Well as all the Easy Jet flights, except ours, have been cancelled, it's still a bit dicey as they may cancel ours an hour before we leave. The flight departures at Alicante airport is still showing EZY 6886 as departing on time at 9:20 pm. Gatwick is showing as cold but sunny at the moment so if all goes well we get in at 11:20 pm. As the temperature over here has dropped to 6°C, and raining, perhaps the cold shock when we get there will not be too severe.
Funny weather lately, 2 days of 20°C, followed by 3 days of dull cold and raining.
So, yesterday I was again tricked in Christmas shopping on the pretence of going into Torrevieja for a bolt for the front door. All the shops that were shut the last time were now fully 360°, open. We managed to find the same underground parking as previous but also found on leaving that the charges had gone up about a 1,000%. Anyway, got the bolt for €1 at a Asian bazaar and then the sucker punch. “Why don't we just have a look in that very large store over there?”
Thank God I had only €200 on me and no credit cards. Mind you I did not have anything 3 hours later and you could not have peeled that contented look off her face with anything short of rubbing alcohol and bleach. Thank heavens that I had enough change in the car for the parking.
We watched the final episode of the West Wing, the other night and all in all have enjoyed much of it, we did watch 1 disk twice, out of sequence, but did not notice it at the time. Next year we start on “The Saprano's” of which neither of us ever watched at the time of broadcasting. Then the whole series of “Yes, Minister/Prime Minister”, followed by “Prison Break”, so no lack of viewing there. We are presently eating everything that is left.
Saturday, 19 December 2009
Thursday, 17 December 2009
Wednesday 16th December, Marjal and cool is the word.
“I don't know why we are here, but I'm pretty sure that it is not in order to enjoy ourselves.”
Ludwig Wittgenstein
Well I guess that sums it up for all the “half empty glass” people. Then again, I'm not one of the “half full” people either, I'll probably just drink it.
Last night or should I say this morning because it's now 7:23 am and I'm up. Well anyway, you know how it is, half way through the night you wake up and usually need a pee, or more usually in my case, a pickled onion. Now don't even think about it, they are thousands of early morning, middle of the night, pickled onion munchers out there, so don't deny it, I know I am so I will not. So this morning or as I thought, middle of the night, I get up and stumble to the kitchen and reach for the pickle onion jar and look at the time on the microwave, it's 7:19 am in the morning! Drawn though I was to that jar, even I resisted the idea of a pickled onion at that time of the morning with the chance, though misty at best, of getting back into the bed with my gorgeous wife. All I actually got was “Don't wake me up!” and “What's that vinegar smell?”
I think I mentioned before that it was a Naturalist beech, here's the proof.
Walk actually lasted seven miles and my legs felt like lead. Tricia decided to collect shells, as she always does, “she collects sea shells by the sea shore”, is about as interesting as it gets. I was looking for large diameter bottle tops for obvious reasons. Oh, not so obvious I guess? Well how do I explain this?
When I decided to replace the 30 watt MS lights with half watt LEDs I did not realise that they would protrude into the cavity above them, i.e. into the shelves where we keep the food or clothes or whatever. So, as the wiring/contacts of the LED sticks out about, 10 cm (gone metric there) a suitable bottle top prevents other objects from disconnecting it. By the way, if you can visualise it from that description you should get a job working as an extra on the next Star Trek film.
Last night, while filling up the penguin with boiling water for SWMBO, I decided to spill most of it on my hand, I don't know why, perhaps it was the gallon of Lidl's best inside me or I'm getting the shakes. Anyway, I ended up watching the West Wing, episode seven, disk four, with my hand in a bucket of ice; this morning my fingers are still blistered and I can still not remember if the President went to war with China or not.
Maurice, the guy who went back to the UK recently, read previous post, came back yesterday and brought two large, asked for, but forgotten until now, by me via e-mail, jars of Branston Pickle, SWMBO is in jacket potato heaven and said he's on her Christmas card list.
Today is supposed to be sunny and twenty'ish. Looking out of the window, I think not, so no cycle ride to Rojales any time soon, more like a drive into Alicante and, arghhhhhh!, Christmas shopping. Please come out Mr Sun, pretty please?
What we did however was to go for a drive up to the mountains to see the snow and have a picnic, guess whose idea that was. We did, see the pics. Managed to call into a shopping mall, sorry three shopping malls, on the way back. One of which was an “Outlet” mall. Drove past the outlets, most of which were closed and the others did not seem to advertise what they sold.
“Pull into that one!”
“Why?”
“'Cos it's open!”
“What's on sale, what are they actually selling?”
“I don't know, until I get there, do I?”
“Then why are we stopping at all?”
At this point I remember the definition of thinking like a woman. Take a man, throw away all logic and reasoning, remove responsibility. Replace with deviousness and cunning and an absolute right not to take no for an answer, you now have a women.
Also on the way back we passed the worlds 3rd largest salt mining operation. It is not snow and it's big, that is not a model articulated lorry in the picture and there's lots of them piles. It not exactly mining though. Tide, what little there is, comes into to large flat areas of land. Sea water evaporates leaving the salt, high tech isn't it.
Just put this on a Motorhome forum I'm on. Old Mo is Maurice, a guy who has been around the block a few times.
“Now I've not been doing this travelling about in Spain much and I will also bow to those with much more experienced than me, so....
Going into Marjal, back from a drive out to the mountains with SWMBO and I see Old Mo messing about with his LPG tank on his Motorhome.
"Hi Mo what's up"?
"After being charged so much for my electric I'm fitting this here gas bottle into my gas system. But the bloody spigot is USA and small so the pipe is a bit loose. So I put some PTFE tape round it and it's pretty OK now. Of course I'm fitting it in front of my van gas regulator".
"er..why"
"To reduce the pressure, that's what it's for!" and a withered look.
"But you've already got a regulator stuck on the end of the pipe that fits on the bottle".
"That's not a regulator, it's a switch"
"See that box you've just taken it out of, what does it say?"
"Er......30 mbar, Regu...............don't you dare put that on the forum!"
That was an hour ago”
The 110v cut out a little while ago, it does that when you switch everything on at the same time. So I thought I'd let SWMBO share my vast knowledge on how the various electrical system works on the MS.
OK. “All the lights, except this one, are 12 volt, off the batteries, this one is mains.“(pointing to single overhead mains (240v) ceiling lamp)
“What about the outside lights?”
“What point of “all” did you not understand?”
“OK, OK testy.” “What about the little lights under the bed”
“12 volt”.
“In the kitchen?”
“12 volt”.
“In the bathroom?”
“12 volt”. We could go on but I had now lost the will to live. “The wall lights?” I give up.
I was going to tell her how to re-set the 110 volt cut out and how the transformer was switched for the 240 volt supply, but somehow I thought it wiser to let sleeping dogs lie.
“Under the cooker?”
Roll on Saturday and I can share her with the rest of you back in the UK, there's no where to hide in the Mothership.
p.s. the formatting of the pictures seem to have a will of their own and turn out nowhere near what they look like when I post them?
Ludwig Wittgenstein
Well I guess that sums it up for all the “half empty glass” people. Then again, I'm not one of the “half full” people either, I'll probably just drink it.
Last night or should I say this morning because it's now 7:23 am and I'm up. Well anyway, you know how it is, half way through the night you wake up and usually need a pee, or more usually in my case, a pickled onion. Now don't even think about it, they are thousands of early morning, middle of the night, pickled onion munchers out there, so don't deny it, I know I am so I will not. So this morning or as I thought, middle of the night, I get up and stumble to the kitchen and reach for the pickle onion jar and look at the time on the microwave, it's 7:19 am in the morning! Drawn though I was to that jar, even I resisted the idea of a pickled onion at that time of the morning with the chance, though misty at best, of getting back into the bed with my gorgeous wife. All I actually got was “Don't wake me up!” and “What's that vinegar smell?”So here I am, two cups of tea to the better, typing this and it's still dark outside.
Yesterday it was decided to walk along the beach for something to do. I did not fancy the walk at first but it was great. Miles of beach front and the sun shining, brilliant! See pics.
Walk actually lasted seven miles and my legs felt like lead. Tricia decided to collect shells, as she always does, “she collects sea shells by the sea shore”, is about as interesting as it gets. I was looking for large diameter bottle tops for obvious reasons. Oh, not so obvious I guess? Well how do I explain this?
When I decided to replace the 30 watt MS lights with half watt LEDs I did not realise that they would protrude into the cavity above them, i.e. into the shelves where we keep the food or clothes or whatever. So, as the wiring/contacts of the LED sticks out about, 10 cm (gone metric there) a suitable bottle top prevents other objects from disconnecting it. By the way, if you can visualise it from that description you should get a job working as an extra on the next Star Trek film.Last night, while filling up the penguin with boiling water for SWMBO, I decided to spill most of it on my hand, I don't know why, perhaps it was the gallon of Lidl's best inside me or I'm getting the shakes. Anyway, I ended up watching the West Wing, episode seven, disk four, with my hand in a bucket of ice; this morning my fingers are still blistered and I can still not remember if the President went to war with China or not.
Maurice, the guy who went back to the UK recently, read previous post, came back yesterday and brought two large, asked for, but forgotten until now, by me via e-mail, jars of Branston Pickle, SWMBO is in jacket potato heaven and said he's on her Christmas card list.
Today is supposed to be sunny and twenty'ish. Looking out of the window, I think not, so no cycle ride to Rojales any time soon, more like a drive into Alicante and, arghhhhhh!, Christmas shopping. Please come out Mr Sun, pretty please?
What we did however was to go for a drive up to the mountains to see the snow and have a picnic, guess whose idea that was. We did, see the pics. Managed to call into a shopping mall, sorry three shopping malls, on the way back. One of which was an “Outlet” mall. Drove past the outlets, most of which were closed and the others did not seem to advertise what they sold. “Pull into that one!”
“Why?”
“'Cos it's open!”
“What's on sale, what are they actually selling?”
“I don't know, until I get there, do I?”
“Then why are we stopping at all?”
At this point I remember the definition of thinking like a woman. Take a man, throw away all logic and reasoning, remove responsibility. Replace with deviousness and cunning and an absolute right not to take no for an answer, you now have a women.
Also on the way back we passed the worlds 3rd largest salt mining operation. It is not snow and it's big, that is not a model articulated lorry in the picture and there's lots of them piles. It not exactly mining though. Tide, what little there is, comes into to large flat areas of land. Sea water evaporates leaving the salt, high tech isn't it.Just put this on a Motorhome forum I'm on. Old Mo is Maurice, a guy who has been around the block a few times.
“Now I've not been doing this travelling about in Spain much and I will also bow to those with much more experienced than me, so....
Going into Marjal, back from a drive out to the mountains with SWMBO and I see Old Mo messing about with his LPG tank on his Motorhome.
"Hi Mo what's up"?
"After being charged so much for my electric I'm fitting this here gas bottle into my gas system. But the bloody spigot is USA and small so the pipe is a bit loose. So I put some PTFE tape round it and it's pretty OK now. Of course I'm fitting it in front of my van gas regulator".
"er..why"
"To reduce the pressure, that's what it's for!" and a withered look.
"But you've already got a regulator stuck on the end of the pipe that fits on the bottle".
"That's not a regulator, it's a switch"
"See that box you've just taken it out of, what does it say?"
"Er......30 mbar, Regu...............don't you dare put that on the forum!"
That was an hour ago”
The 110v cut out a little while ago, it does that when you switch everything on at the same time. So I thought I'd let SWMBO share my vast knowledge on how the various electrical system works on the MS.
OK. “All the lights, except this one, are 12 volt, off the batteries, this one is mains.“(pointing to single overhead mains (240v) ceiling lamp)
“What about the outside lights?”
“What point of “all” did you not understand?”
“OK, OK testy.” “What about the little lights under the bed”
“12 volt”.
“In the kitchen?”
“12 volt”.
“In the bathroom?”
“12 volt”. We could go on but I had now lost the will to live. “The wall lights?” I give up.
I was going to tell her how to re-set the 110 volt cut out and how the transformer was switched for the 240 volt supply, but somehow I thought it wiser to let sleeping dogs lie.
“Under the cooker?”
Roll on Saturday and I can share her with the rest of you back in the UK, there's no where to hide in the Mothership.
p.s. the formatting of the pictures seem to have a will of their own and turn out nowhere near what they look like when I post them?
Monday, 14 December 2009
Sunday 13th December, Marjal and the storm is coming.
Well not much doing and at the moment, the wind is howling and rain is expected. Last few days, warm and sunny but we are going to have poor weather for the next couple of days then back to 20° or so. Six more days then back to the UK via taxi and Easyjet on Saturday evening. So a lot of just lying around the pool and reading. Tough eh?
Cycled in to Guardamar for the Christmas market, 10 stalls and a waste of time.
Finally got the spare gas bottle at the market. Last week we got there about 11:30 am and no bottles, today 9:30 am and there were hundreds of them. Stall holder offered two bottles for €7 or one for €6 and I nearly went for both but couldn't carry them. Tricia came along and managed to get a jumper and some silk scarves for practically nothing and they are honestly good quality.
We have been steering clear of “English” food at the cafés in town but today decided to go for a Sunday roast for the hell of it. Turned up to find the place did not open on Sunday until 6pm, go figure. We are trying to eat (drink) everything in the fridge anyway because I do not want to leave the electricity switched on when we leave for the UK, as we get charged for it in the new year and the MS's transformer uses juice just sitting there, connected to the mains, but doing nothing.
Been watching X factor lately, Tricia is hooked, thank God it finishes tonight.
Joe the Geordie won, thank God, but I still think he's a bit of a uphill gardener.
Monday and it's persistently raining, grey but not cold. So we stayed in bed for as long we could, 10 o'clock, and then Tricia was by then so driven by hunger, she got up. Pity was she had missed her usual “chucky” egg and soldiers on Sunday morning because of the gas bottle expedition and today we did not have any bread for the toast. I did offer some Jacobs cream crackers but to no avail. Looks like she is going for the “dogs throw up” breakfast so I'll go for a shower while she does that.
Now a lot of the “long stayers” here, that is people who stay up to ten months, some do not even take their units back to the UK, just put them into a storage facility locally. Most of them have caravans with huge awnings, much bigger than the actual caravan, but in weather like this they are draughty, noisy and cold. So the occupants have to resort to living in their caravan, problem is, they usually only sleep in them so the rest of the living space is full of junk, washing machines, gas bottles, extra chairs and what not. So at times like this, and throughout most of January and February, living comfortably is more of a aspiration than a reality.
The MS however is great, lots of room, warm and comfortable and I'm sitting here typing away listening to the gentle patter of rain, not getting in here.
About two nights ago it was very cold, i.e. single digits, so SWMBO ordered the penguin hot water bottle to be prepared, which I duly did. About two hours later, after I had read and listened to my walkman, I went to bed also. When I got in I noticed that the hot water bottle had slipped from her grasp and was lying in the middle of the bed and more importantly was still hot. As I reached for it, and I'm still trying to figure out what extra sense she actually has, two vice like hands clamped on it and dragged it to her bosom, it was very much like her food reaction when you try to take it away before she is finished.
So all that is left for today is the mandatory visit to Lidl and then lots of reading.
BTW if you are reading this Adam please give our best to Stuart for his Fortieth recently, we just plain forgot to send him a card.
Because it's so uneventful I've copied a couple of my favourites.
FOR LEXOPHILES (for some reason number 12 creases me up)
1. A bicycle can't stand alone; it is two tired.
2. A will is a dead giveaway.
3. Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.
4. A backward poet writes inverse.
5. In a democracy it's your vote that counts; in feudalism,
it's your Count that votes.
6. A chicken crossing the road: poultry in motion.
7. If you don't pay your exorcist you can get repossessed.
8. With her marriage she got a new name and a dress.
9. Show me a piano falling down a mine shaft and I'll show
you A-flat miner.
10. When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds.
11. The guy who fell onto an upholstery machine
was fully recovered.
12. A grenade fell onto a kitchen floor in France, resulting in Linoleum Blownapart.
13. You are stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.
14. Local Area Network in Australia: The LAN down under.
15. He would often have to break into song because he couldn't find the key.
16. A calendar's days are numbered.
17. A lot of money is tainted: 'Taint yours, and 'taint mine.
18. A boiled egg is hard to beat.
19. He had a photographic memory which was never developed.
20. A plateau is a high form of flattery.
21. A short fortune-teller who escaped from prison: a small medium at large
22. Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.
23. When you've seen one shopping centre you've seen a mall.
24. If you jump off a Paris bridge, you are in Seine.
25. When she saw her first strands of gray hair, she thought she'd dye !!!
26. Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead to know basis.
27. Santa's helpers are subordinate clauses.
28. Acupuncture: a jab well done.
NOTE: No trees were killed in the sending of this message,
but a large number of electrons were terribly inconvenienced.
Abbott and Costello on baseball and trying not to be condescending it's about the names of the ball players. The first baseman's name is “Who” and then you can figure from there. It's also on U-tube, it's brilliant.
Costello: Now look, I'm the head of the sports department. I gotta know the baseball players' names. Do you know the guys' names?
Abbott: Oh sure.
Costello: So you go ahead and tell me some of their names.
Abbott: Well, I'll introduce you to the boys. You know sometimes nowadays they give ballplayers peculiar names.
Costello: You mean funny names.
Abbott: Nicknames, pet names, like Dizzy Dean -
Costello: His brother Daffy -
Abbott: Daffy Dean -
Costello: And their cousin!
Abbott: Who's that?
Costello: Goofy!
Abbott: Goofy, huh? Now let's see. We have on the bags - we have Who's on first, What's on second, I Don't Know's on third.
Costello: That's what I wanna find out.
Abbott: I say Who's on first, What's on second, I Don't Know's on third -
Costello: You know the fellows' names?
Abbott: Certainly!
Costello: Well then who's on first?
Abbott: Yes!
Costello: I mean the fellow's name!
Abbott: Who!
Costello: The guy on first!
Abbott: Who!
Costello: The first baseman!
Abbott: Who!
Costello: The guy playing first!
Abbott: Who is on first!
Costello: Now whaddya askin' me for?
Abbott: I'm telling you Who is on first.
Costello: Well, I'm asking YOU who's on first!
Abbott: That's the man's name.
Costello: That's who's name?
Abbott: Yes.
Costello: Well go ahead and tell me.
Abbott: Who.
Costello: The guy on first.
Abbott: Who!
Costello: The first baseman.
Abbott: Who is on first!
Costello: Have you got a contract with the first baseman?
Abbott: Absolutely.
Costello: Who signs the contract?
Abbott: Well, naturally!
Costello: When you pay off the first baseman every month, who gets the money?
Abbott: Every dollar. Why not? The man's entitled to it.
Costello: Who is?
Abbott: Yes. Sometimes his wife comes down and collects it.
Costello: Who's wife?
Abbott: Yes.
Costello: All I'm tryin' to find out is what's the guy's name on first base.
Abbott: Oh, no - wait a minute, don't switch 'em around. What is on second base.
Costello: I'm not askin' you who's on second.
Abbott: Who is on first.
Costello: I don't know.
Abbott: He's on third - now we're not talkin' 'bout him.
Costello: Now, how did I get on third base?
Abbott: You mentioned his name!
Costello: If I mentioned the third baseman's name, who did I say is playing third?
Abbott: No - Who's playing first.
Costello: Never mind first - I wanna know what's the guy's name on third.
Abbott: No - What's on second.
Costello: I'm not askin' you who's on second.
Abbott: Who's on first.
Costello: I don't know.
Abbott: He's on third.
Costello: Aaah! Would you please stay on third base and don't go off it?
Abbott: What was it you wanted?
Costello: Now who's playin' third base?
Abbott: Now why do you insist on putting Who on third base?
Costello: Why? Who am I putting over there?
Abbott: Yes. But we don't want him there.
Costello: What's the guy's name on third base?
Abbott: What belongs on second.
Costello: I'm not askin' you who's on second.
Abbott: Who's on first.
Costello: I don't know.
Abbott & Costello: THIRD BASE!
Costello: You got an outfield?
Abbott: Oh yes!
Costello: The left fielder's name?
Abbott: Why.
Costello: I don't know, I just thought I'd ask you.
Abbott: Well, I just thought I'd tell you.
Costello: Alright, then tell me who's playin' left field.
Abbott: Who is playing fir-
Costello: STAY OUTTA THE INFIELD! I wanna know what's the left fielder's name.
Abbott: What's on second.
Costello: I'm not askin' you who's on second.
Abbott: Who's on first.
Costello: I don't know.
Abbott & Costello: THIRD BASE!
Costello: The left fielder's name?
Abbott: Why.
Costello: Because!
Abbott: Oh, he's center field.
Costello: Look, you gotta pitcher on this team?
Abbott: Now wouldn't this be a fine team without a pitcher.
Costello: The pitcher's name.
Abbott: Tomorrow.
Costello: You don't wanna tell me today?
Abbott: I'm tellin' you now.
Costello: Then go ahead.
Abbott: Tomorrow.
Costello: What time?
Abbott: What time what?
Costello: What time tomorrow are you going to tell me who's pitching?
Abbott: Now listen. Who is not pitching. Who is on fir-
Costello: I'll break your arm if you say Who's on first. I wanna know what's the pitcher's name.
Abbott: What's on second.
Costello: I don't know.
Abbott & Costello: THIRD BASE!
Costello: You got a catcher?
Abbott: Oh, absolutely.
Costello: The catcher's name.
Abbott: Today.
Costello: Today. And Tomorrow's pitching.
Abbott: Now you've got it.
Costello: All we've got is a couple of days on the team.
Abbott: Well, I can't help that.
Costello: Well, I'm a catcher too.
Abbott: I know that.
Costello: Now suppose that I'm catching, Tomorrow's pitching on my team and their heavy hitter gets up.
Abbott: Yes.
Costello: Tomorrow throws the ball. The batter bunts the ball. When he bunts the ball, me being a good catcher, I wanna throw the guy out at first base. So I pick up the ball and throw it to who?
Abbott: Now that's the first thing you've said right.
Costello: I don't even know what I'm talkin' about!
Abbott: Well, that's all you have to do.
Costello: Is to throw the ball to first base.
Abbott: Yes.
Costello: Now who's got it?
Abbott: Naturally!
Costello: If I throw the ball to first base, somebody's gotta catch it. Now who caught it?
Abbott: Naturally!
Costello: Who caught it?
Abbott: Naturally.
Costello: Who?
Abbott: Naturally!
Costello: Naturally.
Abbott: Yes.
Costello: So I pick up the ball and I throw it to Naturally.
Abbott: NO, NO, NO! You throw the ball to first base and Who gets it?
Costello: Naturally.
Abbott: That's right. There we go.
Costello: So I pick up the ball and I throw it to Naturally.
Abbott: You don't!
Costello: I throw it to who?
Abbott: Naturally.
Costello: THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING!
Abbott: You're not saying it that way.
Costello: I said I throw the ball to Naturally.
Abbott: You don't - you throw the ball to Who?
Costello: Naturally!
Abbott: Well, say that!
Costello: THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING! I throw the ball to who?
Abbott: Naturally.
Costello: Ask me.
Abbott: You throw the ball to Who?
Costello: Naturally.
Abbott: That's it.
Costello: SAME AS YOU!! I throw the ball to first base and who gets it?
Abbott: Naturally!
Costello: Who has it?
Abbott: Naturally!
Costello: HE BETTER HAVE IT! I throw the ball to first base. Whoever it is grabs the ball, so the guy runs to second. Who picks up the ball and throws it to What, What throws it to I Don't Know, I Don't Know throws it back to Tomorrow - triple play.
Abbott: Yes.
Costello: Another guy gets up - it's a long fly ball to Because. Why? I don't know. He's on third and I don't give a darn!
Abbott: What was that?
Costello: I said I don't give a darn!
Abbott: Oh, that's our shortstop.
Thursday, 10 December 2009
Wednesday 9th December, Marjal and how time flies.
I Have been doing most of the washing up lately, don't know why but SWMBO seems to find something really important to do after we have finished eating. Her nails, check what she is planning to wear the next day, putting chicken bones in my sandwiches, you know that sort of thing.
Anyway because ALL the shops are shut in the whole of Spain for that day I thought I was going to be “shop free” for the day. Not so, I fear.
Trouble with cycling around here is the dust flying about on the “cycle” tracks. Most of the time it's bearable then some Spanish fisherman belts by in his car and you nearly choke to death. We (I) have cleaned and oiled the bikes but after a mile they are covered with dust and start squeaking.
Weather is still in low 20's so most afternoon's we sunbathe, read and doze. I was dreaming about posting letters on cold, freezing mornings along Coombe Hill Road, my hands cold and bleeding from being caught in fast attack letterboxes, wild rabid dogs biting my arse even if I did give them a biscuit. That was not a dream it was a bloody nightmare. Trouble is someone is actually doing it in my place, hope you get some decent Christmas tips mate!
This not drinking (much) on the evenings is tiresome. I mean not only do I wake up sober I actually can remember what we watched on TV the night before! Also as Billy Connelly once said; “Trouble with non drinkers is that when you wake up in the morning, that's as good as you're going to feel all day”.
BTW managed to get a pic of “the dogs breakfast” as previously mentioned and of Tricia actually eating it.
I last had my hair cut about 7 weeks ago and with 2 weeks before we return I'm beginning to look a bit shaggy. There is a hairdresser on the site called Angie, in fact she is on the pitch opposite us. She does a pretty good trade and is very busy especially with the women just before a site “do”, Flamenco, line dancing etc. nights.
She also cuts men's hair for €9, which is not bad I suppose. So I have been curtain twitching at the men who have had their hair cut there. Well I'm not bragging, but on this site, where the average age, of men, is about 65, most are balding or have a “Bobby Charlton” at best. What Angie seems to specialise in is a number one, just straight over with the shears. I have often thought about having this done, where you end up with a half inch stubble all over. Tricia thinks I would look like a criminal and would frighten the animals around here, so I will hang on and perhaps effect a small ponytail?
Just typing this and Tricia stops ironing and goes over to the sink to get a drink of water and then screamed. I thought she had drank some acid or even perhaps some of my beer the way she went on. She just stood there pointing at the kitchen wall and going more and more white by the second. What she was pointing at was a 5” grasshopper (cricket, locust, who knows?) that somehow got in the MS. Tricia freaks out if she sees a money spider so this puppy caused a slightly larger reaction. “GETITOUT!” “GETITOUT!” “GETITOUT!” Just about sums it up and then explained how “I” was to get it out. Well I got it into a large glass and boy the thing could kick and out it went.
It may seem strange I know but sometimes we have to get a rush on now and then. Today the planning was to do a bit of Lidl shopping, followed by our 2 hours in the sun, 1pm – 3pm, then either a brisk walk to the port and back, 8 miles, then dinner, WW and bed.
Then someone suggested that we have a look at the Christian versus the Moors re-enactment in nearby Montforte del Cid, a small town about 12 miles away. It goes back to the time when the Christian kicked the Moors/Arabs butts out of Spain in the 13th century or so. Now these festivals go on all over Spain at various times of the year and basically they dress up as, you guessed it, Moors or Christians. Then have marches through the town and finish with mock battles.
Also, as we would pass the LPG Repsol gas station on the way and I could fill up our now empty bottle.
We decided to forgo the walk and see the festival, starting about 4pm'ish.
Did the Lidl thing and was just settling down for a good old sit and read in the sun when along came, well someone on the camp site who shall remain nameless but can, and does, talk until you have to drop excuses into the conversation so he might take the hint and leave you alone. i.e. “er I have to get the goats in now”, or “is that the time? I need to put more bleach down the toilet”. Stuff like that. Result; listened for about an hour, you must only listen, ask a question and you provoke another ear bashing.
So our sun hour went out the window and we ended up dashing (yes dashing) in order to get out in time to enjoy ourselves.
The festival was worth the trip, we got our gas and arrived back shortly after dark.
Have now eaten dinner and Tricia is now looking at some ironing and I'm off to the PW club.
I also noticed that it is mainly us men who troop down to and do the washing up. Apparently we have been now officially named as the “pussy whipped” club. PWC equipment on right.--->
Did our standard 15 mile trip and stopped at our “local” coffee stop, the Rojales social centre, where coffee is €1 and is very nice. This was Tuesday, a national holiday for the “Immaculate Conception”. I spelt “immaculate” with only one m and the spell checker came up with alternatives, one of which was “ejaculate”, a bit of irony there I think.
Anyway because ALL the shops are shut in the whole of Spain for that day I thought I was going to be “shop free” for the day. Not so, I fear.As we cycle into the town of Rojales on a slightly different route, I heard behind me, “There's a shop open somewhere near here”. “How's that, Pet?” “I can smell it!”
Would you believe it! One of them Chinese Bazaar type shops was open. Well she was in there like a shot and returned with a Santa Clause candle, only cost 75 cents but to SWMBO it was like a “fix” of the good stuff. Got off lightly because I, knowing (wrongly it turns out) that it was going to be a shop free day, had not brought the money wallet, just the coffee wallet. So it was it was either no coffee or shop, I didn't want any coffee anyway.
Weather is still in low 20's so most afternoon's we sunbathe, read and doze. I was dreaming about posting letters on cold, freezing mornings along Coombe Hill Road, my hands cold and bleeding from being caught in fast attack letterboxes, wild rabid dogs biting my arse even if I did give them a biscuit. That was not a dream it was a bloody nightmare. Trouble is someone is actually doing it in my place, hope you get some decent Christmas tips mate!
BTW managed to get a pic of “the dogs breakfast” as previously mentioned and of Tricia actually eating it.
When we arrived we were told to get some “green”, this being a green plastic floor cover for the pitch. So we did because we were also told that if it rained the compacted ground marble, which the pitch is made of, would turn to mush and would get transferred to the MS and be difficult to get rid of. So we did and the guy at the shop asked how many nails, with washers, we needed, I thought probably 20, which was obviously not enough as I mentioned in an earlier post.
The “green” went down OK but when I was manoeuvring the Navara into a better place on the pitch yesterday, I managed to pull most of them out with the power steering and will have to do it all again.
I last had my hair cut about 7 weeks ago and with 2 weeks before we return I'm beginning to look a bit shaggy. There is a hairdresser on the site called Angie, in fact she is on the pitch opposite us. She does a pretty good trade and is very busy especially with the women just before a site “do”, Flamenco, line dancing etc. nights.
She also cuts men's hair for €9, which is not bad I suppose. So I have been curtain twitching at the men who have had their hair cut there. Well I'm not bragging, but on this site, where the average age, of men, is about 65, most are balding or have a “Bobby Charlton” at best. What Angie seems to specialise in is a number one, just straight over with the shears. I have often thought about having this done, where you end up with a half inch stubble all over. Tricia thinks I would look like a criminal and would frighten the animals around here, so I will hang on and perhaps effect a small ponytail?
Just typing this and Tricia stops ironing and goes over to the sink to get a drink of water and then screamed. I thought she had drank some acid or even perhaps some of my beer the way she went on. She just stood there pointing at the kitchen wall and going more and more white by the second. What she was pointing at was a 5” grasshopper (cricket, locust, who knows?) that somehow got in the MS. Tricia freaks out if she sees a money spider so this puppy caused a slightly larger reaction. “GETITOUT!” “GETITOUT!” “GETITOUT!” Just about sums it up and then explained how “I” was to get it out. Well I got it into a large glass and boy the thing could kick and out it went.Then the inevitable, “How the hell did something that size get in here?” All the windows and doors are meshed and are not generally left open so it must have just muscled it's way in some how. When I said that she should check the bedding she nearly went into orbit.
It may seem strange I know but sometimes we have to get a rush on now and then. Today the planning was to do a bit of Lidl shopping, followed by our 2 hours in the sun, 1pm – 3pm, then either a brisk walk to the port and back, 8 miles, then dinner, WW and bed.
Then someone suggested that we have a look at the Christian versus the Moors re-enactment in nearby Montforte del Cid, a small town about 12 miles away. It goes back to the time when the Christian kicked the Moors/Arabs butts out of Spain in the 13th century or so. Now these festivals go on all over Spain at various times of the year and basically they dress up as, you guessed it, Moors or Christians. Then have marches through the town and finish with mock battles.
Also, as we would pass the LPG Repsol gas station on the way and I could fill up our now empty bottle.
So now it was all about planning, I got out the PowerPoint and put together a initial plan for the day using colour coding to represent order, timing and desired results, and Tricia rushed up a best case scenario using the KISS technique (keep it simple, stupid) using Microsoft Project planner, which as you know is a killer on resource management. Do we cut down on the sun time, would Lidl still be there in the morning and did we have enough gas anyway? Oh the stress of it all!
Did the Lidl thing and was just settling down for a good old sit and read in the sun when along came, well someone on the camp site who shall remain nameless but can, and does, talk until you have to drop excuses into the conversation so he might take the hint and leave you alone. i.e. “er I have to get the goats in now”, or “is that the time? I need to put more bleach down the toilet”. Stuff like that. Result; listened for about an hour, you must only listen, ask a question and you provoke another ear bashing.
So our sun hour went out the window and we ended up dashing (yes dashing) in order to get out in time to enjoy ourselves.
The festival was worth the trip, we got our gas and arrived back shortly after dark.
Have now eaten dinner and Tricia is now looking at some ironing and I'm off to the PW club.
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Sunday 6th December, Marjal and the Spanish Invasion
Well, no internet for the last three days or so, I feel cut off from the rest of the world, then again that's one reason we are doing this. The Spanish have filled up every empty space and as it is a four day holiday for them they bring their kids and dogs. I feel I am back home again on a council estate.
Last night was the “Country and Western” evening and we were going to have a look in but Tricia discovered it was the semi final of X factor and demanded to stay in and watch it. It's something I do not like particularly mainly because of that condescending tosser Simon Cowell, but I must admit that last night it was quite entertaining.
It was also the Dutch St Nicholas day so a lot of people managed to get into fancy dress twice in one day.
Looks like the hernia or groin strain or whatever it was, has waved goodbye at last and I can cycle pretty much OK now. So we are slowly building our mileage back, averaging about 14 miles/day so far.
When we were in Benicassim our usual cycle route was Castillion, about twenty miles or so round trip. Our new run appears to be Rojales about 15 miles there and back, via coffee stop. This is a picture of Tricia drinking coffee at 4:30 pm, today, in a café, in Rojales. I would imagine you would have to be more studier dressed if you tried that back home at the present. I understand some people are using ice scrapers in the morning?
Finally got to the “Thieves Market” this morning and it was really weird. Every stall was selling either jelly, custard, sherry, cream or fruit. I pointed this out to Tricia. “Yes”, she said, “I think it's a trifle bazaar”. Sorry, couldn't help that, outrageously stole it from a guy over here.
Anyway, it was a real market and you could get anything from fruit and vegetables, fridges, chain saws, clothes, steering wheels and toilet seats. It was pretty safe and we did not seam threatened at all. It seemed that just about everybody was there and what ever you wanted you could get.
Some stalls even spun up generators to prove that the T.V.'s or washing machines were working OK, but probably not on a full three hour cycle.
Last night was the “Country and Western” evening and we were going to have a look in but Tricia discovered it was the semi final of X factor and demanded to stay in and watch it. It's something I do not like particularly mainly because of that condescending tosser Simon Cowell, but I must admit that last night it was quite entertaining.
It was also the Dutch St Nicholas day so a lot of people managed to get into fancy dress twice in one day.
Looks like the hernia or groin strain or whatever it was, has waved goodbye at last and I can cycle pretty much OK now. So we are slowly building our mileage back, averaging about 14 miles/day so far.
When we were in Benicassim our usual cycle route was Castillion, about twenty miles or so round trip. Our new run appears to be Rojales about 15 miles there and back, via coffee stop. This is a picture of Tricia drinking coffee at 4:30 pm, today, in a café, in Rojales. I would imagine you would have to be more studier dressed if you tried that back home at the present. I understand some people are using ice scrapers in the morning? 
Anyway, it was a real market and you could get anything from fruit and vegetables, fridges, chain saws, clothes, steering wheels and toilet seats. It was pretty safe and we did not seam threatened at all. It seemed that just about everybody was there and what ever you wanted you could get. 
Tricia had that determined look on her face of “I'm not leaving this place until I've bought something”, and was even at the point of getting a Japanese sword for Adam but I pointed out that at the last count he had three and one of them masqueraded as a umbrella. Then she saw a “Notting Hill” movie but unfortunately it was VHS, “It would still fit though, wouldn't it John?” “Er...No Pet, leave it be”.
We were actually there to get an empty 13kg LPG tank, we could then swap at a garage for a new full one without all the paperwork/licensing required over here. We found one, and when went back to fight and haggle with the dealer, it had gone. I guess we will be back next week but a lot earlier.
Been having mostly salads for lunch and some nice dinners in the evening, tonight it's on of my favourites, liver and onion and mashed potato, lovely.
Friday, 4 December 2009
Thursday 3rd December, Marjal, they call the wind Maria.
Marjal skyline (only picture because wi-fi on the fritz again)
So I've decided to give up drinking. I know that will mean a rapid collapse in Lidl share price but drastic measures are needed. At first I was going to cut it down to just two litres of wine and six cans a day, but no! Zero tolerance is needed here, so zip, neante, nada, cero, etc. I've got the shakes just thinking about it. Well just through the week then and come the week end back to “normal”.
This week end we get invaded by the Spanish, as Monday 7th follows the Day of Spanish Constitution and the 8th is Immaculate Conception day and so both are holidays, which makes it a very long week end. Hey ho, maybe start next week.
Went out on our cycle ride yesterday, Tricia noticed that the edge of the track we use to get into Guardamar had indentations all along one side. “Oh look, that must have taken them ages, they have finished the edge off just like a pie crust!” Standing about a 100 meters away was a caterpillar tracked digger which had just driven up along the edge of the track. I left her to her own, very lonely in there, thoughts.
Here's a thing, I have never in my life used a potato peeler to peel potatoes, probably a skill that everyone else possesses but not me. It is a likely assumption that is because of my upbringing, or lack of it some would say. My Irish mother never used a potato peeler, it was a “new fangled gadget that you don't need son, just use a knife”. So I've always used a knife ever since. On a whim I tried a potato peeler on a potato that was sitting in my hand awaiting its destiny in my latest concoction, meat ball stew. It actually works! How much potato had I wasted all these years by cutting off too much? And worse, did I unwittingly pass this appalling habit on to my kids, what have I done!
I've also found it works on carrots!
Tricia LOVES her laptop, one because she can send e-mails, two, she can “shop” at will and three because it's red, sent the silver one back she didn't like the colour. She told me the five main loves in her life were the Mothership, her bike, the kids, Hull City and her laptop. “Why am I not in there?” “You're special, you're in a special place by yourself, you've got all the money”.
Joke time:-
Brian was bragging to his boss one day, "You know, I know everyone there is to know. Just name someone, anyone, and I know them."
Tired of his boasting, his boss called his bluff, "OK, Brian, how about Tom Cruise?"
"No drama boss, Tom and I are old friends, and I can prove it."
So Brian and his boss fly out to Hollywood and knock on Tom Cruise's door, and Tom Cruise shouts, "Brian ! What's happening? Great to see you! Come on in for a beer!"
Although impressed, Brian 's boss is still sceptical. After they leave Cruise's house, he tells Brian that he thinks him knowing Cruise was just lucky.
"No, no, just name anyone else," Brian says.
"President Obama," his boss quickly retorts. "Yup," Brian says, "Old buddies, let's fly out to Washington and off they go. At the White House, Obama spots Brian on the tour and motions him and his boss over, saying, "Brian , what a surprise, I was just on my way to a meeting, but you and your friend come on in and let's have a cup of coffee and catch up."
Well, the boss is very shaken by now but still not totally convinced. After they leave the White House grounds he expresses his doubts to Brian, who again implores him to name anyone else.
"The Pope," his boss replies.
"Sure!" says Brian. "I've known the Pope for years." So off they fly to Rome.
Brian and his boss are assembled with the masses at the Vatican's St. Peter's Square when Brian says, "This will never work. I can't catch the Pope's eye among all these people. Tell you what, I know all the guards so let me just go upstairs and I'll come out on the balcony with the Pope."
He disappears into the crowd headed towards the Vatican.
Sure enough, half an hour later Brian emerges with the Pope on the balcony, but by the time Brian returns, he finds that his boss has had a heart attack and is surrounded by paramedics.
Making his way to his boss' side, Brian asks him, "What happened?"
His boss looks up and says, "It was the final straw ... you and the Pope came out on to the balcony and the man next to me said, 'Who the f*k is that on the balcony with Brian?"
Back to the plot; tried the zero alcohol last night and here I am writing this at 4:32 AM, could not sleep at all! Brain buzzing around, not stress, just thinking about everything, I went to bed at 12'ish and after about 40 minutes trying to sleep, realised I could not, got up and read a complete book! Wrote a to do list for when we get back at Christmas, checked out a Newtonian reflector telescope online, read the Times online and started shouting at the screen, bloody banks and MPs, checked my lack of finance, sent a few angry letters to Barclays and Nationwide, played minesweeper for 20 minutes, sent a letter of complaint to the company I got my LEDs from as they are malfunctioning, checked out about 10 possible future camp sites, wrote to a few forums and tired myself out, but not enough for peeps.
If anyone checks out the time these things were sent, they will think I'm a raving nutter.
Now typing this.
Well if it's warm and sunny tomorrow (today) as predicted I will catch some z's on the sun lounger, so no worries.
Dateline 6:03 am, Tricia just got up for the erm...you know. “What you doing?” “Been up all night, couldn't sleep”. “Well stop muttering then”. So loads of sympathy there.
News round.
Looks like Heather is going back to BMW Park Lane, so we will not be seeing much of her because of all the hours she will be working. I guess another flat in London will be less than 6 months down the road. Apparently Adam is working less hours so less money, or it could be the other way round. Antonia, Adam;s girlfriend of long standing, has moved into the house, Tricia's brother Gerald has finally got a job after about forever but there has never been a time of good employment in the Dudley area, so he's more than pleased, as is Tricia. Just a note; When Gerald was in the army he got the nickname of “Grievous”. Now he is 6' 3” and was once or twice a bouncer but why Grievous? His full name is Gerald Browell Hall, go figure.
Main plan today is a little shopping and probably a cycle ride, or combine the two?
Well it's 7:23 am and I am signing off and going for a shower, it's going to be a long day, mind you I didn't sleep in!
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
Tuesday 1st December, Marjal and ear muffs.
Yep, it's getting quite cold out here and although it's actually still in double figures, there is a wind that made it feel about 10º C. I think we are getting soft. Getting out of bed is a struggle nowadays, it's cold out there, no automatic heating. So I have to get up, switch it on and then go back for another quick snooze. As I got out Tricia grabbed the back of my shorts “Oh come back to bed it's so cold!” “That's more than my shorts you've got there” I squeaked.
Tricia spent all day yesterday looking for woolly pyjamas for God's sake but that is another story.
Sunday started bleak enough.
Maurice is a guy I've communicated with, via Motorhome forums and the like, for a while now. He, his wife Judy and son Paul arrived at Marjal two weeks ago. His son Paul was involved in a head on crash when he was young which left him physically and mentally damaged.
You would think that God had done enough work with his family but alas no. On Sunday Maurice (Old Mo) knocked on the MS and when I came out he told me that he had just learnt that his 34 year old son, Mark, had been found dead, apparently suicide. He had, four kids but was having matrimonial problems. So Maurice was driving back, he could not get a flight soon enough, to the UK.
He asked me to post the news on the forums as some of the members were due to meet up with him later in the year, I posted it and was flooded with responses of condolences. Best of luck Mo, happy Christmas?
Back to the pyjamas. We decided to drive to Torrevieja, the town where Phil TG has his place as mentioned earlier. It's only 9 miles and one day we plan to cycle to it. This day however, the plan was that I would attempt something I had never done before; Christmas shopping with the wife.
Bye the way, since I've started using OpenOffice, I have had to re put in all the words that Word understood, into this OO dictionary again and it's bloody frustrating having to stop every now and again to tell it how to spell Torrevieja or whatever. No I don't actually mean “to spell whatever”, it can do that, it was just a figure of speech, well a figure of writing I mean.
It also tries to finish words for you, a bit like predictive text on the phone (which I've never understood how to work anyway), but I managed to turn that office I think, oops, missed that one.
Where were we? Yes the shopping. So we get to the Mall, park and begin our quest.
Now I firmly believe that you go to the shops to get something, you have something in mind and when you find it, you buy it, job done! That's what us men do. Not so.
I was looking for a spice rack and a pipe for connecting an extra gas bottle up to the MS. SWMBO actually found the spice rack, which I had wanted for, forever, in the house and/or the MS, I use spices all the time! But for some reason, and they have holes in them for such a purpose, I'm not allowed to fix them to the wall, just stand them where the spices were in the first place.
All right a spice rack and a bit of pipe is not quite “Christmas shopping” but I was also on the look out for a “toy” for Adam. Yes, yes, he is past 30 now but inside that head of his is a six year old wondering what the hell is going on around him and what's all this “responsibility” stuff anyway. Bye the way, of course a “toy” is not a water pistol, here we are looking at a radio controlled helicopter or something of the like. In your dreams Ads.
To a women, shopping takes on a completely new meaning! After H&M, Carrefore, Zara at Home and countless more I was waving a white flag; she was muttering something about why she didn't marry that young Doctor all those years ago.
I mean for instance, we were in somewhere, I don't know, and SWMBO was looking for those pyjamas when she came across a rack with belts on it and spent ten minutes looking at them. “That's a rack full of belts, Petal”. “Yes, but you never know”.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
So we have decided that it just will not work, her basic premise is “That's nice I get it”, mine is “How much does it cost?” I actually know she is probably right and that's how you should shop for things, but after a life time of my one dimensional thinking, I can not change. So the deal is I drop her off, come back hours later and then we can have one big argument instead of lots of small ones.
I'm reading a thick Tom Clancy book at the moment, “Without Remorse”, it's the one about the early exploits of John Kelly the ex-SEAL. Well I know I've read it before, it's one of his early books, but I can't remember it. The early onset of Alzheimer's has benefits you know.
Well sometimes it works against you.
Went to the showers this morning and as I normally wear flip flop type of things, just wear them in the shower as well. This morning, because of the cold I was wearing slippers and, you guessed it, wore them in the shower. Here's the thing though, my feet hate slippers and I think it' a reciprocal thing. There must be some ingredient in all slippers that work with another ingredient in my feet to cause an affront to anyone unless they are acutely olfactory challenged. So problem solved by a lost of awareness.
Tricia has just joined me for breakfast, I'm having the usual, banana and yoghurt, she's having, well let me describe it. Boiled plumbs, reconstituted sultanas and porridge, all smothered in hot water. Sounds divine I know but what does it look like? We had a dog, Max, and when he threw up after eating too many pigs ears and tripe, well you get the picture. Mind you, I had been wondering why Tricia had been lately catching frizbies and chasing sticks, well now I know.
Which reminds me. Why do dogs lick their balls a lot, because they can.
Washing day has snuck round again, with the wind the way it is and the sun is shining, may as well make the most of it. I think I'll read now but I cannot remember where I put the book.
Stop press! Tricia is out sun bathing (AKA cleaning the bike), in her cossy and with pink slippers on, I tried to take a picture but she threatened to brain me. A Spannish guy just came past wearing the works, gloves, scarf, big overcoat and furry hat, took one look at Tricia in a bathing costume and nearly walked into a tree, soft shit.
Just read an email from Derek L and he is going to become a plumber, the course last for two days, which kind of sums it up I guess. If he then attempts to do what he is planning, I just hope he is not on a water meter or can prevent it registering the equivalent of Lake Windermere emptying, when his gives that pipe “just one more turn”.
Tricia spent all day yesterday looking for woolly pyjamas for God's sake but that is another story.
Sunday started bleak enough.
Maurice is a guy I've communicated with, via Motorhome forums and the like, for a while now. He, his wife Judy and son Paul arrived at Marjal two weeks ago. His son Paul was involved in a head on crash when he was young which left him physically and mentally damaged.
You would think that God had done enough work with his family but alas no. On Sunday Maurice (Old Mo) knocked on the MS and when I came out he told me that he had just learnt that his 34 year old son, Mark, had been found dead, apparently suicide. He had, four kids but was having matrimonial problems. So Maurice was driving back, he could not get a flight soon enough, to the UK.
He asked me to post the news on the forums as some of the members were due to meet up with him later in the year, I posted it and was flooded with responses of condolences. Best of luck Mo, happy Christmas?
Back to the pyjamas. We decided to drive to Torrevieja, the town where Phil TG has his place as mentioned earlier. It's only 9 miles and one day we plan to cycle to it. This day however, the plan was that I would attempt something I had never done before; Christmas shopping with the wife.
Bye the way, since I've started using OpenOffice, I have had to re put in all the words that Word understood, into this OO dictionary again and it's bloody frustrating having to stop every now and again to tell it how to spell Torrevieja or whatever. No I don't actually mean “to spell whatever”, it can do that, it was just a figure of speech, well a figure of writing I mean.
It also tries to finish words for you, a bit like predictive text on the phone (which I've never understood how to work anyway), but I managed to turn that office I think, oops, missed that one.
Where were we? Yes the shopping. So we get to the Mall, park and begin our quest.
Now I firmly believe that you go to the shops to get something, you have something in mind and when you find it, you buy it, job done! That's what us men do. Not so.
I was looking for a spice rack and a pipe for connecting an extra gas bottle up to the MS. SWMBO actually found the spice rack, which I had wanted for, forever, in the house and/or the MS, I use spices all the time! But for some reason, and they have holes in them for such a purpose, I'm not allowed to fix them to the wall, just stand them where the spices were in the first place.
All right a spice rack and a bit of pipe is not quite “Christmas shopping” but I was also on the look out for a “toy” for Adam. Yes, yes, he is past 30 now but inside that head of his is a six year old wondering what the hell is going on around him and what's all this “responsibility” stuff anyway. Bye the way, of course a “toy” is not a water pistol, here we are looking at a radio controlled helicopter or something of the like. In your dreams Ads.
To a women, shopping takes on a completely new meaning! After H&M, Carrefore, Zara at Home and countless more I was waving a white flag; she was muttering something about why she didn't marry that young Doctor all those years ago.
I mean for instance, we were in somewhere, I don't know, and SWMBO was looking for those pyjamas when she came across a rack with belts on it and spent ten minutes looking at them. “That's a rack full of belts, Petal”. “Yes, but you never know”.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
So we have decided that it just will not work, her basic premise is “That's nice I get it”, mine is “How much does it cost?” I actually know she is probably right and that's how you should shop for things, but after a life time of my one dimensional thinking, I can not change. So the deal is I drop her off, come back hours later and then we can have one big argument instead of lots of small ones.
I'm reading a thick Tom Clancy book at the moment, “Without Remorse”, it's the one about the early exploits of John Kelly the ex-SEAL. Well I know I've read it before, it's one of his early books, but I can't remember it. The early onset of Alzheimer's has benefits you know.
Well sometimes it works against you.
Went to the showers this morning and as I normally wear flip flop type of things, just wear them in the shower as well. This morning, because of the cold I was wearing slippers and, you guessed it, wore them in the shower. Here's the thing though, my feet hate slippers and I think it' a reciprocal thing. There must be some ingredient in all slippers that work with another ingredient in my feet to cause an affront to anyone unless they are acutely olfactory challenged. So problem solved by a lost of awareness.
Tricia has just joined me for breakfast, I'm having the usual, banana and yoghurt, she's having, well let me describe it. Boiled plumbs, reconstituted sultanas and porridge, all smothered in hot water. Sounds divine I know but what does it look like? We had a dog, Max, and when he threw up after eating too many pigs ears and tripe, well you get the picture. Mind you, I had been wondering why Tricia had been lately catching frizbies and chasing sticks, well now I know.
Which reminds me. Why do dogs lick their balls a lot, because they can.
Washing day has snuck round again, with the wind the way it is and the sun is shining, may as well make the most of it. I think I'll read now but I cannot remember where I put the book.
Stop press! Tricia is out sun bathing (AKA cleaning the bike), in her cossy and with pink slippers on, I tried to take a picture but she threatened to brain me. A Spannish guy just came past wearing the works, gloves, scarf, big overcoat and furry hat, took one look at Tricia in a bathing costume and nearly walked into a tree, soft shit.
Just read an email from Derek L and he is going to become a plumber, the course last for two days, which kind of sums it up I guess. If he then attempts to do what he is planning, I just hope he is not on a water meter or can prevent it registering the equivalent of Lake Windermere emptying, when his gives that pipe “just one more turn”.
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