The Long March

So, other than the visa excitement, what else has been happening chez WithaY lately?  I know you're all dying to ask, but are too polite.  Well, that's my assumption, anyway.

The other weekend was Mr WithaY's birthday.  This year both of us have been lucky enough to have birthdays that fall on a Saturday, so we have both had parties.  Hurrah for us.

Mr WithaY, having a Spring birthday, gets to have a partially outdoor party.  We get the brazier out, and hang lanterns in the apple tree, and light the fire, and people can sit around and look at the stars in a romantic and nature-loving manner.  Or, as usually happens, smoke fags, talk bollocks and sing loudly.  Both are good, of course. 

Mine is usually a smaller, less rowdy affair, perhaps a grown-up dinner party* or a few friends round for an elegant cocktail soiree**.  Always chic and well-planned though***.

Anyhoo.  The party.  We took Friday off work and got the house sorted out, ready for all the guests.  Mr WithaY spent hours, HOURS, tidying his study.  His study has been a bit of a bone of contention for, oh, about 5 years now.  It's normally a cross between a fishing tackle shop, a historical weapons exhibit at a museum, Ray Mears' Winter wardrobe, and the office of a dodgy tax accountant who never files anything to avoid trouble. 

The cleaners were given strict instructions when they started with us not to go in there.  Hell, I don't go in there. You never know what you might turn up. 

A hand-made fish spear?  Some carefully scrimshawed ox bones?  A hundred five-year-old copies of Shooting Times?  A large, lavishly-illustrated book on sausage-making?  A filing cabinet stuffed with telephone bills from the 1990s?  A Victorian chamber pot?  It's all possible. 

He spent the day sorting it all out, and by the time he'd finished, the place was just lovely.  We had a whole new room that people could go into, sit on the futon, have a drink, listen to music**** and chill out.  The carefully-placed coasters added to the total trance-room ambience, I think. 

It needed doing, as we had mates staying over, and unless that room is habitable there is no bed for some of them to use. 

Anyway, the party was a success, everyone had a nice time, or at least told us that they did, nothing caught fire, and nobody punched anybody else.  Always a sign of a good party, that.  We didn't overcater too dramatically, which was a pleasant change too.  Well, I say that.  I found several uneaten platters of party food in the big chiller in the garage the next day.  We had them for lunch.  Nom nom nom.

Party aside, what else?  Very little that I've felt compelled to write about in here.  Mr WithaY is in into the second week of his tree-climbing, coasteering, adventure training course, so the house feels big and quiet and empty.  Not that he usually runs around it shrieking and waving his arms when he's here, but I still miss him.

I went for a Long Walk on Sunday with some friends and their unfeasibly huge dog.  She is charming, well behaved and gentle, and a pleasure to be out and about with.  We drove up to Heaven's Gate, walked through the woods to the amazing stones and then down the path to the edge of Longleat Safari Park. 

The rhododendrons (sp?) were all out, and looked wonderful.

Obviously my photos don't do them justice, but you get the idea.  The stones looked fantastic in the weird kind of half-cloud that was going on.  I like this photo very much.

I didn't know that you can just walk right into the estate for free.  You only pay if you want to ride the gorilla boat or go in the mazes or go round the house or whatever.  We sat and had a drink at one of the cafe places there, walked around the gardens, then back over the fields and then UP the very steep hill to Heaven's Gate again. 

We walked from where I took this pic through the woods and along the road in a big loop to the house (helpfully arrowed) and then back up the hill that drops away in front of the bench in this picture.  By Swansea it was steep. 

It was all very pleasant; despite having to practically crawl up the last part of the hill on my hands and knees, stopping to wheeze at frequent intervals, I made it to the top without collapsing.  The friends I was with are both very fit.  Very, very fit.  The husband of the two ran - RAN - to the top of the hill, stood there for a bit, got bored and ran back down to where I was toiling up in the manner of an ant carrying an entire leaf on its back, and then ran - RAN - back to the top.

I had just about enough strength in my lungs to shout "You're not helping!" at him as he did laps of the hill.   It made me feel better.

Longleat House is gorgeous.  If I was Lord Bath I think I'd be very happy living there, despite the hordes of great unwashed traipsing through the garden. 

The gardens aren't half bad either. 

 

There are some excellent bits of sculpture and statues and so on.

Bonkers.

Other news:  Very little.  I have not really felt much like blogging for a few days, I think Mr WithaY must be my Muse, and with him out of the house, I have no ideas whatsoever.  Heh.

*shedloads of wine and hilarious shouting, often with the hostess falling asleep on the sitting room rug in front of the fire
**shedloads of cocktails and hilarious shouting, often with people falling asleep on the sofa and having to be evicted at 3am
***Not really.  Too much shouting for chic. 
****Trance, unfortunately, but hey, at least they didn't have to stand up to listen to it

Tiger feet

Today I am mostly in between mobile phones.

I bit the bullet and got myself a new phone, because my little old Nokia was being erratic about battery charge life. Also, because I am used to the 2-hours-on-the-train-each-way madness now, I need something to amuse myself on the journey.

I have tried reading work stuff, but that can be dull, plus I don't get paid for an extra four hours work a day. I have issues about reading work stuff on trains anyway, because I know I always look at what the person next to me is reading, and I don't really want random strangers knowing what I am up to.

I have tried reading fiction, but I dislike my books getting squashed and bashed around in my rucksack.

I listen to music on my iPod, but that isn't sufficient to keep me entertained.

I have become a bit of a backgammon demon, as I found the game on my phone, and was beating the computer regularly on the Difficult level. However, the final straw came last week when the game threw up numerous javascript errors and failed to load. So. Time for a new phone.

I then ummed and ahhed about getting a little teeny laptop and a dongle to pick up internet access so I could waste yet more of my life on the internet. But I'd still need a phone. And an iPod.

What to do? What to do?

I decided to be a complete techno-geek, and I bought an iPhone. A pay as you go one, I didn't fancy being locked into a contract for two years. I will see how much it costs me per month, and whether it's worth it. The Apps store had better have a backgammon game.

Other news: I got caught up in the Tamil demonstration on Monday evening, which was interesting. I was walking to Waterloo from the office, as it was a nice sunny afternoon, and got to Parliament Square, where there were many, many police riot vans. Also horseshit, which indicated to my fine mind that police horses had recently been in the area.

I kept walking briskly, because I didn't want to miss my train. I knew that if I got stuck on the pedestrian crossings it could take me ten minutes to get round the square and onto Westminster Bridge.

I rounded the corner next to Big Ben, and there were hordes of angry flag-waving Sri Lankans sitting in the road, shouting stuff I couldn't decipher through megaphones. I kept walking, still determined not to miss my train, and ended up having to shoulder* through the crowd quite forcefully, as there were so many of them.

Finally I got to Westminster Bridge, hot, flustered and increasingly grumpy. A tape line was across the bridge, preventing people from crossing it, and many unsmiling policemen stood there.

"You can't cross here " they told me.

I looked at the people walking up and down on the other side of the tape and said "But I need to get to Waterloo station."

"Sorry madam, you must walk down to the next bridge."

So. I had to shoulder my way back through the protesters, down the steps, along the Embankment and across Hungerford Bridge. Took me bloody miles out of my way and meant I missed my train. Gah.

Too much bloody democracy, if you ask me.

Another thing. It is an illegal protest, given that there had been no notice sent to the police. Why, therefore, has it been it allowed to run for three days (and counting)?



*My shoulders, the top of most of their heads - they are quite a petite people, it seems

I don't want to go to Chelsea

That's a lie. Chelsea seems to be rather nice. The bits of it I have seen so far, anyway.

Wednesday already. Where does the time go, eh? Well, stopping up in London certainly made the first two days of the week fly by.

I stayed at my mate's lovely Chelsea flat again on Monday. It is great to be able to actually enjoy a bit of a social life after work, rather than spending hours on the train. I even managed to walk to and from her flat without having to admit defeat and call a cab, which was nice.

We went out for an Italian meal, and had the most fantastic HUGE wooden board covered with antipasti, which was a meal in itself. However, being brave girls, we scarfed it all down and then managed to cram in a main course each too.

They sell pizza by the metre at this place, with one person's portion being a 25cm size. So if four of you order a pizza, you get a metre long pizza delivered to your table. What a great idea. All food should be sold that way.

"I'll have 2.5 metres of cheese please...we're having a fondue party."

"Hm, just 25cm of eggs this week, I'm not making any cakes."

"How much spaghetti do we need? 10 metres? Really? Ok..."

I ordered a calzone with ricotta cheese, ham, and whole teeny tomatoes in it, and the bloody thing was bigger than my head. Which is pretty big, let me tell you. I managed about two thirds of it, then had to admit defeat.

Should have got a doggy bag, I could fancy it now.

Mr WithaY and I are planning a trip up there later in the month, and I will have to take him to this place and see what he thinks of it.

Other news: Had some cabin hooks fitted to the French doors in the kitchen, so when they are open in the summer they won't slam back and knacker the hinges.

When we had the doors put in, I asked if they were going to fit hooks, and they said "Ooh no love, you won't need hooks! These doors'll stay where you put them."

What utter bollocks.

First sunny day we had the doors open, a gust of wind slammed them back against the wall and the hinges were distorted so badly that the doors wouldn't lock again. Mr WithaY had to spend bloody ages with a screwdriver tweaking them back to normality.

So, now they have hooks.

We finished the lovely dinner party goulash tonight. Mmmm. Beef.

Right. Bedtime, as I have to be up at 0-ffs-hours tomorrow.

Harbingers

Spring is springing. Hurrah.

Today, on my absurdly early drive to the railway station, I saw:

A barn owl, landing dramatically on a fence post
Three hares, running around a field chasing each other
Several roe deer, standing about like the idle sods they are
Numerous pheasants
Numerous quail (I think), but possibly partridge
Primroses
Daffodils
A few scraggly snowdrops

About time too. Winter's been going on for so long that it feels like we live in Narnia.

The walk from Waterloo to Victoria was glorious, all the buildings around Parliament Square glowing in the sunshine.

There were many dazed Japanese tourists almost getting flattened by taxis as they tried to negotiare the complicated pedestrian crossings. They were all dragging those big suitcases on wheels, which made them walk as if they were leading a pack of surly dogs, the cases tipping onto one wheel and then the other as they lurched along the pavements.

In case we managed to avoid that particular hazard, they took turns stopping dead in the middle of the street to take photos of each other pointing at Big Ben.

There is a crossing on Westminster Bridge where you can dart across, against the lights, to the refuge in the middle of the road if you're quick. I did this. A couple of other commuter types did the same. The group of Japanese tourists followed suit, their cases spilling off the refuge and into the road , causing taxi drivers to swerve and shout threats. It was mildly entertaining.

Is there some central casting depot in Japan where they train these people? Adverts in the press: "Come to England and behave like every stereotypical tourist ever lampooned in a poor attempt at comedy"? If so, they are doing a fantastic job.

Other news: There is the beginning of a promising long-term feud brewing at work. I always put two spaces after a full-stop when I write, so-called "English punctuation" according to Wiki*. I was taught that was correct, and have been doing so for many many years. The rest of the office only put one space, so-called "French punctuation".

Annoyingly, the house style guide backs up the rest of the team, and not me. We are therefore all amending each others' drafts to reflect our own personal preference with every iteration. I have already conceded the removal of a semi-colon at the end of a bullet point, but I am prepared to take the full-stop spacing issue all the way to the bitter end. Unless I am overwhelmingly proved wrong by the internet**, which I trust implicitly.

This will run and run.





*which is never wrong, as any fule kno.

**see above

Silent but deadly

Apart from the ongoing situation with Father-in-Law WithaY, what news from the snowy, sleety, bloody freezing Wiltshire hills?

Well, I was in London on Friday for a work thing that everyone else was able to get to, so I sacrificed one of my 2 days a week working at home, and went along. It was actually quite good. An opportunity to meet a lot more of the extended team, and have a chat with people who are usually too busy dashing around in the office to pin down.

Towards the end of the day we were doing one of those team discussions where you all come up with a list of behaviours and traits you think you should be using and displaying. Someone suggested "Patience." A voice from the back said "No, we don't have time for that!" which I thought was an absolute classic.

The event was not at the office, so I walked up from St James' Park tube station, with only a minor diversion up to the Lambeth Roundabout due to my inability to pick the correct direction along a main road. Was a nice-ish morning and I had plenty of time, so the walk was enjoyable.

I also walked back to Waterloo at the end of the day, which was much nicer than taking the Tube. Took about the same amount of time, so I might start doing a bit more walking, maybe get off the Tube one or two stops earlier. We'll see.

On the train out of Waterloo was a family, with a large shaggy dog. The dog behaved perfectly, sitting quietly under the table, occasionally sticking his head out and looking adorable. Once or twice it wandered into the aisle, and was scratched and stroked by everyone in range.

Yes, it was lovely.

Until it started farting.

Picture the scene. A crowded commuter train, people in every seat, some standing in the aisles, and a dog who is niiiiice and relaxed. The looks on people's faces were priceless, because of course many of them couldn't see the dog. I wondered if one chap was going to stand up and demand that the perpetrator confess, he looked so outraged. The mother of the dog-owning family sat there, her face getting redder and redder as the air got more and more crowded.

Unless of course, she was to blame and not the dog. Hmmmmm.

Glorious Victory

Hurrah, I feel much better.

Just as well, because I was starting to worry. Stomach upsets usually only last 36 hours at the most, and this one has been knocking around since last Friday.

So, I ate some food today. So far, and I am aware this is probably too much information, it hasn't made a reappearance of any kind.

Other news: Made lemon curd this evening, whilst cooking the aforementioned food. It worked very well, and I am planning a toast and lemon curd bonanza for breakfast tomorrow.

Also, it seems that the fantastic WithaY Angler Fish has swept the board in Belgian Waffle's Village Fete contest. I am eagerly awaiting the prize to be delivered to my door. I hope it's a pony. Made of gold.

On a slightly, but not very, different tack, I spoke to my new boss today. I am being released back into the wild to take up my new job at the beginning of October.

I need to find out about getting a season ticket for the train, also a long term parking ticket for the station car park. I need to learn the best walking route from Waterloo to the office. I know that it is 1.4 miles, according to Google Maps, so it should take me less than 30 minutes to walk it.

It seems that my new colleagues are already scared of me. Excellent. There is something to be said for coming from an environment where we have shitloads of guns.