I guess that I'd better respond to a couple of queries that I've received from posters about my blog...
In answer to Brian's comment, am I just sarcastic or is it just an English thing? Well, it depends on who / what I'm aiming at. And it's not because I'm English - I'm half Canadian from Dad's side of the family.
But most of the time, no, I'm not sarcastic - just rather fed up with the stupidity of people who don't seem to have anything better to do apart from complain.
Now onto the latest post / details... It feels like WWIII has broken out in the office. Two of the girls are involved in some silly little dispute that appears to have escalated into out and out war, and this dispute is now in danger of pulling me into the fray.
The worst part (for me, anyway) is the fact that both of them are using me as a shoulder to cry on, and as regular readers of this blog will know, I've got more than enough to keep me on my toes without this being added to my woes.
The mere fact that the probate court is querying the fact that Dad's will hadn't been updated for about 17 years. To be honest, neither he nor Mum thought that there was any need to update their wills as nothing had changed. So, I've got that hanging over me, as well as doing this dratted presentation at the conference.
Despite that, I'm keeping pretty much to my own council at the moment, as I'm currently the main contact for earthmover / industrial tyres in the office, as one of my colleagues is having a couple of days off.
As result, I've been kept pretty busy and have been on the 'phone most of the day. Mind you, I don't mind as the guys I talk to always end up veering off the subject and we end up talking about everything apart from work!
But, having said that, there are times when I wish I wasn't in the office and I'm starting to feel that today is one of them. Simply because I know that sooner or later, a complaint will be made to our departmental line manager, and I'll be hauled in to explain what's been going on.
The worst part is, I don't really want to drop either one in the proverbial, so I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. I know that I should be ready, willing and able to explain what I've seen and heard (not to mention said myself), but I feel that I'll be betraying the confidence of both girls.
Still, I guess that life could be a heck of a lot worse, and I've decided to adopt a new motto:
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming ~ "WOO HOO what a ride!""
Back when I get fed up.
Karen.
Don't let the b'stards get you down.
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
The day after the day before...
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Karen
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Christmas. You seem to spend about half the year preparing for the big day, and when it finally arrives, it's almost as if it's a case of is this it? All that work / stress / hassle for this?
Ok - maybe I'm getting cynical in my old age. (And before I get comments - I know I'm only 30, but there have been times when I've felt 130! The morning after my department's Christmas do being one of them! More on that in a later post.)
Having said that, it wasn't too bad - Mum and I had a quiet day - which is what the pair of us really wanted (apart from Dad being with us - but that just goes without saying, really.)
Mum was over the moon with the perfume bottle, and said that it was from a maker that she'd never considered collecting in the past. The foot spa was well received, and Mum put it to the test later in the day, and said that it made her feet feel a lot better.
Me? I got Green Day's new album - American Idiot. I'm listening to it now, and some of the songs are really though provoking - especially Boulevard of Broken Dreams. I will admit - that's one of my favorite tracks, but the rest of the album has the normal guitar riffs and good strong vocals.
The one present that really made me smile was given to me by a guy that I met (ok re-phrase that - got to know better as a person!) at the Christmas do. He gave me a little box that was gift wrapped, and insisted that I waited until Christmas day to open the box, and then call him to let him know what I thought...
He'd bought me a pair of Peridot earrings! They're really unusual, and to say I was speechless was an understatement! I called him as soon as I could, and said that I was really touched, and felt a real rat, because I hadn't gotten him anything.
The reply was something that took me by surprise - "Princess, you don't need to get me anything. You're the only thing that I want for Christmas." Normally, I'd be making comments along the lines of - "Where's the vomit bucket / what are you after, etc"
Needless to say, after that, I was struggling to find words - not something that I usually have problems with - as my friends well know!
Ah well - time to call the entry quits - I'm off to Leek Wooten to see Amber & co...
Back whenever.
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Ok - maybe I'm getting cynical in my old age. (And before I get comments - I know I'm only 30, but there have been times when I've felt 130! The morning after my department's Christmas do being one of them! More on that in a later post.)
Having said that, it wasn't too bad - Mum and I had a quiet day - which is what the pair of us really wanted (apart from Dad being with us - but that just goes without saying, really.)
Mum was over the moon with the perfume bottle, and said that it was from a maker that she'd never considered collecting in the past. The foot spa was well received, and Mum put it to the test later in the day, and said that it made her feet feel a lot better.
Me? I got Green Day's new album - American Idiot. I'm listening to it now, and some of the songs are really though provoking - especially Boulevard of Broken Dreams. I will admit - that's one of my favorite tracks, but the rest of the album has the normal guitar riffs and good strong vocals.
The one present that really made me smile was given to me by a guy that I met (ok re-phrase that - got to know better as a person!) at the Christmas do. He gave me a little box that was gift wrapped, and insisted that I waited until Christmas day to open the box, and then call him to let him know what I thought...
He'd bought me a pair of Peridot earrings! They're really unusual, and to say I was speechless was an understatement! I called him as soon as I could, and said that I was really touched, and felt a real rat, because I hadn't gotten him anything.
The reply was something that took me by surprise - "Princess, you don't need to get me anything. You're the only thing that I want for Christmas." Normally, I'd be making comments along the lines of - "Where's the vomit bucket / what are you after, etc"
Needless to say, after that, I was struggling to find words - not something that I usually have problems with - as my friends well know!
Ah well - time to call the entry quits - I'm off to Leek Wooten to see Amber & co...
Back whenever.
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
‘Twas the night before Christmas…
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Karen
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Not a creature was stirring – not even a mouse. ‘Cause he was pissed like everyone else!
Sorry. Couldn’t resist that. But it does sum up how I feel about Christmas, simply because we finished work at 12:30, and decamped straight to the pub! I couldn’t drink as I was driving, but thankfully, I wasn’t the only one.
OK – you’d got the stupid ones who were determined to drink as much as they could, before they headed for home but they were few and far between.
It was a really good time, with a whole load of friends & workmates, and it was a case of a few of us realising that we’d still got to get food / present for some obscure relative who was going to be coming to the family home on Christmas day.
Thankfully I wasn't one of them, but I did have a visit to make - to my Godsprog! I told the truth - I'd promised I'd see the little munchkin before Father Christmas (or as Amber calls him - Santa) arrived, and there was no dammed way I was going to break that promise.
I wasn't the only one who was leaving at that time - my line manager was also leaving to keep family commitments, and there was much speculation that the pair of us were sloping off together.
He held his car keys up, and said that he’d got his car, and I did the same, as the last thing either us wanted was for our names to be linked at Christmas! I know it would have been done in good fun, but you always get the odd one or two who wouldn’t be able to let it rest.
Admittedly, I did get a kiss – on the cheek! But no more than that, aside from good wishes to the respective families, and “see you on Wednesday”, as the pair of us are working.
The drive to Leek Wooten was less traumatic than I’d thought it was going to be, and Amber was bouncing ‘round like Tigger® on acid! She was being a real menace at times, and her mother was at her wits’ end…
I soon sorted the problem – I threatened to light the open fire in the living room, and give Father Christmas a hot backside. The poor little mite was running ‘round crying “no hot Santa, no hot Santa!” That made everyone laugh, and her mother murmured that she wished she’d thought of that!
Still, I left the presents for Amber and her little sister (no – not the cymbal set – thankfully, Granddad Peter has taken care of that – he’s taken the drum and cymbal set off the two of us (Amber’s aunt and myself!), so he’ll be the one to get earache, not us!)
I found out that Amber is really into the play kitchen set that her Mum & Dad bought for her birthday, and there were several additional sets that would compliment the original set up. I bought one of the sets, and made sure that Amber was too engrossed to see me hand it over to her Dad.
Elian, (Amber's baby sister) I bought one of the Fisher Price® play sets that goes over the floor mat, and has dangling things that she can hit / spin / chew / annoy the cat with.
I made my excuses and left a couple of hours later - ok they weren't really excuses - I'd still got to wrap Mum's present up, and put the ribbons on the foot spa box.
That and the fact that I knew damned well I’d have Fred trying to play with the ribbon and the sellotape, before he finally ends up with it entangled in his fur!
Ah well, nearly time to call it quits – I can hear Mum’s car pulling up on the drive…
Karen. Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
PS - MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL!!!!
Sorry. Couldn’t resist that. But it does sum up how I feel about Christmas, simply because we finished work at 12:30, and decamped straight to the pub! I couldn’t drink as I was driving, but thankfully, I wasn’t the only one.
OK – you’d got the stupid ones who were determined to drink as much as they could, before they headed for home but they were few and far between.
It was a really good time, with a whole load of friends & workmates, and it was a case of a few of us realising that we’d still got to get food / present for some obscure relative who was going to be coming to the family home on Christmas day.
Thankfully I wasn't one of them, but I did have a visit to make - to my Godsprog! I told the truth - I'd promised I'd see the little munchkin before Father Christmas (or as Amber calls him - Santa) arrived, and there was no dammed way I was going to break that promise.
I wasn't the only one who was leaving at that time - my line manager was also leaving to keep family commitments, and there was much speculation that the pair of us were sloping off together.
He held his car keys up, and said that he’d got his car, and I did the same, as the last thing either us wanted was for our names to be linked at Christmas! I know it would have been done in good fun, but you always get the odd one or two who wouldn’t be able to let it rest.
Admittedly, I did get a kiss – on the cheek! But no more than that, aside from good wishes to the respective families, and “see you on Wednesday”, as the pair of us are working.
The drive to Leek Wooten was less traumatic than I’d thought it was going to be, and Amber was bouncing ‘round like Tigger® on acid! She was being a real menace at times, and her mother was at her wits’ end…
I soon sorted the problem – I threatened to light the open fire in the living room, and give Father Christmas a hot backside. The poor little mite was running ‘round crying “no hot Santa, no hot Santa!” That made everyone laugh, and her mother murmured that she wished she’d thought of that!
Still, I left the presents for Amber and her little sister (no – not the cymbal set – thankfully, Granddad Peter has taken care of that – he’s taken the drum and cymbal set off the two of us (Amber’s aunt and myself!), so he’ll be the one to get earache, not us!)
I found out that Amber is really into the play kitchen set that her Mum & Dad bought for her birthday, and there were several additional sets that would compliment the original set up. I bought one of the sets, and made sure that Amber was too engrossed to see me hand it over to her Dad.
Elian, (Amber's baby sister) I bought one of the Fisher Price® play sets that goes over the floor mat, and has dangling things that she can hit / spin / chew / annoy the cat with.
I made my excuses and left a couple of hours later - ok they weren't really excuses - I'd still got to wrap Mum's present up, and put the ribbons on the foot spa box.
That and the fact that I knew damned well I’d have Fred trying to play with the ribbon and the sellotape, before he finally ends up with it entangled in his fur!
Ah well, nearly time to call it quits – I can hear Mum’s car pulling up on the drive…
Karen. Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
PS - MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL!!!!
Dealing with Christmas cards
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Karen
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Well, I'm just about finished the Christmas cards. I've sent the e-card to my late father's friends in the USA, and all I've got to do now is post the other three cards (yes - I know I've left it late to post them - but some of us have been busy!)
The hardest bit has been putting the letter inside the card, to let people know what has happened. I will admit, the return cards have reduced Mum & myself to tears on more than one occasion.
Suppose I'd better bring this blog up to date a bit... It's just been a case of trying to find the time and place to put this down onto a keyboard - without getting skinned!
I went on the office Christmas do on Wednesday night - good food, good drink and good company - and a minor hangover the following morning!
Despite that, it was a good night out, and I'm not going to say any more than that, as I don't really want to reveal anything. Well, not yet anyway! *Grin*
I've also been promising a friend of mine, White Wolf, that I would publish a poetry website he publishes on... http://www.allpoetry.com/
He's written some good stuff, and hopefully, I'll be able to talk him into starting his own blog - his outlook on life is very refreshing, and frequently has me howling with laughter when we're on the phone.
Time to call it quits - got stuff around the house to do today.
Back when I get time & peace & quiet!
Karen
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
The hardest bit has been putting the letter inside the card, to let people know what has happened. I will admit, the return cards have reduced Mum & myself to tears on more than one occasion.
Suppose I'd better bring this blog up to date a bit... It's just been a case of trying to find the time and place to put this down onto a keyboard - without getting skinned!
I went on the office Christmas do on Wednesday night - good food, good drink and good company - and a minor hangover the following morning!
Despite that, it was a good night out, and I'm not going to say any more than that, as I don't really want to reveal anything. Well, not yet anyway! *Grin*
I've also been promising a friend of mine, White Wolf, that I would publish a poetry website he publishes on... http://www.allpoetry.com/
He's written some good stuff, and hopefully, I'll be able to talk him into starting his own blog - his outlook on life is very refreshing, and frequently has me howling with laughter when we're on the phone.
Time to call it quits - got stuff around the house to do today.
Back when I get time & peace & quiet!
Karen
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Getting into the Christmas spirit? I think not.
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Karen
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I'm starting to dread the annual ritual of writing the Christmas cards to people. The family are ok, as they obviously know what's happened, but it's people that we (Mum & I) haven't seen / spoken to since last year that are worrying me.
Why? Because Mum & I are going to have to compose a letter to enclose with the cards, and let people know what has happened - and then wait for the 'phone calls, which I know damned well will upset Mum, as well as me... But I've already had one freak out episode in this so-called season of goodwill already....
I know this will sound crazy, but I had a minor crack up episode on Friday (after I'd posted to my blog.) I wasn't feeling very sociable at lunch-time, and rather than face having to try and make small talk with colleagues over sandwiches / soup and other lunches, I made a choice, that with hindsight, probably wasn't the smartest thing I could have done.
I went to the Crem and "spoke" to Dad. I was ok, until I read one of the Christmas cards that had been left in the Chapel of Remembrance. It was to a Beloved Father, and spoke of how the sender may not have seemed appreciative of his / her father, but that they always knew that they could rely on them when they needed support.
That was it. I burst into tears, and God knows how I managed to drive back to the office. I think that someone must have been looking after me on that drive, and when I got back into the office, my colleagues were concerned, as I looked a wreck.
My mascara had run (I wasn't wearing the waterproof mascara that I'd bought for Dad's funeral - brilliant stuff by Bourjois - it's called Plump up the Volume Waterproof in Brun Solis), and my eyes were all red and puffy.
Thankfully, I was left alone, but I'll say one thing for my colleagues - they all made sure I was ok - including my boss, who was worried about me driving home Friday night.
Admittedly, I wasn't going straight home - as Friday was my Godsprog's birthday, I had to make an appearance. But, I will admit, I was really glad that I did make the effort and go.
The look of delight on Amber's face when she saw the space hopper was something that really made me feel a lot brighter. Not to mention the glee with which she took to the space hopper - and started chasing the family cat!
So, I got home and saw that Mum had left me a note as she was working the late shift... We'd ordered a mower back in September.... Only for the company whom we'd ordered it from to say that they couldn't get the mower, and neither could Mountfield themselves!
So, Mum had the money refunded to her, and the note asked if I could go into Stratford to the mower place on Western Road (Simms) to sort one out - she's already reserved it, and all I needed to do was take the payment into them, and sort out the delivery.
Thanks. I was trying to avoid going out at the weekend, as I've done all my Christmas shopping (smug grin). Ok - I've still got to get one thing - my Secret Santa gift.
For those people (un)lucky enough to avoid this ritual, it basically involves everyone in the office writing their name on a piece of paper, and then someone else drawing it out of the bowl and scampering off to celebrate or drown their sorrows - depending on who they managed to get. But, I digress.
Simms was easy to get to, and get parked. The fun came when I had to pull out of Western Road. Those people who know Stratford-Upon-Avon will know the place that I'm talking about - it's just off the main drag up to the Tesco Superstore.
Which means that the only way to get out onto the main road, is take a chance and push your way out. Or, you could always wait for some kind motorist to let you out.
But, at this time of year, they are few and far between, especially when they've realised that Auntie Mavis is comming for pre-christmas drinks, and will only drink Bristol Cream sherry - which is the one drink that isn't kept in the house!
So, it was a case of speak softly - use airhorns - which had I been driving the Toyota, I would have done. But the Peugeot doesn't do too badly - especially not when the horn is followed with verbal abuse and / or appropriate hand gestures!
Once out onto the Birmingham road (the main drag), I tried to get past the hoards heading to Tesco and the Maybird shopping centre (which has a vaiety of stores from B&Q to Next and Halfords.)
For some reason, the great British motorist seems to take offence when they get the impression that someone might be trying to get ahead of them! They were all turning right - all I wanted to do was go straight on! I lost count of the dirty looks that I got, simply because I seemed to be moving through the traffic faster than I should have done.
Ah well, suppose I'd better log off & bog off - I've got to get the rest of my Christmas cards written...
Bah Humbug!
Back later - if I haven't gotten writer's block!
Karen
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Why? Because Mum & I are going to have to compose a letter to enclose with the cards, and let people know what has happened - and then wait for the 'phone calls, which I know damned well will upset Mum, as well as me... But I've already had one freak out episode in this so-called season of goodwill already....
I know this will sound crazy, but I had a minor crack up episode on Friday (after I'd posted to my blog.) I wasn't feeling very sociable at lunch-time, and rather than face having to try and make small talk with colleagues over sandwiches / soup and other lunches, I made a choice, that with hindsight, probably wasn't the smartest thing I could have done.
I went to the Crem and "spoke" to Dad. I was ok, until I read one of the Christmas cards that had been left in the Chapel of Remembrance. It was to a Beloved Father, and spoke of how the sender may not have seemed appreciative of his / her father, but that they always knew that they could rely on them when they needed support.
That was it. I burst into tears, and God knows how I managed to drive back to the office. I think that someone must have been looking after me on that drive, and when I got back into the office, my colleagues were concerned, as I looked a wreck.
My mascara had run (I wasn't wearing the waterproof mascara that I'd bought for Dad's funeral - brilliant stuff by Bourjois - it's called Plump up the Volume Waterproof in Brun Solis), and my eyes were all red and puffy.
Thankfully, I was left alone, but I'll say one thing for my colleagues - they all made sure I was ok - including my boss, who was worried about me driving home Friday night.
Admittedly, I wasn't going straight home - as Friday was my Godsprog's birthday, I had to make an appearance. But, I will admit, I was really glad that I did make the effort and go.
The look of delight on Amber's face when she saw the space hopper was something that really made me feel a lot brighter. Not to mention the glee with which she took to the space hopper - and started chasing the family cat!
So, I got home and saw that Mum had left me a note as she was working the late shift... We'd ordered a mower back in September.... Only for the company whom we'd ordered it from to say that they couldn't get the mower, and neither could Mountfield themselves!
So, Mum had the money refunded to her, and the note asked if I could go into Stratford to the mower place on Western Road (Simms) to sort one out - she's already reserved it, and all I needed to do was take the payment into them, and sort out the delivery.
Thanks. I was trying to avoid going out at the weekend, as I've done all my Christmas shopping (smug grin). Ok - I've still got to get one thing - my Secret Santa gift.
For those people (un)lucky enough to avoid this ritual, it basically involves everyone in the office writing their name on a piece of paper, and then someone else drawing it out of the bowl and scampering off to celebrate or drown their sorrows - depending on who they managed to get. But, I digress.
Simms was easy to get to, and get parked. The fun came when I had to pull out of Western Road. Those people who know Stratford-Upon-Avon will know the place that I'm talking about - it's just off the main drag up to the Tesco Superstore.
Which means that the only way to get out onto the main road, is take a chance and push your way out. Or, you could always wait for some kind motorist to let you out.
But, at this time of year, they are few and far between, especially when they've realised that Auntie Mavis is comming for pre-christmas drinks, and will only drink Bristol Cream sherry - which is the one drink that isn't kept in the house!
So, it was a case of speak softly - use airhorns - which had I been driving the Toyota, I would have done. But the Peugeot doesn't do too badly - especially not when the horn is followed with verbal abuse and / or appropriate hand gestures!
Once out onto the Birmingham road (the main drag), I tried to get past the hoards heading to Tesco and the Maybird shopping centre (which has a vaiety of stores from B&Q to Next and Halfords.)
For some reason, the great British motorist seems to take offence when they get the impression that someone might be trying to get ahead of them! They were all turning right - all I wanted to do was go straight on! I lost count of the dirty looks that I got, simply because I seemed to be moving through the traffic faster than I should have done.
Ah well, suppose I'd better log off & bog off - I've got to get the rest of my Christmas cards written...
Bah Humbug!
Back later - if I haven't gotten writer's block!
Karen
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Short staffed, and short voiced....
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Karen
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We've got a whole load of people off sick / on holiday today, and I'm losing my voice. Still, guess it could be worse - I could still look like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer!
But, having said that, the weekend was quite good, as I managed to get all of my Christmas shopping done - including getting my Godsprog's birthday and Christmas presents. The little munchkin is getting a space hopper for her birthday - that way, she can chase the family cat to her heart's content...
Christmas.... Me being malevolent, I've bought her the cymbal set to match her drum set that her aunt has bought her for Christmas. Her mother is going to skin the pair of us, but I think she may forgive me.... Eventually. *Grin*
Having said that though, I know that Amber will appreciate the pressies - and will take great delight in driving her family barmy!
Mind you, I picked this little gem up from the company newsletter....
A Christmas Story
It was Christmas Eve, and the excitement and anticipation of the night ahead, was so close you could almost taste it. Kitchens all over were infused with the heady scent of mince pies oozing with brandy butter. Children were hanging their stockings on the chimney breast hoping that tomorrow they would be stuffed beyond their wildest dreams (the stockings, not the children!?!).
So what tragic irony that amidst such seasonal goodwill, Father Christmas, the man who shoulders the burden of all our Christmas expectations should be having such a torrid time.
Mrs Christmas wasn't speaking to him as she'd discovered she was getting perfume for the 10th year running. The Elves were complaining that they had not been paid for the overtime they'd put in while making the toys for the world's children.
The reindeer had found a bottle of cherry brandy at the back of the cupboard and had taken the sleigh out for a spin, crashed it into a tree and were now rolling around laughing hysterically and telling silly jokes.
Poor Father Christmas was at the end of his tether. "I CAN'T believe it! I've got to deliver millions of presents all over the world in just a few hours from now and my reindeer are drunk, my elves are on strike, the wife's in a strop and I don't even have a Christmas tree! I sent that silly Little Angel out HOURS ago to find a tree and he still hasn't come back yet!"
Just then the Little Angel, all aglow with heavenly goodness, opened the front door and stepped in from the snowy night, dragging an enormous, lush Christmas tree behind him. The little Angel looked up at Father Christmas with shining eyes and spake forth: "Where would you like me to stick this, Father Christmas???"
And thus it came to pass, in homes the whole world over, the tradition of an Angel perching precariously atop the Family Christmas tree. Sure to bring a tear to even the most unfeeling eye!
Suppose I should think about doing some work, instead of blogging..
Back later - if I get the chance...
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
But, having said that, the weekend was quite good, as I managed to get all of my Christmas shopping done - including getting my Godsprog's birthday and Christmas presents. The little munchkin is getting a space hopper for her birthday - that way, she can chase the family cat to her heart's content...
Christmas.... Me being malevolent, I've bought her the cymbal set to match her drum set that her aunt has bought her for Christmas. Her mother is going to skin the pair of us, but I think she may forgive me.... Eventually. *Grin*
Having said that though, I know that Amber will appreciate the pressies - and will take great delight in driving her family barmy!
Mind you, I picked this little gem up from the company newsletter....
A Christmas Story
It was Christmas Eve, and the excitement and anticipation of the night ahead, was so close you could almost taste it. Kitchens all over were infused with the heady scent of mince pies oozing with brandy butter. Children were hanging their stockings on the chimney breast hoping that tomorrow they would be stuffed beyond their wildest dreams (the stockings, not the children!?!).
So what tragic irony that amidst such seasonal goodwill, Father Christmas, the man who shoulders the burden of all our Christmas expectations should be having such a torrid time.
Mrs Christmas wasn't speaking to him as she'd discovered she was getting perfume for the 10th year running. The Elves were complaining that they had not been paid for the overtime they'd put in while making the toys for the world's children.
The reindeer had found a bottle of cherry brandy at the back of the cupboard and had taken the sleigh out for a spin, crashed it into a tree and were now rolling around laughing hysterically and telling silly jokes.
Poor Father Christmas was at the end of his tether. "I CAN'T believe it! I've got to deliver millions of presents all over the world in just a few hours from now and my reindeer are drunk, my elves are on strike, the wife's in a strop and I don't even have a Christmas tree! I sent that silly Little Angel out HOURS ago to find a tree and he still hasn't come back yet!"
Just then the Little Angel, all aglow with heavenly goodness, opened the front door and stepped in from the snowy night, dragging an enormous, lush Christmas tree behind him. The little Angel looked up at Father Christmas with shining eyes and spake forth: "Where would you like me to stick this, Father Christmas???"
And thus it came to pass, in homes the whole world over, the tradition of an Angel perching precariously atop the Family Christmas tree. Sure to bring a tear to even the most unfeeling eye!
Suppose I should think about doing some work, instead of blogging..
Back later - if I get the chance...
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Another week begins...
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Karen
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And I'm knackered! Add to that, the mere fact that my shoulder feels like there's some little demon sitting inside, carving its initials and other intricate drawings in the joint tissue and you get an idea of the reason why I'm feeling like this.
I must look & sound pretty rough, as my boss asked me if I was ok this morning, as "you're not as chirpy as normal." For him to notice, I must be flat!
But, I'm going to see the doctor tomorrow, and that way, I can make sure that I haven't done anything major to the joint. Still, at least I can still type (and update my blog!)..
The weekend was quiet, and Mum and I went to Bridgemere Garden World near Nantwich. Mum drove, as her car needed to get a proper run, and my shoulder wasn't 100% pain-free. We got parked, only to discover that Santa had arrived just before us, so the place was full of spoilt little brats.
Needless to say, neither of us were very impressed, as the pair of us have very little time for kids. Don't get me wrong - I do have time for kids - but not when they're screeching little b'stards, with no manners.
But, thankfully, the bits that Mum and I were interested in were well away from the screeching hoard. I treated Mum to a double flowered cyclamen, and a couple of amaryllis bulbs, as they're the sort of plants that she grows. Me? I bought myself a fern that will cope with drafts, and needs the compost to be kept wet, so that will survive on my desk (hopefully).
That reminds me - I did promise to keep this blog updated with progress reports on the cuttings... Well, the good news is, that they've all taken and there are now little Tradescantias all over the office - including on the boss's desk!
There have been jokes about me trying to turn the office into a greenhouse, but for me to do that, I really need to get a decent heating / ventilation system installed - then I could grow my real passion - Carnivorous Plants.
Yes - the things that eat meat - along the lines of the infamous Venus Fly-Trap in the classic musical - Little Shop of Horrors. (The plant was called Audrey II - the most memorable line from the plant was "feed me!")
Hmm - suppose I ought to call this entry quits, as it's nearly time to log off & bog off...
Back tomorrow - possibly.
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
I must look & sound pretty rough, as my boss asked me if I was ok this morning, as "you're not as chirpy as normal." For him to notice, I must be flat!
But, I'm going to see the doctor tomorrow, and that way, I can make sure that I haven't done anything major to the joint. Still, at least I can still type (and update my blog!)..
The weekend was quiet, and Mum and I went to Bridgemere Garden World near Nantwich. Mum drove, as her car needed to get a proper run, and my shoulder wasn't 100% pain-free. We got parked, only to discover that Santa had arrived just before us, so the place was full of spoilt little brats.
Needless to say, neither of us were very impressed, as the pair of us have very little time for kids. Don't get me wrong - I do have time for kids - but not when they're screeching little b'stards, with no manners.
But, thankfully, the bits that Mum and I were interested in were well away from the screeching hoard. I treated Mum to a double flowered cyclamen, and a couple of amaryllis bulbs, as they're the sort of plants that she grows. Me? I bought myself a fern that will cope with drafts, and needs the compost to be kept wet, so that will survive on my desk (hopefully).
That reminds me - I did promise to keep this blog updated with progress reports on the cuttings... Well, the good news is, that they've all taken and there are now little Tradescantias all over the office - including on the boss's desk!
There have been jokes about me trying to turn the office into a greenhouse, but for me to do that, I really need to get a decent heating / ventilation system installed - then I could grow my real passion - Carnivorous Plants.
Yes - the things that eat meat - along the lines of the infamous Venus Fly-Trap in the classic musical - Little Shop of Horrors. (The plant was called Audrey II - the most memorable line from the plant was "feed me!")
Hmm - suppose I ought to call this entry quits, as it's nearly time to log off & bog off...
Back tomorrow - possibly.
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Talking about a funeral service (goodbye Daddy)
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Karen
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There's nothing more emotive for me at the moment, than JMJ's Oxygene - part 1. Simply because this was part of the music that I chose for Dad's funeral. As it was a non-religious service (I think the correct term is Humanist), there were no hymns, or sermons. Just tributes from myself, my cousin (who was Dad's Godson) and one of his work colleagues.
I know I keep mentioning Dad, and I guess that now is as good a time as any, to elaborate a bit more about the funeral. It was held at Oakley Wood Crematorium - without a church service first. OK - I know that some people will be horrified at that, but Dad was not a church going person.
So, rather than do was people in the community expected us to do, and hold the funeral at the local church, then go on to the Crem, Mum and I opted for the simple ceremony, where we could remember Dad.
We met the undertakers at the Crem, instead of following the hearse from the family home to the crem, as both Mum and I were of the opinion that Dad would have hated being gawped at by people he had little or no time for.
The music that I chose to enter the chapel to was Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells - Part 1. I was quite aware that it was the theme to the Exorcist movies, but it was a piece of music that both Dad and I liked, even if we did fight over the CD. It was his, but I kept swiping it!
We entered the chapel, and as I was giving a tribute, I had to sit one the end of the bench. That was ok - apart from one thing - I got so close to the end of the bench that I nearly fell off! The only thing that stopped me was Mum grabbing hold of my elbow. Still, Dad would have had a damned good laugh at that!
The minister (for want a better term) did a reading, and then asked me to step up to the lectern. All I could see was the coffin on my right, and I will admit, I was scared witless, until I remembered what a good friend of mine (who was at the funeral with his partner) told me:
"Just look at it like you're telling your Dad what you feel - that will make it easier for you kiddo. People will find the way you react during your tribute to your Dad more telling than anything that you may say."
I will admit, that it made it slightly easier than I'd realised, but it still didn't seem real to me. The other two tributes were lovely - my cousin reminding us all of Dad's sense of humour - one of his comments was "the only time this family seems to get together is for hatch, match and despatch" which unfortunately, turned out to be horribly accurate.
The tribute from Dad’s workmates had us all laughing – especially when it was said that “we practically had to nail Dave’s feet to the floor, to give the rest of us chance to get a look in on the job – he was so eager to get on with it!”
That is, I guess where I get a lot of my characteristics from. People who met me for the first time at the funeral said that I looked like Mum, but my manner was similar to Dad. That made me really proud, and I said to more than one person, that if I was half as successful in my chosen career as Dad, I would be more than happy.
The music for the committal (where the coffin is removed from the chapel – we asked for the curtains to be drawn, as neither Mum nor myself could have coped with seeing that!) was JMJ’s Oxygene - part 1 – which I was told was a warped choice, given that it was a cremation!
I didn’t care then, and I don’t care now. All that I care about is the fact that Dad had a good send off, and was surrounded by people who loved and admired him. As we left the chapel, the exit music was Barber’s Adagio for Strings, which was the theme music to Platoon – a film that I knew Dad liked.
It was also on a CD of mine – the very best of Classical Chillout – and I ended up having to burn a copy for Dad, as he kept trying to get his own back, and swipe my CD for once!
Time to call it quits for now – opening up my psyche hasn’t really done me much harm, but it has stirred up feelings that had been quiet for a while…
Back later - possibly. It all depends on how I'm feeling.
Karen
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
I know I keep mentioning Dad, and I guess that now is as good a time as any, to elaborate a bit more about the funeral. It was held at Oakley Wood Crematorium - without a church service first. OK - I know that some people will be horrified at that, but Dad was not a church going person.
So, rather than do was people in the community expected us to do, and hold the funeral at the local church, then go on to the Crem, Mum and I opted for the simple ceremony, where we could remember Dad.
We met the undertakers at the Crem, instead of following the hearse from the family home to the crem, as both Mum and I were of the opinion that Dad would have hated being gawped at by people he had little or no time for.
The music that I chose to enter the chapel to was Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells - Part 1. I was quite aware that it was the theme to the Exorcist movies, but it was a piece of music that both Dad and I liked, even if we did fight over the CD. It was his, but I kept swiping it!
We entered the chapel, and as I was giving a tribute, I had to sit one the end of the bench. That was ok - apart from one thing - I got so close to the end of the bench that I nearly fell off! The only thing that stopped me was Mum grabbing hold of my elbow. Still, Dad would have had a damned good laugh at that!
The minister (for want a better term) did a reading, and then asked me to step up to the lectern. All I could see was the coffin on my right, and I will admit, I was scared witless, until I remembered what a good friend of mine (who was at the funeral with his partner) told me:
"Just look at it like you're telling your Dad what you feel - that will make it easier for you kiddo. People will find the way you react during your tribute to your Dad more telling than anything that you may say."
I will admit, that it made it slightly easier than I'd realised, but it still didn't seem real to me. The other two tributes were lovely - my cousin reminding us all of Dad's sense of humour - one of his comments was "the only time this family seems to get together is for hatch, match and despatch" which unfortunately, turned out to be horribly accurate.
The tribute from Dad’s workmates had us all laughing – especially when it was said that “we practically had to nail Dave’s feet to the floor, to give the rest of us chance to get a look in on the job – he was so eager to get on with it!”
That is, I guess where I get a lot of my characteristics from. People who met me for the first time at the funeral said that I looked like Mum, but my manner was similar to Dad. That made me really proud, and I said to more than one person, that if I was half as successful in my chosen career as Dad, I would be more than happy.
The music for the committal (where the coffin is removed from the chapel – we asked for the curtains to be drawn, as neither Mum nor myself could have coped with seeing that!) was JMJ’s Oxygene - part 1 – which I was told was a warped choice, given that it was a cremation!
I didn’t care then, and I don’t care now. All that I care about is the fact that Dad had a good send off, and was surrounded by people who loved and admired him. As we left the chapel, the exit music was Barber’s Adagio for Strings, which was the theme music to Platoon – a film that I knew Dad liked.
It was also on a CD of mine – the very best of Classical Chillout – and I ended up having to burn a copy for Dad, as he kept trying to get his own back, and swipe my CD for once!
Time to call it quits for now – opening up my psyche hasn’t really done me much harm, but it has stirred up feelings that had been quiet for a while…
Back later - possibly. It all depends on how I'm feeling.
Karen
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Getting something for Dad..
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Karen
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No - I'm not going 'round the twist. It's just something that both Mum & I agreed to do, when we were coming to terms with our loss.
So, we decided to go to Stratford upon Avon - yes - the home of William Shakespeare. The reason? Simple. There is a very good china & glass shop there called BW Thornton (it's at the top end of Stratford by the Shakespeare birthplace trust).
It doesn't look very much, but when you get inside, it holds some of the most beautiful pieces of glass and pottery that you could wish to see. Everything from Isle of Wight Glass to pieces by Sidi Langley and pottery by the Dennis Chinaworks (designs by Sally Tuffin - she of the wonderful wildlife designs!) to the traditional Moorecroft pottery and enamels.
Mum and I were having a look, and the pair of us fell for a small vase by Sidi Langley. It colour matches several pieces that we have in the collection, and every time I go into that shop, all I can recall is Dad trying to talk me out of a perfume bottle that I'd seen for Mum's birthday.
Again, it was a Sidi Langley piece, and he was worried that Mum wouldn't like it. I knew better, and when Mum opened the box on her birthday, the look of delight was something to make me smile, even now.
It wasn't wildly expensive - I think it was about £56 (no idea what that is in other currencies, so please don't ask me!) and the pair of us have agreed that we'll get one piece of glass a year for the collection - be it a paperweight, perfume bottle or other, but the only restriction is that we both like it, and that the piece costs less than £60. Unless it is an exceptional piece that we both like, then the price limit is up for discussion!
I've also agreed to do my best to overcome my severe sea sickness, as Mum wants to go to the Isle of Wight next year. Unfortunately for me, the only way to get there is by ferry. So, I've said that I'll go into the pharmacy, and see what I can take to prevent myself throwing up everywhere - but the only request that I make, is that it doesn't make me sleepy, as there's a good chance that it will be me doing the driving, as I cannot read a map for love nor money!
So, I've sent a request to the Isle of White tourist board (http://www.islandbreaks.co.uk/) to get the relevant information, and see what there is to do on the island. I knew about the glass making - that's the main reason why Mum wants to go (that and the fact that she and Dad were planning to go next year!) and I also want to go.
Why? Simple. There's a peculiar thing called a garlic farm there (see http://www.thegarlicfarm.co.uk/ for details!) - and I am a garlic addict - much to the dismay of my work colleagues I may add!
Time to call it quits - I'm getting glared at by the appetite on legs again - he's being ignored whilst I'm on the computer, and he doesn't like it. And more to the point, I don't think my Jaffa cakes are safe with him around!
Back later - if I can get the peace and quiet!
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
So, we decided to go to Stratford upon Avon - yes - the home of William Shakespeare. The reason? Simple. There is a very good china & glass shop there called BW Thornton (it's at the top end of Stratford by the Shakespeare birthplace trust).
It doesn't look very much, but when you get inside, it holds some of the most beautiful pieces of glass and pottery that you could wish to see. Everything from Isle of Wight Glass to pieces by Sidi Langley and pottery by the Dennis Chinaworks (designs by Sally Tuffin - she of the wonderful wildlife designs!) to the traditional Moorecroft pottery and enamels.
Mum and I were having a look, and the pair of us fell for a small vase by Sidi Langley. It colour matches several pieces that we have in the collection, and every time I go into that shop, all I can recall is Dad trying to talk me out of a perfume bottle that I'd seen for Mum's birthday.
Again, it was a Sidi Langley piece, and he was worried that Mum wouldn't like it. I knew better, and when Mum opened the box on her birthday, the look of delight was something to make me smile, even now.
It wasn't wildly expensive - I think it was about £56 (no idea what that is in other currencies, so please don't ask me!) and the pair of us have agreed that we'll get one piece of glass a year for the collection - be it a paperweight, perfume bottle or other, but the only restriction is that we both like it, and that the piece costs less than £60. Unless it is an exceptional piece that we both like, then the price limit is up for discussion!
I've also agreed to do my best to overcome my severe sea sickness, as Mum wants to go to the Isle of Wight next year. Unfortunately for me, the only way to get there is by ferry. So, I've said that I'll go into the pharmacy, and see what I can take to prevent myself throwing up everywhere - but the only request that I make, is that it doesn't make me sleepy, as there's a good chance that it will be me doing the driving, as I cannot read a map for love nor money!
So, I've sent a request to the Isle of White tourist board (http://www.islandbreaks.co.uk/) to get the relevant information, and see what there is to do on the island. I knew about the glass making - that's the main reason why Mum wants to go (that and the fact that she and Dad were planning to go next year!) and I also want to go.
Why? Simple. There's a peculiar thing called a garlic farm there (see http://www.thegarlicfarm.co.uk/ for details!) - and I am a garlic addict - much to the dismay of my work colleagues I may add!
Time to call it quits - I'm getting glared at by the appetite on legs again - he's being ignored whilst I'm on the computer, and he doesn't like it. And more to the point, I don't think my Jaffa cakes are safe with him around!
Back later - if I can get the peace and quiet!
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Sharing a joke…
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There are some people who can make a day seem an awful lot brighter, by sharing a laugh. The best example today, has been the Scots fella who was ordering some tyres for a Peugeot 307 XSi.
He wanted a particular tyre type, but unfortunately, there’s more than one variety of this tyre, and ideally, you need to match like with like. We talked about the car – I’ve driven the 307 110 HDi diesel turbo – which is extremely fast – for a diesel! Mind you – I made a bad mistake a couple of years ago…
I took on what I thought was a standard diesel, only to have the damn thing accelerate, and chew me up then spit me out in little pieces! It was a blasted 110, not the 90! But, that’s not the only time I’ve bitten off more than I can chew…
When Mum was in hospital, after having surgery on her arm to remove one of the plates, Dad and I had gone to visit her – the pair of us in separate cars, as he was going to work (he worked at Birmingham airport – those people who know me, know who Dad used to work for!), and I was going to head back home.
Well, we headed for the hospital, and at the major traffic island (the junction of the A45 & the A46) I was first at the traffic lights, with a BMW along side me…. I looked over, and saw the M-series bodykit on the car, and assumed that the driver had more money than sense… And that the car was a standard BMW. Boy – did I get that one wrong!
The lights changed, and I accelerated, expecting to leave the BMW for dead. No chance. The BMW hit the powerband, and that was it. I was eating rubber. Dad found it hilarious, and said to Mum:
“Our daughter’s an idiot – she took on an M-series BMW in her car.”
“Hang on a minute – I didn’t know that it was an M-series – I just thought it was someone with more money than sense. I didn’t realise that it was the real McCoy!”
“Didn’t you see the twin tail pipes?”
“Not until he was past me.”
That caused much hilarity, and even up to the day he died, Dad used to tease me about my mistake – but thankfully, that was the only one that I admitted to! If he known what I used to get up to (and still get up to) he’d skin me!
Time to call it quits – there are too many people about to blog safely at the moment!
Back later [possibly].
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
He wanted a particular tyre type, but unfortunately, there’s more than one variety of this tyre, and ideally, you need to match like with like. We talked about the car – I’ve driven the 307 110 HDi diesel turbo – which is extremely fast – for a diesel! Mind you – I made a bad mistake a couple of years ago…
I took on what I thought was a standard diesel, only to have the damn thing accelerate, and chew me up then spit me out in little pieces! It was a blasted 110, not the 90! But, that’s not the only time I’ve bitten off more than I can chew…
When Mum was in hospital, after having surgery on her arm to remove one of the plates, Dad and I had gone to visit her – the pair of us in separate cars, as he was going to work (he worked at Birmingham airport – those people who know me, know who Dad used to work for!), and I was going to head back home.
Well, we headed for the hospital, and at the major traffic island (the junction of the A45 & the A46) I was first at the traffic lights, with a BMW along side me…. I looked over, and saw the M-series bodykit on the car, and assumed that the driver had more money than sense… And that the car was a standard BMW. Boy – did I get that one wrong!
The lights changed, and I accelerated, expecting to leave the BMW for dead. No chance. The BMW hit the powerband, and that was it. I was eating rubber. Dad found it hilarious, and said to Mum:
“Our daughter’s an idiot – she took on an M-series BMW in her car.”
“Hang on a minute – I didn’t know that it was an M-series – I just thought it was someone with more money than sense. I didn’t realise that it was the real McCoy!”
“Didn’t you see the twin tail pipes?”
“Not until he was past me.”
That caused much hilarity, and even up to the day he died, Dad used to tease me about my mistake – but thankfully, that was the only one that I admitted to! If he known what I used to get up to (and still get up to) he’d skin me!
Time to call it quits – there are too many people about to blog safely at the moment!
Back later [possibly].
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Get a solicitor involved? You must be joking!
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Karen
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I’ve just spoken to the people who usually deal with probate matters… They have advised me to do the work myself, as it would be considerably cheaper - approx. £130, as opposed to £500 or more, if we got someone else to do it!
Call me tight fisted if you like, but I’d prefer to do the work myself, and ask for advise as and when I need it, as this could prove easier for me, and (I know this sounds horrible) at least I know what to do when Mum dies.
I’ve also spoken to Mum, and she’s agreed with me – the best course of action is for us to do the paperwork ourselves, and then file the necessary documents at the probate court.
Hopefully, there’s a closer court than Birmingham, as apparently, you have to go in and swear some kind of oath (I guess it’s along the lines of that the information given is true, etc.) and then the certificate is issued, and can be sent off to the relevant people, and Dad’s estate can be sorted out, and the files archived on the computer.
Time to call it quits – got calls to make!
Back later.
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Call me tight fisted if you like, but I’d prefer to do the work myself, and ask for advise as and when I need it, as this could prove easier for me, and (I know this sounds horrible) at least I know what to do when Mum dies.
I’ve also spoken to Mum, and she’s agreed with me – the best course of action is for us to do the paperwork ourselves, and then file the necessary documents at the probate court.
Hopefully, there’s a closer court than Birmingham, as apparently, you have to go in and swear some kind of oath (I guess it’s along the lines of that the information given is true, etc.) and then the certificate is issued, and can be sent off to the relevant people, and Dad’s estate can be sorted out, and the files archived on the computer.
Time to call it quits – got calls to make!
Back later.
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
There are times when I could cheerfully wring someone’s neck. Care to volunteer?
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Just spoken to the probate office. Because the insurance policy is over £5k, then there is the requirement to go through probate, which can take about two months or more!
Apparently, it is quite easy, but the lass I spoke to said that we needed to declare all of Dad’s assets – that were held in his name only. Because the majority of the assets were in joint names, they don’t count, but there are some bits I need advise on.
So, the lass has arranged for one of her colleagues to call me during my lunch break, and I can talk things through with him, and see what the best course of action is – i.e. if Mum & I do the work, or if we just let the family solicitor loose.
Hmm – looks like things are starting to work. Not.
Back later.
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Apparently, it is quite easy, but the lass I spoke to said that we needed to declare all of Dad’s assets – that were held in his name only. Because the majority of the assets were in joint names, they don’t count, but there are some bits I need advise on.
So, the lass has arranged for one of her colleagues to call me during my lunch break, and I can talk things through with him, and see what the best course of action is – i.e. if Mum & I do the work, or if we just let the family solicitor loose.
Hmm – looks like things are starting to work. Not.
Back later.
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Dratted insurance companies… Why can’t they be more helpful??
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Why is it that you try to make a claim on a life insurance policy, the company throws as many obstructions in your path as they possibly can? We’ve been told that the claim had been authorised, but as it was over the company limit, we need to go through probate.
Which is a pain in the backside, as everyone else has been a real help, and has agreed that there is no requirement for this. Simply because Dad’s will stated that everything had been left to Mum and there are no other claimants on the estate. I don’t count, because I’m classified as independent, as I’m earning my own money.
The worst part, is the fact that Birmingham office that I’m trying to contact has a recorded message, to say that the reception is on restricted hours, due to staff training, and that if you leave a message, they will call you back. Fine under normal circumstances, but knowing my luck, they would call me when I was unable to take the call.
So, I’ve decided to call them during my lunch break, and see what happens. The last time I called them, they were really helpful, and gave me the information about what to do, and whom I should contact when I needed help.
Suppose I’d better answer my phone before it drives me scatty!
Back later.
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Which is a pain in the backside, as everyone else has been a real help, and has agreed that there is no requirement for this. Simply because Dad’s will stated that everything had been left to Mum and there are no other claimants on the estate. I don’t count, because I’m classified as independent, as I’m earning my own money.
The worst part, is the fact that Birmingham office that I’m trying to contact has a recorded message, to say that the reception is on restricted hours, due to staff training, and that if you leave a message, they will call you back. Fine under normal circumstances, but knowing my luck, they would call me when I was unable to take the call.
So, I’ve decided to call them during my lunch break, and see what happens. The last time I called them, they were really helpful, and gave me the information about what to do, and whom I should contact when I needed help.
Suppose I’d better answer my phone before it drives me scatty!
Back later.
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Weird films and other stuff...
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Karen
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If I didn't know better, I would swear that Dreamcatcher was based on a Stephen King book.(Feedback to let me know if I'm right, or scatching the wrong post would be much appreciated!) Don't get me wrong, I loved every second of the film - and have deemed it another must get for my ever expanding DVD collection!
I will admit, it freaked my friend out, and she sat for the best part of the film, cuddling a cushion, and hiding when some of the worms made their presence known. I won't say anymore, but to those who read Stephen King books, it will come as no surprise the style of the ending...
Onto a slightly touchy subject - Christmas. I always jokingly say "Unh, no-one mention the c-word" - just a slight twist on a line in Beetlejuice! Because Mum is at work this weekend, I made the most of it, and escaped into town (Leamington) and managed to get part of Mum's Christmas present.
She knows that I'm going to get her a Remington Footspa, but this second bit, is unknown to her. I've bought her a perfume bottle. Ok - I know that doesn't sound much, but I'd better explain a bit more.
Mum and Dad used to collect what is commonly known as Studio Glass - i.e. the stuff that is still blown by hand. Good examples are Okra (it used to be part of the Moorcroft pottery group) and John Ditchfield (he of the wonderful glass lilly pad paperweight - complete with the little silver frog!)
This perfume bottle is made by an English glass-making company, in the Lake District - Heron Glass. It's all iridecent blues, greens and golds, and it's just the sort of thing that Mum would go for. The best bit is, the fact that I've been able to hide the bottle in the study - as it's one of the two rooms that she won't willingly venture into - the other one being my room, as she's never sure where the cats are hiding!
Time to call it quits - I can see the moggies giving me the evil eye again, as they're not getting any attention from me, and Ponto looks like he's going to eat the computer mouse if I don't sign off!
Back tomorrow - I hope!
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
I will admit, it freaked my friend out, and she sat for the best part of the film, cuddling a cushion, and hiding when some of the worms made their presence known. I won't say anymore, but to those who read Stephen King books, it will come as no surprise the style of the ending...
Onto a slightly touchy subject - Christmas. I always jokingly say "Unh, no-one mention the c-word" - just a slight twist on a line in Beetlejuice! Because Mum is at work this weekend, I made the most of it, and escaped into town (Leamington) and managed to get part of Mum's Christmas present.
She knows that I'm going to get her a Remington Footspa, but this second bit, is unknown to her. I've bought her a perfume bottle. Ok - I know that doesn't sound much, but I'd better explain a bit more.
Mum and Dad used to collect what is commonly known as Studio Glass - i.e. the stuff that is still blown by hand. Good examples are Okra (it used to be part of the Moorcroft pottery group) and John Ditchfield (he of the wonderful glass lilly pad paperweight - complete with the little silver frog!)
This perfume bottle is made by an English glass-making company, in the Lake District - Heron Glass. It's all iridecent blues, greens and golds, and it's just the sort of thing that Mum would go for. The best bit is, the fact that I've been able to hide the bottle in the study - as it's one of the two rooms that she won't willingly venture into - the other one being my room, as she's never sure where the cats are hiding!
Time to call it quits - I can see the moggies giving me the evil eye again, as they're not getting any attention from me, and Ponto looks like he's going to eat the computer mouse if I don't sign off!
Back tomorrow - I hope!
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
I hate...... That bloody mouse!
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Karen
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In case you're wondering what my latest rant is about - it's not aimed at the Disney mouse. No - it's aimed at the common house mouse. Especially the little b'stard that build its nest on the top of my car battery.
No, you're not seeing things - there was a mouse nest on top of the battery of my car. I opened the bonnet, and the language was foul. I called the mouse all the names under the sun, then carefully removed its nest.
Thankfully, there was no damage to the wiring of the car (I used it for the trip to Northampton today - more on that later), but I was less than impressed. You would have thought with TWO cats in the house (one with a hair trigger appetite, and a Swiss army claw attachment!), that the garage was the LAST place you would find a mouse living in.
The best bit was, the mere fact that Mum & I suspected that there was a mouse in the garage before we went on holiday, and bought a Mouse bait box - the idea being that the little vermin goes in, munches the bait, and goes to the great mousehole in the sky.
We get back, and the bait has been duly munched, but the little b'stard still built a bloody nest. If I get my hands on it, it's one very dead mouse. Pity we've tried to poison it, otherwise I'd give it to Ponto, and say
"All yours. Have fun".
Now onto happier news. Mum & I went to see the shoemaker today, and the shoes that he's made for Mum are brilliant! For the first time in over three years, she's walking straight, and not rolling like a drunk.
Ok - the shoes aren't anything like Jimmy Choo's (if anything - they're more expensive - like about £500 + !), but as far as I'm concerned, if these shoes stop Mum suffering any more damage to her joints because of the way she's walking, then they're worth every penny - and I don't think that Dad would disagree with me. My only regret is the fact that he didn't live to see Mum walking normally in the shoes, but somehow, I think he knew Mum was in good hands.
Tomorrow should be fun for me - I've got to go to the optician in Leamington, to let the optometrist know how I've gotten on with the new contact lenses. After more years than I'll admit to (like about 13 years!), wearing contact lenses, I've finally opted to change from gas permeable (rigid) lenses, to the more gentle soft lenses.
When I started wearing contacts, I was advised against the soft lenses, as the wear time was very restricted (about 6 hours at most), and I was going to be wearing my lenses for about 12 hours or more. Now, the technology has improved to such an extent, that I found the soft lenses far more comfortable for me!
They've got some kind of coating (silica I think) that makes the lens more comfortable for the eye, and also makes that most dreaded of occurrences - a dry eye - less likely. They've also got a higher oxygen permeablity rating - something like 82%, as opposed to the 15 - 20% for normal soft lenses. As a result, the lenses are slightly more expensive, but as far as I'm concerned, the comfort factor more than makes up for any cost implications.
And no - I'm not even going to consider laser eye surgery. Not because it's too expensive, or anything like that. It's the mere case that I happen to be a coward, and as far as I'm concerned, I've only got one pair of eyes, and if something goes wrong.... The consequences are too horrific for me to contemplate.
Ah well, time to log off, and bog off - my mobile's ringing, and I haven't got very good reception in the study, where my computer is!
Back tomorrow...
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
No, you're not seeing things - there was a mouse nest on top of the battery of my car. I opened the bonnet, and the language was foul. I called the mouse all the names under the sun, then carefully removed its nest.
Thankfully, there was no damage to the wiring of the car (I used it for the trip to Northampton today - more on that later), but I was less than impressed. You would have thought with TWO cats in the house (one with a hair trigger appetite, and a Swiss army claw attachment!), that the garage was the LAST place you would find a mouse living in.
The best bit was, the mere fact that Mum & I suspected that there was a mouse in the garage before we went on holiday, and bought a Mouse bait box - the idea being that the little vermin goes in, munches the bait, and goes to the great mousehole in the sky.
We get back, and the bait has been duly munched, but the little b'stard still built a bloody nest. If I get my hands on it, it's one very dead mouse. Pity we've tried to poison it, otherwise I'd give it to Ponto, and say
"All yours. Have fun".
Now onto happier news. Mum & I went to see the shoemaker today, and the shoes that he's made for Mum are brilliant! For the first time in over three years, she's walking straight, and not rolling like a drunk.
Ok - the shoes aren't anything like Jimmy Choo's (if anything - they're more expensive - like about £500 + !), but as far as I'm concerned, if these shoes stop Mum suffering any more damage to her joints because of the way she's walking, then they're worth every penny - and I don't think that Dad would disagree with me. My only regret is the fact that he didn't live to see Mum walking normally in the shoes, but somehow, I think he knew Mum was in good hands.
Tomorrow should be fun for me - I've got to go to the optician in Leamington, to let the optometrist know how I've gotten on with the new contact lenses. After more years than I'll admit to (like about 13 years!), wearing contact lenses, I've finally opted to change from gas permeable (rigid) lenses, to the more gentle soft lenses.
When I started wearing contacts, I was advised against the soft lenses, as the wear time was very restricted (about 6 hours at most), and I was going to be wearing my lenses for about 12 hours or more. Now, the technology has improved to such an extent, that I found the soft lenses far more comfortable for me!
They've got some kind of coating (silica I think) that makes the lens more comfortable for the eye, and also makes that most dreaded of occurrences - a dry eye - less likely. They've also got a higher oxygen permeablity rating - something like 82%, as opposed to the 15 - 20% for normal soft lenses. As a result, the lenses are slightly more expensive, but as far as I'm concerned, the comfort factor more than makes up for any cost implications.
And no - I'm not even going to consider laser eye surgery. Not because it's too expensive, or anything like that. It's the mere case that I happen to be a coward, and as far as I'm concerned, I've only got one pair of eyes, and if something goes wrong.... The consequences are too horrific for me to contemplate.
Ah well, time to log off, and bog off - my mobile's ringing, and I haven't got very good reception in the study, where my computer is!
Back tomorrow...
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
A time for reflection
Posted by
Karen
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A good title for today’s entry. It would have been Dad’s 56th birthday today, but instead, I’m spending a quiet time on my own, reflecting with my keyboard. Mum has gone to see friends who live near by, and so, I’m left to my own devices.
Don’t get me wrong – I don’t begrudge Mum going out – far from it. I just didn’t feel like being sociable at this moment in time. Especially as I was watching the final part of a TV series that I recorded last night – The Lyon’s Den, with Rob Lowe in the title role. To say that the end was unexpected is an understatement.
If you get the chance to see it – do so. Bear with it, as I will admit that at times, it can be a bit tedious, but the final scenes were brilliant – all credit to Rob Lowe & Kyle Chandler for some fine acting throughout the series – I was hooked from the start.
On a slightly different topic, Mum and I have ordered a new mower. It’s a key start; self driven 19” deck Mountfield, and should be ready to be collected in a couple of weeks time.
It was ‘fun’ trying to find this place in Worcester, especially as I cannot read a map to save my life, but we found the road, and the site, and got the mower on order. So, because we’ve managed to get the mower from the Worcester branch, there’s no need for us to go to Hereford [boo, hiss!].
But, I haven’t given up on the idea of going to the cider museum – far from it. It’s on the back burner for the time being, as there are a few things that I need to get sorted before I get back to work on Monday.
The main one being taking Mum to the shoemaker in Northampton tomorrow. Since Mum had the car accident, she walks with a pronounced limp. Ok – quick info burst – Mum was nearly killed in a car accident three years ago.
As a result of the injuries that she sustained, now requires a built up shoe to help her walk normally, because her right leg is about ½” shorter than the left. Because of this, she limps when she walks without the lift in the shoe. Because of this, both my late father and I have done our best to help Mum, and finally talked her into going to see this shoemaker in Northampton.
We got a call from him last night to say that the shoes are ready for the first fitting, and as Mum wasn’t feeling too good, she let me take the call. I walked into the kitchen, to make things easier for Mum, as the last time she’d been to see the shoemaker, Dad had been with her.
I explained what had happened, and that Mum had good days and bad days, and as a result, it would be me accompanying Mum for the appointment. The gentleman was surprised, and said that he couldn’t believe it, as Dad had seemed so healthy when they (Mum & Dad) had been there for the consultation in early May. I didn’t disagree, and arranged an appointment for the pair of us to go, and see how the shoes fitted.
I will admit this though, as I type this entry, I’ve been listening to some of my favourite music. I started listening to the Evanescence album [Fallen], but found that all it was doing was depressing me. There’s the one track on there, My Immortal that I cannot listen to, without bursting into tears:
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
You used to captivate me
By your resonating life
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
The reason being, that it reminds me of the way that I felt in the immediate aftermath of Dad’s sudden death. Ok – as time goes by, it does get easier. But not much, and songs like that just cripple me at the moment. So, I’ve resorted to my old favourite – The Rasmus – Dead Letters album. Nothing like a good bit of guitar orientated rock to make you feel better!
Suppose I’d better tend to the moggies – I’m getting the evil eye from the pair of them!
Back when I get away from the furry fiends!
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
Don’t get me wrong – I don’t begrudge Mum going out – far from it. I just didn’t feel like being sociable at this moment in time. Especially as I was watching the final part of a TV series that I recorded last night – The Lyon’s Den, with Rob Lowe in the title role. To say that the end was unexpected is an understatement.
If you get the chance to see it – do so. Bear with it, as I will admit that at times, it can be a bit tedious, but the final scenes were brilliant – all credit to Rob Lowe & Kyle Chandler for some fine acting throughout the series – I was hooked from the start.
On a slightly different topic, Mum and I have ordered a new mower. It’s a key start; self driven 19” deck Mountfield, and should be ready to be collected in a couple of weeks time.
It was ‘fun’ trying to find this place in Worcester, especially as I cannot read a map to save my life, but we found the road, and the site, and got the mower on order. So, because we’ve managed to get the mower from the Worcester branch, there’s no need for us to go to Hereford [boo, hiss!].
But, I haven’t given up on the idea of going to the cider museum – far from it. It’s on the back burner for the time being, as there are a few things that I need to get sorted before I get back to work on Monday.
The main one being taking Mum to the shoemaker in Northampton tomorrow. Since Mum had the car accident, she walks with a pronounced limp. Ok – quick info burst – Mum was nearly killed in a car accident three years ago.
As a result of the injuries that she sustained, now requires a built up shoe to help her walk normally, because her right leg is about ½” shorter than the left. Because of this, she limps when she walks without the lift in the shoe. Because of this, both my late father and I have done our best to help Mum, and finally talked her into going to see this shoemaker in Northampton.
We got a call from him last night to say that the shoes are ready for the first fitting, and as Mum wasn’t feeling too good, she let me take the call. I walked into the kitchen, to make things easier for Mum, as the last time she’d been to see the shoemaker, Dad had been with her.
I explained what had happened, and that Mum had good days and bad days, and as a result, it would be me accompanying Mum for the appointment. The gentleman was surprised, and said that he couldn’t believe it, as Dad had seemed so healthy when they (Mum & Dad) had been there for the consultation in early May. I didn’t disagree, and arranged an appointment for the pair of us to go, and see how the shoes fitted.
I will admit this though, as I type this entry, I’ve been listening to some of my favourite music. I started listening to the Evanescence album [Fallen], but found that all it was doing was depressing me. There’s the one track on there, My Immortal that I cannot listen to, without bursting into tears:
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
You used to captivate me
By your resonating life
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
The reason being, that it reminds me of the way that I felt in the immediate aftermath of Dad’s sudden death. Ok – as time goes by, it does get easier. But not much, and songs like that just cripple me at the moment. So, I’ve resorted to my old favourite – The Rasmus – Dead Letters album. Nothing like a good bit of guitar orientated rock to make you feel better!
Suppose I’d better tend to the moggies – I’m getting the evil eye from the pair of them!
Back when I get away from the furry fiends!
Karen.
Do spiders scream when they see a big fat hairy human in the bath?
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