I'll admit it: I like to listen in on other conversations around me, especially when my nose is in a book and it looks as though my mind's elsewhere as people really talk in an unguarded way (which is so entertaining). I've added a number to the title of this blog as now that I've outed myself as an eavesdropper I'll add to this whenever I hear something funny. I'm sure I'm not the only one who does this but are you honest enough to admit that you do it too?
Tonight I've just got home from a football match (just getting the warmth back into my toes... it's bloody cold tonight!). I go quite often as my brother has season tickets and I've taken a share of the matches, which means that we sit in the same place each time we go. Directly behind us sit a couple of men, both in their late 20s/early30s and unmarried although one has a 'live-in' girlfriend and a young child, they work for the same company but not in the same department and no, I haven't ever spoken to them, this is information gleaned from listening.
They always talk a lot and tonight was no exception. After the initial greetings we (sorry, 'they') got onto the subject of relationships, and of their mate Neil, who is going through a divorce and whose ex is getting really nasty, before moving on to themselves. Things aren't as they used to be as she's getting bored at being at home (warning! Read the signals I wanted to turn and say), and last week she went out with an ex-colleague and got really drunk and didn't come home until very late (second warning!). The thing is, she's always wanting to do things, whereas he goes to work all day so of course when he gets home just wants to crash out and doze on the sofa (third and final warning!)
These two talk, literally, throughout the game, and during the half-time interval. That's an hour and forty-five minutes, non-stop, every home match. Most of it is of no interest to me, but to those of us who have been there, or nearly been there, the signs were so clear you'd need sunglasses to black them out. The icing on the cake though, was after an hour of this, he was complaining that she just doesn't get that he's been busy at work all day and needs a rest when he gets home. The trouble with women, he said, is that they ave a constant need to talk, talk,talk and just don't appreciate a bit of quiet time! (Red card!)
Listening to them just made me smile.....
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
Wednesday, 2 January 2013
to hear that familiar 'toot'
I've been away for a few days to one of my favourite places - Swanage in Dorset. There's so many reasons why I love the place: lots of incredible views and lots of incredible people. I'm sure there's plenty more space for a page of their own here, but today I'll focus on sounds, and one in particular.
When I was growing up in North London I lived very close to a railway line and used to play there quite often; running through the tunnels and/or across the bridge (while trains on the King's Cross to Edinburgh line were thundering through - I now shudder at the thought...) No, they were not steam engines then, but now and again a 'special' would go through, and I remember clearly and fondly that a large crowd from the neighbourhood trooped across the local dump (my playground) to the embankment to wave the Flying Scotsman past. That must have been in the mid to late 60s... I guess that's where my nostalgic attachment to steam trains comes from, but I've often wondered where and why others have the same draw to the 'beasts'. It's been over 50 years since regular steam services ran across the country, yet small children are still initiated to trains with a 'choo-choo' sound.
When I had children I did the same as everyone else: taught them that trains went 'choo-choo' or 'toooot' rather than 'clickety-clack' or 'click-clack, click-clack' which is what they do now (how else can you describe it?), and I was pleased that Thomas the Tank Engine reinforced this view and had regular 'toots' throughout, with the background 'chuffing' of the train pulling away.
So what has this got to do with Swanage? I hear you ask (or perhaps not). Well, Swanage has its own steam railway, which runs through Corfe to Norden, with plans to link up to the national rail service at Wareham. If you haven't been on it, you must. Swanage station is lovely and the ride is beautiful, with fabulous views especially of Corfe Castle. The view of the railway and castle from the ridge opposite are spectacularly romantic and so British: rolling hills, stone cottages, a ruined castle on a hill and a stone arched bridge across a country lane. Add to this a tooting steam train puffing cotton-wool steam clouds, and it's just about perfect.
Wherever you are in Swanage you can sporadically hear the train approaching or leaving the station. We were staying at Heroes Haven in Herston, just outside Swanage, and it's so peaceful that the sound travels clearly and perfectly. Hearing that cheerful 'toot' on a beautiful winter's morning just made me smile.....
When I was growing up in North London I lived very close to a railway line and used to play there quite often; running through the tunnels and/or across the bridge (while trains on the King's Cross to Edinburgh line were thundering through - I now shudder at the thought...) No, they were not steam engines then, but now and again a 'special' would go through, and I remember clearly and fondly that a large crowd from the neighbourhood trooped across the local dump (my playground) to the embankment to wave the Flying Scotsman past. That must have been in the mid to late 60s... I guess that's where my nostalgic attachment to steam trains comes from, but I've often wondered where and why others have the same draw to the 'beasts'. It's been over 50 years since regular steam services ran across the country, yet small children are still initiated to trains with a 'choo-choo' sound.
When I had children I did the same as everyone else: taught them that trains went 'choo-choo' or 'toooot' rather than 'clickety-clack' or 'click-clack, click-clack' which is what they do now (how else can you describe it?), and I was pleased that Thomas the Tank Engine reinforced this view and had regular 'toots' throughout, with the background 'chuffing' of the train pulling away.
So what has this got to do with Swanage? I hear you ask (or perhaps not). Well, Swanage has its own steam railway, which runs through Corfe to Norden, with plans to link up to the national rail service at Wareham. If you haven't been on it, you must. Swanage station is lovely and the ride is beautiful, with fabulous views especially of Corfe Castle. The view of the railway and castle from the ridge opposite are spectacularly romantic and so British: rolling hills, stone cottages, a ruined castle on a hill and a stone arched bridge across a country lane. Add to this a tooting steam train puffing cotton-wool steam clouds, and it's just about perfect.
Wherever you are in Swanage you can sporadically hear the train approaching or leaving the station. We were staying at Heroes Haven in Herston, just outside Swanage, and it's so peaceful that the sound travels clearly and perfectly. Hearing that cheerful 'toot' on a beautiful winter's morning just made me smile.....
Wednesday, 26 September 2012
to receive banana sweets
I love the taste and texture of bananas, and all things banana-related (hold on there, girls, I'm being serious here!).
To clarify, I'm talking about fresh bananas, barbecue bananas, roasted bananas, banana loaf, banana pancakes, banana with chocolate fondue, banana milkshakes, banana smoothies (there's lots of banana in smoothies), banana ice cream, banoffee pie... I could go on, but will stop with these as they're all things that I've made and enjoy. In addition to these, I love those 'penny' sweets - you know, the ones that are made from 'stuff' which is coloured yellow, flavoured then shaped into banana-like treats. I know they're cheap and unhealthy, but I love them.
My banana obsession is known to all my close friends and family, so it was no surprise that on my birthday my son gave me a small parcel wrapped in tissue paper, with a ribbon and a bow, and inside was a small 'bunch' of sweet bananas that I intend not to share, but to indulge myself in. I've already started, but I'm saving some for later. Opening the parcel in the evening when all my day's work is done, and treating myself to a banana goodie, just makes me smile. (just like a banana!)
To clarify, I'm talking about fresh bananas, barbecue bananas, roasted bananas, banana loaf, banana pancakes, banana with chocolate fondue, banana milkshakes, banana smoothies (there's lots of banana in smoothies), banana ice cream, banoffee pie... I could go on, but will stop with these as they're all things that I've made and enjoy. In addition to these, I love those 'penny' sweets - you know, the ones that are made from 'stuff' which is coloured yellow, flavoured then shaped into banana-like treats. I know they're cheap and unhealthy, but I love them.
Saturday, 15 September 2012
to receive old-fashioned post
I get lots of post. Hold on a minute, I need to re-phrase that and start again. Lots of post gets delivered to my house (that's far more accurate), and once I've sifted out the parcels from ebay, Amazon and Asos (almost a daily delivery - that's what happens when you have two daughters!) all that's usually left is junk mail, bills and statements (why do they keep sending these when I have opted out of paper copies?).
Now and again may get a white envelop, but the franking and pre-printing give away the fact that it's yet another offer for cable tv, cheap insurance or a credit card, and rarely, very rarely, I get an item of post that puzzles and excites me - yes, it does excite me really (but then again I lead a sheltered life!). This week I have had two of those days as my doormat welcomed me home with unexpected visitors of a very pleasant kind.
Tomorrow is my birthday, and today I had a card through the post from a friend who lives quite close by, but who often posts stuff, maybe because she knows what a pleasure and surprise it is to be on the receiving end, or maybe because it's easier to pop a card into the post box than to think about when to call round. Whatever the reason I approve wholeheartedly - a coloured envelop too so I could see as I came down the stairs that there was something special waiting.
When I came home from work on Wednesday there was another coloured envelop waiting for me - this time all the way from Nepal. One of my very lovely friends has been travelling around India, Nepal and surrounding areas for a few of years now (I joined her for a couple of weeks last year) and we keep in touch regularly by email, but seeing the words in her handwriting felt all the more personal - I could hear her talking to me as I read the letter and found myself talking back (in my head - I'm not that weird!).
The best things about real post though (there's two of them) are that firstly, you can keep, read, and re-read to your heart's content, reliving old memories that, when combined, tell a story that my deleted chain of emails don't, and secondly, you get to hold, touch, turn and even smell the paper (especially the one from Nepal!) - a really tactile experience. Seeing, picking up and reading the letter and cards that have plopped through my letterbox this week, just makes me smile.
Now and again may get a white envelop, but the franking and pre-printing give away the fact that it's yet another offer for cable tv, cheap insurance or a credit card, and rarely, very rarely, I get an item of post that puzzles and excites me - yes, it does excite me really (but then again I lead a sheltered life!). This week I have had two of those days as my doormat welcomed me home with unexpected visitors of a very pleasant kind.
Tomorrow is my birthday, and today I had a card through the post from a friend who lives quite close by, but who often posts stuff, maybe because she knows what a pleasure and surprise it is to be on the receiving end, or maybe because it's easier to pop a card into the post box than to think about when to call round. Whatever the reason I approve wholeheartedly - a coloured envelop too so I could see as I came down the stairs that there was something special waiting.
When I came home from work on Wednesday there was another coloured envelop waiting for me - this time all the way from Nepal. One of my very lovely friends has been travelling around India, Nepal and surrounding areas for a few of years now (I joined her for a couple of weeks last year) and we keep in touch regularly by email, but seeing the words in her handwriting felt all the more personal - I could hear her talking to me as I read the letter and found myself talking back (in my head - I'm not that weird!).
The best things about real post though (there's two of them) are that firstly, you can keep, read, and re-read to your heart's content, reliving old memories that, when combined, tell a story that my deleted chain of emails don't, and secondly, you get to hold, touch, turn and even smell the paper (especially the one from Nepal!) - a really tactile experience. Seeing, picking up and reading the letter and cards that have plopped through my letterbox this week, just makes me smile.
Wednesday, 29 August 2012
to take props out (again) with friends
I've mentioned it before, but I'll say it again: I have great friends. Not only are they generous, kind, supportive and all the things you need in a friend, but they're great fun. If you are ever in doubt that life begins at 40 (and continues with style after 50), then let me know and perhaps I'll invite you along with my friends for a night out - you won't be disappointed!
Now and again, just to add a little variety, we take along some kind of 'prop' on a night out, and last Saturday was one of those nights. In the past, amongst other things, we have taken introduction cards, dice pegs, knickers, and the 'Handbag of Glory' (due to make a re-appearance). There are stories to all of these, but I'll have to save them for another day, as last weekend was time for us to dress up, scrub up, get along to a biker's pub to hear some live music, and in an attempt to fit in we needed also to don our best moustaches. One of the best things about props is that they shouldn't cost much, and this time was no exception - just a couple of quid between us and we were ready to go.
The moustaches went down well and were a great ice-breaker (see pictures below - can you guess what famous people's lip hair we were wearing?), but the funniest thing was watching where they ended up as the evening wore on. My friends are artists in sleight of hand, and it seemed as though nobody went past without a hairy addition to their shoulder, back or bum. As I sat at the bar, spotting the moustaches and half-moustaches on their new owners, who would be waking up the next day wondering how and where they had grown the new accessory, it made me smile.
Now and again, just to add a little variety, we take along some kind of 'prop' on a night out, and last Saturday was one of those nights. In the past, amongst other things, we have taken introduction cards, dice pegs, knickers, and the 'Handbag of Glory' (due to make a re-appearance). There are stories to all of these, but I'll have to save them for another day, as last weekend was time for us to dress up, scrub up, get along to a biker's pub to hear some live music, and in an attempt to fit in we needed also to don our best moustaches. One of the best things about props is that they shouldn't cost much, and this time was no exception - just a couple of quid between us and we were ready to go.
The moustaches went down well and were a great ice-breaker (see pictures below - can you guess what famous people's lip hair we were wearing?), but the funniest thing was watching where they ended up as the evening wore on. My friends are artists in sleight of hand, and it seemed as though nobody went past without a hairy addition to their shoulder, back or bum. As I sat at the bar, spotting the moustaches and half-moustaches on their new owners, who would be waking up the next day wondering how and where they had grown the new accessory, it made me smile.
Monday, 20 August 2012
to go out wearing a new posh frock
The only thing I don't like about holidays is the unpacking, I don't mind coming home (too much) as I can look forward to seeing the people I've missed, and I always especially like the first night back in my own bed, but finding a place for all the holiday 'stuff' is a pain, as is washing and ironing the clothes. It's such a chore that I found myself, at the end of last week, finally getting round to putting away all the outfits from my June and July holidays which was when I realised that I have too many clothes; way too many dresses - posh frocks that I don't have occasion to wear and casual ones that either don't fit or don't look good any more, too many casual tops and skirts that don't particularly look good together (the tops would go better with trousers, but I rarely wear trousers..) and the remnants of a 'working' wardrobe harking back to the days when I wore suits.
After cramming all the stuff into limited space I made an important decision: I'm not going to buy a single item more until I've sorted, sifted and drastically minimised my collection, which I will do when I've lost weight and can try everything on to make a measured and unemotional decision on what will stay and what will go. ( I say unemotional as I think I've kept some stuff as I thought it looked/would look good once but don't really know). It felt better to make the decision to rationalise, even if I couldn't yet follow it through.
Fast forward just two days, and I was out shopping - not for clothes, please understand, but for a work bag that I desperately need as mine has broken. I can add an extra excuse for the shopping: it was so damned hot this weekend, we weren't near enough to the sea to go there for the day so shops were the coolest option. Within an hour I had the perfect bag at a perfect price, but also three new dresses..... what is wrong with me? ('I'm just a girl who can't say no'? 'I can resist everything but temptation'?)
To be fair, they look lovely on, are very different to each other, were bargains and I've already worn two of them. Standing in front of the mirror, wearing the grey silk-ish number from Planet, my resolution from two days earlier sprang to mind, but I didn't feel in the least guilty... it just made me smile.
After cramming all the stuff into limited space I made an important decision: I'm not going to buy a single item more until I've sorted, sifted and drastically minimised my collection, which I will do when I've lost weight and can try everything on to make a measured and unemotional decision on what will stay and what will go. ( I say unemotional as I think I've kept some stuff as I thought it looked/would look good once but don't really know). It felt better to make the decision to rationalise, even if I couldn't yet follow it through.
Fast forward just two days, and I was out shopping - not for clothes, please understand, but for a work bag that I desperately need as mine has broken. I can add an extra excuse for the shopping: it was so damned hot this weekend, we weren't near enough to the sea to go there for the day so shops were the coolest option. Within an hour I had the perfect bag at a perfect price, but also three new dresses..... what is wrong with me? ('I'm just a girl who can't say no'? 'I can resist everything but temptation'?)
To be fair, they look lovely on, are very different to each other, were bargains and I've already worn two of them. Standing in front of the mirror, wearing the grey silk-ish number from Planet, my resolution from two days earlier sprang to mind, but I didn't feel in the least guilty... it just made me smile.
Thursday, 16 August 2012
to see my efforts appreciated
Following my last post, I did indeed tear myself away from the sofa (and from my kindle and the TV - I've been re-reading Pride and Prejudice and quite fancied watching Colin Firth again so it was quite a sacrifice) and immersed myself in making a cake for my nephew's birthday. I needed a challenge, something new to do rather than the usual family birthday cake, so thought I'd have a go at Lorraine Pascal's 'hidden zebra' cake (BBC 2 Monday, http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b01m28l5/Lorraines_Fast_Fresh_and_Easy_Food_Easy_Entertaining/ cake is about 24 minutes in). It's a bit of a faff, but then again, I sometimes like to faff and fiddle about, it's therapeutic.
I watched the video above but wondered about adding the flour early - it didn't seem right, so checked out the recipe in the book when I picked up ingredients in the supermarket and it was wrong on TV, so if you make it do it by the book! It takes a while as you need to pipe the mix into the tin, but the finished result is impressive so it's worth it
Further fiddling and faffing about and I had made chocolate letters to spell out his name, and a few swirls and twirls later and it was ready to go. Two hours later the cake had been demolished and is now a thing of the past - all the work and the pleasure is over so soon. I used to hear myself saying 'it's not worth making a cake as they never last more than a day', but realised I was being immensely silly, and now when a cake goes before I can take a a photo (which I completely forgot to do), it just makes me smile.
I watched the video above but wondered about adding the flour early - it didn't seem right, so checked out the recipe in the book when I picked up ingredients in the supermarket and it was wrong on TV, so if you make it do it by the book! It takes a while as you need to pipe the mix into the tin, but the finished result is impressive so it's worth it
Further fiddling and faffing about and I had made chocolate letters to spell out his name, and a few swirls and twirls later and it was ready to go. Two hours later the cake had been demolished and is now a thing of the past - all the work and the pleasure is over so soon. I used to hear myself saying 'it's not worth making a cake as they never last more than a day', but realised I was being immensely silly, and now when a cake goes before I can take a a photo (which I completely forgot to do), it just makes me smile.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)