCL (Univercity Colage London) and the letters stand for Mullard Space Science Laboratory. Now my mum and Andrew work there that is where I am now going instead of school to help them pack all their belonging before we leave.
Now imagine this picture, you are going to your mothers leaving lunch and you see a scientist, you know the proper the one's who don't sit at the computers but do physical work. In a white lab coat. Washing his car. At his place of work, using a bucket sponge and a hose pipe (to where he attached it I have no clue.)
In a way I believe mum is right. MSSL is not a job, it's a life style. There is four people working in her office. One of them - now this is a he - has an origami calender and pictures of him on quite a few roller coaster. The other -she - has a marble run thingy system on her filling cabinet. So this gives us the statistic: 2 out of 4 scientist haven't left childhood.
No that's unfair but moving on to the more important news. I doubt I'll be able to use the Internet for the next month or so, so there is a chance I'll have some guest speaker on here to do that for me. Have no fear.... I am saying that just to know how many people know that I am on here as I forgot to give this to my class, so the people right now possessing this knowledge are: R, and Westlake, Charlotte (the one who draws the sweet cuboid fluffy things), and two teacher one of which hasn't been at school yet (as far as moi goes).
Other than that I've been having some theories, I'll write the shorter one down now....
To the Truly English people our there...Can you ask the guest at your wedding just to bring money? I mean I know all about the list and all that rot but just cash..money...vouchers? I do have a base on my theory, a family friend is from India and he's marring, around now and he has about 1 000 (that's thousand for those of you who hated maths!) so if every person brang (this doesn't seem to be a word...oh well) 10 pounds that will be 10 000. So do give a answer if you may...
That's for now,
Love
Sasha (or as Becca's Byron called me the other day Sashiiiiiiiiiiiiiii)

On the subject of Getting Ill during English and Having Good Friends

I get the first and have the second.
Yesterday during RE I wasn't feeling too good, but well, thought nothing of it until in English it got much, much worse. I can't describe it really. Pain, yes, but not unbearably so, rather like a goblin took up living in my tummy and inviting his friends over to party. You can't ignore it, it - or rather the goblin - wont let you rest until most of your mind is focused on the pain and the feeling of bile rising up your throat. I wasn't sick - puking on the floor - no but I could feel, the whole disgusting lot of it.
I decided to go the medical room, but lost my nerve closer to my goal, I guess. As I arrived to reception they were just 'releasing' the people from the medical room. I saw very little point in going in if they aren't going to do anything useful. So I ran with the tail between my legs back to behind the art rooms.
It is there that my great, brilliant, one in a hundred, lovable, the best, friends caught and forced me to see reason. While two rushed of to a club, a pair lead me to the medical room, from very soon I was taken to the doctors then home. To A, J, R and P, my greatest thanks and to the others as well who weren't there during the incident but if they were they would have acted the same.

On the subject of Rain and Sitting on Radiators.

While the first today it seems was invertible, the second sweetened my deal greatly. I love rain. One of my favorite childhood memories is to do with rain. It takes place in the summer, during the sweet, tropical, type of rain. I am in an attic on top of an old wooden datcha (summer house). The atmosphere is hot and stuffy, and the air smell of burning herbs. The air sickly sweet. I am sitting on the rough wooden planks that constitute for a floor and am leaning eagerly towards the ill - fitted window. Outside the rain is pouring in steady strings, ignoring the supposedly sunny time. I close my eyes and all my senses turn to sound. The pitta patter noise of strings of droplets hitting the roof intensifies and multiplies in the dust filled room. I take a breath deep enough to choke myself on the stifling air and begin to daydream. My breath evens out to the rhythm of droplets and I am lost.
That's my good memory of the rain. My worst - or one of my worst - memory is not bad in the sense of things nor is it terrifying. It does however appeal to the prideful side of my mischief. It takes place near the same datcha as mentioned before. The detail of my memory are blurry but what I remember is me and a couple of friends (Sashka and Denis) were digging a grave for a bird. I think one of them found it somewhere and we're decided to give it a proper burial. Now we're already made a grave cross - a couple of sticks - and began digging. Now knowing our luck, it wasn't even raining, it was pouring. So there we were, standing behind the bushes of my family's datch, soaked to the bone trying to bury a bird. The there was a flash of lightning with a minisecondal succession of thunder. The rain must have intensifies, as we decided to give up and run. As we neared the door, lighting struck again, at the same time thunder exploded in our ears. Now have you ever been 75 or so meters away where are lightning struck, as it struck? I have. Our ears were ringing but the thunder seemed to go on and on in our heads.
Sashka lives just down the road, it was his neighbours water canister that was struck.
Is it wrong of me to be twistedly proud that I went through that and nearly went deaf?
Having said that, generally I like rain, I like the smell before and the atmosphere after. But to me it seems the best way to enjoy rain is somewhere hot and dry.

On the subject of... Candles

Candles are only romantic when they come with a man and a ring. But even then they are not that romantic. I love the smell of smoke therefore I am easily convinced to burn candles and oils. But only in the case when at any minute I can if -if I wish- to switch on the lights. Not in times of dire need in a power cut, in a shower.