Diachronic

[shewhomust]

It's a meme: because profane_stencil's take on it was such an interesting post, and because sartorias not only made it look worth doing but also encouraged me to go for it:

Ten years ago, I was already living in this house, with durham_rambler. (Likewise twenty years ago; thirty years ago, we were in the process of buying the house). Both employed, himself in a job which was offering him less and less satisfaction, me in a job which had been better but was still to become much worse, and in which I was beginning to make some gpood friendships. Both my parents and my sister were still alive.

Ten years ago today, my diary says "Seamus" - someone who had been a friend when we lived in London: we are still technically in touch, but that's probably the last time we saw each other.

Five years ago, durham_rambler had taken his redundancy deal, I had gone part-time on the day job, we were beginning to venture into website design as a profession.

To the day, according to my 2000AD diary, we were packing to fly out to Rome, to join a friend's 50th birthday celebrations in Tivoli

This time last year, life was not that far from where it is now. Maybe not quite as much paid work to do, but the time was filled by a programme of commissioned work for the Durham Literature Festival: it's a long story, but we had the satisfaction of being able to ask artists to create something for us, combined with a lot of hard work in stretching our own limits to display the results on the web.

A week ago, easy to check, the Bears were here and we spent the morning watching the Tall Ships limping out of the Tyne, in a hostile wind and light but continuous rain, sails furled. And home via Sunderland, for reasons of family sentiment and because we could.

Yesterday I spent the day at my desk, grappling with a website which I have been blocked about, for want of any real guidance about either appearance or content (the client's one stipulation so far being that she wants music). And now feel I have cracked it: quite arbitrarily, playing around with editing the colours of a graphic, I hit upon a shade of red which wasn't at all what I was looking for, but which works, and makes me feel I know where I am going. Odd...

Today to York for a meeting with clients to discuss the future direction of The Crime Writers' Association website. We met in the kitchen of one of the committee members, in the presence of two very young kittens - the black one is Holmes and the tabby is Mycroft - who were fascinated by my long summer dress, and waged warfare, one inside and one outside my skirt. A long and constructive discussion of preferred typefaces and the pros and cons of frames, counterpointed by something fierce and furry happening round my ankles.

Tomorrow, who knows? There's a quotation due in for a potential client, there's shopping to be done, it's a week past samarcand's birthday and we haven't celebrated yet, Gail telephones to say she has not, after all, gone to Glasgow and could do with distraction...

But first, sleep.

Comments

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

*fainting at the idea of seeing Tyne and Tall Ships*

That was nifty! (ALso trying to imagine what it'd be like to stay in one house for longer than ten years, which is my record so far.)

Now, about your five favorites?...

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Get thee behind me, I have work to do!

[helenraven.livejournal.com]

I love the idea of something fiercy and furry happening around your ankles. I'm glad you keep old diaries. The "to the day" information was particularly interesting.

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

I love the idea of something fiercy and furry happening around your ankles.

Thank you. I was rather pleased with it...

And of course I keep old diaries - I keep practically everything, it's a vice. Also, I do treat myself to big diaries with a picture for every week.