tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31285804847077007602024-02-22T06:56:51.796+00:00Bonnie Blue in NorwichBonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.comBlogger238125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-12743217404130951742010-08-28T17:37:00.002+01:002010-08-28T17:40:55.145+01:00BootstrapsDespite it not being a normal timing pause for grieving, we decided that, as this past weekend was the last completely free weekend until 9 October (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">and even then, we have a theatre excursion</span>), we would have an outing -- or several -- to look for a kitty who needs a home. [<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Note: 9 October is exactly 1 month before the tea-leafed arrival of Squeak. Introducing a rescued creature into a home with a mere 4 weeks to 'settle', and followed by <b>And Now For Something Completely Different</b> seems a bit mean and thoughtless if it can be avoided.</span></span>]<br />
<br />
My attempt at being pragmatic allowed my planning skills to overshadow lingering sadness, which admittedly was (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">mostly</span></span>) beyond the constant-reminders-of-Angus-leading-to-weeping stage by last Friday. The tinternet 'tis a v. good thing for coordinating spontaneous ventures such as this, to include the entire county of Norfolk -- although Eamonn had already had a bit of a peruse around and so She started with some Excellent Pointers in the right direction.<br />
<br />
The RSPCA, the Cat's Protection League, and several animal sanctuaries. Looked at photo albums. Read bios (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">where available</span></span>). Make initial choices for potential good matches (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">e.g., prefer no long hair; prefer no kittens; should not have been abused by children in previous habitat; etc.</span></span>). Planned route. Called for appointments. Printed maps. Created agenda.<br />
<br />
Cosmic; and Chilli & Pepper; Harley; Liquorice & Cappucino; India & Gem; and Jack were some of the named ones that we started with. We visited them and from that group (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">and a few others who just also needed to be petted</span></span>), Chilli and Pepper, and India and Gem were our two (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">double</span></span>) initial choices... Chilli and Pepper are a 1-year-old brother and sister pair, who are absolutely sweet and shiny and purry; Pepper also was born with only one eye -- making him a Pirate (!). India and Gem are 4-year-old sisters, who have only recently been neutered, and who are respectively shy and sassy. Personality is a must.<br />
<br />
Our aim was NOT to try to replace Angus with another black (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">or partially black</span>) cat. However, as I may have mentioned before: black and black&white cats are just '<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">not in fashion</span></b>' now. Hence the reason that so many of them end up in shelters, according to our previous vet. I think this is utterly atrocious. 'Not in fashion', indeed. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">People with that mentality ought to be neutered AND banned.</span></span><br />
<br />
*******<br />
A couple of years ago, Richard and Clem took us along to a charity event at a <a href="http://www.myspace.com/nnclt">cat sanctuary</a> at Beeston Regis, on the North Norfolk coast. This place was actually my first thought of a must-go-to place, as it had seemed at the time such a caring environment with great support of volunteers who help with socialising the cats, helping those who need it to psychologically heal, and caring for those who are simply unhomeable. It is a no-kill shelter.<br />
<br />
We didn't know the full story, though.<br />
<br />
When we arrived, we were greeted by a protective gatekeeper lady who took us inside the main house, because 'Everybody has to meet Ms. Rees before you can go look at the cats.' We went into the kitchen, where Ms. Rees was sat next to the Aga with a cat on her lap, cats in various baskets around the kitchen and on chairs. At one point my conversational attention was distracted by the top of the cabinet next to the ceiling stretching its little kitty toes over the edge. These are part of the cats which are unhomeable.<br />
<br />
Ms. Rees doesn't move very much, and she can no longer go out to the cattery with visitors, because she is recovering from paralysis as a result of a broken neck. Her neck was broken by a male personage who runs a scam on the North Norfolk coast -- maybe in Aylsham. His chapter in her tragic story began when some kind soul found a cat roaming around, very hungry, thin, scruffy and in danger of being run over. The cat was brought to her, and she recognised it as a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bengal_(cat)">Bengal</a> -- quite valuable. Ads were posted in the newspaper and notices given on the radio.<br />
<br />
After several weeks, no one had come forward. So preparing the cat for re-homing began. This involves vaccination, neutering, de-fleaing, worming -- basically providing basic care for the well-being of the animal. Shortly after this, a man called her one day claiming, ' You've got my cat.' To which she replied, 'Well, actually I have about 60 cats, so perhaps you might tell me which one you think is yours?' His cocky reply that it was a Bengal... 'not that [she] would know anything about that' and her response that she did in fact have a Bengal (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">and knew very well what it was</span>) and that he should come out and see if it was his.<br />
<br />
His arrival and discovery of his cat in healthy condition (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">although missing some bits</span></span>) resulted in his utter rage that she had 'cut the balls off' what was purportedly his 'stud cat.' He threw things maniacally around the cattery and at her and raged off saying that she would pay him the £5000 for his ruined cat, and more. '<b>More</b>' being quite threatening.<br />
<br />
Legal battles ensued -- but to no effect to his benefit.<br />
<br />
However, in 2004, after the incident had for all intents and purposes run its course, she was attacked one early morning in her flower garden, shot with a stun gun, her neck broken, and a 70-ish lady was left for dead. She was completely paralysed and lay there for 2 hours until volunteers arrived to the cattery and she was able to be airlifted out.<br />
<br />
After 6 months in hospital, the police had still not even visited the suspected culprit. Only at the insistence of her son was he 'visited' and he (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">of course</span>) said, 'No. I didn't do that.' And the capable police left. The police refused to pursue it any further, claiming that since she had had her back to the attacker, her evidence was not credible.<br />
<br />
She is no longer paralysed, but she has such a diminished quality of life now, even though she continues to run the charity that she has run for more than 20 years. She built the cattery as it now is with her own hands, however it is now a struggle for her to even go outside to see the animals she is helping.<br />
<br />
*******<br />
Not for this reason -- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">I just wanted to share the brief story of the atrocity of one evil man and a corrupt culture which allows him to roam free and re-perpetrate (which apparently he does when people 'rescue' his set-up animals) and juxtapose that with the kindness and gentleness that people like Ms. Rees and her loyal helpers have to give</span></span> -- but not for this reason at all, did we proceed to the Cat House (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">titter</span></span>). Well, actually, we were 'Approved' to go to the Cat House.<br />
<br />
And we met Jasmine and Patches and Lucky and Russett and LeAnn (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">she is very saucy</span></span>) and Tiffany and Tessa and Blackey and the kittens and everyone.<br />
<br />
And then we were led through this separate door (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">which looked like the entrance to a store room</span></span>) off the main Cat Room. But no. This was no store room. This was the entrance to <b>Inky's Annexe</b>.<br />
<br />
Inky is a funny cat, who does not approve of other cats. He has his own apartment, where he has lived for 2 years (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">and he is only 3 or 4 years old</span></span>), complete with habitat room (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">with all amenities, such as bed, box and heater</span></span>) and comfortable porch room overlooking both the garden and the Cat Room. Inky folds his tail over his back like he is a squirrel. He is quite talkative, very friendly, and I think he will be a cuddler. He allowed the Visiting Hoomins (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">well, the Lady Hoomin</span></span>) to pick him up and hold him until her arms were tired and it was time to go. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Inky is obviously black.</b></span><br />
<br />
We had a good discussion on the way home, and were pretty much unanimous that Inky was <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Zee One</span></b>. Chilli Pepper were a very, very close second, but doubling all costs seemed a bit unwise.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">But it really would have been fun to have a pirate cat...</span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-23271436075560063502010-08-12T07:03:00.034+01:002010-08-15T07:35:04.039+01:00The Tale of a KittyOne week ago at this time was the last time I saw our beloved Angus alive.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/TGbcOGq0nUI/AAAAAAAABf4/zVri946fuxA/s1600/KittyDoor(cropped).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/TGbcOGq0nUI/AAAAAAAABf4/zVri946fuxA/s320/KittyDoor(cropped).JPG" width="241" /></a></div><br />
He jingled jauntily (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">with his little bell collar</span></span>) out the back door after his early morning cuddle and his kitty-breakfast with Radio 4. I cannot remember if we had some sneaky kitty meelks or not (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">his papa did not approve of normal Hoomin meelks for the kitty, but Angus was just not a big fan of Whiskas feline milk product</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d;">s</span></span>).<br />
<br />
That evening, the only part I saw of his lovely shiny fur again was the top of his head which Eamonn allowed me to see from the pulled back towels in which our kindly neighbor had wrapped him. Eamonn prepared him for burial in Angus's favourite Virgin Atlantic blanket, which always went with him to <a href="http://www.pennybeckcatlodge.co.uk/">Pennyback Cat Lodge</a> -- where he spent his kitty holidays during any long-term Human Excursions from home. We buried him in the back garden next to the hydrangea.<br />
<br />
This past week, I have been intensely consumed and utterly bereft and mournful in a ceaseless paroxysm of repetitive and self-absorbed grief. Yes, I am aware that he was a cat. Yes, I have felt quite selfish in my grief. But I have also been completely helpless to the wishful images of him popping through the front hedge to talkatively welcome us home from work; or stopping just inside the dining room door for a quick stretch on the rug (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">and a pat</span></span>); or his companionable presence in the bathroom (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">with a little scratch on the jute rug and followed by a nose up in the air for a kiss</span></span>); or his overt preference for the Right Shoulder Hang (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">rather than the Left</span></span>) and the ages he would just allow me to carry him about like a human infant.<br />
<br />
The thing I miss the most of all, though, is the daily 5.30a.m. purr and headbutt-to-the-sleeping-human's-chin session, which always ended with him curling up in my armpit and lying his head onto my shoulder for one more little doze. Even though some people may think he was only a dumb animal (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">as in, 'without human speech'</span></span>), his absence has left a great gaping hole in our family. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I am so sad that Squeak will not know who it was purring through my tummy to him all these months; I am irrevocably convinced that Angus knew someone is in there. He would have been a magnificent kitty with a baby.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Today, though, I feel finally ready to heal. And my persistent belief in fate is edging very slowly back into the room in my head and bringing rational thought and emotion. This will be much more pleasant indeed for Eamonn, who has had rounded many corners this week to discover his wife weeping.</span></span><br />
<br />
*******<br />
The tale of this kitty began on Christmas Day 2008, five days after our wedding in Louisiana. Eamonn spotted him down the alley on Magpie Road as we walked past on the way home -- so, naturally I had to go and pet the creature with the fur. He was quite thin and gangly and collarless. He came to our back door later, and we had some more pat-the-kitty time -- outside, of course.<br />
<br />
For days, he kept coming back to our door, despite a lack of food offerings. It was really extremely cold during January, and he was so scruffy and weedy (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">not a fortuitous combination for someone who is trying to keep Amrie from giving in to strong feelings for animal welfare</span></span>). The night that it snowed, Eamonn relented and said Kitteh could come in... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">BUT ONLY for the one night and he would go STRAIGHT OUT at dawn -- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">the crack of</span></span>.<br />
<br />
Eamonn claims that he was the First One to give him food -- some smoked salmon scraps left over from breakfast one Sunday (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">gruff exterior, indeed</span></span>). Kitteh had become a regular visitor for about 2 weeks.<br />
<br />
We asked some of the neighbours if they knew where he came from.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/TGRmxsadVHI/AAAAAAAABfg/-O-ijoPRAUg/s1600/KittyFloor.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/TGRmxsadVHI/AAAAAAAABfg/-O-ijoPRAUg/s200/KittyFloor.JPG" width="150" /></a>We looked for signs of 'Lost Cat', but I was too righteously judgemental (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">and cowardly</span></span>) of animal husbandry in our neighbourhood to put any 'Found Cat' signs up of my own.<br />
<br />
We put a collar on him, in the opinion that if he belonged to someone, they would perhaps say, 'Oi! Who has put this collar on my animal (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d;">which I do <b>not </b>care for properly</span></span>)?' and perhaps reclaim him as their own. This did not happen.<br />
<br />
Kitty pretty much made himself at home at 112 Magpie Road from this time onward (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">including inside</span></span>), and he was always allowed inside for bitterly cold nights (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">the bathroom doorway was a good lying spot as the heating pipes were under the floor</span></span>). Particularly useful for maintaining body heat is the Leg Stretch with Toe Separation (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">as demonstrated</span></span>).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/TGY8yp7RxWI/AAAAAAAABfs/sD0TzuVQEnI/s1600/angusfish.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/TGY8yp7RxWI/AAAAAAAABfs/sD0TzuVQEnI/s200/angusfish.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Observant readers may also recall that Meester initially was interested in <a href="http://bonnieblueinnorwich.blogspot.com/2008/12/mele-kalikimaka-and-fish-stalking.html">zee feesh</a>, but fish really are kind of boring, and when you can't actually poke them, they are no longer in the danger zone and survived quite safely and happily through the initial Kitteh Months on Magpie and the move to La Village. Besides, there were more fascinating creatures to hunt here -- things with fur and feathers and tiny tails and beaks and squeaks.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/TGRee85rICI/AAAAAAAABfU/DbBjfHrpYEY/s1600/Angus+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/TGRee85rICI/AAAAAAAABfU/DbBjfHrpYEY/s320/Angus+2.JPG" /></a><br />
Angus loved People and loved visitors (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">and even tolerated grasping and waddling small people</span></span>), always making them feel at home and helping to warm (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">a small portion of</span></span>) their freshly laundered and made-up bed. This is his most uninhibited welcome to his last holiday houseguest, Hiroko...<br />
<br />
*******<br />
Apparently, he was run over on The Common (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">where it is impossible to go more than 20 mph -- oh. the irony.</span></span>) and was found right afterwards by a kind soul who came round to the Main Road since she knew that one of our houses had a black cat. Our neighbour was home and went to collect him in a basket. At least Gillian spared him the indignity of lying in the sun all day.<br />
<br />
The heartless, soulless person who hit him didn't even stop.Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-1794494691524969722010-05-27T21:08:00.031+01:002010-05-29T08:22:21.325+01:00DunkirkThis week is a celebration of the 70th anniversary of the <a href="http://www.herefordtimes.com/news/letters/8131143.In_celebration_of_the_70th_anniversary_of_Dunkirk_in_May___Rev_J_Willans/">evacuation of Dunkirk</a>.<br />
<br />
52 of the surviving '<a href="http://www.adls.org.uk/t1/upcomingEvents">Little Ships</a>' are part of a ceremonial cruise to remember the volunteers and their boats who evacuated British and French troops from France in 1940, during the German invasion of France. In 9 days, more than 330,000 soldiers were ferried by pleasure boats, fishing boats, merchant marine ships and <a href="http://www.rnli.org.uk/">Royal Navy Lifeboats</a> from the shore to waiting ships in deeper water. It had originally been thought that only 20,000 could be rescued.<br />
<br />
There is just no comparison between the whiny culture of today and the bravery of most generations of the entirety of history. It makes one quite ashamed.Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-46502606473319405982010-05-26T20:02:00.120+01:002010-05-29T07:57:09.446+01:00Heartbeats<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">So, today I got to hear Squeak's heartbeat for the first time!</span></span><br />
<br />
It was pretty darn cool to <b>see </b>the heartbeat at the 11-week scan (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">like a prettily fluttering fish fin in the middle</span></span>), but hearing the <i>whoosh-WHOOSH</i> leads me to wonder if I need one of those little dopplar things. I could become kind of a Sneaky Spy Mother before Squeak even enters the world (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">could anyone be eating paste in there?</span></span>). Squeak was moving around quite a bit, indicated by the midwife's inability to keep track of the heartbeat in one place. To me, this indicates future weariness on my part. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">My mama and daddy threatened me with a hyper-active child when I was young; foolishly, this threat failed to calm me down then. Payback's warranted, I suppose</span></span>. :)<br />
<br />
During the appointment, I met two more of the midwives in the community team who are looking after me (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">there are 6 in all</span></span>). They were absolutely fabulous and, even though my list of questions was a little long, we got on like a house on fire. In the past week (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">since hysterical giggling began over my 'Elderly' status</span></span>), a complete change of opinion has swung. Originally, my thought was to definitely plan for a hospital birth since I am fully aware that I am old. However, after talking to a useful panel of people from knitting, yoga, work, and Ms. Teresa... I think it might not be unreasonable to attempt a home birth.<br />
<br />
For any US readers I have at this point, the maternity culture here is quite different (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">AND has a more favourable <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_infant_mortality_rate">infant mortality rate</a> than the US, before anybody gets too uppity</span></span>). It is not an obstetrician culture but a midwife culture. One may never see an obstetrician at all -- unless there are complications. When one attends pre-natal appointments, one meets with a midwife, and the midwives one meets over the course of the pregnancy are likely to be helping at your birth, which is quite nice. There are two types of midwives (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">I think</span></span>): community midwives and hospital midwives. Community midwives are in teams attached to medical practices and will be sent out in teams of two to home births. Hospital midwives are (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">quite obviously</span></span>) the midwives who work at the hospital and deliver whoever is there. One <i>might</i> be able to have one of one's community midwives at the hospital, but it is not guaranteed.<br />
<br />
At a home birth, there are two professionals constantly monitoring the birth and who are probably going to more likely honour wishes in a birthing plan. If at any point, the mother feels uncomfortable staying home or the midwives note something concerning, then the whole thing moves to the hospital. We are about 10 minutes from Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital. It all seems pretty unintimidating. The only logistical kinks that could send me to the hospital are: 1) someone else goes into labour and gets the shift team before me or 2) there is no incoming cover if the shift ends before Squeak emerges. My 'head midwife' thinks that I seem perfectly normal (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">little does she know at this early stage</span></span>) and that my 'elderly' condition is also laughable -- her confidence was the final seal of approval.<br />
<br />
I think the most interesting thing about my mental state is that my absolutely concrete terror of birth, which for some reason has always been in my consciousness, has absolutely and concretely disappeared. It was not lurking about when my condition was determined not to be an exotic illness, so it has to have wandered off at some point during the first month. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">What an oustanding blessing is that?!</span></span><br />
<br />
********<br />
Today was also my second week at pregnancy yoga. I am the earliest phase person there (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">at only 16.5 weeks</span></span>), but my OCD nature makes me happy to be starting early. Having never done yoga before, my brain had no idea what to expect last week, but it is really good and <i>They say</i> that the techniques learned can be helpful during phase one and phase two of parturition. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">There is no worship of foreign entities</span></span>. There is a lot of breath control, which is good as mine is currently weak to non-existent, and lots of stretching, which I love. My knees are <b>very</b> bony.<br />
<br />
This week, we did the Camel Walk around the room (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">to move the pelvis backwards and forwards for flexibility</span></span>) -- and I must admit to almost breaking out in a fit of giggles at the thought of someone peering through the door to see variously pregnant women in leggings stalking around the room like a Monty Python sketch. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Giggling, though, does nothing for one's balance (</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">especially mine</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">) and so this was quickly quelled before a trauma occurred.</span><br />
<br />
Now I must rest.Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-5690502673026193302010-05-20T21:57:00.000+01:002010-05-29T08:06:44.085+01:00Elderly PrimigravidaThis is my classification.<br />
<br />
Revealed to me at knitting this week, we have all had a good giggle about it.<br />
<br />
It means 'a woman older than 35 years who is pregnant for the first time'. One good thing of being an Elderly is that one theoretically gets more attention and monitoring. After all, if I weren't Elderly, we wouldn't have been able to have a scan of Squeak a month ago! Apparently, (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">after talking with Ms. Teresa</span></span>) one is classified as 'elderly' in the US if one is much over 30 years.<br />
<br />
<b>Note</b>: I shall expect due respect in deference to my elderly status, despite the elegant henna currently hiding my grey hair.<br />
<br />
Now, my creaky self needs some sleep.Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-87203879011194081612010-05-18T09:43:00.001+01:002010-05-18T09:45:39.613+01:00Two Babies and a PirateRight. So, this may be my bestest excuse for blogging laxity ever.<br />
<br />
It has been mentioned (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">and honestly self-recriminated</span>) that we all are tired of reading about squash blossom quesadillas. Well, the extreme mental exhaustion that fell over me during the Mexico marathon was not the unfortunate result of food-borne parasitic infestation, as we have discovered. And the abdominal muscle pulling feeling was not the positive side-effect of my cleverly-devised triceps brachii exercise of hanging upside down and half-off the end of the Hampton Inn bed (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">whilst watching a compilation of </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">NCIS</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">CSI</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"> and </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Law & Order... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">of course</span></span></span></i>) and hoisting my table display stands to a right angle to my torso. And the comatose state that tended to settle on me within 12 seconds of becoming seated or prone was not related to either the tsetse fly or to jet lag (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">yes, they </span></span><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">say </span></span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">that the tsetse fly only lives in Africa, but flies are sneaky</span></span>).<br />
<br />
No -- this lethargy (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">and accompanying psuedo-exercise symptoms -- it </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">was </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">pretty amazing that the muscles were still tired a week after the last hanging-upside-down event</span></span>) has been discovered to be the result of the presence of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b>Squeak</b></span>. 'Squeak' is the temporary classification I have given to the very small sentient soul who is currently resident behind the non-toned muscles of my tummy (<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">It</span></span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"> just is too horrible a nomenclature</span></span>).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S_I9sBOMKzI/AAAAAAAABfA/baIzw8ERuIg/s1600/Squeak3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S_I9sBOMKzI/AAAAAAAABfA/baIzw8ERuIg/s320/Squeak3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>[<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;">Admittedly, the title of this entry does indicate the presence of more than just one Squeak, although this is not true. There is a long story: Lady Lindsey was unable to locate any non-sicky-sweet or non-ethnically-congratulatory cards, so she instead sent one congratulating us on our Triplets -- E only had a momentary swing towards coronary failure, I believe. Then the newest honorary Cousin, claimed to see </span></span><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;">definitely </span></span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;">5 legs in the ultrasound, leading to the query: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">'So what's up with that? Two babies and a pirate???'</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"> And this has stuck. We are shopping for a parrot as I type.</span></span>]<br />
<br />
Shortly after discovering Squeak, several things became (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">and continue to become</span></span>) clear(<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">er</span></span>):<br />
<br />
<ul><li>initial distaste for wine was not due to an ulcer;</li>
<li>muscle tiredness is not always the result of feeble and ludicrous 'exercise' attempts;</li>
<li>even a being the size of a butterbean is capable of reducing bladder capacity to quite a significant degree;</li>
<li>the necessity to politely request that E take his beer to other side of room was not due to petulance, but to a psychotically heightened sense of smell (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">and accompanying nausea</span></span>);</li>
<li>constant nausea is just as bad, or worse, than being physically ill;</li>
<li>Mamas know things when they are not necessarily supposed to, but they are polite and don't mention them when there are strangers around (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">mostly</span>).</li>
</ul><br />
<br />
At this point, Squeak is at 13 weeks of development (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">but THEY claim it is the 15th week of Pregnancy</span></span>). I am unsure if Squeak is 4.5 inches long and kicking or 'the size of a peach' (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">apparently peaches don't kick</span></span>). Some more research must be done now that overseas work Travel is over for a significant while (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">and my biology textbooks are in storage in Louisiana</span></span>), but it is so confusing -- e.g., exactly what kind of peach is this? Is this an early-season peach the size and texture of a baseball or is it a gorgeous, juicy gigantic Georgia peach the size of a grapefruit? And if a grapefruit, then the size of a Bruner orchard grapefruit or a piddly little Texas one? SOOOOOO many questions.Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-34920562423241449402010-02-27T04:51:00.001+00:002010-02-27T04:54:40.897+00:00Adventures & Quesadillas<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKTS7-TuI/AAAAAAAABcc/5pJO2JSwQys/s1600-h/P1010404-MakingQuesadillas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKTS7-TuI/AAAAAAAABcc/5pJO2JSwQys/s200/P1010404-MakingQuesadillas.JPG" width="150" /></a>In the optimistic hope that my madre's tale of someone who suffered with an ailment for decades, which was finally discovered to have originated as one of the perils of foreign travel, I have eaten the looooveliest quesadilla con <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">flora </span>de [<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;">squashes</span>]<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> -- I think</span></span>. Admittedly, when she asked, 'Flora, o <i>spanishspanishspanish</i>?', I was under the confused impression that she was asking me if my preference was flour, corn, or some new and exotic type of tortilla.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Proposition: One should always respond, 'Si!' when one is asked if one would like </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">queso</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">; so let it be written -- so let it be done.</span></span><br />
<br />
My plan (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">unless some sort of gastrointestinal attack renders this idea a no-go</span></span>) is to return tomorrow to the Belles Artes museum corner and try a different quesadilla with my superb travel companion, Jessica, who is as willing as your correspondent to toddle off in search of adventure and independent bravery (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">as a duo, actually, so it really isn't </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">perzactly </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">independent in the strictest sense of the word</span>). Yesterday (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">after our Thursday breakfast of huevos revueltos and enchiladas</span></span>), we ventured forth on a day of school visits, with my high-hopes plan to explore the Metro by riding all the way to the end of the Blue Line to Cuatro Caminos and take a taxi to the first visit.<br />
<br />
On exiting the station, instead of the taxi rank Herself was expecting, we instead walked into a crossed hybrid of a cattle-market/bus-depot/tent-city-of-cheap-tat/Save-the-Children-commercial. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I am pretty sure that people were sweeping crap in the street.</span></span> After walking bravely past the arcade of video games with the shady caballero and not determining where in the name of Heaven a safe taxi might be, we then determined that we didn't know how to use our mobile phones to dial in-country. After looking quite shady ourselves while loitering on the corner next to the bus depot gas station, we made the joint command decision to flag a taxi -- the logic being that it had pink-and-white checker-board stripe on it. [<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">We were also smart and demanded to see his identification.</span></span>] He turned out to be quite the nicest taxi driver!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKa9stAvI/AAAAAAAABdU/aNwcL8Hi6rc/s1600-h/P1010390-Margarita1(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKa9stAvI/AAAAAAAABdU/aNwcL8Hi6rc/s200/P1010390-Margarita1(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a>The counselor at our second visit dropped her jaw and said, 'Oh. My. God.' (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">in the best 90210 voice possible</span></span>) and faintly curled her lip when we asked for directions to the closest Metro station. And sent us for a posh patio-balcony lunch in Polanco at <a href="http://www.enfoque3w.com.mx/valentina/polanco.htm">La Valentina</a>.<br />
<br />
Where we had our primeras margaritas. (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">and almost got stuck in an elevator by the consierge</span></span>)<br />
<br />
Our orders included taquitos, and panuchos yucatecos (kind of like chalupas)<i>, </i>and tacos de chilorio sinaloense, and something else... (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">not on the online menu</span>). Yesterday, I was reticent, BUT <a href="http://www.slashfood.com/2009/11/13/escamole-mexican-ant-egg-delicacy/">escamole</a> seems like it <i>might</i> need to be tried... <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">pause, pause, pause.</span></i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKYaKHVFI/AAAAAAAABdE/3nkP5UVZwGs/s1600-h/P1010394-Cheeky(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKYaKHVFI/AAAAAAAABdE/3nkP5UVZwGs/s200/P1010394-Cheeky(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a>Because of our fortitude, we chose to aim for the same Metro station to prove ourselves, walking through Polanco (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">which is quite comfortable-feeling and more than likely safer than much of the rest of the city</span></span>) and then through a ginormous park. In this park live the bravest squirrels every, who are (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">as Jessica says</span>) actually a little creepy in their super-intelligent expressions and mental telepathy of 'Feed ME!'<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKZziQSdI/AAAAAAAABdM/ozENAwY4tqg/s1600-h/P1010391-CiudadSculpture(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKZziQSdI/AAAAAAAABdM/ozENAwY4tqg/s200/P1010391-CiudadSculpture(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a>Their genetic make-up seems to be a hodge-podge of red and grey squirrel, and they are kind of not pretty. But they are so terribly cute and cheeky! They must be so because people feed them and local people do seem quite taken with them. I did not look at all out of place doing my '<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"><b>Let's-Talk-to-Los-Animales</b></span>' voice -- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">it is all part of my effort to be a successful </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fl%C3%A2neur"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">flaneuse</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">.</span></span><br />
<br />
Possibly because there are museums in the park including the Museum of Modern Art, there are also quite a few interesting sculptures. Since my current book is <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wicked:_The_Life_and_Times_of_the_Wicked_Witch_of_the_West">Wicked</a></i>, I shall call this 'Oz'.<br />
<br />
And this one is <i>Wuthering Heights</i> in my world -- for no particular reason, just a feeling -- or maybe the voices in my head.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKWSEygdI/AAAAAAAABc0/beF1v6n9Tgg/s1600-h/P1010396-WutheringHeights2(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKWSEygdI/AAAAAAAABc0/beF1v6n9Tgg/s200/P1010396-WutheringHeights2(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKXc9Sd6I/AAAAAAAABc8/fIDj3WGeuxc/s1600-h/P1010395-WutheringHeights1(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKXc9Sd6I/AAAAAAAABc8/fIDj3WGeuxc/s200/P1010395-WutheringHeights1(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Upon reaching a large road bisecting the park, we proceeded to cross an 8 lane super-road. There was a median in the middle where we could wait for a break in opposite direction traffic. After having a suspicious park guard not let us through a locked gate and fail to understand the directions that he and a chillaxing taxi driver attempted, the taxi driver finally zipped us dangerously around the freeway below to the second shady Metro stop of the day.<br />
<br />
One thing that is interesting about the Metro is that at some (note the use of '<b>some</b>') stops, there may be a 10-ft tall sign indicating the near presence of transport. However, when one approaches this beacon of hope, one quickly finds that this tall edifice is actually nowhere near the entrance. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">In best flaneur-style, one must attempt to look like one merely needs to pause and consult one's mobile phone, whilst glancing around casually and with a bored aspect to figure out where people are disappearing into an unmarked hole in the ground.</span></span> This is occasionally in the middle of a combination area similar to the description of Cuatro Caminos, above. And so one heads into the tent city of smells (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">some delicious, some disgusting, and some possibly dangerous</span></span>) or, for example in El Zocalo, a completely unmarked hole set of stairs heading from sidewalk-level into the depths.<br />
<br />
Once on the Metro, one should not expect there to be silence in a London Underground sort of way. If it were not sad, it could be slightly vexing -- there is a constant stream of noise: women and children walking through screaming, 'Chicle! Dos pesos!'; a blind old man tooting a harmonica and using his change cup to keep rhythm; a young blind woman with a sound system and microphone, singing, and with a 3-year-old child following her and holding on to her belt loop; the long-haired political activist shoving papers into people's faces and yelling about La Republica de Mexico.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKVc4QoFI/AAAAAAAABcs/uPoCEre3wsE/s1600-h/P1010398-MusicMan(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKVc4QoFI/AAAAAAAABcs/uPoCEre3wsE/s200/P1010398-MusicMan(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a>And then there are the CD-mix guys -- these are guys (and blind women) who have strapped a speaker as big as their torso onto their tummies and who walk through trains incessantly selling various mix CDs. The CD player attached to the speaker is used to skip through snippets of the songs approximately 4.7 seconds in length. Sound level is at 11.8. When the alarm screams that the doors <i>might</i> be able to think about maybe shutting (this lasts for about 11 of the longest seconds ever), opera might start shrilling from one end of the car, and simultaneously Los Gran Cantandores de los 60's, 70's and 80's begin with some Depeche Mode followed by Juice Newton and <i>Queen of Hearts</i>. Some mixes have absolutely no rhyme or reason at all.<br />
<br />
Jessica was unamused. [<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">the red shirt is on the arm of a Speaker Guy</span></span>]<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKkrcia-I/AAAAAAAABdc/FnB8rvcl1Ms/s1600-h/P1010399-Pan%26Tongs(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKkrcia-I/AAAAAAAABdc/FnB8rvcl1Ms/s200/P1010399-Pan%26Tongs(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a></div>To recover our sanity, and since we were not really thinking that dinner was necessary, we ventured to the Pasteleria across the street.<br />
<br />
This is a fabulous cultural activity; such inter-cultural engagement and educative exercise is to be strongly encouraged by International Officers.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"> It was also dangerous.</span></span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKUaevw9I/AAAAAAAABck/i8dIb8dz49Y/s1600-h/P1010401-LaPastelleria(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4hKUaevw9I/AAAAAAAABck/i8dIb8dz49Y/s200/P1010401-LaPastelleria(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a>A Pasteleria is a cake shop. When one approaches the cake shop, one walks past the armed guard... and then one is meant to locate the large stack of pans (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">to L</span></span>) and the bakery tongs. One carries one's tray through the shop, pincering far more cakes, cookies, jelly pastries, empanadas and bread products than one would <b><i>ever</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> consider for an evening's consumption in a normal situation. And then one tootles around the corner for a litre of milk (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">again, past an armed guard</span></span>) and returns with one's stash to one's hotel room. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;">Oh, the exotic life on the road!</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">So many cakes, so little time. And more are made every day! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">Hoorah</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">!</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b><br />
*******<br />
In other news, my mind is relieved by the information today (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">from our lovely agent</span></span>) that we are 2000m (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">or 6000 feet</span></span>) above sea level. This would be the logical reason that I so quickly become similar to an emphesemic bovine creature when walking or climbing stairs. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">The feeling of bubbles in the brain could also be from this</span></span>.<br />
<br />
*******<br />
<b>Note</b>: I am also terribly amused by commercials with talking toothbrushes. Especially when said toothbrushes are Spanish speakers.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...and so on to the weekend of two 8-hour exhibitions.</span></span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-90770619115457210572010-02-25T00:28:00.002+00:002010-02-25T00:46:08.309+00:00Don't Drink the WaterCold milk is hard to come by in Mexico. I had forgotten this. It is mostly ultra-pasteurised and therefore, superb in long-term shelf storage; but not so superb to the taste buds of an obsessive and spoiled lactophiliac.<br />
<br />
However, (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">in good American culturo-centric style</span></span>) I have determined that Circle K does have cold milk -- albeit in the ultra-pasteurised boxes-- in the refrigerated section. To congratulate myself, some chocolate biscuits seemed called for as well.<br />
<br />
My primary personal accomplishment of today is that I have a) ridden the MetroBus and b) ridden two lines of the subway and c) have navigated successfully and non-pickpocketed back to my hotel. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">A yarn shop was also located, but that is by-the-by. .</span></span><br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Moving along...</span></b><br />
<br />
For those readers not avidly following social networking blurbs of personal information about the writer, my week began at 5.30am Monday morning with a 4 hour drive through insane snowfall from Norwich to Heathrow Terminal 5. It <b>is </b>kind of the bees knees. Since I was not flying to the US, I was allowed to have both a carry-on bag and a purse/laptop bag; this made me happy in my own Migrant Fruit-Picker sort of way.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4XEofSsDRI/AAAAAAAABcQ/zFXPjj32I4k/s1600-h/P1010394(sm)BA.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4XEofSsDRI/AAAAAAAABcQ/zFXPjj32I4k/s200/P1010394(sm)BA.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
British Airways, in contrast to its shiny terminal with the tallest elevator in Britain or some such nonsense (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">but without free wireless -- cheap jackasses</span>) is not exactly the bees knees. It almost seemed like our plane had been retired from NorthWorst airlines as no longer rubbish enough. It looked normal, but was rather tatty on the inside. The crew, though, were absolutely lovely.<br />
<br />
However, I had a lovely Mexican lady next to me, who lives in London and was married to an Italian and who has 5 daughters from Malaysia to Arizona to Mexico to London and who (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">in the most precious way</span></span>) would insist on trying to chat when the movie was getting good. She had made mosquito picnic covers and decorated them with crocheted flowers for her daughters. She was fascinated that I was knitting.<br />
<br />
The last time I was in Mexico was 1993. I don't believe customs was as much of a goat-roap then as it is now. After collecting luggage, one must stand in a queue about a mile long (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">much, much longer than immigration</span></span>). Upon reaching the front of the queue, all bags and coats are x-rayed... THEN, you have to press a button and if you are unlucky enough to have the glow-box turn red, a man must dig through your stuff with some very dodgy gloves of uncertain hygiene (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">thank heavens for Zip-loc packing this trip</span></span>). <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Well, I do declare, I was not picking up and placing that luggage onto that table for him. If he wanted to look at it, he could jolly well wrestle it up there; I also asked him to return all pieces to the floor for me. Unless customs is going to welcome me with a margarita without salt, 20 hours of travelling does not make me want to unnecessarily hoist luggage around. This whole process was an incredible example of ineffective bureaucracy in motion.</span></span><br />
<br />
Immediately upon clambering into the Mexican-blanketed interior of the most unfriendly taxi in the world (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">it was a pre-paid airport taxi seguro -- don't worry, madre y esposo</span></span>), I was transported back to the chaos of Mexican driving. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">I am undecided about whether it is better to wear a seatbelt or not, as it might prevent one from escaping.</span></span><br />
<br />
These are primary Mexican traffic principles to remember:<br />
<ol><li>There are lanes; <b>but </b>there are really no lanes at all. In some places, there really are no painted lanes, just a 6-lane-wide area of milling, honking, polluting kerfuffle.</li>
<li>There are directional indicators; <b>but </b>these really don't signify anything.</li>
<li>There is a horn; <b>and </b>you use it a lot.</li>
<li>There are traffic lights; <b>but </b>these are merely vague indications of a suggestion of behaviour that one <b><i>might</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> want to follow.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For example, there are policemen who stand in the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">middle</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> of intersections and when the light turns </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">yellow</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, they blow their whistles and beckon cars to continue driving; when the light changes to </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">red</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, they blow harder and faster and faster and wave frantically to KEEP DRIVING!!!! *</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">toot! toot! TOOT!</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*</span></li>
<li>It is perfectly acceptable to block an entire intersection.</li>
<li>Pedestrians in the street are perfectly normal; I have already felt the need as well.</li>
<li>It is perfectly acceptable to talk constantly on one's cell phone.</li>
<li>On the positive side, there is not a lot of visible road rage... that I have seen. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Of course, that could be because everyone knows that everyone else could have guns. There are gun-toting caballeros (and cops) everywhere. Even the rent-a-cops have guns where they are guarding the bakery -- must be some crazy desperados robbing bakeries.</span></span></li>
<li>None of the above rules apply to bicycles or to motorcycles.</li>
</ol><br />
As I am staying in one of my beloved Hilton properties (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">because they award points </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">and </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">miles</span>), my room is more than adequate and I got some Oreos and 2 bottles of water as a welcome (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">being a Gold member, you see. Oh.... if I could only get to Platinum like B!</span></span>). I was quite over-excited about the prospect of Tuesday's breakfast, although this turned out to be excessively optimistic... although OK. Today, my day started with soggy flautas instead of the strange (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">and yet foggily familar</span></span>) tortilla duo with cheese and sliced ham -- other daily options are huevos revueltos (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">this means 'scrambled' eggs but it just makes me think 'revolting'</span></span>), refried beans (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">what an ideal way to start off a work day!</span></span>), and salsa (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">possibly the tastiest thing there</span></span>). I am happy to report that the fruit does not have the 'Hampton Inn' fruit taste of US properties (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">my theory is similar to my earlier-described theories of Subway alien mind control</span>). For breakfast area entertainment, I managed to pour almost an entire jug of milk all over myself and my work attire. This was exciting.<br />
<br />
After attempts to recover a scholarship programme with the Consejo Nacional de Sciencia and Tecnologica (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I don't thrive in conflict situations, but there seems to be room for progress and everyone was very lovely</span>), my diverting afternoon exercise was to navigate self to yarn shop -- <a href="http://www.encuentraloaqui.net/nonabotona/index_files/Page266.htm">Lanona Botona</a> -- locate reasonable dining establishment (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">other than Hooters or Starbucks</span></span>), and navigate self back home with public transportation. All three goals were met, and a section of the city - San Angel - was discovered, which is quite different from the unique and tragic chaos that is the city centre.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6RyLMZzI/AAAAAAAABbg/2GGS3xfNapQ/s1600-h/P1010411-Zocalo%26Catedral(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6RyLMZzI/AAAAAAAABbg/2GGS3xfNapQ/s200/P1010411-Zocalo%26Catedral(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6Mli9xCI/AAAAAAAABbA/LAYj1zUZveQ/s1600-h/P1010395-TemploMayor(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6Mli9xCI/AAAAAAAABbA/LAYj1zUZveQ/s200/P1010395-TemploMayor(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a>There are some lovely buildings in the centre, and at night the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mexico_City_Metropolitan_Cathedral">National Cathedral</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Palace_(Mexico)">National Palace</a> are dramatic and pretty in their twilight silhouettes. The day is obviously more chaotic than evening for traffic, the dirt and drudgery are glaringly visible, and there is an opportunity for an absolute hey-day for British Health and Safety at every step. At least the <a href="http://www.templomayor.inah.gob.mx/">Templo Mayor</a> (to R) is fenced off, although the rickety elevated walkways through it look quite primitive. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Since Mexico isn't necessarily the safest place, I have been quite reticent to take loads of photos since I already stand apart being a gringa and rather tall; there is no reason to ask to be bothered or thieved. Once acclimation and language memory has progressed a little more, more photos will be forthcoming.</span></span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6TjeuSGI/AAAAAAAABbo/6jHFtk6FWRw/s1600-h/P1010415-TilesCristobalColon(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6TjeuSGI/AAAAAAAABbo/6jHFtk6FWRw/s200/P1010415-TilesCristobalColon(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a>Mostly there are people going about their business, although this business is rather varied than one might expect. Like Thailand (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">yes, a blog is still due for that</span></span>), there are street vendors selling everything from juices or sliced fruit in plastic bags to illegal videos and music to normal mew agents. There are also random things like an old lady with a tiny side table plonked in the middle of the pavement with a selection of 5 pairs of knitted slippers (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">5 total, not 5 styles</span></span>); a griddle and open fire surrounded by plastic patio chairs, again in the middle of the sidewalk, where someone is cooking meat and peppers; there is this army of organ-grinders throughout the Centro -- and yes, they wear uniforms with military-style hats.<br />
<br />
The streets, in the centre at least, are a constant din of intruding and manic noise. Normal city street sounds (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">remember our horn rule</span></span>) do not seem to be enough and are enhanced by a speaker system in nearly every shop front. These speakers may be blaring music of various genres, or a pre-recorded enticement into the shop on continual loop, OR the personalised microphone sales babble of a large girl in rather less pink spandex than is prudent. There are also people playing flutes and such like -- and the Organ-Grinder Army, of course.<br />
<br />
<i>Seguridad privada</i> (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">aka, rent-a-cop</span></span>) seems <i>de rigour</i> whether the shop is selling sewing machines, bathtubs, fabric, yarn, or toys. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">This is kind of depressing.</span></span> With regard to locating specific types of items (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">outside of up-scale territory</span></span>), shops seem to be arranged in some sort of pre-destined order. For example, for plumbing and bathroom decorating needs, you would walk along Ayuntamiento between Lopez and Dolores. For electronic products (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">including hawkers standing along the pavement with 3-ring binders of sheets of computer programmes available</span></span>), one walks up Lazaro Cardenas between Rep. de Salvador and Rep. de Uruguay. Fabrics and such are located to the east and south of the National Cathedral.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6NbCP3FI/AAAAAAAABbI/7cn7ontgB3w/s1600-h/P1010402-Shop%26StreetSweeper(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6NbCP3FI/AAAAAAAABbI/7cn7ontgB3w/s200/P1010402-Shop%26StreetSweeper(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
<br />
Shops are most certainly basic. Traditional size seems to be equivalent to a mid-sized bathroom (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">see image to R, behind street sweeper trolley</span></span>) and pretty much you just buy some stuff and randomly arrange it inside. Cheetos, some picture frames, and a selection of toilets would probably be a sensible outlet. There are three plumbers sitting on a curb on Rep. de Salvador with a little cardboard sign advertising their availability.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6O2RxfRI/AAAAAAAABbQ/tRz3ylrEsGI/s1600-h/P1010401-Pastelleria(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6O2RxfRI/AAAAAAAABbQ/tRz3ylrEsGI/s200/P1010401-Pastelleria(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">As in Bangkok, much of life seems to be oriented around mere survival.</span></span><br />
<br />
However, a notable exception to 'regular' shop size (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">and there are more exceptions as well; this is just my current amusement</span></span>) are pastellerias -- or bakeries. In this shining window and display, we can see a vision worthy of the Harrod's Food Hall. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">It is all very Eloise</span></span>. And it is the oddest thing to find something so glamorous right around the corner from beggars and toilets and shower displays on the pavement.<br />
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*******<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4XA9B56ZfI/AAAAAAAABcE/DrjgApY7X64/s1600-h/P1010418-BearDay2(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4XA9B56ZfI/AAAAAAAABcE/DrjgApY7X64/s200/P1010418-BearDay2(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a>On a different aside, it might be worth noting that 'Do Not Disturb' signs no significa nada en el Hampton Inn Centro Historico. Generally, there is no need for me to have my room serviced daily, and so to prevent unnecessary work for lovely housekeepers, my sign goes out most days. On my return from constitutional stroll yesterday afternoon, I discovered Bear in prime princely location on bed and room completely tidied -- down to my hairbrush being cleaned out.... (?) :)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6XpfWYdI/AAAAAAAABb4/lRoe3wO9V_o/s1600-h/P1010417-BathroomDay2(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6XpfWYdI/AAAAAAAABb4/lRoe3wO9V_o/s200/P1010417-BathroomDay2(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a></div>In an effort to present self a little neater today to the housekeeper I fully knew would come in, my toiletries were carefully tidied this morning. Round items were stacked, miscellaneous items were stowed in plastic bag. However, this was apparently lacking in skill, and required additional straightening (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">as demonstrated to L</span>).<br />
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*******<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6QxvGrSI/AAAAAAAABbY/-pYRhd2gjaA/s1600-h/P1010410-LanonaBotona(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4W6QxvGrSI/AAAAAAAABbY/-pYRhd2gjaA/s200/P1010410-LanonaBotona(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a></div>It should also be noted that absolutely no yarn was purchased in brief excursionary and navigatory exercise today. Lanona Botona (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">unlike others in the centre</span></span>) allows smooshing. Centre shops (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">perhaps in reason related to seguridad privada</span></span>) have all yarn behind counters and/or in locked glass display cabinets.<br />
<br />
Shop is located in a charming part of the city, with cobbled streets and tumbling <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bougainvillea">bougainvillea</a> emerging from walled residences.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A return for morning knitting group may be necessary whilst awaiting flight home in two Monday's time.... </span></span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-22081605157823110792010-02-23T01:47:00.000+00:002010-02-24T01:51:58.543+00:00An OutingOn Sunday, we took an educational outing with the Friends of the Norwich Historic Churches Trust.<br />
<br />
This was the first of newly planned Quarterly Church Visits and was to St. Peter Parmentergate, the current structure which dates from c. 1475. It is the largest and most impressive of the remaining medieval churches off King Street, and was the last to be decommissioned, in 1981<br />
<br />
Parmentergate refers to its location close to the city gate leading to the Street of Parmenters (or leather- and parchment-workers). King Street was the main route into and through the city, leading on to Tombland and from there across Fye Bridge and up Magdalen Street. Between the gate and Tombland, there were at one time at least 12 churches along this main thoroughfare, or right off it -- including St. John the Evangelist (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">no longer in existence</span></span>), another St. Clement (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">no longer in existence</span></span>), St. Francis (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">no longer in existence</span></span>), St. Etheldreda, St. Julian, St. Peter Southgate (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">ruin</span></span>), St. Bartholomew (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">ruin</span></span>), St Michael at Thorn (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">bombed 1942, then demolished by city</span></span>), St. John Timberhill (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">now the parish church</span></span></span>), St. John de Sepulchre (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">now the Russian Orthodox Church</span></span>), and All Saints Westlegate (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">now a community centre</span></span>).<br />
<br />
It is uncertain if any of the church fabric is Anglo-Saxon, but as it is in the Saxon section of the city, it is entirely possible. St. Peter Parmentergate now houses the <a href="http://www.nama4kicks.co.uk/venue.html">Norwich Academy of Martial Arts</a>. It is perfectly allowable to furrow one's brow, but at least the building is used and is treated with respect.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4RtJMJttII/AAAAAAAABYM/jusa32au5zA/s1600-h/P1010353-Nick%26SouthDoor(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4RtJMJttII/AAAAAAAABYM/jusa32au5zA/s200/P1010353-Nick%26SouthDoor(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
Our group of about 20 met in drizzle, but forged forward with our intrepid leader, Nick Groves -- one of the, if not <b>the</b>, most knowledgeable scholars of Norwich Churches. Despite the attempted assistance of a free-range harmonica-player wearing a turquoise blanket on his head like the Virgin Mary, we learnt rather a lot.<br />
<br />
Although the church is not as ornate as others in the city, it shows a high level of quality in the build. There is little decoration, e.g., no cusps in the tops of the windows, some of which have Norman arches. However, the flints are knapped, and much of the outside is <a href="http://www.wealddown.co.uk/News/news-flint.htm">galletted</a>.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4RvHs6eJyI/AAAAAAAABYk/lQgWlZSksPg/s1600-h/P1010365-ChoirStallDetail(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4RvHs6eJyI/AAAAAAAABYk/lQgWlZSksPg/s200/P1010365-ChoirStallDetail(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a>There were originally 4 doors into the church, as well as an entry through the two-storey vestry (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">an unusual architectural feature</span></span>). The north door has been blocked up, but it would more than likely have been the entry way used by a college of priests who lived in a community just to the north of the church. Formerly an independent group of friars, they were suppressed and re-formed as a college of priests in the 13th century. Of the 24 medieval choir stalls created for this college, 14 are still extant. Both they and the reproductions are indistinguishable from each other to the unskilled eye. The blurred lower character on this is interesting and not on all the arches -- it looks like a cross between a lion and a Mexican sun image... with its tongue sticking out.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4RtLhVd4VI/AAAAAAAABYU/E7BzmX35hgY/s1600-h/P1010354-PotLogHoles(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4RtLhVd4VI/AAAAAAAABYU/E7BzmX35hgY/s200/P1010354-PotLogHoles(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a>Periodically on the outside of many medieval constructions, one can see evidence of scaffolding. On SPP, individual flints are surrounded by a square of bricks or other stone. These are the potlog holes. Some medieval builders simply cut off the logs and left them in permanently-preserved and petrified place, but a little extra care (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">and cost</span></span>) was taken here -- the logs were hollowed out, a knapped flint inserted, and a surround put in place. There are two potlog holes in this picture.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4Rxm8X3IdI/AAAAAAAABYw/upNbjiX4EE4/s1600-h/P1010356-WestDoor(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4Rxm8X3IdI/AAAAAAAABYw/upNbjiX4EE4/s200/P1010356-WestDoor(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a>Detail at the top of the west door is actually a probably-Victorian reproduction, but it is accurate to its original style and decoration. Four shields above the door symbolise the primary donors who contributed to the original construction: the Broom family, the Albany family, the Clifton family, and (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">so Eamonn suggested</span></span>) the Harveys (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">also at St. Clement Fye Bridge</span></span>). St. Peter stands within the right spandrel and the left spandrel contains a figure with a rosary and a shield with 3 hedgehogs. The hedgehogs are a mystery. On churches dedicated to St. Peter, it is not uncommon to see an inverted cross somewhere since that represents Peter's manner of execution, but there are none on SPP; an occasional conspiracy theory is that this is a symbol of witchcraft<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><br />
</span></span><br />
The west door, similar to the north door (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">above</span>) also shows evidence of the raising of the graveyard from the Black Plague. Between 25 March 1666 and 24 March 1667, 390 people were buried in SPP's churchyard. 266 of these were buried between July and September, with 113 during the first three weeks of August.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R29icxGEI/AAAAAAAABY8/_Oo-uZMB74I/s1600-h/P1010360-EastWindow%26Raridos(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R29icxGEI/AAAAAAAABY8/_Oo-uZMB74I/s200/P1010360-EastWindow%26Raridos(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a>A lofty and, again, plain interior is presided over by a magnificent <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reredos">reredos</a>, although this is overpowered by a shockingly incongruous Victorian window.<br />
<br />
Successful photos of the reredos are interrupted by the presence of a boxing ring. I am slightly concerned about a flailing body going into the artwork, but... this worry seems to be unique to my feeble and conservationally-unskilled mind.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R3fxAs_PI/AAAAAAAABZM/h-r6jayKC1c/s1600-h/P1010373-Raridos(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R3fxAs_PI/AAAAAAAABZM/h-r6jayKC1c/s200/P1010373-Raridos(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a>At the center above the image of The Last Supper, are the crossed keys of St. Peter, and four shields along the same level represent the other churches which had been incorporated into the parish by the 19th century, when the reredos was installed and the medieval church was 'improved' by the Victorians. As Nick says their <i>modus operandi</i> was to 'restore' churches to how they were in the Middle Ages -- Victorian opinion being if churches had not looked like that, then they damn well should have. *<b>titter at the victorians</b>*<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R3AJ_LWwI/AAAAAAAABZE/dVfSqH1R6Y4/s1600-h/P1010367-Richard%26ElizabethBarney(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R3AJ_LWwI/AAAAAAAABZE/dVfSqH1R6Y4/s200/P1010367-Richard%26ElizabethBarney(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
The highlight of the interior is considered to be the tomb of Richard and Elizabeth (nee, Hobart <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">[alt. spelling, Hubbard]</span>) Berney. An interesting description of the tomb is listed at this link under <a href="http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=78118#s3">St. Peter Per Mountergate</a> (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">completely incorrect spelling</span></span>). The tomb is enclosed in a plywood box, and is not terribly easy to view from angles other than the door next to Richard and Elizabeth's pillows on their 4-poster bed.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R-1PoWTbI/AAAAAAAABZY/Rs9nbAjLIrQ/s1600-h/P1010380-Hope(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R-1PoWTbI/AAAAAAAABZY/Rs9nbAjLIrQ/s200/P1010380-Hope(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
Elizabeth's father commissioned the tomb in 1623 after her death, and it has on its top an impressive array of acceptable post-Reformation images: Faith, Hope, Charity and Time. Images of saints were not allowed after Henry VIII's vandals chiseled out most remnants of pre-divorce art across the country. The theological <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theological_virtues">Virtues</a> could apparently still be personified with no suspicions of idolatry, despite their being freely used in earlier papist art. (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">It is important to note that the other traditional 7 virtues, the Cardinal Virtues, can have vice in their extremes.</span></span>)<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R-2A8I62I/AAAAAAAABZg/5DVbfVC0CjQ/s1600-h/P1010381-Faith(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R-2A8I62I/AAAAAAAABZg/5DVbfVC0CjQ/s200/P1010381-Faith(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
Hope (L, above) is pictured with an anchor.<br />
<br />
Faith (R) holds a book, possibly Holy Writ.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R-3i4vy3I/AAAAAAAABZo/zHW0h01idoE/s1600-h/P1010383-charity(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4R-3i4vy3I/AAAAAAAABZo/zHW0h01idoE/s200/P1010383-charity(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
<br />
Charity is surrounded by children.<br />
<br />
The three Virtues are surmounted by winged Time, holding the scythe of Death and standing above an hourglass.<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4SBngRpvAI/AAAAAAAABZ0/jMzvWtRsJpQ/s1600-h/P1010384-time(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4SBngRpvAI/AAAAAAAABZ0/jMzvWtRsJpQ/s200/P1010384-time(sm).JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
*******<br />
Another interesting sight/site is right down the street from SPP, next door to <a href="http://www.dragonhall.org/">Dragon Hall</a>.<br />
<br />
We noticed it on our walk down King Street, and I always thought it was a part of Dragon Hall, only ever having seen it at night. And the fact that it is boarded up completely escaped my notice before. The criss-cross brickwork shows that it was constructed by a wealthy individual or family.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4SE6Xu4HQI/AAAAAAAABaA/GBnoWtQ5QOs/s1600-h/P1010388-BoleynHouse(sm).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S4SE6Xu4HQI/AAAAAAAABaA/GBnoWtQ5QOs/s200/P1010388-BoleynHouse(sm).JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
The unfortunate installation of the atrocious ground-floor shop front was perpetrated in the 1960s.<br />
<br />
This was the Boleyn House. As in the family of <a href="http://www.tudorplace.com.ar/BOLEYN.htm">Anne</a>. It's current state is a travesty.Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-71533516815117643872010-02-21T10:34:00.000+00:002010-02-21T10:34:39.927+00:00Tuesdays<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yes, I know it is not Tuesday Morning.</span></span><br />
<br />
But this past Wednesday, I had a rather surreal string of thought:<br />
<br />
<ol><li>Three Tuesdays ago, I was asked to go to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #8e7cc3;"><b>Bangkok </b></span>on the Thursday for an ill colleague.</li>
<li>Two Tuesdays ago, Emirates was zooming me back from Bangkok.</li>
<li>This past Tuesday, National Express (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">this term is used loosely</span>) East Anglia was dawdling me back from 3 1/2 days in <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">London </span></span></b>(<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">only 2 for work</span></span>).</li>
<li>And next Tuesday, I will be sweating in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>Mex</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>ic</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><b>o C</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"><b>ity</b></span></span> (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">or Mexico Kitty, for those who might like to participate in global feline-related humour</span></span>).</li>
<li>Then, the Tuesday following will be in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"><b>Monterrey</b></span><b> </b>(Mexico) -- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">could we get away with Miaownterrey?</span></span>.</li>
<li>Returning to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><b>Sceptred Isle</b></span> the Tuesday after that.</li>
<li>[One whole week home]</li>
<li>And everyone knows what fun Tuesdays are in <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">Dallas-Ft. Worth</span></span></b> for the week after that.</li>
<li>And then back home for at least 3 Tuesdays!</li>
</ol><br />
(<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">must go finish The Pack. 5.30am taxi and feel need to prevent flapping, frantic behaviour throughout entire day since also attending lecture and hope to see snowdrops at Old Keswick Hall.</span></span>)Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-17187890518092696552010-01-31T22:08:00.005+00:002010-01-31T22:22:24.617+00:00Entre chien et loup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>'<a href="http://www.linternaute.com/expression/langue-francaise/46/entre-chien-et-loup/">Entre chien et loup</a>' is a French phrase signifying the period of time between dusk and dark, when dogs and wolves are difficult to distinguish.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:-uzVTpWnr0IURM:http://img1.fantasticfiction.co.uk/images/n62/n314658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:-uzVTpWnr0IURM:http://img1.fantasticfiction.co.uk/images/n62/n314658.jpg" /></a>It also spawned the title of the most recently released English translation of <a href="http://www.irenenemirovsky.guillaumedelaby.com/en_biography.html">Irene Nemirovsky</a> -- <i>The Dogs and the Wolves </i>(<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">originally published in 1940, presumably just before it became illegal for Jews to be employed in France</span>). <a href="http://www.eastanglianwriters.org.uk/profiles/SandraSmith.htm">Sandra Smith</a>, the translator, spoke on Friday night at the Forum in Norwich, which coincided with Holocaust Memorial Day and also slightly with the 65th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Berkinau (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">27 January</span>) -- where Nemirovsky died on 17 August 1942. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One month and 4 days after her arrest</span></span>.<br />
<br />
Only since living on this side of the Atlantic, has my selective isolationist brain absorbed that there was war (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">outside the story-telling world of textbook knowledge</span></span>) prior to Pearl Harbor. The hardship that Europe underwent has become much more real; words cannot really describe.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:C3XOycSEQLNAiM:http://chawedrosin.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/suitefrancaiseirenenemirovsky2004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:C3XOycSEQLNAiM:http://chawedrosin.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/suitefrancaiseirenenemirovsky2004.jpg" /></a></div><i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suite_fran%C3%A7aise_(Ir%C3%A8ne_N%C3%A9mirovsky)">Suite Francaise</a></i> was, I believe, the first of her work to be translated into English and is only a portion of what was to have been a book of 5 parts. It was untouched for decades since one of her daughters thought the manuscript was her diary and left it in the suitcase with which the children had been sent away into hiding. It is a contemporary view of life in occupied France, and in her optimism, she planned to describe through to the end of the war.<br />
<br />
It is an impressive and incredibly brave book; my copy can be borrowed from Judith.<br />
<br />
My next reading assignments to myself (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">in addition to various Spanish vocabulary lists for my Tuesday night class</span></span>) are my Friday purchases: <i>The Dogs and the Wolves</i>, <i>Fire in the Blood,</i> and the new biography of <i>The Life of Irene Nemirovsky</i>, which is not released until 1 March (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">quite excited re: advanced reading</span></span>). <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>And </b>I will also be venturing into an attempt to read a shorter Nemirovsky in French, as Ms. Smith recommended to me. </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Busy, busy, busy</span></span></b> (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">a la Oma</span></span>)!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Keeping busy hopefully delays the onset of dusk and the impact that has on one's awareness.</span></span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-17334307436992593002010-01-27T21:51:00.001+00:002010-01-27T22:21:51.086+00:00Worm. Charming.And in today's lesson, boys and girls, we shall all be introduced to the phenomenon called <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/5664058/The-charms-of-worm-charming.html">Worm Charming</a>.<br />
<br />
Of course, we are all well-aware that the study of worms is known as Oligochaetology (<span style="font-size: xx-small;">oh-lee-go-kett-ah-luh-gee</span>); but then there are people who do more than study. Some get quite involved... since 1980.<br />
<br />
They have an International Committee.<br />
<br />
It is called the International Federation of Charming Worms and Allied Pastimes (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">IFCWAP, for short</span></span>). <br />
<br />
Their 18 rules have been translated. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Into 30 languages, including Tibetan</span></span>.<br />
<br />
There are 4 primary techniques: twanging, twickling, tweaking, and twacking.<br />
<br />
<b style="color: #6aa84f;">Twanging </b>is simply inserting a garden fork into the ground and 'waggling' it back and forth; <b style="color: #6aa84f;">twickling </b>involves a rotation of said garden fork; <b style="color: #6aa84f;">tweaking </b>uses a long-handled fork; and finally (my favourite) <b style="color: #6aa84f;">twacking</b>, in which the charmer strikes the ground with the fork and uses the handle as a sort of tuning fork.<br />
<br />
<br />
This (w)hole (<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: xx-small;">titter</span>) phenomenon was started by a headmaster from Cheshire and the first world record was held by a miracle-worker named Mr. Shufflebotham (<span style="color: blue; font-size: xx-small;">titter, titter</span>). However, it is no longer Mr. Shufflebotham who holds the world record for being Mr. Charming... a 10-year old upstart seems to have snatched it from his talented fork in 2009.<br />
<br />
.Thousands of people attend their annual international <a href="http://wormcharming.com/">competition</a>. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #45818e;">Peut-etre une plan pour certaine de les gens qui journey across L'Atlantique cette summer?<span style="color: #a64d79;"> Je pense que oui.</span><br />
</span></span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-78374444671585615792010-01-26T21:59:00.000+00:002010-01-26T21:59:26.951+00:00Just Another Day at the Office...It is a nice compliment, or consolation, to yesterday's impression of Une Pincushion to a) have managed to dress nicely for work and b) to be reminded that <a href="http://www.edp24.co.uk/content/edp24/news/story.aspx?brand=EDPOnline&category=News&tBrand=EDPOnline&tCategory=xDefault&itemid=NOED19%20Jan%202010%2018%3A48%3A19%3A173">The Prince</a> is visiting when you get there. Prince Charles, that is.<br />
<br />
He is the patron of the School of Environmental Sciences. So he was visiting, possibly to see what was the cause of all the CRU <a href="http://www.realclimate.org/index.php/archives/2009/11/the-cru-hack/">email-hacking</a> row and scandal (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">which managed to get UEA in the news even in lil' ole' Bossier City</span>). <span style="color: #45818e; font-size: x-small;">I would venture to propose that it might be the fact that ineptitude and the hiring of unskilled monkeys seems the order of the day in IT, but... who knows for certain? Surely the fact that hired consultants were able to hack into the system was completely an aberration.</span><br />
<br />
Being pro-Royalist (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">in a most un-Colonial manner</span>), it seemed like a necessary excursion from the office to toddle the 25 yards around the corner to stand in the freezing cold behind a barricade made of plastic chain. My amazement at all of this (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">besides slight giddiness at having my first royal-spotting</span>) was the perceived lightness of security. Yes, there were some Springer Spaniels wriggling over parts of campus today (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b><span style="color: #351c75;">I want one... hint, hint</span></b></span>) and there were also a few police walking around with mirrors, looking under buildings, but...<br />
<br />
Having been fortunate enough to observe President Clinton's visit to Barksdale from the vantage point of the air traffic control tower and to attend a Presidential debate in 2004, it was shocking that people could just wander up randomly -- half the wanderers not even knowing why they couldn't walk that way to their lectures. I cautiously went back to the office and put my handbag back since I was sure there would be bag searches. There was no frisking. There was no guard-type bloke observing to see if you looked shifty.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Nope</span>. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #bf9000;">Nada</span></span>. <span style="color: #38761d; font-size: x-small;">Walk on in; stand right there; baby, let your hair hang down</span> (<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b style="color: #134f5c;">it is best anyway, as this warms the ears</b></span>).</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S19j1MGK7dI/AAAAAAAABXI/j1bP3vvOZUU/s1600-h/P1010199-PrinceCharles%26Lydia-sm.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S19j1MGK7dI/AAAAAAAABXI/j1bP3vvOZUU/s320/P1010199-PrinceCharles%26Lydia-sm.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
</div>The cool bit of this was that I was literally one person away from him as he walked past, and he was honestly gentle, soft-spoken, and observant and thoughtful in his questions of people. Not at all up his own backside. I rather liked him and shall purchase <a href="http://www.duchyoriginals.com/">Duchy Originals</a> when I can afford them. :) <br />
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This was all quite lovely in a civilised (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">and yet, cold</span>) sort of way, but the tragedy of it is that we do not live in a civlised world. <b>Not at all</b>. <span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: x-small;">If it were my event to organise, I would have gone mildly deranged with a week of orchestrated security checks; there would have been a lock-down of campus; and bag searches.</span> <span style="color: #38761d; font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: x-small;">But then, he is not really my Prince yet -- dual-citizenship being a few years and a few thousand £s down the trundling road... </span>*sigh*Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-817270324787550792010-01-25T20:33:00.001+00:002010-01-25T20:33:46.693+00:00RELAX!!!!It used to be my opinion that I was calm and relaxed and pretty chill in general. However, the ongoing internal cobustion of my back, my joints, my patience, and my tolerance levels towards unruly children and cats who attempt to cover up their pretty crockery food dishes after eating does seem to perhaps indicate otherwise. Obviously, I have been engaged in quite a high level of self-delusion.<br />
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Fortunately, the National Health Service has agreed to provide services of a therapeutic and healing nature. This makes me relatively happy since, despite not being a citizen, I am worthy to receive something for the nearly £700 per month which is thoughtfully extracted from my paycheck. Presumably they don't want to overburden my already traumatised back with the weight.<br />
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So, after a considerate referral from my GP (<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: xx-small;">at The Mulbarton Surgery</span>), I have been to the physiotherapist five or six times now. Of course, the physiotherapist is in Wymondham (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #45818e;">pronounced 'Wind-umm'</span></span>), which is possibly the most awkward location to reach either to or from the Main Road in Swardeston OR from The University of Easy Acronyms (UEA) if one does not drive. Normal bus tickets are not good enough (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">one must invest in a £4.70 day pass, which makes one want to just ride around on the bus and judge -- or not. Especially if one is trying to be more charitable to the cretins surrounding one</span>.) since Wye-mond-ham is apparently in the outer zone of Norwich Worst -- oops, I mean First -- Bus system.<br />
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After my first encounter with the physio -- a lovely person named Jane -- she either thought I was neurotic, a victim of muscular hypochondria (possibly requiring NHS psychotherapy), or a severely broken person. Now she is aware that she beheld a trinity.<br />
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On one's first -- or in my case, one's first <b>and</b> second -- visit(s), one has what is called a 'triage' appointment. This is where they go through all the aches and pains of things that you, in your feebly deluded state, might think are wrong with you. They ask you to tell them whether the pain in ________ region is constant, periodic, or infrequent and then to rate the pain on a scale of 1 to 10.<br />
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They refuse to explain this rating scale. Is it on a scale of 1 to 10 of what i can bear before I lay writhing on the floor next to the washing machine crying and singing Edith Piaf songs; or is it on a scale of 1 to 10 of how painful it has <b>ever</b> been; or is it on a scale of 1 to 10 of whether I believe it is possible to have a stiff upper lip and Keep Calm and Carry On without resorting to surgery? What <b>is</b> this scale business?<br />
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Based on one's completely flawed scaling of the pain, they draw little coloured sections on the part of the diagram person on the computer. <span style="color: #f1c232;">Yellow </span>means numbness; <span style="color: blue;">cerulean </span>means scrintchety periodic pain (<span style="font-size: xx-small;">apparently</span>); <span style="color: magenta;">pink </span>means you are <b style="color: #38761d;"><i>messed </i></b>up. My little diagram has an entirely <span style="color: magenta;">pink </span>back with <span style="color: blue;">blue </span>polka-dots, and a little <span style="color: #f1c232;">yellow </span>streak going down the right leg (<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-small;">and NO! This does not have anything to do with wet pants. Ahem... Rude.</span>). Poor Jane.<br />
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Apparently, your correspondent who spends 120,000 miles a year in the air, and most of the rest of the time sitting on her haunches has a condition called '<a href="http://www.hypermobility.org/">Hypermobility Syndrome</a>'. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">I am quite appalled to have a label, but maybe it will be good for me; I could get a nametag: '<span style="color: #45818e;">Hello! My name is Anne-Marie, but you can call me <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gumby">Gumby</a>!</span>' </span>On the bright side, the x-rays for which I was zapped in December happen to show an absence of slipped discs or anything pinched, so no incisionary activity close to My Spine is imminent (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: x-small;">this is good, particularly in light of my inexplicable fear of deathly punctures in my person -- well, other than shots in the arm. I'm not a complete chicken</span>.). On the negative side, my job is sedentary. Hypermobile people need to move alot (<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: x-small;">ahem -- it seems a good time to perhaps point out that it was not hyperactivity in my childhood; it was my syndrome. My body knew that it needed to move incessantly...<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">). </span></span></span>Because my body languishes in front of a computer all day and a good portion of the evening (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">when it functions -- the computer, not my body</span>), my muscles are no longer managing my hypermobile connection points and the joints are mad. So I hurt. My back is <span style="color: magenta;">pink </span>with <span style="color: blue;">blue </span>polka dots. And I have a yellow streak down my right leg (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">AGAIN... NO snickering. How childish. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">*rolls eyes*</span></span></span></span>)<br />
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I am meant to do stretchy exercises and retrain my nerves. I should really do them more often (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: x-small;">instead of sitting in front of a computer -- oops</span>), but I <b>am </b>getting pretty good at regular stretching in the ladies room at work. The shelf on the wall next to the hand drier makes a lovely support bar and one can also do pushups agains the wall -- whilst beadily watching the door for approaching shadows, at which point you have to shove yourself speedily away from the wall, simultaneously pivoting on heels as if heading for door, and pretend to have been using completely silent hand drier. <span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: xx-small;">This is definitely a skill worth honing; I expect to have upper arms like Courtney Cox by March</span>.<br />
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In addition to my Bendy Bruner-Tracey (BBT) regimen, Lovely Jane recommended acupuncture. For a person with a morbid fear of punctures, this was a big step. <span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">After all, haven't we all heard about people who have an acupuncture needle emerge from their foot 4 years after having a treatment in their eyelids or something?</span><span style="font-size: small;"> I was brave. The needles were small. And the first two treatments really relieved quite a bit of pain in my back.<br />
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Until this past week, when I had to go 2 weeks between treatments. And then I had a nerve completely freak out in my big toe -- it is a long story. No doubt many of you can look forward to long evenings with a lovely shiraz while I detail the agony of a mysterious feeling of shards of glass living inside my toe rather than the lovely bones which ought to be there. Copious amounts of Vitamin B (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">gracias a los parentes</span></span>) seems to be helping. And then my back decided to relapse and go all Octogenarian on me on Saturday whilst doing laundry.<br />
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However, the whole scintillating Shards-of-Glass feeling which has persisted over the past week (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">but very strangely only with downward pressure, such as a blanket during SleepyTime</span></span>) had me a little leery today. Jane decided that it was most probably coincidental, this dramatic Shards of Glass thing; she bent my phalanges and metatarsals, this a-way and that. And no radiating shocks of pain. None atall. Until she decided that we should start with that particular needle... next to my big toe.<br />
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Today was absolutely pitiful. I wept. Snot ran from my nosey to the floor through the little hole where they put your head so's you won't suffocate on the <b><i>relaxation</i></b> table.<br />
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The weeping and gnashing of teeth did not stem from the big toe one needle; I was braver than that. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Just nearly reflexed her in the face -- oopsy</span>. No. It was the building up, I think. When you (<span style="color: #45818e; font-size: xx-small;">or maybe just I</span>) am/are supposed to relax, my brain kind of goes into '<span style="color: #c27ba0;">MUST RELAX!</span>' , *<span style="color: #e69138;">...am-i-relaxed-enough-yet?</span>*, '<span style="color: #e06666;"><b>NO</b>! MUST RELAX!!!</span>' hyper-repetition syndrome mode. <span style="color: #6aa84f;">And pretty much everything just flipping does the opposite. </span><br />
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One of my most significant spot of tension, which is most-of-the-time invisible, non-painful and completely menacing, is on either side of my spine, about 3 inches below my shoulder blades. If this area has any sort of pressure applied, I cannot help it: spasms and convulsive twitching results. And I flee, if possible. (<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">This is in no way a recommendation as potential amusement to so-called 'friends' during social and cultural outings. Obviously, this is a little more explanation than some people might have needed, but how else are we to be honest with each other if not broadcasting to the whole webernet-connected ribbon of civilisation? <span style="color: #cc0000;">No. Seriously; do not try this -- I might have to get mediaeval on yo' ____.</span></span></span>)<br />
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Being unable to flee, and with an indeterminate number of needles in my back (<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79;">actually there were 22</span></span></b>), weeping was my only resort. <span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #45818e;">But I told her to keep going..</span>. </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Keep Calm and Carry On!</span></span> However, the whole situation was worsened by the pinching that the tension in my muscles was making where the needles had already gone in. And then, Poor Jane hit several capillaries -- which hurt like crap. And made me twitch, which tensed my muscles, which made the needles hurt, which made me cry (<span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: xx-small;">and produce snot, which was unreachable due to arms flapping at sides of table with needles in hands</span>). The additional fact that a pressure on my middle back caused a twinge of electricity in my right hip did not help.<br />
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<b>Poor Jane.</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Her assessment today was, 'Well, you are just wired pretty funny.'<b> </b>She attempted to smile and comfort me, but I think she was afraid.</span><br />
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My next acupuncture treatment is in 2 weeks. <span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: x-small;">We'll see if Jane is in, or if she has become a florist.</span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-85101475848145897632010-01-10T23:30:00.001+00:002010-01-10T23:31:56.346+00:00Bananas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pOBTn3miI/AAAAAAAABTY/9YX4vbZXMYw/s1600-h/P1010274-BananaPudding.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pOBTn3miI/AAAAAAAABTY/9YX4vbZXMYw/s200/P1010274-BananaPudding.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Due to one's frugal noticing of the sale bananas at Bobbins (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">the farm shoppe dans La village</span>), this afternoon's primary culinary activity involved making Banana Pudding for a certain Wirish person, who seems to be unfamiliar with said dish. Despite a typically apathetic attitude toward dessert-type foods (<span style="color: #45818e; font-size: xx-small;">odd, I know</span>), he did manage to clear his bowl and then ate a couple of bites out of the pan (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">there was no company, so this was acceptable</span>). This indicates to me that it has been approved.<br />
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I was quite pleased with my pudding texture and so happy to have the recipe from The Oma Cook Book (<span style="color: #45818e; font-size: xx-small;">ed., Judith and James</span>). Banana pudding is the first recipe that my Oma's mama taught her to cook, and the recipe has been passed down from the five maternal generations preceding moi. Oma is unfortunately not here in La Village to concoct puddings on request, and since it appears that January is now Oma-'Spa'-Month, we must hope that she returns from the hospital soon so she can make sure we are cooking our puddings correctly. <br />
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*******<br />
This past week was an interesting week. It has been my first 'normal' experience with long-term snow, and the exoticism and thrill has not worn off yet. We have had probably 4 inches (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">or maybe more</span>) of snow this week and it has been cold enough that it has stuck for almost the whole week. It is the coldest winter in Britain in <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/britain-struggles-in-antarctic-temperatures-1861627.html">30 years</a>!<br />
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</div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pUL5JBwXI/AAAAAAAABTo/7iGbGv2knU8/s1600-h/P1010268-SeaBassWithLeek%26Rostis%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pUL5JBwXI/AAAAAAAABTo/7iGbGv2knU8/s200/P1010268-SeaBassWithLeek%26Rostis%28sm%29.JPG" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pTngezYoI/AAAAAAAABTg/LFwoPD2L9Wk/s1600-h/P1010271-SenorStretch%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pTngezYoI/AAAAAAAABTg/LFwoPD2L9Wk/s200/P1010271-SenorStretch%28sm%29.JPG" /></a>Kitty likes snow. Angus is obviously related to Simon's Cat, as the '<a href="http://simonscat.com/snowbusiness.html">Snow Business</a>' video is pretty much his hyper reaction to the crunching snow. However, after his outside frolicking, Kitty likes to come inside and be cosy. This is an example of stretching and looking cute in order to have some tidbits of gorgeous seabass dinner with leeks and <a href="http://www.gastronomydomine.com/alias/potato-rosti.html">rostis</a>... (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">the snow is not forcing us to diminish the culinary exploits of Chef Eamonn</span></span>).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pg4WTQ8nI/AAAAAAAABVI/GZZdtxuNyOo/s1600-h/P1010174-DrivingToWork%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pg4WTQ8nI/AAAAAAAABVI/GZZdtxuNyOo/s200/P1010174-DrivingToWork%28sm%29.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Along with the kitty, the snow is fascinating to me, too. I am quite obsessed by snow clouds and learning to see snow coming over the fields, although I am glad not to be in charge of driving to work in the snow (<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: xx-small;">see L</span>).<br />
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I love how snow makes everything quiet. <span style="color: #38761d; font-size: x-small;">Except for the ducks and the pouncing kitty.</span> I love seeing parents pulling children to school on little tobogans. I love the crunch and squeak of the snow under one's boots. I love the way it sparkles in the sunshine. I am not so taken with wind-frozen teeth, so I suppose I had best be quiet.... <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #134f5c;">nahhhhh</span></span>. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pYHsS6SQI/AAAAAAAABTw/36jP2TsVjc8/s1600-h/P1010194-ChillyKnitting%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pYHsS6SQI/AAAAAAAABTw/36jP2TsVjc8/s200/P1010194-ChillyKnitting%28sm%29.JPG" /></a>Monday was my first acupuncture treatment, and whilst it is quite bizarre (<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: xx-small;">I am going to wear my contacts to tomorrow's needling, so as to see the two that are in my hands... it is all quite wierdly fascinating</span>).<br />
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Thursday was the first Knit Night of 2010, and Clare convinced me not to wimp out. We have returned to The Forum, now that loud Mondo Night is no more. It was a little chilly :) <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pYJtRAmVI/AAAAAAAABT4/385ZnDbXsqI/s1600-h/P1010192-St.PeterMancroft%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pYJtRAmVI/AAAAAAAABT4/385ZnDbXsqI/s200/P1010192-St.PeterMancroft%28sm%29.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pYKZrY8dI/AAAAAAAABUA/mj52A4-mPh8/s1600-h/P1010190-PuddingLane%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pYKZrY8dI/AAAAAAAABUA/mj52A4-mPh8/s200/P1010190-PuddingLane%28sm%29.JPG" /></a>Pretty Night Snow.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pa9dgoMiI/AAAAAAAABUI/XDjZmcp2qyE/s1600-h/P1010220-StClementsGate%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pa9dgoMiI/AAAAAAAABUI/XDjZmcp2qyE/s200/P1010220-StClementsGate%28sm%29.JPG" /></a>Saturday was far too cold to open St. Clement's to the public (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">even with the Cloak</span>), but we made it into town on La Bus with the goal of climbing the tower and getting some snowy photos. Dawdling in the bank caused us to miss the sunshine, but maybe the snow will still be here next week (<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: xx-small;">although my enthusiasm may cause me to have no playmates remaining</span>).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0peh7QOrnI/AAAAAAAABUo/PoU5IjQsc58/s1600-h/P1010237-OnTheTower%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0peh7QOrnI/AAAAAAAABUo/PoU5IjQsc58/s200/P1010237-OnTheTower%28sm%29.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pa_UP0opI/AAAAAAAABUQ/z0_50Cac6Ng/s1600-h/P1010231-CathedralViewSnow%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pa_UP0opI/AAAAAAAABUQ/z0_50Cac6Ng/s200/P1010231-CathedralViewSnow%28sm%29.JPG" /></a>The view towards the Cathedral looks over the River Wensum and since the road below is a bus route, it is obviously a little clearer than the view down Colegate, below on R (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">the second church tower down Colegate is St. Miles -- where I lived in my little flat</span></span>). The river has not frozen :(<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pcdltOgDI/AAAAAAAABUg/sG9nTXIC674/s1600-h/P1010233-ColegateSnow%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pcdltOgDI/AAAAAAAABUg/sG9nTXIC674/s200/P1010233-ColegateSnow%28sm%29.JPG" /></a><br />
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The climb up and down the tower is always a little dusty and wind-ing. Stopping to continually take photos of one's feet can get a little vexing for the person behind you. But, oh well... :)<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pei3orNsI/AAAAAAAABUw/IzjwTWMXgUU/s1600-h/P1010247-TinyStairs%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pei3orNsI/AAAAAAAABUw/IzjwTWMXgUU/s200/P1010247-TinyStairs%28sm%29.JPG" /></a><br />
Stairs at the very top are really quite tiny. There is a very small section where the stairs are not stone, but are wooden. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pelWEx1cI/AAAAAAAABU4/zmlXei1d6SU/s1600-h/P1010251-CentralSupport%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pelWEx1cI/AAAAAAAABU4/zmlXei1d6SU/s200/P1010251-CentralSupport%28sm%29.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>So many hands have touched the central support of the spiral stairs, the stone is smooth and shiny. This is my favourite part. Despite its being a bit wonky, there is no risk attall of anything falling to pieces quite yet.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pem2f7utI/AAAAAAAABVA/Ia0mP3AEMI0/s1600-h/P1010253-TheBottom%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0pem2f7utI/AAAAAAAABVA/Ia0mP3AEMI0/s200/P1010253-TheBottom%28sm%29.JPG" /></a><br />
At the bottom, the person behind the photographer can finally escape into the less claustrophobic air.Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-33869052722928134982010-01-02T16:31:00.036+00:002010-01-03T17:50:35.578+00:00Twenny Tee-yun<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0DVfTV_CNI/AAAAAAAABS4/lAID5lvdDmk/s1600-h/P1010116-WitchingCat%28sm%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/S0DVfTV_CNI/AAAAAAAABS4/lAID5lvdDmk/s200/P1010116-WitchingCat%28sm%29.JPG" /></a>Yes. I think I shall go with 'twenty-ten' as the verbal reference for '2010' instead of using 'thousands'. Why this seems to have sparked such critical and intensive <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/01/01/MN621BB41U.DTL">debate</a> is rather beyond me. Thank the Heavens for the wisdom of the National Association of Good Grammar! [<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: xx-small;">I feel a slight tinge of guilt for my hypocrisy as a pedant in mocking NAGG, but then, they really ought to have organised a better acronym.</span>]<br />
<br />
Perhaps some people have nothing more productive to think about, for example: considering the newly joyous state of Christmas Day air travel as a result of rabid and annoyingly well-educated fundamentalist psychotics; or what is behind the soaking of beans and pulses before cooking; or perhaps why snow renders felines utterly mad; or how time is able to slow or race, depending on one's enjoyment ratio and/or dread of returning to meaningful employment.<br />
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My goal for Twenny Tee-yun is to write more regularly (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #134f5c;">as compared to the tragic state of 'twothousandnine'</span></span>) , instead of keeping all my eccentric thoughts and interesting stories nebulising in my brain -- which clogs up general functionality of said brain and leads to meaningless, disconnected tangents during various conversational activities. This sometimes can alarm fellow conversationalists and one should really avoid alarming people... unless they deserve it. Or are trying to set their underpants alight.<br />
<br />
So far, I am slightly behind in my goal outlined unsuccinctly above, due to faffing with photos and getting self distracted with snow (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">a la feline</span></span>) and knitting (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">also, possibly, a la feline</span></span>) and tidying (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">definitely, a la feline</span></span>).<br />
<br />
New Year's Eve was spent uncertainly wondering if our Letter K Correspondent would brave the forces of nature and join the Norfolkians for an icy celebratory activity. Therefore, the promised birthday cake was not created until just before midnight, upon finding out that LKC would not be remaining to even break his fast on New Year's Day -- choosing instead the tantalising fun of driving 4 1/2 hours back to Wales (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">oddball</span></span>). Additionally, my failure to venture to La Shopping before 5pm resulted in a failure to make either cream cheese ball or cherry cheese pie.<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"></span><br />
However, through a miracle of collaboration (<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: xx-small;">and with some <b>grand </b>patience on her part</span>), Clare and I managed to pull together a last-minute snacky, and relatively healthy(ish), buffet of delicious homemade hummous, tomato-mozarella-basil salad, semi-homemade guacamole, homemade salsa and mango salsa, fresh olive bread -- and a nip of Clare's sloe gin (<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #990000;">scrummy!</span></span>). This was entirely useful, since the Burger-Maker was ever so slightly delayed in producing edibles for nibbly persons. There were no homemade tortilla chips... again due to lack of time and planning [<span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: x-small;">since our return from La Louisiane, we have become mildly obsessed with creating legitimate salsas and tortilla chips. Efforts were well received and fully consumed by E's office colleagues.</span>]<br />
<br />
*******<br />
Sadly, New Year's Day was not well-planned for, past breakfast, by moi and our main meal lacked black-eyed peas. And ham. I am a b-a-d Southern Girl -- <b>who </b>doesn't keep black-eyed peas in their pantry for emergency year-change celebrations?! However, the <a href="http://www.snopes.com/holidays/newyears/beliefs.asp">tinternet</a> indicated to me that lentils would perhaps cover my sin and so we had them with our cabbage and cornbread. It was passable, but there shall be more adequate preparation for Twenny 'Leven. <br />
<br />
Additionally, after damage had been done did I become aware of our other failures (<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">also delineated by the previously helpful tinternet article</span>):<br />
<ul><li>to NOT do laundry. <span style="color: #990000; font-size: xx-small;">Oops. Obliterating Clothing Dirt</span>.</li>
<li>to plan for a first-footer. We went out before someone new entered the home... actually no one other than us has actually entered the home after midnight. The cat probably doesn't count, although he is tall and dark. <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">Ah well... give up</span></span>.</li>
<li>to open all the doors to let out the old and let in the new. <span style="color: #38761d; font-size: xx-small;">It was a tit bit chilly</span>. </li>
<li>to wear something new. <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">That would have required shopping instead of occupying resident pajamas during shopping hours last week, so... ick</span></span>.</li>
<li>making loud noise. <span style="color: #45818e; font-size: xx-small;">Even the kitteh was quiet and slept late on New Year's</span>.</li>
</ul>However, despite these glaring faux pas, I am sure it will be a lovely year. And I wish any readers remaining after my Protracted Twothousandnine Depth-of-despair-and-mental-distraction-silence all of the Love, Peace, Joy and Goodwill they can handle for their year to come!<br />
<br />
xx <br />
<br />
(<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #b45f06;">...and now, I must go and test some more salsa.</span></span>)Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-27204680587562492772009-11-16T21:58:00.018+00:002009-11-23T19:55:30.641+00:00Sunday in MunichSunday is a quiet day in Munich.<br />
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It was not raining (<span style="font-size: 78%;">at first</span>), and arriving in the late morning, one might have high hopes of engaging in productive activities... <span style="color: #009900; font-size: 85%;">such as searching for new and exotic yarns to smoosh and to buy. Or things.</span><br />
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Munich Airport (<span style="color: #339999; font-size: 78%;">voted <a href="http://www.asiatraveltips.com/news08/199-MunichAirport.shtml">Europe's Best Airport</a></span>), it is <span style="font-weight: bold;">the</span> simplest and least ridonkulous airport into which I have ever, ever flown. <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: #006600;">I may endorse moving here; E should </span></span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: #006600;">be encouraged by many close friends that German will not be </span></span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: #006600;">impossible to learn (ahem). Already, thanks to Dawny, we know not to sing the first verse of <span style="font-style: italic;">Deutschl</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: #006600;"><span style="font-style: italic;">a</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: #006600;"><span style="font-style: italic;">nd uber alles</span>, so we are well on our way to assimilation.</span></span><br />
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On the train into the city, a Portuguese lady made friends with me (<span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="color: #006600;">so that I could help her with her lu</span></span><span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="color: #006600;">g</span></span><span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="color: #006600;">gage off the train, since she had apparently purchased an entire newsagent/grocery store and packed it into her second suitcase</span></span>). She has lived her for 36 years and likes it much better than her time in London. She will be going home for Christmas, and her mother collects magazines for her. She has 25 people in her family for whom to buy presents. She prefers Lufthansa to AirBerlin, and she doesn't approve of EasyJet at all.<br />
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My best decision of planning this trip (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">since I have failed, failed, failed to research either my yarn or beer options on my own</span>) was to elect to not stay at the conference hotel, the <a href="http://www.hilton.co.uk/munichpark">Hilton Munich Park</a>. It is in a park. My Hilton points would have increased, along with my proximity to Platinum level. But it would have been sooooo dull and 20 minutes from the centre! My 'super secret' hotel from lastminute.com is directly across the street from the <a href="http://www.hauptbahnhof-muenchen.de/rw_e6v/main.asp?WebID=hbf_m2&PageID=">Hauptbahnhof</a> (<span style="color: #339999; font-size: 78%;">Central Station</span>), and it is a 5 minute walk to where the ice rink will be and where shops are open (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">but not on Sundays</span>).<br />
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On Sundays, everything is closed. Except shops in the Central Station. The sushi bar there does not take credit cards. You must spend > euros5 in the quick shop or you get glared at until you manage to add enough Snicker bars and gum to make up the difference. Hauptbahnhof Starbucks is the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1zY11FJLZgAXR82x_AdimZfoJizjWBQ9LiyRiTztQQgQpYR8iT_c-1rnr4JBMJcWHfxFEJDc-_ozlFBzlR8OpReIYDFi2GUDRaczoBZiov7Tge17YOZL88iCBO9ieyaUbnMDt9qACw/s1600/P1010016-TrinkCoke(sm).JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406078018773230978" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1zY11FJLZgAXR82x_AdimZfoJizjWBQ9LiyRiTztQQgQpYR8iT_c-1rnr4JBMJcWHfxFEJDc-_ozlFBzlR8OpReIYDFi2GUDRaczoBZiov7Tge17YOZL88iCBO9ieyaUbnMDt9qACw/s200/P1010016-TrinkCoke(sm).JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 175px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 132px;" /></a>speediest Starbucks I have ever seen.<br />
<br />
Upon venturing up out of the subway, the first sign was at least recognisable. It is next to the Starbucks (<span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="color: #009900;">but it does look a little olde</span>r</span>).<br />
<br />
Despite shops being closed, there are loads of people walking in the city on a Sunday, and it seems that Germans, like the French, save Sundays for family. This is such a lovely concept that more of the 'developed' world should adopt, and it makes one not too traumatised to miss one day of manic spending. <span style="color: #993399; font-size: 78%;">Unfortunately, there <span style="font-weight: bold;">is </span>yarn to yearn for...</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhueOr7YtQa2lKXE-LuZKxfnmkSUbo_Jl9xMX6omDOOcY7feGXRJRs0eb-NNITHzhFzeMDisb4L9SVI0hzYNLuyu_RmbYOPtgN3XQkRXKooTOx-rTU0hXd22BOt9agU5vz2UXtFu6GbbA/s1600/P1010087-Bike(sm).JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406078726417689346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhueOr7YtQa2lKXE-LuZKxfnmkSUbo_Jl9xMX6omDOOcY7feGXRJRs0eb-NNITHzhFzeMDisb4L9SVI0hzYNLuyu_RmbYOPtgN3XQkRXKooTOx-rTU0hXd22BOt9agU5vz2UXtFu6GbbA/s200/P1010087-Bike(sm).JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 150px;" /></a><br />
It was approximately 34 minutes after leaving my hotel (<span style="color: #339999; font-size: 78%;">for Sunday </span><span style="color: #339999; font-size: 78%;">constitutional after 3.00am start to day</span>) before the first person asked me for directions. It is slightly less comfortable when you speak <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">nothing</span></span> of the language (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">well, other than 3 numbers and hellos/goodbyes -- not enough time to coordinate appropriate language prior to trip</span>), but the repetition of this phenomenon wherever I go makes me think that my attempts to follow E.M. Forster's endorsement of immersing oneself into the place one is visiting, has relatively successfully developed (<span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="color: #009900;">I cannot locate the precise quote, which makes me cross -- so shall have to re-start reading </span><span style="color: #009900; font-style: italic;">A Room</span></span><span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="color: #009900; font-style: italic;"> w</span></span><span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="color: #009900; font-style: italic;">ith a View</span><span style="color: #009900;"> and </span><span style="color: #009900; font-style: italic;">A Passage to India</span><span style="color: #009900;"> again</span>.</span>). My travel game is to figure out my bearings, navigate shortcuts, and find local shops and restaurants -- basically to see how quickly I can become (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">or give the illusion of</span>) a pseudo-local. <span style="font-size: 78%;">One has to think of something amusing when one is a solo traveller so much of the time.</span><br />
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The medieval section of the city is still delineated by gates, although they <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6cuS7S6x2CdFlp7p_0noq0tC3CrM9VBaghai6r5iliF-Nrmq8SKy8RwcN-1YvFDXj7jVea595S1Kbbd7qB6411GEb4R7Sf7qUE6aRP0Sm0HmJRDMBWMMQbHnsnOroHg-5OP-FzMdDKQ/s1600/P1010021-CityGate(sm).JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406082431365048770" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6cuS7S6x2CdFlp7p_0noq0tC3CrM9VBaghai6r5iliF-Nrmq8SKy8RwcN-1YvFDXj7jVea595S1Kbbd7qB6411GEb4R7Sf7qUE6aRP0Sm0HmJRDMBWMMQbHnsnOroHg-5OP-FzMdDKQ/s200/P1010021-CityGate(sm).JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 150px;" /></a>may be rebuilds since the city was pretty devastated after WWII. The 'Americans' were in charge of rebuilding Munich, and the history lecture by a tourist representative at our conference indicated that this was extremely fortunate since, unlike the other rebuilding forces, they did make efforts to recreate the city as it was. E says, in Britain's defense for its reconstruction strategies in other cities (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">including unfortunate Norwich</span>), that the US was the only country to emerge from The War not fiscally devasted, so their efforts could afford to be cavalier. Either way, the result in Munich is lovely.<br />
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For example, Lisa (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">my New Jersey friend, who works for a London university and who crosses my </span><span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">path quite frequently</span>) and I are not sure that the gates might be one of these rebuilds. The plaque looks old, but the main body of the walls looks new. This newness continues down quite a bit of the main High Street, with only a few obviously old buildings remaining -- e.g., The Rathaus (<span style="font-size: 78%;">to L</span>).<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwZEcEEgsNI/AAAAAAAABQ8/jPilml_2G3I/s1600/P1010067-RathausTower%28sm%29.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="color: #009900;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406083651624546514" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwZEcEEgsNI/AAAAAAAABQ8/jPilml_2G3I/s200/P1010067-RathausTower%28sm%29.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 150px;" /></a>'Rathaus' means 'town hall' and is usually the prettiest building in Germanic cities. Munich's Rathaus clock tower has a ginormous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rathaus-Glockenspiel">glockenspiel</a> (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">the green bit in the photo</span>). It plays at 11am and noon each day, and at 5pm in the summer (<span style="color: #339999; font-size: 78%;">it is no longer summer</span>). <span style="color: #009900; font-size: 85%;">Unlucky friends will be forced to watch my hand-held video of the glockenspiel </span><span style="color: #009900; font-size: 85%;">during lapses in Christmas conversation</span>.<br />
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It is quite fantastic with tilting knights (<span style="color: #339999; font-size: 78%;">with armor and on horses</span>), dancing peasants and other little twirling figures. However, it is slightly dangerous to be a tourist doing an impression of a goose in the rain for this event when the Kristkindlmarkt (<span style="color: #339999; font-size: 78%;">Christmas market</span>) is being set up; the men driving the forklifts are not delicate in their attempts to get on with their work, and you know they must want to just forklift all tourists in the backs of their oblivious little knees.<br />
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It is important to point out as well that this part of Germany takes its identity from its history. They are Bavarians first, hence the reason that the Bavarian knight always wins in the glockenspeil tournament :) The region is the <a href="http://www.germany-tourism.de/ENG/destination_germany/master_tlbundesland-id11.htm">Bavarian Free State</a> (<span style="color: #339999; font-size: 78%;">a remaining privilege from falling on the correct side in earlier conflicts -- the tourist lecture said it was granted by Napoleon, but this is not what </span><span style="color: #339999; font-size: 78%;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bavaria">Wikipedia</a> says</span>).<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwmOUr923_I/AAAAAAAABRI/vHrRLa42te8/s1600/P1010058-MonkOverDoor%28sm%29.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407009313685692402" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwmOUr923_I/AAAAAAAABRI/vHrRLa42te8/s200/P1010058-MonkOverDoor%28sm%29.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 150px;" /></a><br />
The city of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Munich">Munich</a> was (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">according to the history lecture, not wiki</span>) was ruled first by Henry the Lion, who built a bridge over the river Isar next to the Benedictine monastery. He apparently wanted tolls (<span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="color: #009900;">Why else would you build a bridge? The French built one into Wal</span></span><span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="color: #009900;">es..</span>.</span>). This occurred in or before 1158, as this is the first date the city was mentioned in literature. 'Munich' comes from the old Germanic word <span style="font-style: italic;">Monche</span> (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">with two dots over the 'o', but I do not know how to force this into blogger's html</span>), which means 'monks'. The symbol of the city is still a monk, and he is everywhere from drain covers to over doors (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">not terribly easy to see in this picture, but he has cute red shoes!</span>). It is more likely that he is holding a Bible, but if you just glance, it might look like a stein of beer.<br />
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In order to fully appreciate the city's long religious and brewing history (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">and on the recommendation of CAMRA Peter</span>), I located an <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Augustiner_Br%C3%A4u">Augustiner</a> pub off the<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwmUwJortuI/AAAAAAAABRY/HCkI4yDfcXM/s1600/P1010030-FrauenkircheDoor1%28sm%29.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407016382576178914" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwmUwJortuI/AAAAAAAABRY/HCkI4yDfcXM/s200/P1010030-FrauenkircheDoor1%28sm%29.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 160px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 120px;" /></a> main street and had a lovely repast, after visiting the Frauenkirche (<span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">since my 3am start hadn't really inspired much </span><span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">hunger until the smell of lovely snaussages hit my nosey</span>). Its name, Augustiner am Dam, refers to its proximity to the Kirche.<br />
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Due to current building height restrictions, The Cathedral <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwmVQJLm7qI/AAAAAAAABRg/IRw_vJgmmwY/s1600/P1010037-CeilingBosses%28sm%29.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407016932210044578" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwmVQJLm7qI/AAAAAAAABRg/IRw_vJgmmwY/s200/P1010037-CeilingBosses%28sm%29.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 168px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 126px;" /></a>of Our Blessed Lady stands out in the skyline of the city, even after 500 years. The whiteness of the interior gives it an almost sterile atmosphere, but this in no way detracts from its beautiful quietness. Bosses on the ceiling are not as intricate (<span style="color: #339999; font-size: 78%;">nor probably as numerous</span>) as Norwich Cathedral's, but the spans do seem much more regular -- possibly since it is 300 years younger than Norwich's.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwmRXyd_6lI/AAAAAAAABRQ/qT2sTWkyUEY/s1600/P1010078-Weissbier%28sm%29.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407012665505606226" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwmRXyd_6lI/AAAAAAAABRQ/qT2sTWkyUEY/s200/P1010078-Weissbier%28sm%29.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 180px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 135px;" /></a>Bratwurst and sauerkraut is nicely accompanied by eine Weissbier. An interesting fact to note is that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sauerkraut">sauerkraut</a> is not only fabulously healthful, but also apparently as effective as Viagra in its functional benefits (<span style="font-size: 78%;">from a Kings College London study</span>). Not to be rude, but my sausages were longer and thinner than one expected, especially compared to Texas German Bratwurst, although the flavours are pretty similar. <span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">But the beer is <span style="font-weight: bold;">definitely </span>better...</span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwmWnVb75qI/AAAAAAAABRo/OxP-r-BPnko/s1600/P1010079-AugustinerSignWithKircheTowers%28sm%29.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407018430148372130" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KdJqtm6YkQE/SwmWnVb75qI/AAAAAAAABRo/OxP-r-BPnko/s200/P1010079-AugustinerSignWithKircheTowers%28sm%29.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 150px;" /></a><br />
The Augustiner brewery is Munich's oldest independent producer. Beers are sold in .50 l or 1.0 l. One litre is rather a lot of beer. <span style="color: #009900; font-size: 78%;">I only ever had Weissbeir on this trip, but next time adventuresomeness will win out -- as the wiki article has made me regret not having some Helles or Dunkles</span>.<br />
<br />
As it is winter, darkness descends quite thoroughly by 4.45pm, and since my energy was flagging after the early start, I managed to make it through the entire book that was my 'trip' book. <span style="color: #009900; font-size: 85%;">You just can't win -- when I bring 3 books, I don't have the energy to read more than 2.784 pages per night and have hence wasted the luggage weight comparable to a new pair of shoes. <span style="font-weight: bold;">sigh</span></span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-37929115255226613432009-11-10T18:54:00.016+00:002009-11-10T22:47:04.869+00:00CraftinessAdmittedly, the lottery has not come in yet. <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >This is a shame, but not terrifically shocking since I have never bought a lottery ticket in my life.</span><br /><br />And I do seemingly have to continue my attendance at work if my paycheck is to arrive in its monthly manner. <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">sigh</span><br /><br />So, whilst crafting (<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" ><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">NOT to be confused with 'arts and crap'</span></span>) is not yet my prime time-consuming activity, it is indulged in quite a bit -- between <a href="http://www.gupuds.com/">Gu</a> & <a href="http://www.frupuds.com/">Fru</a> puddings [<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >in place of Nutella, I am now using promotional sale specials at Sainsbury's and Waitrose to ju</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >stify my addiction -- kind of like Alcoholics Anonymous with coffee & ciggies... but this is much less odoriferous.</span>].<br /><br />*******<br />As may have been noticed before in previous Making-and-Doing episodes, it is particularly <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrFN1J4-Q2pws4q7STnhKO-UZW4YfDZRcCl4zYbEX6M-ymxhWofwJYBveD5f7HjpNAiNb22EfsQIbEeRy1riEPcc6i4p9JD1NZMbkXS7YxDWg_Bx7I_yuAEZEgEctUe9OwfJvQc0oDew/s1600-h/P1010023-ClareSpins.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrFN1J4-Q2pws4q7STnhKO-UZW4YfDZRcCl4zYbEX6M-ymxhWofwJYBveD5f7HjpNAiNb22EfsQIbEeRy1riEPcc6i4p9JD1NZMbkXS7YxDWg_Bx7I_yuAEZEgEctUe9OwfJvQc0oDew/s200/P1010023-ClareSpins.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402592856956432226" border="0" /></a>pleasant and focussed to craft when Clare comes out to La Village. This generally leads to a fair sense of accomplishment (<span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:78%;" >unless one has not got one's spinning wheel working, and one has to find something l</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:78%;" >ike carding wool </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:78%;" >to look industrious</span>). Clare is always industrious and Makes-and-Does at a remarkable rate (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >as evidenced by her <a href="http://jiva.wordpress.com/">blog</a> and <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jiva/">Flickr</a> accounts and by the blur of all photos of her</span>).<br /><br />After several failed a<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNxDtledLa4TZKOUfPcRT-TcW5ilC7D8iV7oFVLwM-eMGqwhMI96a-XCF0-_QiPbHuwo3e_fi1MuVWgJ0TlBkQC-z9dxTCQiBen8BHKUynx2sqX_q6SG4I6jHkpTdvu8LYsLQCBZ-N2A/s1600-h/P1010021-brakebandholder.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 175px; height: 132px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNxDtledLa4TZKOUfPcRT-TcW5ilC7D8iV7oFVLwM-eMGqwhMI96a-XCF0-_QiPbHuwo3e_fi1MuVWgJ0TlBkQC-z9dxTCQiBen8BHKUynx2sqX_q6SG4I6jHkpTdvu8LYsLQCBZ-N2A/s200/P1010021-brakebandholder.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402593093581396914" border="0" /></a>ttempts at getting my own spinning started once I got my brake band rigged with a champagne cork (<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:78%;" >similar to L, but really not...</span>), it appears that failure was due to my insistence that the wheel go in a counter-clockwise direction. [<span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" >It is supposed to go clockwise... Hence brea</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" >king</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" > of all attempted fibre batts and many leader strands; and much fruitlessly </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" >vociferous berating of wheel.</span>]<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EN3Xwfj8XNXgRclVJ9TuqoFt-xJH61aDyV2h5K4PNalWaT5RU3oPdXfrZUOucQbCMVOBhL2QUHbKakTl_1sjbFe7YGkF8fNXUv64Fo59NNksaeoa8_FOyiHlrCnbtJAo8GyK-Ok96g/s1600-h/P1010025-IAmKnitting(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EN3Xwfj8XNXgRclVJ9TuqoFt-xJH61aDyV2h5K4PNalWaT5RU3oPdXfrZUOucQbCMVOBhL2QUHbKakTl_1sjbFe7YGkF8fNXUv64Fo59NNksaeoa8_FOyiHlrCnbtJAo8GyK-Ok96g/s200/P1010025-IAmKnitting(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402595343690213634" border="0" /></a><br />*******<br />His Lordship also enjoys crafting, and has his own techniques and everything. Generally his assistance involves locating, from the vastness of the couch the precise spot where my yarn ball resides, and planting himself squarely on top of the smooshiness. Occasionally, though, he just commandeers a project. (<span style="font-size:78%;">Whatchu lookin' at, Willis?</span>)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1H_0yyUGyySjOL-AG-WpwnP4A-PJs-VmU1HsSLJxx4I5V7n-syd52_CUVfHKxxce9wl25Cyh8gfVebkoBZpJjXacJJgvLX1AFKQW69bnnWdN_JO7szUz-cUfaUB2AxJhZqr9Hon2_aA/s1600-h/P1010011-greentweedcardigan(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1H_0yyUGyySjOL-AG-WpwnP4A-PJs-VmU1HsSLJxx4I5V7n-syd52_CUVfHKxxce9wl25Cyh8gfVebkoBZpJjXacJJgvLX1AFKQW69bnnWdN_JO7szUz-cUfaUB2AxJhZqr9Hon2_aA/s200/P1010011-greentweedcardigan(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402596568844604482" border="0" /></a>This project, with His assistance, is now finally finished -- about 2 months later than planned (<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:78%;" >frown</span>). The second one (<span style="font-size:78%;">in white</span>) is well underway. It is a raglan pattern knitted from the top down; having never knitted a raglan before, the pattern was simple but everyone at knitting was intrigued at how it would be difficult since they are used to knitting raglans from the bottom up. It is a really fun pattern, and for this second rendition, a method for monitoring cables appropriately and more accurately has been devised.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN7eXaTle5sZoHz1DdUdhZzBoRf490EMRdldwLYSeSk8vHMuln8qq_r2rDExhRi3ib72fp2uKoa6PRIH7nX-MSUmJMV1RkhZT2a901ZNbBwkbzBR2paQvb0fDTSfWGN7yKgd9vYwhRmQ/s1600-h/P1010017-green&whitebooties(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 181px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN7eXaTle5sZoHz1DdUdhZzBoRf490EMRdldwLYSeSk8vHMuln8qq_r2rDExhRi3ib72fp2uKoa6PRIH7nX-MSUmJMV1RkhZT2a901ZNbBwkbzBR2paQvb0fDTSfWGN7yKgd9vYwhRmQ/s200/P1010017-green&whitebooties(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402595349619759906" border="0" /></a><br />*******<br />It may be possible to crochet a wee <span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">green</span> </span>edging on the white version cardi so as to match... the newest booties! Tiny is just sometimes <span style="font-weight: bold;">too </span>much -- <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102); font-weight: bold;">squeeeee!</span>[<span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >This is why i need t</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >o craft full-time. Dang the need for money and </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >responsible behaviour.</span>]<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRK33BbYssjaltIrN8vAbieXTAmZ34l8nI1vACsKiKKqSFFvmEu0bn0SSrQ67iFcZrR9tZmTIwkWCsFw3zm6cdFAnsvDviQVDz5is-vIQ2RtLnkCkRsCHu5sbdXn8Oj6w0DsOq1RN_g/s1600-h/P1010014-teacosy(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRK33BbYssjaltIrN8vAbieXTAmZ34l8nI1vACsKiKKqSFFvmEu0bn0SSrQ67iFcZrR9tZmTIwkWCsFw3zm6cdFAnsvDviQVDz5is-vIQ2RtLnkCkRsCHu5sbdXn8Oj6w0DsOq1RN_g/s200/P1010014-teacosy(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402598158030124770" border="0" /></a><br /><br />*******<br />Dave the Train finally has his small tea cosy... he is reported to have worn it on his head during the final Beer Festival Planning meeting. And another one is now commissioned by Dave. Need to figure out <a href="http://www.rnli.org.uk/">RNLI</a> pattern for this one, as is for Royal National Lifeboat Institution.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHE-8wyAcJs7NP4PUVQPGeJYqLRf8vs121_uqdj10z0R3PY14O_ZwVczuAsj1h3l7rcZjc6VKH92ZIvP08zoLsAgOZ1l99arvX-Lcp5HOWw2XpqFQFHYNZwKsuH2_E7BJ74mlad6PcTw/s1600-h/P1010005-rug-ball(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 182px; height: 137px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHE-8wyAcJs7NP4PUVQPGeJYqLRf8vs121_uqdj10z0R3PY14O_ZwVczuAsj1h3l7rcZjc6VKH92ZIvP08zoLsAgOZ1l99arvX-Lcp5HOWw2XpqFQFHYNZwKsuH2_E7BJ74mlad6PcTw/s200/P1010005-rug-ball(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402600050238577602" border="0" /></a><br />*******<br />And the Big Knitting has been developing, too.<br /><br />First, we started with a large fabric strip ball (<span style="font-size:78%;">created with the Singer assistance of E. He is a much smoother treadler </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kzS3C0UcntLqvoLliUo8DKbCNRweMcp245Zc2cJhs8zgl-EKHJfZwOpiQyLM9NaGt4w_OqvEpYZnp1kVLbUDUAMyAmV3tFhu4KE6FcjTjLDk92tIZ5RpnhjcN5yeDHFy5c7Mi623og/s1600-h/P1010006-rug-beginning(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kzS3C0UcntLqvoLliUo8DKbCNRweMcp245Zc2cJhs8zgl-EKHJfZwOpiQyLM9NaGt4w_OqvEpYZnp1kVLbUDUAMyAmV3tFhu4KE6FcjTjLDk92tIZ5RpnhjcN5yeDHFy5c7Mi623og/s200/P1010006-rug-beginning(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402602385879703746" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">than Herself.</span>).<br /><br />Then we cast on (<span style="font-size:78%;">a little trickier and fiddlier than one would think with materials similar to ginormous crayons</span>).<br /><br />One does not recline on the sofa whilst wielding these implements. Personally, I find it easiest to stand behind sofa using pillows as props for needles ends. If one <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVu2fC1tFHsYIFs1htC7ICM_k_5WltGTrvKao7hCpK_EaicAa7qoPEnrAyye7jhOGeVxXRVe1cgonyhx-9jJF-Ls23H9_0bO2MdS9sG20juTjrf-bCZ3LdVjJQaaid9YIu2fpfjDiDiA/s1600-h/P1010029-rug-progress1(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVu2fC1tFHsYIFs1htC7ICM_k_5WltGTrvKao7hCpK_EaicAa7qoPEnrAyye7jhOGeVxXRVe1cgonyhx-9jJF-Ls23H9_0bO2MdS9sG20juTjrf-bCZ3LdVjJQaaid9YIu2fpfjDiDiA/s200/P1010029-rug-progress1(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402600056014390610" border="0" /></a>happens to be watching a musical of some derivation during creative industrious activity (<span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:78%;" >such as <span style="font-style: italic;">South Pacific</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">The King and I</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Moulin Rouge</span></span>), one can also sing and dance about a little bit and alarm people who may happen to be sat in the room. <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:78%;" >This behaviour generally makes them not want to cause any problems. Although, it would be nine times cooler if the singer/dancer were wearing a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xZp-GLMMJ0">Snuggie</a>...</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqP3VhsNQVB-kT32zZUKSjkqteMs_Wbrg6C3LrFqTsO3XfZ2KWcXtmfqPI5r81IhxbLjwssn5m4W9OXTJYRkfg4XG3XUrub5NpXEjOt-_XKjsUk60GYakP2RdM6QOvi0I4H4-A3NOjaQ/s1600-h/P1010031-rug-progress2(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqP3VhsNQVB-kT32zZUKSjkqteMs_Wbrg6C3LrFqTsO3XfZ2KWcXtmfqPI5r81IhxbLjwssn5m4W9OXTJYRkfg4XG3XUrub5NpXEjOt-_XKjsUk60GYakP2RdM6QOvi0I4H4-A3NOjaQ/s200/P1010031-rug-progress2(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402602161654254594" border="0" /></a><br />Because I decided not to spend my valuable crafting time hemming the edges, there is a great deal of stringiness on the edges, but at the moment, it is pretty cool (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >as it is not currently on a floor</span>) and secondly, i think the strings will be vaccummable and mostly go away if it is ever put <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmr-n5oyqYME1XHcXbfX-O8xQBQjhs7JqE-S6-yukd6WUBBq64TceWiD_m6CUs7l_sFrkcdiKj6JWAWwpVaUnZK3CoF1_ozr_qRNUYcMv0U8zlUxHVoqvaxo_UUWQoWhmM1tM5MeWAA/s1600-h/P1010036-rug-texture(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmr-n5oyqYME1XHcXbfX-O8xQBQjhs7JqE-S6-yukd6WUBBq64TceWiD_m6CUs7l_sFrkcdiKj6JWAWwpVaUnZK3CoF1_ozr_qRNUYcMv0U8zlUxHVoqvaxo_UUWQoWhmM1tM5MeWAA/s200/P1010036-rug-texture(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402603078813208194" border="0" /></a>on a floor. However, the current size of the remaining ball makes me suspicious that this will either be: a decorative pillow cover or a patch in a larger <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY3DV-6e-scexlzzE08uGCjXDr6X3Q3aEc8hyRbOJOO_swdJ0ZGglyt1YtIigxI6x3e7RZSRjkfrTjNGcAnIEk9GLF25j1LSBcGtG8zcd3vtqjwIbZ31LxLNh_zf8jA-_ITnpwe8Zxww/s1600-h/P1010001-corkboard(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY3DV-6e-scexlzzE08uGCjXDr6X3Q3aEc8hyRbOJOO_swdJ0ZGglyt1YtIigxI6x3e7RZSRjkfrTjNGcAnIEk9GLF25j1LSBcGtG8zcd3vtqjwIbZ31LxLNh_zf8jA-_ITnpwe8Zxww/s200/P1010001-corkboard(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402604072884912818" border="0" /></a>patchwork rug.<br /><br />*******<br />As if collecting yarn weren't enough, I have further forced my hoarding onto E in the form of corks (<span style="font-size:78%;">slightly mor</span><span style="font-size:78%;">e understandable to him</span>). He built a frame for me last year, but there has only now accummulated enough to create the finished product!<br /><br />*******<br />And, finally -- it is probably not very good to admit excessive gloating and pride over activity a<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPHbhc7GJq3S7daN2nwSIhLTnSHPqIXmQAE8kzOQWe57Z6LEA-Mkz48XUJ5Hy-qwTRSPLf0u-i4Hc_LOLESZ8yPuL2SXw5nA_zjQlY4ZmR7UlYQIQWndSWowjbN-dM6iREJVopX_CCdw/s1600-h/P1010005-Waxed2(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPHbhc7GJq3S7daN2nwSIhLTnSHPqIXmQAE8kzOQWe57Z6LEA-Mkz48XUJ5Hy-qwTRSPLf0u-i4Hc_LOLESZ8yPuL2SXw5nA_zjQlY4ZmR7UlYQIQWndSWowjbN-dM6iREJVopX_CCdw/s200/P1010005-Waxed2(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402604692426147938" border="0" /></a>t a church. But I am quite elated with my waxing project of the moment at St. Clement's.<br /><br />Only the choir stalls and the back two rows (<span style="font-size:78%;">both sides of the aisle</span>) have been done so far. I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbkbYFl6vhuB0MtrCi3YqLBuMWUZUhosq1d5bT-xvBBgu54LhABS970r-cDxN72llLV6piO9EOu3JCn1Vk9fldvKxP_nfMUvg65lN3cUUUM_DFPe7B9HNdhxspTf8ELthmU7EorHaNQ/s1600-h/P1010006-WaxProgress(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbkbYFl6vhuB0MtrCi3YqLBuMWUZUhosq1d5bT-xvBBgu54LhABS970r-cDxN72llLV6piO9EOu3JCn1Vk9fldvKxP_nfMUvg65lN3cUUUM_DFPe7B9HNdhxspTf8ELthmU7EorHaNQ/s200/P1010006-WaxProgress(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402604794115746562" border="0" /></a>n the photo to R, the floor beyond the heating pipe has not been tackled yet.<br /><br />In L photo, is compare and contrast -- the dull bit is the dry wax prior to buffing. <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" >One really might ought to wear ear protection as the ringing took about 30 minutes to stop on Sunday.</span><br /><br />But now with my clever brushes, let the tackling commence... on Saturday.Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-19112992683377992822009-11-06T18:00:00.003+00:002009-11-07T17:34:36.795+00:00A Witching MoonPerhaps it is not honestly the moon which is making things loony. But perhaps it is.<br /><br />There is postive insanity and then there is just plain vexing stupidity.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />The moon, though, seems to be having an effect on many things, including:<br />* politicians (<span style="font-size:78%;">a continuing saga</span>)<br />* Human Resources personnel<br />* the running of buses and trains<br />* property 'management' companies (<span style="font-size:78%;">also ongoing saga -- nothing to do with moon, but rather hair colour and grey matter</span>)<br />* my hair<br /><br />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 <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-siwl-CqWkQ&feature=related">humour</a> and an eloquent debatory approach (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >which E refers to as <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/">Radio Argue</a></span>) just make my day.<br /><br />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 (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >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.</span>)<br /><br />As it is now Saturday morning (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >I started blog last evening, but was forced away from computer for evening excursion</span>), it is my strong hope that my bus-riding does not go as last week's in which I ran for bus three times (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >with granny trolley and in wellies</span>). The busses were early, I swear. Stopping a bus in the dead middle of the village (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >to great annoyance of other motorists, most certainly</span>) is not recommended, but it is the sign of a kind-hearted (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >albeit grumpy</span>) driver; it was amusing, and completely against Health & Safety, to leap onto bus as it is still moving. <span style="font-size:78%;">And I was gratefu</span>l. And standing in heels for an hour and a half on a late and crammed train is not recommended, either.<br /><br />Also as it is Saturday morning, it is noteworthy that the washing machine is going (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >on what is, if figures are correct, the 8th load of laundry since Tuesday evening</span>). After 2 weeks of ineptitude, our property 'manager' managed to have a washing machine delivered (<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >Sunday</span>) AND finally installed (<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >Tuesday</span>). <span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Jones/Strain genes really particularly useful when services are required from unintuitive creatures</span></span>.<br /><br />Finally, the hair. This was definitely due to the full moon. After months of waffling about bangs (<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >aka, fringe</span>), the scissors came out two weekends ago and approximately 1.5 tentative inches were sacrificed to the Waitrose bin liner. On Tuesday (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >in celebration of washer installation</span>), 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. <span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">No photos as of yet.</span></span><br /><br />*******<br />(<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >This really is an attrociously and not a relaxed- and/or thoughtfully-written piece, but one has to get back into things somehow</span>)<br /><br />Other things that have been going on:<br /><ul><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">32nd Norwich Beer Festival</span> -- E volunteered 114 hours last week. Herself volunteered only 4 evenings, 7.30-10.00. Donations from our hours going to <a href="http://www.anthonynolan.org.uk/">Anthony Nolan Trust</a> (<span style="font-size:78%;">leukaemia</span>) -- same charity as the dragon boat races.</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Craftiness </span>-- this really needs its own blog...</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Great Waxing of 2009</span> -- this is my project of the moment at St. Clement's. Having imported (<span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >in my luggage</span>) 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, (<span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:78%;" >following a great philosophical debate</span>) my new (<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">!</span>) <a href="http://www.wood-finishes-direct.com/products/accessories/brushes/drill-buffing-brushes.htm">drill buffing brushes</a> arrived yesterday; and (<span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:78%;" >after removing the dust which will have accumulated in mediaeval manner over the past two weeks</span>) the waxing shall commence in approximately 1.5 hours! One thing that may shock my American readers -- should any remain -- is that <a href="http://www.colgate.com/MurphyOilSoap/home">Murphy Oil Soap</a> 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. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vr2jEoT8kQc">This</a> is not the Irish ladies, since that one is not on YouTube :(</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">November's First Friday Five</span> -- on which there was knitting and commentary<br /></li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Beginning of Rugby Season</span> (<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >i think there are about 4 rugby seasons per year</span>)<br /></li></ul><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Now must run (</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >in very bad writerly style</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">) so as to make it to bus... <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >because we all know how that goes</span>.</span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-9415301725911427002009-10-11T20:01:00.010+01:002009-10-12T19:11:59.356+01:00Ally Pally!Wow.<br /><br />This is <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">shameful</span>: more than a whole month of silence (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" >literarily speaking, that is</span>).<br /><br />When I told E that a blog was imminent, his response (<span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:78%;" >which received an extre</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:78%;" >mely raised </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:78%;" >eye-brow, resulting in effusive reiterations that 'it was only a joke!'</span>) was 'Oh! So I get a break, then, eh?' [<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" >and that was yesterday, so I figured it best to get off the proverbial backside a</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" >nd attempt to amuse even in the smallest way about at least one recent excursionary activity... <span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">the backside here is proverbial, because it's not like herself has just been sittin</span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">g around. She has far surpassed the 95,000 miles-in-air mark, and she is busy, busy, </span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">busy!</span></span></span>]<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikpCQ0vFZ-W1T4Mt9BBtfbb2cTMy69ZZkNtqCk3woAqZ5Tm6LJkVaarMwoF8KtQ4KPp8iLOmhkQYlTokR-Jk-80b_dA0n8dK4XCcNQAFj5jTg4wBZhxd-jyBEK26POr-E-4WikDM7Qag/s1600-h/P1010179-AP2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 103px; height: 138px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikpCQ0vFZ-W1T4Mt9BBtfbb2cTMy69ZZkNtqCk3woAqZ5Tm6LJkVaarMwoF8KtQ4KPp8iLOmhkQYlTokR-Jk-80b_dA0n8dK4XCcNQAFj5jTg4wBZhxd-jyBEK26POr-E-4WikDM7Qag/s200/P1010179-AP2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391444359354902418" border="0" /></a>*******<br />Our activity on Friday (<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >mine and Clare's</span>) was to excurse with some others <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGyjTrHxR8I70rF1a8PVSNH8yrkI9E8rm4xGYKGDd2este6Y9_hyFN8KcoxutgpAFvxIettDVPIYfWesoUQ1Mk0gIV78HrDy-RiIzIFM0DCiCW0rk9R89tbfhVrjKEDMLJi2bX7HMteA/s1600-h/P1010168-clare,+bear%26meonbus.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 129px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGyjTrHxR8I70rF1a8PVSNH8yrkI9E8rm4xGYKGDd2este6Y9_hyFN8KcoxutgpAFvxIettDVPIYfWesoUQ1Mk0gIV78HrDy-RiIzIFM0DCiCW0rk9R89tbfhVrjKEDMLJi2bX7HMteA/s200/P1010168-clare,+bear%26meonbus.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391445227822667426" border="0" /></a>from the Norfolk Yarns shop and some WI (<a href="http://www.thewi.org.uk/">Women's Institute</a>) ladies to Alexandra Palace in London for the <a href="http://www.twistedthread.com/pages/exhibitions/viewExhibition.aspx?id=19">Knitting and Stitching Show</a>. The <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Hinci7nLfUF6shIFI__1bnQ88vGnVP7HyNbpTy06qLNOdcewZ1QH9L8XVIxlHq_X2uRI2L6MdFWY6_nAy6JJ6XzNldWc4xs1erJ3NhsUQ67zHlelEqU7pnLjtI2zAq-bRLnvyhOaYg/s1600-h/P1010190-AlexandraPalace2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 177px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Hinci7nLfUF6shIFI__1bnQ88vGnVP7HyNbpTy06qLNOdcewZ1QH9L8XVIxlHq_X2uRI2L6MdFWY6_nAy6JJ6XzNldWc4xs1erJ3NhsUQ67zHlelEqU7pnLjtI2zAq-bRLnvyhOaYg/s200/P1010190-AlexandraPalace2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391443562838740258" border="0" /></a>coach, pictured in middle below, left Castle Meadow at 8am (sharp) and made it home around 9pm. <span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">...of course</span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"> Bea</span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">r went... <span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">What a silly question, Auntie!</span></span></span><br /><br />Oh my Lord, one would never imagine that it could be so giddily & completely joyously fatiguing to hunt, smoosh, pet and drool over yarn, silk, buttons, beads, and envy creative people, etc., etc., etc. To put it in perspective: this was not a little car boot sale of Arts&Crap<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_dKUPuiyP5qwycSmHPm6OoH5GNctJ-FMigCG0_JvOgFRk1Y67IiYVGZr8v-Kf1DYQL-ioMbXCUp0si67vwuzS5OJoFv9H3l5WSAC24z-MhJdPnq6zCp4Br9obrMxkOGXLe1XlezGnIg/s1600-h/P1010176-LittleKnittingCo2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 181px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_dKUPuiyP5qwycSmHPm6OoH5GNctJ-FMigCG0_JvOgFRk1Y67IiYVGZr8v-Kf1DYQL-ioMbXCUp0si67vwuzS5OJoFv9H3l5WSAC24z-MhJdPnq6zCp4Br9obrMxkOGXLe1XlezGnIg/s200/P1010176-LittleKnittingCo2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391445229592501650" border="0" /></a> and about 10 times as large as the Ark-la-tex Gun Show (<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">'Sure as shootin', I'll probably see you there!'</span></span>). There was an awful lot of 'sqeeeee' noise-making, as this is how Clare and I communicate a lot of the time [<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >this is something aki</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >n to a squeal mixed with a squeak; generally, a sign of happiness.</span>].<br /><br />It seems more tasteful not to bore with descriptions of every hoarding decision that we made (<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">and safer, t</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">oo. The Holy Bible sa</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQZfyG1bK8zp34yu8EWIxL3aXifqoYLjcoBLC93detPem0uCdBNQaBtzUcRgobn44YRKUVHCX2oItph9Vbb_2Bf7nnJxd0PV-fEIKQ70goh1mkd1wae0hO9uRTJ_6IpMT34y-5wQcFQ/s1600-h/P1010177-clare&ship2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQZfyG1bK8zp34yu8EWIxL3aXifqoYLjcoBLC93detPem0uCdBNQaBtzUcRgobn44YRKUVHCX2oItph9Vbb_2Bf7nnJxd0PV-fEIKQ70goh1mkd1wae0hO9uRTJ_6IpMT34y-5wQcFQ/s200/P1010177-clare&ship2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391443566807701698" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">ys that we should not make our brother (</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >or sister</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">) stumble, and I certainly </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">wouldn't want to cause any readers to sin -- either through jealously or judgementalism over my silk purchases. </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" >Or my yarn</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">. </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >Or the alpaca fleece</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">.</span>)<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">Ahem... </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">anyhoo</span>, it has come to my sociological attention (<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >totally should have taken Soc101 with Dr. Fisch a year earlier</span>), that although knitters are by and large a friendly and welcoming segment of the population, stitchers of other persuasions (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >a lot of them; NOT all. I know some <span style="font-style: italic;">lovely </span>needlepointers</span>) are rude, self-absorbed shrews. It is inconceivable that cute little old biddies (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >and large ones with frizzy hair, who aren't so cute</span>) can charge right in front of one, knocking arm out of aim for what one was reaching; shove frequently past one in an aisle with a shrewdly placed shoulder; ram backwards into one, glare, and refuse to apologise. Shocking behaviour! [<span style="font-size:78%;">and one dares to wonder why rudeness has become <span style="font-style: italic;">de rigeur</span>... if the aged do it.</span>]<br /><br />Also on the sociological note: there were an awful lot of Americans there selling wares... this seems to be a productive route into the UK. A couple from Texas were selling <a href="http://www.buffalogold.net/">Buffalo Gold</a> (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >admittedly their graphics are not so great on the site, and the yarn kind of looks like buffalo chips -- titter -- but the yarn is <span style="font-style: italic;">amazingly</span> soft and smooshy</span>). I do declare; The Colonists seem to be bringing the 'coolness' of knitting to the Motherland! [<span style="font-size:78%;">It even made the Daily Wail -- I mean '<a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1218575/Wool-sales-soar-celebrity-fans-recession-help-knitting-cast-unfashionable-image.html">Mail</a>' -- this week.</span>]<br /><br />H<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi38YHWQb7DfdYPgg5QwYTXL2Yvs-jzBlCaFunIbE4CBbiYVoigqBwXLc4MqQUYiMWEB8I9WNIBP0ej7Vor2S5etG7g5ml_UwDLVxnZZy64Gb-oES3dBiyLo17HFKGvwdmxWaagxpYPpA/s1600-h/P1010172-knittedPicture2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi38YHWQb7DfdYPgg5QwYTXL2Yvs-jzBlCaFunIbE4CBbiYVoigqBwXLc4MqQUYiMWEB8I9WNIBP0ej7Vor2S5etG7g5ml_UwDLVxnZZy64Gb-oES3dBiyLo17HFKGvwdmxWaagxpYPpA/s200/P1010172-knittedPicture2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391445239894398514" border="0" /></a>owever, there was more than enough inspiration to make Clare and myself wonder why the hecks we haven't been able to figure out a way to turn our obsession into sustenance [<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >this is a knitted 3-D 'painting</span>']. We <span style="font-style: italic;">may</span> have figured out a method, though -- there was a definite dearth in spinning accoutrements (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >other than fleece, which we happily hoarded</span>). No, we mean bobbins, lazy kates, wheels, spindles, and those crazy pointy Disney princess hats [<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >well, perhaaaaaps the last item wouldn't sell so well, but as one might ask 'What good is a dinghy if you haven't got a paddle?', likewise 'What good is a truckload of fleeces if you haven't got a pair of carders?'</span>]. <span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">So... think, think, think.</span></span><br /><br /><br />As at ev<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmG4GHEgocDMUJyimj8qrliVu0FUH_Wcctv7_C1p-mXskE7sEv1y5dn6NPRcWKILR_iica6wO6IpxFCKhzqJINxEld9B5mCclN8Fsni8jz6S5yEHNw-0wYdMv-ylGSAgEwXi_zGlPJHA/s1600-h/P10101820LargeKnit2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmG4GHEgocDMUJyimj8qrliVu0FUH_Wcctv7_C1p-mXskE7sEv1y5dn6NPRcWKILR_iica6wO6IpxFCKhzqJINxEld9B5mCclN8Fsni8jz6S5yEHNw-0wYdMv-ylGSAgEwXi_zGlPJHA/s200/P10101820LargeKnit2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391445250570012690" border="0" /></a>ents of this kind (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >or just generally similar to my many previous whims</span>), something caught my eye. <a href="http://racheljohn.co.uk/default.aspx">Extreme Knitting</a>. This is knitting on a LARGE scale. Large doormat-size rugs start at £200 (<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >those are the ones with silk in the mix</span>). Then there are the ones with strips of fabric (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >a fabric ball costs between £7-12</span>). Many fabric balls in a willow basket is an unusual and alluring sight. Oh, there is just so much to knit! I am hooked (<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:78%;" >pun probably intended</span>).<br /><br />M. Townsend <span style="font-style: italic;">had</span> posted this fascinating <a href="http://www.christienmeindertsma.com/">link</a> on my Facebook wall last week, actually; but, my defeatist thoughts had merely turned to self-pity over not having gone to art school and/or dyed my hair purple or blue and/or been Dutch and/or clever and minimalist. But then, on Friday there was a 'Squeeee!' and magically I have developed a slight blue tinge and a smoke-stack on my head: '<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Little_Engine_That_Could">I think I can; I think I can</a>!'<br /><br />Showing the only moments of self control all day, n<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BuW0-s5cjQYrb-ArOfx3mosj1h_A-8bgrutjqwvZbzIKm3F30cGC3zPsAyZgOcfAg3hqBUDXOLkQk2jfD1A2uOkEldIvxv0rzXb5Vi7YLH-o08yBV0SAZ5MdUH3qQ9a7PELmWuJP0A/s1600-h/P1010191-ExtremeNeedles2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BuW0-s5cjQYrb-ArOfx3mosj1h_A-8bgrutjqwvZbzIKm3F30cGC3zPsAyZgOcfAg3hqBUDXOLkQk2jfD1A2uOkEldIvxv0rzXb5Vi7YLH-o08yBV0SAZ5MdUH3qQ9a7PELmWuJP0A/s200/P1010191-ExtremeNeedles2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391443569294255506" border="0" /></a>o needles came home with me (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >the crochet hooks were £12.95</span>); but I happen to know the most wonderful Enabler (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >who also cooks, as evidenced in photo background</span>).<br /><br />E made these this afternoon in less than 2 hours. AND had the added <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxqzH91a_a4CRpoIS6WPVXIF1vY1FWFphpuGyI6VpD4X21TX1itA1wXKOfda_jnNU-TNNhXtu06A-u0lNQMED3zOK2G1G1WYtGL7Pri0IezbtialjW9RT_EDdOnsFUtJf7yn2mU2_NAw/s1600-h/P1010192-ExtremeCrochet2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxqzH91a_a4CRpoIS6WPVXIF1vY1FWFphpuGyI6VpD4X21TX1itA1wXKOfda_jnNU-TNNhXtu06A-u0lNQMED3zOK2G1G1WYtGL7Pri0IezbtialjW9RT_EDdOnsFUtJf7yn2mU2_NAw/s200/P1010192-ExtremeCrochet2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391445246343724178" border="0" /></a>skill and patience to throw a crochet hook into the creative mix as well! [<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:78%;" >I planted some pansies.</span>]<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" >Clare will be so pleased when she gets back from hols in Edinburgh!</span><br /><br />Now, I have the legitimised capacity to start hoarding fabric. Well, no. My plan is to actually knit a rug for the study to cover that <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwXnKUh1Ip1vFM07wPlWM1LFBh8IT-9eoSqiVGZr16U9QKM5iUjCD8ZrqmyzDVZea9dbf9i1Y6t86F0kvadtwLoE9p9LkhT7gQ3tTLJjK41TH2cGi1kLLL4MIWpZMMqVYZte5TVuPn1g/s1600-h/P1010194.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwXnKUh1Ip1vFM07wPlWM1LFBh8IT-9eoSqiVGZr16U9QKM5iUjCD8ZrqmyzDVZea9dbf9i1Y6t86F0kvadtwLoE9p9LkhT7gQ3tTLJjK41TH2cGi1kLLL4MIWpZMMqVYZte5TVuPn1g/s200/P1010194.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391777598298204978" border="0" /></a>hideous carpet. And then, who knows -- £200 doormats by commission...?<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" > An added incentive is, no doubt, toning of triceps -- everyone wins. </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >Hoorah!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Now, I had best get back to my hoard...<br />(<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:78%;" >if one is giddy on yarn spastickisity, this little ensemble looks like a little face with a hat. If you squint a bit, there is a mouth and moustache. Actually, now that I look at it again, he looked better when there was less knitting done.</span>)<br /><br /><br />Will report on auction (Sat) next. Another incredible outing!</span></span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-19963057622958193962009-08-30T18:25:00.004+01:002009-08-30T18:47:02.630+01:00The Repercussions of Yarn BombingAlert readers (<span style="font-size:78%;">or simply those with excellent memories-- since that is what you need to 'follow' my blog lately</span>) will recall that as an indulgence in Worldwide KiP (<span style="font-size:78%;">Knit In Public</span>) Day, several of us tootled around Norwich knitting. <span style="font-size:78%;">Most of us are imports, you see, so we do try to fit in with Normal for Norfolk as much as possible</span>.<br /><br />On this tootle, we further indulged in very mild Yarn Vandalism (<span style="font-size:78%;">if one were unimaginative and mean-spirited and Uriah-Heepish enough to throw such an epithet at amusing and harmless activities</span>). Said Yarn Vandalism involved leaving three balls of wool (<span style="font-size:78%;">with accompanying needles</span>) in two locations. These have been tittered about occasionally since, but none of us had the presence of mind to check back or the idea that anything would have happened to any of them.<br /><br />However, following a <a href="http://www.norwichcamra.org.uk/festival/festival.htm">Norwich Beer Festival</a> planning meeting this past week, Herself received first-hand intelligence regarding the current situation of the ball of wool planted surreptitiously in a drawer in a table <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWUsMi0QMrS7K_QmJ6aKCg2Igh2Vx1c7jaAjFHH6iH3iaV-3zkFPwEhWZBnv056KBblgWG-mBQBuWI781nFWJG2c842zTDnXiKNMtHKVt81yuNuBz6NMqmC0SEDpqNEr-KWCLbPi3Yw/s1600-h/P1010045-KnitBombSetting.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWUsMi0QMrS7K_QmJ6aKCg2Igh2Vx1c7jaAjFHH6iH3iaV-3zkFPwEhWZBnv056KBblgWG-mBQBuWI781nFWJG2c842zTDnXiKNMtHKVt81yuNuBz6NMqmC0SEDpqNEr-KWCLbPi3Yw/s200/P1010045-KnitBombSetting.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375813965591035682" border="0" /></a>at <a href="http://www.individualpubs.co.uk/whitelion/">The White Lion</a>.<br /><br />So, she had to go and verify this for herself (<span style="font-size:78%;">Clare being away from home and unable to accompany as witness, she was forced to take photographic evidence</span>).<br /><br />One can here see the setting of the Yarn Vandalism:<br /><br />And for the knitters amongst readership, a close-up here demonstrates an impressive range <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgsgVqCBvpAUrLvFOA_N3IviZIX_xC9j2eYtKdHi01o7-K6IPus91qMHReMPg60oAh0r3LINrKRvvyc8pGBTs7JSNcKwQDjKmlpnHL236iB5GM1QRmCgCSHc0-sn4q5k-MoVJsnFJmmA/s1600-h/P1010044-KnitBombResult.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgsgVqCBvpAUrLvFOA_N3IviZIX_xC9j2eYtKdHi01o7-K6IPus91qMHReMPg60oAh0r3LINrKRvvyc8pGBTs7JSNcKwQDjKmlpnHL236iB5GM1QRmCgCSHc0-sn4q5k-MoVJsnFJmmA/s200/P1010044-KnitBombResult.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375814187183855858" border="0" /></a>of knitting skills which have followed Wonderland-style instruction.<br /><br />According to one barman (<span style="font-size:78%;">not Ralph</span>), it is reported that one of the knitters was a 19-year-old lad with a mohawk and tattoos. There are very few dropped stitches, and by and large I am impressed.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153); font-weight: bold;">It is time to replenish the yarn supply methinks :)</span></span> (<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >and someone needs to check The Playhouse!</span>)Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-7104258383072366772009-08-30T17:39:00.007+01:002009-08-30T18:23:39.856+01:00Tagine!Even though some people are woefully behind in thank-you notes (<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >b-a-d</span>), lamb chops<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Nz6YAmdr7Vf9WzTRSbrEnBvpvvlSQ4yOF0whyZtyEJom_EkGrtipKH-UKt51MdGR2xD0pGJkwTKyZzJzVnGcl4N4fy74TsF2YNZpAh-QQIAbFnZXEMjkMvPwQBixX1upNmjKWJtY7w/s1600-h/P1010036-Fire.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 119px; height: 159px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Nz6YAmdr7Vf9WzTRSbrEnBvpvvlSQ4yOF0whyZtyEJom_EkGrtipKH-UKt51MdGR2xD0pGJkwTKyZzJzVnGcl4N4fy74TsF2YNZpAh-QQIAbFnZXEMjkMvPwQBixX1upNmjKWJtY7w/s200/P1010036-Fire.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375806124299108546" border="0" /></a> seemed a strong reason to bring out the tagine and give it a go! <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;">Friday was the Time to Do This.</span></span><br /><br />As with all things culinary, E (<span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Himself</span></span>) had a Plan. <span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" >And it was Good</span>!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Nz6YAmdr7Vf9WzTRSbrEnBvpvvlSQ4yOF0whyZtyEJom_EkGrtipKH-UKt51MdGR2xD0pGJkwTKyZzJzVnGcl4N4fy74TsF2YNZpAh-QQIAbFnZXEMjkMvPwQBixX1upNmjKWJtY7w/s1600-h/P1010036-Fire.JPG"></a><br />The <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">beg</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfarhXfcdIWcfOqAhyEUeXWl-jCfU7GnVJLxqk0mRDLHAeVN7hzWyDCFIB5mYP65se7XJ3N9M1ezY1uPzchhHMEgaFdSvwFhr7iKKKpkOxyHhVSpefK-oMmlrMyxXPsM-MpiHEcfVJlw/s1600-h/P1010040-PrepArea.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 162px; height: 122px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfarhXfcdIWcfOqAhyEUeXWl-jCfU7GnVJLxqk0mRDLHAeVN7hzWyDCFIB5mYP65se7XJ3N9M1ezY1uPzchhHMEgaFdSvwFhr7iKKKpkOxyHhVSpefK-oMmlrMyxXPsM-MpiHEcfVJlw/s200/P1010040-PrepArea.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375806443919177298" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">inning </span>involved preparation of Le Fire. (<span style="font-size:78%;">3/4 of a bag of charcoal seemed a bit gregarious, but...</span>)<br /><br />The <span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">Second Step</span> was the preparation of (<span style="font-size:78%;">utilising handy garden table located in bargain section of IKEA -- see, I don't only think of myself when indulging in Swedish-style-organisational-mania</span>):<br /><ul><li>mushrooms</li><li><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfarhXfcdIWcfOqAhyEUeXWl-jCfU7GnVJLxqk0mRDLHAeVN7hzWyDCFIB5mYP65se7XJ3N9M1ezY1uPzchhHMEgaFdSvwFhr7iKKKpkOxyHhVSpefK-oMmlrMyxXPsM-MpiHEcfVJlw/s1600-h/P1010040-PrepArea.JPG"></a>onions</li><li>garlic</li><li>ginger</li><li>bell pepper</li><li>tomatoes</li><li>sliced potatoes</li><li>zucchini/courgettes</li><li>garden herbs (mint, dill, basil, parsley)</li><li>spices</li></ul><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Thirdly</span>, the monitoring.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJRtnMe7Lx-J9lzgP2Ka5dyoMSAFlToY9sjZQyswLOVO5FbOoBfR_M_aMsQGp82mFVB6bDCFMqX7UProd4qjA1QmChsgNSQVZ3gjMqrRajOjaYlZ4ZEPp_9PPk1VlJK3Tl6xMpO2EOg/s1600-h/P1010043-TagineInCoals.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJRtnMe7Lx-J9lzgP2Ka5dyoMSAFlToY9sjZQyswLOVO5FbOoBfR_M_aMsQGp82mFVB6bDCFMqX7UProd4qjA1QmChsgNSQVZ3gjMqrRajOjaYlZ4ZEPp_9PPk1VlJK3Tl6xMpO2EOg/s200/P1010043-TagineInCoals.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375806132986973554" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJRtnMe7Lx-J9lzgP2Ka5dyoMSAFlToY9sjZQyswLOVO5FbOoBfR_M_aMsQGp82mFVB6bDCFMqX7UProd4qjA1QmChsgNSQVZ3gjMqrRajOjaYlZ4ZEPp_9PPk1VlJK3Tl6xMpO2EOg/s1600-h/P1010043-TagineInCoals.JPG"></a><br />*******<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Herself </span>assisted by talking telephonically to entire matriarchal section of family in preparation of non-surprise-pour-Le-Oma on Tuesday (<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >this apparent laziness was mostly due to Chef's dubious judgement regarding her knife-handling abilities, despite 33 years of successful chopping, deboning, and formative part of childhood as a sous-Butcher and Deer Meat Processor</span>). <span style="font-weight: bold;">His Lordship</span> assisted by mewing pitifully arou<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJRtnMe7Lx-J9lzgP2Ka5dyoMSAFlToY9sjZQyswLOVO5FbOoBfR_M_aMsQGp82mFVB6bDCFMqX7UProd4qjA1QmChsgNSQVZ3gjMqrRajOjaYlZ4ZEPp_9PPk1VlJK3Tl6xMpO2EOg/s1600-h/P1010043-TagineInCoals.JPG"></a>nd feet of chef at various moments of crucial cooking activity in attempt to trip person, causing trip to A&E (<span style="font-size:78%;">American translation: 'emergency room' or 'ER' -- smirk. When I first moved here I kept wondering what Arts&Entertainment television had to do with unfortunate incidents and why people always said they had to 'go' to A&E... were the high quality films, or perhaps <span style="font-style: italic;">Actors Studio</span>, going to help the pain in some way?</span>), thereby leaving lamb sustenance for himself.Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-4865555054786075432009-08-30T10:23:00.004+01:002009-08-30T18:24:33.436+01:00Snake!Not a snake as in <a href="http://www.badgerbadgerbadger.com/">Badger, Badger... Snake!</a> but a real, veritable, scaley (<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >and smished-ed</span>) snake.<br /><br />This is the first snake I have seen in the 3 years I have been in Britain. It was slightly alarming as if I had travelled through some space-time continuum, the delirium of cycling up the hill ending not in quaint English countryside as at the bottom but in a Stephen King version of sunny Colorado (<span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" >in this story, the population of zooming Smarty&Fit male cyclists who make pseudo-encouraging comments to wheezing cyclists has been decimated by eith</span><a style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmO9c3KKBAfotJSDKNB0MoJs80Jk0FYqcn5HeUoSaNyTAokqP_CTLR3hXeyqyCU5Vz2BRuv4oDbA_EWj91qE6lGQP_x055LHIdYLwgT42h2cgpFNeUMayEaK-Ns_DiEXS9Pu3mpk3YgQ/s1600-h/P1010027-snake(sm).JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmO9c3KKBAfotJSDKNB0MoJs80Jk0FYqcn5HeUoSaNyTAokqP_CTLR3hXeyqyCU5Vz2BRuv4oDbA_EWj91qE6lGQP_x055LHIdYLwgT42h2cgpFNeUMayEaK-Ns_DiEXS9Pu3mpk3YgQ/s200/P1010027-snake(sm).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375794517143523282" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" >er a plague of locusts or the local zombies</span>).<br /><br />There are apparently three types of <a href="http://www.wildlifebritain.com/britishsnakes.php">snake</a> in Britain (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >I thought there was only one</span>). The Grass Snake, the Smooth Snake and the Adder. The only poisonous one is the Adder. In my skilled estimation, this flattened specimen is/was probably a Grass Snake (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >although it looked like a Rat Snake or Cottonmouth to me at first</span>), but unlike any little old <a href="http://www.wesawthat.blogspot.com/2008/04/snakes-of-northeastern-louisiana.html">grass snake</a> I ever did see before.<br /><br />Rumour has it as well that there are some sort of wierd reptile that looks like a snake but is actually a lizard -- a <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/wildfacts/factfiles/281.shtml">slow worm</a>. <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">Who knew!?</span></span> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anguis_fragilis"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Anguis fragilis</span></a> is a legless lizard -- apparently the top reason for population reduction in suburban areas is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cat"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Felis catus</span></a>. However, our <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Catus</span> <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">blackus</span> seems to prefer furred, pointy-nosed prey. <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" >Or feathered...</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" >*<span style="font-weight: bold;">NOTE</span>: This entry is slightly deceptive, as the snake is nearly two-week-old-news by now. Death Of Snake didn't make the <a href="http://www.edp24.co.uk/content/edp24/default/">EDP</a> (<span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">as far as I know</span></span>) but you never know when they might need a news story... (see <a href="http://bonnieblueinnorwich.blogspot.com/2009/05/movin-to-country.html">Woman Trampled By Cow</a>). Reason for delay in reporting (<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >this time</span>) is a recent spending of 10-12 hours on the computer each day in preparation for a manic work trip and a complete lack of desire to look at, let alone type on, any sort of keyboard object.<br /><br />Added to this is the near constant pain in elbow, shoulder and back from mouse over-usage -- age is catching up, you see. <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-size:78%;" >Am now on NHS physical therapy list -- let's hope it is slightly more 21st century (or even 20th, for that matter</span><span style="font-size:78%;">) than the NHS dental service.</span></span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-5457227831795466702009-08-07T18:02:00.005+01:002009-08-08T08:12:55.644+01:00Fun on a Friday Night(or evening... post-work whatever.)<br /><br />Indeed.<br /><br />It is 6.03 pm. We have the Appletons arriving at 7.00pm (<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >or earlier, as they are quite perfectly punctual</span>).<br /><br />Since Himself had to work until 6 this evening, I cycled today with the optimistic goal or making it home by 5.30, vaccuuming madly, taking shower, fussing with annoyingly uncooperative hair and eyebrows, lighting candles, plumping pillows, arranging post-dinner drinks, feeding repetitive Kitty -- generally being obsessive compulsive and having high blood pressure for a whole hour and a half (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >woo hoo!</span>).<br /><br />However, about 3/4 of the way up that complete b----- of a hill before you make it to the cattery, I realised that, like last evening, I probably didn't have any house keys. [<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >This was after the annoyingly healthy fit man zoomed past me at Mach 3 and in Gear 16, no doubt -- chipperly offering the encouragement, 'You're almost to the top!' as a type of cyclist greeting. If I hadn't been wheezing asthmatically in Gear 1, I would have attempted some smart retort. But as it was...</span>]<br /><br />My premonition was proven true as I dug fruitlessly through all pockets of panniers and various bag-like accoutrements.<br /><br />Fortunately, the side door was open to the alley, so's the bike (<span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">and Herself</span></span>) didn't have to sit by the front door looking homeless and a complete fool [<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >It is preferable to do that online, instead</span>].<br /><br />Have swept the back yard pavements (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >as a half-hearted attempt at obsessive complusion, but it just really wasn't enough to make me frantic. I ought to be hyperventilating by now... alas.</span>), rearranged tomato plants (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >again</span>), talked to neighbors, who weren't sure if it was Angus or Arthur who wandered through the pub today (<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:78%;" >snicker</span>).<br /><br />So, am sat sweating in the back garden, with a black kitty on the table, a dead blue-tit (<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">frown</span></span>) in the grass, and some chips and guacamole (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >made fresh this a.m. and tookened to share with work!</span>). At least it is not raining :)<br /><br />*******<br />.... It is 6.17pm and the back door has just been opened by Himself (<span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">who is now home</span></span>)!<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Let the Obsessive Compulsive behaviour begin.</span></span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3128580484707700760.post-21268603311372366842009-08-05T21:01:00.008+01:002009-08-05T22:08:36.622+01:00ScrumpingTechnically, '<a href="http://encarta.msn.com/dictionary_561507548/scrump.html">scrumping</a>' is stealing, particularly apples from an orchard. However, it can be used casually to refer to general hunter-gatherer activity, and it is this sense in which we indulged in scrumping today<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscmP7STAOIeIfNlMLs-PR9kh6yxJtUiW_i7sToNkWzJlQuB0kKaZb7AEbbYTjvDjuhDzZtNPAHiyty2-YfWhn35HHZwuCN0B2fFyMPjWOpeGJ8Qxr2a0egEdG-Mr0ek1GIwJ4RDREYQ/s1600-h/P1010018-blackberries.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscmP7STAOIeIfNlMLs-PR9kh6yxJtUiW_i7sToNkWzJlQuB0kKaZb7AEbbYTjvDjuhDzZtNPAHiyty2-YfWhn35HHZwuCN0B2fFyMPjWOpeGJ8Qxr2a0egEdG-Mr0ek1GIwJ4RDREYQ/s200/P1010018-blackberries.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366584172051444514" border="0" /></a> (<span style="font-size:78%;">at the instigation of moi</span>). <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" >It comes, no doubt, from being </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" >a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keachi,_Louisiana">Keachi</a> child, and perhaps watching and reading a bit too much <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_House_on_the_Prairie"><span style="font-style: italic;">Little House on the Prairie</span></a></span>.<br /><br />I have been itching to pick <span style="font-weight: bold;">blackberries</span> for weeks, esp. when I am organised enough to cycle to work and greedily look at all the lovely fruit. However, they are more deceptive here than in Loosyanna -- probably because of the lack of traumatic heat -- and are still quite tart until they are plumper than plump.<br /><br />Along the alley that leads to the High Common, there are quite a few <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);">plums</span>; there are <span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">crabapples </span>on several massive trees along the Common; we even picked THREE <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">raspberries </span>in the WILD (<span style="font-size:78%;">very exotic for children from the humid South</span>) when the Traceys and the Irish aunties came for a visit. Then, of course, I am keeping an eagle eye on the elderberries, so I can remember where they are in November. Simply so much scrumping to be done!<br /><br />Naturally, it is most definitely not thievery if one picks tomatoes that have grown in one's garden; but it doesn't really count as scrumping since it is kind of 'planned' vegetable produce, I think. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ajTIOe9eD40g3vLXUCTtYNwjVHUeSQRi137y2q3_v1lzV8AyAeqMQu8S6kQt4YyruQ0fOkhbfN1C1FhQ6UusHy-_MGcLPrn-EPcsm4Z__I9BCVD1XM1Ukt58GutNfz3y2_XZhWEc4Q/s1600-h/P1010002-tomatoes.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ajTIOe9eD40g3vLXUCTtYNwjVHUeSQRi137y2q3_v1lzV8AyAeqMQu8S6kQt4YyruQ0fOkhbfN1C1FhQ6UusHy-_MGcLPrn-EPcsm4Z__I9BCVD1XM1Ukt58GutNfz3y2_XZhWEc4Q/s200/P1010002-tomatoes.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366577526891348850" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" >Consuming 'planned' produce can very loosely be considered scrumping <span style="font-style: italic;">if</span> one happ</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" >ens to be </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:85%;" >visiting someone else's garden and that kind soul lets you nibble on several different little appetizers</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"> (</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >such as rocket leaves, and tarragon, and raspberries</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">).</span><br /><br />We have two ripe <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">tomatoes </span>(<span style="font-size:78%;">finally</span>)! The garden has gone quite nicely this summer, despite being started rawther a bit late. There is still a veritable plethora of green tomatoes, and we have had beans with dinner about 5 times now. I have had weeks of lettuces for my lunch salads, and they are still going strong!<br /><br />*******<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPGlr19JXITAA7ZJGy82_0iTWlwbJThDW2WsdKFFrFp_Q72LIHW_RRoC6i4SgXM-rTQtAaq7mg49wi4beGXUOCv0fSW0y8DImGoENQwLUeW9j59WGupsr4QG61oOtxdsHufPXuOaIzQ/s1600-h/P1010004-BREAD!.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPGlr19JXITAA7ZJGy82_0iTWlwbJThDW2WsdKFFrFp_Q72LIHW_RRoC6i4SgXM-rTQtAaq7mg49wi4beGXUOCv0fSW0y8DImGoENQwLUeW9j59WGupsr4QG61oOtxdsHufPXuOaIzQ/s200/P1010004-BREAD!.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366584408885369746" border="0" /></a>Another activity in which to indulge when one is out and about scrumping, or scoping for future scrumping opportunities, is to feed the ducks on the Common pond...<br /><br />This is always amusing and guaranteed to cheer, even those in the glummest of moods. The rustling of a bread bag (<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:78%;" >or maybe it is the sound of the cycle gears clicking</span>) leads super instantly to a zipping, flapping, quacking migration across the pond (<span style="font-size:78%;">as seen to L</span>). <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" >Because my camera is so blessedly smart, it made me miss capturing the frantic ones who felt the need to fly the extra 10 feet. </span>*sigh*<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjroo9zz4c-mxYYDDJgKYv-NWJqBZO343AChAFuNmESJ7zjA5pEBLUBU2fdFbgEYlrQCUmJ12PElDL5HRPZHZ6UI8V3hgQMVqvcbzTxQ3-vUwTMkIe-31_7lg7NhFZEghep9lu5MV60RQ/s1600-h/P1010009-ducks+chickens.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjroo9zz4c-mxYYDDJgKYv-NWJqBZO343AChAFuNmESJ7zjA5pEBLUBU2fdFbgEYlrQCUmJ12PElDL5HRPZHZ6UI8V3hgQMVqvcbzTxQ3-vUwTMkIe-31_7lg7NhFZEghep9lu5MV60RQ/s200/P1010009-ducks+chickens.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366585549708782706" border="0" /></a><br />However, today's feeding of the ducks was more amusing than average when an additional odd clucking sound began and 4 chickens em<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPF0DVgmrVpYIOGze5hxKscqmUDtDW0bMnxW0i_7EWRc_jseSF0vYWLP8StecYvgQqw19uzr6xM9ZbrKc4H6VqxZoKwACGAaaOqwvQ1_DBsVdK-D40lZAxUYMtEJIvz2AHLhqM8qBvg/s1600-h/P1010012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPF0DVgmrVpYIOGze5hxKscqmUDtDW0bMnxW0i_7EWRc_jseSF0vYWLP8StecYvgQqw19uzr6xM9ZbrKc4H6VqxZoKwACGAaaOqwvQ1_DBsVdK-D40lZAxUYMtEJIvz2AHLhqM8qBvg/s200/P1010012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366587712634034770" border="0" /></a>erged down the muddy bank and decided they were interested in this frenzy of duckish activity as well.<br /><br />Approximately 2 minutes later, as the bread supply was decimated, two tiny kittens with festive collars emerged from the trees by the bank as well, boldly and blithely meowing at certain people! The chickens chased them onto the road (<span style="font-size:78%;">a<span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">nd one poor kitty had perhaps had its eye damaged by a chicken talon</span></span>), which leads me to suspect that chickens would be safe here as they would be perhaps able to bluff the locals of the black feline persuasion...?<span style="font-size:78%;"> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Hmmmmm...</span></span>Bonnie Blue in Waleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13890164048430533229noreply@blogger.com2