15 minutes with Serena Williams and afternoon tea

Well having not watched the US Open 2018 Ladies final match in its entirety, and having caught up with the news and clips on the WWW, I kinda feel like taking Serena Williams by the hand and suggesting she takes a good old break, read some lovely books, and have some time to dwell on why it’s ok not to always win. And, if she is on the losing side, not to push the blame at any other person or situation that ends up in this sort of madness.

Easier said than done, sure. But she was losing that match, no matter the coaching or not. The outburst was likely frustration on a catastrophic level. And sure, we all have those times when you just want to punch something or somebody when you’ve tried so bloody hard to win, get, gain, achieve only for it to fall apart on the day.

And, Serena, I would say. You’ve achieved so much. You have no need to do more for your daughter to be able to see this in years to come. Jeepers, what a role model you will surely be. Come on Serena, you are a WINNER. You don’t need another trophy to polish once a week to know it.

I’m going for Afternoon Tea today, maybe Serena would have liked to join us 🙂

Basically, in about 45 mins time there will be delightful cake and small sandwiches being shovelled down my throat, washed down with Earl Grey tea – actually, correction, a glass of bubbly will do better.

Hubster and I are heading off for this. Sadly this means no roast potatoes for him today, but he will cope because he is a WINNER on so many levels.


Photo: mine.








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.



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.







Five minutes if I’m lucky to put something down

I’m not good at waiting for the clock to hit whatever time it is I need to be ready to leave, meeting, phone somebody or anything. Hence why I leave any getting ready to the very last minute. Rush and do. Lastminute.com sums me up.

Right now I should be dressed and on  my way to a birthday party. Instead, I am writing here, sitting in the hubsters dressing gown and no idea what to wear.

Hey-ho, better go

parasailing 6

photo – mine – me up there

Fifteen minutes – day trip with the colleagues


Odney – photo –  mine

Funny how the idea of a work road trip brings up such mixed emotions. Elation at a day out and leaving the desk, and familiar mouse to gather a few hours of dust. Panic – shit, who will I sit with on the bus? I don’t know them all that well. I’m not a great small talker, will I by virtue be bored shitless? Clothes, can we ditch the uniform for civies? How joyous to not wear my Business Dress shirt that likens me to a member of a local ten-pin bowling team. As in too big, in need of darts all over, and how can I forget the official shade of blue.

As it was the bus was OK. All official with its logo. Instructions to buckle up before we drive off, and even stronger instruction for no moonies on the motorway – jeepers who do I work with?! Everybody took up position, rabble in the back, graduating to the quieter ones and our leader up front with the driver.

We were off to the company Heritage Site, about an hour and a half away. Our leader having been there before, relayed how deciding to not leave her doggie at home, booked her into a local doggie day-care – at great expense. Lovely dog was provided with paw massages and facial, and our leader was provided throughout the day photo updates to her mobile of lovely doggie running freely amongst fields and orchards.


Heritage site – photo mine

Along the road, newly married and about to be married colleagues shared how they were/would be ovulating during respective Honeymoons completely unaware of how their voices were travelling across the bus.  Needless to say, much laughter and blushes when I turned back and said, “Thanks for sharing, Ladies.”

“Members Only,” the signage said at this beautiful place we arrived at.

Heritage site, though small, holds a wealth of information along with an extensive fabric library, items conserved in various methods, physical and digital.  And if you were looking for bedtime reading, they have copies of the company magazine that’s been going for over 100 years and is the longest running in-house magazine – I stand corrected but think our lovely Archivist said in the world.


Like a little boat trip – photo mine

As you enter there is a memory of the Oxford Street branch, bombed during WW11 – a small tin mangled, chared, with coins melted to the bottom. Very poignant.

We saw print blocks used for fabrics. An example piece called Tree of Life is on the wall. This beauty required over 300 blocks to produce and needed well over 3 years to complete. As you can expect these were pricey items, not for the regular man in the street. Jeepers one of the blocks I could hold was so heavy. Apparently, the printers knew exactly which block to use in sequence. Any mistakes, well the fabric was discarded at huge cost.

The entire place, not only the Heritage Site, for it is on a private members only estate, is idyllic. There are walks along the Thames, footbridges to take you across to further lush and extensive grounds, rowing boats available, accommodation, spa, the lot. You can even take your dog, and indeed we saw a furry friend swimming in the Thames, the ducks oblivious.

Back to the Heritage site, our Archivist – Hannah – was wonderful, sharing great snippets of company founder’s links to the Zoological Society and how after taking on a pair of gibbons to assist with breeding, founder managed to create quite an upset with his local villagers.  Apparently while he believed gibbons do not swim, he’d overlooked how they do wade, and in fact did so, deciding to take a pleasant stroll through the village.

We also saw some items pertaining to Queen Victoria, one being a rather solemn black, bejewelled funeral bonnet. The other was far more romantic. When she was sent a fabric print to agree to for Balmoral, Vicky added the silhouette of herself gazing across the printed forget-me-nots towards a silhouette of Albert. When the example was returned, these were incorporated into the print run, and yes, there they were, feint, but there.

We left in glorious sunshine, all keen to return. Let’s hope we do.


Time to say farewell – photo mine




Might have cheated here a bit, this was written on the bus and needed a bit more than 15 minutes.









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


(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.


(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.


(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 – and it be Sunday with a wild life roundup

I’m not sure why it’s called SUNday, because there is no blooming SUN today! Googled the reason and lost interest when each reference went off into Roman Times and Germanic terms. Evidently, there is no need in my day to be educated.


photo from here: HERE

In the last week or so, I’ve seen a deer, fox and hedgehog. Hedgehog was in the garden outside the back door, and the fox and deer as expected were crossing the road as I headed either to or from work. Whenever there is wildlife about I find myself smiling and cheerful.


Quite fond of a hedgehog we started putting out some mealworms and water, with some success. Hubster erected some make-shift retreats out of old wood, bricks and an old chopping board. All was pretty good, however, we decided to upgrade facilities and today installed a proper hedgehog shelter, allowing us to create a bit of a scamper-way through the beds, round the mancave, into a selection of homes, and then out through the hedgehog highway.  This all sounds as if street planning was needed, and perhaps rather OTT, but no, it’s a simple set up, very basic and rural and with luck will be helpful.

hedge house

Photo from here: HERE

Back to Sunday then. Hubster is going to do some planting and me, well lucky me, I’m off to work. Food is good there, and chances are a roast could be on the cards.




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.

Fifteen minutes – day off, reading a book written in the 80s, peep-hole coffee and sippy-cups

Funny when you read a book that was written in the 80s. Funny because even when the plot is crime, the old DCI never reverts to social media, mobile phones or carries a coffee in a disposable cup to slurp during moments of deep thought or general out for a walk.

And yet the crime is solved, life was not splattered over the globe and coffee was enjoyed from a reusable mug, namely a chunky china/porcelain or other washable substance, while sitting at home or at a desk.

I know I’ve pondered this before, but what is it with carrying coffee around? I don’t get the enjoyment of slurping my frothy drink through a peephole in a plastic lid? Actually, just thought how it reminds me of reverting back to toddler-hood and using a sippy-cup!


Day off today. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. What to do? Well, lunch with my mate, which is going to be great, because she makes me laugh and has shown me how to communicate far my easily when things are not quite right at work. Never easy to do that. The approach being, go in positive, say what needs to be said, and have a solution to offer. Sure, things may not be sorted exactly, however, they have been aired and bedded in the mind of the person who was made to listen.  And more importantly, there will be no or at least limited internal festering within my gut.




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 – rolling on the floor with a quiche

How did I feel about work today, and what to eat this evening? Were we to have baby potatoes or chips with our Salmon and Broccoli quiche, the hubster asked.

I looked him directly in the eye and said. “After the day I’ve had I’m quite happy to throw the quiche on the floor and roll in it.”


photo borrowed from here

The quiche was far too tasty to waste, and instead, I went about ridding myself of pent-up frustration by running on the spot while watching the men’s 200m sprint at the European championships in Berlin, followed by a few swimming strokes while flat on my stomach on the carpet. Next, the ironing was completed and even the tea-towels were ironed to perfection.




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