My butterfly is too shiny.

Today was a very early start and a Cambridge day. The interesting bit is that I went to a  Vermeer exhibition  at the Fitzwilliam museum and got to see The Lacemaker and The Music Lesson which was very cool. Other highlights for me included The Reader by Eglon van der Neer, and A Woman at a Window by Jacobus Vrel which I have a secret love for ("Oh screw the housework, it's sunny out there and there are much more interesting things going on. Also yes, I'm fat so if you don't want to look at my arse feel free to avert your eyes irrelevant viewer"). Ok, it's just possible that I am projecting a little ;)

'Kiss it'.

As they couldn’t find anyone else at that moment, I also got roped briefly into waffling on about a painting (The dead Christ supported by the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene, by Bassetti in case anyone is randomly curious). This basically involved me saying things like 'Slate is very dark, and look this one’s not broken. How super!' I’m a  fucking genius I tell you. Amusingly I was asked to take my butterfly hairband off as I suspect butterflies don’t look learned (though they sweetly pretended it was because it was too shiny for camera). Snort. This amused me immensely.   

What else? Aside from practical stuff there was Christmas shopping, including a rather entertaining present for N which I am sniggering about as I type (I think I am hilarious with this and I nearly laughed like a loon in the shop when I saw it. Oh bad puns, how I love thee), more art supplies for a big present I’m making up, and books. Also purple leather gloves for myself from N as miraculously I found a pair that fitted my decidedly non-dainty hands. I sent him a text to tell him he'd bought me a lovely present and naturally as a good slave he was thrilled I'm quite sure.

Coffee, Welsh cakes, nattering, and some generally pleasant Cambridge time.  The festive season is definitely upon us in terms of the shops, it was carols on the speakers and mulled wine scent in the air systems of big shops, which is one of the many reasons I try to avoid them like the plague. I also detected that first whiff of frenzy in the air, lots of Very Middle Class women buying things like shawls with artsy recycled glass beads on, and darling china tea cups in special satin lined gift boxes etc.

Then home on the train and a trudge through the rain in the dark to find a slave waiting with tea for me. Is there anything nicer than coming in tired and cold to find someone dutifully waiting with lovingly pre-prepared tea? I realise most people see O/p as being one long round of chains and debauchery but as far as I am concerned tea is a major component. In fact next time someone puts one of those threads up in the O/p group asking 'what the cornerstone of O/p is' I think I shall reply that here at least, it is tea.

Tonight is my weekly big drugs night so I shall try to fit as much as possible in before I take it. But first dinner. And then, shockingly, some more tea.