Ahh where has the time gone my friend, where has the time gone?
Well actually its not so much as time, more about Internet connections, computer problems and generally having a life.
Yes, I’m rather surprised at that comment, but I – little ole me – has suddenly found herself in the rather strange situation of thinking do I spend time getting frustrated with this brick I call a computer and blog or do I go out this weekend/and or evening and have a lovely time with friends, old and new, and you know what, I chose the latter.
I’m going to have to compress some of the last couple of months. Some of this is going to be bits I wrote up with the intention of blogging and other bits are just going to be me filling spaces. So if it seems a bit bitty bear with me…
So when do I go back to…
Down on the Farm
Well my first lovely weekend away was the beginning of June (Gulp, really that far back) with Jo and Shaun. Dylan and I headed over to Cumbria. Shaun’s outdoor activity business is doing really well so he tends to spend a lot of his weekends working. However Jo is a delight to spend time with and Dylan loves his Joji so much.
We spent Saturday on a Farm, chasing chickens,
attempted to kidnap a Kid (Goat) climbed on tractors
and generally had a fabtastic time.
Dylan just “oohed” and “ahhed” most of the day away, “Look – Cows”, “Look Sheep”, “Look Pigs”.
The weather turned just as we got on the tractor but it didn’t stop the excited squeals coming from the kids as the cow did a poo! What is it about poo and kids that goes so well!
With the rain pounding on our heads we headed home about 1.30, thinking we needed lunch and an afternoon nap. However we had to return back to the farm for Dylan’s Pony ride, which I booked early in the morning. Dylan crashed almost as soon as his bottom hit the chair so Jo and I enjoyed a leisurely lunch and chat.
We then snoozed on the sofa, enjoying the crackling fire and pretending to read our books. At 4 we pulled our bottoms off the sofa and slipped into some wet weather gear. Dylan grumbled, but once he found out we were going to see the “cows” again excitement ensued. We got back to the farm to find it almost deserted; the stalls were slowly dismantling and packing up. We stood around for a while, we purchased some sausages and looked lost.
Eventually we decided to ask if the pony ride was still running, I eventually located a small boy who looked slightly bemused “Oh, we didn’t think there was anyone left, give me a second” and he headed off. Jo and I went for a coffee and we waited. A slightly harried young man approached us, “You for the pony ride”. I kind of wondered if he thought it was Jo or me that wanted the ride and was wondering how to tell us it was for children only.
Once Dylan was dragged away from the tractors he was supplied with a hat and marched out to meet his pony.
At first he was slightly hesitant, demanding that Jo and I walk with him, but after a couple of minutes he was grinning away like an ijit on a pony and kicking his little legs. “Look Mummy, I on horse”.
The rest of the weekend was spent eating well, talking and generally relaxing in company that makes me smile.
Shaun and Dylan had their usual mad hour before we left,
whilst I picked rhubarb from their garden, Shaun dashed around like a mad dashy thing pushing Dylan in a wheel barrow.
Squeals of delight and pure terror mixed as he flew and bounced around like a rag doll, he loved it, Shaun loved it, I crapped myself each time his bottom came off the bottom of the wheel barrow, expecting bloody teeth and broken noses.
My god, I think I’ve finally grown up!
Tinternet Hell
Sometime over the next three weeks the water board moved into our area and began to dig up the paths, there seemed little reason for doing this as they didn’t seem to be laying any new pipes, just staring at the old ones whilst smoking.
Whilst digging up their pipes though, they did manage, not once but THRICE (THREE TIMES) to cut through my phone line. The company formally known as Talk Talk, but now know as “Baastaard Phone Company” were little or no help on the phone line, but, after telling me it WOULD (not Could) cost me £145.00 if the fault wasn’t on their lines the repair man simply knocked, on my door “Water Board have cut through the lines, fix it soon” and bumbled off.
This happened, as I said, three times and three times I went through the same boring conversation with someone in Pakistan, who didn’t have any record of my earlier problem.
Then, to add insult to injury, they decided to change my wireless password, I think they did this whilst having one of the “My internet isn’t connecting because my line has been cut through” conversations. So I couldn’t get Internet connection, but didn’t know why I could I couldn’t get connection. I spent a whole hour on line to their “Help desk” entering in details on outlook and deleting accounts and trying Internet with and without ether cables. To be told it must be something to do with my software – ahhhh the old faithful “Its not us it’s you” fault diagnostic!!!
Eventually I piggybacked onto my next-door neighbours broadband, with her consent of course, and poodled through the maze of queries on the TalkTalk forum. I’m not sure if this is an open access forum, but well worth the look/giggle on a wet afternoon.
I found one guy who was having the same sort of problem and communed in depth with him. After three weeks of no Internet connection he eventually rang TT up and asked them to confirm his password key, which had been changed from the original but they had “omitted to tell him of this in case it confused him”. DOH!
Anyway, whilst doing battle with the Water board and TalkTalk, Marcelle’s 50th Birthday happened over in Italy, which I missed. Guilt ridden because I didn’t even send a card, I kinda thanked my lucky stars that my phone line was dead and I headed off for my next weekend of pleasure
Helen’s Birthday Bash.
My ticket should have been booked months in advance, because I’ve known about this EVENT (Capital letters definitely needed) for ages. I’ve been looking forward to it for ages, but as is my wont and my continuous bad habit of leaving everything till the last minute I booked my ticket on Tinternet. Tickets booked a week before the event, not a problem. Tickets not arrived by the Wednesday before the even, a slight problem. Tickets not arrived by the morning of travel – hmmm PROBLEM.
Got on to Bank “No, we have no record of your purchase”. So I got on to the Tinternet site I booked tickets through and got a “No, we have no record of your purchase”. PANIC!!!
Booked tickets at inflated cost and battered myself around the head, this surely would teach me to pre-book. Nah, sounds too much like hard work and rather sensible, where would the adventure be in pre-booking?
Anyway, my suitcase was packed, including the dress I had purchased that morning from Tesco’s. Tthe train was on time and I was feeling fab, fat but fab. Now let me just say that I knew I was journeying down to London to meet up with one of my bestest friends and I also knew that she had crept into a chrysalis this year, wove a magic spell and become a very slim, attractive butterfly (And no hooch, you were not a caterpillar before – I’m just trying to be poetic) Anyway I had a small demon on my shoulder saying things like “your fat, watch what you eat, look at you – blubber bum” but I knew that in reality this weekend was not my weekend, it was “All about Helen” and I needed my mood to reflect that.
I sat on the underground remembering why I hated London so much, the sweating, and the obvious masculinity that pervades the air, the claustrophobia; oh that’s just my little problem. Anyway I eventually got to Balham. 10 years since I last walked these paths, 10 years to get rid of all the computer shops and replace them with coffee houses with large plants and seats and tables outside. At one point I thought I was actually walking in the wrong direction!
The TA Centre hadn’t changed – at all. Well it was a bit grubbier than in my day but I certainly can’t take any credit for it. I met up with Helen, Martin and his gorgeous partner ….. Finishing off the tables and bar poor Martin had the three witches to deal with. He didn’t stand a chance!
Helen and I spent the evening eating Kebab and waffling though catch-up. I kept looking at my friend and thinking “My god, your gorgeous” I certainly would!!!
We drank our way through two bottles of wine. Sorry I drank my way through two bottles of wine, but a most pleasant night was had.
However at 2.30 I found myself with a great desire to eat crisp butties, fortunately Helen had bread and I had brought crisps with me. I plodded downstairs and made a sandwich. Hunger pang sorted I curled back up in bed and went to sleep.
Next morning I woke to Helen, not so much chuntering but definitely muttering about the mess. In searching for a plate last night I had inadvertently dropped crisps all over the floor and counters and put the knife I used on the cats seat! I guess its all about your space, laughing she cleared up after me and we headed into the living room to investigate the clothes she had put aside for me.
I hope her next-door neighbours will forgive the excess flesh I put on show. I promise not to do it again! I came away with two suitcases full of stuff – my new and improved look. And Helen and I lugged two black bags down to the nearest charity shop. We then went for brunch at Lancaster’s – Helen’s local bruncherie (just made that one up), where we met up with Tracy Pearl. It was bally gorgeous and I ate until my belly could hold no more.
Then we headed home, whilst picking up champagne, toilet rolls and something else that was really important, was it diet coke? Helen’s mum, Christine, had just arrived – hugs all round.
Twenty minutes later we were sat outside in the garden, in the sunshine, with chilled champagne and ciggies - Absolutely Fabulous knock yourself out!
Jen and Simon, Helens ex flatmate, joined us, more champagne and then we began the mad rush to get ready. Helen asked me to do her hair, now I have to say that I’m a turn your head upside down and shake violently. But for my babe I would do battle with curling tongues. It took us bloody ages, mainly cause somehow I managed to unlock the curling things, but in the end with clips and spray it actually looked ok – or at least Helen said it looked ok - Kind of loose and sexy.
In the mad rush I discovered my knickers showed through my dress – knickers removed and that we didn’t have time to do my hair. So I did my old turn your head upside down and shake violently – DONE
Photo’s taken of the girls and Martin.
Then the party began. Helen and Martin were charming hosts, attempting to ensure that all arrivals were made welcome. Squealing, laughing and drinking followed in large amounts.
Helen Boogying the night away with stan
Although a lot of people didn’t turn up, pigs – they don’t know what a fab night they missed out on, there were enough people there to make it a good night. Some I knew from the past Martin and his girfriend, Sarah, who was lovely, Bob – great carrot cake and “sigh” Andy…. Others I had met through the joy of internet Heidi and Simon, gorgeous ex pats who live in France and who are well… gorgeous, Stan – you mad Camera man
he made me look this good.
and others I didn’t know but soon got to know, Jen and Simon, a totally mad couple but … here is that word again ... gorgeous.
I had a fab night and, strange though this may sound, only drunk a bottle of wine, excluding the end of night drink clean up –thanks for assistance from Nick in this venture. I do hate to waste alcohol.
me on a bottle of wine and a whole lot of dancing.
We floated Helens purse with 15 helium balloons. Emptied several Helium balloons, Stan and Chris, your voices did sound different! And generally had a bloody good night.
Thank you for inviting me Helen. I hated my dress, but I loved meeting all your friends.
Oh so much to write and just not enough time...
