13th …. a funny old day!

Well, 13th it may be but that’s not why the date’s important, that’s more to do with the fact that today’s our first anniversary, so you could say the 13th is a lucky omen for us …or so we thought!

🙂  Gentle morning, saw off the eldest Boo-bunny who has been visiting this weekend, unwrapped a few lovely gifts from family, including wine, literature and a fun framed photo of the two of us that my mum had sneakily taken a couple of weeks ago, just after I had shaved Himself’s head and before I came off my previous medication which puffed me up significantly: we look  like a pair of grinning bowling balls, albeit affectionate ones!

Anyway, then we got ourselves ready for a romantic lunch date that Himself had booked for us.   Now, as I’m not really so good for going out lately, I wanted to make the proper effort, so having thus organised myself I wasn’t too keen (or overly able) to walk to the designated restaurant (particularly as the weather is spectacularly rubbish).   So, Himself kindly volunteered to drive, leaving only a debate over where best to park: his suggestion being a pub car park behind real ale pub two streets away (selection criteria:  (a) real ale pub (b) he has big umbrella); my idea being  the municipal sea-front car park sort of opposite venue (selection criteria (a) had made effort with hair and did not desire re-styling by weather (b) his umbrella is not nearly as big or effective as he thinks! (c) council sent us letter saying that because we pay for privilege of parking outside our own house, we could use local permit to park in said car park for free).  Needless to say, charm won the day so we parked in the lovely free car park, had great dinner and ambled back to car basking in the warmth of each other’s company.   There it was, waiting for us, the £50 parking ticket, politely stashed under the wiper so it couldn’t blow away. 😦   Hmmm.

🙂    We decided to cheer ourselves up with a plan to recapture the romance of dinner time by popping into M & S on way home to use the last of our wedding vouchers to treat ourselves to some deli-nibbles for picnic tea, thus avoiding cooking all day (very rare treat).   Having gathered some goodies, we then went to the checkout, Himself scowling at everyone, whilst I smiled whimsically at the small child wedged into the trolley in front, who was scrutinising our shopping.

Now, bear in mind our town is not one of the cultural, social or economic high-spots of the country.   The last spontaneous conversation we had with a random child was when we were approached in the doctor’s waiting room by a small unkempt waif who waved a book at us as she parked herself next to us,announcing “read it to me, I can’t read.”    Her mother carried on with her very important text messaging throughout this exchange, and indeed through the whole story-telling process.   Luckily we know we are fully CRB checked!

So I have to say I was more than a little backfooted when today’s little one (seriously no older than three) checked out the contents on our section of the cashier’s conveyor belt and nodded favourably towards our chosen crackers.  “They’re nice, I like those” she stated.  I smiled warmly, “they’re to have with our cheese – do you like them with cheese?”  She gave me a steely, superior look and replied wearily, “they’ve got cheese in them, you eat them with olives”, before turning round to her mother and demanding for her bottle of Perrier water to be opened.  However mum and evidently Gran, were disputing with the cashier over the validity of money-off vouchers.   Gran caught our eye in a friendly way and nodded to the next cashier along, who was vacant (in all senses, it appeared, as she was apparently removing her own eyelashes).  “You’ll want to move along” Gran said, knowingly “we’re likely to be some time.”

From behind me, Himself put a hand defensively on his till-bound deli-delights, inexplicably posturing (I swear if he wasn’t fully decked in outdoor-wear, he’d have hoiked the old waistband) as he explained tersely: “we’re alright here, we’ve put our shopping out.”

Gran’s friendly look waned and her eyes narrowed to that steely superior glare that had clearly been passed down the generations to the youngest: “I’m only saying …..”   I didn’t have to turn around to know that Himself was doing pretty much the same glare of his own.  His hand stayed on his cheesy stuffed mini-peppers and he used his firmest classroom voice: “we’ll wait in line.”    They held each other in an eye lock whilst the cashier shrugged and rang her bell again for supervisory assistance and the mum caught me with a conspiratorial “what are they like” glance and offered to the assistant: “well leave it then, I’ll just pay it”.  It was the cashier’s turn to pass a steely, superior glare: “I’ve rung the bell.   We need to check it because if these codes are wrong we’ll have a problem with everyone.”   The mum’s glance to me evolved to apologetic whilst Gran’s steely superiority was now tinged with smugness!   I gathered up all the items I could and tottered round to eyelash lady, bestowing them upon her.   Himself tutted audibly, gathered up the rest and followed me around so that we could actually pay up before the picnic curled up!

“What was that all about?”  I asked him as we wandered back to the car.

He shrugged like one of the kids “I thought she was trying to control me” he offered, a reference we both know is based on the ghost of ex-wife past: not really a happy anniversary moment!

🙂    We arrived back home to be enthusiastically greeted by our adoring hairy smelly ones and more cards.    Once I got upstairs to take my boots off, I sat wearily on the bed, still chatting with himself to transform the negative issues arising from that M & S moment into a positive perspective  on the lines of how lucky we are to not have that issue between us etc,  only to hear a crunch as I sat down!  Yup, the framed photo so carefully unwrapped in the bedroom this morning was still on the bed and now sported one crack clean across the glass, and I’m not kidding, right between the two of us!   I grimaced at him and again he shrugged: “is that seven years bad luck like a mirror?” he asked 😦  D’oh!

🙂 So, the rest of the day has been spent with Himself brooding whilst watching six nations and reapplying for his own job (yes, that time of year again but hey, what multi-tasking) and myself composing a grovelling letter to the local parking and highways pen pusher.  Of course we do have the delights of the picnic still to look forward to and I’m hoping that watching all that one on one field action might put Himself in the mood for a little rucking and rolling of our own later on, but all in all, it’s been a funny old day!

A small reprieve for the woodlands!

An update to the Great Woodland Sell-off Crisis: partly in recognition to the massive “don’t touch our woodlands” petition and widespread deep feeling about the issue, the government have put their current sell-off plans on hold for a few months!

Of course, there’s no breath holding going on: it’s likely that in the wake of the very recent high level and high-profile indignation at the government’s determination to consign a whole other civic asset to history- libraries, that they are just keeping their head down for a moment in the hope that we’ll all go away so they can get on with decimating everything we hold dear!   However,the more folk that sign the petition between now and when they press play on the process again, the better, because they are still going at full throttle to change the law that actually paves the way to the sell-off, so anything that can be done to continue to try to defend our country heritage should still be done in the meantime.   If you’d like to sign the petition, or find out more about the campaign, please follow this link to the 38 Degrees website! There, and you thought Himself’d chopped up my soap box for kindling!  Thanks for listening! 🙂

Feeling jaded?

Feeling more than a little jaded, although had a lovely walk with Himself and pooches in the park today, very cold though, so have come home with a very natural and somewhat hearty glow!   Wearing an old, sorry, shouldn’t that be ‘vintage‘ Laura Ashley dress, so really looking the part of a hale and hearty country wench!  At least, that’s what Himself keeps suggesting, either that or my ears are bad again and it was something about me looking like a whale and warty!

Anyway, speaking of glowing chops, I happened across this a couple of days ago: freebie of Olay’s latest ward-off-the-advancing-years-slap.  Thought it might make a downshift-friendly change to my beauty routine (which mostly involves rubbing leftover porridge onto my face)!   Hopefully someone else can make use of it – the freebie that is, not my dubious (but cheap) skin-care routine!

http://www.olay.co.uk/samples-competitions/regenerist-wrinkle-filler-sample/index.php

Funny old week …

It’s been a funny old week!  The writing front’s taking off a bit, but I’m finding it exhausting just keeping up with the little bits I have so far!

Negative niggles:

😦    the pay for freelance writing is a bit rubbish, at least in this getting started phase!  I’m gratified that J K Rowling and Jackie Wilson both went through this poorly paid article writing phase, but I am well aware that they actually had genuine talent that paid off in the end!

😦   my poor Boo-bubby was sacked for taking time off work with his poor broken nose, even though he begged his GP not to sign him off.  He was given a ‘fit for work’note that said he could do a max of 3 hours a day until his stitches came out,which he did and they fired him for his work not getting done!   He’s not been there long enough to have any kind of redress with them and of course there’s no union support, so it’s all a bit pants for him.

😦  Himself is still suffering from nibbled spuds.

😦  I have to start saving up for a small procedure on Seamus – he is suddenly finding me incredibly attractive – although I have to credit him with being a gentleman and at least trying to lick my right ear first, giving me just enough time to remove myself:  actually, sounds like Himself has been teaching him some moves (mostly to the same effect)!

On the positive side, because there is always a positive side:

🙂  We found that the farm shop that sells the chitty spuds also sells coal a lot cheaper than getting it from our local garage (we can’t get a coal merchant delivery because there’s nowhere to store it).

🙂  Date night was moved to Thursday night for reasons to do with school being closed on Friday so Himself’s weekend started early.   It was a good night – there was a little garden porn, sorry, planning but this only featured for a short time as it really lost its way once Himself announced that he wants to incorporate an arbour into his design.   Since my ears aren’t best (even with regular dog-saliva rinses)  I thought he was talking about a harbour, you know, with boats (Himself is a Gravesend boy, so it was an easy mistake as he would actually say  ‘arbour for harbour) so we were at crossed purposes for a bit of a time – I really couldn’t see how he expected to build one himself, although the garden’s sufficiently wet that it might just be necessary at some point!   Anyway, eventually we agreed that he’d been talking about a structure around which to grow a creeper, to mark the break between the two sections of garden: these are currently the bit too wet to grow anything on and the bit too concrete to grow anything on, with both doubling as dog loo!   So, eventually there will be a bit to relax in, then a rose-covered walk through to the bit with raised beds and all manner of hearty greens and flowers growing,whilst of course the dogs will be pooping and scooping as they go!    Ah yes, the power of positive thinking!

Did you say chit or ….?

Well, no sooner have we started preparing produce for the allotment and having happy thoughts of harvest-time (not that I toddle around in some rosy coloured existence or anything) , than do we succumb to the very threat that reduces self-sufficiency efficiency: pests!

No, not Himself or the dogs, a whole other critter entirely!   Himself just went into the garage to check on his chitters  (I know, they were only lovingly nestled into egg boxes last night) when he came back aghast (for the uninitiated this involves a lot of frowning of brow and hoicking up of waistband in a varied range of movements including simultaneously and consecutively)!

“Something’s been at my spuds.”  As this declaration co-incided with a hoiking movement, I was about to respond with a glib, possibly rude remark, but thankfully the depth of Himself’s ensuing frown prevented me.   Instead, with a grimace that barely disguised the smile beneath, I managed to communicate a quizzical “do tell, dear” look.  Just as well because the telling was already on its way ….

“There’s been nibbling and there’s a dropping!”

“Dropping?   Perhaps it’ a chit?”

“Well it rhymes with chit, come and see….” so into the dark depths of the garage we ventured.   Now whilst a garage has a designated role to a house in town, do remember that our house in town is becoming a virtual cottage in the country, so instead of being for the purpose of housing our car, our garage is in fact our ‘outbuilding’, housing the freezer, my veg baskets, my carefully stacked paper logs, our coal and our home-made preserves: that is to say the remainder of my jams and chutneys from last summer and his sloe gin and chum vodka (needless to say we have more of the jams left than the spirits).   Oh and the garage also houses our decluttered stuff from the house because everyone knows that having a decluttered house means having a seriously cluttered garage whilst waiting for that Ebay free listing moment!

Anyway, we fought our way to his egg-box-bottom-bound spuds where Himself indignantly indicated what looked like a liquorice torpedo without its colourful sugar shell, alongside what was a seriously nibbled spud.

“It’s a mouse” he proclaimed.

“Looks more like a potato” I shrugged, turning my attention to the licorice.   “Is this a chit?”

“No, it’s a  …..   mouse poo!   We’ve got mice.”

“Isn’t that what happens when you’re growing your own food though, you have some for yourself and some for livestock?”

“Mice aren’t livestock” the frown was back, with both thoughtful and menacing effect at the same time  “Of course, it could just have been passing through.”

“The mouse or the poo?   Well, clearly the poo…..”

Ok, dear reader, the frown was now menacing, so I changed tack and tried agreeing with the theory.  “Ahh, passing through!  You mean like the Town Mouse and Country Mouse?   Nibbling your spud on its way to the good stuff at Marks and Spencers?”

“Well, as in not nesting here, but taking an opportunity for a nibble wherever it can find it!” Himself added soberly.

“Ahh, well … at least we know it’s a male then!”   I added brightly.   I meant this to cheer him up, in a “so we needn’t worry about it being a female with lots of babies to feed” kind of way, but he didn’t really take it like that.   So, now we have one less potato and a moody Himself who thinks I am not taking seriously the fact that his lovingly tended spuds have been interfered with.  I, on the other hand, am quite cheerfully practising both a positive attitude and solution based approach; indeed I am multitasking by happily looking up homeless local cats on ‘tinternet with one hand whilst teaching Seamus the skills of being a canine mouser with an old toy Tigger puppeting the other ! 🙂

Hmmm – more gifts today!

Well, for the interested few, I still haven’t unwrapped the gift, feeling a bit ooo-er about it!    Am willing to submit myself to public consensus so I’ve been trying to insert a poll into ma posts but have been unsuccessful so far!   Trying again now.

Where’s the poll gone?

Still – today bought more gifts.   The magazine subscription bought for me by Himself has finally arrived, so he is now cuddled up reading it, hmm.

Anyway, remember The Quest – our constant pursuit to be more self-sufficient and recreate our homestead as something of a tinyholding (the smallest type of smallholding), on a tiny type of budget?   Happily we’ve already achieved that country-type smell, despite living in town, as Himself happily covered the garden in several sacks full of free horse manure last weekend and it’s constantly rained since, so basically the garden is a pool of liquid excrement, which the dogs are happily playing in then running back through the house!   Still, in respect of The Quest, the best gift of the day has been the offer of half an allotment just down by the local park -an elderly family member wants to downsize what he’s doing so he’s offered us the chance of using his ‘spare bit’ in the absence  of any real progress on what would be the growing area of our garden!

Himself is thinking about it, whilst he’s reading my Christmas present.   Kindly, he is reading extracts out from it to me – I feel another hmmm coming on!