on missing school through illness;
"Don't worry Mum. It's only Benediction today, and me'n'Ella only play I-Spy in church 'cos it's dead boring."
So, for learning she will carry herself off to school while she has breath in her body and a pulse in her veins. But for religion? Nah.
Not much chance she'll make first woman cardinal at this rate.
Monday, 22 December 2008
Monday, 15 December 2008
Santa Fun Run, 14 December 2008, Old Trafford
Team 13
Big Sis, Manager
Team 13 with Alex, Eric and Suzanne
Manager, Alex, Bailey
Well, I did it.
Got up before 10am on a Sunday. Which any fule know, begins with The Archers omnibus at 10am. So 8am counted as the middle of the night.
Now, this Sunday, 14 December at 10am found me at a car park, looking at Old Trafford in all it's glory. Complete with a grumpy toddler, and a very worried Jack Russell. I got them both togged up in their Santa outfits, and away we went to join the Family Fun Run, organised by the Manchester United Foundation and their affiliated charities.
Tyler was not massively impressed, Bailey made a New Best Friend (Alex, above, with his parents Eric and Suzanne). Big Sis is only on camera because she needed proof for her sponsors. Eric, Suzanne and Alex were running as a separate team, but Bailey and Alex took a shine to each other so we joined forces.
Bailey now has a fan club! So many people thought he looked cute in the suit, so he forgave us for making him look stupid. And the cats don't read the blog or use my Mac, so he figures he is safe from their ridicule.
Poor naive fool.
Wednesday, 26 November 2008
Santa Fun Run
You all know the saying 'Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.'
It should have a twin, to cover the eventuality of getting into trouble by sounding enthusiastic about something, because some idiot will think you want to join in.
Obviously, if they were discussing anything that involved fine wine, fine chocolate, etc, I would be there. No so keen on alligator-wrestling and 24-hour X-factor marathons.
So when my sister was talking about the Santa Fun Run around Old Trafford on December 14, I said I'd seen it advertised and it sounded like fun. In a 'watch other people get hot and sweaty for nothing' sort of way. In a 'head for the food & drink stalls and see if anyone famous turns up' way.
Next thing I know, she's sorted out a sponsor form (me, her, young Tyler and Bailey!) for the family race. Full team lineup below
And I get to wear a Santa suit :(
the shark in the picture is not my sister, she is the hand pointing at it - my sister is too fierce to be a shark...
It should have a twin, to cover the eventuality of getting into trouble by sounding enthusiastic about something, because some idiot will think you want to join in.
Obviously, if they were discussing anything that involved fine wine, fine chocolate, etc, I would be there. No so keen on alligator-wrestling and 24-hour X-factor marathons.
So when my sister was talking about the Santa Fun Run around Old Trafford on December 14, I said I'd seen it advertised and it sounded like fun. In a 'watch other people get hot and sweaty for nothing' sort of way. In a 'head for the food & drink stalls and see if anyone famous turns up' way.
Next thing I know, she's sorted out a sponsor form (me, her, young Tyler and Bailey!) for the family race. Full team lineup below
And I get to wear a Santa suit :(
the shark in the picture is not my sister, she is the hand pointing at it - my sister is too fierce to be a shark...
Monday, 17 November 2008
Being Jesus is not a promotion
Nothing on Child Dawkins for ages...then 3 come along at once.
Which means we are due one more, but this is a good one and she'll have to go some way to beat this.
Sacramental programme is in full swing, and they've just cast for a Reconciliation play. Means nothing to me, raised as a CofE kid, but Neet assures me it's a big deal.
After the misery of being cast as a Christmas tree in the Nativity, Child Dawkins hoped for better.
She came flying in, indignant.
"Who are you playing then?"
"JESUS!"
At this point her Catholic father brims over with pride, but her mother perceives this ain't the deal it seems.
"Isn't that good?" (mother dons tin hat, and retreats to safe distance)
"NO! I only get two lines! Bethany, who is a pig*, gets one line. And Katy, who can't even read, gets a whole paragraph!"
Oh dear. She's learn the highlighter to the script trick.
Later, when she'd calmed down a bit, she explained that apparently, she will be doing more acting than speaking. But this child knows how to use words, and she wasn't afraid of a page full of them.
* I wasn't sure if Bethany was a pig of a child, or a child playing a pig. She's playing a pig.
Which means we are due one more, but this is a good one and she'll have to go some way to beat this.
Sacramental programme is in full swing, and they've just cast for a Reconciliation play. Means nothing to me, raised as a CofE kid, but Neet assures me it's a big deal.
After the misery of being cast as a Christmas tree in the Nativity, Child Dawkins hoped for better.
She came flying in, indignant.
"Who are you playing then?"
"JESUS!"
At this point her Catholic father brims over with pride, but her mother perceives this ain't the deal it seems.
"Isn't that good?" (mother dons tin hat, and retreats to safe distance)
"NO! I only get two lines! Bethany, who is a pig*, gets one line. And Katy, who can't even read, gets a whole paragraph!"
Oh dear. She's learn the highlighter to the script trick.
Later, when she'd calmed down a bit, she explained that apparently, she will be doing more acting than speaking. But this child knows how to use words, and she wasn't afraid of a page full of them.
* I wasn't sure if Bethany was a pig of a child, or a child playing a pig. She's playing a pig.
Sunday, 9 November 2008
A quick update on the Child Dawkins
Meant to post this a few weeks back but didn't get the chance.
Child Dawkins is at that stage where she is being prepared for her Confirmation next year.
Recently she was off school at the end of a week, and halfway through the following week made a big fuss of choosing a set of rosary beads from her collection.
The same collection used in the Elastics incident of 18 March. Apparently, they were to practise with their rosary beads each day, in a special class.
A thought struck Neet. "How did you manage Monday and Tuesday? Did you borrow some?"
Child Dawkins was honest, then indignant.
"No I hid behind the statue of the Virgin Mary and pretended I had them in my hands.*mimes working through her rosary* And do you know what, Mum, that Mrs Jones never checked, not once!"
So which is the bigger sin, miming your Hail Marys or not checking on your charges?
Discuss
Child Dawkins is at that stage where she is being prepared for her Confirmation next year.
Recently she was off school at the end of a week, and halfway through the following week made a big fuss of choosing a set of rosary beads from her collection.
The same collection used in the Elastics incident of 18 March. Apparently, they were to practise with their rosary beads each day, in a special class.
A thought struck Neet. "How did you manage Monday and Tuesday? Did you borrow some?"
Child Dawkins was honest, then indignant.
"No I hid behind the statue of the Virgin Mary and pretended I had them in my hands.*mimes working through her rosary* And do you know what, Mum, that Mrs Jones never checked, not once!"
So which is the bigger sin, miming your Hail Marys or not checking on your charges?
Discuss
A bit different from a bat up your nightie
I wouldn't say I worked in a wildlife haven.
Sure, since they've started to landscape round us, all the birds are back and we have an abundance of creepy-crawlies. But I didn't really expect to see a bat in one of our training rooms. Zooming around in perfect circles, desperate to escape.
I know that feeling.
Poor critter. Instead of closing the door and leaving it in peace, I made the mistake of yelling out that there was a bird in the training room. This was before I realised that it couldn't be a bird - birds produce more noise and more shit when alarmed.
The new girl decided to catch the critter by trying to drop a tea-towel on it. The sensible creature retreated to the top of a 2-metre door and folded up very tightly. In the meantime we folded down a partition door, to offer it an escape route outside, and called the RSPCA.
And here's where I did the cruel thing. I offered to stay while the RSPCA came but one of my most hateful colleagues wanted the kudos and brownie points from dealing with the bat crisis. So I left her to it - because I knew she'd be really pissed off to miss the CSI catch-up on Five. She lives out in the wilds, travels by train and is pathetically excited by the fact she can now get Sky as her husband has relented and said they could have it. She couldn't get any Five signal before.
WTF???! Couldn't she arrange her own installation and direct debit?
So I am really, really sorry, and I can't apologise to the bat population enough, but Tweedledum wanted it more than me, so I left the poor creature in her care.
Just thank God she prefers CSI to Ozzy Osbourne...
Sure, since they've started to landscape round us, all the birds are back and we have an abundance of creepy-crawlies. But I didn't really expect to see a bat in one of our training rooms. Zooming around in perfect circles, desperate to escape.
I know that feeling.
Poor critter. Instead of closing the door and leaving it in peace, I made the mistake of yelling out that there was a bird in the training room. This was before I realised that it couldn't be a bird - birds produce more noise and more shit when alarmed.
The new girl decided to catch the critter by trying to drop a tea-towel on it. The sensible creature retreated to the top of a 2-metre door and folded up very tightly. In the meantime we folded down a partition door, to offer it an escape route outside, and called the RSPCA.
And here's where I did the cruel thing. I offered to stay while the RSPCA came but one of my most hateful colleagues wanted the kudos and brownie points from dealing with the bat crisis. So I left her to it - because I knew she'd be really pissed off to miss the CSI catch-up on Five. She lives out in the wilds, travels by train and is pathetically excited by the fact she can now get Sky as her husband has relented and said they could have it. She couldn't get any Five signal before.
WTF???! Couldn't she arrange her own installation and direct debit?
So I am really, really sorry, and I can't apologise to the bat population enough, but Tweedledum wanted it more than me, so I left the poor creature in her care.
Just thank God she prefers CSI to Ozzy Osbourne...
Friday, 31 October 2008
Catherine Tate for Dr Who
I think this should be a valid suggestion.
Personally, I wasn't sure that she would be good for Dr Who. But in a rare double-whammy;
I admit I was wrong, she was bloody good at it and
I admit I was wrong about her show.
Still can't stand Nan or Lauren, but the rest of it was great. And that's just a personal issue with Nan (cockernee version of my least-favourite gran) and Lauren (neighbourhood bloody choc-a-bloc with clones and I am bovvered, can I give them rat poison?).
So just hark back to all that regeneration malarkey. Let the Doctor regenerate with Donna Noble's appearance. Least they could do after wiping her mind.
Bring on the Ginger Doctor!
Personally, I wasn't sure that she would be good for Dr Who. But in a rare double-whammy;
I admit I was wrong, she was bloody good at it and
I admit I was wrong about her show.
Still can't stand Nan or Lauren, but the rest of it was great. And that's just a personal issue with Nan (cockernee version of my least-favourite gran) and Lauren (neighbourhood bloody choc-a-bloc with clones and I am bovvered, can I give them rat poison?).
So just hark back to all that regeneration malarkey. Let the Doctor regenerate with Donna Noble's appearance. Least they could do after wiping her mind.
Bring on the Ginger Doctor!
Thursday, 30 October 2008
Suggestions for the new Dr Who
I got home last night after a very nice reading session by Neil Gaiman at University of Manchester, and decided to watch the remains of the National Television Awards.
After the usual cock-up of Ant'n'Dec getting Catherine Tate's award, David Tennant quit as Dr Who. Good for his agent perhaps; but has he thought about his bank manager in this?
So I have a few suggestions for Dr Who; based on the fact that the BBC is a bit cash-strapped and might have to double up on posts;
1. Michael Palin - the travelling won't matter to him and he won't have to pretend it's all been one long journey
2. David Attenborough - again, can handle the travel and the critters
3. Jonathan Ross - he'll have to stick to the script because Russel T Davies is bigger than him, which should keep him out of trouble. Sixteen grand of license fee to sit on his arse and do nowt! Noooooo.
And if they made every alien planet and race begin with R, so much the better...
After the usual cock-up of Ant'n'Dec getting Catherine Tate's award, David Tennant quit as Dr Who. Good for his agent perhaps; but has he thought about his bank manager in this?
So I have a few suggestions for Dr Who; based on the fact that the BBC is a bit cash-strapped and might have to double up on posts;
1. Michael Palin - the travelling won't matter to him and he won't have to pretend it's all been one long journey
2. David Attenborough - again, can handle the travel and the critters
3. Jonathan Ross - he'll have to stick to the script because Russel T Davies is bigger than him, which should keep him out of trouble. Sixteen grand of license fee to sit on his arse and do nowt! Noooooo.
And if they made every alien planet and race begin with R, so much the better...
Wednesday, 22 October 2008
Venice
At Jill's suggestion, I ended up in Venice for two days last week.
(And before the green and godly amongst you start kicking off, I am terrified of flying, and very rarely do. So no more nonsense about short-haul European flying, or I will tell the world you have an account at the Humvee track days, alright?)
The weather was ok, the vaporetti chose to go on strike, we ended up in the right places most of the time, and I wanted to go on a work exchange at the Universita Ca'Foscari. There may or may not be pictures at a later date. They are really quite crappy, truth to tell.
Then back to work, and the reality of working for the University of Numpty.
Bugger.
(And before the green and godly amongst you start kicking off, I am terrified of flying, and very rarely do. So no more nonsense about short-haul European flying, or I will tell the world you have an account at the Humvee track days, alright?)
The weather was ok, the vaporetti chose to go on strike, we ended up in the right places most of the time, and I wanted to go on a work exchange at the Universita Ca'Foscari. There may or may not be pictures at a later date. They are really quite crappy, truth to tell.
Then back to work, and the reality of working for the University of Numpty.
Bugger.
Wednesday, 15 October 2008
doppleganger
My mother excelled herself this week.
She brought a strange ginger cat into the house, fed Tigger's medication to it, then brought it up to my room, for a fuss.
Apparently, she had been in the garden talking to a neighbour when the cat came up. She assumed it was Tig.
When she headed for the house, it followed her in. So being an opportunist, she pounced and administered the daily Metacam dose.
She dismissed the ballistic reaction of dogs to cat/cat to medication as just a normal Tuesday morning set-to, really.
I was upstairs, enjoying a morning off. Or to be more honest, recovering from a hangover after my first night on the town with Jill and Scott, in some 6 years.
Hard to say who was more surprised when he turned up in my room, me or the poor ginger tom.
His name is Bruno, he lives just round the corner and has earned his Reservoir Mogs colours by fighting Jasmine, Bailey and Gromit.
She brought a strange ginger cat into the house, fed Tigger's medication to it, then brought it up to my room, for a fuss.
Apparently, she had been in the garden talking to a neighbour when the cat came up. She assumed it was Tig.
When she headed for the house, it followed her in. So being an opportunist, she pounced and administered the daily Metacam dose.
She dismissed the ballistic reaction of dogs to cat/cat to medication as just a normal Tuesday morning set-to, really.
I was upstairs, enjoying a morning off. Or to be more honest, recovering from a hangover after my first night on the town with Jill and Scott, in some 6 years.
Hard to say who was more surprised when he turned up in my room, me or the poor ginger tom.
His name is Bruno, he lives just round the corner and has earned his Reservoir Mogs colours by fighting Jasmine, Bailey and Gromit.
Wednesday, 8 October 2008
Gerr-cat Heaven
Tyler has been watching the Big Cat Diary Live shows on BBC1, and is in gerr-cat heaven.
Our little gerr-cat Tiger is still taking antibiotics, and is desperate to get his paws on a tranquiliser gun. To knock us out...
I don't think he'll ever get the idea we are doing this to keep him alive, furry bampot.
Our little gerr-cat Tiger is still taking antibiotics, and is desperate to get his paws on a tranquiliser gun. To knock us out...
I don't think he'll ever get the idea we are doing this to keep him alive, furry bampot.
Friday, 3 October 2008
The Republic Must Be Built!
For the mornings when I can't be trusted to choose a CD.
The Revolution was the mutt's nuts of radio stations. Sadly bought out recently, and turned into Cheesy Grand Central on August 26 2008. Judge for yourselves - Steve Penk and Pat Sharp? Gawd help us all.
But mercifully, the best presenters decided to relaunch. So get yourselves over to Radio Republic and show some appreciation for decent radio.
Monday, 22 September 2008
Big Sis birthday lunch
Sunday 21 September 2008
Big Sis decided to take us out for lunch on her birthday, rather than cook. This was booked before she saw the weather forecast. So we all troll off to eat, but Big Sis had chosen to ignore the obvious danger.
Lunch booked at 2pm, in a nice family pub/restaurant showing Chelsea v Manchester United.
She knew there wouldn't be any trouble, it isn't that sort of pub. But thinking she could keep her partner, brother, son and nephew away from the action?? She likes a challenge, I'll say that for her.
The boys took far too many cigarette breaks, but she didn't care. Tyler and Phoebe came along, and it was all about them instead.
Phoebe - bossy, controlling, and definitely ginger. Not a bad performance for 10 days old. One to watch for the future - 7/10.
Tyler - he was allowed to wear his football shirt, but couldn't see the game as the tv was in the bar area. So he consoled himself by flirting with the waitresses and trying to make sense of a Yorkshire Pudding. Good solid performance as usual - 9/10.
He has a teddy bear from Marco Pierre White, maybe I should give him a shove in that direction.
Big Sis decided to take us out for lunch on her birthday, rather than cook. This was booked before she saw the weather forecast. So we all troll off to eat, but Big Sis had chosen to ignore the obvious danger.
Lunch booked at 2pm, in a nice family pub/restaurant showing Chelsea v Manchester United.
She knew there wouldn't be any trouble, it isn't that sort of pub. But thinking she could keep her partner, brother, son and nephew away from the action?? She likes a challenge, I'll say that for her.
The boys took far too many cigarette breaks, but she didn't care. Tyler and Phoebe came along, and it was all about them instead.
Phoebe - bossy, controlling, and definitely ginger. Not a bad performance for 10 days old. One to watch for the future - 7/10.
Tyler - he was allowed to wear his football shirt, but couldn't see the game as the tv was in the bar area. So he consoled himself by flirting with the waitresses and trying to make sense of a Yorkshire Pudding. Good solid performance as usual - 9/10.
He has a teddy bear from Marco Pierre White, maybe I should give him a shove in that direction.
Sunday, 14 September 2008
Phoebe Jane Laffin
Brief update from Mad Great Aunt Donna;
Tuesday 09/09/08: Agreed to look after Tyler from Tuesday morning. He is 13 months and 2 weeks old, weighs around 10kg and is 83cm tall. How hard could it be? Angela taken to hospital to be induced.
Wednesday 10/09/08: Angela finally induced at 10.30am, after spending 23 highly frustrating hours in hospital and fretting for her little boy.
Tyler decides to compete with the Large Hadron Collider, attempting to set new records for the highest speeds reached by a toddler. Experiment aborted at 12.30pm, 10/09/08 for lunchtime nap. James takes up the challenge, racing between son/wife/work, but neglected to set a timer so there is no data available.
Thursday 11/09/2008: Phoebe Jane Laffin, born 5.35am, weighing in at 6lb 9½oz. At the moment, I think she looks like a character out of a Beryl Cook picture. She dislikes having her picture taken, but is rather fond of a cuddle.
Tyler isn't quite sure what she is, but quite likes her.
Friday 12/09/08: I handed Tyler back on Friday night and spent the next two days recovering from a migraine!
Tuesday 09/09/08: Agreed to look after Tyler from Tuesday morning. He is 13 months and 2 weeks old, weighs around 10kg and is 83cm tall. How hard could it be? Angela taken to hospital to be induced.
Wednesday 10/09/08: Angela finally induced at 10.30am, after spending 23 highly frustrating hours in hospital and fretting for her little boy.
Tyler decides to compete with the Large Hadron Collider, attempting to set new records for the highest speeds reached by a toddler. Experiment aborted at 12.30pm, 10/09/08 for lunchtime nap. James takes up the challenge, racing between son/wife/work, but neglected to set a timer so there is no data available.
Thursday 11/09/2008: Phoebe Jane Laffin, born 5.35am, weighing in at 6lb 9½oz. At the moment, I think she looks like a character out of a Beryl Cook picture. She dislikes having her picture taken, but is rather fond of a cuddle.
Tyler isn't quite sure what she is, but quite likes her.
Friday 12/09/08: I handed Tyler back on Friday night and spent the next two days recovering from a migraine!
Monday, 8 September 2008
Ignore the Lilypie ticker
Tyler's sibling will be arriving Tuesday or Wednesday, depending on how quick the drugs work!
And we are looking after Tyler.
He can only stay if he shares his toys, I've made that quite clear.
And we are looking after Tyler.
He can only stay if he shares his toys, I've made that quite clear.
Friday, 5 September 2008
Eastenders and Emmerdale non-spoilers
It has just occurred to me that I should do some other non-spoilers, in a spirit of fairness.
Eastenders - The rough-looking one and the terminally stupid one will do a comedy scene that isn't funny, to prove they aren't always depressing gits. Then someone will beat them up and they will be barred from the pub.
Emmerdale - will have a complete lack of cows in an idyllic countryside scene, and won't have the wit to blame foot and mouth.
Hollyoaks - whatever they do, it will be done with way too much lipgloss.
Aussie soaps - 'strewth, mate, don't do longhaul.
Eastenders - The rough-looking one and the terminally stupid one will do a comedy scene that isn't funny, to prove they aren't always depressing gits. Then someone will beat them up and they will be barred from the pub.
Emmerdale - will have a complete lack of cows in an idyllic countryside scene, and won't have the wit to blame foot and mouth.
Hollyoaks - whatever they do, it will be done with way too much lipgloss.
Aussie soaps - 'strewth, mate, don't do longhaul.
Coronation Street non-spoiler
Mooching back through Manchester last night, heard some hooting and hollering. Feeling a bit pissed off as I was not in the mood for nutter-dodging, I looked around to plot an escape route and spotted the filming vans. Being nosy, and hoping to get a view of something interesting like a news story, I carried on.
Could only spot a taxi, so I asked one of the bored crew members what was happening. Instantly he went into 'Tell you and I'll have to kill you' mode. Apparently it was a Corrie scene and ultra-secret.
Yeah, right, filming in a road off Princess Street, opposite Canal Street and next to the entrance for a Novotel. Sooo private and exclusive.
I glanced back and noticed some of the Usual Suspects from the cast. You know, Thingy and Wotsit and Doo-dah and Him-you-can-never-remember-but-he-always-turns-up-at-awards-night. And believe me, it was not the wardrobe department's finest hour.
I didn't have the heart to tell the crew member he was wasting his time - I had no intention of stopping. I enjoy watching soaps - when I don't have anything else to do. They are nice daft viewing treats, but I don't schedule my life round them. And the industry from the crap magazines creating the spoilers, that just makes me sad. You know the headlines "Does he live??" "Is she pregnant??", when surely "Is HE pregnant?" would be more interesting as a plot. And "Should she live??" opens a whole new can of worms for the writing team.
FYI, Wotsit looks quite tall on telly, but is a right little short-arse in real life.
Could only spot a taxi, so I asked one of the bored crew members what was happening. Instantly he went into 'Tell you and I'll have to kill you' mode. Apparently it was a Corrie scene and ultra-secret.
Yeah, right, filming in a road off Princess Street, opposite Canal Street and next to the entrance for a Novotel. Sooo private and exclusive.
I glanced back and noticed some of the Usual Suspects from the cast. You know, Thingy and Wotsit and Doo-dah and Him-you-can-never-remember-but-he-always-turns-up-at-awards-night. And believe me, it was not the wardrobe department's finest hour.
I didn't have the heart to tell the crew member he was wasting his time - I had no intention of stopping. I enjoy watching soaps - when I don't have anything else to do. They are nice daft viewing treats, but I don't schedule my life round them. And the industry from the crap magazines creating the spoilers, that just makes me sad. You know the headlines "Does he live??" "Is she pregnant??", when surely "Is HE pregnant?" would be more interesting as a plot. And "Should she live??" opens a whole new can of worms for the writing team.
FYI, Wotsit looks quite tall on telly, but is a right little short-arse in real life.
Wednesday, 27 August 2008
Gerr-cats are getting bigger every day
Mum and Tyler were having one of those generation bonding moments in front of the tv. Tyler was pointing at the screen, then clapping.
"Gerr-cat! Gerr-cat!"
Well, nearly. It was a tiger. And jaguars are also gerr-cats, apparently.
"Gerr-cat! Gerr-cat!"
Well, nearly. It was a tiger. And jaguars are also gerr-cats, apparently.
Tuesday, 26 August 2008
Why Pesky Critters?
After the previous entry, I had visited Scott's once more.
Holly had managed to lose another collar, complete with magnetic catch for the catflap. I think she's selling them on eBay, and sent Scott a message to warn him about the guitars. After I had sorted Madam out with a meal and replacement collar, I went off to sort out my gang.
Who had been beautifully behaved.
Until one of them left a dead sparrow in the sink, suppertime Monday.
Sorry kids, but sparrows are like mousies - outside fare.
Holly had managed to lose another collar, complete with magnetic catch for the catflap. I think she's selling them on eBay, and sent Scott a message to warn him about the guitars. After I had sorted Madam out with a meal and replacement collar, I went off to sort out my gang.
Who had been beautifully behaved.
Until one of them left a dead sparrow in the sink, suppertime Monday.
Sorry kids, but sparrows are like mousies - outside fare.
Wednesday, 20 August 2008
Cat-sitting
This has taken on a new dimension, since Scott bought a timed feeder.
Yesterday I nipped round. Holly was being her usual fantastic feline self. She seemed a bit taken aback to see me, but showed me the wonderful cardboard box collection (used to hold camping equipment you know! Amazing! Good corrugated cardboard but not claw-proof - bargain!) and did the wonderful hostess bit. The timed feeder was open, so I couldn't play the feeding time card. I could still play sweet wrapper Subbuteo, so she decided I was still fair value.
Alas, Rumpole had unfinished business. The last time I saw Rumpole was the day I collected Scott for the Cambridge trip. So he packed a bag, and Feeder on Speed-dial arrived. Then FOSD buggered off as well.
Now Rumpole is normally a generous purry soul, but last night I copped for the fallout.
Still, I have most of my fingers, so it's not all bad news.
Yesterday I nipped round. Holly was being her usual fantastic feline self. She seemed a bit taken aback to see me, but showed me the wonderful cardboard box collection (used to hold camping equipment you know! Amazing! Good corrugated cardboard but not claw-proof - bargain!) and did the wonderful hostess bit. The timed feeder was open, so I couldn't play the feeding time card. I could still play sweet wrapper Subbuteo, so she decided I was still fair value.
Alas, Rumpole had unfinished business. The last time I saw Rumpole was the day I collected Scott for the Cambridge trip. So he packed a bag, and Feeder on Speed-dial arrived. Then FOSD buggered off as well.
Now Rumpole is normally a generous purry soul, but last night I copped for the fallout.
Still, I have most of my fingers, so it's not all bad news.
Monday, 18 August 2008
Well, they asked...
did Walkers Crisps, for new flavour ideas.
At Hannah's 30th on Saturday, Julan took a black pen and rose to the challenge. 40-odd ideas later, one caught our eye - Semen and Strawberry.
PJK: "Don't think they'll catch on."
DS: "Well, strawberries are popular."
??: "To some people, that is the real taste of summer..."
And a prize to anyone who can guess which member of the MNG made that remark :)
*Clue 1 - not PJK or me. I would have owned up to it!
*Clue 2 - not Hannah. See above.
At Hannah's 30th on Saturday, Julan took a black pen and rose to the challenge. 40-odd ideas later, one caught our eye - Semen and Strawberry.
PJK: "Don't think they'll catch on."
DS: "Well, strawberries are popular."
??: "To some people, that is the real taste of summer..."
And a prize to anyone who can guess which member of the MNG made that remark :)
*Clue 1 - not PJK or me. I would have owned up to it!
*Clue 2 - not Hannah. See above.
Thursday, 14 August 2008
More Cambridge
Well, the journey down was uneventful, due to leaving at 10am and missing the rush hour. It meant that we arrived in Cambridge after the AA had put the signs out! I have been there early enough for there to be one sad sign from the motorway, then it was guesswork, tears and tantrums all the way.
We managed to set up near the duckpond (there were a few nearer spots, but they were a bit too near the toilets/teenagers hangout zone to be worth it) and ended up near some good musicians. There are loads of enthusiastically bad ones, and it seems mean to criticise! But this lot were fine.
Campsite Security, Duckpond end.
That sorted, and down to the serious business of bands and beer with Iain and Ariel.
The little girl in this photo is Hayley, who has a thing about pretending to be a lion. She is attempting to give Iain a bit of a mauling.
The problem with trying to take pics of bands at Cambridge, if you are enjoying yourself then you don't want to bother with pictures much. But Jonny Crescendo was back; and here's the photo of the dalek and the blues recordings, mentioned in the earlier post.
And of course I had to get a picture of the wonderful Allen Toussaint!
It was a tough call but the best act of the festival was Richard Hawley. Last minute replacement for John Hiatt, clearly nervous, he stole the show.
The cat is the Reservoir Mog, Cherry Hinton chapter. He is sulking in this pic. Just about to do some serious claw sharpening on his favourite tree (ie, the one with bunting on!) and some kids scared him off. Hope they were sick for the rest of the festival...
And as usual, there were assorted nutters running around in fancy dress, doing theatre things. Apologies to the PE teachers and the Flowerpot men, I didn't get them on camera
And finally, was it just me? Or can anyone else see a Chinese dragon chasing a ball, in this cloud formation?
We managed to set up near the duckpond (there were a few nearer spots, but they were a bit too near the toilets/teenagers hangout zone to be worth it) and ended up near some good musicians. There are loads of enthusiastically bad ones, and it seems mean to criticise! But this lot were fine.
Campsite Security, Duckpond end.
That sorted, and down to the serious business of bands and beer with Iain and Ariel.
The little girl in this photo is Hayley, who has a thing about pretending to be a lion. She is attempting to give Iain a bit of a mauling.The problem with trying to take pics of bands at Cambridge, if you are enjoying yourself then you don't want to bother with pictures much. But Jonny Crescendo was back; and here's the photo of the dalek and the blues recordings, mentioned in the earlier post.
And of course I had to get a picture of the wonderful Allen Toussaint!
It was a tough call but the best act of the festival was Richard Hawley. Last minute replacement for John Hiatt, clearly nervous, he stole the show.
The cat is the Reservoir Mog, Cherry Hinton chapter. He is sulking in this pic. Just about to do some serious claw sharpening on his favourite tree (ie, the one with bunting on!) and some kids scared him off. Hope they were sick for the rest of the festival...
And as usual, there were assorted nutters running around in fancy dress, doing theatre things. Apologies to the PE teachers and the Flowerpot men, I didn't get them on camera
And finally, was it just me? Or can anyone else see a Chinese dragon chasing a ball, in this cloud formation?
Monday, 11 August 2008
The Cambridge Baby
This is the little film the Beeb made about Cameron.
The Cambridge Baby
I've known his mum for more years than either of us would care to admit. She was the one who dragged me to my first Cambridge Folk Festival some (ahemm-um) years ago.
But I would like to correct a few points. One, it is Sooze, not Sue. They got it right in the web address but not the text. In past years, such a mistake would have earned a well-aimed slap, later replaced by her best pissed-off-teacher look. And two, a quick glance suggests that it is traditional for Sooze to give birth at festivals!
The little soul selling off the birthday cake is Anya, Cameron's sister. And much prettier than the camera-up-the-nose views would have you believe.
The Cambridge Baby
I've known his mum for more years than either of us would care to admit. She was the one who dragged me to my first Cambridge Folk Festival some (ahemm-um) years ago.
But I would like to correct a few points. One, it is Sooze, not Sue. They got it right in the web address but not the text. In past years, such a mistake would have earned a well-aimed slap, later replaced by her best pissed-off-teacher look. And two, a quick glance suggests that it is traditional for Sooze to give birth at festivals!
The little soul selling off the birthday cake is Anya, Cameron's sister. And much prettier than the camera-up-the-nose views would have you believe.
Friday, 8 August 2008
More lazy Cambridge posting
One of the best bits of Cambridge each year is the chance to see Johnny Crescendo again.
Now he's gone all tekkie, with Myspace and a Facebook page and everything.
Still at his funniest when pretending to be a Dalek, or climbing into a guitar case, to prove a point about old blues recordings.
And next year we might get the return of the JC BBQ...
Now he's gone all tekkie, with Myspace and a Facebook page and everything.
Still at his funniest when pretending to be a Dalek, or climbing into a guitar case, to prove a point about old blues recordings.
And next year we might get the return of the JC BBQ...
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
I *heart* Proper Records!
I thought I had managed to grow out of my ultimate shopper phase. So when I went to check out the CD tent at Cambridge, it was more to enjoy the nice artwork, rather than spend the overdraft.
But then I found the DVD of "Hot As A Pistol, Keen As A Blade", Allen Toussaint and Elvis Costello at the Montreal Jazz Festival. Same set list as the brilliant Malaga Este gig :)
Happy, happy me!
I'll do a bit more on the Festival, but I just need to play 'Yes We Can Can' a few more times, then 'Monkey to Man', and 'Clubland' and....
I'll get it written before next year's Festival (hopefully).
But then I found the DVD of "Hot As A Pistol, Keen As A Blade", Allen Toussaint and Elvis Costello at the Montreal Jazz Festival. Same set list as the brilliant Malaga Este gig :)
Happy, happy me!
I'll do a bit more on the Festival, but I just need to play 'Yes We Can Can' a few more times, then 'Monkey to Man', and 'Clubland' and....
I'll get it written before next year's Festival (hopefully).
Tuesday, 29 July 2008
Cambridge here we come!
Oh yes, it's that time again! Cambridge Folk Festival is on this weekend, and yet again I will get off the motorway and get lost in the Cambridgeshire countryside.This year, Scott is navigating. Not sure whether or not this is a Good Thing. We might be relying on my innate ability to find the Guinness tent come-what-may.
This year, only two of us are going down there from our Usual Suspects. Ben has the best excuse (something about going cycling in India this autumn, bah!). Though Damon and Lisa's new house runs a close second. The Townley children are not allowing their parents to attend (probably for the best, Steve and Hayley would just run amok in the children's ceilidh. Oliver and Lucy are too young to be made accountable for their parents). Iain is meeting us down there, my mate Dorian might make and appearance, and over the years I've acquired a nice bunch of drinking buddies down there, so we won't really miss the convoy (*she lied*)
But I want to make something very clear. Once we get to the festival, Scott is ON HIS OWN. I will take no responsibility for any dodgy headgear/musical instrument purchases or his behaviour at any workshops he might attend. I am his friend, not his conscience, and I don't do the voice of reason or commonsense.
It works both ways; he is not going to try to explain anything I might do/say to old acquaintances or bail me out under any circumstances.
Glad that's sorted!
Monday, 21 July 2008
Quick update
Tig is alive and well, and has a note from the Glasgow lab to say he is one fine and dandy cat. My bank manager is greatly relieved about this.
Tyler has learnt to walk, and is 1 year old today! We think he is going to be a goalkeeper or rugby player, as he still prefers to grab the football and roll round the floor with it. He's not mardy enough to be the next Ronaldo.
The cats have decided that they don't like ill people, which was a bit of a nuisance when I was off sick last week. I wouldn't mind, but they never use the bathroom...
And I am on Cambridge countdown. Please, PLEASE send the heatwave from 30 July - 3 August.
Tyler has learnt to walk, and is 1 year old today! We think he is going to be a goalkeeper or rugby player, as he still prefers to grab the football and roll round the floor with it. He's not mardy enough to be the next Ronaldo.
The cats have decided that they don't like ill people, which was a bit of a nuisance when I was off sick last week. I wouldn't mind, but they never use the bathroom...
And I am on Cambridge countdown. Please, PLEASE send the heatwave from 30 July - 3 August.
Friday, 11 July 2008
Tig and his ailments (again)
We are now waiting for the results from Glasgow.
On his last visit to the vets, Tig had to be held down by two experienced nurses while poor Patrick the Wondervet took a swab from Tiggy's mouth. Tig may look like a little sweetie - don't be fooled. "Ginger demon git cat" is the most used alias.
It sounded like Patrick was testing for the 'Carlucci virus', though I may be wrong. I had been watching one of the cookery programmes and Antonio Carlucci does a mean tiramisu. But whatever it was, Tig was swabbed and Patrick escaped unscathed.
But I am a bit concerned that Patrick read his records, and said, "He doesn't look like an immuno-suppressant cat."
Eeeek. Neither did Elvis.
Tig's being a bit quiet and withdrawn, but is eating ok and he is a cat that likes to catch a few rays in the garden. He doesn't do wet weather.
Can we have a heatwave to cheer up a depressed moggie?
On his last visit to the vets, Tig had to be held down by two experienced nurses while poor Patrick the Wondervet took a swab from Tiggy's mouth. Tig may look like a little sweetie - don't be fooled. "Ginger demon git cat" is the most used alias.
It sounded like Patrick was testing for the 'Carlucci virus', though I may be wrong. I had been watching one of the cookery programmes and Antonio Carlucci does a mean tiramisu. But whatever it was, Tig was swabbed and Patrick escaped unscathed.
But I am a bit concerned that Patrick read his records, and said, "He doesn't look like an immuno-suppressant cat."
Eeeek. Neither did Elvis.
Tig's being a bit quiet and withdrawn, but is eating ok and he is a cat that likes to catch a few rays in the garden. He doesn't do wet weather.
Can we have a heatwave to cheer up a depressed moggie?
Friday, 4 July 2008
It's been a funny old month has June...
what with Sophie and Ralph getting married, Scott changing jobs, Julie legging it from the mortal coil, Tyler learning to walk and Tigger continuing his vendetta against Patrick the Wondervet!
July is starting quite well, with the annual family get-together at the races (Mum's birthday) and Mandy & Steve's wedding. Shame they clashed, though with a bit of messing about and some nifty driving, I get to attend both. And Cambridge Folk Festival beckons, with a nice mid-month boozy foody fest half-planned.
At this rate I won't be missing football. Which is good, as Mike Whalley has decided to take a close season break.
On the whole, life is good :)
July is starting quite well, with the annual family get-together at the races (Mum's birthday) and Mandy & Steve's wedding. Shame they clashed, though with a bit of messing about and some nifty driving, I get to attend both. And Cambridge Folk Festival beckons, with a nice mid-month boozy foody fest half-planned.
At this rate I won't be missing football. Which is good, as Mike Whalley has decided to take a close season break.
On the whole, life is good :)
Monday, 23 June 2008
Julie
This is posted with much love and affection for Julie.
She was my neighbour for 21 years. She was the cool kid next door, always in and out of our house. My parents loved her to bits and called her the 'little star'. In a reciprocal arrangement, her Mum was my 'auntie Babs' and much better value than the blood aunties.
Later she became the more clued-up big sister. My own sister is 14 years older than me, and read Cosmopolitan, so I 'borrowed' it from age 7. Julie, only 5 years older and not as unapproachable as big sis, explained the bits that 'Jackie' magazine wouldn't tackle!
In another life her ability to create a party out of nothing, and get it talked about for weeks would have earned her megabucks. And I learned a lot about how a pithy one-liner can start or end a fight, from Julie. She was fundamentally a kind, funny person who did light up a room. Few people can really do that.
After we moved my mum would go on regular jaunts to the old neighbourhood and still saw Julie quite often. She only remarked a fortnight ago that it was strange that Julie had been out when she called.
She died of aggressive lung cancer on Tuesday 17 June, after 5 weeks of negative tests for pneumonia at a nearby hospital. Paul hadn't told us she was ill; it was supposed to be routine checks for pneumonia and pleurisy, he saw no reason to alarm an old lady for nothing. Julie would be home soon. It ended in a frantic attempt at chemotherapy at Wythenshawe Neil Cliffe Centre.
She was 49, planning a big 50th do, and looking forward to her 16 year-old son starting college in September.
In her lifetime she managed to own a damn fine collection of Pesky Critters, though it would be unfair to count partner Paul and sons Lee and Matthew amongst them. Let's have a bit of respect for the living.
Insert your own 'sudden death platitude' here. All I can think is 'oh bugger, it won't be the same without Jules'.
She was my neighbour for 21 years. She was the cool kid next door, always in and out of our house. My parents loved her to bits and called her the 'little star'. In a reciprocal arrangement, her Mum was my 'auntie Babs' and much better value than the blood aunties.
Later she became the more clued-up big sister. My own sister is 14 years older than me, and read Cosmopolitan, so I 'borrowed' it from age 7. Julie, only 5 years older and not as unapproachable as big sis, explained the bits that 'Jackie' magazine wouldn't tackle!
In another life her ability to create a party out of nothing, and get it talked about for weeks would have earned her megabucks. And I learned a lot about how a pithy one-liner can start or end a fight, from Julie. She was fundamentally a kind, funny person who did light up a room. Few people can really do that.
After we moved my mum would go on regular jaunts to the old neighbourhood and still saw Julie quite often. She only remarked a fortnight ago that it was strange that Julie had been out when she called.
She died of aggressive lung cancer on Tuesday 17 June, after 5 weeks of negative tests for pneumonia at a nearby hospital. Paul hadn't told us she was ill; it was supposed to be routine checks for pneumonia and pleurisy, he saw no reason to alarm an old lady for nothing. Julie would be home soon. It ended in a frantic attempt at chemotherapy at Wythenshawe Neil Cliffe Centre.
She was 49, planning a big 50th do, and looking forward to her 16 year-old son starting college in September.
In her lifetime she managed to own a damn fine collection of Pesky Critters, though it would be unfair to count partner Paul and sons Lee and Matthew amongst them. Let's have a bit of respect for the living.
Insert your own 'sudden death platitude' here. All I can think is 'oh bugger, it won't be the same without Jules'.
Monday, 16 June 2008
Tyler update
Can now walk, and brush his own hair! Better than most of the adults I know...
Six unaided steps on Friday, then he sat down and applauded, just in case we missed the point.
Saturday, he took his mum's hairbrush and wobbled over to the mirror to sort his own hair out. And he doesn't mind having his teeth brushed, all nine of them.
All at 10 months, 3 weeks and 2 days. I've no idea whether this is good progress or not, so I'm just going to be stupidly proud and vaguely pompous about it all.
Starting with an apology...
apparently it is Lowden, but I'm not blessed with innate musicality, so I didn't know. But the aggrieved Lowden owner suggested 'Compton Mackenzie' as a name for the new Macbook, and I think it works.
The cats have shown an indecent amount of interest in the new toy. So I think their kind concern should be added to the mix.
Welcome, Compton Mac-kenzie, Reservoir Macbook. Shame I bought the white one.
The cats have shown an indecent amount of interest in the new toy. So I think their kind concern should be added to the mix.
Welcome, Compton Mac-kenzie, Reservoir Macbook. Shame I bought the white one.
Wednesday, 11 June 2008
Sign the Petition - Support Your Surgery
I received this link at work, regarding the BMA 'Support Your Surgery' Campaign.
And this is why it is important.
"Suicide GP 'frustrated' at work"
She was a GP in my practice. A few months ago I noticed a sign saying she was unwell and her cases would be dealt with by Dr Hoeffman. To be honest, the last time I was in, I didn't notice they had taken the notice down. There had been no announcement in the Surgery, though this may have been out of respect for the family, knowing the inquest was still due.
She was a great GP, and we'll miss her. But the fact is, when it was run as a surgery with medical secretaries doing the paperwork, it ran brilliantly. But in the past few years, local surgeries have been told to operate as mini-polyclinics, and the medical staff have been forced to do more business based work. And they don't want to be administrators, they want to be GPs.
Monday, 9 June 2008
I need a name for the Macbook
My knackered old pc has finally corked it. It can just about function for e-mail and everything else can go whistle.
Add that to a tasty discount from Apple because I have an ac.uk email address at work, and what do you get?
Me, down the Apple store, buying my first Mac.
I intend to keep it as the ONLY Mac, but the sales staff gave me the 'humour the lunatic' smile. They know I've left the Dark Side of Microshite, I will be back buying stuff and gubbins in no time.
I didn't ask Scott because I suspect he would lead me into the same amount of damage as the Guitar Buying Incident at Cambridge Folk Festival(2002, 2003?).
If I get as much enjoyment from this Mac as Scott does from Dani (the beautiful Lowdon guitar), it will be a bargain. And it's easier to carry round.
Thursday, 5 June 2008
Dog fighting in suburbia
There has been a lot of news recently, about open forms of dogfighting.
So guess who decided to join in with the craze on Wednesday morning? Name starts with a G, ends with -romit, that's who.
His violent and unprovoked attack, on poor Blake, took everyone by surprise. Blake recovered well, and retaliated by getting his nose under Gromit's midriff and flipping him into the air. Accompanied by savage growls and yapping, it all sounded far more horrible and sinister than it was.
Gromit, as any beaten bully should, slunk off home in disgrace, and is now banned from the walking circuit until he learns to behave. His pride is hurt, but everywhere else is fine.
But I bet the authors of all the news stories did not think the craze had spread to sweet old ladies and lapdogs! And not a hood in sight, either :)
Tuesday, 3 June 2008
A conversation with Tyler
We looked after Tyler on Sunday.
While trying to shovel some healthy baby-mush into him, he became fascinated with Tiger. The feeling was mutual, as the baby-mush smelt like a tempting alternative to cat food.
I pointed at Tiger, and said, "Cat."
"Cat!"
"Ginger cat."
"Gerrr cat!"
Not bad, I thought.
So I pointed at Bailey.
"Dog."
"Dat!"
Early days...
While trying to shovel some healthy baby-mush into him, he became fascinated with Tiger. The feeling was mutual, as the baby-mush smelt like a tempting alternative to cat food.
I pointed at Tiger, and said, "Cat."
"Cat!"
"Ginger cat."
"Gerrr cat!"
Not bad, I thought.
So I pointed at Bailey.
"Dog."
"Dat!"
Early days...
Thursday, 29 May 2008
New additions to the Pesky Critters
For the past month, I've been walking the dogs before work, in a sad attempt to get fit.
It has failed. Largely due to the inordinate amount of time we owners spend gabbing while the dogs run around chasing things.
So here are the new members (photos not available)
Michael and Marley (Jack Russell x mutt)
Gail and Jack (another Jack Russell)
Julie and Sandy (big mutt, soppy)
Cathy and Tyler (big Staffie)
Joe and Blake (black laborador)
Two owners I keep forgetting, but the dogs are Casper (golden laborador) and Sally (King Charles Spaniel)
Craig and Simba, Lucy (big brown mutts, rocket propelled)
So the dogs now have a social life and are happy pack creatures. The cats hate it. Especially since the morning that Michael came round to collect us. He's eleven, autistic, we were missing and that's not in his scheme of things so he came to get us. Marley, 6 months old and a bouncy puppy, invited himself in and made himself right at home. Gail and Jack waited outside, as Jack had weighed up the cats and decided that the gatepost was about as far as he could safely go.
It might not be healthy, but it is fun. A mismatched group with a common interest, talking a lot of enjoyable rubbish and having a good time.
Like the MNG in the pub, but with chewy sticks.
It has failed. Largely due to the inordinate amount of time we owners spend gabbing while the dogs run around chasing things.
So here are the new members (photos not available)
Michael and Marley (Jack Russell x mutt)
Gail and Jack (another Jack Russell)
Julie and Sandy (big mutt, soppy)
Cathy and Tyler (big Staffie)
Joe and Blake (black laborador)
Two owners I keep forgetting, but the dogs are Casper (golden laborador) and Sally (King Charles Spaniel)
Craig and Simba, Lucy (big brown mutts, rocket propelled)
So the dogs now have a social life and are happy pack creatures. The cats hate it. Especially since the morning that Michael came round to collect us. He's eleven, autistic, we were missing and that's not in his scheme of things so he came to get us. Marley, 6 months old and a bouncy puppy, invited himself in and made himself right at home. Gail and Jack waited outside, as Jack had weighed up the cats and decided that the gatepost was about as far as he could safely go.
It might not be healthy, but it is fun. A mismatched group with a common interest, talking a lot of enjoyable rubbish and having a good time.
Like the MNG in the pub, but with chewy sticks.
Tuesday, 27 May 2008
Back from the Dark Side...
otherwise known as 'crap Bank Holiday Weekend'.
Manchester United did their best to send me grey and demented since the last entry, and nearly succeeded. Hull and Doncaster both did me proud, as did Queen of the South. Yes, I know they didn't win, but the pundit said that no-one recovers from 2-0 down to Rangers. Maybe he forgot that they can't hear the commentary from the pitch. For Stockport vs Rochdale, I couldn't choose, so I cheered them both (and fell asleep before the tv highlights so I don't know what I was cheering for).
On Saturday, Tig continued his raid on my bank account (booster jabs for him and the Yorkshire Terrier-ist) with Eric and Jasmine due next week. I faced with the choice of going to see the MNG finest strutting their stuff or being sensible and saving cash. I faced fighting through the crowds for Ricky Hatton and The Osmonds on the way and a huge taxi bill to get home. Btw, it was separate venues for Hatton and the Osmonds, fortunately as rumour has it that Marie Osmond was hankering after a shot at the title. It sounded great, but the red on the online banking wasn't so great. So I stayed in.
Then wrecked the sensible facade by necking a bottle of red wine and watching Eurovision.
All I can really remember is that one act appeared to have four women dressed as crinoline-lady-toilet-roll covers, with Helena Bonham-Carter's more weirdly dressed kid sister and the Child Catcher's creepy kid brother on vocals. A few rawk types waded in, some prat was dressed as an angel and Andy Abrahams will probably be in therapy for years. I can't really feel sorry for Wogan, bearing in mind the size of his fee. But Dustin the Turkey should feel as aggrieved as only a puppet can; I expect he was just a bit too classy.
In some respects, it was a good weekend. James, Angie and Tyler headed to Cornwall to see Angie's dad. I discovered the joys of tidying up, and found space, really real space in the boxroom and the shed! Finally I started a book that Sophie sent months back and I had been saving for a reading binge. And I could've watched live bands in a force 8 gale in Manchester city centre, but I chose a good book instead. The MiNGe should be proud.
I also found Bailey in front of the telly, listening to Julie Andrews as they repeated 'The Sound of Music' again. Oh dearydear...
Manchester United did their best to send me grey and demented since the last entry, and nearly succeeded. Hull and Doncaster both did me proud, as did Queen of the South. Yes, I know they didn't win, but the pundit said that no-one recovers from 2-0 down to Rangers. Maybe he forgot that they can't hear the commentary from the pitch. For Stockport vs Rochdale, I couldn't choose, so I cheered them both (and fell asleep before the tv highlights so I don't know what I was cheering for).
On Saturday, Tig continued his raid on my bank account (booster jabs for him and the Yorkshire Terrier-ist) with Eric and Jasmine due next week. I faced with the choice of going to see the MNG finest strutting their stuff or being sensible and saving cash. I faced fighting through the crowds for Ricky Hatton and The Osmonds on the way and a huge taxi bill to get home. Btw, it was separate venues for Hatton and the Osmonds, fortunately as rumour has it that Marie Osmond was hankering after a shot at the title. It sounded great, but the red on the online banking wasn't so great. So I stayed in.
Then wrecked the sensible facade by necking a bottle of red wine and watching Eurovision.
All I can really remember is that one act appeared to have four women dressed as crinoline-lady-toilet-roll covers, with Helena Bonham-Carter's more weirdly dressed kid sister and the Child Catcher's creepy kid brother on vocals. A few rawk types waded in, some prat was dressed as an angel and Andy Abrahams will probably be in therapy for years. I can't really feel sorry for Wogan, bearing in mind the size of his fee. But Dustin the Turkey should feel as aggrieved as only a puppet can; I expect he was just a bit too classy.
In some respects, it was a good weekend. James, Angie and Tyler headed to Cornwall to see Angie's dad. I discovered the joys of tidying up, and found space, really real space in the boxroom and the shed! Finally I started a book that Sophie sent months back and I had been saving for a reading binge. And I could've watched live bands in a force 8 gale in Manchester city centre, but I chose a good book instead. The MiNGe should be proud.
I also found Bailey in front of the telly, listening to Julie Andrews as they repeated 'The Sound of Music' again. Oh dearydear...
Wednesday, 21 May 2008
How to confuse the H&S expert, without even trying...
One of our external trainers delivered a course yesterday. During the usual friendly chit-chat, he told us that he supported Hull City.
He admitted he was enjoying the thought of maybe returning to Manchester to watch his team play Premiership football. Better than teaching our lot about Fire Safety!
So I did the dutiful thing and tried to explain about the Gubbometer at Mike's blog.
I thought I'd done the Gubbometer a disservice, as his eyes glazed over. Maybe I hadn't described it as well as I could. Then he owned up - he wants them to go up, but he doesn't dare plan anything in case Bristol City win and it all ends in tears. Learning about the Gubbometer fell into the same category as checking train timetables or car parking near Premiership grounds.
Don't make assumptions, ever.
We tried to cheer him by pointing out that it is Neet's birthday on Saturday. In between celebrating being err...uuummm...still 30-something, cheering Ricky Hatton on and avoiding Eurovision by going out on the town, she will cheer for Hull City. If he supported Manchester United, tonight.
A deal was struck all round, but I've cried off. After all, I wanted Rangers to win last week, Stalyvegas to reach Blue Square Premier and Cardiff for the FA cup...
Just off to Ladbrokes to put a bet on Chelsea and Bristol City.
Tuesday, 20 May 2008
Tig on the warpath - 2
Poor cat.
Teeth removed and trying not to wobble over. He struggles with anaesthetic and tries to hang on to his last shred of cat dignity. We've had this scenario for about five days now. I think (hope) he's acting up a little, as he seems fine in the garden when he thinks we are not looking.
Then we keep pouncing on him, to administer capsules of toxic substance.
We are at the half-way stage and his goodwill has run out. He's back to snarling at full volume, good power behind the claws and first class scowling maintained for hours at a time.
If he didn't seem a bit on the light side, and a teeny bit scared, I'd be well pleased at the arsey attitude. But he is a bit underweight, and he does look scared.
He isn't being Tig.
Saturday, 17 May 2008
Back online
Thanks to BT, I'm back online.
Only a week down, but I've been suffering the withdrawal symptoms.
And I made the big mistake of re-routing the landline to the mobile....
So I've had to do everything I need to do at work. Yesterday felt really strange with no access, especially as I'd missed Mike Whalley's addition to the Five Live coverage on Wednesday night, and was too busy at work to catch up!
I wandered around Manchester on Wednesday to see what all the fuss was about. I was there between 5-7pm and the fans I met were lovely. Even the lairy lads were nice!
I had heard the buildup on breakfast tv, and Five Live, on the way in. Was surprised at the lack of portaloos and extra rubbish bins, though. Didn't they expect anyone to turn up, after offering an invite out to one and all? Manchester felt like a house that had been trashed after a bad Facebook party, but I think MCC deserved it, frankly. I was trapped between a couple discussing the failing AV equipment at around 6.15pm, so why didn't they get it sorted sooner?
As for the violence at the end of the night, why be surprised that this event was hit by the hard-core hooligans? Sadly, no one else gets away from it, this was no different. If you do the maths, apparently the trouble amounted to a pathetically small percentage. No consolation to PC Mick Regan, but where were all the forces used to track the soccer hooligans on other big events?
Sorry I didn't live up to the promise about PhotoShopping my colleagues into the Rangers fighting fans. But I couldn't do it. Not even my supremely irritating colleagues deserve to be linked with those people.
And the lovely Rangers fans certainly don't deserve it.
Only a week down, but I've been suffering the withdrawal symptoms.
And I made the big mistake of re-routing the landline to the mobile....
So I've had to do everything I need to do at work. Yesterday felt really strange with no access, especially as I'd missed Mike Whalley's addition to the Five Live coverage on Wednesday night, and was too busy at work to catch up!
I wandered around Manchester on Wednesday to see what all the fuss was about. I was there between 5-7pm and the fans I met were lovely. Even the lairy lads were nice!
I had heard the buildup on breakfast tv, and Five Live, on the way in. Was surprised at the lack of portaloos and extra rubbish bins, though. Didn't they expect anyone to turn up, after offering an invite out to one and all? Manchester felt like a house that had been trashed after a bad Facebook party, but I think MCC deserved it, frankly. I was trapped between a couple discussing the failing AV equipment at around 6.15pm, so why didn't they get it sorted sooner?
As for the violence at the end of the night, why be surprised that this event was hit by the hard-core hooligans? Sadly, no one else gets away from it, this was no different. If you do the maths, apparently the trouble amounted to a pathetically small percentage. No consolation to PC Mick Regan, but where were all the forces used to track the soccer hooligans on other big events?
Sorry I didn't live up to the promise about PhotoShopping my colleagues into the Rangers fighting fans. But I couldn't do it. Not even my supremely irritating colleagues deserve to be linked with those people.
And the lovely Rangers fans certainly don't deserve it.
Wednesday, 14 May 2008
UEFA Cup Final, City of Manchester Stadium, 14 May 2008
Don't worry, the Reservoir Mogs have not decided to rival the wonderful Mike Whalley's World of Sport. Nip over there if you want proper football journalism. This is just observation on the effect of sunshine and sporting fervour on the paranoid.
The sun is shining, the banners were all looking very nice at 8.30am this morning, and you could not move in Manchester city centre at lunchtime. We know this because some nice friend has sent pictures from the news.
And my dear colleagues are bricking it. Manchester has been invaded by 100,000 drunk Scottish rapists and pillagers, who will destroy our wonderful town and much too dangerous to walk on our streets. They are certain of it. Oh yes, indeedy we are going to hell in a tartan handcart.
????? WTF????
And you wonder why I'm checking out the Jobsmine at Manchester Evening News.
Neet, the mother of the wonderful Child Dawkins, is a big footie fan. Mercifully she isn't in today! I shudder to think what she would have said. This morning we had a course on Equality and Diversity (no stereotyping of ethnic and socio-economic groups because it is a BAD THING). It didn't permeate the fear and hatred of this office though.
So Big Mouth here, decides to have a go on behalf of the football fans. And now they are all cowering slightly, waiting for me to start speaking Scottish and reveal the Rangers shirt under the t-shirt. Personally I'm more scared of the Chavs vs Students vomiting contests on a Saturday night.
And yet we work just off the main road leading to an A&E department, and I am sure I've heard fewer ambulance sirens than usual. Okay, so some cases may have been diverted to hospitals you can reach without a police escort through the crowd. But, according to the theory, the vicious soccer thugs should have been sending them down by the lorryload so it should have been constant screeching. One of them swears it has been really busy. I keep my window open most days; I disagree.
So sod them and their nasty narrow views, I'm going to walk back to the car park past the fan sites, enjoy the atmosphere and drive home after kick-off. I have no real chance of getting past the stadium until then, so I'm going to make the most of it.
And if it should end in carnage I am going to Photoshop pictures of my colleagues onto the offenders....
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
Tig on the warpath
It's not easy, being Tig. Especially today, booked in to have his teeth cleaned, and a dodgy one removed.
Driving to the vets this morning with a grumpy-arsed and hungry cat was not fun. He was being a little demon, in the hell-fire sense. I am a woman doomed. No food since 8.30pm yesterday?? Not even allowed to eat that really big spider he found in the bedroom? (Certainly not - it was huge, and I had my orders from the new vet on the block). Did I really think I could escape unscathed? Yet in the surgery he was a little stripy cuddly cat, charm personified.
Git.
And meanwhile, back at the ranch, Mum is dealing with the other four, who were also put on the 'no food after 8.30pm' diet. But she will be ok; I was the one who starved them all, she is Grannie God Cop with opposable thumbs and a working knowledge of a tin opener.
Guess which one of us will be banished to sleep in the shed for a while?
Driving to the vets this morning with a grumpy-arsed and hungry cat was not fun. He was being a little demon, in the hell-fire sense. I am a woman doomed. No food since 8.30pm yesterday?? Not even allowed to eat that really big spider he found in the bedroom? (Certainly not - it was huge, and I had my orders from the new vet on the block). Did I really think I could escape unscathed? Yet in the surgery he was a little stripy cuddly cat, charm personified.
Git.
And meanwhile, back at the ranch, Mum is dealing with the other four, who were also put on the 'no food after 8.30pm' diet. But she will be ok; I was the one who starved them all, she is Grannie God Cop with opposable thumbs and a working knowledge of a tin opener.
Guess which one of us will be banished to sleep in the shed for a while?
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
Grrr...
In case you think I'm practising a new language of Petspeak, you're wrong.
It's just the low warning growl of a hacked-off administrator, dealing with cretins, when she should be basking in the sunshine with beer and an ice-cream.
The low warning growl of one who no longer cares that the chief protagonist is twice her weight, nearly a foot taller, and reportedly senior management.
It's going to get narsty....
It's just the low warning growl of a hacked-off administrator, dealing with cretins, when she should be basking in the sunshine with beer and an ice-cream.
The low warning growl of one who no longer cares that the chief protagonist is twice her weight, nearly a foot taller, and reportedly senior management.
It's going to get narsty....
Tuesday, 22 April 2008
Revolting Students
According to the MEN freebie edition, our students had a protest today. I read this in the queue for the bank at lunchtime.
Which was handy to know, when the same protesting mob reached the building opposite and stormed the doors at 4.50pm!
I don't tend to read the student's noticeboards. They tend to be full of events that the over 25's should not even consider. There is no amount of tequila in this world that will turn back the ageing process! So I hadn't been aware of this, until they turned up at the building across the way.
It had an air of flash-mob about it, or maybe our lot were not the most organised anarchists on the block. The guy with the loudhailer didn't have the clearest diction, so it was hard to know what they were protesting about. And the placard makers hadn't really pushed the boat out, so it was hard to see what they were protesting about. The clearest was a nice little A3 with "NO TO CUTS", so we weren't completely in the dark.
However, they managed to bring a nice little salsa band, got the attention of a Channel M camera crew and some community police, and the police helicopter did a quick fly-by, so I think a good time was had by all!
I wouldn't claim to be the biggest fan of students; but everything they said is correct. They are being fleeced by this Uni, and deserve better. Shame the Uni is too busy pissing-off all the support staff, to notice! The very staff who are now too demoralised to provide the service that could make all the difference.
The students are cash cows, the staff are wage-slaves. Here's a bit from an e-mail from my mate S, who is escaping into the real world in 2 weeks;
"I completely and utterly believe that we are all capable of more than what we are currently doing. I even more believe that the UoM does not have our best interests at heart and will bleed you dry over time (it has me)."
Ok, not the best writing you'll ever see. But you tolerate this blog, and that will never win prizes! The plan seems to be to take support staff who are good at their jobs, make half of them redundant (minimum), make the remaining staff overworked and then throw in a paycut. Then to be really sure, take away any aspect of the job that needs a functioning braincell. This justifies the next pay cut - if you are knackered and stressed and not performing, then how can you justify the pay grade?
But still, we've got a few Nobel laureates knocking around on a good fee, and a nice glossy brochure talking about our plans to be world leaders by 2015. What more do we want??
Which was handy to know, when the same protesting mob reached the building opposite and stormed the doors at 4.50pm!
I don't tend to read the student's noticeboards. They tend to be full of events that the over 25's should not even consider. There is no amount of tequila in this world that will turn back the ageing process! So I hadn't been aware of this, until they turned up at the building across the way.
It had an air of flash-mob about it, or maybe our lot were not the most organised anarchists on the block. The guy with the loudhailer didn't have the clearest diction, so it was hard to know what they were protesting about. And the placard makers hadn't really pushed the boat out, so it was hard to see what they were protesting about. The clearest was a nice little A3 with "NO TO CUTS", so we weren't completely in the dark.
However, they managed to bring a nice little salsa band, got the attention of a Channel M camera crew and some community police, and the police helicopter did a quick fly-by, so I think a good time was had by all!
I wouldn't claim to be the biggest fan of students; but everything they said is correct. They are being fleeced by this Uni, and deserve better. Shame the Uni is too busy pissing-off all the support staff, to notice! The very staff who are now too demoralised to provide the service that could make all the difference.
The students are cash cows, the staff are wage-slaves. Here's a bit from an e-mail from my mate S, who is escaping into the real world in 2 weeks;
"I completely and utterly believe that we are all capable of more than what we are currently doing. I even more believe that the UoM does not have our best interests at heart and will bleed you dry over time (it has me)."
Ok, not the best writing you'll ever see. But you tolerate this blog, and that will never win prizes! The plan seems to be to take support staff who are good at their jobs, make half of them redundant (minimum), make the remaining staff overworked and then throw in a paycut. Then to be really sure, take away any aspect of the job that needs a functioning braincell. This justifies the next pay cut - if you are knackered and stressed and not performing, then how can you justify the pay grade?
But still, we've got a few Nobel laureates knocking around on a good fee, and a nice glossy brochure talking about our plans to be world leaders by 2015. What more do we want??
Monday, 14 April 2008
Go, Dot, Go!
The story of the woman who is applying for planning permission to knock down Terry Leahy's gaffe to build a park is wonderful.
Friday, 11 April 2008
Bailey makes himself at home
Here's a picture of the lovely Bailey. The cats have convinced him to join the Dark Side and he is trying to sleep on the back of the sofa.
He tried stopping over at James's last night. Apart from trying to headbutt his way through the back door, and missing the other animals, he seems unscathed. But he likes it here.
Maybe because their sofa is leather and a bit slippery...
Orange Juice is good for you
Would you look at that audience, have you seen what they're wearing, bless! Just do audio if you are easily offended on the sartorial front.
Some of us of a certain (ahem!) age may still have these items in our wardrobes. Don't admit to anything. Or leave the wardrobe doors open.
Tuesday, 8 April 2008
Strange what you miss about folk, though.
At the interval for ISIHAC, I really missed Sophie. Theatre intervals used to be spent outside while Soph topped up the nicotine levels and I got some fresh air. Easy to do, just stand upwind of the smokers, though it might not count as fresh air in Salford Quays. Scott would join us, just to laugh at the English softies who were trying to smoke through chattering teeth. It's always bloody freezing around the Lowry centre.
Being a creature of habit, at the interval I headed outward past the bars and to the main doors.
The smokers looked pityingly at me, marking me down as a quitter who still tried to passive smoke. But the non-smokers had the last laugh when the smokers couldn't join in with... well, just listen to the show, whenever it is broadcast...
Being a creature of habit, at the interval I headed outward past the bars and to the main doors.
The smokers looked pityingly at me, marking me down as a quitter who still tried to passive smoke. But the non-smokers had the last laugh when the smokers couldn't join in with... well, just listen to the show, whenever it is broadcast...
Not so quiet on the Western front...
Life round ours has been rather dull recently. Of course things have been happening, but in the main they have been on the boring-dull-downright sad end of the spectrum, and not up for discussion.
So we were nearly caught out when a bunch of really nice things happened in a short space of time;
i) our friend Nam has finally been granted a visa from Thailand, after years of trying. So she will be living just up the road, with her lovely boyfriend Glyn. He's a mad Man City fan, so I've suggested she tries to get a job at the City of Manchester stadium as soon as her NI number is sorted. So we're all round at theirs for a Thai banquet as soon as she recovers from the jetlag when she arrives in May.
ii) James has finally found a full-time job (rather than all the temp stuff he's been doing for the last few months). About time he decided what he wanted to be when he grew up, hah!
iii) the house sale to the buyer-from-hell has finally been completed. The Big Sis will be spending the proceeds on Valium and anger management courses. The buyer has severely pissed-off the BS - you shouldn't do that to someone whose house you are buying, obviously they know where you will be living... :)
And saving the best to last... The beautiful Faye is now engaged to the lovely Kev, and my sister-in-law is hoping that she just might get to be a grandma in due course. Wedding next year on a beach somewhere, underwater if Faye can persuade Kev to study for the PADI certificate!
Added to all that, the lovely Lucy at Life Begins was christened on Sunday, and I got a last-minute invite to "I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue" at the Lowry! Both well worth the speeding tickets that I must have collected, either on the way to church (honestly, officer) or on the way to the altar of St Humph of the Lyttleton.
So we were nearly caught out when a bunch of really nice things happened in a short space of time;
i) our friend Nam has finally been granted a visa from Thailand, after years of trying. So she will be living just up the road, with her lovely boyfriend Glyn. He's a mad Man City fan, so I've suggested she tries to get a job at the City of Manchester stadium as soon as her NI number is sorted. So we're all round at theirs for a Thai banquet as soon as she recovers from the jetlag when she arrives in May.
ii) James has finally found a full-time job (rather than all the temp stuff he's been doing for the last few months). About time he decided what he wanted to be when he grew up, hah!
iii) the house sale to the buyer-from-hell has finally been completed. The Big Sis will be spending the proceeds on Valium and anger management courses. The buyer has severely pissed-off the BS - you shouldn't do that to someone whose house you are buying, obviously they know where you will be living... :)
And saving the best to last... The beautiful Faye is now engaged to the lovely Kev, and my sister-in-law is hoping that she just might get to be a grandma in due course. Wedding next year on a beach somewhere, underwater if Faye can persuade Kev to study for the PADI certificate!
Added to all that, the lovely Lucy at Life Begins was christened on Sunday, and I got a last-minute invite to "I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue" at the Lowry! Both well worth the speeding tickets that I must have collected, either on the way to church (honestly, officer) or on the way to the altar of St Humph of the Lyttleton.
Monday, 31 March 2008
Greetings from Chez Mogs
It's been a bit on the quiet side here, the only noteworthy events are two quite sad ones.
The first concerns the elegant Eric. Last week he was playing mind games with the dogs, stretched full length in the best space in the house, yawning menacingly at them. Oh yes, this cat could yawn with menace.
On Good Friday we noticed Eric was definitely keeping tight-lipped about something. A bit of skullduggery involving buttered toast and marmite persuaded him to open up. His bottom fangs were missing :( Seeing as he'd already lost the top-right one, cracked and removed long since, this was not a good look. I expect they are embedded in the neck of some wee beastie somewhere, but they looked better on Eric.
The second one concerns Gromit. He is definitely showing signs of severe aging, made even worse by comparing him with 2-year-old Bailey. He's back at the vets tonight, and I'm preparing for the worst. All his ailments are catching up with him, but at least we know Patrick will tell us straight what the outcome is.
The bottom line is that both pets are old, Gromit is 12 years old and Eric will be 12 soon. But I forgot to tell them I expected pet immortality from them, not just furballs and mucky pawprints everywhere.
Tuesday, 18 March 2008
Hellfire awaits...
the wonderful Child Dawkins.
She wanted to play the good old-fashioned Elastics game with her teddy bear. Don't say 'awww', she's seriously competitive and wanted to do some training at home, all the better to conquer the playground.
She couldn't find her Bratz elastics anywhere. So she improvised...with 4 sets of rosary beads, including a set from Rome.
We can only guess that the Vatican beads had not been blessed, as the house has not been struck by lightning.
She wanted to play the good old-fashioned Elastics game with her teddy bear. Don't say 'awww', she's seriously competitive and wanted to do some training at home, all the better to conquer the playground.
She couldn't find her Bratz elastics anywhere. So she improvised...with 4 sets of rosary beads, including a set from Rome.
We can only guess that the Vatican beads had not been blessed, as the house has not been struck by lightning.
Monday, 10 March 2008
Mousie, x2
So there we were, Saturday night, and an early night planned. No better offers, so catch up with MOTD, and some rolling news, bed by midnight.
Not for long.
2am, I was still in the hall, with cardboard boxes, tubes, sticky tape, 2 cats, 1 dog and a very small and determined mouse.
Challenge? To catch said Mousie, before cats and dog did. Mousie found the only spot in the hall where it couldn't be reached. I opened the front door to freedom for it, Mousie stayed curled up in corner, and I froze for a while. By 2am, I'd become 'Frustrated Blue Peter Presenter'-woman, trying to make some contraption to trap it and haul it's furry arse outside. At 2.20am I gave up.
Sunday, 7.45am and the critters dragged me downstairs. The mouse had been inside the contraption overnight, wandered round and back to the corner. So Plan B - empty and move bookcase (mercifully small but still heavy) and herd the little furry-arsed git through the front door. Preferably before the Middlesbrough-Cardiff match.
Success at last, but Tig was sulking BIG TIME. Or he was, until he brought a second mouse in...
I got to that one really quickly, and threw it out. Tig's sulking went off the scale at this point. One mouse I could have, but TWO??? Jasmine, Gromit and Bailey all joined in. I'm a disgrace.
I'm paying the price for being greedy, only Eric is still my pal. But he learned long ago to keep his killing sprees out of the house...
Not much justice there, then
So Carol Barnes dies at 63, and on the same day Thatcher gets to stagger on for a bit longer.
No justice, but at least it gives Elvis Costello a bit more time to shine up his dancing shoes.
Thursday, 6 March 2008
The Great Escape update
Rachel, our ex-boss who made a bid for freedom and got a proper job in the real world, has just phoned.
So we've dished the dirt, and caught up with all her gossip. We are now toasting her good fortune with hot chocolate and diet Coke (as separate drinks, for those of you who might think we've lost the foodie plot).
It just seems strange here today, it is much too quiet. We've checked the phones are working, fine. Servers up and running? OK there. Head out of the window to check there are still humans walking round? Well, academics and students - the wage slaves are back at their desks. I'm typing this in my late lunchbreak. People - check.
Just feels like the start of a nasty horror film or the first 10 minutes of 'Casualty'...
So we've dished the dirt, and caught up with all her gossip. We are now toasting her good fortune with hot chocolate and diet Coke (as separate drinks, for those of you who might think we've lost the foodie plot).
It just seems strange here today, it is much too quiet. We've checked the phones are working, fine. Servers up and running? OK there. Head out of the window to check there are still humans walking round? Well, academics and students - the wage slaves are back at their desks. I'm typing this in my late lunchbreak. People - check.
Just feels like the start of a nasty horror film or the first 10 minutes of 'Casualty'...
Tuesday, 4 March 2008
Thought for the day
Other people's words can only hurt you if you let them or
And life isn't so Wyle E Coyote, is it? And if the critics can't be bothered to be creative, why worry about them?
As the jibes have been based around weight (my doctor isn't worried about me, so nyar), age (better than being dead, pal!) and hair colour (auburn by birth, graying by age and bright red by choice) I've decided to ignore them.
- if they write them onto a piece of paper and wrap 'em round a well-aimed baseball bat
- or drop a volume of them on your head
- or fill a 32-tonner with their words (in any chosen medium) and flatten you with said truck
- or just continue to add any Road Runner scenario that you choose...
And life isn't so Wyle E Coyote, is it? And if the critics can't be bothered to be creative, why worry about them?
As the jibes have been based around weight (my doctor isn't worried about me, so nyar), age (better than being dead, pal!) and hair colour (auburn by birth, graying by age and bright red by choice) I've decided to ignore them.
Thursday, 28 February 2008
Krispy Kreme Doughnuts
I've been converted to these, thanks to a nice lad who was selling them for charity, on Oxford Road. The idea being that the lunchtime munchie-fiends (ie me) would stop by, and donate to his fundraiser for water-aid schemes in the Sudan.
Absolutely fair do's, to me.
He did try the puppy-eyes 'ooh I've got no change and they are for charideee' line on the crowd, but this was Oxford Road, lunchtime, full of cynical improverished students and Uni Staff, so it wasn't quite has successful as elsewhere.
I know I'm getting old when I see the kids on Oxford Road and can't believe they are all students, surely it's a school outing of epic proportions! How can these baby-faced creatures be allowed out of their bedrooms unsupervised, let alone given student loans and the hell that comes with financial services products?
Now young Scottster over at 'Everybody laughed' - eyes left, scroll down, follow the link from there - has been raving about Krispy Kreme for a while. Now I see why. I've been humouring the lad as it is nice to see him have an obsession that isn't geek based! But I'm now on a new path to obesity and tooth decay.
If it wasn't the wrong side of payday, the little fundraiser might have ended up with a reservoir named after him. Where's the diner again, Scottie?
Absolutely fair do's, to me.
He did try the puppy-eyes 'ooh I've got no change and they are for charideee' line on the crowd, but this was Oxford Road, lunchtime, full of cynical improverished students and Uni Staff, so it wasn't quite has successful as elsewhere.
I know I'm getting old when I see the kids on Oxford Road and can't believe they are all students, surely it's a school outing of epic proportions! How can these baby-faced creatures be allowed out of their bedrooms unsupervised, let alone given student loans and the hell that comes with financial services products?
Now young Scottster over at 'Everybody laughed' - eyes left, scroll down, follow the link from there - has been raving about Krispy Kreme for a while. Now I see why. I've been humouring the lad as it is nice to see him have an obsession that isn't geek based! But I'm now on a new path to obesity and tooth decay.
If it wasn't the wrong side of payday, the little fundraiser might have ended up with a reservoir named after him. Where's the diner again, Scottie?
Wednesday, 27 February 2008
Earthquake
So we had an earthquake!
Mum swears the wardrobes were swaying - if you saw the size of her room you'd understand why that would be a bit disconcerting. I would blame the drink, but she's teetotal. Gromit went into the garden to bark at it, and Bailey hid under the sofa.
I slept through it, as did the cats.
Tuesday, 26 February 2008
Strange ally
I have seen true experts at work today. The Campaign to Really Annoy Irritating Colleagues has an unofficial software.
We use a software for HR and course bookings that has been designed by true craftsmen. Get it developed so far, find bugs, leave bugs and let people evolve a working pattern round them.
As they think we are irritating for complaining, and these bugs are really annoying, I bow to these masters of the art of the CRAIC.
Watching two colleagues from the User Group trying to run a report, which ended in a handbag hissy fit and the lovely-natured Eleanor snarling "Do what you like, I wouldn't advise it", to a complete ****wit colleague - wonderful. Especially as she sounded like a Home Counties gel doing a Mafioso impression with a permafrost chill to it.
But I won't name the company or software yet. No one has been driven to diving out of the window, and I feel we have to set the bar higher for companies than for individuals.
Monday, 25 February 2008
Interview Day
They're interviewing for the new office manager today, so the front office staff are keeping a very keen eye on the candidates as they arrive.
We do have an early favourite, but do we show our hand just yet? If we express a preference, with they be top of the rejection list?
Sod the American primaries, this is real politics for you... :)
Thursday, 21 February 2008
CRAIC
The Campaign to Really Annoy Irritating Colleagues (CRAIC) has hit a snag today.
The worst offender has decided to work from home, and her acolytes have been a bit wary today. I am the only member of the team in the front office today - so they can't risk me running off into the street to find a campaign manager.
They are so desperate to tell me why they can't work from one of two spare desks in the front office. I smile sweetly, I only want them in here if they are going to work, not play Scrabulous or whitter inanely about the Brit awards. If I can save blogging for lunchtime, why can't they?
Fortunately, the department who share front office space have sent James in here to keep the numbers up. As James is deceptively nutty (he appears so normal and intelligent!) he makes excellent company.
He is a prize candidate for CRAIC membership, and he has a larger team to work on than I have. Think I might start recruiting later...
The worst offender has decided to work from home, and her acolytes have been a bit wary today. I am the only member of the team in the front office today - so they can't risk me running off into the street to find a campaign manager.
They are so desperate to tell me why they can't work from one of two spare desks in the front office. I smile sweetly, I only want them in here if they are going to work, not play Scrabulous or whitter inanely about the Brit awards. If I can save blogging for lunchtime, why can't they?
Fortunately, the department who share front office space have sent James in here to keep the numbers up. As James is deceptively nutty (he appears so normal and intelligent!) he makes excellent company.
He is a prize candidate for CRAIC membership, and he has a larger team to work on than I have. Think I might start recruiting later...
Wednesday, 20 February 2008
A breeze of change
Ok, so I'm a slow learner on some things. I'm one of those sorts who quite happily helps the world and his bro sort out their workload/personal issues/house-clearance/contract killings* whilst my own stuff is left undone. But this week is the start of the 'Campaign to Really Annoy Irritating Colleagues'. Or CRAIC.
The aim of the CRAIC is just to - well, it sort of says it all on the tin - irritate people. In the same way they've been driving me nuts for a while.
I call them the 'Slinkies' - they have no real purpose in life but they make you smile when you push them down the stairs. That's one pure gem I found on Facebook :)
And it has got off to a slow but satisfying start. We have a box of assignments here, referred to in Failed the Customer Service Brief. So urgent in fact, that the tutor has left them here for 7 weeks. The arrangement was that, rather than courier the box to a local FE college (about 5 miles away) we would box them up, shove the tutor in a taxi with them at the end of a new session, and he could take them back.
He hasn't seen it as urgent, so neither have we. They are now officially His Problem - the last bit of course delivery is for him to get off his butt and mark them. But today we have the delightful Wilty Emma on lunch cover, a drippy girl with a whingy voice and the dynamism of roadkill. She's one of the people whose assignment has been abandoned, and someone with more backbone has asked what the bloody hell is happening, they want to know their marks.
What old Wilty-knickers wants is someone to do something. The thought that she might get off her bony arse and remind the tutor? Utterly alien! Despite the fact that she was our contact for the programme, a fact she is conveniently forgetting. In her eyes, she's too important to phone taxis. I believe it's a big ask for her IQ, but she could at least try.
The last thing she expected was for me to tell her to sort it out herself with the tutor. He may have some excellent reason why they are safer with us. So she is now huffing and puffing, and wilting, which is more energetic than she's been in many a year!
"It makes us look bad" she whines, at the end of a 3-minute speech so dull that I nodded off partway through my sandwich. She then stops,puzzled by my lack of concern.
"It's not my baby so I'm not in the least bothered, I'm more worried about the BSL results". It might have sounded a bit odd, through the chicken and mayonnaise, but she got the point.
I can see 'Does Not Compute' signs starting to flash in the vacuum behind her eyes. I wait for the smoke as she goes into meltdown, having first moved away from the sprinklers and the electrical stuff.
Part of me is feeling very petty, and sad. Plus, Wilty-knickers has been blessed with sad puppy eyes, and I feel like I've kicked a Labrador puppy.
Then I remember the aim of the CRAIC, and feel good.
* I've not started the contract killings yet, but I'm considering a career change.
Monday, 18 February 2008
Friday, 15 February 2008
All Quiet on the RM front...
and I am suspicious.
Last week I had to spend a couple of days at home, with a migraine. This week I spent a couple of days at home with Mum, who was recovering from a hospital visit (think anaesthetic, tubes and painful).
In between, there was a frenzy of tidying-up and furniture moving. The cats really don't like it when I'm home during working hours, they wonder what I'm up to. And they really hate big upheaval, tidy round by all means but moving furniture? Nooooooo, no, no! So the Mogs retreated to a safe distance and kept their heads down.
So why am I worried?
The last time they were this quiet, we ended up with a feline killing spree which involved several dismembered garden critters, and a goldfish corpse. Reservoir Mogs indeed. I really need to start clearing the box room but this is their last bastion of peace in a cruel Kim-and-Aggie world and I don't want the house turning into an abattoir.
Apparently young Scott over at Everybody Laughed has moved his stuff round and his cats LOVE it. Inadvertently he has created a hi-speed run from kitchen to patio doors, so easy to get some speed up and be halfway down the garden to catch unwary pigeons. Ok, so the last bit is in their dreams, but they are happy with the new arrangement and hey, there are some very stupid pigeons out there.
But my cats know what they like and they don't like change. And Bailey is just worried he'll be moving house again.
I have to go and buy some serious pet bribes now.
Last week I had to spend a couple of days at home, with a migraine. This week I spent a couple of days at home with Mum, who was recovering from a hospital visit (think anaesthetic, tubes and painful).
In between, there was a frenzy of tidying-up and furniture moving. The cats really don't like it when I'm home during working hours, they wonder what I'm up to. And they really hate big upheaval, tidy round by all means but moving furniture? Nooooooo, no, no! So the Mogs retreated to a safe distance and kept their heads down.
So why am I worried?
The last time they were this quiet, we ended up with a feline killing spree which involved several dismembered garden critters, and a goldfish corpse. Reservoir Mogs indeed. I really need to start clearing the box room but this is their last bastion of peace in a cruel Kim-and-Aggie world and I don't want the house turning into an abattoir.
Apparently young Scott over at Everybody Laughed has moved his stuff round and his cats LOVE it. Inadvertently he has created a hi-speed run from kitchen to patio doors, so easy to get some speed up and be halfway down the garden to catch unwary pigeons. Ok, so the last bit is in their dreams, but they are happy with the new arrangement and hey, there are some very stupid pigeons out there.
But my cats know what they like and they don't like change. And Bailey is just worried he'll be moving house again.
I have to go and buy some serious pet bribes now.
Thursday, 31 January 2008
It's Official...
...Bailey is staying with me.
James and Angie have agreed that it is for the best.
He seems quite happy about it, the cats are making plans for a 'welcome committee' and I am resigned to never sitting on my sofa again.
So now I'd better put a photo up of the pesky critter, now he's officially one of the gang.
James and Angie have agreed that it is for the best.
He seems quite happy about it, the cats are making plans for a 'welcome committee' and I am resigned to never sitting on my sofa again.
So now I'd better put a photo up of the pesky critter, now he's officially one of the gang.
Monday, 28 January 2008
Birthday presents
We all have someone who is difficult to buy for. Scott over at Everybody laughed is such a one.
And it now seems sooo obvious what he wanted. It is a good thing that Ben is on the case.
Ben bought Scott a ukulele.
A Flying V ukulele.
In pink, with a postcard of Miss Hawaii circa 1963 tucked in the strings.
I hadn't acually bought Scott's present at this point (the ukulele upstaged the haggis a bit, at the Burns night supper) but I didn't buy anything ukulele related on Sunday.
This present deserves to enjoy it's moment of glory.
And it now seems sooo obvious what he wanted. It is a good thing that Ben is on the case.
Ben bought Scott a ukulele.
A Flying V ukulele.
In pink, with a postcard of Miss Hawaii circa 1963 tucked in the strings.
I hadn't acually bought Scott's present at this point (the ukulele upstaged the haggis a bit, at the Burns night supper) but I didn't buy anything ukulele related on Sunday.
This present deserves to enjoy it's moment of glory.
Thursday, 24 January 2008
On the 8th Day
On the 8th Day is one of the best places in Manchester.
Even more so now they have answered a big question from last year - is there really such a thing as vegetarian black pudding? A trivial matter in the great scheme of things, but had managed to become a minor obsession.
Misterohsee swore you could buy it, but never actually produced the proof. My first thought was that he'd been at the drink (again). And call me sceptical but let's face it, any product whose main ingredient is animal blood seems veggie-proof.
But this is Lancashire ingenuity at its finest and the Real Lancashire Black Pudding Company have created V-pud.
So, seeing as it is a day for apologies, cheers misterohsee!
Even more so now they have answered a big question from last year - is there really such a thing as vegetarian black pudding? A trivial matter in the great scheme of things, but had managed to become a minor obsession.
Misterohsee swore you could buy it, but never actually produced the proof. My first thought was that he'd been at the drink (again). And call me sceptical but let's face it, any product whose main ingredient is animal blood seems veggie-proof.
But this is Lancashire ingenuity at its finest and the Real Lancashire Black Pudding Company have created V-pud.
So, seeing as it is a day for apologies, cheers misterohsee!
Let's start with an apology...
...to Tig.
Dear Tig, sorry to scare you so much, I was doing some exercises. From your horrified expression I realise that you thought I'd died on the floor. Don't worry, I won't be doing that again. You will just have to live with a crocked owner with a bad back, if the sight of me doing some back-stretching exercises is so traumatic.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, now get your claws out of my ankle.
Dear Tig, sorry to scare you so much, I was doing some exercises. From your horrified expression I realise that you thought I'd died on the floor. Don't worry, I won't be doing that again. You will just have to live with a crocked owner with a bad back, if the sight of me doing some back-stretching exercises is so traumatic.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, now get your claws out of my ankle.
Monday, 21 January 2008
Happy Half-Year to TJ
TJ is 6 months old today. He has two teeth, is making furious efforts at crawling on his own, and walking in his baby bouncer. He is a sweet and cheery little soul who smiles at everyone. Grandma Lyn still refuses to let his beautiful little face adorn this blog, so I'm still using the troll photo.It is my dearest wish to see him dye his hair this colour, and get into serious back-combing.
Friday, 18 January 2008
Need to get organised
That Scott over at Everybody Laughed... has mentioned the O word in a post.
Organised. HAH! Combined it with ruthless, too.
So I now feel strangely challenged. Strange, seeing as he admits to lapsing after a fortnight. I didn't even get that far.
I now feel I have to:
Upload the pictures of the lovely niece at her graduation (in November).
Add a picture of the equally but differently lovely Bailey (resident since October-ish).
Re-instate the link to Incessant Pointless Barking (deleted with Frowny Baby by mistake when FB decided to retire from blogging).
Mess about with the template for a bit, just...because.
And what are the chances of that happening? About the same as me being seen out in a size zero frock singing Spice Girls songs.
Organised. HAH! Combined it with ruthless, too.
So I now feel strangely challenged. Strange, seeing as he admits to lapsing after a fortnight. I didn't even get that far.
I now feel I have to:
Upload the pictures of the lovely niece at her graduation (in November).
Add a picture of the equally but differently lovely Bailey (resident since October-ish).
Re-instate the link to Incessant Pointless Barking (deleted with Frowny Baby by mistake when FB decided to retire from blogging).
Mess about with the template for a bit, just...because.
And what are the chances of that happening? About the same as me being seen out in a size zero frock singing Spice Girls songs.
Monday, 14 January 2008
Wind-up merchant.
Neet's Youngest was starting to show signs of being a Red, like his mum. 'Rooney' was a very early addition to his vocabulary, and now he's learning the art of the wind-up.
Youngest:(Pointing at the telly) "Mummy, look! There's Tapas!"
Neet: "No,his name is Tevez"
Y: "Yes, Tapas."
N: "No, Tevez"
Y: "NOOOOO, TAPAS!"
This will continue until he's dragged at least two other family members into the row. He then sneaks off to let them fight it out.
Makes a change from 'oo et all the pies.
Youngest:(Pointing at the telly) "Mummy, look! There's Tapas!"
Neet: "No,his name is Tevez"
Y: "Yes, Tapas."
N: "No, Tevez"
Y: "NOOOOO, TAPAS!"
This will continue until he's dragged at least two other family members into the row. He then sneaks off to let them fight it out.
Makes a change from 'oo et all the pies.
Owwwwccchhhh......
Neet, the mother of Child Dawkins, has been back with more tales from the madhouse.
She's just given us a graphic description of The Eldest's first attempt at shaving. There are several bath towels that will never be the same again...
Child Dawkins trapped her in the car and asked about the Immaculate Conception. Apparently it's "just a phrase she's heard at school." She is trying to find out whether Mary actually wanted the Baby Jesus, or not. Bit harsh to give a baby to someone who doesn't want it, in her view. So God had better have a good explanation for that one.
Youngest is developing a wide vocabulary and a mischievous streak. He has started a campaign to liberate one of his nursery assistants from nappy changing duties. He's toddling round saying "Why's it your turn again? Why's it her turn again, Miss?. It's always her turn." Chanting this as a mantra, the little Botticelli cherub careers round the nursery causing uproar in the work force. Mostly hysterical laughter, but we could have a baby social reformer on our hands. His baby pictures will look lovely in the biography.
She's just given us a graphic description of The Eldest's first attempt at shaving. There are several bath towels that will never be the same again...
Child Dawkins trapped her in the car and asked about the Immaculate Conception. Apparently it's "just a phrase she's heard at school." She is trying to find out whether Mary actually wanted the Baby Jesus, or not. Bit harsh to give a baby to someone who doesn't want it, in her view. So God had better have a good explanation for that one.
Youngest is developing a wide vocabulary and a mischievous streak. He has started a campaign to liberate one of his nursery assistants from nappy changing duties. He's toddling round saying "Why's it your turn again? Why's it her turn again, Miss?. It's always her turn." Chanting this as a mantra, the little Botticelli cherub careers round the nursery causing uproar in the work force. Mostly hysterical laughter, but we could have a baby social reformer on our hands. His baby pictures will look lovely in the biography.
Thursday, 10 January 2008
Tuesday, 8 January 2008
Things to make you go 'Yay'!
First thing - my colleague Denise has just phoned to say her 17-year old diabetic daughter is out of ICU, and complaining like a real teenager. She collapsed on Friday and Denise spent a very anxious weekend in Southampton - Holly was taken ill on a trip away. Big sighs of relief all round here, Denise is a sweetheart and devoted to her kids. So we've been pacing up and down in sympathy for her while she wore out corridors in Southampton.
Second thing - Rachel, my line manager, has finally got a proper job in the outside world. Three cheers for Rach, who has tolerated a lot of bullshit in recent months. And she's offered to write a nice reference for me, when I decide to go over the wall. My other bosses are now in a quandry. They really need us all to work as a team for the greater good, blahblahshit. Translate as 'work till you drop, it's only 2 unfilled posts' as Texas Lal wasn't replaced by a full time post - there are no guarantees that Rachel will be replaced either. The niceness levels from one boss in particular have been stomach churning.
Third thing - a nice line in bitchiness from a straight guy! On hearing someone described as a star, he retorted with, "Why? Gassy and flaming annoying? Or only comes out at night?" Pretty good for someone with no links to the School of Physics and Astronomy :) Could see the 'flaming' bit, but need to find out why stars are annoying him though, this could be an interesting discussion...
Good job he wasn't describing me though.
Second thing - Rachel, my line manager, has finally got a proper job in the outside world. Three cheers for Rach, who has tolerated a lot of bullshit in recent months. And she's offered to write a nice reference for me, when I decide to go over the wall. My other bosses are now in a quandry. They really need us all to work as a team for the greater good, blahblahshit. Translate as 'work till you drop, it's only 2 unfilled posts' as Texas Lal wasn't replaced by a full time post - there are no guarantees that Rachel will be replaced either. The niceness levels from one boss in particular have been stomach churning.
Third thing - a nice line in bitchiness from a straight guy! On hearing someone described as a star, he retorted with, "Why? Gassy and flaming annoying? Or only comes out at night?" Pretty good for someone with no links to the School of Physics and Astronomy :) Could see the 'flaming' bit, but need to find out why stars are annoying him though, this could be an interesting discussion...
Good job he wasn't describing me though.
Wednesday, 2 January 2008
Reservoir Mogs - update on the other chapters
There are several chapters of the Reservoir Mogs, and here's the action from around the regions;
Reservoir Mogs (Southern Manchester)
Scott went back to Scotland for Christmas, so I resumed babysitting duties. Which just involved sitting around, snoozing with Holly and Rumpole. There was a bit of recycling involved too. Holly was very happy with the large cardboard box that came with some piece of computer kit or other - we agreed that geeks do the best cardboard boxes.
Reservoir Mogs (Salford Posse)
Shadow is officially a two-home cat, though he did have the decency to leave my brother's house to spend Xmas with his proper family next door. Blue has decided she will finally see him off this year, while Red and Pumphrey are just treating him with complete contempt. But he's won over the humans of the household, for what that's worth.
Reservoir Mogs (Gee Cross)
Sadly, Tubbs is no longer with us, but a quick visit to RSPCA recruited Peason. He's a nice stripy tabby, which will add a bit of variety to the photos.
Apart from that I spent Xmas at the races, spent quality time fighting with the folks and managed to return to work lighter than I left. Result!
Reservoir Mogs (Southern Manchester)
Scott went back to Scotland for Christmas, so I resumed babysitting duties. Which just involved sitting around, snoozing with Holly and Rumpole. There was a bit of recycling involved too. Holly was very happy with the large cardboard box that came with some piece of computer kit or other - we agreed that geeks do the best cardboard boxes.
Reservoir Mogs (Salford Posse)
Shadow is officially a two-home cat, though he did have the decency to leave my brother's house to spend Xmas with his proper family next door. Blue has decided she will finally see him off this year, while Red and Pumphrey are just treating him with complete contempt. But he's won over the humans of the household, for what that's worth.
Reservoir Mogs (Gee Cross)
Sadly, Tubbs is no longer with us, but a quick visit to RSPCA recruited Peason. He's a nice stripy tabby, which will add a bit of variety to the photos.
Apart from that I spent Xmas at the races, spent quality time fighting with the folks and managed to return to work lighter than I left. Result!
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