I popped in to the supermarket last night after work.
Scene: The checkout.
Cashier: Hello! Can I help you with your packing?
Me: No, I'm fine thanks. (Loads shopping onto conveyor belt.)
Cashier: Ooh, sprats. We don't see those often.
Me: No?
Cashier: Ooh, Ciabatta. I love Ciabatta.
Me: Yes, me too.
Cashier: Monkey nuts! It's funny. I never really thought of monkey nuts being a Halloween food thing.
Me: .....
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Thursday, 7 November 2013
Tuesday, 20 July 2010
Holiday snaps part 2 - Maine and New Hampshire
Yes, more pictures. But this time of Maine! And New Hampshire! So much travel, so little of America covered.
We left Boston on a cloudy Sunday morning, after a huge breakfast. We had been advised to use a small cafe down the street from the hotel, and their Eggs Benedict was superb.
The trip to the airport to pick up the hire car was entertaining. The courtesy bus, shared by three hotels in the area, was driven by a cheerful Jamaican man who was playing a Bob Marley cd. He drove along, occasionally bouncing the minibus off small obstacles like crash barriers and kerbs as he tried to drive, sing, chat to his passengers and answer his mobile phone all at the same time. He was most impressed that Mr WithaY and I had heard of Bob Marley. So much so that I can only assume that most of his guests come from remote islands in the South Pacific.
Delivered from the Jamaican rally drive champion 2010 we went to talk to the nice Alamo lady at Boston Airport. She looked us up on the computer, checked that we had ordered a car, then looked us up and down quizzically.
"How far are you driving?" she asked us.
"Oh, you know, up to Maine and back, then down to Cape Cod...around and about."
She shook her head sadly, and said "This car you ordered is no good...it's too small for you." I wondered if perhaps we'd inadvertently booked a clown car.
"You need something bigger." She looked at us again. "Much, much bigger. Tell you what, if you are willing to pay to upgrade one level, I'll upgrade you three." We nodded. She nodded. It was a done deal. Her colleague wandered over as we finalised the paperwork and she told him to take us outside and "pick them something nice" which I thought was very kind.
The car lot was packed with all kinds of huge cars, but the one that we both spotted immediately was a Jeep. So, we set off to New Hampshire in a Jeep Patriot, which was comfortable, economical, had fab aircon and a decent stereo. Kudos to the Alamo lady.
I thought it was quite a big car, till we came out of LL Bean later in the trip and saw what had parked either side of it.
Anyhoo, the drive up to New Hampshire was fun, once Mr WithaY remembered how to drive an automatic, and that they drive on the right, the RIGHT, darling, other side, over there.
They have some stunning sunsets over there. This one was going on as I champed and nommed my way through the lobster. I expect it made an uplifting background to a frankly unedifying and probably repellant sight, as shell fragments and butter flew in all directions.
We left Boston on a cloudy Sunday morning, after a huge breakfast. We had been advised to use a small cafe down the street from the hotel, and their Eggs Benedict was superb.
The trip to the airport to pick up the hire car was entertaining. The courtesy bus, shared by three hotels in the area, was driven by a cheerful Jamaican man who was playing a Bob Marley cd. He drove along, occasionally bouncing the minibus off small obstacles like crash barriers and kerbs as he tried to drive, sing, chat to his passengers and answer his mobile phone all at the same time. He was most impressed that Mr WithaY and I had heard of Bob Marley. So much so that I can only assume that most of his guests come from remote islands in the South Pacific.
Delivered from the Jamaican rally drive champion 2010 we went to talk to the nice Alamo lady at Boston Airport. She looked us up on the computer, checked that we had ordered a car, then looked us up and down quizzically.
"How far are you driving?" she asked us.
"Oh, you know, up to Maine and back, then down to Cape Cod...around and about."
She shook her head sadly, and said "This car you ordered is no good...it's too small for you." I wondered if perhaps we'd inadvertently booked a clown car.
"You need something bigger." She looked at us again. "Much, much bigger. Tell you what, if you are willing to pay to upgrade one level, I'll upgrade you three." We nodded. She nodded. It was a done deal. Her colleague wandered over as we finalised the paperwork and she told him to take us outside and "pick them something nice" which I thought was very kind.
The car lot was packed with all kinds of huge cars, but the one that we both spotted immediately was a Jeep. So, we set off to New Hampshire in a Jeep Patriot, which was comfortable, economical, had fab aircon and a decent stereo. Kudos to the Alamo lady.
I thought it was quite a big car, till we came out of LL Bean later in the trip and saw what had parked either side of it.
Anyhoo, the drive up to New Hampshire was fun, once Mr WithaY remembered how to drive an automatic, and that they drive on the right, the RIGHT, darling, other side, over there.
The placenames in New England are eerily familiar. Amesbury! Salisbury! But in America! How thrilling.
We drove up to see our mates in New Hampshire, where over the next few days we went out for lobster and steamers, saw a chipmunk, went for a long hot walk along the Marginal Way, visited many, many shops, ate fab food with our friends, and went to a graduation party with hogroast. The man roasting the hog was using a giant steel machine, all rotating spits and charcoal which he'd designed and made himself. It was called the "Oinkmaster 8000" and he was justifiably proud of it. The roast hog was delicious.
Look, a chipmunk.
One day we went up into the White Mountains, and had a trip on the North Conway Scenic Railroad, on a huge train with a cowpusher on the front. Mr WithaY and I had seats in the Pullman coach, slobbing out in wicker chairs as we chugged sedately through the countryside. It's very green, with a lot of mountains, as you'd expect, including Mount Washington, famous for having the worst recorded weather in the USA.
In the Ladies at the North Conway Railroad Station is this sign:
I was rather hoping they'd have a T-shirt for sale in there that said "My girlfriend went to North Conway Scenic Railroad and all she bought me was a box of personal hygiene products" but I couldn't find one.
There's a museum in Conway all about the observatory up there, where they have a mock-up of the shack that you can stand in while the windspeed goes up and up and up.
The shack shakes, the floor moves, the snow flying past the windows blurs into white lines and the noise is extraordinary.
200 miles an hour, eh? Better get the washing in, I suppose. The museum had loads of interactive exhibits you could poke about. My favourite was the Vortex of Doom.
You could change the movement of the wind with your hand, man. With your hand. It was, like, awesome. I dicked about with it for ages.
The highlight of the trip into Maine was the visit to LL Bean, long planned and much anticpated. It's got everything, including a giant boot outside.
I liked these. A selection of things that make duck noises, and not just any old honker, but a MAGNUM honker for those situations when you need that extra magnitude of honkage.
They also had the DUCK COMMANDER for people who need to take command of ducks from time to time.
And this, which I just giggled at like an idiot while Mr WithaY stood a little distance away tutting and telling me to stop being childish.
Moving on.
When you go out for a lobster dinner, they mean what they say. You get lobster, butter, sweetcorn and that's pretty much it. Maybe some steamers as well, but it is usually all about the Lobster.
I decided not to get this one, as it would have cost about $200, and instead went for something a bit smaller.
They have some stunning sunsets over there. This one was going on as I champed and nommed my way through the lobster. I expect it made an uplifting background to a frankly unedifying and probably repellant sight, as shell fragments and butter flew in all directions.
On that note, I will end, as I have a bazillion photos and I daresay you're a bit tired of them for now.
Other news: My ankle is recovering slowly, although I still can't drive which is tiresome. We've got the loft insulation blokes coming tomorrow so I hope that we will be able to put all our stuff back in the loft soon. I think a car boot sale might be in the offing, as there's stuff in the loft we've not used since we moved into this house, over 8 years ago.
Oh, and we have started harvesting carrots from the garden, and very nice they are too.
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
Creased
In the car park at the big Tesco in Shaftesbury we saw a builder's van with the name "Crumpler and Son" on it.
What other trade would I want a Mr Crumpler to turn up for, I wonder?
Origami?
Ironing and laundry services?
Plate glass installation?
Panel beating?
Gift wrapping?
Tarmac laying?
So many possibilities. If I ever change my name, I think I will become Lucy Crumpler.
Also, why has nobody created a childrens' television series/book/top trumps game called "Combat Wombat"? I might have a crack at it myself.
There's no plot development or indeed character ideas beyond the name, but if "18 Wheels of Justice" can get made, hell, this must have a future. I bet they started with the title and worked back from there. Mr WithaY refers to it as "The Truck of Shame" which is not a bad title either.
Other news: Finally, finally received the long-awaited letter from the law. It's only taken them 4 months to convey it 20 miles. Still, it draws a line under some of the SSFH* loose ends.
That's a bizarrely mixed metaphor. Sorry.
Also: Twitter. Hmm, not sure I have got the hang of it yet. It seems terribly lonely and one-sided. I like the blog thing, where you write stuff, other people read it, and then comment to tell you (and everyone else) what they think. It feels like a cheerful and friendly way to communicate. Plus I get to do most of the talking. Perfect. Twitter is like dropping meringues into a black hole** and there is no sense that anything you say is registering anywhere else. Maybe I'll get used to it.
Tried playing my guitar this evening, and still can't sing, which is a bugger. If that chest infection has lost me my voice I will be very upset indeed. And my guitar playing wasn't too good either.
*Shit Storm From Hades
**The re-runs of the origianl Star Trek series are brilliant, aren't they? Those tortured metaphors. Those wigs. Kirk's shameless camera-hogging. The boots. Just great.
What other trade would I want a Mr Crumpler to turn up for, I wonder?
Origami?
Ironing and laundry services?
Plate glass installation?
Panel beating?
Gift wrapping?
Tarmac laying?
So many possibilities. If I ever change my name, I think I will become Lucy Crumpler.
Also, why has nobody created a childrens' television series/book/top trumps game called "Combat Wombat"? I might have a crack at it myself.
There's no plot development or indeed character ideas beyond the name, but if "18 Wheels of Justice" can get made, hell, this must have a future. I bet they started with the title and worked back from there. Mr WithaY refers to it as "The Truck of Shame" which is not a bad title either.
Other news: Finally, finally received the long-awaited letter from the law. It's only taken them 4 months to convey it 20 miles. Still, it draws a line under some of the SSFH* loose ends.
That's a bizarrely mixed metaphor. Sorry.
Also: Twitter. Hmm, not sure I have got the hang of it yet. It seems terribly lonely and one-sided. I like the blog thing, where you write stuff, other people read it, and then comment to tell you (and everyone else) what they think. It feels like a cheerful and friendly way to communicate. Plus I get to do most of the talking. Perfect. Twitter is like dropping meringues into a black hole** and there is no sense that anything you say is registering anywhere else. Maybe I'll get used to it.
Tried playing my guitar this evening, and still can't sing, which is a bugger. If that chest infection has lost me my voice I will be very upset indeed. And my guitar playing wasn't too good either.
*Shit Storm From Hades
**The re-runs of the origianl Star Trek series are brilliant, aren't they? Those tortured metaphors. Those wigs. Kirk's shameless camera-hogging. The boots. Just great.
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
Sunday, 16 November 2008
What chores
So, Salisbury was nice and quiet at half past eight on Saturday morning.
I went into town that early because I had a hair appointment at 0845, and it was fab. Loads of parking spaces, no crowds, no litter...excellent. Of course, most of the shops weren't open, but hey, a small price to pay.
I wandered through the market, which was still being set up, and admired the stalls without having to fight my way though hordes of slack-jawed potato-headed dawdlers, standing and chatting in the middle of the tiny little alleys. Bastards that they are.
It felt like Abroad, seeing the market people shifting their stuff about in the sunshine, making artistic vegetable displays and polishing the piles of batteries, sheepskin slippers and jigsaws.
You can get pretty much anything at Salisbury market.
Anyhoo, hair done*, I launched myself out into the streets to run a few errands. I went to Monsoon and looked at the clothes, and had a quick chat with the nice lady who helped me with my New Job Clothes shopping.
I went to Mark and Spencer and spent a happy 20 minutes picking up tops in Per Una, humming and hawing over them, trying them against myself, finding matching skirts, then putting everything back and not buying anything after a sudden surge of boredom washed over me.
I went to Shoon and exchanged a pair of shoes, after the heel of one of them went white. Very strange. At first I thought I'd stepped in chalk or something, but it didn't come off when I tried to clean it, and I realised that the entire heel, a sort of moulded resin/plastic stuff, had in fact changed colour. It looked a bit like chocolate does when it gets that white bloom on it. Any industrial chemists out there who can offer an explanation?
I'd only had them 6 weeks and they were quite expensive, so I got the shop to change them, which they did cheerfully and with no fuss. So yay for Shoon.
I went to Specsavers and had the nose pieces on my glasses replaced. I tried cleaning them (there's a theme developing here) but they had gone all skanky and discoloured and made me look like I am a filthy pig who never washes her face. So they had to go.
I don't want people knowing stuff like that about me straight off.
Did a bit of shopping, bought loads of inserts for my Filofax, including a street map of London, which will come in handy. I am well aware how sad it is that I like stationery shops as much as I do.
Bought a copy of the Big Issue off a guy who said "Come on darling...to you, one pound fifty and a smile...light up my day." Heh. I am such a sucker for a bit of chat.
As I was driving home I passed a big handmade sign on a fence that said "Happy Retirement Crazy Dave!!" (I think..the name isn't important). I wondered how you retire from being crazy, and go about spending the rest of your life being sane and sensible.
There was a dad and two little boys walking into town, the dad carrying a cake tin shaped like the number 5. Holding his hand was the smaller of the boys (probably the 5-year-old), who was wearing a big hooded coat, carrying a plastic sword. As I got closer I saw that under the hood, he sported a full-face mask, making him look like The Boy In The Iron Mask. The look on his dad's face clearly said He Refused To Leave The House Without It.
And last night we went to a mate's birthday party, which was lovely. We ate the world's largest paella and saw lots of friends. Marvellous.
And now I have to go to Morrison's. Mmm-mmmmm.
*Looks exactly the same as it did before, but has apparently regained bounce and lift due to the layers not being too heavy now.
I went into town that early because I had a hair appointment at 0845, and it was fab. Loads of parking spaces, no crowds, no litter...excellent. Of course, most of the shops weren't open, but hey, a small price to pay.
I wandered through the market, which was still being set up, and admired the stalls without having to fight my way though hordes of slack-jawed potato-headed dawdlers, standing and chatting in the middle of the tiny little alleys. Bastards that they are.
It felt like Abroad, seeing the market people shifting their stuff about in the sunshine, making artistic vegetable displays and polishing the piles of batteries, sheepskin slippers and jigsaws.
You can get pretty much anything at Salisbury market.
Anyhoo, hair done*, I launched myself out into the streets to run a few errands. I went to Monsoon and looked at the clothes, and had a quick chat with the nice lady who helped me with my New Job Clothes shopping.
I went to Mark and Spencer and spent a happy 20 minutes picking up tops in Per Una, humming and hawing over them, trying them against myself, finding matching skirts, then putting everything back and not buying anything after a sudden surge of boredom washed over me.
I went to Shoon and exchanged a pair of shoes, after the heel of one of them went white. Very strange. At first I thought I'd stepped in chalk or something, but it didn't come off when I tried to clean it, and I realised that the entire heel, a sort of moulded resin/plastic stuff, had in fact changed colour. It looked a bit like chocolate does when it gets that white bloom on it. Any industrial chemists out there who can offer an explanation?
I'd only had them 6 weeks and they were quite expensive, so I got the shop to change them, which they did cheerfully and with no fuss. So yay for Shoon.
I went to Specsavers and had the nose pieces on my glasses replaced. I tried cleaning them (there's a theme developing here) but they had gone all skanky and discoloured and made me look like I am a filthy pig who never washes her face. So they had to go.
I don't want people knowing stuff like that about me straight off.
Did a bit of shopping, bought loads of inserts for my Filofax, including a street map of London, which will come in handy. I am well aware how sad it is that I like stationery shops as much as I do.
Bought a copy of the Big Issue off a guy who said "Come on darling...to you, one pound fifty and a smile...light up my day." Heh. I am such a sucker for a bit of chat.
As I was driving home I passed a big handmade sign on a fence that said "Happy Retirement Crazy Dave!!" (I think..the name isn't important). I wondered how you retire from being crazy, and go about spending the rest of your life being sane and sensible.
There was a dad and two little boys walking into town, the dad carrying a cake tin shaped like the number 5. Holding his hand was the smaller of the boys (probably the 5-year-old), who was wearing a big hooded coat, carrying a plastic sword. As I got closer I saw that under the hood, he sported a full-face mask, making him look like The Boy In The Iron Mask. The look on his dad's face clearly said He Refused To Leave The House Without It.
And last night we went to a mate's birthday party, which was lovely. We ate the world's largest paella and saw lots of friends. Marvellous.
And now I have to go to Morrison's. Mmm-mmmmm.
*Looks exactly the same as it did before, but has apparently regained bounce and lift due to the layers not being too heavy now.
Saturday, 5 July 2008
A night at the Races
So, guess what I have been doing? Apart from watching Mr WithaY glaring at the mole tussocks, I mean.
Here's a clue: I lost some money and got very cold.
Yes! We had a night at the races! It was an interesting experience. Salisbury racecourse, an evening meeting. We took a minibus from the pub, arrived at the course and cracked open the Champagne. Mr WithaY managed to hit someone's car with a Champagne cork just as they were getting out of it, which was impressive. Luckily they either didn't notice or decided not to come over and tell us all off.
Salisbury racecourse must be unique, in that you can't actually see any of the race apart from about the last 15 seconds.
They have rectified this by putting up a huge screen so you can watch it on TV. While you stand in the rain.
And that bit of the track is obscured by the many hundreds of bookies, who take your money and then laugh as your horse (whichever one you pick, even if six of you all pick different ones, which is odd) comes in last.
We bet at the Tote. We lost. We bet on course. We lost.
We tried pretending we knew about the form, the history of each horse, where it had travelled from, the state of the track, the Jockeys' personal preferences, anything. We still lost. Here is a picture of us all pretending we know anything about racing.
Here is a picture, an exciting action shot, of the race. My horse is far away, off the right hand edge of the photo, sauntering down the final furlong, probably texting his mates and checking his iPod. Bastard.
I bet on one horse, the bloody thing actually fell over in the paddock before it even got to the start of the race. To be fair, it eventually came in second and I won £7.50 but as I had put down a tenner I was still out of pocket. How does that work? Even one of our smart maths teacher mates had to have Odds explained to her by the bookie.
It rained a bit. But there was a Queen tribute band. It was truly bizarre.
Other news: Been to see Mr WithaY's dad in hospital, and he is a bit more comfortable, so that's encouraging.
Went on to Salisbury. Did did some shopping and bought a few DVDs*, had a very, very late lunch in Wagamama's, somewhere I have not been before, and ate soup with noodles in and chicken dumplings.
Ooh yes. I bought a huge stack of bargain strawberries in Salisbury market, just as it was closing and am going to make jam tomorrow. Never made stawberry jam before. I might have to join the WI if it turns out ok.
*Tonight we have mostly been watching Blades of Glory, which was entertaining.
Here's a clue: I lost some money and got very cold.
Yes! We had a night at the races! It was an interesting experience. Salisbury racecourse, an evening meeting. We took a minibus from the pub, arrived at the course and cracked open the Champagne. Mr WithaY managed to hit someone's car with a Champagne cork just as they were getting out of it, which was impressive. Luckily they either didn't notice or decided not to come over and tell us all off.
Salisbury racecourse must be unique, in that you can't actually see any of the race apart from about the last 15 seconds.
They have rectified this by putting up a huge screen so you can watch it on TV. While you stand in the rain.
And that bit of the track is obscured by the many hundreds of bookies, who take your money and then laugh as your horse (whichever one you pick, even if six of you all pick different ones, which is odd) comes in last.
We bet at the Tote. We lost. We bet on course. We lost.
We tried pretending we knew about the form, the history of each horse, where it had travelled from, the state of the track, the Jockeys' personal preferences, anything. We still lost. Here is a picture of us all pretending we know anything about racing.
Here is a picture, an exciting action shot, of the race. My horse is far away, off the right hand edge of the photo, sauntering down the final furlong, probably texting his mates and checking his iPod. Bastard.
I bet on one horse, the bloody thing actually fell over in the paddock before it even got to the start of the race. To be fair, it eventually came in second and I won £7.50 but as I had put down a tenner I was still out of pocket. How does that work? Even one of our smart maths teacher mates had to have Odds explained to her by the bookie.
It rained a bit. But there was a Queen tribute band. It was truly bizarre.
Other news: Been to see Mr WithaY's dad in hospital, and he is a bit more comfortable, so that's encouraging.
Went on to Salisbury. Did did some shopping and bought a few DVDs*, had a very, very late lunch in Wagamama's, somewhere I have not been before, and ate soup with noodles in and chicken dumplings.
Ooh yes. I bought a huge stack of bargain strawberries in Salisbury market, just as it was closing and am going to make jam tomorrow. Never made stawberry jam before. I might have to join the WI if it turns out ok.
*Tonight we have mostly been watching Blades of Glory, which was entertaining.
Saturday, 3 November 2007
Wildlife
Well, Mr WithaY and our lovely American mates are all back home safe and sound.
Apparently the taxi driver who picked them up from the airport had "teeth like a hockey player" which is a great description.
We're off to the local firework display this evening as they don't do Bonfire Night over there, then coming back home to eat our own weight in chilli and beer.
And we have heat and hot water which is a relief. The boiler man left me a long and complicated list of Things We* Must Do with the heating to ensure it doesn't blow up/fall over/have a hissy fit next time Mr WithaY leaves the country.
Last time he was away (diving in the Red Sea in January) it stopped working - different reason though, of course. I got home from work late one evening, cold, tired, hungry, to be greeted by an excited message on the answerphone saying "I've been swimming with dolphins! It's 24 degrees here! I'm so happy!"
I believe bad language may have been used on my part as I donned several fleeces, mittens and extra socks and ate my solitary supper.
Other news: Fucking rat came out from under the shed while we were sat eating lunch today. Scampered cheerfully across the lawn and back again while we watched it. Some Lidl's finest chocolate was carefully deployed to lure it back out and Mr WithaY took up the sniping posision from the Window Of Doom. Sure enough, 30 seconds later it was a ex-rat.
Ugh. Bloody things.
We discovered it had been digging about at the back of the compost bin, probably attracted by a whole egg that some fool** had left in there. We filled in the hole and Mr WithaY broke the egg with a stone***. Oh my word, what a smell.
And on that edifying note, time to go shopping for sour cream and salad for tonight.
* For "We" read "Professional plumbing type". I have no intention of attempting any of it myself.
**Me
***from quite a distance...deadeye dick or what?
Apparently the taxi driver who picked them up from the airport had "teeth like a hockey player" which is a great description.
We're off to the local firework display this evening as they don't do Bonfire Night over there, then coming back home to eat our own weight in chilli and beer.
And we have heat and hot water which is a relief. The boiler man left me a long and complicated list of Things We* Must Do with the heating to ensure it doesn't blow up/fall over/have a hissy fit next time Mr WithaY leaves the country.
Last time he was away (diving in the Red Sea in January) it stopped working - different reason though, of course. I got home from work late one evening, cold, tired, hungry, to be greeted by an excited message on the answerphone saying "I've been swimming with dolphins! It's 24 degrees here! I'm so happy!"
I believe bad language may have been used on my part as I donned several fleeces, mittens and extra socks and ate my solitary supper.
Other news: Fucking rat came out from under the shed while we were sat eating lunch today. Scampered cheerfully across the lawn and back again while we watched it. Some Lidl's finest chocolate was carefully deployed to lure it back out and Mr WithaY took up the sniping posision from the Window Of Doom. Sure enough, 30 seconds later it was a ex-rat.
Ugh. Bloody things.
We discovered it had been digging about at the back of the compost bin, probably attracted by a whole egg that some fool** had left in there. We filled in the hole and Mr WithaY broke the egg with a stone***. Oh my word, what a smell.
And on that edifying note, time to go shopping for sour cream and salad for tonight.
* For "We" read "Professional plumbing type". I have no intention of attempting any of it myself.
**Me
***from quite a distance...deadeye dick or what?
Saturday, 7 July 2007
Smug? Oh yes.
Am now lovelier than any woman in Wiltshire has a right to be, following my haircut.
I went in all lank and droopy (and the hair was a mess too) and my excellent stylist chopped about 4 inches off my layers, tidied up the ends, and hey presto, I look like a 1970s porn star. A fat, 41 year old one, mind. And it's a good look for me.
Actually, there is something of the 1970s Charlies Angels about it too, which is not to be sniffed at.
I always wanted to be the clever one - Kate, was it?
I am delighted. And as if to prove how funky it looks, as I passed a gang of Italian teenagers (male), one of them said "Hey, sexy!" to me.
Hurrah for me and my fab new "approved by Italian teenagers" hairdo.
Also bought some new shoes, which were in the sale, so a result there. And we got some great big loaves of bread from the market to have great big steak sandwiches with for supper. Could today GET any better?
Ooh - also plan to watch the next Lord of the Rings dvd tonight. I am a happy, happy geek.
I went in all lank and droopy (and the hair was a mess too) and my excellent stylist chopped about 4 inches off my layers, tidied up the ends, and hey presto, I look like a 1970s porn star. A fat, 41 year old one, mind. And it's a good look for me.
Actually, there is something of the 1970s Charlies Angels about it too, which is not to be sniffed at.
I always wanted to be the clever one - Kate, was it?
I am delighted. And as if to prove how funky it looks, as I passed a gang of Italian teenagers (male), one of them said "Hey, sexy!" to me.
Hurrah for me and my fab new "approved by Italian teenagers" hairdo.
Also bought some new shoes, which were in the sale, so a result there. And we got some great big loaves of bread from the market to have great big steak sandwiches with for supper. Could today GET any better?
Ooh - also plan to watch the next Lord of the Rings dvd tonight. I am a happy, happy geek.
Thursday, 14 June 2007
Marvellous
Got home from work this evening, and not only has the marvellous Kevin the decorator finished all the painting, but he had also put the rug down, put the furniture back and reassembled the bed.
How great is he? Bloody great.
All I need to do is put the curtains back up and make up the bed and the room is finished. I could weep for joy.
To be honest, I could weep full stop, but I am going to go to bed in a minute and see if a good night's sleep will make me feel a bit less woeful in the morning.
And the lovely Mr WithaY returns from his Grand Tour of Scotland tomorrow so I hope we can have a nice weekend together. Got mates coming over for dinner on Saturday night so I need to start planning what we'll feed them.
Bit the bullet and went to the bloody supermarket after work. Gah. But, done for a bit so am smug now.
How great is he? Bloody great.
All I need to do is put the curtains back up and make up the bed and the room is finished. I could weep for joy.
To be honest, I could weep full stop, but I am going to go to bed in a minute and see if a good night's sleep will make me feel a bit less woeful in the morning.
And the lovely Mr WithaY returns from his Grand Tour of Scotland tomorrow so I hope we can have a nice weekend together. Got mates coming over for dinner on Saturday night so I need to start planning what we'll feed them.
Bit the bullet and went to the bloody supermarket after work. Gah. But, done for a bit so am smug now.
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