I ventured into heels today. They weren't high, two inches or less, but I haven't been able to wear even that height for months and it was such a pleasure. I didn't limp more than usual and it didn't hurt and I felt like me again. I'm short enough as it is, and wearing flat shoes all the time makes me feel glum. It's like - well. whatever your regular finishing touch is; perfume or mascara or, I don't know, trimming your beard or wearing pants or something. I may pay for it tomorrow, but I don't care.
At the committee meeting wot I chair, this morning, there was a matter that I did, admittedly, push through - not going to go into it all for the protection of the innocent, but it was for good reasons. The person who had raised the matter has written to me (cc-ing the secretary) saying that I was hostile. Oh dear. I thought I was merely forceful. I have, of course, apologised profusely, said I didn't feel in the least hostile and am upset (I am) to find he found me so, and explained why I acted as I did. I hope he's mollified - I didn't retract what I said, but accepted that he felt overridden. I like to be told though - if he hadn't said anything, I wouldn't have known how he felt, so it's better that he did. I must remember to tone down, however - I know I can be overemphatic on occasion, but usually people are amused rather than upset by that and I merely embarrass myself rather than others.
Oh well. At least I have my luggage back. As I went on into London on the way home from Madrid, friends took my suitcase home with them and, not having a car, I didn't go and fetch it and S brought it to today's meeting. Almost afraid to open it - a couple of weeks for used clothes to stew isn't a jolly thought.
I went to have my hair cut today, and mused on names. There were four staff members there; and it occurred to me that each of their names was absolutely typical for their age - Susan, in her 50s, Deborah, in her 40s, Joanne, just 30 and Laura, 20-something. Not that any of those names are not used at any time, but that some names reach a peak of popularity over a few years - when I was at school there were 4 Andrews out of a dozen or so boys, and as many Elizabeths*; though as we were all born in the year of the Queen's accession or coronation, that is not surprising.
* Among the girls, need I state?
Tuesday, 6 May 2008
Monday, 5 May 2008
Z sleeps
Oh, dear. Old age has surely arrived when a Bank Holiday gives an excuse for an afternoon nap. Is it worth giving an excuse? I had been out in the hot sun and we're not used to much heat at this time of the year. More than two hours of sunshine exhausts us.
Worse, it was more than the 10-minute catnap that refreshes without taking time out of the day. I had my head down for the best part of an hour and a half. When I woke up, Ro was still working on his computer - the frightening thing is that he was actually working; day job sort of thing. Not work that he would have been doing in the office, but improving his website-writing technique. Actually, he's been spending a fair bit of the weekend working on a website for his brother - Al, who was so sniffy about my blog a couple of weeks ago, has decided to go public for the sake of greenness. I'll put up a link when the website is up and then both my sons will be outed. After all the lengths I've gone to, to keep their identities private. Hah!
Still well behind with the veg garden. I can't plant anything out unless it's netted, and I haven't enough netting. It's been too hot to work in the greenhouse, so I didn't do any work there until 6.30 this evening. The Sage, darling man, took care of dinner and brought me chilled wine, which has upped his Merit score considerably. When he reaches the end of the column, he will receive his due reward. He's quite excited already.
The good news is that I've finally caught up on the 1000-plus posts waiting for me when I came home with my new computer a week ago. You will have my full attention from now on.
I've finished the first book of the Book Binge month. It was a re-read, actually, but I haven't read it for almost forty years. Bury me in my Boots, by Sally Trench, made quite an impression on me when I read it in the late '60s. In her teens, she decided to live and work among down-and-outs in London and did so by simply joining them, in the first place. When I was a teenager, beggars simply did not exist outside London and other large cities and, although I was certainly aware of drop-outs, I hadn't, at the age of fifteen, ever met any. Sally was and is a remarkable woman and this is still a powerful, although enigmatic (for she doesn't tell you anything about the other side of her life), book, with a shocking and dramatic ending.
Oh, update (10 pm) TV continuity announcer "is your sexual behaviour normal?" I, who was innocently waiting to watch QI, said "Ew!", startled. Ro said "But this is the BBC, isn't it?" indignantly.
Worse, it was more than the 10-minute catnap that refreshes without taking time out of the day. I had my head down for the best part of an hour and a half. When I woke up, Ro was still working on his computer - the frightening thing is that he was actually working; day job sort of thing. Not work that he would have been doing in the office, but improving his website-writing technique. Actually, he's been spending a fair bit of the weekend working on a website for his brother - Al, who was so sniffy about my blog a couple of weeks ago, has decided to go public for the sake of greenness. I'll put up a link when the website is up and then both my sons will be outed. After all the lengths I've gone to, to keep their identities private. Hah!
Still well behind with the veg garden. I can't plant anything out unless it's netted, and I haven't enough netting. It's been too hot to work in the greenhouse, so I didn't do any work there until 6.30 this evening. The Sage, darling man, took care of dinner and brought me chilled wine, which has upped his Merit score considerably. When he reaches the end of the column, he will receive his due reward. He's quite excited already.
The good news is that I've finally caught up on the 1000-plus posts waiting for me when I came home with my new computer a week ago. You will have my full attention from now on.
I've finished the first book of the Book Binge month. It was a re-read, actually, but I haven't read it for almost forty years. Bury me in my Boots, by Sally Trench, made quite an impression on me when I read it in the late '60s. In her teens, she decided to live and work among down-and-outs in London and did so by simply joining them, in the first place. When I was a teenager, beggars simply did not exist outside London and other large cities and, although I was certainly aware of drop-outs, I hadn't, at the age of fifteen, ever met any. Sally was and is a remarkable woman and this is still a powerful, although enigmatic (for she doesn't tell you anything about the other side of her life), book, with a shocking and dramatic ending.
Oh, update (10 pm) TV continuity announcer "is your sexual behaviour normal?" I, who was innocently waiting to watch QI, said "Ew!", startled. Ro said "But this is the BBC, isn't it?" indignantly.
Sunday, 4 May 2008
Pride comes...
...etc, etc, yeah, yeah.
I only received the hymns for this morning at 6 o'clock last evening. I hadn't been due to play at all, but the first Sunday organist's wife is just out of hospital, so of course he doesn't want to leave her. It was also my turn on the coffee rota.
I had a phone call at 9 o'clock this morning that added to my worry level somewhat, and I didn't leave for the papers until 9.45. Quickly whipped into Londis for some milk (for the coffee), into the papershop and I was in church just after 10. I didn't know one of the hymns, but I sightread - that was all right. Practised them all, went and filled the urn, put out tables and chairs, spooned coffee into the cafétères, fetched mugs and plates, put out biscuits, unlocked back door (fire exit), then did various bits of churchwardenish duty and looked out music for the voluntaries (the music played at the start and end of the service and during Communion). It was ten to eleven. John arrived. He looked puzzled to be the first in the congregation - the sidesman had arrived, but that was all. However, by 10.59, there were 19 people there.
I played good*, you know? The first hymn, the one I'd had to learn, had eight verses. Eight!!(!) I counted and sang "One one one one one one one one. One-one oneone one one one one-on-one" etc (imagine the repeats until eight, when I stopped counting). Second hymn, a favourite tune, though tricky, went with aplomb. Another good one for the third. A slurp of wine and a wafer and lo! My sins were forgiven (because, of course, I truly repented) and then the fourth. I played, and it was a long one, with six verses of eight lines. I finished with a flourish ... but the congregation didn't. Bugger. I'd relaxed a verse too early.
Oh well. The coffee was good, and strong. I didn't eat any biscuits - would I? I have eschewed biscuits. I'll tell you when the first stone has gone, but not quite yet. Maybe next month.
Bank Holiday tomorrow. Have a splendid one.
*No, to be grammatically correct and say 'well' would give the wrong impression. I bluffed well, but I'm not a good organist - so I played good.
I only received the hymns for this morning at 6 o'clock last evening. I hadn't been due to play at all, but the first Sunday organist's wife is just out of hospital, so of course he doesn't want to leave her. It was also my turn on the coffee rota.
I had a phone call at 9 o'clock this morning that added to my worry level somewhat, and I didn't leave for the papers until 9.45. Quickly whipped into Londis for some milk (for the coffee), into the papershop and I was in church just after 10. I didn't know one of the hymns, but I sightread - that was all right. Practised them all, went and filled the urn, put out tables and chairs, spooned coffee into the cafétères, fetched mugs and plates, put out biscuits, unlocked back door (fire exit), then did various bits of churchwardenish duty and looked out music for the voluntaries (the music played at the start and end of the service and during Communion). It was ten to eleven. John arrived. He looked puzzled to be the first in the congregation - the sidesman had arrived, but that was all. However, by 10.59, there were 19 people there.
I played good*, you know? The first hymn, the one I'd had to learn, had eight verses. Eight!!(!) I counted and sang "One one one one one one one one. One-one oneone one one one one-on-one" etc (imagine the repeats until eight, when I stopped counting). Second hymn, a favourite tune, though tricky, went with aplomb. Another good one for the third. A slurp of wine and a wafer and lo! My sins were forgiven (because, of course, I truly repented) and then the fourth. I played, and it was a long one, with six verses of eight lines. I finished with a flourish ... but the congregation didn't. Bugger. I'd relaxed a verse too early.
Oh well. The coffee was good, and strong. I didn't eat any biscuits - would I? I have eschewed biscuits. I'll tell you when the first stone has gone, but not quite yet. Maybe next month.
Bank Holiday tomorrow. Have a splendid one.
*No, to be grammatically correct and say 'well' would give the wrong impression. I bluffed well, but I'm not a good organist - so I played good.
Saturday, 3 May 2008
Z has a Wardrobe Malfunction
Advice to young bloggers - always keep a bulldog clip about your person. It may save your modesty one day.
It was mid-afternoon and the saleroom was not too full. There were enough helpers to look after the customers viewing the sale, so I went along to the loo while I still could - another half-hour and I wouldn't have time. I undid the side zip on my trousers.
Afterwards, as I started to do them up again, the thread at the bottom of the zip unravelled and it disintegrated; that is, the two sides came apart. I tried to fix the fastener on again without success. I removed the trousers, sat down and spent several minutes trying to put it together. In the end, I gave up and started to rootle in my bag (how fortunate that I'd brought it, meaning to use the comb and lipstick) hoping to find a couple of safety pins. I did find a paperclip and, more usefully, a bulldog clip too.
The trousers had no top fastening, just the zip. I bunched the waistband up enough to fold over, attached the clip firmly and peered. There was a bit of a gape lower down, but fortunately the top I was wearing was long enough to hide the sight of my pants - which were, in any case, pretty and lacy enough to not embarrass me more than the fact that they might, otherwise, be glimpsed. I muttered bad-temperedly about the poor workmanship of the Udaipur tailor who'd made them in the first place.
The Sage had noticed my absence. "Car all right?" he asked cheerily. Oh yes, that was another thing. A year or so back, the car park we usually use had been made short-term, with a maximum of three hours. So I checked the multi-storey. It closes at 9 pm. That is no use to me at all, as I might not be able to go and move it before 9 o'clock, so I have to use the short-term one and feed the meter, which I shouldn't do but have no option. By the time I'm doing it, there is plenty of room so I repark, just to show willing, and buy another ticket including the overnight one. Ah, but then I read it. 'Overnight' means up to 11 pm. So, let's say I arrive in Lowestoft town centre, intending to hit the shops, carry on out to dinner in the evening and then enjoy the night-time social scene. I can't. I have to keep reparking. Presumably, after 11, that means finding a parking place on the street. Maybe the powers that be in Lowestoft don't get out a great deal and like to have early nights.
Apart from that, how did I enjoy the auction? Splendid, thank you. It went very well and the books balanced at the end, which is always an exciting moment.
It was mid-afternoon and the saleroom was not too full. There were enough helpers to look after the customers viewing the sale, so I went along to the loo while I still could - another half-hour and I wouldn't have time. I undid the side zip on my trousers.
Afterwards, as I started to do them up again, the thread at the bottom of the zip unravelled and it disintegrated; that is, the two sides came apart. I tried to fix the fastener on again without success. I removed the trousers, sat down and spent several minutes trying to put it together. In the end, I gave up and started to rootle in my bag (how fortunate that I'd brought it, meaning to use the comb and lipstick) hoping to find a couple of safety pins. I did find a paperclip and, more usefully, a bulldog clip too.
The trousers had no top fastening, just the zip. I bunched the waistband up enough to fold over, attached the clip firmly and peered. There was a bit of a gape lower down, but fortunately the top I was wearing was long enough to hide the sight of my pants - which were, in any case, pretty and lacy enough to not embarrass me more than the fact that they might, otherwise, be glimpsed. I muttered bad-temperedly about the poor workmanship of the Udaipur tailor who'd made them in the first place.
The Sage had noticed my absence. "Car all right?" he asked cheerily. Oh yes, that was another thing. A year or so back, the car park we usually use had been made short-term, with a maximum of three hours. So I checked the multi-storey. It closes at 9 pm. That is no use to me at all, as I might not be able to go and move it before 9 o'clock, so I have to use the short-term one and feed the meter, which I shouldn't do but have no option. By the time I'm doing it, there is plenty of room so I repark, just to show willing, and buy another ticket including the overnight one. Ah, but then I read it. 'Overnight' means up to 11 pm. So, let's say I arrive in Lowestoft town centre, intending to hit the shops, carry on out to dinner in the evening and then enjoy the night-time social scene. I can't. I have to keep reparking. Presumably, after 11, that means finding a parking place on the street. Maybe the powers that be in Lowestoft don't get out a great deal and like to have early nights.
Apart from that, how did I enjoy the auction? Splendid, thank you. It went very well and the books balanced at the end, which is always an exciting moment.
Friday, 2 May 2008
Going, going
But not gone yet. The sale's not for another seven hours, but we're all packed up and ready to go. It'll take half an hour to get there, an hour or so to set up and then I'll be working my little socks off until 7 o'clock when I can relax and enjoy the sale, whilst the Sage does the skilled work.
In the meantime, we're having a light and early lunch of sausages (yes, darlings, I'm such an oik that I'm eating and typing at the same time), roasted red peppers and potatoes and I've made lots of food up to sustain us.
Dinner last night was delightful, by the way. Lovely sea trout, new potatoes from Cornwall, Norfolk asparagus and Suffolk spring cabbage. And a French apple.
I'll just check the Sage's emails, then I must unplug the computer, as I need the extension lead.
Be seeing you (please imagine the little wave/salute that The Prisoner used to give, because I'm doing it Right Now with the hand I'm not typing with).
In the meantime, we're having a light and early lunch of sausages (yes, darlings, I'm such an oik that I'm eating and typing at the same time), roasted red peppers and potatoes and I've made lots of food up to sustain us.
Dinner last night was delightful, by the way. Lovely sea trout, new potatoes from Cornwall, Norfolk asparagus and Suffolk spring cabbage. And a French apple.
I'll just check the Sage's emails, then I must unplug the computer, as I need the extension lead.
Be seeing you (please imagine the little wave/salute that The Prisoner used to give, because I'm doing it Right Now with the hand I'm not typing with).
Thursday, 1 May 2008
A Grand Day, and I missed it
I noticed the other day that I was writing my 998th post and meant to remark upon the thousandth. I forgot. This is post number 1003. Unfortunately, no. 1000 referred to the dog being sick.
I've spent the last hour clearing my desk and dealing with things that had accumulated in the past few weeks. The new computer is now sitting splendidly on the cleared desk instead of the table in the drawing room where it has reposed since Monday. Actually, I rather liked it there. It was very comfortable, relaxing on the sofa and typing, although I admit that I didn't get much work done. It's more purposeful here. The main reason for bringing it in, however, was to plug it in to the printer ... don't think I wasn't tempted simply to take the printer through there and have everything around me (including a small fridge with beer in), but I resisted. There is a small part of me that isn't, at heart, a bloke.
More to come, I expect. I'm just off into town for food. The fishmonger will be on the market and we're out of bread and we've eaten all the vegetables.
Later The 'bloke' remark wasn't meant in any way as a criticism, nor a description of all men, by the way, and certainly not an insult - as I implied, it describes me pretty well on the whole.
I've bought a splendid sea trout for dinner, first of the season. I went to the bakery for a loaf and looked at the price as it was being wrapped up - couldn't read it at all. I looked with one eye, then the other, then realised I'd forgotten to put my contact lens in this morning. Fortunately, I can see well enough to cycle I hadn't realised at all, which just demonstrates how unobservant I am.
There was a woman in the wholefood shop buying a whole basketful of stuff, over £40-worth. Staples; butter and cheese and milk and cereals and nuts and the like. I noticed that the organic cornflakes were labelled 'gluten free' as if this was unusual. Aren't all cornflakes gluten free? It is an awfully good little shop. I buy more and more of my general foodstuffs there.
My car is back, by the way. Mike is quite sure that he's put everything right now and he says it's running beautifully. He says that he's not surprised that I liked it (before all this nonsense came up) as it's a pleasure to drive. "I put my foot down a bit" he said "as I was coming out of a junction and there was a lorry coming in the distance, and I was up to 75 before I knew it." That's miles, not kilometres, per hour, by the way. I hope there's not a speeding ticket in the post; it'll be embarrassing to have to pass it on to him. However, I know what he means, not that I drive over the limit at all, ever.
I've spent the last hour clearing my desk and dealing with things that had accumulated in the past few weeks. The new computer is now sitting splendidly on the cleared desk instead of the table in the drawing room where it has reposed since Monday. Actually, I rather liked it there. It was very comfortable, relaxing on the sofa and typing, although I admit that I didn't get much work done. It's more purposeful here. The main reason for bringing it in, however, was to plug it in to the printer ... don't think I wasn't tempted simply to take the printer through there and have everything around me (including a small fridge with beer in), but I resisted. There is a small part of me that isn't, at heart, a bloke.
More to come, I expect. I'm just off into town for food. The fishmonger will be on the market and we're out of bread and we've eaten all the vegetables.
Later The 'bloke' remark wasn't meant in any way as a criticism, nor a description of all men, by the way, and certainly not an insult - as I implied, it describes me pretty well on the whole.
I've bought a splendid sea trout for dinner, first of the season. I went to the bakery for a loaf and looked at the price as it was being wrapped up - couldn't read it at all. I looked with one eye, then the other, then realised I'd forgotten to put my contact lens in this morning. Fortunately, I can see well enough to cycle I hadn't realised at all, which just demonstrates how unobservant I am.
There was a woman in the wholefood shop buying a whole basketful of stuff, over £40-worth. Staples; butter and cheese and milk and cereals and nuts and the like. I noticed that the organic cornflakes were labelled 'gluten free' as if this was unusual. Aren't all cornflakes gluten free? It is an awfully good little shop. I buy more and more of my general foodstuffs there.
My car is back, by the way. Mike is quite sure that he's put everything right now and he says it's running beautifully. He says that he's not surprised that I liked it (before all this nonsense came up) as it's a pleasure to drive. "I put my foot down a bit" he said "as I was coming out of a junction and there was a lorry coming in the distance, and I was up to 75 before I knew it." That's miles, not kilometres, per hour, by the way. I hope there's not a speeding ticket in the post; it'll be embarrassing to have to pass it on to him. However, I know what he means, not that I drive over the limit at all, ever.
Wednesday, 30 April 2008
Music to my ears, but preferably nothing else
I've finally got around to clicking on iTunes, and even now, my music is being copied onto the computer, all two thousand-odd items. It's vastly cheering, as I can't any longer be bothered to fetch CDs and put them in a player, but always play music on the computer or iPod, and have been missing it badly, especially as my ears are still distracted by the slight whirr of the Mac, which is at a different pitch from the previous machine. Macs are quiet but not soundless and I find 'wrong' noise very intrusive.
For this reason, one of my pet hates is windchimes. I sit in a friend's garden on a pleasant summer's day and all I can focus on is the tinkle of unnecessary bits of metal in the breeze. I'm not good on artificial 'water features', as they're called nowadays, either. The sound of running water is fine if it's a stream or waterfall, but the splash of a little fountain or other pumped water makes me tense, until I manage to tune it out. My mother was fond of clocks and had three in one room. They all ticked at a different pitch and speed and I hated it, never mind the cacophony of the strikes, which were all slightly out of synch with each other - just as well, I suppose, as at least it reduced the potential noise level.
It's deliberate artificial noise, I think, as I don't mind the sound of animals, general sounds, people, at all. Music is fine, but not as background - I listen to it, so I don't care for the bland sort of stuff that is often played in public places. I'm rather the same with scents. I can't stand air fresheners. A pong is one thing, but a pong partly masked by artificial flower or fruit or pine scent is unpleasant. If there was no bad smell to start with, why add a cheap and nasty one?
Years ago, I went to the theatre one night and was miserable because of the olfactory blaring of numerous cheap perfumes. The next night I went to a concert at the Aldeburgh Festival and was hardly made any happier by the range of expensive ones that all the women were wearing. Since then, out of consideration for others, I have not worn perfume in a crowded place. A woman sat next to me on the train on Saturday wearing a perfume I didn't like. I was unpleasantly aware of it for the entire journey.
Again, I like natural scents. I like to savour the air when I arrive at a destination - each place has its own flavour and, as long as it isn't next to a sewage farm or a sugar beet factory, I don't mind what the smell is. But adding extra, artificial and pointless smells jangles my senses.
Thanks to Hey Bartender, I have developed a regrettable taste for certain styes of country music. So the first track to be played on the new Mac has the honour to be ... Stoned, by the Old 97's.
Actually, talking about my favourite bartender, I hadn't read her blog for three weeks, and have just been catching up. She is brilliant. Do visit. I've been chortling happily for the past ten minutes.
For this reason, one of my pet hates is windchimes. I sit in a friend's garden on a pleasant summer's day and all I can focus on is the tinkle of unnecessary bits of metal in the breeze. I'm not good on artificial 'water features', as they're called nowadays, either. The sound of running water is fine if it's a stream or waterfall, but the splash of a little fountain or other pumped water makes me tense, until I manage to tune it out. My mother was fond of clocks and had three in one room. They all ticked at a different pitch and speed and I hated it, never mind the cacophony of the strikes, which were all slightly out of synch with each other - just as well, I suppose, as at least it reduced the potential noise level.
It's deliberate artificial noise, I think, as I don't mind the sound of animals, general sounds, people, at all. Music is fine, but not as background - I listen to it, so I don't care for the bland sort of stuff that is often played in public places. I'm rather the same with scents. I can't stand air fresheners. A pong is one thing, but a pong partly masked by artificial flower or fruit or pine scent is unpleasant. If there was no bad smell to start with, why add a cheap and nasty one?
Years ago, I went to the theatre one night and was miserable because of the olfactory blaring of numerous cheap perfumes. The next night I went to a concert at the Aldeburgh Festival and was hardly made any happier by the range of expensive ones that all the women were wearing. Since then, out of consideration for others, I have not worn perfume in a crowded place. A woman sat next to me on the train on Saturday wearing a perfume I didn't like. I was unpleasantly aware of it for the entire journey.
Again, I like natural scents. I like to savour the air when I arrive at a destination - each place has its own flavour and, as long as it isn't next to a sewage farm or a sugar beet factory, I don't mind what the smell is. But adding extra, artificial and pointless smells jangles my senses.
Thanks to Hey Bartender, I have developed a regrettable taste for certain styes of country music. So the first track to be played on the new Mac has the honour to be ... Stoned, by the Old 97's.
Actually, talking about my favourite bartender, I hadn't read her blog for three weeks, and have just been catching up. She is brilliant. Do visit. I've been chortling happily for the past ten minutes.
Tuesday, 29 April 2008
Watchunder!
According to Greavsie, cats walk backwards while they are being sick. Dogs don't. They stand still and then, belatedly, go to the door and ask to be let outside.
Tilly is rarely ill. I have known it - Christmas day one year, when she had evidently nipped across the field and raided a neighbour's bin for the fatty remains of the pan juices. that was a good'un. She was so taken by surprise that she didn't have time to get off the sofa, though she did at least lean over so most of it went on the floor. Today's offering was only a few minutes after she'd finished her dinner; I expect a hair was caught in her throat because she was anxious afterwards, for she is a polite little dog and never one to waste food, but not ill. Now, she's curled up next to me looking as demure as usual.
We've got an explosion in the rabbit population. There is nothing up in the vegetable garden as they've eaten all seedlings as they emerge. I'm afraid that this probably means an outbreak of myxomatosis in a year or so, as that's what happens when the burrows get overcrowded. We used to have rabbit-proof netting round the veg garden, but it has been gradually removed as it hasn't really been needed for some years.
Any suggestions as to what I should replace my car with (another car, obviously. I am not cycling to Norwich and beyond)? I don't care about cars, so matters of design and technicalities are a matter of indifference to me. Mike, who is splendid at finding cars at a low price - Ro's cost around £400 and has lasted for 2 years with no problems so far - doesn't quite get the notion that I rather want something less than 15 years old, so I might have to look myself and I'm awfully, awfully bored at the thought. The only thing that consoles me in my car debacle is that I cannot lose more money than the original owners, as I paid less than they lost on their 3 year old car, so I don't want a new one. I need it to be comfortable as I ache enough already, with infinitely changeable seat positions as I'm short, like to sit bolt upright but with room to move my legs. I want a smaller car than I have now, but not too small - a hatchback or estate so that I can fit in stuff - with good legroom in the back as most passengers are of an age to not fold up very small. Mike will suggest something reliable but ancient, but I want power steering and central locking and a good CD player, which is not something he'd think matters. You see, hardly technical. Most of all, reliable.
May I mention, by the way, in reference to the horrid (it did bristle a bit, as it was fresh) initial subject matter of this post, that the Sage did all the clearing up? First he approached with a shovel, then he came along with a cloth and washing-up liquid to wash the carpet. I merely wrung my hands and thanked him. I'm good at that.
Tilly is rarely ill. I have known it - Christmas day one year, when she had evidently nipped across the field and raided a neighbour's bin for the fatty remains of the pan juices. that was a good'un. She was so taken by surprise that she didn't have time to get off the sofa, though she did at least lean over so most of it went on the floor. Today's offering was only a few minutes after she'd finished her dinner; I expect a hair was caught in her throat because she was anxious afterwards, for she is a polite little dog and never one to waste food, but not ill. Now, she's curled up next to me looking as demure as usual.
We've got an explosion in the rabbit population. There is nothing up in the vegetable garden as they've eaten all seedlings as they emerge. I'm afraid that this probably means an outbreak of myxomatosis in a year or so, as that's what happens when the burrows get overcrowded. We used to have rabbit-proof netting round the veg garden, but it has been gradually removed as it hasn't really been needed for some years.
Any suggestions as to what I should replace my car with (another car, obviously. I am not cycling to Norwich and beyond)? I don't care about cars, so matters of design and technicalities are a matter of indifference to me. Mike, who is splendid at finding cars at a low price - Ro's cost around £400 and has lasted for 2 years with no problems so far - doesn't quite get the notion that I rather want something less than 15 years old, so I might have to look myself and I'm awfully, awfully bored at the thought. The only thing that consoles me in my car debacle is that I cannot lose more money than the original owners, as I paid less than they lost on their 3 year old car, so I don't want a new one. I need it to be comfortable as I ache enough already, with infinitely changeable seat positions as I'm short, like to sit bolt upright but with room to move my legs. I want a smaller car than I have now, but not too small - a hatchback or estate so that I can fit in stuff - with good legroom in the back as most passengers are of an age to not fold up very small. Mike will suggest something reliable but ancient, but I want power steering and central locking and a good CD player, which is not something he'd think matters. You see, hardly technical. Most of all, reliable.
May I mention, by the way, in reference to the horrid (it did bristle a bit, as it was fresh) initial subject matter of this post, that the Sage did all the clearing up? First he approached with a shovel, then he came along with a cloth and washing-up liquid to wash the carpet. I merely wrung my hands and thanked him. I'm good at that.
Monday, 28 April 2008
Z chose a Mac - well you knew I would
So, the Sage thinks it's so good that he came along with a wad of cash in his pocket (no vulgar comments, please, darlings; he's always pleased to see me), Ro thinks I am a slave to style and Al thinks it's a poser's dream come true. I am happy. I have decided to treat my new Mac as a portable and so am now sitting comfortably on the sofa rather than in the office, with the computer - I don't say screen because the screen is the computer) several feet away as it's so large that my little brain is overwhelmed at the armslength distance that I usually use. I will probably use my cordless mouse; this one is fine but I like the cordless one, but I haven't decided yet about the keyboard. This is small but comfortable to use and I may keep the other in reserve in case I spill my wine - which is not a euphemism - but I have found that I sometimes type the wrong number because it's slightly cramped and they aren't where I think they will be.
I went to school today for a music lesson in a class I haven't visited before. Each Year 9 class has quite a different character. This contains the humorous lot. "Had a good day, so far?" asked the teacher with a good nature. Various murmurings, including "I look forward so much to Mondays, because I get to go to school." One boy had arrived this morning, but had to go home "He was as white as a ginger bloke can be", commented a lad, who was a ginger himself, so can't be accused of gingism - okay, maybe you had to have heard this one, but it was funny.
The group I stayed with was musical and enthusiastic, but there was something of a clash of personalities. After the lesson, I explained to the teacher what the background to the lack of co-operation was. "At least", I said silver-liningly, "they were disagreeing about the music; it wasn't personal." A Year 13 student, who had come in to speak to the teacher, chortled, not unsympathetically.
I should be working Right Now. But hey, I've said hello to hardly anyone for the past three weeks. I must have hundreds of RSS feeds waving at me for my attention. I'll spend the rest of the evening catching up with you all. May not leave too many comments for a while though, and if not, excuse me please - so much to do, even if there is, in the long run, plenty of time.
That reminds me, I'm not going to the meeting in Liverpool next month - I'll ring up Head Office tomorrow and tell them not to expect me. I haven't got time. What a loss to Z's range of life experience.
I went to school today for a music lesson in a class I haven't visited before. Each Year 9 class has quite a different character. This contains the humorous lot. "Had a good day, so far?" asked the teacher with a good nature. Various murmurings, including "I look forward so much to Mondays, because I get to go to school." One boy had arrived this morning, but had to go home "He was as white as a ginger bloke can be", commented a lad, who was a ginger himself, so can't be accused of gingism - okay, maybe you had to have heard this one, but it was funny.
The group I stayed with was musical and enthusiastic, but there was something of a clash of personalities. After the lesson, I explained to the teacher what the background to the lack of co-operation was. "At least", I said silver-liningly, "they were disagreeing about the music; it wasn't personal." A Year 13 student, who had come in to speak to the teacher, chortled, not unsympathetically.
I should be working Right Now. But hey, I've said hello to hardly anyone for the past three weeks. I must have hundreds of RSS feeds waving at me for my attention. I'll spend the rest of the evening catching up with you all. May not leave too many comments for a while though, and if not, excuse me please - so much to do, even if there is, in the long run, plenty of time.
That reminds me, I'm not going to the meeting in Liverpool next month - I'll ring up Head Office tomorrow and tell them not to expect me. I haven't got time. What a loss to Z's range of life experience.
Sunday, 27 April 2008
Lazy Sunday
A good London visit. The bus was waiting, with an inspector on board who was patiently answering questions from all the East Anglian yokels who wondered which stop to go to, so I settled down as we set off through the streets of the City, along Threadneedle Street to the Old Lady and the Iron Duke and westwards towards Charing Cross. The exhibition was splendid, and I'd recommend it - it was portrait photographs from Vanity Fair from 1913 to the present day, although the magazine was not published between 1936 and 1973. Fabulous photos from people of the day, from Monet and Augustus John to DH Lawrence and Chaplin, Anita Loos to Josephine Baker; later, Babe Ruth, Jesse Owens, Cary Grant and Jean Harlow. Later photos gave more away of some of their subjects than, perhaps, they realised - because there was no need for them to be so stagey, it revealed a lot if they were. Liza Minelli put her shoulders forward to show off her collarbones, but it gave an awkward hang to her biceps and the lit cigarette drooping from her lip didn't add any beauty. Scarlett Johannson and Keira Knightley were photographed naked together; while SJ was relaxed in her nudity, KK haughtily disregarded hers. There was the famous Testino portrait of Princess Diana and Prince William's, by the same artist, looking pleased with himself. Margaret Thatcher, in 1991, had a fabulous complexion and Miles Davis, arms crossed to nearly hide his face, had a frankly gorgeous body, even in middle age.
Afterwards, we had a long lunch and chatted and then went out separate ways home. I didn't sleep much last night - went to bed early as I was tired, slept briefly and heavily and then was awake for the next three hours. I meant to pot up plants this afternoon, but slept instead and revived for the evening.
Tomorrow, off to inspect computers. I'm taking the Sage with me, because I don't like driving his car, and Ro is meeting us to give advice which, if I end up with a Mac, I'll have not followed. Unless he is more impressed than he expects.
Afterwards, we had a long lunch and chatted and then went out separate ways home. I didn't sleep much last night - went to bed early as I was tired, slept briefly and heavily and then was awake for the next three hours. I meant to pot up plants this afternoon, but slept instead and revived for the evening.
Tomorrow, off to inspect computers. I'm taking the Sage with me, because I don't like driving his car, and Ro is meeting us to give advice which, if I end up with a Mac, I'll have not followed. Unless he is more impressed than he expects.
Friday, 25 April 2008
Z rambles
I felt a little het-up by the end of the day. I biked in to the school for a Year 9 music lesson and felt tired. When I got home, though, the children were in the garden on their climbing frame, which is a substantial wooden one with a house at the top and a staircase, which the Sage and Al made last year. They saw me and Squiffany called me over. "Granny, granny, granny" remarked Pugsley with enthusiasm and his sister came across the garden to meet me. I cheered up.
This afternoon, I had a governors' meeting and had a couple of long conversations afterwards which were illuminating, but meant I didn't arrive home until half past six. At least it's downhill on the way home, because I had been almost too tired to pedal up the hill to the school. A week off from cycling and I've lost all my strength. "Too late for tea" said the Sage, pouring me a glass of wine. I prepared a dish of celery, carrots and cucumber, because I was vastly hungry, and went next door to read and reply to emails on Dilly's laptop.
Tomorrow, I'm going to meet my sister in London. The plan is to have a long and boozy lunch, go to an exhibition - there's something she wants to see at the National Portrait Gallery and then I'll catch the 4 o'clock train home again. Actually, we'll probably go to the exhibition before lunch, as we may not have time and be too pissed (in the English sense) afterwards.
I'm writing this on Ro's laptop. He has a plastic crate which held vegetables to put it on when it's on his lap to raise it to a comfortable level and not to get hot, but to fit it on my knees I'm having to lean right back in the chair. It's not uncomfortable, but it feels odd as I always sit bolt upright at the computer. In fact, I sit on a stool rather than a chair as I never lean back.
Ro is doing a website for Al - the boy is endlessly good-natured, as he does this all week for a living and we all want him to do things for us in his spare time. It'll be about vegetables, of course. And paper bags. He has perfected some splendid paper bags made out of newspaper, which he makes in odd moments when there aren't any customers in the shop. Ro does the Sage's website now, I don't think I've mentioned it - it's here. D'you like it?
Dave suggests I don't write for three weeks while he is away, so that he doesn't have to spend hours catching up on his return. He's so charming. Because, obviously, the implication is that if I do write, he'll read it all, however long it takes and however much I ramble.
This afternoon, I had a governors' meeting and had a couple of long conversations afterwards which were illuminating, but meant I didn't arrive home until half past six. At least it's downhill on the way home, because I had been almost too tired to pedal up the hill to the school. A week off from cycling and I've lost all my strength. "Too late for tea" said the Sage, pouring me a glass of wine. I prepared a dish of celery, carrots and cucumber, because I was vastly hungry, and went next door to read and reply to emails on Dilly's laptop.
Tomorrow, I'm going to meet my sister in London. The plan is to have a long and boozy lunch, go to an exhibition - there's something she wants to see at the National Portrait Gallery and then I'll catch the 4 o'clock train home again. Actually, we'll probably go to the exhibition before lunch, as we may not have time and be too pissed (in the English sense) afterwards.
I'm writing this on Ro's laptop. He has a plastic crate which held vegetables to put it on when it's on his lap to raise it to a comfortable level and not to get hot, but to fit it on my knees I'm having to lean right back in the chair. It's not uncomfortable, but it feels odd as I always sit bolt upright at the computer. In fact, I sit on a stool rather than a chair as I never lean back.
Ro is doing a website for Al - the boy is endlessly good-natured, as he does this all week for a living and we all want him to do things for us in his spare time. It'll be about vegetables, of course. And paper bags. He has perfected some splendid paper bags made out of newspaper, which he makes in odd moments when there aren't any customers in the shop. Ro does the Sage's website now, I don't think I've mentioned it - it's here. D'you like it?
Dave suggests I don't write for three weeks while he is away, so that he doesn't have to spend hours catching up on his return. He's so charming. Because, obviously, the implication is that if I do write, he'll read it all, however long it takes and however much I ramble.
Thursday, 24 April 2008
Z prepares to throw the Sage's money at all problems
So, it's the motherboard and it's more expensive to fix than it's worth. On the other hand, the stuff that I've never bothered to back up (yes I know) is still intact and Ro will be able to download it. So all I have to decide now is laptop or desktop, Mac or PC. First decision is made; the length of time I sit at the computer, I need to be as comfortable as possible. I can't really justify having both, so a desktop it will be. The second question, I haven't decided yet. I suspect I will end up staying with Macs, as it will require the least decision-making and very little adjustment to use, but I realise that this is quite possibly more sentiment than sense and that I could quite easily learn my way round a PC.
The car should be back soon, but then I'll sell it. I'll forgive something breaking down once, but not twice. It's larger than I need and expensive to run and I don't want it any more.
Last night was the AGM of our church. All 6 churches in our group hold their AGM at the same time; we have the first part of the meeting together and then divide into parishes. Our chairman (the Rector is the chairman, but can't go to every meeting of course so there is a lay vice-chair as well) had to attend another church's meeting, so asked me to chair, and then I had a phone call from the secretary saying that she thought she was coming down with flu, so I took minutes as well.
I'm afraid I did nearly all the talking. I was awfully bossy. Yes I know, darlings, you will find this almost impossible to believe, but it's true. From reading out the minutes of the last meeting (I explained that it was not worth printing out copies for everyone as they had already been approved) to taking nominations for the PCC, to reading out my Churchwarden's Annual Report, I took over. I was a little self-conscious, but it didn't stop me.
I was remarkably good and cycled to the meeting, having already been into town during the day, although it was quite some way. Coming home was rather more effort as it involved cycling up Bridge Street, which has a steepish little hill at the top; and it was nearly 10 o'clock at night by then. The battery in my front light was starting to get a bit dim, and as I hit the road out of town, I had half a mile without lights. Luckily, there are white lines in the middle of the road or I'd really have had to get out the batteries that I, being a sensible and provident woman, always carry in a pannier, and change them. I'll get a better light by next winter anyway; this one is bright, but such a narrow beam that cycling along a dark road involves more sense of direction than accurate knowledge of my whereabouts.
The village school, where I used to be governor for 18 years, has just received the highest possible evaluation in its Ofsted inspection. I'm so glad. It is a wonderful school and being part of it, and having done some quite useful things there, is something I'm proud of. There has been a great deal of staff illness in the last 3 years (all quite unrelated to each other) and, indeed, two staff members have died, but somehow they have all pulled together and not only coped but reassured the children and kept spirits,as well as standards, high.
Computers and cars are useful when they work (pah), but one has to keep things in perspective. None of it matters after all, it's all about people and relationships really.
Which reminds me, I had a most gratifying welcome from the Sage when I got home. Flowers, champagne, English asparagus, a steak which he cooked just as I like it, rare, although he doesn't. I was leaning against a cupboard in the kitchen munching a lettuce leaf when he approached. "Am I in the way?" I asked, before hastily swallowing my lettuce leaf as I realised that he was all set for a Clinch.
We went next door to say hello, and Dilly opened another bottle of champagne which they just happened to have in the fridge. What sensible people we all are.
The car should be back soon, but then I'll sell it. I'll forgive something breaking down once, but not twice. It's larger than I need and expensive to run and I don't want it any more.
Last night was the AGM of our church. All 6 churches in our group hold their AGM at the same time; we have the first part of the meeting together and then divide into parishes. Our chairman (the Rector is the chairman, but can't go to every meeting of course so there is a lay vice-chair as well) had to attend another church's meeting, so asked me to chair, and then I had a phone call from the secretary saying that she thought she was coming down with flu, so I took minutes as well.
I'm afraid I did nearly all the talking. I was awfully bossy. Yes I know, darlings, you will find this almost impossible to believe, but it's true. From reading out the minutes of the last meeting (I explained that it was not worth printing out copies for everyone as they had already been approved) to taking nominations for the PCC, to reading out my Churchwarden's Annual Report, I took over. I was a little self-conscious, but it didn't stop me.
I was remarkably good and cycled to the meeting, having already been into town during the day, although it was quite some way. Coming home was rather more effort as it involved cycling up Bridge Street, which has a steepish little hill at the top; and it was nearly 10 o'clock at night by then. The battery in my front light was starting to get a bit dim, and as I hit the road out of town, I had half a mile without lights. Luckily, there are white lines in the middle of the road or I'd really have had to get out the batteries that I, being a sensible and provident woman, always carry in a pannier, and change them. I'll get a better light by next winter anyway; this one is bright, but such a narrow beam that cycling along a dark road involves more sense of direction than accurate knowledge of my whereabouts.
The village school, where I used to be governor for 18 years, has just received the highest possible evaluation in its Ofsted inspection. I'm so glad. It is a wonderful school and being part of it, and having done some quite useful things there, is something I'm proud of. There has been a great deal of staff illness in the last 3 years (all quite unrelated to each other) and, indeed, two staff members have died, but somehow they have all pulled together and not only coped but reassured the children and kept spirits,as well as standards, high.
Computers and cars are useful when they work (pah), but one has to keep things in perspective. None of it matters after all, it's all about people and relationships really.
Which reminds me, I had a most gratifying welcome from the Sage when I got home. Flowers, champagne, English asparagus, a steak which he cooked just as I like it, rare, although he doesn't. I was leaning against a cupboard in the kitchen munching a lettuce leaf when he approached. "Am I in the way?" I asked, before hastily swallowing my lettuce leaf as I realised that he was all set for a Clinch.
We went next door to say hello, and Dilly opened another bottle of champagne which they just happened to have in the fridge. What sensible people we all are.
Wednesday, 23 April 2008
Z will tell you about Madrid soon
I spent most of the morning on Dilly's computer, then took care of Pugsley for a couple of hours. He woke from his nap, then fell asleep again on my lap, so I took the opportunity to doze for a while myself. Afterwards, he sorted out some coloured blocks and shapes. I was impressed by the correct naming of 'blue' and 'star', but he got a bit carried away and started naming all the rest orange, which wasn't quite so accurate. Then we talked about animals. He knows a lot of animals, although he thought a camel was a donkey. "Elephant" he said, and was right. "Trunk", he pointed out. I told him about the time I rode on an elephant and had to grab a rope and climb up its leg. Then I remembered the time I was being driven through Madras and saw a chap riding an elephant along the pavement. They stopped and looked in a shop window. "It was remarkable" I said. "Remarkable", he agreed. "Scary".
Ro is being patient, but he wants his computer back. Hasta manana.
Ro is being patient, but he wants his computer back. Hasta manana.
Tuesday, 22 April 2008
Z drops in
I'm home but still borrowing computers as mine has only gone to be fixed today. So all I have for you right now are a couple of quotes.
Heard in Islington: smartly dressed mother to small child - 'Do you need to do a wee-wee?' Small child - 'Nyeah'. 'You must tell me when you do, Douglas, rather than holding your willy like that.'
Said by Sue, in the Plaza Major, Madrid, after a very large gin and tonic:- 'It's not as posh as the Place de Vosges, but the Place de Vosges is not paved.' Her diction was perfect, and this is, now, the approved test for drunkenness.
Heard in Islington: smartly dressed mother to small child - 'Do you need to do a wee-wee?' Small child - 'Nyeah'. 'You must tell me when you do, Douglas, rather than holding your willy like that.'
Said by Sue, in the Plaza Major, Madrid, after a very large gin and tonic:- 'It's not as posh as the Place de Vosges, but the Place de Vosges is not paved.' Her diction was perfect, and this is, now, the approved test for drunkenness.
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
Z's off
The good news is that Ro has found a program that is downloading files from my hard drive onto his computer, so if the worst comes to the worst, at least I'll have all the stuff, like most of the photos and rather more other things than I care to admit to, that wasn't backed up, even if it's all relabelled and will take hours of sorting. This is a belt, braces and baler twine precaution in case we can't get it all back as it should be.
Ro is being immensely kind and has taken a lot of time and trouble which I really appreciate.
The lecturer today couldn't find where he was supposed to park because it's a little side road leading to a private car park, and his SatNav didn't recognise it. Although he had written instructions, he's not the first person I've found to rely so heavily on SatNav that they can't follow any other directions. We finally tracked him down and lurched heavily into the theatre at 11.05 for the 11 o'clock lecture. I nipped up on the stage, where Diane was entertaining the members, and explained and gave out the notices in so animated a manner that I managed to keep the lecturer waiting for a couple of minutes. He overran a bit and by the time of my vote of thanks I managed to lose the thread a bit and gave one of my less coherent utterances. I was exhausted by the end and I expect he was too.
However, I've packed, arranged to stay with friends tomorrow night, because I've got a day trip to London tomorrow (Tutenkhamun exhibition) and am off to Madrid on Thursday. I'll be home on Tuesday evening, all being well. I have a remarkably small case, well under British Airway's cabin luggage limit, and it isn't even full. Somehow, I just don't feel like having any unnecessary clutter.
By the way, if you're waiting for a third mechanical thing to go wrong (car and computer), it already has. My daughter's oven thermostat has gone wrong. In fact, her flat is falling apart (not literally, but there are several things) just nicely in time for her to have the bother of getting them put right before she moves out.
Have a good week, sorry I haven't visited you all lately.
xx
Ro is being immensely kind and has taken a lot of time and trouble which I really appreciate.
The lecturer today couldn't find where he was supposed to park because it's a little side road leading to a private car park, and his SatNav didn't recognise it. Although he had written instructions, he's not the first person I've found to rely so heavily on SatNav that they can't follow any other directions. We finally tracked him down and lurched heavily into the theatre at 11.05 for the 11 o'clock lecture. I nipped up on the stage, where Diane was entertaining the members, and explained and gave out the notices in so animated a manner that I managed to keep the lecturer waiting for a couple of minutes. He overran a bit and by the time of my vote of thanks I managed to lose the thread a bit and gave one of my less coherent utterances. I was exhausted by the end and I expect he was too.
However, I've packed, arranged to stay with friends tomorrow night, because I've got a day trip to London tomorrow (Tutenkhamun exhibition) and am off to Madrid on Thursday. I'll be home on Tuesday evening, all being well. I have a remarkably small case, well under British Airway's cabin luggage limit, and it isn't even full. Somehow, I just don't feel like having any unnecessary clutter.
By the way, if you're waiting for a third mechanical thing to go wrong (car and computer), it already has. My daughter's oven thermostat has gone wrong. In fact, her flat is falling apart (not literally, but there are several things) just nicely in time for her to have the bother of getting them put right before she moves out.
Have a good week, sorry I haven't visited you all lately.
xx
Monday, 14 April 2008
Happy Birthday Wink!
What I didn't mention is that my car is out of action as well as the computer. It's all a bit bothersome. There is, as ever, a good side to this, as I'm going on holiday, so I'll have to leave the Sage to sort out the car and Ro the computer; that is, I won't have to.
But enough of that - it's only machines and it'll be put right one way or another, although probably rather expensively. The important thing is my sister's birthday. Yes, my lovely sister Wink is 60 today - she won't mind me saying so as she has had major birthday parties and everyone already knows.
I was really sorry not to be with her this last weekend, though in one way it's just as well, as undoubtedly my car would have broken down on the way. I missed an excellent party though.
But enough of that - it's only machines and it'll be put right one way or another, although probably rather expensively. The important thing is my sister's birthday. Yes, my lovely sister Wink is 60 today - she won't mind me saying so as she has had major birthday parties and everyone already knows.
I was really sorry not to be with her this last weekend, though in one way it's just as well, as undoubtedly my car would have broken down on the way. I missed an excellent party though.
Sunday, 13 April 2008
Z is quiet
A bit of a problem on the computer front, which is rather a bugger as I still have a couple of pieces of work unfinished which I can't get at. May be back in a day or two, may not. I'm borrowing Ro's laptop at the moment.
Friday, 11 April 2008
Z goes to a Quiz!!(!)
Little did I know, as a dedicated Hanna Barbera cartoon watcher in the early 60s, that knowing that Mr 'I hate meeces to pieces' Jinks was the cat that chased Pixie and Dixie comes in useful in quizzes.
I didn't know I remembered the name of the computer in Red Dwarf.
It was surprising how many people didn't know, in a Food and Drink round, what deglazing is.
It was even more surprising that we won - with two rounds to go, we were a quarter of a point in the lead. It was BBC TV comedy and Trivia that let us romp home.
We have a wooden plaque! With little shields, on one of which will be etched our name (that is, the name of our parish)!! Not only that, and rather embarrassingly, we won £10!!(!) - which we decided to put in the church plate on Sunday.
I didn't know I remembered the name of the computer in Red Dwarf.
It was surprising how many people didn't know, in a Food and Drink round, what deglazing is.
It was even more surprising that we won - with two rounds to go, we were a quarter of a point in the lead. It was BBC TV comedy and Trivia that let us romp home.
We have a wooden plaque! With little shields, on one of which will be etched our name (that is, the name of our parish)!! Not only that, and rather embarrassingly, we won £10!!(!) - which we decided to put in the church plate on Sunday.
Z's face can be Read Like A Book
I went to lunch today for a friend's birthday lunch - she was 87 last week. There were 18 of us, mostly old friends - there was only one couple I hadn't met before - and we all enjoyed ourselves very much.
It was a lovely spring day and I trotted along Castle Meadow with an anxious frown on my face as I worked out what to say in the awkward phone call I've got to make within the next few days - can't do it at the weekend, it'll have to wait until Monday. Someone accosted me - not like that, it turned out to be a chum and we had a brief chat while I reassured him that I wasn't actually sunken in gloom, but that I always look like that when I'm thinking.
Towards the end of lunch, there was a torrential downpour of sleet and we were all, in our light clothes, rather dismayed. It had stopped when we left, but rained as I walked back to the car. I couldn't run as I can't run, and besides I was wearing new shoes for the first time (not the first time I'd ever worn new shoes, just those ones except for trying them on in the shop)* and I was carrying a flower arrangement as well, so I simply got wet. I won the flowers - a helpful friend of the Birthday Girl had done table decorations and BG put names in a metaphorical, or should that be virtual, hat and mine was one of the names drawn out.
I was wearing, by the way, a cast-off skirt that my mother gave me about ten years ago - I still wear some of her redundant clothes - but that I never wore as it was not quite 'me' at the time, and then I grew out of it anyway. Now I've grown back into it both in size (though in a reduced sense) and age, so I hauled it out of the wardrobe and put it on. Charity shops don't do too well out of me as my clothes rarely get too worn out for me to carry on using them and if they don't fit now, well, sooner or later...
Earlier, I bobbed into the Co-op to spend £40 and thus gain a 4p-off-per-litre** token for petrol. A man was collecting for charity - properly licensed, badge and all - and I said I'd give him some money when I came out as I only had £20 notes. When I returned, I fumbled in my purse, emptied out the change and put it in the tin. "You look like you'd be fun to have around!" he said unwisely. I probably looked startled. "I mean, you looked cheerful and friendly, I noticed when you came in,' he dug harder. He only meant to be friendly, it wasn't a chat-up line - but a bit naive to say it quite in that way.
Another £60 on petrol, four weeks after the last time. Hmm.
*It has come to my notice that I often don't make myself clear; I'm attempting to rectify this.
** 'cough, cough'
It was a lovely spring day and I trotted along Castle Meadow with an anxious frown on my face as I worked out what to say in the awkward phone call I've got to make within the next few days - can't do it at the weekend, it'll have to wait until Monday. Someone accosted me - not like that, it turned out to be a chum and we had a brief chat while I reassured him that I wasn't actually sunken in gloom, but that I always look like that when I'm thinking.
Towards the end of lunch, there was a torrential downpour of sleet and we were all, in our light clothes, rather dismayed. It had stopped when we left, but rained as I walked back to the car. I couldn't run as I can't run, and besides I was wearing new shoes for the first time (not the first time I'd ever worn new shoes, just those ones except for trying them on in the shop)* and I was carrying a flower arrangement as well, so I simply got wet. I won the flowers - a helpful friend of the Birthday Girl had done table decorations and BG put names in a metaphorical, or should that be virtual, hat and mine was one of the names drawn out.
I was wearing, by the way, a cast-off skirt that my mother gave me about ten years ago - I still wear some of her redundant clothes - but that I never wore as it was not quite 'me' at the time, and then I grew out of it anyway. Now I've grown back into it both in size (though in a reduced sense) and age, so I hauled it out of the wardrobe and put it on. Charity shops don't do too well out of me as my clothes rarely get too worn out for me to carry on using them and if they don't fit now, well, sooner or later...
Earlier, I bobbed into the Co-op to spend £40 and thus gain a 4p-off-per-litre** token for petrol. A man was collecting for charity - properly licensed, badge and all - and I said I'd give him some money when I came out as I only had £20 notes. When I returned, I fumbled in my purse, emptied out the change and put it in the tin. "You look like you'd be fun to have around!" he said unwisely. I probably looked startled. "I mean, you looked cheerful and friendly, I noticed when you came in,' he dug harder. He only meant to be friendly, it wasn't a chat-up line - but a bit naive to say it quite in that way.
Another £60 on petrol, four weeks after the last time. Hmm.
*It has come to my notice that I often don't make myself clear; I'm attempting to rectify this.
** 'cough, cough'
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