Tag Archives: tattoos

And came down on us like it had been rehearsed

1. September is turning out to be a big month for me. In two weeks I’m going to Gozo, hooray! …With my parents! …OK! My parents are pootling around in Paris at the moment, sending cute selfies from the Louvre and hopefully not being too inconvenienced by France being even more take-to-the-streets-y than usual this week. (I imagine that French poster paper manufacturers must drive around in gold-plated Rolls Royces.) They’re going to Provence next, then Malta for a few days, where I’ll meet them and we’ll catch the ferry to Gozo.

I haven’t been to Gozo in, what, eight years? and I can’t wait to see it again, even if the coolest bit has crumbled into the fucking sea. Fuck you, erosion! Anyway, as long as I get to swim, I’ll be happy. I haven’t been swimming since I went to BC last year, and swimming in the warm inky-blue Mediterranean is the best.

2. Also booked in for September: a new tattoo! Hell yeah! Totally normal and non-desperate behaviour for a 39-year-old woman! Yeah! I’m due, though. I haven’t had a new tattoo since before I left Canada, and that is a lot of years ago now. I came across a photo of this ornament from the Sutton Hoo ship burial recently and was like GET ON MY ARM:

The academic types who are supposed know about this shit don’t know with any certainty what the image represents (what do we pay you for, Poindexter?), but I’m choosing to believe that it’s Odin with his wolves, Geri and Freki, which is probably as good a guess as any, and anyway who cares it’s fucking cool. I adapted the design a bit, and I’m getting this guy to tattoo it for me. Photos to follow.

3. Speaking of Viking geekery, I finally went to the Jorvik Centre in York last month. It was a bit more for kids than I was expecting. The main attraction is a ride through a recreated Viking village, with life-size animatronic villagers moving endlessly and terrifyingly through their slow cyclical butter-churning purgatories; I’ve seen horror films, and that shit is seriously not going to end well. Then they have a collection of artefacts recovered from archaeological digs in York. I was expecting some full-on swords and helmets and elaborate jewellery, but it’s more like “this decrepit rusted-out hook was probably used to hold a cooking pot!” I was a tiny bit disappointed. I think after going to Uppsala and the touring Viking exhibit at the British Museum (FULL. SIZE. VIKING. LONGSHIP.) I’m a bit spoiled for Viking stuff. Still, it was fun and I’m glad I went.

And York is gorgeous, although I didn’t see as much as I’d have liked as it was sluicing down rain the entire day. Like being under a garden hose. So it was a lot of navigating winding cobblestone streets with wet feet while trying to avoid the biggest puddles and simultaneously dodge tourists’ umbrellas.

Hey, I knew what I was getting into when I moved to England.

4. Some recent time-wasting Photoshoppery: