Strange television and how to make my dreams come true

Regretting finding out how to take quick web cam pics of myself and post them directly.

I think you know what this is about. One of my favourite books of all time is Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. It is nothing special in the literary canon, in fact it would be a brave person to call it canon, but it is the book I have most enjoyed reading and rereading on my brief exposure to consciousness, and it fills me with a largely irrational joy everytime I contemplate it.

I don't want to explain it, it seems cheap. But its great, and like the best parts of Austen and Tolkein, but all blended in a weird place and my god there are massive lightening bolts hitting Sofia, I am assured by a fairly attractive law student that this is the worst storm she has seen. Regardless I am lying in my hilton room watching the sky enjoying the temperature, trying to resist the terribly expensive mini bar that I will give into eventually like I do most nights - mainly for the pringles.

Anyway, the point in this ramble is not to report on my weakness towards pringles but to explain my love for the  BBC adaptation of Jonathan Strange. I don't think any adaptation ever has quite so caught my spirit, I just want to watch it over and over. I am terrified of tomorrow, I have to do this live typing thing in front of the whole treaty meeting, I am mainly concerned over my constant automatic spelling Ecuador as Equador and  Venezuela as Venuzuela, and also someone asked something about hyphens or something last year and I froze up and thought they were talking about brackets and it was in front of 100 delegates, all in suits, and staring at me from a long distance and a chair, and its all complicated. But seriously decent magic would make this all ok. It is hard to describe the joy of Jonathan Strange but it is real.

Miss you guys. All of you.