It was a darkened living room with just a dim light in the corner, my son held the disk delicately by its edge and with the same reverence that I had bestowed on it some 32 years earlier when I first obtained it. Still in pristine condition the dark black, jet black glossy grooves reflected a small portion of my youth and the engraved sound of Elton John's Funeral for a friend. Stephen placed it onto the record turntable that he was given for Christmas, I laid down on the sofa, eyes shut, and wallowed in the percussion intro to the track which quietly grows up into a crescendo of rock with attitude. I lay there remembering the day I bought it in W.H.Smiths in Shirley, Solihull, taking it home eager to hear it as soon as I could. There is no doubt in my mind that when you bought a vinyl album you really felt that you had purchased something tangible, it was big but it also demanded a little TLC too, you had to go to the shops as well, no down-load, no Amazon. So I got it home and, as Stephen did, I reverently placed it on the record deck, lifted the needle gently positioning it onto the edge of the record, put my head phones on (the size of coconuts on each ear) and shut my eyes in preparation as the needle was drawn into the album. A ritual yes, but I liked my music and at that time it was a large part of my life and now some 30 years later my son has got it too. He has had it for a long time but recently, with the resurgence of the Vinyl, he has 'got' the record thing under his skin.
Stephen has been producing a web site called we write lists for some time now and has made a lot of contacts in the music industry. He has a series called Six Albums where he gets music artists to write about their favourite albums and he even managed to get Rumer’s first ever online interview well before she released her first single!
Check his site out....
http://www.wewritelists.com/
So today we went to Kings Lynn where I had found an excellent Vinyl record shop and had promised to buy him some records to say thanks for helping me move the bigger bits of furniture. WELL it was like 2 school boys in a sweet shop, Stephen digging around for anything on his 'hot' list and me digging through adding up how much my record collection was worth! Stephen was meant to catch a train back to London but we missed two of those whilst we ferreted through this seam of nostalgia. He ended up buying several Albums including Pink Floyd's The dark side of the moon and even I bought a couple too. I swear that the shop had nearly everyone of my records and of course the selection available ended abruptly in the late 80's, just like that, finished, retired, redundant, no more demand as the new, young pretender, the CD made its move into the market.
The quality was pure and they were smaller, a more Compact Disc for sure but something was lost, something special, something unquantifiable but very real. I notice that on Duffy's new Album one of her tracks has a slight added hiss to give that vinyl feel to the production and it was none the worse for it either. Yes, something was lost, a simplicity and for those of a certain age perhaps a small part of our youth was lost when the vinyl silently slipped away.
Enough of the old times, over the forthcoming weekend I will be painting the Kitchen ceiling and walls but have an issue with so called exposed beams which I do not wish to spatter paint across from my paint roller. With this in mind I have come up with a cunning solution, I have covered all of them with sheets of paper, so now the room has unequivocally been totally and utterly parcel wrapped, my New Years present sadly....
Friday, 31 December 2010
Thursday, 30 December 2010
THE DAY WE FOUND THE LAWN (AND I CONTINUE TO DESTROY THE KITCHEN)
Well that was Christmas and a jolly good one it was too. No cooking, very little washing up and the whole family together, thanks respective Mums, Dads and Sis. too. Now we are all back at home and goosed by the fat, ooops, that's not right, er fattened by the goose. Ahhhh we've been mincing with the drink pies, sorry drinking with the mince pies and indulging the shatters we are now totally cream crackered, No, No, I mean indulging the cream crackers we are now totally shattered. AND perhaps had one or two alcofrolic dwinks too.
So having over eaten it was clear that we needed to go for a 5 mile hike, which is exactly what we did. I say we but actually it was only Alison and I as the children didn't seem to be of the same opinion. So 'we' headed off to the Cley marshes to see what unusual birds we may come across. It was bracing (a polite way of saying it was bloody breezy) and we saw Black-tailed Godwits, Red Shanks, Plovers, Lapwings, a Harrier and loads and loads of Geese flying in formation. So we thought it had been well worth getting out of the house to see the best of the Norfolk bird life, that was until we got home. Stephen and Claire proceeded to give us a graphic description of how a Kestrel had dived down on to an oblivious black bird and . . . . . .
(*****WARNING FOR THOSE OF A NERVOUS DISPOSITION*****)
tore it apart right out side our back door. Needles to say I was gutted (but not in the same way that the blackbird was). I can assure you that the kids were not traumatised by the event, no, they were more upset by the fact that I had the affront to go off bird watching at the time with both MY camera and MY bird identification book.
So the following days were all a bit of an anticlimax after that with me taking my frustration out on the kitchen smashing the existing tiles off the wall. Mumble, mumble, Kestrel, SMASH! Mumble, mumble, grump, CRASH, grump, savaged, SMASH, CRASH, mumble my own blinking back-door, SMASH, CRASH, WALLOP, OUCH! As I take a slice out of my finger with the bolster. Which happened just as my daughter walks in, Ahhh, the incompetent DIY man has cut his finger lets help him with the first of many plasters today whilst patronising him as if he is a frequent flyer in accident Land. Sadly she is not too far off the mark there and I sealed the deal of being proven to be accident prone by catching my wrist on a nail some 20 minutes later. I didn't tell her but the bright green "Brave little soldier" plaster rather advertised the incident and led to a further bought of ridicule - No respect for the elders any more!
Ok then, the tiles are all off and now I start to build the kitchen back up. I started with plastering over the bigger holes today and next job is to make good the rest of the plaster then to paint the ceiling and walls. But that is all small news for Today, wait for it, Today was the day that I realised that the snow had completely melted away.
For the last 4 weeks we have had snow on the ground. In actual fact the day after we moved in it snowed and since then we have had snow in our garden. There was a day two weeks back when a slight thaw gave me a clue that my lawn may perhaps be green but it was inconclusive as later on the snow came down in ice bucket loads. No, today I looked out of the kitchen window and somewhere between bird strikes and finger strikes a change had occurred, a metamorphosis, my crispy, cold winter white veil was lifted and once again we had found our lawn.
So having over eaten it was clear that we needed to go for a 5 mile hike, which is exactly what we did. I say we but actually it was only Alison and I as the children didn't seem to be of the same opinion. So 'we' headed off to the Cley marshes to see what unusual birds we may come across. It was bracing (a polite way of saying it was bloody breezy) and we saw Black-tailed Godwits, Red Shanks, Plovers, Lapwings, a Harrier and loads and loads of Geese flying in formation. So we thought it had been well worth getting out of the house to see the best of the Norfolk bird life, that was until we got home. Stephen and Claire proceeded to give us a graphic description of how a Kestrel had dived down on to an oblivious black bird and . . . . . .
(*****WARNING FOR THOSE OF A NERVOUS DISPOSITION*****)
tore it apart right out side our back door. Needles to say I was gutted (but not in the same way that the blackbird was). I can assure you that the kids were not traumatised by the event, no, they were more upset by the fact that I had the affront to go off bird watching at the time with both MY camera and MY bird identification book.
 |
| This was the Kitchen once. |
Ok then, the tiles are all off and now I start to build the kitchen back up. I started with plastering over the bigger holes today and next job is to make good the rest of the plaster then to paint the ceiling and walls. But that is all small news for Today, wait for it, Today was the day that I realised that the snow had completely melted away.
For the last 4 weeks we have had snow on the ground. In actual fact the day after we moved in it snowed and since then we have had snow in our garden. There was a day two weeks back when a slight thaw gave me a clue that my lawn may perhaps be green but it was inconclusive as later on the snow came down in ice bucket loads. No, today I looked out of the kitchen window and somewhere between bird strikes and finger strikes a change had occurred, a metamorphosis, my crispy, cold winter white veil was lifted and once again we had found our lawn.
Thursday, 23 December 2010
THE DAY THINGS STARTED TO COME TOGETHER, OR NOT.
The house is a warren of odd off shoots and whilst it has many rooms a lot of them are tiny attic style rooms in what would have been built as storage areas in the years when it was a Bakery. So our immediate objective is to decorate & prepare only those which we require to run our business, preparing one bedroom as soon as possible to allow me to start bringing in some money. So this means that the Kitchen, Dining room, Living room and Bedroom plus on suite are a must with our 'back' areas having to wait. We are juggling several of these rooms at once as different engineers have to use their skills in more than one room.
The upshot of this is that no single room has been completed 100% but a couple of them are getting close, namely the Living room and the Dining room. The Living room still has a little painting to finish and a wood burning stove to be replaced & fitted and today one of the major items, to gel the look, arrived, the new three piece suite. We chose a suite of chocolate brown leather comprising of an armchair and a two seater and three seater sofa. Myself and Stephen (my son) had to remove our old suite from the room in preparation for the delivery and struggled with the odd shape of the sofa, but managed the recliner fairly easily as the back of the chair was removable. The delivery guys however breezed in with the new ones because after god knows how many years of guys struggling to deliver the awkward shaped sofas, finally someone has realised that you could design them ALL so that their backs come off and you just have to carry straight, easily manageable pieces and simply slot them together. Why this was not thought of some 30 years go I really cannot fathom.
The other item delivered today was the curtains from B&Q which are destined for the Dining room. This room has all windows along one side (I'll get photos up as soon as I can work out how or get a child to show me) and so at night it looks stark and black, the curtains are one of the few final fabric finishing furnishing fittings (that's a mouthful!).
The last delivery today was also from B&Q and was the two kitchen work tops or should have been the two as they only had one of them. A phone call from customers services later explained that the second one (which is a larger 3.6mtrs) has still not been made and will not be delivered until the 15th January. This is a pain in the you know what as that work surface is the one that the kitchen sink will sit in and so I cannot install the sink until it arrives, well I guess at least I can give the plumber a date now.
So, in short, today was a day that things started to come together and for the most part two rooms came a lot closer to completion BUT NOT the kitchen which has actually been delayed now by about a week.
Well it is late now and I am suspending my Blog for a few days over Christmas, the cat is curled up in a ball right in the middle of the new two seater sofa, the fire is out, the TV off and I am the last to slink off to bed. The pressies are under the tree all our shopping is done and I think, no I know I am ready to soak in my first Christmas for some 35 years that I have not had to work.
To be honest it's a little bit scary,
what do I do now????
The upshot of this is that no single room has been completed 100% but a couple of them are getting close, namely the Living room and the Dining room. The Living room still has a little painting to finish and a wood burning stove to be replaced & fitted and today one of the major items, to gel the look, arrived, the new three piece suite. We chose a suite of chocolate brown leather comprising of an armchair and a two seater and three seater sofa. Myself and Stephen (my son) had to remove our old suite from the room in preparation for the delivery and struggled with the odd shape of the sofa, but managed the recliner fairly easily as the back of the chair was removable. The delivery guys however breezed in with the new ones because after god knows how many years of guys struggling to deliver the awkward shaped sofas, finally someone has realised that you could design them ALL so that their backs come off and you just have to carry straight, easily manageable pieces and simply slot them together. Why this was not thought of some 30 years go I really cannot fathom.
The other item delivered today was the curtains from B&Q which are destined for the Dining room. This room has all windows along one side (I'll get photos up as soon as I can work out how or get a child to show me) and so at night it looks stark and black, the curtains are one of the few final fabric finishing furnishing fittings (that's a mouthful!).
The last delivery today was also from B&Q and was the two kitchen work tops or should have been the two as they only had one of them. A phone call from customers services later explained that the second one (which is a larger 3.6mtrs) has still not been made and will not be delivered until the 15th January. This is a pain in the you know what as that work surface is the one that the kitchen sink will sit in and so I cannot install the sink until it arrives, well I guess at least I can give the plumber a date now.
So, in short, today was a day that things started to come together and for the most part two rooms came a lot closer to completion BUT NOT the kitchen which has actually been delayed now by about a week.
Well it is late now and I am suspending my Blog for a few days over Christmas, the cat is curled up in a ball right in the middle of the new two seater sofa, the fire is out, the TV off and I am the last to slink off to bed. The pressies are under the tree all our shopping is done and I think, no I know I am ready to soak in my first Christmas for some 35 years that I have not had to work.
To be honest it's a little bit scary,
what do I do now????
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
THE DAY THAT THE FAMILY GOT TOGETHER AND I REMINISCE
Today was a good day. Since we have moved in we have either had our son in residence or our daughter but, so far, neither of them at the same time. Stephen had helped me move the heavy stuff into the house then went back to London to get away from 'nothing to do Norfolk' and Claire I only picked up at the weekend. Well today was a special day in our new home, when Stephen re-joined us for Christmas and for the first time the whole family is together in the house. The Christmas tree is up, there is a thick carpet of snow all around, the log fire is roaring away, the tea is brewing and I'm not running around like a March Hare on heat in the manic mayhem of madness that is a Supermarket two days before Christmas. I can honestly say that I do not miss it in the least:-
The lost Turkey order,
The cheap promotion hoarder,
Nor the "It's not fair (boo-hoo) it is making me ill,
'cause he's got too many items for a hand basket till",
The "why have you run out of all the rolled icing?
"I can't hear myself think as the carol singers sing".
The credit cards system frequently failing,
The blessed little children continually wailing.
The ten tonne of slush that the wellies tread in,
the why are there not four bags in a bin?
I don't miss a bit getting up at five,
to de-ice the car for the early morning drive.
The sadness of the old lady who has had her purse stolen
or the misery of someone who's fallen and whose ankle is swollen.
The never ending vicissitudes that make you so very weary,
not sure what I mean then look it up in the diction-ary!
The have you done this and who's doing that,
what have you done and where are we at?
The telephone call warning of another visit due,
the scurrying to face the store for their view.
The endless waiting like astronauts on the dark side of the moon,
incommunicado, no one telling us if they are coming soon.
Then the frustration, they're no longer coming, what a blow
but having to kick start things again, for it's on with the show.
The working on nights then working on days,
the constant spin, your world in a haze.
And when finally it arrives, the job is done and Christmas is here,
You're back in two days to do it all again for the New Year!
Naaaa, I don't miss it a bit.
The lost Turkey order,
The cheap promotion hoarder,
Nor the "It's not fair (boo-hoo) it is making me ill,
'cause he's got too many items for a hand basket till",
The "why have you run out of all the rolled icing?
"I can't hear myself think as the carol singers sing".
The credit cards system frequently failing,
The blessed little children continually wailing.
The ten tonne of slush that the wellies tread in,
the why are there not four bags in a bin?
I don't miss a bit getting up at five,
to de-ice the car for the early morning drive.
The sadness of the old lady who has had her purse stolen
or the misery of someone who's fallen and whose ankle is swollen.
The never ending vicissitudes that make you so very weary,
not sure what I mean then look it up in the diction-ary!
The have you done this and who's doing that,
what have you done and where are we at?
The telephone call warning of another visit due,
the scurrying to face the store for their view.
The endless waiting like astronauts on the dark side of the moon,
incommunicado, no one telling us if they are coming soon.
Then the frustration, they're no longer coming, what a blow
but having to kick start things again, for it's on with the show.
The working on nights then working on days,
the constant spin, your world in a haze.
And when finally it arrives, the job is done and Christmas is here,
You're back in two days to do it all again for the New Year!
Naaaa, I don't miss it a bit.
Monday, 20 December 2010
THE DAY THAT I BROKE CHRISTMAS
Last year was an infamous Christmas in our household, for it was much discussed and agreed by all the family (except my wife) that my wife actually 'broke Christmas'. It was not a label that she particularly welcomed but I think she has come to terms with the accusation now. I believe, if my memory serves me right (and it VERY rarely does), that it all started by her boiling either a Gammon Joint or potatoes on the hob on the cooker just a couple of days before Christmas. Being a typical woman she wandered off to do some multi-tasking, probably present wrapping with her left hand, paying the bills with her right whilst reading War & Peace and ironing with her left foot. You may well ask what she was doing with her seemingly idle right foot, well not a lot, but then no one's perfect are they? So the plumb Turkey (come to think of it, she might have been plucking that with her right foot) was sitting in the fridge and the Veg, trimmings and all things Christmas dinnery purchased and secured in the larder all ready for the gathering of the clans on Christmas Day. I believe it is all to easy to blame others in this day and age and that there is no 'I' in team and furthermore that any marriage should take a collective responsibility in any problems or crisis that arise in the day to day life that we lead, but for the record I was at work so what follows next was nothing to do with me!
The pan boiled over, which should not be a real issue because cookers should be made sealed & secured from a bit of water shouldn't they. Yes they SHOULD, but this was British made and it wasn't sealed nor secured and it did go BANG! When I got home after what was one of those 'full on' days ready for an evening meal, I found there was no cooker and no (now this is where it got serious), no TV! The cooker had completely tripped out the entire house, it was dead, the only life it had in it was the large spark that flew across the room when it went POP and the power surge it created weaselled its way into the Sky TV box and it too had demised. Our aerial for analogue had decided to hang upside down from the chimney several years ago, I guess it got bored of the same old view day after day and year after year. I totally empathise with it as I can remember when I was about 8 or 9 years old getting bored with the view from my bed at night. Not content with facing the room or facing the wall, I'd some times lay the opposite direction in bed but stupidly I didn't (being an inept 8yr old boy) alter the bed sheets accordingly and found I had to quickly scrabble back to the open end again for gulps of breath. So I tried laying in the normal place but I hung my head and shoulders right out of the bed so that my head was upside down and nearly touching the floor affording me an interesting and very different view from my bed. I really took to this and kept the habit up for quite a long time and it probably accounts for why I see things so differently from everyone else. In all honesty it probably accounts for a lot more than that with so much blood rushing to my head!
So, the TV aerial was useless, so we had no TV. ERGO, MY WIFE BROKE CHRISTMAS.
12 months later and with time healing the fractures wounds we are in a new house, a new career and a new life. So all should be fine but yet there are rumblings of discontent from within the household, concerns that they don't have a repeat of last years events and the eyes seem to be turning towards me. You see I need to re-decorate the house and the kitchen is the item currently on my hit list at the moment and when I decorate, well I tend to carry out 'extreme decorating'. I like to get everything back to the core four walls & floor for that matter. I have stripped the kitchen to the barest of bones. So with just 4 days to Christmas we have no fridge, no freezer, no cooker, no hob, no work surfaces and no taps (which is just as well as we don't have a sink anyway! BUT, I'm not stupid, I have kept the dishwasher plumbed in. I just HATE washing up!
We are therefore in a situation that we are having to march to the 'cloakroom' (Bog) to fill the kettle (not actually from the toilet) then march back again to plug it in. Last year we bought a mini baby Belling cooker which just plugged into a wall socket, I think it took about 3 days to cook the Turkey, well this was Alison's 'get out of jail' card last year and is mine this year. It should be considered a 'slow cooker' rather than an alternative cooker. What is really irritating is that I keep going to throw the old tea from the pot down the sink, which isn't there, and wandering off with wet toes. So my Daughter is home and my boy is coming home and it should be a time of peace and goodwill to all people, but I've broken Christmas this year and I am not feeling that warm, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, nutmeg, mulled wine, cups of tea in bed family cosiness and I just can't understand why.
The pan boiled over, which should not be a real issue because cookers should be made sealed & secured from a bit of water shouldn't they. Yes they SHOULD, but this was British made and it wasn't sealed nor secured and it did go BANG! When I got home after what was one of those 'full on' days ready for an evening meal, I found there was no cooker and no (now this is where it got serious), no TV! The cooker had completely tripped out the entire house, it was dead, the only life it had in it was the large spark that flew across the room when it went POP and the power surge it created weaselled its way into the Sky TV box and it too had demised. Our aerial for analogue had decided to hang upside down from the chimney several years ago, I guess it got bored of the same old view day after day and year after year. I totally empathise with it as I can remember when I was about 8 or 9 years old getting bored with the view from my bed at night. Not content with facing the room or facing the wall, I'd some times lay the opposite direction in bed but stupidly I didn't (being an inept 8yr old boy) alter the bed sheets accordingly and found I had to quickly scrabble back to the open end again for gulps of breath. So I tried laying in the normal place but I hung my head and shoulders right out of the bed so that my head was upside down and nearly touching the floor affording me an interesting and very different view from my bed. I really took to this and kept the habit up for quite a long time and it probably accounts for why I see things so differently from everyone else. In all honesty it probably accounts for a lot more than that with so much blood rushing to my head!
So, the TV aerial was useless, so we had no TV. ERGO, MY WIFE BROKE CHRISTMAS.
12 months later and with time healing the fractures wounds we are in a new house, a new career and a new life. So all should be fine but yet there are rumblings of discontent from within the household, concerns that they don't have a repeat of last years events and the eyes seem to be turning towards me. You see I need to re-decorate the house and the kitchen is the item currently on my hit list at the moment and when I decorate, well I tend to carry out 'extreme decorating'. I like to get everything back to the core four walls & floor for that matter. I have stripped the kitchen to the barest of bones. So with just 4 days to Christmas we have no fridge, no freezer, no cooker, no hob, no work surfaces and no taps (which is just as well as we don't have a sink anyway! BUT, I'm not stupid, I have kept the dishwasher plumbed in. I just HATE washing up!
We are therefore in a situation that we are having to march to the 'cloakroom' (Bog) to fill the kettle (not actually from the toilet) then march back again to plug it in. Last year we bought a mini baby Belling cooker which just plugged into a wall socket, I think it took about 3 days to cook the Turkey, well this was Alison's 'get out of jail' card last year and is mine this year. It should be considered a 'slow cooker' rather than an alternative cooker. What is really irritating is that I keep going to throw the old tea from the pot down the sink, which isn't there, and wandering off with wet toes. So my Daughter is home and my boy is coming home and it should be a time of peace and goodwill to all people, but I've broken Christmas this year and I am not feeling that warm, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, nutmeg, mulled wine, cups of tea in bed family cosiness and I just can't understand why.
Friday, 17 December 2010
THE DAY I DROVE 100 MILES AND SAVED £25
Willows Business Park (Kings Lynn), Welland Road (Peterborough), Bridge Road (Leicester) and Islington Street (Leicester) have a connection that probably only the geekiest of geeks would be able to recall. It was a connection that was going to afford me a saving of £25 and one that was also going to assist me in 'beating the system', albeit a very puerile win.
It all starts with the re-refurbishment of my kitchen. The existing kitchen was bespoke made and fitted in the 1970's. Made from thick wood & plywood it was put together with glue, nails (small and very long), screws (also very long), Dove joints, tacks, cement and commitment to a job well done. The guy that built this kitchen knew his trade well and I sincerely believe he thought we were on an earth quake fault line, for this kitchen was built to last. In the 70's, the Cold War was still unnerving and I am of the opinion that this kitchen was built as a bunker. "What's that dear? A three minute warning! Then open those doors, shift the pots and pans and mind yourself on that stop cock".
"Bombs away, Conrad......, "was that a hit Vladimir?" "Yes Conrad, the entire Village is vaporised, but what is that? Something is still there." "What can you see Vladimir?"...... "The only object still standing Conrad, is, is, well you might think I've had a few too many vodkas, but, well, it's a Kitchen!"
I had to resort to every tool that I had in my arsenal, bringing in the big guns (the sledge hammer) to remove the cemented on work surface. I ended up with a stash of wood that would have left a substantial hole in any forest, many pieces had loads of nails sticking out every which way as if they were some nasty and cruel medieval torture device. Whilst I cut up as much as I could for the fireplace I was still stuck with a tonne of debris.
So off to the Tip then. Car filled I headed for the local Recycling centre (or Tip, to you and me). I pulled in and started to unload, then the 'Tip Guy' comes across, takes the classic sharp inhale as he sized up my car load of wood and assorted bunker materials and then declares "You can't put all that into the skip, it's more than 2 bin bags worth." Well Duurrrrr, it's a bloody nuclear bunker, of course it's a lot, I thought, safety doesn't come cheap you know! He went on to explain that I could put the equivalent of two bag fulls of timber allowing me to dump the heavy cemented kitchen work tops in the general rubbish skip, but any more would be £25.
£25! Well nuclear Bunker or not, I have no intention of parting with £25 for something they would chip and sell on to the pulping mill (I haven't a clue what they do with it actually) so I said if that was the case I'd take it home and have a bonfire. Ya Boo to them. Later on my daughter had a great idea, she suggested that I put a great big false Moustache on the front of the car and go back in disguise for another two bits. This of course would not work, as I had a car full and I would have to go back many times, so she helpfully suggested that I craftily place a Fez on top of the car the next time and so on and so on. She's not all there you know, bless her. However my own plan was more cunning, more planned, more considered, but probably just as naive.......
I had to collect Claire (my daughter) from Leicester Uni and so I went to my old confidant and friend, Google and found EVERY Household tip on route from my house to her flat in Leicester. Yep, you've guessed it, I did a tour of tips across four Counties and just about every one of them was right next to my main route, the A47.
I'd pull into the first, be greeted with the same response my previous guy gave me and then I would look all despondent and threw away my small allowance, then off I drove towards Leicester stopping at the next tip and so on and so on. I know this seems churlish, but I was damned if I was going to part with £25.
And so it was that I started off with a People carrier, seats removed and car filled with a dismembered nuclear bunker and I arrived at Leicester, 100 miles later £25 still secured firmly in my Bank balance!
It all starts with the re-refurbishment of my kitchen. The existing kitchen was bespoke made and fitted in the 1970's. Made from thick wood & plywood it was put together with glue, nails (small and very long), screws (also very long), Dove joints, tacks, cement and commitment to a job well done. The guy that built this kitchen knew his trade well and I sincerely believe he thought we were on an earth quake fault line, for this kitchen was built to last. In the 70's, the Cold War was still unnerving and I am of the opinion that this kitchen was built as a bunker. "What's that dear? A three minute warning! Then open those doors, shift the pots and pans and mind yourself on that stop cock".
"Bombs away, Conrad......, "was that a hit Vladimir?" "Yes Conrad, the entire Village is vaporised, but what is that? Something is still there." "What can you see Vladimir?"...... "The only object still standing Conrad, is, is, well you might think I've had a few too many vodkas, but, well, it's a Kitchen!"
I had to resort to every tool that I had in my arsenal, bringing in the big guns (the sledge hammer) to remove the cemented on work surface. I ended up with a stash of wood that would have left a substantial hole in any forest, many pieces had loads of nails sticking out every which way as if they were some nasty and cruel medieval torture device. Whilst I cut up as much as I could for the fireplace I was still stuck with a tonne of debris.
So off to the Tip then. Car filled I headed for the local Recycling centre (or Tip, to you and me). I pulled in and started to unload, then the 'Tip Guy' comes across, takes the classic sharp inhale as he sized up my car load of wood and assorted bunker materials and then declares "You can't put all that into the skip, it's more than 2 bin bags worth." Well Duurrrrr, it's a bloody nuclear bunker, of course it's a lot, I thought, safety doesn't come cheap you know! He went on to explain that I could put the equivalent of two bag fulls of timber allowing me to dump the heavy cemented kitchen work tops in the general rubbish skip, but any more would be £25.
£25! Well nuclear Bunker or not, I have no intention of parting with £25 for something they would chip and sell on to the pulping mill (I haven't a clue what they do with it actually) so I said if that was the case I'd take it home and have a bonfire. Ya Boo to them. Later on my daughter had a great idea, she suggested that I put a great big false Moustache on the front of the car and go back in disguise for another two bits. This of course would not work, as I had a car full and I would have to go back many times, so she helpfully suggested that I craftily place a Fez on top of the car the next time and so on and so on. She's not all there you know, bless her. However my own plan was more cunning, more planned, more considered, but probably just as naive.......
I had to collect Claire (my daughter) from Leicester Uni and so I went to my old confidant and friend, Google and found EVERY Household tip on route from my house to her flat in Leicester. Yep, you've guessed it, I did a tour of tips across four Counties and just about every one of them was right next to my main route, the A47.
I'd pull into the first, be greeted with the same response my previous guy gave me and then I would look all despondent and threw away my small allowance, then off I drove towards Leicester stopping at the next tip and so on and so on. I know this seems churlish, but I was damned if I was going to part with £25.
And so it was that I started off with a People carrier, seats removed and car filled with a dismembered nuclear bunker and I arrived at Leicester, 100 miles later £25 still secured firmly in my Bank balance!
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
THE NIGHT OF ILLUMINATION
Hunkered down, for the evening, in my faithful old re-laxer armchair with my cat snoozing on my keyboard arm whilst I watched one of the inane 500 channels on Sky and trying to tap yesterdays blog on with my single, but reliable, index finger I considered that the day was done. Then Alison (my life long friend, partner, wife and sign there, there, there & there) got out of bed (for she does a real job & needs sleep) and shouted down to me that did I know there was "supposed to be a pretty good Meteor shower tonight?" "Apparently at least two a minute", she clarified, then toddled off back to bed.
Mmm, I mused, just a tad too chilly for such shenanigans and it would be mean to disturb the cat, who at the time was clearly dreaming of catching a fresh chaffinch to play with (least said soonest mended on that matter). BUT. Well it would be a shame to miss a 'pretty good' meteor shower, wouldn't it. I googled' it and found out it was the debris from 3200 Phaethon, an object which is thought to be an extinct comet. Effectively the debris hangs in the universe and we (Planet Earth) crash into it every 14th of December or thereabouts. Some what reluctantly but yet driven by curiosity (something the cat was showing no signs of) I got up, Meeeeowww! and clambered into my trainers then wrapped myself into my snug Puffa jacket. Having made sure all the house lights were off I ventured into the darkness of the back garden.
The moon was low but had not quite disappeared and so a deep, dark, indigo allowed everything to become a sharp silhouette. It was about midnight and there was an overpowering silence in tandem with a complete lack of even the smallest breeze. Complete and utter peace. The air was cold, but not uncomfortably so and I looked up to see..... a wonderful shooting star. Whoooph and it was gone in a lightening white, night, bright flare. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I became aware that I had seen the meteor in a fairly cloud free area but there were incoming obstructions. Ever so slowly and like massive Zeppelins (even compared to Zeppelins) enormous cigar shaped clouds started to gently drift across my view and then seemingly moor right over my garden. A little despondent after such a promising start I found my self looking at the more local night scene around me. I used to make a point of doing this a lot in my last house where I had an excellent view of the whole village from my bedroom and the south downs beyond. I found, some time ago, that you have to make a concerted effort to stop and take time to actually soak in the glory of a beautiful night. The architectural silhouettes of the houses around me were punctuated by the Windmill a few gardens away which had a single square window blazing light from within and the acidic Sodium street lamp splashed across my flint back garden wall forming a stark contrast to the general indigo blue of the night. Every garden tree silhouette had a different signature, the Cherry trees with their long leggy strokes, the Hazel nut, messy, hard to read, the Yew, one great big black ink splodge and the Willow with its whimsical carelessness. An Owl screamed out and a dog replied. The stars had all but gone now, so I returned to the comfort of old faithful.
About an hour later I finally resolved to go to bed and had an urge to have one last look at the sky to see if the 120 meteors an hour was a possibility. Trainers back on, as too the quilted coat and then a fumble through a pitch black room to get to the back door. As I opened the door I was met by the same sharp fresh air and this time the darkness was overwhelming, as too was the silence. Paul Simon was right, there is a sound of silence, one that words will never be able to describe, but it is so rare to find it and it is accentuated by the richness of the dark, matt blackness of a moonless night. The silhouettes had all gone and the tree signatures all rubbed out, I couldn't even see my own feet, the darkness was everywhere until I looked to the Heavens.
Thousands, no Millions, naaaaaa, Billions of stars filled the sky and not a single cloud. Gob-smacking. Just simply Gob-smacking. The Plough, Cassiopeia, the Pleiades and the magnificent constellation of Orion burst out of the black sky as bright as could be and in the background the incredible haze of stars that is the Milky Way almost like a ghostly spectre hanging in the darkness, tonight it was at its best, truly astounding. Then Whooooph. A Meteor flashed in & out of view in no more than a second, then a minute later another and another, then another shot straight through Orion's belt. I watched the blazing lights for another 20 minutes all the time soaking up the scene in its entirety, we are not on this earth for long and if you have never placed yourself into the awesomeness of a crispy clean, clear, unworldly windless night then you need to make time to do so. But just doing so is not enough you need to use your brain to register AND assimilate every thing that your eyes see, your nose smells, your ears hear and most importantly, my friend, what your heart feels and then you too will have had a night of true illumination.
Mmm, I mused, just a tad too chilly for such shenanigans and it would be mean to disturb the cat, who at the time was clearly dreaming of catching a fresh chaffinch to play with (least said soonest mended on that matter). BUT. Well it would be a shame to miss a 'pretty good' meteor shower, wouldn't it. I googled' it and found out it was the debris from 3200 Phaethon, an object which is thought to be an extinct comet. Effectively the debris hangs in the universe and we (Planet Earth) crash into it every 14th of December or thereabouts. Some what reluctantly but yet driven by curiosity (something the cat was showing no signs of) I got up, Meeeeowww! and clambered into my trainers then wrapped myself into my snug Puffa jacket. Having made sure all the house lights were off I ventured into the darkness of the back garden.
The moon was low but had not quite disappeared and so a deep, dark, indigo allowed everything to become a sharp silhouette. It was about midnight and there was an overpowering silence in tandem with a complete lack of even the smallest breeze. Complete and utter peace. The air was cold, but not uncomfortably so and I looked up to see..... a wonderful shooting star. Whoooph and it was gone in a lightening white, night, bright flare. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I became aware that I had seen the meteor in a fairly cloud free area but there were incoming obstructions. Ever so slowly and like massive Zeppelins (even compared to Zeppelins) enormous cigar shaped clouds started to gently drift across my view and then seemingly moor right over my garden. A little despondent after such a promising start I found my self looking at the more local night scene around me. I used to make a point of doing this a lot in my last house where I had an excellent view of the whole village from my bedroom and the south downs beyond. I found, some time ago, that you have to make a concerted effort to stop and take time to actually soak in the glory of a beautiful night. The architectural silhouettes of the houses around me were punctuated by the Windmill a few gardens away which had a single square window blazing light from within and the acidic Sodium street lamp splashed across my flint back garden wall forming a stark contrast to the general indigo blue of the night. Every garden tree silhouette had a different signature, the Cherry trees with their long leggy strokes, the Hazel nut, messy, hard to read, the Yew, one great big black ink splodge and the Willow with its whimsical carelessness. An Owl screamed out and a dog replied. The stars had all but gone now, so I returned to the comfort of old faithful.
About an hour later I finally resolved to go to bed and had an urge to have one last look at the sky to see if the 120 meteors an hour was a possibility. Trainers back on, as too the quilted coat and then a fumble through a pitch black room to get to the back door. As I opened the door I was met by the same sharp fresh air and this time the darkness was overwhelming, as too was the silence. Paul Simon was right, there is a sound of silence, one that words will never be able to describe, but it is so rare to find it and it is accentuated by the richness of the dark, matt blackness of a moonless night. The silhouettes had all gone and the tree signatures all rubbed out, I couldn't even see my own feet, the darkness was everywhere until I looked to the Heavens.
Thousands, no Millions, naaaaaa, Billions of stars filled the sky and not a single cloud. Gob-smacking. Just simply Gob-smacking. The Plough, Cassiopeia, the Pleiades and the magnificent constellation of Orion burst out of the black sky as bright as could be and in the background the incredible haze of stars that is the Milky Way almost like a ghostly spectre hanging in the darkness, tonight it was at its best, truly astounding. Then Whooooph. A Meteor flashed in & out of view in no more than a second, then a minute later another and another, then another shot straight through Orion's belt. I watched the blazing lights for another 20 minutes all the time soaking up the scene in its entirety, we are not on this earth for long and if you have never placed yourself into the awesomeness of a crispy clean, clear, unworldly windless night then you need to make time to do so. But just doing so is not enough you need to use your brain to register AND assimilate every thing that your eyes see, your nose smells, your ears hear and most importantly, my friend, what your heart feels and then you too will have had a night of true illumination.
Tuesday, 14 December 2010
THE DAY THE TELEPHONE MAN CAME
Today was painting day, there are quite a lot of 'painting days' at the moment and my once grey hair now has interesting freckles of 'Sicilian Summer' and 'Roasted Red' with just a hint of 'Clotted Cream' for contrast. My decorating clothes however, being liberally spread with such specks, do make me appear like the genuine thing and all I need is the white van, a ladder and an attitude, then I'd be in business.
So being tied to the walls, means that I am able to get engineers in at any time and having had a Broadband speed that was put to shame by Pigeon post I called the Telephone man, who duly arrived today.
He said...
"Hey, I'm your telephone man
You just show me where you want it and I'll put it where I can
I can put it in the bedroom, I can put it in the hall
I can put it in the bathroom, I can hang it on the wall
You can have it with a buzz, you can have it with a ring
And if you really want it, you can have a ding-a-ling
Because-a hey baby, I'm your telephone man"
Actually, he didn't say that at all. It was, for those who know nothing of this a Meri Wilson song from the 70's which just simply amuses me.I know it is crass.....
I got it in the bedroom, and I got it in the hall
And I got it in the bathroom, and he hung it on the wall
I got it with a buzz, and I got it with a ring
And when he told me what my number was, I got a ding-a-ling
But it just does. OK!
Anyhow, I've done a Ronnie Corbett & drifted from the point, which was, if you were paying attention, that my Ding-a-ling Broadband had less speed than Jimi Hendrix on a 'night in'. Well after much prompting from me as to where the fault was (the entrance junction box was wrongly positioned, in my opinion) he fixed the problem. He then had to 'check' the other extensions around the house for some reason. Anyway, and almost inevitably, just minutes after he left I found that now one of the extensions did not work. So once again I had to make a nice local call to Scotland, naturally, the engineer was just 2 minutes down the road (with a mobile) but No, I had to speak to a man in Scotland who "couldn't help and would put me through to a more appropriate person". So, obviously, he puts me through to a guy in India, NOT EVEN THE SAME BLOODY CONTINENT!
Needless to say they couldn't turn the engineer around.
Long story short (and long distant phone conversation later) I have another engineer coming for tea tomorrow.
Reminds me a bit of Flanders & Swan The gas man cometh song, have a listen.......
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pPZM8Ebt-mU
It says it all.
the perfect embodiment of an intangible quality; a personification
So being tied to the walls, means that I am able to get engineers in at any time and having had a Broadband speed that was put to shame by Pigeon post I called the Telephone man, who duly arrived today.
He said...
"Hey, I'm your telephone man
You just show me where you want it and I'll put it where I can
I can put it in the bedroom, I can put it in the hall
I can put it in the bathroom, I can hang it on the wall
You can have it with a buzz, you can have it with a ring
And if you really want it, you can have a ding-a-ling
Because-a hey baby, I'm your telephone man"
Actually, he didn't say that at all. It was, for those who know nothing of this a Meri Wilson song from the 70's which just simply amuses me.I know it is crass.....
I got it in the bedroom, and I got it in the hall
And I got it in the bathroom, and he hung it on the wall
I got it with a buzz, and I got it with a ring
And when he told me what my number was, I got a ding-a-ling
But it just does. OK!
Anyhow, I've done a Ronnie Corbett & drifted from the point, which was, if you were paying attention, that my Ding-a-ling Broadband had less speed than Jimi Hendrix on a 'night in'. Well after much prompting from me as to where the fault was (the entrance junction box was wrongly positioned, in my opinion) he fixed the problem. He then had to 'check' the other extensions around the house for some reason. Anyway, and almost inevitably, just minutes after he left I found that now one of the extensions did not work. So once again I had to make a nice local call to Scotland, naturally, the engineer was just 2 minutes down the road (with a mobile) but No, I had to speak to a man in Scotland who "couldn't help and would put me through to a more appropriate person". So, obviously, he puts me through to a guy in India, NOT EVEN THE SAME BLOODY CONTINENT!
Needless to say they couldn't turn the engineer around.
Long story short (and long distant phone conversation later) I have another engineer coming for tea tomorrow.
Reminds me a bit of Flanders & Swan The gas man cometh song, have a listen.......
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pPZM8Ebt-mU
It says it all.
the perfect embodiment of an intangible quality; a personification
Monday, 13 December 2010
THE DAY OF THE PERFECT BUTCHER
One of the benchmarks of any B&B has got to be it's breakfast, which essentially means any ingredient needs to be of an excellent quality. However, in running a business this has to be sought at an affordable price and so, I am pleased to say, this involves a 'little research'.
The most expensive part of the breakfast is the meat and it is clear that a good butcher is required. Now it has to be said that Norfolk appears to take great pride in supplying locally produced foods and there are actually many very good butchers around the area. I would say that this is substantially better than it was in the area we came from in Sussex. Every other Farm appears to sell their own meat and most of the Butchers buy directly from the local farms. The other noticeable thing about these butchers is the freshness and pure size of the range of products that they offer.
Sadly for many years the high street butcher has been crushed by the Supermarkets, causing them to have so little turnover that they could barely sell a whole Primal (initial cut of the carcass) before its code life expired. As a result I have seen shop displays that are so minimal in range that they have resembled those of the era of war time rationing. The Supermarkets did such a great job that there is now a generation that is not aware that there were butchers in every high street and every village.The only way they have survived is to keep their customer base and very often this was done via price but at the cost of quality. Hence both Supermarkets and Butchers settled for selling items like chicken breast,which have been battery farmed and injected & engorged with water. The desire for quality at affordable prices has now really gained momentum and this crazy habit of sending the animal to slaughter then halfway across the country to be processed, then back out to the distribution depots then out to shops has its own price tag on it - oil.
So, I am absolutely loving these busy, thriving village Butchers for all that they stand for and I am particularly impressed with an award winning one called M & M Rutland Butchers of Melton Constable, http://www.rutland-butchers.co.uk/index.php , who are just fantastic. They produce a home-made range of some 40 different sausages and you can buy FRESH Pigeon, Pheasant, Partridge, quail, Grouse, Venison, oh just about everything. AND IT IS FRESH, and the Beef is 'matured'. I had one of their hand-made chicken Kiev's today and the chicken breast was meaty and had no water steaming out of it. Go onto their site and look at the unique sausage varieties. AND what I admire more than anything else is that they close half day on Saturdays and do not open on Sundays, their customers know this and make a point of getting there when they are open. So here's to the Perfect Butchers and to their loyal customers.
The most expensive part of the breakfast is the meat and it is clear that a good butcher is required. Now it has to be said that Norfolk appears to take great pride in supplying locally produced foods and there are actually many very good butchers around the area. I would say that this is substantially better than it was in the area we came from in Sussex. Every other Farm appears to sell their own meat and most of the Butchers buy directly from the local farms. The other noticeable thing about these butchers is the freshness and pure size of the range of products that they offer.
Sadly for many years the high street butcher has been crushed by the Supermarkets, causing them to have so little turnover that they could barely sell a whole Primal (initial cut of the carcass) before its code life expired. As a result I have seen shop displays that are so minimal in range that they have resembled those of the era of war time rationing. The Supermarkets did such a great job that there is now a generation that is not aware that there were butchers in every high street and every village.The only way they have survived is to keep their customer base and very often this was done via price but at the cost of quality. Hence both Supermarkets and Butchers settled for selling items like chicken breast,which have been battery farmed and injected & engorged with water. The desire for quality at affordable prices has now really gained momentum and this crazy habit of sending the animal to slaughter then halfway across the country to be processed, then back out to the distribution depots then out to shops has its own price tag on it - oil.
So, I am absolutely loving these busy, thriving village Butchers for all that they stand for and I am particularly impressed with an award winning one called M & M Rutland Butchers of Melton Constable, http://www.rutland-butchers.co.uk/index.php , who are just fantastic. They produce a home-made range of some 40 different sausages and you can buy FRESH Pigeon, Pheasant, Partridge, quail, Grouse, Venison, oh just about everything. AND IT IS FRESH, and the Beef is 'matured'. I had one of their hand-made chicken Kiev's today and the chicken breast was meaty and had no water steaming out of it. Go onto their site and look at the unique sausage varieties. AND what I admire more than anything else is that they close half day on Saturdays and do not open on Sundays, their customers know this and make a point of getting there when they are open. So here's to the Perfect Butchers and to their loyal customers.
Friday, 10 December 2010
THE DAY THE CHEQUE BOOK ARRIVED
This may seem a pretty minor event, after all we have all received cheque books at some time and my behaviour at such times is to grunt under my breath to myself "what do I want this for?" and then chuck it in some drawer somewhere. This is mainly because I have been very selfish in the past and regarded any financial dealings my wife's job to action as, after all, she is a Bank Manager and clearly she is the most skilled to deal with all things financial. This is greatly to my shame and I am very aware that she could have financially stripped me bare & left me and I wouldn't even have known how it had happened. She frequently brings bits of paper across to me and says sign there, there (turns over the page) and there and there. In fact this reminds me very much of Radar doing much the same to Col. Henry Blake (and Col. Potter) in MASH, where both men were bamboozled by a plenitude of forms and the innate Alpha male tendency to switch off when overloaded by 'boring stuff'. The more paper you chuck at us the more we go off into dream land, it is almost on the level of horse whispering or snake charming, were gone man, just solid gone.
And yet, today was The Day The Cheque book arrived and I even bothered to open it, look at it and gave it a thorough look over. Because after some thirty years in 'Corporate' land I have finally had the ball's to start my own business. This new arrival was the first real evidence of this, it was my business cheque book for 'The Old Bakery'. whilst it may seem a little immature to be so chuffed about receiving this item you have to remember that for 30 years I have been 'conditioned' but this...... well this represents the actuality of what I am doing. To me the task is massive, I'm not buying a business, but creating one. I'm not implementing someone's vision but creating my own. I'm not 'running away' or indeed retiring (as so many of my dear colleagues put it on my card) but I am trying to forge a new, different, life, so it was, and is, important, the day the cheque book arrived.
And yet, today was The Day The Cheque book arrived and I even bothered to open it, look at it and gave it a thorough look over. Because after some thirty years in 'Corporate' land I have finally had the ball's to start my own business. This new arrival was the first real evidence of this, it was my business cheque book for 'The Old Bakery'. whilst it may seem a little immature to be so chuffed about receiving this item you have to remember that for 30 years I have been 'conditioned' but this...... well this represents the actuality of what I am doing. To me the task is massive, I'm not buying a business, but creating one. I'm not implementing someone's vision but creating my own. I'm not 'running away' or indeed retiring (as so many of my dear colleagues put it on my card) but I am trying to forge a new, different, life, so it was, and is, important, the day the cheque book arrived.
Thursday, 9 December 2010
THE DAY THAT THE CHAIRMAN VISITED
The last few days have been full on, I have been decorating the dining room and really wanted to have it done in time for the Chairman's visit. It is a very big room (28sq mtrs) and even though one wall is made of bare flint & bricks there is still a lot of walls to prepare and paint.The room was the old Post Office shop and is at least 100 years old. Now I'm not saying that it had not been decorated since then, but clearly it had not been done since the mid 1970's and there was a fair bit to do. Whilst I was cleaning the ceiling I found 3 spider legs sticking out between a supporting beam and the ceiling above. The poor bastard had been nailed and trapped the day the ceiling was secured. I didn't fancy cutting them off, so I've left them there as a 'feature'. Some people have stuffed birds or Moose heads, well I have three spider legs sticking out of a beam, sounds like a Tate Modern Art Gallery Installation.
I worked throughout the day, on my own, and every now and again the cat sauntered in walked the circumference of the room, wandered over to where I was working gave a little judgemental glance at my craftsmanship and then went to the middle of the room and flopped down on the hard ceramic floor tiles. Why do cats do that? I mean leave a perfectly good armchair, to lay on a cold hard floor. Anyway, about 10 minutes later I suddenly come to the realisation that I have been talking to the cat, quite intelligently, not the standard 'baby talk' but good solid conversation. Well in fairness that is probably a two way thing, no this was more a mono-sation and the only reason I think I realised that I was doing it was because I had said something gramatically incorrect and I found myself correcting my grammer to...... the bloody cat! Now I don't think the few weeks that I have been on this venture has turned me this way, no, what's more concerning is that I think I may have been doing this for the last few years and I am only thankful that, so far, I don't believe that she has joined in the conversation.
Anyway, today was important because I was expecting the Chairman to arrive and I really wanted to be ready. He was due at 8am and arrived bang on time and with his colleague they firstly delivered the Dining room table and then the Chairs. With the arrival of the Table and the chairs the dining room was now complete. Job done.
I worked throughout the day, on my own, and every now and again the cat sauntered in walked the circumference of the room, wandered over to where I was working gave a little judgemental glance at my craftsmanship and then went to the middle of the room and flopped down on the hard ceramic floor tiles. Why do cats do that? I mean leave a perfectly good armchair, to lay on a cold hard floor. Anyway, about 10 minutes later I suddenly come to the realisation that I have been talking to the cat, quite intelligently, not the standard 'baby talk' but good solid conversation. Well in fairness that is probably a two way thing, no this was more a mono-sation and the only reason I think I realised that I was doing it was because I had said something gramatically incorrect and I found myself correcting my grammer to...... the bloody cat! Now I don't think the few weeks that I have been on this venture has turned me this way, no, what's more concerning is that I think I may have been doing this for the last few years and I am only thankful that, so far, I don't believe that she has joined in the conversation.
Anyway, today was important because I was expecting the Chairman to arrive and I really wanted to be ready. He was due at 8am and arrived bang on time and with his colleague they firstly delivered the Dining room table and then the Chairs. With the arrival of the Table and the chairs the dining room was now complete. Job done.
Wednesday, 8 December 2010
THE DAY THAT JOHN LENNON DIED
There are places I'll remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends, I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I'll love you more
John Winston Ono Lennon, MBE (9 October 1940 – 8 December 1980)
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends, I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I'll love you more
John Winston Ono Lennon, MBE (9 October 1940 – 8 December 1980)
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
THE DAY I WAS HIJACKED
Today I had some simple tasks. Firstly I had to prepare a wall for painting, then paint it (two coats, since you ask) and then go to the Rubbish dump in Norwich. Seemed do-able to me.
The first went well, cleaned, scrubbed & rubbed the walls. Stuck up my masking tape which, by the way, always seems to rip off at an angle after just a few inches. This is completely unrelated to how old or battered the roll is. I had a brand new roll and as sure as the leaning tower of Pisa is leaning I just knew that about 2" short of the length of tape that I required it would start to rip off at an absolutely useless angle, leaving a very long tapering bit of useless sticky nothingness. I digress.
Then I painted the wall. Nothing to report there, in fact I would say that I did a jolly good job, but then I didn't have my glasses on and I have probably painted right across the cat, who'll get up and walk away with a rather snazzy shade of brown on her side. Still, it will make for a unique stencil of a 'cat snoozing on floor by wall of dining room'. Last time I painted a white door frame on the floor I quite forgot about the cat and several minutes later there was a trail of little paw prints running across my Ikea wood effect floor. I liked it so much that I never bothered to clean it off.
Where was I? Yes, yes that's right, the paint job done and dusted and on to the next task, getting to the Rubbish dump in Norwich. Filled the car up with said rubbish, mainly all the tut that the tiler decided to leave liberally scattered across my patio. I had never been to this Tip before so I had a nice morale boosting chat with my sat Nav and off we set. Now you have to understand that this Sat Nav is no Tom Tom and was designed well before Tom Tom was even just Tom. It relies on a CD ROM which runs in a computer, the size of a large TV Set Top Box, which sits snugly under the passenger seat. It is old and, perhaps, a little out of date. 10 years out of date, but I like to think of it as Retro. Sadly our streets are not so 'retro' and it does not know that many of them even exist. The other day I knew I was less than half a mile from my target, but that was not challenging it's brain, no, it wanted to design a route which was bespoke, unlike any other. Not the run of the mill direct route, have you there in two minutes Guv and we'll be home for tea. No, that would just be too easy. Tell you what, driver, I'll take you the scenic route......
My suspicions were firstly aroused when the little, as the crow flies, direction arrow pointed North and my car started to head South. A quick glance at the screen told me that I was in for a 75 kilometer tour of Norfolk that would only take an hour. I pulled into the B&Q car park, turned her off (Oh yes the Sat Nav is most definitely a 'she') and phoned the shop that I was hunting for. 2 minutes later I was there.
So you would think that I may have learnt the lesson, well my friend you are very, very mistaken. I left to head for Norwich, today, and it sent me a different route than the one I had been taking. Still I had nearly an hour before the Tip closed and it normally only takes about half an hour. The change will be interesting.
WRONG. The car Hijacked me, taking me on a tour of most of the little villages and indeed some of the larger ones too. One hour later and five minutes after the Tip had closed I arrived. In the words of a great cartoon hero..... D'oh!
The first went well, cleaned, scrubbed & rubbed the walls. Stuck up my masking tape which, by the way, always seems to rip off at an angle after just a few inches. This is completely unrelated to how old or battered the roll is. I had a brand new roll and as sure as the leaning tower of Pisa is leaning I just knew that about 2" short of the length of tape that I required it would start to rip off at an absolutely useless angle, leaving a very long tapering bit of useless sticky nothingness. I digress.
Then I painted the wall. Nothing to report there, in fact I would say that I did a jolly good job, but then I didn't have my glasses on and I have probably painted right across the cat, who'll get up and walk away with a rather snazzy shade of brown on her side. Still, it will make for a unique stencil of a 'cat snoozing on floor by wall of dining room'. Last time I painted a white door frame on the floor I quite forgot about the cat and several minutes later there was a trail of little paw prints running across my Ikea wood effect floor. I liked it so much that I never bothered to clean it off.
Where was I? Yes, yes that's right, the paint job done and dusted and on to the next task, getting to the Rubbish dump in Norwich. Filled the car up with said rubbish, mainly all the tut that the tiler decided to leave liberally scattered across my patio. I had never been to this Tip before so I had a nice morale boosting chat with my sat Nav and off we set. Now you have to understand that this Sat Nav is no Tom Tom and was designed well before Tom Tom was even just Tom. It relies on a CD ROM which runs in a computer, the size of a large TV Set Top Box, which sits snugly under the passenger seat. It is old and, perhaps, a little out of date. 10 years out of date, but I like to think of it as Retro. Sadly our streets are not so 'retro' and it does not know that many of them even exist. The other day I knew I was less than half a mile from my target, but that was not challenging it's brain, no, it wanted to design a route which was bespoke, unlike any other. Not the run of the mill direct route, have you there in two minutes Guv and we'll be home for tea. No, that would just be too easy. Tell you what, driver, I'll take you the scenic route......
My suspicions were firstly aroused when the little, as the crow flies, direction arrow pointed North and my car started to head South. A quick glance at the screen told me that I was in for a 75 kilometer tour of Norfolk that would only take an hour. I pulled into the B&Q car park, turned her off (Oh yes the Sat Nav is most definitely a 'she') and phoned the shop that I was hunting for. 2 minutes later I was there.
So you would think that I may have learnt the lesson, well my friend you are very, very mistaken. I left to head for Norwich, today, and it sent me a different route than the one I had been taking. Still I had nearly an hour before the Tip closed and it normally only takes about half an hour. The change will be interesting.
WRONG. The car Hijacked me, taking me on a tour of most of the little villages and indeed some of the larger ones too. One hour later and five minutes after the Tip had closed I arrived. In the words of a great cartoon hero..... D'oh!
Monday, 6 December 2010
THE DAY THE PLUMBER RETIRED
My time yesterday was Spent cleaning up my Dining room after I had the benefit of a Tiler laying floor tiles a few days ago. Foolishly I did not heed the one person on the internet that gave him a poor review but went with the majority that gave him an excellent review. The one was right and I can only believe that the others were accepting his standards as NFN (Normal For Norfolk). She had stated that he did not tile to the very edge (he didn't), that he left all his unused grout in her garden (he did) and that he did not leave a clean finish (he most definitely did not).
So it was with in-trepidation that I started to search for a Plumber. After writing a short list from the local phone book I decided that I would support the community and start with a local guy in the very next village.
I phoned the number and a lady answered. She sounded sober and I had no reason to suspect that this should not go well. "Is that the Plumber I asked her?" "Yes" she replied swiftly. "Excellent" I reassured both her and myself, "I need to have a Kitchen Sink and a Bed room hand basin disconnected and removed can you do this for me" going on to explain that I lived in the next village. "Yes, that should be OK" was the reassuring reply, "When do you think you could arrange to this?" I asked, feeling my feet firmly on the ground with this task that I had set myself. With this question she asked me to wait just a second and disappeared to, I presumed, check the diary. Within what could only have been 10 seconds she came back on the line and explained with a total normality and in a matter of fact way "I'm very sorry but he has retired" and put the receiver down. I guess, whilst this is my diary for my renovations, that this incident to day was the catalyst that spurred me on to start this blog for if anything was to illustrate NFN (Normal for Norfolk) then this Plumber has achieved it magnificently.
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