I have a theory that tinternet is rubbish this weekend as a result of half-term and half the world on the case with facebook and other idiocies.
I blamed the minxcat from hell for trashing my connection this morning, her brother having grassed her up for messing with my computer, and finding stuff like the desktop, endless stuff on my machine (must get a password set up on this new notebook) but even I can't blame a 2 year old for killing my wireless connection and pay a lot every month for a constant connection I don't use. I *could* call Richard Branson but I've not been in the mood for lilting welsh accents at £1 a minute to fix it.
About time I actually used some of the tenner or so a month for a mobile dongle affair and even *that* isn't working poroperly so - I blame the massed logins of chillun and their holidaying parents for overloading the oversold infrastructure.
I'm on ollidays too: having escaped the project from hell with great relief and a reasonably translatable 'success' to tuck in my hatband, or garterbelt as the case might be.
Sunday, 11 April 2010
Sunday, 28 March 2010
Spring
The Vernal Equinox is past; I recently found out that the sun rises half an hour earlier in Norwich than it does in Plymouth, and that the railways are responsible for GMT; also that Christchurch College in Oxford has resisted all blandishments to conform and is still using local time.
Three months of playing poker in the pub have gone well; won outright once, and finally got to the end of round 4 on the software poker tournament. Proof on file!
The dining table has six piles of assorted paper on it, representing six months of unclaimed expenses and the funding for me to get really silly and start playing poker for pounds not points.
Terrific news is that Mark, having waited the longest time, has now got three jobs on offer; one certain, one with crossing fingers, eyes and legs; one left-field independent with a safety net and sky-high limits. That, my imminent escape from this nightmare project, and Paul having full-time work for a few weeks even if it is crucifyingly minimum wage which is TAXED ffs!
Sad and not good news, ouch: I know Sid will read this, and that awful rule of three only just occurred to me. His mother is extremely ill, and he is doing a lousy job of being uncaring. I need to call my mother to talk to her about my aunt, and my ex-father-in-law, both of whom died in the last week.
Three months of playing poker in the pub have gone well; won outright once, and finally got to the end of round 4 on the software poker tournament. Proof on file!
The dining table has six piles of assorted paper on it, representing six months of unclaimed expenses and the funding for me to get really silly and start playing poker for pounds not points.
Terrific news is that Mark, having waited the longest time, has now got three jobs on offer; one certain, one with crossing fingers, eyes and legs; one left-field independent with a safety net and sky-high limits. That, my imminent escape from this nightmare project, and Paul having full-time work for a few weeks even if it is crucifyingly minimum wage which is TAXED ffs!
Sad and not good news, ouch: I know Sid will read this, and that awful rule of three only just occurred to me. His mother is extremely ill, and he is doing a lousy job of being uncaring. I need to call my mother to talk to her about my aunt, and my ex-father-in-law, both of whom died in the last week.
Monday, 22 March 2010
un autre weekend
action packed weekend here; I'm proud of me: left Markk's feeling relaxed and peaceful Saturday lunchtime( thank you, again) Had a thoroughly pleasant eveining and night with Bill & Claire: lasagne was off the menu, having remembered Claire is allergic to dairy stuff, but I provided an antihistamine tablet so she could polish off my ancient Green and Black's icecream, and she washed it down with a cheap but very creditable eight cans of cider: I stuck to cokking whisky and coke; Bill restricted himself to two bottles of wine and read 'Unseen Academicals' with much chortling and pissing off of Claire since he was meant to have organised getting the book into her Christmas stocking. Claire and I watched episodes 1-4 of Mrs Brown's Boys, laughing out loud a lot and toddling off to bed around 3am, content with the world.
Morning arrived, sun was shining, guests were still asleep, shower was hot, all was right with the world.
Shorts arrived after lunch looking adorable and lavishing 'we love you' attention on me BEFORE I directed them to the princess and pirate goody bags: missy got herself caked in mud playing in the garden, Alex managed to read the word 'bubbles', by himself, on a container with no clues. My son is still my favourite man walking this earth; he remembered the password for my home wireless thing for my new notebook (TGFT); and Dee called me later to thank me for the sweeping bag collection of bog roll and assorted hotel-liberated coffee sachets and milk tubes, and the Nike (sod the tick symbol, they're too tight for my trotters) trainers that I've only worn twice in ten years.
Did washing, hacked the jasmine triffid to a manageable size with the shears (battery or charger or both on the hedgetrimmer having expired) and discovered garden yardage while doing a Charlie Dimmock impression, which amused my son greatly. oops!
Small bit of freecycle moderating and off to Skiddley's with a very lightweight baggins since I haven't been reading much lately: LOTS! of vampire movies waiting for me, pint of S&C, much twittering in the marsh and a massive tease with a Phillip Larkin book of everything he ever published ; gah! how can anyone *read* a poetry anthology? I want my own copy! High Windows:
~ And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is endless, and is nowhere.
to quote Agnes "I'm happy too"
...... but I still haven't done my vexing expenses
Morning arrived, sun was shining, guests were still asleep, shower was hot, all was right with the world.
Shorts arrived after lunch looking adorable and lavishing 'we love you' attention on me BEFORE I directed them to the princess and pirate goody bags: missy got herself caked in mud playing in the garden, Alex managed to read the word 'bubbles', by himself, on a container with no clues. My son is still my favourite man walking this earth; he remembered the password for my home wireless thing for my new notebook (TGFT); and Dee called me later to thank me for the sweeping bag collection of bog roll and assorted hotel-liberated coffee sachets and milk tubes, and the Nike (sod the tick symbol, they're too tight for my trotters) trainers that I've only worn twice in ten years.
Did washing, hacked the jasmine triffid to a manageable size with the shears (battery or charger or both on the hedgetrimmer having expired) and discovered garden yardage while doing a Charlie Dimmock impression, which amused my son greatly. oops!
Small bit of freecycle moderating and off to Skiddley's with a very lightweight baggins since I haven't been reading much lately: LOTS! of vampire movies waiting for me, pint of S&C, much twittering in the marsh and a massive tease with a Phillip Larkin book of everything he ever published ; gah! how can anyone *read* a poetry anthology? I want my own copy! High Windows:
~ And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is endless, and is nowhere.
to quote Agnes "I'm happy too"
...... but I still haven't done my vexing expenses
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