- 11:30 I don't want to alarm you, says Mr TLC, but there's some white stuff outside. Looks very pretty actually. #
- 11:32 Not sure if the white stuff is really snow, or just the moisture from the fog freezing. #
Wednesday, 31 December 2008
Today's Tweets
That Was The Year That Was: December
December normally sees me looking forward to Christmas, but this year I felt strangely unfestive (I'm sure that's not a word, but I'm sticking with it). I don't know why really, we're having a relaxed holiday, we've eaten, drunk and made merry. I've spent lots of time with Mr TLC, which is always good. It's been nice, but I was glad to get rid of the Christmas decorations rather earlier than usual.
December = Decisions. But more of that later.
December = Decisions. But more of that later.
That Was The Year That Was: November
Hey, I made it through a whole year of blogging. W00t!
Of course, November's big event was taking place far from here. Barrack Obama's victory generated a wave of media optimism, a welcome - if brief - respite from the tales of economic doom and gloom.
Of course, November's big event was taking place far from here. Barrack Obama's victory generated a wave of media optimism, a welcome - if brief - respite from the tales of economic doom and gloom.
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
That Was The Year That Was: October
It's October, so we're going to have to stop referring to Mr TLC's gap year. I think I'd worked out that he wasn't going back to work several months earlier than this. He looked at the adverts in the paper, in a kind of half-hearted way, but a new job was going to mean a return to shift work.
Then I overheard him talking to Doug Next Door. Doug Next Door asked Mr TLC if he has retired. There was a long pause before Mr TLC said "I think so."
So that's sorted then.
Just as well really, they don't even have a section for engineering jobs in the paper any more. Sign of the times you know.
Then I overheard him talking to Doug Next Door. Doug Next Door asked Mr TLC if he has retired. There was a long pause before Mr TLC said "I think so."
So that's sorted then.
Just as well really, they don't even have a section for engineering jobs in the paper any more. Sign of the times you know.
That Was The Year That Was: September
September was the month when the world failed to end, not with a bang, but with a whimper. Which is just as well, because our continued existence allowed us to enjoy Wirksworth Festival, Transports Exceptionnels and Cabaret Boom Boom. Splendid.
Mind you, despite the LHC's failure to produce any black holes, there were plenty of them about after all, courtesy of various imploding financial institutions.
Mind you, despite the LHC's failure to produce any black holes, there were plenty of them about after all, courtesy of various imploding financial institutions.
Monday, 29 December 2008
That Was The Year That Was: August
Our plans for the summer got hastily rewritten when I decided that I was going to do as little driving as possible. I might not have done any damage to my back, but it was blooming sore.
St Brendan of the Spine said "Walk!" So I did. All over Sheffield. We did the Sheffield Round Walk and enjoyed it so much that we did it again. We met some alpacas and found a magical toyshop. I hunted gas lamps and post boxes until Mr TLC made me stop. We went to Sheffield Fayre. We visited Crich, rode on trams and admired the TARDIS.
We had great fun. I love my summer holiday.
Sadly poor old Tinsley Towers finally met their end during August. I still can't get used to the view without them. I keep looking for them and then having to remind myself that they aren't there any more.
Before and After - from Meadowhall Raod, Kimberworth, Rotherham
St Brendan of the Spine said "Walk!" So I did. All over Sheffield. We did the Sheffield Round Walk and enjoyed it so much that we did it again. We met some alpacas and found a magical toyshop. I hunted gas lamps and post boxes until Mr TLC made me stop. We went to Sheffield Fayre. We visited Crich, rode on trams and admired the TARDIS.
We had great fun. I love my summer holiday.
Sadly poor old Tinsley Towers finally met their end during August. I still can't get used to the view without them. I keep looking for them and then having to remind myself that they aren't there any more.
Before and After - from Meadowhall Raod, Kimberworth, Rotherham
That Was The Year That Was: July
I made the first of two visits this year to the English Institute for Sport. Sadly these two days are possibly the most sedentary of the year for me. Sport. I'm doing it wrong.
I decided that I would like to be fitter, so I started to do a lot more exercise. Did I build up steadily, as advised by, oh, just about everyone? No. I went a bit mad and did too much all at once. Did I end up with a very sore shoulder and back? Oh yes I did. Sport. I'm doing it wrong.
Fortunately Dellboy saved the day by recommending St Brendan the Chiropractor. During my first appointment St Brendan asked me to stand up straight. I told him I already was. Posture. I'm doing it wrong.
Oh well, at least the summer holidays finally arrived. :)
I decided that I would like to be fitter, so I started to do a lot more exercise. Did I build up steadily, as advised by, oh, just about everyone? No. I went a bit mad and did too much all at once. Did I end up with a very sore shoulder and back? Oh yes I did. Sport. I'm doing it wrong.
Fortunately Dellboy saved the day by recommending St Brendan the Chiropractor. During my first appointment St Brendan asked me to stand up straight. I told him I already was. Posture. I'm doing it wrong.
Oh well, at least the summer holidays finally arrived. :)
That Was The Year That Was: June
June was a fantastic month. Mr TLC became a grandfather, easily the most memorable and important event of the month for us. We also celebrated Mr TLC's birthday and spent an entire month being social gadflies; largely because the Broomhill festival was better than ever, we enjoyed concerts, a treasure hunt and the architecture trail.
I found myself looking down the barrel of a gun. Obviously it wasn't loaded, it was all part of a presentation that the armed response unit were doing at school - but I recognise blogging gold when I see it, so I wrote about it.
My quiet little corner of Blogland went absolutely bananas. A Channel 4 website linked to my ramblings and what felt like a gazillion people turned up. By that time I'd run out of things to say about guns and knives and was back to rambling on about the weather, chocolate fudge, my life, the Universe and anything and everything, so the gazillion people soon went away again. I felt quite relieved actually. I'm very happy to rattle on about things to the small band of hardy folk that put up with me, a gazillion gave me stage fright.
I found myself looking down the barrel of a gun. Obviously it wasn't loaded, it was all part of a presentation that the armed response unit were doing at school - but I recognise blogging gold when I see it, so I wrote about it.
My quiet little corner of Blogland went absolutely bananas. A Channel 4 website linked to my ramblings and what felt like a gazillion people turned up. By that time I'd run out of things to say about guns and knives and was back to rambling on about the weather, chocolate fudge, my life, the Universe and anything and everything, so the gazillion people soon went away again. I felt quite relieved actually. I'm very happy to rattle on about things to the small band of hardy folk that put up with me, a gazillion gave me stage fright.
Are you ready to celebrate? Well, get ready: We have ICE!!!!! Yes, ICE, *WATER ICE* on Mars! w00t!!! Best day ever!!The friendly dirt has salts and nutrients magnesium, sodium, potassium and chloride. And pH of 8. You could grow asparagus, say scientists.
Sunday, 28 December 2008
That Was The Year That Was: May
In May I binged.
For a whole month I binged on books, which was great fun. It felt very self indulgent. It might just have to become an annual event for me.
I found myself feeling a tad jealous of Mr TLC, who was just over halfway through what we had started referring to as his gap year. I went off to work, he went out walking or cycling, he encountered a big cat and watched a flypast at Ladybower.
For a whole month I binged on books, which was great fun. It felt very self indulgent. It might just have to become an annual event for me.
I found myself feeling a tad jealous of Mr TLC, who was just over halfway through what we had started referring to as his gap year. I went off to work, he went out walking or cycling, he encountered a big cat and watched a flypast at Ladybower.
That Was The Year That Was: April
April saw our first visit to still newish the Carling Academy.
And the first pictures with my new camera :)
Shame it turned out to be faulty :(
But Canon sorted it in record time with no arguments, so I'll let them off ;)
But the last decently cooked meal for a while. I like salad, but even I have my limits. Woodwork and plumbing, they're my abiding memories of April. Still, it's nice now it's done.
And the first pictures with my new camera :)
Shame it turned out to be faulty :(
But Canon sorted it in record time with no arguments, so I'll let them off ;)
But the last decently cooked meal for a while. I like salad, but even I have my limits. Woodwork and plumbing, they're my abiding memories of April. Still, it's nice now it's done.
That Was The Year That Was: March
March was quite exciting actually. Why? Because we went to The Moon! Only so we could try to out-do each other with lunar puns of course, but actually we had a nice afternoon.We left saying we would have to go back, but as it turned out that was not to be - The Moon closed a couple of weeks later. No atmosphere you know. It was on the wane.
OK, I know. I've stopped now.
March was also reality check time. I decided I had my fingers in too many pies, too many projects on the go at once. So a spot of prioritising was required. I stopped trying to do everything at once and focussed on one main task at a time (mostly), with the inevitable background noise of the usual day to day stuff.
In fact, it turned out to be a real change. I changed into Little Miss Productivity. I still feel slightly surprised by that.
The only casualty was my French class, it had to go. I'm still doing some French (although somewhat less just lately, since it appears that the company which imports my newspaper might just be among the many that have gone bust), but when it suits. Plenty of reading, some writing, but no deadlines and no assignments.
Learning French is just for fun again, and I like it that way, at least for now.
Saturday, 27 December 2008
Bah. And Humbug.
I go away for one day to do the visiting relations thing. I write a couple of blog posts the day before and leave them to autopublish. A simple task, but I manage to make a complete male hen up of it.
So if you arrived here yesterday and found some rather minimal, some might say empty, posts below, you might have thought something odd was going on, or that the blogger in question was a total fool.
You'd be right of course.
Can I blame it on too much Christmas wine?
So if you arrived here yesterday and found some rather minimal, some might say empty, posts below, you might have thought something odd was going on, or that the blogger in question was a total fool.
You'd be right of course.
Can I blame it on too much Christmas wine?
Friday, 26 December 2008
That Was The Year That Was: February
February is always a very busy and very enjoyable month for us, containing as it does my birthday and a half term holiday. I have now, apparently, reached the age when life begins. I don't know about that, but it was definitely a case of cake begins. I ate quite a lot of the stuff.
Weekends in London seem to be a rare treat these days, the result of a bit of downsizing as we adjust to living on one salary. All the more reason to make sure we make the most of it. We start as always by saying hello to the river, a ritual that takes me back to my childhood. Then we say hello to the pub ;)
We manage not to buy everything in Borough Market before meeting my Dad for lunch. He amazes us by arriving on time - a most unprecedented event - but continues the tradition of causing a certain amount of chaos, no surprise there then. We marvel at Cirque de Soleil's performance of Varekai in the splendid surroundings of the Albert Hall before enjoying a late evening visit to Tate Modern and an even later pub meal. Try doing that in Sheffield on a Saturday night...
Mr TLC and I return home from a night out to see a the Hummingbirds Blues Band in our local pub and are surprised to find that we are all shook up. Literally. A small earthquake jolts us around and causes, um, well not not much devastation at all actually. They get very excited about it on Look North though. Mind you, they get excited about anything...
Northern Rock is also generating plenty of media interest and is finally nationalised. As it turned out, that was just a small taste of things to come.
Despite vague misgivings, brought on by a gradual realisation that I am trying to do too many things at once, I return to my French class, determined to finish the course (unlike last term). It's good to be back and everything goes well, for a while.
South Yorkshire experiences some spectacular weather: freezing air causes rime to appear. It is amazingly beautiful, we all stand marvelling as the early morning sun reflects off this rather unusual morning frost.
Weekends in London seem to be a rare treat these days, the result of a bit of downsizing as we adjust to living on one salary. All the more reason to make sure we make the most of it. We start as always by saying hello to the river, a ritual that takes me back to my childhood. Then we say hello to the pub ;)
We manage not to buy everything in Borough Market before meeting my Dad for lunch. He amazes us by arriving on time - a most unprecedented event - but continues the tradition of causing a certain amount of chaos, no surprise there then. We marvel at Cirque de Soleil's performance of Varekai in the splendid surroundings of the Albert Hall before enjoying a late evening visit to Tate Modern and an even later pub meal. Try doing that in Sheffield on a Saturday night...
*********
Mr TLC and I return home from a night out to see a the Hummingbirds Blues Band in our local pub and are surprised to find that we are all shook up. Literally. A small earthquake jolts us around and causes, um, well not not much devastation at all actually. They get very excited about it on Look North though. Mind you, they get excited about anything...
Northern Rock is also generating plenty of media interest and is finally nationalised. As it turned out, that was just a small taste of things to come.
*********
Despite vague misgivings, brought on by a gradual realisation that I am trying to do too many things at once, I return to my French class, determined to finish the course (unlike last term). It's good to be back and everything goes well, for a while.
*********
South Yorkshire experiences some spectacular weather: freezing air causes rime to appear. It is amazingly beautiful, we all stand marvelling as the early morning sun reflects off this rather unusual morning frost.
That Was The Year That Was: January
We had huge fun in January, but there were very few events that really stand out: just lots of walking, nice meals, nights out with friends. Sounds good to me, I'll be happy with many months like that.
At the end of January, my Mum celebrated her 70th birthday. Blimey, that sounds quite, erm, old.
It's funny, I don't think of myself as aging, I still feel the same as I did in 20s. Unlike some of my friends I don't get alarmed by landmark birthdays. My age is just a number, it doesn't change how I feel about myself. However realising that my Mum is 70 and my sister is in her late 30s pulls me up for a moment and makes me realise just how quickly time is passing.
At the end of January, my Mum celebrated her 70th birthday. Blimey, that sounds quite, erm, old.
It's funny, I don't think of myself as aging, I still feel the same as I did in 20s. Unlike some of my friends I don't get alarmed by landmark birthdays. My age is just a number, it doesn't change how I feel about myself. However realising that my Mum is 70 and my sister is in her late 30s pulls me up for a moment and makes me realise just how quickly time is passing.
Thursday, 25 December 2008
Today's Tweets
- 00:19 Just realised it's officially Christams Day - at least it is in the UK. Happy Holidays everyone! #
- 00:20 And now, for my first gift. Black Cat appears to have left a live mouse under the sofa. Luverly. #
- 00:44 Hmm. Our well-practised humane mouse rescue routine went somewhat awry there. This one didn't want to be rescued. #
- 00:46 Sadly a mouse escape route that involves squeezing under the living room door and into the capable paws of Black Cat is doomed to fail. #
- 00:47 Off to bed. Santa won't arrive until I'm asleep, will he? ;^) #
Merry Christmas etc
I haven't had much to say for myself recently. Sadly first I succumbed to the winter lurgy, then passed it on to Mr TLC, so things haven't quite been as planned over the last week or so.
Despite that, we've had a most relaxed and enjoyble Christmas so far, I hope that everyone else has enjoyed their Christmas/holidays/whatever too.
Merry Christmas & all that. See you all soon.
TLC x
Despite that, we've had a most relaxed and enjoyble Christmas so far, I hope that everyone else has enjoyed their Christmas/holidays/whatever too.
Merry Christmas & all that. See you all soon.
TLC x
Saturday, 20 December 2008
Today's Tweets
- 14:33 Is there anyone out there who isn't ill? #
- 14:34 Seems like every blog & twet I read today is from someone who is suffering from Winter lurgy. #
- 14:34 Get well soon y'all #
Tuesday, 16 December 2008
Today's Tweets
- 16:28 How organised am I? I've even caught the traditional Christmas cold a week early. Go me. #
- 16:36 I'm a creature of habit. I loved Firefox onn the eee-pc, but it took this to make me finally ditch IE bit.ly/bw0K #
- 16:38 Have I finally got all the tools/buttons/shortcuts installed that I used in IE? Real Player doesn't want to play. Real Noplayer then :P #
What's In A Name?
'I could be Mr Buxton,' suggests Mr TLC.
Mr TLC is having fun coming up with random names for himself. After I referred to him as Mr A Derbyshiretown yesterday, he keeps wandering in and announcing himself in a variety of guises.
Mr Buxton could sound rather grand, but since we invariably pronounce Buxton in the style of the Blue Cat, it just ends up sounding a bit Peter Kay. Mr Buxton's exaggerated northern accent amuses us for a while, but we soon tire of him.
'Mr New-Mills here, how do you do?' Mr New-Mills is frightfully well spoken. I didn't know my favourite Yorkshireman could do that. It goes well for a while, until Mr New-Mills forgets himself and asks what I want for dinner. Surely someone as posh as Mr New-Mills does lunch at midday, even in Yorkshire? Mind you, someone as posh as Mr New-Mills might not make my lunch/dinner for me - and I'm pretty sure we don't have a butler to do it instead.
Mr Whatstandwell makes an appeance, but is disallowed on a spurious technicality. I'm fairly sure that Whatstandwell (I always think that sounds more like a question than a name) is a village. Please correct me if I'm wrong.
'Mr Flash?' Ah-ah. Saviour of the universe. Dum, dum, dum, dum.
Mr Flash may have his own ready-made theme tune, but to me, that particular name just conjures up images of Rik Mayall. Plus we weren't sure if Flash is in Derbyshire or Cheshire. (Answer: Derbyshire. But it's a village. Shall we allow villages?)
'Mr Congleton?'
'No, that's definitely in Cheshire.'
We could be running with this one for a while...
Anyway, it's over to you lovely t'Internet people. Which Derbyshire town/village/place should we name Mr TLC after?
The best suggestion wins the honour of bestowing a new blog name on Mr TLC. And maybe a prize, if I can think of one. Suggestions welcome on that front as well.
Mr TLC is having fun coming up with random names for himself. After I referred to him as Mr A Derbyshiretown yesterday, he keeps wandering in and announcing himself in a variety of guises.
Mr Buxton could sound rather grand, but since we invariably pronounce Buxton in the style of the Blue Cat, it just ends up sounding a bit Peter Kay. Mr Buxton's exaggerated northern accent amuses us for a while, but we soon tire of him.
'Mr New-Mills here, how do you do?' Mr New-Mills is frightfully well spoken. I didn't know my favourite Yorkshireman could do that. It goes well for a while, until Mr New-Mills forgets himself and asks what I want for dinner. Surely someone as posh as Mr New-Mills does lunch at midday, even in Yorkshire? Mind you, someone as posh as Mr New-Mills might not make my lunch/dinner for me - and I'm pretty sure we don't have a butler to do it instead.
Mr Whatstandwell makes an appeance, but is disallowed on a spurious technicality. I'm fairly sure that Whatstandwell (I always think that sounds more like a question than a name) is a village. Please correct me if I'm wrong.
'Mr Flash?' Ah-ah. Saviour of the universe. Dum, dum, dum, dum.
Mr Flash may have his own ready-made theme tune, but to me, that particular name just conjures up images of Rik Mayall. Plus we weren't sure if Flash is in Derbyshire or Cheshire. (Answer: Derbyshire. But it's a village. Shall we allow villages?)
'Mr Congleton?'
'No, that's definitely in Cheshire.'
We could be running with this one for a while...
Anyway, it's over to you lovely t'Internet people. Which Derbyshire town/village/place should we name Mr TLC after?
The best suggestion wins the honour of bestowing a new blog name on Mr TLC. And maybe a prize, if I can think of one. Suggestions welcome on that front as well.
Monday, 15 December 2008
Card on the Table
'Are you still with that boyfriend of yours?'
I confirm that I am indeed still with that boyfriend of mine.
'Not getting married yet then?'
The complete lack of any sign whatsoever of a wedding is greeted, as usual, with resigned sadness, tinged with a hint of disappointment.
This is not an account of a conversation with my Mother. My disappointed inquisitor is a member of my form group at school. My Mother gave up asking those kind of questions years ago.
My form are lovely, but like many students/teenagers/people they're pretty nosey.
Having established some time ago that
(a) the man 'with the funny hat', with whom I have been spotted in town, is in fact my boyfriend (Gasp! Shock! Amazement! Teacher does not live in stock cupboard after all but has life outside school!)
and
(b) I haven't got dressed up in a ridiculous frock and made him an honest man
some of the girls in my form seemed to expect that marriage was inevitable and a wedding invitation was imminent.
Life's full of disappointments.
I arrive home from school. As usual Mr TLC has left the post on the kitchen table. Except normally it's just put down, as it lands.
Today the post is neatly stacked, no, actually it's perfectly stacked to one side of the table. In the middle of the table, Placed Just So is one envelope in particular. I wonder why Mr TLC (who shares his real name with a Derbyshire town) has arranged it like this.
On closer inspection I discover that the envelope is addressed to Mr and Mrs A Derbyshiretown.
How very formal.
We never receive anything addressed to us like that. Both our families tend to put one of our names on the envelope and both in the actual card. Apart from Mr TLC's niece, who sends a card each year by post addressed to Uncle A1@n and L0!s - to which we respond in good part by returning one to Niece C and A.
I cannot imagine who this card is from.
'Is there something you're not telling me?' I ask Mr TLC.
Mr TLC denies having anything to do with the card on the table, which is a bit weak to be honest, given that his name is on it. I try to ask him about his secret wife, but he denies all knowledge of her.
After trying to imply that I married him when he was asleep, or something equally unlikely, he eventually opens the envelope, at my insistence. I mean, obviously it's for him. As I point out to Mr TLC, no-one I know would send me a card addressed like that.
Mr TLC looks at the Christmas card and starts to laugh.
'Who is it from?' I demand.
'Your Aunt Edna.'
Oh. She knows perfectly well that we are not Mr and Mrs A Derbyshiretown. I think she's dropping hints. Great big ones.
I decide to rise to the occasion and tell Mr TLC that he can get dressed up in a big white dress and I'll rent a tux, just to make my form and Aunt Edna happy.
Oddly, he doesn't seem too keen on this plan. Can't think what's the matter with him.
Sorry Aunt Edna. Sorry my form. Sorry anyone who was hoping to see Mr TLC wearing a frilly frock. Life's full of disappointments.
I confirm that I am indeed still with that boyfriend of mine.
'Not getting married yet then?'
The complete lack of any sign whatsoever of a wedding is greeted, as usual, with resigned sadness, tinged with a hint of disappointment.
This is not an account of a conversation with my Mother. My disappointed inquisitor is a member of my form group at school. My Mother gave up asking those kind of questions years ago.
My form are lovely, but like many students/teenagers/people they're pretty nosey.
Having established some time ago that
(a) the man 'with the funny hat', with whom I have been spotted in town, is in fact my boyfriend (Gasp! Shock! Amazement! Teacher does not live in stock cupboard after all but has life outside school!)
and
(b) I haven't got dressed up in a ridiculous frock and made him an honest man
some of the girls in my form seemed to expect that marriage was inevitable and a wedding invitation was imminent.
Life's full of disappointments.
*******
I arrive home from school. As usual Mr TLC has left the post on the kitchen table. Except normally it's just put down, as it lands.
Today the post is neatly stacked, no, actually it's perfectly stacked to one side of the table. In the middle of the table, Placed Just So is one envelope in particular. I wonder why Mr TLC (who shares his real name with a Derbyshire town) has arranged it like this.
On closer inspection I discover that the envelope is addressed to Mr and Mrs A Derbyshiretown.
How very formal.
We never receive anything addressed to us like that. Both our families tend to put one of our names on the envelope and both in the actual card. Apart from Mr TLC's niece, who sends a card each year by post addressed to Uncle A1@n and L0!s - to which we respond in good part by returning one to Niece C and A.
I cannot imagine who this card is from.
'Is there something you're not telling me?' I ask Mr TLC.
Mr TLC denies having anything to do with the card on the table, which is a bit weak to be honest, given that his name is on it. I try to ask him about his secret wife, but he denies all knowledge of her.
After trying to imply that I married him when he was asleep, or something equally unlikely, he eventually opens the envelope, at my insistence. I mean, obviously it's for him. As I point out to Mr TLC, no-one I know would send me a card addressed like that.
Mr TLC looks at the Christmas card and starts to laugh.
'Who is it from?' I demand.
'Your Aunt Edna.'
Oh. She knows perfectly well that we are not Mr and Mrs A Derbyshiretown. I think she's dropping hints. Great big ones.
I decide to rise to the occasion and tell Mr TLC that he can get dressed up in a big white dress and I'll rent a tux, just to make my form and Aunt Edna happy.
Oddly, he doesn't seem too keen on this plan. Can't think what's the matter with him.
Sorry Aunt Edna. Sorry my form. Sorry anyone who was hoping to see Mr TLC wearing a frilly frock. Life's full of disappointments.
Sunday, 14 December 2008
Taking the Proverbial
We set off to buy our Christmas tree today. For us, it's always a real tree, I love the smell of fresh pine. Since we don't have carpets, dropped needles aren't a problem to clear up - although with two cats, keeping the decorations on the tree can be something of a challenge.
I've been buying my tree from our local greengrocer for some years now; their trees are always beautiful and have always been reasonably priced. However they don't put prices on the trees any more. They used to, but these days you have to ask.
Last year we queried this, but also joked about it with the staff, something along the lines of asking if the price depended on how well off we looked. This year I wasn't happy at all.
We picked out a nice looking tree: not too enormous, quite the opposite in fact - just the right size for our deceptively compact living room. It was much smaller than the one we ended up buying last year, for which we paid £35. That one was rather too big (but seemed a better option than the very dinky, much too small alternative choices). As a result we ended up doing some major pruning, which seemed a bit wasteful, but it looked beautiful in the end.
Our choice for this year was immediate and unanimous: a tree that was a good height for us, not too wide and a nice shape. As previously mentioned, no prices were displayed, so we asked.
The lad who came over to serve us barely glanced at our chosen tree, but did take the time to look appraisingly at us before stating "£45" ! (Frankly I am struggling to avoid succumbing to the temptation of multiple exclamation marks here.) Despite the apparently arbitary nature of the stated price, it appeared to be non-negotiable - in which case why weren't prices displayed in the first place I wonder?
I know there's a credit crunch on and all that, but that's one heck of an increase for a much smaller tree. It's also way more than I am prepared to pay for something that we will be shredding on January 1st.
If £45 is what it costs this year, then that would be fair enough, I can take it or leave it. The thing that has left me with a lingering feeling of annoyance is that the price seemed to be made up on the spot. If that was a misunderstanding, then it could easily have been avoided by some clear pricing.
We did not buy a tree. Actually we didn't buy next week's vegetables either. To be honest, I was so irritated by the whole experience that I was reluctant to purchase even the few items we needed for dinner today. Tomorrow I'll go to the supermarket and do the weekly veg run there instead, something I'm inclined to continue to do from now on.
Supporting my local shops is one thing, being taken for a ride is quite another. The result of today's experience is that after many years of being a happy customer, I don't want to shop with my local greengrocer any more. This seems rather sad to me.
Part of me thinks that my imminent defection to the supermarket is an overreaction, but I feel really unhappy at the tactics used on me today.
Any thoughts?
I've been buying my tree from our local greengrocer for some years now; their trees are always beautiful and have always been reasonably priced. However they don't put prices on the trees any more. They used to, but these days you have to ask.
Last year we queried this, but also joked about it with the staff, something along the lines of asking if the price depended on how well off we looked. This year I wasn't happy at all.
We picked out a nice looking tree: not too enormous, quite the opposite in fact - just the right size for our deceptively compact living room. It was much smaller than the one we ended up buying last year, for which we paid £35. That one was rather too big (but seemed a better option than the very dinky, much too small alternative choices). As a result we ended up doing some major pruning, which seemed a bit wasteful, but it looked beautiful in the end.
Our choice for this year was immediate and unanimous: a tree that was a good height for us, not too wide and a nice shape. As previously mentioned, no prices were displayed, so we asked.
The lad who came over to serve us barely glanced at our chosen tree, but did take the time to look appraisingly at us before stating "£45" ! (Frankly I am struggling to avoid succumbing to the temptation of multiple exclamation marks here.) Despite the apparently arbitary nature of the stated price, it appeared to be non-negotiable - in which case why weren't prices displayed in the first place I wonder?
I know there's a credit crunch on and all that, but that's one heck of an increase for a much smaller tree. It's also way more than I am prepared to pay for something that we will be shredding on January 1st.
If £45 is what it costs this year, then that would be fair enough, I can take it or leave it. The thing that has left me with a lingering feeling of annoyance is that the price seemed to be made up on the spot. If that was a misunderstanding, then it could easily have been avoided by some clear pricing.
We did not buy a tree. Actually we didn't buy next week's vegetables either. To be honest, I was so irritated by the whole experience that I was reluctant to purchase even the few items we needed for dinner today. Tomorrow I'll go to the supermarket and do the weekly veg run there instead, something I'm inclined to continue to do from now on.
Supporting my local shops is one thing, being taken for a ride is quite another. The result of today's experience is that after many years of being a happy customer, I don't want to shop with my local greengrocer any more. This seems rather sad to me.
Part of me thinks that my imminent defection to the supermarket is an overreaction, but I feel really unhappy at the tactics used on me today.
Any thoughts?
Saturday, 13 December 2008
Today's Tweets
- 16:54 Why have all the posts I read yesterday via my Bloglines account reppeared again today? #
- 17:18 Still suffering from deja vu. I guess Bloglines has the hiccups. #
- 17:30 Writing something fairly important, but I seem to be making it worse with every edit. Time to take a break & think it over. #
- 18:09 Uh oh. Just seen that annoying Boots ad & it reminded me: I was supposed to buy a Secret Santa gift today & I forgot. #
- 18:10 TLC's 1st law: the number of tweets made is directly proportional to the importance of the task I *should* be doing ;^) #
- 18:37 I think I have writer's block. I don't seem to have tweeter's block though. How strange ;^) #
- 20:14 I seem to be wearing a fur scarf. Haven't abandoned my principles - the furry feline scarf is purring loudly and bashing me with its head. #
Friday, 12 December 2008
Sorry, wrong number
How to find this blog (obviously not you, dearest reader, you're already here):
Google Search: cat with three legs
No problem. Happy to help. He's over there, in pride of place at the top of the sidebar.
Google Search: name my three legged cat
Er, thanks for the offer, but I'll leave that to you.
Google Search: 1 legged cat
Hmm, seems unlikely. Unless he's going to hop around on one leg shouting 'Ooo Aaah!' like the Halloween Pumpkin.
Google Search: ten legged cat
Now you're just being silly. Stop it.
Google Search: can three legged cats go outside?
Sure, no problem. Just as long as they watch out for that ten legged cat. He's a right bully he is.
Google Search: cat with three legs
No problem. Happy to help. He's over there, in pride of place at the top of the sidebar.
Google Search: name my three legged cat
Er, thanks for the offer, but I'll leave that to you.
Google Search: 1 legged cat
Hmm, seems unlikely. Unless he's going to hop around on one leg shouting 'Ooo Aaah!' like the Halloween Pumpkin.
Google Search: ten legged cat
Now you're just being silly. Stop it.
Google Search: can three legged cats go outside?
Sure, no problem. Just as long as they watch out for that ten legged cat. He's a right bully he is.
Tuesday, 9 December 2008
One Week Later
Is it really a week since I last posted? It appears so. One whole week of stuff to tell you, some of it quite interesting, but sadly, you're getting the edited low lights. Unlucky you.
(This is the point where good manners dictate that I say stop reading, look away now, go and read something interesting somewhere else.
Still here? You're brilliant you know. I do appreciate it.)
Anyhoo, I'm a little busy at the moment, partly with some work related stuff that I can't talk about, partly with some major blog moving, which is not proving to be fun.
Three-Legged-Cat is staying put (I think), but what's happening about comments is anybody's guess to be honest. However I absolutely dare not leave my school blogs where they are. I loved the Blogger/Haloscan combo, but alas, we are splitting up.
Blogger scores for:
No ads, unless you want them. (Ads can be a big problem for school.) A nice simple interface that kids can understand. I really like the simplicity of this Minima template. Being easy to get my head round - basically I just use the templates provided, with the odd html code tweak here and there in the actual posts. Easy. Even I (the ungeek who still uses Frontpage as her main web authoring tool) can do it. Embedding videos, photos, slide shows is a piece of cake. Anyone can cut and paste. Even ungeeks like me.
But I'm not a fan of Blogger's comments. I just wanted a box to write in, with a space for a name. I didn't want a choice of ways to log in, not for my students.
I got simplicity with Haloscan. Plus I liked the fact that I could tweak it so my students didn't leave their homepage URLs. I don't really want kids posting links to their Bebo pages thank you very much. I have to check any links from my blogs. That would mean going into *their* space. I don't do that, I have my space over here to which students aren't invited, I keep out of their space.
Basically Haloscan ticked all the boxes for comments. Plus if I cheated and used the same account on all my class blogs it was cheap for an ad free version.
I know there's no such thing as a free lunch, so I'm not complaining, but Haloscan's imminent demise leaves me with a problem. Stick with Blogger's lovely easy to use format and use their not-particularly-kid-friendly comments? Go with another commenting platform and risk a repeat performance of this later? Switch blog hosts? One thing I won't be doing is staying put. I can't risk 'default' settings for comments on my school blogs when they get switched over to JS-KIT comments, especially when the nature of what those settings are remains a mystery to me. I have to take responsibility for everything that's on there, I dare not risk a single unmoderated comment getting through. The owner of JS-KIT seems nice, seems to want to be helpful, so I might just take a chance with this blog, but not for school.
I nearly went to Edublogs, but it turns out that they aren't as ad-free and student-friendly as my initial experience of their site suggested. In fact their ads are somewhat invidious. So I won't be touching them with someone else's bargepole.
There will be blogs available on my school's learning platform. But it isn't quite all systems go yet. And I am. Plus I need to import what's already online.
There is a simple obvious answer to all this isn't there? Self-hosted Wordpress. Easy.
Except my current webhost is running versions of SQL etc that are so old the Science Museum is thinking of putting them on display. So there's some sorting out to do there as well. Gah.
So the upshot of all this is that it's temporary accommodation at Wordpress.com for me and running the risk of a few adverts while I'm there. At least they seem to be rare creatures and not as invasive as the Edublog versions. (I know I can pay to be ad-free on Wordpress.com, but I run several low-traffic student blogs - one per class. It would cost a fortune.)
I'm slowly working out how the blooming heck I can integrate media like Vimeo videos and Slideshare presentations and generally climbing that Wordpress learning curve. Which I'll be doing again just as soon as I'm ready for ad-free self hosting.
All good clean fun.
Anyway, I shall definitely be in the market for someone affordable (I know I'll have to pay a fair rate, but my school site is ad free and funded by me, so I can't afford megabucks) to design a nice simple Wordpress theme for me.
Or for a book called something like 'How to Design a Wordpress Theme That Looks Rather Like Blogger's Minima: An Easy Step By Step Guide For Those That Don't Have A Clue What They Are Doing'
Any recommendations?
(This is the point where good manners dictate that I say stop reading, look away now, go and read something interesting somewhere else.
Still here? You're brilliant you know. I do appreciate it.)
Anyhoo, I'm a little busy at the moment, partly with some work related stuff that I can't talk about, partly with some major blog moving, which is not proving to be fun.
Three-Legged-Cat is staying put (I think), but what's happening about comments is anybody's guess to be honest. However I absolutely dare not leave my school blogs where they are. I loved the Blogger/Haloscan combo, but alas, we are splitting up.
Blogger scores for:
But I'm not a fan of Blogger's comments. I just wanted a box to write in, with a space for a name. I didn't want a choice of ways to log in, not for my students.
I got simplicity with Haloscan. Plus I liked the fact that I could tweak it so my students didn't leave their homepage URLs. I don't really want kids posting links to their Bebo pages thank you very much. I have to check any links from my blogs. That would mean going into *their* space. I don't do that, I have my space over here to which students aren't invited, I keep out of their space.
Basically Haloscan ticked all the boxes for comments. Plus if I cheated and used the same account on all my class blogs it was cheap for an ad free version.
I know there's no such thing as a free lunch, so I'm not complaining, but Haloscan's imminent demise leaves me with a problem. Stick with Blogger's lovely easy to use format and use their not-particularly-kid-friendly comments? Go with another commenting platform and risk a repeat performance of this later? Switch blog hosts? One thing I won't be doing is staying put. I can't risk 'default' settings for comments on my school blogs when they get switched over to JS-KIT comments, especially when the nature of what those settings are remains a mystery to me. I have to take responsibility for everything that's on there, I dare not risk a single unmoderated comment getting through. The owner of JS-KIT seems nice, seems to want to be helpful, so I might just take a chance with this blog, but not for school.
I nearly went to Edublogs, but it turns out that they aren't as ad-free and student-friendly as my initial experience of their site suggested. In fact their ads are somewhat invidious. So I won't be touching them with someone else's bargepole.
There will be blogs available on my school's learning platform. But it isn't quite all systems go yet. And I am. Plus I need to import what's already online.
There is a simple obvious answer to all this isn't there? Self-hosted Wordpress. Easy.
Except my current webhost is running versions of SQL etc that are so old the Science Museum is thinking of putting them on display. So there's some sorting out to do there as well. Gah.
So the upshot of all this is that it's temporary accommodation at Wordpress.com for me and running the risk of a few adverts while I'm there. At least they seem to be rare creatures and not as invasive as the Edublog versions. (I know I can pay to be ad-free on Wordpress.com, but I run several low-traffic student blogs - one per class. It would cost a fortune.)
I'm slowly working out how the blooming heck I can integrate media like Vimeo videos and Slideshare presentations and generally climbing that Wordpress learning curve. Which I'll be doing again just as soon as I'm ready for ad-free self hosting.
All good clean fun.
Anyway, I shall definitely be in the market for someone affordable (I know I'll have to pay a fair rate, but my school site is ad free and funded by me, so I can't afford megabucks) to design a nice simple Wordpress theme for me.
Or for a book called something like 'How to Design a Wordpress Theme That Looks Rather Like Blogger's Minima: An Easy Step By Step Guide For Those That Don't Have A Clue What They Are Doing'
Any recommendations?
Saturday, 6 December 2008
Today's Tweets
- 13:45 Playing with Twhirl. #
- 13:47 So far, I like it. I can access both my Twitter accounts at once & it found some replies that I missed. Oops - very sorry if ignored you! #
- 13:59 Think I'm hooked. Like being able to see both my Twitter accounts. Like Tweets fed to desktop. #
- 14:00 Will have to watch myself though - easy to get distracted from what I *should* be doing. ;) #
- 22:16 Next door neighbours are having the quietest wild party I've never heard. If they hadn't warned us, we'd never have known it was happening. #
- 22:18 We were invitded, but I think it was just polite - I wonder what they'd think if the two oldies next door acually turned up ;) #
Tuesday, 2 December 2008
Some snow, with scattered showers
Well that was quite an exciting day. And it's not over yet.
First up: snow. There was none when we woke up. Not a single snowflake. Lots of ice though, so I decided to set off early. St Mr TLC decided to scrape the ice off the car for me. He looked out of the window. Still no snow. He went outside and about 30 seconds later I heard him knock on the window. I looked outside. Ooh snow.
Driving to work in the snow was moderately exciting. So was producing enough Mrs Bird hard stares to get across the school car park and into the building without getting snowballed.
Next up: the fridge. I arrived at school to discover there was a teensy little problem with the heating in my classroom. Namely that there wasn't any. Brrr. To cut a long story short, my students and I wore a lot of coats, hats and scarves until it was fixed.
Finally the heaters roared into life. "Hurrah!" shouted the children! "Hurrah!" I shouted agreeably. "Yargh!" shouted the children as moments later a deluge of water appeared through the ceiling in one corner of the classroom. Fortunately no children were underneath that bit of ceiling. Unfortunately one teacher was underneath, but it turns out she can move much more quickly than anyone anticipated ;)
It's one of life's peculiar little coincidences that "Yargh!" was pretty much what the caretaker said moments later, when he popped in to check that the heater had come on and saw the lovely new water feature.
The weather man did say that the snow would give way to showers; how right he was. The thing is, I had assumed that the showers would be outdoors.
First up: snow. There was none when we woke up. Not a single snowflake. Lots of ice though, so I decided to set off early. St Mr TLC decided to scrape the ice off the car for me. He looked out of the window. Still no snow. He went outside and about 30 seconds later I heard him knock on the window. I looked outside. Ooh snow.
Driving to work in the snow was moderately exciting. So was producing enough Mrs Bird hard stares to get across the school car park and into the building without getting snowballed.
Next up: the fridge. I arrived at school to discover there was a teensy little problem with the heating in my classroom. Namely that there wasn't any. Brrr. To cut a long story short, my students and I wore a lot of coats, hats and scarves until it was fixed.
Finally the heaters roared into life. "Hurrah!" shouted the children! "Hurrah!" I shouted agreeably. "Yargh!" shouted the children as moments later a deluge of water appeared through the ceiling in one corner of the classroom. Fortunately no children were underneath that bit of ceiling. Unfortunately one teacher was underneath, but it turns out she can move much more quickly than anyone anticipated ;)
It's one of life's peculiar little coincidences that "Yargh!" was pretty much what the caretaker said moments later, when he popped in to check that the heater had come on and saw the lovely new water feature.
The weather man did say that the snow would give way to showers; how right he was. The thing is, I had assumed that the showers would be outdoors.
Monday, 1 December 2008
A Tale of Two Crookes
It's amazing what you can learn from the local news.
For example, apparently the area in which we live is awash with big gangs of students, all walking along very slowly and self consciously. We know this must be true, because although we have never seen Crookes look quite like this, we saw it on the news. I mean, the BBC wouldn't get big gangs of students to pose just for the cameras, would they? Oh no.
Anyway. These students. They're over here, living in our houses, using our cafes, drinking in our pubs, taking our jobs (actually, scratch that last one) and filling our pavements - but failing to vote for our councillors in local elections. Apparently these pesky students are spoiling our quality of life, surrounding us as they do. Tsk tsk.
Except that they aren't. We live next door to a 'student house' but we aren't plagued by wild parties and late night revelry. In fact I often worry that Mr TLC's guitar playing might disturb them.
The local pubs serve plenty of students, but the cafes featured in the news are almost exclusively used by a somewhat older generation. The student pound does keep a lot of local shops in business, but fortunately not to the extent that Te$co have turned up (yet). And members of my evening class were most definitely jealous when I casually asked if anyone wanted me to pass on copies of the French daily paper I get. It turns out that no one else as a local newsagent who stocks foreign titles at all, let alone enough to offer a choice.
I'm not saying that there are never any problems, nor that students are limited in numbers, clearly they aren't. But I didn't recognise the Crookes on the news as the Crookes where I live. My Crookes is a great place, but then my Crookes doesn't have embarrassed looking gangs of students shuffling along, blocking the pavement for the benefit of the cameras. The students in my Crookes are fairly normal folk really.
For example, apparently the area in which we live is awash with big gangs of students, all walking along very slowly and self consciously. We know this must be true, because although we have never seen Crookes look quite like this, we saw it on the news. I mean, the BBC wouldn't get big gangs of students to pose just for the cameras, would they? Oh no.
Anyway. These students. They're over here, living in our houses, using our cafes, drinking in our pubs, taking our jobs (actually, scratch that last one) and filling our pavements - but failing to vote for our councillors in local elections. Apparently these pesky students are spoiling our quality of life, surrounding us as they do. Tsk tsk.
Except that they aren't. We live next door to a 'student house' but we aren't plagued by wild parties and late night revelry. In fact I often worry that Mr TLC's guitar playing might disturb them.
The local pubs serve plenty of students, but the cafes featured in the news are almost exclusively used by a somewhat older generation. The student pound does keep a lot of local shops in business, but fortunately not to the extent that Te$co have turned up (yet). And members of my evening class were most definitely jealous when I casually asked if anyone wanted me to pass on copies of the French daily paper I get. It turns out that no one else as a local newsagent who stocks foreign titles at all, let alone enough to offer a choice.
I'm not saying that there are never any problems, nor that students are limited in numbers, clearly they aren't. But I didn't recognise the Crookes on the news as the Crookes where I live. My Crookes is a great place, but then my Crookes doesn't have embarrassed looking gangs of students shuffling along, blocking the pavement for the benefit of the cameras. The students in my Crookes are fairly normal folk really.
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