Friday in pictures

On Friday I awoke at 1200, relished that wonderful feeling of knowing I had no work for 5 days & lots of socialising planned. I hopped out of bed (I only hop out of bed on rest days. There's no hopping on work days)

I walked into Kingston to get a ickle something for Weeny.

'Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Wee-eeny,
Happy Birthday to you'

The Thames looked like this



I then headed off to the stables. As I turned up I was told

'Take your pick'



Naturally, I picked CB. We swaddled ourselves up & off we went.

We saw this.



And this.



Then in the evening I went out and saw this.



And this



I wasn't sure, but I have the photos to prove it, so I must have.

Cx

Today in pictures

My 4th consecutive day of riding in the snow.



Neddies in their duvies. This is how CB looked when I arrived today.



'Oi donkey-lugs'

With apologies to sensitive souls, this was bizarre sight of the day.



I'm no Poirot but it looked to me like Bambi didn't notice the wire fence, ran through it & neatly garrotted itself. Apologies for the poor quality of the shot but you try for clarity & definition on a petrified neddy who's wheelspinning & moonwalking trying to get away from the 'VERY SCARY DEAD THING'

It took us 8 minutes to pluck up the nerve to charge past :)



Tea-time

My favourite image of the day, take a good look, this is what you're all getting as a Christmas card this year.

I call this shot

'When diggers love too much'



Should have seen the funny looks I got from passing motorists whilst taking this. Like no-one ever takes pictures of diggers.

D-Man when I next come a-travelling, I'll steal the digger & we'll combine our fantasies & act out your plans for the 'improvement' of Dorkland.

Night duty ; 5 down, 2 to go.

Cx

Why yes, thank you Milky NZ, I am

Compromise, Neddies, Ken, Music & Stupid chavs

Location : Bedroom
Time : 1842
Listening to : Radio 4 1830 Weekday Comedy Half Hour :
Giles Wembley Hogg. Very funny.

I have been blogging – honest. It’s just it has been for medicinal purposes & not for public consumption. The story won’t see the light of day unless I end up blissfully married with his kids. See, it’s not just Bloo who can drop in controversial titbits ?

The following won’t make much sense except to one person & he’s trained never to tell secrets, but I’m going to tell the rest of you anyway. If it doesn’t make any sense just do what you do with Stan’s blog, skip the words & look at the pics. ‘Cept there aren’t any.

My New Year’s Resolution wasn’t having the desired effect, it was making me feel worse rather then better so I did the c-word. The one I hate doing. Yup – compromise. I’m not saying I can’t compromise about the little, getting-on-with-your-flatmate-type stuff, cos I can. The fact that the kitchen bin is never closed properly hardly fazes me. Much.

No, the stuff I have trouble compromising about is the ‘big stuff’, you know feelings & gurls stuff. I am aware that last sentence contains 3 ‘stuffs’, it’s not that I lack a thesaurus, it just has to be that word. A situation wasn’t panning out & so I took my bat home. I’ve now brought my bat back & said it’s better if we play with slightly different rules than no cricket at all. Clear ? Excellent.

Neddies

I’m currently nights & was planning to ride straight after work every morning at 0630. The 1st night of snow & ice put paid to that & beesies was infinitely more tempting than neddies. Beesies with electric blankie proved ultimately irresistible. In one of those welcome quirks of fate, fortune did not favour the brave because by the time I awoke at 1400 to ride the stunning scene outside my bedroom window rivalled anything from a glittery Christmas card.

The snow was whirling, thick & luscious & it carried on all afternoon.

I have now ridden 3 consecutive times in the snow & feel very Scott about it all.

The funniest ride was my returning journey from the Downs with CB yesterday. CB has very large ears & the combination of snow, mixed with hailstones bouncing off his lugs was really disconcerting for him. He tried them at every possible angle, failing dismally to protect them. In the end, he allowed them to flop at right angles from his head, resembling furry motorbike handles.

Once he was stabled, dried off, rugged up & had his tea, I pottered off to the tack room, cleaned his tack & made myself a mug of soup. I elected to sit in his stable with him so that we could eat together. He alternated between sticking his nose in my mug to see if neddies would like soup & jealously guarding his hay from me, in case I tried to steal any.

Sitting in the warm, fresh shavings, watching the snow madly swirling outside, sipping hot soup, whilst a huge, gently steaming horse munched loudly on his hay, was the visceral highlight of my week so far.

Today I took Hannah up to the Downs, & in the way that only she can be, she was terrible. At first she minced along, taking ridiculous tiny pony steps & staring at everything goggle-eyed. She was busy trying to convince me she had never seen this bizarre white stuff which persisted in falling on her. Failing to be moved by her plight I explained patiently & firmly that ‘no’ we were not turning for home & ‘yes’ I did expect her to behave as if the snow wasn’t there.

By the time we arrived on the Downs my thighs were screaming in protest from hanging on grimly as she pranced & cavorted in her best approximation of a trot. By the time we arrived at the sand track between the trees where I had cantered on previous days with Snippet (albeit very spiritedly) & CB, I had decided discretion was the better part of valour & hacked her off mightily by not allowing her to canter but recommending that we ‘steady … trot’ instead.

I don’t use the word recommend lightly with Hannah. She is so very flighty & resentful of heavy-handed instruction that she will take it upon herself to unceremoniously dump a rider who thinks they can order her to do something. Riding her is a continual balance between her demanding to be allowed to do unacceptable things & me suggesting that perhaps we might try this way instead ? I’ve just re-read that last paragraph & recognised myself. No wonder I like Hannah as much as I do.

Ken

For overseas readers, here’s a precis.

Ken Livingstone is the Mayor for London. He was chucked out of the Labour party a while ago, despite being back in now, is extremely militant & has hacked off millions of Londoners by introducing a £5 congestion charge to drive into London. I love the congestion charge because I never drive to London, it’s free for motorcycles, and the last time I took a bike up there, London looked as it should, the only vehicles on the streets being buses, taxis, vans & couriers.

I used to feel fairly apathetic towards Ken, but all that has changed in the last couple of weeks. The long & short of it is that whilst leaving a social event, he was repeatedly asked for an interview by an Evening Standard journalist. He declined to do the interview & once riled, told the journalist (who was Jewish) that he was ‘just like a concentration camp guard’

I’m not going to comment on what he said to the journalist other than to make light of the Holocaust by comparing anything that occurred then to a journalist now, was frankly foolish.

It’s what has happened since that really gets my goat. As a Capricorn you have to know I don’t choose that phrase lightly. I am incensed by this mania we have in the UK for demanding apologies. People like Ken say something controversial & all of a sudden the nameless hordes start baying for blood. It seriously pi55es me off. Where does the Daily Mail (sister paper to the Standard) get off, telling us what to think ?

Ken has refused to apologise to the journalist. He has said to do so would be hypocritical since he is not in any way contrite & I say good on you Ken. He has however, apologised to London’s Jewish community for any offence caused & there the matter should be left.

It seems to me that people in prominence get where they are & stay there by treading the middle line & apologising left, right & centre for every slight, imagined or otherwise. So I’m going to stick my neck out & say that’s why I admire people like Maggie Thatcher & Boris Johnson. They are human, they make errors, but damned if they’re going to snivel to all & sundry looking for permission to live. Sod that. They stick to their guns & say unpopular things & live & die by the consequences. Let’s all do the same why don’t we ?

Quick break to inhale & exhale from a brown paper bag.

Music – the gift that keeps on giving.

We’ve all made up tapes for ourselves haven’t we ? A selection of tracks guaranteed to make you feel good ? Isn’t it wonderful when someone does it for you & gets it so completely right ?

A perceptive person noticed I have been going through the motions lately & compiled a CD for me. I was given it with strict instructions to listen to it all the way through & it would make sense. Here’s the thing - it does.

At first the music holds your hand & says ‘Boy – your life sure is tough isn’t it ?’ It then invites you to sit down & strokes your eyebrows whilst listening to how unfair everything is. Initially all the tracks are low, percussive, hypnotic & almost ambient, requiring very little in the way of auditory effort.

Next come a salvo of tracks which empathise & provide examples of how just a little volume can help.

After that the music asks if maybe you feel strong enough to drag yourself from the sofa. ‘Come on’ it says ‘look – it’s possible’.

Once you’re up & about come a few slightly more rowdy songs, by now you’re smiling & wondering if you’ve time to go for that run.

Towards the end everything’s, anthemic, uplifting & pure kick-ass ‘show them you’re not going to take any crap’. Track 11 is Linkin Park & by now you know this CD is going to hog your player for months.

Just when you thought it had ended, there’s a ‘hidden track’ at 22, and it features lyrics which would stand alone as poetry.

Perfect.

Thank you.

Stupid chavs

Night duty funny of the week so far ? The pi55ed girl who asked her friend to drive because she was drunk. Friend (who is also under the affluence) promptly stacks the car at speed into the front wall of a pub. The owner of the car then gets in & drives the car away from the pub.

Net result = 2 arrested for drink drive. It’s too good to be made up isn’t ?

Cx

'Closer' .... or further apart ?

I went to see 'Closer' tonight.

I can't believe I had forgotten Damien Rice did the soundtrack.

But I did.

Ow.

Cx

‘Snot & awe …’

Time spent continuously in bed : 42 hours

Foodstuffs consumed : Horlicks, lemon squash, chicken soup, Beechams Flu & Cold relief & Veno’s cough mixture (very good when mixed together, but don’t plan on walking anywhere because you can’t feel your legs)

Symptoms : Nausea upon standing, squashed head in a vice upon laying, headache, earache, joint-ache, too sweaty under the duvy, too cold out of it, barking cough, bleeding sore throat (not in an Essex girl way, but bleeding from too much coughing) & a snotty nose. And spotty legs. (I don’t know ?)

Positions attempted trying to get comfortable : 6,742

Number of times pillows turned whilst attempting to replicate someone with lovely, cool ‘pastry’ hands smoothing my forehead : 349

Reading matter : Old copies of Horse & Hound.

Dental problems : None (in case anyone was still confused)

As someone who rarely gets ill, I was surprised to find myself honking lavishly & copiously before late-turn parade on Tuesday. I put it down to feeling a bit emotional & made it onto parade, pasty-white & sweating & 5 minutes late.

Being the fabulously proficient martyr that I am I did the whole late turn brushing aside the Guv’nor’s entreaties for me to ‘go home.’
‘Nay Guv’nor tis but a flesh wound’

After no sleep thanks to feverish, sweaty nightmares about Milky’s court case (which I dreamt I stuffed up due to a typing oversight) it became apparent in the morning that I officially had a cold.

I didn’t start to feel human again until yesterday afternoon after a bath. Hating to miss anything which happens on a rest day, I promptly headed off into town to meet the team for a drink-up.

It was a good turn-out as well, though, as ever, the numbers who made it onto Oceana were somewhat depleted. We were even joined by 3 ‘normal’ people in the shape of Colin’s friend Mark, Laura’s friend Serena & Milky’s friend Jim.

It’s always the way isn’t it that when you emphasise just how good something is to someone & how it’s ALWAYS good, it just isn’t, the next time you do it. And so it was with Oceana & what we had promised to Jim.

Immediately we arrived, Andy had a disagreement with the bouncer over acceptable footwear & had to go home. Andy thought trainers acceptable, the bouncers didn’t. If you’re reading this mate, there were lots of blokes wearing trainers inside. Does that help ?

It was with high expectations that Jim was ushered inside & we confidently whisked him through ‘the cheese-room’ & on towards the r & b room. Only to find our way barred by a velvet rope. Turns out the r & b room was closed. Bugger. So with heavy hearts we turned back to the cheese-room, the music here is never quite fast enough & never quite loud enough.

The dance-floor was populated by the sick, the lame & the dead.

The blokes were all short & fat & the ‘girls’ were … well …

My personal favourite was dressed in an outfit that resembled an elongated black boob tube. It commenced just above her nipples & ended just below her buttock cheeks. If this sounds sexy, I promise you it wasn’t, because her body shape resembled a toilet roll inner. No in’s, no out’s, no … anything really. She must have been too warm & had dispensed with her underwear & her dancing was, how shall I describe it ? Enthusiastic.

To replicate the dancing I would like you do the following :

March very rapidly on the spot, to no discernible beat whilst turning your knees out as you raise them to waist height. Hold your arms aloft in a manner slightly reminiscent of an aggressive football fan & at random intervals punch both arms in the air simultaneously. Be very careful to make sure your arm & leg movements never correspond. Every now & then tug vaguely at your hem, dragging your dress down to cover your ‘downstairs’ modesty, until your frantic marching makes it ride up again.

Need I tell you that Milky, Jim & I positioned ourselves where we would get the best view & dared each other to go & dance with her ?

Some of the other ladies were the 50 year old Cher lookee-likee with her fags tucked in her mini-skirt. Classy. Or at least Phil thought so. There was also, the rhomboid shaped lady with no neck who was enamoured of leopard-print nylon. Then there were the 2 tall people. What are the odds against the 2 tallest people there hooking up & finding neither one had any rhythm ? Life can be so harsh.

I sulked for most of the evening, finding it impossible to dance to anything except 1 track by Usher but Jim & Milky had no such reservations. They boogied, they pranced, they did the eyebrow thing (actually that was just Jim) They postured, they shimmied & they tangoed. I kid you not, I have photographic evidence. I came to the conclusion they would enjoy themselves in an empty room.



'And this week's couple in 'Strictly Come Dancing are ...'





'What do you mean chicks DON'T dig scars ?'



'The eyebrow thing' Easy ladies.

Tomorrow it’s early turn again. I’m going to read this week’s Horse & Hound & make myself some dinner. I’d usually have an early night before earlies but I’m sick of being in bed & I never thought I’d say that.

I’ll leave you with this, which I thing you’ll agree needs only one title


‘Caption Competition’



Cx

Loose tooth.

Remember how it felt to have a loose tooth as a kid ?

Partly it was a pleasurable experience.

It was all-consuming & distracted you whilst you were supposed to be concentrating in lessons.

You spent hours prodding it with your tongue, moving it this way & that. Even the slight pain that came with moving it around was bearable because at the end of the pain was the anticipation of the tooth fairy & that 50 pence piece.

After the tooth was gone, the hole it left felt chasm-like. Your tongue would unerringly find the hole reminding you of what used to be there. Time goes quickly when you’re a child and you forgot quickly.

I wish there were tooth fairies for grown-ups.

Cx

Pound of flesh

For reasons I know you wil understand I can't go into details, suffice it to say the lowlife who attacked my friends was arrested last night.

It was my happy duty to inform Al & Milky last night. This was my call to Milky ...

Me ; 'What's the best news I could possibly give you ?'

Milky ; 'Have you got chocolate ?'

Cx

:)

Man came.

Man fix.

Man good.

Cx

Layzee weekend.

I can’t remember the last time I had such a thoroughly unproductive weekend. My plans for neddy pestering went out of the window & I can’t honestly say I minded. The sum total efforts of my weekend have been to wash the throws for the sofa & to tidy & clean my bedroom. I thought that as I was going to be spending a lot of time in bed, my room needed to be clean.

Last night saw the hard-core of Andy, Milky & I going to Oceana’s. We were joined by Phil who pronounced himself disgusted at the music & the antics of the club-goers. We smiled tolerantly at him, as one does with an elderly relative who complains that they ‘can’t hear the words’ on Top of The Pops any more. Despite this, Phil stayed almost to the end, not because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t find his way out. It was considered a real test of fortitude for Phil ; when we went to the same club for my birthday, he paid his entrance fee, took one look at the queue to check in coats & promptly left.

Andy has been away from VK on a course and then he missed the early turns due to a stinking cold so we had a lot of catching up to do in the pub.

We stayed at the pub much longer than we had intended & it wasn’t until after midnight that we wended our way to Oceana’s. I had skipped dinner & seem to remember demanding chicken (it must be a Pavlovian response to alcohol, but it’s the only fast food I ever crave) so we stood outside eating our spoils with Andy crying because ‘You try eating chicken wings that are this ‘ot’. I then had to dodge Miky’s attentions with the lemon towelette as he was intent on wiping my face with it far too vigorously for my liking.

Once inside the club, the night followed the predictable pattern.

At one point I challenged Milky to copy the female podium dancer whilst I imitated the male across the other side of the dance floor. He was making a decent job of it too until she leapt in the air, did the splits & landed on the horizontal banister, legs akimbo & continued to writhe & gyrate. Milky complained of shrapnel & suggested he copy the male from then on.

All too soon the night was over & we awaited the complimentary Beemer courtesy of Jim. Jim wisely decided against letting me drive, despite my assurances that ‘it would be fine’. Problem is the zorst is just so fruity that it’s a very difficult car to be a passenger in. Perhaps if I let him borrow Henry ? Actually scrub that, he wouldn’t be able to handle the raw power. Or the embarrassment when Henry lovingly refuses to relinquish the driver at the end of the journey.

Happy Birthday lovely Angie

Friday was lovely Angie’s birthday & 6 of us accompanied her to ‘La Barbe’ in Reigate. The food was excellent and just as importantly to me, the service was outstandingly good. After Angie’s health scare last year it was wonderful to see her looking so good & as ever she was on cracking form. I suspect part of her glow could be attributed to a new admirer. I’m saying nothing more than that for fear of jinxing her but if he shapes up as the form promises, I may hopefully see my lovely friend with the kind of guy she really deserves (Please, please, please.) Tonight we re-group to see Oceans 12 in Wimbledon. The reviews I’ve read have all been scathing but any film with that much eye candy just has to be seen anyway.


I had planned to visit the gym today for the 1st time since November but alas now it’s too late. Oh dear.

Tomorrow ‘man comes’ to look at pooter.

I can hardly wait.

And just to clarify my earlier entry, I don’t want testes per se, I just want them so that I can then understand (& fix) my own pooter problems.

Cx

Murray,

I have written the letter I promised, it will be posted tonight & in a mere 10 days you will be up to speed on all the news.

Milky NZ,

Sorry I missed your tx, I didn’t see it until you would have been asleep. I will be back later on tonight (your Mon morning) or around Mon morning (your Mon eve) after ‘man has been’ . Will tx you the number. Hope you’re ok ?

Trudes,

Enjoy Goring, I hope it makes you all better.

Watching …

The day before I left to live in NZ I stayed at Stuart’s so that he could take me to the airport early the next day. At bedtime I asked to borrow an alarm clock to help me rise. ‘Use this’ he said loaning me a watch with an alarm that he had formerly used for running due to it’s second timing facility.

I had been in NZ for a day before I realised I was still wearing it.

It is a rather unlovely, utilitarian Casio & yet I have become irrationally attached to it. It has a chunky black screen & a rather tatty blue material strap which closes with Velcro that’s losing it’s stick.

I wore the watch every single day & night of my year away, much to the amusement of the Stud girls who would eye my Friday night gurly outfit & say kindly ‘And you’re planning on wearing that watch with that outfit are you ?’ ‘Yes’ I would reply, it wasn’t up for discussion.

During my year away the watch was dunked in cold water whilst I cleaned troughs, pulled on daily by nosey colts who adored the sound of the Velcro opening, and served as a 5am alarm clock. I set it by the GMT signal on Radio 4 when I left England and it has never lost so much as a second in time.

Every now & then I try swapping it for my very pretty gurls watch which has a stretchy brushed chrome band & a pink, metallic face. It never lasts a day though because my Casio tells me the day, date & time at a glance & it lights up at night. Can my gurl’s watch do this ? No.

Last week I thought I had lost the Casio & was hacked off all day. I had a vague recollection of the strap being loose whilst riding & when I dismounted Hannah after our unintentional sprint I found it was missing. I assumed it was trodden into ankle deep mud somewhere on Walton Heath & cursed my stupidity.

So it was a lovely surprise to find, as I emptied the washing machine, what I had actually done was washed it on a 40 degree cycle with lots of underwear. I know it’s designed to be waterproof to 50 metres but I love it even more now for still telling the time after 40 degrees and Ariel.

And now my question, what 1 item could you not do without ? I may be wrong but I seem to remember Stuart telling me the Casio was a cheap watch & yet, to me, it’s worth so much more than it’s monetary value (especially as I didn’t buy it J) I did recently catch Stuart looking at it on my wrist & I could tell he was thinking ‘Hmmm, that looks like …’ Sorry Stu, you can’t have it back.

Cx

Listen with Ludwig.

Location : Bedroom
Time : 2230
Scent : The Sanctuary’s Relaxing Oil in a burner
Soundtrack : Beethoven

I love to Blog at the end of the day knowing that all my chores for the next day are complete ; it brings me a sense of peace. All I have to do now is dry my rapidly curling hair.

I have spent the last couple of hours ironing 10 shirts whilst listening to music as Sharon does stuff on her computer for work. I relish the fact that we don’t have mindless noise in the background from an incessant, moronic squawk-box. I can’t truthfully say I always enjoy ironing but every once in a while the urge grabs me & I can stand utterly engrossed for a couple of hours, starching shirt upon shirt.

When I lived with Angie in Mange we came to the deal that we would do each other’s ironing, somehow it’s less weary that way.

Tonight has been the classics ; Elgar’s Cello Concerto, Bach’s Toccato, Adagio & Fugue & lastly Beethoven’s Symphony No 9 ‘Choral’ which you may know as ‘Ode to Joy’. Thoroughly rousing stuff. I am grateful to Mum for my appreciation of the latter, I could listen to it on repeat for hour after hour.

You don’t have to have children if you leave something of worth behind.

Blink and there go 2 more days off

Recipe ; 2 horses, 2 riders, 1 springer spaniel, lots of mud.
Agitate thoroughly. Result = 2 baths in 2 days for 1 very put upon dog.

‘Hannah’s in a foul mood’ I called prophetically to Kerry from my stable as I tried to tack her up yesterday, whilst she stamped in circles around her box, swishing her tail & grinding her teeth.

We set off at 1100 for a 2 hour hack which would take us up towards Walton Heath Golf Course. The protocol on the frightfully correct course is to give way on the 1st 4 holes, checking alternately left & right. If there is any play coming towards you, the idea is to stop your horse & wait to be waved through.

I suspect one would be marked down on the score card for galloping madly through all 4 holes, out of control, just managing to snatch glances left or right but with little or no chance of pulling a half-tonne of hormonal horse to a standstill. Thank you whoever for making all the tees be empty.

The last thing Kerry said to me as she looked over her shoulder at a trot was ‘How long is it through this course ?’ ‘About half a mile’ I replied, which was her cue to canter. Unfortunately I wasn’t quick enough off the mark & Hannah thought that as Kerry’s horse Patrick started to canter off, that she was to be abandoned. She promptly stuck her head between her knees & took off after his retreating form.

‘Sorrrrreeeeee’ I shouted pathetically to Kerry as we ploughed past her & headed for the horizon. Her response was a rapidly diminishing profanity.

Twice I thought I had managed to slow Hannah & twice I had to lie on her withers to avoid obstacles. Each time I lay down I’m sure I heard her say ‘Yeeha ! as she took my cue to go even faster. My legs were flapping on her side like badly furled sails & I didn’t dare think how Kerry must look as we threw big, black gobbets of mud behind us.

A long time later we finally both stopped, some 40 metres from the road we were due to cross. We looked at each other & giggled hysterically with the realisation that I was still aboard. ‘One – nil’ I said as Kerry just shook her head. I pulled so hard on the reins that my amber ring from Nelson market is now oval rather than circular. We’re going to the Downs on Saturday to do it all again. I’d avoid the area if you’re thinking of taking small children.

Barley has been wonderful company and as ever, I handed her back last night with a lump in my throat. There’s something very comforting about having her solid little form on my bed. It feels very different without her there.

‘Play the joker you w.anchor !’

Was Matt’s entreaty to me at the pub quiz last night. We were pretty sure on 15 out of 16 of our Australian picture faces but weren’t entirely convinced that we had Kerry Packer right. We should have trusted ourselves though & played the joker. We had all 16 correct & would have comfortably romped to victory & £30, rather than the 3rd place & £10. Milky’s Mum you would have been proud of me, not only was I able to identify Phar-Lap but also to tell anyone who cared to listen (none of them did) that his skellington was in the Te Papa Museum in Wellington. Well done us for going to see it.

One point of note, whilst ruminating upon a team name, our team Inspector seriously suggested ‘Kingston Killers - & he's in charge ?

2 more early turns to go, then out for a meal to celebrate the lovely Angie’s birthday on Friday. Neddy pestering during the day Saturday & Sunday & the possibility of some very loud dancing music on Saturday. We shall see,

Tune in for tomorrow’s exciting instalment when I plan to Blog about a watch.

Cx

Get well soon Andy. Please don’t leave me with him for much longer.

Hx, The contents of my bedside table are as follows :

A pale green lamp, a glass vase of purple & white tulips, a tiny black & white cat who reminds me of ‘Chester’ a small framed picture of an English country garden complete with lupins, aquilegia, foxgloves & wisteria, a small stoneware candle holder from Stan which proclaims ‘Carol – kind & romantic at heart, Blessed with a caring gift’ (quit sniggering, I like it) a card from my Mum and whichever book I am reading, currently ‘Silent Thunder – In the presence of elephants’ I can take a phot but can’t publish until ‘man comes’

And on that note …

Continuing thanks to Bloo who painstakingly publishes Blog for me, a few lines at a time from MSN. Bloo you will be glad to know I have arranged for ‘man come’ on Monday night. Hopefully ‘man come’ & ‘man fix’ if not man promises ‘no fix, no fee’ Hmmmm.

How I wish I had testes & understood computers.