Torches, glossing and fat

I was away last week in sunny Northumberland, my favourite county in the UK doing some sightseeing and catching up with family and friends.  We stayed in a holiday cottage literally on the sea front in a village where the wonders of the internet and mobile telephone coverage have yet to arrive.  It was certainly a little bizarre not being able to email and text but not any real problem – in fact it was good not to feel compelled to check for new messages!  On a visit to a nearby town I popped into a card and gift shop and on the counter were two local history books.  On the front cover of one was a photo of my late Aunty Thelma with her work colleagues back in the 1950’s!  No excuse needed to buy the book and read about the goings on from past days in the area.

One of the many highlights of the week centred on the Olympic Torch route which happened to be in the county for two days and we were lucky enough to run into a chap who had carried his torch earlier in the day at another location – he happily posed for photos and said he was not going to sell his torch on eBay (as so many others have done) despite the fact the runners have to fork out almost £200 to buy it in the first place!  We had visions of crowded streets and having to jostle to get a good view.........however by pitching up at the start of the route there were only a couple of dozen people as the rest of the throng had amassed at the finishing post.  As result we got talking to a local reporter who took our photograph and there is a possibility we may appear in this week’s edition of the paper!  After waiting around for forty minutes the great moment arrived...............the runner trotted past carrying her flaming torch aloft.................and then she was gone!  A young girl standing alongside us with her father summed it up well as she asked “Is that it?”!  So much preparation for a fleeting moment’s viewing.  The security measures in place are extensive for each town and police forces from all over the UK have been deployed.  In the short time we were there we spotted vehicles from five different forces plus the police helicopter.  All these officers need to be housed whilst away from their usual base..............I dread to think what the total cost is, but hopefully the whole Olympic spectacle will be worth it.  I am looking forward to watching the coverage but I do hope the BBC have got their presentation sorted out by then after their shockingly dire and downright embarrassing screening of the Diamond Jubilee River Pageant.

My parents have headed up north for their annual holiday and once again I have taken advantage of this to get the paint brushes out at their place.  After my last decorating venture there when I discovered just how hard it is to cover blue paint with pink, this time I have glossed the woodwork in the hallway.  All the skirtings and five doors took six hours in total and I am really pleased with the result – the place is shiny and new looking.  I have no idea what colour scheme the previous residents had prior to it being neutralised for selling, but I have come across splashes of yellow and brown which have been glossed over and hidden.  On my first visit to start the project I discovered a note in the kitchen saying ‘NO DECORATING’ and promptly ignored it in the same way my Dad ignores my requests for him not to prune my garden down to an inch high whenever I am away.  I daresay once the conservatory is finally finished (it must happen eventually) there will be some painting to be done on the newly plastered walls.  Actually I can probably fit this in before they get home and just let the builders work around it................

Off to Belgium this weekend for a short sightseeing trip and very likely the purchase of a product of two of chocolate.  I am thinking that perhaps the one Zumba class a week is not going to be enough to deal with the extra fat intake..........only a few months to go until I have to bare my pasty flesh on the Spanish beach. Hmmm, some serious chocolate deprivation is needed before then but it will have to wait until after my weekend purchases have been consumed!

Jubilee, being British and holy stuff

Sunny days are here again, la la la la la, la la la la, sunny days are here again!  After a week of gloriously hot and sunny weather we are due to have a cooling off just in time for the Jubilee weekend.  Hmmmm, not what Her Majesty ordered.  I meanwhile am doing my bit for being patriotic with bunting up, paper chains ready to make, cakes to bake and Jubilee activities with the little folk all ready to get going!  There are plenty of Jubilee events going on around town plus the coverage on television so it should be a good time and make us proud (for once) to be British.

On this subject, I watched an article earlier about what it means to people these days to be British.  The presenter was someone from children’s television who came to the UK from Afghanistan at six years old and considers herself to be British although she also keeps her Afghan culture with foods and costumes for festivals and the like.  All her siblings were born in Afghanistan apart from her younger brother who was born in the UK.  She asked him if he thinks he is British and he said he feels half British and half Afghan even though he has never been to his family’s original country.  Gives us some food for thought really..................do we feel British because we were born and/or live here and are absorbed in the culture or is it because we have been raised to be told “you are British”?

This morning I spent a couple of hours cutting the lawns, pruning some overgrown shrubs and pulling up weeds.  I took a break for elevenses and flicked the television on to be met with (wait for it) an advert for a Christmas catalogue.  It is May.  Enough said.

I went to my god-daughter’s first Holy Communion over the weekend.  The day was lovely, the weather roasting and the church baking hot!  Twelve children were receiving Communion and had spent the past year in holy classes to prepare for their big day.  Lucia did really well and was the last child to be done so had to hold onto her nerves for a little longer than the others.  Each child was presented with a certificate at the end of the service.  Lucia referred to hers as a poster and it has found its’ way to her ‘holy table’ in her bedroom.  Hopefully the power of prayer will make her hamster reappear sharpish as it went missing somewhere in the house on the morning of the Communion – it couldn’t have chosen a worse time to go on an adventure.

Following on from my rant last time about people doing other stuff whilst at the wheel of their car, twice last week on the way home from an evening stroll I was waiting at a zebra crossing to safely trot over the road and on each occasion cars failed to stop.  With eyesight that bad they should not be driving.  At least I had to presence of mind to wait rather than presume the cars would at least slow down when approaching the crossing.  Unbelievably, this morning one of the people who failed to stop nearly ran into me as (here we go again) she did not stop on a roundabout despite me having the right of way.  Perhaps she is expecting a prize on her third attempt to cause me bodily harm?  In fact all she will end up with is a visit from the local constabulary – madam, I have your registration number.

Last week a friend was gossiped about in the school playground by a couple of nasty sorts.  Without going into detail, they commented on something very personal to my friend loud enough for her to hear.  Fortunately she is a strong character and has many, many friends and is a far better person than these bovine creatures.  Once again it is a case of do not comment on or insult people when you know nothing whatsoever about their personal circumstances.  Karma is a strange thing and it will leap up and bite you on the bum when you least expect it.  I hope someone is selling tickets for when these two get their comeuppance – please can I have a front row seat?  The ‘ladies’ (I use the word very loosely) are easy recognisable by their warty faces, pointy noses and broomsticks.

Sunny days, modern churches and ignorant people

With another week of no decent weather to speak of, my waterproof coat has been getting plenty of use and the garden hasn’t had a watering can near it for months.  Allegedly this is all due to change this week with sunny days and temperatures in the mid 20’s.................I will believe it when I see it, although today bodes well with a bright and warm start to the day.  About time too.

The conservatory saga drags on and on..............two months into the project and all is now done apart from the flooring.  The boss man paid a visit last week to check on progress and he was limping badly from a recent failed knee operation.  He ended up leaving with one of the walking sticks my Mum had after her hip operation!  Well the hospital won’t take them back so at least one has been put to good use.  No wonder the costs to hospitals are continually rising if they don’t recycle walking sticks, crutches and other mobility aids.  Apparently it is due to hygiene reasons......so why not have a large sterilisation tank and pop them all in for a wash?

I recently attended a Christening service for the son of some friends.  The service took the form of a very modern approach with plenty happy clappy religious songs rather than hymns, the vicar was light hearted and made the service appealing to all ages.  The local congregation was made up of all sorts of people, a chap with tattoos around his face, various less able-bodied folks, children of various ages, but all had come together to enjoy a morning of celebration and togetherness (to say nothing of the buffet afterwards!).  Whilst some older people may feel that the church is deviating away from tradition, a fun approach is needed in order to keep the pews full and to attract new church members.  It does not detract from the religious side of proceedings (we were after all there for a Christening), prayers, readings and a sermon were still part of the service.  The order of service had a note to encourage children to play with the toys at the rear of the church and for parents to carry on worshipping even if their offspring were making a noise.  What a difference from other churches where congregation members are glared at if their child so much as sneezes.  This coming weekend I am attending a First Communion which I anticipate will be a more formal service but I could be proved wrong.

More and more often I am seeing people driving around town whilst using their mobile phones.  They are often so engrossed in conversation that they are oblivious to others on the road.  How can it  possibly be safe to drive with your head on your shoulder with a phone wedged in between?  Last week on a five minute drive to a local school I saw seven people using their phones when behind the wheel, two people smoking, one person phoning and smoking and finally, unbelievably, the star of the week, a woman brushing her hair (with a hairbrush) as she drove.  What planet are these people on?  What can be so important that someone needs to put people’s lives at risk rather than pull over to use the phone? 

Smoking whilst in the car with children is something that riles me.  I once looked after a child who arrived every day stinking of cigarettes as she was driven here in a car filled with the poisonous smog.  She had a hacking smokers cough at 2 years old and apparently there was nothing wrong with this according to her irresponsible parent.  Upon speaking to the health visitor at the child’s surgery I was advised that they were unable to do anything unless she was taken there by her parent on this or any other matter.  The local safeguarding children authorities were unable to assist too as apparently it was not (at that time) considered ‘neglectful or abusive’.  So much for protecting children and maintaining their health – red tape and bureaucracy working at their worst.

Rain, trains and dysfunctional lifestyles

Another weekend  of very wet weather which scuppered all my plans for days out – when will it ever stop raining?   I even spied a large wooden vessel floating past steered by a chap called Noah.  For some odd reason he seemed to have a large quantity of pairs of animals with him.  Whatever floats his boat I guess, who are we to judge?

In the interests of my sanity and to prevent me wanting to cull any bird who would dare to poo on my clean laundry, I do not have a washing line.  Wet stuff goes straight from the washing machine into the tumble dryer and hey presto everything is dry and fluffy.  This arrangement worked fine until last week when on my final tumbling session of the week....................nothing!  No way was I going to be able to dry anything so I had to resort to the airing cupboard (for the clothing, not for me to hide out in).  Anyhow I looked through the book of rules for the machine and it mentioned something about checking the fuse.  Just as well I did as the fuse had obviously overheated judging by the burn mark on the plug and the melted fuse cover.  This only reinforces why I never leave the tumble dryer running when I am out of the house.

I have been doing some research on pre-booking train tickets for our forthcoming week away.  For the most part it will be a driving trip, but the day we are planning to visit Edinburgh we are travelling by train for an hour to get there – saves the hassle of trying to find somewhere to park in the city centre plus train travel is fun.  Anyhow, I have managed to find return tickets (booked a month or so in advance) for £35 each return which is a pretty good price for travelling in rip off Britain.  As a separate exercise I looked at the prices for travelling from various points on the same main line route to Edinburgh and bizarrely the prices ranged from £70-£395 to travel from around half way along the route.  To travel the full distance from London to Edinburgh the price can be as low as £49..........explain that one Mr Network Rail.  By factoring in travelling from a station not on the main line, i.e. one where there is a change from one rail service to another, the prices can be as high as £600.  For goodness sake, I can go to Spain for two weeks for little more than this.  Why exactly do we put up with this sort of nonsense?  Give me European or American trains systems any day – cheap, quality service, efficient, on time..................need I go on?

The usual poor television programme choices did nothing to make a wet bank holiday Monday any more entertaining, however I decided to catch the end of a Jeremy Kyle show.  How some of these folk have the brass neck to air their business for the country to see is beyond me, but the three in a ‘love triangle’ on the show took the biscuit.  Girl A was moaning that Girl B was trying to get Girl A’s boyfriend back even though Girl B said she didn’t want him and was only doing this to annoy Girl A , although the boyfriend had been flitting back and forth between the two girls and playing them off against each other (are you keeping up?).  When Girl A was asked if things had improved of late in her on-off relationship with the stud in question (I use the term in total amusement as he was anything but a stud) she replied that he sometimes now cuddles her after their, shall we say, bedroom activities, instead of just going off to play on his PlayStation.  He has also started to bring her presents which is a new thing for him.  To quote Girl A, “he has been nicking bracelets for me from the pound shop”. What a great example of young people in this country today and I daresay an attitude that will be passed down to the next generation unfortunate enough to find themselves mixed up in these dysfunctional and irresponsible lifestyles where partner swapping in the normal thing to do.

Once again, will the last person to leave the country please switch the lights off?

Rain, birds and cigarettes

Back again after a bit of a gap cause by the lack of proper internet coverage.  The upshot of this is my original provider has been binned and I am now with another company.  Hopefully this new lot will be more reliable.

Latest from the hobbling hip lady.................no more hobble, no more sticks and she is scuttling around like a speed walker.  Absolutely amazing results in such a short time.  She has actually been fixed quicker than the conservatory, which, although up again has still to have the electrics, plastering and flooring done.

After the beautiful weather of March we have been plunged into days of never ending rain, wind and dark skies with the sun only appearing in the evening in time to produce a sunset.  Fat lot of good that is to anyone.  Various plans for the past three weekends have been totally scuppered, the National Trust tickets remain hidden away for use once it is dry enough to have a day out and winter waterproof jackets have made an enforced reappearance.  So long as this inclement weather vanishes in time for my forthcoming week away at the coast I will be happy.  There is still a hosepipe ban in this area as apparently we are in the grip of a drought.  I would like to invite the ministers in charge of water to visit my garden and see just how wet everything is.  Of course, should the various water companies bother to repair the leaks around the whole country (these lose us literally millions of gallons a month) then there would be no need for water restrictions, bills might actually go down and we would all be better off.  Admittedly we are in no way as badly off as many countries in foreign parts but the people there do not take water for granted and make sure every drop is carefully used, not left to run away in the safe fashion we seem to think is acceptable here.

The baby blackbirds in my garden popped out of their next a couple of weeks ago.  There are four very lively little feathery critters and they are amusing to watch literally establishing a pecking order within the sibling structure.  There appear to be three females and one male and I have had to break up fights between two of them on more than one occasion.  For such young birdies they have ferocious tempers and one will pin the other to the floor and start pulling at its feathers!  The male one is currently sporting a couple of long feathers sticking out at right angles but this has not stopped him from carrying on the altercation with his nest-mate.  Perhaps I should set my cat into the mix to liven things up a little and show them who really is the boss outside.

Several local supermarkets and petrol stations have recently been broken into and had their stock of cigarettes stolen.  Judging by the quantities involved the culprits cannot really claim they are ‘for personal use’ although I daresay this will be their plea when they are finally apprehended.  Of course if they engage a lawyer popular with the footballers and other so-called celebrities I am confident they will not only be acquitted of any involvement, but also be given their own television reality show.  As has been said before, there is no such thing as bad publicity.  Just ask Hugh Grant, John Terry, Wayne Rooney et al (allegedly and without prejudice of course).

Dream of the week feature................the house martins have returned early from their winter holidays and are very pleased to see me.  So much so in fact, that two attached themselves to each of my shoulders in epaulette fashion.  Once more, answers on a postcard please.

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).