I got up at 7.45am for the second morning in a row, giving me an extra 15 minutes in bed. I need all the extra strength that I can get, due to the testing of my patience. But this is more or less a lie in to me. However, it’s now 10am and there’s no sign of the workers. They were due at 8am.
The robins are regular visitors now. We have a whole army of them camped in the back garden at the moment, along with a lot of blue tits. Whereas most of the robins are just pecking warily, one brave one just fed for at least a minute. And another or possible the same one, I don’t know them yet, actually jumped onto my window ledge. So there was only a pane of glass separating us. Cool.
11.15am Woo hoo. A blue tit visited and fed.
11.20am I spied a squirrel on the garden fence, obviously investigating why a whole flock of robins and tits are flying to and from my bedroom window ledge. I’ll have to keep my eye on the situation and make sure they don’t have a route to the booty.
11.30am I rang the decorators firm. Turns out that as it’s wet the workers are not coming today. It would just be nice to know.
12.15pm Right, I have a new supervisor tomorrow at 8am. The first thing that I shall be telling him is that the woodwork needs sanding and if he tries to give me any old baloney I’ll warn him not to and if he persists I’ll ask him to leave. I’m just not in the mood. The scaffolding also arrives tomorrow.
2pm Robins galore. Yahhhooooo.
4pm Just arrived back from a late jog. There were tonnes of starlings gathered together but sadly they didn’t move. Starlings in group flight is so uplifting that I was tempted to run and scare them but that would have been wicked.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
i'm a customer get out of here
10am One worker turned up alone, the Irish one, the chancer – I can tell, I’m Irish. I’ve been brooding overnight on the woodwork. I saw one cleverly placed piece of sand paper on the floor but heard no sanding, saw no dust and no evidence of any sanding whatsoever. Which I told him. “Did you actually sand yesterday?” I asked him. “Oh yeah he did a bit it here and there alright”. I made it clear that the standard would need to be better outside. He looked at me like I was mad, which infuriated me. He showed me the spec which said “Spot burn and spot prime where required.” I am looking at a Dulux Specification which came with the quote saying “Burn off or rub down to a solid feathered edge”. I walked off to get the paper, mind ticking over at 100mph.
After mulling it over and realising that I am not being unreasonable and that I’ll regret it forever if I say nothing I’ve asked him to sand again, well to SAND. There is already one coat of paint over the woodwork, so you can tell how quickly they worked. “I’ll be here 2 weeks at that rate.” At which point I, of course, lost my patience. “Look mate, I could do a better job at sanding than this and I know it doesn’t take that long.” I phoned the company and explained exactly what happened. They were surprised that only 1 man turned up and completely agreed with me “Look, I feel like a grass but I just want a good job” I said. “Yes codenamelizzy, that’s what you are paying for”. It was the dream response. He’s having a word.
11.15am The other worker called to let me know that the sanding will be done in between coats. Apparently this is normal practice. This I except but I've never heard of paint being applied before ANY sanding. Normal practice my arse. Wee fellow me ladee here made it more than clear earlier that he thought he had done all the sanding that was required. And it’s only because of my intervention that there will be any sanding at all.
Irish lad can buy his own tea.
I relented and brought him a cup of tea and Hob Nobs at lunchtime, remembering the 2 sugars and to leave the tea bag in. The hallway is coming along great. It was 2 shades of blue before that didn’t go together at all and one was a darkish shade so it was really horrid and gloomy. Now it’s bright and white and coming on lovely. The lower part of the wall, to be painted tomorrow is the same colour as my living room, so it will act as a very grand entrance to my place. Hurrah.
I checked in with bro and yes the first stage of sanding is the most important as it provides a key for the paint. So workmen just don’t try and fob me off with a load of crap. The roof tile needs to be put back in place but should be fine other than that. Phew.
Worker clocked off 3.30pm. Maybe I’ve found my new career?
After mulling it over and realising that I am not being unreasonable and that I’ll regret it forever if I say nothing I’ve asked him to sand again, well to SAND. There is already one coat of paint over the woodwork, so you can tell how quickly they worked. “I’ll be here 2 weeks at that rate.” At which point I, of course, lost my patience. “Look mate, I could do a better job at sanding than this and I know it doesn’t take that long.” I phoned the company and explained exactly what happened. They were surprised that only 1 man turned up and completely agreed with me “Look, I feel like a grass but I just want a good job” I said. “Yes codenamelizzy, that’s what you are paying for”. It was the dream response. He’s having a word.
11.15am The other worker called to let me know that the sanding will be done in between coats. Apparently this is normal practice. This I except but I've never heard of paint being applied before ANY sanding. Normal practice my arse. Wee fellow me ladee here made it more than clear earlier that he thought he had done all the sanding that was required. And it’s only because of my intervention that there will be any sanding at all.
Irish lad can buy his own tea.
I relented and brought him a cup of tea and Hob Nobs at lunchtime, remembering the 2 sugars and to leave the tea bag in. The hallway is coming along great. It was 2 shades of blue before that didn’t go together at all and one was a darkish shade so it was really horrid and gloomy. Now it’s bright and white and coming on lovely. The lower part of the wall, to be painted tomorrow is the same colour as my living room, so it will act as a very grand entrance to my place. Hurrah.
I checked in with bro and yes the first stage of sanding is the most important as it provides a key for the paint. So workmen just don’t try and fob me off with a load of crap. The roof tile needs to be put back in place but should be fine other than that. Phew.
Worker clocked off 3.30pm. Maybe I’ve found my new career?
and bird watch
Wow, after 1 ½ years, finally. There were just 2 robins on my bird feeders. I recently changed to a new exotic mix. They were 1 foot away from my bedroom window.
on behalf of catster
Who gladly is not with us at this time.
Bah Easter. Pah Eggs. Grrrrr Sainsburys. Months away argggghhhhhh.
Bah Easter. Pah Eggs. Grrrrr Sainsburys. Months away argggghhhhhh.
Monday, February 20, 2006
decorators watch
I got up at 7.30am, on the first day of my weeklong holiday, to make sure that I was decent when the decorators turned up at 8am. It was windy, cloudy and wet but also not raining, quite bright and not too cold. Hard but tolerable working conditions.
8.50am, I’m on my second cup of coffee, I’ve watched the news, read the blogs, sent some hotmails, read my stars but I’ve not answered the door to the workers.
8.55am, I’ve heard from the workers. They are in Richmond having been given the wrong address. I’ve been told not to wait for them, as they don’t know what time they’ll get here.
10am Hurrah they have arrived.
10.02am Boo. While showing them round the back of the flat I noticed lumps of cement on the floor on the path around the side of the house. We looked up and there is a slate loose on the roof. They’re bringing a cherry picker round one day so have agreed to have a look at it for me. They’ve also said that I can have a ride in it and I’m going to try and clean my windows then. Te he.
11.40am They appear quite typical. One is Irish and one is English, tea bag left in, tea bag taken out, 2 sugars each. The Hob Nobs went down well. Daddy told me to always look after the workers.
11.50am They’ve started on the inside as they are waiting for equipment and gear to turn up tomorrow. It looks loads better already and that’s just with an undercoat of white.
2pm I returned from the shops to find my workmen had scarpered. I’m not sure about the quality of the work to date to be honest. I had expected a little more sanding down and filling of holes. I’ll have a word tomorrow.
On the upside I had a chance to raid the local charity shops for book club. There were several of the books that I have recently bought all at 50p. I recently rediscovered charity shops for books and Fopp is great too. Otherwise I think I’d be skint by now, what with the art stuff to buy as well. The standard of the shops varied and bizarrely in the worst one I found a book for 50p that I nearly bought on Saturday for £7.99, only the till wouldn’t accept my card. When I told the girl behind the counter she said “you’re joking?” and she really meant it, and obviously thought the shop was full of crap. There was an awful lot of chic fic (or whatever it’s called), quite a few Di Vinci Codes and tonnes of the second Bridget Jones. Obviously people are reading that dross but are then too embarrassed to have it on their bookshelves.
8.50am, I’m on my second cup of coffee, I’ve watched the news, read the blogs, sent some hotmails, read my stars but I’ve not answered the door to the workers.
8.55am, I’ve heard from the workers. They are in Richmond having been given the wrong address. I’ve been told not to wait for them, as they don’t know what time they’ll get here.
10am Hurrah they have arrived.
10.02am Boo. While showing them round the back of the flat I noticed lumps of cement on the floor on the path around the side of the house. We looked up and there is a slate loose on the roof. They’re bringing a cherry picker round one day so have agreed to have a look at it for me. They’ve also said that I can have a ride in it and I’m going to try and clean my windows then. Te he.
11.40am They appear quite typical. One is Irish and one is English, tea bag left in, tea bag taken out, 2 sugars each. The Hob Nobs went down well. Daddy told me to always look after the workers.
11.50am They’ve started on the inside as they are waiting for equipment and gear to turn up tomorrow. It looks loads better already and that’s just with an undercoat of white.
2pm I returned from the shops to find my workmen had scarpered. I’m not sure about the quality of the work to date to be honest. I had expected a little more sanding down and filling of holes. I’ll have a word tomorrow.
On the upside I had a chance to raid the local charity shops for book club. There were several of the books that I have recently bought all at 50p. I recently rediscovered charity shops for books and Fopp is great too. Otherwise I think I’d be skint by now, what with the art stuff to buy as well. The standard of the shops varied and bizarrely in the worst one I found a book for 50p that I nearly bought on Saturday for £7.99, only the till wouldn’t accept my card. When I told the girl behind the counter she said “you’re joking?” and she really meant it, and obviously thought the shop was full of crap. There was an awful lot of chic fic (or whatever it’s called), quite a few Di Vinci Codes and tonnes of the second Bridget Jones. Obviously people are reading that dross but are then too embarrassed to have it on their bookshelves.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
singing the blues
I visited the folks yesterday and my youngest brother and 2 nephews, so and so high, were there. They live in Colchester and are football crazy. They were down for an extra special trip as somehow my brother had managed to wrangle 3 VIP tickets and dinner at Stanford Bridge for the FA Cup game Chelsea v Colchester.
Imagine their excitement, taking into account that Chelsea had a very rare defeat last weekend and in the FA Cup anything can happen and sometimes it pays to be the under dog. It was the things that dreams are made of when Colchester went ahead at 28 minutes due to an own goal by Carvalho. For 9 minutes they were beating Chelsea at home until Ferreira scored at 37 minutes. And they went into half time at 1-1.
Course Colchester lost 3-1 in the end but they’ll remember today forever innit.
Imagine their excitement, taking into account that Chelsea had a very rare defeat last weekend and in the FA Cup anything can happen and sometimes it pays to be the under dog. It was the things that dreams are made of when Colchester went ahead at 28 minutes due to an own goal by Carvalho. For 9 minutes they were beating Chelsea at home until Ferreira scored at 37 minutes. And they went into half time at 1-1.
Course Colchester lost 3-1 in the end but they’ll remember today forever innit.
points of view
Dulwich Guardian, dtd 16 February 2006
People power triumphs in bid to keep Herne Hill where it belongs
Proud Herne Hillian’s were celebrating a victory for people power after a council removed signs in the heart of their community welcoming visitors to a neighbouring area.
The protesting group were left baffled when one of four “Welcome to Dulwich” signs was erected outside the top half of Half Moon Lane, Herne Hill.
Southwark Council shelled out £200,000 to put up 47 signs up across the borough to mark their community council boundaries.
But after mounting opposition, the nine “Welcome to Dulwich” signs were removed last Monday, though the masts on which the signs were hung will remain.
Jeff Doorn, secretary of local group the Herne Hill Society, who led a campaign to remove the signs said:
“We are very happy that the signs are being take down. This is a victory for people power.
“Of course we are still hoping the masts will be taken down because they are a blot on the landscape, but we have won something – we have won the first round.”
A council spokeswoman said: “We have listened to the views expressed and agreed to remove the Dulwich community council signs.
“We will be liaising with local residents over what kind of signage they would like to see, and where, in the Dulwich area.”
Adrian Kajumba
akajumba@london.newsquest.co.uk
People power triumphs in bid to keep Herne Hill where it belongs
Proud Herne Hillian’s were celebrating a victory for people power after a council removed signs in the heart of their community welcoming visitors to a neighbouring area.
The protesting group were left baffled when one of four “Welcome to Dulwich” signs was erected outside the top half of Half Moon Lane, Herne Hill.
Southwark Council shelled out £200,000 to put up 47 signs up across the borough to mark their community council boundaries.
But after mounting opposition, the nine “Welcome to Dulwich” signs were removed last Monday, though the masts on which the signs were hung will remain.
Jeff Doorn, secretary of local group the Herne Hill Society, who led a campaign to remove the signs said:
“We are very happy that the signs are being take down. This is a victory for people power.
“Of course we are still hoping the masts will be taken down because they are a blot on the landscape, but we have won something – we have won the first round.”
A council spokeswoman said: “We have listened to the views expressed and agreed to remove the Dulwich community council signs.
“We will be liaising with local residents over what kind of signage they would like to see, and where, in the Dulwich area.”
Adrian Kajumba
akajumba@london.newsquest.co.uk
Saturday, February 18, 2006
beginner's 'painting' 5 of 10
Today’s art class started well. We hung last week’s work onto the wall. Well, I hung up the one that I did the day after class due to nearly life ending hangover during class. Sir told the class that I had controlled the colour quite well and explained that if you covered the light blue on both sides by holding your fingers over your eyes the orange springs right out at ya. But if you look at the image as a whole it is flat. Try it. It’s true (actually I'll take another pic in focus and natural day light tomorrow - just trust me till then). Bingo, mission accomplished and not everyone was so lucky with their “Oh look at my fantastically clever and really experimental work”. Ha.However, it’s not bloody painting is it?
Needless to say we did not paint in today’s 5 out of 10 art class, although we did ‘paint’. Firstly Sir’s male helper (who is an odd mixture of Francis Bacon and The Man Opposite (who had 2 ladies with him during the week!)) did 4 60 second poses. Purely portrait, much to the relief of us all, I think. We drew these on white paper with a wax candle. And we were advised not to tell Sir that we can’t see a thing “cos that’s the bloody point” although every single one of us failed to see that point. We then ‘painted’ over the wax in ink and watercolours. Mine really was shocking, so I grabbed the chance to try again and my second attempt was a little better, but still what was the point?
I have a week off work so maybe I’ll have another stab at it.
Friday, February 17, 2006
the final straw
I saw the Old Boss for quick drinks tonight and I was surprised to find Och Aye McKay among the small gathering. I have not seen him since his comb-over days and I even missed the infamous orange occasion. He may look different but he’s still exactly the same. Anyway, the Old Boss is fine. No missus, as she is unable to travel now due to the developing foetus. He’s staying at a hotel on the South Bank and was horrified when on feeling a little peckish, saw that a cheese and ham croissant was £18 from the room service menu. He really does live in a different world now. It wasn’t until I got out of the pub that I realised I had not smoked a twig, a pen, a cocktail shaker or a straw while supping my vodka. And on leaving the pub I complained that I stunk of smoke. I say.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
stupid cupid
Hey hey hey, it’s Valentine’s Day. It’s nowhere near as abhorrent to me as New Year’s Eve but it’s not a favourite of mine either.
I received a ‘mystery’ Valentine card today and I think that I know who it’s from. I won’t name and shame him as I think he reads here from time to time, but I do wonder if I was part of a mass mail-out. Was it a sympathy card, a friendly joke or does he want to get a cab round here now and ravish me?
We all know that I’m no girly, but I am a women (ssh don’t tell) and receiving a Valentine card of this nature sparks off the insanely abnormal and hormonal in me. Every time. What if, could it be, if only and irrational thoughts about He Who Cannot Be Named just appear from nowhere. So mischievous people, it’s not big, it’s not clever and a Valentine is not just for Christmas!!!!! But thanks anyway, honest.
Anyway, I’m a one-man woman. Everyone here knows that I’m Daddy’s little girl. He knows that I’m fiercely independent, that I (think I can) do it all alone and still have time to give the V sign. He laughed his head off last week when I told him that I wished the Feminist movement had never happened. I mean I’m absolutely sick to the back teeth of working. I’ve been at it for over 20 years now. Why can‘t it be like the old days with hubby going out to work and me meddling with my hobbies and picking up the kids from school? Please may I retire? Now?
I’m a bit wistful tonight as a beautiful nearly full moon rises over the roof opposite. It’s been a while since my last Loony Toons but I do have a new one. The exterior of the house is being painted next week. We have the freehold and it’s reawakened thoughts of selling and moving to the seaside. But my new and improved plan, has me going in with a partner who can visit at weekends or when ever they want….as long as they don’t bring smelly people that I hate with them. I’m looking for offers. Sold? Must be male with good income, who turns a blind eye to mania.
I received a ‘mystery’ Valentine card today and I think that I know who it’s from. I won’t name and shame him as I think he reads here from time to time, but I do wonder if I was part of a mass mail-out. Was it a sympathy card, a friendly joke or does he want to get a cab round here now and ravish me?
We all know that I’m no girly, but I am a women (ssh don’t tell) and receiving a Valentine card of this nature sparks off the insanely abnormal and hormonal in me. Every time. What if, could it be, if only and irrational thoughts about He Who Cannot Be Named just appear from nowhere. So mischievous people, it’s not big, it’s not clever and a Valentine is not just for Christmas!!!!! But thanks anyway, honest.
Anyway, I’m a one-man woman. Everyone here knows that I’m Daddy’s little girl. He knows that I’m fiercely independent, that I (think I can) do it all alone and still have time to give the V sign. He laughed his head off last week when I told him that I wished the Feminist movement had never happened. I mean I’m absolutely sick to the back teeth of working. I’ve been at it for over 20 years now. Why can‘t it be like the old days with hubby going out to work and me meddling with my hobbies and picking up the kids from school? Please may I retire? Now?
I’m a bit wistful tonight as a beautiful nearly full moon rises over the roof opposite. It’s been a while since my last Loony Toons but I do have a new one. The exterior of the house is being painted next week. We have the freehold and it’s reawakened thoughts of selling and moving to the seaside. But my new and improved plan, has me going in with a partner who can visit at weekends or when ever they want….as long as they don’t bring smelly people that I hate with them. I’m looking for offers. Sold? Must be male with good income, who turns a blind eye to mania.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Viva NYC
Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, I have booked a suite at Madison Shark in NYC for 5 weeks from now and counting. I’ve booked my flight, and I have secured myself a window seat for each leg and I feel ever so clever that I won’t be suffering from nicotine withdrawal on the flights.
Sharky’s pictures of beautiful snow, the sort I haven’t seen since living in Sheffield over 12 years ago, have left me very excited. But now, whereas only 24 hours ago I was hoping for a similar snowfall during my stay, for I too have read Miss Smilla’s Feelings for Snow and had daydreams of navigating my way around Central Park by the touch of the wind on my cheek, the colour of the ice or the incline of a snow slope, and of being stuck there for a little bit, now I’m confronted with the experiment!
I know it’s not the same airline, but the timing couldn’t be worse. Luckily though I’m not easily scared and my biggest worry is actually whether to pack for spring or snow and which Murakami book to read on the plane. In the meantime I’m gemming up with New York reads, Auster (see list) and now Proulx and I’m open for suggestions too. I reckon I could fit 1 maybe 2 more NYC reads before I depart.
The experiment is also likely to deter the shark from anything but travel by water and I fear that Hernewich Hill will be changed beyond all recognition by the time she does visit. The Post Office, nearly opposite the Shark & TH residence, by Sainsbury, is being knocked down and a 4-5 storey building will replace it. Shocking. I also previously neglected to mention the new bakery, which sells about 4 bread rolls. We are so trendy.
Oh my God, the new man in Corry, who I always knew was going to be a baddy, just confessed to Emily Bishop that he killed Ernest all those years ago.
Sharky’s pictures of beautiful snow, the sort I haven’t seen since living in Sheffield over 12 years ago, have left me very excited. But now, whereas only 24 hours ago I was hoping for a similar snowfall during my stay, for I too have read Miss Smilla’s Feelings for Snow and had daydreams of navigating my way around Central Park by the touch of the wind on my cheek, the colour of the ice or the incline of a snow slope, and of being stuck there for a little bit, now I’m confronted with the experiment!
I know it’s not the same airline, but the timing couldn’t be worse. Luckily though I’m not easily scared and my biggest worry is actually whether to pack for spring or snow and which Murakami book to read on the plane. In the meantime I’m gemming up with New York reads, Auster (see list) and now Proulx and I’m open for suggestions too. I reckon I could fit 1 maybe 2 more NYC reads before I depart.
The experiment is also likely to deter the shark from anything but travel by water and I fear that Hernewich Hill will be changed beyond all recognition by the time she does visit. The Post Office, nearly opposite the Shark & TH residence, by Sainsbury, is being knocked down and a 4-5 storey building will replace it. Shocking. I also previously neglected to mention the new bakery, which sells about 4 bread rolls. We are so trendy.
Oh my God, the new man in Corry, who I always knew was going to be a baddy, just confessed to Emily Bishop that he killed Ernest all those years ago.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
class dismissed
So, with art class number 4 under our belts, there are slight rumblings of “do you think we’ll actually get to paint on this course?” For Saturday’s class we were told to bring 6 sheets of A1 paper to make a 2 or 3 dimensional image on a 1 dimensional space, ie we cut out bits of paper and stuck them onto another. All jolly good clean fun but not what we really want to do. Sure we’re learning more about colour and dimension but I’d rather learn that with a paintbrush in my hand. For next week’s lesson we need to bring a candle and some watercolour paints, if we wish. If we frigging wish? That will be lesson 5 out of 10. We will be half way through the term and we will still not have done a painting. As I have paid £270 for this I just hope that Sir knows what he’s doing, toying with us like this, otherwise I predict a riot.
Mine was absolutely awful and I’m not even fishing for compliments here. I had a terrible hangover and I could barely carry my work, let alone do it. Should it happen again I will have a hair of the dog first. The hangover was courtesy of seeing Goldfrapp on the Friday night. They were brilliant. It was a fantastic night, but unfortunately anything after 9.45pm is a bit of a blur. I remember being flighty, loud, possibly annoying and very popular with the boys and I think maybe that last bit went to my head a little. I’ve had my hair cut, I had my clevage on show and I wore my (18 year old) boots with the 2 inch heels. I got lots of “cors” and lots of “do you always look like this” etc etc. I bumped into my only minor indiscretion of the last year and he looked beautiful. He wanted to take me out to lunch today and for the life of me I cannot understand why I didn’t pick up the phone when he called me last night. Oh yes, it’s because I’m an old bat.
I smoked 5 or 6 straws that night.
Hernewich Hill Watch : a new trendy [?] clothes stop nearly opposite the station
Mine was absolutely awful and I’m not even fishing for compliments here. I had a terrible hangover and I could barely carry my work, let alone do it. Should it happen again I will have a hair of the dog first. The hangover was courtesy of seeing Goldfrapp on the Friday night. They were brilliant. It was a fantastic night, but unfortunately anything after 9.45pm is a bit of a blur. I remember being flighty, loud, possibly annoying and very popular with the boys and I think maybe that last bit went to my head a little. I’ve had my hair cut, I had my clevage on show and I wore my (18 year old) boots with the 2 inch heels. I got lots of “cors” and lots of “do you always look like this” etc etc. I bumped into my only minor indiscretion of the last year and he looked beautiful. He wanted to take me out to lunch today and for the life of me I cannot understand why I didn’t pick up the phone when he called me last night. Oh yes, it’s because I’m an old bat.
I smoked 5 or 6 straws that night.
Hernewich Hill Watch : a new trendy [?] clothes stop nearly opposite the station
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
it’s better out than in
Arrrrrrggggghhhhhh. The little shit. Mr I can only repeat anything that requires any intellect in a monotone fashion cos I have to read it from my memory. Mr I read all about it in the Daily Mirror and then repeat it in a parrot fashion without the data going through any thought process at all. Mr Total Lacking in Anything Remotely Resembling Sensitivity.
That told him!
On a more pleasant note, Brixton and HH seem to be coming up in the world. The entrance to Brixton tube is now more like a Foyer area, with piped classical music playing during opening hours. I suspect that this is to deter the undesirables and I have to say that it seems to be working. There wasn’t one person looking to sell or steal a travel card or scrounge fags (not that I would have one – disgusting habit). And we appear to have a trendy barbers in HH, next to the restaurant right by the station.
I say.
So, maybe I could find another world?
That told him!
On a more pleasant note, Brixton and HH seem to be coming up in the world. The entrance to Brixton tube is now more like a Foyer area, with piped classical music playing during opening hours. I suspect that this is to deter the undesirables and I have to say that it seems to be working. There wasn’t one person looking to sell or steal a travel card or scrounge fags (not that I would have one – disgusting habit). And we appear to have a trendy barbers in HH, next to the restaurant right by the station.
I say.
So, maybe I could find another world?
Sunday, February 05, 2006
foxy
This is the little fella who keeps me up at night during his courting period.He has one lame leg. When I was coming home once a great big fella cornered me and asked me to walk him 20 metres up the road to his front door. On asking if I was about to be mugged, he said, “No, I’m scared, there’s a big fox up there”.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
more pollocks
Tuesday morning was spent at the Old Bailey where I was in support of the Vixen’s appearance as a witness. Ominous bells toll on approaching the area and getting into the witness area involved going through security similar to that of an airport. No matter how many times you check your pockets and bags one can’t help wondering if there’s something that shouldn’t be in there. It’s not a place for those with a guilty conscious. I had expected it to be drafty and full of shadows and creaks but it was all disappointingly modern, with fully equipped communal kitchens, travelling tuck shops and wall-to-wall chavs. Even the barristers were all young, fit and handsome. Not necessarily a bad thing.
Luckily for the Vixen the accused pleaded guilty, meaning that she didn’t have to make the stand (in her borrowed geography teacher outfit). Naturally we scarpered as soon as possible, straight into a pile of cameras and journos waiting outside for him. We pretended that they were paparazzi and that we were famous. Well, our spirits were high at the time. A pub-crawl seemed the logical thing to do and we made our way from the Old Bailey, along to the South Bank for old times sake and ended up in HH for a now traditional win-ding involving the coal fire, disco lighting and a trip to the park with the scooter, blanket and portable bar. We rolled down the hill and hugged some trees but were gutted that the sky was overcast and cloudy. No star gazing ☹.
My new light design, a roaring success. Lights donated by the shark and filters donated by catster.
Wednesday was a tasty chicken dinner at Mummy & Daddy’s where I coped remarkably well, seeing as I’d had bugger all sleep. Thursday saw Richard Hawley in support to the wonderful Nick Cave solo (well only 3 Bad Seeds in tow) show. Nick blazed onto stage as if he had spent the whole of the day with a bottle of bourbon and the rip roaring pace was maintained for the whole show. It was brilliant. The band appear to be having a handle bar moustache competition, while Warren looked like Rasputin. I’m sure that there is a rational explanation for it and I await it with concern. Lady Jane was there along with the beardless one who had a disturbing new page-boy hair cut. So a busy time means that I’m only now recovering from my time with the Vixen. In out out of dozing, there’s nothing that could get me off this couch right now.
This looks a lot better in the flesh. Art class today was my favourite so far. We learned how to stretch paper and experimented with ink. Sir made a point of saying that mine was very good. I told him that I had really enjoyed doing it and got another “good”. Excellent.
Luckily for the Vixen the accused pleaded guilty, meaning that she didn’t have to make the stand (in her borrowed geography teacher outfit). Naturally we scarpered as soon as possible, straight into a pile of cameras and journos waiting outside for him. We pretended that they were paparazzi and that we were famous. Well, our spirits were high at the time. A pub-crawl seemed the logical thing to do and we made our way from the Old Bailey, along to the South Bank for old times sake and ended up in HH for a now traditional win-ding involving the coal fire, disco lighting and a trip to the park with the scooter, blanket and portable bar. We rolled down the hill and hugged some trees but were gutted that the sky was overcast and cloudy. No star gazing ☹.
My new light design, a roaring success. Lights donated by the shark and filters donated by catster.Wednesday was a tasty chicken dinner at Mummy & Daddy’s where I coped remarkably well, seeing as I’d had bugger all sleep. Thursday saw Richard Hawley in support to the wonderful Nick Cave solo (well only 3 Bad Seeds in tow) show. Nick blazed onto stage as if he had spent the whole of the day with a bottle of bourbon and the rip roaring pace was maintained for the whole show. It was brilliant. The band appear to be having a handle bar moustache competition, while Warren looked like Rasputin. I’m sure that there is a rational explanation for it and I await it with concern. Lady Jane was there along with the beardless one who had a disturbing new page-boy hair cut. So a busy time means that I’m only now recovering from my time with the Vixen. In out out of dozing, there’s nothing that could get me off this couch right now.
This looks a lot better in the flesh. Art class today was my favourite so far. We learned how to stretch paper and experimented with ink. Sir made a point of saying that mine was very good. I told him that I had really enjoyed doing it and got another “good”. Excellent.
Friday, February 03, 2006
yracs
The WB threatened to set me on a few work colleagues.....it's an uncanny likeness of my new fringe look.
While on the horror theme, I am in danger of the sack from the WB due to an unnatural and unhealthy interest, I am hooked on the deranged one’s blog. He’s told me it’s over, it’s last month’s news and that I have to get over it but it’s a riveting read into a mind of delusion and horror.
She hates the tabloids and glossy type magazines (because she cannot get flattering editorial) and warns her blog readers not to read them, in particular The Sun and OK. I don’t think she’ll be appearing in The Sun anytime soon though as “The editor of said rag is a feminist ginger bitch, ugly as sin, who allegedly beats up her own bloke. People, for the thousandth time, don't buy into this garbage. …..I know that to Rebekah Wade (editor of the Sun), Barrymore isn't a threat. Her bloke isn't gonna run off with him and certainly wouldn't look at him in an appreciative way. If I, on the other hand, was given ten minutes on my own in a room with Ross Kemp, I reckon I could give him wet dreams over me forever more. That, my friends is why she won't let any of her staff say anything nice about me and why she won't work with me. I can't wait til she gets fired and a nice Ed takes over. I'll be back on them front pages again and she'll be trying to cling on to her bloke (probably by beating him over the head with a lamp while her new best friend Barrymore takes a dip in her pool with a fan he's met in a club). Ha ha. Let all the scum float round in their cess pit together I say.”
OK she dislikes due to their allegiance with Jordan, well she had the business sense to ban them working with Jodie while they are working with her. This is just one of her Ok magazine tirades “Freaks! Picked it up the other day at a shoot I was doing to have a flick. It was a few weeks old. Two big articles about me in it. One comparing the whole of my life to the whole of Jordan's. Bascially saying that I am copying everything she does. Er... no. One of the things they were "proving" their point with was the fact that I "copied" her brown hair. Actually, we both turned up the same night at the Dukes of Hazzard Premiere with brown hair. I had dyed it a week before that as part of a job for New Woman magazine. Because it was an exclusive deal, I had to wear a blonde wig for a week so that no one else would get the pictures. I certainly didn't copy her as I didn't know til that night that she had died hers brown anyway. Besides that, I was paid to dye it back to it's natural colour. It was a job. Nothing to do with her. Anyway, I didn't read the rest of the article as it was such tripe, I felt that if I carried on reading I would end up wanting to go into their offices and smash the "writer's" head through their computer screen. If I really wanted to be anything like Jordan I would have had a baby by the first rich footballer I could find, I'd get married quick and wear a ridiculous outfit (not to mention sell every single picture of my pregnancy test, hen night, wedding, honeymoon, having a shit, plucking my ear hair etc), I'd make a porno film and pretend it was stolen and I'd lie to the papers every week about stuff like buying a pink aeroplane or whatever, that they would then stupidly lap up as they have nothing real or fruitful to write about.”
The woman is stark raving mad. However, I wait with baited breath for her comments about the latest cover of the magazine.
Bottom left hand corner, SHE WON'T LIKE THAT!
Sunday, January 29, 2006
a load of pollocks
And so I have my life back and I can return to me favourite subject. Me. It began yesterday with art class 2 of 10. Last week I reported that I wasn’t going to go back as there were no fit men and I didn’t get a snog. Hopefully dear readers will know that was a Jodie joke. I didn’t really enjoy the first class though but luckily I had expected this would be the case so I didn’t panic. I loved University, which finished 10 years ago, but I have also enjoyed not being in a classroom since then. During my final term at Uni, I didn’t get around to finishing 2 of the course novels, Tom Jones & Middlemarch. On occasion, and even to this day, I sometimes have nightmares that I’m in my final exam and I am faced with a series of questions, based exclusively on the 2 novels. How absurd is that? I passed with a healthy 2:1 and yet I’m still plagued with guilt. Maybe I should just read them.
On arrival at our studio space we were surrounded by drying still life canvasses. I was early and as my fellow art lovers stumbled in bit by bit, they nervously eyed the canvasses too and I tried to make light of the situation by making nervous quips about a recent Coronation Street plot involving Jack Duckworth and nude modelling. Surely they wouldn’t hit us with that on the first day of a beginners course? Sir arrived promptly and after register, a very brief Health & Safety talk and tips about where to have sly fags, we were given a lecture on colour and it’s use to demonstrate movement and depth on a 1 dimensional space. Next to Sir sat a blonde lady and we all wondered who she was. I thought that perhaps she was a trainee lecturer or even his Muse, as she sat there tittering at his jokes and making a few Carry On type suggestive comments. All was revealed, literally, later into the lesson when she did in fact take all her clothes off and do four 1-minute poses, which we had to quickly sketch in oil bars. Sir had told us countless times to take the membrane off the top of the oil bars. I had taken some plastic off the top of mine, but didn’t realise that there was yet another layer. Consequently, I completely missed pose 1 and only had 30 seconds for each of the other 3 poses. I can't upload the darn image straight, it needs to be rotated so that the green line is on the right.
My work suffered a little but I soldiered on. We then spent the rest of the first lesson and most of yesterday’s lessons colouring in the lines. Sir didn’t laugh at my work and said that my use of colour is bold. I really enjoyed lesson 2. The blonde lady was there but did absolutely nothing this time.
I was in town early yesterday to pick up more art supplies (it’s a very expensive hobby), and just in case I didn’t enjoy lesson 2 I spontaneously booked a hair appointment for after class. As regulars will know the Laydee thing did not suit me, however there are limits and when the WB (who has a Leo Sayer barnet) tells you that you need a haircut, that’s when you’ve exceeded them. So I now have a Vidal Sassoon hair cut. It’s a classic Vidal cut and it’s the one that I had for most of my 20s and it suits me, peeping out from under a fringe.
I was very surprised to get a call on a UK mobile from the Vixen who invited me for drinks in Brixton. I have been avoiding alcohol, company and going out much more than usual since giving up the fags. Despite being a little nervous about drinking I leapt at the chance to hook up. The last time I gave up smoking I kept getting really pissed and it took me sometime to realise that as my right arm was used to going up to my mouth constantly, I was drinking way too quickly. As a precaution yesterday I smoked a cocktail stick. Later on, I chained smoked a cocktail stick and a straw. It might have looked silly, but who cares. Anyway, the Vixen is back in town for reasons as funny as Michael Barrymore but she is headed back to New Zealand next Saturday. Luckily for her, she doesn’t do jet lag. She’d only arrived the night before and showed super human strength by barely even remembering that she had not long been off a long haul flight.
Who remembered? There’s a couple of robins larking around in our back garden.
On arrival at our studio space we were surrounded by drying still life canvasses. I was early and as my fellow art lovers stumbled in bit by bit, they nervously eyed the canvasses too and I tried to make light of the situation by making nervous quips about a recent Coronation Street plot involving Jack Duckworth and nude modelling. Surely they wouldn’t hit us with that on the first day of a beginners course? Sir arrived promptly and after register, a very brief Health & Safety talk and tips about where to have sly fags, we were given a lecture on colour and it’s use to demonstrate movement and depth on a 1 dimensional space. Next to Sir sat a blonde lady and we all wondered who she was. I thought that perhaps she was a trainee lecturer or even his Muse, as she sat there tittering at his jokes and making a few Carry On type suggestive comments. All was revealed, literally, later into the lesson when she did in fact take all her clothes off and do four 1-minute poses, which we had to quickly sketch in oil bars. Sir had told us countless times to take the membrane off the top of the oil bars. I had taken some plastic off the top of mine, but didn’t realise that there was yet another layer. Consequently, I completely missed pose 1 and only had 30 seconds for each of the other 3 poses. I can't upload the darn image straight, it needs to be rotated so that the green line is on the right.
My work suffered a little but I soldiered on. We then spent the rest of the first lesson and most of yesterday’s lessons colouring in the lines. Sir didn’t laugh at my work and said that my use of colour is bold. I really enjoyed lesson 2. The blonde lady was there but did absolutely nothing this time. I was in town early yesterday to pick up more art supplies (it’s a very expensive hobby), and just in case I didn’t enjoy lesson 2 I spontaneously booked a hair appointment for after class. As regulars will know the Laydee thing did not suit me, however there are limits and when the WB (who has a Leo Sayer barnet) tells you that you need a haircut, that’s when you’ve exceeded them. So I now have a Vidal Sassoon hair cut. It’s a classic Vidal cut and it’s the one that I had for most of my 20s and it suits me, peeping out from under a fringe.
I was very surprised to get a call on a UK mobile from the Vixen who invited me for drinks in Brixton. I have been avoiding alcohol, company and going out much more than usual since giving up the fags. Despite being a little nervous about drinking I leapt at the chance to hook up. The last time I gave up smoking I kept getting really pissed and it took me sometime to realise that as my right arm was used to going up to my mouth constantly, I was drinking way too quickly. As a precaution yesterday I smoked a cocktail stick. Later on, I chained smoked a cocktail stick and a straw. It might have looked silly, but who cares. Anyway, the Vixen is back in town for reasons as funny as Michael Barrymore but she is headed back to New Zealand next Saturday. Luckily for her, she doesn’t do jet lag. She’d only arrived the night before and showed super human strength by barely even remembering that she had not long been off a long haul flight.
Who remembered? There’s a couple of robins larking around in our back garden.
Friday, January 27, 2006
cbb finale
I'm looking forward to Pete's interview and that's all. I think that Chantelle will win and this upsets me. There have been various pictures of her topless and discreet full frontals on the front pages of the Daily Sport every day this week. It's such a waste. All she's going to use her new status for is joint glamour shots with Jodie, unless she gets a very good manager very quickly.
Eviction predicition :
Traci
Pete
Maggot
Michael
Preston
Chantelle
In their final Diary Room chats : Chantelle predicted Preston to win, Maggot wanted himself to win for some $$$$, Michael wanted Maggot to win, Pete wanted Michael to win, Preston wanted to win but, apparently, it’s never been a competition. If he can’t win, he wants Chantelle to win. Traci wanted to herself to win too.
Jodie’s turned up and has unbelievably not given up TV, just reality TV. Faria’s here. Yawn. Rula said hi to George but he ignored her. George reckons his constituency are behind him. Dennis wasn’t allowed to talk in case he swore.
The first person to be evicted tonight is Traci. She pouted a lot and said “oh my God” often. She maintains that there was a lot of love in the house.
Pete’s out. He steeled himself for booing. Good job. It was true panto. He loves the boos and says it shows he still has what it takes and said it’s 1977 all over again. He’d only packed for 5 days on the show. He thinks that people cannot cope with the truth these days and that he didn’t go too far and that he’s scary but fun. I agree. They were all free at any time to yell shut up. What he learned in his time in the house : how to go without sex for 3 weeks. His hit is being re-released and he’s gutted. He said it’s like been in your school uniform all your life. His best bits were excellent. Channel 4 know how to court controversy, his boyfriend was invited onto the stage for them to hug.
SHOCK!!!!!!!!! PRESTON’S OUT. Boo, they’re all cheering. Zzzzzs. George looks like he still wants to kill him. They showed a Chantelle and Preston montage. He still insists that they are just mates. His bird is there looking upset but without the murder in her eyes that I would have, especially after watching the montage. He is justifying it all by saying he’s a flirt and if people can’t cope with that then it’s their problem. What an odious toad. Oh well, at least Jodie will have someone to say hello to at last.
Next out is Maggot. I don’t mind them cheering Maggot. He’s alright. He’s a bit dull at times, too polite and quiet for my liking but harmless enough. “It’s the taking part that counts”, “you’ve got to take the rough with the smooth”, cliché city. Zzzz. The crowd love him though. I prefer a bit more of a brute. Get some colour in your cheeks man.
Michael is out now, so the winner is Chantelle. Booooooooooooooo.
And I have my life back. CBB blog endeth and here’s hoping I lose my Jodie obsession soon too.
Eviction predicition :
Traci
Pete
Maggot
Michael
Preston
Chantelle
In their final Diary Room chats : Chantelle predicted Preston to win, Maggot wanted himself to win for some $$$$, Michael wanted Maggot to win, Pete wanted Michael to win, Preston wanted to win but, apparently, it’s never been a competition. If he can’t win, he wants Chantelle to win. Traci wanted to herself to win too.
Jodie’s turned up and has unbelievably not given up TV, just reality TV. Faria’s here. Yawn. Rula said hi to George but he ignored her. George reckons his constituency are behind him. Dennis wasn’t allowed to talk in case he swore.
The first person to be evicted tonight is Traci. She pouted a lot and said “oh my God” often. She maintains that there was a lot of love in the house.
Pete’s out. He steeled himself for booing. Good job. It was true panto. He loves the boos and says it shows he still has what it takes and said it’s 1977 all over again. He’d only packed for 5 days on the show. He thinks that people cannot cope with the truth these days and that he didn’t go too far and that he’s scary but fun. I agree. They were all free at any time to yell shut up. What he learned in his time in the house : how to go without sex for 3 weeks. His hit is being re-released and he’s gutted. He said it’s like been in your school uniform all your life. His best bits were excellent. Channel 4 know how to court controversy, his boyfriend was invited onto the stage for them to hug.
SHOCK!!!!!!!!! PRESTON’S OUT. Boo, they’re all cheering. Zzzzzs. George looks like he still wants to kill him. They showed a Chantelle and Preston montage. He still insists that they are just mates. His bird is there looking upset but without the murder in her eyes that I would have, especially after watching the montage. He is justifying it all by saying he’s a flirt and if people can’t cope with that then it’s their problem. What an odious toad. Oh well, at least Jodie will have someone to say hello to at last.
Next out is Maggot. I don’t mind them cheering Maggot. He’s alright. He’s a bit dull at times, too polite and quiet for my liking but harmless enough. “It’s the taking part that counts”, “you’ve got to take the rough with the smooth”, cliché city. Zzzz. The crowd love him though. I prefer a bit more of a brute. Get some colour in your cheeks man.
Michael is out now, so the winner is Chantelle. Booooooooooooooo.
And I have my life back. CBB blog endeth and here’s hoping I lose my Jodie obsession soon too.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
cbb day 22
Te he. Dennis was up to mischief again first thing and called Maggot Faggot.
During the day Chantelle genuinely thought that she might be evicted and was excited about seeing her Mum. “I could have gone in the first week” she cried, obviously once too often leading Preston to tell her that she was like a broken record. “Oh well, if you don’t like it, you know what you can do”. “Go and jump in the lake” Michael chipped in. Oh dear. That was even worse than the time that BB zoomed in on him stuffing a carrot up a stuffed raw chicken’s arse. It’s not funny.
Pete did 2 priceless impressions of Jodie in this task. They involved him constantly licking his fake nipples, talking about orgies, saying that she was going to dis them all in her next book, which will be published in a pamphlet, moaning about there being no fit blokes to snog, shouting about being a veg e tar i an, people needing psychiatric help, while pouting and writhing directly at the camera. Later he slipped his fake boobs down to his waist. The film ended with Pete/Jodie winning and saying “can I show my fanny in a 4 page spread?” I can’t wait to see what she says about this. Excellent. Chantelle walked out of the room in disgust, followed by the limpet prat Preston. “He wouldn’t have done that if she was here” she said, ignoring all signs to the contrary. She then ignored Pete, which only served to rile him. However, as Maggot later admitted Jodie had said everything that he had used in his imitation of her…..apart from maybe “I wrote a fuzzy felt book”. Pete is planning on wearing a huge fur coat for the warp party just to annoy her.
During the day Chantelle genuinely thought that she might be evicted and was excited about seeing her Mum. “I could have gone in the first week” she cried, obviously once too often leading Preston to tell her that she was like a broken record. “Oh well, if you don’t like it, you know what you can do”. “Go and jump in the lake” Michael chipped in. Oh dear. That was even worse than the time that BB zoomed in on him stuffing a carrot up a stuffed raw chicken’s arse. It’s not funny.
Pete did 2 priceless impressions of Jodie in this task. They involved him constantly licking his fake nipples, talking about orgies, saying that she was going to dis them all in her next book, which will be published in a pamphlet, moaning about there being no fit blokes to snog, shouting about being a veg e tar i an, people needing psychiatric help, while pouting and writhing directly at the camera. Later he slipped his fake boobs down to his waist. The film ended with Pete/Jodie winning and saying “can I show my fanny in a 4 page spread?” I can’t wait to see what she says about this. Excellent. Chantelle walked out of the room in disgust, followed by the limpet prat Preston. “He wouldn’t have done that if she was here” she said, ignoring all signs to the contrary. She then ignored Pete, which only served to rile him. However, as Maggot later admitted Jodie had said everything that he had used in his imitation of her…..apart from maybe “I wrote a fuzzy felt book”. Pete is planning on wearing a huge fur coat for the warp party just to annoy her.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
cbb day 21 * 5 in a row
2 evictions tonight. I predict that Dennis and George will leave tonight but it is against my wishes. I will then lose interest as the show falls into a decline, as Pete will have no one of interest to knock about with.
The morning after. George refused Michael’s porridge and made himself some toast. He always has his porridge. He cannot maintain eye contact with anyone apart from Pete and Dennis, despite telling BB that he doesn’t regret or take back a word. Dennis wondered who would start a row today.
Preston is hurt by George’s words. Twit. To Preston Pete is now a 50 year old transvestite and George a shit arguer. Let’s hope that they don’t find out that he is slagging them off. He would be shredded alive. He thinks that the mature thing to do would be to drop the matter so he’s done a Jodie and talked about it non-stop. Preston has renamed Pete and George the Mitchell Brothers. He’s been in the Diary Room spitting out the words “50 year old” and “old men” like old age is something out of a horror film. Go run to your Mammy boy.
Michael now hangs with the kids and often leaves his position by the cooker hob to come out to play.
George is out. And booed. I couldn’t concentrate on the interview, although I think he fared quite well. I was totally distracted by a voice mail from someone who was a good friend a few years back. She’s been married for 18 months and has a 5 month old baby. This is shocking news.
Dennis is out. Poor poor Pete left with no decent company. All he said is "Stringfellows right".
The morning after. George refused Michael’s porridge and made himself some toast. He always has his porridge. He cannot maintain eye contact with anyone apart from Pete and Dennis, despite telling BB that he doesn’t regret or take back a word. Dennis wondered who would start a row today.
Preston is hurt by George’s words. Twit. To Preston Pete is now a 50 year old transvestite and George a shit arguer. Let’s hope that they don’t find out that he is slagging them off. He would be shredded alive. He thinks that the mature thing to do would be to drop the matter so he’s done a Jodie and talked about it non-stop. Preston has renamed Pete and George the Mitchell Brothers. He’s been in the Diary Room spitting out the words “50 year old” and “old men” like old age is something out of a horror film. Go run to your Mammy boy.
Michael now hangs with the kids and often leaves his position by the cooker hob to come out to play.
George is out. And booed. I couldn’t concentrate on the interview, although I think he fared quite well. I was totally distracted by a voice mail from someone who was a good friend a few years back. She’s been married for 18 months and has a 5 month old baby. This is shocking news.
Dennis is out. Poor poor Pete left with no decent company. All he said is "Stringfellows right".
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