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.

Fumes, apples and phones

Now then, I like a bargain wherever possible, particularly in this economic climate so was rather excited to hear of a local clearance sale.  A toiletries factory advertised such an event for the past weekend and promised bargains galore.  Excellent, so off my Mum and I went to do our gift shopping for the next five years.

Hmmmm, okay then, we arrived at the entrance to the car park only to be redirected to the street for parking as room was needed for the ambulance in attendance.  Good start then, so we parked up and I helped the lame lady manoeuvre her dodgy hip across the street and dodged a few cars for good measure.  We joined the end of the queue and expected to soon be through the doors to fill a bag or two with goodies.  This was where our positive expectations ended.  After around twenty minutes some helpful chap arrived with a tray of chocolate biscuits (wrapped ones fortunately to avoid the possibility of catching smallpox from folk breathing on or handling them) and I helped myself to one.  The queue was getting longer by the minute but the people who had been at the front of the line when we arrived were still there as only a certain number were being admitted at a time.  Two people emerged laden down with purchases and chatted to the waiting masses, jovially informing us that the prices were really cheap but there was a long wait to pay. The third person to emerge was on a stretcher having collapsed inside the sale room (at a guess I would say the fumes from the products had got to her as they were along the lines of a chemical warfare attack).  At this point we gave up our places and returned home without any bargains whatsoever.  On a positive note I did comment we had actually saved loads of money by not spending any.  The casualty from the day was smiling as she left and had a good colour so I guess all was well.

My constant bugbear regarding the price of a bag of Granny Smiths has been brought to the surface again this week.  I used to shop at a main supermarket chain for my weekly groceries but when their prices started to change week on week (upwards of course) I changed to another chain and up until now most things have been price matched or cheaper.  However, this week I wandered in to buy a bag of apples to discover they have risen by 32p a bag to £1.92................it is bad enough when prices increase by a penny or two but this was just ridiculous.

I am now off to a budget chain in the next town where the same amount of Granny Smiths in a bag is 99p – if they can do it then there is no reason why the big chains cannot.  An apple is an apple – they all come from the same source and there is no valid reason why prices should vary so much.  Mr Boss-in-charge-of-Supermarkets please note there is an uprising in this town against your prices with more and more people choosing to shop at the budget chains.  At this rate you will no longer have a need to stay open later hours as there will be no customers coming through the doors.  I suggest you bear this in mind when putting your little yellow or white price tags on the shelves.

My mobile phone provider has shown a new level of incompetence.  As most people are aware, there is the opportunity to upgrade a handset before the end of the contract.  I was advised prior to Christmas that I could do this and spent a few days researching which all singing and all dancing model I would opt for.  Okay, so I went online only to find that the date had now changed to January.........oh well, only a couple of weeks, no problem.  January comes around, I go online and.............9^th March is the earliest.  Today I decided to get ahead of the game for next week and, yes, you have guessed it, the date has changed yet again to 18^th April.  I contacted them via a complex and drawn out system of push this and that button, spin on your head three times, perform a Scottish Reel................and eventually I got to speak to someone who advised me that upgrade dates are automatically advised even when a customer doesn’t qualify for that date.  Roll on mid April to see if it actually happens this time.  You couldn’t make it up.

Car keys, foundations and a bird

Having my parents living just up the road instead of 60-odd miles away as they used to do comes in handy on many occasions such as feeding the cat when I am away or doing bits of shopping for me when they are out and about.

This week I set my Dad a new challenge............I had been to Tesco with one of the littlies, loaded the shopping into the boot, strapped the little chap into his car seat, shut the door then went to open the driver’s door.  Ah, right, ok then..............keys are inside the car on the seat (having slung them there to free up a hand for seat harness operation) and the doors have self locked.  Normally my folks would have been out in another town doing their shopping but fortunately today they had stayed local.  I called their house phone and by some miracle my Dad answered (he normally sits in the same room as the phone and announces “phone” when it rings so my Mum and her dodgy hip can shuffle forth and take the call)...... “I need you to go and get my spare car key please and bring it to Tesco as I am locked out and the little chap is in the car” I announced, following this up with the location of my spare key.  I was a little concerned that he might not find the key and he has absolutely no idea of my mobile number for further instructions (however he carries his own house phone number in his top pocket as even after five years he has still not remembered it!).........never mind, he managed to find it and I spotted him coming into the car park.  I started to wave frantically (rather like the man in the 1970’s coastguard adverts when the people on the beach thought he was waving a greeting rather than indicating he was about to drown) and after a visit into the store Dad reappeared and spotted me.  All sorted out and the little chap decided to sleep through the whole event!  I am glad the rain decided to hold off as I had quite enough of getting soaked at the rugby day.  What a daft feature on a car, self locking after thirty seconds non-use after being unlocked.

The ongoing saga of the falling down conservatory has moved up a notch.  The company have agreed that it needs to come down and the foundations will be 2.5 metres instead of the 13 inches that is currently holding (almost) up the structure.  This all sounds good.............however, they plan to make a start on it in the middle of March.  This is the same time my Mum’s new hip is being installed...........looks like a busy couple of weeks then.  Dad will need to hone his tea and coffee making skills to keep the chaps hydrated.  I would offer to do this but unfortunately due to the fact that I don’t drink hot beverages, apparently I cannot make them.  Visitors to my house are given the accoutrements to create a cup of hot stuff and left to get on with it...............I find that friendships are preserved this way.  The only person who actually did brave my brown liquid in a mug was the window cleaner.  He has subsequently given up his window round in its entirety.  This is a totally true fact.

This week I managed to take some really good photos of a red kite (string less variety) as it floated around over my house.  What a beautiful creature it was to behold happily letting the warm air carry it back and forth with ideal spying opportunities for its lunch.  For many years now I have wanted to capture some pictures of one, however up until now my only option has been to stand in the outside lane of the M40 near to their nesting grounds.  As this is obviously a little tricky (not to say probably illegal) I have not tried and so the unexpected appearance of the feathered one made my day!

Hopefully the England Rugby Union team can extend my happiness this weekend, however I shan’t hold my breath judging by their past two performances.

Appointments, getting wet and collecting tickets

Last Monday evening I loaded my parents into the car and headed off to the local private hospital so Mum could see the consultant about having a new hip.  Great system, this hospital is carrying out the overspill from the NHS list and in no way actually looks like a hospital.  We arrived in the dark and fumbled our way through the poorly lit car park which was strewn with pot holes and slippery drain covers, but safely made it through the doors into an empty waiting area.  Excellent, plenty of seating space and it was really hot which was useful in thawing out my now corpse-like fingers and bringing some normal colour back to them.  Mum had the wrong glasses on for completing the registration form so the task fell to me................all was going well until I spotted the name of the consultant.  He is the same French chap I saw five years ago who had a less than ideal command of English and kept passing me a translation book and asking “How you zay eeeeen Eeeenglish?”  Hmm, ok then, this could be interesting.  Never mind, off she hobbled into the room (phrase book in hand) and emerged later on with an admission date for around four weeks time to “’av ze new heeep feeeted”.  Hopefully the stay in hospital will only be around four days and be followed by walking with a stick for seven weeks (shouldn’t pose a problem as she has a dozen broomsticks lined up indoors) then off to London to take part in the relay race in the Olympics.  Prior to her stay I am sourcing a crash course for her in basic French skills to aid communication between patient and surgeon.

Last time Mum had surgery they couldn’t knock her out..............after several goes and frustrated staff saying “You must be sleepy now” off she went into slumber land.  On waking, she was confused to discover the hernia she had gone in to have removed was still part of her person.  Never mind, the surgeon visited next morning to check on her progress with a posse of medical students tailing him.  He told her they had not found a hernia and asked who had told her there was one. “You did” replied my Mum with a wry smile.  Apparently the surgeon beat a hasty retreat from the foot of her bed with a line of students in his wake trying to stifle their laughter!

Great day over the past weekend.........I went to watch an under 12’s rugby tournament that my friends son was playing in.  His team won the whole event and were presented with a cup at the Northampton Saints home game that afternoon.  However, the weather left a lot to be desired and was so wet by the semi-final round that I ended up with two pairs of soaking wet socks inside soaking wet walking boots and had to remain this way all afternoon due to then going to watch the Saints game.  Ironically the sun came out for the afternoon followed by more hail and a rainbow.  All that was missing was a plague of locusts.  On shopping at the club kiosk I delved into my backpack for funds only to find a puddle at the bottom of the bag.............absolutely everything was soaked in my purse and I handed the cashier two limp (and near to disintegration) notes.  He was last seen putting them on the heater to dry out as I scooted off to find my seat in the ground!

Dream of the week..............I was supposed to be going to see a pantomime but had to collect the tickets from someone two minutes away on foot.  On my way there I was running through Debenhams glass and china department and no matter how fast I ran I wasn’t getting anywhere.  I managed to get out of the building and found myself on the streets of Bruges (are you keeping up here?).  Off I went again trying to get to the tickets but ended up having to dodge armed police who were carrying out a standoff with some fool holed up in a house.  Eventually I wound up in a village hall where the playgroup session had just been cancelled due to all the lights going off.  I woke up at this point.................never did get those tickets.  Again I have no idea what this means but all answers on a postcard will be considered.