2014 Is Coming To An End -

- and 2015 is about to begin. One year ends and another starts.
     Round and round and round it goes, etc. etc.

I only have a few resolutions, but they are important nonetheless.

Here they are (for better or worse).

~~~

1. I aim to get myself and my body under control. 
     I shall never be thin (nor, since my late teens, have I ever wanted to be), but I should be a hell of a lot healthier than this.
     I know, I know; heard it all before, etc. etc. But this time is slightly different. This time various circumstances have conspired and it has become imperative that I get lighter. The weight that my body finds happiest (as I've no doubt mentioned before) is around 15 stone, so my goal is to gradually lose it over the next year or more.
     Obviously a lot of changes are going to have to be made, but the plan to begin with is to simply cut out the binging and snacking between meals to allow my body to recover itself a bit, then see where I am and go from there. Mother has helped me to come up with something to help me function day to day, to make things easier. And for added incentive I have something planned as a reward for when I finally reach the magic number; something that I have wanted to do for years something that until I am under 16 stone is out of the question.
     So we'll see. But it really has become imperative. Watch this space.

2. I aim to finish one of my stories.
     If I can't pick myself, I shall draw a title out of a hat. I just want to FINISH something. Anything. Even if it is no good (my family/friends insist they are, but they of course are biased), I want to finish something. To achieve something. Even if it isn't that much of an achievement to anyone else, it would be to me.

3. I aim to make more of my time off.
     This should be self evident, but it's something I have been struggling with.
     IReally. I need to enjoy my free time. Savour it, make the most of it, rather than spending it worrying and brooding over stuff that I can't change (to do with work, particularly). When I can afford it I shall be visiting nearby museums and having a nose around - on my own. I tried going on a guided tour a few months ago and while the tour guide was excellent and the talk was fascinating, I didn't enjoy it as much as I thought I would. I'd rather do things my own way in my own time - and when I can't I intend to keep myself busy walking Bingo, writing and crafting crappy looking dog toys.

4. I aim to try and take note of anything I might see, hear or feel that I can be thankful for, at least once, every day. 
     Self explanitory.
     A sort of 'count your blessings' thing.

~~~

Well, that's it. Just four. Surely I'll be able to manage just four??

So, anyway! A Happy New Year and blessings to all.

.....2015 is going to be a GOOD year.....

Bingo Spent A Full Twenty Minutes This Morning Wrestling Madly In The Mud With An Obliging Husky Named Harvey.

Then we had breakfast and he got to share a bit of mine.
     He is now stretched out in front of the fire, dead to the world and snoring loudly.
     This afternoon he shall be visiting The Grandmama, during which (gorgeously unsuitable) food and loving affection shall be showered upon him.
     Then another walk.
     Then a DentaStick.
     Then bedtime and a nice long sleep dreaming pleasant dreams about squirrels and meatballs and chicken drumsticks and fresh heather and rotting leaves and muddy streams and obliging Huskies named Harvey.

Today is a Good Day.

..... I'm guessing he's going to ache a bit tomorrow, though.....

Alice x

Just A Heads Up:

If you happen to be sat enjoying a sandwich and a good book in a Subway Cafe, and happen to do an involuntary giggle-snort due to the hilarity of the story you are reading, and there happens to be a foursome of (stick thin, bored and sullen looking) teenage girls sat eating at a table nearby, your involuntary giggle-snort may very well elicit an extremely angry and disapproving glare from each and every one of them.

And to also warn you; if in response to the glares of said teenagers your reaction is to summon forth a second involuntary giggle-snort, that (surprisingly) probably won't be well received either.
   
..... There you go.
     Your day is complete now that you know that, isn't it?
     I thought it would be.

Alice x

Well.....

..... An official meeting was held today to discuss the proposed 'Lean Cleaning' plan.

The outcome is that my hours are not going to be cut. They are to be vastly altered (three days I will be working a six hour shift from 6-AM and other days a four hour one starting at 12-NOON) but they are not going to be cut.
     There will also be vast changes in the structure of daily tasks, which are going to be finalized within the next few weeks (to be printed out on special individual "task cards"; one per cleaner) with a view of bringing in Lean Cleaning officially by 22nd December of this year.

I have no clue how this is going to work. The resulting effectiveness of cutting some jobs out completely (considering that nobody else will bother doing them and that with an overall drop of four hours per week we will no longer have time, nor the permission to reclaim them even if we did) is doubtful; as is trying to clean the store during the afternoon when the store will presumably be choc-a-block with customers.

BUT:
     My hours are staying at 30.
     And I will have clear, consise instructions to follow that (no matter how silly, counterproductive or inconvenient they may be) no Store manager will have the authority to argue with.
     And I should have a proper conrtact signed and sealed by 22nd December.

.....That'll do me.....

Alice x

It Beggers Belief That I Am Having The Opportunity To Do This Twice In One day, But -

- ladies and gentlemen!
     Allow me to present; the second instalment of Alice's List of What Not To Do.

WHAT NOT TO DO, NUMBER 2:

When one is walking across a public field (that has members of the public both on it and nearby) and one comes across a hefty branch that one decides to pick up and throw for the dog, one would be advised - after picking it up and feeling its weight - against uttering the phrase "Wow! This would make a great murder weapon!"
      And to add; one would be definitely advised, if one absolutely insists upon uttering said phrase, against uttering it loudly.

=spreads hands=

..... WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME!? .....

Alice x

To Distract Myself From All The Upset That Is Invading My Nice, Boring Yet Endearingly Quirky Little Life Right Now, I Bring You -

- Alice's List of What Not To Do!
     Whee!

=crowd cheers=

OK. =clears throat=  Here we go.....

WHAT NOT TO DO, NUMBER 1.

     When one has been stood at an ATM machine in what is known as a 'rough' area of town for an admittedly disproportionate amount of time (it was the machine's fault, though; I swear!) and the much taller-and-stronger-and-meaner-looking-than-you-are woman behind one finally gives up on sighing pointedly and flat out tells one in a very angry tone of voice to "get the fuck on with it, already", the correct response for a coward (such as one is) to undertake is
     a) either with a meek apology or in cowed silence; cancel transaction and collect card before hurrying away
     or
     b) either with a meek apology or in cowed silence; rush through transaction as quickly as possible before hurrying away

Those are correct responses.
     An INcorrect response for a coward (such as one is) to undertake would be to blithely sing in a sweetly confident voice the well known adage that "patience is a virtue".
     .....Definitely.
     That is incorrect. More than incorrect, in fact, it is wrong.
     This is something that you definitely Should Not Do.
     Ever.

So! Guess which one of the above I picked?
     .....Yeah.
     Go me.
     Smart little coward, I am.

Alice x

How To Cheer Alice Up Instantly:

As you scan through the bottle of intoxicating liquor she is going to purchase, ask her (who is 30) for identification to prove that she is over 21.

.....The End.

Alice x

Another Letter:

{WARNING: there will be profanity. A lot of profanity}

Dear Customers of The Store;
     Today is 11.11.14.
     You may not be aware of this - though, frankly; HOW? - but every year, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, the the majority of Britain grinds to a halt and stands in silence for two minutes.
     The reason we do this is to pay our respect as a country to the hundreds, thousands, hundreds upon thousands of men (most of them between 18 and 23) that lost their lives in two world wars. More than that, it is to pay respect to everybody that played a part in either of the wars at all, however small. And it is to pay respect also to those men and women that are in the armed forces currently; risking - and in still too many cases, losing - their lives for the sake of a greater good.
     That is what the gap between 11:00 and 11:02 on the 11th of November stands for, for us as a nation. Respect for the dead. OUR dead.

You, today, at 11:00 on the 11th of November, happened to be in The Store shopping for various building supplies.
     Let me repeat that. BUILDING SUPPLIES. Not emergency medical supplies. Not food to feed a person about to pass from starvation or a diabetic on the verge of a coma. Building supplies. Bricks, planks of wood, quick dry cement...those are the things The Store sells. Not life or death necessities but useful, indeed even often very much needed items, to assist with the building things or the mending things already built that are broken. That is what a DIY stores' function is.

So! Now that the above has been clarified; to those of you that ignored the three announcements made over the loud speaker and then ignored all of the people that stopped whatever they were doing bang on 11:00 and stood or sat to attention, deciding instead that not only would you carry on shopping but that you would actually have the gall whilst doing so to become angry with the nearby members of Store staff for not jumping to it like good little retail slaves and starting an in depth conversation about dry walling (or whatever it was) and worse, make snotty comments towards the poor girl manning the self-service tills that was forced to ring up your purchases without speaking, I have a message for you:

FUCK YOU.

Seriously. Fuck you and your selfish, disgusting display of ignorant arrogance. OK, you didn't wish to observe the two minutes' silence; that's your choice. I disagree with it entirely, but it is your choice to make and I respect that. Really, I do. We live in a free(-ish) country after all (thanks in part, by the way, to those same fallen soldiers that everybody else was so busy remembering) and making such a choice, while unpleasant, is indeed your right.
     But what you do DO NOT have the right to do is to try to force others to abandon the path they have chosen simply to save yourself a wait. Really, you don't.
     It isn't even that long a wait! It is two minutes! Your shopping/question/life-or-death errand/what-the-heck-ever-else was delayed today by only two fucking minutes! Was it that big an inconvenience to you?? Was it truly that big a deal?? Grow the fuck up!

Listen, it's quite simple; if you simply HAVE to save yourself those ever-so-essential 120 seconds and drag your ignorant, disrespectful self through the self-service tills of a DIY store, then I can't stop you. But please, for the love of God, if you feel you must do it then kindly do it QUIETLY.

As I said; I can't stop you doing whatever the heck you want during those two minutes.
     But I can hate you for it. And judge you. And you can bet your sorry excuse for an arse that that's exactly what I did.
     And so did everybody else.

Yours, utterly appalled,
Alice.

As Of This Evening, We Have A Properly Carpeted Living Room.

It is lovely.

Thank you. That is all.

=bows. walks off=

Alice x

Due To A Bright Idea I Had Some Time Ago -

- I've just wiled away a couple of hours stitching together a toy for Bingo using some old socks, a recently purchased squeaker (£5.99 for 50) and some stuffing from inside a disused pillow.

A good idea, in theory.
     The problem is that now I've actually finished I find that two and a half hours have passed, I have destroyed 3 old socks and stitched my way through yards of thread, and the end result is.....ugly.

Very ugly in fact.
     Ugly as sin.
     .....I mean I knew it probably wouldn't look especially great. I knew that. But.....


=sigh=

A skilled seamstress I am most definitely not.
     Still. Bingo will like it.
     So t'was all worthwhile and I shall feel very pleased with myself when I give it to him.

.....He WILL like it, right?
     I mean, dogs don't care about how things look, right? Of course not; they don't care about things like that. He'll just like it because I've given it to him. A toy from Mommy. He'll love it. Of course he will.
     Right?
 
.....It will smell of me. He'll like that.
     Plus it squeaks. I know it does because I've checked. Several times now.
     He'll love it.

.....Right? Right??

Alice x

UPDATE: having returned from visiting The Grandmama at 2:45-PM, Bingo was presented with the toy (affectionately christened "Thingy").
     Thirty-three minutes later, he is still playing with it with a rapt and thus far careful attention.

.....Safe to say, I think; he loves it.

Witches and Wee-Wee and Wormholes, Oh My!

WITCHES:

We sang a few new operatic choruses in rehearsal this week (Thursday, that was) that are to be included in the concert in November.
     One of them was The Witches Of Macbeth, during which for the first time in my life - or at least the first time to my knowledge - I sang out alongside the other 2ndSopranos in a suitably grating and cackly voice that "I cut the boar's throat" and "we cursed a sailors wife, a-grieved she will be".
     Needless to say, we gave it all we'd got.
     You have to, with words like that, haven't you?

WEE-WEE:

A couple of days ago in the garden while Bingo faffed around as he always did to avoid doing what he knew he'd come out there for, I got fed up and yelled up to him that I was freezing and damp and if he didn't get a move on I would feed the treat waiting in the kitchen for him to the cat.

"NO WEE-WEE, NO SAUSAGE," I bellowed, crossly; "I MEAN IT!"

Upon hearing this threat, Bingo pulled his socks up and immediately set about doing the necessary, and I felt triumphantly satisfied..... until I happened to glance across to the right and saw my next door neighbour stood at his open door, staring at me with wide and frightened eyes.
     ..... oh. .....
     There was only one thing to do, so I did it. I beamed a big friendly smile, bid him good day, told Bingo he was a good boy and sailed back into the house with my head held high to hand over the promised sausage.

=SIGH=

WORMHOLES:

Last night - in the midst of a complicated and terribly exciting magical plot involving the cast of the TV show Friends - I dreamt that I while I was running I was suddenly sucked into an underwater wormhole and pulled apart into millions and millions of little pieces of sparkling energy, blown about all over the universe and allowed to float above many interesting looking scenes before being sucked back rapidly down and down and down and in and in and in until I had been forcibly squeezed and shaped into myself again, upon which I continued running as though none of the above had happened.

.....no. I don't know why, either.
     It was interesting though.


Alice x

This Week Hasn't Been Great.

We received a newsletter (.....is that supposed to be all one word?.....) from the company that our old company has been merged with, and amongst the usual observations of good/bad and little supposedly uplifting titbits regarding things going on within the company, the ominous phrase of "upcoming changes to streamline the service into a state of lean cleaning practices" had been nonchelauntly slipped in.
     Now, to explain this to those not familiar with modern managerial jargon, that is Yuppie Speak for "we are going to mess around with the hours of low level staff".
     Worried, Supervisor rang Area Manager and left a message, and today she finally rang back. There ARE going to be "changes", she admits, but she has no idea what these changes will be. There has been talk of bringing back the afternoon shift and moving one member of morning staff onto it. There has also been talk of possibly cutting back "where applicable". But the bottom line is, she doesn't know - or says she doesn't - for certain.
     There are meetings going on, apparently, for the next week or so to decide what if any alterations are going to be put in effect.
     Until then, we are just going to have to sit tight and wait.

I received this news today.
     A few days ago I received news that the headteacher of the school my mother spends 99% of her time at is leaving and is likely to be replaced by the current deputy headteacher; a woman that nobody at the school likes and who has made it clear on more than one occasion that she in turn doesn't rate anybody else there either, my mother included.
     This means that once she takes over - if she does - at the beginning of the Spring Term, the regular bookings the school provides will possibly, probably even, dwindle. If indeed they don't stop altogther.
     Mother is an absolutely superb teacher, and very popular; on that score her reputation is assured. But due to one school monopolizing her time to the point where nobody else can get a look in, the majority of the other schools she used to attend - all but one, actually - have stopped phoning. And who can blame them? Every time they rang, no matter how far in advance, her calender was booked, and always at this one school; it is hardly surprising that she is no longer top of their list. Or even on the list.

So! To sum up: my work is under threat of losing hours and mother's work is under threat of stopping altogether.

.....damn, blast and buggeration.

Alice x

I am 30 Years and 7 Days Old Today;

"How does it feel to be 30?" I hear you ask.
     Well, not all that different, I reply. And due to the way my mind works, I believe it will probably remain that way, no matter how old I get. Be I twenty, thirty, forty, ninety; I will still feel between six and ten years of age inside, depending on the day.

"Did you get any nice presents/cards/Etc?" I hear you ask.
     Yes indeedy, I did, I reply. I received a plethora of particularly beautiful cards with particularly nice messages inside, a long chained necklace with a colourful metal toucan shaped pendant - I have named him Jean-Claude - a delectable miniature wooden music box that plays "Waltz of the Flowers" when wound up, an owl keyring (it is well established that I have a thing about owls. When in doubt, family and friends know, go for an owl) that I have attached to my long suffering shoulder bag, a dear little doggy notebook (including a collapsible pen) and money. LOTS of money. Enough money that I have not only had a meal out at pizza hut (yes, again) and a visit to the SeaLife Centre (there were penguins!), but I also treated myself to a strong shopping bag worth of second hand books and this morning have had a merry time ordering fun-but-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things-unnecessary things on Amazon that should be arriving within the next couple of weeks.
     AND THERE IS CHANGE! Only about 3p, but still.
     Loved and spoilt am I...

...Speaking of being loved; I have three very dear and close friends that I love very much. And they love me very much in return, I know they do. But...I'll be damned that not-a-one of them remembered my birthday this year.
     That's right. None of them.

=shakes head ruefully=

See, this is what happens when life won't leave you alone enough to think; everything that isn't immediately urgent and in your face goes to the wall.

"Aren't you all hurt and miffed that they forgot??" I hear you gasp.
     Meh, I reply; not particularly. I was/am amused more than anything. Much grovelling has ensued from Best Friends 1 & 3 and I anticipate some more when Best Friend 2 finds out as well (which she will when she reads this). But no, I'm not hurt at all. It's just one of those things. The process of living Everyday Life takes over and sometimes things, even things involving people you really really care about, slip into the background and blend in so well with the surroundings that they are missed.
     ...Anyway, everyone that has ever been in my company for more than a few minutes knows that I can't claim any sort of moral high ground on this subject, at all. Dates are one of the things I am irredeemably hopeless with (another being directions). I'm not sure why, but my (admittedly emotively chaotic mess of a) brain just doesn't seem to be wired to cope with them properly; I get them mixed up and muddled and as as a result complications with varying consequences ensue.  I get the month right (.....well, generally. ......well, sometimes), but somehow the day ends up meandering around in a daze not knowing where to land, or in many cases simply wanders off in a daze to be forgotten about all together, leading to an awkward conversation that starts along the lines of "...your birthday: I know it is in June, but...?"
     And as to simply letting the date slip by completely unnoticed, well, I have done that too, to each of my friends at one time or another. Best Friend 2's had come and gone by over a month this year before a little panicked light bulb blinked on and yelped "WHOOPS!" (though in my defence; dad had passed away only a few weeks before and everything was a bit of a blur).

So I don't mind, not a bit. It's just that this is the first time that all three have forgotten at the same time, is all.

=grins=

Still. T'was a fun birthday, so t'was.

I am a lucky, lucky girl indeed.

Alice x

Please Forgive Any Mistakes: I Am Not Used To This Keyboard And Also Rather Drunk...

Today has been One Of Those Days.

To start: I had a bad nights sleep.
     No clue why.

THEN: due to people being off sick, my shift was incredibly hard and left me exhausted, filthy and drenched with sweat. Added to that; it was one of those days when no headway could be made no matter how hard you tried.

THEN: I wasn't able to vacuum the living room because the decorator had just finished and all the skirting boards were tacky, and not being able to vacuum always sets my teeth on edge.
     (no insulrt intended toward you, Martin Meese: you are utterly brilliant and rock immensely).

THEN: I wasn't able to have the nap I tend to have to counteract difficult shifts because I was due at SENSE for 3-PM.

THEN: while at SENSE an incredibly difficult and moany customer came in and I had to deal with her for the best part of 40 minutes.
     (for the most part that is. When things began to really descend into sucky choas, I admit I passed the buck and passed her off to make her utterly stupid and unreasonable demands to the Manager. But even then I still had to deal with her at the same time).
     (and although this does not in any degree reduce her suckiness, she DID purchase £68.43 worth of stuff, which in a charity shop isa pretty immense achievement).

THEN: we found out that The Grandmama and Aunt2 had had an argument over The Grandmama's habit of allowing herself to dry slowly post shower rather than rub herself dry vigorously and quickly with a towel. 
     Said row has left Aunt2 cross and The Grandmama miserable.
     .....and me (impotently) furious.

THEN: upon returning home from walking Bingo, our Next Door Neighbour On The Right latched onto us anxiously. Toby - an eight month old and adorable, if slightly hyperactive, Westie puppy - had run away in a fit of excitement and disappeared into the dark.
     .....20 minutes of frantic searching later he was discovered hiding in an impossibly small space in a thicket, frightened and subdued but otherwise unharmed. But it left us frazelled.
     .....and to add; I pity the poor bloke if he is ever forced to confess to his girlfriend - Toby's 'mommy' - what he carelessly very nearly allowed to happen to her beloved baby..... =shudders=

THEN: mother got into an altication with the till assistant working in our local Tesco Garage after a misparking incident (during which no innocent onlookers or petrol pumps were harmed) caused our petrol pumping session to 'time out', which left her paying a £2.40 bill for 1 and a half litres worth of petrol and storming off.l
     It took her 15 minutes to calm down (mother that is, not the till assistant) after that.
     (.....and that was with 'relaxing' breathing exercises).

THEN: our deceptively tiny shop  (admiteddly comprised of expensive-ish things. Including the drink I have just gratefully consumed) came to £40.23.
     .....and that was WITH two money saving coupons.
     .....mother went pale. Our usual 'huge and expensive' shop (which includes really pricey things such as butter and washing tablets) generally comes to no more than £55. We had a basket worth of items.
     .....ouch.

THEN: we found that our Morcambe and Wise Christmas Special DVDs will not work in our semi-broken television set.
     Which is why I am up here now watching QI with my homemade Cherry V's and mother is downstairs with her homemade Cherry V's watching whatever it is she fancied putting on.


So! That was my Friday.

.....Today has been One Of Those Days.....

Alice x

    

Upon Picking Up A DVD Case To Take A Look At The Back -

- I unintentionally, somehow, managed to jolt the dog from the depths of his peaceful, happy slumbers into the world of the rudely awakened.

...Boy. If looks could kill...

Alice x


15 MINUTES LATER:

I just did it again! Picking up a glass!

...Look, it's not my fault, OK? For some unfathomable reason he appears to have become a light sleeper...

The Good, The Bad And The Good (Again)

THE GOOD:
     I have experienced many fantastic wildlife sights over the past few weeks, including; a buzzard hunting pigeons, a close up of a dragonfly (they are so fascinating!), bats hawking for insects at dusk, a brief (very brief) glimpse of a shrew, two robins engaging in an impressive aerial battle and a group of angry moorhens seeing off a swan.

THE BAD:
     My birthday is coming up.
     This is the first birthday since dad's death. Birthdays and Christmas were the two times of year that contact always happened, no matter what. This time, however, there will be no card in the mail, no text on the mobile, no cheery email.
     Nothing.
     No dad.

...That is all.

THE GOOD (AGAIN):
     A trip to the Sea Life centre and picnic for mother and me has been planned to celebrate my birthday. And also because it is my birthday, I am fairly confident that the day before that at our fortnightly Fish n' Chips n' Games Gala, The Grandpapa will allow me to postpone his turn and pick my favourite things to play.
     This coming weekend will be very enjoyable indeed.

Alice x

An Utterly Brilliant Quote -

- from the television series New Tricks (spoken by the character Gerry Standing):

"Beer is God's way of saying He loves us, and wants us to be happy."

Alice x

A Little Bit Of Sunday Silliness:

~START~

The scene is set; two people are making their way along a dirt track cutting through an area of dense woodland. The air is crisp, the sky overcast, the trees rapidly changing into their autumnal garb. Ahead of the two women is an overexited black Labrador. Said Labrador is running for sticks. The reason he is running for sticks, plural, is because every time said Labrador chases after a - skillfully lobbed - stick, upon reaching it he promptly chews it up. This, after a time, causes the woman throwing (and struggling to find suitable replacements for) the sticks to become annoyed. Cue the following conversation...

ALICE: (at the end of her tether after yet another stick gets chomped) look for God's sake Bingo will you stop it!? It's not a hard concept; just bring the damn thing back! What, d'you think that sticks grow on...

MOTHER: (amused as Alice trails off) ...were you just about to say the word "trees"? You were, weren't you?

ALICE: (flushed pink) ...Yes. Yes, I was.

...Scene finishes with two ladies laughing at one lady's stupidity...

~END~

My Life Is Just A Never Ending Whirl Of Excitement...

Today so far I have:
     * Vacummed through.
     * (Thorough) mopped and wiped over the kitchen; including the window, doors and walls (which, depressingly, look just as they did before).
     * (Quick) wiped the living room.
     * Dusted my bedroom (not including the rocks. Those are a separate and special job) and changed the sheets on the bed.
     * Taken the dog for a stroll (just a little one. His main walk is later).
     * Popped a wash in.
     * (Quick) wiped the bathroom.
     * Worked out how to make the picture fit properly on the screen of my new second hand laptop (I have named him Billy, by the way). It is to do with the 'resolution, as it turns out. Ah well. Now I know.
     * Had a shower.
     * Searched again, unsuccessfully, for our missing adress book (where on earth IS it??).
     * Put the recycling in the recycling bin.

On today's MUST DO list still remains:
     * Hang the wash up outside once it is finished (pray God it stays dry).
     * Nip into town to pick up a few bits; the most important item being a good universal cleaning spray. I have been so unutterably fed up of having a cupboard full of bottles. This bottle for the bathroom, that one for the kitchen, another one supposedly for "general areas only; not to be used in food preparation areas", yet another one not to be used on chrome but "splendid for tiles", another for "use only on varnished wood"... it drove me mad. I had to keep using what was there, of course, (generously donated a terribly long time ago by The Grandmama) because to do otherwise would have been a sinful waste. BUT, now the lot of it is gone, finally. So now I am going to do as I like and buy ONE thing. Just ONE. That does EVERYTHING. So there.
     * Give the cat a snack.
     * Chop up the vegetables, meat etc. and shove it all into the oven so it can be cooking while I am doing my usual little two hour bint at SENSE from 3-5PM.
     * Give the dog a proper walk.

And last but not least:
     * I have promised to help The Grandmama sort out a few little confusions regarding her Kindle (whee).

...see? I told you. Wonderously exciting.
     I have no idea how I manage to contain myself, sometimes.

Alice x

Something One Wouldn't Expect To Say During An Average Day:

~START~

"...Michel James, if that hedgehog ever goes missing, I swear I will hunt you down..."

~END~

Alice x

Is It Just Me...

...that is disappointed by the newest version of Avast Free Anti Virus Software?
 
Not the fact that, after coming to the end of my 12 month term and re-registering, the layout has been messed around with. I expected that. 
     Though, admittedly, I don't see what was so wrong with the layout as it was.

Nor the fact that it takes up more space than it used to. I expected that, too, and I barely use a tenth of the harddrive's capacity anyway.
     Though, admittedly, I haven't found anything to suggest what the increase in size has been caused by. No new bits have been added on as far as I can see; the bits it already had have simply been moved about.

Nor the fact that the colours have changed. It's there to protect my computer, not look pretty.
     Though again, admittedly, there was nothing wrong with it before. What's with this trend to mess around with stuff that worked just fine in the first place? Why change what 'aint broken?

...Nope. I've no real issue with any of that. My problem is with the voice.

Avast talks, you see.
     When you turn the computer on, it says "Avast Virus Database Has Been Updated". Every now and again it says "updates are available". And when you ask it to scan the computer, it says "scan has been completed" once it has finished.
     Nice, huh?
     Or at least it was. The voice used to be that of a chirpy central American. Y'know the sort; the kind that famously spouts "have a nice day" and you picture being delivered with a bright, sincere smile? That kind. Anyway, it was nice.
     Now, however, the voice is not that of a bright faced, enthusiastic American. It is that of a bored, glum sounding Midlander. Y'know, the kind of voice used to say "cashier number one" by disaffected English teenagers whose mother's have demanded they find a saturday job or lose their car priviliges (or something like that).

And that just isn't a nice voice to listen to every time I turn on the computer, no matter how infrequent it is.

=SIGH=

I know that in the grand scheme of things this is petty and unimportant, and I know it's both unfair and ungrateful to moan about something I am using but not paying for, but still; I want my chirpy American back, damnit!

Alice x

On The Plus Side;

I have been given a laptop by the Grandmama.
     Long story. Suffice to say that I didn't ask for it (not that I'm not grateful). 

On the other side; I already HAVE a laptop, so technically I don't need it.

On the plus side again; the laptop is only a year or so old and barely used, so in effect I am getting a new laptop. This means that it is lighter, quicker and altogether far more efficient than the laptop I already have.

Though, on the other side (also again);  I am used to the laptop I already have. 
     We have been through a lot, Niles and I. I am used to him and him to me. We understand each other. We are comfortable with each other. We are as friendly, I believe, as a girl and a machine can be toward one another without legal or moral boundries being crossed.

But on the plus side again; the DVD player on the new-ish laptop works, whereas Nile's does not.
     And the screen is bigger.

But on the other side again; the new-ish laptop does not have Microsoft Office installed, and therefore also does not have Microsoft Word: something which as I have previously described, is essential.
     So I would have to buy that. And at £99, it isn't cheap.

But on the plus side again; if I was to buy and install it, I would then have TWO laptops; one for upstairs and one for down. Which is what I wanted when I contemplated the buying of a Netbook.

But on the other side again; aren't I too reliant on technology already??
     Seriously; what individual person needs TWO computers?

...and round and round and round it goes...

=SIGH=

Why couldn't she have just refrained from buying a Kindle E-Fire (whatever the heck that is) and kept the damn thing? That would have spared me the current emotional quandry I am in.

Alice x

Overheard At Pizza Hut:

~START~

"...get this, guys: I've got ALL the drink flavours!"

"...BACON!..."

"...Alex, get your face out of the urinal NOW!..."

"...that man has been on his laptop for the past twenty minutes. Who brings a laptop to Pizza Hut? The waitress just gave him a coffee and he's just ignoring it; look..."

"...who knew that so many flavours of SevenUp existed? Strawberry and lime; it's mental!..."

"....the coffee is going to go cold. Look, the foam is melting..."

"...Joe, do NOT copy Alex! Do NOT...boys, I am not kidding, get your faces OUT of there and STOP IT or there will be no ice cream for EITHER of you, I MEAN IT..."

"...  (singsong voice) It's my birthday and I'm going to have chicken, chicken pizza, yay yay yay..."

"...sparkler! Whee!..."

"...seriously, is he going to drink it? It'll be cold! Why doesn't he stop typing for thirty seconds and drink it?..."

"...Amy get OFF that chair before you break your neck! I'll get you another balloon, it doesn't matter!..."

"...Malcom, don't press every button on the drinks despenser. ...I don't care what Gavin did, you don't have to. It will taste vile and you are going to break it if you're not careful..."

"...now, buddy, listen, I've had enough. Either you sit down like a good boy and stop howling for no reason or daddy is going to take you outside. Which is it going to be?..."

"...why doesn't he drink it? It's been sat there for thirty minutes now. IS he going to drink it?..."

"... (whispered) Sara, I dropped my phone into the toilet! Help!..."

"...how on earth did you manage to get mayonaise on your socks?! You had shoes on!?..."

"...and then I dropped it...on his...you know..."

"...the longer I go without it, the more repulsed I am by the idea of it. Is that normal?..."

"...buddy, please, I'm begging you. Ooh, look! The nice man has brought you a balloon! See? Isn't that nice? ...no??..."

"...he isn't going to WASTE the coffee, is he? I mean, that would be a sin!..."

"... (still sing song voice) chicken, chicken pizza; it's coming coming..."

"...Miss Heath, Miss Heath! Brian is stuck!..."

"...do you think it'll work again once it's dried out?..."

"...I dunno, mum hates it when dad does that..."

"...Miss Heath, Miss Heath, he's got his face back in the urinal and he's LICKING it!..."

"...oohyeah! All the flavours again! Well, this time. Turns out I missed one last time...."

"... (delighted squeal) Here is my chicken pizza!..."

"...he wouldn't waste it. I mean, he's paid for it. They're £2.99, I checked. You wouldn't waste a £2.99 coffee... oh, are you going to the loo? Good! Look as you go past and see if he's drunk it while we weren't looking..."

"...let me get this straight, buddy: in your four-year-old brain a neon red balloon does nothing, but give you a half of a soggy breadstick and you're over-the-moon happy?..."

"...well, did you look? Has he drunk it? No?? But he's LEFT!?..."

~END~ 

Alice x

PS: I refuse to say which, if any, of these snippets were uttered by either mother or myself.
     ...Mostly on the grounds that it would make us look like a pair of coffee obsessed busybodies...

Questions I Have Asked Myself Today:

~START~

* why is it that two typically slow moving and - unless you keep on top of them - lazy people finally and suddenly speed up and develop a work ethic on the one day that the arsing around they are famous for would actually have helped?

 * why would anybody choose to wear a T-Shirt proclaiming "oil rich"?

* what the mother of God has my dog been eating??

* is it just me that thinks the - recent? - trend of females half shaving their heads is ugly as sin?

* why is it that children suddenly like me? I barely noticed it at first, but over the past couple of years it has become more and more apparent that sproggens are no longer afraid and mistrustful of me as they used to be, and I don't get it. I'm the same person that I have always been: what's changed?

* WHY WHY WHY is it fashionable for men to wear trousers so low that their underpants are visible? Not only is it not something I want to see as I go about my business, but it must be pretty impractical for the wearer as well; not to mention down right uncomfortable.

* if there is no God, how do we explain....everything?

~FIN~

Fear Not, Ladies and Gentlemen (or, I should say, 'lady', singular); The Wait Is Over! For Alice Is Back.

So! Here I am. Miss me?
      .....Of course you did.
     And I'm sure you're all agog with curiosity, so I'll put you out of your misery.

Over The Past Month (or so), there has/have been:

* a lot of work and/or work related angst, not only for Alice and Mother, but also for Brother, Aunts, Uncles...

* a desperate struggling to regain a functional sleep pattern.

* a rekindling of rude health and character for The Grandmama since the operation for her hips was quietly shelved; a progression made sweeter by the admission of a possible overreaction from her youngest daughter - Aunt 2, that is - and the granting of permission to resume her much missed mid afternoon thimbleful of brandy and nightcap double thimbleful of port.

* a lot of resting done by Mother, peppered with knitting and tinkering on the piano. 

* a much needed week away from The Store; comprising of heavenly 7-AM starts, an evening on the town with Cousin 1 (well a visit to a restaurant. Between 6:30 and 9-PM. But there were cocktails involved, so that still counts, right?), two lunches at Pizza Hut, smatterings of inspired writing here and there, an utterly perfect day at the seaside, the reading of two new second hand books, and a whole load of lounging.

* an obsessive amount of brooding upon the subject of death, heaven and hell and two bouts of tears.

* a monstrous three day blip in the Get Alice Healthy plan, when Alice got all tired and achy and depressed about restarting work and all the horrid thoughts about dying and going to hell (or dying and becoming nothing at all; I haven't decided yet which would be worse) and typical to prior form, reverted to the tried and tested method of Lets Really Stuff Things Up And Pig Out Until We Feel Sick, Then When We Feel Good And Shit About Ourself, Lets Do It All Over Again.
     Results of said three day blip remain to be seen.
     But I'm guessing they won't be good...

* chaos in the Collison household due to our landing and stairs area being decorated (though that has finally finished, thank God), resulting in stress for the two ladies of the house, an overexcited dog and one mightily pissed off cat.

* a bold (but not rash) decision by Mother to leave one orchestra and join another to escape the great discomfort caused by the underhand and spiteful actions of certain members toward certain other members; actions that, while they did not involve her, directly, still left a bad taste in her mouth and an unhappy unease in her soul.

* the privilege of seeing many beautiful views - some seasidey, some not - along with the exciting (if fleeting) glimpse of various animals including a baby deer, a territorially aggressive dragon fly, dogfighting butterflies, a rabbit poised and listening and a king fisher streaking its way downstream like a neon blue bullet.

* four Collison Version dart games (I didn't win even ONE. How is that fair?)?.

* one series of Rosemary and Thyme (watched on the mini portable DVD player).

* the selling, finally, of Aunt 2's house and the move of the Porter family into temporary accommodation; Aunt 2, Uncle G2 and Fuzzy the dog moving in with Aunt 2's in-law's, and Cousin 1 becoming a guest of both The Grandmama and The Grandpapa depending on what shifts she is doing where.  
     Incidentally, an offer has been made on a nice bungalow by the afore mentioned Aunt and Uncle, so fingers crossed that they get it (for EVERYONE'S sake).

* several gallons of Pepsi Max drunk.
     Some of it, delightfully, 'cherry'. Who knew that 'Cherry Pepsi' existed? I sure didn't until five days ago.

* a corruption of the files on Nile's hard drive relating to Google Chrome. This resulted in a three hour battle to remove what was remaining of the half deleted and damaged files, clean the drive and start over again.
     Our Internet connection is now operating, therefore, through something called Mozilla Firefox, and a whole lot bloody better it seems to be, too. I never liked Chrome. I only agreed to upgrade from the ordinary Explorer - which I was quite content and happy with - in the first place because it said I had to in order to log in read my e-mails; a cleverly worded lie on the part of Google, by the way, as I now know.
     So that's another thing I'm cross about (because how DARE they?).

...On the same subject, the crash also resulted in a bout of hysterics from The Mother, as she was the last person to use the computer before everything went arse over tit. 
     I kept saying to her, I said; "mother, please, relax, this is not your fault. Google Chrome did not throw a temper tantrum, corrupt and partially remove itself because you typed the words 'who composed the song Where Have All The Flowers Gone' into the search engine and instead of a name, it brought up an ERROR message", but she wasn't having any of it.
     She wept with relief when I was at last able to tell her that it was all fixed...

* a visit to the bank to report a lost chequebook.
     Which, predictably, turned up again the day that the new one arrived. 

 And! Last but not least =drum roll=

* the opportunity for me to offer myself up as a personal bodyguard for The Mother against the WFSO mafia and after proudly assuring her that I knew some handy 'gangster lingo', utter the following phrase:

"don't yo' start wi' me girlfriend, or I may have to pop a cap in yo' goddamn ass."

...Mother was dreadfully impressed.

Alice x

While I Await The Time That It Is Socially Acceptable To Vacuum On A Sunday Morning...

...here are three things that occurred within the space of eight hours yesterday:

THING 1:
     A child at pizza hut Conga-ing his way across the restaurant uttering the happy singsong chant of "I'm gonna get my sa-lad, I'm gonna get my sa-lad, I'm gonna get my sa-lad...(etc)".

THING 2:
     A woman waylaying us in the car park of Hurcott Woods with the warning that we should avoid walking along the main path. Reason? There was a man skinny dipping in the lake a few yards ahead.

THING 3:
     A man riding a motorcycle on the wrong side of the road. He drove right past us and it was a full 15 seconds before our stunned brains actually cottoned on to the fact that yes; the reason he had been able to drive right past us as we drove on the left hand side of the road is because he was on that side of the road as well.
     No accident occured and nobody was hurt in this incident and  - once we had been able to comprehend it (there were a few stunned minutes of "...I...but...was he...?") - we noted that he had appeared utterly confident. However, given his apparent disregard for the highway code and the fact that he was wearing neither helmet nor protective clothing, both mother and I agreed that it wouldn't be a particularly long timr before his little jaunt was brought to a calamitous end.

So there you are.

Anyway, t'is now 10:03-AM and I am now able to get on with the vacuuming, but it just goes to show, doesn't it? If ever bored, all you need to do is step outside and take a good look around; there's bound to be something to catch your interest...

Alice x

PS: for those unfamiliar with the term; 'skinny dipping' is the practice of swimming naked. It isn't often a practice carried in Hurcott Pool (situated in Hurcott Woods, which is situated in Hurcott Village; a place comprising of five picturesque little cottages and one tiny Post Office), however.
     Or at least not to my knowledge it isn't. You never know, do you?

A Belated Note:

Due to various reasons that I'm not going to delve into now, I shall be taking a break from Blogging.

I'll be back when I can.

Alice x

PS: not that I've been posting all that often in the first place, of course. Or indeed that anybody actually appears to be reading it when I do. But I thought I'd say something anyway; just in case. To be polite.
     Yup.
     =nods=

Did You Know That -

- an atom can be in two places at once (without being split in two)?
     Well, apparently it can.
     Interesting.

.....Of course, I don't in any way understand it.
     But it is interesting.
     Yep.
     =nods=

Interesting is what it is.

Alice x

Alice Has Given Up Trying To Teach Herself To Type...

...at least for the time being.
     Yes, yes, I know; in life only quitters are the real losers, etc. etc.
     I will say, however, in my defense, that:

a) I haven't actually quit; merely postponed it temporarily.
b) the heat has been such that I simply haven't been able to concentrate on much of anything. I feel actually drunk with it; wobbly and leaden, my limbs and brain simply aren't functioning. And in any case, my fingers were so slick with sweat that they kept slipping off the bloody keys.
c) There have been other, more pressing matters (such as The Grandmama getting herself into a muddle with the credit card none of us had previously known she'd got. And mother panicking about a doctors appointment and giving herself a sick migraine. And me having an extra period - and all the loveliness that goes with it - and my sleep pattern being inexplicably buggered up at the same time) demanding my attention.
And
d) mother and I both agree that my initial approach was incorrect. Due to not properly familiarizing myself with the program first, I had no idea how to control it and ended up allowing myself to be galloped along at far too fast a pace for my poor little brain (or fingers) to keep up with.

Anyhoot. Once the worst of the heatwave passes (given Britain's track record I'd say that at most we've got maybe another few weeks of it. And that's only if all the cold lovers like me are really unlucky), I fully intend to knuckle down once again and crack on with it; albeit this time at a much slower, gentler pace.
     So rest easy for now, Mavis (Ms. Beacon and I are on first name terms now). I will be back.

In other news; The Grandmama has acquired a credit card and has been merrily using it to order things from various catalogues. She has also become a "valued customer" of AmazonUK (...yeah).
     This wouldn't be as much of a problem as it is had we actually known about it before hand, but in the intervening few months she has managed to not only to shop until she dropped, but has also gotten herself into a complete mess regarding certain items she had to send back. That was when she bit the bullet and sought outside help (i.e. Mother; who has Power Of Attourney, and me; who has Power Of Being Able To Use Instant Messaging And E-Mail And Talk To The Amazon Customer Service Team).
     Thankfully, after printing out her statements, the amount isn't too prohibitive. Bad; a little under £500 (half of which had already been paid off before we got there), but not as bad as it could have been. Lord knows what would have gotten had Grandmama not gotten herself into a muddle trying to use Amazon's automatic refund system and come to us. It makes me shudder to think about it.

=SIGHS=

She isn't actually doolally, my grandmother - no more than she ever has been, at least - just a shopaholic and utterly hopeless with money.
     That said, I'd like to know which idiot in the banking industry sanctioned an 80+ year old woman that has already officially handed over her financial affairs to her daughter having a 'limitless' credit card. I really would.

     .....Still. I guess this means she's feeling better.....

In other other news;
I have writers block. Work at The Store, even the usually easy parts, is a struggle; I am ending every shift drenched in sweat and even when not at work, I feel in a constant daze. Both mother and I are consuming 2 tiptops and several pints of refrigerated water per day to keep ourselves moving, and as a small personal bit of unpleasantness in addition to feeling dazed I've been blessed with patches of heat rash in various places on my body - including my chin! The horror! - and for the time being my nicely unblemished complexion is ruined. Mother's holiday is doing well; lots of resting, knitting and piano playing (as well as 7-AM starts every day. Lucky cow). We have reached series 5 in our watching of Foyle's War. I have lost the weight I gained and am back on track towards health and happiness. The dog is (finally!) shedding his winter coat and looks like a scruffpot. The cat has dandruff and in the past year her appetite has doubled. My cousin is planning a move to Worcester with the love of her life, while Best Friend 1 is initiating divorce proceedings with hers. Giant daisies are running amok in the little flower patch in our garden and in the main area - the messy barely kept part - we apparently have a crop of potatoes brewing. Mother has temporarily taken over the task of cooking to give me a rest and so far it is going well (two weeks now and we are still alive).

.....And in the backdrop of all of this it is too bloody hot (did I mention that?).

Roll on autumn. Please.

Alice x

Alice Is Teaching Herself To (Properly) Type;

- with the help of a "Mavis Beacon Teach Yourself Typing" CD.

Today was my very first lesson. So far i have tackled the a s d f j k l ; keys.
     My accuracy is 90 percent (whee!).
     My speed is a staggering 10 WPM.

....Watch this space.

That is all.

Alice x

Things I Have Learned This Week...

.....in no particular order:

***

1. if you get into just the right position, you can stand and gawp at the sight of a butterfly busily feeding from a mere inch or two away without it being the slightest bit aware of your existence.

2. cheese before bed does not give me nightmares (I have known this for years), but it turns out that a ton of sugary sweets will. And bad ones at that
     (The nightmares, that is. Not the sweets. They were lovely.)

3. The phenomenon of a 'double rainbow' is caused by a trick of the light. When you think you are seeing TWO rainbows for the price of one, what you are actually seeing is ONE rainbow and its reflection.
     I found this out yesterday after years of ignorance.
     (Boy, was I disappointed.)

4. You can lead my dog to baked beans, but you cannot make him eat them.

5. The difference between a "severe allergic reaction" and a "near-fatal allergic reaction" is simply the amount of time it takes to progress. Without proper treatment, the end result (death) is exactly the same in either case.
     Thanks to The Grandmama, by the way, for making this discovery possible.
     (And for scaring the bloody pants off of us.)

6. The amount of time it takes for the house to progress from reasonably OK to oh-my-God-awful is three days.

7. You can try desperately to resist the urge to buy childish things from here to eternity, but sooner or later despite best intentions you will crack and a new addition will arrive - or as in my case, be smuggled - into the household.
     (For those interested; he is a cuddly elephant. I have named him Sidney.)

8. With regards to That Special Time of the Month, no matter how - for lack of a better term - 'regular' you think you are, sooner or later your body will throw you a horribly unexpected sucker punch and knock you flat on your back.
     Unfair, I know. But there you are. That's life (and hormones) for you.

9. You can buy a pack of 30 "mixed sized alkaline button batteries" for the princely sum of £1.
     Thanks for PoundLand for that. My beloved pendant watch now works again. Hooray!
     .....Of course, now I have 29 mixed sized alkaline button batteries in my possession that I am not sure what to do with. And only 4 of those are watch batteries and therefore likely to be of any use to me in the distant future. But still. T'was a good buy.

***

So! There you go. That is what I have learned (...learnt? Which is correct?) this week.
     Interesting, no?
     I thought so.

Anyway, t'is all, for now... Ooh; Except for the announcement that this morning due to a mixture of perseverance, luck and prayer, I managed to get a damselfly to land on my right index finger and sit there for a minute or so, so that I could get a good look at it.
     Thanks to the beautifully fascinating damselfly (and God, of course) for that.

Alice x

To Summarize The Last 2 Or So Weeks:

* Lots of extra work and running around was done at The Store to cover for Supervisor while on holiday.
     Due to my being poorly bad with allergies far severer than normal, however, no overtime was done by me. My regular 5 hours was all they got; it was all I could cope with.
     And actually, considering how ill I was feeling, they were extremely lucky that they got even that.

* Mother's concert has been and gone. The attendant support from our family was thus: The Grandpapa, The Great Aunt, Aunt Amanda (she of the "Bugger Me" post, fame), Uncle G1 and of course yours truly.
     The music was, as always, superb. The people in charge of selecting the music tend to make excellent choices from the wide range pieces and composers that have been crammed into the simplified and oft' misunderstood category of "Classical Music", and as usual, I wasn't disappointed. All three pieces were sublime and I thoroughly enjoyed all of them.
     If forced to choose, I would say that my favourite was the second of the Orchestral Committee's choices; composed by Edvard Grieg (he of the Morcambe and Wise 'Piano Concerto' sketch fame). It is called 'Peer Gynt: Suites No.1 and No.2', though it is commonly known simply as 'Peer Gynt', and it is totally brilliant. Each individual movement is amazing on its own and together (when you join the two suites up there are eight in all) a fascinating and dramatic story is told. If you haven't heard it, I advise you do so, post haste. Buy the record/cassette/CD/MP3 Download/whatever, rent it from the library, borrow it from a friend or family member, type the title into YouTube (it's there; I checked), telephone in a request to a radio station...however you do it, do it. It is (in my opinion) worth it.

* The Grandpapa's 80th birthday was a success. The celebrations started on the 5th July with my mother's concert and carried on right through the week - his actual birthday being on 8th July - to a grand family day out on Severn Valley Railway on 12th (which due to my concert, I couldn't attend). The week through; presents and cards were received in plenty, games were played and enjoyed, laughter and merriment abounded, food and drink of the tastiest (and naughtiest) kind flowed in an unending stream and good times generally were had by all (but especially, of course, by him).
     On a personal level, also, I got to do something that I haven't managed to arrange for some time and spend an afternoon with him in his flat. Just the three of us; me, him and Bingo (my dog was an essential element to proceedings) relaxing together on our own with no-one else to bother us. We watched a film and then a couple of Inspector Morse episodes; drank (a lot) of weak, inexpensive wine; ate sausage sandwiches and a whole host of other scrumptious and totally-bad-for-you stuff; lounged companionably on his luxurious leather sofa; spoiled the dog with unsuitable treats and excessive tummy rubbing. He dozed off towards the end of the afternoon, and with him and the dog snoring gently I helped myself to yet more food (I am so incurably greedy. If nice food is there, I eat until it is gone) and settled down with my notepad to get a bit of writing done. It was a comfortable day, a slow day, an uninhibited day; two people stepping off the narrow track of life and kicking back to enjoy one another's company in an afternoon of slovenly inactivity. It was a wonderful day and I don't know about him, but it was just what I needed.

* The Kidderminster Choral Society's annual Summer Singing concert was held yesterday evening and was a roaring success. Just like mother's orchestra, the choice of music was impeccable, but (unlike any production given by mother's orchestra) incredibly informal and relaxed. The performers were dressed in a variety of outfits - the only instruction being "if you can, fit in a bit of red, white and blue to symbolize the Union Jack" - and the audience were involved to such an extent that, particularly during the progression of HMS Pinafore, they were openly swaying and bopping along with the music and singing along (whether they knew the words, or not). The first half was short; five or six Madrigals and a solo each given by the two lovely and breathtakingly talented young ladies that were later to play the parts of Josephine and Cousin Hebe. Then after the interval the play (and the real fun) began.
     It was 10:45-PM by the time mother and I finally crawled through the door on hands and knees to be greeted by a wagging dog and a stiff drink. It had been a very long and hard day for both of us (for differing reasons), but we both agreed that in spite of the difficulties it had been (again, for differing reasons) a successful one.
     Choir will reconvene again in September to begin preparations for the next concert. The other two main concerts of the year are far more stately and decorous. No unseemly behaviour to be found there;  Concert Etiquette expected. The Christmas Concert is as unruly as the Summer one, however - more so, in fact - and in any case, being a part of a 'Formal' production is fun too; just in a different way.
     I wonder what we will be singing...

* As previously mentioned, I have been poorly bad. I don't know why it is, but my allergies are far worse than normal; to the extent that rather than merely being miserably uncomfortable I can barely function.
     I hope that this is just an anomaly rather than the new norm. I don't think I can cope with feeling as though I am coming down with a chest infection for three quarters of the year.

* Due to the excesses of the previous week I have gained 3lbs of the 10lbs I had previously lost back, putting me back over the 18-Stone threshold by a 1/4 of an lb. I did not, however lose control and completely give in (...well, other than that Thursday at The Grandpapa's...) so in spite of the gain, I still feel that overall I am winning. Hopefully I will lose the 3lbs over the course of the next couple of weeks and then be on track again and not behind by too much.
     I wish that I could blame The Grandpapa, or rather his birthday, for my slip from the rocky upward Path Toward Healthiness, but of course I can't.Tempting though it was - and boy! It was - nobody forced me to eat anything I shouldn't have, especially not in the quantities that I did. The fault is entirely mine. I have nobody to blame but myself; nobody at all.
     =SIGH=
     That really sucks.

* No more strawberries have been had. This is bad. The season will be over soon. I must rectify the situation before it is too late.

* I seem to be working on two stories at once. My brain is flitting between the two of them and I find myself writing a few paragraphs of one - if that - before being forced to turn my attention to the other.
     This sounds fine in theory. The problem with it is that bits from each tale are sneaking in through the back door and incorporating themselves firmly into the wrong plot, which of course is not only confusing and frustrating but at the same time wastes a good deal of time while I endeavour to sort the resulting mess out.
     Still. In the case of one of them, it looks as though it might actually work - at least to a point - so maybe it isn't such a bad thing. Perhaps there is some method in the ongoing madness of my imagination after all.
     Just a little. You never know.

.....and, that's it.

Wow. That doesn't sound like a lot, does it, for two weeks? I have barely accomplished anything, have I?
     Oh dear.
     There must be more than that, surely?

.....well, I did an awful lot of sitting down not doing much and avoiding housework. But that doesn't count because I've been poorly bad. That sort of behaviour is allowed when you are poorly bad.

And I cooked a batch of spaghetti bolognese sauce to put in the feezer. And two casseroles. And a curry. And my cheaty version of Chicken Kiev. That's not too bad.

And I've walked the dog, of course.
     Sort of.
     Short walks.
     Probably too short, actually (but it's just been so hot!).

And I sent a bunch of polite e-mails demanding refunds for The Grandmama from Amazon.

And -

...And...?  

OK, that appears to be it. But it's added a bit on, hasn't it? I haven't been a total waste of space the past fortnight. Right?

(...this is your cue to say "right"...)

=SIGHS=

Alice x

PS: ooh, ooh; I've got another one! I helped Best Friend 3 with her shopping. Twice. See? That's productive. That's being useful. That's contributing.
     Yep.
     =nods=
     I feel much better now.

Speaking Of Strawberries...

Yes, Well. Strawberries.

I had a bowl yesterday afternoon in the interval of the children’s choral concert I mentioned in my last post, and utterly gorgeous they were too. I love strawberries; can’t get enough of them.

    WHEN, that is, they are in season. Which leads me to my rant.

Modern living is responsible for many things, but the one that I am going to concentrate on today is the way it has changed production of crops that previously were available at certain times of the year.

    Thanks to commercial farming and air travel and other such wonders, you see, we here in Blighty are now able to – supposedly – enjoy the majority of our ‘seasonal’ fruits and vegetables all year round. 

     Well, that may well be true on the vegetable front – up to a point – but on the subject of fruit I whole heartedly disagree; strawberries a case in point.

     Oh, sure, you can BUY them all year round from the majority of supermarket chains; but you can't enjoy them, or at least I can't.

     Because strawberries are sweet fruits; grown slowly in a damp country – like Britain, for instance – over a period of months that start off quite chilly and gradually progress to nicely warm (though still pretty damp). They are not designed to be grown in any other way, and that’s what the people in charge of such things aren’t grasping. Because the base fact of the matter is that no matter how careful you are, you cannot force a sweet fruit to grow quickly - particularly in the wrong kind of soil and in the wrong kind of climate - and stay sweet; it simply can't be done.

     So you are left with packets of mass produced red things with labels proclaiming things like "cultured in Brazil", and while they may look like strawberries and are called strawberries, they most decidedly are not; not anything like. 

     Strawberries are a seasonal fruit here in Britain. The time to harvest them is from mid June (at the earliest) to late august (at the latest), and that, ladies and gentlemen, is when they will be at their best. No need to pour sugar or cream (or both. Or at least, not unless you really want to) over strawberries ripened in the manner they are most suited to; they are perfectly delicious and more importantly beautifully sweet enough all on their own.

So there.

    Rant over.

Alice x 

Proof Positive That I Am Not Made Of Stone:

If a random child singing a solo in a random concert that we attended on a whim to make the numbers up can reduce me to tears, then comprised of good ol' fashioned solid igneous material I am definitely not.

Seriously. I sat down expecting to endure slightly off-key caterwauling for the best part of two hours for the modest reward of a happy mother (who is terribly fond of children) and a small bowl of - in season - strawberries; but thirty seconds into a rendition (indeed slightly off-key) of Walking In The Air from The Snowman and I found myself blubbing uncontrollably and filled with the kind of sentimentality that I had assumed reserved for proud parents. Thankfully everybody else (most of them, of course, proud parents) was blubbing too, so nobody minded.

I think, however, that it is now a certainty that my hard earned reputation as a cold feeling bitch where sproglets are concerned is shattered.
     I blame Squidgum.
     I never had this problem before she came along.
     She has ruined me.

Alice x

Once More, Life Comes A'Tappin Me On The Shoulder -

- and makes a difficult decision easy.
     No Netbook for me (or at least not right now).

Why, I hear you ask?
     Simple, I reply. Mother's old metronome has finally broken.
     It will cost at least £40 to replace it; £5 under the amount the Netbook I found would have cost after factoring in the price of postage and packing.
     The next concert she is playing in is in less than two weeks. A - working - metronome is essential.
     Her need is greater than mine.

So, no Netbook.
      =sigh=
     Ah well. N'er mind. I was in two minds anyway.

...But it DID look spiffy, didn't it? It really did.

=sighs again=

Alice x

I WANT I WANT I WANT I WANT (etc).

I know it is unnecessary. I know that it is unneeded. I know that it is (currently) unthinkable. But still.
     I want one of these:

Cool, or what?

This particular Netbook has been created by Samsung and is labelled as the "NC10": a 10.2 inch electronic beauty. It comes with the Microsoft XP as standard (I know everybody I've ever met complains about that as a system, but it's what I'm used to. I don't know anything else. I'm comfortable with it). It has been enthusiastically reviewed on www.amazon.co.uk - God Bless Amazon. The Aladdin's Cave of Purchases - as being utterly fantastic in 112 cases out of 114 (one of the 2 only negative reviews being solely regarding the colour). It is lightweight yet strong. It has the capability of doing the majority of computer based things that a normal sized computer can do. Etc. Etc.
     But the big thing it can do that interests me, dear Blog; the big selling point of the Samsung NC10 from my own personal point of view that it has to capability to download (and allow the efficient use of) Microsoft Home Office, in particular Microsoft Word.
     I write. Probably crappy stuff and definitely rarely finished stuff, but I write nonetheless. And (my trusty pad an pencil apart) I use Microsoft Word to do it. Specifically the 1993 version. Yeah. I know. Over a decade out of date. Don't care. I like it better than any of the so-called 'better' versions out there. So there.
    Anyway. That is what I use. And as if I ever do finally splash out on a Netbook - any Netbook. Though that one up there is pretty spiffy - writing is the sole thing I would be using it for, access to MS Word is an absolute essential.

I say, "if" because I am still thinking about it. I have been thinking about it for some time. And I will probably go on thinking about it for some time more. And even then, I may not actually buy one.
     I want one. Don't get me wrong. I want one. In a childish foot stamping pointing kind of way. WANT with a capital "W". The problem is that I don't technically NEED one. I have a working laptop - my darling Niles; what would I do without you? There madness lies! - and I when using my laptop isn't an option, I have pencil and paper. I am equipped to write (as well as indulging in the marvelous time wasting luxury that is the Internet) until steam comes out of my ears and various bits of me drop off. I do not need a Netbook. It is an expense - even the seemingly too-good-to-be-true mere £45 fee for the Spiffy Samsung NC10 - that I cannot justify.

...But I want one.

I have this wish, sometimes, you see; the wish to be alone in my room and undisturbed, tip-tapping away on a Netbook. I could take my laptop up with me, but despite the machines' overall maneuverability under normal circumstances, my personal circumstances have rendered mine less easily transportable. It isn't impossible, but it is far from convenient. There is also thanks to said inconvenience no way of relocating it unobtrusively and without ceremony.
     Bottom line, if I wish to relocate myself, particularly if I wish to do so discretely, it has to be sans laptop. So if I wish to write, I return to my trusty pad and pen. And that should be fine, really it should, but actually it really isn't; not for me. Out and about, sat in a cafe or on a bench somewhere; that is when my brain likes to utilize the pad and pen. At home, my brain likes to type (preferably accompanied by some good, rousing instrumental music)...

...I am torn. A Netbook (or second laptop. But Netbooks are cheaper) is unessential on a fundamental level but at the same time essential on a practical one. I don't actually need one but at the same time actually I do.
     I have no clue which side is right.
     Perhaps they both are.
     But that doesn't really help.

Does anyone else have internal battles like this?

Alice x

PS: did I mention I want one? Because I do. That one =points at Samsung=.
     Because it is spiffy.

#...Watchin' The Weeks Go By...#

Yet again, another two weeks have passed with no posts. And the last couple I did post were yet another long winded - two parted - whine. And after I promised I wouldn't, too.
     Oy Vey.
     Can you be fired from a free and voluntary Blog? Because if you can I think I deserve to be. What's the point, after all, of having an online diary that nobody ever bothers to read (well, almost nobody. Hi, Best Friend 2!) designed to allow you to ramble and muse and rant and laugh and cry and generally get-it-all-off-your-chest, if you don't use it? No point, that's what; no point at all.
     =shakes head=
     Must try harder.

...Anyhoo. Things have indeed been crappy of late. Not really crappy, you understand; not crappy with a capital 'C' - I reserve that for Super Duperly Crappy events such as Dad dying, or the Previous Neighbours trying to kill us, or Mother having a nervous breakdown, or MJ being sectioned, or me being made redundant. Things like that - but pretty crappy nonetheless.

First off, my health took a mini dive due to allergies rearing their ugly head, making friends with my asthma and then ganging up on me with That Special Time Of The Month leading the way.
     ...Which is really, unfair, isn't it? 3 against 1. I think that's really unfair...

Then of course there was Father's Day.
     Blog, that bloody event was everywhere. No matter where I was or where I looked it was rammed in my face and embedded into my brain and I wasn't allowed to forget it.
     Of course, it's almost certainly always been that way. I know that, really, and I told myself over and over again, but still I couldn't shake the bitter feeling that I was being deliberately taunted by someone (fate, possibly?), and that only got worse when as well as all the posters and flyers and newspaper articles and television and radio adverts B&Q decided to chime in as well and remind everyone in the store (every hour, on the hour) exactly how many shopping days all the "sons and daughters of this green and pleasant land" had left to "honour that special man in your life".
     ...Yeah. You can imagine how I felt the first time that was aired over the speaker system...

And then the mobile-phone contract I convinced Mother to get and we were then forced to cancel due to it not working on the company being shits (LONG story) popped up to say hello in the form of a letter threatening visitation from bailiffs; leading to another pleasant hour in the -E-E- shop (our third, I believe. Or possibly fourth) and ending with a £70 "severance charge", me in tears and suffering from a splitting headache, my mother furious and defeated and also sporting a headache, and my brother incandescent with rage and barred from the building on bane of arrest.
     ...Fun times...

And then last but not least, there's the heat.
     I mean, Spring was bad enough with its close, muggy atmosphere and repeated groggily uncomfortable build-ups to thunder storms (a lot less storms, I might add, than we had build-ups), but this! Seriously, people; since when does Britain actually have a Summer to speak of?! For years and years we have managed quite happily without one (well, I have) and then two years ago, whoomph: there it was and here it is again.
     It's ridiculous and unbearably uncomfortable and it's apparently going to get worse! And to make it all extra annoying everybody seems to be oh-so-bloody-well happy about it!
     "How lovely," they are all cooing; "hot weather at last and nice and sunny". No, no, no! It is NOT "lovely" and "nice": it is gut wrenchingly awful! Do all you Sun Lovers have any idea how hideous I am feeling right now? I barely cope with the (usually) mild warmth of Springtime. This is torture!
     Roll on Autumn, that's what I say. I like Autumn.
     ...Yes. I am aware that considering how short the season is and how many people enjoy it, that is an incredibly selfish and uncharirtable view to have...
     ...And no. I don't care...

So! That's been my past couple of weeks; condensed(ish) for your enjoyment and bared for my sanity.

Was it as good for you to read as it was for me to write?
     ...Yeah. I didn't think so.
     Ah well. Such is life. I feel much better now anyway, and that's the important thing.

Goodnight, y'all.

Alice x

PS: I should like to point out (in case my sole reader is curious), that my Best Friends are not ordered by way of importance, but listed alphabetically. Hence, Best Friend 1, Best Friend 2 and Best Friend 3.
     That way, you see, I don't get confused and everybody (well, OK, me) knows where they are.

Shattered But Unscathed.

Well, last night came to nothing. Mother came home - alone - and sat down and we sat together on the sofa and hugged and cried (I cried more than she did) and let all the fear and negativity drain away leaving a numb sort of calm.
     We had both been terribly, terribly afraid. And all for nothing. Nothing had happened. MJ had gotten upset and simply needed someone to talk to, to listen to him and comfort him and help him calm down; that was all.

My reaction, as I wrote it, probably seemed disproportionate. And now it is over it feels that way to me, too, but it wasn't something I can help.
     To explain; a while ago I had fortnightly sessions with a therapist (NHS funded), and one of the things she helped me to mentally plow my way through were the mass of jumbled feelings regarding MJ. What had past. What we had gone through. What he had done to us.
     What he had done to us was to subject us over the course of a little over a decade to varying degrees of psychological abuse; from mild to violently extreme. It sounds ridiculously dramatic, but it isn't. He couldn't help it - or at least up to a point he couldn't - but it it doesn't make what happened any less unpleasant and damaging for us.
     And the end result was that we have been what the therapist referred to as "conditioned". Trained, for want of a better term, by MJ - whether he intended to or not - over all those years to react to him in a certain way. To keep him calm, to keep him happy. To be fearful of him being angry, whether with us or with anything else (which always led to him being angry with us, anyway). We have been freed from the grip of his control, or at least the majority of it, for some time now. Years. But enough of that influence remains that any hint of anger causes our hearts to race and our breath to constrict within us and or minds to be clouded by the same fear that he has always made us feel.
     Add that to the possibility - however remote - of our lives reverting completely to what they had been and you have a recipe for unadulterated panic. Which was exactly what I, both of us, were suffering from last night.
     I wish I could say that it won't happen again, but it will. Sooner or later. No matter how hard I try I'm not able to react in any other way. The therapist was gentle but discouraging in response to my question of whether or not it would ever go away. Probably not, she said. Perhaps with the passing of time it would ease, but such emotional trauma was unlikely to ever fully fade enough to be considered "gone".

...So, yeah. That's it. That's how things are. And that's why I acted as I did, and why mother and I are so shattered today, and will be for a while yet (while he, as experience has proven, will now be perfectly content and happy). Because that is the way that he has the ability to make us feel. And because the aftermath of it is - and always has been - mental exhaustion.
     It sucks.

It is what it is, I suppose. I can't change it, and there are people far worse off than we are, etc. etc.
     ...But it still sucks.

Alice x

I Am A Terrible Person.

About half an hour ago Mother burst in through the front door, having abandoned all thoughts of attending the orchestra rehearsal she had been heading to, with the news that MJ had gotten into a terrible row with a bunch of people in the hostel he lives in and was going to leave. Better to live on the streets than there, was the basic gist.

Want to know what my first, my very very first thought was?
     .....It sure as hell wasn't sisterly concern. Oh, no.
     It was; 'oh God, he's going to want to come here. He can't come here, he can't...'

Yep.

Want to know what my next course of action was, as Mother prepared to race back out the door again to answer the plaintive call for help and guidance from her only son?
     .....I'll give you a hint. It was not to give her a hug full of daughterly love. Oh no.
    What I did was to tell her, flat out, that she needed to keep the promise she made just before we moved in here; that MJ would never, ever again spend even the smallest possible amount of time living with us. Never. Ever. And to warn her that if he did, I wouldn't be sticking around to see how it panned out; I would be gone. I loved him, and I loved her, but I was never going back to how life was before, not for anything or anyone. It was him, or me. That simple.

She agreed with me. Distraught as she was, she agreed, immediately, no arguments.
     Then as she opened the front door, she said that he "hadn't even mentioned it as a suggestion".
     And I lost it.

"He will!" I told her. My voice was loud. My voice was cold. I didn't care. All I cared about was making the situation crystal clear; "he will. Sooner or later. If not now, then some other time, he will, and it can't happen; d'you understand? Ever. We cannot live with him. Not 'just for one night', not even for half a night; d'you hear me? He can never live here. NEVER."

She said that she did. And she left.
     That was a while ago now. And I can't get the image of the expression on her face as we stared one another down that endless second before she walked away and closed the door behind her. It said so many things, but the main thing that stands out is that she was in pain. A pain that I had caused.

So that's where things stand now.
     And this is where I am; sat at my computer typing this and split between feelings of guilt and regret at having let my Mother down and intense fear and worry at the thought of MJ walking through the door bags in hand with the intention of staying and buoyed by Mother's own fear driven blessing.

God, I feel wretched.

Alice x

High And Low.

HIGH:
I've had various lovely walks with Bingo. I saw various types of wildlife, from damsel flies to circling buzzards to squirrels gorging themselves on picnic tables. It was wonderful. And wonderful, too, to see Bingo so happy. I hadn't realized - and he had never complained, the darling, to alert me - how much discomfort he was in; not until he wasn't any longer. The painkillers are doing their job to a degree I hadn't even dared hope for, and though he isn't storming around as he did in his puppy days - like a racehorse on speed - his movements are much easier and he appears to be enjoying life immensely.
     Right now as I type he is lying on his bed utterly exhausted after his walk, which included a few good rolls in the long grass and flowers - daisies and dandelions - and several rounds of "HUNT THE STICK: AND WHEN YOU FIND IT, DESTROY!"

LOW:
Father's Day is approaching.
     That is all (for now).

Alice x

Something You'd Not Expect Your Mother To Say (Even In A Dream):

~START~

Scene is set; a group of scavenger/hunters including Alice, Mother, James Evans* and a few other people that seem to have come along for the ride are stood beside their open topped car on the outskirts of a ruined city, regaining both their breath and their composure after a bloody and high-speed chase. The car is badly damaged, three of the original group are dead, they are nearly out of bullets and Mother is extremely cross...

MOTHER: (highly irritated. glaring. hands on hips) OK, setting everything else aside for a moment - and don't get me wrong, I'm still furious about it - next time someone says "lets go zombie hunting", we are to use a car with a roof. Got it?
ALICE AND REST OF GROUP: (chastened. looking at shoes. mumbling) got it.

~END~

* a boy I knew at school. We were once very close (both being hellions and all), but as adulthood approached we drifted apart and finally lost touch. It was pretty cool to be reunited with him for a night, even if it was in a post apocalyptic wasteland filled with blood thirsty zombies.
     If dreamland is to be believed, he's a far better driver than me, anyway. And a hell of a good shot... 

Can Somebody Tell Me...

...the logic of Bingo standing in the pouring rain - rain coming down so hard that each bullet-like drop bounced back up again about ten feet - staring at me with big sad eyes and tail between his legs because he doesn't like being out in the rain, but refusing to do the one thing - a "pooh-pooh" that'd be - that would get us out of it?
     I mean, it isn't as though he doesn't KNOW. He KNEW what he needed to do and he was miserable and wet and he wanted to go home, he really did, but he flat out refused to do a pooh. 25 flipping minutes he dragged it out, before he finally conceded, by which time the rain was coming down even harder, it was so dark I could barely see and we were both utterly drenched.

So Where's the logic?
     Anyone?

Alice x

PS: turns out that in torrential rain, waterproof ponchos are useless.
     Good to know.

PPS: turns out that we have developed a leak in the outhouse/music corridor.
     Also good to know.

How To Piss Of The Mother:

1. Turn on the fan in the living room.

...That is all.

She is trying to do paperwork and every few seconds as it makes its way round she has to hunker down to stop said paperwork from whipping itself into a fan induced frenzy. She's endeavoured to reduce the effects with strategically placed books, but it isn't working so well.
     She wants, of course, to turn it off, but she won't. I suffer in the heat (yes, even the puny British Springtime kind), so a good fan is imperative to keep me cool. And it also helps to ease some of my hayfever symptoms.
     So in order not to be The One Who Maketh Alice Sweateth And Be Illeth, she is putting up with it, thus being The One That Putteth Uppeth With The Annoying Wind Blower For The Saketh Of Her Beloved Fat And Allergy Ridden Daughter. Which is great for me, obviously, but sucks for her.
   

....Ooh, there it goes again.
     I think any second now The Putteth Upper Witheth is going to scream...

Alice x

Edited To Add. How To Make The Mother Very Happy:

1. After visiting the bathroom, walk casually across the room and turn off the fan.

...That is all.

Alice x

How To Make Yourself Feel Like Crap:

A. Stay up really late (...well; 11.30. But that's really late for me. ...Shut up!).

B. Before collapsing into bed, have 2 strong whiskies instead of the Saturday Treat of 1 strong whisky and 1 weak one that you would usually have.

C. Sleep very deeply at a stupidly odd angle.

D. Upon finally dragging your sorry, stiffened, aching arse out of bed; vacuum the entire house and wipe over various surfaces.

Done! You will now feel like crap.

Alice x

PS: as a bonus, make sure that you neglect the housework for a while before having to manhandle the vacuum and/or other housework related implements (such as wash cloths). And also, set yourself a shorter time limit than is comfortable due to a relative unexpectedly announcing that they will be stopping by (thanks, Kayleigh). That will add to the crappiness factor immensely; trust me.