February 2011

It is my parents 55th wedding anniversary. Well done.

I did not buy much for my Valentine, apart from some cakes with hearts on, but I did bring her her breakfast, give her hot-cross bun and crumpet cut into heart shapes when she got back from work, and cooked beef wellington for tea.

The crocus’ in Lister Park have come out in the last 24 hours. I went past them twice yesterday and the buds were just formed, but closed, but the sun came out today and they were open today.

From Bev.

My Man

He talks when I am tired
But sleeps when I’m awake
He says that I should diet
But always buys me cake

He emits such noxious gases
Then blames it on the dog
But when I’m less than fragrant
He puts it on his blog!!


Don’t let me mislead you
I wouldn’t change a thing
Because he is my only valentine
My beloved soup-er king


I got a text from my mate Steve asking for Bradford pubs where a meeting between Stephen Fry & Ian McMillian could be filmed. Sent list. Also went to the Prospect of Bradford to check it out.

I do not remember if I wrote about not getting on the Return to Teaching course. I was second on the short-list, and nobody dropped out. I face a 13 dole course designed to punish and dispirit. I do have offers of work, but one is poll clerk at the next Election (single day) and the other is self employed and not straightforward. I am not sure what is for my best with any option.

I have moved to Saltaire dentists. On Thursday he discovered a cavity missed by the useless one in Clayton, and is set to sort out the infection I still have on the tooth that has been giving me gip for more than two years.

After that I went to Keighley and had a nice chat and a pint with Roger, the first in ages.

The old bradwan sites look like they will not come back in the present form. The are not lost, and may reappear looking the same, but from a new web host, and with me managing far more of the architecture. In the meantime this blog and facebook are my web presence.

Walburgas Day facebook events page.

At 06.00 there was a loud bang and a cry from my mother. I rushed out of the bedroom, switched the stairs light on and discovered mother lying flat at the bottom. She was winded but with nothing broken. As I am checking things and ordering her to lie still my dad starts coming down the stairs. She starts shouting at him to go back to bed, because she did not want him in the way. I watch him turning round, not at all easy for him. When I turn back my bloody mother has haulled herself up by the fridge and is fretting about looking for bacon. I make her sit down, threatening her with the emergency help button. Was alright, and she may have learnt to switch the light on.

It is a lovely, sunny morning. I Had a good look at the sunlit front of St Pancras (shocking amount of expensive statury) and passing people outside Kings Cross (the glass wall for the underground stairwell mad it look like people were walking down through the pavement on the street side. I may post this with East Coast’s free 15 mins WiFi.

The physical work of shredding caught up with me yesterday, after a heavy shop and a grime adventure in the loft (they had free insulation done which makes it impossible to tell where the joists are, especially with a 30 watt bulb; and the buggers left everything where it was and the photos of my grandpa and his battleship was down the far end). After all that I reached 2.8 on the tired scale last night.

Snowdrops are out in Crawley Memorial Gardens.

I am getting used to using windows7 on this acer netbook, but thll e lack of spe checking, and the frankly bizarre cursor behavior that
leaves me typing in the middle of a previous sentence. The low weight does make be less knackered than with the ibook, and it does do internet well enough, but I need to create for Walburgas, and that is not easy.

I have been giving my 89 year old mother life skills coaching. The cause was the fact that my dad has had so many blood samples taken from his arms that the veins have collapsed. Nothing that he can help; so her banging on about drinking water and not drinking alcohol is worse than useless; and I did not let her get away with The nursse said…!. The nurse agreed with her in a non-committal manner, because they and the doctors cannot be arsed addressing the issue that his veins have collapsed, and therefore needs different monitiring for his warfarin or blood taken from elsewhere, which requires higher skilled nurses; and balming my dad makes the bad care easier to enforce.

Deep breath.

Did more shredding, and opened the 4th bottle of sparkling wine in 4 days, as demanded by ma, rather than pa, and not argued with by me. I also have been alking about work that needs doing, and may sign off so I can be paid for it. I am registered as self employed, so can declare for tax very easily

The fecking cursor is really getting on my tits now. I cannot touch type well enough to keep looking at the screen, so have now idea why the bugger keeps moving back up the page. It is happening with all sorts of programmes as well. Advice welcome.

Where was I?

Did a big, heavy shop 2 days ago, and went to do a simular today, but had Sainsbury self check-out trauma. It is a shit system. Put my bag on the correct place and pressed start, before reading the ‘Own bag?’ question. The low watt lass came and cleared after a few minutes, then did not come back when the fecker told me I would need clearence for alcohol, or the next bottle (£18 by now) and as I was waiting I realized the razors where security packed, and would have to be unpacked. I put everything back in the basket and left, without shouting! I, like my mother, can learn; but having 6 self service and 2 human tills makes the fact the system does not work a bit of a pain. If you are reading Sainsburys: Do you have your own bag? will start the process; having it on the same screen as Start is wank. One button at a time or the company is idiotic. Even better tell people on the first screen that alcohol and secrutity boxes will need a member of staff, so I can go to a human or leave straight away.

Was going to buy a tv and went to check the British Hearf charity shop for scart enabled (parents have an unused phone-tv box). Then went to the Swan and listened to tales of Crawley Town fans who had bought tickets today for Old Trafford; and watched the pub black labrador.a bit of sausage rool and a pat, it was not enough for even short term affection.

When I went back for the telly I was was sure the tickets had been changed. The smallest telly (the only I could carry) was probably always £20, but I had £15 in my head, was was not going to spend more after a little drink was taken.

I do not know why, but Joe Ogden always says that I am a one man theater where-ever I am, and if I am in a public place it is Saturday Night at the Glyndon Palladium.

I have been doing a reasonable amount of physical work in the garden. I got the borrowed shredder working yesterday and have been clearing some of the clippings and prunings from the last, maybe, half-dozen years. I am using the chippings to make a path around the corner of the patio so my parents do not have to climb the massive step up to it.

Felicity, the last of the monastery cats, was put down this week. Kidney failure. She was a lovely cat but old, and it must be counted a blessing that she died before the move to the new site.

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