tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13710736017997412442023-11-16T11:28:03.091+00:00Thinker, Writer, ProcrastinatorVal Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-24483211177335770112021-07-22T13:23:00.000+01:002021-07-22T13:23:15.757+01:00Gone but not forgotten<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Has anyone had a bedsheet turn up unexpectedly today?<span> </span>Bit of a longshot I know but, frankly, I've
exhausted all other lines of enquiry.</span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR92xDtU8lPmf2VExEaZF80zSRBUT9HVw80AetrSAXDLCw7bCIDHaQOHOIr6YxwbnTG0TV7BK_MERtroIibr3oEy1_J3AgsfHU2cbLowR_9dwAS-8IZZ5T8oCsmP1083DK9BNMpfcOdh4/s420/San+Andreas+Fault.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="397" data-original-width="420" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR92xDtU8lPmf2VExEaZF80zSRBUT9HVw80AetrSAXDLCw7bCIDHaQOHOIr6YxwbnTG0TV7BK_MERtroIibr3oEy1_J3AgsfHU2cbLowR_9dwAS-8IZZ5T8oCsmP1083DK9BNMpfcOdh4/w209-h197/San+Andreas+Fault.png" width="209" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", sans-serif;">We were back at my Beloved's house last night
after an interval of a few weeks, and it can be a bit like sleeping on top of
the San Andreas Fault in his bed.<span> </span></span>
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{page:WordSection1;}</font></style><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span>{No idea why -
he has exactly the same mattress/topper/protector arrangement as I do, yet my
bed remains as flat as Norfolk.}</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaflU_6CoPhSWN5g3REtDytdaeFm0QpNwfgo8XAV_zkaVewP85I7sHgO-mtiShdq637i9c0jt5yUyRf9pgy8BbTGrnctVt-_mQ8geTro1heFkTU3G6pawwFYQQp6a1KSB_6sWMGEsA2B8/s259/Norfolk+field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaflU_6CoPhSWN5g3REtDytdaeFm0QpNwfgo8XAV_zkaVewP85I7sHgO-mtiShdq637i9c0jt5yUyRf9pgy8BbTGrnctVt-_mQ8geTro1heFkTU3G6pawwFYQQp6a1KSB_6sWMGEsA2B8/w210-h157/Norfolk+field.jpg" width="210" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", sans-serif;">So after breakfast this morning I decided to
strip the bed and re-make it. <span> </span>Duvet in a
cover - check.<span> </span>Four pillows, properly
encased - check.<span> </span>Mattress protector.....
hang on a minute, where's the bottom sheet?</span>
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</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now, I am a somewhat picky, visual learner with a touch of
OCD.<span> </span>I notice things.<span> </span>I know, with 100% certainty, that there was a
bottom sheet when we went to bed last night, and when we got up this
morning.<span> </span>I would certainly have noticed
if I'd been sleeping on just a mattress protector.<span> </span>In fact, I couldn't have slept on it; I'd
have had to get up and find a sheet there and then.</span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">So I looked underneath everything, and checked the bathroom
and spare bedroom, but there was no trace of our bottom sheet.<span> </span>{I know, what was I thinking?<span> </span>Did I really imagine that the Sheet Goblin
had hidden it?}<span> </span>I conducted extensive, in-depth enquiries, {viz. "Have you moved the bottom sheet?"}<span> </span>but the response {"Of course not, what
are you on about?"} was, on reflection, more polite and reasonable than I
had a right to expect.<span> </span>But still not
helpful.<span> </span>So I re-made the bed with a
clean sheet from the airing cupboard, and then had another look round.<span> </span>Definitely a lack of linen, a shortage of sheeting.</span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">My Beloved maintains that it wasn't on the bed in the first
place but, if that were the case {irrespective of "Well why not?"}
then where is it now?<span> </span>I have looked
under the bed and turned out the airing cupboard, but there is only one white
sheet on the premises, when there should be two.<span> </span>So, have you got it?</span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Imagine there's no bedding; it's easy if you try.</span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">No sheet below us, above us duvet lies.</span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Imagine all the linen, leaving, every piece.</span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ohh-ohh, oh-oh-oh</span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm sure I can't be wrong.</span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I hope some day I'll find it,</span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">And my sheet will not be gone.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-39205231221223031252020-04-23T16:57:00.000+01:002020-04-23T16:57:38.672+01:00Lockdown libations
<br />
<h2 style="margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Now that it looks like we won't
be able to go to France this summer, our rapidly reducing stock of wine is starting
to be a bit of a concern.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously we
can buy wine in Britain, but it's so much more expensive!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you're used to paying only €2 a bottle
for very nice wine, £5 or £6 for the same stuff is a bit harsh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, in the interests of economy, I have been
conducting a rigorous study of currently available beverages.</span></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">All of the wines tested were delivered to my
door with our essential groceries, from a major supermarket chain; un-named,
but well-known for rolling back prices.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The cheapest (apart from Lambrini, which I will
drink if all else fails) was 'Crisp Fresh White' at £3.49 a bottle.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Hi-K_DBtPU9xVNA8zIsr3zJhxmrHOiufiy5sSsjXlo3PDz6xzmIwVvjqpXdpp_B2qsS7ou1mBMuxv-E7E1c4KkogaSpQ6F95Pot7pJABPkoksOa6CBr_kHQCiPVWfF2jEbh5V6JGFx4/s1600/Crisp+Fresh+White+%25C2%25A33.49.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="209" data-original-width="83" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Hi-K_DBtPU9xVNA8zIsr3zJhxmrHOiufiy5sSsjXlo3PDz6xzmIwVvjqpXdpp_B2qsS7ou1mBMuxv-E7E1c4KkogaSpQ6F95Pot7pJABPkoksOa6CBr_kHQCiPVWfF2jEbh5V6JGFx4/s1600/Crisp+Fresh+White+%25C2%25A33.49.png" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-no-proof: yes;"></span><span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Not unpleasant, but completely tasteless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fine with lemonade, but overall far too easy
to drink quickly, without noticing what you're doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Handy screw-top bottle, as were all 3 wines
tested, although, since it goes down so fast, you probably won't need to close
the bottle.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Next was the 'Zesty & Vibrant' at £3.69.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3jsHR2P9pRtKNC0WeGOvMmI4xRilsYfZIE4K1i-RyRcL-uMLXjKCJE95RztoW9jlpeJJKNdF-xcaHzhxlhh9rDlRqDdpRGXZR5-rtZnbK-3UgnqX79Kqc4emZItqjLAlQL72C23WPMk/s1600/Zesty+Vibrant+White+%25C2%25A33.69.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="299" data-original-width="93" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3jsHR2P9pRtKNC0WeGOvMmI4xRilsYfZIE4K1i-RyRcL-uMLXjKCJE95RztoW9jlpeJJKNdF-xcaHzhxlhh9rDlRqDdpRGXZR5-rtZnbK-3UgnqX79Kqc4emZItqjLAlQL72C23WPMk/s1600/Zesty+Vibrant+White+%25C2%25A33.69.png" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-no-proof: yes;"></span><span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Definitely worth the extra 20p, could actually
taste it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadly, there was a slightly bitter
underlying flavour, but this mellowed after being open for 24 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not bad, would drink it again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Moving into the big league, we have 'Sauvignon
Blanc' (oh my goodness, a named grape!) at £3.89.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi67fJQA1pQ8M5SbtK1zPWHOH32S6LmvUKOZSgSvcDxRKxDolIeofXH81sxmFgGx0RiEL83xaXIVy08qDJLYmoPbUavUtWJPQa7quAuQ0_abrgdOIcuNVbTu3yi_8zV_uDd47XwsSkJHJU/s1600/Sauvignon+Blanc+%25C2%25A33.89.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="202" data-original-width="79" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi67fJQA1pQ8M5SbtK1zPWHOH32S6LmvUKOZSgSvcDxRKxDolIeofXH81sxmFgGx0RiEL83xaXIVy08qDJLYmoPbUavUtWJPQa7quAuQ0_abrgdOIcuNVbTu3yi_8zV_uDd47XwsSkJHJU/s1600/Sauvignon+Blanc+%25C2%25A33.89.png" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-no-proof: yes;"></span><span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">This was actually rather good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps only when compared with the previous
two wines, but I have ordered more of this one, and would buy it again even
after the current difficulties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be
fair, I've ordered more of the 'Zesty & Vibrant' as well, since we're
currently restricted to only 3 of anything, and you have to get up at 2am to
book a delivery slot. Which, after conducting this research, I feel unable to
do.</span></div>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style>Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-49120253837927598182020-01-25T17:24:00.000+00:002020-01-25T17:44:38.802+00:00Drying tonight<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZ2y_zAErcjd1dh3OWVfyehnvZF-LwVbwge8nSXr1cTXurZ2V64NMMs6q3MQaNV43lRWCDY9l0pYfqf2F0854sTW3jmqwxlO3eGtaW4PgUTKTae5naPZZ2yNqOFG4L5S84mpesRdgODk/s1600/coat+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1535" data-original-width="814" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZ2y_zAErcjd1dh3OWVfyehnvZF-LwVbwge8nSXr1cTXurZ2V64NMMs6q3MQaNV43lRWCDY9l0pYfqf2F0854sTW3jmqwxlO3eGtaW4PgUTKTae5naPZZ2yNqOFG4L5S84mpesRdgODk/s200/coat+1.jpg" width="105" /></a>This coat has been in my family for more than 20 years; I wear it every winter and I still love it. But, rather like me, it's a bit tired and grubby now. Yes, of course I've had it dry-cleaned - many times - but that doesn't seem to be as effective lately as it used to be. I really don't want to part with it, so I thought, as a last resort, I'd give it a wash. What have I got to lose?<br />
<br />
I've been reading about fabric stripping, which apparently removes the dirt of ages from your garments, and involves very little actual effort. Sounds good to me. So, what you do is fill a bath with hot water, add washing powder, bicarbonate of soda and white vinegar, and soak the clothes in it for a few hours. There were some very encouraging pictures online of people's dirty water and clean clothes, but no instructions about how much of each substance is needed. So I just poured in what I had and gave it a good stir with a wooden
spoon. <i>{Must remember to wash the spoon later, or I'll end up with
lavender and vinegar flavoured self-raising porridge in the morning.}</i><br />
<b><i> </i></b> <br />
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It worked!....well, the water was filthy, so I suppose the coat must be cleaner than it was, but as it's still wet it's hard to tell. It was at this point that I realised that I'd have to get it dry somehow.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Obviously I didn't want to wring it out, as that would get it all creased and I'd have to iron it. <i>{I do irony, not ironing. If clothes need ironing, I don't buy them in the first place.}</i> <b><i><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i></b><style><!--
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-</style>It's not a large coat, but it was saturated with water and very heavy. My first thought was to put it on a hanger and let it drip-dry, but I realised<b><i> </i></b><i>{thankfully before trying it}</i> that the shower curtain rail probably wouldn't be strong enough to take the weight. I don't have a tumble drier, and I reasoned that putting my beloved coat in the spin drier might not do it a lot of good - and I'd probably still need to iron it. Also, I'd have to carry it downstairs dripping wet, and that didn't seem like a good idea either. I do have a large clothes horse that I could have draped it on, but the bars on it tend to leave creases on things, and the floor would get all wet.<br />
<br />
<br />
"THEY" do say you should dry woollen garments flat. What on,
for goodness' sake?? And where? I have many woollen garments, even
after conquering the Great Knitwear Mountain of 2018.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLPnxsx_0_w2OgfffEoBq_9V4nJ66-a5qsUyxMNUI0DJFdYoJqfZcfIHn6nXB5EUnXgeWMFUvDFmM-lVU56ou3hBMlueLt6SMQhkmFhac-GgKHlapbcJu0uEY1E4X_Y4RwbJkkNTIsJ3Y/s1600/Great+Knitwear+Mountain+2018jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLPnxsx_0_w2OgfffEoBq_9V4nJ66-a5qsUyxMNUI0DJFdYoJqfZcfIHn6nXB5EUnXgeWMFUvDFmM-lVU56ou3hBMlueLt6SMQhkmFhac-GgKHlapbcJu0uEY1E4X_Y4RwbJkkNTIsJ3Y/s200/Great+Knitwear+Mountain+2018jpg.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
Now, I wash my jumpers after 2 or 3 wearings, so on average, in the colder
months <i>{which, let's face it, is most of the year}</i> I'm washing
maybe 4 or 5 of them every week. More, if I wear two at a time.
I've never dried any of them flat - The only flat surface in my house that's
large enough to lay clothes on, apart from the floor, is my kitchen table - and
that's covered with important scraps of paper that I can't move. Wait a
minute, though.... I'm sure I've seen something else I could use......<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAckiK-vJaqNoNt89U5dTGeePmzZ4p26P2YPxEY_OoUcU0NpRj4k7RjdO1T7JIbgVNINUwJC1WPf4C9hsXZyp4NIEGGjZUGKRWtuKbDb-6jqE84TSPy1hBAHO6OZs1Tt_e6Cp52za-y0/s1600/coat+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAckiK-vJaqNoNt89U5dTGeePmzZ4p26P2YPxEY_OoUcU0NpRj4k7RjdO1T7JIbgVNINUwJC1WPf4C9hsXZyp4NIEGGjZUGKRWtuKbDb-6jqE84TSPy1hBAHO6OZs1Tt_e6Cp52za-y0/s320/coat+2.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div>
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Sometimes I just amaze myself with my genius. I knew the ironing board
would come in useful one day.<br />
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</style><br />Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-89487984311907744872017-07-24T14:50:00.000+01:002017-07-24T14:55:00.496+01:00Up the wall and round the bend<style>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">I’ve given a lot of thought to how I want
to celebrate my 60<sup>th</sup> birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I know that sounds like it’s some distant, future event, but I have to
confess that it was earlier this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>True to form, I haven’t really done anything about it yet – apart from
think about it with varying degrees of mild depression and strong disbelief.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">I don’t like parties. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">{The only reason to go to a party is in order to get off with someone
new – and since I have no need or desire to do that, the whole, getting dressed
up, putting on shoes and talking to people thing seems a bit pointless, and nothing
like a celebration.}</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do enjoy a
nice meal or even just a drink <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">{quiet or
otherwise!}</i> at home with my family and friends, but we do that fairly often
anyway; on this occasion I want something a bit different.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">I really want to do something significant,
memorable and a little bit mad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But,
despite the fact that my nearest and dearest have been listening for years to
me rambling on about wanting to walk the entire length of Hadrian’s Wall, it
took me a while to realise that I now have the ideal opportunity, and no excuse
to put it off any longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all
booked, and I’m going in a few weeks’ time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Walking for six days, reflecting on the last sixty years.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6l1Eph0SFTzm4B7PQxl7AP3wHoI5d8ES3eMZpjYkdZrIiP2CuSDdX9pLfeIKLaL-MU4Eke0fOpcAdsk8Ps25BWZluWl1EUT0-kkFocnkm9nQzQ63mXQeQ9XC9ocgl5uB307AH2xXZ_3M/s1600/Wall+at+sunset+text.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6l1Eph0SFTzm4B7PQxl7AP3wHoI5d8ES3eMZpjYkdZrIiP2CuSDdX9pLfeIKLaL-MU4Eke0fOpcAdsk8Ps25BWZluWl1EUT0-kkFocnkm9nQzQ63mXQeQ9XC9ocgl5uB307AH2xXZ_3M/s1600/Wall+at+sunset+text.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Picture: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/48379763@N03/4920252840" target="_blank">Hadrian's Wall Sunset</a> © Paul McGreevy. (Text added by Val Ross)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Licenced for re-use under <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/" target="_blank">this Creative Commons licence.</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">The obvious <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">{and conventional}</i> thing would be to do it as a sponsored
walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I need to know that if for
some reason I can’t complete it, I won’t be letting anyone down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, I’m not very keen on the whole idea of
asking people to give money to charity just because I’m doing something that I
enjoy – after all, you wouldn’t pay out for me to sit in a nice warm bubble
bath, eating buns, would you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not unless
photos were involved, anyway. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">{And
possibly not even then.}<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>If you feel
inspired to give to a charity that I support, then I’d suggest you take your
pick from <a href="http://www.refuge.org.uk/" target="_blank">Refuge</a>, <a href="https://rnli.org/" target="_blank">RNLI</a> or </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://nnpmrt.org/" target="_blank">Northumberland National Park Mountain Rescue</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which, if you take a philosophical viewpoint,
all do more or less the same thing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’d
love to say that I’ll post daily updates of my walk on Facebook, but I’ll
probably just be lying in the bath, weakly nibbling buns.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>{Yes, I know it's a muffin. But I can't draw buns that look in the least bit appetizing.}</i></span> </div>
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Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-85178291635238731182016-10-21T13:29:00.001+01:002016-10-21T13:37:01.081+01:00Cheese and whine<style>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman";">In 1170, Henry II </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">bought 10240 lbs of Cheddar cheese.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(Source: <a href="http://www.cheddargorgecheeseco.co.uk/acatalog/about-cheddar-gorge.html">http://www.cheddargorgecheeseco.co.uk/acatalog/about-cheddar-gorge.html</a> )</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What in the name of all that’s yellow was he thinking of?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, I can imagine….</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Maybe he was passing through the Cheddar Gorge on a bit of a progress and chanced upon a couple of dairy maids - well, knowing Henry, he’d have insisted on escorting them home and they, being perhaps of a hospitable nature, invited him to stay for breakfast.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As he’s riding away in the morning, Henry remarks to his loyal knights, “Ooh, that was a lovely feast last night! Go back and buy me some of that cheese for my personal consumption.”</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYxw_EifysxntVioR5JRVyZ7wDk4wbyyToRV7pj1c5A0SSM7zFwWT59VEWsYwf8YMfede4t3sysrs0erzFq5yQbkd3CouYvGoEngLMvkAOGtoPuCxt_BUz17i8a9PVvYJuaH0AnS4cKwQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-10-21+at+12.39.48.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYxw_EifysxntVioR5JRVyZ7wDk4wbyyToRV7pj1c5A0SSM7zFwWT59VEWsYwf8YMfede4t3sysrs0erzFq5yQbkd3CouYvGoEngLMvkAOGtoPuCxt_BUz17i8a9PVvYJuaH0AnS4cKwQ/s200/Screen+Shot+2016-10-21+at+12.39.48.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Unfortunately, Henry’s loyal knights are a bit hard of hearing; they think he said, “Buy me the sum of that cheese”, so they negotiate a deal for the entire year’s production of all the local dairies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The whole nine yards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep, a wall of cheese 9 yards long, a foot wide and over five and a half feet tall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">{One cubic foot of Cheddar cheese weighs 65.44 pounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Source: <a href="http://www.aqua-calc.com/">www.aqua-calc.com</a> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So 10240 lbs of cheese is 156.48 cubic feet.}</i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So anyway, the cheese gets home before Henry <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">{he being delayed by more hospitable ladies}</i> and Queen Eleanor has to decide what to do with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it’s labelled “For the King”, she can’t just send it to the kitchen where anyone can get at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be honest, she’s a bit put out that it’s taking Henry so long to return, so she has a bright idea…</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When Henry does eventually turn up several months later, he finds he can’t unpack because the few garments he left at the palace are strewn across his bedroom floor, and all three of his wardrobes are full of cheese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">{Assume a wardrobe four feet wide, two feet deep and six feet tall, i.e. having a capacity of 48 cubic feet}</i> There’s also a substantial block of cheese on his bedside table but, as Henry’s feeling a bit peckish after all the progressing he’s been doing, that soon disappears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, as he offers Eleanor a bit, she forgives him for neglecting her and lets him have a mouthful of her Golden Delicious to go with it.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-WqHea_SeTf8CiJL-VuhY5bCLeXjYR-MuV3BCJS7Ezeudu2hKqxuepAppjtlV8L0PSv18rN4IK6hwjZAAiq6yUGbngvFp3xGMyshrAK3-M7DIxFbzMQ1IcseH9iH2EvAoNq4zbR-3CSw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-10-21+at+12.55.30.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="50" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-WqHea_SeTf8CiJL-VuhY5bCLeXjYR-MuV3BCJS7Ezeudu2hKqxuepAppjtlV8L0PSv18rN4IK6hwjZAAiq6yUGbngvFp3xGMyshrAK3-M7DIxFbzMQ1IcseH9iH2EvAoNq4zbR-3CSw/s200/Screen+Shot+2016-10-21+at+12.55.30.png" width="42.25" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBZMMcY3maNOG5YXsuIGD2Qorm1ofHelNo4y2czhoTlPb1JQJndPilaLKA071JSSJajQp6tQJWBwMjN4pCaB0UKVZ6Dds5KUwqsRISXBUhixV2GBxGmAC0uFIMe8c0V-ChlxdtEaSq2A/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-10-21+at+12.37.04.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBZMMcY3maNOG5YXsuIGD2Qorm1ofHelNo4y2czhoTlPb1JQJndPilaLKA071JSSJajQp6tQJWBwMjN4pCaB0UKVZ6Dds5KUwqsRISXBUhixV2GBxGmAC0uFIMe8c0V-ChlxdtEaSq2A/s200/Screen+Shot+2016-10-21+at+12.37.04.png" width="200" /></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> What to do with the rest of it, though?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cheddar cheese does keep for quite a long time in the right conditions, but Henry hates living out of a suitcase, and he wants his wardrobes back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He decides to have a cheese and wine party but, as neither pineapples nor grapefruit have been invented yet, his cheesy hedgehogs don’t look quite as exotic as he’d hoped.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Also, his loyal knights point out that the cheese was, by his own command, for the king’s personal consumption and so, if they can’t have any cheese, it’s only fair that they get to drink all the wine.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now, Henry does, as we all know, have a bit of a temper, and not getting any wine irks him somewhat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“They’re not doing that at my next party!” he rages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What can I do?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Eleanor, being of a French persuasion, (and devious nature, as we’ve already seen) suggests a delicacy from her homeland - fondue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ha! Yes!” Henry agrees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll mix all the wine in with the cheese, and have it all myself!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those knights can just have the little bits of stale bread.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was, he realised later, a bit of a mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you’ve got the worst cheesey hangover in history you could really do with a bit of stale bread.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Iw8swke8wr1BuKnmwNEAEO6A3YZNL0AVkgrTs_d55W5XVfHlOFLf35J8boY_FTXmr-jritHIyITHbAxq_c7oaiMwVWITrJJ2i_1zUTQbkX_6ja0vqT5borXnd0afHbfKaEr3UO33oyA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-10-21+at+13.15.22.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Iw8swke8wr1BuKnmwNEAEO6A3YZNL0AVkgrTs_d55W5XVfHlOFLf35J8boY_FTXmr-jritHIyITHbAxq_c7oaiMwVWITrJJ2i_1zUTQbkX_6ja0vqT5borXnd0afHbfKaEr3UO33oyA/s200/Screen+Shot+2016-10-21+at+13.15.22.png" width="147" /></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Christmas was fast approaching now and, with two and a half wardrobes still full of cheese and nowhere to hang his new jumpers, Henry toys with the idea of sending some of the Cheddar as seasonal gifts to his fellow monarchs in Europe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s labelled, ‘For the King’, but it doesn’t say which king,” he points out.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Unfortunately, your Majesty,” the Lord Chamberlain informs him, “under French regulations it can’t be classed as ‘cheese’ because it’s the wrong colour and it’s far too hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They won’t even let it pass through their country, I’m afraid.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is just the last straw for Henry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">{He had tried cheese straws, but the crumbs got everywhere and Eleanor had come out in a rash from when he’d been eating them in bed.}</i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Will no-one rid me of this troublesome cheese?” he demands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadly, as we know, his loyal knights are somewhat deaf and they miss-hear him again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which leads to the unfortunate events in Canterbury on 29th December that year.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcdIZujkhukdwlkSAToOqg43dst556okPc0j3YdrD6W6Nr-_dNc7GyejjekqFZ1nl_4ssws-Xl0D_5xg-WOnTNSooqRKXh59VvCAsB9dRKVzLXCMlHPi3hTrvprN-EDpW73fgqhs3gxUU/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-10-21+at+13.15.00.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcdIZujkhukdwlkSAToOqg43dst556okPc0j3YdrD6W6Nr-_dNc7GyejjekqFZ1nl_4ssws-Xl0D_5xg-WOnTNSooqRKXh59VvCAsB9dRKVzLXCMlHPi3hTrvprN-EDpW73fgqhs3gxUU/s200/Screen+Shot+2016-10-21+at+13.15.00.png" width="111" /></a></span></div>
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Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-68613102515325939222016-09-22T08:34:00.000+01:002016-09-22T08:34:01.742+01:00Hot house bluesMy house was lovely and warm when I came home last night - which was a little worrying, as I hadn't put the heating on. Maybe I'd actually had it on all summer, but it hasn't been cold enough for the thermostat to kick in? <i>{Or maybe the heating had been on, and I'd only </i>thought <i>it was a nice summer.}</i> No, the dial on the control box was definitely in the 'off' position... but the display was flashing madly, and telling me the time was 12.15, which it wasn't. Perhaps we'd had a power cut? "Perhaps it just needs new batteries," my Beloved suggested.<br />
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What did he mean, batteries? Surely the control box is connected to the electricity, otherwise how does it turn the boiler on? Oh yeah, wi-fi. And, on reflection, I did remember being told when they installed the boiler that I could have the control box anywhere. But in my defence, it is next to a light switch, and I wasn't there when they set it up, so for all I knew they could have connected it to the mains and just replastered the wall very well.<br />
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Anyway, I decided to check the instruction booklet. Yes, I do keep instruction booklets. I selected the appropriate one, and discovered that the unit did need new batteries. But not just any old batteries. "Only good quality alkaline batteries should be used", it informed me in bold type. "DO NOT use rechargeable batteries". Why ever not? All I have are rechargeable batteries, and they work perfectly well in everything else. I have them in my kitchen clock, and that's got physical moving parts - surely clock hands take more effort to move than sending an electrical impulse to a switch? I mean, there's air resistance trying to stop the clock hands moving, to say nothing of their weight.<br />
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I should perhaps admit that I only have CSE Grade 2 in physics, and I only have that because we had to do a science. Chemistry seemed interesting, but I was too scared to light the Bunsen-burner. I couldn't face the idea of cutting up frogs and eyeballs, so biology was out, and domestic science didn't count. <i>{But since that also involved lighting flames and cutting up dead animals, I couldn't do that either.}</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZG_yZcoKpck0115ltIp__M4XlNpBb47cGXSICSrJXcuLDQ4k95Th_vy3JmZ_lW16Om2VZv6pBxAdB-v5tPfzkVb2gv3__GNAftdxVWiCs10jLkIwJh7nJedq9C8k3-esMk111Ds1rFo/s1600/20160921_180845-1_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZG_yZcoKpck0115ltIp__M4XlNpBb47cGXSICSrJXcuLDQ4k95Th_vy3JmZ_lW16Om2VZv6pBxAdB-v5tPfzkVb2gv3__GNAftdxVWiCs10jLkIwJh7nJedq9C8k3-esMk111Ds1rFo/s320/20160921_180845-1_resized.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Reading on in the instruction booklet, I discovered that the boiler was now intending to operate continuously until it got new batteries of acceptable quality. How ridiculous is that! What if I'd been on holiday? My smoke detector beeps when the battery is running out, and then just stops working. I have a combi-boiler, which spends most of its time not doing anything, so why is the fail-safe mode to suddenly start doing something it wasn't doing before? And without even a beep to warn you!<br />
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Anyway, I bought some batteries today, and prepared myself to change them within the 30 seconds allowed before all my settings were lost. Despite managing to drop one of the new batteries and the unit cover down the back of the bookcase, I thought I'd managed it in time.... but the display is still flashing.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL9e3m9R8DKS6lWX34SwrXr75h1r30E-Jt0LRlpAUFTGCoRhXDRu3zmIikyewVg_oQBQfCSxEHiwRk9DXRSZXFmC7U-Fr7fn09edhwMMTiKtloiAqXqy5KV_fB-_CBNI2b5M0g2cXTRDw/s1600/20160921_172921-1_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL9e3m9R8DKS6lWX34SwrXr75h1r30E-Jt0LRlpAUFTGCoRhXDRu3zmIikyewVg_oQBQfCSxEHiwRk9DXRSZXFmC7U-Fr7fn09edhwMMTiKtloiAqXqy5KV_fB-_CBNI2b5M0g2cXTRDw/s200/20160921_172921-1_resized.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<br />Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-59563227695175404032016-09-08T16:33:00.001+01:002016-09-08T16:33:35.026+01:00To tweet, or not to tweet....In an effort to raise awareness of the fact that I've written a brilliant book,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lost-Prinsipels-Veridurum-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00JE9ITMO/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1473072314&sr=1-1&keywords=lost+prinsipels%20-%20nav-subnav" target="_blank"><img alt="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lost-Prinsipels-Veridurum-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00JE9ITMO/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1473072314&sr=1-1&keywords=lost+prinsipels - nav-subnav" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvL5SXTkqPyZf-Mbf24LWIRXlZONdwVXgkZ-R3QgEGxaqP82pcJd91KNJnaVFA_I8i7kNst8WwU-1HFUZHY584Zke-rr_ZMKKF_6ImT9jJ5oXll-ksz3r3RGF2ijFg5-wl1r3LagbaGkA/s200/Cover+Lost+Prinsipels.JPG" title="" width="125" /></a></div>
and to 'build a social platform' I've started using Twitter. Not the most natural environment for a loner with punctuation issues, but I'm doing my best.<br />
<br />
Apparently it's not enough just to compose a brief, intriguing profile, attach your most flattering picture <i>{Yes, I'm afraid it really is my most flattering picture.}</i> and write succinct, yet profound <i>{and, hopefully, amusing}</i> comments on a daily basis. You also have to find people to read them.<br />
<br />
I'm not really comfortable with asking people I know to 'follow' me. It seems a little egotistical, if not downright creepy. So the alternative is to attract total strangers.... hmm, not creepy at all!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFRQeL_LXtNjRIx779CC00lJOILQoIH_eVvdmalu_C84ajT_udrCMWkge7R41I9obOcL3ZFQqmXd0MoH4kNsU3XQhbxInhIdX6a2LUfhOaDAkloGO3u6pTX3jrJZEtt_I-elpGtkX62Y/s1600/PrideandPrejudiceCH3detail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFRQeL_LXtNjRIx779CC00lJOILQoIH_eVvdmalu_C84ajT_udrCMWkge7R41I9obOcL3ZFQqmXd0MoH4kNsU3XQhbxInhIdX6a2LUfhOaDAkloGO3u6pTX3jrJZEtt_I-elpGtkX62Y/s200/PrideandPrejudiceCH3detail.jpg" width="152" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">(<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Picture: Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet by C.
E. Brock (1895) “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.”)</span></span></span><br />
<br />
The recommended way, so I'm told, is to check out what other people are tweeting, follow people you find interesting, and hope they'll follow you back. Ok, I can do that.<br />
<br />
I have found some interesting people to follow, and I'm discovering books to read that I wouldn't have found otherwise, but a lot of the time I don't understand what others are saying. I've worked out that the @'s simply mean, 'to'. <i>{Or, "Hey, I'm talking about you!"} </i> I even - sort of - get the #'s <i>{although I did just have to google how to type the thing}</i> but what is all this 'bitly' business? And why does it so often sound like you're eavesdropping on a conversation where one party is drunk and the other is Norwegian? Or is that just the sort of people I find interesting?<br />
<br />
What I'm saying is, surely 140 characters are more than sufficient to craft an intelligent, witty and well-punctuated sentence. <i>{That sentence has 127 characters, including spaces.}</i> Failing that, a good quote is usually entertaining or thought-provoking - and you absolutely can't go wrong with a cute kitty picture! <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfdHlGJjeICZ_pVM6ymk_iLWHGM9Nu8s-uxIX41EfTyKz8FZI1YsG5WGWAY_Fu1tWGteI9bedfwH6rpDyLyU0YqGXmrdLeZ-8KmX-UuQqcu71qz_YfHemyUFYL-4RXrj_u54GoeJwFXc/s1600/funny+cat.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfdHlGJjeICZ_pVM6ymk_iLWHGM9Nu8s-uxIX41EfTyKz8FZI1YsG5WGWAY_Fu1tWGteI9bedfwH6rpDyLyU0YqGXmrdLeZ-8KmX-UuQqcu71qz_YfHemyUFYL-4RXrj_u54GoeJwFXc/s200/funny+cat.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll follow you, you're funny!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm sure I'll get the hang of it, in time. Meanwhile, if I'm following you please be tolerant, 'cos I don't really know what I'm doing yet.Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-89362208306981206692016-08-27T18:01:00.000+01:002016-08-27T18:01:48.873+01:00Team BuildingAny employer contemplating a corporate team-building exercise could do a lot worse than a day out in Hull, at the moment.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tEKet3EklKf-oKw9NxNOig8-lpUghLe0lnJYAQfu2ZU088OkYUGgv3tRj8LqMVGn2DDY2__Ptkc5OEmnl9HNNaiT6oseDTonVhVklJ6dVaB0eEUdAt-VfmkZT1qO0Do9b5vpPK0ltiE/s1600/20160827_105936_resized.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tEKet3EklKf-oKw9NxNOig8-lpUghLe0lnJYAQfu2ZU088OkYUGgv3tRj8LqMVGn2DDY2__Ptkc5OEmnl9HNNaiT6oseDTonVhVklJ6dVaB0eEUdAt-VfmkZT1qO0Do9b5vpPK0ltiE/s320/20160827_105936_resized.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Avoiding
the pigeons has always been a challenge for me - I hate birds - and for
the last few months there've been flocks of huge seagulls, too. I
skulk along the side of buildings, rarely breaking cover unless I can
follow closely behind some large random stranger, taking advantage of
their unknowing protection. If forced to go it alone across open
ground, I walk in short, sharp bursts of speed, with frequent abrupt
stops, freezing, then changing direction as I try to avoid the avian
enemy.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpNGGG0E79psuYZKZMuVm7BRO88nBQPqZFrKTh95-hj-vZk7LD-8KlXA4J5rhs5OFMrt_6Z2fATtAKgdeEBiXGXpPlF6enuM8GPypojOhQYT4y0o5hyWWQ3IkeDpizmT_vpiYvSKBsvCA/s1600/20160827_110354-1_resized.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpNGGG0E79psuYZKZMuVm7BRO88nBQPqZFrKTh95-hj-vZk7LD-8KlXA4J5rhs5OFMrt_6Z2fATtAKgdeEBiXGXpPlF6enuM8GPypojOhQYT4y0o5hyWWQ3IkeDpizmT_vpiYvSKBsvCA/s200/20160827_110354-1_resized.jpg" width="93.75" /></a>Now,
to add to the adventure, new obstacles have appeared throughout the
city. Most of the pavement has been dug up, and replaced with holes
surrounded by orange plastic fences, inside which orange-clad people
move in mysterious ways. As it's in preparation for the City of Culture
celebrations next year, I did wonder at first if it was some kind of
performance art, but no, they're just replacing all the pavements, and a
large chunk of road surface. All at the same time.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMC8DefXq1eDWGfmoI7mmdcKU4uG67bbZbHUOYxx2Hc69FMyQzGrt44L3dkoFzwXEfBtOoNKW2Tk6scBxY1clmKvFBfM7N3jPEBRfIChIUXclxwCPi_qhu24R6aEOu2UeC6Z_GBvBzAn4/s1600/20160827_110812-1_resized.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMC8DefXq1eDWGfmoI7mmdcKU4uG67bbZbHUOYxx2Hc69FMyQzGrt44L3dkoFzwXEfBtOoNKW2Tk6scBxY1clmKvFBfM7N3jPEBRfIChIUXclxwCPi_qhu24R6aEOu2UeC6Z_GBvBzAn4/s200/20160827_110812-1_resized.jpg" width="200" /></a>Ok,
I exaggerate. Some of the fences are wire mesh, and some of the
pavement is so far untouched. It'll look lovely when it's finished.<br />
Meanwhile,
most of the city centre is an obstacle course. As soon as they
complete one bit, they move the orange barriers to block off a different
path, offering a new and exciting challenge to pigeon-fearing
pedestrians in a hurry. I can never be sure that I can take the same
route twice.<br />
<br />
I did go on one of those team-building thingys once, a few years ago at the <a href="http://www.elshamlasertag.co.uk/" target="_blank">Elsham Activity Centre.</a> It was brilliant, and the best time I've ever had with work colleagues. <i>{Apart from snogging a co-worker in the bank strong room in 1977, but I don't suppose that counts.}</i>
We opted for laser tag rather than paintball and, when we saw the
paintballers we realized it had been a good choice - they were huge, and
all had matching camouflage gear, whereas we were mostly skinny clerks
with new trainers. It was a great day out with a lot of laughter, and
we certainly saw a new side to some people. <i>{In my case, usually my backside sticking out when I was trying to hide.}</i><br />
<br />
As
you may know, I don't like sport and, like many writers, I'm a bit of a
loner. I think the word 'team' is vastly overused in the wrong
context, <i>{I am a colleague or co-worker, not a 'team member'}</i> but
I was actually in a proper team, once. Second reserve for the school
netball team, which I took pride in as a real achievement; it got me out
of lessons, but I didn't have to do anything except sit on the ground
at the edge of the court, wrapped up in everybody's tracksuits. <i>{Or, rarely, sunbathing.}</i> The first reserve had to play occasionally, but I was pretty safe.<br />
<br />
Back
in Hull, my commuting is probably safe, but not easy. Which brings me
back to the team building challenge - "Your task is to get from across
town to the furthest platform of the railway station in twelve minutes
or less. Do not swear, do not collide with anyone or anything, avoid
anything with wings." At least I don't actually have a team to worry
about. I nearly made it yesterday but got stuck halfway at the end of a
slow-moving procession of people following a small, pavement-sweeping
truck. Given the amount of exposed earth in the area, I wouldn't be
surprised if it was still there this morning.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4b1MoMWY6t5us0Br43Pke0qdMBvbd7MQae2mv_CzbJ4pxrKCJ_JeCV1AlYNwgJXuo21aJ8ehAJWCjox-n4hMZwVeGJFJpGxIJbkZGX-_LMByOnqoJY4Oe7V5TuJYdNwGQidKR1yqdqho/s1600/20160827_110029_resized.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4b1MoMWY6t5us0Br43Pke0qdMBvbd7MQae2mv_CzbJ4pxrKCJ_JeCV1AlYNwgJXuo21aJ8ehAJWCjox-n4hMZwVeGJFJpGxIJbkZGX-_LMByOnqoJY4Oe7V5TuJYdNwGQidKR1yqdqho/s320/20160827_110029_resized.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-67737396321642934152016-08-20T18:01:00.000+01:002016-08-20T18:04:05.183+01:00Rash BehaviourIt's official; I'm allergic to my trousers.<br />
<br />
It all started with a few little insect bites on my leg - except, on me, insect bites never remain little. They go bright red and grow to the size of a 2p coin - and that's the smaller ones. But they usually disappear in a few days, so I never bother with any treatment. Big mistake, this time.<br />
After about a week the marks <i>{aka 'First Bites'}</i> had gone, but then a whole load more turned up on my back. OK, so I'd worn the same T-shirt, maybe that was the problem. <i>{Of course I'd washed it! But only at 30 degrees, which obviously wasn't hot enough.} </i>This lot <i>{Bites 2 - the return}</i> were an irritable, itchy bunch and lasted a couple of weeks. Then, just as they were going, a huge, 3-bite red mark appeared under my arm <i>{The Blob - children of the Bite}.</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhY_3R5hsAYHb3uhwVyyunhkDGuFHwiLRqwvd_O7TtXk3g-KpF2jCYxLljy7pb5LHhixMBrUaj-Xn-fsQwW-vhBlWD7Tl7_yfPKD2Q0oH76QphA1-YzGL5IQVAStKkE676rPKs0YT3Brg/s1600/cherries-berries-and-those-pesky-mosquitoes-faye-hicks-s-blog-QcOMMj-clipart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhY_3R5hsAYHb3uhwVyyunhkDGuFHwiLRqwvd_O7TtXk3g-KpF2jCYxLljy7pb5LHhixMBrUaj-Xn-fsQwW-vhBlWD7Tl7_yfPKD2Q0oH76QphA1-YzGL5IQVAStKkE676rPKs0YT3Brg/s200/cherries-berries-and-those-pesky-mosquitoes-faye-hicks-s-blog-QcOMMj-clipart.jpg" width="200" /></a></i></div>
<br />
<br />
After about six weeks, I realized the Blob wasn't going anywhere, so I went to see the nurse. She said it looked like eczema, and had I recently changed my deodorant? Well, actually, I had. The Blob wasn't exactly where I apply deodorant, and it was only under one arm, but I threw out the new (cheap) stuff and bought some more of my usual (not cheap) brand. She also suggested that I "try this cream". That didn't work, so three weeks later I saw the doctor. <i>{The delay wasn't my procrastination, this time. It just takes that long to get an appointment.}</i> At least he recognized a bite when he saw one, prescribed stronger cream and some tablets.<br />
<br />
Before I could even begin the treatment, I noticed a nasty rash on my legs. <i>{Why do we always say, 'A <b>nasty</b> rash'? Has anyone ever had a <b>nice </b>rash?}</i> It looked like a heat rash, only it wasn't hot weather and it got worse. Thankfully, it seemed to respond to the tablets - but after the weekend, it was back. Could it be unrelated to the bites, but due to something I wore to work, perhaps? Or, <i>{and much more likely, in my view}</i> was I being consumed from within by some alien virus that would make my arms and legs drop off?<br />
<br />
I think the surgery receptionist could hear the panic in my voice, as she gave me an appointment for the Thursday. Now I have different cream, and stronger tablets <i>that I have to take for a month and can't drink with!</i> And, apparently, because it's gone on for twelve weeks, I'm now even more sensitive to allergens than I was before.<br />
<br />
Whilst this was in some ways reassuring to know, it has created a few problems. I was due to have my hair coloured, but decided it probably wouldn't be a good idea to coat my head with chemicals at the moment. Should I still have it cut, though? Which is the better look, spikey and stylish but grey, or fluffy and floppy but black? <i>{I opted for short, because at least that looks intentional. Even if people do think my intention is to look like a badger that lost an argument with a ceiling fan.}</i> On a more intimate note, should I really be using deodorant at all? It can't be helping, but I hate the idea of being less than 'nice to be near'. Also, it's quite possible that I've become allergic to the fabric of my work trousers.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, I only have to wear my uniform for a few hours, and some days not at all. <i>{Because I work part time, not because I have <b>that </b>sort of job!}</i> I can wear a skirt to and from work, and change when I get there. And, because I'm incognito, I can go without deodorant and scowl at people on the train without worrying that I'm bringing my employers into disrepute!Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-18888893336741943352016-04-22T14:42:00.000+01:002016-04-22T14:42:29.807+01:00Travelling hopefullyI like maps. My first Girl Guide badge was map reading and, even though I say it myself, I'm good at it. However, Belgium has defeated me. Part of the problem has been that it's impossible to find a decent map of Belgium in the first place.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgouenvv5av9NG5Ugn-CQ7t3uwhHunoGe7SZobN0s1GjLz2jW32ua0QeJGPU4yciaEdGcgdDMPxFBoXbZz3nwT3diXGv-Ja4yLxZOzFDqO8KBZgF4pYC_Acyq8Jy2WK9s_sLxeU2ypKuyA/s1600/Belgium.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgouenvv5av9NG5Ugn-CQ7t3uwhHunoGe7SZobN0s1GjLz2jW32ua0QeJGPU4yciaEdGcgdDMPxFBoXbZz3nwT3diXGv-Ja4yLxZOzFDqO8KBZgF4pYC_Acyq8Jy2WK9s_sLxeU2ypKuyA/s200/Belgium.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Belgium</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Our holiday rental is, literally, on the border; go out of the back door and you're in Belgium...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Oh4pQXhkCjyhMoXBJ35h3lU6ugIrdkekwKXUeWeT1dKQqySopnm0re3XqerrzE0jQGXB1OWtma8YYdz69iQwrrQQg0lvZ6NFlP0oemYiGzK9QbZsj2DdeAOXXnKac5cjxLmrzos3mQQ/s1600/France.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Oh4pQXhkCjyhMoXBJ35h3lU6ugIrdkekwKXUeWeT1dKQqySopnm0re3XqerrzE0jQGXB1OWtma8YYdz69iQwrrQQg0lvZ6NFlP0oemYiGzK9QbZsj2DdeAOXXnKac5cjxLmrzos3mQQ/s200/France.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">France</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
...go out of the front door and you're in France.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The closest town to where we're staying is actually in France, so I suppose I should have realized that the local bookshop would only sell French maps. <i> {"Ha, you want to go to Belgium? You don't want to stay in la belle France, then it's your problem."}</i><br />
<br />
However, we did find what looked like a very good map, at a scale of 1cm to 1km - ideal for exploring obscure places down country lanes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAwcISiL0JAIxqL7X6RFFsQ1IJKHAjXI0aAo8V3cW0mcelfAEsmyLU38rZtHVF_4JxiiwlfERkOfezHWq-SLcyT-3jz7051nqzpkAzDmuaFPmzNiqInsVy5GNqCQrD84PH0YE7xDZZxNk/s1600/map+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAwcISiL0JAIxqL7X6RFFsQ1IJKHAjXI0aAo8V3cW0mcelfAEsmyLU38rZtHVF_4JxiiwlfERkOfezHWq-SLcyT-3jz7051nqzpkAzDmuaFPmzNiqInsVy5GNqCQrD84PH0YE7xDZZxNk/s200/map+1.JPG" width="112" /></a></div>
Except it didn't work. I've spent the last 3 days insisting that the map had roads missing, junctions in the wrong place and was not using any consistent kind of scale, while my Beloved was equally insistent that this could not be. He holds a touching faith in all things vaguely official. Finally, I did what I should have done in the first place, and looked on the internet. <i>{How anyone managed to plan military campaigns round here without Google Maps is a mystery.}</i><br />
And I was right! I must confess that we'd found it a little odd right from the start that our map had shown Belgium to be much emptier than France, with far fewer roads; on closer inspection we discovered that several roads starting in France just stopped abruptly at the border.<br />
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What we have is not a map, it's an artist's impression! They might as well have coloured it all grey and written, "Here Be Belgians".<br />
It doesn't help that most of the minor rural roads don't have numbers, they have names. Which is all very quaint, but doesn't help at all, since the names are obviously too many letters to print on a map, always assuming that the road itself is on there in the first place. What's worse, most of the junctions don't have road signs and, if they do, you don't see it unless you're travelling in the opposite direction.<br />
"Satnav", I hear you say. Well, yes, we have borrowed one, but it's Homer Simpson, and I don't altogether trust him. Also, it needs recharging, and the plug is bent and won't stay in. But so long as we can stay on the motorway, we should get home alright!<br />
<br />Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-25734047294485419082016-02-13T13:16:00.000+00:002016-02-13T13:16:21.158+00:00Moral Dilemma<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT9Z_AUGm_VDBShoJHtxF3ZDpvRVIUFfssLeK-1Hh3XszLkLOrklc6yzd-y_3O74XmfFzY3R90_PrE8CErTuxy6SP3r4-1ASxLoMyjT5SmVkqJVITFLFiR8OSwX6pdGNZQ3767zqSL7Tw/s1600/Trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT9Z_AUGm_VDBShoJHtxF3ZDpvRVIUFfssLeK-1Hh3XszLkLOrklc6yzd-y_3O74XmfFzY3R90_PrE8CErTuxy6SP3r4-1ASxLoMyjT5SmVkqJVITFLFiR8OSwX6pdGNZQ3767zqSL7Tw/s1600/Trees.jpg" width="320" /></a> A couple of blackbirds have started eyeing up my plum tree for a potential nest site. This fact alone should give you a clue that they're not the brightest pair - I know the blossoms look lovely, but it's February, for pity's sake, there are no leaves and there was a frost yesterday morning!<br />
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I suppose they have some excuse though, as it has been quite a mild winter so far - even the geraniums are still hanging in there. Maybe the mirror you can see behind them has been reflecting the light onto them, or something like that.<br />
<br />
However, I don't think Mrs Blackbird is too keen to set up home just
yet; she doesn't seem convinced about Mr B's fidelity. You see, she
caught sight of a rival the other day - yep, that's right, just behind
the aforesaid geraniums. She's been sitting in the flowerpot, pecking angrily away at her reflection for the best part of two days now, while Mr B stands a few feet away on the path looking rather embarrassed. Whether that's because he really has got a girlfriend in the background, or because he knows that it's only a mirror and is having second thoughts about Mrs B's intellectual capacity, I can't be sure. Or perhaps he's had a look himself, obviously seen another male, and is ashamed that he's too much of a coward to do anything about it.<br />
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Anyway, my dilemma is this: given that I thoroughly dislike birds and the last think I want is a nest just above where I walk through my gate every day, <i>{particularly if the birds in it are not very intelligent}</i> should I turn the mirror round and end their anguish? But then they'll build a nest. Or should I leave it, hoping their relationship will flounder and they'll both go away? If I leave it, could she actually break the mirror? I'd be really annoyed about that!<br />
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She was at it again when I came home this morning and, as I wasn't brave enough to walk past her to get to my back door, I had to walk round the block in the freezing wind to get to my front door. I do feel sorry for her, but this is my territory, and this is war now!<br />
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<i>{This last photo is not very good, as I took it through the window - no way was I going outside with her there!}</i><br />
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Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-82888378375426085182016-01-13T15:59:00.000+00:002016-01-13T15:59:43.197+00:00Chop chop!The problem with not cooking is that when, very occasionally, I get the urge to bake something, I have nothing to do it with. So I have to be inventive... and me being inventive with cookery can get a bit messy.<br />
I rather resent paying well over £1 for a piece of flapjack, so when I came across a tasty-sounding recipe for snacks I could <i>{probably}</i> make myself, I thought I'd give it a go. It looked simple enough....<br />
"Blitz 35g pistachios in a processor..." The only processor I own is the one in my computer, and even I know that foodstuffs shouldn't go anywhere near it. However, I do possess an <a href="http://valrosswriter.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/scraping-surface.html" target="_blank">evil soup blender</a>, maybe I could put the pistachios in a saucepan and use that? Not without a lid, apparently. Fortunately, I also possess a rather serious chopping knife. <br />
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It was in a box of assorted kitchen equipment given to me by a friend when I moved north. Goodness knows what she thought I was going to do with it, I was only going to Yorkshire, not Yosemite! Ok, so my garden is a bit of a wilderness, but I've been here nearly ten years, and I've yet to meet any bears. Although perhaps it's been put about in the ursine community that I have cutlery and I'm not afraid to use it.<br />
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After successfully chopping pistachios <i>and</i> cranberries, I was suddenly thwarted by, "Blitz 150g rolled oats...." I was rather doubtful about the efficiency of the chopping knife for that. Perhaps I could put the oats in a plastic bag and then crush them with the rolling pin? Well, maybe if I <i>had</i> a plastic bag. I do actually have many plastic carrier bags rolled up under the sink, ready to use as bin liners, but none of them seemed quite clean enough. Then I remembered the loaf of bread in the fridge - that was in a plastic bag! I quickly re-wrapped the bread in tinfoil, tipped the crumbs out of the bag and re-filled it with the oats. I wasn't sure how fine I was supposed to crush them, but after I'd rolled them for a few minutes the bag started to get holes in, so I decided that was enough.<br />
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Right, what next? "Add warmed honey and orange flavouring and mix well. The mixture will be very sticky." Yes, it was. And rather gritty, so perhaps I should have rolled the oats a bit more. It was also too crumbly to roll into balls, as suggested by the recipe. All I could manage were unattractive sausage shapes, so I squidged them up a bit between my thumb and forefinger, so they looked more like mini granola bars and less like giant owl pellets.<br />
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I am now waiting for them to "set before serving" but it doesn't say how long I have to wait; an hour? 24 hours? until Hell freezes over? I'll probably wait until tomorrow, and if they're no good by then I'll leave them out for the bears.<br />
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<br />Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-31692005192758451332016-01-05T10:01:00.000+00:002016-01-05T10:01:36.730+00:00Decisions, decisionsI noticed recently <i>{well, for the last few months, actually}</i> that the inside of my washing machine smells a bit musty. This surprised me, as it's the only kitchen appliance that I use with any regularity or, indeed, competence. <i> {I do not class as 'kitchen appliances' any items that can reasonably be used in the bedroom, eg kettle or toaster.}</i> Also, since my previous washing machine died of the Black Death, I've been careful to dry the rubber bit inside the door after every use. Although I still can't decide whether to use yards of kitchen roll <i>{efficient, but extravagant with resources}</i> or a cloth <i>{re-useable, but pretty useless}</i>.<br />
So do I have to leave the door open now, when I'm not using the machine? This goes against every instinct I have; I don't think my OCD could stand it, it's probably terrible feng shui and, as anyone who's ever kept cats will know, you don't leave the washing machine door open. <i>{Or the toilet lid, but that's another story}</i>.<br />
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Ok, so I don't have a cat, but what about mice? How dreadful would it be to find a mouse spinning round in your knickers?<br />
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I know, I know, the chances of a mouse getting indoors, never mind climbing inside the washing machine, are rather remote... but then, I didn't ever think a bat could get in through my bedroom window. I have decided for now to continue drying the rubber seal with a cloth, leave the door open very slightly, and give the drum a good manual spin before every use. I think I shall use the dustpan brush to rotate the drum, just in case a mouse does drop out. Or perhaps I should get a cat after all.<br />
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Another thing I'd noticed lately is that I could do with some new glasses. I've had varifocals for some time but, since starting my new job, I've found them rather frustrating. I work in a museum now, where information is displayed at every level, from next to the floor right up to somewhere above my head. If I were to lie on the floor I could focus through the correct part of my lenses to read the lower texts, but it's too dark to see anything down there because of dim lighting to protect the artefacts. Also, I don't want to trip up the visitors.<br />
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I can read the higher displays by standing on tiptoes and lifting my glasses so that I'm looking through the right bit. In extreme cases I can manage by tipping my head back as well, but I don't think that gives a good impression either.<br />
Since new varifocals are rather expensive and I don't really need glasses for just walking around, I thought I'd try some cheap reading glasses from Poundland. <i>{Unfortunately I had to ask the assistant to help me find them, rather proving that I do need them all the time.}</i> They'd have been ok if I could have dealt with constantly putting them on and off, but I have to carry a two-way radio and often a cleaning cloth as well, so that didn't work. I tried keeping them on all the time and peering over the top, but that just made me dizzy. Eventually I decided to give in and get new varifocals, but with a larger lens, which I was assured would help. Thankfully, it does; I can now both walk and read reliably, but can't afford to go anywhere or buy any books.<br />
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Now that I can see properly, I realise that I can no longer put off buying a vacuum cleaner. My old one stopped working rather suddenly when we were clearing up after I had my new bathroom fitted, and I rather think it ate something that disagreed with it. I've managed without my own vacuum for nearly a year now, by borrowing one from my Beloved whenever I think I need to. He's been quite happy to bring it round whenever I've asked <i>{and sometimes even when I haven't}</i> but it rather takes the spontaneity out of housework, which is actually the only way I'll ever do any. If I don't deal with dust when I first see it, I get used to it and it never looks any worse. Also, his vacuum is a large, heavy upright, which I struggle to just <i>carry</i> upstairs, never mind about hanging on to while I <i>clean</i> the stairs.<br />
I have therefore decided on a lightweight, cordless model with a detachable hand-held bit for zapping hard to reach places. Apparently the battery only lasts for twenty minutes before it has to be recharged, but who on earth wants to be vacuuming for more than twenty minutes? Certainly not me!Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-7319190816384865272015-10-05T18:15:00.000+01:002015-10-05T18:15:01.161+01:00Lost in translationMy Beloved recently remarked that he'd quite like us to go on holiday to Germany next year, so I thought I'd better start learning a few useful words and phrases. OK, so I can already say 'the polar bear is in the fridge and he's eating all the cheese', but how often is that likely to come up?<br />
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Actually, I was pleased to realise that I appear to have picked up quite a few words in German over the years.<br />
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<i>{Although, to be fair, the dog probably knows more than I do, having sat through rather more hours watching the History Channel with my Beloved than I have.}</i><br />
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In the 1970s my mum had a German boss, and when he happily agreed to teach the language to his co-workers in the Accounts Department she used to wander round our flat pointing at things and muttering random numbers, so I can count up to 100. A teenage holiday with friends taught me how to ask about trains, and the polar bear turned up many years later when my daughter was revising for her GCSEs.<br />
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Since I'm probably going to need a bit more than that to get by next year, <i>{drei Eisbären im Kühlschrank, aber kein Käse}</i> I've found a free online course that seems quite good so far. After only a few days, I can confidently inform any German speaker who might be interested that I'm a woman, I'm eating bread and reading a book. Although that ought to be obvious and, if I was doing those things, it's unlikely that I'd want to start talking to anyone.<br />
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As you'd expect of a writer, I rather like words, and I did an online taster course in Welsh a couple of years ago. The presentation was similar to the German course, but the order in which the vocabulary was taught was completely different. I wonder if this has anything to do with the respective cultures of the countries concerned? I can ask the whereabouts of a number of things in Welsh - keys, cases, the bank, the hospital <i>{but, sadly, not understand the answer}</i>. In German, however, I can so far only make statements about people's gender <i>{and, to a limited degree, species}</i> and what they're eating, drinking and reading.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqm5zYkk27_UuTQWSMcfRJEjQvTwcJWCu-4YWYdxjdOhZdktDTqYlKEWwBjno_5bLjvVSpkZ1M-6aovF8PlQCkSCr0YntO-CJracc8TwQC7p9GfFgZZFqj4Si425kui0O52phalpGeaQw/s1600/lost+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqm5zYkk27_UuTQWSMcfRJEjQvTwcJWCu-4YWYdxjdOhZdktDTqYlKEWwBjno_5bLjvVSpkZ1M-6aovF8PlQCkSCr0YntO-CJracc8TwQC7p9GfFgZZFqj4Si425kui0O52phalpGeaQw/s1600/lost+woman.jpg" /></a></div>
Are the Welsh geographically challenged, or constantly losing things? Or do they just take delight in hiding things from foreigners?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvRKGUPvkzE7WfkClbRmD-MwaCTErVK5ikuTz5JZrGnZIO2piC0ffdhi1sSb-pEgEbx-7oUQTknIAbLlKLLCBlrMMAOkLl7EBUFSFE_M25Zy3cTgXeI09n_PrFhR4-QOi5f264qEhiE2o/s1600/man-311626_640.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="123.2" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvRKGUPvkzE7WfkClbRmD-MwaCTErVK5ikuTz5JZrGnZIO2piC0ffdhi1sSb-pEgEbx-7oUQTknIAbLlKLLCBlrMMAOkLl7EBUFSFE_M25Zy3cTgXeI09n_PrFhR4-QOi5f264qEhiE2o/s200/man-311626_640.png" width="160" /></a>Do the Germans not care where anything is, so long as they've got something to read and know if you're a man?<br />
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This apparent difference in basic philosophy might explain a mystery in my own family background. My great-grandmother was Welsh, and her husband was German. When he filled in the 1911 census, he recorded her as a lunatic!<br />
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In French lessons at school, the first verb we were taught, after 'to be' was, 'to have'. In German, however, whilst 'to be' still comes first, 'to have' is only the fifth verb I have encountered. Eating and reading appear to be much more important. And the second most important verb? To drink! I'm starting to look forward to next year's holiday!<br />
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<br />Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-34513051794318218422015-09-16T22:38:00.000+01:002015-09-17T09:48:57.611+01:00Going undercoverI was following a woman in Hull this morning.... that sounds bad! I wasn't stalking her, just happened to be behind her and going in the same direction. Anyway, she looked a bit different <i>{Honestly, I've never seen her before - I mean different from other people that I've seen recently}</i> and I realised that it was what she was wearing.... a chunky-knit woolly cardigan. And she wasn't the only one - other people were wearing them too. Suddenly it's autumn!<br />
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Perversely, for someone who feels the cold as much as I do, I love this season. It's still warm enough to go outdoors occasionally, but with a sharpness in the air that's just enough to make you remember you're alive. It's a time of fresh starts, and new exercise books and, yes, woolly jumpers. I no longer have to dither about getting dressed or packing to go away, wondering if I'll need to take a jumper; I'm already wearing two.<br />
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<i>{Interesting semantic point here; what I, probably quaintly, call a jumper, others would call a sweater or possibly a pullover. Although I suspect that, if we're being picky, pullovers don't have sleeves. Now 'sweater' and 'pullover' I understand - the names make sense in terms of the garment in question. But 'jumper'? The only connection I can come up with is that it refers to the sheep that the wool came from. Not that sheep jump a lot, except when they're very young, and then it's more like bouncing. I suppose it could lead to all sorts of unfortunate misunderstandings if we called those garments 'bouncers'.}</i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b> </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b><a href="http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/655806" target="_blank">Picture:</a> © Copyright <a href="http://www.geograph.org.uk/profile/5089" rel="cc:attributionURL dct:creator" title="View profile">Derek Harper</a> and
licensed forreuse under this <a class="nowrap" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/" rel="license">Creative Commons Licence</a></b></span></div>
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Another reason I don't have to think about what to put on is that I have a new job, for which I have to wear a uniform - and it includes a lovely thick sweatshirt and a fleece. I've never had a fleece before. I'd seen them, obviously, but never felt the need of one; they're what you wear for hiking, surely, and other general outdoorsy stuff. And then there are the other kind of fleeces... one of my most surreal experiences was when I went to see a Queen tribute band a few years ago, and noticed that most of the audience were wearing fleeces with pictures of animals on them.<br />
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So I've tended to dismiss the idea of ever owning one myself, but I have to admit I'm a convert. It's so cosy! And it has pockets to keep my hands warm in! <i>{You will be relieved to learn that my fleece is plain dark blue, and the only picture on it is a discreet logo.}</i> I don't want to wear it all the time though, so now I'm home for the day I've wrapped myself up in <a href="http://valsoldblog.blogspot.com/2014/02/keep-warm-for-just-pennies.html" target="_blank">my blanket</a> rather than put the heating on. It is only September, after all!<br />
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<i>{After I wrote this I tried cooking some pasta sauce, but that didn't feel like a good idea to be doing while wrapped in a blanket.... so I gave in and switched on the heating.}</i><br />
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<i> </i>Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-24179216407775241462015-09-08T12:38:00.000+01:002015-09-08T12:38:50.872+01:00Two B'sI was rather worried a few weeks ago, when I awoke to a loud buzzing sound. No, not.. um.. electrical equipment. "It must be a bee", I thought. "At least it can't get in." I have the sort of windows that you can lock open, leaving just a tiny gap. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWgKZPCqF934FBoVG4TKDbayq6dyCAacpD3rAYGMcEzld-Ce6QZy5liN4LYf_bAhHUORqzEgSjwuUxcq_apfl9y1d6HK1YhYycLVtNxdLCS8c17yVWIdHivOjhyphenhyphen0ycC1nqB-oXzrGif-k/s1600/DSC_0022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWgKZPCqF934FBoVG4TKDbayq6dyCAacpD3rAYGMcEzld-Ce6QZy5liN4LYf_bAhHUORqzEgSjwuUxcq_apfl9y1d6HK1YhYycLVtNxdLCS8c17yVWIdHivOjhyphenhyphen0ycC1nqB-oXzrGif-k/s200/DSC_0022.jpg" width="112" /></a><br />
Nothing can get through there, especially the giant bees we get here in the north. They're probably wearing three extra jumpers under their coats, to keep warm. I know I have to.<br />
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When I woke properly, about an hour later, there was an enormous furry bumble bee sitting in the aforesaid gap. It has been unseasonably warm this summer, so perhaps this one wasn't wearing so much.<br />
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Now, you have to understand that I have a horror of anything with wings. <i>{Including planes, and those rather creepy armchairs you find in gentlemen's clubs. I can just about deal with owls, so long as they're folded up.}</i> so it took a few minutes of me going "Eeeew!" and flapping my hands about before I could bring myself to summon up all my courage and open the window properly. The bee didn't move. Perhaps it was dead, but I still wasn't going to touch it. I huffed and puffed for a bit, but eventully managed to blow it out of the window.<br />
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OK, so what were the chances of something like that happening again? Pretty slim, I thought, so I decided to risk leaving the window locked open. It is only a very small gap, after all. Also, I have fairly substantial roller blinds; even if another insect did get in, it's unlikely to get past that and actually into the room while I slept.<br />
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Imagine my feelings, then, when I glanced at the candle lamp on my windowsill the other morning....<br />
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..... and saw a little furry bat lying in the sand.<br />
<i>{I know, I know, I should have taken a picture at the time. I was a bit preoccupied.}</i><br />
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Surely it couldn't have got in through the window? It was about the size of an egg, for goodness sake! With wings. However, a rapid survey of the ceiling confirmed that there were no holes, and the bedroom door is such a tight fit that I have to use both hands to close it. That left only one possibility - a bat, an actual bat, had clambered in through my bedroom window in the middle of the night. Eeeeeeeee! I managed to get close enough to slide my tea tray over the top of the vase, then called my Beloved to take it all away.<br />
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Hmm... so that's two occasions on which something brown and furry has climbed in through my bedroom window in the night, and they do say that things come in threes. At least burglars aren't generally known for being brown and furry, so I can only hope that the next thing isn't a bear!<br />
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Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-27222876582167639132014-11-13T15:09:00.000+00:002014-11-13T15:09:52.910+00:00Life's little mysteries<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0czWkjv6uZzIkWUFnYr8vsR5ugRpnULIdxqSZNK1eDmQgLv9hOtaPWZxut5iPF4uMeukqY6M3rZCaYtHE6AVPQPpcCEUx0oCjvD9ehcdwAVkgYlxPwJBIldE4y6KqzHtYdWYukTsH7bs/s1600/balloon+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0czWkjv6uZzIkWUFnYr8vsR5ugRpnULIdxqSZNK1eDmQgLv9hOtaPWZxut5iPF4uMeukqY6M3rZCaYtHE6AVPQPpcCEUx0oCjvD9ehcdwAVkgYlxPwJBIldE4y6KqzHtYdWYukTsH7bs/s200/balloon+poster.jpg" width="164" /></a></div>
Now I like a balloon as much as the next person <b><i>{rather more, in fact, than a former colleague who had a genuine phobia of them}</i></b> but I find it difficult to believe that they'd be appropriate for ALL occasions. Surely not at funeral? Mind you, I've seen black ones with a skull and crossbones on in Wales <i><b>{<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Conwy-Pirate-Weekend/206436892797280?sk=timeline" target="_blank">Conwy</a>, I think - they're big on pirates there}</b></i> but they'd probably be a bit too Gothy for most people. On reflection though, I rather fancy white balloons for my funeral - the gathered multitudes could release them all together... ooh, and maybe tie a card on each one with my picture, and give a prize for the one that went the furthest! Ok, praps not.<br />
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Anyway, when I pointed out this sign to some friends the other night, we found it surprisingly difficult to think of an occasion that wouldn't be enhanced by a balloon. I did wonder about grocery shopping but was told by everyone, very firmly, that this is not an 'Occasion'. <b><i>{My friends get out rather more than I do.}</i></b> Besides, shopping is such a grim experience, anything to cheer it up gets my vote.<br />
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Which brings me to Mystery Number One: Why do most of us find balloons so attractive? And are there any occasions where they would always be wrong?<br />
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We went on to the pub. <i><b>{Yes, we did have the previous conversation when we were all stone cold sober.}</b></i> After a while, one of our group went to the Ladies, and came back giggling. "You've got to see this," she told me. And she was right. It was a bit tricky trying to get far enough away to take the picture, but I knew I had to share this.<br />
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Mystery Number Two: If you were in the toilet looking for the paper, however drunk you might be, why would you not look in the dispenser first? More worryingly, what else would you think might be in the large metal box on the wall of the cubicle - snacks to appease the Toilet Monster?<br />
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After all that excitement, I decided to clear out my carrier bag drawer yesterday. <i><b>{Don't mock; you know you've got one as well.}</b></i> I'm not talking about the flimsy, supermarket bags that I use as kitchen bin liners; they're under the sink. The larger bags are supposed to share a drawer with the teatowels but, since I could no longer open the drawer fully I've had to poke the teatowels in with my fingertips, so the drawer didn't shut properly either.<br />
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This is what it looks like now.<br />
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You will note that I have kept a few bags; these were the more attractive and unusual ones, for when I have to use a bag and want to look as if I shop in interesting places.<br />
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And this is what I've taken out. <i><b>{My floor tiles are a good 30cm square.}</b></i><br />
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18 'bags for life'. This is probably an accurate prediction, as they never get reused.<br />
4 similar bags which make no claims for their durability, but seem pretty sturdy.<br />
7 thinner bags of average size.<br />
7 small ones from interesting shops, including 2 transparent ones- why did I ever think I'd use those again? If I use a small bag it's because I don't want people to see what's in it!<br />
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Mystery Number Three: Why do we all keep so many carrier bags? And why is it such a wrench to throw them away?<br />
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Oh, and Mystery Number Four: What in the name of all that's portable
did they expect to need carrier bags for in this establishment?<br />
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I really don't want to know... unless, of course, it's for balloons!Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-80294062343260052192014-10-08T16:03:00.000+01:002014-10-08T16:03:38.634+01:00Scraping the surface<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is my £15 rescue table, after two hours' work and an entire sheet of sandpaper. And you really don't want to see my fingernails! Perhaps next time I should wear my <a href="http://valsoldblog.blogspot.com/2014/04/butter-brandy-and-summer-gloves.html" target="_blank">gardening gloves</a> - the big stiff suede-y ones that are useless for gardening in.<br />
Yes, I know, it would probably be much easier to slap on a load of chemical gloop, and then scrape the varnish off, but I have my reasons for not doing that:<br />
<br />
1. I'd need an awful lot, and I can't afford to buy it. I'd need a scraper as well, since I don't think it would be a good idea to use cutlery, but I can't afford one of those either. That's why I only spent £15 on the table.<br />
2. I'd have to work outdoors, or with the windows open, so as not to be overcome by the fumes. I don't think so! It's autumn now, and damn cold; I don't intend opening my windows again until at least June next year. Besides, sandpapering has the added bonus of keeping me warm while I do it, so I can turn the heating off for a bit. I did need a bath afterwards, so I suppose that was no real gain in terms of cost, but at least I might have lost a bit of weight.<br />
3. My beloved suggested that the surface of the table might be veneer, rather than solid wood, so it might lift off or corrode if I used the gloop. However, he did treat me to the sandpaper. He really knows how to show a girl a good time!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOwaVXsVxBYA2_hZ1-ZzFHo_G_DZGq39YllLwpzKelhbHkYFa3P4OcXyWeTnrjVidNsB8yTdt5b-79R9Ms1jstVSWPaG50i9pchc4i0E7QkScmozBaYQC1ERgPZJx8dczkHBzf6I_FcDk/s1600/dressing+table.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOwaVXsVxBYA2_hZ1-ZzFHo_G_DZGq39YllLwpzKelhbHkYFa3P4OcXyWeTnrjVidNsB8yTdt5b-79R9Ms1jstVSWPaG50i9pchc4i0E7QkScmozBaYQC1ERgPZJx8dczkHBzf6I_FcDk/s1600/dressing+table.JPG" height="200" style="cursor: move;" width="82" /></a><br />
Why am I trying to renovate an old table anyway? Well, it's part of my
plan to transform my spare bedroom. When the table flaps are open it'll be a
good size for working on and, when they're folded down, it'll make a
much better dressing table than what I have in there at the moment, which is a mirror on top of a small laundry basket on top of a couple of wine boxes.<br />
The top of the mirror is only three feet off the ground, which is totally impractical unless you <i><b>really</b></i> want to know how big your bum looks. Which I don't.<br />
<br />
Incidentally, if you try sandpapering varnish off wood, do not, on any
account whatsoever, wipe the dust off with a damp cloth, even if you dry
it immediately. Why not? Because it will turn into snotty gunge that
makes the sandpapering even more difficult. <br />
<br />
My friend's husband owns an electric sander which I could have borrowed to do the table,
but I didn't think that would be a good idea. I have enough trouble
with the soup blender.<br />
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I thought it would be funny to draw an evil face on it, but now it won't wash off. Perhaps I should try the sandpaper. Or maybe I should make some soup, and see if that does the job. Oooh, I wonder if my spicy homemade soup would dissolve the varnish on the table!<br />
<br />Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-6247570586549802402014-10-02T15:39:00.000+01:002014-10-02T15:39:33.151+01:00Surprise ingredients<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Now that's what I call a well-balanced lunch, with something from every food group! Yes, I know a banana isn't an animal, so there's no protein, but I'm not planning on doing anything this afternoon that would require using any energy, so that's ok. Oooh, I've just checked, and bananas <b><i>do</i></b> contain protein! Only about 1.1g per 100g apparently, but that's allegedly 2% of my daily requirement. And there's protein in the biscuits too! One biscuit has the same amount of protein as a banana, so I'm up to 10% now. Only another 45 bananas to go then, although it would be much easier <i><b>{sadly, far too easy}</b></i> to eat 45 more biscuits. Mind you, I'm now up to 40% of my recommended daily intake of vitamin B6, so perhaps I'd better not have any more of either just yet. Although it would be a good excuse, if I were to be arrested for staggering around in an uncoordinated way in a public place. <i><b>{</b><b>No, of course I haven't been drinking, Officer. I've just overdosed on bananas.}</b></i><br />
<br />
So that's fruit, fibre, vitamins and carbohydrate taken care of. More fruit in the yoghurt and, of course, fat and dairy. Except that, now I come to read the side of the pot, the yoghurt is fat-free. How can this be?! It's so creamy! More to the point, why can't I buy it in England?<br />
<br />
To be honest, I'm not sure that there's any milk in the yoghurt either, because I've thrown away the cardboard from the multi-pack it came in, and it was in French anyway. However, I did have some milk in my tea, so that's alright then. I shall just have to force myself to have some chocolate later to boost my fat intake for the day.Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-65006816929536783142014-09-23T12:10:00.000+01:002014-09-24T15:06:17.085+01:00Wash & goI've just been in the bathroom, and there are a load of black hairs all over the floor. Not surprising really, as there are a load of black hairs all over my head. <i><b>{Although fewer than there were before, evidently.}</b></i> The worrying part is that the last time I was in there I got down on my hands and knees with some tissue and cleaning fluid, and wiped the floor very thoroughly. It was completely hair-free, so where did the new lot come from? Now, I know there's a cocoa fairy and a cheese fairy in my house, because quite often in the evenings these refreshments appear next to me, as if by magic. But I don't think I want a hairy fairy going round collecting up random strands and spreading them on the bathroom floor. She probably thinks that's where the hair belongs, as there's often so much there.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><b>{Oh my goodness, <a href="http://www.appszoom.com/iphone-games/action/beauty-salon-wars-pro-hairy-fairies-vs-makeup-wizards-by-best-top-free-games-for-girls_jbtkd.html" target="_blank">Hairy Fairies</a> actually exist! You can find anything on Google! Caution: I have no idea what the app is like, or even if it's safe; I just like the picture.}</b></i></span><br />
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I've been away from home quite a lot lately, so it was rather nice to be in my own bathroom again. <i><b>{When I say 'bathroom', I mean the room with the bath in it. I'm English.}</b></i> My friends are all very hospitable, with perfectly nice bathrooms, but I never feel really at ease using someone else's facilities. For one thing, you can never be entirely confident about the lock on the door, however substantial it appears. I don't have a problem with nudity - regular readers will know that it's clothes that I find difficult to deal with. There's a TV programme called <a href="http://www.channel4.com/programmes/how-to-look-good-naked" target="_blank">'How To Look Good Naked'</a>. I'd prefer one called 'How To Find Clothes That Don't Make You Look Lumpy, Frumpy Or Grumpy'. No, planned nudity in an appropriate place is fine by me. Being surprised in an unflattering position isn't.<br />
<br />
So when I'm in someone else's house I tend to rush a bit, and don't stick to my normal washing routine. <i><b>{Yes, I have a routine. That's because I'm rarely fully awake first thing in the morning, so it's easier to be on automatic.}</b></i> Stepping into an unfamiliar and unpredictable shower I take gel and scrubby net thing, but forget to take soap as well so I can't wash my face. <i><b>{I learned this time-saving trick from a friend, who also brushes her teeth in the shower, but I feel that wouldn't be advisable with an electric toothbrush.}</b></i> I'm then so keen to get dressed that I forget to use toner on my face as well, so my moisturiser sinks in to my open, grubby pores and clogs them up even more. Then I realise, when fully dressed, that I've forgotten to use deodorant. My face can take its chances, but I won't risk being smelly, so that means taking at least some clothes off again, and I can hear footsteps outside.... aaargh!<br />
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Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-67804048030008490262014-09-16T11:09:00.000+01:002014-09-16T11:09:56.216+01:00Heinous in blue jeansThe healthy eating plan appears to be working, to some extent at least. <b><i>{<a href="http://valsoldblog.blogspot.com/2013/02/bring-me-flesh-and-bring-me-wine.html" target="_blank">Wine</a> counts towards my '5-a-day', right? Not too sure about <a href="http://valsoldblog.blogspot.com/2013/03/a-well-balanced-meal.html" target="_blank">orange jelly</a>, but jam's got to be ok.}</i></b><br />
<br />
Anyway, the good news is that I can now get into my old jeans again. The bad news is, now that I come to look at them properly, <i><b>{rather than weeping, screwing them up into a ball and throwing them across the room}</b></i> I see that the fabric is now so thin <i><b>{ok, stretched and worn}</b></i> in some places that I can see right through it. My beloved pointed out that many people wear jeans with 'designer rips' in them, but they're usually on the front, round the knees, not... higher up. And although I'm pleased that my hips are a little smaller now, I really don't want to show the world. There was nothing for it, I'd have to buy a new pair.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWC-uKOIPLM3AqN13KXSSfWBlc5ZfJ-fZUQW-C8YtdIbX0jXvkHppuPUvhe0qrqpLEs9slWCaxpc7DV9EP9Do2l47zhCIBcgvk1-lq49fRnijUtdtwZwXMiMCV3vUgDIJ5mfB_Nh1nJuQ/s1600/jeans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWC-uKOIPLM3AqN13KXSSfWBlc5ZfJ-fZUQW-C8YtdIbX0jXvkHppuPUvhe0qrqpLEs9slWCaxpc7DV9EP9Do2l47zhCIBcgvk1-lq49fRnijUtdtwZwXMiMCV3vUgDIJ5mfB_Nh1nJuQ/s1600/jeans.jpg" height="320" width="177" /></a>Regular readers will know that I don't like shopping. But surely jeans, that most basic of garments, should be easy to buy. After all, I actually knew, for once, exactly what I wanted; something similar to the style of jeans I've been wearing since I was 16. <i><b>{Not the same pair, obviously.}</b></i> Pale blue denim, boot cut. <i><b>{Or, as they were described in those days, flared.}</b></i> <br />
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The trouble is, it's now apparently autumn, so the only pale blue jeans I could find in the shops were actually leggins. There were many pairs of dark jeans, apparently the only acceptable colour for the colder months ahead, but they were also 'skinny fit'.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2r6hZAtXCFJ0Q6TBXIjxW8NTDW594G9t18jiaNjTwgyQVpkb-reM0pO8AdMtlDU_iTz9wttDVBDmglqfdecekkS9lpvZmis6Ad9GFJSTfjVjRIfTGHC8bsnVQiVlVA_VDIUSO-5sPmo/s1600/Grandma.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2r6hZAtXCFJ0Q6TBXIjxW8NTDW594G9t18jiaNjTwgyQVpkb-reM0pO8AdMtlDU_iTz9wttDVBDmglqfdecekkS9lpvZmis6Ad9GFJSTfjVjRIfTGHC8bsnVQiVlVA_VDIUSO-5sPmo/s1600/Grandma.gif" /></a>Now, I have nothing against leggins; I own several pairs. But they only work with a long, baggy top, otherwise they look, as my grandmother would have said, like you've forgotten your skirt. Besides, I haven't had a summer holiday this year, so I'm still in strappy-top mode.<br />
<br />
I did consider trying my favourite retail outlets, the charity shops - of which there are many in this town. However, any jeans I could find in there would probably be just as worn out as the ones I already had. Besides, jeans have to be tried on, and charity shop changing rooms aren't usually very private. Yes, you can return purchases, but I always feel rather mean doing that. I know it's less than a fiver, but if I could afford to donate that amount to charity I wouldn't be shopping there in the first place.<br />
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In the end I went home, rummaged through my wardrobe and, to my great delight, found another old pair of jeans.... that I can also get into again now! Just about. Provided I wear a long, baggy top.Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1371073601799741244.post-79827082921426942362014-08-22T14:25:00.000+01:002014-08-22T14:25:19.389+01:00Noises offAt first, I thought the rhythmic thumping I could hear was my next door neighbour, um.... enjoying some quality time with a special friend. Our walls are rather thin, which is a bit of a worry, as I now realize that he can probably hear me singing in the shower. Then I noticed that the banging noise continued, even when he wasn't there. Maybe it was his washing machine then? But no, it can't be that; it's been going on continuously during the day for the last couple of weeks at least. And whilst my neighbour's clothes always look clean, how much washing can a single man in his twenties need to do? <b><i>{My <a href="http://valsoldblog.blogspot.com/2012/12/channelling-adam.html" target="_blank">inner Adam</a>, being about 15, has no thoughts on this.}</i></b><br />
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Maybe the noise was coming from the house on the other side? By which, of course, I mean the house on the other side of mine, not some ghostly dwelling that may formerly have occupied this plot of land. My other next door neighbour is an older lady. Oh dear, maybe she's stuck in bed and is pounding on the floor with a walking stick, like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madame_Fanny_La_Fan" target="_blank">Madam Fanny</a> in 'Allo Allo', calling out, "Will no-one attend to the banging of a poor old woman!"<br />
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Fortunately, that's proved not to be the case either, as I've seen her up and about on many occasions while the noise continues.<br />
<br />
Actually, I've worked out what the persistent, Chinese drip noise is now. There's a new shopping centre being built about half a mile away, and what I can hear is some sort of boomping machine doing pile driving <i><b>{As if I know what that is}</b></i>. Apparently, the works are due to be finished 'before Christmas 2015'. Oh joy.Val Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10628021333558743692noreply@blogger.com2