Things I have seen on my travels to work this week include:
1) Incredibly glamorous girl with two-inch-long deep scarlet fingernails, which she fiddled with constantly as we travelled to Victoria, clicking them against each other with an oddly loud noise.
2) Man with more facial piercings than I have ever seen in my life, including in crappy science fantasy films and on heavy metal album covers. He must have had about 50, including stuff in patterns under the skin to make big lumps. Seriously, deeply intimidating. I saw him as I got onto the Tube, then had to stand with my back to him because it was honestly too much for me. He had at least 15 big rings in and around his lips, many with metal balls and things on them. He looked terrifying.
3) Continuing the scary theme, several large, very fresh pools of blood at Waterloo station, at the foot of the concourse escalators, next to the Help point. It was half covered in bits of paper, presumably to try and shield it from the hundreds of commuters thronging past, surrounded by tape, with two policemen standing next to it. The bloke in the newspaper vending place right beside it was gamely trying to sell papers and pretend he wasn't standing next to a scene from CSI Railway Station.
4) Incredibly farty bloke on the train this evening. This was more of a smelled- than saw- but it was most unpleasant. He was sitting there watching tv on his laptop, swigging cider, munching his way through a bag of mini Cheddars, farting liberally and foully all the way to Salisbury. Stinky bastard.
How was your day?
Thursday, 15 January 2009
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
Milestone!
Oooh! Just noticed I have had more than 10,000 hits on the blog! Yay me!
Just hope they aren't all from the same four people obsessively checking back every few minutes.
Just hope they aren't all from the same four people obsessively checking back every few minutes.
Sock it to me
Big excitement tonight on the train on the way home.
The guard made an announcement asking for "any qualified medical personnel to make their way to the middle of the train". A young chap leapt to his feet in the carriage I was in and dashed off down the train, while all the female passengers looked admiringly at him, and the blokes scowled enviously.
After a couple of minutes the guard came into our carriage asking for chocolate in a panicky way, which a lady was able to provide (not me, in case you were wondering). After another few minutes the guard announced over the intercom that we would be slightly delayed at Andover station because the train was being met by an ambulance.
So, probably a diabetic having some sort of problem, I assume, unless it was a heart attack and the guard was coincidentally really fancying a bag of Revels.
Anyway, the dashing young chap then came back to his seat and smiled modestly whenever anyone caught his eye. Hopefully whoever it was that was taken ill will make a speedy recovery.
Other news, on a semi-medical related note: I have a bloody huge blister on my left heel.
I wore my new bargain boots (half price at Jones, black, low heel, excellent with trousers, ideal in all respects till today) to work yesterday. Walked from Waterloo to Victoria with no problem at all. Comfy, non-slip, easy to scamper across roads in. Perfect.
Wore them today, did the same walk from Waterloo to Victoria, and ended up rubbing about five hundred inches of skin off my heel, right down to the bone. I think I might even have worn away some of the bone as well*. It's hard to tell.
I think it's because I had different socks on, and they were a bit thinner. Bloody annoying though.
So, I will be limping around at home tomorrow in my slippers, whimpering in between doing work on my laptop.
I like having a plan.
Mr WithaY, who is a complete star, made the most fab dinner this evening. It was a roast chicken which he had covered in rose harissa spices. Mmm-mmm. Highly recommended.
I did a huge traditional roast lamb lunch on Sunday while our mates were here. Which was nice. My Yorkshire puddings worked brilliantly, though I say so myself. Was great to see them again (the mates, not the puddings). Their mad spaniels performed the traditional "trashing of the WithaY rosemary bush" ceremony. It's like Morris dancing, but for dogs.
*Bloody well feels like it.
The guard made an announcement asking for "any qualified medical personnel to make their way to the middle of the train". A young chap leapt to his feet in the carriage I was in and dashed off down the train, while all the female passengers looked admiringly at him, and the blokes scowled enviously.
After a couple of minutes the guard came into our carriage asking for chocolate in a panicky way, which a lady was able to provide (not me, in case you were wondering). After another few minutes the guard announced over the intercom that we would be slightly delayed at Andover station because the train was being met by an ambulance.
So, probably a diabetic having some sort of problem, I assume, unless it was a heart attack and the guard was coincidentally really fancying a bag of Revels.
Anyway, the dashing young chap then came back to his seat and smiled modestly whenever anyone caught his eye. Hopefully whoever it was that was taken ill will make a speedy recovery.
Other news, on a semi-medical related note: I have a bloody huge blister on my left heel.
I wore my new bargain boots (half price at Jones, black, low heel, excellent with trousers, ideal in all respects till today) to work yesterday. Walked from Waterloo to Victoria with no problem at all. Comfy, non-slip, easy to scamper across roads in. Perfect.
Wore them today, did the same walk from Waterloo to Victoria, and ended up rubbing about five hundred inches of skin off my heel, right down to the bone. I think I might even have worn away some of the bone as well*. It's hard to tell.
I think it's because I had different socks on, and they were a bit thinner. Bloody annoying though.
So, I will be limping around at home tomorrow in my slippers, whimpering in between doing work on my laptop.
I like having a plan.
Mr WithaY, who is a complete star, made the most fab dinner this evening. It was a roast chicken which he had covered in rose harissa spices. Mmm-mmm. Highly recommended.
I did a huge traditional roast lamb lunch on Sunday while our mates were here. Which was nice. My Yorkshire puddings worked brilliantly, though I say so myself. Was great to see them again (the mates, not the puddings). Their mad spaniels performed the traditional "trashing of the WithaY rosemary bush" ceremony. It's like Morris dancing, but for dogs.
*Bloody well feels like it.
Saturday, 10 January 2009
Can do
Among the many items we are gradually amassing as a result of father-in-law WithaY's recent move into the nursing home is a bread machine.
One that bakes loaves of bread I mean, not something that prints money. Which would be very welcome, to be honest, if anyone has one they want rid of.
Anyhoo, we tried it out last night, and made a slightly odd-shaped loaf of dark bread, a sort of German rye affair. As a key part of a bacon sandwich this morning it was very good. Tasty, nice texture, not too floppity. I currently have a sunflower seed loaf in there, to see how it manages bread with bits in.
Is it just me, or does "A German Rye Affair" sound like the sort of book you buy in the airport on your way to your holiday? With a gold embossed picture on the front, and a list of all the other books by the same author in big letters?
Anyhoo.
We have several huge boxes in the kitchen, full of jars, cans, packets and bags of foodstuffs, some still in date, even. We have more olive oil than anyone other than a Turkish wrestler needs, and about fifty different types of dried vine fruit. Mr WithaY has cleared space in the garage; we plan to store all the mouse-proof stuff out there till we get round to finding a more permanent home for it.
If anyone wants about a thousand cans of peach halves, please do drop me a line.
Other news: Our mates with the mad spaniels are coming over later for dinner and (we decided over a sustaining lunch of home-made soup) cocktails. Mmmmmmmmmm. In fact, I need to go and put some ice cubes in to freeze so we can have proper posh cocktails and not just huge glasses of sticky warm mixtures of mad alcohol.
Am learning to play the riff from "Every Mother's Son" by the fab Lynyrd Skynyrd, which feels like a real achievement. Yay me. Makes me feel like a proper guitarist, being able to do little riffy bits.
Still bloody freezing here. Everything was covered in the most beautiful hoar frost yesterday and today, making the place look like a Christmas card. We will light the fire when our mates get here and talk bollocks all evening.
Marvellous.
One that bakes loaves of bread I mean, not something that prints money. Which would be very welcome, to be honest, if anyone has one they want rid of.
Anyhoo, we tried it out last night, and made a slightly odd-shaped loaf of dark bread, a sort of German rye affair. As a key part of a bacon sandwich this morning it was very good. Tasty, nice texture, not too floppity. I currently have a sunflower seed loaf in there, to see how it manages bread with bits in.
Is it just me, or does "A German Rye Affair" sound like the sort of book you buy in the airport on your way to your holiday? With a gold embossed picture on the front, and a list of all the other books by the same author in big letters?
Anyhoo.
We have several huge boxes in the kitchen, full of jars, cans, packets and bags of foodstuffs, some still in date, even. We have more olive oil than anyone other than a Turkish wrestler needs, and about fifty different types of dried vine fruit. Mr WithaY has cleared space in the garage; we plan to store all the mouse-proof stuff out there till we get round to finding a more permanent home for it.
If anyone wants about a thousand cans of peach halves, please do drop me a line.
Other news: Our mates with the mad spaniels are coming over later for dinner and (we decided over a sustaining lunch of home-made soup) cocktails. Mmmmmmmmmm. In fact, I need to go and put some ice cubes in to freeze so we can have proper posh cocktails and not just huge glasses of sticky warm mixtures of mad alcohol.
Am learning to play the riff from "Every Mother's Son" by the fab Lynyrd Skynyrd, which feels like a real achievement. Yay me. Makes me feel like a proper guitarist, being able to do little riffy bits.
Still bloody freezing here. Everything was covered in the most beautiful hoar frost yesterday and today, making the place look like a Christmas card. We will light the fire when our mates get here and talk bollocks all evening.
Marvellous.
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
Too cold for snow
Car insurance has been on my mind this week. Mine expires in late January, and every year we get a quote sent to us from our financial advisor*, along with a whole load of forms we fill in to get the policy renewed.
This year the letter arrived, I opened it, and saw that the quote for this year's insurance was a whacking £400. Four hundred pounds! Gah!
We haven't had any accidents.
We haven't had the car stolen.
We haven't even locked ourselves out.
Why is it so hideously expensive? Why? WHY? Whyyyyyyyyyyyy? I may have wailed this at Mr WithaY in the manner of a Victorian workhouse washerwoman.
He, as befits a man of wisdom and great understanding** merely raised an eyebrow and suggested I go online to find a cheaper quote. He even, in the manner of a cheesy tv advert, suggested a website I could use.
Gocompare.com if you're interested.
And hey, guess what, annoying though it is to be apparently living in a tv advert, it worked. Within about 5 minutes I had dozens of quotes for equivalent insurance (fully comp, legal protection, protected no claims, windscreen cover), only one of which was higher than the quote we'd had from the financial advisor.
In the end I picked not the very cheapest, but one of the lowest quotes, for less than £200. That is almost £200 less than the quote I was sent by the brokers. What the fuck?
I rang the brokers up to say I had found a cheaper quote for the same service. The nice lady I spoke to sounded genuinely surprised that I had managed such a Herculean task.
"Gosh! Where did you find that?" she asked me.
"On the internet," I replied.
"Where?"
Bloody hell. I know we're out in the middle of Wiltshire, but surely everyone has heard of the Internet...oh she meant which website. Heh.
I told her. I daresay the brokers never thought to do a five minute online price comparison.
Other news: Back at work, so far so good.
Trains were horribly delayed on Tuesday evening. I left work a bit early to catch an earlier train, missed it by 10 seconds (they were just closing the doors as I scampered up the platform), had to wait half an hour for the next one, which was almost half an hour late getting to my stop because of power failures all the way along the line, and ended up getting home at the same time I would have if I'd left work at the usual time.
Gah.
Still, it's been snowing here today. Was minus 6 as I left for work yesterday at 0630, and then when I came home at 8pm. Brrr.
*He gives us advice, we say we can't afford to do any of the things he suggests. It's a win/win situation.
**Has access to the Internet
This year the letter arrived, I opened it, and saw that the quote for this year's insurance was a whacking £400. Four hundred pounds! Gah!
We haven't had any accidents.
We haven't had the car stolen.
We haven't even locked ourselves out.
Why is it so hideously expensive? Why? WHY? Whyyyyyyyyyyyy? I may have wailed this at Mr WithaY in the manner of a Victorian workhouse washerwoman.
He, as befits a man of wisdom and great understanding** merely raised an eyebrow and suggested I go online to find a cheaper quote. He even, in the manner of a cheesy tv advert, suggested a website I could use.
Gocompare.com if you're interested.
And hey, guess what, annoying though it is to be apparently living in a tv advert, it worked. Within about 5 minutes I had dozens of quotes for equivalent insurance (fully comp, legal protection, protected no claims, windscreen cover), only one of which was higher than the quote we'd had from the financial advisor.
In the end I picked not the very cheapest, but one of the lowest quotes, for less than £200. That is almost £200 less than the quote I was sent by the brokers. What the fuck?
I rang the brokers up to say I had found a cheaper quote for the same service. The nice lady I spoke to sounded genuinely surprised that I had managed such a Herculean task.
"Gosh! Where did you find that?" she asked me.
"On the internet," I replied.
"Where?"
Bloody hell. I know we're out in the middle of Wiltshire, but surely everyone has heard of the Internet...oh she meant which website. Heh.
I told her. I daresay the brokers never thought to do a five minute online price comparison.
Other news: Back at work, so far so good.
Trains were horribly delayed on Tuesday evening. I left work a bit early to catch an earlier train, missed it by 10 seconds (they were just closing the doors as I scampered up the platform), had to wait half an hour for the next one, which was almost half an hour late getting to my stop because of power failures all the way along the line, and ended up getting home at the same time I would have if I'd left work at the usual time.
Gah.
Still, it's been snowing here today. Was minus 6 as I left for work yesterday at 0630, and then when I came home at 8pm. Brrr.
*He gives us advice, we say we can't afford to do any of the things he suggests. It's a win/win situation.
**Has access to the Internet
Saturday, 3 January 2009
Missed!
Dinotopia has been on all week, on Channel 5 at 0900, and I missed it! Gah!
Have to wait till next Christmas now.
So. What did Santa bring you? Were you good? Did you get coal in your stocking? Mind you, nowadays a stocking full of coal is not a gift to be sniffed at.
It's been bloody freezing here for days. We've had ice on the cars and the shed roof that hasn't melted for ages, and the birds are using their bath as a freestyle dance rink.
Mr WithaY has it on good authority (some people in the pub) that we are due a hot summer. I will be waiting for that with great excitement. Winter seems to have been going on since about May last year. Apparently it's going to snow on Monday. Perfect. Just in time for everyone* going back to work, and the trains trying to remember how to run. I think I will take my overnight bag just in case.
This weekend we have mostly been sorting out Father in Law WithaY's kitchen cupboards. He moved into the nursing home on Christmas Eve, and is slowly (and rather painfully) settling in. He has a lovely big room, and we are gradually bringing in pictures, books and small items of furniture from his house so it feels more like home.
But, and it is a big but**, he is finding it hard to deal with the fact that all the other residents are old, frail and in a couple of cases, bonkers. And who can blame him? Still, he looks clean, fed, warm and safe, which is a huge improvement on how things were a month or so ago.
And when all is said and done, he has only been there a few days. The fact that we can get to see him three or four times a week is certainly a bonus, as he is fretting about his house and so on, and we can reassure him that stuff is getting sorted.
But going back to the kitchen cupboards. Oh my.
Oh my oh my oh my. The things we found.
My favourites were (in no particular order):
1) Three inches of flat cider in the bottom of a large plastic cider bottle from four years ago.
2) A wide variety of jars of spices, none more recent than 1995, some coagulated into hard-as-concrete lumps which had to be coaxed out of the jars with the aid of a long steel skewer.
3) Six pecan nuts (shelled) in a screw-top glass jar.
4) A box of Tate&Lyle "Fairrie" Small Cube Sugar, in a pre-decimal box. I have been searching the Tate&Lyle website to try and establish an age for it. I may post a photo to see if anyone out there can give me an approximate date of maufacture. It must be from the 1970s, possibly earlier.
5) A giant glass jar of what I thought were green lentils, but which, on closer examination, turned out to be red lentils covered in thick green mould and dust. Opening the jar was like a scene from a low budget sci-fi movie where the mad scientist unleashes the deadly gas cloud on the world. The bottom two inches of solid lentil/mould compound had to be soaked in hot water, until the coaxing skewer was deployed.
Other news: Back to work on Monday. Am quite looking forward to it. It will be nice to get back to some semblance of normality again.
Plans for tomorrow include taking down all the Christmas decorations, including Mr WithaY's Blair Witch creation in the hallway. We are also going grocery shopping for the first time since December 22nd, as we have finally eaten our way through all the festive food. Except the dates, which I found in a drawer yesterday.
*me
**much like my own
Have to wait till next Christmas now.
So. What did Santa bring you? Were you good? Did you get coal in your stocking? Mind you, nowadays a stocking full of coal is not a gift to be sniffed at.
It's been bloody freezing here for days. We've had ice on the cars and the shed roof that hasn't melted for ages, and the birds are using their bath as a freestyle dance rink.
Mr WithaY has it on good authority (some people in the pub) that we are due a hot summer. I will be waiting for that with great excitement. Winter seems to have been going on since about May last year. Apparently it's going to snow on Monday. Perfect. Just in time for everyone* going back to work, and the trains trying to remember how to run. I think I will take my overnight bag just in case.
This weekend we have mostly been sorting out Father in Law WithaY's kitchen cupboards. He moved into the nursing home on Christmas Eve, and is slowly (and rather painfully) settling in. He has a lovely big room, and we are gradually bringing in pictures, books and small items of furniture from his house so it feels more like home.
But, and it is a big but**, he is finding it hard to deal with the fact that all the other residents are old, frail and in a couple of cases, bonkers. And who can blame him? Still, he looks clean, fed, warm and safe, which is a huge improvement on how things were a month or so ago.
And when all is said and done, he has only been there a few days. The fact that we can get to see him three or four times a week is certainly a bonus, as he is fretting about his house and so on, and we can reassure him that stuff is getting sorted.
But going back to the kitchen cupboards. Oh my.
Oh my oh my oh my. The things we found.
My favourites were (in no particular order):
1) Three inches of flat cider in the bottom of a large plastic cider bottle from four years ago.
2) A wide variety of jars of spices, none more recent than 1995, some coagulated into hard-as-concrete lumps which had to be coaxed out of the jars with the aid of a long steel skewer.
3) Six pecan nuts (shelled) in a screw-top glass jar.
4) A box of Tate&Lyle "Fairrie" Small Cube Sugar, in a pre-decimal box. I have been searching the Tate&Lyle website to try and establish an age for it. I may post a photo to see if anyone out there can give me an approximate date of maufacture. It must be from the 1970s, possibly earlier.
5) A giant glass jar of what I thought were green lentils, but which, on closer examination, turned out to be red lentils covered in thick green mould and dust. Opening the jar was like a scene from a low budget sci-fi movie where the mad scientist unleashes the deadly gas cloud on the world. The bottom two inches of solid lentil/mould compound had to be soaked in hot water, until the coaxing skewer was deployed.
Other news: Back to work on Monday. Am quite looking forward to it. It will be nice to get back to some semblance of normality again.
Plans for tomorrow include taking down all the Christmas decorations, including Mr WithaY's Blair Witch creation in the hallway. We are also going grocery shopping for the first time since December 22nd, as we have finally eaten our way through all the festive food. Except the dates, which I found in a drawer yesterday.
*me
**much like my own
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
No news
Wow, long break. I suppose spending the best part of a week eating and watching TV isn't really terribly inspiring in terms of blogworthy adventures.
Christmas was pleasant. We ate a lot, possibly our own weight in turkey and ham, and watched more tv than seems feasible. Most relaxing.
It is fearsomely cold here at the moment. Yes, I know all the North Americans out there will be snorting with mirth at the idea, but to us a day which doesn't get over 0 degrees Centigrade is a Very Cold Day.
Am still trying to get over my disappointment at the lack of Dinotopia on the TV so far. Outrageous.
And tomorrow we are off to Homebase to buy replacement lighting. I'll keep you posted. Try to contain your excitement.
Christmas was pleasant. We ate a lot, possibly our own weight in turkey and ham, and watched more tv than seems feasible. Most relaxing.
It is fearsomely cold here at the moment. Yes, I know all the North Americans out there will be snorting with mirth at the idea, but to us a day which doesn't get over 0 degrees Centigrade is a Very Cold Day.
Am still trying to get over my disappointment at the lack of Dinotopia on the TV so far. Outrageous.
And tomorrow we are off to Homebase to buy replacement lighting. I'll keep you posted. Try to contain your excitement.
Wednesday, 24 December 2008
Deliveries
Got my parcel! Yay! It arrived as I was writing a cheque for the Log Man (who delivered our logs 2 days early, great stuff) and making sausage rolls and talking to my lovely Mum and wrapping presents.
It's all go here.
Father in Law WithaY is moving into the nursing home today too, so will be (hopefully at least) starting to be settled in for Christmas. We can pop over and see him often, each time saving us a couple of hours driving, marvellous.
Right.
Time to start thinking about lunch. And that.
It's all go here.
Father in Law WithaY is moving into the nursing home today too, so will be (hopefully at least) starting to be settled in for Christmas. We can pop over and see him often, each time saving us a couple of hours driving, marvellous.
Right.
Time to start thinking about lunch. And that.
Monday, 22 December 2008
Fail
Parcel people came while I was out.
I expect to see my order being returned to the Stygian haze of the Amazon warehouse very soon.
*tch*
I expect to see my order being returned to the Stygian haze of the Amazon warehouse very soon.
*tch*
Saturday, 20 December 2008
Going postal
Oh yeah - if you are ever planning to send me a package, don't use City Link. They are bloody hopeless, on current evidence.
I have a package supposedly on its way from Amazon, who are usually absolutely no trouble at all.
I came home from work on Tuesday night to find a card through the door saying that City Link had tried to deliver my package, but had failed because there was nobody home to sign for it. All the other things I have had delivered from Amazon over the years have been left without a signature, but apparently this package is extra special.
Why? Who knows. It's not a Faberge egg, sadly.
So. I took the card to work with me on Wednesday and called the appropriate depot, bloody miles away in Bristol. They said "Your package is out on the van today, to be delivered." I explained that that would be no use, as I was in London. They said "Oh."
After a thoughtful pause, we agreed that my package would be delivered on Friday, when I would be home to sign for it, and take delivery into my own fair hands. And have a retina scan and full rectal probe if required*.
All day long I waited sadly, like a spaniel who had been left behind while everyone else went out for a long walk in the country.
By 7pm it was plain that my parcel was not in fact going to be delivered. This morning (Saturday) I called the City Link depot. The one in Bristol. The lady who (eventually) answered the phone was very pleasant, and apologised for the "confusion".
Um, no. You told me it would be delivered. It wasn't. That's not confusion, it's a cock-up. YOUR cock-up, to be precise**.
But anyway.
I asked them to deliver my package on Monday, and leave it at the Post Office over the road, as various other companies have done for us over the years, including Amazon.
"Oh no, we can't do that. You have to call the sender and ask them."
Alright then. Can we have it delivered to the house on Monday and just leave it outside?
"No, sorry, the sender needs to agree to that. You have to phone them and ask."
But it will be delivered on Monday, at least?
"No, you need to tell the sender, as it has failed to be delivered three times now."
But it wasn't even attempted to be delivered on Friday! The magical third time, apparently. I was in. All bloody day. Waiting. No parcel. Nothing.
*sigh*
She gave me the phone number of the sender (Amazon....do try and keep up) and I left a tetchy message on their answerphone. We shall see if my package appears on Monday.
*You never know your luck.
**I didn't say that out loud. Wish I had though.
I have a package supposedly on its way from Amazon, who are usually absolutely no trouble at all.
I came home from work on Tuesday night to find a card through the door saying that City Link had tried to deliver my package, but had failed because there was nobody home to sign for it. All the other things I have had delivered from Amazon over the years have been left without a signature, but apparently this package is extra special.
Why? Who knows. It's not a Faberge egg, sadly.
So. I took the card to work with me on Wednesday and called the appropriate depot, bloody miles away in Bristol. They said "Your package is out on the van today, to be delivered." I explained that that would be no use, as I was in London. They said "Oh."
After a thoughtful pause, we agreed that my package would be delivered on Friday, when I would be home to sign for it, and take delivery into my own fair hands. And have a retina scan and full rectal probe if required*.
All day long I waited sadly, like a spaniel who had been left behind while everyone else went out for a long walk in the country.
By 7pm it was plain that my parcel was not in fact going to be delivered. This morning (Saturday) I called the City Link depot. The one in Bristol. The lady who (eventually) answered the phone was very pleasant, and apologised for the "confusion".
Um, no. You told me it would be delivered. It wasn't. That's not confusion, it's a cock-up. YOUR cock-up, to be precise**.
But anyway.
I asked them to deliver my package on Monday, and leave it at the Post Office over the road, as various other companies have done for us over the years, including Amazon.
"Oh no, we can't do that. You have to call the sender and ask them."
Alright then. Can we have it delivered to the house on Monday and just leave it outside?
"No, sorry, the sender needs to agree to that. You have to phone them and ask."
But it will be delivered on Monday, at least?
"No, you need to tell the sender, as it has failed to be delivered three times now."
But it wasn't even attempted to be delivered on Friday! The magical third time, apparently. I was in. All bloody day. Waiting. No parcel. Nothing.
*sigh*
She gave me the phone number of the sender (Amazon....do try and keep up) and I left a tetchy message on their answerphone. We shall see if my package appears on Monday.
*You never know your luck.
**I didn't say that out loud. Wish I had though.
Horsing around
Where have I been? What have I been doing to keep me away from my blog? Was it something truly magnificent and thrilling to justify so long an absence?
In short, no. I was in London on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, and as I tend to get home late, cram dinner down and lie exhausted on the sofa, watching undemanding TV till bedtime, I tend not to blog on the days I'm in town.
Thursday was an extra specially late night home, as we had our work Christmas lunch. We went to the Thai restaurant just off Trafalgar Square, in Norway House (I think) and had a damn fine meal. Very traditional, Thai food. Heh. I shared the vegetarian menu with my vegan colleague, and it was lovely.
Afterwards we went to the Ship and Shovel and did a quiz, mostly about work, which meant I was able to add very little in terms of real value, but I did draw beautiful stars all over the answer sheet, which hopefully earned us some credit.
All this excitement meant I caught a later train than usual, and joy of joys, it was pretty empty as it left Waterloo. Yay. Loads of spare seats, lots of leg room.
But no...wait...what's this? We stop at Clapham and hordes of small children pile aboard. Arse!
There were at least 400 of them in my carriage. They made enough noise for that many anyway. The responsible adults with them sat down at one end of the carriage, and the children, little girls aged from about 5 to 12 dispersed themselves all over the place. They started off well enough, but within 15 minutes were shrieking, whispering loudly and having a fake hair-pulling fight. The air was rapidly filled with high-pitched machine-gun giggling, loud weeping and fragments of snacks*.
Marvellous. I turned up my iPod and tried to pretend I was on a beach somewhere.
Arrived at my station at about 8pm-ish, and took great delight in getting off the train first so I could flee the car park before all the small children did (yes, they got off at my stop).
Overheard one of the responsible adults say to one of the shrieking moppets, who was carrying a huge toy pony/zebra thing under her arm, "Oh, we'll have to phone daddy and tell him we're bringing home another pony!" I'd like to think they were talking about toys, but I think not.
Went straight from there to a party in the village, which was lovely, but I was so tired I only stayed for an hour or so. What a lightweight. Mind you, getting up at 6am three days in a row is knackering. I am still walking at least one of the journeys between Waterloo and Victoria each day, which is a good 30 minute walk. So being a bit tired is to be expected.
We have been preparing a variety of meat-related foodstuffs for the meatfest tonight. But to ensure all the food groups are represented, I have made a chocolate cake for pudding.
Other news: Looks like father in law WithaY will be moving into the care home in the next village before Christmas, which is marvellous news. Will save us a huge amount of driving, to start with.
We've put our Christmas lights up in the front garden and so far West Wiltshire still has electricity, so that's encouraging.
I'm off work now till January the 5th. The longest break I've had from work (not counting 3 weeks when I had bronchitis) since last Christmas. And lord, I feel like I need it.
*Seemed to be fig roll biscuits from where I was sitting. Nice and sticky on the table tops.
In short, no. I was in London on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, and as I tend to get home late, cram dinner down and lie exhausted on the sofa, watching undemanding TV till bedtime, I tend not to blog on the days I'm in town.
Thursday was an extra specially late night home, as we had our work Christmas lunch. We went to the Thai restaurant just off Trafalgar Square, in Norway House (I think) and had a damn fine meal. Very traditional, Thai food. Heh. I shared the vegetarian menu with my vegan colleague, and it was lovely.
Afterwards we went to the Ship and Shovel and did a quiz, mostly about work, which meant I was able to add very little in terms of real value, but I did draw beautiful stars all over the answer sheet, which hopefully earned us some credit.
All this excitement meant I caught a later train than usual, and joy of joys, it was pretty empty as it left Waterloo. Yay. Loads of spare seats, lots of leg room.
But no...wait...what's this? We stop at Clapham and hordes of small children pile aboard. Arse!
There were at least 400 of them in my carriage. They made enough noise for that many anyway. The responsible adults with them sat down at one end of the carriage, and the children, little girls aged from about 5 to 12 dispersed themselves all over the place. They started off well enough, but within 15 minutes were shrieking, whispering loudly and having a fake hair-pulling fight. The air was rapidly filled with high-pitched machine-gun giggling, loud weeping and fragments of snacks*.
Marvellous. I turned up my iPod and tried to pretend I was on a beach somewhere.
Arrived at my station at about 8pm-ish, and took great delight in getting off the train first so I could flee the car park before all the small children did (yes, they got off at my stop).
Overheard one of the responsible adults say to one of the shrieking moppets, who was carrying a huge toy pony/zebra thing under her arm, "Oh, we'll have to phone daddy and tell him we're bringing home another pony!" I'd like to think they were talking about toys, but I think not.
Went straight from there to a party in the village, which was lovely, but I was so tired I only stayed for an hour or so. What a lightweight. Mind you, getting up at 6am three days in a row is knackering. I am still walking at least one of the journeys between Waterloo and Victoria each day, which is a good 30 minute walk. So being a bit tired is to be expected.
We have been preparing a variety of meat-related foodstuffs for the meatfest tonight. But to ensure all the food groups are represented, I have made a chocolate cake for pudding.
Other news: Looks like father in law WithaY will be moving into the care home in the next village before Christmas, which is marvellous news. Will save us a huge amount of driving, to start with.
We've put our Christmas lights up in the front garden and so far West Wiltshire still has electricity, so that's encouraging.
I'm off work now till January the 5th. The longest break I've had from work (not counting 3 weeks when I had bronchitis) since last Christmas. And lord, I feel like I need it.
*Seemed to be fig roll biscuits from where I was sitting. Nice and sticky on the table tops.
Monday, 15 December 2008
I got the power
Well, I have now, anyway.
Picture the scene....Last night, Mr WithaY and I settled ourselves down on the comfy sofas after eating a large curry (home made, and delicious). We'd put the Christmas tree up, and were admiring the twinkling lights, and all the little decorations we always forget we have, and we were starting to feel a bit more festive than we have of late.
I made poor Mr WithaY sit through Will Ferrell in "Elf" as we put the tree up, which was on tv. It was mildly entertaining, and helped with the increase in festive feeling.
So, peace and harmony reigned. Aaah lovely. We were chilling out and planning an early night.
And then, with no warning, all the lights went out.
My first thought was that our twinkly Christmas tree lights had blown a fuse somewhere, but when we looked out of the window, the whole street was in darkness. The pub, the garage, the neighbours. Dark, dark, dark.
Hurrah!
'Tis the season to be subject to prolonged and annoying power cuts once again!
Now I feel Christmassy!
We got power back by about 10pm, when a nice man from the power company came round to make sure all was working once more. In the meantime, to amuse myself while we sat in the rather romantic candlelit sitting room, I played my acoustic guitar. I enjoyed myself, anyway.
Anyhoo, it meant we got to bed a lot later than we'd planned, so I changed my working in London days, and will go in on Wednesday, and am working at home today instead.
Other news: The flood in next door's meadow receded as quickly as it appeared, thankfully. Gave me quite a scare though, seeing the river come up so fast.
We went to see father in law WithaY on Sunday and he is looking much better, and is actually quite positive about things. The hospital staff down there have been brilliant; it looks like he might be getting a place in a nursing home in the next village down from us, five minutes away. Which would be excellent.
He asked us to clear out his freezer. So we did. Oh. My. Word. The things we found in there!
Eels! Pigs trotters! Unidentified jellified brown stuff in margerine tubs!
It was a real voyage of discovery. We filled a couple of black bin bags with stuff to throw out, and the rest is now in our freezer. In fact, we are planning a meatfest dinner party next weekend to help diminish the WithaY meat mountain.
Which will be nice.
Picture the scene....Last night, Mr WithaY and I settled ourselves down on the comfy sofas after eating a large curry (home made, and delicious). We'd put the Christmas tree up, and were admiring the twinkling lights, and all the little decorations we always forget we have, and we were starting to feel a bit more festive than we have of late.
I made poor Mr WithaY sit through Will Ferrell in "Elf" as we put the tree up, which was on tv. It was mildly entertaining, and helped with the increase in festive feeling.
So, peace and harmony reigned. Aaah lovely. We were chilling out and planning an early night.
And then, with no warning, all the lights went out.
My first thought was that our twinkly Christmas tree lights had blown a fuse somewhere, but when we looked out of the window, the whole street was in darkness. The pub, the garage, the neighbours. Dark, dark, dark.
Hurrah!
'Tis the season to be subject to prolonged and annoying power cuts once again!
Now I feel Christmassy!
We got power back by about 10pm, when a nice man from the power company came round to make sure all was working once more. In the meantime, to amuse myself while we sat in the rather romantic candlelit sitting room, I played my acoustic guitar. I enjoyed myself, anyway.
Anyhoo, it meant we got to bed a lot later than we'd planned, so I changed my working in London days, and will go in on Wednesday, and am working at home today instead.
Other news: The flood in next door's meadow receded as quickly as it appeared, thankfully. Gave me quite a scare though, seeing the river come up so fast.
We went to see father in law WithaY on Sunday and he is looking much better, and is actually quite positive about things. The hospital staff down there have been brilliant; it looks like he might be getting a place in a nursing home in the next village down from us, five minutes away. Which would be excellent.
He asked us to clear out his freezer. So we did. Oh. My. Word. The things we found in there!
Eels! Pigs trotters! Unidentified jellified brown stuff in margerine tubs!
It was a real voyage of discovery. We filled a couple of black bin bags with stuff to throw out, and the rest is now in our freezer. In fact, we are planning a meatfest dinner party next weekend to help diminish the WithaY meat mountain.
Which will be nice.
Saturday, 13 December 2008
Water
Next door's meadow is flooded. Something that has not happened in the almost 8 years we have lived here. The water is probably about 100 yards away from our house, which is scary.
The forecast says no more rain until next Tuesday, but it was torrential on Friday night, so it will take a while to drain into the river, I suppose.
I have moved my guitar upstairs for safety.
The forecast says no more rain until next Tuesday, but it was torrential on Friday night, so it will take a while to drain into the river, I suppose.
I have moved my guitar upstairs for safety.
Friday, 12 December 2008
Red red wine
The things you see on the train.
Last night, on the way home, I managed to bag a seat at one of the "four seats round a table" spots. A prime spot as long as you don't have a daddy longlegs opposite you. No, I checked carefully. The chap opposite was broad, but not tall, a good combination usually.
He smiled politely as I sat down opposite him, next to a woman who was studying a stack of work papers. The other seat next to the chap, by the window, was unoccupied. The chap opposite me arranged a newspaper, a heap of napkins, a large baguette, a plastic glass and a small bottle of red wine on the table, preparing for a picnic on the journey.
He seemed very happy, but brightened up visibly as a slim, pretty young lady made her way along the aisle towards us.
"Room for a little one here!" he boomed, patting the seat beside him.
She kept walking.
The woman next to me read all her papers, then started working on her laptop. She was a lawyer, and now I know all about the case she was working on*.
The chap opposite and I played footsie on and off, both of us trying to be polite and accommodating, but also both trying to be marginally less uncomfortable. He had long legs for such a short bloke. Or so I thought, till I looked under the table and saw that I was in fact fighting for floorspace with his briefcase. So I pushed it slowly and discreetly under his seat with my foot and relaxed again. Heh.
He worked his way through the bottle of wine, intermittently reading his paper and dozing. How nice, I thought. How very civilised. Until he rummaged around in his bag and produced another bottle. Greedy bugger! At the very least he could have had a few more plastic cups. Gah.
As the train emptied, I was able to move across the aisle, smiling at him in a "I need more space, I'm not going because you didn't offer me any wine" way. He smiled back in a "I'm really quite pissed now, I have had a lot of wine and baguette, lucky me, eh?" kind of way.
At Basingstoke, two very sweet, dolled-up young ladies came and sat opposite me. They were on their way to a Christmas party. I know because I was eavesdropping on their conversation, despite wearing my iPod. There was a bit of a clue in the plastic stemware and box of wine they were carrying. They sat and drank their wine, giggling and gossiping. I now know how much they earn, and how much they dislike one of their colleagues**.
At Salisbury they tripped off the train, still drinking their wine and giggling, off for a grand night out. Bless.
I arrived home and had time to change out of my suit and into my slippers*** before our lovely mates arrived for dinner. Mr WithaY has decided we need to party our way back to glory. I'm all for that.
As a gift, they presented me with The Farmers Calendar.
It is brilliant, and I urge you all to get your own. I particularly like Mr August, who has struck a pointed-toe ballet dancer style pose, naked in a hop field.
Other news: Went to the dental hygienist this morning. I have wonderful teeth, and she is deeply envious. Yay me. However, at one point she was scraping off some calcified crud from my back teeth, making me cringe.
"Sorry" she said. "I know it feels weird, but this is the best part of the job (scrape scrape scrrrrrraaaaaape) It's so satisfying."
I like her. If it didn't cost me 50 quid a time, I'd go every week.
*Good job I'm semi-discreet, eh?
**See above
***I did wear other clothes as well. It wasn't that sort of party.
Last night, on the way home, I managed to bag a seat at one of the "four seats round a table" spots. A prime spot as long as you don't have a daddy longlegs opposite you. No, I checked carefully. The chap opposite was broad, but not tall, a good combination usually.
He smiled politely as I sat down opposite him, next to a woman who was studying a stack of work papers. The other seat next to the chap, by the window, was unoccupied. The chap opposite me arranged a newspaper, a heap of napkins, a large baguette, a plastic glass and a small bottle of red wine on the table, preparing for a picnic on the journey.
He seemed very happy, but brightened up visibly as a slim, pretty young lady made her way along the aisle towards us.
"Room for a little one here!" he boomed, patting the seat beside him.
She kept walking.
The woman next to me read all her papers, then started working on her laptop. She was a lawyer, and now I know all about the case she was working on*.
The chap opposite and I played footsie on and off, both of us trying to be polite and accommodating, but also both trying to be marginally less uncomfortable. He had long legs for such a short bloke. Or so I thought, till I looked under the table and saw that I was in fact fighting for floorspace with his briefcase. So I pushed it slowly and discreetly under his seat with my foot and relaxed again. Heh.
He worked his way through the bottle of wine, intermittently reading his paper and dozing. How nice, I thought. How very civilised. Until he rummaged around in his bag and produced another bottle. Greedy bugger! At the very least he could have had a few more plastic cups. Gah.
As the train emptied, I was able to move across the aisle, smiling at him in a "I need more space, I'm not going because you didn't offer me any wine" way. He smiled back in a "I'm really quite pissed now, I have had a lot of wine and baguette, lucky me, eh?" kind of way.
At Basingstoke, two very sweet, dolled-up young ladies came and sat opposite me. They were on their way to a Christmas party. I know because I was eavesdropping on their conversation, despite wearing my iPod. There was a bit of a clue in the plastic stemware and box of wine they were carrying. They sat and drank their wine, giggling and gossiping. I now know how much they earn, and how much they dislike one of their colleagues**.
At Salisbury they tripped off the train, still drinking their wine and giggling, off for a grand night out. Bless.
I arrived home and had time to change out of my suit and into my slippers*** before our lovely mates arrived for dinner. Mr WithaY has decided we need to party our way back to glory. I'm all for that.
As a gift, they presented me with The Farmers Calendar.
It is brilliant, and I urge you all to get your own. I particularly like Mr August, who has struck a pointed-toe ballet dancer style pose, naked in a hop field.
Other news: Went to the dental hygienist this morning. I have wonderful teeth, and she is deeply envious. Yay me. However, at one point she was scraping off some calcified crud from my back teeth, making me cringe.
"Sorry" she said. "I know it feels weird, but this is the best part of the job (scrape scrape scrrrrrraaaaaape) It's so satisfying."
I like her. If it didn't cost me 50 quid a time, I'd go every week.
*Good job I'm semi-discreet, eh?
**See above
***I did wear other clothes as well. It wasn't that sort of party.
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
Walking back to happiness
Things have been a little stressful of late. Poor Father-in-law WithaY is now back in hospital, and we are trying to establish what happens next. There is no easy answer.
Still, at least we know he is safe and warm and clean and fed, which is good.
Other news: There was a fire alarm at work yesterday, which was interesting. The alarm went off and the Disembodied Tannoy Voice told us all to remain at our desks until told what to do. From where I sit, I could see hordes of people leaving the building, and hordes of firemen coming in. Not a comforting sight.
After several repetitions of the DTV telling us to stay put, the announcement was cut short abruptly in the middle and we were told to evacuate the building immediately, without panic, and no running. So we did, and went and stood out in the shopping centre for 45 minutes. Luckily we had all had the sense to put our coats on.
Indeed, I had packed my rucksack and was ready to go home if the fire raged too far out of control.
Disappointingly, the fire turned out to be a false alarm and we were allowed* back in.
As part of my ongoing attempts to improve my health generally, I walked from Waterloo to Victoria yesterday morning. It was a glorious day, my train was already almost 20 minutes late (signalling problems) so I thought I'd enjoy some winter sunshine and stroll to Westminster, then get the Tube from there. By the time I got to Westminster Tube, I thought I might as well carry on and walk the rest of the way. So I did. Yay me.
It was so refreshing that I thought I'd do the same walk in reverse at home time. I got as far as Westminster Abbey where my right knee clicked painfully, and has been hurting like billy-o ever since.
Managed to walk all the way, but was limping by the time I got to the train, and then was crammed into a seat with insufficient legroom** which didn't help. At least I had a seat. Some poor buggers had to stand all the way from Waterloo to Basingstoke. Which is a long way.
Made cupcakes*** this afternoon as a mate of Mr WithaY was calling in. It was quite nice, taking a late lunch and making cakes. Made me feel like I ought to live in the 1950s.
Right. Time for my guitar lesson now. Haven't practiced much this last two weeks, so will be in the naughty corner I think.
*Forced by our keen management
**ie: all of them
***and very nice they were too. With butter icing and sprinkles on.
Still, at least we know he is safe and warm and clean and fed, which is good.
Other news: There was a fire alarm at work yesterday, which was interesting. The alarm went off and the Disembodied Tannoy Voice told us all to remain at our desks until told what to do. From where I sit, I could see hordes of people leaving the building, and hordes of firemen coming in. Not a comforting sight.
After several repetitions of the DTV telling us to stay put, the announcement was cut short abruptly in the middle and we were told to evacuate the building immediately, without panic, and no running. So we did, and went and stood out in the shopping centre for 45 minutes. Luckily we had all had the sense to put our coats on.
Indeed, I had packed my rucksack and was ready to go home if the fire raged too far out of control.
Disappointingly, the fire turned out to be a false alarm and we were allowed* back in.
As part of my ongoing attempts to improve my health generally, I walked from Waterloo to Victoria yesterday morning. It was a glorious day, my train was already almost 20 minutes late (signalling problems) so I thought I'd enjoy some winter sunshine and stroll to Westminster, then get the Tube from there. By the time I got to Westminster Tube, I thought I might as well carry on and walk the rest of the way. So I did. Yay me.
It was so refreshing that I thought I'd do the same walk in reverse at home time. I got as far as Westminster Abbey where my right knee clicked painfully, and has been hurting like billy-o ever since.
Managed to walk all the way, but was limping by the time I got to the train, and then was crammed into a seat with insufficient legroom** which didn't help. At least I had a seat. Some poor buggers had to stand all the way from Waterloo to Basingstoke. Which is a long way.
Made cupcakes*** this afternoon as a mate of Mr WithaY was calling in. It was quite nice, taking a late lunch and making cakes. Made me feel like I ought to live in the 1950s.
Right. Time for my guitar lesson now. Haven't practiced much this last two weeks, so will be in the naughty corner I think.
*Forced by our keen management
**ie: all of them
***and very nice they were too. With butter icing and sprinkles on.
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