I have successfully convinced my subconscious that today is Saturday (helps that I'm on holiday today) and the Rammy is tonight. Fate always gives in to temptation when it comes to me, and time, so I'll make the early cry that I won't be ready in time for the Rammy, but maybe, just maybe, I won't be stressed to hell tomorrow and getting out of the shower as people arrive ....
Sofa has been moved to make a bit more space, I have my list of small and large things I plan to get done, a shopping list, a menu plot, and my sister to keep me company: so it's all going rather well this morning
Something else crossed off my list of things I must do is taxing the red devil. I couldn't find the letter from DVLA the other week and gave up at the idea of having to track down all the paperwork and phone some 0300 number but today, randomly, I found the letter lurking behind the African mask in the hall and it all simplified. £190 silently detached itself from my bank account and ghosted into the coffers of the goviment.
I heard on the radio that an estimated 1 in 20 motorists don't have insurance, and that this number is likely to have increased following the awfulness of the recession, redundancies etc. So we who pay sometimes extortionate amounts for car insurance are being penalised for the risks of those who don't. Why don't they put the road tax and automatic 3rd party insurance on the price of petrol? Cars run fine without tax, insurance, MOT but go nowhere without fuel so it's a guaranteed source of income, those who use the roads most often will pay most and people won't be paying for other people's lack of insurance etc. Probably too sensible.
One of the girls in the office talked me through the streetcar concept; for an initial joining fee, you can hire a car when you need it and pay a fixed amount per hour/day which includes fuel then leave it in any of their designated spots when you're done. Wouldn't work for me but it's a great idea for people who live in or visit London and would otherwise be paying overheads on a car, plus residents parking if they can find it, plus congestion charges - hmmmm, she didn't mention if the streetcars cost includes congestion charges. Anyway, I had heard about it before but didn't know how it worked, seems like a stunningly good idea to me.
Friday 29 January 2010
Wednesday 27 January 2010
zebedee
busy, busy, non-stop weekend. Shorts are gorgeous though exhausting; I still have my fabulous relationship with time and (with the help of a very friendly lift to a more useful station so I could avoid the megrims of weekend engineering works)actually arrived in town at a reasonable time on Sunday to be spoiled rotten by an unexpected dinner menu to go with the xmas wine which was properly appreciated - cheers Jane!
Pokering is the latest fidget: 4th of 12 last night, truly relaxed, enjoyed and and enjoyable evening: online tonight; 250 to 596 : maybe I should venture the money stuff - but not until I get my expenses in and paid so I can kill the nastier kind of plastic cards
Not booking the hotel till Monday morning meant I missed the usual so-so one and am instead in a more flash hotel which has a very draughty set of french windows opening onto a very nice stone balcony where I can set fire to things without setting off the fire alarm. Nice in-room dins too, and an ordinary phone line instead if an 0870 ripoff so a friend can call me. Good (OK, only OK but)productive day at work ; lush room : think I might stay here again.
Even without the upgraded room, free internet, closer to the office, less soulless reception area and interesting artwork outweighs the not-inclusive breakfast.
Mostly I think real people interfaces over the weekend would create a benign viewpoint anyway
Looking forward to this weekend too
Pokering is the latest fidget: 4th of 12 last night, truly relaxed, enjoyed and and enjoyable evening: online tonight; 250 to 596 : maybe I should venture the money stuff - but not until I get my expenses in and paid so I can kill the nastier kind of plastic cards
Not booking the hotel till Monday morning meant I missed the usual so-so one and am instead in a more flash hotel which has a very draughty set of french windows opening onto a very nice stone balcony where I can set fire to things without setting off the fire alarm. Nice in-room dins too, and an ordinary phone line instead if an 0870 ripoff so a friend can call me. Good (OK, only OK but)productive day at work ; lush room : think I might stay here again.
Even without the upgraded room, free internet, closer to the office, less soulless reception area and interesting artwork outweighs the not-inclusive breakfast.
Mostly I think real people interfaces over the weekend would create a benign viewpoint anyway
Looking forward to this weekend too
Thursday 21 January 2010
Rammy 2010
It's time to fetch the flute platoon from the attic and attempt to force my living space into some semblance of gracious living. Some photographs from previous extravaganzas uploaded; several years are unrepresented but it's been a legend for a most of my last three or four lives.
We had serious fireworks for a couple of years till some killjoy neighbours decided they should complain to the council and I got a threatening letter. The letter of the law doesn't actually match 'there should be a law' attitudes. Oh well. Fireworks had to come off the menu
I want/need to get one of those negatives to PC converters to be able to upload some earlier Rammy pics - the Mandarin Crew in full flig; Paul H forced to play Cinderella by the indomitable Nellie, Niko made to wear a frock and serve drinks as punishment for being improperly dressed.... When I get a roundtuit, I'll document the history : suffice for now to say it all began with a bet where I won the bottle of champagne and instituted a party to celebrate the first pay-cheque of the year.
The timing clash with Self-Assessment is a total rotten no-fair: having a good time versus being sensible....... c'mon, what do you think?
For today; not being able to take a break till almost 4pm was rescued by the chance to have a guilt-free afternoon coffee with MD, who had been ermmmmm rather early for an appointment in town.
We had serious fireworks for a couple of years till some killjoy neighbours decided they should complain to the council and I got a threatening letter. The letter of the law doesn't actually match 'there should be a law' attitudes. Oh well. Fireworks had to come off the menu
I want/need to get one of those negatives to PC converters to be able to upload some earlier Rammy pics - the Mandarin Crew in full flig; Paul H forced to play Cinderella by the indomitable Nellie, Niko made to wear a frock and serve drinks as punishment for being improperly dressed.... When I get a roundtuit, I'll document the history : suffice for now to say it all began with a bet where I won the bottle of champagne and instituted a party to celebrate the first pay-cheque of the year.
The timing clash with Self-Assessment is a total rotten no-fair: having a good time versus being sensible....... c'mon, what do you think?
For today; not being able to take a break till almost 4pm was rescued by the chance to have a guilt-free afternoon coffee with MD, who had been ermmmmm rather early for an appointment in town.
Wednesday 20 January 2010
film tribute
the people in the room hotel room next door have only just stopped banging on the wall yelling about how loudly I was laughing at something el romeo sent me
6th of 12 in only the third game of poker I ever played with that lot (in my distant local) has got to be good - and possibly the best game I'll ever play
and anyway, it was a Queen and something rubbish, didn't match the hearts on the table and I didn't know enough to know it was a stupid bet. Luckily, the other guy that stayed in had a marginally more useless hand.
Worked till some stupid hour tonight so wasn't able to get to see Nine tonight (cue Bob Seger) either; too late to get to Watford last night for what turned out to be a great evening for those who live sensible lives and left work at the proper time.
Not taking any bets on getting the Battersea connection connected tomorrow night but it'll be good if I can
Getting in the bath with the last of the bottle of wine now, aka - anddddddddddd RELAX!
I always wondered what it would be like to go out with a film director, but I was thinking more champagne than Kronenburg
6th of 12 in only the third game of poker I ever played with that lot (in my distant local) has got to be good - and possibly the best game I'll ever play
and anyway, it was a Queen and something rubbish, didn't match the hearts on the table and I didn't know enough to know it was a stupid bet. Luckily, the other guy that stayed in had a marginally more useless hand.
Worked till some stupid hour tonight so wasn't able to get to see Nine tonight (cue Bob Seger) either; too late to get to Watford last night for what turned out to be a great evening for those who live sensible lives and left work at the proper time.
Not taking any bets on getting the Battersea connection connected tomorrow night but it'll be good if I can
Getting in the bath with the last of the bottle of wine now, aka - anddddddddddd RELAX!
I always wondered what it would be like to go out with a film director, but I was thinking more champagne than Kronenburg
Tuesday 19 January 2010
recidivist
back to realitee - sing! you know the words
there is absolutely NO point in paying £29 for a bottle of coloured alcohol from the room service menu
played poker, didn't do too badly
played with the heart-in-the-right-place barman to cart my suitcase
hell! I'm pissed!
last night ; making a major body-language statement, "you're MINE". He seemed happy with that comment, and the extremely LOUD body language
He IS da man ; 4sure etc : ridiculous grin on my face all day today even if sleep-deprived
there is absolutely NO point in paying £29 for a bottle of coloured alcohol from the room service menu
played poker, didn't do too badly
played with the heart-in-the-right-place barman to cart my suitcase
hell! I'm pissed!
last night ; making a major body-language statement, "you're MINE". He seemed happy with that comment, and the extremely LOUD body language
He IS da man ; 4sure etc : ridiculous grin on my face all day today even if sleep-deprived
Tuesday 5 January 2010
Bedtime Story
Once upon a time, there was a little boy who was, for some unknown reason, terrified of trousers.
This wasn’t much of a problem until it came time for him to go to school and his mother showed him ~ a pair of trousers! Worse than that, she expected him to wear the dreadful things.
It was too much, he was utterly terrified and ran, screaming, from the house and all that he had known to hide under a bridge, refusing to answer anyone, or let anyone see him.
Mostly, he lived on goats. Goats were a bit nervous crossing the bridge and would keep hesitating, and stopping then starting again until they sounded as if they were tap-dancing across it, which would wake the boy up and remind him how hungry he was, and how frightened, and how little, and he would shout out as LOUD as he could that it was HIS bridge and to leave him alone!
Being under the bridge made his voice echo and rumble so people thought there was a HUGHju troll under there and would run away.
Mostly, little goats were so frightened they would die of fright and fall off the bridge.
Mostly, ‘Gyptians would cook the goat, and leave a big plate of curried goat with peas and rice for the troll under the bridge. He liked that better than the pointless pennies people would throw in the water when they crossed over.
One day a trueserman came across the bridge in a little cart pulled by a goat. The boy was very hungry that day, goats had been avoiding the bridge for weeks and he was starving, which made him very bad-tempered.
He ROARED his hunger and the poor goat was so frightened it leapt out of its harness and fell off the bridge
So, the trueserman was stuck on the bridge with his little cart, and went to look under the bridge and saw the boy. He was called a trueserman because he always knew the truth and knew there wasn't a troll under the bridge, just a noisy boy.
“You got my goat” said the trueserman, “I want it back”
The boy got scared again and ran away, even though the trueserman was wearing a kilt, not trousers, or even trews. The trueserman chased him along the riverbank, among the rushes. In the reeds was a rush basket, or maybe the other way round. And in the basket was a baby.
The trueserman kicked the basket over and the baby fell out, but this is a bedtime story so nothing nasty can happen to a baby. Instead, the baby turned into a swarm of midgies and flew up the truesermans kilt. Midgies bite. That’s how the Highland fling was invented.
Suddenly a great warrior appeared, wearing a strange black helmet with a pattern of pinstripes and a bow.
This wasn’t much of a problem until it came time for him to go to school and his mother showed him ~ a pair of trousers! Worse than that, she expected him to wear the dreadful things.
It was too much, he was utterly terrified and ran, screaming, from the house and all that he had known to hide under a bridge, refusing to answer anyone, or let anyone see him.
Was he was a troll?
Yes, I suppose he was, well, that’s what people SAID he was, after a while
Mostly, he lived on goats. Goats were a bit nervous crossing the bridge and would keep hesitating, and stopping then starting again until they sounded as if they were tap-dancing across it, which would wake the boy up and remind him how hungry he was, and how frightened, and how little, and he would shout out as LOUD as he could that it was HIS bridge and to leave him alone!
Being under the bridge made his voice echo and rumble so people thought there was a HUGHju troll under there and would run away.
Mostly, little goats were so frightened they would die of fright and fall off the bridge.
Mostly, ‘Gyptians would cook the goat, and leave a big plate of curried goat with peas and rice for the troll under the bridge. He liked that better than the pointless pennies people would throw in the water when they crossed over.
One day a trueserman came across the bridge in a little cart pulled by a goat. The boy was very hungry that day, goats had been avoiding the bridge for weeks and he was starving, which made him very bad-tempered.
He ROARED his hunger and the poor goat was so frightened it leapt out of its harness and fell off the bridge
I think the boy’s name was Donald]
No, it was Roary (R H U A R H I, he was Scottish)
I think his name was Donald
It was Rhuarhi.
Donald
Rhuarhi
Donald
Do you want to hear this story or not?
I want to hear the story
Be quiet and listen then
OK but his name IS Donald - - - Come and sit over here
What?
Sit here. Come.
Vlad, do you want to hear this story?
Yes, Grannie
Enough with the Grannie
OK, Grannie
How old are you?
twelve
No, you're not. You want to hear this story or not?
Yeth
So, the trueserman was stuck on the bridge with his little cart, and went to look under the bridge and saw the boy. He was called a trueserman because he always knew the truth and knew there wasn't a troll under the bridge, just a noisy boy.
“You got my goat” said the trueserman, “I want it back”
The boy got scared again and ran away, even though the trueserman was wearing a kilt, not trousers, or even trews. The trueserman chased him along the riverbank, among the rushes. In the reeds was a rush basket, or maybe the other way round. And in the basket was a baby.
The trueserman kicked the basket over and the baby fell out, but this is a bedtime story so nothing nasty can happen to a baby. Instead, the baby turned into a swarm of midgies and flew up the truesermans kilt. Midgies bite. That’s how the Highland fling was invented.
Is that midge ure’s?
~ shut up or I’ll sit somewhere else (translation from helpless laughter)
Suddenly a great warrior appeared, wearing a strange black helmet with a pattern of pinstripes and a bow.
Take that off.
Shan’t
Take it off now.
Giggle
The End
Of ‘that’ story
The story about the warrior Vlad and his strange headgear is for grown-ups.
Monday 4 January 2010
NYE
briefness here since I ought to be in bed already
After getting in a tizz about a message to take warm clothing and shoes I could walk in for NYE, I was taken to Vauxhall Bridge to watch the fireworks, warmed by a cold bottle of Taittinger served in crystal glasses.
We had the cheek to fetch up at my distant local around 1am, planning to sit at the bench tables outside and finish the champagne, but Mark decided to knock anyway and we swanned in, with our own booze and glasses and invaded mine hosts space. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and when we went back in there the next day it seems everyone had been told all about it. oops.
Mollified. I'm a sucker for romantic gestures, and in the encroachment stakes, it wasn't me who put the fabulous moisturer on display in the bathroom, but it does make it easier to remember to use it.
I phoned everyone I could get hold of on the last day of the year and for once abandoned all internet connection - feels weird.
Ah, and a call to watch La Vie En Rose counts too - not sure my favourite song will ever feel the same again after seeing it hooked into the death of her lover
work tomorrow - yrrrrrrrrrrrrrch! and my top NYER is to get to work on time. I'm already fretting, target 225, attempts 0 fails 0 wins 0
After getting in a tizz about a message to take warm clothing and shoes I could walk in for NYE, I was taken to Vauxhall Bridge to watch the fireworks, warmed by a cold bottle of Taittinger served in crystal glasses.
We had the cheek to fetch up at my distant local around 1am, planning to sit at the bench tables outside and finish the champagne, but Mark decided to knock anyway and we swanned in, with our own booze and glasses and invaded mine hosts space. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and when we went back in there the next day it seems everyone had been told all about it. oops.
Mollified. I'm a sucker for romantic gestures, and in the encroachment stakes, it wasn't me who put the fabulous moisturer on display in the bathroom, but it does make it easier to remember to use it.
I phoned everyone I could get hold of on the last day of the year and for once abandoned all internet connection - feels weird.
Ah, and a call to watch La Vie En Rose counts too - not sure my favourite song will ever feel the same again after seeing it hooked into the death of her lover
work tomorrow - yrrrrrrrrrrrrrch! and my top NYER is to get to work on time. I'm already fretting, target 225, attempts 0 fails 0 wins 0
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