Vans for the handicapped ?
Just because I said I liked Ford Transits ?
Bit rough.
Cx
Sunday, June 27, 2004
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
'Your Blog is s*** these days.'
I am of course, paraphrasing, but that's what I've been told by someone recently. No names, no pack drill, but he's large & enjoys the work of Greta Garbo. When I challenged him, he said that a.n.other person agreed with him. Again, no names will be mentioned but when this small, chocolate lover was put on the spot, last Saturday, he denied strenuously that he had said it was 's***t'
The large person went on to row for shore by saying that my writing about the year in NZ, stood up on it's own & my morose ramblings since returning to this sceptred isle were detracting from it. In the words of Neil, they were 'bringing it down, man'.
What he didn't know (because only weak humans agree) & will only know just now when reading this, is that I had thought it myself. During our 'Two-in-a-tent-tour' Bloo & I had discussed what appeal there would be, if any, for people, in reading a UK based blog with no pictures of mountains, neddies or farriers. You only have to look at Coffee Waffle to know what I mean. In the same way that Di has to know if she should be in kitten heels or jandals this week, I have to know what aspect of natural life has caught Murray's talented eye.
I told Bloo that upon my return, I would monitor the hits to Q4A for a couple of months & if they dropped off significantly, I would carry on writing for my own relief, but make it a non-public Blog. That hasn't happened but now I have to do a difficult thing.
I have to end Q4A & start a new Blog. It will be hard to do because I feel very attached to it & letting it go feels like I'm losing a link with NZ. I watched a really good interview with Paxo & J.K.Thingy who wrote that godawful stuff. She admitted that she found it really hard to end the series & that she felt bereft afterwards.
I can identify with that, which is why I'm asking for help from you lot. There are some really good brains out there & although you failed dismally with kitty-naming & The Tanners still plumped for 'Dusty' despite some very good suggestions (it's stil not too late to go for canape, btw) I am asking you to suggest new names for a new Blog.
So, here's the brief. You know me by now, what I like & what I don't. The title needs to encapsulate the following, 'I was in NZ, I came back to the UK, I'm trying to get back to NZ' if you can squeeze in humour, neddies & a good-looking film-star, so much the better. If not, something pithy, & 3 words seems appealing, although I don't know why cos 'odd numbers are baaaad & even are gooood' aren't they Bloo ? The title should not include the following words 'Blog/diary/journal/reflections' because, well you know why.
Failing all that, the Big Guy suggested I should just name it 'S*** Blog' which has a certain ring to it. Sorry. Another red card. Must be all the football.
Speaking of which, Bloo, you will be wondering what it's like to be here during Euro 2004. Bloody awful. Everyone's eulogising about the weasel-featured midget that is Wayne Rooney. The British media are doing their normal thing of building him up with pathetic red-top headlines like 'Roonaldo'. Today, I heard him compared to Pele, which is only excusable when you know that the person being interviewed was his pub-owning uncle. No doubt the Press will be just as quick to leap on him when he's found face-down in his own vomit after a good ol' ruck leaving a night-club.
You might ask how I know that he will be involved in a fight leaving a nightclub ?
1) He's a British footballer & therefore of limited intelligence.
2) He's a scouser.
QED.
Oh, & get this, whilst I'm on a roll. I have just heard RoSPA on Radio 4, telling people, especially 'the very young, or infirm' not to mimic his celebratory cartwheels. If someone was infirm & did do a cartwheel, wouldn't you be really pleased for them ?
This sodding country etc etc etc
I'm having an identity crisis at the moment, I couldn't care less about losing the rugby, not losing the football (so far) or whatever happened with the cricket. I was even unfazed when we snatched defeat from the jaws of victory in time-honoured fashion from the French. I'm assuming I'll feel English again in time. Probably when I move to NZ.
On which note, someone with good observation skills recently asked me if I was feeling better since returning. They said that Blog seemed to be 'me' rather than me writing pretending to be ok. The truth is, I am gritting my teeth & getting on with things. I could wallow in being unhappy, but I prefer to deal with it aggressively (I'm from Yorkshire you know) so here's what I do.
When, I'm on the scooter, inhaling carbon monoxide & being cut up & squashed by car transporter trucks, I smile inwardly.
When I stop hurriedly at a pedestrian crossing & let across someone who gives me the evil eye for daring to be on the road, I let it go.
When I pass the the sad grey types in that most unlovely of towns ; Croydon, I feel sorry for them. Not because their idea of daring is to team a purple tie with a pink shirt and worse still to walk along with their tie over their left shoulder because their schedule doesn't allow them the time to look down & straighten it. I feel sorry for them because they don't know what it is that they tolerate every day.
What I do, with all these situations is to think 'Bring it on, I can cope, because I know what it is I want, & where it is. All else is temporary.' I also read that if you smile, even if you don't really want to, your face is fooled & your body releases the smiley, feel-good things. I also have one of those faces that looks like a spanked ar5e if I'm not smiling.
Don't know if you lot heard about the 'body in the freezer' thing recently which Kingston Police have been dealing with ? I was on the night it came in. Luckily for me, it came in at 2209 & I had handed over at 2200. I've just heard he's been nicked at Heathrow.
Are you back yet Bill ? Sounds like you had a wonderful time.
Is it all stored on the hard-drive to counter the A217 ?
Enough for now, time for a bath (without mobile phone) & the 1830 weekday Radio 4 comedy.
3 nights to go. Lovely to have you back last night Col.
Cx
STOP PRESS THE TANNERS ! MY LEAVE HAS BEEN APPROVED. I AM OFF FROM THE 15TH NOV (AFTER OBA WEEKEND) TO THE 9TH DEC. JUST HAVE TO BOOK A FLIGHT NOW.
I am of course, paraphrasing, but that's what I've been told by someone recently. No names, no pack drill, but he's large & enjoys the work of Greta Garbo. When I challenged him, he said that a.n.other person agreed with him. Again, no names will be mentioned but when this small, chocolate lover was put on the spot, last Saturday, he denied strenuously that he had said it was 's***t'
The large person went on to row for shore by saying that my writing about the year in NZ, stood up on it's own & my morose ramblings since returning to this sceptred isle were detracting from it. In the words of Neil, they were 'bringing it down, man'.
What he didn't know (because only weak humans agree) & will only know just now when reading this, is that I had thought it myself. During our 'Two-in-a-tent-tour' Bloo & I had discussed what appeal there would be, if any, for people, in reading a UK based blog with no pictures of mountains, neddies or farriers. You only have to look at Coffee Waffle to know what I mean. In the same way that Di has to know if she should be in kitten heels or jandals this week, I have to know what aspect of natural life has caught Murray's talented eye.
I told Bloo that upon my return, I would monitor the hits to Q4A for a couple of months & if they dropped off significantly, I would carry on writing for my own relief, but make it a non-public Blog. That hasn't happened but now I have to do a difficult thing.
I have to end Q4A & start a new Blog. It will be hard to do because I feel very attached to it & letting it go feels like I'm losing a link with NZ. I watched a really good interview with Paxo & J.K.Thingy who wrote that godawful stuff. She admitted that she found it really hard to end the series & that she felt bereft afterwards.
I can identify with that, which is why I'm asking for help from you lot. There are some really good brains out there & although you failed dismally with kitty-naming & The Tanners still plumped for 'Dusty' despite some very good suggestions (it's stil not too late to go for canape, btw) I am asking you to suggest new names for a new Blog.
So, here's the brief. You know me by now, what I like & what I don't. The title needs to encapsulate the following, 'I was in NZ, I came back to the UK, I'm trying to get back to NZ' if you can squeeze in humour, neddies & a good-looking film-star, so much the better. If not, something pithy, & 3 words seems appealing, although I don't know why cos 'odd numbers are baaaad & even are gooood' aren't they Bloo ? The title should not include the following words 'Blog/diary/journal/reflections' because, well you know why.
Failing all that, the Big Guy suggested I should just name it 'S*** Blog' which has a certain ring to it. Sorry. Another red card. Must be all the football.
Speaking of which, Bloo, you will be wondering what it's like to be here during Euro 2004. Bloody awful. Everyone's eulogising about the weasel-featured midget that is Wayne Rooney. The British media are doing their normal thing of building him up with pathetic red-top headlines like 'Roonaldo'. Today, I heard him compared to Pele, which is only excusable when you know that the person being interviewed was his pub-owning uncle. No doubt the Press will be just as quick to leap on him when he's found face-down in his own vomit after a good ol' ruck leaving a night-club.
You might ask how I know that he will be involved in a fight leaving a nightclub ?
1) He's a British footballer & therefore of limited intelligence.
2) He's a scouser.
QED.
Oh, & get this, whilst I'm on a roll. I have just heard RoSPA on Radio 4, telling people, especially 'the very young, or infirm' not to mimic his celebratory cartwheels. If someone was infirm & did do a cartwheel, wouldn't you be really pleased for them ?
This sodding country etc etc etc
I'm having an identity crisis at the moment, I couldn't care less about losing the rugby, not losing the football (so far) or whatever happened with the cricket. I was even unfazed when we snatched defeat from the jaws of victory in time-honoured fashion from the French. I'm assuming I'll feel English again in time. Probably when I move to NZ.
On which note, someone with good observation skills recently asked me if I was feeling better since returning. They said that Blog seemed to be 'me' rather than me writing pretending to be ok. The truth is, I am gritting my teeth & getting on with things. I could wallow in being unhappy, but I prefer to deal with it aggressively (I'm from Yorkshire you know) so here's what I do.
When, I'm on the scooter, inhaling carbon monoxide & being cut up & squashed by car transporter trucks, I smile inwardly.
When I stop hurriedly at a pedestrian crossing & let across someone who gives me the evil eye for daring to be on the road, I let it go.
When I pass the the sad grey types in that most unlovely of towns ; Croydon, I feel sorry for them. Not because their idea of daring is to team a purple tie with a pink shirt and worse still to walk along with their tie over their left shoulder because their schedule doesn't allow them the time to look down & straighten it. I feel sorry for them because they don't know what it is that they tolerate every day.
What I do, with all these situations is to think 'Bring it on, I can cope, because I know what it is I want, & where it is. All else is temporary.' I also read that if you smile, even if you don't really want to, your face is fooled & your body releases the smiley, feel-good things. I also have one of those faces that looks like a spanked ar5e if I'm not smiling.
Don't know if you lot heard about the 'body in the freezer' thing recently which Kingston Police have been dealing with ? I was on the night it came in. Luckily for me, it came in at 2209 & I had handed over at 2200. I've just heard he's been nicked at Heathrow.
Are you back yet Bill ? Sounds like you had a wonderful time.
Is it all stored on the hard-drive to counter the A217 ?
Enough for now, time for a bath (without mobile phone) & the 1830 weekday Radio 4 comedy.
3 nights to go. Lovely to have you back last night Col.
Cx
STOP PRESS THE TANNERS ! MY LEAVE HAS BEEN APPROVED. I AM OFF FROM THE 15TH NOV (AFTER OBA WEEKEND) TO THE 9TH DEC. JUST HAVE TO BOOK A FLIGHT NOW.
Monday, June 21, 2004
'I'm like a bird, I'll only fly away ...'
trilled the lovely Nelly Furtado.
It wouldn't sound as wistfully sweet in a song I know, but I have come to the conclusion that 'I'm like a fish' & to carry on the simile I suppose it would have to be 'I'll only swim away'
I see the bait, I tentatively sniff the bait & eventually, when I am convinced there can be no harm, I, with the utmost caution, start to taste the bait.
Then it comes, the tiniest hint of the barb of the hook & I spit the whole lot out & dash for the safety of the reeds.
The memory of being hoisted, high, dry & without oxygen is still much more potent than I had realised.
On a slightly less self-indulgent note, my mobile phone took a dunking yesterday. It didn't like it.
I will be without a mobile until the beginning of July, so if you've texted me & I haven't replied, that's why.
Cx
trilled the lovely Nelly Furtado.
It wouldn't sound as wistfully sweet in a song I know, but I have come to the conclusion that 'I'm like a fish' & to carry on the simile I suppose it would have to be 'I'll only swim away'
I see the bait, I tentatively sniff the bait & eventually, when I am convinced there can be no harm, I, with the utmost caution, start to taste the bait.
Then it comes, the tiniest hint of the barb of the hook & I spit the whole lot out & dash for the safety of the reeds.
The memory of being hoisted, high, dry & without oxygen is still much more potent than I had realised.
On a slightly less self-indulgent note, my mobile phone took a dunking yesterday. It didn't like it.
I will be without a mobile until the beginning of July, so if you've texted me & I haven't replied, that's why.
Cx
Believe it or not mobile phones cannot swim
Quick sub editor comment on behalf of HER
Yes I was suprised to find out that as well , especially as I had the s"£t ripped out of me for feeding my last 2 phones red wine and Guiness respectively.
But just a serious note , CX is not available at the mo as she decided that her phone should go for a swim in the bath ,the CHIP is okay just the phone is dead , she just wanted you all to know that she cannot answer calls at the moment until she get's a new one.
She send's loive all around the globe , to all Q4A fan's.
Mwahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh big hug's
Quick sub editor comment on behalf of HER
Yes I was suprised to find out that as well , especially as I had the s"£t ripped out of me for feeding my last 2 phones red wine and Guiness respectively.
But just a serious note , CX is not available at the mo as she decided that her phone should go for a swim in the bath ,the CHIP is okay just the phone is dead , she just wanted you all to know that she cannot answer calls at the moment until she get's a new one.
She send's loive all around the globe , to all Q4A fan's.
Mwahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh big hug's
Friday, June 18, 2004
Prey to predator ...
I tried every trick I could think of to start my white, rented Ford Transit van yesterday. I let the glow plugs stop illuminating, I tried dipping the clutch & finally in an act of desperation, I checked the radio station & immediately realised my error.
I had stupidly tuned it to Radio 4. A quick fiddle with the buttons & there it was, the stalwart of WVM everywhere - Radio 5 Live. With my basic error corrected, the engine roared into life, I pressed cruise control & found myself guided everywhere by a vehicle which knew no speed other than flat-out, steered me perilously close to old ladies with small, clipped dogs, & slowed down not a jot for width-restrictions or 'priority to oncoming traffic' signs. In fact the only time my white cruise missile did slow down was to allow me to yell 'Cheer up love it might never 'appen' to alarmed housewives, whilst displaying copious quantities of ar5e-cleavage.
It was great, I love driving 'manly' vehicles & the last time I drove a big, chunky diesel, it was Eric's beast. The reality, of course is, I drove the vehicle carefully & considerately, watching other drivers slide off their seats in shock as I courteously thanked them.
It was lovely to move from the bottom end of the food chain, the scooter, to the top. I can understand why WMV gets so attached to the ubiquitous Transit. Light steering, excellent handling, fuel consumption which would shame a teetotaller & a commanding view of the road, combine to make it a very pleasant driving experience.
The only drawback ? I now understand why there are always 3 blokes in the front. When turning left you can see bugger all from the left hand window, so you need Wayne to tell you 'clear left'. In my case, I edged out veeeeery slowly, waiting for the dull thud on the side of the van, to tell me the way wasn't clear.
Yestrerday was tough mentally & physically. I collected the van at 0900 & finally returned to Trudy's (wine & chilli) at 1830 & didn't stop in the interim. I filled the van twice from the garage at Leith Hill, once with boxes & UPO's & the 2nd time with a sofa & armchair. I was fortunate with the latter, finding Stuart's old neighbour Tony to help me load at one end & the hapless Garth (Cocky's husband) to assist in unloading at the other.
Cocky very kindly said they would store the furniture in their large, newly-purchased house in Epsom. She actually believed me when I said I wouldn't need to take her up on her offer, because I would pay to have them stored. That was until I got the quote. To store one armchair & sofa ... £240 for 2 months !!!!!!
So, yesterday at 4pm, there I was on Garth's doorstep, smiling sweetly saying 'As you're the only friend I haven't lived with, you have to take my furniture' He mumbled something about getting off lightly & uncomplainingly helped me shift it, instantly cluttering the back room which must have taken Cocky hours to clear. Sorry Cocky.
Garth is one of those men that gets it so right. Even without Cocky in evidence, (she was working yesterday) he chats away, offers you tea (& even a chocolate biscuit yesterday) & never seems in the least put out. Even when he is trying to supervise Harry & order 20 dozen burgers for the school fete at the same time. (He has taken over the catering, you know how blokes like to bbq)
He relayed a great story yesterday from the summer when he did a stint as a removal man (he is Irish, it's obligatory). Under the guise of 'Mr.Shift-it' which he cheerfully confesses should have been 'Mr.Shifty' he loaded a customer's antique, oak, round dining table into his van. It was securely strapped down, on it's edge amidst dire warnings from the house-owner, as to the great value of the table.
Arriving at the new abode, Garth lifted the panel on the van door & watched in horror, accompanied by the owner, as the huge, circular table, dropped from it's mountings, rolled towards him, crashed to the road & merrily wheeled away to the horizon, crushing the odd small child in it's wake.
'I assume you're insured ?' the owner enquired icily.
'We are a reputable company, of course we are insured' replied our hero.
Need I tell you he wasn't.
They then spent the next 4 hours unloading the van in a frosty silence.
Yesterday was a bit of a 'Safeways day'. Hx knows what I mean.
I made the mistake of opening an unfamiliar cardboard box in the garage.
'Ooh photos' I thought. You just shouldn't, should you ? Especially not when you're moving stuff., On your own, that is. I spent the rest of the afternoon in a rather maudlin, 'what if' frame of mind. It didn't help that the house & the garden at Leith Hill are looking utterly breathtaking. Stu, I know you read this.
Bloody hard place to leave isn't it ? Hope you're ok ?
I didn't join the rest of the human-race til I arrived home to find a very tasty chilli, a glass of chilled white & an ear to pour out my woes to.
I had forgotten how very easy it is to live with Trudy. 3rd time around it's better than ever. She hates hoovering, due to her bad back & dodgy pelvis. I love it & even get to use the Dyson (you know where you are with a Dyson) which I bought her the last time I lived with her & she refused to take rent. Prior to the Dyson, Trudy owned the world's most prudish & recalcitrant vacuum cleaner which wouldn't suck anything. The voraciously whorish Dyson, by contrast, tackles the carpets with gusto.
There is also the fact that Trudy's every sentence seems to begin with the words 'Wouldyalike ...?' I don't think I have replied in the negative yet.
Last night we watched 'City of Angels' & I used it as the perfect excuse to blub about my day. Nic Cage is soooo perfect in that film, sensitive, intense, funny, with very long legs & a penchant for dressing all in black with an ankle-length trench coat. What more could a girl want ? The film even bravely avoids the cliched happy ending which distresses Bloo so much. 8/10
And Bloo, yes, your cricket top does make you look like a football yob.
You really should make the effort to wear some natural fibres.They do great things with cottton these days.
I love your recent aminal photos by the way, particularly you & the koala. He looks so incredibly satisfying to hiug. Did he instigate the hug, or did you ?
I still have stuff buzzing in my head, but am aware that these long postings can be tiring to read & some of you have even confessed to 'scanning' my life's work, so I'll end it here.
I start nights tonight for 7 nights (hoping to catch up with Bloo & The Tanners by phone) I am going to try a fruit/veg/water de-tox for the 1st 3 nights to get rid of the bloated feeling which has come about by doing very little exercise & eating irregularly. Nights is a terrible time for my stomach as the 3rd floor chocolate machine calls relentlessly & I feel the urge to eat a big, cooked meal at about 4am.
Big hugs to 2 friends who are going through the wars at the moment.
Hadleigh - who had a nasal operation to assist his breathing on Tuesday morning. He panicked upon awaking from his g/a & immediately tore the tubes from his nose. He has spent the last 2 days in hosp, under obs & sounded absolutely awful when I spoke to him Wednesday. Get well soon poppet.
And Lovely Colin, whose Mum was taken ill on Wednesday & rushed to hosp in Newcastle. Colin drove up immediately, his distress compounded by the fact that his Mum is a carer for his Dad who suffered a stroke a couple of years ago. Hope to speak to you today Col, take care, might see you later on in the week, during nights.
It seems to be a bit of a bad time for lots of people, take care everyone,
Cx
I tried every trick I could think of to start my white, rented Ford Transit van yesterday. I let the glow plugs stop illuminating, I tried dipping the clutch & finally in an act of desperation, I checked the radio station & immediately realised my error.
I had stupidly tuned it to Radio 4. A quick fiddle with the buttons & there it was, the stalwart of WVM everywhere - Radio 5 Live. With my basic error corrected, the engine roared into life, I pressed cruise control & found myself guided everywhere by a vehicle which knew no speed other than flat-out, steered me perilously close to old ladies with small, clipped dogs, & slowed down not a jot for width-restrictions or 'priority to oncoming traffic' signs. In fact the only time my white cruise missile did slow down was to allow me to yell 'Cheer up love it might never 'appen' to alarmed housewives, whilst displaying copious quantities of ar5e-cleavage.
It was great, I love driving 'manly' vehicles & the last time I drove a big, chunky diesel, it was Eric's beast. The reality, of course is, I drove the vehicle carefully & considerately, watching other drivers slide off their seats in shock as I courteously thanked them.
It was lovely to move from the bottom end of the food chain, the scooter, to the top. I can understand why WMV gets so attached to the ubiquitous Transit. Light steering, excellent handling, fuel consumption which would shame a teetotaller & a commanding view of the road, combine to make it a very pleasant driving experience.
The only drawback ? I now understand why there are always 3 blokes in the front. When turning left you can see bugger all from the left hand window, so you need Wayne to tell you 'clear left'. In my case, I edged out veeeeery slowly, waiting for the dull thud on the side of the van, to tell me the way wasn't clear.
Yestrerday was tough mentally & physically. I collected the van at 0900 & finally returned to Trudy's (wine & chilli) at 1830 & didn't stop in the interim. I filled the van twice from the garage at Leith Hill, once with boxes & UPO's & the 2nd time with a sofa & armchair. I was fortunate with the latter, finding Stuart's old neighbour Tony to help me load at one end & the hapless Garth (Cocky's husband) to assist in unloading at the other.
Cocky very kindly said they would store the furniture in their large, newly-purchased house in Epsom. She actually believed me when I said I wouldn't need to take her up on her offer, because I would pay to have them stored. That was until I got the quote. To store one armchair & sofa ... £240 for 2 months !!!!!!
So, yesterday at 4pm, there I was on Garth's doorstep, smiling sweetly saying 'As you're the only friend I haven't lived with, you have to take my furniture' He mumbled something about getting off lightly & uncomplainingly helped me shift it, instantly cluttering the back room which must have taken Cocky hours to clear. Sorry Cocky.
Garth is one of those men that gets it so right. Even without Cocky in evidence, (she was working yesterday) he chats away, offers you tea (& even a chocolate biscuit yesterday) & never seems in the least put out. Even when he is trying to supervise Harry & order 20 dozen burgers for the school fete at the same time. (He has taken over the catering, you know how blokes like to bbq)
He relayed a great story yesterday from the summer when he did a stint as a removal man (he is Irish, it's obligatory). Under the guise of 'Mr.Shift-it' which he cheerfully confesses should have been 'Mr.Shifty' he loaded a customer's antique, oak, round dining table into his van. It was securely strapped down, on it's edge amidst dire warnings from the house-owner, as to the great value of the table.
Arriving at the new abode, Garth lifted the panel on the van door & watched in horror, accompanied by the owner, as the huge, circular table, dropped from it's mountings, rolled towards him, crashed to the road & merrily wheeled away to the horizon, crushing the odd small child in it's wake.
'I assume you're insured ?' the owner enquired icily.
'We are a reputable company, of course we are insured' replied our hero.
Need I tell you he wasn't.
They then spent the next 4 hours unloading the van in a frosty silence.
Yesterday was a bit of a 'Safeways day'. Hx knows what I mean.
I made the mistake of opening an unfamiliar cardboard box in the garage.
'Ooh photos' I thought. You just shouldn't, should you ? Especially not when you're moving stuff., On your own, that is. I spent the rest of the afternoon in a rather maudlin, 'what if' frame of mind. It didn't help that the house & the garden at Leith Hill are looking utterly breathtaking. Stu, I know you read this.
Bloody hard place to leave isn't it ? Hope you're ok ?
I didn't join the rest of the human-race til I arrived home to find a very tasty chilli, a glass of chilled white & an ear to pour out my woes to.
I had forgotten how very easy it is to live with Trudy. 3rd time around it's better than ever. She hates hoovering, due to her bad back & dodgy pelvis. I love it & even get to use the Dyson (you know where you are with a Dyson) which I bought her the last time I lived with her & she refused to take rent. Prior to the Dyson, Trudy owned the world's most prudish & recalcitrant vacuum cleaner which wouldn't suck anything. The voraciously whorish Dyson, by contrast, tackles the carpets with gusto.
There is also the fact that Trudy's every sentence seems to begin with the words 'Wouldyalike ...?' I don't think I have replied in the negative yet.
Last night we watched 'City of Angels' & I used it as the perfect excuse to blub about my day. Nic Cage is soooo perfect in that film, sensitive, intense, funny, with very long legs & a penchant for dressing all in black with an ankle-length trench coat. What more could a girl want ? The film even bravely avoids the cliched happy ending which distresses Bloo so much. 8/10
And Bloo, yes, your cricket top does make you look like a football yob.
You really should make the effort to wear some natural fibres.They do great things with cottton these days.
I love your recent aminal photos by the way, particularly you & the koala. He looks so incredibly satisfying to hiug. Did he instigate the hug, or did you ?
I still have stuff buzzing in my head, but am aware that these long postings can be tiring to read & some of you have even confessed to 'scanning' my life's work, so I'll end it here.
I start nights tonight for 7 nights (hoping to catch up with Bloo & The Tanners by phone) I am going to try a fruit/veg/water de-tox for the 1st 3 nights to get rid of the bloated feeling which has come about by doing very little exercise & eating irregularly. Nights is a terrible time for my stomach as the 3rd floor chocolate machine calls relentlessly & I feel the urge to eat a big, cooked meal at about 4am.
Big hugs to 2 friends who are going through the wars at the moment.
Hadleigh - who had a nasal operation to assist his breathing on Tuesday morning. He panicked upon awaking from his g/a & immediately tore the tubes from his nose. He has spent the last 2 days in hosp, under obs & sounded absolutely awful when I spoke to him Wednesday. Get well soon poppet.
And Lovely Colin, whose Mum was taken ill on Wednesday & rushed to hosp in Newcastle. Colin drove up immediately, his distress compounded by the fact that his Mum is a carer for his Dad who suffered a stroke a couple of years ago. Hope to speak to you today Col, take care, might see you later on in the week, during nights.
It seems to be a bit of a bad time for lots of people, take care everyone,
Cx
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
HAIL - MIGHTY - CITIZENS - OF - BLOGLAND !
Pooter is feeling particularly unhelpful tonight, it will allow me a tantalising glimpse of who my e-mails are from, but when I say
'Please mighty pooter, may I read one ?'
It says
'Err, no, I think not.'
My eyes are playing up too, so this may be a short one, really need to get them tested. Nothing whatsoever with burning the candles at both ends.
Fantastic news, the following are all definites for the Barn Dance ;
Cocky, Trudy, Wendy, Angie & Hx. Stan is a 'please ask me some more & say it won't be the same without me'. Denim & checked shirts compulsory, what a shame you are still in NZ Bill, it would be right up Linda's street.
This week has been hectic.
Saturday night saw the annual general meeting of the disfigured society with Hx & I not undertanding the rules properly. MTM was immensely brave & sallied South to scary Crystal Palace, from deepest, lushest Hammersmith & survived to tell the tale. Stan brought an additional friend on his lip.
I had a marvellous time, despite MTM's proclamations that I am 'rubbish with alcohol' (photos on the 'Stan files') Thought you would have shared your 'porn star balloon chest' one Stan ? Uncannily attractive I thought.
More Cheese Gromit
We wined, dined, danced (3 of us did anyway, 1 let the side down rather shabbily in the fast dancing dept) & picked on Stan, telling him what to do immediately to make his life better, because we are all experts in the 'running other people's lives' thing. U still here Stan ?
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMoist...
It was a blinding night, even if the walk home did take 25 rather than the anticipated 5 & I had to coax my poor swollen head from the pillow at 0500 the next morning. Ow. Still, at least it's not like I had to ride a noisy, buzzy scooter with a raging headache.
Thank you & well done to all concerned. Hx - top bird.
Last night I teamed up with Cocky & Trudes to go see a man in a short leather skirt , I forget the name of the film.
It was of course 'Troy' & although an enjoyable enough romp, I must report Brad Pitt made Shane Richie look like Sir John Gielgud. Please don't misunderstand me, as far as physique goes, Brad was entirely convincing as a warrior. His fight scenes were very entertaining & his regular flesh-flashing was always going to be a crowd pleaser.
However.
I wonder if the producer who secured Mr.Aniston ever took the time to stop rubbing his hands long enough to give him a screen test. He was so wooden he was out-acted by the Trojans gift. I had visions of rehearsals & some stressed director saying to Brad, 'Ok, you've just killed the eldest son of a man you respect & admire, the man himself is here now to plead to have his son's body returned to him for an honourable funeral. I want you to give me hatred, respect, grief, pride, sorrow, repentance & defiance'
The look Brad mustered at this point, conveyed all the subtle complexity of a man who has momentarily forgotten where he put his library card. Quite awful.
No wonder he did so many scenes with his helmet on.
I didn't recognise the actor who played Priem, the dead mans father, but was totally absorbed by the luminous yet fragile face, like filigree iron. His performance was utterly captivating. When he was on the screen I could watch no-one else. The girls told me afterwards that it was Peter O'Toole, after a heated debate whether he was in fact dead or not. I am glad I was able to recognise a good actor.
Oddly, the few moments Pitt did come alive on the screen were always playing opposite a woman. It's as if they are a mirror for him, the moment he faces a man, he loses that 'something'. For the record & balance, I loved him in 'Meet Joe Black'
He is also in the unfortunate position of doing an 'epic, action' movie after Russell Crowe in Gladiator. As much as I detest the real-life goings on of the boorish Mr.Crowe I think he must be a worthwhile human being. Partly because Nicole Kidman rates him as a friend & she seems to be a sharp cookie, but mostly for the performance he turned in as Maximus Deciduous.
Despite lacking the truly eye-popping physique of Brad Pitt, he was totally & utterly convincing in his role of honourable hero, occasionally pushed to do dark deeds. Hell, even I would have followed him into battle, but I always did like a good scrap.
Not like the lovely Linda, who after the first death in Troy, turned to me & whispered 'Oh no, I hate violence' Wrong film love.
So & why not, as Mr Norman might say, what were our combined, intellectual opinions of the film ?
1) Helen, despite being crumpet, was generally not considered beautiful enough to be ' the face that launched' ...etc (she also had one eye made up darker than the other when she watched Paris fight, very off-putting)
2) Best homo-erotic film sequences since 'Top Gun'
3) WHY - DID - PEOPLE - SPEAK - LIKE - THIS - IN - THOSE - DAYS ?
Did they do it at the breakfast table ?
PASS - ME - THE - BUTTER. in a Brian Blessed stylee.
4) Orlando Bloom as Paris. Jolly nice but not as fanciable as Legoland.
5) Eric Banana as Hector. Likewise very good. Huge right ear.
6) Julie Christie. How refreshing to see someone who was old enough to be Brad Pitt's mum, actually playing Brad Pitts mum.
7) Stunningly beautiful neddies & none of the extras fell off during battle scenes, despite not being allowed to use stirrups for authenticity.
8) We couldn't decide who Achilles' love-interest was. I say Rachel Weisz but the other two disagreed with me. If it was her, I hated her in The Mummy, but loved her in this.
9) As haunting as it is, the director shouldn't have ripped off the 'call to prayer' music used to good effect in Gladiator. Get your own ideas Mr Bigshot.
I suggest the theme to The Archers for the CGI fight scenes.
10) Don't take Linda if you want to watch a move seriously. If you want to go see the movie, skip the next bit. After Hector mistakenly kills Achilles' cousin in battle, Achilles comes to Troy, bent on revenge. He arrives, en phaeton, full of menace, lusting for Hector's blood & proceeeds to bawl Hector's name repeatedly from the foot of Troy's great walls.
Inside meanwhile, Hector methodically straps on his armour, preparing to meet his nemesis. Finally, some 5 minutes later, the huge wooden gates creak tentatively open & there, in the sharp sunlight, Hector regards the man who will kill him.
At this point, shaking with mirth, Linda leans over to me & suggests that Hector would say 'Yes ?' to Achilles, in the manner of one who has opened a door to a charity collector. Trudy said she could feel the whole row of seats shaking as we fought to contain our giggles at this pressurised moment.
Honour was of course a way of life & death for these men, but I couldn't understand why Hector didn't just shout to his killer that he was unable to fight just now as he was 'in the bath'.
The upshot was, an enjoyable evening, with another very late bedtime.
Image of the day did not belong to the film however but to teatime at Linda's, prior to Trudy's arrival. Linda & Garth's son Harry had discovered a llife sized inflatable doll of the manner used to entertain inebriated stag/hen parties. (Garth had just returned from a boys only golfing trip & it appears the young lady in question was a gift to one of the chaps there. Yeah yeah.) Anyway, Harry was enthusiastically trying to inflate the lady, ignoring the valve on her back & aiming for the resuscitation method. A most unfortunate image. Did I mention Harry is 4 by the way ?
And it's on that image that I will leave you. My day off tomorrow has turned into a supervisor's meeting at Imber Court, about which I am not thrilled as you can imagine. Will write again tomorrow, eyes permitting. Lots to tell.
Take care.
If you are with someone tonight, hug them to sleep then let them sleep on their own cool bit of the sheet. It's ony right.
Cx
Pooter is feeling particularly unhelpful tonight, it will allow me a tantalising glimpse of who my e-mails are from, but when I say
'Please mighty pooter, may I read one ?'
It says
'Err, no, I think not.'
My eyes are playing up too, so this may be a short one, really need to get them tested. Nothing whatsoever with burning the candles at both ends.
Fantastic news, the following are all definites for the Barn Dance ;
Cocky, Trudy, Wendy, Angie & Hx. Stan is a 'please ask me some more & say it won't be the same without me'. Denim & checked shirts compulsory, what a shame you are still in NZ Bill, it would be right up Linda's street.
This week has been hectic.
Saturday night saw the annual general meeting of the disfigured society with Hx & I not undertanding the rules properly. MTM was immensely brave & sallied South to scary Crystal Palace, from deepest, lushest Hammersmith & survived to tell the tale. Stan brought an additional friend on his lip.
I had a marvellous time, despite MTM's proclamations that I am 'rubbish with alcohol' (photos on the 'Stan files') Thought you would have shared your 'porn star balloon chest' one Stan ? Uncannily attractive I thought.
We wined, dined, danced (3 of us did anyway, 1 let the side down rather shabbily in the fast dancing dept) & picked on Stan, telling him what to do immediately to make his life better, because we are all experts in the 'running other people's lives' thing. U still here Stan ?
It was a blinding night, even if the walk home did take 25 rather than the anticipated 5 & I had to coax my poor swollen head from the pillow at 0500 the next morning. Ow. Still, at least it's not like I had to ride a noisy, buzzy scooter with a raging headache.
Thank you & well done to all concerned. Hx - top bird.
Last night I teamed up with Cocky & Trudes to go see a man in a short leather skirt , I forget the name of the film.
It was of course 'Troy' & although an enjoyable enough romp, I must report Brad Pitt made Shane Richie look like Sir John Gielgud. Please don't misunderstand me, as far as physique goes, Brad was entirely convincing as a warrior. His fight scenes were very entertaining & his regular flesh-flashing was always going to be a crowd pleaser.
However.
I wonder if the producer who secured Mr.Aniston ever took the time to stop rubbing his hands long enough to give him a screen test. He was so wooden he was out-acted by the Trojans gift. I had visions of rehearsals & some stressed director saying to Brad, 'Ok, you've just killed the eldest son of a man you respect & admire, the man himself is here now to plead to have his son's body returned to him for an honourable funeral. I want you to give me hatred, respect, grief, pride, sorrow, repentance & defiance'
The look Brad mustered at this point, conveyed all the subtle complexity of a man who has momentarily forgotten where he put his library card. Quite awful.
No wonder he did so many scenes with his helmet on.
I didn't recognise the actor who played Priem, the dead mans father, but was totally absorbed by the luminous yet fragile face, like filigree iron. His performance was utterly captivating. When he was on the screen I could watch no-one else. The girls told me afterwards that it was Peter O'Toole, after a heated debate whether he was in fact dead or not. I am glad I was able to recognise a good actor.
Oddly, the few moments Pitt did come alive on the screen were always playing opposite a woman. It's as if they are a mirror for him, the moment he faces a man, he loses that 'something'. For the record & balance, I loved him in 'Meet Joe Black'
He is also in the unfortunate position of doing an 'epic, action' movie after Russell Crowe in Gladiator. As much as I detest the real-life goings on of the boorish Mr.Crowe I think he must be a worthwhile human being. Partly because Nicole Kidman rates him as a friend & she seems to be a sharp cookie, but mostly for the performance he turned in as Maximus Deciduous.
Despite lacking the truly eye-popping physique of Brad Pitt, he was totally & utterly convincing in his role of honourable hero, occasionally pushed to do dark deeds. Hell, even I would have followed him into battle, but I always did like a good scrap.
Not like the lovely Linda, who after the first death in Troy, turned to me & whispered 'Oh no, I hate violence' Wrong film love.
So & why not, as Mr Norman might say, what were our combined, intellectual opinions of the film ?
1) Helen, despite being crumpet, was generally not considered beautiful enough to be ' the face that launched' ...etc (she also had one eye made up darker than the other when she watched Paris fight, very off-putting)
2) Best homo-erotic film sequences since 'Top Gun'
3) WHY - DID - PEOPLE - SPEAK - LIKE - THIS - IN - THOSE - DAYS ?
Did they do it at the breakfast table ?
PASS - ME - THE - BUTTER. in a Brian Blessed stylee.
4) Orlando Bloom as Paris. Jolly nice but not as fanciable as Legoland.
5) Eric Banana as Hector. Likewise very good. Huge right ear.
6) Julie Christie. How refreshing to see someone who was old enough to be Brad Pitt's mum, actually playing Brad Pitts mum.
7) Stunningly beautiful neddies & none of the extras fell off during battle scenes, despite not being allowed to use stirrups for authenticity.
8) We couldn't decide who Achilles' love-interest was. I say Rachel Weisz but the other two disagreed with me. If it was her, I hated her in The Mummy, but loved her in this.
9) As haunting as it is, the director shouldn't have ripped off the 'call to prayer' music used to good effect in Gladiator. Get your own ideas Mr Bigshot.
I suggest the theme to The Archers for the CGI fight scenes.
10) Don't take Linda if you want to watch a move seriously. If you want to go see the movie, skip the next bit. After Hector mistakenly kills Achilles' cousin in battle, Achilles comes to Troy, bent on revenge. He arrives, en phaeton, full of menace, lusting for Hector's blood & proceeeds to bawl Hector's name repeatedly from the foot of Troy's great walls.
Inside meanwhile, Hector methodically straps on his armour, preparing to meet his nemesis. Finally, some 5 minutes later, the huge wooden gates creak tentatively open & there, in the sharp sunlight, Hector regards the man who will kill him.
At this point, shaking with mirth, Linda leans over to me & suggests that Hector would say 'Yes ?' to Achilles, in the manner of one who has opened a door to a charity collector. Trudy said she could feel the whole row of seats shaking as we fought to contain our giggles at this pressurised moment.
Honour was of course a way of life & death for these men, but I couldn't understand why Hector didn't just shout to his killer that he was unable to fight just now as he was 'in the bath'.
The upshot was, an enjoyable evening, with another very late bedtime.
Image of the day did not belong to the film however but to teatime at Linda's, prior to Trudy's arrival. Linda & Garth's son Harry had discovered a llife sized inflatable doll of the manner used to entertain inebriated stag/hen parties. (Garth had just returned from a boys only golfing trip & it appears the young lady in question was a gift to one of the chaps there. Yeah yeah.) Anyway, Harry was enthusiastically trying to inflate the lady, ignoring the valve on her back & aiming for the resuscitation method. A most unfortunate image. Did I mention Harry is 4 by the way ?
And it's on that image that I will leave you. My day off tomorrow has turned into a supervisor's meeting at Imber Court, about which I am not thrilled as you can imagine. Will write again tomorrow, eyes permitting. Lots to tell.
Take care.
If you are with someone tonight, hug them to sleep then let them sleep on their own cool bit of the sheet. It's ony right.
Cx
Thursday, June 10, 2004
All together now ...
'Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Mich-e-elle,
Happy Biiiiiiirthday to yoooouuuu'
I hope you get back from Hamilton at a reasonable time, if not, enjoy your special day when you have time to celebrate it on Saturday. Wish I was there.
'What do they think this place is, a penile punishment factory ?'
Was the funniest rhetorical question I was asked today by a very agitated Stan when referring to his workplace, NSY. After much collapsing with the giggles we decided, before you allrush to apply to work there, that he meant a penal punishment factory. Much less exciting. Hurry back soon Greta.
Yes, Cinders you shall go to the ball & Briggsy shall go to the barn dance ... thanks to the lovely skipper from another team who has agreed to cover for me. All I had to do in return was sign a piece of paper he thrust under my nose today. I caught sight of the words 'soul' & 'devil' but it can't be anything too bad can it ? Now you must go Stan, please please please please please please please. You will lurve June & Wendy, the frightfully posh sisters who organise it, you will dine out for weeks on the evening, I promise you.
Would you like a purple one ... ? Read on for a tale of pain, lust, betrayal & shame. Actually, it's only the last one shame, but I thought it would sound more exciting & wake you lot up. Apart from Stan & Bloo that is, who both sleep through my life-trauma events.
When I was 21 & working at Kennington Police Station, I had a 4 year crush on a sergeant who shall, for legal reasons, remain nameless. During conversation, he let it be known that he liked 'the purple ones' from Quality Street chocolates (so does Mummeh come to think of it) The next bit makes my armpits itch in embarrassment when I even think of it, but in the words of Magnus Magnusson ...
I bought a large tin of the afore-mentioned confectionery, & systematically removed the purple ones then casually offered him the whole bag that night duty. I must point out, for full shame factor, this was in the days BEFORE they sold just the one flavour separately, so my industry & application would have been apparent.
For the next part of the story you have to be familar with the film 'Dirty Dancing' & especially the 'I brought a water melon' scene. The girls will know what I am referring to but if you are a boy & know this scene you are either a token chick (step forward Stan & Bill) or gay (step forward the rest of you, aaah - wishing you'd been token chicks now aren't you ? )
Aaaaaanyhew - as I stood there with my heart on offer as well as my chocolates, he reached out, took one, cast me a look so piteous that it is scorched on my heart forever & fled. It was the 1st & last time I ever made an ar5e of myself by offering a bloke all the purple ones.
These days I offer the green triangliar (not a sp, that's how we say it) ones.
This was some 15 years ago. So why is it, that as he entered the Control Room tonight & said 'Hello - how are you ? I'd heard you were in NZ ?' all I could think was 'purple Quality Street, musn't mention purple Quality Street'
I managed not to scratch my armpits til he left the room. That wouldn't have been cool.
Do this soon
I was listening to John Peel's' Home Truths' the other evening, of which I am a huge fan. A lady on the programme had written a letter to herself some 50 odd years ago, to be opened on the event of her 60th birthday. It was immensely touching to hear her reading about herself all those years ago. I cannot urge you strongly enough to do this.
For anyone who missed it she had recorded where she was, what she looked like, what she was wearing, a little bit about how she felt (in her case a bit lonely & shy) & a snippet of world news, I think she mentioned Kruschev & a US president meeting. She also predicted (in 1959) that she thought the world was near another war.
It was absolutely compelling.
Find some paper & do it quick, before you forget & put it in a safe place. It doesn't have to be a masterpiece & she tore the paper from her maths book, but think how interesting it will be to open your own time capsule when you are 80 ? If nothing else & you are a spinster smelling of cat wee (no-one in particular, if you're wondering, but she's about my height) at least someone you love, will have wished you Happy Birthday.
Crocheting, embroidery & recipes
Tomorrow night sees the 1st re-convening of the coven in over a year .It's a 'girl's night in' at Trudy's. 'How long will it take you to get there ?' asked the slightly befuddled Weeny, who seems to have temporarily lost track of where I am living. Bless. We will probably do the above. We will certainly not drink too much,eat take away food (cooking just wastes talking time) cackle like witches or list an impressive number of daring & risque exploits (you & I can just talk to each other during this bit Weeny)
Neddy pestering
During the day I am riding with the lovely, unflappable Cocky. Cocky, have you ever thought of being a UN Peacekeeper ? With those sultry Irish tones, you would sort out the minor skirmish in Iraq toute de suite. I can hear you now ...
'That Saddam Hussein - now he's a bit of a w***er isn't he ?'
I can see your diary now.
0800 Take Harry to school
0900 Draft a peace plan for the Middle East
1000 Ride Snips
1100 Physio
1200 Lunch
1300 Plant flowers in Gaza. Declare it a site of special scientific interest.
1400 Arrest someone (only joking, obviously)
1500 Collect Harry
1600 Declare amnesty on all WMD, get Garth to collect them en route home
from work. Take to recycling facility at Sainsburys.
1700 Make potato dish for tea.
You will note your working day finishes at 5pm, leaving time to clean before the outlaws visit. Result.
My eyes are tired now, so I will leave you all with a fond farewell.
Stan - I am creditless on the mobile, let me know if Saturday's a goer ?
Mummeh - The torch beam is strong within you young Jedi.
Stu - Got hold of Sarah tonight, going around to LH next Thursday.
Hope you & Kerry have a fableous time in Dublin. Be careful at the
Guinness Factory, they spiked Ange's drinks there. Poor love, she was
all over the place, almost as if she had drunk 8 pints in 2 hours :-)
Bloo - I am very very jealous.
Feel like I had something else to tell you, but the old grey cells have taken a bit of a beating recently & I have forgotten. Why did I come to this room again ?
Oh yes, thank you for the texts asking how things had gone today. E-mails sent out in an update. Hand-holding much appreciated.
Goodnight all,
Cx
'Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Mich-e-elle,
Happy Biiiiiiirthday to yoooouuuu'
I hope you get back from Hamilton at a reasonable time, if not, enjoy your special day when you have time to celebrate it on Saturday. Wish I was there.
'What do they think this place is, a penile punishment factory ?'
Was the funniest rhetorical question I was asked today by a very agitated Stan when referring to his workplace, NSY. After much collapsing with the giggles we decided, before you allrush to apply to work there, that he meant a penal punishment factory. Much less exciting. Hurry back soon Greta.
Yes, Cinders you shall go to the ball & Briggsy shall go to the barn dance ... thanks to the lovely skipper from another team who has agreed to cover for me. All I had to do in return was sign a piece of paper he thrust under my nose today. I caught sight of the words 'soul' & 'devil' but it can't be anything too bad can it ? Now you must go Stan, please please please please please please please. You will lurve June & Wendy, the frightfully posh sisters who organise it, you will dine out for weeks on the evening, I promise you.
Would you like a purple one ... ? Read on for a tale of pain, lust, betrayal & shame. Actually, it's only the last one shame, but I thought it would sound more exciting & wake you lot up. Apart from Stan & Bloo that is, who both sleep through my life-trauma events.
When I was 21 & working at Kennington Police Station, I had a 4 year crush on a sergeant who shall, for legal reasons, remain nameless. During conversation, he let it be known that he liked 'the purple ones' from Quality Street chocolates (so does Mummeh come to think of it) The next bit makes my armpits itch in embarrassment when I even think of it, but in the words of Magnus Magnusson ...
I bought a large tin of the afore-mentioned confectionery, & systematically removed the purple ones then casually offered him the whole bag that night duty. I must point out, for full shame factor, this was in the days BEFORE they sold just the one flavour separately, so my industry & application would have been apparent.
For the next part of the story you have to be familar with the film 'Dirty Dancing' & especially the 'I brought a water melon' scene. The girls will know what I am referring to but if you are a boy & know this scene you are either a token chick (step forward Stan & Bill) or gay (step forward the rest of you, aaah - wishing you'd been token chicks now aren't you ? )
Aaaaaanyhew - as I stood there with my heart on offer as well as my chocolates, he reached out, took one, cast me a look so piteous that it is scorched on my heart forever & fled. It was the 1st & last time I ever made an ar5e of myself by offering a bloke all the purple ones.
These days I offer the green triangliar (not a sp, that's how we say it) ones.
This was some 15 years ago. So why is it, that as he entered the Control Room tonight & said 'Hello - how are you ? I'd heard you were in NZ ?' all I could think was 'purple Quality Street, musn't mention purple Quality Street'
I managed not to scratch my armpits til he left the room. That wouldn't have been cool.
Do this soon
I was listening to John Peel's' Home Truths' the other evening, of which I am a huge fan. A lady on the programme had written a letter to herself some 50 odd years ago, to be opened on the event of her 60th birthday. It was immensely touching to hear her reading about herself all those years ago. I cannot urge you strongly enough to do this.
For anyone who missed it she had recorded where she was, what she looked like, what she was wearing, a little bit about how she felt (in her case a bit lonely & shy) & a snippet of world news, I think she mentioned Kruschev & a US president meeting. She also predicted (in 1959) that she thought the world was near another war.
It was absolutely compelling.
Find some paper & do it quick, before you forget & put it in a safe place. It doesn't have to be a masterpiece & she tore the paper from her maths book, but think how interesting it will be to open your own time capsule when you are 80 ? If nothing else & you are a spinster smelling of cat wee (no-one in particular, if you're wondering, but she's about my height) at least someone you love, will have wished you Happy Birthday.
Crocheting, embroidery & recipes
Tomorrow night sees the 1st re-convening of the coven in over a year .It's a 'girl's night in' at Trudy's. 'How long will it take you to get there ?' asked the slightly befuddled Weeny, who seems to have temporarily lost track of where I am living. Bless. We will probably do the above. We will certainly not drink too much,eat take away food (cooking just wastes talking time) cackle like witches or list an impressive number of daring & risque exploits (you & I can just talk to each other during this bit Weeny)
Neddy pestering
During the day I am riding with the lovely, unflappable Cocky. Cocky, have you ever thought of being a UN Peacekeeper ? With those sultry Irish tones, you would sort out the minor skirmish in Iraq toute de suite. I can hear you now ...
'That Saddam Hussein - now he's a bit of a w***er isn't he ?'
I can see your diary now.
0800 Take Harry to school
0900 Draft a peace plan for the Middle East
1000 Ride Snips
1100 Physio
1200 Lunch
1300 Plant flowers in Gaza. Declare it a site of special scientific interest.
1400 Arrest someone (only joking, obviously)
1500 Collect Harry
1600 Declare amnesty on all WMD, get Garth to collect them en route home
from work. Take to recycling facility at Sainsburys.
1700 Make potato dish for tea.
You will note your working day finishes at 5pm, leaving time to clean before the outlaws visit. Result.
My eyes are tired now, so I will leave you all with a fond farewell.
Stan - I am creditless on the mobile, let me know if Saturday's a goer ?
Mummeh - The torch beam is strong within you young Jedi.
Stu - Got hold of Sarah tonight, going around to LH next Thursday.
Hope you & Kerry have a fableous time in Dublin. Be careful at the
Guinness Factory, they spiked Ange's drinks there. Poor love, she was
all over the place, almost as if she had drunk 8 pints in 2 hours :-)
Bloo - I am very very jealous.
Feel like I had something else to tell you, but the old grey cells have taken a bit of a beating recently & I have forgotten. Why did I come to this room again ?
Oh yes, thank you for the texts asking how things had gone today. E-mails sent out in an update. Hand-holding much appreciated.
Goodnight all,
Cx
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Thin n' crispy or deep pan ?
I have given lots of my friends something to laugh about recently.
Which is nice.
Every time they see me get on my mean mother of a scooter, the topic of pizzas seems to be to the fore.
The crazy Russian lady whose horse I sometimes ride even went so far as to sing 'Sexy, everything about you is so sexy' which I think was sarcasm as at the time she was serenading me I was a sweaty, dishevelled heap, having tried for 10 minutes or more to kickstart the poxy thing into life.
So, why am I riding a scooter, I hear you asking ?
My commute to Kingston from Upper Norwood is 33 miles, which wouldn't be too bad, but there is no direct route. Every journey includes a myriad of traffic lights, major junctions & suicidal pedestrians (bit like my journey to Karapiro eh Michelle ?).
The time I travel is a factor too. Getting in for 6am is a doddle, but when they release us at 4pm, it takes anything up to 2 hours to get home. So when Andy, who I work with, said he was going to Cyprus for the month & did I want his scooter, I leapt at the chance.
My 2 hour journey has been slashed to 30 minutes - result.
On the plus side, the scooter is fairly lively, can be parked anywhere & is the best handling bike I have ever ridden, bar none. It takes £4.50 in fuel to fill it up, although admittedly, it only does 100 miles on that tankful, so I do seem to live at fuel stations.
The only minus point is, I look like a nob.
It's ok, I know it. I think the problem is, I wear the same gear that I did for my 'proper' bikes ie. a decent lid, leather trousers, leather gloves, alpinestar boots & a kevlar jacket. What I should of course be wearing is a £10 lid perched on the back of my head, a t-shirt & cut off jeans.
The good news is, I am starting to get the behaviour of a scooter rider just right. I disregard red lights, rev the bike needlessly in quiet residential streets at midnight & am cultivating a 'what you lookin' at ?' stare. Excellent.
I always wondered why scooter/moped riders rode hell for leather with that desperate crouched posture, manic stare & flopping appendages. I now know it's because you have to. Pulling away from the lights on a decent sportsbike is a fine balance of throttle & clutch to prevent dumping yourself on your ar5e.
On the scooter, I have to twist the grip 3/4's of the way around before any forward movement commences. To ensure I beat the cars away & don't get caught in an F1 bottleneck at Purley Cross, it's almost a full revolution.
Andy rang from Cyprus on day 2 of his holiday
'How's the bike going ?' he asked.
'Great' I told him & went onto say I had used it every day since he had given it to me.
'I want it back when I come back you know'
The barn dance looks iffy. Work have said I can't have the day off, as it leaves us without a Controller. However, all is not lost, I have sent a grovelling e-mail to my colleagues asking if anyone can cover. Watch this space.
Work was uncomfortably hot yesterday & I really pitied the poor sods who had to drive in cars in synthetic uniforms & body armour. If I had a pound for every time someone came in to the air-conditioned Control Room & said 'Ooh, isn'tit lovely & cool in here' I would have 6 pounds.
When a police car has a fault, the driver who finds the fault has to write what the fault is & report it to our contractors to have the vehicle fixed. The process is known as 54ing a car. I assume it's because it used to be recorded in the Bk 54 but await correction if anyone knows otherwise.
I passed a car, in the back yard the other day which made me lol, although I stopped short of rotflmao & pmp. Vinny, one of our Pc's had written in a firm hand that the car was '54'd' because it was 'buggered'. I wonder what the good folks at Vensons made of that mechanical diagnosis ?
I am trying to do this Blog entry in Word as the Norton thingies send me into a frenzy. It can take me 30 odd minutes just to read 1 page of Blog, let alone posting. Very aaaarghhh.
The Tanners
I am writing what I would normally put on comments or e-mail here because
a) sending you texts is a bit hit & miss cos you check your mobile as often as you check your ansaphone messages. ie not very.
b) Being on-line is such a hit & miss experience that I can't guarantee my e-mail reaching you.
Please offer my congrats to Richard & Robin, I am thrilled for them & can't wait to look around when I visit in November. I can just imagine how excited Eric must have been looking around a whole facility dedicated to his porcine friends. (Is your bacon a welcome change from beef ?) I would love to be their farm worker & obviously whoever is doing the job once I get out there, will have to be booted off the farm in my stead.
The Tatler continues to be a great read & I am immensely frustrated when my reading is interrupted by a neurotic pooter which repeatedly asks 'Have you checked your Norton anti-virus ?' Sod off.
I now know the date of H's bday. When's Alice's pls ? Which is what I sent on text last night, when you finally look at your fone. Sounds like I need one of those bday reminder things, where did you find yours Michelle, was it Stin ?
Could you send me details of your UK bank account & if it suits, I will pay the money for the Safari into there ? If you would prefer it to go directly into your NZ a/c, then send me those. I seem to remember it was $400, is that right ?
The visit you asked about Michelle, is tomorrow, will update you afterwards. Situation remains the same.
I am early turn this w/e & would love to speak to you (if you still get the $8 thing ?) I should be on Trudy's landline, (will text you the number) both evenings (ie your mornings) Maybe you could ring me from your Sunday morning lie-in instead of breaking up the by now traditional fight between Eric & Harriette ?
I thought of you over the weekend, Michelle, when listening to Tracey Chapman. I remembered how you coaxed your Cd player into playing her, whilst the rest of us flopped around exhausted, having consumed another Tanner feast. I miss those evenings. I miss the kids too (read that bit quietly so the evil one doesn't hear)
Time to try & post this now
Love to all at Cedar Lodge.
Cx
I have given lots of my friends something to laugh about recently.
Which is nice.
Every time they see me get on my mean mother of a scooter, the topic of pizzas seems to be to the fore.
The crazy Russian lady whose horse I sometimes ride even went so far as to sing 'Sexy, everything about you is so sexy' which I think was sarcasm as at the time she was serenading me I was a sweaty, dishevelled heap, having tried for 10 minutes or more to kickstart the poxy thing into life.
So, why am I riding a scooter, I hear you asking ?
My commute to Kingston from Upper Norwood is 33 miles, which wouldn't be too bad, but there is no direct route. Every journey includes a myriad of traffic lights, major junctions & suicidal pedestrians (bit like my journey to Karapiro eh Michelle ?).
The time I travel is a factor too. Getting in for 6am is a doddle, but when they release us at 4pm, it takes anything up to 2 hours to get home. So when Andy, who I work with, said he was going to Cyprus for the month & did I want his scooter, I leapt at the chance.
My 2 hour journey has been slashed to 30 minutes - result.
On the plus side, the scooter is fairly lively, can be parked anywhere & is the best handling bike I have ever ridden, bar none. It takes £4.50 in fuel to fill it up, although admittedly, it only does 100 miles on that tankful, so I do seem to live at fuel stations.
The only minus point is, I look like a nob.
It's ok, I know it. I think the problem is, I wear the same gear that I did for my 'proper' bikes ie. a decent lid, leather trousers, leather gloves, alpinestar boots & a kevlar jacket. What I should of course be wearing is a £10 lid perched on the back of my head, a t-shirt & cut off jeans.
The good news is, I am starting to get the behaviour of a scooter rider just right. I disregard red lights, rev the bike needlessly in quiet residential streets at midnight & am cultivating a 'what you lookin' at ?' stare. Excellent.
I always wondered why scooter/moped riders rode hell for leather with that desperate crouched posture, manic stare & flopping appendages. I now know it's because you have to. Pulling away from the lights on a decent sportsbike is a fine balance of throttle & clutch to prevent dumping yourself on your ar5e.
On the scooter, I have to twist the grip 3/4's of the way around before any forward movement commences. To ensure I beat the cars away & don't get caught in an F1 bottleneck at Purley Cross, it's almost a full revolution.
Andy rang from Cyprus on day 2 of his holiday
'How's the bike going ?' he asked.
'Great' I told him & went onto say I had used it every day since he had given it to me.
'I want it back when I come back you know'
The barn dance looks iffy. Work have said I can't have the day off, as it leaves us without a Controller. However, all is not lost, I have sent a grovelling e-mail to my colleagues asking if anyone can cover. Watch this space.
Work was uncomfortably hot yesterday & I really pitied the poor sods who had to drive in cars in synthetic uniforms & body armour. If I had a pound for every time someone came in to the air-conditioned Control Room & said 'Ooh, isn'tit lovely & cool in here' I would have 6 pounds.
When a police car has a fault, the driver who finds the fault has to write what the fault is & report it to our contractors to have the vehicle fixed. The process is known as 54ing a car. I assume it's because it used to be recorded in the Bk 54 but await correction if anyone knows otherwise.
I passed a car, in the back yard the other day which made me lol, although I stopped short of rotflmao & pmp. Vinny, one of our Pc's had written in a firm hand that the car was '54'd' because it was 'buggered'. I wonder what the good folks at Vensons made of that mechanical diagnosis ?
I am trying to do this Blog entry in Word as the Norton thingies send me into a frenzy. It can take me 30 odd minutes just to read 1 page of Blog, let alone posting. Very aaaarghhh.
The Tanners
I am writing what I would normally put on comments or e-mail here because
a) sending you texts is a bit hit & miss cos you check your mobile as often as you check your ansaphone messages. ie not very.
b) Being on-line is such a hit & miss experience that I can't guarantee my e-mail reaching you.
Please offer my congrats to Richard & Robin, I am thrilled for them & can't wait to look around when I visit in November. I can just imagine how excited Eric must have been looking around a whole facility dedicated to his porcine friends. (Is your bacon a welcome change from beef ?) I would love to be their farm worker & obviously whoever is doing the job once I get out there, will have to be booted off the farm in my stead.
The Tatler continues to be a great read & I am immensely frustrated when my reading is interrupted by a neurotic pooter which repeatedly asks 'Have you checked your Norton anti-virus ?' Sod off.
I now know the date of H's bday. When's Alice's pls ? Which is what I sent on text last night, when you finally look at your fone. Sounds like I need one of those bday reminder things, where did you find yours Michelle, was it Stin ?
Could you send me details of your UK bank account & if it suits, I will pay the money for the Safari into there ? If you would prefer it to go directly into your NZ a/c, then send me those. I seem to remember it was $400, is that right ?
The visit you asked about Michelle, is tomorrow, will update you afterwards. Situation remains the same.
I am early turn this w/e & would love to speak to you (if you still get the $8 thing ?) I should be on Trudy's landline, (will text you the number) both evenings (ie your mornings) Maybe you could ring me from your Sunday morning lie-in instead of breaking up the by now traditional fight between Eric & Harriette ?
I thought of you over the weekend, Michelle, when listening to Tracey Chapman. I remembered how you coaxed your Cd player into playing her, whilst the rest of us flopped around exhausted, having consumed another Tanner feast. I miss those evenings. I miss the kids too (read that bit quietly so the evil one doesn't hear)
Time to try & post this now
Love to all at Cedar Lodge.
Cx
Thursday, June 03, 2004
'Take your pardner by the hand,
Drag them face down through the dirt ...'
Well how was I to know she had tripped, I thought she was just being lazy ?
Date for your diaries
Saturday 3rd July
Stop whatever it is you're doing & mark this date down & next to it write
'Have a fantastic night at the Barn Dance'
because you will. Ask Cocky, Trudy & Weeny. I have been to 3 of these, it's one of the highlights of the year & I never fail to have a spiffing time. If your bag is seeing me make an ar5e of myself, you cannot miss this evening.
The essence of the evening is to get hot, sweaty & drunk, get thrown around & eat lots.
How could you not enjoy yourself ?
Angie has already confirmed, Stan I expect you to be next. You WILL have a great time.
This entry will be short as Norton anti-virus thingies pop onto the screen every 4 seconds which need clearing down. I may post again later, I want to tell you about my new job delivering pizzas.
ttfn
Cx
Drag them face down through the dirt ...'
Well how was I to know she had tripped, I thought she was just being lazy ?
Date for your diaries
Saturday 3rd July
Stop whatever it is you're doing & mark this date down & next to it write
'Have a fantastic night at the Barn Dance'
because you will. Ask Cocky, Trudy & Weeny. I have been to 3 of these, it's one of the highlights of the year & I never fail to have a spiffing time. If your bag is seeing me make an ar5e of myself, you cannot miss this evening.
The essence of the evening is to get hot, sweaty & drunk, get thrown around & eat lots.
How could you not enjoy yourself ?
Angie has already confirmed, Stan I expect you to be next. You WILL have a great time.
This entry will be short as Norton anti-virus thingies pop onto the screen every 4 seconds which need clearing down. I may post again later, I want to tell you about my new job delivering pizzas.
ttfn
Cx
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