Criminally bent...

FG and I woke up this morning to the news of the £25m heist down the road of us here in Kent. We were amazed and intrigued by it. As CSI geeks and compulsive crime story readers and tv-show watchers we figured out the following:

1. There must have been at least ten of them - 2 to take the manager hostage, 2 to take his family hostage. The rest would be waiting at the depot or closeby.
2. Once at the depot the manager would have called the staff in for a meeting - the others would come in and take them all hostage.
3. Say three or four guys to keep the hostages under guard whilst the rest load the van with as much cash as they could.

We grinned at one another over our brekkie thinking that yes, we are such clever deviants. Much to our shock it happened almost exactly like that. Ooo, er, missus! Are we just really clever or are we criminally bent?

Next few things to figure out:

1. Do not run with the money - airports and trainstations are watched 24/7.
2. Divide the cash, dump the cars used, either steal or use the reserve cars stashed somewhere else in a garage or a warehouse.
3. Split up.
4. Maybe go back to your day job, as if nothing had happened - it was early enough to work okay.
5. Tell no one.
6. Escape into the countryside.

Easy as pie. I figure that these chaps are very clever - they must have been watching the depot itself for ages, along with everyone who worked there. They learned their routes, their routines, who did what ... its easy enough to follow someone around, no one EXPECTS to be followed around by a criminal!

I would love to see what happens now - I see the amount of money has now gone up from £25,000,000 to £55,000,000. And the coppers are offering a £2M reward...would you grass up your mate for that little if they are sitting with £55M?

Grin.

I feel a "Evil Ruler of the Universe" pose coming on, complete with stroking my white cat.

Meaow!

Death of a stove...

It is a trauma beyond imagining dear friends.

My stove died - in fact, it blew up. Two Sundays ago we were waiting for our lovely baguette to bake in the oven so that we could have it with our lovely chicken ceasar salad when BOOM it went. We ran into the kitchen in time to see the oven light go fweeeep and shut down.

We giggled nervously wondering WTF is going on? Did just the light blow? We peered into the darkness of the oven, worried. But it revealed no secrets. We fiddled with nobs. Nothing. Nada.

A dead oven.

And this happened last year too - one week before Easter. Thank the gods that we have a relatively good agency who looks after us. I rang them up on Monday, bearing in mind that it is school holiday, and explained to our agent, a lovely patient and funny chap, that I managed to kill another oven. Within less than a year. He laughed and said that yes, it was suspicious but that he would take pity on me and send their electrician/handy man out to come and have a look. I have waited one week. A very very very very long WEEK. SEVEN days with no oven - do you know how bad that is?

I made friends who came around to visit us this weekend shell out money to buy pizza from Dominos. I could not bear trying to cook for five people on just the stove-top. No one questioned the Dominos purchase - all I had to email to them is "my oven is broken" and they all understood immediately. I got a reply from one of them. It went like this:

Uh-oh. Broken stove + one week without decent food = Angry Liz.

Oh, how well do they know me?

I rang the agents again today as I have not heard of the electrician chappy or anyone, for that matter. I was apologised to. My number was dutifully passed onto the right people. Now all I have to do is wait. Impatiently. For someone to ring me to get me out of my kitchen hell.

And don't you dare say "but at least you had your stovetop" or "why don't you buy ready meals and microwave them?" because...well, you know, I need my oven whole! So I can bake bread and grill fish cakes and bake cake and stuff...its like losing the use of my arm or sumat.

It is dreadful. Oh, gods of the kitchens, please, I implore you - fix it!

A milliner's tale...

In 1797 a hatmaker on the Strand who fancied himself as something of a dandy, invented the top hat. So proud was John Hetherington on his natty new headgear, that he went for a stroll on the Strand but his enthusiasm was not shared by the general public.

“The sight of his hat caused a sensation; people booed, several women fainted, a crowd gathered and a small boy got his arm broken in the crush. Hetherington was arrested and fined £50 for “appearing on the public highway wearing upon his head a tall structure calculated to frighten timid people.”

Naming and shaming

If you read the previous post, you know I did my first bit of online shopping with one of our local supermarkets here in the UK fully expecting fantastic service and the convenience of having it all delivered to the house, as we were without a car for about 2 weeks - the alternator went and died on us.

Har! The supermarket in question rang the night of the delivery, at quarter past eight to say "the delivery won't be taking place as there is a problem at the store, please call customer services to arrange for a different time, the following day."

""$^$%&%^**(()&*)*()_ - is what I thought. I rang customer services, fully expecting to be treated as a preferred customer as the delivery had been cancelled by them and not us. The customer service chap sounded about ten and seemed petrified of me. Now, I know I can be scary once I get going, but at that point, I was merely bemused and a bit curious.

Him: Oh madam, we can only fit you in on the 9 - 11 pm delivery slot.

Me: What, how is that possible? My delivery was cancelled, surely I get preferred delivery times. I have NO food in the house. Our off-licence on the corner closes at half seven at night. I say again, I have NO food in the house.

Him: I understand. But there is nothing I can do about the slots. I can make sure you are refunded your £3.99 delivery charge.

Me: Do you know what went wrong at the branch?

Him: No, not a clue, madam.

Me: Give me the branch number.

Him: Rattles off the number.

I say thank you. I hang up and ring the branch.

It eventually gets answered.

Me: Hi, I am ringing to enquire why there are no deliveries this evening. I have received a message on my mobile stating that there is a problem at the branch.

The Branch: Madam, I have got a list of customers who I am ringing to notify them of the problem we are currently experiencing. We can't deliver any orders.

Me: Why? What has happened?

The Branch: Madam, I am not entirely sure...I think we are having problems with the vans.

Me: What? All of them?

The Branch in a vague voice: Madam, I can't say, I'm afraid. I really don't know...I think it must be the vans. That's what I heard. They just gave me a list and told me to ring customers...

Me: It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Chelsea is playing an important football match and the drivers are rather watching the game than working, is it?

The Branch: I'm afraid I cannot comment on that, madam.

I hang up.

Thursday I wrote a stinking letter to the supermarket. What shit service. For a first time online customer as well - I am shocked and will NEVER EVER AGAIN buy from there EVER AGAIN, online or otherwise.

Birthday Me!

Wow - what a lovely weekend.

I turned 33 yesterday but decided that Sundays are invariably days of rest for friends, that we should meet up in town on Saturday for a gorgeous meal and some nattering.

I chose Browns for the lunch - dependable food, good service and the atmosphere is friendly and welcoming. There was ten of us and it was lovely to see all my friends there. I was spoilt rotten, with presents galore! We stayed there till about four and eventually, reluctantly left, and made our various ways home, or to go walkabout town.

Breakdown of presents:

1 x New Queen Madge CD
1 x Milla CD
2 x Guitar books
1 x new novel set in Rome
1 x beautiful miniature zen meditation garden
2 x pairs of Socks (I genuinely asked for these!)
1 x Hero dvd
1 x very lovely new expensive earphones for my MP3 player
1 x esoteric book!
1 x huge, divine hand poured scented candle

= good pressie hoard!

The grande day itself was a relaxing one - FG and I had a lazy breakfast, we mooched about the house, decided to go for a walk and ended up in Beckenham where we had coffee and a hot chocolate at Costa Coffee - even the howler monkeys in the form of babies and kids, didn't worry us much. We got home, read a bit, watched the rugby - Scotland pounded France, go the tartan army! - and dozed and well, it was a genuinely lazy day where I got all the tea I wanted, I even got some popcorn! All in all it was a grown up, lazy birthday without having to rush around like crazy people to make sure everyone visiting has been fed etc.

Thanks for everyone joining me on Saturday and thanks for all my text messages yesterday! I am sure everyone in Costa Coffee thought I was a social butterfly, inbetween sipping hot chocolate, writing in my journal and texting, I looked quite the important one!

I am off work today - for a change - and am looking forward to sitting down in about an hour and working on my novel till FG comes home. I did my first bout of home shopping today too with Tesco and feel quite the techno wiz! Here's hoping they can deliver the 17 items I bought...

Will post back on that on Wednesday evening when it gets delivered!

Sometimes the Magic Works

There are days that are just utterly magical.

And today is one of them.

The air outside is cold. It freezes your face and sticks in your throat and sends shivers down your spine. You hunker deeper down into your scarf and warm coat, relieved that you decided to wrap up warm before leaving the warm nest of your house.

The walk to the station is an exploration – the air is cold enough to have formed a strange kind of mist that Hollywood producers pay thousands to special effects people to recreate when doing scary movies. The traffic is slow and there seems to be a lull in general sound. The station is that bit deserted that makes you wonder if you have somehow missed the notification of a new holiday.

The train journey into town is slow, giving you ample time to look out through the windows onto empty parks where the ground mists are creeping across the ground, circling the empty park benches. The train chuckles along, giving tantalising glimpses of a city wrapped in mist. I can see the Docklands and the high rises are squat because of the low cloud. We pick up speed as we pass London Bridge and soon we are crossing the Thames. The London Eye looms large and curious on its banks, only half visible to the eye and behind it the houses of parliament and Westminster Abbey. Too soon we are at our destination.

For a few vivid moments people swirl around in bright scarves and woolly hats as they exit from their carriages, leaving Charing Cross Station. The cold air is waiting outside, to welcome you. You inhale deeply, after the warmth of the train the fresh air chases the lethargy, forcing you to walk briskly to your office. Trafalgar Square is swept clean, with no pigeons in sight. The lions keep guard at the bottom and I shrug deeper into my coat and bury my chin in my scarf. The wind is cutting and my eyes water.

Along Pall Mall I squint and can imagine I can see all the way down to the bare bones of the trees in Hyde Park. But I cannot and it is only my imagination. The streets are practically deserted of traffic and a few pedestrians swiftly stride towards their destinations, oblivious of the history around them. I take my time and wonder at the mystery of this ancient city. I feel comfortable in my skin today and it feels like I can hug this ancient place that has given so much to the world since time began.

I step into my building off Regent Street and leave my wondering-self at the door. There is no place for mystery and musings on ancient things here.

Underworld: Revolution

Wednesday we toodled off to go and see Underworld:Revolution.

I didn't hold out much hope, having seen the first Underworld when it was released a while ago...needless to say I wasn't impressed with it at all. Poor Ms Beckensale pouted her way through the role, looking fetching in a very tight outfit (how do they manage to get her in and out of that thing without being taken aback by the sheer smell it must generate....shudder.)

I freely admit to being quite smitten with the second - sorry - sequel. In this instance the sequel is vastly better than the original. However, unfortunately, you still have to have a bit of an idea as to what happened in the first one to follow this one, so you will have to watch it...

The sequel starts in the year 1202 - the lycans have gone insane (funny that!) and have been destroying people and villages. So the vamps have taken it upon themselves to sort it out...

I am one of those very sad people who can't go to see a movie without looking at all the detail - the clothes, the props, the acting, the action...it all has to flow nicely together. I loved the opening scenes where they come across this destroyed village - the vampires are kitted out in fantastic armour - a bit reminscent of LoTR - and they seem to have received genuine instruction on how to fight. One of them even fights with a battle-axe - my own personal weapon of choice (I quote Slaine - "Kiss my axe") and he uses it properly! I was delighted and had to stop myself from jumping up and punching my fist into the air. The lycans looked like lycans - more yay! - and they fought like beasts. It was fab - I prayed that the rest of the movie continued in the same vein.

It did. The sets were so well done - the monastery where they receive help from one of the vampires Selene had "put away 300 years ago" was fantastic and just ancient enough and Byzantine enough to make you realise that they actually did their research, the murals depicting religious scenes were straight out of the pictures in the Coptic churches and what they uncovered in Istanbul. I suspect they shot this somewhere in the Czech Republic or some other tiny ex-Communist country and the starkness and wintry scenes were spot on the create that feeling of worry and fear, showing you just enough to make you comfortable, whilst being that bit foreign to make you feel on edge...

Ah yes. The plot...I diverge too much so I copied it across from somewhere else:

Plot: The sequel to the $100 million worldwide hit, "Underworld: Evolution" continues the saga of war between the aristocratic Death Dealers and the barbaric Lycans (werewolves). The film traces the beginnings of the ancient feud between the two tribes as Selene (Kate Beckinsale), the beautiful vampire heroine, and Michael (Scott Speedman), the lycan hybrid, try to unlock the secrets of their bloodlines. The fast-paced, modern-day tale of deadly action, ruthless intrigue and forbidden love takes them into the battle to end all wars as the immortals must finally face their retribution.

What was good fun to see was genuine loyalty and brains from hencmen/hired help, working for the daddy of the immortals. They took orders, they did what they were told to, they were unswervingly loyal to the old man and didn't swagger, swear or act like brainless eejits - as one expects from henchmen portrayed in all movies - and that was so refreshing. I was quite sad to see them...

Soz - almost gave more of the story away!

Good movie - go see it. All I have to figure out now is how to get myself angry eyes like Selene's...I wonder if the bosses in the Soul Suck will be startled when I put them in when they ask stoopid questions..again!

Fairest Cape of All

Thanks to a stupid Welsh tourist from the backwater of Swansea the most beautiful Cape is on fire.

This from the Cape Town Argus newspaper article

"Although no houses were burned, the fire claimed the life of a 65-year-old British visitor who was hiking on the mountain with her daughter. It is understood she died from smoke inhalation. Another British visitor, from Swansea in Wales, has been arrested for starting the fire."

How anyone in their right mind can do this, is really beyond me. How do you punish someone for causing this much damage? The rescuers found some burned out cars but it is unclear if they had been abandoned in time, on some of the roads. What isn't helping is the fact that there are some very strong strongs winds at present - the south easter is blowing - and the weather is very hot and the area is very dry. Some of the plantation has been burned down and loads of people have been rushed into hospital with breathing difficulties...

The pig who started this - Welsh, South African, Korean or whatever - should be set alight himself as punishment.

Grrrr.

No.

This is not a blog about me falling pregnant.

Or being broody.

This is a blog about how scary it is realising that the we have got the first pregnancy in our tiny group of friends.

We saw said friends this weekend and the young wife is pregnant, due in May of this year. She is tiny and the bump isn’t all that big either but she was complaining how difficult she was finding it, even tying her shoelaces was a mission. She regaled us with stories of how, apparently, you can see little hands and feet kick out against the tummy as the pregnancy progresses.

Now, as much as I realise that this is a female’s role in life, if she chooses it, it really freaks me out, beyond measure. I am petrified of things growing in me – be it baby, spider in my ear or disease in my brain. The mere thought of anything foreign growing inside a person really makes me freak out. Much to our friends’ amusement.

I had this rictus of fear (which I thought passed for a smile) on my face as they chatted away about the birth (an acquaintance of theirs had been in labour for 24 hours!) and these days you could have up to three people with you in the theatre. We chatted – knowledgeably – about the pros and cons of natural birth and Caesarean and breastfeeding and antenatal classes and all the palaver.

And then, my favourite subject they brought up was the money it is going to cost them to bring up the youngling. And what struck me is that these are people who are not financially insecure at all – they have got good jobs, good incomes, yet the reality of bringing a child into this world has opened their eyes to the costs of it all. The young wife indicated that she would probably have to stop working as her entire salary would go towards the paying of childcare. So, in all fairness, it would be easier for her to stay home and do it herself. Which is a valid point. Become a full time house-mom.

And I thought to myself about how many young women just fall pregnant as it is the “easy” way out – getting a house from the council, being paid to have kids and I could only shake my head as two very successful young people, our friends, will no doubt get nothing from a government who is happy to pay for useless people who have never worked a day in their lives and who live purely on hand-outs, as they know how to work the "system".

As per always it made me want to get on a soapbox and proclaim how unfair it is to people who work hard, pay their taxes and who strive to make their lives better, and who get no give-back at the end of it all.

However, I was tempered in my annoyance. Listening to their excitement and seeing their worries and fears made my heart ache for them. They will both make such fantastic parents and I can’t wait to see their youngling and to spoil it rotten. We are already planning an outing for after it is born – can you imagine the chaos – four grown adults, one excitable Jack Russell and one new baby … an none of us will know what to do with it!

Oh, the happy chaos!

What a walley!

Monday morning I grumpily weighed myself. I had lost 1.5kg's (more than three pounds and a few ounces). I thought:

"Shyte. I didn't even cheat and I almost lost nothing."

So, this morning, I dragged the scale from behind the door in the bathroom (first cunning plan) and put it down on a flat piece of floor (second cunning plan) and stepped on. I peered down through the mists of sleep and almost fainted. Then I called FG who was in the process of making breakfast (third cunning plan).

I pointed to the scales and had him kneel down to check that the little indicator light showed what I thought it did.

It did.

4kg's down.

I have realised that each time I weighed myself I had done it on uneven ground, whilst the scale was behind the door. Hence, it didn't actually show my weight loss = doh.

Lesson learnt.

As Surly Girl sez: Carry on.

Guests on a TV Show

Cripes - how lucky are we? I somehow managed to get onto a list for a company that "supplies" audiences for shows.

Ever the curious Saffie with no clue who is famous and who isn't, I rang up to find out what this is all about and lo! FG and I were offered tickets to go and see Graham Norton and guests film The Bigger Picture, this evening.

Oh, what fun. No, seriously. I laughed so much I think I aged by ten years.

He was fantastic and his guests were all really entertaining. We had about forty minutes with them, off camera as the auto-cue machines went on the blink and we sat around waiting for it to work. So they did loads of improv and chatted about the differences between colonic irrigation and enemas, and things went drastically downhill from there whilst men with tool belts and jingling harnesses tried to fix the autocue behind dark curtains and crystal chandeliers.

In the end, it did work but it was fantastic to see how well it was all handled behind the scenes - no hissyfits, no tantrums and when Graham was told that he was going to have to do things off a piece of paper, up he jumped, literary up for it.

The show we sat through was about an hour and ten minutes long...reduced to thirty five minutes on air. His guests were Alan Cummings, Sir Ian McKellan, Neve Campbell and Annie Tost-sumat or the other.

Having only ever seen Alan Cummings in Spy Kids and Xmen I had no idea who he was or what he did or what kind of person he was - instead, it turns out that he was endearingly camp, huggable and utterly sweet and so genuine in all his responses! They duly made fun of him for wearing an orange jumper whilst the set was red. Did he care? No. He was the cutest thing I have seen (well, barring GfB website) in about a month or so.

We learned off-screen that Neve Campbell had gotten engaged to another actor - an English chap no one knows about. She was very cool and very funny and told us her first ever product advert she did was for Coca Cola with Bryan Adams. She was an obscure 16 year old wannabe actress.

Sir Ian McKellan was as he put it "being a queen" and larking about in a dignified manner. He was quite close mouthed about his latest roll in Da Vinci Code - exciting stuff - and professed to thinking it was all " a jolly good lark".

I must say, it really was an experience and a half. Graham Norton was fantastic and he had everyone in histerics marching about playing up the fact that things have gone awry and how the show will have to be done on a wing and a prayer. They also continually made fun of the floor staff, calling the camermen and women "children" or "little boy" and "little girl".

As I have said, I have aged about ten years - maybe I should get some of Alan's product which he advertised: Cumming on a bar of soap.

Say no more.

I surrender...

I stand no chance today to function like a normal being…

The dreaded headache started late yesterday afternoon, carried on into the evening eventhough I took some tablets…

Woke up this morning and lo – an icepick was sticking out of my nostril, having drilled itself up my nose into my eye and into my brain. Or that is what it felt like.

FG told me “don’t go to work” and I said “I gotta, as it would be suspicious if I am not in as the big boss is out…besides, there is invoicing to be done.” He looked at me with angry eyes.

So I am in, looking like shyte, feeling like shyte. I will stick it out for about an hour and then go home – that way HR can’t say anything and I have been in to do the necessary invoicing.

I hate being a good conscientious and stupid girl.

Skinny R Us

FG has decided – fully blown – to do sumat about our general weight gain.

He has bossed me around at the end of last year and the beginning of this and I agreed to join him on the new way.

I admit to becoming very lax in my own eating regime. This was due to becoming lazy and not preparing pre-packed lunches to take to work. Because of this I had become exceedingly bad and ended up buying: a bagel for lunch to be had with a cuppa soup – with a cheesy triangle smeared on the bagel. Cheap and very cheerful and NOT very healthy, at all. But, along with this there would have been at least one packet of crisps.

So, we are doing the South Beach Diet which we did last year and it worked wonderfully well but we were sensible and didn’t do extremes – working out lovely menus and exciting recipes.

FG writes in his new Fat Blog all about the diet, the proteins and the insulin and whatevers…. (stifles yawn)…and even though it is interesting, I am not going to be obsessed about it all.

I know some people who are utterly obsessed with what they are shoving down their throats and even though I love food and can look at endless recipes about food and have imaginary dinner parties in my head, I am not overly bothered about food. Does that even make sense?

I am fortunate in not having a sweet tooth or suffer cravings for chocolate, cake, biccies or whatever. I do not binge eat or deep fry any food (have never done and never will, preferring grilling or baking instead) and am not particularly fond of chips with a burger but roast ‘tatoes…hmmm.

My Achilles heel is…popcorn. I have a popcorn pot at home and it only gets used to make popcorn for when we sit down to watch a movie or on weekends when we are reading and relaxing. It is, to me, strangely, comfort food. And as I make it from scratch, kernels, olive oil, lots of heat, a splattering of salt, it isn’t half as bad as the butter-laden things they sell at the movies…but still. My only joy and I have to kiss it goodbye.

But, what this blog is really about is to say – we are doing it and how very proud I am of FG for climbing back on the wagon and making me come along for the ride – as we have nothing to lose, but weight!

Animal fun?

It wasn’t until yesterday when someone pointed out to me that I had some strange luck with animals that I sat down and thought about it seriously.

When growing up in Aaafrica we had loads of animals (we had a huge house and a huge piece of land with a bit of an orchard at the back) which we had kept as pets at some stage or another. We had geese, chickens (ew, I know…), several dogs over the years, including my very own little dog called Wo-Wi (I couldn’t pronounce his posh name as he came from show-poodle stock and had a genuine cerificate and everything).

The first truly bizarre pet we had was a little “spider” monkey – I can’t remember how we came to own it but it was very cute to look at and it absolutely hated me. I was about eight or so at the time. I remember Pietie (Peetee) loving to sit with my mom, his tail wrapped around her neck, sitting on her shoulder, going everywhere with her in the house. He would jump at me whenever he saw me and shriek wildly, pulling my hair. It was very traumatic, especially as his shrieking was very loud and he had these tiny icy cold little human hands that really hurt. He also had the bad habit of playing with himself…and he peed. A lot. He had a cage though and was hugely pampered and loved by all. Except me. Little hairy bastard. He used to sit on the back of Wo-Wi and screeched incessantly, grabbing onto his little poodle-ears to make him “go”. Wo-Wi would run around with Pietie on his back, obviously terrified of this little hairy freak. I can’t remember when or how we gave him away…but I was really glad.

We also had a chameleon which I was utterly petrified of. It used to hiss loudly whenever you got close to him – he also ate bugs, which is why we had him. Again, he loved travelling around with my mom. Even Wo-Wi hated him as the hissing and the blowing up was very scary.

And Wo-Wi, who was my favourite little animal in all the world, the little sneaky shyte, used to steal my sweets which I hid from everyone underneath my pillow! He also had a penchant for stealing cash from my dad…we trained him to do that so that we could go to the shop and buy sweeties.

Mercifully there were a few years between this and my other traumatic experience with an animal.
Shudder.

We were visiting my sister who lived in Cape Town at the time and we went sight seeing. Everywhere are these signs at the scenic spots telling people NOT to feed the baboons. We get out of the car and I was nibbling on a piece of fudge…and the next minute this huge baboon launched himself at me, bellowing, with huge fangs on display, snatching at the fudge square I was holding in my hands. I was about ten and had no clue. So I shrieked back at it and promptly stuck the square of fudge into my mouth. No way in hell was I sharing my fudge with him – it was rare enough that I got bought a piece. It shrieked at me some more, bounced around, showed me its hairy arse and off it went to call the rest of the troop. We promptly got in the car and drove away. Fast.

Oh, and then there was the time my cousin and I were chased by a hippo down the beach as we were stupid enough to go walkabout before sunset in a nature reserve. Boy, did you ever see a little blond haired girl run like a loon?

Moving to the UK you think to yourself that you would be safe…not Liz. No, she got attacked by a foal whilst walking through the lovely Kent countryside. Much to Mark’s hilarity as he was trying to take a picture of Liz posing dramatically infront of the fence with the mare and foal in the background. The foal thought it would be good fun to try and eat Liz’s hair as it was yellow and is obviously food. So Liz pushed it away and it bit her hand so hard it swelled up to twice its normal size. Thanks, bunches, goddamn horses.

Dartmoor ponies are the get of Satan. We stopped on the moors and I got out to take a few photos of them as they wandered around – a distance away – and Mark goes “Liz, get in the car.” So Liz flaps a hand that indicates “innaminute”. And Mark again sez “getin, getin”. I turn to look to my right, the blind side and there loomed this giant damn pony the size of well, a pony, with this huge head, right next to me. I could see the end of days in his eyes. He had wandered across the road, to come stand next to me, leading his other hellish buddies with him from the far side of the road. They had circled the jeep ( a bit like those Cravendale cows wanting their milk back ) and eventhough I had scrambled into the car again, we couldn’t move. So we sat there for a bit, panicking…eventually they ambled off. We had to go for sustenance at the local pub and I was shaking. Once again to Mark’s hilarity.

Undomesticated animals are scary. Sheep are creepy, always with the watching and the beady little eyes. Shudder.

Splattering tomatoes everywhere!

I visited the ever delightful and ascerbic Surly Girl's blog and found this gem... which naturally, I felt I had to share.

This is for those people who intensely dislike James Blunt. If you have sound on your comp, turn it up and tomatoes away! I scored 45 tomatoes only...but that was because I was laughing so much at the lyrics.

http://eclectech.co.uk/gullible.php

Gelukkige Nuwe Jaar!

Yes, my title is in Afrikaans - a long forgotten mother tongue, which I have decided to try and practice as one of my resolutions for this year.

It is with sadness that I note that Cheezy has decided to lay down his blogging tool for the coming year. I must admit that I understand where he is coming from. I haven't been doing this for a year at all - a few months only - and I got enarmoured with creating websites (some okay, some really crappy) - and the idea of having an online journal to air my views was a novel idea. It wasn't until Tincan lured FG and I into these shadowy realms that I realised how much fun it could be. It really has pushed me into being more creative - I realise now what columnists in newspapers have to go through. To stare at an empty screen feeling the need to write ... but what!?

Anyway.

I digress. This is a post to say "farewell" to Cheezy and good luck with his own screenwriting endeavours. Do feel free the stop by and be eviscerating and amusing and do stay in touch. We still owe you (and your other half) a face-falling-off hot chilli and tequila evening! Tincan knows about these. Grin.

The other part of this post is about thougths, ideas and resolutions.

As for my own self this coming year...well, I already decided a while back what I will be doing.

• I will be learning how to play my guitar so that I can make use of my lovely guitar songbooks I had received from my collegues at work.
• I am finishing as much of my novel as I can (have now written in excess of 10,000 words)
• And to be more healthy - get out to do more exercise with Sparrow in tow - I hate going to gym and have wasted money there before. This time around it will be dancing around the lounge like a loon and going for two hour walks in the country park = healthier and cheaper!
• And, speaking of health - I am going to sort these bloody headaches and migraines out once and for all. An appointment will be made with the doctors so that they can send me to the London Migraine Clinic....maybe I need a brain transplant...Igorrrr...
• On a more personal level - to be less negative about myself and other people. I hate being grumpy (eventhough I am so very good at it - snarf), and will be making a concerted effort to be less nasty, not just towards others, but also towards myself. I realised that your view of yourself does really reflect outwards and I don't like what I have been seeing lately. Yes, there are excuses (long hours at work, commuting, tourists out for a stroll whilst you are rushing around like a loon, the list continues) but I am working on that.
• What else - bad habits. Spending less time infront of the telly, forever scrolling around for the right programme instead of doing something creative - be that writing, drawing, strumming, or gods - doing origami or sumat. Anything but becoming mentally lazy.
• On an esoteric level - this year I am also going to be spending more time on learning my tarot and runes - it is something that I enjoy and it is laziness that has prevented me in the past. I also want to learn meditation to get rid of those horrible work-stresses.

That is a lot of resolutions...but the year is a long one! I might even be able to keep some of them!

Happy 2006! May the best of your yesteryears be the worst of your coming years!

And all was quiet

....

Gosh, how glad am I all the eating is over? Christmas day was a hoot - spent hours alternating between the kitchen and the lounge where I watched FG cuss and swear at his new game I bought him (evil grin). At around half one we sat down to a giant meal of a smidge of roast potatoes, roast parsnips coated with maple syrup glaze, garlic potato au grautin (the roast potatoes were more of a token, this year) , grilled peppers, lightly boiled broccoli and tiny canonballs smothered with fresh pepper and grated cheese, perfectly roast beef in a wine sauce and gammon wrapped in smoked bacon smothered with apricot jam, just for colour and extra flavouring. Holy heck - it was a lot of food - FG is still eating roast beef sarnies. But it was gorgeous! And thank heavens I only do it once a year.

FG made a scrumptious trifle which we nibbled at, I had also made a mouthwatering chocolate sunken souffle (so easy!) which we are still nibbling on as it is so incredibly moist...

It was good eating. I reiterate - thank heavens I only do it once a year!
Grin.

The rest of the holiday period was sitting around, reading, sleeping, eating, walks in the park, working on the old novel...good fun.

How droll that it has to stop.

Pout.

Here's hoping we win cazillions on the Euromillion...if we do, everyone gets to be invited to the Wolseley for cheesecake and champagne!

Tumbleweed...

I walked into the office this morning and thought I was walking through a lost memory belonging to that of the Mary Celeste! It was eerie. The silence, the deserted workstations, the drip-drip of the tap in the kitchen echoing louder than it should have…

I took a later train this morning, being wild and reckless. FG and Sparrow walked me to the station where about three people stood waiting for the shortened train. I felt forlorn as I waved them off, thinking longingly of my warm bed, comfy couch and delectable new books to read.

It was the proverbial “damn, I should have taken that half day’s holiday today”. But I didn’t. And here I sit. One boss in thus far. One rather miserable, hung over and depressingly quiet boss.

I feel like I am intruding in his personal space and eventhough I whipped around the office to see if there is anyone I can talk to…there is no one. Pout. I thought maybe I cheer him up with some Classic FM music but it turns out my media player isn’t an up to date version and it refuses to access the net.

I have two songs on my computer, both from Team America, neither of which I think he would appreciate as they are loud, raucous and full of swear words.

Here’s hoping the half day goes quickly.

Shuddering sigh of loneliness!

Kong Lives

The beast looked upon the face of beauty. Beauty stayed his hand, and from that moment he was as one dead.

We went to see King Kong – The Eight Wonder of the World – last night. I freely admit to having reservations. I mean, really, how exciting can a movie be with a CGI monster, shot against a blue background, even though it was directed by His Majesty Peter Jackson?

Well.

I freely admit to being smacked in the gob. I was very wrong. VERY wrong.

Kong is brilliant. The scenery, the minute detail, costumes and sets are meticulous, the acting is topnotch. I found myself really liking Jack Black’s character in the beginning and as the story evolved you realise exactly how manipulative and single minded he is in his hunt for glory and fame and money. And he corrupts almost everyone in the process to the extent where I was wishing Kong would tear him apart.

They have done amazing things with Kong – never once did I doubt him as a genuine 25ft monster capable of tearing a T-Rex apart with his bare hands. Or laugh at the vaudeville tricks Ann does to amuse him. Or shriek with terror at the things attacking them in the ravine. The “love” story between Kong and Ann is brilliantly portrayed – it is more one of genuine friendship and understanding, than anything else. I really sobbed my heart out at the emotions brought out by the characters and Kong himself – they did really well in that and I can only imagine how much study of big ape behaviour went into creating Kong.

The one thing I would say though – one criticism is that it is just that little bit too long. We went in at eight and came out at half past eleven. The first two hours flew by but then the old bum started getting uncomfortable on the threadbare Odeon seats. But, having said that, my attention never strayed from the movie and there were loads of people there, all adults, thankfully, and like me they oohed and aahed and shrieked (FG had to remove my nails from his thigh during some of the more anxious and suspenseful moments) and cried.

I would give it…five out of six guitar strings.

Sore fingers...

First lesson today with Phil of Twangg Guitars up the road from us.

What a lovely chap. The hour flew by. My fingers hurt from being shown the cords. We tuned my Fender, we talked about music, he showed me more cords, I sucked my fingers. He showed me strumming, I sucked my fingers.

I came away with two sheets of music which incorporates the chords I had learned today - Green Day's Boulevard of Broken Dreams and Let it be by the Beatles. He also handed over a cd of the Greenday song and told me to listen to it as I practice as it will make life easier hearing it being played as I practice. I have been given two sheets of chords as well with handwritten notes what to practice, technique etc. I will practice till I can play these. We didn't make another appointment for the next lesson - that can be in the new year as the stuff I had been shown today will last me at least three weeks to master. He is optimistic, I am worried stiff that I might need to break my fingers to get them into the position his fingers can go. Grin.

But, we shall remain positive.