Well disaster. Firstly, I didn't realise that the first Friday might also be the first day of the month...I thought I still had a week to go. And secondly, you may be surprised to know that most of my pictures get taken on my phone (I also take some on a point and shoot, and some on a proper camera, but love the challenge of mobile phone photography)...it was a terrible phone, but actually took some quite good pictures. This month it got sent back and replaced by another one...this time an HTC which is a great phone, but a terrible camera...so I'm a bit short on the picture taking front.
Shard of Glass...well concrete and steel at the moment. Like a stalker it's hard to avoid
After photoshop
As the camera took it :-(
Fab local pub in Bermondsey
Top Gun returns to our screens
Who does this belong to I wonder?
Would have been an epic picture if I could have got the camera to focus
And erm that's all for now folks!
Once upon a time this was about Me and The Boy. The it was Me, The Boy, The Cat and The Cat's Mother. And now, I'm not sure who it's about. How life changes when you least expect it!
Friday, 1 October 2010
Thursday, 30 September 2010
She's got to go
There's a time in every relationship when you know its over. And so it is. She came into my life all sparkly-eyed and enthusiastic. But those little things that are funny at the start of the relationship begin to aggravate and irritate. And at some point you realise that she won't change. So that's it, you know you have to finish it.
The sort of things I mean are moving those ornaments that you've spent weeks organising so they're just perfect...and instead of being artistically arranged, they're lined up like a row of soldiers. My deodorant and aftershave gets shoved in the back of the bathroom cupboard meaning I can't find them when I need them. One day I'll leave for work all smelly. Photoframes carefully placed on the side unit are al mixed up and muddled. Candlesticks, glasses, little 'things' just get moved from place to place. Strange little groupings of china and bronze ornaments suddenly appear. Clothes that are carefully put in one place, mysteriously end up somewhere else.
She can't leave alone.
She has to change things.
The final straw was being woken in the morning by the incessant buzzing of the alarm clock. I always have it set to radio. A buzz is not a great way to start the day and it made me grumpy until I went to bed.
The Boy gets driven to distraction...even The Cat thinks she's a pain. The Cat's Mum doesn't get it.
I'm talking about 'The Woman That Does'. The problem is she does too much. She comes from the east. I don't mean Tilbury or Southend. I mean further, but not as far as Moscow. I suspect she's been sent to grind us down and it'll all end up like Dirk Bogarde in The Servant.
The Cat's Mum says that if I ever meet her (yes I have to confess I never have) I'd see she's delightful and well meaning. I know I didn't employ her. I know that I don't pay her. I know she's not my responsibility. BUT. I live in fear of coming home on a Monday evening and finding that I have to spend a couple of hours re-arranging things back to how they were in the morning. How they should be.
Of course I am grateful...it's been a very long time since I paid anyone to clear up after me. The last time was when I lived down in Brighton and commuted to London. I employed an East European woman, who it transpired was a fully qualified doctor in her own country. I felt terrible at this waste of talent, so was immensely grateful when she moved on. Of course, I missed having a clean and tidy flat..but that's bachelor life.
Your sympathy for my terrible predicament would be much appreciated.
Please don't think I'm a spoilt brat...but really, one more out of place ornament, and I may have to bury her in the basement.
The sort of things I mean are moving those ornaments that you've spent weeks organising so they're just perfect...and instead of being artistically arranged, they're lined up like a row of soldiers. My deodorant and aftershave gets shoved in the back of the bathroom cupboard meaning I can't find them when I need them. One day I'll leave for work all smelly. Photoframes carefully placed on the side unit are al mixed up and muddled. Candlesticks, glasses, little 'things' just get moved from place to place. Strange little groupings of china and bronze ornaments suddenly appear. Clothes that are carefully put in one place, mysteriously end up somewhere else.
She can't leave alone.
She has to change things.
The final straw was being woken in the morning by the incessant buzzing of the alarm clock. I always have it set to radio. A buzz is not a great way to start the day and it made me grumpy until I went to bed.
The Boy gets driven to distraction...even The Cat thinks she's a pain. The Cat's Mum doesn't get it.
I'm talking about 'The Woman That Does'. The problem is she does too much. She comes from the east. I don't mean Tilbury or Southend. I mean further, but not as far as Moscow. I suspect she's been sent to grind us down and it'll all end up like Dirk Bogarde in The Servant.
The Cat's Mum says that if I ever meet her (yes I have to confess I never have) I'd see she's delightful and well meaning. I know I didn't employ her. I know that I don't pay her. I know she's not my responsibility. BUT. I live in fear of coming home on a Monday evening and finding that I have to spend a couple of hours re-arranging things back to how they were in the morning. How they should be.
Of course I am grateful...it's been a very long time since I paid anyone to clear up after me. The last time was when I lived down in Brighton and commuted to London. I employed an East European woman, who it transpired was a fully qualified doctor in her own country. I felt terrible at this waste of talent, so was immensely grateful when she moved on. Of course, I missed having a clean and tidy flat..but that's bachelor life.
Your sympathy for my terrible predicament would be much appreciated.
Please don't think I'm a spoilt brat...but really, one more out of place ornament, and I may have to bury her in the basement.
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
Food glorious food!
Not so long ago we all trundled off to see the latest iteration of Oliver! It was tremendous fun, and interestingly having not seen it for a couple of decades I still knew all the songs and most of the words...I felt so sorry for my companions who had to listen to my tuneless renditions. Tara's theme this week is food...so he's a few shots to illustrate a theme that's close to my heart and even closer to my tummy!
A delicious salad from our last visit to Cyprus...we're off to see Grandma again soon
Fruit and veg from Taj a fantastic shop in Brighton
A cheesy Valentine's present
Menu from Riddle and Finn in Brighton - well worth a visit if you're ever down there
More fruit and veg from Mr Taj - I love the colours
I have a thing for rubber ducks...so here's the foodie version
And finally no meal is complete with a bottle of Mateus Rose. Well maybe not these days, but when I was younger it was everyone's first introduction to wine
A delicious salad from our last visit to Cyprus...we're off to see Grandma again soon
Fruit and veg from Taj a fantastic shop in Brighton
A cheesy Valentine's present
Menu from Riddle and Finn in Brighton - well worth a visit if you're ever down there
More fruit and veg from Mr Taj - I love the colours
I have a thing for rubber ducks...so here's the foodie version
And finally no meal is complete with a bottle of Mateus Rose. Well maybe not these days, but when I was younger it was everyone's first introduction to wine
Monday, 27 September 2010
Getting laid
It was remarkably pleasing that The Seagulls are top of League One after another win this weekend. The chaos the match caused on the A23 as we arrived for (yet another) flat tidy up was soon forgotten. It's been several years since we've had much to cheer about, but this is certainly excellent news. And with the new stadium well under way, perhaps I dare hope for a new renaissance in football down at the seaside. The memory of the old football stadium being sold off, levelled and turned into a Toys'R'Us will hopefully fade.
I've lost count of the number of times that we've tidied and re-tidied the flat over the last eighteen months. Every time we make some progress, we have a new workman/builder/contractor in to cause chaos and undo all our good work. This time it had been the carpet fitters. All the carpets were between twenty and forty years old and were in a shocking state - plenty of wear and tear which included many spills and stains from growing children meant that I let the painter cut away all the edges of the carpets so we could get a good finish on the skirting boards. Last year when the kitchen was refitted, the ceiling was pulled down, and essentially 200 years of shit came with it, covering everything in a black sticky soot. It was gross. I can't tell you why but the night before the carpet fitters arrived, I had my head down on the carpet in the hallway. All I could smell was years of stale cooking.
But their arrival meant more furniture moving...and then putting back the day after. Thank heavens The Cat's Mum was there to help. I'm not sure what she thinks she's got herself into, having paid someone to clean her house for the last twenty years. Still, a change is as good as a rest as I like to say to her. Often.
So upstairs is now done. Lovely cream carpets in the music room and the play room (that's the one with the Playstation in)) and a blood red hall carpet that flows down the stairs. It's delicious.
Next week the carpet fitters will be back to do downstairs. This may just push me over the edge, but I'm sure the results will be worth it. And at least I'll have the job of making them at least a dozen mugs of tea to keep me occupied.
And the whole thing keeps my mind off work at the moment which can only be a good thing as we lurch from one recession to the doldrums to another recession.
I've lost count of the number of times that we've tidied and re-tidied the flat over the last eighteen months. Every time we make some progress, we have a new workman/builder/contractor in to cause chaos and undo all our good work. This time it had been the carpet fitters. All the carpets were between twenty and forty years old and were in a shocking state - plenty of wear and tear which included many spills and stains from growing children meant that I let the painter cut away all the edges of the carpets so we could get a good finish on the skirting boards. Last year when the kitchen was refitted, the ceiling was pulled down, and essentially 200 years of shit came with it, covering everything in a black sticky soot. It was gross. I can't tell you why but the night before the carpet fitters arrived, I had my head down on the carpet in the hallway. All I could smell was years of stale cooking.
But their arrival meant more furniture moving...and then putting back the day after. Thank heavens The Cat's Mum was there to help. I'm not sure what she thinks she's got herself into, having paid someone to clean her house for the last twenty years. Still, a change is as good as a rest as I like to say to her. Often.
So upstairs is now done. Lovely cream carpets in the music room and the play room (that's the one with the Playstation in)) and a blood red hall carpet that flows down the stairs. It's delicious.
Next week the carpet fitters will be back to do downstairs. This may just push me over the edge, but I'm sure the results will be worth it. And at least I'll have the job of making them at least a dozen mugs of tea to keep me occupied.
And the whole thing keeps my mind off work at the moment which can only be a good thing as we lurch from one recession to the doldrums to another recession.
Sunday, 26 September 2010
Sweet 16
Friday night was The Cat's birthday night celebration. Her real birthday is Wednesday, but celebrations have begun early.
Of course at 16, the big question is 'Alcohol?'
The answer from the teenagers was of course a resounding YES!!!
The answer from the adults was "um, err, um, erm".
We forewarned other parentals and there were no objections.
So a small quantity of beer, wkd, and Pimms was purchased.
As they arrived The Cat's Mum and I retreated fingers crossed and sat nervously in the living room whilst the party got into full swing in the basement, onto the conservatory and then into the garden before returning to the house.
Clearly our nervousness got the better of us as we dropped off to sleep whilst watching Sweeney Todd.
In the rest of the house there was no blood letting, no vomiting, no breakages and no one disappearing upstairs.
As the witching hour arrived, parents arrived, offspring collected and the evening ended.
Everyone happy.
Of course at 16, the big question is 'Alcohol?'
The answer from the teenagers was of course a resounding YES!!!
The answer from the adults was "um, err, um, erm".
We forewarned other parentals and there were no objections.
So a small quantity of beer, wkd, and Pimms was purchased.
As they arrived The Cat's Mum and I retreated fingers crossed and sat nervously in the living room whilst the party got into full swing in the basement, onto the conservatory and then into the garden before returning to the house.
Clearly our nervousness got the better of us as we dropped off to sleep whilst watching Sweeney Todd.
In the rest of the house there was no blood letting, no vomiting, no breakages and no one disappearing upstairs.
As the witching hour arrived, parents arrived, offspring collected and the evening ended.
Everyone happy.