This post is for everyone who has ever been sailed about in the front or back of Ian's red Toyota Hiace. There is nothing like having a teetotal mate who loves driving, has a big van and a healthy disregard for policeman's rules. That van has been round some corners.
Well Ian met a man who made him an offer he couldn't refuse. He was offered a price that was not bad at all for a 1992 van. Ian's red Toyota Hiace is going to live in India. Hiaces are, according to the vanman, very popular there. God knows what he'll get for it but apparently he ships them out regularly and so must find it worth his while. No doubt it will still be on the road in 2014. Of course by that time it'll probably be held together by wire and sticky tape.
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Friday, November 26, 2004
Digging
There is nothing like a 24.5 hour shift in work to restore Nelly's spirits and take her mind off Christmas. The great thing about work (apart from getting paid) is that it makes being at home feel much nicer.
So I got home this evening after two excellent shifts and a fairly decent sleepover and I felt not too bad at all. Good enough to mop the floors, make the supper and worm Harry de Cat. The worming went smoothly. He is such a good cat.
Wish I could say the same about Paddy. Now I haven't disclosed that work has begun in what will be our new abode. Bert has been working up there for a couple of weeks now getting the place ready for the builders. I've been up a couple of days myself packing the stuff that his mother left behind when she moved out. Still to go is the contents of the attic. Thankfully it's a small attic and contains nothing but the remainder of Bert's toys and his pram.
The first expert on the scene arrived at the beginning of the week. That was Sammy 'Gorgeous' Gage, the diggerman. Gorgeous shifts all our earth for us and demolishes all our tumbledown structures when needed. He is an excellent fellow who is reliable, skilled and gorgeous to boot.
He doesn't know we call him Gorgeous but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if he found out. That is his real name by the way but as I only have good stuff to say about him I'm sure he won't mind. We've called him Gorgeous for years. The reason being is that one of Bert's aunts once said he had gorgeous hair. Which he had - it being blond, thick and wavy. He keeps it awfully short these days but he's wearing well in every other respect. He's a good bloke. If you're from this area and need a bit of digger work done I'd recommend him.
So he's been doing a few drains, sorting out a sewer. re-directing a spring and knocking down a few really crappy walls. And it is one hell of a dirty mess. Paddy has been having the time of his life. In his wee doggy mind he is a digger boy too and he came home this evening glar to the oxters. Which is why Bert decided to shower him. I suggested to Bert that he strip and they could shower together but then the photos would have been too saucy to post.
I'll return to the Christmas theme later. I'm feeling far too mellow tonight to spoil it.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
I Hate Christmas Part 1
There are many ways to classify and divide the human race but today I am just thinking about those who love Christmas and those who don’t. I’m one of the latter.
I loved it once but that was when I believed in Santa Claus.
So pre-Christmas blues might be the reason why I’m feeling a bit down at present. I haven’t been out walking for a couple of weeks and I’m eating jelly babies by the pound. I am also spotty, pot-bellied and dull of spirit. My hair has all the shape and appeal of a whin bush and my joints ache. I can’t get out of bed in the mornings and I long for it at night.
I’ve discovered that work is perfectly entitled to make me stay on the premises unpaid during breaks. Naturally this has eroded my good will towards the org and I now take every grudging minute of my imprisoned break time instead of working through part of it, which is what I often used to do.
And I’m working on Christmas Day. And nobody better buy me any candles this year or I’ll come round to your house and use them to set your curtains on fire.
I loved it once but that was when I believed in Santa Claus.
So pre-Christmas blues might be the reason why I’m feeling a bit down at present. I haven’t been out walking for a couple of weeks and I’m eating jelly babies by the pound. I am also spotty, pot-bellied and dull of spirit. My hair has all the shape and appeal of a whin bush and my joints ache. I can’t get out of bed in the mornings and I long for it at night.
I’ve discovered that work is perfectly entitled to make me stay on the premises unpaid during breaks. Naturally this has eroded my good will towards the org and I now take every grudging minute of my imprisoned break time instead of working through part of it, which is what I often used to do.
And I’m working on Christmas Day. And nobody better buy me any candles this year or I’ll come round to your house and use them to set your curtains on fire.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Monday, November 22, 2004
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Saturday, November 20, 2004
More Pixies
Bert being a coul rife sort covers his ears in all but the warmest weathers. Ian, however, only covers his on the coldest days. Today is such a day. Both are wearing pixies.
Bert is wearing one pixie and clutching another in his fist.
“Jaysus Man, how many pixies do you need?”
“What? Oh I’m weerin’ me inside pixie. The other wan’s me thick knit outside pixie.”
“That’s not a very good system. You should do what I do – wear two. My inner pixie is fine knit and stretchy and I pull it down over my ears. my outer pixie is thicker and I put it on over the thinner one when it’s very coul like today.”
Bert being a man of few words has only this to say.
“Oh?”
But if he is impressed by Ian’s system he will say at some point.
The next time yer in the town will ye get me a fine knit, stretchy pixie?”
I must have been the best part of an hour photoshopping Bert’s teeth in that picture to bring them up to an acceptable shade of pale moss. He’ll have to stop smoking that cheap tobacco and the pipe.
To ‘Unka’ Roderick and Traci-Lou – nice scones. Was it a Jenny Bristow recipe? She gets her messages in Leonard’s, y’know.
Bert is wearing one pixie and clutching another in his fist.
“Jaysus Man, how many pixies do you need?”
“What? Oh I’m weerin’ me inside pixie. The other wan’s me thick knit outside pixie.”
“That’s not a very good system. You should do what I do – wear two. My inner pixie is fine knit and stretchy and I pull it down over my ears. my outer pixie is thicker and I put it on over the thinner one when it’s very coul like today.”
Bert being a man of few words has only this to say.
“Oh?”
But if he is impressed by Ian’s system he will say at some point.
The next time yer in the town will ye get me a fine knit, stretchy pixie?”
I must have been the best part of an hour photoshopping Bert’s teeth in that picture to bring them up to an acceptable shade of pale moss. He’ll have to stop smoking that cheap tobacco and the pipe.
To ‘Unka’ Roderick and Traci-Lou – nice scones. Was it a Jenny Bristow recipe? She gets her messages in Leonard’s, y’know.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Out and About
Is it grim up north? Not on your Nelly. On Tuesday morning Bert and I took the van over to collect a load of young trees and bushes from Yorkshire Plants. I’ve visited the Doncaster area in South Yorkshire and we went to Holmfirth once while visiting daughter two when she lived in Manchester but I’d never been to North Yorkshire before.
We decided to go the scenic route, which took us through some beautiful forest in West Scotland and through part of the Yorkshire Dales. It was very dramatic and beautiful countryside. I was impressed with the buildings and dry stone walls made from the local stone. Not a hideous modern bungalow to be seen anywhere. Steen from Yorkshire Plants told us that local planning regulations are very strict. It makes for beautiful, unobtrusive buildings and restorations but the downside is that young locals are priced out of the housing market. Add to this the amount of housing that becomes weekend and holiday homes for well-off city dwellers and the result is that local communities dwindle and die.
We visited Ripon and had excellent fish and chips in a little café filled with pensioners who came in and asked for “my usual please”. Their talk was of double-dealings and back-stabbings at chapel. In Yorkshire this means the Methodists. We arrived in Ripon at school home time and parked beside the bus station. I’m sad to report that school children in Ripon eff and blind as much as they do here.
I was struck by how friendly and civilised people in Yorkshire are. I also found that drivers in particular are much more mannerly both in Yorkshire and Scotland than here in Norn Iron. Maybe Ganching has a point about that after all.
On the way home we stopped in Castle Douglas for some refreshments. Bert had a haggis burger. He also stocked up on haggises or should that be haggii? The crossing from Cairnryan was pretty rough but we made it safely home. Did I mention Paddy dog? I did not but he was an ideal travelling hound and a well-behaved angel with wings. I shall definitely be returning to North Yorkshire in the future and for a longer time.
I heard today on the news that the road from Brough to Scotch Corner was closed because of heavy snow. We made it back in the nick of time.
We decided to go the scenic route, which took us through some beautiful forest in West Scotland and through part of the Yorkshire Dales. It was very dramatic and beautiful countryside. I was impressed with the buildings and dry stone walls made from the local stone. Not a hideous modern bungalow to be seen anywhere. Steen from Yorkshire Plants told us that local planning regulations are very strict. It makes for beautiful, unobtrusive buildings and restorations but the downside is that young locals are priced out of the housing market. Add to this the amount of housing that becomes weekend and holiday homes for well-off city dwellers and the result is that local communities dwindle and die.
We visited Ripon and had excellent fish and chips in a little café filled with pensioners who came in and asked for “my usual please”. Their talk was of double-dealings and back-stabbings at chapel. In Yorkshire this means the Methodists. We arrived in Ripon at school home time and parked beside the bus station. I’m sad to report that school children in Ripon eff and blind as much as they do here.
I was struck by how friendly and civilised people in Yorkshire are. I also found that drivers in particular are much more mannerly both in Yorkshire and Scotland than here in Norn Iron. Maybe Ganching has a point about that after all.
On the way home we stopped in Castle Douglas for some refreshments. Bert had a haggis burger. He also stocked up on haggises or should that be haggii? The crossing from Cairnryan was pretty rough but we made it safely home. Did I mention Paddy dog? I did not but he was an ideal travelling hound and a well-behaved angel with wings. I shall definitely be returning to North Yorkshire in the future and for a longer time.
I heard today on the news that the road from Brough to Scotch Corner was closed because of heavy snow. We made it back in the nick of time.
Sunday, November 14, 2004
A Hypochondriac Mouse
Bert has got a sore bum and has been looking for some suitable cream to apply to it. Whilst rummaging through our medicine cupboard (which doubles as a meter cupboard) he came face to quivering, bewhiskered face with a mouse. And what had the timrous, cowering, sleekit, wee beastie been sustaining itself with? Why it was treating itself to Pripsen worm powders and Mrs Beecham's cold remedy. I wonder had it been reading my blog re rodents and worms? And of course it is coming up to that sniffly time of the year. Talk about self-help!
Later we went for a walk in the Ecos centre and afterwards went to Tescos. Bert had never been to Tescos before and was very impressed with the range of goods on offer. When Bert goes to a big supermarket he never thinks of normal basic foodstuffs. He only buys things he can't get in the local Spar. Today he bought mussels, fish sticks and dates. He was actually looking for haggis. I enquired "What has put you in the notion of haggis?" and he replied "I was reading Rabbie Burns."
Later we went for a walk in the Ecos centre and afterwards went to Tescos. Bert had never been to Tescos before and was very impressed with the range of goods on offer. When Bert goes to a big supermarket he never thinks of normal basic foodstuffs. He only buys things he can't get in the local Spar. Today he bought mussels, fish sticks and dates. He was actually looking for haggis. I enquired "What has put you in the notion of haggis?" and he replied "I was reading Rabbie Burns."
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Friday, November 12, 2004
Worms
The other day Harry de Cat produced 6 inches of finest tapeworm. Not long afterwards Bert came retching into the den saying that Harry had jumped up beside him while he was on the phone and the next thing he knew there was a disgusting roundworm slithering about making faces at him. Something would have to be done.
So we banished Harry de Cat from the house, I parazoned all the surfaces and then visited the local Pet Shop. The Pet Shop Girl bounded out to meet me, as keen as several barrels of mustard.
“How can I help you?”
“It’s my cat. He’s got worms.”
“Tape or round?”
“Both.”
“Right. I have the very thing.”
She then proceeded to tell me more than I wanted to know about the process of infestation. Cats who hunt are very prone to getting worms from their prey and it seems that birds are the worst offenders.
“Lovely looking, but riddled with worms.”
“Mice?”
“Riddled. Alive with every sort of worm going.”
You’d wonder how they get them fitted in.
A mine of information this PSG. All I wanted to know was the chances of me getting them. I know I could do with losing weight but I’d rather be fat than riddled with worms. But I was reassured that it would be very difficult for a human to become infested with cat-type worms. Wrong kind of worms, apparently. She didn’t say but I got the impression that I’d actually have to lick the cat’s anus. As if!
She goes on…
“How are you intending to get the tablets into your cat?”
“Well the last time I tried to give him tablets I put them in his food and he totally refused to eat it. This time I’m thinking of wrapping him in a towel and ramming the tablets down his throat.”
She nodded wisely.
“It’s the only way.”
The PSG had advised me to weigh the cat and give him the dosage appropriate to his weight. He was 12lbs. I requested Bert’s help to administer the dosage and he was filled with delight. He has a love-hate relationship with Harry (who used to piss on him) and relished the prospect of a bit of ethical cat-annoying. I wrapped and Bert rammed. Harry de Cat was outraged but soon recovered his equilibrium. Immediately afterwards he jumped on to a chair and sat there flicking his tail and grooming himself. “What could you do to really annoy that cat?” Bert asked. “Set his tail on fire,” I suggested.
He is to get another dose next Friday, then another the Friday after that. Shall I take photographs?
So we banished Harry de Cat from the house, I parazoned all the surfaces and then visited the local Pet Shop. The Pet Shop Girl bounded out to meet me, as keen as several barrels of mustard.
“How can I help you?”
“It’s my cat. He’s got worms.”
“Tape or round?”
“Both.”
“Right. I have the very thing.”
She then proceeded to tell me more than I wanted to know about the process of infestation. Cats who hunt are very prone to getting worms from their prey and it seems that birds are the worst offenders.
“Lovely looking, but riddled with worms.”
“Mice?”
“Riddled. Alive with every sort of worm going.”
You’d wonder how they get them fitted in.
A mine of information this PSG. All I wanted to know was the chances of me getting them. I know I could do with losing weight but I’d rather be fat than riddled with worms. But I was reassured that it would be very difficult for a human to become infested with cat-type worms. Wrong kind of worms, apparently. She didn’t say but I got the impression that I’d actually have to lick the cat’s anus. As if!
She goes on…
“How are you intending to get the tablets into your cat?”
“Well the last time I tried to give him tablets I put them in his food and he totally refused to eat it. This time I’m thinking of wrapping him in a towel and ramming the tablets down his throat.”
She nodded wisely.
“It’s the only way.”
The PSG had advised me to weigh the cat and give him the dosage appropriate to his weight. He was 12lbs. I requested Bert’s help to administer the dosage and he was filled with delight. He has a love-hate relationship with Harry (who used to piss on him) and relished the prospect of a bit of ethical cat-annoying. I wrapped and Bert rammed. Harry de Cat was outraged but soon recovered his equilibrium. Immediately afterwards he jumped on to a chair and sat there flicking his tail and grooming himself. “What could you do to really annoy that cat?” Bert asked. “Set his tail on fire,” I suggested.
He is to get another dose next Friday, then another the Friday after that. Shall I take photographs?
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Good Works
I return to work today after 10 days off. Lordy, Lordy, how will I cope?
Yesterday was spent entirely doing good works. I wasn’t quite as good as I could have been to Bert, but by that time he was pretty tired too.
In the morning I shifted pine boards and other items from the soon-to-be-renovated house. Afternoon was spent taking Jazzer to Toys’R’Us for more Santa presents, and then I called with Mum and took her to visit Dad. He was a bit grumpy. I put it down to him being tired. She put it down to him being cross because his solicitor had earlier served papers on him in relation to his affairs being taken over by the Office of Care and Protection. Somehow I doubt this, as he did not recall a visit from the solicitor. But she could be right. It might have upset him even if he did not remember why. Then I went home and made Bert his dinner. Sanctification must be on the cards.
Good news about Kerry. John F is even more besotted with her. Mrs John F is less keen thanks to the little parcels and puddles Kerry produces. John has got a little whistle he is using to call her with. He says it’s a shepherd’s whistle. When he blows it all the shepherds from miles around come running, crooks aloft. Kerry, meanwhile, completely ignores it in favour of licking her bum.
So off I must go to get ready for work. A whole two days of it face me then at least three off after that. I’m killed, am I not? Little wonder I have plenty of time for good works.
Yesterday was spent entirely doing good works. I wasn’t quite as good as I could have been to Bert, but by that time he was pretty tired too.
In the morning I shifted pine boards and other items from the soon-to-be-renovated house. Afternoon was spent taking Jazzer to Toys’R’Us for more Santa presents, and then I called with Mum and took her to visit Dad. He was a bit grumpy. I put it down to him being tired. She put it down to him being cross because his solicitor had earlier served papers on him in relation to his affairs being taken over by the Office of Care and Protection. Somehow I doubt this, as he did not recall a visit from the solicitor. But she could be right. It might have upset him even if he did not remember why. Then I went home and made Bert his dinner. Sanctification must be on the cards.
Good news about Kerry. John F is even more besotted with her. Mrs John F is less keen thanks to the little parcels and puddles Kerry produces. John has got a little whistle he is using to call her with. He says it’s a shepherd’s whistle. When he blows it all the shepherds from miles around come running, crooks aloft. Kerry, meanwhile, completely ignores it in favour of licking her bum.
So off I must go to get ready for work. A whole two days of it face me then at least three off after that. I’m killed, am I not? Little wonder I have plenty of time for good works.
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