Reservoir Mogs and other pesky critters

Jasmine (1999-2011)

2011-10-13T17:45:00.000+01:00

Jasmine, the Warrior Princess, died last Monday. And there will be a worthy tribute piece at some point.

Being a total sentimental case, I asked the vet for the ashes, which were ready for collection today.

They were nowhere to be found when I arrived. Even in death, that cat could do a runner from the vet.

Well done that girl! They did turn up, btw.

How to stop your owner's heart...

2011-09-17T20:32:00.000+01:00

I took Bailey to the local supermarket, we needed milk. Or rather, I need tea with milk to function, and he likes a walk. He chose to forget the mammoth fetch-ball session in the pouring rain, and pestered until I decided to take him along.

I tied his lead to a ring around a post outside the exit door. And in the space of five minutes he vanished.

He had started to wander round the post, found the gap in the ring that I had missed, and pulled his lead free. Then he went in through the out door, and looked round for me. In the meantime, I was outside, thinking horrible thoughts about dognapping and little hounds playing in traffic.

To his credit, he was sweet and charming to the staff who caught him, and didn't pee on anything or anybody. But he showed no sign of wanting to go back in with a list and a trolley to sort the weekly shop, either.

But then he is a little blokey dog. What did I expect?

Manchester - August 2011

2011-08-15T01:30:00.001+01:00

The skanks of Manchester and Salford decided to copycat the riots in Tottenham. They had no idea about the issue which started the original London troubles. They did know they wanted to sack Manchester for trainers and tellys, booze and the craic.

But Manchester bounced back. On Wednesday the Real Mancunians turned out to clear up. By real manc, I mean someone who loves Manchester, not necessarily a Manc born.

Ashamed to say I didn't go down, so I feel I've surrendered my Manc birthright. I had spent so long watching the news coverage on Tuesday that I went to bed around 4am on Wednesday, I slept in until noon. And I didn't go out in town last week, as I was being a folky hippy at Cropredy.

But Manchester town centre will be just fine. It has survived world wars, fierce protest marches, IRA bombs, some really nasty 'redevelopment', vicious derby matches and an invasion of Scottish and Russian football fans on the lash. It will take more than some pathetic gobshites to bring it down.

Whaaat?

2011-08-15T01:03:00.000+01:00

The last post was 9 April? Blimey.

As you'd expect, things have moved on a bit. I accepted the redundancy offer, and finished on 30 June. The day before was my birthday (it's a prime number) so we had a lot of cake, hugs, tearful promises to keep in touch and all the rest.

Then I buggered off and had a month without much contact at all.

So now, what? I have the time and money to get myself sorted out. So I'd better get on with it.

Well...

2011-04-09T09:24:00.000+01:00

I have had the verbal offer of voluntary severance.

Wednesday.

The letter is on the way, but I work in HR and we are the last to know or get anything, when it concerns us. Manage to interfere very effectively in anyone else's affairs though.

I have 5 days or something equally daft, to decide from the date of the letter.

And if the figures add up, I'm off.

Seeing as I first started working there in October 1990 (!) it is a big deal. I wondered if I'd made a mistake in applying, but there's been a few developments recently.

Changing place, changing thoughts, changing time, changing future.

Cats in cahoots

2011-03-31T22:22:00.000+01:00

Oh, I give up.

Once again my attempts to thwart the inner domestic goddess have been foiled.

It is Spring, and the cats always celebrate this by bringing fieldmice in the house. I found the one they kindly left next to my favourite boots, but Bailey was sniffing around very enthusiastically and I suspect they have another one lurking about somewhere.

Cue full furniture moving session tomorrow, with a weekend of spring cleaning as today's exploration of the further edges of the living room revealed

an old copy of Private Eye behind the sofa

some earrings that had fallen off the bookcase

rather too much wallpaper clawed from the wall by Tig/Jasmineand sod-all else. I could take it at face value, no mice, but Bailey never gets that animated without good reason.

I have pointed out that dead mice are not really a present I appreciate, but the suffer from Feline Selective Deafness. I suspect that this was a ploy to take my mind off work. I would have preferred booze and chocolate.

Changing

2011-03-14T21:20:00.003Z

I love this photo.

It's in the garden at the Guggenheim in Venice. I can't remember the name of the artist, but the little girl in the photo had stood chattering at it (in English and German) for a good five minutes before her mother scooped her up. In this photo, she had just made a spirited grab for the letters on the last line. I would love to know what she made of it all.

I use a cropped version on my Facebook now and then. And right now, it feels very appropriate.

My art gallery will be opening soon-ish

2011-01-21T16:46:00.005Z

I've got bored with falling over all the framed artwork in my boxroom.

It was all taken down for various reasons, and stored safely enough.

My sister thought it would be better to have a more minimalist style, and a curator's approach to my favourite works. I thought I might have the walls replastered, and painted before putting it all back. Sensible me. All very well, fine and dandy.

But that isn't going to happen, and I have the lovely special gift poster from 'The Price' just crying out for a frame and a bit of appreciation.

So, Plan B - bugger the badly painted walls, and the dodgy plaster. Just hang everything in a fantastic patchwork effect, this weekend. Why am I denying myself the pleasure of nice things, or the pain of accidentally-hammered fingers?

Oh yes, now I remember... pain and a bit of an aversion to stepladders...

The chances of opening an associated cafe and gift shop are slim, unless the pets fancy running it while I'm at work.

They did it!

2010-12-10T20:38:00.002Z

2001 people did it, to be precise.

Backed 'The Price' before the deadline, and the film has been funded.

I'm really chuffed :)

And we know in advance how long the credits will be.

The Price - update

2010-11-29T22:05:00.002Z

So with 30 hours to go, The Price is around 85% funded.

I've pledged, and had a rather nice email from the film-maker, Christopher Salmon.

I'm chewing my nails and watching and hoping.

The Price and the price

2010-11-04T22:22:00.005Z

A bit of an update.

Bailey is now officially 'The Wonder Dog' and also a superhero. Guess who thwarted a break-in at 4.1oam, Friday 29 October?

Yup, that's right, and he has inherited the wonder-dog title from Rex the Wonder Dog, who would have approved.

Online, it transpires that an enterprising sort called Christopher Salmon is trying to film 'The Price' by Neil Gaiman.

Check out the video clip via Neil Gaiman's blog, it looks fantastic. BUT there's a snag; it can only be made if $150K is pledged by 1 December.

The story is about a fantastic cat prepared to go to any lengths to protect his family. Bailey did not go to the same lengths as the cat; but the cat had supreme evil as an adversary and Bailey only had an Oldham scally.

Under the circumstances, I think he is priceless.

It's a bad sign...

2010-08-07T23:52:00.007+01:00

that you've been away from something too long, when you forget the password.

Anyway, just a little update to let everyone know that the Reservoir Mogs and the Bailey the Booze Hound are fine.

The squirrel nemesis is still running around the front field, and can calculate the full length of the extension lead faster than Bailey can extend it. This has led to some good comedy moments and a niggling shoulder injury.

There is a black and white boot-face cat hanging about - he treats the place as a cafe and has no desire to move in. For now.

Bailey still has a lively social life, whereas I get home and collapse into a knackered whiny little heap. I am considering a dietary move to add dog biscuits to my food choices.

Since the last post, I visited the Whitehaven Festival, had a fantastic drive to the lakes in perfect convertible weather. Here are a few pics

There was also a Girls Night Out to Haydock, with a celebrity gatecrasher! Our mate Jackie and her dad Gerry own an events management company, she decided to have a girlie night out on Ladies Night. Meanwhile, her dad told a certain Premiership manager that he and his brother-in-law could have tickets, he's a great friend of Gerry's. So my big sis got me in a headlock, told me to behave, and I did. I am mellowing with age, and she would have thrown me off the balcony otherwise. It's on the fourth floor!

I told her I pinched his backside as he left, her expression was priceless.

No, I haven't been ignoring you...

2010-06-15T14:24:00.003+01:00

but I have been leading a rather sedentary life, with no interesting acedotes or photos or anything.

I know that's never stopped me before but maybe I'm getting the hint.

The Thick of It

2010-05-11T23:11:00.008+01:00

So, we have a new government!

A coalition. Not had one of those since the 70's, how retro-chic is that?

Oh, FFS.

I keep having this recurring thought about a Conservative/Liberal Democrat deal. Put it like this - if you went to the zoo, and found out that the lions and the gazelles had formed a coalition and were sharing a pen, would you expect it to be constructive?

The LibDem gazelles can say what they like, but the Conservative pride ain't listening. They are just waiting for lunch to shut up.

Admittedly, the remaining gazelles might get a lucky break when the lions are too stuffed to move. But what odds would you get at PaddyPower or Betfair?

And would David Attenborough fancy a move to The Politics Show?

Eric Morecambe, 15 April 1996-27 April 2010

2010-04-28T00:05:00.005+01:00

Eric Morecambe, founding member of the Reservoir Mogs, is no more.

It was a rock'n'roll end, involving a pretty brunette and a syringeful of powerful drugs.

Happy Birthday Eric Morecambe!

2010-04-15T21:21:00.003+01:00

Yes, obviously I mean the furry one. Not the comedy legend.

Our Eric is 14 years old today. He has dined very well on prawns and monkfish, and is currently basking in great comfort on the comfy chair. He declined the banoffee pie, so I scoffed it with help from Tig and Bailey.

Life is hell for an elderly cat....

Eric rules...err, ok then

2010-04-08T23:47:00.002+01:00

Mr Eric Morecambe, senior Reservoir Mog, has been giving me serious cause for concern.

In fact, on Tuesday I thought he was heading for the Great Catflap in The Sky, and whisked him off to the vets, prepared for the worst - the Dignitas treatment.

During the journey, he perked up. On the treatment bench, he eyeballed the vet and his whole attitude said

Whatever you were going to do with that thermometer, change your mind NOW.

So the big jab became one long-lasting antibiotic and one painkiller. I left with a bottle of Metacam and a cat who can still do the killer stare.

And result! Tonight I came home to find a skinny black cat with attitude sat at the gate waiting. So I did what any grateful owner would do - put the collar back on. Oh yes, if he's up to playing outside he needs his Hi-Vis and flea collar.

He's skinny, perky and massively pissed off with the outfit.

Cat behaviour explained

2010-03-21T23:54:00.001Z

Akif_Pirinçci apparently collaborated on a book about cat behaviour.

I should buy a copy. I'm having problems with a line of reasoning from Jasmine.

Eric is still feeling sore from a recent tooth extraction. To be brutally honest, all his back teeth out and a biopsy which has revealed a slow but malignant cancer.

Combining honest discomfort with a healthy desire to milk the situation for all the tuna it is worth, he is playing up. He's on lovely nutritious treats, all mashed/chopped/blended, while the others think it is fantastic and wolf down their shares at warp speed.

The little mouse almost went unnoticed, as I lay on the floor persuading Eric to eat spag bol. He has invented a nice little sport - he gets under the dining table and weaves in and out of the chair legs, knowing I can't reach him. All the better to avoid antibiotics and bad food choices.

There it was, neatly placed under his favourite chair. I knew Eric wasn't up to hunting, Tig was snoring on the sofa and Bailey doesn't catch mice.

Jasmine went into raptures when I asked "Did you bring Mousie in?". She likes praise for honest graft. But if he is wary about tackling mince, how did she think he would manage a mouse?

Answers by carrier pigeon, just in case he gets peckish. *groan*

The Second Mid-Life Crisis

2010-03-15T21:03:00.004Z

When I was 32, I realised it was unlikely I would settle down with someone, and have the "2.2 children and half a dog" life, any time soon.

I decided to take the plunge and buy a house. As you do.

The last week of May 1996 proved a bit hectic. In the space of 3 days I got the keys to the house, had my navel pierced and acquired Eric Morecambe, Cat Legend. I wondered if it was my mid-life crisis as both my paternal grandfather and my father died aged 64 and I started to brood about it.

Two weeks later the IRA bombing of Manchester on 15 June had a profound effect on several members of my friends and family, and made me realise that nothing should be taken for granted in this world. Although they said there were no casualties, some things did go forever.

At the time I owned a little blue Mini, called Muttley. I sold it 6 months later and regretted it instantly.

Fast -forward to 2010: the house is still standing and so is Eric, but totting up the gains and losses over 14 years made me feel that I was being sad and complacent again. I applied the 'Death Bed Regret' criteria. What would I regret NOT doing, with my final breath? Obviously it had to be something I could change for myself. I decided it was time for a new MLC. I'd always wanted a convertible and the trusty Yardis was becoming a wee bit of a money pit.

So meet Muttley II.

Colin Bell the Caterpillar

2010-03-07T18:53:00.004Z

I've acquired a new critter.

I found this caterpillar on a bunch of freesias, bought from a famous American rip-off supermarket.

I do have high minded principles on this place, but they get shot down when I need milk on the way home, and I can fit in their size 12 jeans.

Shallow, but well-meaning, I am.

He's called Colin Bell because when he made the bid for freedom after the photoshoot, he chose the framed photo of Colin Bell as the preferred escape route.

*if you are wondering why I have a framed, signed photo of Colin Bell on the bookcase - it involves alcohol, a charity auction and the fact my dad really rated him as a player. My dad normally didn't comment on these matters, but he did like Colin Bell.

Well, that was the year that was...

2009-12-31T00:07:00.005Z

Well!

What can I say about it really?

Good bits - getting out of the comfort zone with a 2-stone weightloss, first 10k run, first and last firewalk, and a very brief appearance in a falconry display.

Add Faye and Kevin's wedding, and the look on Tyler's face as he held his first guitar, and there are a few nice memories there.

I could also add the joys of wind-up penguin racing on Christmas Day, but there was a blatant case of race fixing (Kev, hang your head in SHAME). Here's the starting lineup;

There are loads of others too, but I am currently suffering self-inflicted chocolate overload, which isn't helping my memory at all. Clearly need detox and a nap.

On the massive downside, I didn't get to share any of them with my mum.

So to move life on a bit, I have already formulated a load of plans that will never see the light of day, and dispatched them with the list of resolutions I resolutely refuse to make.

2010 will be just fine.

Cyprus Wedding

2009-10-29T17:01:00.002Z

This went surprisingly well :)

Tuesday 13 October: had to send pets to bootcamp, in a lovely but remote kennels. 3 cats, 1 dog, and a dirt track that had abandoned 4-wheel drives along it. Not Chelsea tractors either, but real working Land Rovers! The Yardis is still in shock. Packing was horrendous, and I didn't get to bed at all.

Wednesday 14 October: Tyler and Phoebe were brilliantly behaved on the flight. At Nissi Beach, the Big Sis took a complete dislike to our rooms and lodged a strong suggestion they should move us. My room was fine, but the downside of beautiful mature trees is the lack of light they cause. They also hid the karaoke bar opposite, but they didn't really help the soundproofing. The kids were in a fantastic beach bungalow, beach 100 yards from front door.

Hit Ayia Napa for the hen night, which I left after the drinking game but before the karaoke. Was excused as at this point I'd been awake for 40 hours so had proved I could last the course. And the drinks were overpriced and watered down, not really worth staying for!

Thursday 15 October: did some exploring of Nissi Beach and Ayia Napa, which is beautiful out of season. Sun, sand and sheer laziness. Perfect. Throw in the superb burgers at the Pool bar and the booze, heaven.

I also found out that there were many cats in the hotel grounds, and the grounds of the adjoining pubs and restaurants. Sleek, shiny and wary, they live happily on the local furry creatures and treats from the guests, with minimal intervention from the owners. They are not pets; they are highly effective pest control.

Friday 16 October: beautiful day, beautiful venue, and the bride & groom scrubbed up quite well too! I was entrusted with a nice digital SLR, which means that Douglas has all my photos. He'll know which ones are mine, the crap ones.

My brother made a brilliant speech, so proud of him. He nearly cried when he mentioned Mum, and Kev's grandad Fred. Diane (Kev's mum) was so glad he'd mentioned Fred, as I think that sometimes people forget that strong capable mums are still someone's baby, and she was missing her dad. We've all been honest with each other about how we feel about Rosie; I think Diane had been doing the brave face thing too well.

Several members of the party ended up on the beach, some ended up in the water but no one drowned. Our venue closed at one, so it was across the road to the karaoke bar! Those formally dressed got changed for the occasion, I'm pleased to say. My brother and Rod, father of the groom, will appear on YouTube at some point with their rendition of 'You're 16', an age either has seen in 40 years.

Saturday 17 October-Tuesday 20 October: Sun, sand, food, more sun, and so on...great!

I tried quadbiking but gave up after 10 minutes. It was too much like hard labour.

Wednesday 21 October: our plans to live feral in the grounds with the hotel cats were discovered and we were dispatched to the airport pronto. Damn.

Thursday 22 October: Eric had enjoyed his stay at the cattery so much, he refused to leave. That is the BEST endorsement anyone could give! But he was caught in the end, and the scratches have nearly faded.

Wedding prep and all that.

2009-10-02T17:54:00.002+01:00

Yes, I've booked the flights.
Yes, I've printed copies of everything for everyone (including a 2-year old, who can't read).
Yes, hotel and transfers booked.
Yes, I've got travel insurance and,
Yes, I've checked it includes quadbikes (!)
Yes, I know where my passport and EHIC card are, and neither is due to expire.
Yes, I've got a dress that the bride should like (I like hers, she can be nice about mine or I'll wreck her wedding video).
Yes, the pets are innoculated and booked in an appropriately luxurious kennel.
Yes, I've booked the time off work and know what deadlines I have to finish before I go.
Yes, I know I need currency and I will get it sorted, ok?

But I'm still sure I've forgotten something.

Bugger.

Go Team Tootill - AND WE DID

2009-09-29T17:20:00.006+01:00

Saturday morning, 10.30am, Tatton Park.

1600 runners (or or 1590 runners and 10 members of Team Tootill) set off round the course. We even had a team logo, thanks to our mate Pete in Graphic Support Workshop. Check it out here

And I don't know how many finished, but WE DID!

Fastest Team Tootill-pootler was Steve at 52mins 30s.

I got round in 1 hour 25, according to the DJ. So did Lisa Frowny Baby, but she did wait for me so could've crossed about 5 minutes earlier. Jolan paid the price for getting stuck in jogging traffic and finished just behind.

Our Janey McN was the last over the line, so at the goading of the DJ we legged it back and crossed the line with her. Have a sneaky peek at the Running Pictures website Our bib numbers were in the 801-900 group. Be warned this page takes forwever to download.

And we've earned a shitload of cash for Cancer Research UK, thanks to our very supportive and generous mates :)

Phoebe Jane is 1 on Friday!

2009-09-08T12:48:00.003+01:00

Our little Phoebe is nearly a year old.

I really think she should have been born on the 10th, the day they switched on the Large Hadron Collider for the first time. With bets taken on which would destroy the Universe first ;)

Instead she choose 11th September 2008 (that's 11/9 in the UK NOT 9/11 which is four days after Guy Fawkes as any fule kno). Which means I've got til Thursday pm to find a present.

Her mum has suggested I find some kind of funky bib/jacket thingy - Phoebe is enthusiastic about feeding herself, and both she and Tyler are going to graduate to proper paints soon. Covering the house top-to-toe is a bit extreme but covering the child is eminently practical.

I feel I should really find another present too. But I really need to find something robust and interesting to the child. She seems to have a penchant for her brother's toolkit, but I haven't found a girly-ish one, yet. It needs to look different to Ty's or there will be a real scrap.

I've found a fully-functioning adult's toolbox in pink, apparently real girls can't do DIY unless they have a pink screwdriver! So I ask, is it inappropriate to give a year-old child a real toolkit?
She's very bright for her age...

We're back! Sort of...

2009-08-14T14:33:00.013+01:00

Well, since the last post;

* I've been to the Cambridge Folk Festival (check link down the side as I couldn't be arsed taking photos)

* Tyler is now 2 years old, he's got the tantrums down to perfection as he's been practising for Terrible Twos since Christmas

* Phoebe the Red-Haired Wonderkid has graduated to her first pair of shoes, and chose the bright purple shiny ones (that's my girl!)

* Bailey is still my personal trainer, although I will be doing the "10k stagger round and try not to have a heart attack" not the 10k run for Team Tootill

* My friends Lisa (Frowny Baby) and Jolan have offered to join me on the run. Stars, both of them. *especially if they carry me over the finish line

* The cats have launched a hate campaign against my sister, for tidying up the garden. To be fair she did decimate it, and the skip was not a suitable replacement

* I passed the Level 1 Deafblind Communication exam I took back in May, despite falling asleep in the final presentation with all the exam info in.

* As the child of a mixed marriage - Salford MUFC mum and Miles Platting MCFC dad - I am watching the pre-season shennanigans with great interest and no conflict whatsoever. I want them in the top two positions, with everyone else playing for 3rd place. No pressure there, lads.

And the lovely Elegant Eric was caught having a mad moment this morning! Chasing about like a true mad thing, not his usual cool self. But he's not daft - he waited until I was just about to leave for work, and couldn't film it. He's really missed Mum, so it was nice to see him perking up a bit.

We are all getting back to normal, slowly.

Bare faced cheek

2009-07-20T14:29:00.003+01:00

To keep it brief:

A colleague in another department clashed with his boss.

This woman had been promoted beyond her level of ability - the promotion put her in charge of a department where she had no experience, and it was very tekkie so her transferable skills couldn't save her.

She and my well-qualified and experienced Colleague were on a collision course from day 1. After yet another meeting where she failed to delegate, and interferred to a point where she became dangerous, Colleague decided to quit. He was old enough to qualify for early retirement, so he took this option to get his well earned benefits.

We were out at lunchtime for his presentation.

She had made his life hell, and yet stood there and praised him in the way you would praise an elderly dog for not peeing on the carpet.

He is 56 and brilliant at his job, much missed by his colleagues.

She is now the target for a lot of revulsion and sarcastic comments.

I am wondering how this is going to pan out. His friends are talented, creative and seriously pissed off. I'm hoping their creative natures will construct some witty and extravagant revenge.

But in case that fails, they can have the box of weedkiller powder I found in the shed.

Go Team Tootill!

2009-07-10T14:57:00.001+01:00

Our friend and colleague has been diagnosed with breast cancer.

She's getting the appropriate treatment, but we all decided that something should be done to fundraise for cancer research.

So what do a bunch of hard-drinking exercise-dodgers choose to do?

A 10k fun run, that's what....

So check us out at Team Tootill, http://www.run10ksponsorme.org/teamtootill!

She likes cats. Therefore a good sort!

Pigeon

2009-05-29T17:15:00.004+01:00

My cats decided to have a friend round for Eurovision.

I was out, watching Manchester United win the Premiership, then off to dinner with my sister and cousin. So they figured it was safe.

I got home just in time to watch the voting, and settled down after closing the blinds. The pets were acting weird, nothing new there.

About 30 minutes into the voting, I noticed a pigeon's foot sticking out through the blinds. At first I thought it was too much champagne, but no - there was a pigeon sat on my windowsill, trying to blend into the dark window. It was doing just fine until it stuck the foot out for better balance.

So the Pesky Critters were shooed into the kitchen, while I tried to persuade the pigeon to leave. After 5 minutes, it had a name (Duckworth) and demonstrated some lovely swooping techniques as it evaded me, followed by some terrific crashing techiques as it landed on any unsuitable perch it could find.

Meanwhile, three very angry cats and a Jack Russell were going ballistic in the hallway. The tone was "Catch your own ******* pigeon, he's ours!"

Duckworth made it clear he was not a nocturnal pigeon and had no intention of going out into the dark to find somewhere to roost. I put him in a cat basket in the bathroom, to wait for morning. He seemed happy enough with the water and birdfood. In fact, after I let him out of the bathroom window he flew off, came back and sat on the windowsill.

I think he just wanted to annoy the cats.

My mum

2009-05-14T22:26:00.003+01:00

Sadly, Rosie died on 7 May 2009.

The operation for the colostomy uncovered a tumour, which turned out to be aggressive and cancerous.

She was admitted to a local hospice.

Dr Kershaws Hospice

We had hoped to bring her home, but it was not to be.

Her funeral was this afternoon, and we requested family flowers only, with donations to Dr Kershaws from anyone else. If we won the big prize on the lottery and gave it to them, we'd not come close to repaying their kindness to Rosie and us.

TV exposure guaranteed

2009-04-30T13:46:00.003+01:00

Just perusing the latest offering from Mike Whalley's blog.

http://mikewhalley.wordpress.com/2009/04/26/last-on-motd-my-camera-never-lies/

Another way to get noticed at the game is this:

i) Get seats in the same area as the new and VERY unpopular owners of your team (two rows in front and one seat to the left worked well)
ii) Turn up suited and booted for a big game, to be shown on Sky.

Instantly you look like part of the new establishment, and may have your identity speculated about. OR, as happened, you are viewed as a henchman for those personally responsible for wrecking a good club, and get verbally abused all evening!!

I must point out that although I'm not massively fond of the two family fiends described above, I didn't join in. I wasn't there, and it is pointless throwing insults and prawn sandwiches at the tv.

Never get mayo on your own carpet...

* fiends is not a typo, remember I know these two. and cut-n-paste the blummin link, I couldn't get insert hyperlink to work

Random warblings.

2009-04-20T12:31:00.003+01:00

i) I have been enjoying the new F1 season.

I felt really sad that Honda were going to quit, and felt that Brawn GP might be filling the Back-Row-Minardi-Minardi role. Very happy to be proved wrong! I understand why Honda quit - and as the Lovely Kev now works for Honda, I felt pleased they were looking after the everyday concerns, and trying to avoid sacrificing too many ordinary jobs to keep the glamour side going. Lovely though Jensen Button is, he isn't marrying my niece in October! I know some have gone - but fingers crossed for Kev. Even if he is trying to sell me a pink Honda Jazz...

The BBC coverage of the event didn't show the driver's interview after, they felt Andrew Marr and Carol Thatcher were more important. And to think that they were supposed to be better than ITV!

ii) Phoebe had now progressed to the baby walker, and is loving her new wheels. Her brother has now progressed to putting his own shoes on, on the right feet, and we are hoping he can teach his father this new trick sometime soon.

iii) The Reservoir Mogs (Salford Posse) are all fine and well, while reports indicate that the Reservoir Mogs (Southern Chapter)and the Reservoir Mog (Gee Cross) are also fine and dandy.

iv) And me? Just pottering along, trying to make sense of stuff and rushing round like a maniac. I think I need a more booze-and-chocolate-fuelled life. Although I'm a stone lighter now, and the thought of smaller jeans is leading me away from the Krispy Creme and more towards the crisp salad. Who WOULD have thowt it?

Competitive critters

2009-04-20T12:20:00.002+01:00

Now, how do you choose a winner out of this lot?

Mum was a leading contender. Stomach pains which turn out to be a mild blockage of the bowel, curable with a minor hernia operation. Right up to the point where they opened her up, found a very large and immovable tumour, and needed to perform an emergency colostomy. Followed by all sorts of medical intervention and she is still in hospital in a Catch-22; she can't leave until she gains weight, but can't/won't eat hospital food and is declining food parcels :(

Even by her standards, that is impressive Pesky Critter behaviour.

Bailey did try to give her a good run for her money, literally, by running away during a long walk. He ran off, in a strange area about 3 miles along the canal from home. Managed to get home in record time and to cross a 6-lane motorway & A-road junction. I was still running round the field off the canal bank, shouting like a lunatic and enrolling innocent passers-by in the search. All the while, the stumpy-legged git was heading for James's house, to have breakfast with the kids!

I called him lots of names, I don't recall Pesky Critter being one of them.

The worrying thought is this; the cats are very competitve. They have seen the bar set high, and may well fancy their chances.

Not welcome in my own home.

2009-04-03T11:11:00.003+01:00

The pests - sorry, PETS - are getting out of hand.

As Mum is still in hospital and I work full-time, I'm not home as much as I would like. At first, as the only human tin-opener, I commanded some respect. But they have all developed a taste for dry food and sleeping on the bed, which means I am useful in the morning and a waste of space at any other point.

My insistence on claiming bedspace and sitting on the furniture has become an unbearable problem to them. If they could find a human trainer to take me in hand, they would.

Thankfully they lack independent wealth and the ability to use Google.

Bit of an absence...

2009-03-26T13:45:00.004Z

but did it make the heart grow fonder?

I would like to say that the gap coincided with a period of peace and tranquility.

Not a bloody hope! My mother has been hospitalised since Friday 13th.

The cats think this is highly suspicious, and as I left with her and the paramedics, clearly it is MY FAULT.

Bailey didn't get away unscathed either as he was accidentally shut in the room.

So the dog and I are prime suspects and the cats are not going to rest until we are brought to book for it.

Rosie is currently enduring a soujourn in a local hospital, but there is still a fair bit of driving to be done after work. This means I can hide from the vengeful moggies, in my workplace or my car. Bailey, however, is not allowed in the workplace and is afraid of cars, and can't be left in a car park during visiting. He is alone to cop the flak.

Poor little hound...if you want to donate chewy sticks to compensate for this dreadful existence, leave an e-mail address and we'll sort something.

Goodbye Gromit

2009-02-28T19:49:00.003Z

Sadly, we had to have Gromit put down on Friday night.

He was 13 years old, and considering he was a psychopathic monster eating at the Last Chance chewy-stick bowl when we rescued him, he did alright in the end.

He leaves behind a miserable Tigger, and a worried (outnumbered) Bailey.

Eric and Jasmine were unavailable for comment but it sounded like the cat equivalent of 'One down, one to go'.

Essential telly!

2009-02-24T16:59:00.001Z

I have become a sad geeky fan of Being Human.

I love it to bits! To the point where I am fretting about the characters, and pacing about for the final episode.

I know there can't be happy endings, but can the werewolf and his girlfriend be happy and have little werecubs?? Why can't Annie haunt her repulsive boyfriend to a horrible death?? And must the vampire go??

I can see that being most unpopular with the female demographic...

Friday the 13th.

2009-02-15T22:13:00.002Z

Strangely, this is the day I showed a little commonsense.

Unlucky for some? I'll find out tomorrow when I go back into work tomorrow. But on Friday I hauled my sorry arse into work, despite feeling ill.

As I slumped onto the chair I realised how stupid and selfish I was being. Neet has just become an auntie, but the newest addition is early and currently in a neo-natal unit. So I said my goodbyes, resisted the urge to puke on my boss's shoes * and went home.

Typically, I started the flu max treatment from the wrong end of the pack, and took the night-time tablets at 10am. Great dreams in a disturbed sleep! Woke up properly at 4.30pm, with nightmare memories of horrific wedding proposals...

"Do you know why you are in this heart -shaped tv set?"
"Dunno, have we won a car?"
"No, you are here to propose to Glenda, your long-suffering girlfriend of 19 years. On national tv. And the Bridget Jones Supporters Club will kick the crap out of you if you don't."
"Could I have the car instead?"

The only good thing in this was the fact that, on Friday 13th, they normally like the horror stories. With a plane crash and Australia in flames to add to the usual death and despair, this would have been tasteless beyond belief.

* the puking on the shoes thing wasn't strictly a symptom, I just don't get on with my boss at the moment!

Work and all that

2009-02-07T22:54:00.003Z

The students decided to get all political this week and staged a sit-in at our main building on Wednesday. A surefire way to get Israel out of Gaza, apparently.

By Friday it was decided that a couple of the surrounding buildings had to close, for safety reasons. Which in turn meant that one of my colleagues had to have a half day off, her husband works in an affected building which closed at 12.30pm Friday, and she's pregnant! So by her twisted logic, she had to go too.

Don't get all sympathetic, she's only 4 months on and lives a very short bus ride away, she didn't need a lift in a 4x4 to get through the snowdrifts around a rural retreat. I'm just pissed that she expects us all to believe she's a fragile flower, instead of a blagger after a long weekend. That, I COULD respect!

The secondment girl found out it was kicking off in her old building, so set up a hotline to Steve-the-font-of-all-knowledge. In their building, someone tried to force their way into the 1st floor admin offices (swipecard protected). They tried to push in past an irate technician who gave them a slap and shoved them back out. She's not a girl to be messed with! In turn, that led to a stampede of 3rd floor administrators, fearing for their lives and their filing systems.

We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to lure them into our building. Nice cafe, fully stocked chocolate machines and we would have thrown in some of our complimentary biscuits too - what not to like for a siege venue??

They turned us down :( AND we have cult building status, we were used in Life on Mars, I'll have you know!

Bloody students....

Countdown to the Cyprus Wedding

2009-02-02T13:22:00.003Z

We've started to look at accommodation and flights.

We've had a sneak preview of the wedding dress.

And I'm starting the panic-diet-and-gym-regime now, although the wedding is Friday 16 October.

Wayyyy-heyyyy! Now Faye and Kevin just have to go through with it... :)

My pets are weird.

2009-01-07T18:00:00.003Z

They are the only creatures on my road who are pleased that United Utilities are digging up the gas and water mains to selected properties.

For everyone else, this means disrupted gas and water supply. Yep, cold water if you are lucky and don't bet on that. Apparently all the nasty freezing cold and mucky stuff will start tomorrow.

For my barmy crew, it means a big muddy hole at the side of the house (oh joy of joys to a pair of scruffy terriers) and some visitors.

My mum has been brewing up for the workmen and letting them use the loo. My pets are lovely to strangers and only get stroppy with family. The workmen are so pleased to get decent tea and not use the portaloo, they have joined Bailey's fan club.

The cats have been keeping a sensible distance from the mud pit but it hasn't stopped them playing mind games with the dogs. The dogs can only get to the pit if they go out through the front door, they can't squeeze through the back gate into the passageway that is now Mudpit Central.

The cats can squeeze through the gate and make much of the fact. They do it too often to be coincidence; there is definite malicious intent.

Actually, Gromit is now very old and frail. Well, it sounds more sympathetic than nearly-past-it and scrawny. He probably could fit through, but Bailey the Barrel would never make it, and you've got to be loyal to your species, haven't you?

That is probably the real difference between cats and dogs; the cats wouldn't give a stuff if one couldn't join in, they work on majority rule.

I'll be going to the gym a lot more in the next week or so. At least I can get a shower there.

Start off the New Year totally confused...

2009-01-05T17:08:00.004Z

by the announcement of Matt Smith as Doctor Who.

Well, he's had a bit of spare time since they ended Granada Soccer Night last season, but isn't he a bit busy with The Championship on Sunday mornings? And what about the European games he's allowed to present, and the contract with ITV?

Can you be a footie presenter and a Time Lord at the same time? Some areas just don't lend themselves to that sort of crossover.

Wrong Matt Smith...

But they did choose to make the announcement on the same day as the FA Cup 3rd round ties. I had my mind on other things.

Quickie mention on Child Dawkins

2008-12-22T12:45:00.002Z

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.

Santa Fun Run, 14 December 2008, Old Trafford

2008-12-15T12:24:00.004Z

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.

Santa Fun Run

2008-11-26T18:03:00.007Z

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...

Being Jesus is not a promotion

2008-11-17T17:11:00.005Z

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.

A quick update on the Child Dawkins

2008-11-09T21:41:00.003Z

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

A bit different from a bat up your nightie

2008-11-09T21:24:00.004Z

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...

Catherine Tate for Dr Who

2008-10-31T16:46:00.003Z

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!

Suggestions for the new Dr Who

2008-10-30T15:47:00.002Z

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...

Venice

2008-10-22T14:02:00.003+01:00

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.

doppleganger

2008-10-15T23:20:00.002+01:00

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.

Gerr-cat Heaven

2008-10-08T17:31:00.003+01:00

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.

The Republic Must Be Built!

2008-10-03T13:19:00.003+01:00

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.

Big Sis birthday lunch

2008-09-22T15:43:00.004+01:00

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.

Phoebe Jane Laffin

2008-09-14T16:05:00.002+01:00

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!

Ignore the Lilypie ticker

2008-09-08T18:36:00.001+01:00

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.

Eastenders and Emmerdale non-spoilers

2008-09-05T11:02:00.002+01:00

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.

Coronation Street non-spoiler

2008-09-05T10:38:00.004+01:00

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.

Gerr-cats are getting bigger every day

2008-08-27T12:31:00.003+01:00

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.

Why Pesky Critters?

2008-08-26T17:22:00.003+01:00

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.

Cat-sitting

2008-08-20T17:41:00.003+01:00

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.

Well, they asked...

2008-08-18T15:39:00.005+01:00

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.

More Cambridge

2008-08-14T16:58:00.012+01:00

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?

The Cambridge Baby

2008-08-11T10:02:00.004+01:00

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 best images at Cambridge Folk Festival

2008-08-08T15:15:00.006+01:00

The Ink Corporation

I heart Proper Records!

2008-08-05T21:50:00.003+01:00

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).

Cambridge here we come!

2008-07-29T13:28:00.006+01:00

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!

Quick update

2008-07-21T17:39:00.003+01:00

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.

Tig and his ailments (again)

2008-07-11T13:49:00.003+01:00

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?

It's been a funny old month has June...

2008-07-04T20:36:00.004+01:00

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 :)

Julie

2008-06-23T13:09:00.002+01:00

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'.

Tyler update

2008-06-16T13:51:00.003+01:00

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...

2008-06-16T13:42:00.003+01:00

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.

Sign the Petition - Support Your Surgery

2008-06-11T12:39:00.003+01:00

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.

I need a name for the Macbook

2008-06-09T11:37:00.002+01:00

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.

Dog fighting in suburbia

2008-06-05T09:52:00.003+01:00

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 :)

A conversation with Tyler

2008-06-03T13:55:00.002+01:00

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...

New additions to the Pesky Critters

2008-05-29T12:59:00.004+01:00

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.

Back from the Dark Side...

2008-05-27T16:46:00.002+01:00

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...

How to confuse the H&S expert, without even trying...

2008-05-21T14:43:00.005+01:00

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.

Tig on the warpath - 2

2008-05-20T15:25:00.003+01:00

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.

Back online

2008-05-17T22:07:00.003+01:00

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.

UEFA Cup Final, City of Manchester Stadium, 14 May 2008

2008-05-14T15:22:00.010+01:00

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....

Tig on the warpath

2008-05-13T12:07:00.003+01:00

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?

Grrr...

2008-05-07T15:04:00.003+01:00

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....

Revolting Students

2008-04-22T16:53:00.004+01:00

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??

Go, Dot, Go!

2008-04-14T12:49:00.002+01:00

The story of the woman who is applying for planning permission to knock down Terry Leahy's gaffe to build a park is wonderful.

Bailey makes himself at home

2008-04-11T19:29:00.003+01:00

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

2008-04-11T14:31:00.003+01:00

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.

Strange what you miss about folk, though.

2008-04-08T17:03:00.004+01:00

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...

Not so quiet on the Western front...

2008-04-08T16:32:00.004+01:00

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.

Greetings from Chez Mogs

2008-03-31T12:55:00.003+01:00

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.

Hellfire awaits...

2008-03-18T15:16:00.004Z

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.

Mousie, x2

2008-03-10T12:23:00.003Z

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

2008-03-10T12:22:00.001Z

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.

The Great Escape update

2008-03-06T13:58:00.003Z

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'...

Thought for the day

2008-03-04T13:28:00.007Z

Other people's words can only hurt you if you let them or

if they write them onto a piece of paper and wrap 'em round a well-aimed baseball bat

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.

Krispy Kreme Doughnuts

2008-02-28T16:46:00.003Z

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?