In Which I Failed to Worship Herc As He Deserves
My inner fangirl isn’t actually as rabidly uncontrollable as I had feared; was in very close proximity to Anthony Head today, and restrained all semblance of fangirling (he was visiting someone in hospital in the bed opposite someone I was visiting so wasn’t really the place for fangirling). I was very close to passing as a normal human being, mostly because, fangirling aside, I didn’t even take off my coat. Significant, as I was wearing an ‘MJN Air’ t-shirt and therefore would have been passively fangirling had I exposed it.
His voice did make me miss Cabin Pressure even more though.
Unrelatedly, I baked some bomb-ass cupcakes today; vanilla with pink frosting and white chocolate stars. This is significant, as I am not a domestic anything and once burnt pasta because I forgot to add water in my first year in college. Thus, this represents a significant achievement (and mass procrastination revising Public Law).
Listening to Timbuktu
Reminds me of when I worked for a small private jet firm (family run, not unlike MJN, but less Martins. Many Douglases, however. Also a small bassett hound. MJN is definitely missing a bassett hound).
I remember delaying some VIPs on the runway, for ten minutes, because I’d filed a flightplan incorrectly. Don’t fuck with NATS. It was my first day. *sigh* happy memories.
I have a 10 hour flight from LA to Heathrow
And a wicked need for Benedict Cumberbatch.
Oh, Cabin Pressure fandom, oh Sherlock fandom, please oh please, you glorious people, rec me some epically long and juicy fic for me to sink my teeth into. I’m a big hurt/comfort fan, so extra lashings of whump. Best recs get free Cabin Pressure/Sherlock badges. And my eternal gratitude.


