15 minutes before heading for lunch

It’s raining. Deep sighing. It always rains when a) it’s haircut day and b) walking to town to meet friends for lunch.

Photo: My daughter – her doggie

Today it’s a walk to lunch day. Hey-ho, the lunch and chatter will make it worth while. Big coat and large hat will keep me dry.

Yesterday was my first experience of going to work in the dark, and coming home in the dark. Left the house at 7.20am, and left work at 4.05pm. A new colleague had said to expect this, and I’d rather pooh-poohed it. HA! how daft was I. Not sure I’m going to like this though. 

Black Friday and Cyber Monday have come and gone, and my credit card was flashed about a little. Hubster got a new food mixer and I got – ahem – let’s leave it at an overlocker. Anything else purchased was purely incidental.

Talking of Credit Cards, learnt today my card has been scammed. Well done to my bank for seeing some odd transactions and blocking them mind. Seems these bloody crooks have racked up quite a few thousand Rands of purchases. GRRRRRRRRRR! 

Got myself a Fitbit in the sale – not admitting to buying anything else. Explained to the sales lady all that was needed was a basic model that tells me how lazy I am. Well, money well spent, daily it vibrates, many times a day, telling me to move or perhaps I’ve passed out. Just received the obligatory vibrate, so best I get up, run around the house for a wee while before heading for lunch.

If you’ve fallen on this blog, it is all about getting me to write again. Taking 15 minutes a day – hopefully – and writing whatever comes to  mind. 

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15 minutes – a long time coming

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photo: mine – Boschendal

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photo: mine – view of Waterfront Cape Town from The Silo rooftop bar

Shew, since my last post plenty has gone on. Evidently not a single spare 15 minutes to blog though!  Unbelievable.

Well, most importantly was going home to Cape Town for 2 weeks – got back last Tuesday.  Going back is not so much a holiday, rather shifting a life from the UK back to SA, slipping into our old ways and patterns effortlessly.  Loads of eating good food, drinking good wine and seeing all our family and friends.

Hubster was barely moments of the plane when he began questioning the reasons for living in the UK again. Prompted by being gloved in the stunning blue of the sky, and space and familiarity. If it’s possible to be gloved in space.

Back in the UK there was an abrupt reminder of winter having arrived. And how dark it is by 5pm. Honestly can’t remember this from last year. We’ve already looked for the shortest day and willing the longer days to begin again.

Jobs to do today:

  1. blog – tick and done
  2. garden – shoes are ready, need to get a warm jacket and hat
  3. go to work
  4. catch up on Strictly

#needtodream

 

 

 

15 minutes and getting fit in the High Street while boosting the economy

 

architecture booth buildings commerce
Photo by Mark Dalton on Pexels.com

Two things on my mind right now. First being, time to think about tightening up the relaxed muscle around my middle, and second, how can we boost the High Street once more.

Both are really important in my life.

The flab, err, relaxed muscle is part of ageing I suppose and can be managed to a point without the need of a girdle – she hopes. I have memories of my Nan daily putting on hers until she was of an age that surely they didn’t sell them anymore, let alone make them.

There’s no surprise then to know how resorting to something confined such as Le Girdle, almost has me dieting and exercising 5 hours a day – well, perhaps not that extreme, but you get the idea.

The High Street falling apart makes me sad. What a joy it is, has been, to be able to wander around, window shopping, trying on, thinking, smelling, pondering, stopping for a chat with somebody I bumped into and compulsory taking a few minutes to stop for a coffee. The buzz, the vibe of being within life.  It can’t be beaten.

And also how sad to see retailers and small business being ground to a halt due to online shopping and dare I say a touch of laziness on our part.

With that in mind, I thought of a way of boosting exercise and, the High Street, without even knowing we’re doing it.  Bearing in mind there’s much put about regarding completing 10000 steps a day, why not walk and shop?

Simple. Doesn’t need a whole lot of explaining. In fact, you can get fit, support and enjoy the High Street, and you can boost yourself socially, face to face. And – yet another and – there’s no membership fee nor need to shower afterwards. For those who prefer a big shopping centre, great, even better, all-weather supporting and getting fit – you can’t go wrong.

Am I holier than thou? Not really. Just thinking about ways of achieving two things which are really important to me. Will I do online shopping? Yes I will. But sparingly.  Will I go to the gym. Did you hear the ground shake as I fell off my chair roaring?

 

 

 

What the heck is this blog all about?

Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping

 

 

15 minutes out with a giraffe and frolleague

 

giraffe

photo from here

Funny how you think about things, but recently I reminded myself about a night out with a frolleague. The night itself wasn’t memorable with regards to where we went – bar in Greenpoint, Cape Town – for it was all about having a drink and just chilling. Anyway, what makes me smile about that night is how this frolleague must have been over 6ft tall, while I’m around 5ft 1 or 2 when extending my neck. She wore heels too so you can imagine how we looked. She tall, very blonde, very dynamic personality, and me short, dark and wearing flats.  Quite possibly she being the giraffe, and me being the keeper, tagging along behind

 

 

 

 

 

What the heck is this blog about?

Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping

15 minutes with deaf ears, colleagues, M25, M1 and a breathing duvet

I should have had loads of 15-minute blogs by now. I’ve worked many through my mind all eager to hit the old keyboard and then nothing.

So trying to do a recap of a few:

  1. One was about a colleague who rents a room in a house with several others. Colleague explained that on walking into a room where her housemates are they burst out laughing at her. Are these people not miserable examples of human beings?
  2. Another was about the same colleague who was told it would not be possible to attend college in the UK as her English was not good enough, and this despite holding a full-on hour or more conversation in English and handing over English coursework etc.  I give this young person much credit, for at the end she said something along the lines of “well let’s see if you understand this then. Please call your supervisor I’d like to speak to them instead.” Suffice to say she was accepted by said supervisor immediately
  3. Sat on the M25 and M1 today for so long I might as well have got out, hitched a bag over my shoulder and strolled home. Jeepers, what a way to spend a day off. Stuck in traffic no matter the route chosen. Took me 2 3/4 hrs to do a 1 1/2 hr trip.  Good job there were rhubarb and custard sweets in a little box at hand to work my way through. Mind you, they did leave my mouth all claggy like. Note to self, take water with next time you travel
  4. Have completed 2 online hearing tests recently – as you do. One just now. The first one told me I had some hearing loss and a proper test would be good. I scoffed because the hubster is the one with the hearing problems. There be no-wax build up in his lug-holes, it’s just good old going blooming deaf. And how do I know? Holy smokes, the homeowners 3 streets away have taken to treating our house as podcasts. As in taking up seat in their lounge, flinging open the windows and just listening to our TV. OK, a slight exaggeration. OK, OK, a complete exaggeration! Truth is the volume on the TV breaks the sound barrier whenever he has the control. Second hearing test tells me no problem with my hearing, get on with your life and get the hubster to the test rather
  5. Much chatter on the radio today about switching the central heating on this weekend. I don’t know what the fuss is all about, ours has hardly been off. We will be inching it up though 🙂
  6. Hubster is away for the weekend. Doing some gardening and stuffs with his sister. I will be watching the TV at a low level. Working the graveyard shift Saturday and Sunday and with luck getting some yoga in
  7. Hubster and I are fed up with our duvet. It be cuddly, it be soft. And it be bloody boiling hot. Much googling later and it seems not so much the tog, rather it is not a breathable one. Who would have thought to ask if a duvet breathes or not? John Lewis here we come. Yep, we’re going all out, to heck with the cost, give us a duvet that breathes.

Photo credit: I am not sure and I apologise but had to use it because it is so darn cute and cheery

NB I do my utmost to use photos flagged for free reuse.

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What the heck is this blog all about?

Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping

15 minutes with alpha, charlie and an aubergine

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Photo credit: Mine

Unlike a lot of my graveyard shifts when I’ve been working alone, last night we were three. And my goodness what a massive difference it made, on so many levels. Laughter was surely heard from Buckinghamshire to Glasgow me thinks.

After my mispronouncing the Headcount Report which left the three of us roaring, one of my colleagues relayed the story of how her husband called his insurance company to report a chip in his windscreen. Wanting to lighten the moment he proceeded to tell his number plate using a more humourous version of the alpha, charlie phonetic alphabet.

K – for Kit-kat he said. By this time my colleague was almost controlling her laughter, and then she hit us with the classic – O for Aubergine. Well, we almost collapsed. OK, you probably had to be there to appreciate it, but say it out loud a few times and you’ll have a giggle at least. Especially when you consider he really didn’t get it that it wasn’t O for Obergine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What the heck is this blog about?

Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping

 

 

 

 

15 minutes and the need to rewind time

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Image from HERE

Licking breakfast marmalade from my fingers, hubster is considering his next move to wash-up or head out to run.

“What’s the time?” I said.

“Huh,” he says, a sense of glee in his voice alerting me this is not going to be as easy as it should be. “The clock says 7.58, the radio says 8.01, so it must be 9am.”

“You what?”

“I’m running at 9am, you asked me.”

“No, I asked you what the time is.”

“No, you asked me what time I’m running.”

Giving up licking marmalade, I reply. “I didn’t. I asked you what the time is and you said, The clock says 7.58, the radio says 8.01, so it must be 9am.”

Hubster sits down. “No, you asked me what time I’m running.”

“Well if I did, then why did you tell me it was sometime between 7.58 and 8.01?”

Hubster looks at me, that way he does when he really wants to end the conversation and pretend it hasn’t happened, as in, little smile, almost a flutter of his eyelids.

“Wouldn’t it be nice,” I said, trying hard not to stop licking fingers and start chewing them. “If we could have a rewind button and remove the last 90 seconds of our life?”

Hardly surprising to learn we both agreed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What the heck is this blog about?

Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping

15 minutes and some glue

When I was a little un at school the most annoying, and more so dreaded thing ever to be given to do was glue things, and perhaps that’s where my distaste for getting my fingers and hands dirty started. Anyway, glue time meant an eager teacher would bring forth a funny looking pot of glue complete with a brush that from the moment you looked at it was sticky from bristles to handle and back again, no matter how hard you tried to keep it clean.

So sticky you’d end up with fingers covered with paper that no amount of shaking and pulling would remove it, and if anything only served to move it from one hand to the other, and back again until you went half mad, had a tantrum and was told off.

Later we progressed on to a glue pot with its funny little rubber top. It had a bit of slit across the lid requiring you to push down hard to allow the glue to escape before dragging it over the paper. Evidently, my skills do not surround the glue pot of any sorts, because even with this one I always ended up in a sticky mess.

Sometimes I think about how life was simpler once upon a time and how it would be good to have some of that back.  But not if it meant going back to the darn glue pot.

glue

Photo from HERE

 

 

 

 

 

What the heck is this blog about?

Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping

15 minutes with a dumpling and Outlander

Had delicious dumplings for supper and fear they continue to expand in my tummy.  Within the hour I will probably appear to be 18 months pregnant and be in need of rolling down the stairs to seek out the hubster, requesting he flop me over a shoulder and burp me. Either way not all that attractive.

Busy watching several more episodes of Outlander. I’m up to season 3 episode 4 now, all very enjoyable with flashbacks to past and present. Much better than season 1 and 2 that all but drained me with every episode leading up to the Battle of Culloden and the Jacobite rising. Actually, after both season 1 and 2, the history of the Jacobites is still a complete mystery to me. I mean, were Jamie and Claire Jacobites or not, and was Bonny Prince Charles such a dope after all?

Ok, so right now Jamie has just had sex with another, and it seems she is preggers. Not good, when he is now the groom and she is the wife of a Lord who is old enough to be her grandfather.

Hmmm, hang on a minute, maybe she had far too many dumplings too!

You can find out about Outlander by clicking HERE

 

 

What the heck is this blog about?

Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15 minutes with new Downton Abbey

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Photo: From here

Have you seen or heard? Hold onto your knickers. It be true. The Downton Abbey movie begins filming next week.

Really hoping Lady Mary is down on her luck and having to settle amongst the poor in this one.  I don’t mind if she’s relocated to a stone cottage with a tin sink in the hall, and outside loo, all down the road from Downton, or even up in London in a 2 up 2 down terrace she shares with a family of 10, most of whom are under the age of 2. Not overly bothered if she is married or not, but it would be nice if she’d put on a bit of weight because she really is way too thin to cope with the chill.

Lord Grantham and his lady need a bit of a shake-up too. My money is on them having themed murder mystery weekends where all they really do is drink endless cocktails while wearing knee-length costumes that allow them to float and fall about in a newly installed, heated swimming pool.

Lady Edith, she must have a good life this time around, because, for goodness sake, she had the crappiest life of them all.

Downstairs, well please no more weeping over husbands being framed for murder and whatnot.  Rather let’s have one of these good servants inherit a fortune and make a grab for Downton itself, or at least fall in the pool with a tray of cocktails while Lady Grantham reaches for another olive.

And as for those children. Well, let them be happy little people with no illness or anything.

 

 

What the heck is this blog about?

Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping