InsaneJournal

Not the Best Day Ever
So, I'm heading off to Festival tomorrow. Hopefully, it'll be fun - and if it's not, I can always come home, as it's so close this year. For the first time ever, I've made myself some garb (I've been in the SCA 5 years, wearing 2nd hand garb I'd bought/got given my a laurel who was sick of seeing me in the same two t-tunics) - a wool! cloak, a wool over-dress, two t-tunics (with gores and everything), and an over-tunic with silly sleeves, that I just realised I'd forgotten to finish. Fuck. Oh well. And, it was made nearly-entirely by myself, with Lyndsay helping with the planning/working out bits.

Except I really hope I haven't broken her sewing machine. I stopped sewing last night when it mysteriously refused to work, and I couldn't get it working today, either. Or, rather, I could, but only for a few stitches, and it complained bitterly. I really hope it's something easily fixed. But, either way, I had need of a new sewing machine. I went to the local shopping centre, hoping for one of those shitty $20 machines. No such luck. K-mart did have a deal on a home-brand (Homemaker, to be precise) machine, for $150. And it worked well, and has button-hole stitches, and all different kinds of feet, and everything. (I may even make myself one of those funky cotehardies with the fuckload of buttons, after Festival, and when I'm thinner.) I really hope I haven't permanently fucked up Lyndsay's sewing machine.

So, after a few hours of mad sewing, I loaded up my granny-cart with my new garb, and trundled to the good curry place on the way to the train station. I go to the closest ATM, which is in a 7-11, and as I'm leaving... one of the wheels on my granny cart breaks. Now, the wheels come off the bloody thing all the time - but this was properly broken. So, like any self-respecting child of a civil engineer, I walk back into the 7-11 for some superglue, and proceed to glue the wheel back together, hoping it'll hold till I get home. While waiting for the glue to dry, I get curry, but no beer, as they wouldn't let me get takeaway but stay on the premises to drink the beer. Finally, the half-fuckload of superglue (2 tubes - it was a pack of 3) is dry (and I have spots of it on my jeans, and all over my fingers...), so I chuck the wheels back on the cart and carefully walk off, wheeling it over nice, flat bitumen. It lasts about 15m before breaking apart. And there was no araldite at the 7-11. I go to throw out the wheels, and they won't fit through the narrow opening of the bin. Great.

So, I drag my cart down the (King) street for a block or two, till I get to a cheap shop that's still open. But, unsurprisingly, I'm out of luck - they don't sell carts, or even the fold-out-wheel-platform-thingys you can strap luggage to. So I drag my way to the nearest bus stop, on the bus, off the bus, up the hill to the train station, and on to the train. I tried to call R to share my tale of woe, but my (stupid fucking BIRD brand) phone has shitty reception, as usual. So in the first call, he can hear me, in the second, I can hear him, and in the third we exchange a few words before I give up, since I didn't feel like yelling my tale of woe for the entire bus to hear.

On the train, waiting for it to leave (I catch city-link trains - specifically the one to Newcastle, as it's quicker than the city trains, and more comfortable), and I open up my curry to start eating - and realise I forgot to grab cutlery and serviettes. So I eat Indian-style, with my naan, while this creepy English woman watches my every movement. Eventually, I get to Hornsby, where R was being awesome and waiting to pick me up, so I didn't have to drag the cart home.

That was my day. Now I'm going to feed my cat.

Oh! Almost forgot to mention that I tried to take my dead Eee PC to Myer - but they told me to call the company that makes it. Typical.