Klingons v Romulans, colouring and other pointlessly pleasant things

Tom: Those people who look like Vulcans...
Me: Romulans.
Tom: Do they they fly Warbirds?
Me: No, that's Klingons. Can't remember what Romulans fly, best check.

Turns out Romulans fly [in] Birds of Prey, but then so do Klingons, as well as Warbirds.

Me: They're both always de-cloaking anyway.
Tom: Yeah. I never understood...
Me: ... why the Federation were never allowed to use cloaking devices.
Tom: Mm.
Me: They were just silly to themselves really.

~

Isabelle/Pam  (as I said, I'm doing better at keeping up with other blogs), remarked lately on the abundance of adult colouring books these days, and how she couldn't imagine being bored enough to want to indulge in such an activity, or indeed in jigsaws, but then she did do (cryptic) crosswords with Mr Life an activity to which there isn't much point either. When I was a kid, but a little too old for colouring books, I saw the first grown-up colouring book, very expensive, rather art nouveau I think, in a London store. I hankered for it, and Az, who I was with, said she'd try to make me one using pen and ink. but then we forgot about it. Now, it's true, they are everywhere. They are often very beautiful, and I can see the appeal, I love playing with colour, many people do, and in truth, the artists who make the colouring books can enable us to produce far more aesthetically pleasing results than most of us could using our own draughtsmanship. I've a friend who loves to paint, but her paintings make me (and doubtless others who have them bestowed on them) make me wish she'd get herself a colouring book and stick with it.

As I was typing this, Tom closed his sudoku book with a sigh, having probably informed me, as usual as if assuming I was someone who had a clue what he was talking about, on the comparative virtues of x and y wings over colouring, bifurcation and other methods. His sudoku practice has become impenetrable and stratospheric.

I'm not really tempted by the colouring books though*. I've never been a great jigsaw puzzler either, though Tom is. the bigger the puzzle and smaller the pieces the better, but only paintings that he likes, often fine art ones. On occasion I have got absorbed in one, usually alongside him or someone else doing it - I've had friends who would often have a puzzle on the go for the duration of a holiday period, say, so anyone could take it up and do a bit for a while. I've been struck at how closely it makes one look at the picture, the blending of colours and brushwork, so you get to know it better than you ever would otherwise, at least in print form.

I also like to do cryptic crosswords sometimes, though again as a shared effort, and now Tom has eschewed all other forms of puzzle in favour of high level sudoku I don't feel motivated to do them on my own, and don't miss them. I think I've only really got any head for pictures and words, other puzzles involving figures, logic or anything very spatial I'm a numpty at, rather as Scrabble is the only board game I can be bothered with, though I'm not that great at it, as anyone who'd played it with me can confirm. Quizzes are OK, of the kind that require straight general knowledge, of which I've a fairly substantial reservoir - so University Challenge rather than Only Connect, which requires lateral thinking and puzzling skills.

Like many people I tend to be automatically disdainful of things I don't like, or don't want to, or can't, do. I might at one time have tried to claim that I could not be doing with such pointless things as the ones I can't do; that I am a free and creative spirit who only occupies myself with activities of real worth. But that's bollocks, akin to saying 'I hate spinach** and I'm glad I hate it, because if I liked it I'd have to eat it and I hate it'. I don't do things because I'm rubbish at them, I lack patience and application and all kinds of clever thinking, so I avoid things which involve them.

Knitting is fairly pointless too, one can buy perfectly good pullovers, scarves, hats, gloves etc cheaper and with considerably less effort, and no doubt some of my knitting's recipients feel a bit like I do about my friend's paintings, but like all these things, it's supposed to be good brain exercise.

That's my very favourite double-ended, bone crochet hook. My lovely sister gave it to me, I think it's very old.


* though I might make an exception for this one.
** or cabbage, or courgettes, or beetroot, or what you will. Except andouillette, any right thinking non-French person can only be grossed out by the very thought of that.