rm | odd fannish sundries

I, in general, and I when I've got any muses going on at all should never be allowed in the stationary store. Ever.

Although I suppose my incredulity at the lack of airmail paper (and the sales clerk having never even heard of such a thing) was probably at least funny.

New stationary. Pale grey/blue and cream and chocolate brown.

Spindly girl handwriting aside, I am such a boy.

Save me.

(seriously -- Ianto Jones -- coffee. ties. stationary. although the airmail paper (bleh, everything is so made of fail) was totally a Jack thing (but you knew that, of course.))

Also, it's all entirely

airspaniel's fault for introducing me to John Barrowman singing Tell My Father that I want to take voice lessons again. Alas, I've learnt once and for all I don't really have the nerve to sing in public, so you all are spared, but it is a pity.

Also, must finish my cracktastic Torchwood FST and then write the most depressing fic about Jack ever (yes, somehow I've found a way to top the Face of Boe thing, although it's on the same theme).