Mishap, missing pins and missing fuel

I had a mishap this week which has resulted in extensive purpleness and pain to my arm.  To set the scene I was at a local park with five older children and a two year old.  The little one saw the others playing on the zip wire and wanted to have a turn too.  As he is small and obviously too young to sit on the seat on his own, I agreed he could go on with me................we sat on the seat, held on tightly and whizzed off to the other end of the runway............all was going well until the return journey when we started to overbalance.  Going through my mind was the thought that I needed to keep the aforementioned little chap safe and the only way to prevent us falling off was to wind my arm around the vertical holding-on chain and grip tightly.  This worked, hurrah, we stayed on board......however this was at the expense of my left inner forearm which immediately turned purple, puffed up and my hand went into spasm.  Several days down the line and I am starting to look like Barney the Dinosaur and my arm still hurts.  At least the small chap was unscathed.........I will be giving the zip wire a wide berth from now on.  I didn’t enjoy the experience when I tried the zippy last year and this week has just confirmed my opinion!

The saga of the falling down conservatory continues.  Eventually the workers arrived on day three instead of day one of the digging out and commenced works.  To be fair they have made good progress and the foundation depth is now acceptable, however once the area had been cleared it became evident that the original structure had never been pinned to the house in any shape or form.  No wonder then with the combination of the lack of foundations and lack of pins that the whole thing didn’t come crashing down amongst us.  It is rather like a treasure hunt seeing what is underneath the ground now there is a huge hole.  I seem to have discovered a landfill site judging by the amount of plastic, general rubbish and brick bits that had been buried.  There was even a note saying “Good luck to the troops, love from Florence Nightingale” secreted in the mud.  Actually I am lying about this, but just about every other imaginable object can be found.  The concrete should be going in soon and once it has set the rebuilding works can carry on.

The glorious weather of late has been very welcome and I have got used to having the air conditioning on full blast in the car, wearing fewer layers than usual and enjoying the beautiful sunsets.  Today though this has come to a halt, the temperature has dropped by about 10 degrees and rain is forecast for the weekend.  There is even talk of possible snow over Easter..........no thank you, all I want is chocolate eggs, certainly not anything that requires me to get my winter weather gear out again.

In the UK we love to all jump on the bandwagon like a load of lemmings and this week has been no exception.  Apparently there might at some point in the next year or two be a fuel strike and this has resulted in everyone panic buying petrol and diesel.  The local garages are either running low of the stuff or have run out altogether; people are becoming abusive to the filling station staff and in some areas fisticuffs between motorists have broken out on the forecourt.  Well done government ministers for telling us to fill up our vehicles and not let the levels drop below three quarters of a tank.  The queues formed in turn create tailbacks right along the main roads, and everyone has had enough already.................God forbid what will happen if there ever actually is a strike.  Perhaps I should stock up on some basic provisions now so I can peddle my wares to the folks in the queues. Of course hot pasties are out of the question due to the new fat tax on them. 

Once more the Great in Great Britain is missing and has been replaced by nonsense and plain stupidity.  Don’t even get me started on the official Olympic kit with the blue Union flag.......

Windows, skips and excuses

The day of the conservatory dismantling arrived...............the electrician turned up and disconnected the cables followed by the chaps turning up to remove the panels.  All good so far...............however, as they were in the middle of their works the telephone rang.  It was the offending company wanting to know if my parents would like a conservatory or any other glass for their house.  Great reference to their database and current state of play prior to dialling the number.  Yet another case of you couldn’t make it up.

On inspecting the brickwork once the glass was removed, more evidence of poor workmanship jumped up and shouted hello.  The external layer of bricks (apart from the cracking) was fine but the rest was a collection of flaky and cracked bits of brick with bits of insulation wool here and there.  The original building works might just as well have been constructed of sawdust and glitter glue for the amount of proper support offered.

....................And so the saga continued....................on the day the knocking down of bricks and digging up old concrete was due to commence, my parents were up and about really early to allow for the new hip to get going, and ready for what they presumed was going to be an 8 o’clock kick off.  They waited..............and waited.............and eventually I received an email from the company asking for my Dad to contact them urgently.  Hmmmm, okay then..............the upshot of this call was to advise him that the skip had been delayed and would most likely not be there until early afternoon.  Can someone explain to me in simple English why a skip company from over two hours drive away is being used instead of a local firm?  Having worked for many years in the construction and repair industry I cannot imagine why they have chosen this course of action.  Is it any wonder that their general workmanship leaves a lot to be desired?  Better still, the builders are also travelling everyday from three counties away so by the time they arrive they will want elevenses and I daresay they will knock off early to beat the motorway traffic.

Later in the day the decision was made for the workers to turn up the following day and make a start whilst waiting for the skip.  Great bit of project management going on there then and a totally wasted day for my folks.  I can hardly wait to see how the rest of the job pans out.

This reminds me of two chaps who used to work for the same company as me several years ago.  They were not keen on putting a full weeks work in and would use various ruses to skive off.  They hailed from Liverpool and were away from work so often that a departmental phrase was coined in relation to anyone from anywhere who was off ill – they were deemed to be ‘On The Scouse’.  At this point I must say I do know many Liverpudlians who are hard workers and should not be lumped into the aforementioned category.  The general excuses for absence, such as telephoning on a Monday morning claiming to be suffering from ‘the flu’ after sneezing twice and announcing they would be off all week was normal..............even better they shared a works van so if one was off the other would also stay at home despite being able to drive.  A common excuse for not carrying out external painting works in the sunlight was that the glare would give them a headache...........you understand the sort of nonsense we were up against.  The crowning moment came when one of them telephoned a colleague to announce they were having to leave work early to travel home (and would not be back that week) as..............wait for it...........one of the lazy-good-for-very-little workmen (I use this word very loosely) had broken his flask.  Hello.................why didn’t he just go and buy a replacement part?  The sad thing about all this was they got away with it every time – I guess after so many years in the company they very likely had some incriminating photographs of the bosses (allegedly and without prejudice).

Hips, purpleness and tea

Well then, my Mum is now the proud owner of a new hip!  Having arrived at the hotel (sorry, cute little hospital) rather hungry having not eaten since the previous evening, she was given the news that she was now at the end of the operating list for the day and not near the start (having said that there were only four people on the list).  She settled down with her new book and had ploughed through most of it before surgery.  Now I know she looks younger than her 80 years but they appeared to have got her confused with someone of childbearing years as she was given an epidural for the cut and shut – a new experience for someone with many previous surgical outings.  Two hours after the surgery was completed she was eating toast and chatting, no drowsiness, no pain or other adverse reactions.  The hospital was packed out.............only two patients over the whole weekend on her wing.

As you regular readers will recall, I have had previous experience of the French surgeon involved and was a little concerned at his command (or lack of) English.  He drew on her leg to ensure he had the correct one and wrote zeees one for zeeee chop just for good measure.  Actually I am making that bit up.  Just as well he wasn’t Italian or there would have been concerns about a lightning strike being called midway through surgery.  His follow up visits over the weekend and on leaving day were interesting................he wandered in (and was mistaken for the janitor), asked if Mum was feeling okay, shook her hand and left.  No examination of the repair whatsoever! 

On the plus side, the day after her operation Mum was pottering around with a zimmer frame, by the second day she had progressed to using two sticks and on day three we brought her home.  She has ended up with mega bruising on the leg and in fact does resemble a bottle of Ribena, but is doing her exercises regularly and hopes to walk a little further each day.  Just as well really as I have entered her for the marathon.  I visited her after her first night at home and was met by the sight of a bruise on one of her knuckles.  No, she hadn’t fallen over..............she is currently sleeping in a different room to my Dad as the bed is lower and firmer and she needed to attract his attention in the night as she couldn’t reach the light switch.  After half an hour of knocking on the bedside cabinet and shouting his name he turned over and heard her.  He had been sleeping with his deaf ear uppermost............... life is never dull.

Next on the list is the dismantling and rebuilding of the conservatory...........everything happens at once here.  It should be an entertaining couple of weeks with my Dad asking lots of questions, staring into the hole and passing on his views of everything from politics to the number of people entering the UK to work.  Let us hope the builders are not from Eastern Europe, although I can teach him some Slovenian for ease of communication.  Actually the only word I know is kompir which means potato, but this could be useful if he wishes to offer them a snack for lunch.  Mum has stocked the larder full of biscuits for the workers (I am banking on them all being wheat intolerant so I can steal the packets for my own cupboards) and is already (five days on from surgery) pottering around the house with one stick, so she should be able to make some cups of tea for the chaps.  I have once again offered my services in this area but not surprisingly have been met with a very loud “NO” from anyone who has ever tried my hot beverages.  In my experience, so long as the drink is wet and warm then the builders won’t mind (although the large brownish puddle by the flower beds left last time I had building works done might explain how they apparently drank their tea so quickly.........).   

Colds, birds and Sheldon

I have been in the grip of a cold virus thing doing the rounds in town.  It has not been pleasant but at least shares in Kleenex have remained at a high price.  The elusive Elgin marbles have surfaced in my neck and I am in the process of selling visitor tickets for a viewing.  I had the brilliant idea of taking paracetemol during the middle of the night to try and sweat out the infection.  This worked up to a point, however waking up boiling hot and drenched in sweat was okay.................until I pushed the duvet back and realised I was in fact cold.  Hopefully I am over the worst of it now and will soon be back to my usual self.  Cold virus, you have outstayed your visa, please leave on the next tissue out of here.

I was advised by somebody in the know that the cold virus is being treated by some medical centres as a variant of swine flu.  Fortunately the flu jab I had in the autumn protects against swine flu so I should be fine.  I am however a little concerned at the sudden appearance of a curly tail.

The past weekend saw early birthday celebrations for my brother at my parents’ house, with lunch, cake, candles and photographic opportunities.  As the forthcoming hip replacement surgery happens this week Mum will be out of action in the kitchen department for a while hence the early birthday.  Plans have been made for the days when Mum is holed up in her private room..........she is rather precious about her kitchen sink and will not let Dad wash the pots in it (he refuses to use the dishwasher) so my water saving bowl is to be taken up the road for the duration.  The cupboards have been stocked with enough tins of soup to support a Salvation Army homeless feeding station so at least Dad won’t starve.  He has plans of his own to eat breakfast at a local cafe (I am presuming he means one on the high street and not my kitchen) then supplement his diet at the hospital.  Hopefully the hospital stay will only be around three or four days so Mum will be back in time to watch the conservatory be taken down and rebuilt properly.

Next weekend sees a busy time for sporting coverage with the final games from the rugby Six Nations tournament plus the start of the Formula 1 season.  Fortunately there is a television in the hospital room so as long as Mum budges along a bit we can all squash on the bed and watch the action.  I am planning on her ordering extra helpings of food (apparently the chef calls to the bedside to ascertain what each patient wants) to save the bother of cooking once I get back from visiting.  It is either that or help Dad plough through the dozens of soup choices. 

Spring is definitely here now as I have been watching a blackbird busily building a nest in one of my shrubs.  There are plenty of nesting materials around the garden and the poor thing looks worn out from the hopping around collecting bits then sticking them together.  I really want to have a peek but will resist for fear of scaring it away.  Ironically the site chosen is where the purpose built blackbird nesting box (never inhabited) used to be until it fell off the mountings last year.  I always get robins nesting too so all I need now is to get the BBC to set up a film crew out the back for their Springwatch programme and I will be happy!  The frogs have been out hopping their way to the local pond for spawning and I expect to see some hedgehog evidence soon too.

Dream of the week..............another bizarre offering which saw me out shopping with the cast of The Big Bang Theory.........hmmmmm, now I know I watch two episodes a day and can identify with Sheldon the quirky main character, but I am none  the wiser as to what the meaning is of them showing up in my nightly adventures.  Answers on a postcard please.