After a few months of relative peace and harmony, the magma in my internal Vesuvius started bubbling and rumbling beneath the surface. The temperature grew, the pressure raised. The safety valves started to creak. The eruption could not be far away. There were minor tremors last night as I battled through the piles of shit blocking every putative footstep. No fucker had bothered to do the washing up which piled high ino the sink.
Once agin I started to think about the shit we live in. When I start thinking like this the stuff beneath start sto get molten, things start to move. Things are bad in my bit of the house, and that’s by far the best.
I look down the side of the bed. There are about five dis shevelled, crumpled red tops, two or three handkerchief, three pairs of half soiled women’s underpants. A collection of empty document holders in various states of decay. Handfuls of dust, a paper crown, half a dozen never played never to be played CDs which would have any listener fluent in half a dozen languages within a week. A sanitary towel (mercifully unused), a hot water bottle cover long since divorced form it’s partner.
The room itself is cool. It was done bya carpenter called Rob who spent a week turning it from a very old and dusty bar into a rather cool, very low ceilinged, long thin bedroom. He put trendy shutters in the recessed windows, and built some great cupboards the length of the room which looked neat and practical.
Then we moved in.
Rob’s work was good, and most of it has survived us intact. One shutter now hangs from it’s hinge, and there is a small but annoying crack in the plasterwork. Apart from that, for this house it is A1. Oh, there is the light switch which kind of fizzes every time you touch it. But generally, despite all our efforts, the room is cool. TBC
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Jan 30th
Stunning morning. Apparently very cold weather is on it's way, and the magnificent sunshine lulled me into a false sense of security. Went for a walk. It was freezing, and wonderful for it. My earlobes zinged with cold and my fingers tingled, but I warmed up from the inside as I trudged the miles, grinding the mulchy leaves into the sticky soil. Truly wonderful, and even the hideous climb up the steps after "the Harrow" didn't phase me. This may be doing me some good!!!
Only set back was a text received half way round. I'd forgotten a lesson., Rang J who was great about it. Really nice bloke, but I did feel guilty.
Went round to M in the morning. Still owes me £90. Went to his house on Sat to collect. He wasn't there. I couldn't be bothered to follow him to the Crossroads, but he assured me he'd leave it to be collected. Went round. No one there. Rang up. No answer. then he rang me. Really sorry. Could I have the money by Friday? "Oh um well difficult (so presumably he's just spent what he had there on Saturday). He'd see what he can do.. Try and get £50 by Friday. Cunt. Total twat head.
S in Aylesbury continued his good progress, and then home and over to S in Maidenhead.
In the news, Guiliana has made a fuck up of monumental proportions and is out of the presidential race, as is Edwardes for the Dems. McCain leads the polls FFS!!!
Checked in online for the first leg of my African mission, that's the flight to Marseille, which means it's less than 48 hours away. Can't say I am that excited, which can only be a sign of age.
Only set back was a text received half way round. I'd forgotten a lesson., Rang J who was great about it. Really nice bloke, but I did feel guilty.
Went round to M in the morning. Still owes me £90. Went to his house on Sat to collect. He wasn't there. I couldn't be bothered to follow him to the Crossroads, but he assured me he'd leave it to be collected. Went round. No one there. Rang up. No answer. then he rang me. Really sorry. Could I have the money by Friday? "Oh um well difficult (so presumably he's just spent what he had there on Saturday). He'd see what he can do.. Try and get £50 by Friday. Cunt. Total twat head.
S in Aylesbury continued his good progress, and then home and over to S in Maidenhead.
In the news, Guiliana has made a fuck up of monumental proportions and is out of the presidential race, as is Edwardes for the Dems. McCain leads the polls FFS!!!
Checked in online for the first leg of my African mission, that's the flight to Marseille, which means it's less than 48 hours away. Can't say I am that excited, which can only be a sign of age.
Jan 29th
Dropped kids off to school then over to Thames for a lesson in the wonderful winter sunshine. Driving up in Downley, we looked down over the town and saw a pall of smog hanging over it. As the afternoon drew on the clouds drew in, bringing mucky misty weather which eventually succumbed to heavy rain.
Took Sophie down to the Job Centre. She really is exceptional. She went for an interview. The manager of "Pumpkin Patch" stated that she could not offer anyone a job, but was so impressed with S that she would bend the rules and offered her the place there and then. Brilliant!
I went to Currys and Comet & finally John Lewis to get a new camcorder. Lovely little piece of kit (Sony). So much nicer than the old Canon, though I did feel guilty as I had to do some nasty damage to retrieve the old tape from it. Still, it was probably beyond economical repair. Almost everything is these days. If they break down you either have a guarantee or you bin them. It's a long day from the time when the man from DER was a regular visitor to our home.
ps Stupid spellchecker.... doesn't recognise the word "bin"!!!!
Took Sophie down to the Job Centre. She really is exceptional. She went for an interview. The manager of "Pumpkin Patch" stated that she could not offer anyone a job, but was so impressed with S that she would bend the rules and offered her the place there and then. Brilliant!
I went to Currys and Comet & finally John Lewis to get a new camcorder. Lovely little piece of kit (Sony). So much nicer than the old Canon, though I did feel guilty as I had to do some nasty damage to retrieve the old tape from it. Still, it was probably beyond economical repair. Almost everything is these days. If they break down you either have a guarantee or you bin them. It's a long day from the time when the man from DER was a regular visitor to our home.
ps Stupid spellchecker.... doesn't recognise the word "bin"!!!!
Monday, January 28, 2008
Jan 28th
Slept like a log. Had gone to sleep watching the cricket, and have some vague recollection of possibly switching off the tele in the middle of the night. India saved the game, Sehwag hit 150.
Slept in late . Dan had the Lurgi. No appointment till 12:30 when I trekked over to Aylesbury for S. He really is beginning to drive like a driver!
Got back and Dan had dragged himself from the bed to the PC. Told him no school, no PC. Accepted without a struggle. He's a great lad!
M was reallly good as usual, but still has the capacity to pull out the occassional purler. He should pass though, but I was a bit shocked to realise he only has 1 more lesson before his test!!
Home in the dark.
Watched Panorama. What the hell has happened. They talk about dumbing down. The content was serious, and thought provoking. Do rich westernners doing coke for kicks prolong the agony of an entire country teetering on the brink of anarchy. A member of Blur who had once claimed to have spent £1m on coke and champagne was written to by the vice president, and invited to Chile to see what the trade was doing to the country. 17,000 murders a year was just a starting point, and two of the people we met during the half hour had expired before the prog went to air. Good prog, good points well met. but to a backing tune of (presumably Blur's) hard rock, it wasn't the Panorama of Dimbleby or Charles Wheeler!
Actually watched an ITV prog for the first time in many a moon. about the Great Train Robbery, which traced down many of the surviving protagonists. Actually tied briefly to explore the motivations behind them, which proved surprisingly varied. Some of them must have been vicious thugs in their day, but age had mellowed them as they looked back on their deeds with a mixture of world weary nostalgia, cheerfulness, and , just occasionally, regret.
I had promised myself I wouldn't follow the Monday ritual to the Curry Centre, but needless to say my resolve was easily broken. Much adventure in town as Dennis's kebab van spontaneously combusted and I couldn't get my car out to pick up the take away. walked for it and the fire engines had departed by my return, as had the charred kebab van.
Finished the night on a cultural high with "Confessions of a Driving Instructor" If I ever go to the Hobgoblin again, and if Robin Asquith ever goes in there again, I must remember to ask him how all that happens!!
Slept in late . Dan had the Lurgi. No appointment till 12:30 when I trekked over to Aylesbury for S. He really is beginning to drive like a driver!
Got back and Dan had dragged himself from the bed to the PC. Told him no school, no PC. Accepted without a struggle. He's a great lad!
M was reallly good as usual, but still has the capacity to pull out the occassional purler. He should pass though, but I was a bit shocked to realise he only has 1 more lesson before his test!!
Home in the dark.
Watched Panorama. What the hell has happened. They talk about dumbing down. The content was serious, and thought provoking. Do rich westernners doing coke for kicks prolong the agony of an entire country teetering on the brink of anarchy. A member of Blur who had once claimed to have spent £1m on coke and champagne was written to by the vice president, and invited to Chile to see what the trade was doing to the country. 17,000 murders a year was just a starting point, and two of the people we met during the half hour had expired before the prog went to air. Good prog, good points well met. but to a backing tune of (presumably Blur's) hard rock, it wasn't the Panorama of Dimbleby or Charles Wheeler!
Actually watched an ITV prog for the first time in many a moon. about the Great Train Robbery, which traced down many of the surviving protagonists. Actually tied briefly to explore the motivations behind them, which proved surprisingly varied. Some of them must have been vicious thugs in their day, but age had mellowed them as they looked back on their deeds with a mixture of world weary nostalgia, cheerfulness, and , just occasionally, regret.
I had promised myself I wouldn't follow the Monday ritual to the Curry Centre, but needless to say my resolve was easily broken. Much adventure in town as Dennis's kebab van spontaneously combusted and I couldn't get my car out to pick up the take away. walked for it and the fire engines had departed by my return, as had the charred kebab van.
Finished the night on a cultural high with "Confessions of a Driving Instructor" If I ever go to the Hobgoblin again, and if Robin Asquith ever goes in there again, I must remember to ask him how all that happens!!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Jan 27th
S;ept with the telly on. Cricket Oz v India. Kept waking up by kept eyes shut and listened. Gilchrist's last test innings before retirement. what a player he has been and what joy he has brought. A really lovely bloke to boot. Going much too early, but dong it because he never sees his family. Who can blame him.
I am still feeling rough. Don't eat any breakfast, and head back out to Oxford to pick up H's car. a glorious day again, but I am in no state to make anything of it. I get back, crash onto the couch and don't move for the rest of the day. Can't even raise the effort to zap the telly, which is a mistake as I miss the first hour of Gremlins II which I'd liked to have watched as a family. Too bad.
H takes the kids, and Florence, E's friend to Handy Cross. Everything is for a pound, so they play ping pong, badminton, go to the gym and go swimming. Although I feel bad I also feel I should have made an effort and joined them. How many times?
Sophie is out at a friend's on a Sunday night. She didn't get home till 2. She's growing p. soon it'll be uni and then?? She says she wants to go to Oz. Will she settle there? Will we not have the joy of seeing her kids grow up?
I am still feeling rough. Don't eat any breakfast, and head back out to Oxford to pick up H's car. a glorious day again, but I am in no state to make anything of it. I get back, crash onto the couch and don't move for the rest of the day. Can't even raise the effort to zap the telly, which is a mistake as I miss the first hour of Gremlins II which I'd liked to have watched as a family. Too bad.
H takes the kids, and Florence, E's friend to Handy Cross. Everything is for a pound, so they play ping pong, badminton, go to the gym and go swimming. Although I feel bad I also feel I should have made an effort and joined them. How many times?
Sophie is out at a friend's on a Sunday night. She didn't get home till 2. She's growing p. soon it'll be uni and then?? She says she wants to go to Oz. Will she settle there? Will we not have the joy of seeing her kids grow up?
Jan 26th
Woke up at about 3 o'clock and didn't get back to sleep. Had to get up as had lesson with A. Felt dire. Loaded D into car and set of to Audrey's, plan being to drop him to footie on way. Car was low on fuel last night and didn't realise H had bee doing so much running around in it. Consequently, about half a mile short of Dan's footie, the car spluttered to a halt. Embarrassing sitting on double yellow lines, blocking the pavement and being thus cursed by passing pedestrians. Fair dues to H though, she arrived in record quick time, and I was on my way.
Glorious day, beautiful sunshine lighting the Aylesbury Vale as A drove us over to Chinnor to practice Crossroads. She is doing very well, and is also good company. Being that much older than the average pupil, she tends to be a bit more in tune, is certainly less deferential, and often very funny.
Drop her off and get home. Still not feeling good. We are due out in the evening with S & P but I have to say I feel very queasy. Think about crying off, but its Chaing Mai and I really love the restaurant. Due to meet them in a cocktail bar, which sounds better than the usual grim pub next door.
Get the park and ride into Oxford and get a call from S. They are not in the cocktail bar, but will meet us in the Grapes. Damm! The cocktail bar had sounded cool. As I understand it P says S doesn't like it:--- too many people. Quellle surprise! She gives me directions which I don't understand. We walk half way across Oxford, pleasant in parts but infested with beggars and filthy with litter, trodden in Macvomits chips and empty kebab wrappers. Get to the pub, a jolly spot, but no S&P. Have a drink then they ring. Apparently it was the Grapes that was too busy for S and we should have met them in the dismal Chequers.
Run the begging/busking gauntlet again and eventually make the rendezvous. Order a Leffe. It's dished up in a warm half pint glass by a dopey, surly waitress. I am not feeling good.
The starters arrive and I don't enjoy them. Not feeling good at all. The mains arrive and look daunting. I pick at my fish but realise I am going to be ill if I eat. at first no one notices and I get a bit miffed. Then the penny drops. I get some sympathy then everyone dives into my food! I perk up a bit, feeling ok to chat but just can't face eating. Very odd.
P drives us home, general complaints about speed limits/ drink driving laws etc. These days of course I have moved to the other side of the fence on such matters, but am not going to start a row (and have no inclination to either. Apart from not being able to eat it's been a nice evening)
Glorious day, beautiful sunshine lighting the Aylesbury Vale as A drove us over to Chinnor to practice Crossroads. She is doing very well, and is also good company. Being that much older than the average pupil, she tends to be a bit more in tune, is certainly less deferential, and often very funny.
Drop her off and get home. Still not feeling good. We are due out in the evening with S & P but I have to say I feel very queasy. Think about crying off, but its Chaing Mai and I really love the restaurant. Due to meet them in a cocktail bar, which sounds better than the usual grim pub next door.
Get the park and ride into Oxford and get a call from S. They are not in the cocktail bar, but will meet us in the Grapes. Damm! The cocktail bar had sounded cool. As I understand it P says S doesn't like it:--- too many people. Quellle surprise! She gives me directions which I don't understand. We walk half way across Oxford, pleasant in parts but infested with beggars and filthy with litter, trodden in Macvomits chips and empty kebab wrappers. Get to the pub, a jolly spot, but no S&P. Have a drink then they ring. Apparently it was the Grapes that was too busy for S and we should have met them in the dismal Chequers.
Run the begging/busking gauntlet again and eventually make the rendezvous. Order a Leffe. It's dished up in a warm half pint glass by a dopey, surly waitress. I am not feeling good.
The starters arrive and I don't enjoy them. Not feeling good at all. The mains arrive and look daunting. I pick at my fish but realise I am going to be ill if I eat. at first no one notices and I get a bit miffed. Then the penny drops. I get some sympathy then everyone dives into my food! I perk up a bit, feeling ok to chat but just can't face eating. Very odd.
P drives us home, general complaints about speed limits/ drink driving laws etc. These days of course I have moved to the other side of the fence on such matters, but am not going to start a row (and have no inclination to either. Apart from not being able to eat it's been a nice evening)
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Jan 25th
11 months to Christmas. The speed at which our lives are flying by is staggering, and frankly depressing. Only 1 lesson today. It's at 8:30 but I don't manage to find J until 8:45. A really nice. outgoing lad. He's 25, works for Citylink, and drives their vans around the yard, yet he has no confidence in his own driving. Strange.
The rest of the day is a sorry tale of netperving driven on by an intoxicating mix of carnal longing and apathy. Nothing gets done (nothing ever does!)
In the evening it's off for a ruby with B&N. A very enjoyable eveing. I relate the story of N at the driving test centre. Bob had a test to day and can solve the mystery.
Apparently N & the pupil were driving past Cressex school when a fully grown house brick came flying over the wall and collided with the car windscreen. Test abandoned, N walks home and is rescued by the I car. Bunch of bastards! Hope to hell E gets to HG school cos she sure as hell ain't going there.
Good meal, finished with Sanbuccas which makes a nice change. H arrives as my chauffeuse and I am sufficiently bloated and half pissed to see me going almost straight to bed. First though, E has stayed up (against orders) and is watching Mary Poppins for the zilllionth time. To think I saw that film when it came out in 1964, loved it, but never got the chance to see it again until 1984, when I caught it in Spanish (or perhaps Catalan, I really have no idea) in Barcelona. Now available on demand.
The scmalzy bit where Bert delivers his cheeky corknee homily to George hits home harder every time I hear it, with our youngest baby now heading uncontrollably towards her last term at junior school and the harsh, less carefree world of adulthoood.
You're a man of 'igh position
Esteemed by your peers
And when your little tykes are cryin'
You 'aven't time to dry their tears
And see them grateful little facesSmilin' up at you
Because their dad, 'e always knows
Just what to do
"You've got to grind, grind, grind, at that grindstone
Though childhood slips like sand through a sieve
And all too soon they've up and grown
And then they've flown
And it's too late for you to give.
My eyes are full of tears as I kiss her gently on the forehead, another day of her childhood iredeemably consigned to the world of memories.
The rest of the day is a sorry tale of netperving driven on by an intoxicating mix of carnal longing and apathy. Nothing gets done (nothing ever does!)
In the evening it's off for a ruby with B&N. A very enjoyable eveing. I relate the story of N at the driving test centre. Bob had a test to day and can solve the mystery.
Apparently N & the pupil were driving past Cressex school when a fully grown house brick came flying over the wall and collided with the car windscreen. Test abandoned, N walks home and is rescued by the I car. Bunch of bastards! Hope to hell E gets to HG school cos she sure as hell ain't going there.
Good meal, finished with Sanbuccas which makes a nice change. H arrives as my chauffeuse and I am sufficiently bloated and half pissed to see me going almost straight to bed. First though, E has stayed up (against orders) and is watching Mary Poppins for the zilllionth time. To think I saw that film when it came out in 1964, loved it, but never got the chance to see it again until 1984, when I caught it in Spanish (or perhaps Catalan, I really have no idea) in Barcelona. Now available on demand.
The scmalzy bit where Bert delivers his cheeky corknee homily to George hits home harder every time I hear it, with our youngest baby now heading uncontrollably towards her last term at junior school and the harsh, less carefree world of adulthoood.
You're a man of 'igh position
Esteemed by your peers
And when your little tykes are cryin'
You 'aven't time to dry their tears
And see them grateful little facesSmilin' up at you
Because their dad, 'e always knows
Just what to do
"You've got to grind, grind, grind, at that grindstone
Though childhood slips like sand through a sieve
And all too soon they've up and grown
And then they've flown
And it's too late for you to give.
My eyes are full of tears as I kiss her gently on the forehead, another day of her childhood iredeemably consigned to the world of memories.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Jan 24th
The gloomy weather seemed to be lifting. It was a dry start to the day, and as I had a test at 12:30 I took advantage to go strolling. Took a shortcut as didn't want to get back late. By the time I turned the final corner, the sun was warm on my forehead, and from a weather point of view things got better as the day went by.
Sat in the back on L's test. She made a couple of mistakes early on and had blown it in the first five minutes. A pity as after that she drove really well. "A smashin' drive" said R, the examiner in his broad Welsh brogue. She took it really well and had another test booked within an hour. She's a very good driver imho and deserves to pass. Well, that's my run of success at an end. Hopefully it's temporary, though next up is M, an excellent driver, but I just worry how he'll react to the pressure.
After the test was over I was a bit surprised. An AA car had gone out on test at the same time as us, with N the examiner. As I was getting back into my car, the I car pulled up outside the test centre and to my surprise I saw N get out. That must mean the car had had a breakdown, an accident, or she had cancelled the test for dangerous driving.
A new girl in the afternoon, pleasant if a little quiet. She got off to a good start.
While stocks and shares continued up and down like a whore's drawers, it transpired that at Societe Generale, la Belle France had once more sent les rosbifs away with their tails between their legs as the gallic version of Nick Leeson was revealed to have gambled away the small matter of €5,000 000,000, leaving le pauvre Leeson open mouthed in admiration.
Sat in the back on L's test. She made a couple of mistakes early on and had blown it in the first five minutes. A pity as after that she drove really well. "A smashin' drive" said R, the examiner in his broad Welsh brogue. She took it really well and had another test booked within an hour. She's a very good driver imho and deserves to pass. Well, that's my run of success at an end. Hopefully it's temporary, though next up is M, an excellent driver, but I just worry how he'll react to the pressure.
After the test was over I was a bit surprised. An AA car had gone out on test at the same time as us, with N the examiner. As I was getting back into my car, the I car pulled up outside the test centre and to my surprise I saw N get out. That must mean the car had had a breakdown, an accident, or she had cancelled the test for dangerous driving.
A new girl in the afternoon, pleasant if a little quiet. She got off to a good start.
While stocks and shares continued up and down like a whore's drawers, it transpired that at Societe Generale, la Belle France had once more sent les rosbifs away with their tails between their legs as the gallic version of Nick Leeson was revealed to have gambled away the small matter of €5,000 000,000, leaving le pauvre Leeson open mouthed in admiration.
Jan 23rd
An easy start to day, driving over to Thame and another three hour session with Tom. He is good company, really enjoys the lessons and is pretty competent. All in all the three hours pass pretty quickly.
After that it's S in Aylesbury. An equally nice guy, though he is really hard going. He conspires to make even the simplest things look extraordinarily difficult He tries really hard and never looses heart, but he always seems to be near breaking point.
In the news, shares are up down, soaring booming, crashing in europe, recovering in asia, on the brink in the states, better in the UK, on the up in europe. It must be mayhem, but I bet the bastards who still make their millions whichever way they head are having a right laugh.
In the space of two days, we've gone from everyone telling us that it was tighten yer belts time but no real problem, to "recession inevitable, can we avoid a depression?" The word "slump" has yet to enter stage left. I give it two days.
My personal recession seems to be nearing it's end. Bookings are rolling in. They are not ideal, one in Oxford, one in Watford and a new girl in Maidenhead. Still better than earning £7 an hour intermittently.
Tom mentioned the demise of an Aussie film star.... Heath someone. An old fashioned death in stardom... overdose of sleeping pills. The first I heard of him was hs death.
I think I am one of the most succesful people I know in avoiding celebdom. I've heard the names, but I honestly know very little about them.
Cameron Diaz is one of my faves. I have know idea if it's a he or a she. Likewise Drew Barrymore. If Britney Spears walked into the room I swear to God I wouldn't have a clue who she was. Likewise Kate Moss. Could have said the same about Brad Pitt until a few months ago, but Sophie has watched a couple of his offerings recently. Could do Tom Cruise without too much difficulty, Nicole Kidman most definitely, would probably be able to pick out Kylie in a crowd. I have heard a bit about a new sleb recently. Lidsay Lohan, though I have not the first clue as to what she's famous for.
Bought 2 dozen oysters at lunchtime. When H got home it transpired she had been out to lunch, and wasn't hungry, so I gorged myself, and still left some over for tomorrow.
Decided to give H a late night treat. Not that, can't recall the last time intimacy took place. I put on a film I'd recorded. "Creep," an after the last train gorefest on the London underground. It was gorey, but pretty obvious, but suffice to say she was in torment throughout and couldn't sleep after it so ended up watching Oz v India until the wee small hours.
After that it's S in Aylesbury. An equally nice guy, though he is really hard going. He conspires to make even the simplest things look extraordinarily difficult He tries really hard and never looses heart, but he always seems to be near breaking point.
In the news, shares are up down, soaring booming, crashing in europe, recovering in asia, on the brink in the states, better in the UK, on the up in europe. It must be mayhem, but I bet the bastards who still make their millions whichever way they head are having a right laugh.
In the space of two days, we've gone from everyone telling us that it was tighten yer belts time but no real problem, to "recession inevitable, can we avoid a depression?" The word "slump" has yet to enter stage left. I give it two days.
My personal recession seems to be nearing it's end. Bookings are rolling in. They are not ideal, one in Oxford, one in Watford and a new girl in Maidenhead. Still better than earning £7 an hour intermittently.
Tom mentioned the demise of an Aussie film star.... Heath someone. An old fashioned death in stardom... overdose of sleeping pills. The first I heard of him was hs death.
I think I am one of the most succesful people I know in avoiding celebdom. I've heard the names, but I honestly know very little about them.
Cameron Diaz is one of my faves. I have know idea if it's a he or a she. Likewise Drew Barrymore. If Britney Spears walked into the room I swear to God I wouldn't have a clue who she was. Likewise Kate Moss. Could have said the same about Brad Pitt until a few months ago, but Sophie has watched a couple of his offerings recently. Could do Tom Cruise without too much difficulty, Nicole Kidman most definitely, would probably be able to pick out Kylie in a crowd. I have heard a bit about a new sleb recently. Lidsay Lohan, though I have not the first clue as to what she's famous for.
Bought 2 dozen oysters at lunchtime. When H got home it transpired she had been out to lunch, and wasn't hungry, so I gorged myself, and still left some over for tomorrow.
Decided to give H a late night treat. Not that, can't recall the last time intimacy took place. I put on a film I'd recorded. "Creep," an after the last train gorefest on the London underground. It was gorey, but pretty obvious, but suffice to say she was in torment throughout and couldn't sleep after it so ended up watching Oz v India until the wee small hours.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Jan 22nd
Alarm doesn't go off, but no grea harm done. Dan gets the bins out and we get ready to set off for school. Before we leave for school I notice that he has missed the recyclying bin. I must have told him six times last night to put it out, but would he move from the bloody pc? I throw a wobbly and tell him to take the stuff up to Asda by hand, and until he does I'll disable the computer.
Even by Wycombe standards the morning traffic is diabolical, though luckily in the other direction from the one we are travelling. Drop the kids off. No point battling through the traffic to get back home so go straight to Thame and pick up T early. He must have died of surprise!
Decide to take him to Oxford as Wycombe traffic so abysmal. Get interviewed by a vox pop for Fox FM, though have no idea if my views on public sector pay ever reach the air.
Lesson with M2 then get home to find the recycling rubbish has gone. Dan has apparently loaded it into plastic bags and walked the whole way to Asda. And it's not warm today. The rain has relented again and the day is crisp and chilly. I feel a total bastard now!
On the Armageddon front, by 8 o'clock the stock exchange had plunged another 3% and it seems we are heading for freefall. Pundits give up on recession talk and the word "depression" makes it debut. Strong stuff.
An hour later though and everything has bounced back to where it was at the start of the day. The good news is that apparently the bastards who oversee this shambles have no need to fear too much for their six or seven figure bonuses. The worry is that Wall Street will implode on opening, but a big interest rate cut seems to avert this.......... for the moment.
Even by Wycombe standards the morning traffic is diabolical, though luckily in the other direction from the one we are travelling. Drop the kids off. No point battling through the traffic to get back home so go straight to Thame and pick up T early. He must have died of surprise!
Decide to take him to Oxford as Wycombe traffic so abysmal. Get interviewed by a vox pop for Fox FM, though have no idea if my views on public sector pay ever reach the air.
Lesson with M2 then get home to find the recycling rubbish has gone. Dan has apparently loaded it into plastic bags and walked the whole way to Asda. And it's not warm today. The rain has relented again and the day is crisp and chilly. I feel a total bastard now!
On the Armageddon front, by 8 o'clock the stock exchange had plunged another 3% and it seems we are heading for freefall. Pundits give up on recession talk and the word "depression" makes it debut. Strong stuff.
An hour later though and everything has bounced back to where it was at the start of the day. The good news is that apparently the bastards who oversee this shambles have no need to fear too much for their six or seven figure bonuses. The worry is that Wall Street will implode on opening, but a big interest rate cut seems to avert this.......... for the moment.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Jan 21st
50 years and six months today, a fact that occurred to me late in the day. A day which started as grey as can still be grey without crossing over to black. Got the kids to school, Dan the statutary 5 minutes late, and then headed back and could find no inspiration other than to spend the morning netperving.
Has a lesson at 12, L, who should pass her test on Thursday. Another one lost to me!
Come home and try and get some business cards made up on the laptop. Limited success. The weather goes form bad to worse, and with the decline in the weather the news gets gloomier and gloomier.
Apparently thi Monday in January is historically the worst day of the year. The Christmas bills hit home, the grim monotony of the daily grind is wearing us all down. It's the day more than any other when folk take a long sad look at themselves and their situation and find they don't much like what they see.
Speculation about a recession has been bubbling for months, but today shit hits the pan in a big way. The stock exchanges nosedive all around Europe. As if in sympathy vast swathes of thenorth and west of the country are swamped by the predicted floodwaters.
The family seems to divide into five. I lie on the couch looking at TV progs I don't want to watch.
Dan of course is hunched over some imaginary virtual battle, Sophie is studying alone, Ems flits in and out and H is I know not where, but is clearly not so well.
The house is a disgrace, and no one seems to have the energy to confront the situation. It's a deeply depressing day in all. I conclude it by following the well worn rut to a pint in the Falcon which becomes more dismal with each visit, and then the obligatory curry. Shashlick, not vindaloo, I must get the weight off.
The rain pounds down at times, driven in sheets across the road. The wind has joined the game now, the market stalls billowing like schooner sails the length of the high street. One gust is strong enough for me to lean into it. At least the wind brings a break from the grey monotony of the rain.
Has a lesson at 12, L, who should pass her test on Thursday. Another one lost to me!
Come home and try and get some business cards made up on the laptop. Limited success. The weather goes form bad to worse, and with the decline in the weather the news gets gloomier and gloomier.
Apparently thi Monday in January is historically the worst day of the year. The Christmas bills hit home, the grim monotony of the daily grind is wearing us all down. It's the day more than any other when folk take a long sad look at themselves and their situation and find they don't much like what they see.
Speculation about a recession has been bubbling for months, but today shit hits the pan in a big way. The stock exchanges nosedive all around Europe. As if in sympathy vast swathes of thenorth and west of the country are swamped by the predicted floodwaters.
The family seems to divide into five. I lie on the couch looking at TV progs I don't want to watch.
Dan of course is hunched over some imaginary virtual battle, Sophie is studying alone, Ems flits in and out and H is I know not where, but is clearly not so well.
The house is a disgrace, and no one seems to have the energy to confront the situation. It's a deeply depressing day in all. I conclude it by following the well worn rut to a pint in the Falcon which becomes more dismal with each visit, and then the obligatory curry. Shashlick, not vindaloo, I must get the weight off.
The rain pounds down at times, driven in sheets across the road. The wind has joined the game now, the market stalls billowing like schooner sails the length of the high street. One gust is strong enough for me to lean into it. At least the wind brings a break from the grey monotony of the rain.
Jan 20th
The day is as dismal as a winter's day can be.No frosty joy, just a filthy, leaden sky pregnant with mizzle. It's foul. Any plans one might have had, and to be fair they were few, are crushed by this scene of damp depression. The day is spent in a slouch of nothingness, even resorting to zznoooker on the box to take the edge off the caged in feeling.
Pascale came round at lunchtime to take Emsy to the pictures. Feeling a bit feeble I ask her to ring up and sort out our hotel booking for Marrakesh. I should have done it myself (as Pascale told me), and having listened to her conversation realised that I could, and should have done it.
I catch a bit of the news. More rain, and with it flooding, is anticipated for much of the country in the week to come. What a dismal January!
Over the pond, it would seem Hilary is now on course and that Obama is struggling. McCain looks set to be her opponent. Not up to speed enough to know precisely when "Super Tuesday" is, but I sense it's not far away.
The week ahead is bereft of bookings. I have only about 14 hours of work in the diary. I have to get this thing moving, because I really feel I am getting the hang of it, and am certainly on a bit of a roll as far as test passes go.
The mighty messiah Keegan has his first game at Newcastle. An astonishing 0-0 draw with Bolton Wanderers. First signs that the press might realise what prats they are writing him up as the Lord God incarnate.
Pascale came round at lunchtime to take Emsy to the pictures. Feeling a bit feeble I ask her to ring up and sort out our hotel booking for Marrakesh. I should have done it myself (as Pascale told me), and having listened to her conversation realised that I could, and should have done it.
I catch a bit of the news. More rain, and with it flooding, is anticipated for much of the country in the week to come. What a dismal January!
Over the pond, it would seem Hilary is now on course and that Obama is struggling. McCain looks set to be her opponent. Not up to speed enough to know precisely when "Super Tuesday" is, but I sense it's not far away.
The week ahead is bereft of bookings. I have only about 14 hours of work in the diary. I have to get this thing moving, because I really feel I am getting the hang of it, and am certainly on a bit of a roll as far as test passes go.
The mighty messiah Keegan has his first game at Newcastle. An astonishing 0-0 draw with Bolton Wanderers. First signs that the press might realise what prats they are writing him up as the Lord God incarnate.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Jan 19th
Up reasonably early to catch the fag end of the Australia/ India Test match. Had a lesson with A who remarkably managed to keep the car on the black bits between the pavements for the entirety of the lesson. Got back and on to AOL . Surprisingly they are experiencing higher than usual call levels! I know damm well that when I eventually get through to them I am going to have to repeat yesterday’s exercise from the beginning, as I will not be allowed onto the level 2 operative until I have. Start on hold with something I have never heard of, followed by "Street Life"...who was that by.........Donna Summer?? Could check it out on Google I suppose ha fucking ha. Up next is "until somebody loves you" Frankie Vaughan?? My memory is deteriorating swiftly in sympathy with my body. It’s so bloody shoddy! In the remotely unlikely instance that we get a record we like it is cut off in mid stream ad replaced with something else after a ten second pause put there deliberately to get you thinking you might be about to talk to someone. "Speaking of Happiness" was obviously chosen by one of AOL’s online dommes with a wry sadistic smile, and as the wait enters it’s second quarter of an hour some unfunky jazz instrumental is glued to my lughole. Minutes later and Dusty is back with the "Son of a Preacher Man" and then another wit from AOL has chosen the aptly titled "You’re nobody" next up.
Half way though the next track and suddenly there’s a ring tone!!!!!!
A voice comes gurgling down the line. He sounds as though he’s in a tank of water. I can’t hear a word. He can’t hear me. "CAN YOU RING ME BACK"
"I am afaraid I cannot ring you back"
"You can, you have done it before"
With that I am back on hold and the cuddly Barry White is telling me I’m his first, his last and his everything" What a change of tone!!!
Suddenly the fish man is back and he gurgles that he’s checked and I am connected to the internet. I try to bring up a web page. Nothing.
"Can I put you on hold??"
This call has now taken up half an hour of my life.
"What if I get cut off again"
"Gurgle gurgle...I can assure you you will not get cut off"
"I did last night"
Back onto hold and a new sound of the sixties frustratingly let’s go of it’s intro, but before I can Name that Tune it is cut and replaced by some nondescript sub Motowny soul type affair
My man is back. He is going to arrange a call back from an AOL level 2 techinican.
This will take between 1-2 hours.Or possibly 2-3 hours, or maybe within a day.
"Why don’t we try going through the troubleshooting proedure?"
"We already have"
"I really think I can help you if......"
"Do it"
"Gurgle gurgle gurgle"
"Do it!"
"Gurgle gurgle gurgle"
"DO IT"
"Gurgle"
"DO IT"
The phone cuts off.
That’s it. Enough. Onto AOL cancellation line. Whilst they are strangely experiencing higher than usual call levels, the phone is answered within a minute. Again the phone line is almost inaudible, though this time the accent is from across the Irish Sea rather than the Indian Ocean.
Amy is very sympathetic though can hardly hear me at all. She will connect me immediately with a level two technician.
"Hurrah!!!!!!"
The phone rings...... and YESSSSSSS!!!!!!
"It’s Barry White again....My first, my last , my everything!!!"
Afte another ten minutes I've had enough so I redial the cancellation line.....high volume of calls...waiting longer than normal..Donna Summer again
The next girl will Talk to the Level 2 technician before she puts me through, and Hey Presto she does, and within 2 mins the guy has it sorted and I am back online. What a bloody shambles.
They obviously follow the Natwest business model. a whole bunch of helpful willing souls whose every day must be made a misery being snarled at by gits like me who are ripping their teeth at at the total thoughtless, don't give a fuck attitude of the sytems put in place by the idiots who run the show. You can just imagine some twat of a CEO flying around the world in his AOHell supplied Lear jet drinking champagne, looking down and thinking a great big "Fuck You" to all the twats like me paying their £30 a month to keep him there.
Out for a lesson with Sophie. Still doing fine. Drop her off to some non specific beauty treatment, and then get called to collect her a coupl of hours later.
Suggst a meal in the "Three Horseshoes" and go there with Heather. Arrive there for the last knockings. No swordfish and no Tuna which are the two thingshad set my heart on. The gb's a dissapointment frankly. I had fond memories after the other evening, but following this I wouldnt rush back.
Half way though the next track and suddenly there’s a ring tone!!!!!!
A voice comes gurgling down the line. He sounds as though he’s in a tank of water. I can’t hear a word. He can’t hear me. "CAN YOU RING ME BACK"
"I am afaraid I cannot ring you back"
"You can, you have done it before"
With that I am back on hold and the cuddly Barry White is telling me I’m his first, his last and his everything" What a change of tone!!!
Suddenly the fish man is back and he gurgles that he’s checked and I am connected to the internet. I try to bring up a web page. Nothing.
"Can I put you on hold??"
This call has now taken up half an hour of my life.
"What if I get cut off again"
"Gurgle gurgle...I can assure you you will not get cut off"
"I did last night"
Back onto hold and a new sound of the sixties frustratingly let’s go of it’s intro, but before I can Name that Tune it is cut and replaced by some nondescript sub Motowny soul type affair
My man is back. He is going to arrange a call back from an AOL level 2 techinican.
This will take between 1-2 hours.Or possibly 2-3 hours, or maybe within a day.
"Why don’t we try going through the troubleshooting proedure?"
"We already have"
"I really think I can help you if......"
"Do it"
"Gurgle gurgle gurgle"
"Do it!"
"Gurgle gurgle gurgle"
"DO IT"
"Gurgle"
"DO IT"
The phone cuts off.
That’s it. Enough. Onto AOL cancellation line. Whilst they are strangely experiencing higher than usual call levels, the phone is answered within a minute. Again the phone line is almost inaudible, though this time the accent is from across the Irish Sea rather than the Indian Ocean.
Amy is very sympathetic though can hardly hear me at all. She will connect me immediately with a level two technician.
"Hurrah!!!!!!"
The phone rings...... and YESSSSSSS!!!!!!
"It’s Barry White again....My first, my last , my everything!!!"
Afte another ten minutes I've had enough so I redial the cancellation line.....high volume of calls...waiting longer than normal..Donna Summer again
The next girl will Talk to the Level 2 technician before she puts me through, and Hey Presto she does, and within 2 mins the guy has it sorted and I am back online. What a bloody shambles.
They obviously follow the Natwest business model. a whole bunch of helpful willing souls whose every day must be made a misery being snarled at by gits like me who are ripping their teeth at at the total thoughtless, don't give a fuck attitude of the sytems put in place by the idiots who run the show. You can just imagine some twat of a CEO flying around the world in his AOHell supplied Lear jet drinking champagne, looking down and thinking a great big "Fuck You" to all the twats like me paying their £30 a month to keep him there.
Out for a lesson with Sophie. Still doing fine. Drop her off to some non specific beauty treatment, and then get called to collect her a coupl of hours later.
Suggst a meal in the "Three Horseshoes" and go there with Heather. Arrive there for the last knockings. No swordfish and no Tuna which are the two thingshad set my heart on. The gb's a dissapointment frankly. I had fond memories after the other evening, but following this I wouldnt rush back.
Jan 18th
Day starts with much excitement as it’s revealed to be 8:45 and no one even up yet. Enter into conspiracy with kids to concoct excuses for school. Sure this never happened when I was a kid.
It’s a grey misty morning, but I have absolutely nothing to do today, so I dip into the woods again. It’s grimmer than the other day when the countryside was illuminated by the frosty morning sunshine. I trudge through the sludgy mud. Half way round I meet a young woman walking her dog and have her for company for twenty minutes, which helps time pass. I try walking quicker, even breaking into a jog at times and manage to get the time cut by twenty minutes. I’m sure it was easier than on Tuesday so hopefully something is being achieved.
Get home and ferry Sophie to school, go to the bank to pay in some cheques and then return to pick her up and take her to Flackwell for driving lesson. She’s doing very nicely, so I let her drive all the way along the road from Flackwell until we get to Marlow Hill. She is taken aback but I am sure enjoyed driving on the "real" road.
My legs are in turmoil following the walk, so I resign myself to some Internet drooling, when lo and behold the laptop won’t connect to the Internet. Switch off and on three times and it begins to look as if I may have to resort to the dreaded help lines.
Click onto the AO Hell sign on screen. Every fucking thing I click on tells me to connect tp the Internet to sort it out. I hate them already. Of course it would be so bloody difficult to put the number of their help line on the start up screen wouldn’t it? I go through their poxy useless help menu for half an hour. I have an idea! Type "phone" into the index.
Usefully the following menu pops up
"About ALL calendar
About Intellysinc for AOL
About the Address book
Syncing with your PDA
What if I forget my AOL password?"
Yes, fantastic, absolutely so fucking useful.
Eventually I find
" Contacting ALL member services"
and hey presto!!! The elusive phone number. I dial excitedly. The line is dead. Must be a mistake. I check and recheck, dial and redial. Nope it’s as dead as Michael Foot. This happened before and I search through my word processor and eventually discover I had saved the number last time I went through this fiasco.
Oddly, they are experiencing "higher call volumes than usual"
How fucking unusual to quote Billy Plummer. How comes the last 19 times I have called them they have been experiencing "higher call volumes than usual". When do you have to ring to encounter them experiencing normal call volumes?
I listen to Dusty Springfield, Desmond Dekker and about half a dozen old sixties favourites, occasionally interrupted by some disembodied bint reminding me about the benefits of resolving my problem by going to their website.
Has anyone ever killed after one of these calls?
Eventually a personable young guy with an inaudible name comes to my rescue. At least they have given up on making the poor sods pretend their name is "Jack" or "Steve" or "Hugh". He does his best but after 20 mins we are still not connecting and he confesses I need promotion to "Level 2 technical support"
First though, it’s a blast of Jimmy Cliff, and "Wonderful World, Beautiful People" Just as I am about to get groovin to the next hot hit, my level 2 man comes on the line!!!
I here the words "welcome to" there’s a click, and the dialling tone hums merrily in my lughole.
Does the Level Two man think "Hey that poor guy got cut off I better ring him back" ? Yeah, and Father Christmas brought me Nicole Kidman for Christmas.
What an utter bunch of cunts!!!!
H went out to get me a curry at 8. It arrives at 11:15 gaving been getting cold since ten when it was ordered. Words were use sparingly.
It’s a grey misty morning, but I have absolutely nothing to do today, so I dip into the woods again. It’s grimmer than the other day when the countryside was illuminated by the frosty morning sunshine. I trudge through the sludgy mud. Half way round I meet a young woman walking her dog and have her for company for twenty minutes, which helps time pass. I try walking quicker, even breaking into a jog at times and manage to get the time cut by twenty minutes. I’m sure it was easier than on Tuesday so hopefully something is being achieved.
Get home and ferry Sophie to school, go to the bank to pay in some cheques and then return to pick her up and take her to Flackwell for driving lesson. She’s doing very nicely, so I let her drive all the way along the road from Flackwell until we get to Marlow Hill. She is taken aback but I am sure enjoyed driving on the "real" road.
My legs are in turmoil following the walk, so I resign myself to some Internet drooling, when lo and behold the laptop won’t connect to the Internet. Switch off and on three times and it begins to look as if I may have to resort to the dreaded help lines.
Click onto the AO Hell sign on screen. Every fucking thing I click on tells me to connect tp the Internet to sort it out. I hate them already. Of course it would be so bloody difficult to put the number of their help line on the start up screen wouldn’t it? I go through their poxy useless help menu for half an hour. I have an idea! Type "phone" into the index.
Usefully the following menu pops up
"About ALL calendar
About Intellysinc for AOL
About the Address book
Syncing with your PDA
What if I forget my AOL password?"
Yes, fantastic, absolutely so fucking useful.
Eventually I find
" Contacting ALL member services"
and hey presto!!! The elusive phone number. I dial excitedly. The line is dead. Must be a mistake. I check and recheck, dial and redial. Nope it’s as dead as Michael Foot. This happened before and I search through my word processor and eventually discover I had saved the number last time I went through this fiasco.
Oddly, they are experiencing "higher call volumes than usual"
How fucking unusual to quote Billy Plummer. How comes the last 19 times I have called them they have been experiencing "higher call volumes than usual". When do you have to ring to encounter them experiencing normal call volumes?
I listen to Dusty Springfield, Desmond Dekker and about half a dozen old sixties favourites, occasionally interrupted by some disembodied bint reminding me about the benefits of resolving my problem by going to their website.
Has anyone ever killed after one of these calls?
Eventually a personable young guy with an inaudible name comes to my rescue. At least they have given up on making the poor sods pretend their name is "Jack" or "Steve" or "Hugh". He does his best but after 20 mins we are still not connecting and he confesses I need promotion to "Level 2 technical support"
First though, it’s a blast of Jimmy Cliff, and "Wonderful World, Beautiful People" Just as I am about to get groovin to the next hot hit, my level 2 man comes on the line!!!
I here the words "welcome to" there’s a click, and the dialling tone hums merrily in my lughole.
Does the Level Two man think "Hey that poor guy got cut off I better ring him back" ? Yeah, and Father Christmas brought me Nicole Kidman for Christmas.
What an utter bunch of cunts!!!!
H went out to get me a curry at 8. It arrives at 11:15 gaving been getting cold since ten when it was ordered. Words were use sparingly.
Jan 17th
Dismal weather again throughout the day. Only busy day of the week. Out with T who haven’t seen before Christmas. He’s a spot on driver and shouldn’t have a problem. A cool lad too. S meanwhile struggles on. Have been teaching him since May (my second ever pupil) and progress is painfully slow. A nice lad, but he always has issues....work girlfriend etc etc and if he’s stressed out it’s watch out! Still hasn't really grasped that the three pedals are not no/off switches. It's a brutal experience sitting next to him sometimes, but I do feel thre are some signs of progress.
Apparently whilst at the Mahler gig last night I missed the planet shattering news that Kevin Keegan has been chosen as Big Sam’s replacement. Accordingly Radio Footie Live has suspended all news coverage of everything else in the apparent opinion that anyone living more than 30 miles from Newcastle might actually give a toss. Keegan is apparently the new Geordie Messiah, so I took the trouble to google his managerial record. Ermm it transpire this consists of one div three and one div two championship. No wonder they’re whooping as they puke up the brown ale onto the streets. Somewhere sown the news agenda comes the news thata BA jet has bellyflopped onto the pre runway lawn at Heathrow. No one knows how or why, but everyone decides it's time for an "our life in hs hands. hero pilot saves the day" story. The plane looks a write off but luckily no one was hurt. Hmmm three flights in a weekend coming up soon!
At home I realise I’ve forgotten to buy any tea. H seems to be using this as a personal crusade to make me more accountable. It’s too bloody miserable to go out and get any so I stomp around the house trying to pick a fight with anyone who’ll talk to me. H decides she’s had enough so goes downstairs to what I was beginning to consider my bed. So now I have to risk the gruntathon or kip on the sofa.
Tempt D away from the PC having rediscovered my bootleg DVD of Blackadder II and watch a couple of episodes. I love watching something that he likes and laughs at. It’s such a pleasure to laugh at something with one’s nearest and dearest.
Apparently whilst at the Mahler gig last night I missed the planet shattering news that Kevin Keegan has been chosen as Big Sam’s replacement. Accordingly Radio Footie Live has suspended all news coverage of everything else in the apparent opinion that anyone living more than 30 miles from Newcastle might actually give a toss. Keegan is apparently the new Geordie Messiah, so I took the trouble to google his managerial record. Ermm it transpire this consists of one div three and one div two championship. No wonder they’re whooping as they puke up the brown ale onto the streets. Somewhere sown the news agenda comes the news thata BA jet has bellyflopped onto the pre runway lawn at Heathrow. No one knows how or why, but everyone decides it's time for an "our life in hs hands. hero pilot saves the day" story. The plane looks a write off but luckily no one was hurt. Hmmm three flights in a weekend coming up soon!
At home I realise I’ve forgotten to buy any tea. H seems to be using this as a personal crusade to make me more accountable. It’s too bloody miserable to go out and get any so I stomp around the house trying to pick a fight with anyone who’ll talk to me. H decides she’s had enough so goes downstairs to what I was beginning to consider my bed. So now I have to risk the gruntathon or kip on the sofa.
Tempt D away from the PC having rediscovered my bootleg DVD of Blackadder II and watch a couple of episodes. I love watching something that he likes and laughs at. It’s such a pleasure to laugh at something with one’s nearest and dearest.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Jan 16th
Against all odds, and certainly all predictions, the day dawned fresh, crisp and dry. Had to thaw ice off the windscreen and drove E & D to school in glorious frosty morning sunlight. Having deposited my charges I decided it was about time to kick my fitness regime into action. I realised with alarm that it is now almost 7 months since Dr Annapurna read me the riot act and told me to loose weight and start exercising. I lost the best part of a stone pretty quickly but then hit a brick wall. Along came Christmas and half a stone went back on. Have decided it'll only come off again if I follow his advice and take to the hills.
What a day to start, morning mist hanging in the valleys, and steam hovering around the dewy fields. Underfoot was sodden, squelchy and slippery to the point of being treacherous. I headed down the paths behind Cryer's Hill, followed the paths to Hughenden Church, struck right and into the woods towards Downley. Heart was thumping and lungs screaming. Reckoned if it got to the other way round it was time to start making phone calls! Squelched along past the
de Spencer Arms, got a little lost but quickly found the route at Naphill, over fields through more woods and then more fields, and then to the Harrow and up the crippling steps and climb back to the top of Cryer's. Got back to the car after two and a half hours solid rambling. Boots caked in mud as were the troosers, but felt good if a tad fatigued.
Got home and Sophie had decided to take three days off to revise for exams, Mentioned I might go to Festival Hall and she seemed keen to join. News then came through that Emsy wasn't feeling good at school so went to retrieve her. seemed to perk up considerably rather quickly!
Took Sophie for a half hour lesson then headed off to London. She was bright and chatty as usual. Bought her a pasta salad at M&S at Marylebone but neglected to get a fork, so the pasta followed us around for the rest of the evening, disappearing a Sophie fingerful at a time.
Beethoven's 2nd piano concerto (not the one I thought it was!) and Mahler's 5th. The Beethoven was ok, the Mahler awesome!! The adagietto, which I generally resent for being undeservedly regarded as Mahler's masterpiece by the general masses, was sublime and bought a tear to my eye. The finale was as exhilarating as I have ever heard it performed. Wonderful. Wanted to hear the whole symphony again.
I'd warned Sophie Mahler wasn't the easiest. She wasn't exactly blown away, but said she'd enjoyed it. It was nice to have her there, if expensive, though after last time we swapped to expensive empty seats before the start.
Words I hate
"Movie", when spoken by a non American
"Elevator" as above
"Awesome" for something entirely trivial (as opposed to Mahler's 5th!!)
The word "enjoy" used in total, pointless, fucking meaningless isolation.
What a day to start, morning mist hanging in the valleys, and steam hovering around the dewy fields. Underfoot was sodden, squelchy and slippery to the point of being treacherous. I headed down the paths behind Cryer's Hill, followed the paths to Hughenden Church, struck right and into the woods towards Downley. Heart was thumping and lungs screaming. Reckoned if it got to the other way round it was time to start making phone calls! Squelched along past the
de Spencer Arms, got a little lost but quickly found the route at Naphill, over fields through more woods and then more fields, and then to the Harrow and up the crippling steps and climb back to the top of Cryer's. Got back to the car after two and a half hours solid rambling. Boots caked in mud as were the troosers, but felt good if a tad fatigued.
Got home and Sophie had decided to take three days off to revise for exams, Mentioned I might go to Festival Hall and she seemed keen to join. News then came through that Emsy wasn't feeling good at school so went to retrieve her. seemed to perk up considerably rather quickly!
Took Sophie for a half hour lesson then headed off to London. She was bright and chatty as usual. Bought her a pasta salad at M&S at Marylebone but neglected to get a fork, so the pasta followed us around for the rest of the evening, disappearing a Sophie fingerful at a time.
Beethoven's 2nd piano concerto (not the one I thought it was!) and Mahler's 5th. The Beethoven was ok, the Mahler awesome!! The adagietto, which I generally resent for being undeservedly regarded as Mahler's masterpiece by the general masses, was sublime and bought a tear to my eye. The finale was as exhilarating as I have ever heard it performed. Wonderful. Wanted to hear the whole symphony again.
I'd warned Sophie Mahler wasn't the easiest. She wasn't exactly blown away, but said she'd enjoyed it. It was nice to have her there, if expensive, though after last time we swapped to expensive empty seats before the start.
Words I hate
"Movie", when spoken by a non American
"Elevator" as above
"Awesome" for something entirely trivial (as opposed to Mahler's 5th!!)
The word "enjoy" used in total, pointless, fucking meaningless isolation.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Jan 15th
No let up in the rain. It's sheeting down for most of the day, roads turning to rivers, mudding water bubbling up ferociously from the manholes. Drove over to Thame to pick up T. He really enjoyed driving in the deluge, and he did it pretty well.
Stopped in Tesco on the way home. Fancied a kipper so bought one, got home and discovered I had left it in Tesco!!
Went ove to Aylesbury in the evening for a "Pass Plus" meeting with Nigel. If nothing else comes from it I got a free copy of the highway code.
Cheery "Horizon" on when I got home, Michaell Portillo on the perfect way to kill someome (from the point of view of an execution). Thoughts of putting Thatcher out of her misery spang to mind.
Strange what a personable bloke he has turned out to be when contrasted with his Toryboy slimeball image of not so many years ago.
Stopped in Tesco on the way home. Fancied a kipper so bought one, got home and discovered I had left it in Tesco!!
Went ove to Aylesbury in the evening for a "Pass Plus" meeting with Nigel. If nothing else comes from it I got a free copy of the highway code.
Cheery "Horizon" on when I got home, Michaell Portillo on the perfect way to kill someome (from the point of view of an execution). Thoughts of putting Thatcher out of her misery spang to mind.
Strange what a personable bloke he has turned out to be when contrasted with his Toryboy slimeball image of not so many years ago.
Jan 14th
Not a busy day, only a couple of lessons but neither of them too taxing. A day of relentess rain, and we didn't get the worst of it as the west country is preparing to turn back into "Waterland"
Aside from that he cheeriest piece of news came from the never ending "who killed Diana" saga which appears set torun for at least the next century. Have to confess I am hardly up to speed on this, but when her toadying butler showed up to day he came out with the gem that her old lady had called her a "whore" for serial shagging with Muslims. Now if I had had the foresight and the courage to predict this revelation ten years ago during the world wide wail!! Talking of toadies, is there a more odious creep than that ginger twat Nicholas Witchell (sp?) who is our Beeb conduit to all things royal? Can anyone have less self respect, knowing full well that Charlie boy thinks of him as "that ghastly one", yet still he slimes up to them hoping one day in the future to go down on his bended knee no doubt.
Snooker has now replaced drats, but it just doesn't have the appeal. A thinner type is certainly attracted, with the occasional lowlife, but generally their background harder to place. Not hardmen, by and large, in fact a bit of a pasty faced bunch....there's just a whiff of smoke filled rooms with sinister beings lurking in the shadows. They've hit on the bright idea of women refs, though. I think there's only one of her, I am not sufficiently enraptured to heave learnt names, but she's a site better looking than anything the drats fraternity has dished up.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Aside from that he cheeriest piece of news came from the never ending "who killed Diana" saga which appears set torun for at least the next century. Have to confess I am hardly up to speed on this, but when her toadying butler showed up to day he came out with the gem that her old lady had called her a "whore" for serial shagging with Muslims. Now if I had had the foresight and the courage to predict this revelation ten years ago during the world wide wail!! Talking of toadies, is there a more odious creep than that ginger twat Nicholas Witchell (sp?) who is our Beeb conduit to all things royal? Can anyone have less self respect, knowing full well that Charlie boy thinks of him as "that ghastly one", yet still he slimes up to them hoping one day in the future to go down on his bended knee no doubt.
Snooker has now replaced drats, but it just doesn't have the appeal. A thinner type is certainly attracted, with the occasional lowlife, but generally their background harder to place. Not hardmen, by and large, in fact a bit of a pasty faced bunch....there's just a whiff of smoke filled rooms with sinister beings lurking in the shadows. They've hit on the bright idea of women refs, though. I think there's only one of her, I am not sufficiently enraptured to heave learnt names, but she's a site better looking than anything the drats fraternity has dished up.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Jan 13th
Wake up early, and unusually switch on the telly. Am sleeping alone at the moment. when H snores I can't sleep, so I nudge her and she wakes up, and moans, goes back to sleep, snores, gets nudged and so it goes on. Are seperate beds the future? Hmmmm.
Watch Andrew Marr. Peter Hain seems to be in trouble. There's a certain smugness about him in his Boss suits that make it hard to feel a great deal of sympathy for him. He spent £100k on his campaign to become Labour deputy leader (what a job, eh!) more than all of the other candidate's combined, and managed to finish 5th.
Cameron was the next guest, and that was enough to have me burying my head in Collarme for an hour.
I was stirred into action by S, who cheered me up no end. she had to go to work at 12, but could we do a driving lesson first? I was well chuffed that she was so keen. We went to the sports centre and practised her steering for half an hour.
Later in the afternoon we actually made it for a walk in the woods around Hughenden manor. It was nice to get out into the country again. Dan keeps pointing out that he is now taller than me. It seems a bit intimidating.... just get the feeling that you are not the top dog for very much longer, if at all. I know how those bull sea lions must feel as a younger one threatens their position. Already he automatically assumes the front position in H's car.
Got home and cooked the Sunday dinner. Another weekend and nothing done with regard to sorting the place out. I wonder if we'll die with the place no further forward.
I tried to book the hotel in marrakech yesterday, but the booking didn'y go through. I emailed the hotel direct (with all the details including credit card) but have as yet received no reply. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to do.
Ah well it's 1:42 and a new week beckons, and a worryingly quiet one too.
Watch Andrew Marr. Peter Hain seems to be in trouble. There's a certain smugness about him in his Boss suits that make it hard to feel a great deal of sympathy for him. He spent £100k on his campaign to become Labour deputy leader (what a job, eh!) more than all of the other candidate's combined, and managed to finish 5th.
Cameron was the next guest, and that was enough to have me burying my head in Collarme for an hour.
I was stirred into action by S, who cheered me up no end. she had to go to work at 12, but could we do a driving lesson first? I was well chuffed that she was so keen. We went to the sports centre and practised her steering for half an hour.
Later in the afternoon we actually made it for a walk in the woods around Hughenden manor. It was nice to get out into the country again. Dan keeps pointing out that he is now taller than me. It seems a bit intimidating.... just get the feeling that you are not the top dog for very much longer, if at all. I know how those bull sea lions must feel as a younger one threatens their position. Already he automatically assumes the front position in H's car.
Got home and cooked the Sunday dinner. Another weekend and nothing done with regard to sorting the place out. I wonder if we'll die with the place no further forward.
I tried to book the hotel in marrakech yesterday, but the booking didn'y go through. I emailed the hotel direct (with all the details including credit card) but have as yet received no reply. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to do.
Ah well it's 1:42 and a new week beckons, and a worryingly quiet one too.
Jan 12th
Saturday.... oh what it used to be.
Tisaws.....World of Sport....Giant Haystacks........reports of terrace mayhem from every quarter of the land...... and all recounted over now staggering volumes of beer later in the evening.
Today I lay mute as H takes D to football. Silly I should have gt up and joined her for a walk through the woods. I am in dire need of the exercise as the job is almost totally sedentary. The weight I lost after Doc Annapurna's dire warnings last July is steadily creeping back on and becoming a regular fixture.
I take Sophie out on the pretext of collecting her computer and then reveal the arrival of her licence and give her a driving lessson. she does very well, but I can see when I explain things she finds it hard to keep a straight face as she is not used to me talking to her so seriously. She enjoys the lesson, which pleases me, thoug I have to say i should have prepared for it better.
We pick up her PC which may free up mine from now on!
She's revising so hard for exams at the moment that wehardly ever see her. I really hope it all works out well for her. It was a big break leaving HG school, and I know she had, and may still have some misgivings about it.
Watched the drats formuch of the afternoon. The event really does have some charm. The players all seem to be the sort of blokes you'd meet in the roughest pub in town, the sort of place you'd stay clear of after dark. The crowd is unfailingly boozy, but always good natured, and for such a basic game with such finite possibilities, it is capable of producing moments of high drama. The two finalists are actually an exception. A polite and friendly Queenslander with a Catweazle beard and a pony tail to his arse, and a studious looking Welshman. Whitlock and Webster. Taffy looks too good to me!
Having missed a Friday curry there was no way I could hang on till Monday, so went out for a pint and a takeaway. The Falcon gets more desperate every time I go in there now. What's th point of 50"plasma screens all over the place when they are totally ignored. The place is getting really scruffy too, not that any of it's clientelle would notice, and the staff are a generally unlovely bunch. A "please" or "thank you" from them is quite noteworthy.
Mine's a vindaloo!
Tisaws.....World of Sport....Giant Haystacks........reports of terrace mayhem from every quarter of the land...... and all recounted over now staggering volumes of beer later in the evening.
Today I lay mute as H takes D to football. Silly I should have gt up and joined her for a walk through the woods. I am in dire need of the exercise as the job is almost totally sedentary. The weight I lost after Doc Annapurna's dire warnings last July is steadily creeping back on and becoming a regular fixture.
I take Sophie out on the pretext of collecting her computer and then reveal the arrival of her licence and give her a driving lessson. she does very well, but I can see when I explain things she finds it hard to keep a straight face as she is not used to me talking to her so seriously. She enjoys the lesson, which pleases me, thoug I have to say i should have prepared for it better.
We pick up her PC which may free up mine from now on!
She's revising so hard for exams at the moment that wehardly ever see her. I really hope it all works out well for her. It was a big break leaving HG school, and I know she had, and may still have some misgivings about it.
Watched the drats formuch of the afternoon. The event really does have some charm. The players all seem to be the sort of blokes you'd meet in the roughest pub in town, the sort of place you'd stay clear of after dark. The crowd is unfailingly boozy, but always good natured, and for such a basic game with such finite possibilities, it is capable of producing moments of high drama. The two finalists are actually an exception. A polite and friendly Queenslander with a Catweazle beard and a pony tail to his arse, and a studious looking Welshman. Whitlock and Webster. Taffy looks too good to me!
Having missed a Friday curry there was no way I could hang on till Monday, so went out for a pint and a takeaway. The Falcon gets more desperate every time I go in there now. What's th point of 50"plasma screens all over the place when they are totally ignored. The place is getting really scruffy too, not that any of it's clientelle would notice, and the staff are a generally unlovely bunch. A "please" or "thank you" from them is quite noteworthy.
Mine's a vindaloo!
Jan 11th
Friday Friday, Crucnchie Day, Poet's Day. although I haven't done a nine to five job for many a year there is still something about a Friday.
In truth this Friday was much like a Tuesday or a Wednesday or a Monday or a Thursday, but I still like the feeling of the week being neatly wound up.
Actually, for such a creature of habit this Friday is fairly noteworthy as I foresake the Ruby. It's A bloke's night out for the local driving instructor's so I head instead to the Three Horseshoes. Only six of us there and my heart sinks as one of them, an ex serviceman sets out on the "finest fighting troops in the world" tack, and is generally supported by the others, I bite my tongue as I am a newbie and they are a decent bunch of chaps. The food is good, the beer and wine is good and all in all it's an pleasant evening.
On leaving it turns out that the sheeting rain has turned to snow. I beg a lift most of the way home, but the last half mile was ghastly with the chin nuzzled deep into the collar.
S had Claire home with her and they took great delight in my appearance. Must have looked like Capt.Oates having changed his mind!
In truth this Friday was much like a Tuesday or a Wednesday or a Monday or a Thursday, but I still like the feeling of the week being neatly wound up.
Actually, for such a creature of habit this Friday is fairly noteworthy as I foresake the Ruby. It's A bloke's night out for the local driving instructor's so I head instead to the Three Horseshoes. Only six of us there and my heart sinks as one of them, an ex serviceman sets out on the "finest fighting troops in the world" tack, and is generally supported by the others, I bite my tongue as I am a newbie and they are a decent bunch of chaps. The food is good, the beer and wine is good and all in all it's an pleasant evening.
On leaving it turns out that the sheeting rain has turned to snow. I beg a lift most of the way home, but the last half mile was ghastly with the chin nuzzled deep into the collar.
S had Claire home with her and they took great delight in my appearance. Must have looked like Capt.Oates having changed his mind!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Jan 10th
Another filthy day,not a sign of the sun and a mixture of thudding showers and sullen slate grey skies with rain threatened. Out on another four hour marathon with M2. He's a nice guy, impeccably polite and for a giant has a very apologetic nature. He's actually turning into a very good driver, and we did a mock driving test. I marked him for just 1 minor, a brilliant performance, but sadly he also made one serious mistake. Had that been on hs test it would have been a very unfortunate fail.
Re the outed financial domme. Spoke to an online friend who was very exercised by the affair also. It turns out she has had similar though less drastic experiences herself. The good news is that she eventually made peace with her hacker and keeps in touch with him. I have sent her all I have and it may well be that we can prepare a similar surprise for Mr. Anon.
S's licence came in the post today. I'd hoped to pick her up at school and surprise her by giving her a lesson, but she didn't reply to my text. May have to wait for the weekend.
Quiet news day, so back to the drats for more drama!! Public warning for Ted Hankey. He hit the dart board cos he was pissed off with another barrack from the crowd. SENSATION!! world of darts rocked!! Who won??? Does it really matter?
One hundred and eighty!!!
Re the outed financial domme. Spoke to an online friend who was very exercised by the affair also. It turns out she has had similar though less drastic experiences herself. The good news is that she eventually made peace with her hacker and keeps in touch with him. I have sent her all I have and it may well be that we can prepare a similar surprise for Mr. Anon.
S's licence came in the post today. I'd hoped to pick her up at school and surprise her by giving her a lesson, but she didn't reply to my text. May have to wait for the weekend.
Quiet news day, so back to the drats for more drama!! Public warning for Ted Hankey. He hit the dart board cos he was pissed off with another barrack from the crowd. SENSATION!! world of darts rocked!! Who won??? Does it really matter?
One hundred and eighty!!!
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Jan 9th
Women and money... Women and power.
Hillary did it. against all the odds she took New Hampshire and would seem to be very much back in the race. The idiot anorak in me would like to see her win (Bush, Clinton, Clinton, Bush, Bush, Clinton would look better in a list) but Obama seems to dare to be different. McCain won for the republicans, but we all know oven chips are shite.
Women and money... Women and power.
Just before Xmas I discovered the site of a young financial domme. It was intriguing. she basically issues decrees and her slaves (lost of em apparently) fill up her paypal accounts with cash and keep UPS busy delivering van loads of goods to her house, which she photographs and displays on her site. Clever girl. One estimate is that she has grossed $40K since the site went online in September. so far so good, UNTIL. she comes to the attention of, and more importantly pisses off some lunatic guardian of self righteousness, who also apparently is sufficiently lacking in anything approaching a real life that he spend s every hour of his sad existence hacking into people's computers when decides to conduct a vendetta against them.
So it is revealed that "Goddess MineOMine" is in fact a young lady named Lucy Fischer. She is (or I suspect now was) a kindergarten teacher. So Captain Fantastic decides to tell the school all about her extra curricular activities, tracks down her parents, and publishes every possible detail of the poor woman online. He then persuades his consorts to photograph her house, deluge her with hostile and threatening phone calls to the point where she requires police protection. Quite how fucked up her life may be one can only surmise. The self righteous vindictiveness would have Osama drooling.
For those of you who enjoy watching car crashes in slow motion
Why So Serious?
Had a test early today so up washing the car in the freezing cold at 6:30. Sat in the back and bugger me M2 pulled it off with only 3 minor faults. He is now my most succcesful test candidate. Interesting as his first test was also my worst effort, with 12 minors and 3 serious.
7 on the trot now!!
Another long lesson in the afternoon then picked up Emsy to take her swimming. she wanted dinner at the pool. Amazing how a jacket potato and cheese eaten in the tatty cafe can warm the cockles of an 11 year old heart.
Big Sam, greatest living English football manager, leviathan, admired by all, putative national team manager, BIG in every sense of the word has been sacked. Why? apparently he's crap.
HAWAY THE LADS
Hillary did it. against all the odds she took New Hampshire and would seem to be very much back in the race. The idiot anorak in me would like to see her win (Bush, Clinton, Clinton, Bush, Bush, Clinton would look better in a list) but Obama seems to dare to be different. McCain won for the republicans, but we all know oven chips are shite.
Women and money... Women and power.
Just before Xmas I discovered the site of a young financial domme. It was intriguing. she basically issues decrees and her slaves (lost of em apparently) fill up her paypal accounts with cash and keep UPS busy delivering van loads of goods to her house, which she photographs and displays on her site. Clever girl. One estimate is that she has grossed $40K since the site went online in September. so far so good, UNTIL. she comes to the attention of, and more importantly pisses off some lunatic guardian of self righteousness, who also apparently is sufficiently lacking in anything approaching a real life that he spend s every hour of his sad existence hacking into people's computers when decides to conduct a vendetta against them.
So it is revealed that "Goddess MineOMine" is in fact a young lady named Lucy Fischer. She is (or I suspect now was) a kindergarten teacher. So Captain Fantastic decides to tell the school all about her extra curricular activities, tracks down her parents, and publishes every possible detail of the poor woman online. He then persuades his consorts to photograph her house, deluge her with hostile and threatening phone calls to the point where she requires police protection. Quite how fucked up her life may be one can only surmise. The self righteous vindictiveness would have Osama drooling.
For those of you who enjoy watching car crashes in slow motion
Why So Serious?
Had a test early today so up washing the car in the freezing cold at 6:30. Sat in the back and bugger me M2 pulled it off with only 3 minor faults. He is now my most succcesful test candidate. Interesting as his first test was also my worst effort, with 12 minors and 3 serious.
7 on the trot now!!
Another long lesson in the afternoon then picked up Emsy to take her swimming. she wanted dinner at the pool. Amazing how a jacket potato and cheese eaten in the tatty cafe can warm the cockles of an 11 year old heart.
Big Sam, greatest living English football manager, leviathan, admired by all, putative national team manager, BIG in every sense of the word has been sacked. Why? apparently he's crap.
HAWAY THE LADS
Jan 8th
So, what's happening? I said I'd try and keep more up to date but a look at the news still requires an anti Simpsons coup each evening, alwas fiercly resisted particularly by E.
In the cricket over in Oz, harbijhan called Symonds a monkey, Symonds got miffed & complained, Bucknor grassed up Harby to th referee, the ref banned Harby for three games and the Indians said "bollocks to that we're off home." So the ICC with iron resolution said, well, we need to maintain discipline but would it be alright if we let him appeal, delay the appeal till it doesn't really matter anyway, and lethim play in the meantime. The Indians considered and came back with a compromise. "Yeah OK, but would you mind sacking Steve" No probs boys. Game on.
Should he have called him a monkey? Probably not, but boys will be boys. Should you call a fat cunt "fat cunt"? Should you call a bald bastard "baldy"? should you call a strawberry blonde "ginger minge"? The thing is was Harby just flinging out insults willy nilly as the post seasonal sledges sleighed around the SCG. Is "monkey" a racial insult> The answer is "yes" if the person saying it seriously onsiders a black geezer to be his racial inferior, the inference being that he is somewhere lower down the evolutionary tree (or perhaps in the higher branches). What I suspect Harbijhan did was fling the first epithet that came to mind at the robust Andrew. The appropriate reponse would surely be "Fuck You Raghead" and matter ended. The affair has apparently sparked a row in the Oz press, with suggestions that, brilliant cricketers as they are, the Aussies are getting a bit big for their baggy greens, and when it comes to sledging happier to give tha to receive. The enclosed link from a year or to back suggests as much
YouTube - The Sledge that Backfired: McGrath-Sarwan Spat (Antigua,'03)
Should have the New Hampshire primary results by the morning. Everyne seems to think it's only the Dems that really matter as whoever they pick is going to win. Obama hot favourite, Hillary looks in trouble.
On Vera!
In the cricket over in Oz, harbijhan called Symonds a monkey, Symonds got miffed & complained, Bucknor grassed up Harby to th referee, the ref banned Harby for three games and the Indians said "bollocks to that we're off home." So the ICC with iron resolution said, well, we need to maintain discipline but would it be alright if we let him appeal, delay the appeal till it doesn't really matter anyway, and lethim play in the meantime. The Indians considered and came back with a compromise. "Yeah OK, but would you mind sacking Steve" No probs boys. Game on.
Should he have called him a monkey? Probably not, but boys will be boys. Should you call a fat cunt "fat cunt"? Should you call a bald bastard "baldy"? should you call a strawberry blonde "ginger minge"? The thing is was Harby just flinging out insults willy nilly as the post seasonal sledges sleighed around the SCG. Is "monkey" a racial insult> The answer is "yes" if the person saying it seriously onsiders a black geezer to be his racial inferior, the inference being that he is somewhere lower down the evolutionary tree (or perhaps in the higher branches). What I suspect Harbijhan did was fling the first epithet that came to mind at the robust Andrew. The appropriate reponse would surely be "Fuck You Raghead" and matter ended. The affair has apparently sparked a row in the Oz press, with suggestions that, brilliant cricketers as they are, the Aussies are getting a bit big for their baggy greens, and when it comes to sledging happier to give tha to receive. The enclosed link from a year or to back suggests as much
YouTube - The Sledge that Backfired: McGrath-Sarwan Spat (Antigua,'03)
Should have the New Hampshire primary results by the morning. Everyne seems to think it's only the Dems that really matter as whoever they pick is going to win. Obama hot favourite, Hillary looks in trouble.
On Vera!
Monday, January 7, 2008
Jan 7th
At last the world gets back to normal! i can't remember ever being so keen to get back to work after Christmas....that's not me at all. Drove over to Ch to pick up M. He was waiting for me at the top of his driveway (I was 20 minutes late, so immediatley felt guilty)
Drove him to Aham pointing out a few things I felt needed working on, then let him take over. he did ok, he should be fit for his test before too long. He had already had 50 hours of lessons. seems to me someone has been milking him. not good though I may be proved wrong.
Stopped for a coffee after a couple of hours, and as we were leaving again he stalled the car in the forecourt of a garage, and another car reversed straight into us. Ugggh.
The guy started with "Why you stop?" but it was an open and shut case. He was a Czech, and though his English was limited he seemed a nice enough guy. It was pissing with rain so I sat him in my car, forgetting all about poor M!
He had all the necessary doc, at least licence and green card so hopefully should not be a problem. Took the car in to garage and he said best to get a tin of spray paint and do a DIY job, or take it to them and it'd cost £60. A bugger! Too insignificant for an insurance claim. I'll see if I can get him to pay up for the garage to fix it rather than claim on his insurance.
M went a little bi to pieces after the incident, so got him to drive out to the countryside for 10 mins which seemed to do the trick. Hope he isn't flaky under pressure, he had seemed pretty capable, but he drove home well, so hopefully all will go to plan.
Got home and tried to get some of the fucking artex off the ceiling. Not shifting but coating myself in a fine layer of white. It may contain asbestos if it's old enough, no idea how to find out. I suppose if I snuff it from asbestosis it'll confirm it.
Lesson this evening with M2. As usual he is skint and begs for credit. When he takes test on Weds he'll owe me best part of £220. I must get tougher!
Dropped H and E off to the flics (St Trinians) and S to her mate Jo's. Maybe I should apply for a taxi licence, though I couldn't possibly drive like that mob!
Things hotting up at the drats!!!! The crowd booed Ted "The Count" Hankey and he threw away his third dart!! Hours of shocked and outraged discussion follows. Poor old Beeb. The sporting highlight of the couch potato season (at least till the znooker reappears).
Bed
Drove him to Aham pointing out a few things I felt needed working on, then let him take over. he did ok, he should be fit for his test before too long. He had already had 50 hours of lessons. seems to me someone has been milking him. not good though I may be proved wrong.
Stopped for a coffee after a couple of hours, and as we were leaving again he stalled the car in the forecourt of a garage, and another car reversed straight into us. Ugggh.
The guy started with "Why you stop?" but it was an open and shut case. He was a Czech, and though his English was limited he seemed a nice enough guy. It was pissing with rain so I sat him in my car, forgetting all about poor M!
He had all the necessary doc, at least licence and green card so hopefully should not be a problem. Took the car in to garage and he said best to get a tin of spray paint and do a DIY job, or take it to them and it'd cost £60. A bugger! Too insignificant for an insurance claim. I'll see if I can get him to pay up for the garage to fix it rather than claim on his insurance.
M went a little bi to pieces after the incident, so got him to drive out to the countryside for 10 mins which seemed to do the trick. Hope he isn't flaky under pressure, he had seemed pretty capable, but he drove home well, so hopefully all will go to plan.
Got home and tried to get some of the fucking artex off the ceiling. Not shifting but coating myself in a fine layer of white. It may contain asbestos if it's old enough, no idea how to find out. I suppose if I snuff it from asbestosis it'll confirm it.
Lesson this evening with M2. As usual he is skint and begs for credit. When he takes test on Weds he'll owe me best part of £220. I must get tougher!
Dropped H and E off to the flics (St Trinians) and S to her mate Jo's. Maybe I should apply for a taxi licence, though I couldn't possibly drive like that mob!
Things hotting up at the drats!!!! The crowd booed Ted "The Count" Hankey and he threw away his third dart!! Hours of shocked and outraged discussion follows. Poor old Beeb. The sporting highlight of the couch potato season (at least till the znooker reappears).
Bed
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Jan 6th
Six days into the year already, nearly a bloody week and what have we done? Crept another week closer to senility and the ultimate rendezvous.
Woke up to cricket again, but sprung from bed determined to get something done today. Started to take down the Xmas decs.. always a sad moment, though to be honest with the state of the kip they only added to the mess this year. The tree was a beauty though, hardly dropped a needle, remained green and wonderfully bushy. Emmsy'll have her work cut out to do as well next year. the poor thing hardly deserved it's ignominious fate, being dragged throught the front door and dumped on the porch. Adieu!
Actually saw the job through. The first thing I have achieved this year, and all the decs are back in the loft. Did think about sorting out the mess up there, but not for long.
There was talk about a walk in the country in the morning but it never came to anything. Shame! but then you always think shame when it's safe to do so and there's no chance of having to make the bloody effort.
Emmsy was in bed for much of the day. she'd thrown up violently last night but seemed much better today, and by this evening was fine. Sadly I have no puking from anyone to report ce soir!
The flights are alll booked for Morrocco and was looking at hotels in marrakech. They really do look something and at a really good price, that's to say one even we can understand. Apparently our mortgage is almost paid off so there is a little cash available to enjoy the weekend. Pre senility's first (and apparently only) dividend.
Got so much to bloody do.
Get the kitchen floor tiled
Get the ceilings plastered Upstairs, in the hall, upstairs bathroon, sitting room, kitchen, downstairs bathroom, hallway down to the cellar. Paint the kitchen, sitting room, hall, hallway to cellar. Sort out the garage, get the bloody Berlingo sold, do something about Meta (pang of guilt every time I think of him!) Could go on. Won't got work tomorrow.
In the evening Sophie announces that she has lost the cash her grandma gave her for her birthday. The paper is collected tomorrow, so four boxes of the stuff are dragged back into the house and we spend a happy and fruitless hour doing the toothcomb job on it, only for S to go upstairs and find the cash in her bedroom.
I rooted down behind the sofa at one stage, and pulled out a card with a fragment of stone on it. Transpires it is a fragment of meteorite, and was bought for me for Christmas and promptly lost before being given to me. To think of the trillions of miles and billions of years it travelled just to end up stuck down the back of our sofa alongside half a dozen bust pencils, a collection of hard snottu tissues and a two year old Twix bar. Resolved to treasure it and care for it from now on. Two hours late I have no idea where is!
Back to work demain!!
Woke up to cricket again, but sprung from bed determined to get something done today. Started to take down the Xmas decs.. always a sad moment, though to be honest with the state of the kip they only added to the mess this year. The tree was a beauty though, hardly dropped a needle, remained green and wonderfully bushy. Emmsy'll have her work cut out to do as well next year. the poor thing hardly deserved it's ignominious fate, being dragged throught the front door and dumped on the porch. Adieu!
Actually saw the job through. The first thing I have achieved this year, and all the decs are back in the loft. Did think about sorting out the mess up there, but not for long.
There was talk about a walk in the country in the morning but it never came to anything. Shame! but then you always think shame when it's safe to do so and there's no chance of having to make the bloody effort.
Emmsy was in bed for much of the day. she'd thrown up violently last night but seemed much better today, and by this evening was fine. Sadly I have no puking from anyone to report ce soir!
The flights are alll booked for Morrocco and was looking at hotels in marrakech. They really do look something and at a really good price, that's to say one even we can understand. Apparently our mortgage is almost paid off so there is a little cash available to enjoy the weekend. Pre senility's first (and apparently only) dividend.
Got so much to bloody do.
Get the kitchen floor tiled
Get the ceilings plastered Upstairs, in the hall, upstairs bathroon, sitting room, kitchen, downstairs bathroom, hallway down to the cellar. Paint the kitchen, sitting room, hall, hallway to cellar. Sort out the garage, get the bloody Berlingo sold, do something about Meta (pang of guilt every time I think of him!) Could go on. Won't got work tomorrow.
In the evening Sophie announces that she has lost the cash her grandma gave her for her birthday. The paper is collected tomorrow, so four boxes of the stuff are dragged back into the house and we spend a happy and fruitless hour doing the toothcomb job on it, only for S to go upstairs and find the cash in her bedroom.
I rooted down behind the sofa at one stage, and pulled out a card with a fragment of stone on it. Transpires it is a fragment of meteorite, and was bought for me for Christmas and promptly lost before being given to me. To think of the trillions of miles and billions of years it travelled just to end up stuck down the back of our sofa alongside half a dozen bust pencils, a collection of hard snottu tissues and a two year old Twix bar. Resolved to treasure it and care for it from now on. Two hours late I have no idea where is!
Back to work demain!!
Jan 5th
Another dismal day of inactivity. Sophie was unwell for most of the day. She swears blind she is the latest Norovirus victim, but the symptoms seem far more in line with a hangover to me. Watched the cricket for most of the mornig and then switched to "Fawlty Towers". Enjoyed the "extra" Cleese interview. How wonderful to be that funny, and how clever his analysis of it.
H much better took dan to footie. He returned unwell and repaired to bed. What a bunch of sickoes. Never really moved far from the telly all day. The darts started this pm but couldn’t really summon up the silliness to watch it for very long.
Thought about the pub, but not for very long as it was made clear it’d be a solo mission. Just before bed time Emmsy joined the throw up club, and in some style, spraying duvet, carpet & sofa liberally!
Must get out of the house tomorrow. Am actually looking forward to work on Monday. Got a guy booked in for 20 hours. Has a couple of hours with him before Xmas. Seems an odd one, but we’ll see!
Booked a weekend in Marseille/Marrakech for the beginning of next month. Something to look forward to through January.
H much better took dan to footie. He returned unwell and repaired to bed. What a bunch of sickoes. Never really moved far from the telly all day. The darts started this pm but couldn’t really summon up the silliness to watch it for very long.
Thought about the pub, but not for very long as it was made clear it’d be a solo mission. Just before bed time Emmsy joined the throw up club, and in some style, spraying duvet, carpet & sofa liberally!
Must get out of the house tomorrow. Am actually looking forward to work on Monday. Got a guy booked in for 20 hours. Has a couple of hours with him before Xmas. Seems an odd one, but we’ll see!
Booked a weekend in Marseille/Marrakech for the beginning of next month. Something to look forward to through January.
Jan 4th
Another late and apathetic lie in. Had harboured thoughts of taking Dan & Emma up to town but my own inertia meant that I wasn’t up until nearly midday and Ems didn’t stir till even later. It was a dismal cold dank day. Checked bank balance and discovered I didn’t have one. Fuck! Hope the work comes in next week. Wondering if proposed trip to Morrocco is still a goer after that.
Lounged around watching cricket until early afternoon when I was summoned to take S to work. I went down to bank and paid in cheque to cure he overdraft.
H has decided to clean up the shithole. The bathrooms both look reasonably a acceptable. I’ll give it a week, and she cleaned away in the kitchen forever. It still looks like Armageddon.
Went to wetherspoons for a pint while waiting for a curry. What a shambles .Two people to serve abbout 3000.
Is that it? Another 24 hours of my life ebbed away.
Oh Sophe arrived back from a birthday dinner. I didn’t see her but apparently was pissed to puking point. Bless! Not at all like her but why not once in a while!
The darts starts tomorrow so more couch spudding in propsect.
Lounged around watching cricket until early afternoon when I was summoned to take S to work. I went down to bank and paid in cheque to cure he overdraft.
H has decided to clean up the shithole. The bathrooms both look reasonably a acceptable. I’ll give it a week, and she cleaned away in the kitchen forever. It still looks like Armageddon.
Went to wetherspoons for a pint while waiting for a curry. What a shambles .Two people to serve abbout 3000.
Is that it? Another 24 hours of my life ebbed away.
Oh Sophe arrived back from a birthday dinner. I didn’t see her but apparently was pissed to puking point. Bless! Not at all like her but why not once in a while!
The darts starts tomorrow so more couch spudding in propsect.
Jan 3rd
Sophie’s birthday. Didn’t get involved in the present opening as was trying to get ready to get out on time. Felt a bit sorry for her...birthday just after Christmas syndrome. Add to that H being ill and it just seemed to me that no one had made the effort she deserved.
She’s 17. Where has that time gone to? Old enough to drive (licence should arrive soon though heaven forfend anyone in this family was organised enough to have it ready for the day itself for her)
Last year we had been to Warwick Castle as a family. There had been murmurings about lunch near Calais, but the general opinion was that she was too busy preparing for exams. Just as well as H was still suffering and wouldn’t have been fit.
Tried to dissuade D & E fom her birthday trip. Firstly prices start escalating when timesed by 4 and secondly I had every reason to suspect that after 10 mins they’d be bored silly and D would start acting the idiot.
We went to Rickmansworth for the train so that H could leave the mobile skip at the garage. She’s take my car back and I’d pick up the skip on the way back.
Sophie looked great. She’s bought a new white coat in the sales, and had a sort of Beatles era red woollen hat and matching scarf. She looked very sixties, very grown up and very lovely. On the train we talked about other days out we’d had together whilst he was a child, and I realised how pitifully few they had been, and how ridiculous that was considering how I’d adored every moment of each of them. Can’t anyone let us have another go?
She realised where we were off to just before the train got to St John’s Wood, and I was really thrilled how happy she was. I had thought it a bit of an afterthought gift, but there was no hiding her delight. It perked me up.
We walked down St John’s Wood Road. London was still in not fully back to work mode, the traffic sparse and unhurried. I thought of struggling along that road in a 7 ton truck as I had done many times the previous year and said a silent prayer that I should never need to do that again.
We arrived at Lord’s and were ushered into the museum. I managed to get the tickets at a discount thanks to a printout from the net, and I actually managed to persuade the guy to give Sophie student discount although she had no card.
We looked round the museum, which is smallish but suitably reverential to the great game. At 12 on the dot we were shepherded over to the pavillion. A massive oil painting of Vivian Richards glowered at me. The long room was wonderful. I was struck by the fantastic view of the playing area afforded by the long room. Keith, our guide explained about the MCC. Again a sense of missed opportunity came over me. About 15 years ago i’d asked Alan Sharpes about applying for membership. He hadn’t exactly gushed at the prospect but I am sure had I pushed a bit I’d have got there. I’d have been four years away from membership in that case. Best I could hope for if I started theprocess now would be membership aged 70! What a horrible thought! Just a few remaining years of dotage spent on the white benches. I wonder if I’d be able to stay awake for much of the day! Spoke to Sophie. We must pursue this. Once you are in you get 10 days of test cricket with the best seats in the house for about £350 a year. Considering these days Joe Public coughs up £60 a seat it’s got to be the best deal in town. Get on the phone. Even giving Graca lessons would be worth it!
The media centre was sensational. What a view, what a place. Surprisingly it was all pale blue on the inside, very relaxing, and a lovely contrast wih the rich winter green of the sacred turf below.
Long white benches with connections for phones and laptops. What a way to earn a living, gazing out on this perfect scene and passsing on one’s thoughts of the events unfolding below. How how how? Maybe Sophie will find the answer that I never did. She’s got the push for sure, and doesn’t lack the brains. Go for it Sofe!
We walked out of Lords after a couple of hours into a foul January wind. That felt like sharpened knives flying throught the air. Up to Edgware Road, past Dr Decasticer’s old surgery where my childhood ailments had been seen to, then on to Cuthber Street where I had spent my first 10 years on the planet. The semi grand building that had been Noman Linton’s (outsize men’s outfitters) and which our bedroom window had given out onto still stood much as it had then. Everything else had changed. The Arabic influence (mainly Lebanese I think) on Edgware Road had now crept a little further northwards, crossed church street and now the local shops were an assortment of Arab cafes, kebab joints, shops selling phone cards, middle eastern cheap restaurant and dodgy electrical ghear joints. After the grandeur of the streets around Lords this is a aqualid, dirty, uncared for chunk of London, but whilst the guardians of the squalor may have changed, I suppose the down at heel nature of the area is much the same as ever.
We took the tube to Camden, made a desultory foray into the market with all it’s wierdness and then settled on a small Thai restaurant for a bite to eat. Time was against us. Lords had eaten a bigger chunk out of the day than I had expected and Sophie had to be back for work at 6.
The place was empty and I didn’t get good vibes. The guy who greeted us seemed to do his best to dissuade us from staying, but things improved as a younger waiter came to help. We had tasty thai crackers, so much better than their dismal Chinese counterparts, some tasty starters. I had a beef coconut curry for mains. Wouldn’t write home about it. Sophie’s looked very intimidating, a seafood noodle concoction. It looked way too much food for her, and so it proved, though she professed how lovely it was all the way through. Bless her, she’d hate to appear ungrateful.
We rushed back to Marylebone following an aborted bus trip, and got a train at five, were back in Ricky by half past, and just delivered Sophie to John Lewis for six. H appeared almost simultaneously with her work clothes.
H appeared much better though still not eating. Heard on the news that something called Norovirus, which involves puking for two days the crapping madly for another two, is claiming 100,000 victims a week. It is apparently highly infectious, so following H’s lead we should all have something to look forward to next week!
Actually managed to watch the news AND newsnight. First time in over a week. When we only had four (or even three) channels I’d never miss the news. In fact I’d almost always catch it at six, see what had developed by nine, and then had it all put into context on Newsnight at Ten. Now in the age of multi channel everything on demand, I’m lucky to catch it twice a week.
Kenya is wobbling on the brink of catastrophe following dodgy elections, and the US caucases (that spelling looks wrong!) start I Iowa today. In other years I would be bang up to date on that story, but with the exception of Hillary and Rudi, and to a lesser extent Obama, they are a bunch of strangers. Resolve to read a paper more often.
She’s 17. Where has that time gone to? Old enough to drive (licence should arrive soon though heaven forfend anyone in this family was organised enough to have it ready for the day itself for her)
Last year we had been to Warwick Castle as a family. There had been murmurings about lunch near Calais, but the general opinion was that she was too busy preparing for exams. Just as well as H was still suffering and wouldn’t have been fit.
Tried to dissuade D & E fom her birthday trip. Firstly prices start escalating when timesed by 4 and secondly I had every reason to suspect that after 10 mins they’d be bored silly and D would start acting the idiot.
We went to Rickmansworth for the train so that H could leave the mobile skip at the garage. She’s take my car back and I’d pick up the skip on the way back.
Sophie looked great. She’s bought a new white coat in the sales, and had a sort of Beatles era red woollen hat and matching scarf. She looked very sixties, very grown up and very lovely. On the train we talked about other days out we’d had together whilst he was a child, and I realised how pitifully few they had been, and how ridiculous that was considering how I’d adored every moment of each of them. Can’t anyone let us have another go?
She realised where we were off to just before the train got to St John’s Wood, and I was really thrilled how happy she was. I had thought it a bit of an afterthought gift, but there was no hiding her delight. It perked me up.
We walked down St John’s Wood Road. London was still in not fully back to work mode, the traffic sparse and unhurried. I thought of struggling along that road in a 7 ton truck as I had done many times the previous year and said a silent prayer that I should never need to do that again.
We arrived at Lord’s and were ushered into the museum. I managed to get the tickets at a discount thanks to a printout from the net, and I actually managed to persuade the guy to give Sophie student discount although she had no card.
We looked round the museum, which is smallish but suitably reverential to the great game. At 12 on the dot we were shepherded over to the pavillion. A massive oil painting of Vivian Richards glowered at me. The long room was wonderful. I was struck by the fantastic view of the playing area afforded by the long room. Keith, our guide explained about the MCC. Again a sense of missed opportunity came over me. About 15 years ago i’d asked Alan Sharpes about applying for membership. He hadn’t exactly gushed at the prospect but I am sure had I pushed a bit I’d have got there. I’d have been four years away from membership in that case. Best I could hope for if I started theprocess now would be membership aged 70! What a horrible thought! Just a few remaining years of dotage spent on the white benches. I wonder if I’d be able to stay awake for much of the day! Spoke to Sophie. We must pursue this. Once you are in you get 10 days of test cricket with the best seats in the house for about £350 a year. Considering these days Joe Public coughs up £60 a seat it’s got to be the best deal in town. Get on the phone. Even giving Graca lessons would be worth it!
The media centre was sensational. What a view, what a place. Surprisingly it was all pale blue on the inside, very relaxing, and a lovely contrast wih the rich winter green of the sacred turf below.
Long white benches with connections for phones and laptops. What a way to earn a living, gazing out on this perfect scene and passsing on one’s thoughts of the events unfolding below. How how how? Maybe Sophie will find the answer that I never did. She’s got the push for sure, and doesn’t lack the brains. Go for it Sofe!
We walked out of Lords after a couple of hours into a foul January wind. That felt like sharpened knives flying throught the air. Up to Edgware Road, past Dr Decasticer’s old surgery where my childhood ailments had been seen to, then on to Cuthber Street where I had spent my first 10 years on the planet. The semi grand building that had been Noman Linton’s (outsize men’s outfitters) and which our bedroom window had given out onto still stood much as it had then. Everything else had changed. The Arabic influence (mainly Lebanese I think) on Edgware Road had now crept a little further northwards, crossed church street and now the local shops were an assortment of Arab cafes, kebab joints, shops selling phone cards, middle eastern cheap restaurant and dodgy electrical ghear joints. After the grandeur of the streets around Lords this is a aqualid, dirty, uncared for chunk of London, but whilst the guardians of the squalor may have changed, I suppose the down at heel nature of the area is much the same as ever.
We took the tube to Camden, made a desultory foray into the market with all it’s wierdness and then settled on a small Thai restaurant for a bite to eat. Time was against us. Lords had eaten a bigger chunk out of the day than I had expected and Sophie had to be back for work at 6.
The place was empty and I didn’t get good vibes. The guy who greeted us seemed to do his best to dissuade us from staying, but things improved as a younger waiter came to help. We had tasty thai crackers, so much better than their dismal Chinese counterparts, some tasty starters. I had a beef coconut curry for mains. Wouldn’t write home about it. Sophie’s looked very intimidating, a seafood noodle concoction. It looked way too much food for her, and so it proved, though she professed how lovely it was all the way through. Bless her, she’d hate to appear ungrateful.
We rushed back to Marylebone following an aborted bus trip, and got a train at five, were back in Ricky by half past, and just delivered Sophie to John Lewis for six. H appeared almost simultaneously with her work clothes.
H appeared much better though still not eating. Heard on the news that something called Norovirus, which involves puking for two days the crapping madly for another two, is claiming 100,000 victims a week. It is apparently highly infectious, so following H’s lead we should all have something to look forward to next week!
Actually managed to watch the news AND newsnight. First time in over a week. When we only had four (or even three) channels I’d never miss the news. In fact I’d almost always catch it at six, see what had developed by nine, and then had it all put into context on Newsnight at Ten. Now in the age of multi channel everything on demand, I’m lucky to catch it twice a week.
Kenya is wobbling on the brink of catastrophe following dodgy elections, and the US caucases (that spelling looks wrong!) start I Iowa today. In other years I would be bang up to date on that story, but with the exception of Hillary and Rudi, and to a lesser extent Obama, they are a bunch of strangers. Resolve to read a paper more often.
Jan 2nd
One of those post Christmas and not yet time to do any work yet lie ins. Guilt ridden nd maybe all the better for that. In fact it was only Sophie’s arrival with a request (demand?) To be taken to town that got me moving at all.
The fucking house is a nightmare. Dirty washing in every corner, every cupboard bulging with bags of waste paper.The kitchen has been without a floor now for 3½ months. Half the cupboards are missing, the drawers are hanging off at strange angles. There’s no room to put anything away so a huge eclectic pile of crap now grows daily on the table. Decided to lock horns with H as the littered contents of her handbag spewed out onto the sitting room floor, Crap crap crap.....empty torn envelopes, empty pill packets, two for one offers, leaflets from every place she’s visited and most she hasn’t in the past five years, kit kat wrappers....dig a bit deeper and you may well find the kit kats themselves in various states of decomposition. Total disorganised chaos
Took S & Daniel into down. Believe it or not he had moved himself to arrange to meet a gang of mates in town, forsaking bloody World of Warcraft for the afternoon.
It was a nondescript late morning, a thudding grey sky with just a hint of sunshine somewhere up there hoping to make it’s presence felt. The forecast said it would get colder as the day went on. The forecast wasn’t wrong.
I spent he afternoon, when not ferrying Sophie and Daniel to and fro, bent over the laptop alternating between my "interests" and trying to plan something for Sophie’s birthday tomorrow. Seem to be settling on a guided tour of Lords followed by lunch.
As five of us can’t get into my car, decided we better get H’s mobile skip into action (the battery was flat last time we tried it). Much pushing and shoving ended in tears. The thing has been requiring fixing for nearly a year now. It has (I discovered today) no back lights, one brake light, the bonnet flaps up and down causing the alarm to explode into action without any warning (this can include 5am, making us a joy to be neighbours of) and the number plate has now been replaced with a biroed cornflake packet placed on the dashboard and visible only to the finest cameras at NASA’s disposal.
It wasn’t the best time to point out the shortcomings of this approach to motoring. H has been ill, badly for a few days, and she didn’t need to be pushing cars up and down the road. Predictably she wedged the car against the pavement several times. It is perhaps fair to say that the more sympathetic side of my nature was not to the fore, and hence the tears. Bless Emma. She came into the street in her dressing gown with a cup of tea for her poor sick Mum, and carried it the length of the road to her. She’s still an adorable child, but we all know that she can’t have more than a year of true childhood left. It’s the saddest thing.
I kissed her on the head as we went shopping for Sophie’s presents in Asda. I really will miss being able to do that. As it happened I kissed a spot and she yelped and dished out a stern rebuke.
The evening was enlivened by a Thunderbirds special on BBC4. Virgil & Brains saved Alan and Tintin from an untimely meltdown at the sun. The "All you want to know about Thunderbirds" was a wonderful nostalgia trip. I wished Dan would have watched it with us, but he was back at the computer by now. Ems did though, and greeted the whole thing with a mix of childish enthusiasm and rather wise questions.
H has been asleep on the couch most of the day, and as tomorrow grows closer she is in full wart hog mode.
The fucking house is a nightmare. Dirty washing in every corner, every cupboard bulging with bags of waste paper.The kitchen has been without a floor now for 3½ months. Half the cupboards are missing, the drawers are hanging off at strange angles. There’s no room to put anything away so a huge eclectic pile of crap now grows daily on the table. Decided to lock horns with H as the littered contents of her handbag spewed out onto the sitting room floor, Crap crap crap.....empty torn envelopes, empty pill packets, two for one offers, leaflets from every place she’s visited and most she hasn’t in the past five years, kit kat wrappers....dig a bit deeper and you may well find the kit kats themselves in various states of decomposition. Total disorganised chaos
Took S & Daniel into down. Believe it or not he had moved himself to arrange to meet a gang of mates in town, forsaking bloody World of Warcraft for the afternoon.
It was a nondescript late morning, a thudding grey sky with just a hint of sunshine somewhere up there hoping to make it’s presence felt. The forecast said it would get colder as the day went on. The forecast wasn’t wrong.
I spent he afternoon, when not ferrying Sophie and Daniel to and fro, bent over the laptop alternating between my "interests" and trying to plan something for Sophie’s birthday tomorrow. Seem to be settling on a guided tour of Lords followed by lunch.
As five of us can’t get into my car, decided we better get H’s mobile skip into action (the battery was flat last time we tried it). Much pushing and shoving ended in tears. The thing has been requiring fixing for nearly a year now. It has (I discovered today) no back lights, one brake light, the bonnet flaps up and down causing the alarm to explode into action without any warning (this can include 5am, making us a joy to be neighbours of) and the number plate has now been replaced with a biroed cornflake packet placed on the dashboard and visible only to the finest cameras at NASA’s disposal.
It wasn’t the best time to point out the shortcomings of this approach to motoring. H has been ill, badly for a few days, and she didn’t need to be pushing cars up and down the road. Predictably she wedged the car against the pavement several times. It is perhaps fair to say that the more sympathetic side of my nature was not to the fore, and hence the tears. Bless Emma. She came into the street in her dressing gown with a cup of tea for her poor sick Mum, and carried it the length of the road to her. She’s still an adorable child, but we all know that she can’t have more than a year of true childhood left. It’s the saddest thing.
I kissed her on the head as we went shopping for Sophie’s presents in Asda. I really will miss being able to do that. As it happened I kissed a spot and she yelped and dished out a stern rebuke.
The evening was enlivened by a Thunderbirds special on BBC4. Virgil & Brains saved Alan and Tintin from an untimely meltdown at the sun. The "All you want to know about Thunderbirds" was a wonderful nostalgia trip. I wished Dan would have watched it with us, but he was back at the computer by now. Ems did though, and greeted the whole thing with a mix of childish enthusiasm and rather wise questions.
H has been asleep on the couch most of the day, and as tomorrow grows closer she is in full wart hog mode.
Jan 1st
The new year arrived with as quiet a whimper as I can recall. The cliched chimes of Big Ben drowned out by the brainless racket of a pub full of Asboids. The "Dolphin" had been a last minute decision. Heather had been throwing up intermittently for much of the day and consequently was judged to be in no fit state for the rush of London. 3 hours by the side of the river waiting for 10 minutes of fireworks in an inescapable press of humanity didn’t seem like the sensible thing. Emma had set her heart on the capital, mind, and when the Dolphin plan was revealed she settled in for a sulk. Reaching deep for inspiration I mentioned that the Dolphin was bribing customers with "Free Bubbly at Midnight". It was a masterstroke. She was instantly won over to the plan.
We went for a curry. The place was busy and buzzing, but as compared with the year before there was no Ali and no Mushy. The latter’s presence particularly always made sure the evening had a little extra. We waited forever for the food, trying to string out the pappadums for as long as possible. This was made harder by the fact that they weren’t the freshest. What is it with Indian restaurants. Why don’t they just bin the stale ones? How many customers do they loose because they dish up an hors d'oeuvre that costs them about 2p to produce and they don't bother to check whether they've the crispiness of a bath flannel? Or don’t they really know they've gone off? More than likely they don’t, because we are so bloody supine and unomplaining we just put up with it. The kids moan (quie rightly) and I tell em to shut up. Stupid.
So it wasn’t the greatest of curries, and now it was 10:30 and the novel idea of an evening of karaoke, which hadn’t seemed that appealing when we first drove past th bloody pub at 4:30, now stretched ahead into a dire and unrelenting infinity. My best hopes had been of the kids plucking up courage to wail along with their favourite melodies, and maybe me consuming enough ale to uncaringly make a tit of myelf a bit later on. As soon as we got through the door I realised hows sadly we’d misjudged the potential.
If anyone in the assembled throng wasn’t actually the subject of an asbo, then their new years’ resolutions must have included rectifying that sorry oversight in the shortest order. A few hooded drunks hovered around the karaokemeister, occasionally lurching to the microphone to bawl out their bit. Whereas a half decent karoake will generally engage a large part of a pub’s population, this lot’s antics succeeded only in clearing the bulk of the boozer’s clientelle to the far end.
I don’t like New Years Eve much. It all seems an anti climax after Christmas, seems like squeezing the last drops from a lemon. I don’t get dewy eyed over the passing of the year. The karaoke racket is muted, Big Ben bongs beneath the Asbo racket and a plasma screen shows the fabulous fireworks display from London. Should have done that.
We’ve been playing pool with the kids and I have to confess that it was fun laughing at our mutual incompetence, with the occasional moment of gasped astonishment as someone pulls a corker out of the locker.
We scuttle out of the pub soon after midnight. In the excitement of the pool match we missed our glass of cheap "bubbly". What a shit nickname for the noble drink. Sure it would have been Asti at worst and Cava at best!
Back at home it’s a Python night on the telly. "The making of life of Brian" has us all chuckling, and then we sit through half of Meaning of Life. It’s still a bad film, but it does improve with age, and we all roll on the floor for Mr Creosote. Bed about three and wake up with a mild headache. Get up about 12 and catch the first daylight ritual of the New Year, the Vienna concert. Not in the mood for it... I am always a bit ambivalent about it, but this year I hardly lift my head from the laptop.
The others all go out for "drinks! And don’t return till 5. I waste another day of my life hunched over the laptop, once again having failed to get my life moving.
We are all stuffed after Xmas so no food gets cooked. My fucking weight has ballooned to 14.1. After all the effort!! Got to do something bout that! Don't today!
We play a game of disfunctional Cluedo, I have Mustard and the Spanner sussed out in no time but can’t get to the dining room before Sophie. Shit!
Saw a trailer for the World Darts... That cheered me up. Wonder how much of that bollocks I’ll get to see this year? Oh well the world’s still turnin!
We went for a curry. The place was busy and buzzing, but as compared with the year before there was no Ali and no Mushy. The latter’s presence particularly always made sure the evening had a little extra. We waited forever for the food, trying to string out the pappadums for as long as possible. This was made harder by the fact that they weren’t the freshest. What is it with Indian restaurants. Why don’t they just bin the stale ones? How many customers do they loose because they dish up an hors d'oeuvre that costs them about 2p to produce and they don't bother to check whether they've the crispiness of a bath flannel? Or don’t they really know they've gone off? More than likely they don’t, because we are so bloody supine and unomplaining we just put up with it. The kids moan (quie rightly) and I tell em to shut up. Stupid.
So it wasn’t the greatest of curries, and now it was 10:30 and the novel idea of an evening of karaoke, which hadn’t seemed that appealing when we first drove past th bloody pub at 4:30, now stretched ahead into a dire and unrelenting infinity. My best hopes had been of the kids plucking up courage to wail along with their favourite melodies, and maybe me consuming enough ale to uncaringly make a tit of myelf a bit later on. As soon as we got through the door I realised hows sadly we’d misjudged the potential.
If anyone in the assembled throng wasn’t actually the subject of an asbo, then their new years’ resolutions must have included rectifying that sorry oversight in the shortest order. A few hooded drunks hovered around the karaokemeister, occasionally lurching to the microphone to bawl out their bit. Whereas a half decent karoake will generally engage a large part of a pub’s population, this lot’s antics succeeded only in clearing the bulk of the boozer’s clientelle to the far end.
I don’t like New Years Eve much. It all seems an anti climax after Christmas, seems like squeezing the last drops from a lemon. I don’t get dewy eyed over the passing of the year. The karaoke racket is muted, Big Ben bongs beneath the Asbo racket and a plasma screen shows the fabulous fireworks display from London. Should have done that.
We’ve been playing pool with the kids and I have to confess that it was fun laughing at our mutual incompetence, with the occasional moment of gasped astonishment as someone pulls a corker out of the locker.
We scuttle out of the pub soon after midnight. In the excitement of the pool match we missed our glass of cheap "bubbly". What a shit nickname for the noble drink. Sure it would have been Asti at worst and Cava at best!
Back at home it’s a Python night on the telly. "The making of life of Brian" has us all chuckling, and then we sit through half of Meaning of Life. It’s still a bad film, but it does improve with age, and we all roll on the floor for Mr Creosote. Bed about three and wake up with a mild headache. Get up about 12 and catch the first daylight ritual of the New Year, the Vienna concert. Not in the mood for it... I am always a bit ambivalent about it, but this year I hardly lift my head from the laptop.
The others all go out for "drinks! And don’t return till 5. I waste another day of my life hunched over the laptop, once again having failed to get my life moving.
We are all stuffed after Xmas so no food gets cooked. My fucking weight has ballooned to 14.1. After all the effort!! Got to do something bout that! Don't today!
We play a game of disfunctional Cluedo, I have Mustard and the Spanner sussed out in no time but can’t get to the dining room before Sophie. Shit!
Saw a trailer for the World Darts... That cheered me up. Wonder how much of that bollocks I’ll get to see this year? Oh well the world’s still turnin!
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