The horrible cold/flu/lurgy has gone, HURRAH! Just in time for me to be human when Gordon and Barbara came to visit so I've had a really great couple of days with them. They delivered HUGE boxes from Kath & Steve, with post-its and printed labels to identify whose Christmas present was which and they were all amazing. She'd told me she'd got hundreds of plastic balls for a ball pool for the children but I'd forgotten until I had to convince Alex that blowing up (oops - inflating!) a 5ft by 4ft plastic car in my living room was just not going to happen. So I had a tide of coloured plastic balls whirling through the living room instead.
Paul fixed up my PC and installed windows from Sid's copy, and apart from endless Gates updates it seems to be working fine, I just need to re-install all the various bits of software I'm used to using and maybe get the wireless thingie working too. We all thoroughly enjoyed the time with Paul and the children especially since I think the living room was mysteriously tidier after they'd put away all their toys etc than it was when they arrived. Poor Alex was quite disappointed to find that the huge ball of scrunched up wrapping paper wasn't actually another present.
Mysteriously, it got to be 4am before Gordon and I realised the time, by discovering that the PC clock was set to Pacific time instead of GMT. I organised a 2ft square space in the house by deciding to release books on bookcrossing with the intention of giving them to G/B to take with them as the first step on their journey.
I had the pleasure of being chauffeured over to Rachel's in MK yesterday afternoon, enjoying looking at all that english countryside instead of the road on our way over to see see all of the Gordon/Barbara side of the family except Mark and Blair in the same place at the same time. Imagine - one house, three of five adult children, their partners, all eleven grandchildren, the grand grandparents and me, the eccentric auntie. It was great. I'd spent all the day before tottering around the house in five inch heels to break in the fabulous new shoes Dee gave me for Christmas and Barbara declared I should wear them to Rachels to maintain my image so it felt like everyone else was about knee high on me. Well, OK, my nephews are all 6ft or over but they spent most of the afternoon being horses or wheelbarrows so it came to the same thing. Some of the books are already heading for Lincoln with Becky so maybe the whole bookcrossing movement will have another little surge of interest.
Quick stop at Tesco on the way back to pick up bite bits to go with the wine and cheese, and another extended evening of wine and chat till we realised it was already nearly 2am and it felt *early*. Baby toad-in-the-hole thingies are gorgeous, Creme Brulee with cream with a couple or four bottles of rather naice wine. We left the blini's till breakfast this morning and I feel all sad that my unexpected company have gone now, only back to MK for the moment but back to Aberdeen on Saturday. I *think* I have them half-persuaded to change their minds about the Rammy, it just wouldn't be the same without them, so watch that space! Watch out for the new Rammy feature that arrived in one of the huge boxes too ;)
Children this afternoon too (ahhhhhhh I feel so spoiled!) and off up to town this evening for a different NYE. Rotten shame I have to work on Friday, but that's next year so who cares?
Before the Bells, before the phone lines jam, before the fireworks - here's wishing everyone a fabulous Hogmanay and everything good for 2009
X
Wednesday 31 December 2008
Saturday 27 December 2008
On the third day of Christmas
Well into a small season of Simon R Green and enjoying every word: not enjoying the cold I developed on Christmas Day (which was rather wonderful in a nicely quiet way)and the lurgy held off till evening which was a mercy.
Constant sneezing will keep me out of the shopping trail though and probably save me a fortune.
Constant sneezing will keep me out of the shopping trail though and probably save me a fortune.
Monday 22 December 2008
Relaxed and happy
Despite the various issues clouding, or attempting –unsuccessfully- to cloud my life, I’m happy!
Just got over a minor panic when I looked at my bank statement online and saw a payment of just over £1k from my company. The immediate thought was that I’ve somehow suffered an horrendous paycut, been raided by the taxman or something equally evil and unavoidable. A moment’s thought, backed up by, unusually, opening my payslip, determined that the payment was expenses and I still have a salary payment to come in this month. Whew! I think it also means I’ve now collected all of the accumulated £7k+ expenses paid out for my living in corporate heaven so I’m back in funds and only out of pocket for the last week at the Hyatt and the test conference I went to the other week.
Having cheerfully avoided the formal and official company Christmas events, I had a lot more fun joining the dev team at the unlicensed and highly recommended Al Frash where I had fabulous food, my share of the bootleg run Chianti (cheers, John, good choice!) and rounded it off with a couple of glasses of gorgeous black sambucca before we all headed back to the hotel in a small fleet of taxis. The hotel bar staff remembered that I’ve started drinking Talisker and had it half-poured before my poor boss found out what I wanted to order. He was most put out when I asked for Corona later on when it was someone else’s round in the dance club we all went to. Silly really, the Talisker cost the same as a glass of wine would have done and I’d otherwise have been rather upset at someone swiping my drink while I was dancing. I wasn’t going to go clubbing, especially in company with ten guys but they said they needed a handbag to dance round so off we all went. I suspect the token girl thing was the reason they let us all in despite the several pairs of trainers and great amusement was had when we bumped into our biggest boss boogieing with a couple of local lasses. I declared an end to the evening and discovered it was already 2am but some of the others continued to the casino and were much worse for wear the next day despite almost everyone having won. Nearly forgot the amorous colleague, he didn’t follow me to my room this time, but did manage to extract the room number from reception and call me for a confused conversation with a few ‘sorry’s mixed in with pleas for me to come to his room or let him come to mine. Flattering but not enticing.
Last week saw my sudden but not unexpected exit from the Birmingham project I’ve been working on since April: no issue, the project is now live on the net and there’s nothing to do until they sign up for the next release. Boss’s boss blew the gaffe a bit early which meant I was better prepared for my own boss telling me what he needed me to do before I left and his being so relieved I wasn’t upset that he chanced venting his own angst about not being allowed to move to another project he really fancies. Meant I had only one whole working day left this year and I decided to leave the hotel booking for Wednesday night and enjoy a mini-holiday, complete with late checkout before spending the afternoon getting lost in Birmingham town doing some Christmas shopping.
Sometimes life just does lovely things for you, I’d taken my car back to the hotel deciding that one day’s parking was worth it rather than having to get a taxi back to the secure compound at the office so there I was, engine idling in the red devil, waiting to get to the frontage of the very busy hotel to try my luck, when one of my team fetched up and said I wouldn’t get in as she’d just been told she had to park at the NCP down the road. While she was talking to me, one of the porters came over to the car so I rolled down the window and asked, winsomely, if they had any space. “Course we have darlin’, you just spin it round and I’ll get someone to drop the chain on the car park”, he said. Giggling uncontrollably at the look on J’s face, I so did and walked the fifty yards to the hotel entrance to find her haranguing the porters who looked entirely unrepentant. Amazing what sharing a smile, a word and a couple of quid now and then can do for a girl, especially if she drives a sexy red sports car.
My last night in Brum involved a relaxed and friendly chefs special dinner with J, Bill and Claire at La Tasca, B&C gave me hyuuge Christmas wrapped pressie which they declared was for me and my not-partner to enjoy romantic picnics (in December?) then J and I retired to the Hyatt bar where I indulged in a Johnny Walker Blue Label: had to be tried. I’d looked at the price in Boisdales – over forty quid, had had some conversation with the barstaff in the Hyatt when I saw it on the back of their bar and established they only –only?- charge £28. So that was my farewell drink extravagance, and very nice it was too. Top shopping buy the following afternoon was some wonderfully elegant lingerie in TK Maxx which cost less than anything I might have bought in any cheap high street chain but had a price tag of almost two hundred. Smug! Meant I was able to feel incredibly elegant for my personal Christmas dinner with Mark at Boisdale on Friday. I’d even managed to find my grandmother’s pearls to wear with the wicked black dress. Understated for a change, I can do elegant when I try.
Train times and taxis sabotaged me in Aylesbury, not helped by my return-to-London ticket not working, OK the nice man checked it and let me through, only to discover at Marylebone that what I thought was an open return from Victoria on the 11th was actually a day return D’oh! However, British Rail came up trumps and let me through on the basis I did have the receipt for it, obviously hadn’t used it, and did happen to have my network railcard with me. Onward to a taxi, already past 7:30 for an 8 o’clock table –ouch. I’d called Mark and bleated that I had bags with me and didn’t want to meet him at the restaurant with them, so I gave the taxi driver the address and said I wanted him to wait and take us on to the restaurant. What a star he was! He asked what time the table booking was and hurtled through town via Marble Arch giving us enough time to do the bag exchange half-way up the stairs and be searching his book of knowledge for the restaurant. It really is walking distance and I think we did get to the restaurant on time. Well, I say ‘on time’, I think there may be a reason Mark gave me a wristwatch for Christmas. More of the usual lunacy when our faster than a speeding bullet driver put the fiver change on the little shelf almost before he'd been paid and we managed to fumble it enough that it started wafting gently up the road on it's own. Mark put his foot down and that was the end of the great escape.
The restaurant is lovely, and the food totally amazing. Deep gratitude to my boss’s boss’s boss for nominating me for the award that paid for most of it, we enjoyed every penny.
It wasn’t quite as up-market as I’d imagined, but they have a very relaxed attitude and it truly was an evening out rather than just a dinner. We had booked a table on the cigar terrace but didn’t have any trouble finding a seat even when we popped upstairs earlier than the booking. The table we used did have a reserved notice on it but if it was ours and they were managing it, it really was ‘as if by magic’. We we were quite disappointed when they closed it and we had to rough it smoking outside on the street.
There were some real types there, a chap chatting animatedly and heatedly, pacing up and down the terrace on his own without sign of phone or Bluetooth earbug to explain his agitation. Another waving a fat pink baton from Ann Summers and a real mish-mash of sartorial elegance and error. We did see the chattering chap in company with some other people later but he may simply have been standing near them and quiet for a change. Later in the evening, Mark gave a big bum hovering next to my face the bum’s rush, which wasn’t appreciated and involved a bit of a starefest until bigbum decided to take the hint. It almost got too exciting but the business of Mark’s refusal to sell me to the aristocracy deserves a surreal in ‘illa tag.
I’d noticed a couple of elderly types, all distinguished white hair and expensive clothes at a table across the room when we moved into the main bar to be closer to the Jazz. Later one of them wandered (or followed us?!)outside when we went for a cigarette. I can’t remember how we started talking but we did, and he declared himself to be the chairman of the CCC, up to town from the Isle of Wight for a regular meeting with his friend Shaun. My family (sounds so grand!) have a house on the island which we are free to use so we exchanged some chit-chat about the island, his job, and various other nonsense then we somehow ended up in a conversation where he declared his interest in me and was seriously putting the arm on me to ditch Mark and go off with him! Blink.
Pushy wasn’t the word. He said directly that I “didn’t want to go home with him , and should ‘come with me instead’”. It was screamingly funny. I glanced at Mark and tried not to laugh out loud while saying quite firmly that I did, indeed, want to go home with Mark. I foolishly said I was his mother when asked what we were to each other or similar and both BLOKES decided to believe me. Although this was certainly the deathknell of any shred of a chance he might have had, it still didn't seem to put my elderly admirer off at all, and should have earned Mark a clip round the ear, but I asked if he wanted to be known as a motherf*** instead and we managed to extricate ourselves elegantly even if I don’t remember quite how.
Real-time catching up now, am off round to Sid’s who has been prevented from nervous breakdown by the discovery that he’s not expected to cook Christmas dinner for anyone but me this year rather than me, Donna, Paula, Mark and anyone else his panic suggested. I’ve had a lovely few days in London, even got a Christmas card from Mark’s local, which is really sweet of them. I may remember to come back and blog up other bits and pieces: I begged indulgence to check out the shop opposite the pub for Sid’s Christmas present on our way to his friends housewarming and am really really pleased at what I’ve got for him but can’t say cos he’ll read this before Christmas day.
For those I love and care about who aren’t speaking to me: that makes me sad but doesn’t change my definitions of friendship. We’re all still the same people we were and I don’t have a past tense for caring.
Just got over a minor panic when I looked at my bank statement online and saw a payment of just over £1k from my company. The immediate thought was that I’ve somehow suffered an horrendous paycut, been raided by the taxman or something equally evil and unavoidable. A moment’s thought, backed up by, unusually, opening my payslip, determined that the payment was expenses and I still have a salary payment to come in this month. Whew! I think it also means I’ve now collected all of the accumulated £7k+ expenses paid out for my living in corporate heaven so I’m back in funds and only out of pocket for the last week at the Hyatt and the test conference I went to the other week.
Having cheerfully avoided the formal and official company Christmas events, I had a lot more fun joining the dev team at the unlicensed and highly recommended Al Frash where I had fabulous food, my share of the bootleg run Chianti (cheers, John, good choice!) and rounded it off with a couple of glasses of gorgeous black sambucca before we all headed back to the hotel in a small fleet of taxis. The hotel bar staff remembered that I’ve started drinking Talisker and had it half-poured before my poor boss found out what I wanted to order. He was most put out when I asked for Corona later on when it was someone else’s round in the dance club we all went to. Silly really, the Talisker cost the same as a glass of wine would have done and I’d otherwise have been rather upset at someone swiping my drink while I was dancing. I wasn’t going to go clubbing, especially in company with ten guys but they said they needed a handbag to dance round so off we all went. I suspect the token girl thing was the reason they let us all in despite the several pairs of trainers and great amusement was had when we bumped into our biggest boss boogieing with a couple of local lasses. I declared an end to the evening and discovered it was already 2am but some of the others continued to the casino and were much worse for wear the next day despite almost everyone having won. Nearly forgot the amorous colleague, he didn’t follow me to my room this time, but did manage to extract the room number from reception and call me for a confused conversation with a few ‘sorry’s mixed in with pleas for me to come to his room or let him come to mine. Flattering but not enticing.
Last week saw my sudden but not unexpected exit from the Birmingham project I’ve been working on since April: no issue, the project is now live on the net and there’s nothing to do until they sign up for the next release. Boss’s boss blew the gaffe a bit early which meant I was better prepared for my own boss telling me what he needed me to do before I left and his being so relieved I wasn’t upset that he chanced venting his own angst about not being allowed to move to another project he really fancies. Meant I had only one whole working day left this year and I decided to leave the hotel booking for Wednesday night and enjoy a mini-holiday, complete with late checkout before spending the afternoon getting lost in Birmingham town doing some Christmas shopping.
Sometimes life just does lovely things for you, I’d taken my car back to the hotel deciding that one day’s parking was worth it rather than having to get a taxi back to the secure compound at the office so there I was, engine idling in the red devil, waiting to get to the frontage of the very busy hotel to try my luck, when one of my team fetched up and said I wouldn’t get in as she’d just been told she had to park at the NCP down the road. While she was talking to me, one of the porters came over to the car so I rolled down the window and asked, winsomely, if they had any space. “Course we have darlin’, you just spin it round and I’ll get someone to drop the chain on the car park”, he said. Giggling uncontrollably at the look on J’s face, I so did and walked the fifty yards to the hotel entrance to find her haranguing the porters who looked entirely unrepentant. Amazing what sharing a smile, a word and a couple of quid now and then can do for a girl, especially if she drives a sexy red sports car.
My last night in Brum involved a relaxed and friendly chefs special dinner with J, Bill and Claire at La Tasca, B&C gave me hyuuge Christmas wrapped pressie which they declared was for me and my not-partner to enjoy romantic picnics (in December?) then J and I retired to the Hyatt bar where I indulged in a Johnny Walker Blue Label: had to be tried. I’d looked at the price in Boisdales – over forty quid, had had some conversation with the barstaff in the Hyatt when I saw it on the back of their bar and established they only –only?- charge £28. So that was my farewell drink extravagance, and very nice it was too. Top shopping buy the following afternoon was some wonderfully elegant lingerie in TK Maxx which cost less than anything I might have bought in any cheap high street chain but had a price tag of almost two hundred. Smug! Meant I was able to feel incredibly elegant for my personal Christmas dinner with Mark at Boisdale on Friday. I’d even managed to find my grandmother’s pearls to wear with the wicked black dress. Understated for a change, I can do elegant when I try.
Train times and taxis sabotaged me in Aylesbury, not helped by my return-to-London ticket not working, OK the nice man checked it and let me through, only to discover at Marylebone that what I thought was an open return from Victoria on the 11th was actually a day return D’oh! However, British Rail came up trumps and let me through on the basis I did have the receipt for it, obviously hadn’t used it, and did happen to have my network railcard with me. Onward to a taxi, already past 7:30 for an 8 o’clock table –ouch. I’d called Mark and bleated that I had bags with me and didn’t want to meet him at the restaurant with them, so I gave the taxi driver the address and said I wanted him to wait and take us on to the restaurant. What a star he was! He asked what time the table booking was and hurtled through town via Marble Arch giving us enough time to do the bag exchange half-way up the stairs and be searching his book of knowledge for the restaurant. It really is walking distance and I think we did get to the restaurant on time. Well, I say ‘on time’, I think there may be a reason Mark gave me a wristwatch for Christmas. More of the usual lunacy when our faster than a speeding bullet driver put the fiver change on the little shelf almost before he'd been paid and we managed to fumble it enough that it started wafting gently up the road on it's own. Mark put his foot down and that was the end of the great escape.
The restaurant is lovely, and the food totally amazing. Deep gratitude to my boss’s boss’s boss for nominating me for the award that paid for most of it, we enjoyed every penny.
It wasn’t quite as up-market as I’d imagined, but they have a very relaxed attitude and it truly was an evening out rather than just a dinner. We had booked a table on the cigar terrace but didn’t have any trouble finding a seat even when we popped upstairs earlier than the booking. The table we used did have a reserved notice on it but if it was ours and they were managing it, it really was ‘as if by magic’. We we were quite disappointed when they closed it and we had to rough it smoking outside on the street.
There were some real types there, a chap chatting animatedly and heatedly, pacing up and down the terrace on his own without sign of phone or Bluetooth earbug to explain his agitation. Another waving a fat pink baton from Ann Summers and a real mish-mash of sartorial elegance and error. We did see the chattering chap in company with some other people later but he may simply have been standing near them and quiet for a change. Later in the evening, Mark gave a big bum hovering next to my face the bum’s rush, which wasn’t appreciated and involved a bit of a starefest until bigbum decided to take the hint. It almost got too exciting but the business of Mark’s refusal to sell me to the aristocracy deserves a surreal in ‘illa tag.
I’d noticed a couple of elderly types, all distinguished white hair and expensive clothes at a table across the room when we moved into the main bar to be closer to the Jazz. Later one of them wandered (or followed us?!)outside when we went for a cigarette. I can’t remember how we started talking but we did, and he declared himself to be the chairman of the CCC, up to town from the Isle of Wight for a regular meeting with his friend Shaun. My family (sounds so grand!) have a house on the island which we are free to use so we exchanged some chit-chat about the island, his job, and various other nonsense then we somehow ended up in a conversation where he declared his interest in me and was seriously putting the arm on me to ditch Mark and go off with him! Blink.
Pushy wasn’t the word. He said directly that I “didn’t want to go home with him , and should ‘come with me instead’”. It was screamingly funny. I glanced at Mark and tried not to laugh out loud while saying quite firmly that I did, indeed, want to go home with Mark. I foolishly said I was his mother when asked what we were to each other or similar and both BLOKES decided to believe me. Although this was certainly the deathknell of any shred of a chance he might have had, it still didn't seem to put my elderly admirer off at all, and should have earned Mark a clip round the ear, but I asked if he wanted to be known as a motherf*** instead and we managed to extricate ourselves elegantly even if I don’t remember quite how.
Real-time catching up now, am off round to Sid’s who has been prevented from nervous breakdown by the discovery that he’s not expected to cook Christmas dinner for anyone but me this year rather than me, Donna, Paula, Mark and anyone else his panic suggested. I’ve had a lovely few days in London, even got a Christmas card from Mark’s local, which is really sweet of them. I may remember to come back and blog up other bits and pieces: I begged indulgence to check out the shop opposite the pub for Sid’s Christmas present on our way to his friends housewarming and am really really pleased at what I’ve got for him but can’t say cos he’ll read this before Christmas day.
For those I love and care about who aren’t speaking to me: that makes me sad but doesn’t change my definitions of friendship. We’re all still the same people we were and I don’t have a past tense for caring.
Thursday 18 December 2008
Monday 15 December 2008
When worlds collide
Back to Brum tonight for my final three days of proper work this year; sadly, a call from my project director tonight means it's going to be WORK and not doss, but hey! I like to feel important.
Caught up on the emails that got through last week, my mailbox is permanently over it's limit despite offloading it on a weekly basis, and everything still seems to be boiling over on a daily basis.
It's weird, I slough work off almost as soon as I walk out of the office and am more than happy not to give it a thought once I've done so. HATE it when I end up dreaming about work, wasting energy I need to regenerate, but once I give it a little attention, I'm back there, wheels turning in my head, working out what I need to do, prioritising and planning how best to use my time, of which there is never enough.
One of the emails was from my review manager, apologising for not having had much (any!) time for me this year and coyly suggesting I call her to 'find out my rating' and to arrange a face2face early next year. It seems pretty pointless to me, I'm more than very grateful for the heavy-duty support some of my managers and colleagues have given me over the last two years but the review side of it seems like a vague chimera: I'm too cynical and lazy to want to be involved in the career climbing games, age counts and I've been around too long to want to break my heart trying for the mythical brass ring. Where I am seems fine to me. More money would be nice, recognition and job satisfaction I've had, a good steer to balance my working life with real life would be perfect.
I do feel as though my life is incredibly compartmentalised (is that a word?) When I'm working, it has my full attention, likewise when I'm partying, socialising or doing my best impression of a still life. I have a superb social life when I give it the energy I should, fabulous friends, an amazingly gorgeous lover, a family I know love me and are 'there' for me, but when work calls, I'm someone else. Maybe it's like some kind of psychic circuit board, where different patterns show according to the current going through it at the time.
*laughing* one of my ancient taglines : a diamond girl, multi-faceted, and what shines depends on which facet is turned to reflect which kind of light. If I don't know who I am, how should anyone else? How I am depends a lot on how people treat me, and how they treat me depends on how they see me - victim, rescuer, fun, funny, arrogant, aloof, 'nice' or just plain weird. I don't think anyone thinks I'm scary except me.
I had an attic attack this weekend, a single terrifying suicidal thought, and am proud of me for dealing with it. I did have help, my son is my favourite man walking this earth and he has to deal with far too much of my angst, I'm sure it's meant to be the other way round.
Being alive means it hurts sometimes and it can be hard to see that it's a good life most of the time. If only I hadn't built so many impenetratable defences, or was better able to gauge who it's safe to share with and who not when the defences are breached or bypassed.
Happy really, back in juggling mode, hiding in books (LK Hamilton writes boringly good soft porn if you like vampires and faerie stuff as I do)
well, not sure how to finish this, so I'll just stop writing now.
Caught up on the emails that got through last week, my mailbox is permanently over it's limit despite offloading it on a weekly basis, and everything still seems to be boiling over on a daily basis.
It's weird, I slough work off almost as soon as I walk out of the office and am more than happy not to give it a thought once I've done so. HATE it when I end up dreaming about work, wasting energy I need to regenerate, but once I give it a little attention, I'm back there, wheels turning in my head, working out what I need to do, prioritising and planning how best to use my time, of which there is never enough.
One of the emails was from my review manager, apologising for not having had much (any!) time for me this year and coyly suggesting I call her to 'find out my rating' and to arrange a face2face early next year. It seems pretty pointless to me, I'm more than very grateful for the heavy-duty support some of my managers and colleagues have given me over the last two years but the review side of it seems like a vague chimera: I'm too cynical and lazy to want to be involved in the career climbing games, age counts and I've been around too long to want to break my heart trying for the mythical brass ring. Where I am seems fine to me. More money would be nice, recognition and job satisfaction I've had, a good steer to balance my working life with real life would be perfect.
I do feel as though my life is incredibly compartmentalised (is that a word?) When I'm working, it has my full attention, likewise when I'm partying, socialising or doing my best impression of a still life. I have a superb social life when I give it the energy I should, fabulous friends, an amazingly gorgeous lover, a family I know love me and are 'there' for me, but when work calls, I'm someone else. Maybe it's like some kind of psychic circuit board, where different patterns show according to the current going through it at the time.
*laughing* one of my ancient taglines : a diamond girl, multi-faceted, and what shines depends on which facet is turned to reflect which kind of light. If I don't know who I am, how should anyone else? How I am depends a lot on how people treat me, and how they treat me depends on how they see me - victim, rescuer, fun, funny, arrogant, aloof, 'nice' or just plain weird. I don't think anyone thinks I'm scary except me.
I had an attic attack this weekend, a single terrifying suicidal thought, and am proud of me for dealing with it. I did have help, my son is my favourite man walking this earth and he has to deal with far too much of my angst, I'm sure it's meant to be the other way round.
Being alive means it hurts sometimes and it can be hard to see that it's a good life most of the time. If only I hadn't built so many impenetratable defences, or was better able to gauge who it's safe to share with and who not when the defences are breached or bypassed.
Happy really, back in juggling mode, hiding in books (LK Hamilton writes boringly good soft porn if you like vampires and faerie stuff as I do)
well, not sure how to finish this, so I'll just stop writing now.
Birthday Boy
Yesterday was wonderful, heartsease. I found myself suddenly back in the attic in my brain on Saturday morning, emotionally fragile and deeply unhappy, but whatever it was, it's mostly gone now.
Alex was four yesterday, and I thoroughly enjoyed my share in his birthday. I went over about 3 for us all to go off to "Thomasland" as Alex puts it for his birthday treat and to give him the Ben 10 scooter I'd got him and the big fire engine from his great-grannie. I got to take gorgeous blond in my red devil again, which he seems to enjoy and we pitched up at Quainton only just in time to get ourselves onto the 4 o'clock Santa Special. Alex did his littlemanly best waving the ticket at the man on the desk who wished him Happy Birthday, a little to his surprise, but he's been there several times now and was all for "Thomas" and getting on the train as soon as possible. Both the children were really excited and properly amazed when Santa turned up, and wished him Happy Birthday again :) and gave them presents.
The Magic Show didn't have enough interest for them so they spent the next hour or so scootering and running around inside the main building, putting us in constant panic that they'd fall between the trains and the platforms which, of course, they didn't but keeping close enough to grab Missy, who's like greased lightning, is more exercise than I'm used to.
On to Pizza Hut for Alex and his friends to create fairly contained mayhem and round the evening off nicely. I passed on joining the bright young things later, expect they were grateful!
Photographs are up on photobucket, the two end ones are the rabbit we saw in the carpark as we were leaving Quainton, I think the poor beast was dying but Alex didn't know that and was happy to see it.
Alex was four yesterday, and I thoroughly enjoyed my share in his birthday. I went over about 3 for us all to go off to "Thomasland" as Alex puts it for his birthday treat and to give him the Ben 10 scooter I'd got him and the big fire engine from his great-grannie. I got to take gorgeous blond in my red devil again, which he seems to enjoy and we pitched up at Quainton only just in time to get ourselves onto the 4 o'clock Santa Special. Alex did his littlemanly best waving the ticket at the man on the desk who wished him Happy Birthday, a little to his surprise, but he's been there several times now and was all for "Thomas" and getting on the train as soon as possible. Both the children were really excited and properly amazed when Santa turned up, and wished him Happy Birthday again :) and gave them presents.
The Magic Show didn't have enough interest for them so they spent the next hour or so scootering and running around inside the main building, putting us in constant panic that they'd fall between the trains and the platforms which, of course, they didn't but keeping close enough to grab Missy, who's like greased lightning, is more exercise than I'm used to.
On to Pizza Hut for Alex and his friends to create fairly contained mayhem and round the evening off nicely. I passed on joining the bright young things later, expect they were grateful!
Photographs are up on photobucket, the two end ones are the rabbit we saw in the carpark as we were leaving Quainton, I think the poor beast was dying but Alex didn't know that and was happy to see it.
Friday 12 December 2008
where was I?
Was planning to go back into lunnon town again for the London munch tonight but time escaped me. Sometimes I do wish I still lived in London rather than having a 90 minute to 2 hour trip to get there. Doesn't seem worth the trek to arrive past ten and have to leave almost immediately to get the train.
Been gadding about mostly at Mark's this week doing zip: staying up till the late early hours playing poker and drinking or drinking, listening to music and playing at other things. Loafing about wearing a skanky but comfortable dressing gown, drinking coffee and reading books in the mornings till it's time to go to the pub again.
Bliss.
We did have an expedition to Alfie's Antiques by accident, after some awkward person replaced Woolworths with a Waitrose, but everything I liked was either overpriced or I was scared to ask the price. I did enjoy eyeing everything up, and saw a fabulous glass table that looked like a magical pool, no need to ask the price, I have no space for it in my house. I need a HUGE house to put all the lovely things I lust after. Luckily for Mark I wasn't overcome with wow factor by the necklace he was considering buying me since it had an unlikely price tag too. The Lea Stein foxes I saw were £40-£45 which is a tenner more than the currently rising ebay prices which was a bit of a disappointment though I'd have paid it if there had been an extra-special one there. The one thing I saw that I *really* wanted was a lovely silver bangle with big very-red abstract glass shapes on it, but when I asked the woman to look at it she said it was hers, and not for sale. BAH! Felt quite aggrieved that she not only told me this but proceeded to put it on HER wrist and declare she must take it home with her tonight before putting it back in the glass case. ssssssssssake!
I'm supposed to be taking Dee to Guys for her dental thing on Monday but I don't think she's talking to me so she might bail again. No matter. Sunday is gorgeous blond's fourth birthday and I've organised a combination Thomas the Tank Engine and Santa's Magic Train trip ON his birthday with a promise that Santa may remember to wish him a happy birthday when he and his elves deliver his present. It was good last year even though Paul and Dee hadn't realised it was a timed thing and my car decided to play up that day as well. The feeling of utter relief when the chap on the desk said they had a carriage free on the last train and we were able to enjoy the trip we'd planned.
The SIGIST conference on Tuesday was good, but one of the presenters, a rather plump though tall lady had a voice exactly like Winnie the Pooh, which rather detracted from her presentation. Promising myself I'll book all these things and the 'required' training courses for next year so I have time to think and consolidate instead of throwing all my energy into the current project whatever that might turn out to be.
Went with Paula and Rod to a TA fancy dress thing in Chelmsford on Saturday, proper old-fashioned meeting up to get on a coach to trundle into the night. I actually managed to get to P’s less than fifteen minutes late at 5:45, already dressed for the underneath bit, an entirely different outfit from the one I’d planned but I found lots of interesting clothes while I was looking for the harem girl outfit. As it was, I was pleased to re-acquaint myself with my favourite basic black corset and for it to wrap lovingly round me without having to unlace it and for it to fit me better than it has since I bought it.
We did girl things with make-up while Rod got his tinman outfit together, then loaded an unlikely number of boxes and bags into the car to arrive in Hertford just in time for the coach. Paula the pirate (lush outfit, and I had the privilege of being told exactly where she bought it, so I might just get one for myself sometime) Rod the Roman centurion and me the iridescent blue pasha in the peacock feather robe. There were some other people who had bothered to dress up, and some looked ace. I spent the evening lusting after mid-twenties infants dressed as Jack Sparrow, a Flashman type, and wondering a little at their major who turned up in a tacky satin Elvis costume but looked like a lot of fun regardless. Mrs Shrek looked great, but the most unexpected and lovely idea was Lady Penelope and Parker; it took a moment or two to figure out that it wasn’t a strange military uniform and a seventies outfit but they were the biz.
Hog was roasted, vats of potato salad and green salad were almost entirely ignored, huge rounds of cheesecake tempted the tastebuds – then let them down, but that’ll be me and my taste, not a fault in the desserts. Rod and Paula managed to purloin a whole one which was balanced very carefully by various people until it reached chez P where it was already known that the fridge didn’t have any room in it. Strangeness.
I bought raffle tickets on the basis I felt quite honoured to have been invited, but sadly won nowt, while Paula won a fancy iPod and Rod a bottle of Bolly for best dressed. I suspect I got rather very drunk on private club prices and especially on my latest taste favourite, provided by the gallant major – Champort! A mixture of champagne (decent stuff at that) and port. My first one was when I caught someone’s eye as they pulled a face tasting it and offered to assist, which came with a caveat it should be downed in one, which I did, and very nice it was too. Stole Rods thunder a little when he came over with a couple of glasses for me n’ P, but we did our best to be ladylike with it. Right up till Paula naffed me last one, serves her right she was poorly the next day – I wasn’t!
For reasons best known to alikehoorites like us, we had to put away another bottle of red before we went off to bed at some unknown hour – I think my name may be written on the back of her settee, like some kind of leather park bench for waifs and strays.
My excuse for spending money in Tesco is that I needed petrol, and therefore needed to spend £50 to get a token for cheaper petrol. Yeah, right. Meant I didn’t actually leave for the LAM till about 2 and didn’t get there till about 4. The welcome I got made me regret I’d not got there earlier, not enough time to talk to all the people I wanted to, and I also missed the new crepes named in my honour. Meringue and raspberry with maple syrup I think. Bless. Lyn and Nigel are such lovely people.
Money was tempted from my pocket at a new stall selling silk corset-ribboned cushion and pillow covers. I really fancy commissioning a throw for the bed to go with them but have a minor concern about the potential price. L’Oreal must come to the fore, I’m worth it, every penny and more!
The after-party provided another opportunity to continue the catch-up with people I haven’t seen for a long time. Sir Richard made a point of coming over to say I looked marvellous, said he’d been worried about how strained and stretched I’d looked the last few times he’d seen me.
The traffic lights on Chelsea Bridge did their decision-making bit for me, red means I go home, green means I go catch up with Mark. I’d text him earlier, and not got a reply so I was a bit wary but it turned out OK in the end. Left my car outside the pub all night and am still trying to find a way to pay the doubtless doubling congestion charge cos I surely don’t believe I got off with it. Forgot, forgot, and forgot about it all week then discovered I couldn’t pay it without the penalty notice, which I don’t have….
This turned out to be topsy-turvy, never mind.
Been gadding about mostly at Mark's this week doing zip: staying up till the late early hours playing poker and drinking or drinking, listening to music and playing at other things. Loafing about wearing a skanky but comfortable dressing gown, drinking coffee and reading books in the mornings till it's time to go to the pub again.
Bliss.
We did have an expedition to Alfie's Antiques by accident, after some awkward person replaced Woolworths with a Waitrose, but everything I liked was either overpriced or I was scared to ask the price. I did enjoy eyeing everything up, and saw a fabulous glass table that looked like a magical pool, no need to ask the price, I have no space for it in my house. I need a HUGE house to put all the lovely things I lust after. Luckily for Mark I wasn't overcome with wow factor by the necklace he was considering buying me since it had an unlikely price tag too. The Lea Stein foxes I saw were £40-£45 which is a tenner more than the currently rising ebay prices which was a bit of a disappointment though I'd have paid it if there had been an extra-special one there. The one thing I saw that I *really* wanted was a lovely silver bangle with big very-red abstract glass shapes on it, but when I asked the woman to look at it she said it was hers, and not for sale. BAH! Felt quite aggrieved that she not only told me this but proceeded to put it on HER wrist and declare she must take it home with her tonight before putting it back in the glass case. ssssssssssake!
I'm supposed to be taking Dee to Guys for her dental thing on Monday but I don't think she's talking to me so she might bail again. No matter. Sunday is gorgeous blond's fourth birthday and I've organised a combination Thomas the Tank Engine and Santa's Magic Train trip ON his birthday with a promise that Santa may remember to wish him a happy birthday when he and his elves deliver his present. It was good last year even though Paul and Dee hadn't realised it was a timed thing and my car decided to play up that day as well. The feeling of utter relief when the chap on the desk said they had a carriage free on the last train and we were able to enjoy the trip we'd planned.
The SIGIST conference on Tuesday was good, but one of the presenters, a rather plump though tall lady had a voice exactly like Winnie the Pooh, which rather detracted from her presentation. Promising myself I'll book all these things and the 'required' training courses for next year so I have time to think and consolidate instead of throwing all my energy into the current project whatever that might turn out to be.
Went with Paula and Rod to a TA fancy dress thing in Chelmsford on Saturday, proper old-fashioned meeting up to get on a coach to trundle into the night. I actually managed to get to P’s less than fifteen minutes late at 5:45, already dressed for the underneath bit, an entirely different outfit from the one I’d planned but I found lots of interesting clothes while I was looking for the harem girl outfit. As it was, I was pleased to re-acquaint myself with my favourite basic black corset and for it to wrap lovingly round me without having to unlace it and for it to fit me better than it has since I bought it.
We did girl things with make-up while Rod got his tinman outfit together, then loaded an unlikely number of boxes and bags into the car to arrive in Hertford just in time for the coach. Paula the pirate (lush outfit, and I had the privilege of being told exactly where she bought it, so I might just get one for myself sometime) Rod the Roman centurion and me the iridescent blue pasha in the peacock feather robe. There were some other people who had bothered to dress up, and some looked ace. I spent the evening lusting after mid-twenties infants dressed as Jack Sparrow, a Flashman type, and wondering a little at their major who turned up in a tacky satin Elvis costume but looked like a lot of fun regardless. Mrs Shrek looked great, but the most unexpected and lovely idea was Lady Penelope and Parker; it took a moment or two to figure out that it wasn’t a strange military uniform and a seventies outfit but they were the biz.
Hog was roasted, vats of potato salad and green salad were almost entirely ignored, huge rounds of cheesecake tempted the tastebuds – then let them down, but that’ll be me and my taste, not a fault in the desserts. Rod and Paula managed to purloin a whole one which was balanced very carefully by various people until it reached chez P where it was already known that the fridge didn’t have any room in it. Strangeness.
I bought raffle tickets on the basis I felt quite honoured to have been invited, but sadly won nowt, while Paula won a fancy iPod and Rod a bottle of Bolly for best dressed. I suspect I got rather very drunk on private club prices and especially on my latest taste favourite, provided by the gallant major – Champort! A mixture of champagne (decent stuff at that) and port. My first one was when I caught someone’s eye as they pulled a face tasting it and offered to assist, which came with a caveat it should be downed in one, which I did, and very nice it was too. Stole Rods thunder a little when he came over with a couple of glasses for me n’ P, but we did our best to be ladylike with it. Right up till Paula naffed me last one, serves her right she was poorly the next day – I wasn’t!
For reasons best known to alikehoorites like us, we had to put away another bottle of red before we went off to bed at some unknown hour – I think my name may be written on the back of her settee, like some kind of leather park bench for waifs and strays.
My excuse for spending money in Tesco is that I needed petrol, and therefore needed to spend £50 to get a token for cheaper petrol. Yeah, right. Meant I didn’t actually leave for the LAM till about 2 and didn’t get there till about 4. The welcome I got made me regret I’d not got there earlier, not enough time to talk to all the people I wanted to, and I also missed the new crepes named in my honour. Meringue and raspberry with maple syrup I think. Bless. Lyn and Nigel are such lovely people.
Money was tempted from my pocket at a new stall selling silk corset-ribboned cushion and pillow covers. I really fancy commissioning a throw for the bed to go with them but have a minor concern about the potential price. L’Oreal must come to the fore, I’m worth it, every penny and more!
The after-party provided another opportunity to continue the catch-up with people I haven’t seen for a long time. Sir Richard made a point of coming over to say I looked marvellous, said he’d been worried about how strained and stretched I’d looked the last few times he’d seen me.
The traffic lights on Chelsea Bridge did their decision-making bit for me, red means I go home, green means I go catch up with Mark. I’d text him earlier, and not got a reply so I was a bit wary but it turned out OK in the end. Left my car outside the pub all night and am still trying to find a way to pay the doubtless doubling congestion charge cos I surely don’t believe I got off with it. Forgot, forgot, and forgot about it all week then discovered I couldn’t pay it without the penalty notice, which I don’t have….
This turned out to be topsy-turvy, never mind.
Monday 8 December 2008
early this morning
Better described as extremely late last night, walking back from a very select poker club which is minutes from Victoria station, feeling perfectly content on a crisp very early morning, we saw a fox!
He ran from the direction of the bus station to the pavement opposite where we were walking then stopped for long minutes on the pavement. Perfectly poised, just looking at us as foxes do, turning now and then to glance quickly into the park as if he wasn't sure if he should go in there or run off.
We both stood as still as the fox did, afraid to speak loudly or move suddenly in case he flicked, faster than thought, into the bushes of the gated park behind him.
I tried to get a picture on my phone camera, but I'm not used to using it and the pictures I have are a reminder rather than a reflection of how perfectly wonderful he looked. Amazingly, he didn't even tense as I slowly moved closer between the parked cars next to us. I didn't dare move more than a few feet towards him but he seemed to become only a little more alert, not even tensing for flight. We stood watching him for minutes, feeling privileged as he sat down, checking back at us now and then, but still not moving away.
Mark whispered he thought there must be a cat in the park, stopping him going in. Eventually the fox slipped through the railings into the park flashing a white mark on his flank, possibly a scar from some ancient fight. He walked almost gingerly a few feet along beside the railings then froze as another fox appeared from the bushes inside the park. We watched as they looked at each other for a short moment, then the first turned purposefully and trotted out between the railings and back across the road from the direction he had appeared. Moving into fast-forward half-way across the road in the moment it took us to look back to see if the second fox was still there.
We had time to see the second fox stand for a second or two more, until it turned silently and disappeared back into the park, leaving us delighted to have shared that moment. Maybe it was a vixen, maybe a dogfox, but the park is obviously marked territory.
It was more than one of those moments, it is a memory to treasure.
He ran from the direction of the bus station to the pavement opposite where we were walking then stopped for long minutes on the pavement. Perfectly poised, just looking at us as foxes do, turning now and then to glance quickly into the park as if he wasn't sure if he should go in there or run off.
We both stood as still as the fox did, afraid to speak loudly or move suddenly in case he flicked, faster than thought, into the bushes of the gated park behind him.
I tried to get a picture on my phone camera, but I'm not used to using it and the pictures I have are a reminder rather than a reflection of how perfectly wonderful he looked. Amazingly, he didn't even tense as I slowly moved closer between the parked cars next to us. I didn't dare move more than a few feet towards him but he seemed to become only a little more alert, not even tensing for flight. We stood watching him for minutes, feeling privileged as he sat down, checking back at us now and then, but still not moving away.
Mark whispered he thought there must be a cat in the park, stopping him going in. Eventually the fox slipped through the railings into the park flashing a white mark on his flank, possibly a scar from some ancient fight. He walked almost gingerly a few feet along beside the railings then froze as another fox appeared from the bushes inside the park. We watched as they looked at each other for a short moment, then the first turned purposefully and trotted out between the railings and back across the road from the direction he had appeared. Moving into fast-forward half-way across the road in the moment it took us to look back to see if the second fox was still there.
We had time to see the second fox stand for a second or two more, until it turned silently and disappeared back into the park, leaving us delighted to have shared that moment. Maybe it was a vixen, maybe a dogfox, but the park is obviously marked territory.
It was more than one of those moments, it is a memory to treasure.
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