I Rule - part 9 (and Writers' Bloc)

The chromosome X paper's out today. I notice that once again they've spelt my name wrong, but I think I can probably live with that. I think there's at least one more coming - chromosome 1 hasn't had a descriptive paper yet - but I'm not sure if there's anything past that.

Writers' Bloc was excellent last night, although I was rather tired. Jane did read her story, which she hadn't been sure was going to happen, and very good it was too. I didn't see the end coming at all, even though it was really signposted from the first sentence. They were all very good, actually. None of them dragged for me. Gav went round leaving poly bags on tables in the middle, which of course meant that he was going to reread the story about them ("From an unexpected direction", I think it's called). Fine stuff, and all (I think) on tape for their eventual CD . . . hopefully.

But yes. Nature. 9 now. That's made my week. Or maybe my month.

This evening.

I'm not sure what to do tonight. I could go to the pub, as usual, or go to the Beltane fundraiser. Both of these would mean braving licenced establishments on Paddy's Day, which of course is the one day of the year when the braindead walk by law breweries have to convince us that Irishness is simply a matter of wearing green and being a rampant alcoholic (as opposed to wearing tartan and being a rampant alcoholic, which is of course completely authentic cultural Scottishness). Or I could contract oestrogen poisoning watching Alan Rickman films with nickys et multiple al.

I'm slightly disappointed by the blatant howler in today's Wikipedia featured-article-of-the-day. No river anywhere in Britain or Ireland over 70 miles long? That'll be shining bright.