Bah humbug!

Having waited since about 9 am for the rain to stop I decided to just get brave, stick a raincoat on and take the dogs out for walk .

I should have known there was an issue when I spotted her across the road. She clocked my three sitting waiting at the kerbside waiting to be told to cross and the tension travelling to her dog via the lead was palpable from where I stood. She headed toward town and I called my mob on and we went out into the weather.

Just recently my assistant has become enamoured of chasing a ball. Really fast. Especially if it is thrown from a flinger. Problem is she likes to kill balls during the quiet periods so our house is littered with denuded and split tennis balls. Today all I could find to fling was a completely bald and quite dead looking projectile.

Being smooth it bounced like no one's business. Right into the flowerbed in the rose garden. With the old man dog's lead in hand and my assistant bouncing like a lunatic behind me I was able to lean over the railings and pick it up using said flinger. I flung it again. Bounce! Into the shrubs this time. No way I could reach it I would have to go in.

No dogs allowed in the council rose gardens so I tied the OMD up to the rails, the black dog sniffed and snuffled along the grass verge and my assistant ran from one end of the fence to the other waiting for me to fling it again (oh the faith of the obsessed). In my periphery I noticed a cream coloured, small dog. Lots of fluff, big bulgey eyes and a sticky-out panty tongue. With its lead going all the way up to the weird woman I saw earlier.

I get the ball and head back out to my mob.
She said "I came in here to get away from you!"
"Thanks very much!" I said continuing to walk on all the while thinking 'Crazy old witch!'.
"I'll give you time to get ahead."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Your dogs ..."
"My dogs are perfectly well-behaved."

Silly old witch.

Can anyone explain it?

Was packing shopping yesterday in Y.O.T. and singing a Christmas carol (No, no. No explanation required yet I'm ok with this bit.) Wasn't singing it very loud but loud enough it made the old man on the checkout look up at me (this in itself is a miracle because checkout staff who look at you??).

"Have you noticed there are no good Easter songs?" I asked him while finding room for the tubey lunchbox yoghurts in my shopping bag.

"I suppose that is because it is a religious occasion." he says before telling me how much I have just spent.

Turning to leave but with an incredulous look on my face I say "What is Christmas?"

Anyone? Anyone??

well...okay, but remember you all asked for it.

This whole idea of 'great posts being streamlined to fit into a commentbox' has been lingering for a while. As has the idea that perhaps it is a post in itself. But my thoughts coalesced today when I was surfing through RicRac's blog roll and today's 'This is....' was 'This is ... my favourite quote'

Someone's blog (I have just made a fool of myself over at Jodie's while looking for the link) highlighted the fabulous exchange between Lady Nancy Astor and Winston Churchill in parliament in the twenties. You know the one -


'Sir, if you were my husband I should poison you.'


Madam, if you were my wife I should drink it.'


Always makes me think of another (currently unattributable) exchange - poss Lady A and Winnie again but maybe not -


'Sir you are drunk'


'Yes Madam but you are ugly and at least I shall be sober in the morning.'



Which in turn always makes me think of this place.

Years ago I worked in a cafe at one end of this street and was shutting up for the evening after a long and very busy Summer's day trade. On my way to clear the outside tables I vaguely noticed some people in the distance. My hands were full of other people's tea cups, cream tea remnants and such as I went back through the door so I hooked it closed with my foot. Except that it didn't close.


In the time it had taken me to make outside less attractive to the pigeons (a universe full of another story) the people had made it parallel with the cafe and one was on his way in for a restorative tea, just as I shut the door over.



He went ballistic in his so soothing Northern Irish accent, demanding to know why I had shut his head in the door and refusing to accept my apology that I hadn't seen him. He got all shouty and red-faced at me so I must confess to you all that I got a little shouty back. You are all surprised, right?

(It wasn't actually him > but you get the idea of level of shouty Northern Irishman to which I am referring .)

Please bear in mind that while this exchange is taking place I am laden with china and jam and scones and clotted cream, not to mention the assortment of tea dregs in my hands. Oh, and my boss and her friend were right behind me.

He kept ranting, even making it personal saying 'that I was fat and I'd seen him walk towards me and he only wanted a cup of tea' and well, I must confess to letting fly. I said that while I may be overweight I could always go on a diet but he would always be crazy. He stomped off muttering away.

Apparently he came back the following Summer and wanted to know if the angry Australian waitress was there before he would come inside! ;-)

feel Blogger unneccessarily rude today.

Have just been visiting over at WhippetGood and on leaving a comment am confronted with the word verification - mingymi!!!!!!!!!!

Now that is just not on is it?

Answer to the question three....

..... we had pasta with the defrosted, homemade tomato sauce I tarted up - penne pasta since you asked.

I added some more onions (because there is NO SUCH thing as TOO many!!), some slightly crispy bacon and a leftover sasuage from the night before. Obviously I chopped all of these things up b/c everyone who didn't get the sausage would have been royally pissed off.

Sprinkled a whack of parmesan across the top and fed it to the hungry terences who polished the lot off before devouring the homemade biscuits I had baked yesterday aftie.

See - much more worthwhile use of my thinking time than that crazy mama in her orange top ;-)

need real life, not imaginary one!

Last night I had a dream which involved Philip from Afterburn and Kitty from Kitty's Bloggy Bits. As is the way of dreams I now cannot remember much but I know that a nice visit was had by all and we went home happy.

Which makes a nice change as I usually do my worrying in my dreams.

So thanks for a lovely time you two.




Random objects you don't expect to see in the English countryside #1.

Nothing major but emotionally feeling sick.

guilt :-~

All your questions answered right here!

Patti's answer to the last post's question was "Hmm. Tough one. How about alternating between the two. Bet you didn't think that one day you'd be asking people to comment on your "jugs" on the internet."

Sadly Patti, the answer is actually yes! Yes, I did one day think that people on the innernets around the world would be looking at and commenting on my jugs. Now before you all begin to a) turn away in disgust thinking I am nothing but a weirdy perv or b) read on avidly only to be majorly disappointed let me explain. Come with me on a tale of one girl's dreams and hopes of a simple life.......................

......................I like jugs (ref: a/b clarification above) both functionally and aesthetically and so (only a little bit deliberately) I seem to be amassing a collection. After some months of discussion CK finally put up the shelf for them to live on. Given that this is the house where discussions over an essential kitchen extension are in now in their tenth year six months doesn't seem a long time to wait!!! (It is a loooong story for another time when we have made progress.) I digress....

........... Half jokingly for many years I have been saying one day I am going to open a kitchenware shop specialising in jugs and especially since playing on the innernets my plan has been to call it Just Jugs (hence the prev. post title) figuring I would either get people who wanted to purchase pouring vesels or those who were so mortified at coming to the wrong place (works better in real life situation than real imaginary one) that they would have spent loads of money to ease their guilt and embarrassment. Well..... a girl can dream right?

So Patti, I have in fact spent many happy hours imagining people looking at, commenting on and hopefully wanting take home my 'jugs' on the innernet!

Having looked at both those photos again I have come to the conclusion that we are going for pretty and pointless.

thanks for all your help :-)

Once collected I shall still communicate...

This was in my trashcan email today when I checked. I am currently plotting what I shall do with the money once it is safely in my bank account.
(hmmm... must dig the details out; they will probably need all of my secret information to transfer the cash.)

How about we have a fabulous bloggy/crafty knees up in some rarified venue - my treat?!



BRITISH LOTTERY6/49P O Box 1010, 3b Olympic Way,Sefton Business Park,Aintree, Liverpool , L30 1RD16th of February 2008
FINAL NOTIFICATION
This is to inform you that you have been selected for a cash prize of £1,000,000.00 (British Pounds) held on the 16th of February 2008 in London British.The selection process was carried out through random selection in our computerized email selection system(ess) from a database of over 250,000 email addresses drawn from which you were selected. The BRITISH. NATIONAL LOTTERY is approved by the British Gaming Board. To begin the processing of your prize you are to contact our Claims Agent for more information as regards procedures To claim your prize.
You are to contact the Claims AgentMR. Robert GoochEmail: british.claimsagent003@yahoo.it
Contact him; please provide him with the following codes below:REFNO:BRLFGP2551256/02BATCH No:2005MJL-01Ticketno:56475600545188SERIAL No:S/N-00168LUCKY No: 887-13-865-37-10-83
(1) FULL NAME(2) FULL ADDRESS(3) NATIONALITY.(4) AGE(5) OCCUPATION(6)TELEPHONE NUMBER(7) SEX(8) TOTAL AMOUNT WON(9) COUNTRY
If you do not contact your claims agent within 3 working days of this Notification, your winnings would be revoked. Winners are advised to keep their winningdetails/information from the public to avoid fraudulent claim (IMPORTANT) pending the prize claim by Winner. *Winner under the age of 18 is automatically disqualified. *Staff of the British Lottery is not to partake in this Lottery.
Congratulation!!
Sincerely,Rose Wood(Mrs.)
-----------------------------------------------------------------Find the home of your dreams with eircom net propertySign up for email alerts now http://www.eircom.net/propertyalerts

A biography in just six words.

You know how some houses have wallpaper? Well in our house the wallpaper will never be mocked by future generations (although our carpet probably will) because it is constantly changing.



I mean that in both a figurative and a literal sense. Here at Trash Towers the wallpaper is aural (this another of those words pronounced differently here from Australia). When the radios are all turned (which is most of the day) you can hear Radio Four from anywhere in the house and while I recognise it is not a big house, it is quite up and downy and cornery.



I preface this post in this way because I heard a fabulous interview and follow-up on the Today programme over the last week. Some (obviously very nice) bloggy fella has a whole site dedicated to people's personal stories. Stories that encompass a whole lifetime or simply a snapshot of moment but they must be only six words long.



*Wow!* Doesn't that give a body pause for thought? I was reminded of it while reading Princess Genevieve relating of her Norwegian trip. Apparently 'the Vikings were a violent people'.




A snapshot of my autobiopgraphy today could read - 'Two children starve while mother blogs.'




Although with the minutes edging ever closer until I take my teenaged face off to meet up with the fabulous Missus Moogsmum tomorrow it may well say - 'Kidnapped! Cage knitted from steel wool.'



As CK has pointed out this is a terrific example I am setting for both my impressionably aged children. Not only have I built up an online friendship with some faceless (although now not thanks to last week's post) internet persona who may in reality turn out to be a 50 foot tall (the height grew with the telling over the weekend) Scots bloke with a nice line in white vans and building collections of caged people BUT I have arranged to meet up with said friend. Apparently tomorrow I am to look for secret signals which will be used to call in the rest of the army of Scotsmen with similar interests. That and put a pair of boltcutters down my knickers!






I have never been clear in which branch of spec./black ops he was involved but am beginning to think it may have been a little kinky!






The game is over and exhaustion has set in. Until they negotiate my release, goodnight!

I have risen to the challenge and been found wanting.

Or not.

Apparently I am 35% normal. Mrs Kitty's Bloggy Bits issued a call asking for any who blog to find out whether we are truly a 'weirdo' subspecies or just people with an intersting angle on life.

So I stepped up to the plate and voila I am 35% normal.


It is kind of intriguing to get the innernets view on what makes normal (some of the questions where definitely odd!) so rush over and have a play. If it helps think of it as scientific research!

You Are 35% Normal

You sure do march to your own beat... But you're so weird, people wonder if it's a beat at all You think on a totally different wavelength And it's often a chore to get people to understand you

How Normal Are You?

New Broom.

In 12 days the UK will be host to my mother for the first time in two years. Consequently we are indulging in a frenzy of cleaning, tidying and sorting. Well, I am.

The kids are too excited about presents to think of much else and CK is wondering where he should stash her Nimbus 2000 so it is safe from local marauders! So having just waved off the last of our Round One visitors (my sister and her husband were here for the best part of a month and my b-i-l was here concurrently for a week)this morning I started with the most important tidy-up and re-organisation - welcome to the refurbished, polished and tarted-up version of TrashCan.


What do you think?


Bless her, my mother is getting a bit worried about travelling. You would think she hasn't done it before instead of flying to and fro for the last 20 years to the assorted countries her children have dotted themselves in around the world. But this is the first time in 12 years she has stopped off in Bangkok. Here we have the issue.


You see, 'Adventure' has a habit of finding my mother. The less charitable may call it 'Trouble'.


Last time she landed at Bangkok Airport she was feeling a little nervous about where to go and so she followed the nice Anglo looking couple who were probably also headed for Heathrow. They went down ramps, round bends and along corridors. After speaking with some nice airport officials Mum was the proud possessor of a stamp in her passport and the freedom of Bangkok. Her true situation only became clear to her when the airport doors slid open and the nice Anglo looking couple disappeared into the humid air of the Bangkok morning.

Aaaah Sylv! Bless her! She only got a little bit hysterical and started ranting at the nice customs officials who(understandably)began to feel a little nervous of the wild eyed Australian weeping and waving her passport at them. A lot of weeping. So in true man fashion when confronted with emotion and tears they called in for outside reinforcements. A lovely official-type woman came out, took Mum's passport, crossed out the immigration stamps with a pencil then lead her through the back tunnels and corridors into the airside of the building. I guess she has reason for not looking forward to it.

I think it will be fun.

Laugh? I'm nearly crying!

Aaah Vicious Chicken! The world would be a much poorer place without your stunning intellect - of course it was the font colour. I can't believe it took me three nights and nearly three days to correct such a simple problem. And I was getting very cross too, esp. as I was unable to contact BloggerSupportHose. Imagine their faces when telling the bloggingly-challenged moron to "turn the power on!"

Monkee Maker - a secret blog! What a terrific idea, I may just revert to that.

But about the knitting .... I am trying to finish the hats for the tropical family who are arriving in about two months. The first one is all done and may fit my niece if the New Guinea Head Hunters get to her. My second hat has now been ripped back down to its band about two hundred times (really, no exaggeration). It is all my own fault. Having had success with the first heart pattern (which I followed religiously) I made up a pirate pattern to put on the front of the next one. It is driving me crazy. Am thinking I may give up intarsia all together.

Where have they all gone?

No. Really. There must currently be a convention taking place somewhere of all the magical creatures who operate the 'innernets' (cheers C.A.P.!). I cannot get this machine and its inner world to accept my inaugural post. Do you think they have something against monkeys?

I have something against weird people who, even when they are being unbeliveably rude and self-centred, still retain a (theoretically) polite voice. Last Wednesday en route to dropping the childer at school I parallel parked my car. Beautifully parallel parked my car. I deserve an award for this particular parking effort b/c it is a very narrow and curved piece of road on which I parked (have I mentioned it was parallel?).

As I drove down toward school I had noticed the old man in his yellow running shorts and white vest. He was jogging down one of the three roads that make up Dinglebury on the Hill. The low road if you will. 'Hmmm,'I thought to myself, 'hmmmm. He is an older gentleman to be out jogging at ten to nine, even on this sunny Summer morning. Especially when he is wearing so little.' So anyway ...... I parked my car (parallel/narrow curved road mind) and moved to extract a small child using the car door on the roadside. Peacably doing my job, lost in my own thoughts when this blurry* old man shouts at me - 'Madam you are in my way!'. I was staggered. Stunned. And quite perturbed that I am always the one the weirdies seem to find.

I must confess I did shout back at him. Just a little shout. But the killer is - this crazy man had cars piling up behind him and ones reversing away from in front of him! And I'm in his way!! Sheesh!



* Zimbabwean swear word. Not the old man being subject too some cosmic paintshop effect!