Gently falling apart

I have a sore wrist – insert your own jokes – and a bad cough. I’m not in bad health apart from that though. However, for reference, I would prefer a sore wrist to a cough any day of the week. It sounds like a seal sanctuary in my office. So to have both seems a little unfair. I’m not sure what caused the wrist strain except, and this is truly pathetic, I felt a twinge lifting up the boot of my car…
Anyway I’m bored and thought I would tell you about my very minor ailments.

So that was it really.

Stick with English

Well you might notice a few extras on my blog! I have a tracker now (this is to confirm what I already suspected, that no one reads my blog. The difference is the tracker makes it official, hurrah). And links to other sites of note or notoriety. If you’re not included fret not, I haven’t finished yet but if you think I’m going to miss you out, send me an email.
Slightly came round for dinner last night and fiddled with my html as it were and retrogooseuk is now all the slicker for it…

Dinner was… interesting. I try and make sure I keep dinner parties simple after a nasty incident in which I buggered myself to a standstill with a complicated fish dish and almost poisoned a guest. Now if I can get away with pasta and garlic bread I will. Anyway, you could tell I hadn’t put a great deal of thought into presentation last night because it was pasta with a lovely cheesey sauce and cauliflower and dinner was as a result, all white. It looked like someone had bleached our food. There was garlic bread too, naturellement, but still it looked very bland and I have to say, although nice and filling, it tasted maybe a wee bit bland as well. But after three organic ales, who cares? I couldn’t even redeem myself with the apple crumble because we were too full. I have promised him a roast next time. I told him that was my coup de grace last night. This morning I thought, I don’t think I meant to say coup de grace and checked the literal meaning… which is ‘death-blow’ apparently. Just call me Derek Trotter.

Slightly had done the new designs for the Kings Cross Steelers; logo, font, colour choice and it all looked fantastic and very professional. I’m excited to see it all in place, and it was really interesting talking and thinking about design and its impact.

Anyway, must dash, work to do and all that. Bon jour!

PS. This is my 101st posting!

Cake

I’ve been working on my work book today – for my photography course that is. I've spent hours sorting everything out and indexing the work properly and slowly but surely I am coming to the end… in fact, a couple more hours and I’m done. All very satisfying. I decided that as most people doing further professional training get day release and time off for course work, that I would bring my homework into the office and do it here. On account of my course and thus far all of the work, being done in my own time!

We drove up to the Cotswolds this Saturday for a fabulous weekend with some old friends. Saturday we went through to Hungerford; very pretty and full of antique and ‘interior furnishings’ type of shops. We spent quite a lot of money… Christmas present for a friend, cushions for the new sofa, wooden statue, 1927 guide to Cornwall etc., etc…

Then we went for a beer in the evening and rolled home to some tasty grub. We didn’t realise how tired we were… we woke up at 1pm the next day! Naturally we skipped breakfast and went straight for a lovely roast dinner at a local pub/restaurant. Then we spent the afternoon eating cake and chatting.

Pluto spent the weekend with his boarding mum and made firm friends with a nutty Pointer x called Barking. Apparently they didn’t leave each other’s side all weekend; even sleeping next to each other (when they weren’t wrestling). He came home exhausted and missing his new pal. He spent yesterday either sleeping or sighing rather dramatically. I wormed him in the morning and it seemed to give him terrible wind…

Maybe that was why he couldn't stay awake?!

Further adventures...

Well, as more literary folk might say, I’ve caused a bit of a shit storm. I emailed the boys to say I didn’t appreciate their text and then outlined exactly what was happening with the old sofa and why there had been delays in its disposal (more of that exciting saga later!), I ended the message, “we live downstairs, if there is a problem, please just knock on the door.”
It was an annoyed email, but not rude and I honestly believe its only purpose was to let them know what was going on and that we thought their text was inappropriate.

Well.

I’ve received a crappy email this morning accusing me of throwing our friendship down the pan because I was sarcastic. Oh dear. Not a great start to the day. Added to that I have man flu (a common cold but if I were a man, I would be at home moaning softly to myself and working through my backlog on Sky Plus).

I do hope that is not the be-all and end-all of the friendship as they are generally very nice and generous people who we like having as friends, but if you can’t say how you feel, disagree with someone or show a bit of tolerance then perhaps, sadly, there wasn’t much there to start with. What a horrible thought, let’s hope for the best not the worst! Especially as we supposed to be giving them a weekend break for two nights in a gorgeous cottage in Wiltshire for Christmas…

Anyway, mine and missus’ day did start off much better than that. We went down the tip! We loaded up the car with the various bits and pieces last night, and then this morning hefted the futon mattress on to the roof of the car and we were off! It was supposed to cost us £3 but the man let us in for free. And believe me, that’s a big deal at 7am on a freezing cold morning with a load of rubbish in and on your car!

We went back to Ikea last night to get the covers for the new sofa and we got the last set. That’s so dramatic that I’ve even refrained from adding an exclamation mark to indicate just how serious it would have been had we not managed to get our hands on that last set. We were guerrilla like in our tactics, in and out, no messing. Saying that, mysteriously we still managed to pick up two picture frames and four candles. Damn them and their magical Swedish ways…

So anyway, that’s you up-to-date. I need another lemsip and maybe some comfort food.

Stay well…

Adventures with my sofa

This is a busy day for me at work so guess what, I’m finding the time to blog! Anyway, apologies for my absence, I hope I haven’t lost my loyal readership… all two of you. I’ve been busy and disinclined to write about it.
We’ve got a new sofa. But it’s been far more stressful than you can ever imagine buying (and disposing) of a sofa ever should be. My old sofa was a futon and originally as sturdy as a cart horse but three years down the line it began to list like a drunken sailor and was strategically held in place with electrical tape. It came to a head when my partner and I noticed that we were getting sore backs so we decided to get a new one. Actually, we decided to get a second hand one, convinced that unless we were prepared to spend a £1000 or more, we would get some cheap nonsense that fell apart three months down the line. So we choose a massive second hand sofa that originally was part of a suite that costs a couple of grand. It was well made and rather handsome and so we were delighted with our purchase. Especially as we both believe in recycling and reusing items. On Thursday we disassembled our old sofa (I’m sure I heard it breath a sigh of relief as I finally pensioned it off) and put the bits and pieces outside. I paid online to have it picked up by the council - £25. Daylight robbery. Anyway, Friday came, the truck pulled up and there were two sturdy men bringing our sturdy sofa to its new home. Except that it didn’t fit. There is a rather acute angle as you come through our front door which meant that the sofa in normal circumstances would have just fitted through but in this case, couldn’t manage to get in. Arrrgghhh! It had to be sent back and I now had the headache of no sofa, a sofa in bits outside and the hassle of getting another one.
On Sunday we went to the dreaded Ikea (dreaded because I always want to go there but then something strange happens to me when I get in; I become snappish and stressed and claustrophobic). We chose a sofa and had to physically lift the thing up and womanhandle this three seater beast onto an inadequate trolley and then queue for over twenty minutes. (Incidentally they didn’t have the covers for the sofa and we have to go back tonight but there’s only so much moaning you can do in one blog). After which, you queue again (15 minutes this time) for home delivery. “Has to be delivered tomorrow” said the otherwise friendly woman at the home delivery point. Otherwise apparently, you need to take it back to customer services and get a refund. Unfortunately, in this instance, customer services were now closed. So I had to take an emergency ‘my new sofa is being delivered’ day off work.
So yesterday, stuck in the house but doing a lot of valuable sorting and cleaning, our new sofa turns up at 4.50pm. I’m so delighted I wonder if it’s inappropriate to kiss the driver. It is because he appears to be 12 years old and has guessed that I’m a lesbian. I surmise this from his shy but somewhat salacious smile as he looked from me to the picture of my partner on the bookshelf. Anyhoo (this story needs to come to an end soon, surely?!) the sofa didn’t fit………………………………………………… despite being smaller than the previous one. The angle of the doorway had done for us again. However, the good news is that it fitted through the window. And even without covers it looks FABULOUS!
The bad news is the old sofa is STILL waiting to be picked up by the council. They took my credit card payment in seconds on Thursday but days later can’t tell me when they might actually bother to pick the thing up. One of the boys sent me an ill advised text on the weekend ‘when is the sofa being picked up, we were called gypsies last night because of it’. Now if you hang around with stupid, bigoted people that think it’s funny to call people Gypsies because your neighbours happen to be sorting their house out, then frankly you deserve all you get. And not once have my partner and I ever criticised them for all the stuff they dump by the bins or in the communal hallway. Nor have we ever whinged about having to sort out their recycling or having to collar the bin men and ask them sweetly to take away all their cardboard boxes and bits and pieces. So right now, I’m fuming and really don’t want to speak to them. But it will probably pass. And in the meantime, at least I can be pissed off sitting on my new sofa…

DVLA 1 Allison 0

Well I failed my driving test! I’m still a little sore about it (literally, I have a several day old headache that’s not helping). It was this morning and I went into it knowing I was a good driver but that the odds of me passing first time were pretty steep – and I accepted that. My attitude was, how much better prepared am I going to be if I have to do this all over again!
Anyway, my instructor was an ARSEHOLE. Yes, yes I know bad workmen always blame their tools and I’m keen to stress that even if it had been my lovely girlfriend testing me, I may still not have passed, but does it help the driver if you’re abrupt and unreasonable? You get asked two question about your vehicle before you even put your key in the ignition. The first was about how to check your oil the second was how do you know if your power steering was working. I almost rubbed my hands in glee! Those were the two I particularly wanted to be asked! (Good start, thought I.)
Anyway, he nodded that my oil answer was correct and then we got into the car and he said, ‘how do you know if your power steering is working?’ I replied that if you are driving your steering will feel heavy, to which he butted in and said, that’s not what I asked! I asked you how do you know if your power steering was working before you start driving. To which I wanted to snap, that’s NOT what you asked! I stayed calm and replied that you held your wheel – pulling it slightly to the left – and when you started your engine the wheel should give a little jump. Now this is a text book answer. How do I know? Because I’m dyslexic. I memorise things. He replied, ‘what? Well alright I suppose…’
An answer can ever only be right or wrong, supposing is supposition. And he said this in such an unreasonable way – like he was really pissed off with me! – that I began to think I’d got it wrong. Anyway, I won’t run you through the entire test. However, I will say I am unsure why he failed me on the two things that he did fail me on. Especially the second reason; my positioning coming out of junction. He said I’d pulled over to the left when I was about to turn right. I did. And the reason I did so was because a transit van was turning right into the street I was pulling out of and was taking up a lot of space. I call that awareness and safety. But what do I know. As we pulled up after the test, he made me stop really abruptly in a parking space and did not let me adjust my position so that I could park more safely (the back of the car was in my opinion sticking out too far).
I was really cross afterwards, but I’ve processed it all now and feel better. What does it mean? Well, it certainly doesn’t mean I am a crap driver. I was unlucky, I did make mistakes (I almost gave myself a slap reversing round a corner because I was a little way from the kerb and had to re-position) but I also believe my environment was made more stressful than it needed to be. Never mind though, I shall re-book and I shall carry on until I have that licence…

They only ever sell me poppies with magnets attached...

I like wearing a poppy but I keep losing them. So far in the last week, I’ve bought three poppies (and lost three poppies) and spent over £7 on all three. I'm beginning to think they attach wee magnets to them and then as soon as my back is turned whip them off me and back into the box…
I’m convinced that when a proud old soldier seems me walking towards him sans poppy he thinks ‘bloody youngsters (not so young but in a flattering light…) they just don’t care!’ I do care, but it appears I’m care-less. I have a lot of respect for our forces and just hope that when I buy my fourth – and I hope my final – poppy today, I manage to keep it long enough to demonstrate that.

We took my mum to Whitstable on Saturday, for her birthday. It was a lovely day. Whitstable itself is fantastic, full of the most interesting shops. And then of course there’s the harbour. We ate a fabulous lunch at the Crab and Winkle restaurant overlooking the harbour, and bought some fresh, locally caught sea bass to take home. I bought some secondhand books, a doggy advent calendar (with doggy chocs), a toy for his upcoming birthday, two gorgeous egg custard tarts (both for me) and some organic ale called Whitstable Bay (sadly, not all for me). Mum had a great day, loved lunch and all her presents, and paid me three, yes three, compliments about my driving. Which in itself almost made me veer of the road. If you want a day out, it really is a lovely place and only an hour and a half away.

My new lens arrived today. It’s a big bastard; 70-210mm. I bought it from eBay and am very pleased with it. I’ve also bid on (and won) an old Canon film SLR for £32 with tele-foto lens and flash!

Anyway, back at work and back to reality… until I can get home and play with the camera anyway!

PS. The dog really suffered with all the fireworks this weekend and the one-year old twins next door weren't impressed either. If people want to do private displays, please let your neighbours know and don't let them off all night... choose a time and get them over with. I love fireworks, but I'm painfully aware that some (dogs and humans) get really scared. Being considerate goes a long, long way...

Clever girl!

I just passed my driving theory test!

Poster girl

It was the hate crime campaign poster launch last night at New Scotland Yard. We were honoured by such dignitaries as the RFU President Bob Rogers and the Deputy Assistant Commissioner Rose Fitzpatrick, oh and a few Steelers too. It was a successful event and the publicity just keeps rolling on… BBC, Radio 4, Five Live (I did an interview for them on Tuesday, I love doing radio), Pink News, Gaydar, Pink Paper, Evening Standard, the Sunday Times and there was someone from the press association there as well...
The Met put out a few bottles of vino and quite a nice spread that people fell on – most of them not having had a morsel since lunch. I managed far too many glasses of white (I’m such a slapper for free booze) and then joined a few others in a nearby pub. I’m glad the whole thing is over; it was a hard job, but undeniably a very important one.

I hope it makes a difference. I hope someone does see the poster and thinks twice about not reporting a hate crime…

This morning I had to go to the dentist. Boo. My partner made the appointment and came in with me. The dentist was lovely, very gentle and she wasn’t at all perturbed by the look of sheer terror on my face and the newly acquired claw marks in her chair. I had two x-rays and my teeth seem to be in good nick. I’ve got a hygienist appointment in a couple of weeks. It does seem a bit odd to pay someone to clean your teeth for you… I’ve managed quite well until now. All in all though it wasn’t a bad experience and she really was very good at her job, understanding my phobia and doing her best not to make it worse.

Now I just want to get home and walk the dog. I need to do some hazard perception training tonight and build a mini greenhouse. After the glamour of the launch, the reality and comfort of domesticity…

(Can't seem to upload the poster - will try again from home.)