Rattling On...

Pretty in pink...

My love of hydrangeas has been well documented on this here blog. But my favourite part of the flower is that little bit in the middle.

It starts off as a tiny blob and later on pops open to reveal...

...paraphenalia.

I am posting about pretty flowers to distract me from the havoc the weather has wreaked outside or, to be more precise, the work that has been generated. To be fair loads of people have been stricken with wind-related damage, but that doesn't make me feel any better. And it was hail stoning yesterday. The heating is back on and the fire was lit last night. Summer's coming.

Dodgy hair day...

Freezing fog. Beautiful I suppose, except I have the sort of hair that responds badly to moisture. Accordingly, I like looking at it through the window but dread going out in it.

Funny stuff, hair. you can feel like a million dollars until you glance in a mirror or shop window and notice it's all gone awry. Or you've rubbed you eyes and mascara is smeared everywhere. Or you have bits in your teeth and no-one is kind enough to mention it.

Or, and I speak with a certain amount of authority here, you are at a swanky party in a rather lovely get-up. You nip to use the facilities and sweep back down the stairs to re-join the merrymaking. Where, fortunately, someone is kind and draws your attention to your drawers. And the fact your lovely get-up is tucked into the back of them. Yes, people really do do that.

I decided to brazen it out and guffaw whilst rearranging my finery. It lessened the embarrassment for both of us I feel. Possibly. In any case I was grateful he felt he could mention it instead of leaving me to look like a total tit.

In case you worry this may ever happen to you remember to wear nice pants, it's not only when being run-over that you may need them. And I have been run over as well, but mercifully I wasn't called upon to display my nethers at any point during the process. But that's another story.

Look who is sitting in the tree. It's Mr Crow from my garden. He doesn't have to worry about his coif or his knickers, lucky sod.

Queen for a day...

They know me so well...

Curly wurly...

I'm trying to walk as much as possible, I don't walk enough these days. You get to see much better things as well as hopefully some health benefits. And by health I mean the calorie burning potential of a good stride out.

When the weather gets a bit better I shall be getting the bike out and quite possibly riding it to work. Just got to find a suitable parking spot for it.

On a completely different tack, does anyone know the name of this?

It looks like a little fir tree that's growing as a bush, it's not been cut down from anything, and is maybe a foot high. Looks like it's spreading. Anyway, I want me some of it but need to know what it is first!

Is there or isn't there?

I like the pink ones. Frank the cat likes the white ones. Coco the dog will eat anything.

Is there actually any difference between them other than the obvious one? I feel there must be as I don't think the cat has a preference based on colour.

On pondering this question further I submitted it to the Mighty Google, there to find even a dedicated area to debate the issue, along with umpteen other variations of my query.

If you know the definitive answer then this is the place to share it, thus alleviating me of at least one of my worries. Another being that there is no difference and I just like the girly colour... Along with: are they all made in the same place, is there a standard size (it looks suspiciously like it to me) and did Marlon Brando use them in his cheeks in The Godfather? Try it, they work a treat.

Utility madness...

It was snowing this morning when I got up, but it's turned to rain now. I think that's a good thing.

It's one of those days where the rain is light and constant with a strong wind. Which equals getting wet through whatever you do or wear, it just gets everywhere.

I want the weather to be good enough to be able to peg out the washing. It's not much to ask for, is it? This is partly as it smell better and partly because it's cheaper. I looked at the energy bills on-line yesterday. Guffaw!

I usually opt for denial and just leave the direct debit to roll on out but on Friday I had a call. 'We'd like to make an appointment to fit a new gas meter'. Oh? But we had a new one last year. 'Ummm, well it'll be the electric meter as well this time. Smart meters that send in readings for you. And you can have a display unit so you know what you're using.'

I know what I'm using. A lot. Too bloody much. But it's cold and wet, we don't want to die or wear mildewed clothes. So they can stick their display unit quite literally where the sun doesn't shine. I can live in even deeper denial, not even having to look at the meters any more, never mind let some man in that won't take off his mucky boots (and doesn't like dogs).

We don't have a water meter. It would be a hideous irony to fit one here. If they ever threatened it I'd just run the guttering into the kitchen and bypass the street supply completely. Or shower outside in the back garden. Our very odd neighbour at our last house used to wait until it was pelting it down and rush out to the car with a bucket of sudsy water. He scrubbed at the car and left the rain to rinse it all off. Or is that actually sensible?

Round up...

Poach pods. Another silicone product I've scorned a bit in the past. But guess what? They actually do work, and the tops of the eggs cook better if you put a lid on the pan. Cutting edge investigative reporting for you all.

The snow has just about gone now, helped on its way by an impessive thunderstorm at 4.30am yesterday. It was like someting in the films, much crashing overhead and very, very bright. Everyone was talking about it. Even while it was happening, and I was watching the lightning from my bedroom window, it struck me that probably most people in town were awake at that particular moment.

An email came out to all staff the other day from a colleague who volunteers at an animal shelter. They have had an influx of small rodents and desperately need cages. As our hamster died recently I offered the large cage and accessories. Last night I cleaned and disinfected it and she came and collected it all. I have to say that I'd never thought of donating cages and things to shelters, though I often send old towels and such as they get through loads of them with dogs and are always grateful.

And one other good thing. On Tuesday morning, before it was properly light, I could hear the blackbirds in a frenzy outside the kitchen window, they were swooping about and chattering like mad. The rowan tree is in front of the window and there on the bottom branch, fluffed up and gazing at me through the window, sat a rather gorgeous owl. He of the screeching I imagine. The mice live at the bottom of the tree so no guessing why he chose there to take a break.

That's the mice who've been in my outhouse and shredded the lagging on the outside water pipe, shredded my garden kneeler and eaten all the tulip bulbs I forgot to plant in the autumn...

Don't call us...

So much for buying a fire screen...

This is what originally came broken, but has now been replaced. My phone now isn't working, and the internet is patchy. I think these things are connected, possibly to the large hole at the end of the road surrounded by telecoms vehicles.

I phoned my mobile provider and complained about my phone. 'Is it raining?' asked the rep. What a silly question, do you know where I live? 'Only rain is the worst enemy of mobile signals. That and trees. Unless there's a crane or something nearby.'

I can only assume it's some kind of festive game they play with callers. See What You Can Fob Them Off With, the new game by Waddingtons for players from 8 to 80.

Yes, it's raining. Yes, there are umpteen trees. No, I hadn't noticed a crane but it's dark most of the day; due to the rain and possibly the trees. 'Pull the battery and call back tomorrow if you still have a problem.'

Thanks for that. I'll also try dancing naked round the pond at midnight, lying on top of a wardrobe and putting it in a jar of Marmite. All of which, I'm reliably informed, are magnificent signal-boosters.

On the buses...kawaii style

How cute is this? It's a little electric 'tram', that holds eight people and will be giving tours around town in the new year.

It's also available for hire, which makes me seriously wonder what exactly I could hire it for. To be honest I'd love to drive it around all day, it's sort of safe and manageable, eco and dinky all in one vintage package.

Regarding yesterday's post about real men, have you seen the new adverts for a certain sauce? Take a look here...

Real men...

In My World all bears are men, or male in any case. This does not mean they can't occasionally wear feathers (see above) or a dress if the situation demands.

My friend and I went to see a production of Dombey and Son recently, a very misogynistic bit of literature if I may say so. Anyway, the demographic of the rest of  the audience may best be described as retired gentlefolk, we stood out by our comparative youth, a pleasant experience for once!

A rather flambouyant gentleman kept getting up and trying out any empty seats, attempting to get a better view or something best known to him. At the interval he sat down next to the couple in front of us.

I think he asked them something along the lines of whether they came to the theatre often, and the man replied to the effect that they did indeed, and they were coming again very soon to see Julian Clary.

'What's that?' Enquired Flambouyant. 'He' replied Ordinary Man 'is the homosexual. And he dresses like one.' I was interested on a couple of levels here. The homosexual implied there is only one, which is obviously why he's on tour. And as for dressing like one...I wonder if he was thinking of Eddie Izzard, who dresses like, well whatever he fancies. Flambouyant Man didn't offer any interjection and simply got up and moved seats again. Most telling.

Try Googling 'Real men definition' if you want a good laugh. Or a cry.

Where have all the scrubbers gone?

I hate it when the supermarkets gang up and stop selling my favourite products. This has happened again recently. With washing up sponges.

I know a lot of you probably couldn't give a monkey's doo dah what you wash up with, or maybe you have a dishwasher and never even give it a thought? I, however, care deeply.

There is an art to my washing up. Very hot water, loads of bubbles (very important bit), rubber gloves (well pvc, latex free...) and a good sponge/scourer. And a Brillo pad if necessary.

My weapon of choice is the Vileda Active Wave, with a sponge on one side and an interestingly textured rubbery reverse. Scrubbing heaven, and non-stick-safe as well.

For some unknown reason these cannot be got for gold round here and I have had to order from the internet. If Santa happens to be reading, a year's supply of these wouldn't go amiss. Vileda aren't paying me for this endorsement, either.

I like a cartain brand of washing up liquid as well, it makes excellent bubblage and smells of, well, soap. I don't want it to smell like I'm on a tropical island, in a country garden, or a salt mine. If you need to delude yourself that you are actually scuba-diving off the Great Barrier Reef and the scent of hibiscus is wafting in on the breeze, then you need locking up.

I could splodge around in good, thick, soapy water for hours on end. I was always forced to do the drying when at home, my sibling got to wash up. Now I have my own home I can choose to wash the pots and then, and I hope my Mother isn't reading...and then leave them to air dry. I know, controversial or what? And I don't use hand sanitiser either.

Bags of fun...

The picture is just a reminder that yesterday and the day before we had lovely blue skies. This morning I got up to gloom and sleet, the sky is still a strange colour so snow later wouldn't surprise me. In fact it would cheer me up as it always brightens the place up!

So to yesterday's speaker. It was ok, entertaining enough but nothing revelatory, or at least not to me who deals almost exclusively with behavioural issues. He had been a teacher at many levels and of different agegroups and I got the feeling he was also a very nice person. In the end, when dealing with anyone (and especially young poeple) being nice can make such a difference.

His funniest anecdote was from his days as an NQT, when one of his Education lecturers gave a final piece of hands-on classroom advice. 'Always remember, a room full of 14 year olds could kill you if they wanted.'

I spent last evening decorating and bagging dozens of biscuits for today's PTA stall. I decided to use chocolate instead of icing as it sets quicker. Wrong. I then had to stand guard in the kitchen so no felines went near the table where they were all laid out. You thought watching paint dry was boring? Anyway, they look quite apealing.

I also decided to make some cinder toffee, trebling the amounts... when I poured the gloop onto my laid-out baking parchment it was like volcanic flow, and kept going and going- heading towards the edge of the worktop and doom. Not a pretty sight and maybe doubling would be better portion control in future. In case you were thinking of going for it.

Twinkle, twinkle...

There has been just an inkling of sunshine, a welcome break from what seemed like ceaseless rain and wind. The bitter cold has come along with the light but you can't have everything.

My car was frozen solid all day yesterdayand there were lots of traffic problems due to all the run-off from the hills freezing on the roads. Black ice, ungritted roads.

Last night I stayed late in school baking for the PTA event on Saturday, today is an inset day. We are to be treated to a morning with a guest speaker, a behaviour expert. I have no idea whether this man has ever walked the walk in school, but he'll talk the talk today and we'll take it from there.

A change is as good as a rest they say, but I'm not convinced. A rest would be nice.

Project... before

Six old chairs in the hall, a fire surround bought for a song on Ebay and one ugly mother of a sideboard all waiting for a makeover.

You can see in the top picture where the previous owners have ripped out the old fireplace and roughly added non-matching skirting. The tiles are all in the garden, smashed to smithereens. Why would anyone do that?

As my budget is severely limited this project will all be smoke and mirrors, a bit of a style job. My wonderful Dad is helping me with the harder bits, stuff he has a lot of experience doing. Making new bits of skirting 'match' the Victorian stuff took longer than you would imagine. It's just not possible to get off the shelf replacement now, and I can't run to custom made at the moment.

So, here you can see the surround with a back added (not fully decided what's going in there yet...) and the gap at each side for re-modelled skirting and plenty of filler! There's also a notional hearth which may have been a good idea, or may just get in the way. But anyway it's there.

I reckon there's a fair few hours of painting to be done, in the gloom that's pervading at the moment, with some re-shuffling of rugs and oddments. I know what I'd like it to look like, I have a vision. It doesn't really include woodchip paper, but that'll have to stay for now and we'll keep the dimmer switch on low!!

An 'after' post will be coming up. One day. Hopefully at the end of this week...

Moss...

It's been a good year for moss. I can attest to this via observation, my garden is being overwhelmed by it. The drive has a spongy verdant coating and the lawn, the thing formerly known as a lawn, is now a bog garden. It's all over the trees and walls.

Moss is exceptionally absorbant, it used to be dried and used as field dressings for soldiers. It has also (and still is in some places ) been used as sanitary pads and nappies.

I have raked it out of the lawn, leaving loads of bare patches, but haven't tackled the path and drive as it looks so lovely. But it's also very slippy so it'll have to go. I'm going to try and dry it out in the greenhouse over winter and then it can be used in pots and baskets next year, as liners and decoration.

I sometimes wonder how long it would be before nature, if left unchecked, reclaimed everywhere for herself. Based on how far she got this summer I suspect it wouldn't take very long.