A Witching Moon

Perhaps it is not honestly the moon which is making things loony. But perhaps it is.

There is postive insanity and then there is just plain vexing stupidity.

Either way, if one could just sit and look at the moon for a while, things would be calm and good in one's head. There have been so many gorgeous cinematographic-quality moons over the past week, and they cannot be simply have been ordered for All Hallows, All Saints, and All Souls. But it is tres cool that they have coincided. Even though la lune is now on the wane, the nights are still unbelievably bright.

The moon, though, seems to be having an effect on many things, including:
* politicians (a continuing saga)
* Human Resources personnel
* the running of buses and trains
* property 'management' companies (also ongoing saga -- nothing to do with moon, but rather hair colour and grey matter)
* my hair

I am aware that there are many complaints in and about Obama-land, but reporting on them is not nearly as entertaining as the British approach. Self-deprecating humour and an eloquent debatory approach (which E refers to as Radio Argue) just make my day.

Human Resources seems to require proof that I am allowed to work in this country, despite their having a two-year-old copy of my work documentation which expires in 2012... So we have now wasted 3 more pieces of paper (because you have to have a copy of the outside cover of a passport, you know. That isn't a completely anonymous image or anything.)

As it is now Saturday morning (I started blog last evening, but was forced away from computer for evening excursion), it is my strong hope that my bus-riding does not go as last week's in which I ran for bus three times (with granny trolley and in wellies). The busses were early, I swear. Stopping a bus in the dead middle of the village (to great annoyance of other motorists, most certainly) is not recommended, but it is the sign of a kind-hearted (albeit grumpy) driver; it was amusing, and completely against Health & Safety, to leap onto bus as it is still moving. And I was grateful. And standing in heels for an hour and a half on a late and crammed train is not recommended, either.

Also as it is Saturday morning, it is noteworthy that the washing machine is going (on what is, if figures are correct, the 8th load of laundry since Tuesday evening). After 2 weeks of ineptitude, our property 'manager' managed to have a washing machine delivered (Sunday) AND finally installed (Tuesday). Jones/Strain genes really particularly useful when services are required from unintuitive creatures.

Finally, the hair. This was definitely due to the full moon. After months of waffling about bangs (aka, fringe), the scissors came out two weekends ago and approximately 1.5 tentative inches were sacrificed to the Waitrose bin liner. On Tuesday (in celebration of washer installation), a further 4 inches cavalierly bit the dust. E has been slightly suspicious throughout this manifestation of madness, but change seems to be accepted now. No photos as of yet.

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(This really is an attrociously and not a relaxed- and/or thoughtfully-written piece, but one has to get back into things somehow)

Other things that have been going on:

• 32nd Norwich Beer Festival -- E volunteered 114 hours last week. Herself volunteered only 4 evenings, 7.30-10.00. Donations from our hours going to Anthony Nolan Trust (leukaemia) -- same charity as the dragon boat races.
• Craftiness -- this really needs its own blog...
• The Great Waxing of 2009 -- this is my project of the moment at St. Clement's. Having imported (in my luggage) some Murphy's Oil Soap, washed portion of floors in Cinderella-style two Saturdays ago and applied wax the following day. Last Saturday involved complete failure to buff floors with lambswool pad on floppy drill attachment. However, (following a great philosophical debate) my new (!) drill buffing brushes arrived yesterday; and (after removing the dust which will have accumulated in mediaeval manner over the past two weeks) the waxing shall commence in approximately 1.5 hours! One thing that may shock my American readers -- should any remain -- is that Murphy Oil Soap is a) not sold in the UK and b) completely unknown. Perhaps my surprise is funny in a dense sort of way, but because those Irish ladies in an old commercial seemed to know about it. This is not the Irish ladies, since that one is not on YouTube :(
• November's First Friday Five -- on which there was knitting and commentary
  
• The Beginning of Rugby Season (i think there are about 4 rugby seasons per year)
  

Now must run (in very bad writerly style) so as to make it to bus... because we all know how that goes.