Rain, Spain and pain

What a weekend............rain, a little more rain and even more rain.  Yes, this was the British Grand Prix weekend with wet weather, copious amounts of mud, some very wet looking campers and plenty of on-track slipping and sliding.  Two hours to get out of the parking field on day one, which wasn’t too bad considering we were only about five rows in.  Other people were not so fortunate and revved their engines so much they were soon embedded in the muddy ruts.  Thankfully we were able to park for the remainder of the weekend at a friend’s house in the village then take a short stroll to the circuit, making quicker time than the queue of cars and buses lining the service roads.

I stuck to the plan and did not spend any money on merchandise (a modern day miracle in the making).  One of the major teams had a waterproof jacket for sale – actually it was little more than a cagoule from the supermarket value range – at the bargain price of, wait for it, £149.  Thanks but no thanks. By race day the weather had amazingly turned the corner and the sun shone for the race.  This was in total contrast to qualifying day when the monsoon conditions caused the session to be delayed for well over an hour.  To pass the time, several rounds of the Mexican Wave moved along the grandstands and even the pit crews joined in opposite our stand.  This all made for an entertaining afternoon and the onsite presenters were so stuck for what to talk about that they kept referring to a mouse that had been trapped and killed in the Ferrari garage!  The track was so wet that Noah, a large wooden boat and a selection of paired animals floated past en route to some mountain or other.  Good result on the day though, with a clever move by Mark Webber to get past Fernando Alonso.  The crowd erupted into whooping and cheering..................all apart from the two Hispanic ladies next to me who took on very glum expressions.

Bizarrely my location was not all it seemed to be.  Now then, I know I was sitting in the International Pit Straight stand at Silverstone in Northamptonshire.  However, my iPhone has a fancy feature whereby I can log into Facebook and ‘check in’ to where I am and this is posted on my Facebook page.  I thought I might as well give this a go however all the options on the first day were for Valencia in Spain (spookily the previous race was held there).  This theme carried on all weekend, even when Silverstone was given as an option and I used it, the accompanying map showed Silverstone as being in Valencia!  The weather updates on my iPhone were for Valencia (oh if only it was 29 degrees and no rain here) and the time setting reset itself to Spanish time!  All changed each time I left the circuit but the following day reverted back to Spain.  I am presuming that the Spanish HRT Formula 1 team (whose garage was near to our grandstand) had not changed their data from the previous fortnight and it was morphing into the iPhone workings.  This is taking “Mañana, mañana” to a new level.

With all the rain my garden is starting to resemble a jungle and there is much in the way of pruning to be carried out.  Trying to find a dry hour or two is proving to be something of a problem so it looks like it will be autumn before any proper chopping can be carried out.  This of course coincides with my annual fortnight away when the garden is at the mercy of my Dad so I daresay the whole place will look like a starter garden once he has finished clipping a bit here and a bit more here “to even it up”.  I managed to remove a few straggly weeds today to justify putting the garden waste wheelie bin out for collection.  Note to self..............when gardening do not, I repeat not, pull out weeds with bare hands before looking to see what they really are.  Stinging nettles hurt for hours and hours afterwards.

A large fox trotted across my driveway earlier on.  Looks like Noah needs a stronger lock on the loading bay door.

Strange food, wet weather and decorating

During the recent excursion to Belgium, we ate in the hotel restaurant one evening.  On scanning the menu I came across hamburgers, fish and meat dishes then two choices that caught my eye...........”Fillet of Fawn” and “Kangaroo Steak” served with fries and salad. No, no, no, no, no, it is simply not right to snack on Bambi or Skippy.  This reminded me of an eatery we used in Iceland, great buffet choice (even for my selective (i.e. fussy) tastes), plenty of vegetables and hot food choices.  One item was on offer every evening.........Pony.  Yes, real Black Beauty.  Now then, I have no real affection for horses but eating them seems a little unfair.  The owner of the establishment was more philosophical about the situation, commenting “We play with them, then we eat them....”.  I didn’t sample Dobbin and the additional choice of Sheep’s Head Flan on the final evening was left under the heat lamps.

I discovered this week that the local secondary school has a vacancy for a Learning Support Assistant so checked it out online (never hurts to keep an eye on what is around).........the advert described the position in brief detail and unbelievably contained TWO spelling mistakes.  Excellent attention to detail (not) and sufficiently poor to discourage me from looking further at the job specification.

July has landed with another spell of wet weather (oh great) which doesn’t bode well for the British Grand Prix weekend.  Having been caught out many times at Silverstone with extremes of weather, we are prepared this time and have thick plastic sheeting and industrial clips to protect us from the elements as our seats are on the open side of the grandstand.  I need to dig out plenty of warm and waterproof clothing this week and keep repeating this mantra to myself..........I will not buy any merchandise this year, I will not buy any merchandise this year, I will not buy any merchandise this year....... The wet conditions should make qualifying and race day interesting and I daresay there will be a few major spins off the track.  Bring it on!

Well then, the homecoming of the holidaymakers arrived at the weekend and I made sure I was at the house ready to welcome them back via their shiny hallway.  In they came, we went back and forth unpacking the car, had a natter in the hallway, but neither of them noticed the glare which was so strong that sunglasses should really have been called for.  After an hour or so I pointed out my handiwork with the paintbrush and.................no telling off.  How bizarre and totally unexpected!  The decoration went down well and I have painted the newly plastered walls of the rebuilt conservatory this week.  In between all this I have repainted my dining room, walls, woodwork, doors and radiator over the course of about ten hours in total.  See Dad, it doesn’t have to be a major operation to get the brushes and paint pots out...............!!

On my parents return they produced a copy of the local paper from Northumberland which did indeed feature the photograph taken by the local reporter lady as we waited for the Olympic Torch to arrive.  Fame at last and it is a pretty good picture too.  I am in process of obtaining a copy of the original.................signed copy anyone?

This week whilst on the morning school run I passed a ‘private ambulance’ (otherwise known as an undertakers van) parked outside a local house, obviously waiting to remove a newly deceased person from the premises.  A sad sight to see, but I was astonished to see the two waiting undertakers laughing and joking whilst awaiting the go ahead to carry out their work.  Now then, I do realise that in every situation some degree of frivolity can ease the moment, but to be displaying this in full view of the household concerned (to say nothing of passing parents and children) seemed to be a little tactless.  I cannot imagine my late Grandpa behaving in this fashion when he was waiting to start the process of caring for somebody’s deceased loved one.  Perhaps this is just the modern way of doing things?

Sand, plants and taxes

Another busy weekend has been and gone, this time spent in Belgium.  Whilst the UK was battening down the hatches, stacking sandbags outside front doors and using up emergency stocks of food, we were basking in 23 degrees of sunshine, warm winds and taking in the sights.  We spent a few hours on the beach but despite being lathered in sun cream, still managed to burn and emerged from the sun loungers looking rather like radishes.  Half the problem was the wind.............much of the sand swirling around stuck to the sun cream and, to be honest, every time I touched my arms or legs I believed I was morphing into an emery board.  Talk about exfoliation.........who needs to visit expensive spas or salons?  Head on over to Blankenberge for a couple of hours, job done and a nice little trip into the bargain.

Further to the Olympic Torch appearance from the week in Northumberland, I have been reliably informed by my parents who are currently holidaying in the same area that the photo taken by a local reporter has appeared in the paper!  Several copies have been purchased and there is a website to order original pictures.  Fame at last!  Please form an orderly queue for signed copies (don’t all rush now).

Once again the England football team bowed out of the Euro competition by losing on penalties to Italy (great National Anthem they have).  Was anyone really surprised?  No, not really.  Most of the squad looked knackered from 20 minutes into the game so what little chance they had prior to kick off evaporated in their sweat.  Lovely.  We are now being told to rejoice in Wimbledon fortnight................ha ha, here we go again, more opportunity to be let down and embarrassed by our overpaid and overhyped entrants.  Roll on the Olympics.............at least we stand some chance of winning a few medals.

I have been watering my parents’ garden whilst they are on their jollies and all the fruit, veg and flowers are thriving.  The same cannot be said for the veg growing in my garden.  Despite my tomatoes being planted out at the same time as Dad’s, his are four foot tall but mine are about six inches.  No idea why, they all get watered and are sitting in the sun (when it appears), however despite my four plants being the runts of the seedling box they have flowers on so apparently I will be getting some tomatoes later on.  My runner beans are way behind Dad’s too..........I suspect sabotage by the vegetable devil and will have to lie in wait one night to see what happens.  Fortunately my fruit bushes are doing well so perhaps I should order some punnets in case of a surplus so I can set up a stall in the front garden?

Whilst in Belgium I clocked the price of diesel and petrol.  Now then, over here in rip off Britain we are paying around 5p per litre more for diesel than petrol and we just accept it.  In Belgium however, diesel was €1.37  per litre whereas petrol was €1.52 per litre.  There are many more diesel than petrol cars in use both here and in mainland Europe and we are constantly told that diesel is more economical etc......... I changed from petrol to diesel 18 months ago and am still filling up just as often and giving the government more of my hard earned money in fuel duty.  I have not seen any mileage benefit with the diesel so we appear to have been fed another pile of hocus pocus from the powers that be.

Adding to the theme of injustice, have you ever thought about how many times the same money in your wallet is taxed?  Take for example this crisp £50 note here in my dainty (if slightly sunburned) hand.  I have earned this and paid tax on it.  Now then, I am going to put this £50 into the building society to save some money towards another holiday...........when I get my end of year statement from the building society I will see that I have been taxed on this £50 again.  At the end of the year I decide not to take a holiday (unlikely I know) and instead choose to withdraw my £50 to put diesel in my car..........and hey ho, this £50 is now being used to pay tax on the fuel I want to buy.  So then, we are all paying tax on anything and everything, the government folk are rubbing their hands in glee (before taking their several weeks holiday over the summer period) and what do we, the general public do about it?  Nothing.  We are unable to break this cycle and each week more nonsense spouts forth from the mouths of those leading (allegedly) our country.

Apparently VAT in Belgium is 7% - does anyone want to buy a four bedroomed house with great views out of the front windows and a few sad looking vegetable plants out the back?  Comes with large bird dollop on the lounge window (top to bottom) as window cleaner gave up his round some time ago and the feathery winged ones are having a modern art competition in a Banksy sort of style.  I could put up with the emery board skin for a cheaper lifestyle.

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?