Thursday, July 31, 2008
He saw the doctor yesterday and he has a chest infection. Husband that is not the doctor. He has a wooden leg.
There's something amiss here: I'm the one who had the cough - which is much better now, thank you for asking, or it was until I started thinking about it - and he's the one with the chest infection. Hmm.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
'Just hold down the bonnet, will, you?'
'But you're underneath it.'
'Yes, I know. Just do it.'
What could I say? But it didn't help, so Betty was booked in for today.
This morning there were two problems:
a) It was raining - and her wipers didn't work;
b) after searching every room, bag and pocket, I couldn't find her keys. And I don't have a spare.
Eventually Younger Son found them: in the ignition locked in Betty.
'That's okay; we'll break in,' says I. 'How hard can it be to break into a Beetle?'
After the knife down the side failed, we put the bonnet up. Husband removed the radio during his previous attempt so you can see straight into the car. Younger Son stuck some bent wire around the edge of the door. He said, 'This is how car thieves do it. And how they do it in movies.' I tried to help by leaning into the boot/bonnet and wiggling my bamboo cane through the hole to poke the wire into the correct position. Younger Son did better without my help.
But I don't think I need worry about a life of crime for him. Thirty minutes to break into a Beetle doesn't exactly show aptitude for the job.
And so the day continued in much the same vein.
I was helping in the community cafe in the afternoon. (Our church has a youth cafe that, during school holidays, metamorphoses into the community caff, which is run by volunteers of all ages.) Today I was there with Lynn, a lady of similar age and mindset, a student and two young teens, Ffion and Elin.
After a young male customer had left, Lynn said, 'He was good-looking.'
'Yes, he was,' I said.
'Ahhh, you can't say that!' Ffion and Elin were horrified at such comments from these crazy menopausal women who open the fridge and say, 'Why did I come in here?'
'We can say anything,' Lynn said, and I agreed.
The only reason the girls like me to be there is so they can laugh at me, and I like to be obliging. This afternoon I set fire to three toasted cheese sandwiches, and when I say fire, I mean flames shooting into the air. It was damage limitation time. 'Quick, close the kitchen door so the customers don't smell it burning!'
In spite of that I offered, and the girls, accepted a lift home. It was pouring with rain and my car was parked a short distance away. We started running but after a short sprint I told the girls to take the keys and run on ahead. 'I can't run,' I said.
'Yes, you can. Come on!'
'No, I can't.'
'My knickers are falling down.'
To take part in ABC Wednesday, visit mrs nesbitts place or ABC Wednesday's own site.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Then one of the little buzzers stung me on the tip of my ear!
I did a very good impression of someone who has been stung by a bee. Ooh, ah, hop, jump, scream, hold ear, jump a bit more, 'do something!', oohhh, ooooo, 'it hurts', oh, oh, oh, oh, 'why did he do that?', eee, aah, ooo, ow, 'what do I do?', hop, hop, ooooohhhhh.
(For information: on being stung by a bee, having got the above procedure out of the way, remove the sting and then apply an ice pack. According to the net, none of the folk remedies, including a bicarb paste, work.)
The good news is that I did 100 lengths this afternoon!
That is very good for me but not quite as impressive as it might sound as:
a) it's a dwtty pool;
b) I had to stop every few ends to throw George's ball or have a kiss.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
I got up first this morning and brought us tea in bed. An hour later Husband said, 'Will you go and make me a hot Lemsip, please?'
I did as bid and didn't bother going back to bed again. I blogged, showered and decided to go to the car boot sale.
Before I went I asked him if he'd like a coffee. 'Yes, please.'
I went downstairs, made the coffee, took it back up to him.
'This is a bit strong. And it's not very warm.'
'Would you like me to go and warm it up?'
Downstairs again, zap the coffee and back up.
'It's not very sweet. Did you put sugar in?'
'It's not sweet enough. You know I have one and a half.'
Downstairs again, put a half in and back up.
'It's not funny. I'm not enjoying this!' (All this said in a pathetic, I can't talk loudly voice.)
'No, dear. I'm going now. Goodbye.'
Because my Thrive circuits class finishes for August, I usually go to the gym for a work-out but Younger Son has been playing tennis recently so I said I'd go with him - and that will make a whole blog episode on its own I have no doubt. Trouble is my racquet is, rather like me, very old and wooden and heavy, hence my trip to the car boot this morning.
I came back with a cookery book, a Michaelmas daisy for the garden (after reading about them on a blog), 2 story cassettes for ironing, and a tennis racquet.
On one stall, I asked the young lad, 'How much is this tennis bat?'
He said, 'It's a squash racquet.'
There was a shortage of tennis racquets. The one I bought was the only one I saw. Well, the only one with strings. It even has a cover and it was a bargain at £1. Getting home I noticed that some strings are missing, but the way I play tennis it won't make any difference.
To take part in Saturday Photohunt, visit tnchick.
For more in the same style, visit http://www.everydaypeoplecartoons.com/topic/mind/184
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Today we had out first walk on a lead: we both hated it.
George is better than Harvey was walking on a lead but he still doesn't understand why he has to. And I thought it was clouding over so would be cooler but it wasn't. So we are two grumpy grumbles.
And if I thought George had already perfected the 'how could you do this to me' look, I was wrong. He's added a whole new element to it. I might as well prepare myself for 10 days' worth of guilt.
In for a swim now.
From the urban dictionary
1. (Verb) The act of being incredibly cool. Commonly misunderstood to mean "one who is attracted to homosexual men."
2. (Adjective) A positive attribute that one possesses, or can be gained by physical and mental labor, similar to coolness and beauty. "She is very much Liz."
3. (Noun) A disease that can cause you to replicate the child of joan rivers and shrek.
There were others but I didn't like those ...
Total ....................... 23,875
Average per Day ................ 100
Average Visit Length .......... 3:40
This Week ...................... 701
I know numbers aren't important - and I genuinely prefer regular visitors who comment and become friends - but ... that's what everyone says isn't it?!
On the weekly Sitemeter report my daily average has been about 60-70 for ages, so it's shot up suddenly. Is that due to George's leg-cocking or Bloghounds I wonder!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Maybe it takes time for the escape-hormone to stop circulating his body ...
The rules on passing the award on are simple:
1.Put the logo on your blog;
2.Add a link to the person who awarded it to you;
3.Nominate at least seven other blogs;
4.Add links to them on your blog;
5.Leave a message for your nominee on their blogs.
You see the rules are simple; the difficult bit is selecting the award-winners. Let me think.
First off it'll have to be mary b of shorty pjs. Mary was one of the first bloggers I got to know. In fact it was Mary who was the first ever unknown commenter on my blog. She's a southern girl who's very busy working for the episcopalian organisation in New York, and her posts are always brilliantly written and memorable.
Oh gosh, I can't decide. I like all the blogs I visit regularly - although a couple have refused me entry recently and that's a bit disturbing - so it's really hard. I tell you what: if you're in my blogroll, please consider yourself awarded. No, that never really works, does it? I must try harder.
Dragonstar, Loose Ends and Sicily Scene - a Welsh connection there!
Moments from Suburbia
And Stephen Noyle for his lovely photos.
There we are. I'll stick with that. Thank you all, and all those not named - for the pleasure I get in reading your blogs.
When we took him in at 8.30, they said to call at lunchtime to find out when we could pick him up. At 11.05 our phone rang. I stared at it for a moment then answered it cautiously, 'Helllooo.'
'Hello, this is Tawe Vets.' Oh flippity flip flop, my heart did a bungee-jump towards the floor: why are they phoning me? Something's happened! Oh no ...
'George has had his operation and you can pick him up in about an hour.'
Heart sprang up again through my mouth towards the sky.
'Okay,' I squeaked.
Last night on the phone to Husband we were talking about George's pending operation.
'I shall tell him it's your fault,' Husband said.
'You agreed we should!'
'I didn't really agree. I didn't think we should but you seemed set on it.'
Then coming out of the vets' after leaving george there this morning Younger Son said, 'I've always said he didn't need this operation.'
Oh that's right, just put the blame on me!
If there were a soundtrack to my life it would have to be the Beatles. A child of the sixties, it was their music that accompanied my life - and still does today. So for the first week of the third round of ABC Wednesday, I present All You Need is Love - and a friend to cuddle.
To take part in ABC Wednesday, visit the site.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
'So I can show people how clever you are.'
'I don't want lots of people seeing me peeing.'
'But they all love you and and will tell you that you're wonderful.'
'Hmmm. But all the same, I can't perform when you're filming me.'
I did manage to get this sneaky one though. It's not his best attempt. He can do much better. Sometimes he doesn't even fall over afterwards.
When he successfully cocks his leg, I've got into the habit of clapping and saying, 'What a good c***, George!' Younger Son says I shouldn't say this. At least not in public. In fact, perhaps I had better asterisk the word: it might attract the wrong sort. And you'll know what it's meant to be, won't you?
I got my day all back to front and I went walking without showering - or even washing - beforehand. But that's okay as:
a) we don't see many people over the tip;
b) anyone who sees me in my Eric Morecambe shorts, pink Little Miss Sunshine socks and filthy falling-apart shoes would give me a wide clearance anyway. So not washing wouldn't matter.
As a rule. Today we saw, at the sweaty end of our walk, Miss Glamour Girl 2008. How can anyone look glamorous walking a dog?
Monday, July 21, 2008
But we're doing it because it said in the dog-training book that it's less cruel than allowing him to have urges he can't fulfil. And several people have suggested it as a possible way to cure the wanderlust.
And loads of dogs have it done. And they're all right. So he'll be fine. I know he will. Really.
Actually he's not my favourite person tonight as he must have rolled in horse poo when we were out and he's made the whole house smell. But still ...
I asked what would happen to the bees. Tom said they'd be integrated with an existing hive.
Tom gave me a memento to keep. It is truly phenomenal the way bees can make these perfect hexagonals.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
We are a group of bloggers who wish to support one another in simple but effective ways: by visiting each other’s blogs, linking to each other whenever we can and, above all, through mutual encouragement. You will find us a friendly and positive bunch from many different walks of life.
Bloghounds would like to offer membership to authors of quality blogs everywhere.
For more information, go to the Bloghounds site.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Please watch this short film (about 1 minute) and if you have any reason to think they're not honeybees, please tell me. I don't mind homing an endangered species but I might object if they turn out to be killer stingy wasps.
Don't blink or you'll miss it.
It was a very girlie audience. Apart from husband, the few men who were there all looked ... slightly less than macho ...
But Husband thoroughly enjoyed the film too. Julie Walters is a scream, as you would expect, but Meryl Streep is very funny too.
Lindsay asked about the singing. I think Meryl Streep has a good voice; Pierce Brosnan is obviously not a singer but it doesn't matter, as he's not supposed to be and he copes fine with what he has to do.
It's the face of a model grey whale, hanging from the ceiling in the Natural History Museum in London.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
That's the one I'm writing I mean. Bits of information have been feeding out but this is a major shock for the heroine as well as the readers.
It's written in her voice and, oh, I could slap her uncle. He is such a ... well, anyway. It's amazing I've got this far having to leap up every five minutes to yell at George who has a new favourite escape route. When I make him stay in, he comes and sits by my chair and pushes his head under my arm and into my hand and looks wide-eyed at me. So I have to stop and tell him he's beautiful and give him a cuddle and a grape, and then, hard-heartedly push him away. Oh, evil woman!
He escaped this morning. He was playing in the terrier's garden. The American terrier-owner said, 'I'm sure he has other redeeming features but he sure is one dumb dog.'
I would have listed those redeeming features but it's hard to think when you're in your nightie and your hair's all on end. But at least I had my knickers on which is an improvement over earlier in the week.
So, anyway, I'm feeling good about my novel today. I have to record this to remind myself on those days when I say, 'You are useless. Whatever makes you think you can write? This is rubbish.'
It won't actually help but it's the sort of thing 'Write-a-Novel' books tell aspiring writers to do. Probably. I've never read a 'Write-a-Novel' book. Maybe that's where I'm going wrong.
Novel number 2 is completely different from novel number 1, which was a much-rejected light-hearted granny-lit novel. This one's all misery, madness and death, much more my style. I'm torn. I edit till I'm sick of the sight of my own writing and I go back and change things all the time. But, given my previous experience, should I start sending off the first few chapters of my manuscript for rejection now? Will it make any difference?
First of all, George got himself scragged by barbed wire. It was his fault! He can't say I didn't warn him.
Then I stepped on some mud I thought was solid ... Then George was sick, bringing up bits of stick and grass that he'd eaten. At one point I feared I would have to stick my hand down his throat to dislodge it, but, thankfully, his body did the work.
My word, you must think I lead such a boring life. That's only because I've been banned from telling you about the alien life forms that take the shape of water-melons, and as for the space-ships I've been in ...
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Tonight, on the phone, Husband said, 'I was reading in the paper about a man who had a cough for a few weeks. It turned out he had TB.'
'Oh, thank you. That is just the right thing to say to a hypochondriac just before bed-time.'
'It's alright; I checked the list of other symptoms and you don't have any of them.'
'Anyway I've had my TB jab. Or has that run out? Does it last for ever? I had it done in school. That was years ago. Oh dear, do you think I have TB?'
My cough suddenly seems to have got much worse ...
It says in the Bible that 'young men shall have dreams,' and as Lynne's husband was in Zac's tonight I thought that, even though I'm neither young nor a man, I should tell him about my dream as I was sure it was significant.
I said, 'Steve, I had this dream and it was about Lynne and it was so vivid that I feel I should share it with you.'
'Yes. In it Lynne got married to Rolf Harris.'
Steve said, 'Strangely enough, that's been a long-held ambition of hers.'
'See? I knew it was of God. You will tell her, won't you?'
'Coming from you Steve, I consider that a compliment.'
While he was on the phone she asked him if he'd like a credit card. Excuse me?!! He's discussing repaying his overdraft; the last thing he needs is a credit card. He doesn't have a job; he doesn't have any money.
When Elder Son was in school, at some evening jobs fair on school premises, he was asked if he'd like a credit card.
Husband said that's because students and low-wage-earners are the best ones to give credit cards to. We pay ours off each month and don't make any money for the bank; they spend money and are charged huge interest. But they DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY to pay it back!
These banks deserve to get into financial trouble.
Monday, July 14, 2008
But my jigsaw won't load either. So perhaps it's a t'internet problem. Apologies. I will get round to visit everyone soon. Right now I think I need to go to bed: I am having trouble interpreting word verifiers. I can't tell my g from my z from my k unless I stop and think very hard.
People in the queue ahead of us were touching the sides of the cliff, crossing themselves, murmuring prayers. In front of the grotto rows of chairs were set out and they were filled with people, silently contemplating. The silence was impressive; the rest wasn't.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
His final time put him in 2,046th position out of nearly 9,000 entrants, and we think that's pretty good.
We got home. Younger Son said, 'Welcome back. Did you have a good holiday? When are you going shopping? There's no food in the house.'
So I'm loading the shopping into the car when I find a garlic bulb in the bottom of the trolley. An unpaid-for garlic bulb. 'Oh fiddle,' I think, 'I spend enough here: they can't begrudge me a bit of garlic.' I threw it in a bag in the boot, returned the trolley to the trolley-park, got in the car and put the key in the ignition. I ate half a banana, took the key out of the ignition, got out of the car, retrieved the garlic from the boot and took it back to the shop.
'I found this in my trolley and I haven't paid for it,' I said to the girl on customer service.
'I wish everyone was like you,' she said.
I left 35p poorer but with a warm glow.
Friday, July 04, 2008
It was very quick in the end and mercifully painless.
The last time I saw her she was telling me that the doctor had asked her if she'd like to be moved to a nursing home in Dorset near her children. She'd thought about it and said she would. 'But I don't think I'll get there,' she said to me.
It was as if she just gave up in the end.
When I was a little girl, living in Mumbles, Auntie Maud and Uncle George and their children used to come and stay. They lived in Middlesex at the time. Then at some point later, there was a falling-out between my gran and Auntie Elsie, Auntie Maud's mother. As a result we didn't see Maud and George for a long time. In fact I never saw Uncle George, who was a darling, again.
When we came back to Swansea in 1988, after living in Southampton, they had moved here and Uncle George had just died. Auntie Maud babysat a lot for me and our relationship - which had been lost because of an argument that didn't involve us - was rebuilt.
She was always very intolerant of those 'old biddies' who lived around her and did nothing but grumble about this or that. I'm glad she never became one of those.
As I said, we've been married thirty years. In that time there've been three BIG romantic gestures from Husband, roughly spaced at ten year intervals (he has to build himself up to it slowly ...)
Number one occurred one Christmas when the children were small. I opened a parcel and found a box of Maltesers. Yummy, my favourites. But when I opened the box there was a diamond ring inside. Pretty cool, eh?
The third - I'll come back to the second - took place a few Christmases ago when somehow Husband managed to get Betty Beetle onto the drive for Christmas morning for me without me suspecting a thing!
The second chronologically-speaking was absolutely the best and, I think, unsurpassable.
One Sunday afternoon, he returned home and walked into the kitchen holding in his arms the bundle of fluff that was to be known as Harvey.
The dog we'd had before had been rather snappy and couldn't be trusted with the children's friends, so we found her a new home on a smallholding. When she went, I was so upset Husband said we were never going to have another dog. I had no idea he was investigating possibilities until he walked in through the door, and brought Harvey into our lives, where he was to remain for the next fourteen and a bit years. And in our hearts forever.
I love my husband.
'Yes, but you don't do that either.'
We went out looking for packa-macs this afternoon. First we tried to go to Millets but it wasn't there. So then we went to Wyevale where I tried on a pretty Joules mac-in-a-bag but it cost £29 and looked as if it would tear at the touch of a bramble. (And as I am prone to walking through brambles ...) So I haven't decided what to take yet: a woolly fleece (but no hood), my parka (thick and with furry hood), or a black plastic bag (Husband's suggestion).
P.S. He did buy me some Maltesers later when we went to Sainsburys.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
According to Doctor Who, about half the bees in the world are aliens and the reason they're reducing in number is because they're going back to their home planet.
While I personally wouldn't argue with the good Doctor, I was listening, on Radio 4 this afternoon, to a lady who would. One of the main causes she says, for the disappearance of the honeybee is the lack of biodiversity that exists today.
Apparently in America bees are trucked around the country, so they may spend three weeks in California pollinating hundreds of miles of almond trees before being trucked up to Washington State to pollinate apples or to the east coast to do their duty for the blueberries. With such a restricted diet, they fail to flourish - as we would if we had to exist for weeks on just one foodstuff - and they are less able to fight disease or parasites.
And did you know there are something like 250 species of bees in Britain? Of which honeybees are only one. But a vital one in that they are responsible for pollinating roughly one third of our food.
I thought the lady on the radio would be advocating a change in farming procedure to reintroduce biodiversity but instead she was talking mostly about developing stronger bees. But maybe she's realistic and knows she's fighting a losing battle when it comes to big corporation agriculture.
Radio 4 Material World
It said that an item is waiting to be collected from the main sorting office because 'The sender did not use the correct postage.'
We'd worked out that this is what had happened to Husband's anniversary card to me. When promising that he had sent one he said, 'It was a big one too.'
'Not that big but bigger than normal.' He was pleased with himself.
'And did you put a Large First Class stamp on it?'
'What do you mean?'
'Large envelopes need special stamps.'
'Since when? Nobody told me that!'
Now I am supposed to pay the extra 6p plus £1 admin charge. As well as drive to the other side of town to pick it up. Husband, when I emailed him to tell him, said, 'I will understand if you don't bother.'
Wrong response, dear. You're supposed to say, 'I'll pick it up for you when I'm off tomorrow,' and buy a bunch of flowers at the same time!!!!!!! (Except we're going away so chocolates will do nicely.)
(I was reading some responses to a post Suburbia did and lots of people said 'you have to tell men exactly what you want or expect from them because they're men and they won't know otherwise.')
Do you know? You can't get a plastic mac for love nor money.
I went first to M&S thinking that's a sensible grown-up sort of shop that will sell plastic macs; they didn't. Obviously all their customers go to hot places for their holidays. Probably cruises. They had plenty of cruise-type stuff.
Then I went to a cheap and cheerful shop aimed at the younger market. That was a silly idea too.
So no plastic mac for me. I know you can get them in the garden centre but they're pull-over-your-head ones and I wanted a fly-open-in-the-wind one.
Ah well, looking at the expected temperatures, a thick fleece will probably be better anyway.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
I have no idea what is happening with Doctor Who. Surely we've not seen the last of delicious David Tennant? They've kept it very secret if that's true. I shall sulk if we have. And does anyone else think Rose's chin is more sticky-out than it used to be? Is she really a dalek in disguise?
As I say I have no idea what's going on with Doctor Who but it is quite scary. I am almost expecting the end of the world to come next weekend.
* * * * * * * * * *
Last night I watched the DVD of Notes on a Scandal. Ooh, Judi Dench is a marvellous manipulative old hag in it. I think the young boy involved (a schoolteacher has an affair with a pupil) is too young-looking but apart from that, it was a gripping film.
And I've just read Welcome to the World, Baby Girl by Fannie Flagg (she who wrote Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Cafe, which I adored). The first half of the book was excellent; it fell off a little during the second half but still an entertaining read. I've read another couple of books too but they were unmemorable.
I picked up The Madness of a Seduced Woman in the heart Charity shop yesterday. I think I'll take it on holiday along with another serious and a couple of frothy novels.
Where to start?
With a photo of George? A ladies' only post? A what's happening next week post? Or a boring seen and heard post? Ho hum. Decisions, decisions. Let's do boring first - or last if you've started reading at the top. As most normal people are wont to do.
Then when we were walking back this snail was meandering across the path.To join in with ABC Wednesday, visit mrs nesbitts place.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
When my mum is busy I get bored. Sometimes I take myself for a walk. If mum sees me trying to get over or under or through the fence she shouts at me, 'No, George! Come back here!' Sometimes.
But other times she says, 'Stay there, George, while I get my camera.'
If she doesn't notice me and I manage to escape and set off down the road to visit my friends (they are my friends - I can tell by the way they growl at me) she comes running after me. Sometimes she shouts, 'Come back here, you ratbag!' But other times she says, in her nice voice, 'Come on, George, there's a good boy, come and have a treat.' Of course I go to her then!
So, you see, life is confusing for a 9-month-old puppy. Grown-ups change their minds all the time.
And as for chewing things, well, my teeth itch. She told me she had shown you a photo of what I'd done to my chair. Notice - MY chair! Anyway, it tasted nice.
And, what's more, she gives me her yogurt pot to lick but when I help myself to the empty - notice empty - beetroot pack she shouts at me. She doesn't know what she's doing! But I let her off; I put it down to her age. Dad says she's at a funny age.
'What? What you doing? Let go! Waah, get off me! Let me just press the publi ...'