Merry Christmas, everyone!!

I have had a very merry Christmas myself, but a chaotic one, what with all the too-ing and fro-ing between here and the boyf's house, so I haven't really had much of a chance to get on here and blog over the past day or so. That, and Dad has just formatted my exceedingly nackered hard drive, so my comp has been a bit off limits anyway. However, may I take this opportunity to welcome to the little pool of madness that is Welsh Girl In Leeds, the new readers, courtesy of The Armitage Army. Welcome, you hussies, and I hope you keep coming back, as no one else can understand my RA obsession quite like you girlies!

I went to see the Phantom of the Opera tonight, after having dragged the boyf along. I thought it was absolutely amazing, what with Gerard Butler (VERY tall) in an undone, billowing white shirt and open cravat and all, as well as the splendid scenery and amazing music (I sound like a review). I got goosebumps when the title song "The Phantom of the Opera" and "The Music of the Night" were played. I was also quite impressed by Jennifer Ellison, if truth be told, who, it turns out, can do things other than get her boobs out and produce awful covers of already rubbish songs, such as sing really quite nicely and dance rather well. The boyf, however, spent one half of the film trying to keep his eyes open and the other sighing loudly. So uncultured. Mr Armitage would have appreciated it, I bet.

Mr Armitage without Victorian dress! Although sadly not without any clothes at all. Looks a bit older than normal in this as well, but not neccassarily a bad thing!! 

So I've spent the past 5 hours or so reading up on the reign of King John and the Magna Carta with one eye and reading and posting on The Armitage Army with the other, while listening to the Comedy Awards, all at the same time. Multi-tasking at its best! Although while managing to do all this, I have forgotten to call one of my flatmates and wish her happy birthday. And its her 21st. What a crappy friend I am. Al, if you read this, I am very, very sorry and am about to txt you right now. You'll forgive me when you see what me and Laine have got you though!

Ok, enough inside stuff now. I think I have had a record number of hits today, in a continuous stream, not just random splurges. With the exception of a few "tall girl in leeds" (?)and "how to find a nice girl in your area" (?!) searches, again, mostly searching for Mr A. Plus, my first two visitors referred from my profile on The Armitage Army page.

Is it just me, or are things just not as Christmassy as normal this year? Try as I might, I can't really seem to get in the Christmas mood. I'm thinking it might be because of the washing machine disaster, and ensuing stress (although we now have a new one) or maybe the continuing absence of the boyf, who is himself the embodiment of Christmas spirit. At this time of year he usually reverts in age by about 12 years and is more like an 8 year old than a 21 year old, shaking presents to guess what they are and watching Santa Clause:the Movie repeatedly.

Off to bed. Up early tomorrow for examination of the Frankish barbarian kingdom of the 6th century, and The Armitage Army, accompanied by Sunset Beach.

In case you're wondering what on earth I was rambling on about below, don't worry about it. I've deleted the said photo of myself now, so just skim-read over that bit.

Please ignore the photo below. Yes it is me, but no I am not being self-indulgent and randomly posting pictures of my own face. There is a reason behind it. I am attempting to update my profile photo as I have lost some weight since the last one was taken and want to show off how skinny I am, and I have to post a photo so I can get its URL to put into the 'Edit Profile' section of Blogger. However, Blogger is being very, very, very slow in the profile editing department today, so you may have to stare at a full sized shot of my mug for a bit longer until it starts working again. Once that happens I can delete it and you'll only be subjected to me in miniature form again. Promise.

Meanwhile, I have joined the Armitage Army (see new link list to the right). Yes, I'm a fully-fledged Armitage Obsessive. But, according to The Times today, I am not alone. A whole page article is written about said regiment, as well as Richard-Armitage.com, which I have been supporting here for a while myself. I'm not entirely sure what a paper such as The Times dedicating a whole page to an Internet phenomenon, that has of yet only a few hundred members and is, after all, made up of women lusting after a tv character/actor depending on the individual, actually means about the state of the news at the moment. But, that is neither here nore there (and it is in the special 'Women' section, so we'll let them off).

And yes, when my Leeds flatmates read this I am more than aware of what they will say. Don't worry - I'm already bracing myself for the inevitable piss-taking. But again, neither here nor there...

Richard Armitage... mmm...

(You can read the above mentioned article online here.)

Just checked my hit counter to see where all my lovely (and silent! Humph!) visitors come from and by what means they find me and I cannot believe how many people come here by searching for Mr Armitage. Tis amazing. Out of the last 25 visitors I've had, I'd say about 22 have come here through searching for Richard (first name terms now). Yet no one comments! Why? Why?! I watched the last episode of Sparkhouse last night that I taped using the wonderful Sky Plus off UK Drama, thanks to the amazingness that is Richard-Armitage.com, which has a handy section which tells you what he's on telly on during the week. However, about half way through I realised that I had in fact already watched Sparkhouse when it was on telly the first time round, yet I had completely failed to notice Richard Armitage. Obviously I've since taken to wearing a hair shirt and repetitively whipping myself as penance. How could I have missed him though? He was so very beautiful, even with just a bit more meat on his bones, but I like big men anyway - I'm a wrestler (note: not wrestLING) fan, after all. And he's so tall, and has such lovely eyes, and ... oh. Interesting fact - Sparkhouse is set just outside Halifax (I'm assuming filmed there too) in an area where after Easter Vacation earlier this year on the way back to Leeds, the boyf had car trouble and ended up stranded in the middle of the Yorkshire Moors until about 4.30 am, when I finally found him (I got lost, um, several times, shall we say, on the way ) and towed him through the Moors and Halifax town back to Leeds. So there. Scanty connection, I know, but still...

Final thought: the washing machine in our house has broken and we are a family of 5, plus one big hairy dog, which means lots of laundry. It is the week before Christmas, so obviously and understandably, Mum is frantic, so we are doing all the washing by hand, in the freezing coldness of the utility room and back yard, Victorian washer-woman style. I want to go back to Leeds, where my washing machine is reliable, I only do laundry once a week, and I don't have a backyard to be freezing in. Also, I can watch whatever I want on telly (although not, on Sky Plus, as I don't have it) without being told that Charmed and Most Haunted are silly. Although here, we do have a dish washer, and I don't have to cook for myself. Hmm, perhaps we could do the laundry in the dishwasher?

Just saw the advert for the new series of ER starting Jan 6th on E4. Yay! Can't wait.

View over the West bank of the Conwy and down its course - sort of. 

Blurry Conwy Castle - but you get the idea. 

A slightly blurry Conwy town and Conwy Mountain. 

The lights of Glan Conwy in the distance. 

From the east bank of the Conwy towards Glan Conwy. 

Took the hound out for a walk along the River Conwy last night. it was supposed to be timed just right for the sunset, but we got stuck in a traffic jam on the A55 so got there just as it was starting to get dark. It was a pleasurable walk, but i was buffeted about a bit, either by the dog pulling me one way, or the wind, sorry HURRICANE, blowingme the other way. I tried to get pictures of the castle, but the wind was blowing towards me when i faced that direction, so they're a bit blurry. Photos to follow.

The reason for my little expedition was to provide distraction from the mundanity that is my life at themoment. I have absolutely no money so can't afford to hit the town (i.e. Llandudno) with my home-friends (i'm back in Wales for Xmas now, in case i forgot to mention that little detail) and I'm so snowed under with work - when i can motivate myself to do it. Oncee i start, though, I can't stop. Also, the boyf is still up in Leeds until Xmas Eve earning a crust, so I'm lonely. Only Richard-Armitage.com to keep me company.

OH. MY. GOD. Doing my daily Mr Armitage Yahoo and Google search and came across this - someone has done what I would have done if I had the skills and tapped into the market that is frustrated Richard fans who are sick of only finding sites on the US Deputy Secretary of State, and launched a brand new Richard Armitage sight! Yay! Joy unexpressable! Bloody fantastic. A lot of people have been finding my site through Googling or Yahoo-ing him ( by lots - I mean over 50% recently) so I'm thinking, if he Googles himself, and why shouldn't he?, then he just may come across me. Hmm, first step on the road that is our obvious impending marriage. Actually, rather hope he doesn't because I am more than aware of how stalkerish I sound. Ah, who cares. I am merely appreciative of his work... and, um, body.

Hmm... 

with the Boys Dresse As Girls 

Me and the birthday boy, I mean girl. 

a BIT later on 

At the beginning of the night 

Been Googling Mr Armitage. Look what I found. So I'm not alone in my obsession, I mean appreciation, and he's single. Yay!

On another note: on Wednesday night I went on an Otley Run. Now, if you attend Leeds Uni, then you'll know what this is. If not, let me explain. The road that runs through the student area of Headingley and Hyde Park, past the uni and into the city is called Otley Road, and its got about 15 pubs running along it. The Otley Run is when a group of students, in fancy dress or otherwise, drink in every one of these pubs and then end up in the large, and rather crazy, superclub that is Creation. It was my flatmate's birthday on Wednesday (well not really, its on 21 December but we won't all be here then) so we did it for her birthday - dressed in a nativity theme. My flatmate was baby Jesus, dressed Little Britain style, I was the Star of Bethlehem, we had Mary, 2 Wise Men, a donkey, Angel Gabriel, Gold, a sheep, and the Little Drummer Boy. Some of our other friends were on another Otley Run that ran in conjunction with ours, dressed as Chavs, and there were a few other Otley Runners around as well, namely Boys Dressed as Girls, and a Top Gun theme. Needless to say, a lot of fun was had by all, especially as we sang Christmas Carols as we went along. It wasn't as much fun being in a seminar at 10 o clock the next morning. I'll leave you with the pictures. What a funny night.

Hmm. I've spent my day trawling the university and Headingley looking for tall, dark men, averaging 30 years of age, either in Victorian dress,or who would look good in it. I can report that my search gave out few positve results. Not sure if it was the locations I was trawling, or my chosen target which led to it all being fruitless. Probably a combination of the two. I'm afraid this is going to turn into an obsession, which I had thought I'd outgrown after I realised Shane from Westlife was never going to turn up in Colwyn Bay, North Wales, and ask for my hand, anymore than he was going to leave his wife for me.

I had a conversation with my flatmates last night about the wild passionate loves of Victorian, and earlier, novels, and why we just don't seem to experience them anymore. I decided that it was because now, if a bloke fancies a girl then chances are he'll just shag her and be done with it, whereas back then one simply wasn't ALLOWED to just shag someone. You had to marry them if you wanted to be with them, and you couldn't be with them until the marriage certificate was signed. Therefore, what probably would have started as an initial sexual attraction or admiration of someone would have built up over time and, fuelled by tension and anticipation, would have spilled over, as it were, into a passionate declaration of love and lust as the bloke simply HAD to be with the girl or he'd just die. One of my flatmates said that it was society that made the love so passionate. You were either seperated by social divides (as with all the best love stories) or by the confines of proper society and decorum (see above really), and it was this forced seperation that made the other person look so attractive and the whole situation so romantic and almost blown out of proportion. However, my other flatmate said that, basically, it just made a good story. Either that, or we need to read less Victorian and earlier novels and live in the real world, where shagging someone and being done wiht it isn't such a bad thing. I like the first two ideas better.

Don't get upset...of course I'll marry you Mr Thornton 

Oh Mr Thornton... 

It finally happened. Its finished. Done. How am I going to cope? What's going to get me through the week now? North and South. It finished last night. Nooo! Did you see it? Did you?? it was so good, the last ten minutes when Thornton looked at Marageret with such love, (yes I know it was only acting) and with his undone, baggy white shirt and two days of stubble growth and... oh. This sort of condition should be medically recognised and diagnosed - Mr Darcy Syndrome. There, its got a name now. All Richard Armitage was missing last night was for his shirt to be wet a-la Pride and Prejudice and to ride off on a horse glistening in the sun (him, not the horse). Where can I meet a tall, dark, brooding, too intelligent for his own good and Victorian-dressed man? And yes I know I have a boyfriend, but he is neither quite tall enough or Victorian (but perfect just the same, in case he reads this). And apparently there are no plans for it to be released on DVD. Really don't know how I'm going to cope. I really don't.

Another thing that has come to an end is my essay writing. All 3 of them to be exact. Handed them in on Friday morning. The writing of said essays explains why I haven't written here for over a week. At 11 o clock on Thursday night just as I thought I was finishing the last one, a lighting bolt (or is that thunder?) of realisation hit me that I'd done completely the wrong thing, so I had to rewrite the whole bloody essay, and proceeded to be up until 4am. So that was good. Trying very hard to adjust to the mindset now that I am ALLOWED to watch Neighbours FOLLOWED BY Dr Quinn Medicine Woman WITHOUT feeling guilty as I don't have thousands and thousands of words to write anymore. Unfortunately, this new state of freedom is taking a bit to adjust to.

I worked in the cloakroom in the union club on Saturday and have deduced that being smothered in coats makes you attractive to the opposite sex, as I have never been propositioned so much in my life as I was on Saturday. Two boys told me I was sexy (haven't quite figured out a cool, non-utterly astounded reply to that one) and two SEPERATE boys tried to kiss me. One went so far as to try and climb into the cloakroom and had to be restrained. He was pissed though. Was a bit flustered to say the least. And another boy with an affro would only give his coat ticket to me, accompanied with a suggestive smile and wink. I don't mean to sound big headed by all this, more completely baffled. Now, though, I've probably used my entire life's male-attention quota in one night and will never be winked at or lunged-over-a-counter at again. Maybe if I met Richard Armitage with a cloakroom counter in between us he'd fancy me. Of course, the small issue of how to get a 30 year old, London based actor (yes I have read his online CV) into a Leeds University student union is a bit of a stumper. Any suggestions?