Jobsearch

I've been looking at the jobs pages in the local paper. Employment opportunities in this area are limited, compared with less rural localities, and as I don't want to commute, I am not looking even as far afield as Bristol and Bath at the moment.

I might change my mind, though.

So far, this is what I've found: 

Job details

Elves

• Location: Longleat Forest, Warminster
• Salary: N/A
• Industry: Other

Santa

• Location: Longleat Forest, Warminster
• Salary: N/A
• Industry: Other

I am considering how to reframe my CV.

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

Recycled humour

I found this today, while I was having a tidy-up of my hard drive.  You know how it is, heaps of old documents on the floor, faded photos drifting into the corners, unlistened-to music piping away mournfully.  It's a nightmare in there, like an episode of How Clean Is Your House.  But virtual. 

So I decided to clear out some of the junk today.  All the old work documents from three jobs ago, stuff I have five copies of in different folders, photos that I have scanned and edited and no longer need the huge originals of. 

I think this was part of an email to a mate, but I can't remember now.  I wrote it before I started blogging, so it's at least three years old.  Maybe older. 

My favourite story in the local paper this week is the one about the local Morris men performing to the local skate park regulars after a sign saying they were starting a bit later than planned had been "blown down by the wind". The assembled crowd of "about 20 people", not seeing the blown-down sign, gave up and went home. Apparently the "youngsters" ended up by joining in with the dancers. On the bandstand. In the rain. With floodlights. I wish I'd been there.


I was given a leaflet about the forthcoming Warminster festival the other day. There's a great endorsement from Lord Bath on the back - a picture of him looking a bit startled, as if they've snapped a shot when he wasn't expecting it, possibly whilst he's answering his front door, and a quote:

"It is of great interest to me when my local town chooses to put on a Festival. I know that I shall enjoy it as much as everyone else."

My interpretation is: "I'm not involved, but I understand there's something going on locally. I don't imagine anyone will enjoy it much."

I still like that idea of Lord Bath being startled by the photographer as he opens the front door at Longleat.  I shall miss him now he's retiring.  If you are going to have a local aristocrat, he really ought to be completely bonkers.  We'll have to see how his lad performs in the role of Insane Local Grandee.

At least I'm not posting up all the other stuff I deleted.  Small mercies, eh?

Rhinos

Not the spearmint kind. Real ones.

Have had a mate staying for the weekend so have been out and about the place, showing him the sights* and eating vast amounts of lovely food. Hence my lack of posting and general on-line activity for a few days.

In case you were worried.

Yesterday we went for a stroll to Heaven's Gate, a local beauty spot** but as it was a misty day the view was disappointing, so we walked down the path through the trees and had a gawp into Longleat. We saw:

Camels
Giraffes
Pere David deer
A variety of other(unidentified)deer
Rhinos
A raven
Robins
Oh, and I heard a woodpecker

Two of the rhinos were fighting, which was quite exciting, especially as there was a car broken down in their enclosure. Sadly there were no YouTube moments for us to capture on camera, but it was worth watching just in case.

I bought a load of new guitar strings in the music shop as I managed to break two last week. I tend to break the heavy strings too, not the thin ones which is odd. Maybe I should stop wanging them quite so hard.

Other news: Made scones. Which were damn fine.



*Salisbury cinema, mostly

**and dogging site, allegedly

Fame, hopefully fortune

Was watching the TV whilst doing some ironing (domestic goddess, etc etc etc) and what should be up there, not once, but twice in the 45 minutes I was watching?

Longleat, that's what.

*tch*

Local attraction makes the news. Who'd have thought it?

The first mention was a rather cute story on Channel 4 News featuring meercats (sp?) , and a camera "accidentally" left behind by a photographer.

Riiiiight.

He "accidentally" left the tool of his trade in a pen full of wild animals, did he?

Not, I note, in the naughty monkey enclosure, where it would have been stripped for parts and welded into their Mad Max stylee car*, no.

No, he left it with the meercats, who as far as I know, don't have many advanced technical or engineering skills. So not much chance of severe damage to the camera then. That was lucky.

Next mention was on some programme about a bloke who'd built a log cabin in Somerset, using (da-da-daaaaa) larch from Longleat Forestry. I was so proud. I'd have saluted, but was afraid I'd burn my ear.

Other news: My barking but lovely mate Lorraine is going to do jousting. On a horse. In a huge suit of armour. At the Tower Armouries. How great is she?

And she's doing it to raise money for a very good cause, so if you want to

a) find out more and

b) sponsor her, please check
this out.



*It'll happen, you mark my words.

Monkey magic

Back. After an activity-crammed few days, too.

What have I been doing? Well, glad you asked...

Ok, Sunday I went to Mum's place in gorgeous West Sussex, and spent the majority of the day chatting, drinking tea and reading. Very indulgent. Nobody makes a roast dinner like my Mum.

Monday was another quiet day, lots of chatting, a bit of errand running, visited Youngest Sis and family, went to the Quiz with Mum and her friend and Eldest Nephew. We came third, winning £9.50 to share between the four of us.

Hah haaaaa. Take that University Challenge!

You don't see any of them winning a quarter share in £9.50, do you?

No.

Tuesday was slightly marred by an annoying trip to the hospital, for an appointment which had happened the day before. We went and got the makings of a picnic from Sainsbury's on the way home, then chilled out all afternoon, preparing for our visit to The Theatre.

It warrants capital letters, the Festival Theatre. We saw Hobson's Choice, which was excellent.

I think the average age of the audience was in the high 70s. I felt like a giddy young thing by comparison. Marvellous.

Wednesday was changeover day, when Mum and her lovely Spanish lodger came back to mine for a little holiday in Wiltshire. He is heading back to Spain next week and was keen to see Stonehenge, Bath and the animals at Longleat. He's been watching Animal Park on TV it seems.

So, on the way home, we called in at Stonehenge for the full Stand Near* the Stones Experience.

And you know what? It was pretty good.

I took some A1 top banana photos which I will share just as soon I get off my lazy backside and follow the instructions. It helped that the weather was glorious for almost the entire week. Gor blimey but it makes a difference.

To the village pub for lunch, then ho, to Longleat, to see the animals. We were all far more excited than was seemly, and thoroughly enjoyed the drive through the "not likely to kill you" bit, with giraffes, camels, zebra and some other big cattle type things. All very educational.

But what we really wanted to see were the MONKEYS! There are huge signs up all through the park warning that they will damage your car.

There are even pictures** of monkeys with spanners in hand, trashing vehicles.

There are big warnings up telling people not to enter the monkey arena if they have a soft-topped car.

It's pretty clear that you go in there at your own risk, and that the Longleat Estate takes no responsibility for any damage.

So what do we all do, all we happy £20 a ticket punters? We all go "Nah, it won't happen to me," and drive into the monkey arena, laughing merrily.

And guess what? Those hairy little fuckers trash car after car after car. They're really good at it.

It was UNBELIEVABLE.

They seemed to prefer LandRovers, especially the ones with roof bars and ladders, probably because they afford lots of handholds. Several such vehicles did the complete circuit with several monkeys on their roof, looking like a South American market bus, passengers shrieking out of the windows in fright, trying to see what their hitchers are up to.

But they also like new cars with plenty of nice black rubber trim, so they can pick one end out of the car body panels and then RIIIIIIIIIIP the whole lot off, flinging it onto the side of the road.

Longleat have a lost property office full of bits of car, apparently.

We watched in horror (mixed with glee, obviously) as a tiny baby monkey jumped onto the car in front of us, grabbed the aerial and bit the rubberised end off it, before carefully bending it double. Little bastard.

By the end of the circuit, my white-knuckled hands were ready to swerve the car out of the way of (and quite possibly straight over) any monkey who looked like he was planning to hop aboard.

We made it through unscathed, and cheered ourselves up by buying a cup of deer food and hand feeding the fallow deer in the next enclosure. Again, photos were taken.

I'm still in two minds as to whether it's a good thing to go straight into the lion enclosure when you're covered in deer lick, though. Still, the lions were all half asleep, as is traditional, and we enjoyed watching them yawn and roll about like lazy cats. Which I suppose they are, when you think about it.

The house is being renovated so we only got a truncated tour, but can go back later in the season for another look if we want, on the same ticket, which is fair enough.

Then back home for a little siesta (civilised habit), then my guitar lesson, then a fab tapas-themed dinner. And a dvd.

This is a hugely long post. I'll stop and continue later on.

Heh. Don't want anyone getting bored now...

*Not too near, obviously.

** drawings, sadly, rather than CCTV footage like on Crimewatch