As many of you probably know, I have bad feet. This comes from shattering one of them and a mix of balleting and overcompensating with the other. So, if you were in Musee d'Orsay or the Louvre yesterday, and small a short woman creeping about in stockinged feet, my apologies.  Also, if you were in the Renaissance Gallery of the Decorative Arts section of the Richleau wing of the latter institution and saw same said stockinged figure swearing ineptly in four languages, that was the point at which my camera card was full. Not a single painting seen! My computer's death is an ongoing source of woe, as I cannot unload. Not to fear, there is an FNAC nearby and I will stop there on the way out for a new one. Since our last update, I have been stalking the Musee Cluny. It is just around the corner from our hotel, and rewards repeated visits. There was an entire room of jewellery that had been closed to me on my first visit, for example. Yesterday's jaunt began later than I had meant it to, and so I was not even on my way back to the hotel until midday, at which point raitala and pingrid were stirring and half-dressed. Young people, let this stand as a solemn warning of the dangers of drink. There had been an inkling the night before that this could be the case: 'We shouldn't open the second bottle.' 'No, we should. Brammers will drink some.' 'Oh no I won't, I've already brushed my teeth.' 'Well, if we open it we'll drink all of it and then we will feel seedy.' 'If we drink just a little ...' 'Excellent plan! We can stop easily!' Time passes ... 'Oh no! We drank it all!' 'No, there is a glass left!' Much more to add, but pin is ready to run out on a breakfast mission, so I will save it for later, assuming I can wrangle a computer. Woe is a dead laptop!

our firewall died. twice. as did our tv-card. three times. grr.

the upshot, except for crap reception, is that apparently lj-notification emails aren't coming through. So unless I check my own journal (does anyone actually do that?) I don't know if anyone has commented on anything.

I think I've cleared things now. But if you've asked a question or something and haven't had a response, email me. Or message me, because that does tell me.

In the meantime, today there was brewing for CF. And the very last of the christmas shopping. And Hogfather. Tomorrow: wort-bread, ginger bread, crispbread and bog-standard white bread.

Today I went to an ACF rally about Climate Change, and a woman from Tuvulu talked about higher king tides washing away houses and farmland.  And then, as I was reading an article suggesting that the current cuts suggested at Copenhagen are still likely to result in a 3 degree temperature rise, I suddenly thought, "hey, the disaster's really going to happen this time".

When I thought about my response,  I realised that none of the worries of the future I had in my childhood and young adulthood have come to pass.  We have not had a nuclear war, the world didn't end on 1 Jan 2000, and the hole in the ozone layer is basically under control. 

Subconciously, my brain has been putting climate change into the same bucket, with the same likely conclusion.  I wonder how many other people have the same response going?

Edit: How many other people think that climate change will be resolved somehow, based on this erroneous thinking? 

Posting this quickly from work - where I arrived at 8.30am - a personal record for the last 4 months.

I thought I would post my wishlist now, hopefully in time to be of some use.

Small notebook for in my handbag.  The one I have is almost full and it's nice to have a new one each year.  Although without Midwinter, next years may not fill up like this one did.  The one I have is 9cm x 14cm and 1.5cm thick.  I really like the elastic to hold it closed.  I've noticed I do quite a lot of drawing in it, so if it had some pages with 5mm grids that would be awesome.

I use a diary at work and last year I consciously went out to buy one with interesting pictures every so often.  I like that.  I also like A5 size, with a week to a page (2 weeks to an opening)

Hair stuff.  I can't seem to keep them, so hair ties, clips and bun things would be great.  This would make a fantastic recurring present - at least while I have long hair.  Rose would probably enjoy this sort of gift/s too.

I need a compost turner.  One of those metal things with a handle and a spiral on the end that you can screw into your compost pile and then lift.

The watering can I have is dodgy.  The water rose keeps falling off.  Maybe I should have spent more money on it.  but I don't think I knew how much I would use it.

I plan to lie on the couch for at least 3 days over the holidays and I really need stuff to read while I do it.  Help.

Which was very nearly The Travails of Brammers, parts one through infinity, but all is well! The strike is called off! Mrs Justice Laura Cox is the very model of a modern major saviour and I will not be having Christmas sans Mr Brammers and the cats. It is verily a Christmas miracle! Though on hearing the news of probable strike action on the day I am due to fly home, one very dear friend invited me to Christmas with her family and another offered me her flat and cat, which moved me very deeply in both cases. I genuinely love you two. And I will be able to go back to London and meet tommybarbarella and vashtan and still see cats, hurrah! People are mostly wonderful. Also, you should be aware that it is SNOWING and I have been complaining about the cold. When I return home and complain about the heat, you are all free to mock me. The journey from London to Paris was managed with little fuss. The Eurostar is a brilliant invention, as the little man near me said, 'It's certainly better than the ferry, isn't it?' After a good night's sleep and a hot shower, I took myself to the Cluny and pottered about the Moyen Ages for a long morning. They have a small textile exhibition on at the moment with some very beautiful lampas and embroidered fragments, which was very worth the seeing. I had to do two laps of the second floor, though, as the Lady with the Unicorn room was filled with screaming children on my first try. This was no great hardship, the museum is easily navigable and it was great fun looking at the items again as I rushed past the 'wrong' way. I have been regularly accosted by beggars, though, whether because I look kind or simply ambulatory, I am not sure. The first one was gently sent away with what I intended to be a French apology for my pitiful language and lack of ready cash. It came out in Italian instead. I was barely past 'Mi dispiace' when the young man demurred and made a gesture that he was sorry to have bothered me. Suddenly it occurred to me: French people are unusually unlikely to speak Italian in my experience (perhaps it is only in my peer group, but Italians who speak French are fairly common, but the reverse, not at all), since then I have been apologising in Italian rather than English as it seems a far more certain way to escape with minimal social embarrassment. I am aware that by perpetuating this fraud I am making Italians seem less organised than they generally are, but feel I make up for this with my book-centred contributions to their economy. In joyful news, I have met up with pingrid and raitala and we are even now all resting in our hotel room before second dinner (apparently, Hobbit meals are the order of the day). We trekked to the Musee des Arts Decoratifs today to see the Vionnet exhibition and muddle through their Middle Ages and Renaissance galleries. The Vionnet was very very good indeed, though I wish the models had been padded to fit the dresses as some of them hung rather oddly. The other galleries were splendid and there will be pix when I can make my computer work (Glares at computer!) On the way down the Left Bank, we found a little snowman on the balustrade near Pont Neuf. For some reason it was decided this was Harry. pingrid declared we must make him a Draco. Alas, as raitala pointed out, 'You've carefully sculpted a snow cock.' People walking past smiled indulgently at us, no doubt concluding that we were part of a strange giggling cult that worshipped Priapus. I have just read the above sentence out to pingrid and asked her which moment of the day I could possibly have meant. 'Any of them,' was her honest reply. raitala wants it noted that we have also discussed art and politics, with only a little cock. But we are off for a drink, so the amount of cock is certain to grow. Also, first dinner was served by Blaise Zabini: if you can find the quite nice bar on the corner of Rue des Saint Péres and Rue Jacob, you may be lucky enough to see him. Beautiful to look at and ever so pleasant to order from. Not like that, you terrible perverts ;-)

finished work today, which is really nice. the garden is doing its thing all by itself now. it's too early to start on the final christmas stuff. too late to start anything else.

it's nice.

I had planned to finish posting my meme responses, and talk about some nore positive things - but things have suddenly turned sucky...

Dad is back in hospital - kidneys overloaded, may have had a mild heart attack - Mum says there is no need to go home immediately - will decide after talking to Dad today

Uni - I'm told Property Law is an interesting subject, pity the lecturer is so sucky - I will provide her with feedback but I don't know if it will change anything - just feel like sitting for four hours at a time listening to her NOT getting through the material because she's too busy trying to be entertaining is not the best use of my time - of course the fact that at our first lecture she spent two hours on admin (!!!!) may be colouring my view of her effectiveness.......

Rex (work) is getting worse - almost ready to toss the whole thing in

Posting may be spasmodic - have class tonight, and waiting to hear more about Dad.

About to leave the land of Rai and the SpareRaiLaptop is coming with me for a few days (blessed be the Rai), so I am not plunged into communications blackout after all. However, BA has just declared industrial action starting on the 22nd, and my flight to Frankfurt on that date is a codeshare operated by BA. Cats, we may be doomed. Those of you who are industrial arbiters or who have religious beliefs, do see if you can wrangle a Christmas miracle for me!

Thanks shadow_5tails for this link.

Internet censorship gets underway in Australia. This link is to Conroy's media release.



It's time we banned all variations on the phrase "the safety of families". It's always a euphemism for something nasty.

In which disaster strikes!

After a lovely weekend, and with my feet still well guarded and well warmed by Raicat, I sat down this morning to do some work while the stock was made into soup and some loads of washing went through. You would think that this virtue would be rewarded. Alas, no. My computer died.

A screen tells me to restart, and when I restart, it repeats the request, ad infinitum. I ran into the Apple Store, who told me they could fix it within four weeks, and that it is either a software or a hardware problem. I may have been a tiny bit middle aged as I asked if they had any more immediate and useful suggestions. Alas, rebooting from the disk was the only suggestion.

The good news is that it is well within warranty and the disks are at home and I backed up before I left.

The bad news is that the disks are at home.

Mr Brammers also had the fuel hose come off the car as he was driving home to search the internet for other cures and then discovered he had not brought his keys with him, leading to an emergency locksmith call. I believe that is the requisite three pieces of bad luck.

I am typing this on Rai's spare laptop, and will probably not see another computer for a few days, so I am afraid the travelogue is suspended for the moment. However, I did finally visit Darwin at the Natural History Museum, where a woman was frotting his statue, so wrong! And I composed a short and hilarious photo essay that I will try and find a way to publish for you in the next few days. Let me just say, a Skoda on Eaton Square? The credit crunch is truly cruel.

In which our heroine has aching legs and is finally able to sit and gasbag with Cal ...

One of the great joys of my life is the fact that timing often works out for me. So raitala was off on a minibreak just after I was scheduled to hit London, which you would think was a disaster, but we are meeting up in Paris later in the week and it has meant that I could catsit and flatsit for her. This has been a major piece of luck: not only was there a washing machine, so I could do all my laundry, but RaiCat is a creature of great loveliness who has diligently guarded my feet each night and is even now helping me to type. She is cheering me up immensely, as I miss my cats every bit as much as I miss Mr Brammers, I am ashamed to say.

Yesterday morning saw me up and about nice and early, brimming with glee. I was going to meet calanthe_fics properly for the first time! It is possible that I was so intent on being at Euston when her train pulled in that I arrived ninety minutes early. Obviously this was a sign that I should visit the British Library and see some of their treasures in the permanent exhibition there. Spectacular display and interpretations: really good snippets of context for each of the artefacts and a good selection of items, too. Unintentionally hilarious commentary from a few of the other visitors, especially regarding the Magna Carta, while the two gentlemen who were there to research Dr Johnson left me dying to read whatever paper they might be working on.

I hurried back to the station in time to meet Cal. In new boots. Which was a mistake, given that my manky right foot was already rather bruised due to a few unfortunate suitcase dropping incidents. Texting her furiously (and managing to write Euston Square, not Euston Rail not once but twice, because I am an idiot), we discovered that she was at the ticket office sorting ticket issues, while I needed to buy a bandage and innersoles at Boots. This delayed our Glorious First Meeting by a good three minutes, and the scene finally took place at the Euston Ticket Office.

Brammers (muttering to self): Blue carryall, blue carryall ... scanning, scanning ...

Cal: *Waves elegantly from Giant Queue*

Brammers: Oh! Hello!

Cal: I may be some time.

Brammers: Yay! It's you! Er, I need to go and strap my foot, because I am a limpy idiot.

Cal: Fabulous, you do that in reception and I will meet you there when I am done here.

Brammers: Your plans have merit!

Yes, one of those epic tales for the ages from which great poetry is made. I think that the important take-home lesson here is Immediate Comfort and Immediate Oh Good, You're Exactly What I Expected (Side note here to say that, like a majority of my women friends who I have met in person after speaking with, the only difference is that Cal is about 65% better looking than she lets on, possibly 70%. It is possible that I am the only woman I know who may slightly overstate her own attractiveness ('No, really, I am usually 15% cuter, but I am very sleep deprived and the dark circles are currently epic ...'))

We ran/hobbled off to the Tate Britain, where we were thrilled to discover that both of us wanted to do the Old Stuff. It's not as though neither of us likes Modern Art, we do, but when you are on a Culture Mission, it is so much more fun to ridicule 17th century fashion and be quietly impressed by Elizabethan portraiture, and gently moved by Chatterton than it is to discuss the intertextuality offered by the late Surrealists. We also boggled at a spot of Turner and were not a little impressed by Canaletto's OCD.

We discussed Fandom. This was a mostly successful conversation hampered only by the fact that I have the memory of a vague fish. 'Did you like X?' 'Er, possibly, how did it go again?' I boggled at the length and breadth of Cal's commitment, she indulged my lengthy rambles on the taxonomy of fannish types. Other gallery goers looked at us oddly as we confessed that all of the portraiture was giving us Ideas of an Historical AU nature ...

On returning to the Raibode, we briefly recalled that we had thought of writing Zombie!HP fic, before deciding that a cup of tea and an early night were better options (we had eaten out, due to an inability to find ingredients that could be cooked quickly). Today we woke at a reasonable hour and visited the Old Operating Theatre, Museum and Herb Garrett, down near London Bridge. Due to a lack of paying attention, we walked straight past the street it was on, but found it without too much difficulty. The museum itself is at the top of a narrow spiral stair, happily I had my good walking shoes on and the foot was being less evil today. Fascinating and slightly terrifying stuff all round, with an emphasis on 19th century instruments and earlier herbal remedies (surprisingly catholic: Greek, Jewish, Indian and Arabic remedies were presented alongside the traditional English). From the perspective of intriguing artefacts and a glimpse of Times Gone By, it is a very successful place, though I do think they could have a little more rigour in their curating intelligence at the expense of a little aesthetic pleasantry.

The nearby Fashion and Textile Museum lured us with a shiny sign, which was something of a lie in the sense of 'it will be near the sign', but nonetheless was in the direction indicated. It was a festival of Post-War girly frocks: including a pinafore that I loved in the early 1970s and love still, so that was very much like seeing an old friend again, but not strictly a museum of fashion as such, more a snapshot of 20 years of fashion. Still, I purchased an eelskin coin purse for a very small sum, and who can ask for more?

Then, far too soon, it was time to bid adieu to Cal. I promised that I would read and remember more fics so that we could discuss them, she promised to read some of the appalling Australian children's literature I had given her to Cal Jnr, which will do bad things to Jnr's sense of manners, but stand her in good stead adventure-wise. I am glossing over this, due to tiredness and general jetlagged stupidity, but it was actually quite a wrench: having a Cal finally in my grasp, 27 hours was far too short a time to keep her there.

However, it was still daylight, so I trekked down to the Queen's Gallery and had a lovely hour or so looking at the current exhibition. The Faberge animals and flowers, and an insane stumpwork casket, were the high points for me, I only wish they had allowed photography. I did take a shot of the loos: hot water and luxe soaps for all Her Majesty's subjects! Bless her. She was in, for those who care to know where the Monarch is at any given time.

From there I wandered back through St James's Park and was accosted by many fat geese and overly bold squirrels. Horrid grey invading ones, alas. People feed those animals far too much. I could have sworn I saw a heron, but it was half-light and I was growing tired. Then through Horse Guards and up to St Martin's where I popped down to the Brass Rubbing Centre, because I had a voucher and wanted to use it. Genuine good fun for a quarter hour, and a decent rubbing to take home, but a very disappointing gift shop that was general tat for the most part and very little on St Martin's or Trafalgar Square, or brass rubbing for that matter, rather oodles of chocolate and Erik Satie CDs. I suppose they must make a living from it, as there were four assistants, but I like things to be more specific.

At this point, the cold finally reached right down to my bones and I am ashamed to say that I bailed on my friend who I had arranged to have afternoon tea with, scurrying back to rai's and using her hot water to ease the aches. I have made most of a soup tonight (the stock, which is clarifying in the fridge and will be finished in the morning), washed bedding, done some dishes and watched a little Merlin on BBC Catch-up, which I finally remembered was available to me here. Though I wish Cal was still here, I was able to smile over the fact we both find the Merlin lads v pretty (and can have one each according to taste) as I scared the Raicat with my bark of laughter at the following exchange:
'We could disguise him!'
'That might work'
'We could dress him as a woman!'
'That, on the other hand ...'

My brother's best mate got married recently. The newly-weds had plans to go to Canada and teach over there for a while. They almost got there too, but when they went for their physical's, V got diagnosed with malignant lung cancer. They may have caught it early, but she will still have to have one of her lobes removed. She never smoked. She's 26.

Yes. Sometimes life does suck.

while I think of it - some hints if you want to give stuff to Rose

Rose loves gardening.  We "check our garden" several times a day, exclaim over how big the sunflower plants are (they are now taller than she is) and argue over the watering can.  She also loves watching gardening shows and tonight exclaimed over the scarecrows in a school garden, admired the pink flowers and was enthusiastic about the rainbow coloured fan that's similar to the one in splodgenoodles garden.

Rose also likes reading.  She can now name most of the letters of the alphabet when she sees them and sings the alphabet song with only a few funny phrases.  Books would make nice presents, but we do already have a lot.   We read The Cat in the Hat Comes Back at Hrothgar and Ava's place this weekend, and she's still quoting it.  We don't own that one.

Rose's language has exploded in the past 4 weeks.  She has gone from someone who is difficult to understand, to somebody who describes complicated scenarios.  She has also gotten very adamant about the world going her way.  I'm not sure I would describe her as easygoing anymore.
 
Also, if you ever ask Rose what sort of pizza she would like and she answers "apple pie pizza", you will be safe if you buy her a tropical pizza with pineapple.

Its been a weekend of 'events' and I am now utterly exhausted and seriously need another weekend to recover!

Let me run you through my schedule:

Sat
House auction (not mine, but it was very interesting anyway)
Baby shower for boopyscreet
Dinner at Iori with my beloved aunt and her friends (she left me a message saying my decrepit ag-ed aunt was in town - I can't keep up with her...)

Sun
Walk with miladyred , followed by unplanned breakfast and Glee watching at her house after
Hosted lunch for catsathome , Ms R and Mr J

And I'm exhausted - how could such a light social schedule exhaust me you may ask?

I don't know - probably the not sleeping so well because of the whole pelvis out of alignment thing and various bits of my body being taped and the resulting release headaches as my muscles and joints get used to being back where they should be might have something to do with it. But lord I'm tired.......

But I've had a fun weekend - and managed to fit a little light shopping in as well - I now have my Christmas dress for this year - its a Diana Ferrari dress, in blues and reds, a floaty afternoon frock. Its so purdy........

So - might go have a nap before having some leftowvers for dinner. For those that are interested in those types of things, lunch menu was:

Deeks gluten free bruschetta with Maggie Beer pate (catsathome supplied this)

BBQ butterflied legs of lamb (one greek style marinade, one rosemary and mint) - and yes I now know how to use my BBQ :)
Rosemary and garlic potatoes
Roast pumpkin and carrot
Big garden salad

Champagne jelly mould with berries (blueberries, raspberies and red currants) - made by Ms R, and served (for those that could) with my very best vanilla icecream.... (yes I keep it in the freezer for my friends who can eat it)

Accompanied by Clover Hill champagne and then a Margaret River red (2005)

Oh - and I have recevied this weekend some truly yummy gluten free shortbread from Ms B and some gluten free almond bread from Ms R - I'm set for baked goods for Christmas now (assuming I haven't eaten it all).

Well punters, you've been waiting to hear the next instalment of my search for love, with baited breath I dare say, so here it is.

( Delve into the world of Speed Dating )

So all in all, we had a pretty good time, it was really full on and exhausting talking to people for 3 minutes only to work out whether you would suit each other. It really is an exercise in being Hyperactive and being able to be engaging 19 times over! It was a night full of giggles, and I am looking forward to next Thursday, though I will be flying solo, no wing woman to help veto boys (or pimp me, turns out she was promoting me to some of the guys as she had them after me).

I forgot the best part of my poor transport decision yesterday! It meant that I needed to catch the District Line out to Richmond, and two buskers jumped on around Sloane Square. Irish Steve played that Irish instrument that looks like a cross between a lute and a ukelele and I know it like the back of my hand, but you try crossing brain damage with sleep deprivation and see how many nouns it leaves you. English Ben had a fiddle, and the two of them proceeded to play a reel, a waltz and a jig.

When it came to the jig, Steve said 'And now comes the part you've been dreading, when I walk among you and ask that you put a little coin into the bag here. Now don't feel you have to, though if you do we'll love you. And if we're making you nervous, or you don't deal very well with social interactions, just look the other way and pretend you haven't a clue what's going on, in which case, I empathise.'

They left with all my silver, and worth every penny.

smoked bacon, two kinds of sausage, and two hams. shopping done. computer a pressed brawn pressing. tongue brined and boiled. bread baked. garden de-weeded (at least, most of it), lawns mowed and raked. laundry washed. it's amazing what you can do when there's twice as many adults in the house.

Before I left work last week, one of my dearest colleagues leaned over to me and said, quietly: 'It's not like it was, you know.'

'Que?' I replied, eloquently.

'England, the UK, my friends who live there now were just back, and they said it's bad. Really bad. Frightening. Just take care of yourself, all right?'

I suppressed a smile, and patted her on the arm. 'You're so sweet,' I said, 'but I have five words for you: Miners' Strike, Poll Tax Riots. This is what happens in every economic downturn, things become a bit lala. We're a nation of shopkeepers, we panic when people stop going to the shops. It'll be fine, the GFC is lifting.'

She was unconvinced, but I knew I was right.

Until last night.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have seen the darkness that lurks in the heart of Britain.

Oxford St shops, in the two hours before closing, a fortnight before Christmas.

With a sale on at Debenhams.

Now I know that a sizeable number of you are already laughing at me for shopping at such a time, and a few are saying 'Debenhams, Brammers? Really?' (It was there.), but I needed a coat and some walking boots rather badly. One look at the locust-accosted shelves in Sale Land and I fled to John Lewis (though not before grabbing a tube of Smashbox primer from the lovely Irish lass on the ground floor, very sweet, extremely helpful, name of Clare if you are passing through.)

John Lewis was much as I remembered it: calm, organised, spacious, and well stocked. After flirting with one of their own brand macs, and a gorgeous Planet wool coat, I bout a Barbour oiled cotton hip-length coat, which was suitably country meets inner urban for my lifestyle (and yes, I was saddened to find that I revert to type, but there you have it). If you are over 5'5", though, I heartily recommend running into Oxford St John Lewis and snapping up the Planet coat that I rejected; they had a number in sizes from 8 to 16 and it was luscious blue bouclé wool with a fuchsia lining and divine cut at the shoulders, so that even my swimmer's shoulders looked dainty and elegant, with beautiful sweeping hem. Where I the slightest bit taller, it would have been mine, especially as it was marked down from £435 to about £140. Alas, I looked as though I had been borrowing clothes from a proper grown up. Boots were also acquired, fingers crossed no blisters result!

What sparked the need for a coat, you might ask? A day at Hampton Court Palace, where I kept warm by dint of much walking, but could feel cold seeping into the bones. I was enormously impressed by the Palace, the staff are simply excellent and the costumed re-enactors lovely and appropriate.

Though Henry kept flirting with me. I dropped a curtsey as he appeared, thinking it only mete to get into the spirit of things (and having had curtseying drummed into me at school, it is nice to be able to break it out occasionally, Australia affords few opportunities), and he paused to say 'A pretty bob from a pretty lass' and then continued in like vein. 'Your Grace is too kind,' I replied and sought to sidle away.

At this point the man playing Thomas Seymour intruded. 'It is the fashion at court for ladies to curtsey to the floor, good madam.'

'Indeed, my lord, but in this skirt I could not do so whilst preserving my modesty.'

'Really?' said Henry. 'Is it French?'

The kitchens were my favourite part, as their fabric is little altered since Tudor times. The staff who maintain them have done very fine work, from the crockery to the receipts on hooks around the place. It was fascinating and provoking and I can feel that Tudor novel lurking at he back of my brain: I may need to distract it with fanfic until I have time for it.

One tip if you ever want to go to Hampton Court Palace: the guides say that the R68 bus from Richmond is a good way to get there. Having just missed the train from Waterloo, I decided to give this a try. Waiting for the next train would have been far quicker. However, the bus itself is a lovely route and travels through beautiful Teddington, which made me laugh, as I had forgotten how very nice it is when I named a character after it recently.

So having looked at my poppet collection and my budget, I decided that I would have to be more selective, hold out for different poppets - no more just reading, or poppets like ones I already had.

Lisa must have known - so she did this:



I WANT! But can I justify it? I daresay I will find a way.......

She asked me questions - here are the answers:


( clicky for answers )( Read more... )