Sunday morning mass yielded yet another cringeworthy moment in the life and times of Michelle, where in her role as choir/organmistress, she decides she’d better switch the organ volume off just in case she drops a large, heavy hymnal on the keyboard, with cacophonous and horribly embarrassing consequences. Her hand moves to carry out said decision, and accidentally knocks said hymnal onto organ keyboard, with said cacophonous and horribly embarrassing consequences.
Most of Sunday evening also involved cringing, except that this was due to A.I., which I came out of feeling like I’d been viciously sodomized for three hours by Steven Spielberg, the ghost of Stanley Kubrick and the freaking Blue Fairy. More on this later, if I decide it’s worth my time reviewing.
The post on Monday brought All Is Dream (exquisite) and Strange Little Girls (quite intriguing so far, but more exploration needs to be done) from CD-Wow and an invitation to a reception with the Papal Nuncio, which I’d quite forgotten I was supposed to go to.
In the evening I skived the UCL Catholic Society opening party to go to the UCL Debating Society opening debate, where sudden speaker shortage meant that I got hauled up to speak about hardcore pornography on a side I neither agreed with nor found particularly intellectually edifying. It felt odd for a debating society to be spending its opening debate making bad knob gags at a time when the world really does have a bit more to worry about than people who film simulated bestiality, and I left after the debate feeling dissatisfied and mildly grouchy, although pleasant little encounters with various lovable people (Russ, Nick, John, Alec) on the way home helped to dissipate that. (It could, of course, also have been the wine and numerous Smirnoff Ices taking effect, but I prefer being cheered up by people than alcohol.)