Dodgy fashion, bargains and plums

I have spent the past few days sorting out old photographs and boy oh boy have I found some shockers.  The 1980’s certainly had a lot to answer for where fashion (or a distinct lack of) was concerned.  High waisted jeans, flowery shirts, huge sunglasses, chunky bangles................exactly what is currently available in today’s High Street.  Dear God, please spare us the shame of looking like we did back then.  My photographic sorting project commenced about three years ago over the Christmas break, but the volume of albums and boxes to go through coupled with the lack of free time I seem to have has made this into a rather lengthy exercise.  Hopefully by the time I retire it will all be sorted, categorised and scanned for posterity.

My Mum’s new hip is a bit nearer as she has an appointment with the consultant in a couple of weeks to arrange a date for her holiday in hospital.  Those of you who know her will be familiar with her hobby of hospital stays (I believe the RVI in Newcastle has a blue plaque on the entrance wall with her name on it), but this time it is a private hospital that carries out the overspill of NHS cases to get the waiting lists down.  Whilst I am pleased she will soon be sorted and out running marathons again (ha ha ha ha............as if...........) I will feel somewhat redundant when we are out as she will no longer need me to help her along the street with a firm grip of her arm and loudly announcing “Come along dear, we need to get you back to the home for teatime”.  Apparently this is totally unappreciated and I did again yesterday fall foul of her handbag when I was struck upon my back with it.

A weekend shopping trip to a large retail warehouse resulted in my Dad vanishing into the local supermarket the following day with his till receipt to compare the prices.  This is not a new activity for him, oh no!  Three times a week he can be found in a neighbouring town doing exactly the same exercise (particularly on commodities such as batteries and tins of soup) and is often to be heard directing shoppers elsewhere to get a bargain.  So far he has not been ejected and banned from any of the shops but I guess it is only a matter of time.

In the ten minutes I have been sitting here typing, no less than three charity bags have dropped through the door.  Looks like I don’t need to buy bin bags this week then, what a good saving.

Almost into a new month and already I am yelling at the ignoramuses on various radio stations who will insist on calling the month “Febree” or “Feburee”.  We are in England and the correct pronunciation is Feb-ru-ary.  Have you got it?  Thank you.

Last week I received the sad news that the Chairman of a company I worked at for 15 years has passed away.  Out of all the ‘big bosses’ I have come across he was by far the most down to earth and normal chap, he led the company to huge success both within the UK and in overseas ventures.  Unfortunately, once he left the whole organisation fell into decline and administrators were appointed.  His funeral service details are yet to be confirmed as the vicar is abroad (whether carrying out missionary work or sunning himself on the beach I am not sure), but I expect it will be a good turn out and give the chance to catch up with people again.  One lasting incident surrounding the big man occurred many years ago.  He always had a bowl of fruit in his office which his PA needed to rinse before he ate it.  I met this lady in the loos one morning as she was busy at the sink.  As she saw me, she carried on dangling her cigarette end over the fruit and announced “I’m washing Derek’s plums..............!”  Still makes me giggle out loud today.  Rest in peace Mr H, if only more bosses of industry had your vision the country would not be in the state it is today.

Foundations, biscuits and public disorder

My productivity drive from last week has gone into overdrive and I have managed to clear a stack of paperwork, do a bit of research into weekends away (to make the most of the National Trust membership) and put a bit of forward planning in motion to repaint the walls around the house during a forthcoming free week.  Go me!!! 

The ongoing fiasco surrounding my parents’ conservatory carries on.  Over last weekend the offending company sent a couple of chaps out to dig an exploratory hole.  Despite the day being close to zero and the garden sparkling with frosticles, they soon discovered the source of the falling down structure.................the foundations are thirteen inches instead of thirty six inches deep.  Ah yes, that will be it then.  Upshot is the whole thing will have to be dismantled, the brickwork knocked down and deeper foundations made before the rebuilding takes place.  I expect they will uncover all sorts once the digging out gets underway.......I am half expecting Lord Lucan to pop up and ask for a cuppa and a digestive biscuit.  Talking of biscuits, I was astonished to hear the reason one of my favourite biscuits is no longer available.  Gypsy Creams are, apparently, offensive to the travelling community.  Another example of you couldn’t make it up.

What other foodstuffs could be considered insulting or just plain misleading?  Garibaldi biscuits might cause descendents of the Italian military figure to rise up in protest.  Bourbon biscuits could be accused of being fake as they do not contain any Bourbon whiskey.  Buy half a dozen duck eggs in the supermarket......do you get some cute little floppy footed swimmers?  No you don’t.  The list is endless.

What is the idea behind the so-called fashion favoured by young men for wearing their trousers halfway down with their pants showing?  How can it be comfortable to parade around in this way?  I struggle with my jeans which won’t stay up but they drop nowhere near the level of these teens’ trousers.  I have no desire whatsoever to see your undergarments thank you very much, so please purchase a belt, pull your trousers up and get buckling.

Interesting fly on the wall programme being screened weekly which shows typical days in the lives of police officers around the country.  This week’s episode featured a ‘Broken Britain’ family where someone had called 999 as there was a fight at her daughter’s party.  On arrival the officers were greeted with various chavs of varying ages spilling out onto the street, blood flying from fisticuffs, foul mouthed abuse being hurled at the police (in fact I had to Google some of the words as they were new to me), drunken revellers of all ages from granny down to the birthday girl.  Sadly this is typical of some families nowadays where the ‘shirk not work’ ethic is passed down from generation to generation; they know no better and have no motivation or role model to change this.  My favourite comment of the night was from the mother of the birthday girl.........when asked by the interviewer what she would do differently next time her reply was “Have a good party for my daughter, no alcohol until after 9 or 10 p.m.”..................her daughter was 14.......... That says it all really.

Crocuses, cuddlies and crocs

So far today I have had a wonderfully productive time – cheaper car insurance sorted out, tax bill paid ahead of the due date, MOT booked for next week, laundry done and just to round it all off there are crocuses blooming in my front and rear gardens.

It couldn’t last though..............the Post Office has come up trumps again..........although my Christmas mail mostly arrived on time (still no sign of the missing stuff from 2010), today I have received (wait for it) a Post Office credit card for an account I closed three years ago!!  Unbelievably they cannot deliver what is needed but can create something not wanted and certainly not asked for.  Needless to say I contacted the customer (lack of service) department and told them of their error and then let them listen to the plastic going through the shredder.  Job done!

Back to Zumba class this evening with a new daytime session on Friday.  I daresay tomorrow my muscles will feel the effect of any exertions but I have missed going over the Christmas closedown – that is not something I usually say about any form of exercise so it must be doing me good.  I keep trying to persuade my Mum to join in under the pretence that it will do her dodgy hip some good.  Somehow though she is unconvinced and is giving it a wide berth.  I do my best to assist her when we are out by holding her arm (a little firmly I have to admit – the odd bruise never did anyone any harm) to prevent her from falling over.  My efforts are unappreciated though and I have fallen foul of being whacked by her handbag more than once.

With the mild weather spell currently in the UK I feel compelled to sort out my garden in time for the spring planting of vegetable seeds and suchlike.  I have made a start by dead heading the winter pansies in the hope they will soon flower again, but there is a long way to go.  There is little point in digging the soil over yet or sowing any seeds as with my luck there will be a mega frost followed by two metres of snow and everything will be rendered useless.  I do hope my vegetables won’t fall foul of the white butterflies this year; surely they had their fill of my leaves last summer?  They can’t possibly need anything else to eat can they?  Perhaps a length of sticky fly trap paper in a grid formation around the plot might be a solution?  I will have to work out a cunning plan.

Sometime this year I plan to visit Edinburgh zoo and take a peek at the two pandas that have recently arrived from China.  On looking up the opening times online I was amazed to discover that in order to view the bamboo loving cuddlies there is a necessity to pre-purchase timed entry tickets.  They are currently not taking any bookings beyond the end of this month.  What on earth is all that about then?  Another example of total bonkersness (I like that word, must use it more often – certainly have the opportunity to) displayed within the UK.  The last time I saw pandas was in Austria one month after a baby had been born......no timed queuing there, oh no.  The area was open to visitors as normal with a video link from the birthing den to the outside so we punters could see what was going on.  Why do we have to make things so difficult in this country?  What next?  Timed entry tickets to see the stars at night?  Sorry sir, you cannot look out of your window until 9pm and it is only 8:50pm.

There was an item on the news over the weekend showing some crazy fool of a tourist doing a bungee jump over the crocodile full Zambezi River and falling from a height into the water after the string broke.  Utter madness to even contemplate jumping off a bridge whether tethered securely or not (as in this case).  By some lucky chance she managed to survive to tell the tale and despite being covered in bruises, appears to be none the worse for the experience.  Somehow I guess she will be able to dine out for quite some time on the back of this story, although I am presuming crocodile steak will not be on the menu.

Wind, drunk people and the collapse of society

Another day of extreme weather conditions in the UK and once again chaos ensued.  Admittedly the wind was gusting continually for around five hours which in turn brought trees down, roofs were peeled away from buildings and at least one person was killed by falling debris, but as a nation we never seem to be able to cope with any type of weather condition whatsoever.   I have never seen rain like it though...........it was horizontal and as it hit my garage doors it doubled back on itself and looked like a large wave at the seaside.  I swear I spotted Toto from the Wizard of Oz hurtling past in his basket.  Despite all the drama outdoors, my friends celebrated the safe arrival of their son so something good did come out of the day after all.

On my return home on new year’s eve I had to pass along a high street with around six pubs, all of which were kicking out for the night.  The total ignorance by some of the revellers of the prospect of motor vehicles being near them was incredible.  One scantily clad, rather the worse for wear female sauntered across in front of me without a thought for anything other than joining her drinking buddies on the other side of the street.  Had I not been driving very slowly and keeping my wits about me she would have become a bonnet mascot (albeit sitting at a very jaunty angle as she was struggling to remain upright).  I fail to understand the attraction of spending oodles of money getting bladdered, run the risk of getting killed then spend the night in the bathroom (or slumped in a doorway) feeling rather the worse for wear.  Bonkers if you ask me............okay, I am teetotal and have no objection to people enjoying a social drink, but why do some people have to take it to the extreme?  In any case how do they afford to do it night after night?

Four days into the new year and I have already lost count of the number of murders in the UK reported by the media.  What has happened to our once great nation that makes it acceptable to kill a person instead of resolving issues?  The once bustling and safe cities now have no go areas; young and old people are afraid to venture outside; violence is a way of life passed down from generation to generation; thieving is an acceptable way to feed and clothe families and anyone who dares to confront the undesirables is either battered or laughed at.  Why do people from all walks of the community feel a need to carry knives in the same way the rest of us pick up our car keys and mobile ‘phones before we walk out of the door?  I find it disturbing to hear primary school children make a joke about carrying a knife when they get to secondary school as apparently it is ‘cool and everyone else will be doing it’............for goodness sake, what sort of society is being created?  So many parents say their child is unaffected by the various games they play on their wide range of consoles, but I beg to differ.  In these games the characters can be ‘killed’ but often reappear later in the game thereby giving children a warped sense of reality and they presume if someone is killed in real life they will soon be up and running around again.  Would you let your 7 year old watch adult movies? No...........well why buy them a 15 or 18 years rated game?  Something needs to be done fast in this country to reverse the current downward spiral we are on.  Let us all do our bit to put the GREAT back into Great Britain.........it is long overdue.

Either that, or will the last person to leave please turn the light off?

A new year, over-eating and Skype

Well then, here we are in 2012, year of the London Olympics and Paralympics, Chinese Year of the Dragon and very probably the year when the UK economy reaches the same state as that of the Greek folk.

Christmas in my world was eventful for various reasons.  On the plus side there was no snow to trudge through in order to visit people, Santa delivered some lovely gifts (and was very tidy as he crept around the place, no footprints on the carpet or reindeer droppings anywhere) and my parents conservatory didn’t fall down.  Just as well really as in a week or two the whole lot has to be rebuilt due to shoddy workmanship four years ago prior to them buying the house. 

Christmas morning went well, the dinner table was groaning under the weight of enough food to feed an advancing army of emaciated foot soldiers and the table presents caused much amusement (a walking monkey clashing a set of cymbals and a shark eating a swimmer).  We sat down as a family in the evening and played Pictionary..............this always causes hours of laughter, bizarre sketching and even stranger guesswork and this time was no exception. 

From then on the week went rather downhill.  First of all my Mum took ill having eaten too much too fast at lunchtime and was poorly for the next few days.  My Dad spent two days looking after her and on the Tuesday decided it would be a good idea to snack on some sausages which had been sitting on the kitchen worktop since Christmas lunch...............not his best ever idea as he was then laid up for several days.  The doctor paid a house call, prescribed anti-dizzy-head pills and fresh sausages and fortunately they appear to be on the mend.

Onward to new year’s eve and the spectacular fireworks display in central London.  This year the Big Ben tower had explosives shooting out from the clock area forming spectacular sparkling clusters of bright lights.  When Guy Fawkes and his chums tried to do the same thing back in the day, they were arrested and given a thousand lines.  Just shows how times have changed.

Following the festivities I finally got organised using Skype to chat to my friend and her family in southern China.  Mari has been living in the Far East for ten years now and although we email and chat on the ‘phone we have never got around to Skyping...............until now!  What an amazing tool the internet is and we are determined to do this regularly.

My Christmas decorations are down and put away for another year well ahead of twelfth night.  Much as I love to have a tree indoors and cards decorating the doors and frames of my hallway, it is a good feeling to get back to some semblance of normality again and be able to vacuum without brushing against the tree then emerging covered in needles looking like an eco-friendly hedgehog.

Apparently one in four British people is obese..........only one in four?  Looking around a local town I would put the numbers higher than that.  However, with the amount of chocolates, biscuits and other sweet stuff I was given for Christmas it will be nothing short of a miracle if I don’t join their ranks.  Two Zumba classes a week for me now...............one on a Friday morning which allows me to eat chocolate over the weekend and one on a Monday evening to burn it off again.  I think this is an acceptable arrangement but only time will tell.

Happy new year to you all.................I hope 2012 brings all you wish for (although the wish for the winning lottery numbers has already been reserved by me, sorry).