‘Little bit up, little bit down’


Time started ; 1702
Time finished ; 2005
Location ; Bedroom
Listening to ; News on Radio 4
Wearing ; Packet of frozen peas (on my left knee)

I returned from a gloriously sunny, I’ll type that again, a gloriously sunny Wales this morning. I have spent the day unpacking, washing sweaty gear, ironing and taking things easy.

My plans for this evening feature nothing more demanding than a hot bath & an early night. I am determined that for once in 15 years I’ll be in bed early enough for early turn.

As someone who finds being cold intolerable, it is with no great relish that I’m wearing these peas, however as cold compresses work so well on horses injured legs, I’m willing to try it. I have to keep it on for 15 minutes & it’s only been 4 so far.

You may be wondering why I’m wearing garden vegetables ? You may not (after all ‘she’s from Yorkshire, she’s probably got a ferret down her trousers too I shouldn’t wonder’) but get yourself comfortable & I’ll tell you why.

Yesterday saw a hideously early 0530 meet for a day’s walking in the Brecon Beacons. The excited packing of the night before had evaporated in the light of day & I stood mute & slitty-eyed outside the flat, awaiting Roger who arrived cheerful & buoyant. I told myself his mood could be attributed to the fact that he hadn’t done late turn the day before so had enjoyed a little more than 4 hours sleep.

My packing, which I had thought so organised let me down, for at 0520 I was tearing the flat apart in a temper looking for my camera. I am disappointed to report I remembered only half way to Wales that it was in my golf bag. I didn’t think the chaps would take kindly to my request to turn around for it. The good news is others did take cameras so when the pics come I’ll insert them here.

As for Roger ? He is someone I worked for in the States during 9/11. I have immense respect for his leadership style ; always calm & reasonable, he achieves a volume of work from his staff that more voluble & intolerant bosses would fail to. I willingly worked the kind of hours I never had before, doing things I was totally out of my depth doing, solely because of how he managed & supported his team. I am not alone, I know the other 4 felt the same.

We’ve kept in touch ever since, always promising to do lots of bike rides, the fruition of which has been one 25 mile ride which I did with a stinking hangover & 30 minutes sleep (clubbing the night before, ‘all my own fault’, yardeeyar) Roger’s attitude to a lack of effort is summed up in the following. The morning of the ride I texted ‘Could we possibly cancel, I’ve only had 30 mins sleep & don’t feel well ?’ The reply came back ‘No. See you in an hour.’

He is currently a Superintendent in Public Order branch, which means he gets to organise & control all the exciting, sexy stuff that the police do, like the victory parade for the Word Cup Rugby Squad. It also means he has to explain why ‘bad things happen’ but of course I don’t let on that I know this. All I do is tease him about which glamorous event he swanned into last time. The truth of the matter is as someone utterly useless at the meeting & greeting that goes on at these soirees, I would hate that part of his job.

Last year, Roger was asked to organise a team day by some of his inspectors. They requested something challenging, expecting a day’s brain-storming. He suggested the 3 Peaks in Yorkshire. If you’re unfamiliar with this particular torture, it’s a 25 mile slog, encompassing 3 Peaks (odd that) The walk must be done in 12 hours to qualify. As luck would have it they walked during some of the most severe weather experienced in Yorkshire in the last 5 years. I really thought Roger was exaggerating the severity of the conditions until I saw the photos. The streams & brooks which I had hopped over, via dainty stones, were raging, waist-high torrents. One particular river took 2 hours for the party to cross.

Fifteen minutes up now, stand by whilst I put my peas away …

And now I have to switch listening, because I find myself riveted by the bizarre allegation that George Galloway has accepted money from Saddam Hussein & can’t concentrate on blogging properly. Instead I’m enjoying my latest must-listen CD - Keane’s ‘Hopes & Fears’ which is another bullseye from Milk Yuk who can unerringly pinpoint stuff I’ll enjoy. Except of course for ‘The Worst Song in The World’ ?

Anyhoo, back to the story. Oddly enough after Roger’s modern day homage to Noah his team trusted him to organise more stuff which is where I found myself roped in.

A few months ago when the prospect of summer’s fitness seemed a hazy far-off possibility I signed up for a ‘Return to the 3 Peaks’ which Roger was planning under the auspices of ‘It can’t be as horrendous again can it ?’ Err, yes.

Yesterday’s walk in the Brecons was as a general warm-up & get together prior to the Peaks at the end of June.

And that’s how I found myself heading at 0531 to Paul’s house for an 0545 rvp with Dave. True to Roger’s prediction, Dave was running late but by 0600 we were M4-bound in Paul’s sumptuous Saab.

Dave has just returned from working on his house in Florida and was enthralling us all with the intricacies of wax vacuum seals which are apparently unique to American lavatories. (That’s the ‘john’ for you Romana) We passed a car involved in a hideous smash which was on it’s roof and half it’s original size & Paul later confessed he had entertained the idea of rolling the Saab to stop Dave talking.

And so it was with some relief (only joking Dave) that we arrived at Magor services and met up with Stuart and Guy. We were joined shortly afterwards by Ed, Debbie and George.

After introductions over a full English, we made for the Youth Hostel in a 3 car convoy, the plan being to arrive at 1000, for a 1030 off. If you’re wondering why it’s all so regimented I will remind you that most of these people are in some way or other connected to organising and planning events. It’s no good saying ‘…see you after lunch then ?’ to these people. They won’t understand.

In the event, we arrived a little early & were assembled for a 1018 departure. I should point out at this stage that I’ve done lots of walking & considered myself ready for what was ahead. I was aware my core fitness was lacking but comforted myself with the thought that I’ve always been able to walk all day. What I hadn’t anticipated was the fact that this group set off at not so much a walk as a yomp. My struggles to keep abreast were compounded by my clothing.

Roger had stressed over & over how lousy the weather forecast was and how certain people whilst trying for a certain elite organisation had died of exposure whilst on the Brecons. He compounded this by telling me that one of his friends formerly of said organisation had recounted how it had snowed in July. I set off for the walk wearing a long-sleeved thermal top, a lightweight woollen sweater and a thick, voluminous fleece because I know layers make sense. In my rucksack were a set of waterproofs & gloves. I wasn’t going to be derided for being inadequately attired.

An hour later after a calf-busting, lung popping incline, in bright sunshine, I had to abandon the group whilst I lunged into a telephone kiosk to divest myself of the thermal top & the fleece. They didn’t mock me at all, or make any Superman jokes.

And so it was, an hour and a half into the walk, with at least 6.5 to go, I found myself facing a steep climb, sweating like a horse and wanting to sit down & cry. A disconcerting niggle in my left knee was ringing alarm bells & I genuinely contemplated telling the group that it may not be wise for me to carry on.

Uppermost in my mind, aside from the pain, was the thought that I may find myself half way around the walk lacking the ability to go on. Handy cafes are thin on the ground in the Brecons so I knew that if I really hurt myself it would be either a piggyback or an airlift out. Neither appealed & as I climbed the first peak I weighed the pros and cons.

I would like to report that good sense won out & the reason I carried on was that I deemed I wouldn’t put my new found friends to too much inconvenience & would be able to complete the day. I’ll be truthful though, cos it’s you lot, & confess that just one thing made me keep going … pride. To be factual it was pride, a pole, a knee support & painkillers, but you get the gist.

Halfway up the 1st really stiff climb, I looked at the party assembled around me, actually I just looked at their backs, as steadily they all left me far behind and I assessed them.

There were Ed & Stu who made the walk look like a Sunday stroll. They’re built along similar lines, lean & rangy with the kind of ground-covering strides which stumpy people like me detest. For the early climbs Ed shouldered his rucksack with casual insouciance over one shoulder as if strolling around Waitrose. I found out later from Roger that Ed cycles into work every day and I’m guessing it’s more than a mile or so. Stu used to do ‘a lot of cycling’ but now ‘just does a lot of running’. Hate them, hate them.

Paul, Dave & Guy all covered the ground deceptively easily. By that I mean they were able to talk whilst ascending. I could only marvel at this skill.

Debbie used to be very fit and despite being told by doctors that she would never walk again after severe back problems has clearly retained a lot of cardio-vascular fitness. This was indicated by her leaping up to carry on after the group stopped for some 40 seconds at a cairn to take on some water. The rest of us pretended to admire the view, hoping to gain some respite. After one of her ‘walks’ which sounded to me very much like a run, of 50 miles over 2 days she had to have false skin applied to her feet, so bad were her blisters.

Her partner George was inspirational in as much as he was 50 & walked like someone 20 years younger. I know he won’t mind me telling you his age because it was the source of much good-natured banter as we were staying in a ‘Youth Hostel’. He also has lovely skin and that’s because he uses moisturiser – take note chaps. It is big and it is clever.

As for Roger, he had at least followed his own advice & dressed for the Arctic. He did the entire walk wearing a thick fleece and produced more sweat than is entirely decent. He followed me up the last punishing ascent & said afterwards that he couldn’t see my feet for the sweat stinging his eyes. I repeatedly urged him to take his fleece off, only for him to reply that he ‘had nowhere to carry it as his rucksack contained his really big coat’. Had I been in his shoes I would definitely have discarded the fleece. To compound his discomfort his years of swimming & cycling have shortened his hamstrings making downhills very troublesome. He will mind me telling you his age, so I’ll just say he’s not far behind George !

I can safely say that with the possibility of Stu aside, I was the youngest there & yet I was being outwalked by people who didn’t understand the rules of age.

That kept me moving, one sweaty foot in front of the other.

That and the fact that walking seems to attract a particular type of person. Time & again I noticed that different members of the group would drop back to chat to me during the climbs. They didn’t seem to mind that I never had the breath to reply. On more than one occasion Paul would confirm that he thought ‘that was the hardest bit over with’ and on the very first climb Stuart offered me his climbing pole with the words ‘This really helps me – maybe you might like to try it ?’ Looking at his sparse frame I doubted he needed any help, but my exhaustion for once choked the stubborn refrain ‘Don’t accept any charity’ which rose unbidden to my brain.

He was right too, I’ll definitely be buying one for my next walk.

I find a certain type of person very inspiring and it’s ‘the trier’.
I’m not impressed with feats of physical speed or strength, it’s the way a person handles the mental challenges thrown at them.

Yesterday it was the triers who gave me the impetus to continue. All day my head was flooded with the resurrected stories of people I admire. People like Ranulph Fiennes who had biopsies of living flesh punched from his flesh by Mike Stroud during their unsupported polar expeditions. People like Ellen MacArthur who faced one of my biggest fears, the sea, on little or no sleep. People like Chris Moon who ran desert marathons on false limbs having lost his own to a land mine. People like Brian Blessed who tackled Everest & was praised for his mental strength by professional mountaineers. People like Joe Simpson (Touching the Void) who dragged himself some 6 miles on a broken leg in sub zero temperatures, bereft of any spiritual crutch, after being left for dead.

Please don’t think I am comparing a twisted knee to the pain suffered by these people, I’m not. What motivated me yesterday was thinking ‘How did that person deal with their pain ?’ and time and again it was by gritting their teeth & ignoring it. I find that more inspirational than pretty much anything.

I could go on & on about the walk, but I won’t because it’s only really interesting if you were there, so I’ll reduce it to some ‘snapshots’.

My highlights were

1) Seeing the wild ponies, especially a striking colt who kept calling to his friends whom he was separated from by a fence. I was longing to open the gate & let him join them but luckily I noticed he was ‘entire’ & thought my kindly actions may play havoc with some ranger’s carefully controlled breeding plan.

2) Lunch time – we sprawled in the sun, hugely enjoying the food & the weight off our feet. Guy unwisely removed his boots at this point. Anyone who has tried to put boots back on to swollen feet will understand why this was unwise. However, I waive my right to pass judgement as I was wearing new boots – see below.

3) My new boots. They were light, stylish, as comfortable as slippers and I covered a respectable distance with not so much as a rub or a blister. Remember how you used to have to break boots in for weeks prior to a walk ? Praise be for man-made materials.


4) The weather - it was beautifully sunny all day. To compound my joy I received a text hoping that the Welsh weather wasn’t as bad as the English ?


5) The company. One of the best things about walking is the time it
gives you to talk to people (on the downhills obviously). I chatted
about bikes, football and dogs with Stuart, learned about India
from Paul, learned about GPS’s from George, compared walking
stories with Debbie, learned about chivalry from Ed and
sweating from Roger.


6) The relief provided by the knee support & the pain-killers.


7) Roger’s friend (the one who used to run these routes when in
training with the people mentioned earlier) knew our route &
estimated how long it would take us to finish. He said we would
complete the 15 miles in 8 hours & 2 minutes. Due to not
wanting to retrace our steps near the end, Roger added over 2
miles to the walk meaning that we completed 17.5 miles in 8
hours and 15 minutes. I was very proud of that. I don’t even
care that he did it in half the time.


8) Being able to offer water to one of the group when he had run
out and was clearly suffering from thirst. At that point the pain-
killers had kicked in & I was finding the downhill very much to
my liking. It was the first time I had felt able to assist someone
all day & it felt good.


9) The hot chocolate at the burger-van on the road back to the
hostel. Superlative.

10) The sense of accomplishment when the hostel hove into view as
we traipsed foot-sore across a paddock full of ewes & lambs.



The only low-point was

1) The recurring thought that with 5 miles to go, during a long quick walk over a gentle but definite incline on shifting terrain, the increasing pain in my knee might force me into confessing I couldn’t continue.

Keane has done 3 revolutions now so excuse me whilst I execute a slow, stiff-limbed shuffle to the CD to insert Feeder’s ‘Pushing the Senses’ more auditory bliss, I adore Feeder.

After hot showers & a change of clothing we set off to discover the joys of Brecon. I was very pleasantly surprised as we passed over the river to see some wonderful buildings and a lovely high street. For some reason (probably because of the squaddie associations I had always imagined Brecon to be grim) Maybe it was just a premonition because I can truthfully report the pub & the meal had to be experienced to be believed.

The pub bore the faint but unmistakable aroma of gentleman’s urine and Debbie & I laughed until we cried at the décor. This is where I most need the photos but for now you’ll just have to take my word when I tell you there were fake Beswick dogs (complete with bronze paint much beloved of the 1970’s era) plastic flowers jammed artlessly into plastic ‘ye olde style’ boots, several pieces of art featuring a ‘cruelty to animals’ theme and the piece de resistance, a magnificent stag’s head, upon whose antlers hung an assortment of baseball caps. Honestly.

Unable to contain our mirth & in fear for our safety (I had deemed it wise to go into a Welsh pub wearing my England World Cup 2003 rugby shirt) we sallied forth to the ‘Instantly Forgettable Tandoori Restaurant’.

The meal proved to be the highlight of the trip for it’s sheer awfulness. Each dish proved identical to the last, was a vivid red in hue & was identifiable from it’s neighbour only by the type of garnish thrust atop it. Stuart was convinced Ed’s meal was decorated with toenail clippings & upon consuming them Ed said nothing to correct him.

During the meal, Dave tried to be helpful and tell the manager that the light bulb in the gents had expired. Receiving a blank look which Dave mistook for confusion he performed the internationally recognised mime for replacing a light bulb. Either the manager was only familiar with the motions for a bayonet fitting or else he thought Dave was offering to perform a traditional Indian dance because his blank look persisted. Dave persevered with the loud & slow explanation ‘Your.Bulb.Is.Broken’ and finally the manager responded with ‘Ah yes, they do don’t they ?’ in a tone of voice which managed to imply ‘What the f*ck do I care ?’ At this point people were inhaling their Kingfishers.

I will remember yesterday evening in the Indian restaurant as being the occasion I inadvertently found myself in Royston Vasey. If you get the reference I need say no more. If you don’t, you’re missing a real treat.

A sign at the hostel had proclaimed that if residents weren’t back by 2300 the doors were to be locked. Oddly, by 2215 we had exhausted the fun to be had in Brecon and yet still contrived to be leaping in 2 7-seater cabs with the words ‘Quick - drive, we have to be back in 9 minutes !’

It was one of those evenings that has you clutching your stomach, praying no-one else will say anything funny (like the evening in cad when we found out Hitman’s shady past Stan) and what was most rewarding was that bar one, these were people I had only known for one day.

I particularly enjoyed meeting Debbie & look forward to becoming re-acquainted in 4 weeks time. I’m only sorry I’ll miss the banter, bravado & bs that will naturally embellish this trip by the time they all get to work.

My plan for the next 4 weeks is to get out to Box Hill with a full rucksack & do lots of hills. I got by on this walk with a knee-support & pain killers, there’s no way I can do that for the 3 Peaks.

As for the title of this post ? One of the stories I enjoyed most was from Debbie, concerning a 3 week Himalayan walking trip undertaken by herself & George. Their guide was Gulan, a Sherpa, somewhere in his 70’s, who proved indefatigable, shuffling along taking minute steps in flip-flops whilst all the Westerners wore top quality boots. His English was restricted to only 4 words and in reply to question ‘What’s the route like today Gulan ?’ he would unfailingly reply

‘Little bit up, little bit down …’

You can get a long way on that kind of understated optimism.

I know you’ve had to concentrate for a long time but just one message tonight which is

‘Bon Voyage’ Bill and family.

You may remember Bill as the cop who, with his family emigrated to NZ to become a Kiwi cop. After a slightly difficult start with the Kiwi police who it must be said handle things very differently from the British police, Bill settled and began to regard NZ as his home. However, things didn’t work out for all concerned and he and his mob returned to England. I know he felt much the same as I did about leaving NZ. It is to Bill’s credit that he gave England another go. And it is to his family’s credit that they are willing to uproot again and give NZ another shot.

I won’t say ‘goodbye’ Bill, just ‘see you’

Cx

One for MilkyNZ's mum ; Saturdays in England ; Rugby, neddies, streaking, curry and pole-dancing.

On Saturday we went here...



...to watch the guys on the left play the ones on the right
(Navy v Army)



The faithful



We figured he didn't know about this sticker, it seemed a shame to tell him.



Once at the ground, I met up with this lot :
(l-r) Darren, Laura, Tom, Milk Yuk, Andy, Kirsty, Tony, Paul.



Tony went off to sell our 2 spare tickets (yes - still wearing those shades) & came back with this incontravertible piece of logic 'I didn't sell them on cos the guy buying was only offering me a tenner for each ticket' That's right Tone, far better to get no money for them at all.

I took this, by mistake...



...whilst trying for this, but quite liked it
anyway



These are the only fish & chips worth eating in the South of England, because ... all together now 'all the others smell of wee'



After a very stirring opening from a Dukie band the game got under way & as ever, there was much hearty banter in the crowd. This is something I love about rugby games, no segregation & no bother, because all the blood-letting is occurring on the pitch. Proper men too, no rolling around when injured (football) & no padding (American football)

The outcome was as you would expect in that the Army drubbed the Navy. As someone from work pointed out 'Where do the Navy practice and do they need lots of rugby balls ?'I think the final score was 42-15 although my zoom wasn't sufficiently powerful to give me a shot of the scoreboard.

In fairness to the Navy, the game was initially pretty equal, & this was reflected in the tied halftime scoreline (8 I think) and so the Blues supporters in front of us were in good cheer. Which just made it all the more enjoyable when they capitulated so thoroughly in the second half.

After the game we met up with Hx, MilkyNZ & the MTM's & headed off in search of a hostelry.

There was much muttering from

this man



about it 'being a sh1t plan' but he happily tagged along anyway.

In the pub Hx took a shine to this lamp & had to be disuaded several times from removing it.

'I see a tall dark uniformed man ... he will be arresting me under the Theft Act 1968'



And here were 2 lovely photos of Hx & MilkyNZ but you'll have to take my word for it cos PhotoBucket has eated them all up :(

After refreshment we headed off for the curry house and Part 1 of the evning. The MTM's wisely took their leave at this point. They didn't know at the time their decision was wise. But it was ;) Laura had played a blinder booking the restaurant ; we all got onto the same table, the food was lovely & the service prompt. The huge queue outside as we ate testified to it's popularity and once sated we headed off for more refreshment.

It is at this point that I should probably re-introduce Dom(inic).You may remember Dom from the Christmas do as being the one who went to The Queens Hotel, as the rest of us did ... but in Gatwick, whereas we were in Brighton. Dom is legendary for failing to turn up to our nights out, not because he doesn't make the effort but because he usually essays his outgoing journey after alcohol. A couple of weeks ago, we met in Kingston (Surrey) and received a text from Dom an hour after the agreed start time asking where we were. He was in Portsmouth (Hampshire)

For the Kiwis, this is the equivalent of agreeing to meet in Auckland & finding yourself in Hamilton.

This is Dom



He looks lovely doesn't he ? And he is. Then he has a drink and ... he's still lovely but he turns into this hyper, good-natured, extremely generous, whirling dervish who doesn't know when to quit. Dom has to give up his wallet to a growed-up at the beginning of a night out. If he doesn't he is likely to buy 'champagne all round' and I mean the whole pub.

He also gets very friendly after a few ...



The combination of Dom & Hx was quite a formidable one.

Especially when Hx decided to teach Dom to pole dance.

Dom hopes to make Commissioner one day, we call the following shots his 'career-enders'.







To understand how amusing this was, you have to know that NO-ONE else in these pictures is dancing. Or even moving much.

Hx was suitably impressed with Dom's dancing



Once Hx had finished with Dom, she went on to teach Darren & Paul how to pole dance. You have to know how reserved Darren is to understand how unlikely this photo is.



For many months now I have been hoping someone would outdo my antics at my Christmas do, thus shifting the spotlight. Hx proved what a great buddy she is by claiming the mantle on Saturday. Not content with pole dancing & balancing pints in her cleavage she also 'had a word' with the biggest, drunkest bloke who was intent on displaying his wares. To round things off she told everyone (Milk Yuk) at sporadic intervals that they were 'GAAAAAAWJUS' !!

At the point where we ran out of money/couldn't drink any more/needed to sit down (delete as applicable) we headed off home. I found myself on Twickenham bridge with these three.



After several cabs ignored us Dom decided the best ploy was to flash some ankle. Oddly the cabs continued to speed by. His next plan was to pretend to be dead as a paramedic ambulance passed us. After a cursory glance they ignored their Hippocratic duties and at last we admitted defeat & got on a bus.

Dom got off the bus in Kingston claiming he needed an ATM. Wonder if he ever made it home ?

Have any of you have made it this far & are wondering about the streaker in the title ? Thankfully it was none of our mob but a very cheerful chap who took to the field wearing nothing but a large affro wig.

For all round entertainment though, there were 2 clear-cut winners ...

(Wo)man of the match ; Hx & Dom

Cx

Catch 22

I found the college I want to study at.

The syllabus is 3 years, 3 days at the college every month.

It would teach me EVERYTHING I've ever wanted to know about neddies & then some.

It would qualify me to do my perfect growed up job - equine osteopathy.

It's £3,700 per year.

Total = a shade under 15k.

I suspect I am massively out of touch with course fees, it was a sickening shock I can tell you.

I need to pay off 2 loans before returning to NZ, I now have to figure out how to earn another 15K.

Time for a plan B I think.

:(

Cx

One for Hx

Lots of writing in the last blog, so to treat Hx for sticking with all the words, here's one for her.

On Friday I indulged in my very favouritest thing. With my favouritest neddy.

CB



I found this one ... I think he's lost, can we keep him ?



On Friday night, I met up with this lot for Big Steve's leaving do.





And far off, in the distance, Briggsy spots a KFC

You know you're in for a classy night when the barmaid's clearing sick up from the bar as you enter.

At Jaxx there was plenty of this ...



And some of this ...



Saturday night was horribly busy & stressful. At the end of the shift I walked home by the river to recover my equilibrium.

I saw these ...







This is a disappointing photo for what was a thrilling experience. Strolling along the river I heard numerous low whistles & thunderous wing beats. I turned, camera poised, in time to see seven mute swans, flying inches over the water, conserving energy in the low air resistance found directly above water. The picture shows their proximity to the water but fails in every other way to capture the excitement of the moment.



It was my favourite moment of the week.

Happy Birthday Lloyd and Bill

Cx

What's worse than losing your phone at a nightclub ?

Having such a rubbish phone that it gets handed in.

If you were e-mailing me your numbers, cancel.

Bloo, can you collect it at your lee-shur please ?

Cx

Bugger.

Lost my phone in Jaxx last night.

How do I know I lost it & it wasn't stolen ; simple, have you seen my phone ?

Please e-mail me your mobile numbers, ta.

Cx

Ken Dodd’s Dad’s Dog’s Dead

Day 2 of overcast & unpredictable weather, welcome to an English summer MilkyNZ ! Bloo texted to say ‘She’s here’ at 1915 hours last night. She went on to elaborate ‘I’m here, tired & smelly’ and informed me that ‘traffic on the M3 was light’. See, acting like a local already MilkyNZ, apart from the smelly bit, sort that out love.

You won’t know whether you’re coming or going for about a week, but I know the Bloo’s will look after you, hope to catch up with you Friday if I can get the night off work.

After a 3 week absence Tuesday saw the return of quiz night and our team of ‘Ken Dodd’s Dad’s Dog’s Dead’. These nights are becoming increasingly well attended and we fielded an embarrassingly large team of 14. There have been mutterings of separating into 3 teams & claiming 1st, 2nd & 3rd prizes but I fear we’d never make it out of the pub alive.

Our 4 newest team members included Maggie (Demolition Derby) & Colin (The Silver Fox). Also boosting our numbers were the very welcome and normal (ie non-job) MTM & the lovely Mrs MTM.

I had heard very good things about Mrs MTM from someone whose ‘people judgement’ is second to none, and I am delighted to say they were spot on. She is gorgeous, funny, charming, and well-travelled. And she rides a sports-bike. And she is introducing ‘throws & sh1t’ to a certain ‘bunker of doom’.

At one point whilst Mrs MTM & I we were in conversation, Colin asked how long we had known each other, ‘We met tonight’ I replied. That’s how easy she is. On reflection, a word other than ‘easy’ may be more suitable, I can’t think of one, but I know you’ll understand what I mean.

Introducing the MTM’s was amusing. I’m starting to realise that none of my Forum/Blog friends have normal names. It occurred to me during the night that Bloo was at the pub quiz, when one of the guys said to me ‘What’s Bloo’s real name ?’. Firstly, I thought ‘That is his real name’ then I found myself struggling to think of his real name.

Aware that it might sound a tad odd to say to the ensemble ; ’This is MTM & this is Piggy’ I asked them how they would like to be introduced. Even then I couldn’t bring myself to introduce Mrs MTM as ‘Piggy’, it seems so harsh. For the rest of the night whenever someone addressed MTM as ‘Ali’ I had to look around to see who they were talking to.

On a similar note, people who know me post-Blog refer to me as Briggsy, whilst my work friends know me as Carol out of work, or Mighty Mistress of Doom in work. On balance I prefer Briggsy, which is odd given that I used to hate my name as a kid as it was the source of much teasing. I’ve grown into it now though. Whenever I was referred to as ‘Briggsy’ I could see a look of confusion on my work colleagues faces.

I’ve said before, one of the things which gives me great pleasure is introducing different sets of friends & watching the interaction. Bloo was accepted very rapidly and the MTM’s continued the trend. I fully anticipate the joining of Forum & D team in the not too distant future and a team which will take over all seating areas in the pub.

The MTM’s had a game plan which assured them of a return invite. They would get all the difficult answers correct between the 2 of them, then deliberately stuff up on a simple one. After all, no-one likes a smart-arse do they ?

As for the quiz itself, we embarrassed ourselves with a 3rd win. It really was embarrassing, given that in the final round we scored something like a measly 3 from 10 points. We had to wonder how atrocious the other teams were. Clangers of the round included an ex travel agent who couldn’t recall which ‘Costa’ Benidorm was on and someone who attended a military school who didn’t know whether 11 o’clock was the 1st or final stroke of Big Ben on Remembrance Sunday.

Jonesy saved the day by telling us that JP2 visited England in 1982.
Colin disagreed & thought it had been 1980. I asked Steve how he could be sure of the date & he replied ‘I went to see him, I’m a Catholic aren’t I ?’

If you saw Steve this wouldn’t seem an odd thing to hear as he has stereotypically Italian looks. I think his surname confused me, you don’t get many Italian Jones’. I’m just pleased I didn’t forward the ‘uneaten Easter egg joke’ onto him by text ?

This is part of what I enjoy about quiz night, the chance to actually talk to one another out of work. Because we usually socialise with a mixture of loud music & alcohol, talking is some times over-looked in favour of hurling oneself around a dance-floor or avoiding a drunken Phil.

Right – enough blogging, time to go clear out Henry. After having Barley for 3 days he’s looking distinctly unloved. It was very embarrassing yesterday when after attending a meeting, one of the Inspectors asked for a lift to the local train station. As he sat gingerly amongst the sand, dog-hair & hay I found myself babbling about how Henry is normally a lot cleaner. I don’t think he believed me. I didn’t have the heart to point out he had a white hairy bottom as he exited the car.

Cx

Snakes & Ladders : 2 years on


Location : Bedroom
Time : Commenced at 1905, completed at 2153
Listening to : Kisstory ; Rewind to the 90’s
Accompanied by : A beautifully clean, recently bathed Barley.

I’ve just re-read this prior to posting, it’s been hard being this honest, I almost didn’t publish.

The heating has just kicked in. I have a large mug of tea. Sharon has headed off for a swim having worked from home all day, so I have the flat to myself. I have a keyboard, time on my hands and as I know I’m not early turn tomorrow, I’m not tired. I have the urge to write & that tremendous sense of well-being which follows a hot bath after outdoorsy stuff.

My sloth this morning was unfairly rewarded by a break in the torrential rain at the same time as I left to set off for some much anticipated neddy-pestering in the fresh, clean Surrey countryside.

After a big cuddle with CB we set out for the Mickleham long ride.
CB is restricted to walking at the moment (navicular for the horsey types) and I can’t say I minded. I had a very nasty scare a few weeks ago involving galloping and a busy main road & my confidence was a little shaken. It would appear I’m not, as I had previously thought, immortal. A long, calm ride at the walk was just what the doctor ordered and I enjoyed CB’s company hugely today.

One of the things I relish most about riding is the opportunity the peace & quiet affords me to marshal my thoughts. I frequently ride on my own and don’t consider myself alone with Barley & a neddy. I would even admit to you lot that I frequently avoid other riders just about to leave the yard. With the exception of a couple of companions, I prefer my solitude. My work environment is one of constant noise & I don’t have the luxury of being able to tune out the ickle voices in my left ear.

When I worked at Kennington nick which was much busier than Kingston, I would go find a quiet place to sit for my break away from the Control Room. Invariably, just as I had settled into my noise-free sanctuary some PC would join me with their radio blaring. I can remember asking them to turn their p/r’s off if they wanted to sit with me because even if they could ignore them I couldn’t.

I’ve thought about it & I think it’s why I’m so anti-tv & anti-phone, it’s the ceaseless babble from both of them which irks me so much. It would explain why I’m happy to communicate via MSN & text, I guard my peace very jealously.

I’ve been aware for some weeks now of the significance of the 22 April : this being the date which indicates a whole year back since returning from NZ. My thoughts lately have been a bit of a happy jumble with a nudge from NZ every now & then. I’ve chased the NZ thoughts away each time thinking ‘I’ll think about that on the 22nd’. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t want to think about NZ, it’s just I’ve been avoiding introspection, knowing that I needed some uninterrupted time to get some perspective.

So where am I up to with plans for returning ?

My first move was to join an equine college with a view to studying equine physiotherapy. How have I done ? Rubbishly. I could give you excuses but I respect you too much (although that ingrown toenail is really sore). The truth is, I haven’t done it. Bad Briggsy.

On the upside, I had 3 loans to pay off. By saving & increasing the payments, I was hoping for a time-scale of 3 years to pay them off and return. The thinking behind this is that the loans will take 3 times longer to pay off in NZ thanks to the weak Kiwi dollar and I wanted to have a clean financial slate before considering emigration.

Some weeks ago I paid off the first of those loans, which puts me on schedule for paying off the remaining 2 in the next 2 years. Receiving the letter saying I had paid off the loan was immensely satisfying. Saving towards paying off the next 2 is the only thing stopping me buying a Fireblade, more of which later.

The rest is stuff for a later day. The application itself is judged on a points basis. Earn enough points, get invited in. I’m not stressing the application at this stage, what’s the point in fretting for 2 years ? As I’m trusting more and more these days ; if it’s meant to be it’ll happen. Not only tremendously soothing but a wonderful mantra for us lazies everywhere. Laissez-faire ? Bring it on.

As for life in the UK these days ? I consider myself to be in a very similar position to Bloo. We’ve both had a glimpse of the type of life we want and have plans to help us achieve it but are quite happy to live the life we have until then. And when the chavs become too much ? His salvation is football, mine is neddies. Is this pretty accurate Bloo ? I guess I’ll hear about it if not ? ?

As for me personally ? I’ve re-read 2 previous entries from Q4A this evening to help me remember how I was. The first was explaining who I was & why I was leaving for NZ. I covered up a lot of my unhappiness with humour but the fact was I was a mess. My self-esteem was at an all time low. I had allowed someone whose intellect I admired to let me feel worthless. I realise now that the fact that I was willing to leave mum and all my friends to escape the situation was the best indicator of how painful being in England was.

The second entry I read was my 1st day back at work in the UK after my year away. Raw wasn’t I ? I didn’t think I’d ever settle here again. I haven’t in some ways, my heart belongs to NZ but there are things about my life here that I enjoy very much.

I am lucky in having a great circle of friends. They’re a weird bunch sure enough but great nevertheless. Some of them I’ve known 15 years, that’s the longest I’ve known anyone (barring family). Others I’ve only known a year but know we’ll stay friends. I feel very settled in Kingston, I wouldn’t have ever chosen town life but if you have to live in town, Kingston’s as good as it gets. The river is 150 metres away from my flat. I’m learning to love the Thames. The flat is lovely and you couldn’t get a more amenable flat mate than Sharon (especially now the tap’s been replaced & she can’t leave it dripping. Just need to get her to close the bin lid now ?)

I have access to stunning countryside, endless bridleways and neddies the quality of which I could never afford. My shifts allow me to appreciate my riding at times of the day when no-one else is around. My golf is going well, I have numerous society days coming up this summer and I plan to take lessons with the same pro who allowed Andy to convincingly beat his dad after lesson number 2 of 10. It’s fair to say Andy’s dad didn’t take it well ?

I have a reasonably well-paid job which I enjoy. It has it’s fair share of dodgy politics but doesn’t everyone’s ? It’s interesting, stimulating, exciting & rewarding and I work for a top Guv’nor. (sorry, I mean Inspector of course VGC) Even the constant change doesn’t bother me anymore, I’ve learned to pick my battles & let the majority of it wash over me. I can be the proverbial jellyfish washed this way & that with the tide, it doesn’t make me lazy or spineless just better prepared for the battles which matter.

The only thing causing me any upset at the moment is speed, or the lack of it to be accurate. I physically miss my Blade and the sudden influx of sports bikes on the road because of the good weather is a painful reminder of what I used to have. I’m at risk of causing an accident so transfixed am I when I see the rapidly approaching headlight in my rear view mirror. This is only my second summer since 1995 without a bike & the fact that without a garage no insurance company would touch a Blade does little to ease the ache. My plan is to hire a Blade of a couple of days to get it out of my system. Honest Weeny.

I’ve re-examined the things which were causing me upset at Christmas & realise that I’ve either dealt with them or allowed them not to matter any more. I’ve allowed 2 contacts to slip as they were causing me heartache and were one-sided. If someone never asks ‘How are you ?’ have a think about it.

I don’t think he’ll mind me telling you that I was a ‘bit waaah’ when Stuart first told me his girlfriend Kerry was pregnant. Eminently sensible friends (Angie) pointed out that even if you don’t plan on children, it’s still unnerving when an ex announces they are going to have them. To refer to Stuart as just an ex is a bit harsh, he’s more than that. Anyone who can put up with me for 5 years has to be special. When anyone who doesn’t know him asks, I describe him as ‘the man you’d encourage your best friend to date’. He’s kind, honest, decent & a bloody good copper who’ll end up as a Commander. We had a few boundary-exploring ups & downs when we first separated 5 years ago, but I’m proud to report that we remained true to our promise to stay friends.

He & Kerry dropped off Barley on Sunday and both talked enthusiastically about their impending arrival. She is due in 2 months time & has a very neat & tidy bump & no excess weight anywhere else. This means they are having a boy. (I know this because I am now a hexpert on other people’s pregnancies & baybees) Kerry has opted for a birthing pool & a home birth. Knowing Barley’s love of water I warned Kerry that Barley wouldn’t be able to stay out of the pool. Looking at her fondly, Kerry just laughed & said she was fully expecting Barley to join her. As I looked at the pair of them I felt a real sense of happiness for Stuart, he’ll be a terrific dad and well done him for picking someone who likes spaniels ! And well done me for being a growed-up.

I could witter on & on about what’s changed but I won’t for two reasons. Firstly, Hx won’t even have got this far as there are no pictures and secondly it’s summed up as easily as this …The reason I went to NZ is no more.

How can I be sure ? Because, get this Bloo, I can listen to all of White Ladder now, even ‘This Year’s Love’. Quod erat demonstrandum.

Cx

Avian action

Yesterday I went to Birdworld.

It was a great day out.

I saw this.



And some of these. Sorry it's not a great photo, I was rushing to get to the John Deere.



It's precisely 1 year to the day that I returned from my year away in NZ, I'll be posting about it when I've finished thinking about it a bit more.

Bog Scar Girl x

A pony ?

Stuart successfully completed the marathon & must be bitten by the bug as he's signed up for the Dublin one. You will recall he ran for Guide Dogs for the Blind & raised over a £1,000 in donations, (thanks to all those who sponsored him - it's not too late if you still want to) He says that some representatives from the charity came to the finish line to cheer him over - complete with guide dogs.

That would have finished me off - I'd have been a blubbing wreck.

Well done Stu - way to go :)

The amusing footnote was that Mummeh picked up on the cockney rhyming slang & texted me to say she'd sponsor Stu 'a pony'. I think she must have had to sit down when I told her she owed him £500 quid !


Cx

Puppies (oh and the Marathon ... or something)


Stuart is running the London Marathon on Sunday for Guide Dogs for the Blind. He entered under the mistaken impression that if he completed the course he would get his own retriever puppy. It would relieve his upset greatly if anyone felt like donating a fiver to the charity in reward for his effort. If you're in, leave your name on comments, I'll pay him for you, then send round the heavies to get it back (get it from you next time I see you).

I'm obliged.

Cx

Be Frank

Embarrassing songs.

That song which you know you shouldn't like but you do.

Mine is 'Endless Love' by Diana Ross & Lionel RichTea.

What's yours ?

Come on ... I've gone first & you're amongst friends.

Cx

‘Tap dancing weirdo’


Night duty

The warm weather brought the freaks out for a horrendously busy night duty and I was quite relieved to get the last few off. My favourite story was during my nights off & concerned Rachel & Nick who were paired together. Rachel is quick off the mark & takes no nonsense. Nick is her diametric opposite.

When officers are paired together, an unwritten rule suggests that the officer with less experience should go down as the arresting officer, thus increasing their experience. They were called to investigate the behaviour of a group of youths. Rachel read them the riot act then discovering that they were likely candidates for a theft warned them they were likely to be arrested, thus giving the chance for Nick (the officer with less experience) to step in & do the decent thing.

Nick’s contribution to the event was to lean in & intone ‘Yeah’ at the end of Rachel’s warning to the group.

Losing patience Rachel announced to the group – ‘Right, you’re all nicked’ … all 5 of them. A little while later after attending the custody suite with their guests Nick confided to Rachel that he was disappointed not to have gone down as the arresting officer for any of the ‘bodies’.

‘But you didn’t actually arrest any of them did you Nick ?’ was Rachel’s patient reply.

Yorkshire

After a couple of relaxing outdoor days sorting out my sleep pattern, I headed for Yorkshire on Friday. No unnecessarily heavy traffic & avoiding the Heathrow static diggers display had me arriving after 6 hours which is unacceptable (cue ‘I hate this country & our crappy, overcrowded roads, repeat to fade …). Luckily, a chat yesterday with Golden Balls, aka lovely Colin, revealed a different, allegedly quicker route, involving the M18 so I’m going to try that one next time. Colin’s currently off D team doing a job which involves a prodigious amount of driving, what he doesn’t know about routes isn’t worth knowing.

Regardless of my late arrival I was greeted with a delicious cooked meal which was to set the trend for my visit. I didn’t even get to eat fish and chips once – thank you Mummeh.

On Saturday we commenced with a visit to the vets for Mummeh’s moggies to have their annual booster. Hazel was unimpressed at going in the basket but accepted it with equanimity. Clancy however, had other ideas & having seen where his sibling ended up, decided the best course of action was to squeeze his large frame down the gap between the washing machine & work units in the kitchen. I made a dive for him & grabbed his tail until instructed by Mummeh to let him go. For the next 15 minutes we tried to pull out the washing machine, having failed to lure him out with assorted titbits. Having removed one of the kickboards at the far side of the kitchen, Mummeh then had the brainwave of fetching the ‘thing what scares a Clancy the most’ ie the hairdryer. Switching it on, she pushed it under the units & began waving it in Clancy’s general direction until he dashed terrified, into my waiting arms to be deposited into another waiting basket.

‘Well – he’s not underweight is he ?’ was the vet’s pronouncement as we plopped a disgruntled Clancy on his examination table 10 minutes later.

Later that day we headed for Boundary Mills to do some shopping. The disappointment of coming away empty-handed was tempered by the drive back which was stimulating. The drive there had been conservative due to Mummeh being a growed-up & advising me about fuel consumption. Sensing my disappointment at being on the twisties in bright, dry, clear conditions she relented on the homeward journey with the words ‘Oh go on then – drive it’ So I did. She was commendably calm too. The only indicators were her body language (her fingers left indentations in the seat) and her question ‘So – do you miss your bike then ?’ Well done Mummeh.

The day was rounded off with a lovely evening stroll along the river banks in Gargrave doing what Barleys like the most ; fetching tennis balls.



I have recently purchased 2 ‘throwing thingies’ which allow even ‘gurls what can’t throw’ to launch the ball a respectable distance. I have one & Stuart has the other. Don’t think from this that I am implying Stuart is ‘ a gurl what can’t throw’, indeed the mixture of the ‘throwing thingy’ with a bloke’s throwing produces some spectacular distances. So much so that Barley occasionally turns back from her run for the ball, unconvinced that the ball is still in the air.

On Sunday we visited Linton, one of my favourite places in England.



After a 3 hour riverside stroll in the sunshine Mummeh treated us to huge 99’s. I ate mine whilst Mummeh smeared hers over her face, prompting the proprietor of the ice cream van to approach her & offer a large wad of serviettes & a pitying expression. I nearly laughed up a lung, especially as we had been reminiscing about how messily my younger brother Lloyd used to eat his ice creams. I was kindness epitomised & used to offer to ‘tidy it up for him’ thus removing most of the ice cream. He never cottoned on, bless him.

I tackled the journey down late Sunday evening, hoping for a more respectable travelling time. 5 hours, rather than 6. Barley’s only contribution was a succession of choking bottom burps. Each time I looked at her she slept the sleep of the innocent, unaware of my streaming eyes & racking coughs. My props were the ubiquitous Red Bull & Pro-Plus, loud music and 5 hours worth of quiz questions from Milk Yuk. My favourite exchanges were these …

Milk Yuk : ‘What does SPAM stand for ?’

Briggsy : ‘Is is Self Promulgating Automated Mail ?’

Milk Yuk : ‘No – Shoulder Pork And haM’


Milk Yuk : ‘Name all 5 of the Marx brothers’

Briggsy : ‘Harpo, Groucho, Jello , Brillo & Brasso ?’

Briggsy : ‘Oh – and Chico’

Milk Yuk : ‘Wrong – the last two are actually Marky & Pollen’

After 7 lovely days, I took Barley back to Stuart’s on Tuesday morning. The downside of having her for such a long stint is the feeling when I have to leave her again. I get used to her being there very quickly.




Golf –‘ it’s not the winning, it’s the taking part.’

I didn’t have much time to dwell though after a 2 hour journey to return her I was soon collected by Darren as we headed to Fulwell for our 1415 tee off time & golf with Andy & his dad.

When Andy, Darren & I play there is much mockery & laughter & Darren & I remarked on the journey there that we would have to play ‘normal golf’ if we were to play with a ‘growed-up’. Andy’s dad proved to be as good a golfer as he was a conversationalist & we thought we’d played a pretty relaxed round until he subsequently remarked to Andy how quiet his friends were.

‘High-light’ of the round was Darren finding the island in the lake with three successive tee shots, this may not sound remarkable until you hear that each of those shots ricocheted from trees to find their mark.

I am relieved to report that I seem to have remembered how to drive a ball off a tee again, especially as this season’s Police Society Golf Days have commenced.

Quiz Night

Tuesday night saw the welcome addition of Bloo to our pub quiz night. Isn’t it gratifying when one of your friends meets a group of others & they hit it off ? Bloo wasted no time in fitting right in by shouting out answers & taking the pi55 out of Andy. On a serious note, I can think of no higher recommendation to prolonged overseas travel than the way Bloo conducted himself on Tuesday. There was not a hint of the miserable t**t. Well done you. Come again next time ?

Our team ‘Pope Idol’ covered itself in glory with its second win, which means we have been placed each outing & more prosaically a commendable £77.50 in the kitty. Notables on the night were Gemma who pulled ‘Hovis’ out of nowhere, Darren with ‘Persian’ which was the much less offensive and a more accurate reply than mine, to the question ‘What nationality was Aladdin ? The 2 questions I was gifted with were ‘Which fictional town did James Herriott work in ?’ and ‘What was Churchill’s wife’s name ?’

I heard someone mutter ‘I bet Briggsy’s read all the Herriott books’ in disparaging undertones. It’s true – I did, I still love them now.

That just about brings us up to speed I think.

Cows

I am hoping to take the 3rd, 4th & 5th of May as annual leave to assist Malcolm & Justine at a show with their cows. I told Malcolm this morning that I had requested the leave & would let him know as soon as. His reply was …

‘The show cows are shaping up well, one has a fifth teat, the other has warts.’

Great.

2 people I know are trying to do something which is very difficult at the moment, my best wishes are with both of you. I can’t name one without implicating the other, you know who you are.

Derv

Ps. If all has gone to plan, this will be the first ‘live’ Q4A that Derv has read. I have been promising for some time to send him the Q4A link & have him aboard. Welcome Derv. I look forward to your comments, it’s very quiet at VK without you.

Cx

Pope dies.

I've noticed nobody says anything good about people until they die.

How often did you hear anyone praise the Pope while he was alive ?

Me neither.

If you rate someone, tell them now, before they die.

Cx

He shoots, he scores.

Unusually for me, I haven’t had the urge to get out of bed & pester neddies on the last four gloriously sunny days of night duty.

So I decided that come what may, on my 1st day off today I would definitely get up early & go.

In the fog. And the wind.
The 2 don’t usually go together but they did today.

I arrived at the stables to find the neddies stood around in the field. Bad sign. For the last few weeks they’ve been sheltering in the barn. This means Snips is bored & cold & therefore easier to catch.

As soon as they venture onto the green stuff I know I’ve got my work cut out to catch him. He’ll be difficult to catch until approximately December now.

We commenced our usual game of cat & mouse. I approach with a proffered hand full of feed & honeyed tones. He regards me with deep suspicion & turns his backside towards me, threatening to kick.

For the last 7 years, threatening is all he’s ever done.

The game concludes as soon as I get a hand on him. For some reason, at that point he thinks he can’t move & I am able to put a halter on him.

Slightly different outcome today.

I put a hand on his rump.

He booted me in the ribs.

Still determined to catch him, I reasoned there was no point beating him senseless with the headcollar as then I’d never be able to get near him. Some 20 minutes later when I realised it was pointless trying to catch him, it would have been fruitless to wallop him then (although it would have made me feel better).

On the upside the kick wasn’t a full-strength one, if it had been I would have been in trouble, it was more like ‘You’re really pi55ing me off, please leave me alone’. On the downside my mouth was open as he kicked me & my jaws clattered together leaving me with a humdinger of a headache.

Having thrown my toys out of the pram as far as Snippet was concerned, I flounced off to ride Hannah.
That’ll learn him.

So having been attacked by the nice-natured neddy I then went to ride the hormonal one, praying she’d be gentle with me.

And what do you know ? She was.

Which just goes to show – horses, can’t trust ‘em.

Cx

All for one ?

I have always enjoyed feeding birds.

Stuart will tell gleefully of how I was dubbed ‘Bird woman of Upper Norwood’ after my pigeon feeding exploits there. Nothing deterred by early morning inclement weather I would potter out to my tiny garden dressed in a voluminous blue dressing gown & Barbour wellies. Shortly thereafter the skies above SE19 would darken as 64,000 wood pigeons converged upon my bag of corn.

‘Come my pretties’

Who could have foreseen the council would take such a dim view ?

Anyhoo – the practice continues here in KT1. I don’t let a lack of garden lead to the spoilment of my enjoyment & cheerfully dangle assorted feeders from open window latches.

I have been rewarded with a constant stream of birds to the feeders, even robins, which aren’t supposed to like hanging from feeders. I’ve also seen chaffinches, greenfinches, coal tits & haw finches. By far the most numerous though are the blue tits.

I watched one today as I stared out of the window in the fashion of a dog waiting for it’s owner at the supermarket. I was astonished by what I saw. I can’t be sure if it was the same bird, but it always arrived at the feeder via the same route, over a particular garage roof & it’s behaviour got me to thinking.

Dainty, agile little birds, the blue tits have no problems hanging & selecting peanuts. The more cumbersome wood pigeons scavenge in John’s garden below, looking for bits the blue tits have dropped. (John is my very pleasant, perfectly amenable elderly neighbour whose only foible would appear to be the uncontrollable Tourette’s-type shouted rages he indulges in for no apparent reason – scares the hell out of me when I’m quietly blogging, I can tell you)

As I watched today’s bluey, I realised he was selecting peanuts as normal but rather than eat them there or fly away with them, he was dropping them to the ground where the fat, amiable woodies were enjoying them. He would drop about a dozen, then select one to eat.

I wondered at first if he was a fussy eater, simply rejecting sub-standard nuts. Upon closer inspection, the nuts he was dropping were perfect & identical to the ones he was eating.

It begs the question, can birds indulge in altruistic behaviour ? More
specifically – altruistic behaviour which benefits another species.

Discuss.


Michelle,

OK, I’m busted.

My name’s Carol, I’m 36 years old & I hate using the phone.

There I’ve said it.

Some people, like you & Bill are brilliant with the phone & enjoy using it, then there’s me, Eric & Murray.

Cx

Babies, shopping, Bloo, gym stubbornness, pub quiz, plans & Being straightforward.

Time ; 1537
Listening to ; FEEDER ‘Comfort in Sound’
Just ; awake after my 1st night duty


I have forsaken neddy-pestering on this bright, sunny day to catch up here, I hope you lot appreciate this ?

So what’s been happening in the two weeks since Rutland ?

Summer has happened. The sequence of seasons this year has been, winter, winter, winter ….. SUMMER ! It has gate-crashed in a truly spectacular fashion. Spring didn’t even get a look in. Spring was left rudely trampled face-down in the dirt by Summer in her haste to throw her coat off & order a Pimms. One day it was 40 denier tights, scarf & gloves. The next it’s gipsy boho chic, muslins & gossamer tops. Very scary & confusing for flesh which has been swaddled for 4 months.

Last Thursday the 17th was Derv’s leaving do. I was very sad to see him go. I will refer you to Milk Yuk’s account for 2 reasons 1) It saves me time & 2) If I can’t do it funnier I’m not doing it at all …

I called in to see Cocky after riding her neddy Snippet this Wednesday. If you’ve been paying attention you’ll remember Cocky has just had twin girls & moved house in the same week. To be factually correct she re-moved into a house that she & her family had vacated for 6 months for building work.

I remember seeing the house on day 1. It had just been vacated by an old guy who had lived there for 50 years without an alteration. As Cocky & Garth showed me around full of enthusiasm & plans, one thought bounced around my head ‘Why ?’ ‘Why would you move from your last house, which you had just finished ?’ I am one of those people who can never see the potential in old buildings. I like them, don’t get me wrong, it’s just when people say ‘…& then we’ll knock this through & build a gazebo/spa pool/child torture pit here …’ I just look & think ‘Hard work’.

I am happy to report I was completely bowled over with Cocky’s place now, it was like walking into a different house.

It is immensely stylish, beautifully finished & shows such thought in planning & I couldn’t be more thrilled for her. She gave me the grand tour & unlike some people who spring to mind, didn’t take glee in recounting every cost & being insufferably ‘me me me’ about it. With it’s cool tones & unfussy lines the best way I can describe it is it’s like booking into one of those health spa stately homes for the weekend.

Oh & the babies slept the whole time I was there.

Cocky reports already that they are ‘nothing like Harry’ which has to be a relief. She looks utterly exhausted & incredibly thin (note to self, twins give you jutting cheekbones, is it worth it ? NO. ) however, she has her mum there helping her for a few weeks easing the strain. Garth’s mum has just done her stint & her leaving has eased the strain too – bad Briggsy. (She keeps trying to get Cocky to wear metallic sandals, need I say more ? She has now been told she can ride in 3 months – hurry Cocky, hurry.

Cocky’s response to my question ‘What’s the most useful thing I could get you for the girls ?’ was prompt & to the point ‘Nappies’. So for the 1st time in my life I found myself trying to choose nappies from the bewildering display in Sainsburys. 15kgs is about right for newborn isn’t it ?

Ruminating in the ‘Baskets Only’ queue my eye was caught by the ‘Self Pay’ tills. How hard could that be ?

I dumped the nappies to the right of the scanner, pressed the ‘Commence’ button & we were away.

‘Three pounds ninety-nine pence’ the Posh Lady on the computer intoned as I showed the tiny man in the scanner machine the 1st pack of nappies. Childsplay

I transferred the nappies to the left of the scanner intending to put all four packs in the bags once I had completed scanning them.

'Unexpected obstacle in the bag packing area’ a stern male voice informed me. I looked around to see if anyone had heard. The line of people queuing behind me looked at me as if I had been caught eating dung. I regarded the ‘bag packing area’ with alarm, wondering what ‘unexpected obstacle’ the stern man could be referring to ? Observing nothing untoward I applied my ostrich’s logic to the problem & returned to package no 2 of nappies.

I showed it to Posh Lady. Posh lady remained tight-lipped. I showed it again, at a slightly more oblique angle to Posh Lady. Nothing. Stern man said again (slightly more forcefully this time) ‘Unexpected obstacle in the bag packing area’ in a tone which suggested I had better goddamn do something about it.

Glancing again, I realised what he was talking about. The nappies which I hadn’t put in a bag. How can something you’ve just scanned & put in the ‘Bag packing area’ possibly be ‘An Unexpected Obstacle in the bag packing area’ ? Oh well, live & learn Briggsy. So I walked past the scanner with the 2nd package of nappies to pack the 1st one.

‘Three pounds ninety-nine pence’ said Posh Lady, slightly sarcastically. I looked around wondering why she had said it, then realised she had scanned the 2nd pack of nappies in my arms. How ? I hadn’t even shown it to the tiny man in the scanner.

I didn’t even look at the people behind me this time.

Having successfully packed both packs of nappies I managed to scan the remaining 2 without incident. I thought I was home & dry until I decided that I would transfer 2 packs into a separate carrier bag. This, it seemed, was a Big Mistake. Stern Man repeated himself until he was blue in the face to the effect that ‘There is an unexpected …’ ‘Yeah yeah I know, I’m trying to sort it out, what’s your problem ?’ I found myself muttering to him. His wife’s probably having an affair I decided.

It was then time to pay. The choice was straightforward ‘Cash or Card’. ‘Card’ I pressed confidently, in the manner of someone who uses computers on a daily basis & displaying to those waiting some attempt at regaining control of the situation. It was short-lived however as my eyes began flicking over the contraption in front of me wondering where the hell I was supposed to ‘Insert Card Now’. I was expecting to see the sort of slot similar to the ones on an ATM machine. No, no, no. Just at the point I was considering leaving the nappies & fleeing red-faced for the door, I spotted it, one of those chip & pin jobbies perched precariously on top of the machine mocking me with it’s slitty, swipey smile.

Having retrieved my card I set about replacing it in my purse.
‘Remove your goods’ said Posh Lady in a voice which implied ‘Get the f**k out & don’t come back’. She said it 3 times before I was ready to leave.

I have come to the conclusion that there is a very talented mimic who sits behind a one-way mirror situated near these machines. He gets his kicks from mocking people like me. He’ll get his.

In hindsight swapping pleasantries with ‘Tracey’ on ‘Baskets Only’ is a more civilised option.


Wednesday was also the day for a much overdue catch up call with Bloo. I am rubbish at answering my phone on rest days. Bloo knows & accepts this. It’s for the simple reason that if it’s a rest day I’m neddy pestering & as there’s nothing I’d rather be doing, I am loathe to let a phone disturb me.

Bloo’s 1st call came just after the beginning of ‘Galvanize’ on the radio. Telling him how lucky he was that I answered, we commenced Part 1 of our catch up, until the Headley village black spot terminated our call.

With uncanny timing, his 2nd call in the evening came just as The Stereophonics had commenced ‘Dakota’, another track I can’t ignore at the moment. We finished our chat from earlier with a promise to meet up for a drink. I didn’t tell you this Bloo, but your call kept me company in the tailback from one end of Leatherhead Road to the other, so it really was good timing.

The last time I did any exercise was in January when I was running daily during the work I did at Hendon for the tsunami. Invigorated by Summer’s sudden appearance I headed for the gym to reacquaint myself with sweat.

Question – is there anything more frustrating than stepping on to the treadmill & switching on your CD to find that rather than the 160bpm ‘Beyond Euphoria’ which you thought you had brought/bought (you were right Milk Yuk, the words are in fact interchangeable as you thought, I apologise) you have in fact loaded the very similar in appearance 4bpm ‘Chillout Ibiza’ CD. Ever tried running at 4bpm ? It’s not possible.

Switching to MTV for audio instead, I discovered ‘Platinum Eminem’ which is where things started to get interesting. Eminem does something to me. I am no longer a white, 30 something, respectable job-holding female. I become The Slim Briggsy, a mixed race, testosterone-fuelled misogynist, more at home dodging the law than working for them. I can only just stop short of grabbing my crotch when I watch him.

You might think from this that I don’t like Eminem. You’d be wrong, I find him compulsive. What about his lyrics Briggsy ? Don’t they really hack you off ? No, because he’s as much cabaret as Jane McDonald is. It’s an act & a damn good one at that.

I feel the urge to steal cars & burn things when I listen to Eminem. Luckily both are out of my system now that I am a growed up. Well, the stealing cars one anyway hey Mum ? ‘If they didn’t want you to take it why leave the keys’ was my motto. Ahem.

And so, I commenced running with ‘My name is, my name is, my name is …’ pounding in my head. I planned to run for 20 minutes & no more, having not run in 2 months. Unfortunately the guy on the treadmill next to me left before my 20 minutes was up, meaning that a new person arrived & started running. For reasons which are obvious if you know anyone from Yorkshire, I couldn’t stop running before he did. After he had done his 20, a small fit looking girl got on. I know for a fact that she got on deliberately during ‘Lose yourself’ which is impossible not to run to, so in the end I had to wait til she vacated the treadmill. All of which meant I ran for 45 minutes. And man did I feel great. So great I went & churned up & down the pool for 30 lengths.

Great that is, until Thursday morning. Driving to a meeting on my rest day my legs were shaking as I changed gears.

I’m aiming for the gym tonight, I will only run for 30 minutes. Honest.

Our pub quiz team continues to flourish. This Tuesday saw a very poor turnout (only 5 compared to the usual 12/13) rewarded with a joint 2nd. That’s now a 3rd, a 1st & 2 seconds & if you’re wondering (& I would be) there are usually about 15 teams.

Derv was on inspirational form, plucking seemingly impossible answers from nowhere. The Aztecs & The Dallai Lama (sp ?) were 2 of his more amazing answers. Jim joined us for the 1st time. Jim’s glee in answering a difficult question was such that no-one had the heart to point out that the answer he had provided was in fact, part of the original question. That’s a lie actually, we all pointed it out.

Half time entertainment came in the form of firing peanuts towards Milk Yuk’s open mouth. He covered the upper & lower portions of his face, thus unaware that Andy was taking a run up to launch the missiles, the aim being not to get them in Milk Yuk’s gob but to inflict the maximum amount of pain anywhere that the peanut made contact. Our usual pub team name (inspired by MTM) of ‘Ken Dodd’s dad’s dog’s dead’ was replaced this week by ‘Council Housed And Violent’ in homage to the 3 youths sitting opposite us, one of whom Milk Yuk had previously nicked for disqual driving. Nice pub.

Last night was D team’s 1st night duty. It was hideously busy, courtesy of the fact that Kingston’s populace had responded to the Bank Holiday in the time-honoured tradition. I should be doing all seven nights but as we all have to use up our annual leave prior to April, I am off for the last 3 meaning I only have to do 4 this week. I plan to collect Barley on the Tuesday/Wednesday & head off to do lot of ‘healthy outdoors stuff’.

If all goes to plan I should have her for seven days – yay !

‘Mummy love Barley – Barley love Mummy ?’

The 1st of April will see me heading up the A1 to Yorks to see Mummeh. We plan walks, talks & shopping. I also plan to drive Mummeh’s Subaru. Mummeh doesn’t know this yet.

I will take my leave now & leave you with an observation & a question.

Aren’t straightforward people the business ? Mean what they say, say what they mean – would that everyone was the same, so refreshing, so Heineken.

If I were to say the words ‘tap-dancing weirdo’ which British dancer springs to mind ?

Messages

Murray

I love the new look & I know you’ll be tweaking it for ages, so may I make 2 observations ? The pictures look stunning on the black background & it’s a very clean, professional look. However, although the peach text is readable, the main body of the text is difficult to read against the black. I am currently high-lighting it to read. Also the font & colour of ‘Coffee Waffle’ does not sit well with the rest.

ps. You may want to ask Bloo for some tips on the actual photography ;)

Kevin

Well done mate, I hope things get a little easier now. What is it you’ll be doing ?

Jim

Stick with it for the following reasons
1) The dragon stuff is funny.
2) It makes you feel better (it does me anyway)
3) The septics dig you. I realise this isn’t a glowing
recommendation, but everyone likes to be appreciated.
4) It's not whinging, it's observational.


Everyone

Buy The Stereophonics ‘Language. Sex. Violence. Other ?’

Trust me.

Cx

Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.

Did it last night thinking I was organised & early ...

*Cough*

Happy Birthday for yesterday,
Happy Birthday for yesterday,
Happy Birthday for yesterday dear Truuudeee
Happy Birthday for yesterday toooo yoooou

Cx

Happy Birthday for tomorrow to you
Happy Birthday for tomorrow to you
Happy Birthday for tomorrow dear Truuuu-deeee
Happy Birthday for tomorrow to you.

Cx

Life of Briggsy.

Bits and pieces and the weekend.

Time : 2333
Music : ‘Beyond Euphoria’
Lighting : Candlelight

I have a few things to tell you about so this will be a bit of a random catch up.

On Friday night I headed North to Rutland (about half way up since people kept asking me, smallest county in England, motto of which ‘Multim in parvo’ means ‘Much in little’ and it’s true.)

You may remember my friends Malcolm & Justine live there.

Oddly, Justine was in bed when I arrived at 2315, which was strange as she’s usually a night-owl. Malcolm had waited up to greet me, which was even odder, as he’s definitely a lark. Wondering if they’d had a blue I turned in for the night.

Over breakfast I asked Justine if she was ok.

‘Fine’ came the reply, ‘apart from this’ at which she pulled one of those sodding scan photos from her handbag.

I put my hands over my eyes & ears determined not to hear the news.

Actually, I recall now to my shame that I told her to ‘f**k off’ but it was meant in the best of spirits.

She & Malcolm have been ‘trying for a baby’ (how I hate that phrase but nothing else does) for a little over a year now & I was convinced he was a jaffa. If that sounds disrespectful, it’s not, I’ve been saying it to his face too.

Every time we meet Justine & I express relief that neither of us talks about nappy rash to the other. She was the last of my friends with a neddy not to have a baybee. And now she’s betrayed me.

On a serious note – congrats Malcolm & Justine, hope it’s not a weedy techno-geek ? (they are both fervent outdoorists, your archetypal huntin’ & shootin’ set.

After breakfast on Saturday, Justine & I headed off for her stables to ride. She was riding William, her big piebald pikey horse (pics to follow) & she had borrowed a ickle skewbald pikey-pony for me, by the name of Folly.

Folly’s owner had passed on the following advice via Justine to me ‘She can be a bit of a mare, if she’s bad, just show her the stick – she understands’. Hmmmm.

We set off on a cold but beautifully bright day on a 90 minute hack around some beautiful countryside. We had 3 long canters & returned via a stunning park which surrounds a handsome stately home.

Compared to Surrey, there is a definite absence of trees in Rutland but that made for more enjoyable riding as the wind has reached the ground & dried it out more than at home. It was very satisfying to get so much cantering done & Folly didn’t put a foot wrong, proving a gracious & willing mount. Her owner has said I can take her out whenever I go up there which obviously won’t be necessary now that Justine will turn into a daytime tv watching, couch-potato who does no physical exercise, meaning I’ll be riding William.

As we returned to the yard via a steep downhill paddock, newborn lambs scattered in front of us, all except a little black chap. He was fast asleep, forelegs flung over his head, mouth open & totally oblivious to the other lambs calling to him. I urged Folly closer to investigate to see if he was ‘an dead lamb’. As soon as I saw him breathing we turned away, only for Justine to indicate that I should look behind me.

In his confused awakening state he had imprinted on Folly & I & was now determinedly following us, calling to me to wait & ignoring the anxious calls of his flock-mates. As he became more observant he realised his new ‘mum’ looked a bit different & scarpered off to find his ovine one.

After a quick change of clothes, we headed off to a beautiful old pub for a delicious lunch. I had my 3 times yearly pint of bitter which went straight to my head after my outdoor morning & a very tasty liver & bacon with mash (hey Ange I ate liver, did I do good ?)

Once our prodigious appetites were sated, we headed off to see Malc’s cows. He has a couple of herds of Dexters (half the size of ordinary cows & immensely likable, ask Mr Tanner) (& easier to slot & butcher I s’pose Eric) & it’s fair to say they are his pride & joy. I have already been provisionally booked for halter training the cows, ready for the next show in June. I’m under no illusions that it’s because I’m a great stockperson, I know I’m only being buttered up cos Justine will be big & fat by then (& watching Trisha of course)

Malc takes huge pride in showing off the Dexters, each one is named (bar the boys who are eaten) & Maggie is under close scrutiny as she is due to calve in 8 days. Each day they get a hard feed of nuts, hay when it’s cold & he hand-feeds them carrots too. I got to see the calf I named who was in the process of being born last time I visited. Need I tell you that Millicent is living up to her name & looking ‘Magnificent’ ?

By now we were all freezing so we piled into the truck, had a quick stop to see one of Gertie’s pups in it’s new home (she’s now 5 months old & gorgeous) then headed off for a real fire & the England versus Italy game. Thank goodness we salvaged some pride.

The evening was rounded off with champers & Little Britain, which I think you’ll agree goes rather nicely.

After a much-appreciated lie-in on Sunday morning we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of croissants & slouched with the papers. I was given ‘choice of what to do’ & elected to drag them both around garden centres looking for the 3 things I enjoy buying ; birdy peanuts, candles & house-plants. I did well with all 3 & set off home at 4pm, hoping to make it to the hospital in time to see Cocky plus baybees in the hospital.

Anna & Erin

Cocky had told me the twins weren’t sleeping so needless to say, that’s all they did during my visit. She looked relaxed & relieved to have finally shed her huge payload & I even managed to look when she showed me her caesarian scar. It was lovely to hear her back to her old, laid-back self, she has sounded very down just recently, understandably so with twins on the way & an unfinished house undergoing building work. She has help for the next 3 weeks in the form of her mum & Garth’s mum who are coming to help establish a routine. I hope & pray the babies will be good ?

Points to ponder.

I skated over it last time I talked about it, but the rift between my gran & I remains. She said straight out that she didn’t love me any more during my 2nd to last visit. Her reason ? I had done some ‘very silly’ (non-specific) things, squandered my brain & failed to make anything of myself. I had also ‘gallivanted’ in NZ rather than returning to support my Mum after her mastectomy & re-construction. I withdrew & waited for her to apologise. The apology never came.

I girded myself for what turned out to be my final visit. She blanked me, even asking my Mum to clarify who she was referring to when she mentioned ‘her daughter’ It hurt immensely & it took my last shred of dignity not to walk out. I didn’t have to say anything to my Mum, she said to me ‘You don’t have to go again’ The relief was palpable.

At Christmas we failed to acknowledge each other for the 1st time.

Mum tells me gran’s health has deteriorated rapidly in the last few months after a stay in hospital (I last saw her in about June of last year). She hasn’t asked me to visit & I don’t think she would but it leaves me with some thinking to do.

Rescue Me.

Like many of my friends I consider myself pretty much able to handle what comes my way. I don’t have the luxury of asking for help, unless it’s emotional support that is. So it was wonderful to be rescued on Friday. I won’t go into details, it’s one of those stories that doesn’t tell well, you had to be there. Suffice it to say, it was wonderful to point at the problem, look feeble & have someone make it go away. Thank oo.

Derv

Derv has been snatched kicking & screaming from the team & told he is going to work at a call-centre in Lambeth. I’ll spare you the politics, it’s boring, but Derv has already worked a long stint at Brixton in his career & deserves much better. He’s working out his last few days & I feel very sad about it. You will remember Derv as the one who says (amongst other things) ‘I wouldn’t pi55 on her gums if her mouth was on fire’. He surpassed himself on Friday whilst arguing with a smarmy sergeant who is looking to ingratiate himself with the management by ramming his head up their (stop Briggsy) anyway, you get the drift.

Derv informed Sergeant ‘……’ ‘There’s 2 things I won’t do, tell lies or kiss-ar5e’

‘Are you implying I kiss-ar5e ?’ asked Sergeant ‘……’

‘No’ said Derv, ‘I’m not implying it, I’m saying it straight’

One – nil to Derv.

On Thursday we aim to celebrate in the time-honoured way with Derv ie. laugh at how quickly he gets trolleyed then try & avoid him whilst he shouts war-stories at you ?

Plans were made to attend our local Oirish pub, then Milk Yuk noticed what date it was on Thursday. I asked Derv today if the venue was to remain the same. Of course it would, why wouldn’t Derv feel at home surrounded by loud, pi55ed gingwahs ?


There & Back Again …

It is with the utmost pleasure that I inform you that Bill & family look set to return to NZ. It is to Linda’s credit that she is wiling to give it another go & I am so happy for Bill. The only downside ? He left NZ in winter, he did a UK winter, he’s heading back for … you guessed it. As things stand May 17th seems to be the date.Oh well, swings & roundabouts poppet. Your plan looks to be coming together. Bill kindly offered me a job as a nanny. Right.

I think that’s about it for now, so I’ll sign off & say goodnight.

Oh yes, one thing, a message for the person who’s no longer going to do what they were originally planning on doing. Show some guts & explain why. It’s the least you can do.

Goodnight,

Cx

Oh and Bloo, the red hair suits you, makes your eyes look bluer.