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

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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

brinjal

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

Eternal_clock

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 new Downton Abbey

download

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

 

 

Fifteen minutes after the weekend and Scroll Free September

Monday morning reflecting on the weekend. It was busy. It was good. There was a lot of fine eating, good wine, and very good company. Started Friday, ended Sunday. Today I woke, smiled and thought, “oh joyfulness, a day to relax.”

THWACK to the forehead, smile collapses to the ground. Nope, I’m working today. The graveyard shift.

Hubster has headed out to help fix a shed roof, leaving me to fling the vacuum around and spray some polish. Done that, now there are a few minutes to ponder the Scroll Free September that is upon us. Must say my feelings are this is a good thing. And that despite my own love of the world wide web and all that goes with it. Jeepers, I waste a huge amount of time on it. Just sort of flaying around and missing out on life. A bit like taking endless photos when you’re away or out and about. Seeing the world through a lens.

It will be hard to not visit WWW completely because so much of life is done there, bookings, accounts etc, but my plan is to not do the really specific social media things, facebook and twitter. I’m 3 days late starting, but here goes.

Hubster is back, walked in and said, “what have you been doing this morning, my darling?”

“Oh really, you didn’t see the house is sparkling clean and your socks and underwear are packed away! What are you, so exhausted you can’t see further than the ends of your eyelashes?!!!!!”

Hubster’s response, as in backtrack, backtrack, backtrack

Time to get ready for work.

 

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photo: Mine, looking into the garden through a little bit of Home in my UK house

 

 

 

 

 

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 Radio 2, getting older and the Wombles

Today at work my younger colleague kindly changed her normal radio channel to Radio 2.  The pair of us have been on the early shift this week starting at 6am. And after her morning coffee and my cup of hot water, we settle down and colleague streams her fav channel. The music is pretty much as expected, loud, good beat, sometimes a load of noise and meaningless, sometimes great, but whatever it is, it keeps you going and often I hear myself singing and humming along.  Anyway, a day or so ago, my colleague asked me which channel I listen to. Radio 2, I said. Today then, through no prompting or complaining from me, she streams my channel.

“That’s kind, and thank you very much,” I said. Very touched she would do this.

“I like old music too,” she said.

I laughed good and hard at being advised of my age and said she must change back whenever she wanted. We lasted, probably, about half an hour until the Wombles song came on, at which point she reached for her mouse and said it was time to change.

Can’t say I blame her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fifteen minutes with a cold sore, hangers, goats and cows

goat

(Photo from HERE )

Flipping heck. If there is one thing that really gets my goat going, it’s waking up and finding myself staring at a cold sore. Bad enough though they are, mine always reside beneath or within my nose. Slap bang in the middle of my face. The hubster can’t look me in the eye, preferring to travel towards my poor old nostrils. And if he does this, then everybody else I meet, pass, talk to will be doing the same.

My lovely daughter tells me not to worry and that everybody gets them. I know, but man oh man it does make me a grumpy old cow.

cropped-meg-babel.jpg

(My photo)

Fifteen minutes with a cold sore, feels like fifteen months with a cold sore.

Did a sort out of my cupboard recently, chucking out things that I like, but not so much they will be missed. Must admit I can’t ditch a denim shirt that’s not been of the hangar for about 3 years.  Got a jacket or 2 like that too. Need to be brave and chuck them. Motivation, buy something else to put on those empty hangers.

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(Image from HERE )

Flipping heck number 2. The hubster was in the garden with his slippers, stepped in poop and walked it through the house! Suffice to say the air is not good on so many levels

 

 

 

 

 

Purpose of this blog should you have fallen upon it:

Having fallen out of love with writing, yet deep down really wanting to, decided the best way was to write whatever comes to mind in 15 mins and then stop

Fifteen minutes – Fosbury Flop

Had such a brilliant earlier evening with the hubster.

Watching the European Athletics on the old television with him, I roped him into doing some running with me. On the spot of course. We do the warm-up with the runners, set ourselves in dummy blocks and when the gun goes, we’re off!

He really got into the swing of it. We were doing the 800m.

“Coming over,” he shouts out, moving towards me.

“Elbows,” I respond, flapping them like a chicken to remove him from my spot.

“Elbows,” he responds, equally flapping and moving me out the way.

We did alright, came in 1st and 2nd.

Next, I had a go at the high jump. Flinging myself onto the settee/couch. Performing my best Fosbury Flop, or should that be plop?! Pretty happy with my performance, and satisfied my expertise rests with the running.

Honestly, if the neighbours were strolling past our front window they’d be wondering what the blazes we are up to.

Went to find out about the Fosbury Flop. Found this little video on Youtube.