Category: old blogging

If things go as well as I hope they might, then I may just get to be in an even better mood than I already am at the moment. I’m not prepared to say any more than that at the moment, because I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch, but things are, as they say, looking up.

Bad day: yesterday my brother dropped something onto a can of luminous yellow spray paint that was in his car. The can ruptured. The inside of his car and everything in it is now covered in yellow paint.
Moral of the story: do not carry cans of yellow spray paint in your car without making sure they can not be damaged.

Barnham now has a speed camera – the most exciting development in the village since the arrival of the cash machine at the NatWest. Be still, my beating heart.

What is it that sometimes provokes us to remember things from yesteryear? I remembered an incident the other day which occured when I was around six or seven. I was on holiday with my family in Norfolk. We were staying at a cottage that belonged to a neighbour in Swaffham. On this particular day, we had gone to the market in the town (we led adventurous lives) and I was fascinated by the huge array of wares on display. I’m still fascinated by markets now, and could quite happily spend hours wandering around somewhere like La Boqueria (and have done so).
I stood before a particularly large stall which was weighed down with every variety of nut, bolt, screw, nail and other fixing you could imagine (where are stalls like that now? all you get these days is old tat). I was utterly transfixed by this. As I stood there, I reached out and took my father’s hand, and stared at all the boxes of steel, iron and brass.
I must have been like this, mesmerized, for three or four minutes, not letting go of Dad’s hand. I noticed someone close by was laughing, and turned to see that the hand I was holding wasn’t Dad’s, but was that of a older man, a total stranger, who was smiling at me. His wife was standing next to him saying something along the lines of “How sweet!”.
Panic. I looked round and couldn’t see my family, so started running in the general direction of the cottage where we were staying. And then I heard my Mother’s voice calling my name and ran towards them. I was in tears by this point and blathered some gibberish about “you weren’t there, and there was this man, and .. and..”
Mum produced a nectarine from a bag (I’ve always loved stonefruit) and I was soon appeased. I was angry they had walked off without me (they insisted they had called after me).
Looking back on it, wasn’t it good that you could let a child out of your site in a crowded place, and be pretty sure that no harm would come to him/her. Of course, plenty of children did have a terrible fate befall them in that sort of circumstance, but it probably didn’t cross my parents’ minds that such a thing could happen to me. Today, most people I know who are parents would be terrified to think that their child was somewhere like that and alone. That’s a sad reflection on life today – not so much that these horrible things happen (I’m sure they are not a new thing, merely better reported), but that we fear them so much.

I’m actually in a brimmingly good mood this morning, in spite of the fact that it is grey and miserable outside, and that I know I’ll have to work through until around 9 or 10pm today. Fingers crossed that this continues.

Time for a disclaimer methinks:
contrary to any rumours that may or may not be circulating, Robyn and I are not an item. Never have been, are not, will never be. Very good digital friends, yes. Item, no.
And incidentally James, don’t you think that “you could do worse” is a bit of a lame compliment to Robyn?
As an aside to that, all single girls reading this should note that, unlike the aforementioned orbynmeister, I *am* single *and* looking. apply here.

not had much to say today, but one thing I wanted to record yesterday (but didn’t) was this:
announcement heard on train on way to work:

Littlehampton – a place for which there is no suitable adjective. Unless you can come up with one.

TPL update: a mediocre 25 points taking me to 733 in total.

wish list for today’s budget:
– dramatic cut in income tax, say by 10%
– make CDs zero-rated for VAT
– cut tax on beer and wine by 50%
– extend tax rebates to all single people, especially those who live in one bed flats
Of course I believe in prudence, so I’d pay for all this by cutting all expenditure on ministerial salaries. I’m sure that with a manifesto like this, I’ll be swept to power in a landslide!

I don’t mean to start a rush or anything, but I was in Waitrose here in Chichester earlier – and they have had a delivery of (whisper it) meat. So now have stocks in the fridge of beef and gammon. Nice. I’ve also picked up a great recipe card from Waitrose for chicken in wild mushroom and champagne – sounds delicious and very healthy apparently. Just need someone to cook it for (serves two!) – any volunteers? You will, of course, have to fulfil the usual criteria.