Trust in me ...?

Trust. Such a small word; but such a hard thing to earn & so easily lost . We know we can't trust Shere Khan; we thought we could trust my 15 year old step daughter. However our trust was badly misplaced. She has lied to us - brazen full on lied to a direct question. A lie that now has far reaching & expensive consequences.

She has recently been working very hard at both school & her part time job. She has been getting A's for her GCSE's and has been generally a delight. So when she asked if she could go to a boy neighbours' "gathering" on Saturday night we said yes, sure. The house is literally across the road from us. But of course we wanted to be responsible so we asked her - directly - his parents do know about this don't they? Yes she said, he says they do. Will there be alcohol? Oh no she said. And we had no reason to doubt her word. I negotiated hard with FauxSurreyHusband to get her a late pass – home by 11pm was agreed. And off she went. Only to bring herself home before 10 claiming the party was “really boring, full of geeks” and promptly run upstairs. Odd I thought but knowing that so many are labelled geek by her friends thought no more of it.

However last night a letter came through the door. From the boy in questions' parents. They had absolutely NOT known about the party - he had NOT been given permission. And they had returned to the thing we all read about in the papers and tut & wonder how it happens. A trashed house. The damage runs into £1000's from what we can gather. The invite had gone out on Facebook, so many people just turned up uninvited. But who are these people who go to a house party and then trash the place? And I don't use the word trash out of context.

The parents are conservatively estimating the cost of the damage at around £10k and are considering billing all those who attended and you know what, I think they should. The kids who attended stole & drank ALL the alcohol in the house, rugs & carpets were destroyed by mud & god knows what; all beds had been “slept” in (including a 10 year old boys bed & and I use that term in the ‘sleeping with’ context. Eeeew), their snooker table was damaged beyond repair; someone had punched a huge hole through an internal door; garden furniture was set on fire; speakers were chipped & damaged; the pond was full of detritus & all the fish killed as a result; and someone – someone really bright – had lit a blowtorch in the garden shed which is full of combustible stuff – that would’ve taken out the house next door if that had gone.

After hard questioning it transpired that the stepdaughter & her friends had decided to leave when they realised things were getting out of hand. OK brownie points for that BUT no brownie points for turning a blind eye and not telling an adult about the carnage being wrought over the road, about a neighbours (and friends house) being defiled. We could’ve done something about it had we known. 

So the hard bits. Lying to our faces & then choosing to save her own skin by not confessing to having been at an unauthorised party and by doing that allowing a neighbour’s house to be “trashed”. How do you even begin to dole out a punishment for that? Answers on a postcard please…

The Leaky Cauldron...

... no not really but much snappier than the leaky conservatory. So much for our gracious & spacious new open plan home & flash utility, we still have leaks!! Yes the weather tonight is exceptionally bad and what did I expect from the shonky conservatory we inherited? The rain & wind were so bad today the KC only managed about 15 minutes outside before she gave up - she was either soaked to her skin or blown off her feet & so at about 8pm she & I settled down to watch an old Sherlock Holmes episode on ITV3 as the gales whipped & the wind lashed. (FauxSurreyHubby out at works Christmas do tonight so just us girls)

Then just as Mr Holmes was getting to the good stuff I heard an unmistakable, loud wet "plop"; followed swiftly by another. Jumping to my feet my worst fears were realised - the water was sloshing from the roof onto a set of shelves & in another place rivuleting down a wall. Grabbing 2 huge bowls & rolls of kitchen towel to stop the splashing I managed to contain it. And thanked the lord it was nowhere near my newly decorated (and fabulous even though I say so myself) Christmas tree.  Now what was I saying about new carpets & we're done...?!!

Kitchen Sink Drama

 .. well not really no dramas at all  - I have a new kitchen sink. But not in my kitchen ... no no, my lovely new sink is in my shiny new and lovely utility room! We appear to be winning the war with this house & beating it successfully into submission, dragging it inot the 21st century! We did have a muddle of odd brick cupboards that led into the garages outside of the actual kitchen - it looked like someone had simply put a roof over a couple of old external brick sheds - so whilst the space was actually huge & useful the temperature out there was exactly that of outside so it was a bit of a waste of space & hence a dumping ground.

So FauxSurreyHubby & I did our sums & decided that as I am regularly employed these days (always been gainfully employed but not always regularly) now was finally the right time to sort it out. And so in less than 7 days, the freezing cold dark rather confused space has transformed into a warm & bright 2nd kitchen (not as big & flash as the picture but it's that kitchen!)

The unbelieveably quick & lovely builders have so far knocked out all the old cupboards & built a frame all over - walls, ceiling & floor & stuffed 4" of insulation in; they have built new walls & plastered, put a new ceiling & 10 bright halogen downlighters in, they have moved all the appliances that were out in the garage into this new space, given me 2 meters of solid wood worktop & put a fab butlers sink in! Next they will put a tall pull out larder in (like we had in our old 'perfect but dreadul location' house) and another 2 base units and another metre of worktop!! Then they will use the left over solid oak boards from the refitting of the downstairs in the summer and give me a lovely floor to walk on. So peeling spuds & parsnips & carrots for 10 on Christmas day will now be a joy. I am one Happy FauxHousewife :-) PS sadly the KC most unimpressed. Old cold dark cupboards meant lots of hide & seek & chasing spiders ...

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas ...

... especially at the Weihnachtsmarkts in Hamburg! Despite my being at deaths door when we left, FauxSurreyHubby & I had a fine old time (BTW deaths door is now closed as I have discovered - officially - I only have full on laryngitis; doc has just given me 7 days worth of full strength antibiotics and whilst the infection won't kill me the strict orders NOT TO SPEAK for at least 5 days might - yes yes, Christmas has indeed come early...! ).

Rugged up against the cold, damp & fog (oh there's the 3 hour foggy delay at Heathrow when coming home story but I shall park that), we were met by a lovely local friend shortly after we landed & were taken to the new Hafencity development out at the docks where we gazed at beautifully revamped warehouses, plush penthouse flats and (allegedly) the greenest commercial headquarters in the world.

Then we headed for the old red light district, the Reeperbahn, and as with all old red light districts the red had pretty much paled to pink & so we had amazing cake & hot apple juice with cinnammon in a very cool cafe, then our friend bid us adieu & left us to discover alone.

So off we went, back into the main part of the city where we strolled around the stunningly gothic Rathaus and glugged Gluhwein at the (almost open) Christmas markets and then headed into the shopping district where we quaffed pink champers atop a very swish store (think Harvey Nicks). Next day we dutifully visited the art gallery but it was all a bit too avant garde for hubby - imagine vast empty spaces with one "objet" per space - a path made of rubble, thick felt draped & shaped across a wall, a pile of sand with  look out towers peeking out of it and paintings of straight lines called "Untitled 1" ... not quite watercolours of landscapes (hubbys preference ...!)

Moving back into trendyville, we attempted to muscle our way into the small but pretty Scandanavian Christmas markets but we were thwarted - every time we tried to get past the main door we were held at bay by the omnipresent threat of coat ruination by small boys with chocolate ice cream & old ladies waving Weiners smothered in mustard!

Aside from that we slept a lot (gotta love the Marriot - super king, super firm beds, 450 count sheets & a dual aspect room which was an utter joy, especially given my rather precarious state of health) ate well & drank better & just hung out together & enjoyed one of Europes most laid back & beautiful cities.

For the uninitiated Hamburg is fabulous - awash with lakes & canals & a plethora of lovely bridges & small shopping malls alongside huge impressive gothic piles, cobbled streets & fancy department stores and we made sure we experienced it all. My German was good enough to avoid nuts for allergic hubby in a Thai restaurant & meat for me in all other restaurants so all was good. If I hadn't been carrying around my friend 'Larry Gitis' for the 4 days we were there this would rate up there with one of the best breaks ever...!

Ich Bin Ein Hamburger!

Cannot believe it was a year ago we were packing & getting ready to head to exotic China for a week to merge wedding anniversary celebrations with a bit of work. Today (whilst mainlining Benylin & vitamins & sucking extra strength Strepsils because I am still trying desperately to shake off vile cold) I am packing for somewhere slightly less exotic - Hamburg. Odd choice you may think, cold & German -  but no - I go frequently on business & love it. Every time I am there I call hubby & tell him how beautiful it is & that we really should go together one day & I regularly go past amazing restaurants & galleries that I cannot visit as I am always too busy. But not this time! No, this time is no work, all play. We will even stay at my business hotel as the area is fab - and the good old Marriot beds are great for my back so alles gut! We will be the relaxed ones at the front of the bus tomorrow morning in amongst all the boys & girls heading to work ...!

The Guilt Gift

What do you get if you add together "Veggie Might" & "To sleep perchance to dream"? You get a guilt gift!

Hubby felt so bad about keeping me awake with his nightly ear splitting snoring symphonies he went out & bought me Hugh's Veg book yesterday - no need to wait till Christmas now! And even more excitingly it was delivered with a promise - yes an actual promise - of one completely vegetarian day a week. This from a dyed in the wool utter & complete carnivore.

Maybe Hugh has got through? How excited am I??! Been sticking post it notes on pages all day.

To sleep, perchance to dream?

Or for me at the moment to dream of the chance to sleep! Am exhausted. Am sleep deprived, so am in a very bad mood. Those who know me well know 2 very important things about me. Feed me regularly and let me have 8 hours undisturbed sleep and I will be utterly lovely. Fail on either of those & the joy is lost. Right now a good nights' sleep is a distant luxurious memory.

Practically Perfect FauxSurreyHubby has a nasty, nasty cold. Sadly he normally snores like a freight train, (we would not be married if it were not for industrial ear plugs), but this cold has meant his normal nighttime noises - which on a good night include him imitating a road drill - now encompass an array of bizarre unbelievably loud new ones.

I am trying hard not to just abandon him as he is so poorly. We have both been so exhuasted we have been heading for bed at 9pm (seriously) and I have poured the Night Nurse for him & gritted my teeth & shoved the earplugs in as deep as they will go & have typically managed to drift off. But by 2 -3 AM Night Nurse has worn off & so hubby is in full uneblieveably loud symphonic flow so me & my pillows head to the spare room. Generally to be met by a delighted KC who jumps onto the spare bed, snuggles down next to me & purrs away happily.

But last night the KC decided that it was no fun just cuddling & purring. Oh no. After 2 hours of blissful sleep she decided it would be fun to jump on me, lick my nose, sit on my head, paw at my face, bite my feet, and simply play. So I did the unthinkable. At 5.30AM I got up & she followed & ran downstairs - and I watched her run downstairs all expectant & then I got back into bed & shut the spare room door behind me. And hubby felt guilty when he woke up & realised I had had to move beds during the night. So bless him he fed madam & let her out & drove himself to the station & I slept till 9AM. Bliss. Naturally the KC is now conked out upstairs on a cosy bed. So tempted to go poke her but I won't as that would just be mean!

Veggie-Might!

Yeah yeah I know – bad pun but when you’re as tired as I am that’s impressive. Why so tired? Doing 3 days up in that faraway London place which means getting up – actually up and dressed & presentable not just with raincoat over PJ's to drop hubby at station– at 6AM (also known as sparrows fart) 3 times a week..! Anyhow that’s not what I am blogging about no no. I am moved to blog about a man some TV critics have called patronising in the extreme but a man I have a new found respect for. Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall. I never thought I would have any time for a man who actively encouraged people to kill pigs & chickens & lambs and other lovely living breathing creatures. Organic / Free range or not. There was always just too much blood lust & meat going on at the River Cottage.

Then he took a long hard look at the life & lot of the battery chicken & he realised how cruel, pointless & unnecessary it was & what miserable “lives” these chickens lived all for the sake of cheap nasty tasteless chicken for our tables and he cried on TV. And made a stand against the horror that is battery farming. And I am not ashamed to say I was crying in my living room along with him – who are these people who can have no care & concern for another creature? It beggars belief.

Then he smelled the coffee properly & realised that what with 7 BILLION (!!) people now on this very small planet we are rushing head first into a food crisis because most people in the developed world are addicted to meat. They eat it daily and feel a meal is incomplete without something dead on their plate (sadly FauxSurreyHubby being one of them). And a la battery chicken he decided to do something about it. So he went veggie. Not sure if he is still a vegetarian but he spent 3 months as a pure no meat or fish veggie. And made a brilliant TV programme about it.  

Brilliant in my book as it’s the only cookery show I can watch all the way through without feeling slightly queasy at times. Brilliant as I know I can dash into the kitchen and make & enjoy every single dish!

The last episode was about feasting & banqueting & I sat there salivating. He was cooking South East Indian Dhosas & Puri’s, making aubergine & green bean curry, a herby peanutty noodle salad and stunning stuffed courgette flowers. Utterly inspirational. And FauxSurreyHubby has even expressed a genuine interest in some of the recipes. But we have a problem. Not only is my lovely hubby a dyed in the wool carnivore, he is allergic – severely allergic; call an ambulance allergic - to that magic ingredient that gives texture, protein & taste to many veggie dishes. Yes hubby is allergic to nuts. All nuts. Even faux nut pine nuts that give that lovely crunch to pesto. Hey ho; at least I can put Hugh on my Christmas list and sit & read about nut roasts & roasted peanut salad dressings without risk of serious illness..

I Saw You Coming!

Fans of Harry Enfield will know exactly what I mean by that. For the uninitiated, in a nutshell, Harry has a sketch in his comedy show in which he plays a Notting Hill antiques shop salesman who sells utter junk to gullible wealthy women for extortionately large quantities of money. I found myself in a similar place today. No not a Notting Hill antiques shop but – bizarrely – a garden centre. Well I’d call it a garden centre it calls itself a nursery & I won’t name it as I don’t want trouble. But seriously. This place was FauxRusticExpensive in the extreme. Located on the edge of London in an area clearly filled with people with far more money than sense (well someone must buy this stuff or they’d go under – surely??) I had to be told to close my mouth and behave on numerous occasions!

Firstly – the coffee shop. Self-service & eat in a garden shed with a leaking roof. So we got dripped on & it was freezing. Slice of cake – very nice cake admittedly £4.50. Cup of coffee £4; glass of wine £6.50 (you’d need alcohol to buy soup - £7.50). Now if I was eating said cake & drinking said coffee in a warm, uber designed sumptuous café with white glove service & silver teapots maybe.

But to sit on a hard, metal, rickety, paint peeling, ancient garden chair (that’ll be £65 if you want to take that home thanks) I don’t think so! My handbag got covered in mud as I foolishly hung it on the back of the ancient rickety chair …. the even more rickety table upon which we were enjoying our eye wateringly expensive coffee & cake was a mere £350.

In the shop more joys lay ahead - £40 yes FORTY English pound coins for a fairly ordinary, not even clean terracotta plant pot; Mmm hmm. £4,500 for an alleged Swedish antique chest thing which looked like it needed a good wire brushing & a coat of paint. £450 for an old (i.e. seen far better days vs. gorgeous well cared for antique) metal garden bench. £30 for a small wonky plate. Yes a side plate. Whoever was doing the pricing clearly kept putting the decimal point in the wrong place…!

Now I am not tight fisted, I’m all for splashing the cash; I own Mulberry bags and love drinking Krug & collect gorgeous things for me & the house darling many of which are also quite expensive in the grand scheme of things but they are either artisan, or precious (i.e. made of precious things … can’t resist a diamond!) but there are limits! Old cr*ppy furniture is not nice! As I said to my coffee mate; I may be gullible but not THAT gullible!

You know what I think? Depressingly given where we were, I think the really really rich come & buy it to pretend that it really has been in their shed "for years darling. Oh that old thing". What a world …

Here Kitty Kitty!

I had a lovely & most unusual evening last night. I volunteer for the charity 'Cats Protection' so with that hat & branded fleece on I attended a local vets' "Cat Fest" event to help make their evening more interesting & drum up support for our branch (I got 3 new members signed up in 2 hours so am very happy). I was set up with my posters, my laptop running a slideshow of the kitties in our care looking for new homes and a heap of our magazines & membership forms, and shared my room with a gorgeous British Blue called Barney. He is an ex stray & ex CP cat who now works as a Pets as Therapy cat http://www.petsastherapy.org/
He basically goes (with his human mum of course!) & visits people who respond well to touch - he has a blind lady he visits, he visits sick children in hospitals who simply cuddle & play with  him (he is so laid back he's horizontal) and he is amazing with Alzheimers patients - many of the people he visits are quite seriously ill, but they all remember Barney and greet him with joy & recognition - you can only imagine how that makes their families feel.

But the joy of cats didn't stop there - in the room next door to me were the actual Whiskas cats - the gorgeous grey & silver British short hair cats who star in the Whiskas TV ads!! I cannot tell you how beautiful / friendly / amazingly well behaved / trained they were. They were the cats who thought they were dogs - they were shaking paws, rolling over - amazing! All using a system of clicks & treats.  

I got home to find the KC purrring loudly, curled up on my bed & I wondered if she would be up for a few tricks for treats (being so close to Hallowe'en!) So I shook the pack of 'Dreamies', treats she normally takes your hand off for. But clearly not tonight. She opened one eye, yawned, rolled over onto her back, crossed her paws over her chest & went straight back to sleep. That'll be a no then ...

Jason - king of the dancefloor

A quick post as have to go into that big city to that huge blue chip company to put the hours in today. I know I was disappointed when the line up was announced but the Strictly bug has now bitten me hard - and go go Jason! I know everyone is saying he was back doing his day job this week as the theme was Broadway (he starred in the stage version of Priscilla; Queen of the Desert - one of my all time favourite movies which if my memory serves me well I saw whilst on hols in Sydney ...) but what a FAB camp tango performed to Gloria Gaynors "I Will Survive" complete with giant pink feather fans & the cheesiest grins ever - proof a tango can be both fun (they chucked in some brilliant disco hip wiggling & finger waggling) and technically briilliant & thrilling & doesn't need sheer tops, half naked women & suggestive hand placement to get your attention (yes you Holly & Artem...)

Just look at the judges' faces!! Even Craig is smiling & Bruno looks like he may explode....