Merry Christmas ...

.. And a happy New Year. Wishing all the best to you & yours over the festive period & a happy, healthy peaceful & prosperous 2011. Oh and a wish that in 2011 we find a way to deal with all this snow! Snowed in for 2nd time in 3 weeks .....
PS cute kitten a stock photo – as to be expected, the KC refused point blank to dress up! Bah Humbug

How do we know when we're old?

I have a very glamorous, very gorgeous & in my eyes eternally youthful friend who splits her time between LA & London. She is a proper artist (as in exists on the proceeds from her art) hangs out with the likes of Oprah (yes THE Oprah) gets invited to all the cool parties & yet who mailed me today with the attached photo (from her LA "office" - yeah I could hate her too if only she wasn't so lovely!) claiming it proved she was now old. How did it prove she was old? She was wearing purple – and a hat! For the uninitiated I now have to reproduce Jenny Joseph’s genius poem in full.

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
and satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
and run my stick along the public railings
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick the flowers in other people's gardens
and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at a go
or only bread and pickles for a week
and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
and pay our rent and not swear in the street
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

I have just glanced down at my keep warm gear today – which comprises pale purple t-shirt, purple cardi & multi coloured purple scarf. And if I am honest I have grown quite fat in my domestic bliss ... my father actually gave me a stack of Weight Watchers recipe cards recently. Discreet huh? And I spend most of my income on good red wine – that's quite close to pension & brandy n'est ce pas? Maybe I just hadn’t noticed I was old ...

Winter Wonderland?

Oh dear, any Canadians or Northern Scandawegian types reading this will be howling with laughter by the end. It has snowed in Blighty, actually quite heavily – it dumped best part of a foot on us - and so all of life as we know it has stopped. Airports are shut, cars can’t go anywhere as there are no snow ploughs & the grit stops working if it goes below -5, the trains can’t run as the points are frozen and so we are stuck! For me it’s no big as I commute from upstairs to downstairs but for others it has been a horror. Have had the joy of the hubby at home since Wednesday which has been wonderful, but the fact he can’t travel 17 miles is shocking! And the KC really not sure what to make of it all (the super eagle eyed will spot her staring straight at a Robin if you look closely at the photo) She has had a couple of go’s outside but is really not sure; she slipped badly at about 6am yesterday as she tried to jump over the snow to get back inside & missed the catflap, instead crashing headfirst into the doorframe which meant she went haring back into the deep (up to her shoulders!) snow & hid under the Leylandi meowing (complaining!) loudly. Hubby had to don wellies & get a torch & get on his hands & knees to persuade her it was safe to come back in before she woke the whole street with her unbelievable wailing! We have had a moment of amazement though. Knowing the weather would be iffy (not apocalyptic as it turned out to be) I went online & ordered a heap of groceries from Ocado. And I have to take my hat off to their delivery boys – no-one was going anywhere Weds night, hubby just about got home in 1 piece, trudging through the snow for 30 mins from the station as I really couldn’t get the 4x4 full on winter equipped Volvo out as the road had iced into a skating rink, yet the legendary Ocado boys Aaron & James who had started at 6am that day then got stuck in a snowdrift for 4 hours persevered with their deliveries for 18 hours & ended up walking our groceries to us through the knee deep snow at 9pm that night!!! Way beyond the call of duty! We did at least make them a cuppa as we were their last delivery. The Dunkirk spirit lives.I have sent notes to their bosses & even mailed Chris Evans for an on air thank you. Again – thank you boys, we have red wine & the KC has her Felix!!

WHAT colour is that doggie in the window??

I fear I may be about to launch into what could be misconstrued as a xenophobic rant and I am VERY aware that as someone who hand feeds her cat fresh prawns, opens the door for her if she doesn’t want to use her cat-flap and pays cat-sitters to check on her if I’m gone for more than 6 hours at a time I may not be the most sane of people when it comes to spoiling pets either. But hey at least I don’t dye her luminous colours or dress her in plastic baseball boots, a Burberry coat and a cute pork pie hat ... the photos accompanying this piece (if you can see them properly) are real. If we could’ve got the poor burgundy pooch (no idea what breed he was other than completely hyper) to stand still for more than 2 seconds I may have worked it out. Yes OK I accept that different attitudes towards animals exist in China (the poor old Daisy Duck who was sat on a basket in the wet market outside the office was a different duck each day..) but really. We saw a bright pink poodle, the pictured poor little Pomeranian with the orange ears & lime green tail, and the pictured burgundy terrier (I think) all within the space of a day. The grooming parlours look like human nail bars – all neon lights & people in masks spraying poor Fido ludicrous colours that will no doubt cause (someone) cancer... but beyond this these tiny dogs were carried everywhere in baby carriers! It was clear that their owners adored them (one lady carrying a tiny Chihuahua in a Louis Vuitton coat - yes the dog - checked with the bar owner she could bring the dog in with her before she comitted to sitting down!) but they didn’t treat them like dogs at all. On our last day I pointed out to hubby what I thought was a cute baby in a white rabbit suit (you know bunny ears & little tail) who told me to look again - & with shock I realised it was a little dog! The most gobsmacking sight however had to be the terrified Chihuahua strapped under the stomach of a big golden retriever in a customised Baby Bjorn. If we hadn't been in the middle of crossing the road I would've taken a picture. I am not making this up. I wish I WAS joking... Cats on first glance appeared to get off slightly better but in reality it was worse. It was either the feral life (cat-walking precariously across rooftops, free but not safe) or an ostensibly safer but cramped life in a shop window. Teeny tiny kittens, big cats, small cats, all with their backs turned to the street to avoid the ever present banging on the windows. It was only the strong arm & realistic stance of hubby that stopped me emptying my bank account to bring all the cats home with me. The yes the KC is spoiled & indulged but she has freedom & is kept safe & is treated with respect - as a cat!

Fab-U-Lous!

Sorry to borrow from Craig Revell-Horwood but I think he sums up my feelings perfectly. Jet fresh back from Shanghai & ‘fab-u-lous’ seems so apt. In fact it was worth missing Strictly in Blackpool for!! Work all good but play even better. Having not been there since 1995, as I expected, the old place has changed! Gone were the vast empty spaces & fields going in from the airport full of soldiers practising manoeuvres and in their place were high rises, lanes of motorways & Gucci & Mont Blanc shops. It put me in mind of Hong Kong in the early 90’s – so much energy & potential. However the overriding first hit of capitalism is very good at helping you forget it’s a communist state. It's hard sometimes to remember this is a country that has just jailed a man for daring to try & bring to justice the big corporation that was responsible for the death of his small child & that has put the wife of the jailed Nobel peace prize winner Liu Xiaobo under house arrest for no apparent reason. However as I was not there to try & bring down communism but to help some newly hatched capitalists ply ther trade more effectively I won't dwell on the bad stuff. I will tell of the good stuff we encountered. Firstly restaurants – I cannot believe how well we ate! Unbelievably fabulous food that didn’t break the bank. We had Chinese, we had Indonesian we had Malaysian (sometimes all at the same time!) we had Japanese and I even had crabsticks on a pizza - this culinary delight was at the behest of my trainees - they wanted chicken wings & seafood pizza so who was I to argue! The restaurants were also amazingly stylish although some were far too cool for school. We ended up in one place that was eye wateringly cheap (just over £10 for 2 huge bowls of noodles, 4 sides & 4 beers) but was so painfully, consciously trendy it was comedy. All polished concrete walls & black marble bench tables with white leather stools, and the staff dressed in floor length black aprons. Quite put my very style unconscious husband off his tea! And staying in the French Concession was incredible – it felt like Vietnam; streets full of low rise stunningly beautiful 1920’s villas with art deco gates, but if you looked just behind them the 250 floor glass & chrome skyscrapers loomed. The weather was unbelievably kind – 20 degrees most days – but the layer of pollution took a while to burn off & that unique Asian smell (sewers mixed with garlic & herbs – in HK we used to say it was the smell of money) lingered at every street corner. Will stop now & attempt to construct the next instalment – I will try not to rant about how they treat their pets ..... a lime green Pomeranian anyone?

Your Majesty?

OMG. I've just twigged why the KC would rather sit out in the cold garden alone than in the warm near a human being – she won’t sit with us mere commoners as she’s a secret royalist! There I was getting ready for our trip to communist China (we leave tomorrow!) & the closet feline Royal watcher wandered in to the living room where HRH William & “Waity Katie” (although waity no more) were on TV giving an excruciating interview about their engagement & their 95 year ‘relationship’. Normally she would turn tail and run up the stairs to the sanctuary of a peasant-free bed, but tonight the sight of the heir to the throne had KC the Royalist doing the unthinkable - settling herself down on the arm of the sofa (actually sitting next to me!) to stare straight at the TV. Well well who’d’ve thought it?? Will she camp out on the day itself I wonder?? Stay tuned...!

D.I WHY????

Oh dear. I have just ruined the kitchen. Oh OK I exaggerate but only slightly. In a bid to save some cash & keep the kitchen we have for another couple of years we decided it would be smart to sand down the worktop & re-varnish it as it’s solid wood & would come up a treat! So nice handy man came & did the ostensibly hard bit of sanding etc but he only had time to put one coat of varnish on as it took forever to dry. So off he popped leaving me with a tin of varnish, some sandpaper & the words” it’s really easy – honest” ringing in my ears. But I’m sorry despite my having spent 6 evenings at a DIY course not so long ago they didn’t cover varnishing & it’s not easy. I read the tin 3 times. OK I‘ve got this I thought. I found a suitable brush and I dipped and started to “paint”. Except no-one told me varnishing isn’t like painting, you don’t work it in you simply glide a layer over...... So we now have lumps & bumps & rough bobbly bits & bits where I put way too much on that look wet even though they are dry & a series of pretty rivulets. Yup, all needs doing again...

Pretty ... vacant?

Had a ‘middle class vegetarian faux housewife’ moment yesterday. Or should I say I was an unwittingly foil to Mugatu’s “little Cletus” from Zoolander. And am duly ashamed. Had to go for yet another MRI (foot still iffy; hey ho) and hospital is close to small town with decent supermarket, so whilst lying in huge metal tube being forced to listen to Norah Jones on the hospital headphones (no that’s not my ashamed moment but it probably should be) I pondered a bit of a food shop – hubby working from home so I planned to go & get warming soup & lovely bread from said supermarket for lovely lunch a deux. Scan duly complete & off I went. Got to soup aisle & as ever I went for New Covent Garden & other such namby pamby middle class faux handmade stuff. Because you do. Then I saw a “meat” offer (hubby indulges, god forbid I do) and as ever because I can afford to, I checked provenance, is the farmer listed?, is it RSPCA approved? Is it organic? And all boxes checked popped some packs into my basket. Then on my way to the till wandered down the clothes aisle. Now normally I wouldn’t stop at supermarket clothing – puh-lease!- but in front of me were a lovely pair of dark denim jeans, very long, well cut – and only £10!! Good lord!! Into the basket they went. Got home, tipped organic, wholesome, all pigs lived a happy life stuff into fridge & said to hubby, 'blimey, look at these jeans, amazing! How do they do it so cheaply??' Hubby raised his eyebrow as only he can & said – well, where were they made? Ah good point – had not even crossed my mind. So I checked label and ..... there it was – made in Bangladesh. That’s how they were so cheap. So much for organic RSPCA approved sausages huh?

Of Cats & Kings

Long time no blog; the KC has been poorly sick. She managed to get cystitis! (had no idea it was a feline thing) so have been taking wee samples (as in wee-wee not small...!!) and administering antibiotics; KC not daft tho’, she would only accept the necessary medications if each little bit was wrapped in a fresh prawn... sorry hubby, no fish pie one key ingredient in the cat...! Excellent news is she now appears to be fully recovered. Not so great news is I now need to get another “sample” and am struggling!
Anyway, winter is fast approaching – certainly from a temperature perspective; when it’s just above zero and I am scraping ice off the car windscreen at 6.30AM I get slightly (only slightly) wistful for summer. But joy oh joy, the onset of winter also means the return of Strictly Come Dancing (Pamela or Matt to win!) on a Saturday night & the re-appearance of the Elvis impersonator at our local curry house! Yes indeed, (or should I say ‘uh huh huh’) curry & crooning was on the menu last Wednesday. Hubby & I & 3 neighbour couples (ah, suburban bliss) wrapped up against the frost & headed out to join Elvis (aka Pete) as he entertained the masses of Surrey. And I do mean join Elvis. After a few beers (although as designated driver I was on lime sodas so have no excuse for my behaviour!) we were all up embarrassing ourselves as only the middle aged know how to. 2 of our male neighbours (after some persuasion) duetted (trio-etted?) with the 70’s Elvis (all white & rhinestones) and when it came to classic 50’s / 60’s Elvis it didn’t take much persuasion for myself & my next door & over the road girly neighbours to leap to our feet & warble along as the world’s most un-co-ordinated backing band! Return To Sender indeed. I blame too much time in Asia & too many karaoke nights. I have no shame left. And then the jiving & bopping & general ‘bad dad dancing’ kicked off and then it was way past everyone’s bedtime. Who says the suburbs are dull??

The New Territories?

I know another episode so soon but I have to share with you the strange time the KC is having. She is being besieged from all comers right now by other cats encroaching on her “patch”. In the past 3 days she has had to defend her corner from visits by old ginger moggies, sweet looking tabbies and most newsworthy, a very cheeky white & black cat who had the audacity to follow her into the house! Hubby & I were flopped on sofas with a roaring fire on the go watching Hamilton crash out of the Singapore grand prix when all of a sudden there was an unearthly yowl from the conservatory. Leaping to my feet (as I do when I hear any cat noise) I could see the KC fluffed up to 3x her normal size, hissing furiously at the back door. Going into the conservatory I came face to paw with a very large white & black cat. He had clearly made it in through the cat flap but on sight of me he decided he was far too big to fit back out of it & best he left through a window - so he proceeded to jump up at our solar roller blinds, shredding them with his claws as he (naturally) slid down them, (yes, our rollers are now venetians...) then when he realised the windows were shut, he ran amok on the windowsill, yowling (it was so much more than a meow) knocking plants & pots everywhere until hubby managed to open a door for him & off he shot. Leaving the KC quivering in an upstairs wardrobe & sheer carnage in my house. But I am curious as to why now? All summer long the KC has been very chilled, hanging out happily all alone in her garden, but as the mercury is dropping she is getting lots of visitors. Are cats just more active in the cold? Do they get nosier? Who knows ...

Shanghai Nights

Well well. After a summer of discontent and being reminded how un-glam my life has become by some lovely very overseas friends (not in a bad way, but an impromptu an invite to join them on another continent for a bit of a party weekend made me realise my life isn’t like that anymore!) the gods of glam-ness & international travel decided on a quick mercy visit. A very long time ago when I lived & worked in Hong Kong, I hired & trained a very very talented woman. She then went off to run her own business and recently got named Chinese Small Businesswoman of the Year (or some other such impressive thing). Then she had her small business bought by a very large business and has now asked for me to go out to China to train her new team the way I trained her! Will I ever! As the dates for the training coincide with our wedding anniversary I have persuaded hubby to come with me ... and amazingly all the ducks lined up & there was even a “free” mileage seat on BA, so our 3^rd wedding anniversary will be spent drinking BA’s champagne whilst lounging on their flat beds. And after the training is complete we even get 2 days to explore Shanghai together. Hurrah Huzzah!

RIP Charlie Puss

Unbelievably sad news. My best friends cat was killed instantly by a hit & run idiot this morning. (Charlie is the black kitty; ginger cat is George) There is a 20mph speed limit in her street but no, Lewis Hamilton the 3rd thought he’d hare down the sleepy suburban street whilst kids were en route to school at well over 40 – poor Charlie didn’t stand a chance. I hope Mr. Murderer is proud of the fact there were small children who saw everything – especially him reversing to get away from the mothers who were trying to stop him driving off.
Charlie was a real character; he was big & butch & bold & chose his mummy himself – she had no choice! She had only been in her new house about 2 weeks when a sleek black cat (aka Charlie) came into her garden to say hello. Not wishing to be rude, she said hello back. So he came the next day – and the next. And then he crept into the house & one day leapt onto her lap & that was that. True love. After 6 months of regular day & night (frequently overnight) visiting, after checking with all the neighbours and seeing no “lost cat” posters anywhere in the neighbourhood, she gave in & installed a cat flap. His “real” owner soon realised that’s where he was happiest & did the decent thing & handed over legal ownership. And since then Charlie has been world’s happiest puss. Which I guess counts for something. And of course this terrible incident is bringing back the day (18 short months ago) the same fate befell Gorgeous George (also pictured). Although at least George’s killers had the decency to stop & were going to take him to a vet. Let’s hope Charlie & George are chasing mice & lapping cream in cat heaven together.

You say potato

... and I will go dig them up from my big potato pots for super fresh spuds! Amazing, we have a bumper harvest of tiny tomatoes and I have just managed to dig 1 kilo of spuds from my pots. See picture of this morning’s harvest in my newly acquired vintage trug. Yes I did say vintage trug! And that’s one of my pumpkins developing fast to the left, there is another 2x the size hiding behind all the foliage. Spuds are Maris Piper if you’re interested, a great all rounder suitable for jacket potatoes, chips, boiling, roasting & mashing! Will contemplate all those styles but hubby (bizarrely) not a spud fan – only likes chips & roasties. Hmm. Still it’s finally getting to my all time favourite time of year – autumn. Can’t come fast enough. For me, summer is hugely overrated, give me the slightly chilly mornings the stunning autumn deep blue skies & the joy of a gentle sun that doesn’t make you feel like you are living in an oven, and the beautiful light you get as the sun gets lower in the sky. Ahhh! And of course the opportunity to go coat & boot shopping; the best type of shopping there is. Trawling the shops for meltingly soft cashmere overcoats & beautiful shiny knee length boots, and for scarves & gloves... fab. Feel a trip to the shops coming on! The only sad things about this time of year is that I am way too old for school: roll back 35 years & you would find me excitedly putting new pencils & pens into a new pencil case, checking my new uniform for the 100th time & packing & repacking my new bag. Yup; I loved school. Sad but true...

Home again, Home again...

... jiggety jig! With a vow never to go on holiday again. Ever. I have never really been very good at family holidays and now I am officially rubbish. Oh, I know, stop whingeing & get on with it, at least I had a holiday what with the recession etc etc BUT this holiday blew all other ‘not great’ holidays back to last Sunday. Started off with us being sold a turkey - a “property mis-description” shall we say? The website I had booked through had gone on & on about “the house” e.g. ‘the house has spectacular views’, ‘the house was built in 1890 & is a large Victorian house’, ‘Clean, spacious, well equipped house’ – well you get the picture. So not unreasonably I expected to find a house. Except it transpired I hadn’t actually booked a house. I had unwittingly booked a first floor flat which was accessible by 18 well worn, uneven stone steps on the outside which is great if you’re 15, not great if you are recovering from a broken foot & have a dodgy back! It was only identified as a flat in the terms & conditions PDF that was hidden in the tiny little bar that sits at the bottom of all websites that people ignore. Caveat Emptor or what. That’ll teach me.
And the dodgy back decided to come out to play pretty quickly this holiday. Suffice to say that despite my sending many missives to the owner of the holiday property trying to explain that as I have bits missing from my spine I really needed a firm bed, she assured me that the (vile) Tempur / memory foam topper they had in the master bedroom was a miracle & all would be well. But after 2 nights of sinking into it (vs. being supported), my remaining discs decided to pop out leaving me in agony by day 3. The good bit (yes there’s some good!!) is that we tracked down & bought an amazing blow up orthopaedic mattress which I will now take absolutely everywhere with me as it saved my life. However ..... being in serious pain meant I was chewing down industrial strength pain killers & wasn’t sleeping much, a combo which, when a glass of Shiraz was added, caused me to faint in an expensive restaurant one Saturday night!!
So you get the jolly picture. I won’t even bother discussing the fact that my ‘teenage tolerance’ shifted from 7 days to just under 5 days (have I ever mentioned I am childless by choice??) nor the rows caused when a certain long term thorn in our side caused big trouble by going somewhere they were neither invited nor welcome. Whilst I would never, ever, revert to the "old life" I do pine sometimes for the days when a holiday meant calling my mates who lived in exotic climes to see who was free & then using airmiles to book a First Class ticket on BA to go join them. But then I was single. And if I'm honest quite miserable about being single! I love my husband more than anything & adore being married. Hey Ho ... you can't have your cake & eat it I guess...No pleasing some people!

One for sorrow?

The KC has twigged we are going away soon. The sight of suitcases brings her out in a rash of very uncharacteristic cuddles and a noticeable increase in the more characteristic carnage (did I mention the recent snake?). Gifts of dead birds / mice / frogs etc are just her little way of showing me just how much she loves me. So I really shouldn't've been that surprised, as I was pottering about this morning changing the bed for her catsitter (who she adores) & piling stuff up for our much anticipated Scottish summer holiday, that the KC surpassed herself. I heard an almighty screeching coming from downstairs. Good grief I thought, that’s a very loud Magpie – in fact you’d think there was a Magpie actually in the house based on that noise .... then a very loud & pointed MEOW floated upstairs & I thought – uh oh, hang on and ran downstairs into the conservatory where I saw the KC furiously rushing up & down in front of one of the sideboards & heard flapping & LOUD screeching & saw lots of – well bird cr@p everywhere – and suddenly saw an enormous beak pop up behind said sideboard attached to a fledgling Magpie!! How on earth the KC had managed to catch this thing was beyond me – it was almost as big as her (see honest to scale images) but more scary was its general pointy-ness / spikey-ness – it seemed to be all claws & beak & shrieking! Hubby was packing for a quick biz trip before hols which meant he heard nothing as he can actually honestly only do one thing at a time & if he’s packing it means he can’t hear, so I had to think quickly before blood & feathers joined the bird poo. Opening all doors & windows in the conservatory (but not the roof windows, no time) I managed to ‘persuade’ the ‘little’ magpie out from behind the furniture. Now here I am trying to save it & what does it do? Flies straight into the only closed window! Oy vey! Slightly dazed it then realised that a whole double door was wide open & finally flew back out into the garden but then perched back on the trellis from where it had been originally nabbed by the KC! Who was now back lying in wait... DOH! So I ran after it & shooed it off to the top of the leylandi. One of the few places the KC cannot get to ... then relaxed a little... although the KC is now fossicking about in a clump of Montbretia; lord knows what's next on her "this will show mummy I love her" list.

I saw a mouse – where???

There under the nest of tables!! About the size of my thumbnail, all big eyes & ears, shaking in the corner whilst the Killer Cat (KC) scratched furiously trying to move the tables, mewing like her life depended on getting this poor tiny thing! Ever the vegetarian, I got on my hands & knees & peered under the table legs & could see this tiny weenie thing & realised I had to hatch a rescue plan. I needed to distract the KC with treats and my sincere voice – no really kitty, little mouse has gone! Took a while but distracted she was & finally wandered off into the garden. So I then got my ice cream tub (with lid, used frequently for escapes from KC), the fly swat & thought oh simple. Will put tub down as the place to run & swat gently & hey poncho! One saved baby field mouse. But stupid mouse didn’t realise it was being saved & instead of sensibly shooting into the open tub it went hell for leather across the floor of the lounge. Yikes! I then did a hands & knees scouring & as I was doing so KC came back and decided to lend a hand – but no, little mouse had (or so I thought) saved itself. KC sniffed about a bit, got bored & went & lay in the sunshine. Life then continued its merry way – episode of Neighbours, the Radio 4 comedy slot, dinner & a night sat out in the glorious cool of the evening with some neighbours talking cats (they have 2 and female half of couple is thrilled she is no longer crazy cat lady – there are now 2 of us!), life & the universe, happily gossiping not noticing the quantity of alcohol or the time until – cripes that’s 3 bottles of wine and it’s midnight!! So off we staggered to bed groaning slightly but thinking oh well at least we’ll get 6 good hours. Oh no. Of course not. Our own personal Tom & Jerry cartoon started up about 4am. Mouse had decided to stage a comeback not realising the KC was lying in wait. First came the thundering up the stairs, followed by KC yowling & Mouse squealing (a lot of noise for such a tiny thing!) then there was the thud of our door being barrel rolled open, then a great scratching & then jumping onto the bed (KC not mouse) & then scrabbling under the bed & then the light went on & cats name was called sternly then – silence! Nothing. Nada. Nyet. Hubby & I peered under bed, we checked under furniture, lifted cushions. I went into the hallway. Nothing to report. Called out again to KC – to be met with silence. Hmm. Was it a bad dream? So shut door firmly & went back to sleep. Hungover & exhausted we roused ourselves at 6.45 and opened the door expecting carnage. Nope. All was as it should be. All we got was a good telling off for having shut KC out. But then she didn’t head straight out this morning as she normally does which is a slight worry. She is currently sniffing about under cupboards & looking in shoes. Could the mouse really still be in the house?

Hong Kong Fooey?

Have managed to get my concentration back & aforementioned easily distracted project is finished. Now the sun is shining & I am pondering a long & very thorough report from a Feng Shui Lady!! OK OK those of you who know me won’t be too surprised. Anyhow, I love love love this house but there have been a series of – ooh – problems & mishaps since we moved in. As follows (1) in December I was diagnosed with pernicious anaemia and Vaso-Depressive syncope (I faint basically – all Jane Austen like), (2) in March I broke my foot- for no apparent reason (AND on that same fateful day the lovely Jo hurt her knee in this very house so badly she needed surgery ... hmmm..) (3) Hubby is constantly tired & complains he sleeps badly (OK I could shut the cat out so she can’t jump on him at 5am but that would be mean) (4) business has been pretty rubbish (what do you mean global recession?). (6) Hubby would like new unstressful job but doesn't know where to start. So nice Feng Shui lady came & looked about the house & said a few sensible things immediately (like how bad the hall energy is. I knew that!). She had worked out all of our PA Kua numbers too (I’m a 6 apparently) and with those numbers in mind started to work things out with her huge compass. Then she took some pictures & toddled off to prepare the large report I am going through. And it’s a good job we didn’t decorate before she came as we had been toying with a rich purple-y grey colour for the living room and it needs to be green for maximum positive energy. So green it will be (will go with my curtains & cushions so no problem –phew!) I had also thought about a similar sludge / dark grey tone for our bedroom only to be told no no - current colour a disaster for hubby and dark grey would be worse, pure white is ideal. The downstairs loo is blue & this colour in this area is a disaster for my health (aha!) so I must paint that out white ASAP too and the kid’s bathroom is in Hubby's success area & again is the wrong colour for him so out goes the sea green & in comes terracotta (new job here he comes!). There were some mad things like placing a silver urn of water near to the hob to dissipate the negative ‘fire at heaven’s gate’ energy and getting rid completely of a sofa (so where would we all sit??) but apart from that all made a lot of sense & all seems pretty simple. Now isn't that always the way?

Driven to distraction...

What is it about having huge amounts of work to do that focuses the mind on everything but that really important time critical work? I have a really challenging project to pull together challenging on every level & what am I doing? Faffing that’s what. Am writing this bloggy thing for one, am also ordering groceries online, hanging out the washing, weeding bits of the garden as I take a small constitutional whilst talking to the cat, choosing paint colours from paint charts, & wallowing in the delights of Neighbours! The project file is open on my computer but every time I start typing / thinking / analysing a little voice in my head goes “ooh have you thought about just quickly....?” and I’m off! The fact there is also a carpenter banging about upstairs isn’t helping granted but I am incapable of concentration right now. I am even debating making a batch of scones. Is this project just so so hard or am I sliding into senility? Think I need to take a break & make a cup of tea. Will make Mr Carpenter a cup too... hmm, now what shall I have for dinner?

walk the line

A hundred years ago it would seem I had what you could call a bit of an accident. On 16th March (not that the date is indelibly marked in my brain) whilst doing nothing more strenuous than walking up the garden, I fractured the 2nd metatarsal in my right foot. 12 weeks on I am sat in Hamburg, strapped back tight into my lovely Beckham boot as I completely misjudged my recovery. For the last 2 weeks I have been happily wombling about the house in Birkenstocks (SEXY!!) feeling little to no pain. So, I thought a trip to Hamburg would be a breeze. Lovely hubbie insisted I pack “the boot” as I was all gung ho about being fixed but he was less convinced. And thank the lord I did. Cab arrived at 6am Tuesday & I staggered out thinking ooh, ouch must be ‘cos so early. Got to Heathrow and after I had loaded myself up like a pack horse with heavy PC bag, handbag & large suitcase, I suddenly realised I had increased my weight significantly. And each step was bone stretching agony…to cut to the chase by the time I got to my meeting here I was a pain wrecked gibbering heap. I had a flight to Manila booked on Monday & my client took one look at me & said NO – cancel you’re not going anywhere in that state! So all I have to do now is negotiate my way home. Slowly, carefully and with good old Beckham boot firmly on. Which will be a hoot going through security!

Back to the 80's

Oh my. What an evening. Poor stressed hubby was ensconced in late night talks in that City place he spends most of his life (long chats now as parliament decision will directly affect his job) so the cat & I decided to hunker down to 1½ hours of 1980’s TOTP performances. Well cat stayed with me till Wham! appeared & I started singing at the top of my (bad) voice! What joy the charts were then! Songs with the most nonsensical stupid lyrics with a great beat you could belt out whilst dancing ‘round the sofa (and trust me if foot better I would’ve been go-go-ing with George). Frankie relaxed, Peter Burns when he was normal was spinning, Bronski were beating, and don’t get me started on Ah Ha! The delicious Morten Harket .... never mind the sun on his TV ... Needing to share my joy I texted lovely ex who was in music biz in the 80’s and the past became present (‘Remember the Bronski beat girl who owed our landlady rent!’ ‘Drinking champagne in Japan with Roland from Tears for Fears’ (ex not me!) ‘How did I miss that George was gay?!’). Sadly it all got a bit dull and formulaic as the decade progressed – despite the last song being Lisa Stansfield’s ‘Been around the world’ which is a corker, and I started to feel v sorry for my step kids. We actually left the house wearing customised curtains, black lipstick, frilly shirts & huge bows in our backcombed hair & our grannies shoes with lurex ankle socks. We wanted to look like Adam Ant for god’s sake, a man who would’ve been quite at home in any Pirates of the Caribbean film! George Michael took to the stage in neon fingerless gloves & lycra shorts & Duran Duran went to the beach wearing Antony Price shiny suits. Boy George wore panstick & crimson lipstick & lampshades as hats and I think perming lotion actually ran out in 1986. And who have today’s teenagers got? Personality bypass stick insect Cheryl talentless Cole the check out girl. The 80’s may have been about money & excess but at least we had a sense of humour back then.

Nothing

100 years ago (it would seem) I thought I would blog musings from the world of the faux housewife in deepest suburban Surrey. Why faux? Well I'm not officially a housewife - I have a job. I run a business but I do it from home. As such a la housewife, I am in when the postman comes, when the door to door fish salesman knocks, when the window cleaner appears and I can go & "do" coffee with my neighbours & potter in the garden at lunchtime or hang out with the worlds most spoiled cat when work is slow.
But every time I approached the blog to add words of great wisdom I found myself thinking I have nothing to report, which got me thinking about “nothing”. “Oh it’s nothing” we say when questioned about an array of things – new clothes, an injury, a cold, an amazing dinner we have provided, an achievement. Why? it's something surely! And on reflection plenty of interesting / amusing / painful (like a broken foot. ouch) things have happened. Or have I stumbled upon a female only thing. Hey ho. Think I'll join the cat for a snooze and ponder some more