(From yesterday)
Leaving with a bang not a whimper, I'm now on donkey sized painkillers (no pink elephants yet, but I'm hoping!) and Stephen has promised faithfully to pack his suitcase tonight.
We only leave after lunch tomorrow, where's the rush ? ! ! !
(Now read on dear reader)
So, the toilet paper lasted and the teabags.
The worker managed a tiny bowl of cereal this morning with the last of the milk without having to "borrow" some from the restaurant!
Buying in just enough is a fine art probably learned at the finely tuned purse strings of Mother!
As I relaid my 'tiding over' shopping list to Caroline; 6 rashers of back bacon from the counter, not prepacked; 6 large free range Cheshire Farm eggs; a large Morrison's medium loaf for your Dad and a small medium Hovis for me, she suddenly laughed.
"This is just like a shopping list from Granny!
You're getting old Mum !"
Morphing into Mum is fine by me.
She knew just how far five shillings went!
At last ! I'm becoming a savvy shapper !
Things are looking up Stephen!
As we wait for the one o'clock hooter to metaphorically sound for Stephen's final release (I used to love watching the workers from Fibreglass, straining at the gates, until the lunch time hooter sounded and the gates sprang open and the men and women we're off !) I'm awarding a mental bouquet of thanks.
Thank you for keeping me company over the past three months.
The humour, friendship and nuggets of information have kept me from going round the bend !
It's been as good as a cup of tea, a McVitea's digestive and a natter in the homes of friends and family !
My favourite past time.
Till the next time . . .
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Aaaarrgh ! ! NO PAPER ! ! !
I've been a trifle too efficient and cleared out all the paper.
Yes Stephen you were right!
Apart from betting on the flies on the window, what else am i finding to do ? !
So this piece, that just HAD to be written, is appearing free form !
I am a pessimistic person and throw in a bit of pain; facing the thought of cancelling our scheduled family visits and Stephen pondering upon a job somewhere near Bahrain my spirits had plummeted today.
Looking to inch them up, I went looking for Elaine Page.
She has a great Sunday afternoon programme on radio 2 featuring showtunes and everything Broadway.
Brilliant for driving home to, eh Pol ? !
I was too early but lucky me was just in time to catch Michael Ball and his guest . . .
Gasp . . .
Gareth Malone ! ! ! YAY ! !
I love Gareth Malone ! !
I never did understand Marion Appleton's passion for Elvis.
I didn't really get the Beatles!
I liked them but that was it. A club I wasn't a member of.
Then I found Gareth Malone and became a groupie overnight!
He is that smart looking posh lad who took a boy's secondary school and persuaded some of them, tough knocks many of them, to sing as a choir and enter a choir competion in China of all places !
He also formed a choir wth the community of South Oxley. All of them !
I think their trophy moment was appearing at the Albert Hall singing 'Walking on Sunshine'.
So this was a reality television show (the only one worth watching; I think) about a young chap with virve and vigour for music in all its many forms, tackling an unlikely band of people and producing harmony on a grandish scale.
It worked !
Go check out Youtube. Just type in The Choir.
Today I discovered Gareth is, big gulp. . .
a composer, choir master, singer, pianist and outreach worker, taking music into schools, oap homes etc., with a passion.
He has also picked up two baftas along the way, whilst still in his early thirties !
I think his secret is doing what he loves and believing in people and passing his passion along.
He is a very lucky lad to have so many options to choose from.
The Choir is a brilliant project that should be attempted everywhere !
I was worried that I had flat-lined !
My music mojo is still there !
I've had a good bop around the room to Kenny Ball and his Jazzmen, singing my head off, ouch!, sounding like Jim Royle !
It must be the Mersey sound !
I remember now the fun of singing, the getting it right and cracking it !
The feeling of community with a bunch of people I scarcely know and also of developing another facet to my identity.
He's introduced me to a band called Fleet Foxes and a song White winter Hymnal.
Lovely !
Do yourselves a favour;
GET INVOLVED IN MUSIC !
EXCELLENT ! ! !
Yes Stephen you were right!
Apart from betting on the flies on the window, what else am i finding to do ? !
So this piece, that just HAD to be written, is appearing free form !
I am a pessimistic person and throw in a bit of pain; facing the thought of cancelling our scheduled family visits and Stephen pondering upon a job somewhere near Bahrain my spirits had plummeted today.
Looking to inch them up, I went looking for Elaine Page.
She has a great Sunday afternoon programme on radio 2 featuring showtunes and everything Broadway.
Brilliant for driving home to, eh Pol ? !
I was too early but lucky me was just in time to catch Michael Ball and his guest . . .
Gasp . . .
Gareth Malone ! ! ! YAY ! !
I love Gareth Malone ! !
I never did understand Marion Appleton's passion for Elvis.
I didn't really get the Beatles!
I liked them but that was it. A club I wasn't a member of.
Then I found Gareth Malone and became a groupie overnight!
He is that smart looking posh lad who took a boy's secondary school and persuaded some of them, tough knocks many of them, to sing as a choir and enter a choir competion in China of all places !
He also formed a choir wth the community of South Oxley. All of them !
I think their trophy moment was appearing at the Albert Hall singing 'Walking on Sunshine'.
So this was a reality television show (the only one worth watching; I think) about a young chap with virve and vigour for music in all its many forms, tackling an unlikely band of people and producing harmony on a grandish scale.
It worked !
Go check out Youtube. Just type in The Choir.
Today I discovered Gareth is, big gulp. . .
a composer, choir master, singer, pianist and outreach worker, taking music into schools, oap homes etc., with a passion.
He has also picked up two baftas along the way, whilst still in his early thirties !
I think his secret is doing what he loves and believing in people and passing his passion along.
He is a very lucky lad to have so many options to choose from.
The Choir is a brilliant project that should be attempted everywhere !
I was worried that I had flat-lined !
My music mojo is still there !
I've had a good bop around the room to Kenny Ball and his Jazzmen, singing my head off, ouch!, sounding like Jim Royle !
It must be the Mersey sound !
I remember now the fun of singing, the getting it right and cracking it !
The feeling of community with a bunch of people I scarcely know and also of developing another facet to my identity.
He's introduced me to a band called Fleet Foxes and a song White winter Hymnal.
Lovely !
Do yourselves a favour;
GET INVOLVED IN MUSIC !
EXCELLENT ! ! !
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
My music.
I love my Ipod and also my little mp3 music player which can also give me the Archers and Afternoon Play.
It can also give me Woman's Hour with 'sympathetic voiced' Jenny Murray - but she then gives me hives !
With these pocket sized machines I'm able to hear my music in my head as opposed to in the background of life around me.
It's like switching on Blackpool Iluminations in my eight year old head.
Magic ! as Dave, 'our Denise's' husband would say.
This is what I hear . . .
'Lily the Pink' from The Scaffold makes me smile every time. It's a simple little ditty that lifts my spirits.
'By the sleepy lagoon' is the theme tune to radio 4's Desert Island Discs.
The gentle sound of the waves lapping in and out insantly transport me back to 1963, where it's the weekend, no school and being surrounded by family and feeling satisfied after another of Mum's delicious meals.
It's a safe harbour from the barbs I felt outside.
I've never had much of a thick skin.
'Ride of the Valkyries'. This was my mobile phone ringtone for years.
It denoted me.
I remember hysterically laughing as it suddenly rang forth from my bag on the coat hook in Mum's hospital room, where everything felt like some frightening nightmare.
I did subconsciously feel as if I was riding forth to fight evil.
Intermezzo from 'Cavalleria Rusticana.'
From the first note, peace just floods mind and body.
A good relaxant.
'Elizabethan Serenade'.
Now I am whisked back to 1965, as a schoolgirl in full uniform; tie, shirt, etc.,
My pleated skirt was folded over at the waist for 5 years !
Definite money's worth
Anyway, Miss Ashton, our musc teacher, never did tap me on the knee for entrance to the school choir but I think I snuck in anyway.
I loved this song about the gentle Avon flowing and the casement curtain fluttering and blowing by candlelight (health and safety? pah !)
Answer came there none - a sad and peaceful song.
I can't get enough piano concerto's !
I play along with it, wiggling my fingers over the imaginary keyboard - note perfect - with all the delicacy and force of Paderevsky.
If I could tickle the ivories as effortlessly and enjoyably as my Mum did for the majority of her life, I'd be in 7th heaven.
Sometime in the '80's she began picking up where her music lessons were abruptly left off as a youngster.
She even had organ lessons by an organist at Liverpool's Christ the King cathedral to improve her playing at St.Patrick's church.
The keyboard was a constant source of pleasure throughout her life.
I should be so lucky !
At some point I must sit down and discover the real meaning to all these pieces and get double the pleasure ! !
I don't know my music but I know what I like, it just feels right.
It's like putting the wrong grade oil into an engine.
The wrong type of music just shouldn't be in my head.
There probably is just as much justification for Meathead or Madonna, Elton or Elvis Costeloe (although I do like him but I couldn't think of anyone I didn't like beginning with an E) but it just jars in my head.
So, pop-pickers ! What spins your wheels ?
It can also give me Woman's Hour with 'sympathetic voiced' Jenny Murray - but she then gives me hives !
With these pocket sized machines I'm able to hear my music in my head as opposed to in the background of life around me.
It's like switching on Blackpool Iluminations in my eight year old head.
Magic ! as Dave, 'our Denise's' husband would say.
This is what I hear . . .
'Lily the Pink' from The Scaffold makes me smile every time. It's a simple little ditty that lifts my spirits.
'By the sleepy lagoon' is the theme tune to radio 4's Desert Island Discs.
The gentle sound of the waves lapping in and out insantly transport me back to 1963, where it's the weekend, no school and being surrounded by family and feeling satisfied after another of Mum's delicious meals.
It's a safe harbour from the barbs I felt outside.
I've never had much of a thick skin.
'Ride of the Valkyries'. This was my mobile phone ringtone for years.
It denoted me.
I remember hysterically laughing as it suddenly rang forth from my bag on the coat hook in Mum's hospital room, where everything felt like some frightening nightmare.
I did subconsciously feel as if I was riding forth to fight evil.
Intermezzo from 'Cavalleria Rusticana.'
From the first note, peace just floods mind and body.
A good relaxant.
'Elizabethan Serenade'.
Now I am whisked back to 1965, as a schoolgirl in full uniform; tie, shirt, etc.,
My pleated skirt was folded over at the waist for 5 years !
Definite money's worth
Anyway, Miss Ashton, our musc teacher, never did tap me on the knee for entrance to the school choir but I think I snuck in anyway.
I loved this song about the gentle Avon flowing and the casement curtain fluttering and blowing by candlelight (health and safety? pah !)
Answer came there none - a sad and peaceful song.
I can't get enough piano concerto's !
I play along with it, wiggling my fingers over the imaginary keyboard - note perfect - with all the delicacy and force of Paderevsky.
If I could tickle the ivories as effortlessly and enjoyably as my Mum did for the majority of her life, I'd be in 7th heaven.
Sometime in the '80's she began picking up where her music lessons were abruptly left off as a youngster.
She even had organ lessons by an organist at Liverpool's Christ the King cathedral to improve her playing at St.Patrick's church.
The keyboard was a constant source of pleasure throughout her life.
I should be so lucky !
At some point I must sit down and discover the real meaning to all these pieces and get double the pleasure ! !
I don't know my music but I know what I like, it just feels right.
It's like putting the wrong grade oil into an engine.
The wrong type of music just shouldn't be in my head.
There probably is just as much justification for Meathead or Madonna, Elton or Elvis Costeloe (although I do like him but I couldn't think of anyone I didn't like beginning with an E) but it just jars in my head.
So, pop-pickers ! What spins your wheels ?
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Addendum
How could I forget Stephen's guitar!
Way back in '94 his best birthday present accompanied him to Dubai, then home for a spell and then out to Saudi in '96.
He has always strummed and crooned, playing along to Don Williams' 'Tulsar Time' or Rod Stewarts' 'Hot Legs' amongst others.
Definately going - after all this is a signed model! On my last visit Stephen got me to sign this guitar/
Naff ? Yuk ?
Yes kids but that's Mum and Dad.
Finally, we've packed his frying pan.
I'm sure Lucy for one can relate to Stephen's attachement to the pan that gives him the perfect egg!
Way back in '94 his best birthday present accompanied him to Dubai, then home for a spell and then out to Saudi in '96.
He has always strummed and crooned, playing along to Don Williams' 'Tulsar Time' or Rod Stewarts' 'Hot Legs' amongst others.
Definately going - after all this is a signed model! On my last visit Stephen got me to sign this guitar/
Naff ? Yuk ?
Yes kids but that's Mum and Dad.
Finally, we've packed his frying pan.
I'm sure Lucy for one can relate to Stephen's attachement to the pan that gives him the perfect egg!
Closing down sale - Must everything go ?
We're now in the throws of packing.
Seven boxes and hopefully we've stopped counting.
It isn't all Anxiety Central though.
Last night was spent watching a family video.
We sat and couch potatoe'd through the extended family get together just after Mum's funeral (not as bizarre as it sounds);
a very expectant Caroline waiting excitedly to become a Mum:
Nathan's first few hours and the dizzyness he must have experienced as he was passed from Dad to Grandparents to Uncle to Aunty, poor lad:
my Dad in his last few years looking lost and tiny inside his many jackets;
our dog Ben as he too, slowed down, my bestest friend as children left and parents died;
Nathan learning to walk, talk and become cock-o'-the walk.
Obviously going.
Stephen's golf trophies?
Golf has been his Saudi past time and judging from the trophy cabinet he must be good at it and enjoyed it.
However with the onset of creaking knees and back the enthusiasm has waned.
His philosophy now is, ''Yes, I've enjoyed the game and the celebrations but I don't really need the prizes anymore''.
(The upside to this has been his being able to donate a cracking coffee machine to the final tournament!)
Not going.
His photos of himself lined up with team mates and enjoying the many celebrations with pals often in fancy dress, are coming home.
Good times!
The Filipinno chaps who work with Stephen get an annual leave home.
They brought him presents back each time; t-shirts, pictures, quirky metal figures but we've narrowed it down to an intriguing two foot wall carving that holds twelve figureheads whose bodies end in either a fork or spoon.
No small thing to cart all this way!
Stephen's myriad of computer and recording equipment is finally being boxed tonight.
The electrical cables alone will fill a box!
A very important box is his manuals and files regarding piping engineering which we fervently hope will be in use again soon after Christmas.
For those who know Stephen, know he has morphed over the years.
We now get more Shack to the buck!
Many clothes - not going.
His beloved 'Green Bessie' went way back in July.
She had faithfully got him from point A to point B with all his favourite music for many years.
He salutes her as he passes her on the supermarket run now.
His garden is now the best on site!
He has nurtured the indiginous trees and shrubs and tended the marigolds and other flowers from seeds brought from home.
His evening watering routine, I think must be the perfect wind down to the day as dusk closes in within the hour and the million birds excitedly and noisily land and take off from tree to tree before finally settling in for the night and one last poop all over the path!
His bench was sited perfectly 'neath the shade of the trees and waited to give him the opportunity to survey his family of blues and greens and purples and oranges.
Sadly, not going.
Once deserted, the villa will have it's garden stripped of flowers to be replaced with gravel or paving and await the next occupiers of the site.
Seven boxes and hopefully we've stopped counting.
It isn't all Anxiety Central though.
Last night was spent watching a family video.
We sat and couch potatoe'd through the extended family get together just after Mum's funeral (not as bizarre as it sounds);
a very expectant Caroline waiting excitedly to become a Mum:
Nathan's first few hours and the dizzyness he must have experienced as he was passed from Dad to Grandparents to Uncle to Aunty, poor lad:
my Dad in his last few years looking lost and tiny inside his many jackets;
our dog Ben as he too, slowed down, my bestest friend as children left and parents died;
Nathan learning to walk, talk and become cock-o'-the walk.
Obviously going.
Stephen's golf trophies?
Golf has been his Saudi past time and judging from the trophy cabinet he must be good at it and enjoyed it.
However with the onset of creaking knees and back the enthusiasm has waned.
His philosophy now is, ''Yes, I've enjoyed the game and the celebrations but I don't really need the prizes anymore''.
(The upside to this has been his being able to donate a cracking coffee machine to the final tournament!)
Not going.
His photos of himself lined up with team mates and enjoying the many celebrations with pals often in fancy dress, are coming home.
Good times!
The Filipinno chaps who work with Stephen get an annual leave home.
They brought him presents back each time; t-shirts, pictures, quirky metal figures but we've narrowed it down to an intriguing two foot wall carving that holds twelve figureheads whose bodies end in either a fork or spoon.
No small thing to cart all this way!
Stephen's myriad of computer and recording equipment is finally being boxed tonight.
The electrical cables alone will fill a box!
A very important box is his manuals and files regarding piping engineering which we fervently hope will be in use again soon after Christmas.
For those who know Stephen, know he has morphed over the years.
We now get more Shack to the buck!
Many clothes - not going.
His beloved 'Green Bessie' went way back in July.
She had faithfully got him from point A to point B with all his favourite music for many years.
He salutes her as he passes her on the supermarket run now.
His garden is now the best on site!
He has nurtured the indiginous trees and shrubs and tended the marigolds and other flowers from seeds brought from home.
His evening watering routine, I think must be the perfect wind down to the day as dusk closes in within the hour and the million birds excitedly and noisily land and take off from tree to tree before finally settling in for the night and one last poop all over the path!
His bench was sited perfectly 'neath the shade of the trees and waited to give him the opportunity to survey his family of blues and greens and purples and oranges.
Sadly, not going.
Once deserted, the villa will have it's garden stripped of flowers to be replaced with gravel or paving and await the next occupiers of the site.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Bit of a lazy blog.
So I was strolling through the ethernet tonight and came across www/almostfrugal.com
A pretty interesting blog and one thing led to another, which seems to be the way of navigation around here and I came up with these sites to save money at.
VoucherCodes.co.uk
Time Out restaurant guide
Lovetheatre promotional code - look for VoucherCodes.co.uk
Pizza Hut vouchers
Money Saving Expert - Martin Lewis searches for good deals.
Another good tip is to have a hot flush ! It saves on the heating !
A pretty interesting blog and one thing led to another, which seems to be the way of navigation around here and I came up with these sites to save money at.
VoucherCodes.co.uk
Time Out restaurant guide
Lovetheatre promotional code - look for VoucherCodes.co.uk
Pizza Hut vouchers
Money Saving Expert - Martin Lewis searches for good deals.
Another good tip is to have a hot flush ! It saves on the heating !
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
In my wildest dreams.
Tuesday. Jun's day. Yes, Stephen, busting out all over ! Sigh !
I usually clear the decks for Jun, prior to his coming. I figure if I tidy away, that makes his job more efficient, or something like that.
Anyhoo, yes, you know what's coming. The neck. Eratic sleeping pattern left me slightly frayed around the edges and not very bright this morning. So I forgot some of my tidying routine.
I've just got back now and I love walking through the house, opening doors on clean and tidy rooms and smelling the lemon stuff he uses. We haven't really spread out much here and what with the tiled floors it's fairly straight forward to zip through.
I sleep with a few personal items under my pillow.
I have a pair of Matthew's underpants next to a green/grey babygrow of Thomas's and a really cleverly designed red fleece scarf that has white maple leaves printed all over and the two ends are hands with fingers! I can wrap it around myself and give me a hug ! How clever is that?! One of the bestest pressies ever, Jenn !
So I have my long distance family all there each night to be close to. I'm probably going to need to space it out more to under Stephen's pillow when Jezebel arrives!
Yep! Today I forgot to remove them. I usually put them in the wardrobe first thing Tuesday morning, figuring no one else will understand. By the way, the undies and babygrow were items I managed to squirrel away when M, J, and T left our house last August after our holiday.
As I opened the bedroom door just, I spotted them carefully folded on the dressing table, bed changed and ready to jump into.
What on earth must he think?
Daft English?!
So does anyone else have something very important in their beds?!
Remember, this goes out before the watershed !
I usually clear the decks for Jun, prior to his coming. I figure if I tidy away, that makes his job more efficient, or something like that.
Anyhoo, yes, you know what's coming. The neck. Eratic sleeping pattern left me slightly frayed around the edges and not very bright this morning. So I forgot some of my tidying routine.
I've just got back now and I love walking through the house, opening doors on clean and tidy rooms and smelling the lemon stuff he uses. We haven't really spread out much here and what with the tiled floors it's fairly straight forward to zip through.
I sleep with a few personal items under my pillow.
I have a pair of Matthew's underpants next to a green/grey babygrow of Thomas's and a really cleverly designed red fleece scarf that has white maple leaves printed all over and the two ends are hands with fingers! I can wrap it around myself and give me a hug ! How clever is that?! One of the bestest pressies ever, Jenn !
So I have my long distance family all there each night to be close to. I'm probably going to need to space it out more to under Stephen's pillow when Jezebel arrives!
Yep! Today I forgot to remove them. I usually put them in the wardrobe first thing Tuesday morning, figuring no one else will understand. By the way, the undies and babygrow were items I managed to squirrel away when M, J, and T left our house last August after our holiday.
As I opened the bedroom door just, I spotted them carefully folded on the dressing table, bed changed and ready to jump into.
What on earth must he think?
Daft English?!
So does anyone else have something very important in their beds?!
Remember, this goes out before the watershed !
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Light, of a sort, at the end of the tunnel.
So the shoulder thing got the better of me the other night and Stephen and I were whisked off to the hospital in Buraydah just after lunch.
I had asked to be put down but this was the next best option. Nila the ambulance driver took us in a car very speedily, he makes three or four trips there daily !
So in under the hour we were being presented to two lovely Fillipino nurses at the desk with Nila giving them my history.
The Dr. Sulaiman Al Habib hospital looked new, clean and empty. Good so far.
The lovely nurses produced a wheelchair and whisked me off to a cubicle where they immediately hooked me up to an ecg machine, blood pressure and bloods taken. All this with my abaya still on!
The cubicle curtains were kept tightly drawn at all times and shouts of, 'Male or Female?', 'Female doc'. were parried back and forth between the nurses working on me and the doctor waiting to see me. I was then asked if I was happy for the doctor to come in, still modestly covered in my abaya!
The doctor came and had a chat with me and was happy to discover that I wasn't about to have a heart attack. An incredulity attack but no heart attack.
He then ordered for me to be taken for an x-ray! I was given an injection for the pain to be going on with. Lovely nurse number one said, as she was administering it, you habe a lubbely bum ! All white ! Maybe this was her relaxation technique! It certainly made me laugh.
Then a tiny slip of a thing had to push me to x-ray and back poor thing. Stephen was allowed in to the cubicle again with me while they waited for results. I was hooked up to a wonder of modern technology or a job stealer, depending which side of the union line you stood. It automatically took my blood pressure every five minutes without the aid of any human !
Doctor Stephen was trying to relax me with his fountain of medical knowledge. 'These machines are notoriously inaccurate!' Which cracked me up but I was feeling rather shamefaced with all this attention just for a trapped nerve ! Especially when we could hear sounds in the next cubicle of acute pain and vomiting.
Unbelievably, I had had all this treatment, a diagnosis and medication bought within an hour of entering the hospital ! I'm still wondering, wide-eyed at this as I type it ! Was it a dream? The pain tells me, no!
So back home again, the diagnosis was cervical spondylosis and I was prescribed yet more tabs to replace the previous lots and a neck brace to prevent my head from stressing my spine.
I'd love to be able to say they're working and I had a good nights sleep but as you can see . . . !
I tell you what does work though ! Two lovely skypes! The first with Nathan and Aidan were Caroline just left the laptop on the floor of the playroom and I 'sat' with the boys as they built Lego crafts and discussed them with me.
Then the second unexpected one, as they were due to be away at the cottage, with Matthew and Jenn and birthday boy Thomas, two today ! We were there as he opened his pressies and cards ! All done without leaving go of his birthday digger balloon ! He luuurves his balloons !
Thank you Caroline and thank you Maff and Jenn, it was just what the doctor ordered!
Anyroadup, I have a physio appointment booked for the afternoon of our arriving home and I have every faith they will work wonders. Just like a Double Diamond !
p.s. Jennifer's Aunt Sandra, her Stepmum Linda's sister, was rushed into hospital with terrible complications to do with gall stones! She is in intensive care in hospital in London, which I think is not far from their home and is in an induced coma. Hence the birthday/Thanksgiving Day cottage weekend being cancelled.
Please keep her in your prayers!
I had asked to be put down but this was the next best option. Nila the ambulance driver took us in a car very speedily, he makes three or four trips there daily !
So in under the hour we were being presented to two lovely Fillipino nurses at the desk with Nila giving them my history.
The Dr. Sulaiman Al Habib hospital looked new, clean and empty. Good so far.
The lovely nurses produced a wheelchair and whisked me off to a cubicle where they immediately hooked me up to an ecg machine, blood pressure and bloods taken. All this with my abaya still on!
The cubicle curtains were kept tightly drawn at all times and shouts of, 'Male or Female?', 'Female doc'. were parried back and forth between the nurses working on me and the doctor waiting to see me. I was then asked if I was happy for the doctor to come in, still modestly covered in my abaya!
The doctor came and had a chat with me and was happy to discover that I wasn't about to have a heart attack. An incredulity attack but no heart attack.
He then ordered for me to be taken for an x-ray! I was given an injection for the pain to be going on with. Lovely nurse number one said, as she was administering it, you habe a lubbely bum ! All white ! Maybe this was her relaxation technique! It certainly made me laugh.
Then a tiny slip of a thing had to push me to x-ray and back poor thing. Stephen was allowed in to the cubicle again with me while they waited for results. I was hooked up to a wonder of modern technology or a job stealer, depending which side of the union line you stood. It automatically took my blood pressure every five minutes without the aid of any human !
Doctor Stephen was trying to relax me with his fountain of medical knowledge. 'These machines are notoriously inaccurate!' Which cracked me up but I was feeling rather shamefaced with all this attention just for a trapped nerve ! Especially when we could hear sounds in the next cubicle of acute pain and vomiting.
Unbelievably, I had had all this treatment, a diagnosis and medication bought within an hour of entering the hospital ! I'm still wondering, wide-eyed at this as I type it ! Was it a dream? The pain tells me, no!
So back home again, the diagnosis was cervical spondylosis and I was prescribed yet more tabs to replace the previous lots and a neck brace to prevent my head from stressing my spine.
I'd love to be able to say they're working and I had a good nights sleep but as you can see . . . !
I tell you what does work though ! Two lovely skypes! The first with Nathan and Aidan were Caroline just left the laptop on the floor of the playroom and I 'sat' with the boys as they built Lego crafts and discussed them with me.
Then the second unexpected one, as they were due to be away at the cottage, with Matthew and Jenn and birthday boy Thomas, two today ! We were there as he opened his pressies and cards ! All done without leaving go of his birthday digger balloon ! He luuurves his balloons !
Thank you Caroline and thank you Maff and Jenn, it was just what the doctor ordered!
Anyroadup, I have a physio appointment booked for the afternoon of our arriving home and I have every faith they will work wonders. Just like a Double Diamond !
p.s. Jennifer's Aunt Sandra, her Stepmum Linda's sister, was rushed into hospital with terrible complications to do with gall stones! She is in intensive care in hospital in London, which I think is not far from their home and is in an induced coma. Hence the birthday/Thanksgiving Day cottage weekend being cancelled.
Please keep her in your prayers!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
On a sombre note.
Having lived with this shoulder over the past few weeks (you should try living without it ! I can hear Groucho exclaiming in my head) it has given me another perspective on life.
We take life so lightly and maybe we should.
Striding confidently along not expecting any trips and falls along the way we break new ground, or exceed our potential or push the boundaries.
We accomplish, achieve, surpass our goals and targets.
It's all so effortless once we knuckle down to it and put our shoulder to the wheel, our best foot forward.
The next level and the next are now achievable, within our sights.
We move forward and upward relentlessly through walking, talking, feeding, reading, writing, socialising to notching many new subjects on our belt.
All done with hindsight, fairly effortlessly.
Effortless. Without effort.
What of the folk who do have to put effort in to achieve these same goals?
I now have a new admiration for family members who have kept going forward despite ailments or injuries, physical or emotional.
Have I accorded them the understanding of their determination to get on, move forward, achieve their daily goals?
Is this to do with stopping and smelling the roses?
Am I on a roll, too caught up with self to stop and pass the time of day with my neighbour?
Has it really taken an ailment to make me slow down and open my eyes to those around me? !
We are all so clever with our achievements and attainments that we allow qualities like understanding, listening, caring, to slip away.
My Mum cleaned her front path before going in to hospital to die with cancer three weeks later.
For the past nine years I have never been able to understand why or how she did it.
I think I now know she was conquering her pain in her inimitable, hard working manner.
If only I'd stopped to try to understand her. Nine years too late.
We take life so lightly and maybe we should.
Striding confidently along not expecting any trips and falls along the way we break new ground, or exceed our potential or push the boundaries.
We accomplish, achieve, surpass our goals and targets.
It's all so effortless once we knuckle down to it and put our shoulder to the wheel, our best foot forward.
The next level and the next are now achievable, within our sights.
We move forward and upward relentlessly through walking, talking, feeding, reading, writing, socialising to notching many new subjects on our belt.
All done with hindsight, fairly effortlessly.
Effortless. Without effort.
What of the folk who do have to put effort in to achieve these same goals?
I now have a new admiration for family members who have kept going forward despite ailments or injuries, physical or emotional.
Have I accorded them the understanding of their determination to get on, move forward, achieve their daily goals?
Is this to do with stopping and smelling the roses?
Am I on a roll, too caught up with self to stop and pass the time of day with my neighbour?
Has it really taken an ailment to make me slow down and open my eyes to those around me? !
We are all so clever with our achievements and attainments that we allow qualities like understanding, listening, caring, to slip away.
My Mum cleaned her front path before going in to hospital to die with cancer three weeks later.
For the past nine years I have never been able to understand why or how she did it.
I think I now know she was conquering her pain in her inimitable, hard working manner.
If only I'd stopped to try to understand her. Nine years too late.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Jenn !
Check out this site.
Riverford.co.uk
There's quite a few recipes for beetroot, didn't check the carrot, just assumed there'd be lots.
I really fancy a chocolate and beetroot cake !
How about healthy juices ? !
What about using some for colouring material ? !
I also fancy Jamie's recipe for mashed potatoe with sweetcorn !
I can't wait to get back and down to a farm I've found in Ormskirk and drool over the fruit, veg and meat !
Don't let Matthew see the Riverford video at the beginning ! ! !
Stick some beetroot and chocolate biscuit dough in the freezer for our next trip, please !
Oh, and a carrot cake ! To die for, doll !
Riverford.co.uk
There's quite a few recipes for beetroot, didn't check the carrot, just assumed there'd be lots.
I really fancy a chocolate and beetroot cake !
How about healthy juices ? !
What about using some for colouring material ? !
I also fancy Jamie's recipe for mashed potatoe with sweetcorn !
I can't wait to get back and down to a farm I've found in Ormskirk and drool over the fruit, veg and meat !
Don't let Matthew see the Riverford video at the beginning ! ! !
Stick some beetroot and chocolate biscuit dough in the freezer for our next trip, please !
Oh, and a carrot cake ! To die for, doll !
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
What's in a name? !
I'm here in Saudi for Stephen's last month now.
Yes ! 22 days and counting ! !
Consequently everything Saudi must be used up.
I'm really wracking my brains to come up with tasty dishes from sardines, tuna, corned beef, baked beans (they're half water/half sauce here !), sweetcorn, garlic, chickpeas, couscous, eggs and bread.
Any suggestions welcome.
I think we're both bored to tears with my fairy flat cakes !
We had our last Riyadh shopping trip last weekend to use up the funny money.
Travellers should ALWAYS return with interesting bulges in suitcases !
Stephen is a Dixon's groupy.
So each evening is a film fest with all the dvd's he's amassed at airports, coming and going over the years.
NO, they're not coming home, they're that good . . . !
In order to save the credit on my phone I've been using one of Stephen's which has Saudi credit on it. Did I say he was a Dixon's junkie ? !
Today I tried texting him. I've never done it before as I'm usually at home by the house phone.
Today is Tuesday, June is busting out all over at ours, as Stephen cracks, week in, week out.
Cursing down ?! to find Stephen's number I scroll through Babes, Bo, Jun, Rune, Samantha and the wonderful Willy Wong !
I actually have Napolean's number here ! Could I be his Josephine ? !
What we have here folks are Phillipine, Swedish and many countries in between workmates.
Trust me, I've checked them all out.
Why can't Samantha be a boy's name, or Jun? Not crazy about Babes, which is short for Baby Lin, just as bad.
What I'm announcing here in a very long winded way is . . . .
the birth next April, God willing, of grandchild no.4 to Matthew and Jennifer !
Keeping schtumn the past couple of weeks has been murder and to pass the time I've been compiling a list of names for them to peruse.
Please feel free to add any favourites you may have, or indeed, warn them off any hideous mistakes awaiting them.
p.s. What were Willy's parents thinking ? !
p.p.s. List to follow as soon as Stephen has retrieved it from where I put it safely.
Yes ! 22 days and counting ! !
Consequently everything Saudi must be used up.
I'm really wracking my brains to come up with tasty dishes from sardines, tuna, corned beef, baked beans (they're half water/half sauce here !), sweetcorn, garlic, chickpeas, couscous, eggs and bread.
Any suggestions welcome.
I think we're both bored to tears with my fairy flat cakes !
We had our last Riyadh shopping trip last weekend to use up the funny money.
Travellers should ALWAYS return with interesting bulges in suitcases !
Stephen is a Dixon's groupy.
So each evening is a film fest with all the dvd's he's amassed at airports, coming and going over the years.
NO, they're not coming home, they're that good . . . !
In order to save the credit on my phone I've been using one of Stephen's which has Saudi credit on it. Did I say he was a Dixon's junkie ? !
Today I tried texting him. I've never done it before as I'm usually at home by the house phone.
Today is Tuesday, June is busting out all over at ours, as Stephen cracks, week in, week out.
Cursing down ?! to find Stephen's number I scroll through Babes, Bo, Jun, Rune, Samantha and the wonderful Willy Wong !
I actually have Napolean's number here ! Could I be his Josephine ? !
What we have here folks are Phillipine, Swedish and many countries in between workmates.
Trust me, I've checked them all out.
Why can't Samantha be a boy's name, or Jun? Not crazy about Babes, which is short for Baby Lin, just as bad.
What I'm announcing here in a very long winded way is . . . .
the birth next April, God willing, of grandchild no.4 to Matthew and Jennifer !
Keeping schtumn the past couple of weeks has been murder and to pass the time I've been compiling a list of names for them to peruse.
Please feel free to add any favourites you may have, or indeed, warn them off any hideous mistakes awaiting them.
p.s. What were Willy's parents thinking ? !
p.p.s. List to follow as soon as Stephen has retrieved it from where I put it safely.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Still simmering.
Yes, sorry folks, the bee is still under my bonnet.
Not quite the 'he didn't say', phone routine, here on this blog., www.saudiwoman.wordpress.com relates to the freedom of women here. The blog entry explains the video.
Not quite the 'he didn't say', phone routine, here on this blog., www.saudiwoman.wordpress.com relates to the freedom of women here. The blog entry explains the video.
Postscript.
Note to everyone ! Always carry paper and pen !
I've just found more scribblings in the margins of the crossword puzzler (thanks Poll, nearly finished !)
I had entered the malls with my scarf hanging around my neck ready to pull up if need be. I clocked everyone as I strolled, looking for other bared heads. There were other females shopping even without the scarf at the ready, I felt ok.
As we finished up our trip we mmmmmmmmmmm . . . I said we bought doughnuts ! !
We were queueing for our health conscious fruit juices, he a Barbados Islander and I a Wicked Berry when Stephen nudged me. He had noticed a man in pristine white with a beautiful floaty black scarf and a rather striking goatee. The 'holy man' had very quietly asked me to pull my veil up as he slipped through the crowds. I automatically did it, turning to see who, what, where.
A discussion was then started with some youths lounging at a nearby table. Their manner was, 'hey look at me'. They were dressed in low slung jeans and t-shirts.
He began with the lad in a singlet, so much bare flesh did look a tad incongrous, I was amazed to see the boy get up and leave with just a word or two of, Arabic 'hey man, I'm not harming anyone'. As we turned our attention to paying, the other boys were being, presumably asked to go and dress correctly, all being done in this very quiet manner!
In bed that night, as is always the way, I asked myself why I had complied? Where was the vitriolic speech I pracised in my head ending with telling him to get a proper job?
He was a smooth operator!
I've just found more scribblings in the margins of the crossword puzzler (thanks Poll, nearly finished !)
I had entered the malls with my scarf hanging around my neck ready to pull up if need be. I clocked everyone as I strolled, looking for other bared heads. There were other females shopping even without the scarf at the ready, I felt ok.
As we finished up our trip we mmmmmmmmmmm . . . I said we bought doughnuts ! !
We were queueing for our health conscious fruit juices, he a Barbados Islander and I a Wicked Berry when Stephen nudged me. He had noticed a man in pristine white with a beautiful floaty black scarf and a rather striking goatee. The 'holy man' had very quietly asked me to pull my veil up as he slipped through the crowds. I automatically did it, turning to see who, what, where.
A discussion was then started with some youths lounging at a nearby table. Their manner was, 'hey look at me'. They were dressed in low slung jeans and t-shirts.
He began with the lad in a singlet, so much bare flesh did look a tad incongrous, I was amazed to see the boy get up and leave with just a word or two of, Arabic 'hey man, I'm not harming anyone'. As we turned our attention to paying, the other boys were being, presumably asked to go and dress correctly, all being done in this very quiet manner!
In bed that night, as is always the way, I asked myself why I had complied? Where was the vitriolic speech I pracised in my head ending with telling him to get a proper job?
He was a smooth operator!
Honeys ! We're home !
Not that we're counting down or anything but that was the final shopping weekend in Riyadh before, well, you know.
We trawled a couple of the malls, from Claire's Accessories to Harvey Nich's. Nobody get excited ! Just passing through yáll.
We tasted Turkish one night. You know I love hummus! We were not disappointed with the flatbread giving you the hint of the oven floor. That doesn't sound as good as it was meant to. I'm trying to allude to the hint of fire!
No Stephen, I do not mean burned bread ! Phillestine ! (Next stop, Spelling Bee)
In the evenings, the streets seem more exciting ! People stopping to meet and greet; the impatient cars sounding off as they queue to drop their passengers at the door; the heavy scents enveloping you as you enter, telling you to slow down, take your time.
Inside you join the preamble (?!) around each floor, skirting the crying toddlers trying to ride the escalators with their older siblings on 'kid' duty, their parents leisurely discussing, shopping needs, without breaking stride, he proud in pristine white, she mysterious in floating black, intricately henna'd hands drawing the veil forward.
Polly and I once walked through Tiffany's in Singapore, pretending to be Holly Golightly.
I had no accomplice with me this time to stop and finger the fabulous designer ball gowns in H.N.
Stephen is not awestruck by such fripperies.
There are very few female shop assistants and no opportunity to try on before you buy. You're best bet is to take it to the nearest toilets to try on and take it back if need be. Do they do this with the fabulous ballgowns? Do you think anyone with that kind of money ponders, points and has them delivered at her convenience?!
The libido on these men out here must be shocking to live with !
Having said that, I did see a video the other night taken of a young Western girl speeding around on her quad bike and being chased loudly and furiously by young men dressed in the white robe careening along in their cars. Is it not to be expected ?!
The computer age must be affecting this enclosed state. After all, it's out there for all to see !
We didn't get to catch up with anyone in Riyadh due to the 'flu' doing it's rounds. That's the last thing we need now!
So the drive back flowed along effortlessly for us in the back with our sewing, (!), books and ipods.
Nothing to do but view Riyadh's forty shades of grey. Everything is painted concrete; blue grey,; green grey; brown grey; pink grey; grey grey. There are lots of new builds; homes, shops, offices sprouting along the way. Architectural style is everything from Arabic, Indian to American/English with patches of desert in between.
Riyadh has the American slick glamour of Vegas at night and in the morning the light, dry, parched, dusty, rusty desert.
As we pass through the police checkpoint on the highway out of town we witnessed the herds of camels, black and white, grazing on goodness know what; the arrid, flat, pinky red desert against the misty grey blue flat sky. Just like a child's drawing.
The old white grey lorries plastered in arabic script with tankers bearing signs on the back like. BE AWAY 100 FEET. DANGER.
The features on this flat landscape are the electricity pylons striding into the distance; odd bits of grey green scrub like fluff on the sands interspersed with discarded tyres; a dirty white tent here and there; a collection of half built breeze block buildings and the rusty remains of mangled cars.
Stephen passed the time with Woody Guthrie while I found a gentle soothing Beethoven piece on violin. Nothing too excitable.
You know you're nearing Site 3 as you start to pass the low continuous hedges of white grey rubble dumped along the verge from the de-construction of the works.
So did I tell you our driver is a look-a-like for Charles Bronson? !
So he could have been a fillum star, . . . and he could have been . . . a driver from Buraidah called Pollarca, hona lua hey, okay !
I watch way too much telly.
We trawled a couple of the malls, from Claire's Accessories to Harvey Nich's. Nobody get excited ! Just passing through yáll.
We tasted Turkish one night. You know I love hummus! We were not disappointed with the flatbread giving you the hint of the oven floor. That doesn't sound as good as it was meant to. I'm trying to allude to the hint of fire!
No Stephen, I do not mean burned bread ! Phillestine ! (Next stop, Spelling Bee)
In the evenings, the streets seem more exciting ! People stopping to meet and greet; the impatient cars sounding off as they queue to drop their passengers at the door; the heavy scents enveloping you as you enter, telling you to slow down, take your time.
Inside you join the preamble (?!) around each floor, skirting the crying toddlers trying to ride the escalators with their older siblings on 'kid' duty, their parents leisurely discussing, shopping needs, without breaking stride, he proud in pristine white, she mysterious in floating black, intricately henna'd hands drawing the veil forward.
Polly and I once walked through Tiffany's in Singapore, pretending to be Holly Golightly.
I had no accomplice with me this time to stop and finger the fabulous designer ball gowns in H.N.
Stephen is not awestruck by such fripperies.
There are very few female shop assistants and no opportunity to try on before you buy. You're best bet is to take it to the nearest toilets to try on and take it back if need be. Do they do this with the fabulous ballgowns? Do you think anyone with that kind of money ponders, points and has them delivered at her convenience?!
The libido on these men out here must be shocking to live with !
Having said that, I did see a video the other night taken of a young Western girl speeding around on her quad bike and being chased loudly and furiously by young men dressed in the white robe careening along in their cars. Is it not to be expected ?!
The computer age must be affecting this enclosed state. After all, it's out there for all to see !
We didn't get to catch up with anyone in Riyadh due to the 'flu' doing it's rounds. That's the last thing we need now!
So the drive back flowed along effortlessly for us in the back with our sewing, (!), books and ipods.
Nothing to do but view Riyadh's forty shades of grey. Everything is painted concrete; blue grey,; green grey; brown grey; pink grey; grey grey. There are lots of new builds; homes, shops, offices sprouting along the way. Architectural style is everything from Arabic, Indian to American/English with patches of desert in between.
Riyadh has the American slick glamour of Vegas at night and in the morning the light, dry, parched, dusty, rusty desert.
As we pass through the police checkpoint on the highway out of town we witnessed the herds of camels, black and white, grazing on goodness know what; the arrid, flat, pinky red desert against the misty grey blue flat sky. Just like a child's drawing.
The old white grey lorries plastered in arabic script with tankers bearing signs on the back like. BE AWAY 100 FEET. DANGER.
The features on this flat landscape are the electricity pylons striding into the distance; odd bits of grey green scrub like fluff on the sands interspersed with discarded tyres; a dirty white tent here and there; a collection of half built breeze block buildings and the rusty remains of mangled cars.
Stephen passed the time with Woody Guthrie while I found a gentle soothing Beethoven piece on violin. Nothing too excitable.
You know you're nearing Site 3 as you start to pass the low continuous hedges of white grey rubble dumped along the verge from the de-construction of the works.
So did I tell you our driver is a look-a-like for Charles Bronson? !
So he could have been a fillum star, . . . and he could have been . . . a driver from Buraidah called Pollarca, hona lua hey, okay !
I watch way too much telly.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
A little light relief.
Coming out of (hopefully, fingers crossed, etc.,) the doldrums of a sore shoulder, the sun shone today!
Well, of course it shines every day here but well, when you're concentrating on an ache it could have snowed an avalanche outside for all I looked at the weather.
To add to that ray of sunshine I tuned in to the BBC, radio 4, Afternoon Play from yesterday and found a touch of whimsy in 'Hoffnung - Drawn to Music".
Matt Lucas, he of the shiny pate, played Gerard Hoffnung. Wished I had my Thesaurus with me, to describe how he played him but anyway, I thought he was spot on.
Not that I know Gerard Hoffnung. I just have some dim and distant memory of Mum and Dad listening/reading ? ! Gerard Hoffnung; a faint recollection of his musical cartoons.
The BBC describe him as a musical humorist.
Poor lad died in his eartly thirties but he sounded to have had a lovely gentle clever humour tied to music.
Cheered me up now end !
Hurry along ! Only 6 listening days left !
Well, of course it shines every day here but well, when you're concentrating on an ache it could have snowed an avalanche outside for all I looked at the weather.
To add to that ray of sunshine I tuned in to the BBC, radio 4, Afternoon Play from yesterday and found a touch of whimsy in 'Hoffnung - Drawn to Music".
Matt Lucas, he of the shiny pate, played Gerard Hoffnung. Wished I had my Thesaurus with me, to describe how he played him but anyway, I thought he was spot on.
Not that I know Gerard Hoffnung. I just have some dim and distant memory of Mum and Dad listening/reading ? ! Gerard Hoffnung; a faint recollection of his musical cartoons.
The BBC describe him as a musical humorist.
Poor lad died in his eartly thirties but he sounded to have had a lovely gentle clever humour tied to music.
Cheered me up now end !
Hurry along ! Only 6 listening days left !
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
A confession.
So, I found another three English books in the library yesterday. They must have been hiding, unless one of the Filipino or Scandinavian guys has just returned them?!
I got Ángela's Ashes, by Frank McCourt; 'Love Janis', by Laura Joplin and 'Mother Without A Mask, A Westerner's Story Of Her Arab Family, by Patricia Holton.
The last one is obviously drawing me because of my current situation and the one I dived into straight away. Patricia Holton was host to two young boys being educated in London and when they returned to Abu Dhabi they sent for her to visit them and their family. Her trite, almost, Áh bless!', acceptance of the females being behind their masks, they wore the hard leather ones, is really irking me but it's informative.
I've heard of Janis Joplin, obviously being a child of the sixties, but know absolutely nothing about her. I've scanned the pictures already and my appetite is whetted!
I know I've read Ángela's Ashes, before. I do know that, but I have such a shocking memory that I can't remember a darned thing about it. So the plus side of having no memory is that I get to enjoy stuff twice !
I can't remember the last time I read so much ! A library book lasts me a good month! Two pages at night and I'm out like a light.
As a kid I had a friend, Linda Creghan. No, I'm not swanking now.
At the end of each day''s play I think I used to sidle up to her box of comics and wait for her to offer me the loan of a couple. I couldn't wait to get to bed and devour them! Thanks Linda !
Going orff piste, r Rose has alerted me to a game she will admit to playing. Spelling bees! www.timesspellingbee.co.uk One visit and I'm hooked! I think I'm like her in that I enjoyed spelling at primary school. I've always thought how lucky I am to be able to fix the word in my mind, it makes life so much easier.
Even orffter piste, have I told about my knitsib?!
Brenda Dayne hosts a podcast www.cast-on.com. I've been listening to it daily as I knit, it's been fantastic. Brenda has a very friendly voice and has lots of interesting titbits to listen to. Saturday the 19th September she sat atop the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square and knit. www.One&other.com. should be the website for the plinth project. Go check it out!
Where did the day go?!
I got Ángela's Ashes, by Frank McCourt; 'Love Janis', by Laura Joplin and 'Mother Without A Mask, A Westerner's Story Of Her Arab Family, by Patricia Holton.
The last one is obviously drawing me because of my current situation and the one I dived into straight away. Patricia Holton was host to two young boys being educated in London and when they returned to Abu Dhabi they sent for her to visit them and their family. Her trite, almost, Áh bless!', acceptance of the females being behind their masks, they wore the hard leather ones, is really irking me but it's informative.
I've heard of Janis Joplin, obviously being a child of the sixties, but know absolutely nothing about her. I've scanned the pictures already and my appetite is whetted!
I know I've read Ángela's Ashes, before. I do know that, but I have such a shocking memory that I can't remember a darned thing about it. So the plus side of having no memory is that I get to enjoy stuff twice !
I can't remember the last time I read so much ! A library book lasts me a good month! Two pages at night and I'm out like a light.
As a kid I had a friend, Linda Creghan. No, I'm not swanking now.
At the end of each day''s play I think I used to sidle up to her box of comics and wait for her to offer me the loan of a couple. I couldn't wait to get to bed and devour them! Thanks Linda !
Going orff piste, r Rose has alerted me to a game she will admit to playing. Spelling bees! www.timesspellingbee.co.uk One visit and I'm hooked! I think I'm like her in that I enjoyed spelling at primary school. I've always thought how lucky I am to be able to fix the word in my mind, it makes life so much easier.
Even orffter piste, have I told about my knitsib?!
Brenda Dayne hosts a podcast www.cast-on.com. I've been listening to it daily as I knit, it's been fantastic. Brenda has a very friendly voice and has lots of interesting titbits to listen to. Saturday the 19th September she sat atop the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square and knit. www.One&other.com. should be the website for the plinth project. Go check it out!
Where did the day go?!
Sunday, September 20, 2009
My habit.
My name is Hilary and I'm an internolic.
Breathe. . . .
Breathe. . . .
Things are spiralling out of control now I'm planning my life around my next 'net fix'.
At lunch time I agonize with one eye on the screen as Stephen strums each guitar chord. (He's trying to drive me mad with his repetitive sequence of chords - but that's another entry.) I crouch ready to leap onto the keyboard as soon as he's left to return to work; what's happened to Higgins? has the Eiffel Tower paint contractor emailed again? will my 'lover' reveal his true identity?
Do I want him to?
I feel powerless to this addiction that has drawn me down.
I'm in a mercyless cycle of a couple of hours sleep at night, then skulking back to the living room for a couple of hours trawling the internet followed by lying in bed, waiting for sleep again with the next blog entry racing through my mind like tickertape.
It all started so innocently.
I was a typist by trade. I could reach speeds of up to 80 words per minute!
The letters were all there . . . just not necessarily in the right order! (I thank you Mr. Morecambe.)
I believed the typewriter was the one true way to write any message or missive.
"I can't do that!." was my battle cry each time the family tried to envagle me into the intricacies of the computer.
So, to get the buggers off my back I began with emails, no more, no less.
Just a tap of the forefinger and I was posting those emails, reading others and before I knew it I was on the Internet !
Surfing, searching, checking, shopping with just the effort of one finger.
"Oh, you can't break the computer !" they said but I managed it, several times!
Each time they just got it repaired; a couple of days in the shop. They even found 'The Tech Guys', who will fix it as you sit at home in front of the darned thing ! There was no escape.
Now, Stephen and I have become one with the machine. Each Saturday morning, Thomas, poor lad, has a breakfast date with . . .
the grandparents in the laptop ! ! !
He's not yet two but already knows how to close the lid on us!
Snap ! and we're gone !
His father and aunties have been struggling with this maneouvre for years !
Exhausted, blinded, bankrupted, humiliated and vapourised, I need help.
I know I'm in for a long slow climb before I can be rehabilitated; returned as a fully functioning member to the bossom of my family, where I can sue the pants off the buggers who got me started in the first place !
FREE THE WHITE ROCK CITY ONE !
Breathe. . . .
Breathe. . . .
Things are spiralling out of control now I'm planning my life around my next 'net fix'.
At lunch time I agonize with one eye on the screen as Stephen strums each guitar chord. (He's trying to drive me mad with his repetitive sequence of chords - but that's another entry.) I crouch ready to leap onto the keyboard as soon as he's left to return to work; what's happened to Higgins? has the Eiffel Tower paint contractor emailed again? will my 'lover' reveal his true identity?
Do I want him to?
I feel powerless to this addiction that has drawn me down.
I'm in a mercyless cycle of a couple of hours sleep at night, then skulking back to the living room for a couple of hours trawling the internet followed by lying in bed, waiting for sleep again with the next blog entry racing through my mind like tickertape.
It all started so innocently.
I was a typist by trade. I could reach speeds of up to 80 words per minute!
The letters were all there . . . just not necessarily in the right order! (I thank you Mr. Morecambe.)
I believed the typewriter was the one true way to write any message or missive.
"I can't do that!." was my battle cry each time the family tried to envagle me into the intricacies of the computer.
So, to get the buggers off my back I began with emails, no more, no less.
Just a tap of the forefinger and I was posting those emails, reading others and before I knew it I was on the Internet !
Surfing, searching, checking, shopping with just the effort of one finger.
"Oh, you can't break the computer !" they said but I managed it, several times!
Each time they just got it repaired; a couple of days in the shop. They even found 'The Tech Guys', who will fix it as you sit at home in front of the darned thing ! There was no escape.
Now, Stephen and I have become one with the machine. Each Saturday morning, Thomas, poor lad, has a breakfast date with . . .
the grandparents in the laptop ! ! !
He's not yet two but already knows how to close the lid on us!
Snap ! and we're gone !
His father and aunties have been struggling with this maneouvre for years !
Exhausted, blinded, bankrupted, humiliated and vapourised, I need help.
I know I'm in for a long slow climb before I can be rehabilitated; returned as a fully functioning member to the bossom of my family, where I can sue the pants off the buggers who got me started in the first place !
FREE THE WHITE ROCK CITY ONE !
Thursday, September 17, 2009
My perfect moments.
As I pick up my needles and reel out the yarn through my fingers to work the next row of stitches;
as I feel the music flow into my ears and head and down through my body, the peaceful rhythm of the intermezzo from Cavalleria Rusticana;
as I realise that my children and grandchildren are living their lives without me watching over them, I wasn't God after all;
as my music changes to the gentle ebb and flow of Massent's Meditation from Thais;
as I repeat the knit and purl of the pattern weaving the bright green yarn in front and behind the needle;
as my ipod runs on to Max Bygraves and I pick up the pace with I'm a pink toothbrush and I silently mouth the verses so I can spellbind Thomas with it on Saturday, I love his wide eyed rapt attention;
as I feel the yarn grow into the fabric off the needles and imagine the comfort and warmth it's going to give to Lucy . . .
I experience a little bit of heaven on earth.
Anyone want to step up to the plate with their perfect moments? !
as I feel the music flow into my ears and head and down through my body, the peaceful rhythm of the intermezzo from Cavalleria Rusticana;
as I realise that my children and grandchildren are living their lives without me watching over them, I wasn't God after all;
as my music changes to the gentle ebb and flow of Massent's Meditation from Thais;
as I repeat the knit and purl of the pattern weaving the bright green yarn in front and behind the needle;
as my ipod runs on to Max Bygraves and I pick up the pace with I'm a pink toothbrush and I silently mouth the verses so I can spellbind Thomas with it on Saturday, I love his wide eyed rapt attention;
as I feel the yarn grow into the fabric off the needles and imagine the comfort and warmth it's going to give to Lucy . . .
I experience a little bit of heaven on earth.
Anyone want to step up to the plate with their perfect moments? !
Would You Employ This Granddad
Attractive, suave, debonair Englishman of a certain age is actively seeking emplyment suitable to his skills and attributes
Many, many years working in the petrochemical industry has brought him to the level of Field Technical Manager, soon to be Acting Site Manager
His Technical skills are second to none with a nice line in precision drawing which is bordering on the pernickeity
He is willing to relocate but not too keen on daily schlepping
Gregarious personality who will talk to anyone who will listen
Piping Design and Engineering
From One End To Another
Many, many years working in the petrochemical industry has brought him to the level of Field Technical Manager, soon to be Acting Site Manager
His Technical skills are second to none with a nice line in precision drawing which is bordering on the pernickeity
He is willing to relocate but not too keen on daily schlepping
Gregarious personality who will talk to anyone who will listen
Piping Design and Engineering
From One End To Another
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Heads up guys!
Surf on over to penngj's blog for a treat for the eyes, a symphony in pictures!
I keep trying but I haven't a clue how to work this thing but if you click on her name on one of her comments it will take you there.
Fyi: Penny is Thomas's Mum!
It's in the blood !
I keep trying but I haven't a clue how to work this thing but if you click on her name on one of her comments it will take you there.
Fyi: Penny is Thomas's Mum!
It's in the blood !
Call me spoiled . . .
This week I've had four guys dash round to fix the washing machine and one lad to turned up to show me how to work the food processor!
This may be Tumble Weed Town but it has it's advantages!
This may be Tumble Weed Town but it has it's advantages!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Typecast
Having finished the book I brought with me I browsed through the small library in the clubhouse yesterday. Remember the clubhouse is being renovated and the restaurant is now in the lounge (laaynge as Linda Snell would say) (hold the lips open like a horse whinnying)?
I love the idea of you all trying that one out as you read! Laugh out loud, as they say!
I digress. So the library is housed in bedroom number two. Snug! Three walls of books and a computer. One neck crick later, (that is the only thing I don't like about libraries) I emerged triumphant with the three English text books hidden amongst the Swedish titles.
I love a picture book, so I gave a yelp of joy as I found, Decorating With Tiles.
The dedication? To all those who have ever been awed by the possibilities contained in a lump of clay.
Not really me, but it was the only picture book.
Beginning to doubt now that I would find something to read, in English, my hands feverishly tore this title off the shelf when I saw the English text twinkling like a diamond amongst the coal lumps, Make More Friends. The Key To Success.
Page 63, half way down, 'Death is a natural course of events. It is the breaking of a habit - the habit of living. Habits - unfortunately - die hard.
This is going to be a hoot!
Leslie Crowther & Jean Crowther. The Bonus of Laughter. An Autobiography. I'm now reliving the days of Crackerjack ! ! ! ! I loved that show with the cabbages and funny little Peter Glaze. As Leslie was lying unconscious in the neuro-surgery unit at Frenchay Hospital, Bristol his daughter Liz suggested to her Mother that they speak in French to him so that he would be bilingual when he eventually woke up!
You didn't know he'd been in the hospital? Well, you'll just have to get the book to find out why!
So I'm now wondering, if these are the only English text books in this compounds library, what do they say about the British?
We love d.i.y. It's said that we now worship at the church of B&Q on Sundays!
There's a bit of a problem in the friendship department?!
St.Helens is now probably classed as a 'hospitality town'. I bet we have more pubs, clubs and bars than shops! Thursday through to Sunday will see these places teeming with people out with their 'friends' . Do they need alcohol to find friendship?
On Facebook you can boast of having hundreds of 'friends'.
Leslie Crowther? Not sure about this one. Is he a symbol of the need to look back at the rosy coloured past?
I'm now going to put the kettle on, staring at the white kitchen wall tiles, deciding how I would have decorated this compound. (The colours of the Swedish flag, white and pale blue are everywhere here.) Try to figure how I'm going to work that 'habit' quote in to the lunch time conversation with Eoin, the Irish guy and devour a bit more of the rosy hued past with another chapter with Leslie.
I love the idea of you all trying that one out as you read! Laugh out loud, as they say!
I digress. So the library is housed in bedroom number two. Snug! Three walls of books and a computer. One neck crick later, (that is the only thing I don't like about libraries) I emerged triumphant with the three English text books hidden amongst the Swedish titles.
I love a picture book, so I gave a yelp of joy as I found, Decorating With Tiles.
The dedication? To all those who have ever been awed by the possibilities contained in a lump of clay.
Not really me, but it was the only picture book.
Beginning to doubt now that I would find something to read, in English, my hands feverishly tore this title off the shelf when I saw the English text twinkling like a diamond amongst the coal lumps, Make More Friends. The Key To Success.
Page 63, half way down, 'Death is a natural course of events. It is the breaking of a habit - the habit of living. Habits - unfortunately - die hard.
This is going to be a hoot!
Leslie Crowther & Jean Crowther. The Bonus of Laughter. An Autobiography. I'm now reliving the days of Crackerjack ! ! ! ! I loved that show with the cabbages and funny little Peter Glaze. As Leslie was lying unconscious in the neuro-surgery unit at Frenchay Hospital, Bristol his daughter Liz suggested to her Mother that they speak in French to him so that he would be bilingual when he eventually woke up!
You didn't know he'd been in the hospital? Well, you'll just have to get the book to find out why!
So I'm now wondering, if these are the only English text books in this compounds library, what do they say about the British?
We love d.i.y. It's said that we now worship at the church of B&Q on Sundays!
There's a bit of a problem in the friendship department?!
St.Helens is now probably classed as a 'hospitality town'. I bet we have more pubs, clubs and bars than shops! Thursday through to Sunday will see these places teeming with people out with their 'friends' . Do they need alcohol to find friendship?
On Facebook you can boast of having hundreds of 'friends'.
Leslie Crowther? Not sure about this one. Is he a symbol of the need to look back at the rosy coloured past?
I'm now going to put the kettle on, staring at the white kitchen wall tiles, deciding how I would have decorated this compound. (The colours of the Swedish flag, white and pale blue are everywhere here.) Try to figure how I'm going to work that 'habit' quote in to the lunch time conversation with Eoin, the Irish guy and devour a bit more of the rosy hued past with another chapter with Leslie.
Re-think
I've tried my best to keep this light.
Nothing heavy; nothing controversial; nothing to get me or anyone else in trouble.
Today was shopping day again.
For the first time I really was loathe to put my abaya on.
I've had it a number of years now and the few times I've had to wear it, it was just another piece of clothing. It just happened to be black and polyester and apt to restrict my stride. I was respecting the custom of the country. It was no biggy.
Keep with me here! It may seem as if I lose the thread (pun intended, to lighten the mood) but it should all gather together by the time I get to the end.
White Rock City is hardly cosmopolitan now. Yes we have a handful of men from different countries but nothing moving but the tumble weed.
Al Jawa the small town down the road where we shop is not cosmopolitan. More tumble weed.
As we drive along the highway towards Al Jawa I must draw the veil up onto my head. I'm respecting the custom of the country again.
Are they respecting me?
I'm respecting the custom of the country as I constantly pull my veil forward and try to tuck as much of my blonde hair as possible out of sight.
Out of sight.
This is obviously where women are supposed to be.
I'm aware that I've forgotten to put my black longer length leggings on. As I climb in and out of the car I try to do so without showing too much bare leg. I have to wear slip on sandals or my feet swell in the heat and become really uncomfortable. I conciously try to take smaller strides to keep my bare feet under the abaya, out of sight.
As we enter the small supermarket I now keep my head down, my eyes not catching anyone elses. I try to keep up with Stephen as he pushes the trolley around the aisles. I don't want to embarrasse anyone by entering an aisle unaccompanied probably forcing them to skidaddle fast.
At the checkout I stand to one side of Stephen in the queue aware from the corner of my eyes of the men shoppers holding back. The usual push and shove on the roads seems to prevail in supermarket queues with the trolleys.
A man packs the shopping, in way too many plastic bags and pushes the trolley to the car for a tip.
I'm respecting the custom of the country in becoming a non-person. Mrs. Invisible.
Over the past 6 weeks I've been reading a book that researched into women in Muslim countries over the centuries. I'm a slow reader! I've trawled the internet devouring any blogs written by women of any nationality but based here in Saudi Arabia.
There are plenty of women, it seems, who are happy to keep the custom of the abaya and more! I drew the line, as soon as I got here, over the face veil, the niqab.
What I want to say is, each to his own.
Yes, I can remember as a child being expected to cover my head in church with a hat, mantilla or scarf as a sign of respect. This was a head covering not a means of blotting me out. Our society has moved on with the times and women no longer have to remember their hat, mantilla or scarf before entering church to pray.
Yes, I can hear at least one of you saying but what about that time in Rome when, Pol's I think, bare arms were giving offence. Old habits die hard with some old folk.
I'm looking forward to being respected as another human being, by the majority of people, as I walk down the street and push my trolley into Morrisons.
Idon't feel quite so sad having vented for a bit. I'm still looking to experience the culture and customs of Saudi Arabia while I have the opportunity.
Nothing heavy; nothing controversial; nothing to get me or anyone else in trouble.
Today was shopping day again.
For the first time I really was loathe to put my abaya on.
I've had it a number of years now and the few times I've had to wear it, it was just another piece of clothing. It just happened to be black and polyester and apt to restrict my stride. I was respecting the custom of the country. It was no biggy.
Keep with me here! It may seem as if I lose the thread (pun intended, to lighten the mood) but it should all gather together by the time I get to the end.
White Rock City is hardly cosmopolitan now. Yes we have a handful of men from different countries but nothing moving but the tumble weed.
Al Jawa the small town down the road where we shop is not cosmopolitan. More tumble weed.
As we drive along the highway towards Al Jawa I must draw the veil up onto my head. I'm respecting the custom of the country again.
Are they respecting me?
I'm respecting the custom of the country as I constantly pull my veil forward and try to tuck as much of my blonde hair as possible out of sight.
Out of sight.
This is obviously where women are supposed to be.
I'm aware that I've forgotten to put my black longer length leggings on. As I climb in and out of the car I try to do so without showing too much bare leg. I have to wear slip on sandals or my feet swell in the heat and become really uncomfortable. I conciously try to take smaller strides to keep my bare feet under the abaya, out of sight.
As we enter the small supermarket I now keep my head down, my eyes not catching anyone elses. I try to keep up with Stephen as he pushes the trolley around the aisles. I don't want to embarrasse anyone by entering an aisle unaccompanied probably forcing them to skidaddle fast.
At the checkout I stand to one side of Stephen in the queue aware from the corner of my eyes of the men shoppers holding back. The usual push and shove on the roads seems to prevail in supermarket queues with the trolleys.
A man packs the shopping, in way too many plastic bags and pushes the trolley to the car for a tip.
I'm respecting the custom of the country in becoming a non-person. Mrs. Invisible.
Over the past 6 weeks I've been reading a book that researched into women in Muslim countries over the centuries. I'm a slow reader! I've trawled the internet devouring any blogs written by women of any nationality but based here in Saudi Arabia.
There are plenty of women, it seems, who are happy to keep the custom of the abaya and more! I drew the line, as soon as I got here, over the face veil, the niqab.
What I want to say is, each to his own.
Yes, I can remember as a child being expected to cover my head in church with a hat, mantilla or scarf as a sign of respect. This was a head covering not a means of blotting me out. Our society has moved on with the times and women no longer have to remember their hat, mantilla or scarf before entering church to pray.
Yes, I can hear at least one of you saying but what about that time in Rome when, Pol's I think, bare arms were giving offence. Old habits die hard with some old folk.
I'm looking forward to being respected as another human being, by the majority of people, as I walk down the street and push my trolley into Morrisons.
Idon't feel quite so sad having vented for a bit. I'm still looking to experience the culture and customs of Saudi Arabia while I have the opportunity.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Sofa surfing
I've just indulged in a cartoon.
Well, I'm not sure if that's the correct title for this type of film. It was animated drawings, I guess, with actors voices but it was made in 2007 so it was far away from the Tom and Jerry type of cartoon.
Of course, I've just got it! It was digitally, computerised cartoon imagery, if there is such a term.
Anyway, I caught it a third of the way in, so no title. It was set on a polynesian island and the main characters were penguins.
The story line was about the run up to the BIG surfing competition and it was being filmed by a documentary crew, who you never saw but the view was always from the camera man's . . . camera.
Cody Maverick, a young dude desperately trying to get the champeen of champeen's, The Big Z (pronounced zee) to help him to win the competition.
The Big Z had dropped off the face of the surf when he was about to lose many years ago. Cody discovered him through his friendship with Big Z's niece, Lanie or Lawnie or some other cutie name.
The Big Zee's interest is sparked by this little guy who's desperately trying to rush out and win the trophy without any preparation but lots of enthusiasm for the blessed sport. The veteran teaches him how to prepare his board, count the waves and the vibe of riding through the big one!
Chicken Joe, an actual chicken is Cody's friend who races through the film looking for his bud, getting captured by tribal penguins and prepared for the pot for their celebration meal! There are pretty girl penguins hula-huing as carrots, onions etc., are chucked into the pot with him.
'Dinner and a show!' Does that sound classic Marx brothers?!
All through this I was thinking how Tom Hanks was the perfect voice for the old pro, The Big Z. His rich deep tones were, The Big Z! He was this old dude who's seen it all, has nothing to prove
who just might stretch himself to bring on the little feller. As I watched the closing credits I was amazed to see The Big Z was played by Jeff Bridges!
I guess I just have a thing for Tom Hanks and will watch or listen to him in anything.
The music played throughout the film was laid back, sun, sea and surf mood. Perfect!
The images were a delight and had me in the tunnel of the big one!
Pity I didn't catch the title but if you ever come across a film about penguins and a surfing competition, don't miss it!
Well, I'm not sure if that's the correct title for this type of film. It was animated drawings, I guess, with actors voices but it was made in 2007 so it was far away from the Tom and Jerry type of cartoon.
Of course, I've just got it! It was digitally, computerised cartoon imagery, if there is such a term.
Anyway, I caught it a third of the way in, so no title. It was set on a polynesian island and the main characters were penguins.
The story line was about the run up to the BIG surfing competition and it was being filmed by a documentary crew, who you never saw but the view was always from the camera man's . . . camera.
Cody Maverick, a young dude desperately trying to get the champeen of champeen's, The Big Z (pronounced zee) to help him to win the competition.
The Big Z had dropped off the face of the surf when he was about to lose many years ago. Cody discovered him through his friendship with Big Z's niece, Lanie or Lawnie or some other cutie name.
The Big Zee's interest is sparked by this little guy who's desperately trying to rush out and win the trophy without any preparation but lots of enthusiasm for the blessed sport. The veteran teaches him how to prepare his board, count the waves and the vibe of riding through the big one!
Chicken Joe, an actual chicken is Cody's friend who races through the film looking for his bud, getting captured by tribal penguins and prepared for the pot for their celebration meal! There are pretty girl penguins hula-huing as carrots, onions etc., are chucked into the pot with him.
'Dinner and a show!' Does that sound classic Marx brothers?!
All through this I was thinking how Tom Hanks was the perfect voice for the old pro, The Big Z. His rich deep tones were, The Big Z! He was this old dude who's seen it all, has nothing to prove
who just might stretch himself to bring on the little feller. As I watched the closing credits I was amazed to see The Big Z was played by Jeff Bridges!
I guess I just have a thing for Tom Hanks and will watch or listen to him in anything.
The music played throughout the film was laid back, sun, sea and surf mood. Perfect!
The images were a delight and had me in the tunnel of the big one!
Pity I didn't catch the title but if you ever come across a film about penguins and a surfing competition, don't miss it!
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Sleepy town.
It's Thursday which is equal to our Saturday, if you know what I mean.
Most of the guys have worked this morning and the rest of the weekend is theirs.
So it's a rush into the restaurant for yellow pea soup, followed by 'lasange' as it's written down with french fries and pancakes topped with cream and jam.
This is a standard Thursday lunchtime fare. It might even be standard on all the AVB sites here. It's a Swedish tradition. I must look up the reason for it.
Then the guys actually say 'gutten nacht' to each other as they leave the restaurant and head for their respective settees !
Can you hear the snoring?!
There goes the tumble weed.
Most of the guys have worked this morning and the rest of the weekend is theirs.
So it's a rush into the restaurant for yellow pea soup, followed by 'lasange' as it's written down with french fries and pancakes topped with cream and jam.
This is a standard Thursday lunchtime fare. It might even be standard on all the AVB sites here. It's a Swedish tradition. I must look up the reason for it.
Then the guys actually say 'gutten nacht' to each other as they leave the restaurant and head for their respective settees !
Can you hear the snoring?!
There goes the tumble weed.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
See !
I told you how important dates are !
I've just read a small article in the paper which shows how popular they are here in the month of Ramadan.
In Madinah a 'trickster' thought it a 'fun' idea to climb onto a building with a megaphone and begin the call for the Maghreb prayer five minutes before the actual time of sunset! I'm afraid I can see the Monty Python-esque alure of this idea. However . . . in Saudi Arabia ? !
Although many people were astute enough to realize it was a tad early to break their fast, timing must be extremely important it seems about this, there were others who 'jumped immediately on the dates as they heard the call.'
The reporter suggests these pilgrims were 'perhaps delusional from a day of no food, drink or tobacco.' Maybe the heat played a part as well.
The 'trickster's' motive is unclear and the poor guy has been described as 'mentally deranged.'
The mental picture of the rugby scrum over the dishes of dates is appealing.
Go grab your dates !
I've just read a small article in the paper which shows how popular they are here in the month of Ramadan.
In Madinah a 'trickster' thought it a 'fun' idea to climb onto a building with a megaphone and begin the call for the Maghreb prayer five minutes before the actual time of sunset! I'm afraid I can see the Monty Python-esque alure of this idea. However . . . in Saudi Arabia ? !
Although many people were astute enough to realize it was a tad early to break their fast, timing must be extremely important it seems about this, there were others who 'jumped immediately on the dates as they heard the call.'
The reporter suggests these pilgrims were 'perhaps delusional from a day of no food, drink or tobacco.' Maybe the heat played a part as well.
The 'trickster's' motive is unclear and the poor guy has been described as 'mentally deranged.'
The mental picture of the rugby scrum over the dishes of dates is appealing.
Go grab your dates !
Friday, September 4, 2009
Some knitting nonsense.
I'd always thought I'd love to have a fee paying job knitting from nine to five.
Imagine getting paid for doing something you love and not having to find holes in your day to have a quick burst at it?!
Until recently I'd never thought of the design side of it and was just happy knitting other people's designs for me or more usually, anybody else I thought 'needed' some handhewn love.
This year Polly, daughter no.3, graduated in, knitwear design and I have had a wonderful time working with her and learning from her.
I'm hoping to get on the payroll! Eh, Poll?!
However . . . . . . since arriving here I've sat and I've knitted morning, noon and yes, night, every day.
I can see light at the end of the afghan tunnel but at what cost?!
My left arm had a slight twinge in it when I arrived. My left shoulder has a permanent ache in it now.
Complete inactivity, apart from the wrist action has left me stiff all over and moving around like a . . . . . . well let's just say my 80 year old Mother in law will leave me in the starting blocks.
On the plus side, because of this I've discovered I can knit walking around and even dancing, well bopping to Russell Davis on radio 2 !
I'm especially thrilled with this latest talent as I came across a picture in a knitting book some years ago. It was a photo from the late 1800's taken somewhere like Cornwall, showing four girls/women in their long skirts and working pinnies, knitting as they stand outside a cottage. I've wanted to be able to do that ever since.
I remember a visit to my sister Rose's back in the 70.s. We had tucked our kiddies up and were lingering as usual over the dinner table, dinner long since finished but where else do you get good crack? I know that isn't the correct spelling, but you know what I mean.
I've never been a night bird and so my eyelids were up and down like yo-yo's. Nothing unusual there, except I had my knitting in my hands. Rose, Hubes and Stephen's laughter woke me up.
Is this, suffering for one's art?
Imagine getting paid for doing something you love and not having to find holes in your day to have a quick burst at it?!
Until recently I'd never thought of the design side of it and was just happy knitting other people's designs for me or more usually, anybody else I thought 'needed' some handhewn love.
This year Polly, daughter no.3, graduated in, knitwear design and I have had a wonderful time working with her and learning from her.
I'm hoping to get on the payroll! Eh, Poll?!
However . . . . . . since arriving here I've sat and I've knitted morning, noon and yes, night, every day.
I can see light at the end of the afghan tunnel but at what cost?!
My left arm had a slight twinge in it when I arrived. My left shoulder has a permanent ache in it now.
Complete inactivity, apart from the wrist action has left me stiff all over and moving around like a . . . . . . well let's just say my 80 year old Mother in law will leave me in the starting blocks.
On the plus side, because of this I've discovered I can knit walking around and even dancing, well bopping to Russell Davis on radio 2 !
I'm especially thrilled with this latest talent as I came across a picture in a knitting book some years ago. It was a photo from the late 1800's taken somewhere like Cornwall, showing four girls/women in their long skirts and working pinnies, knitting as they stand outside a cottage. I've wanted to be able to do that ever since.
I remember a visit to my sister Rose's back in the 70.s. We had tucked our kiddies up and were lingering as usual over the dinner table, dinner long since finished but where else do you get good crack? I know that isn't the correct spelling, but you know what I mean.
I've never been a night bird and so my eyelids were up and down like yo-yo's. Nothing unusual there, except I had my knitting in my hands. Rose, Hubes and Stephen's laughter woke me up.
Is this, suffering for one's art?
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Lego is the bizz ! ! !
I just fell over a Youtube video called ''8-bit trip''.
It's a feast of multi-coloured builds some Scandinavian sounding guys took an awful long time over.
There's also a funny ''Lego man prank call''.
I go for colour first, amass everything I can find in one or two colours and then build from there.
I'm a good ''finder'' for the boys.
How do you play with your lego?!
Happy Sunday folks! xxx x xxx x
It's a feast of multi-coloured builds some Scandinavian sounding guys took an awful long time over.
There's also a funny ''Lego man prank call''.
I go for colour first, amass everything I can find in one or two colours and then build from there.
I'm a good ''finder'' for the boys.
How do you play with your lego?!
Happy Sunday folks! xxx x xxx x
Saturday, August 29, 2009
A little eye candy! Take two.
I had two hours worth of fruitless labours this afternoon trying to do this and all I achieved was one photo with the wrong caption! Grrrrrrr ! ! ! !
Stephen is now home and at my elbow. Let's see how we go.
Down at Lucy's old flat - bunking in together.
Ooh! The look ! !
Here's Harry Potter and his half bud !
Captain Inside Out Pants !
Nathan under a tea cosy. Lucy knitted this little number for me at about the same time that Polly knitted me one. My girls know how important a pot of tea is to me! So this is Mon thru Wed tea cosy and Pol's is Thur thru Sat with alternate Sundays!
This was our visit at Easter this year. We were surprised with the whole family meeting us at Lester Pearson airport. The last time we saw Thomas was last summer and I was worried how he'd react to us. He was in Stephen's arms as we walked to the car park! Here he is chillin' with my MP3 player. Little love!
Aidan just loves dressing up. That is a bit of an under-statement really. He's a magpie whose eyes light up when we've been shopping or someone comes to stay. Aunty Polly made them their very own dressing up bag one Christmas filled with masks, hats, cloaks. I'll miss Sir Prance-a-lot when he grows out of this.
Now what does a Knight snack on, a pretty tired looking Knight?
Answers on a postcard please.
Three of my bestest friends - Aidan, Ben and Lucy's evil looking dolly from play-school, Hamble.
Poor old Hamble was an old doll when she was passed on to Lucy, I can't remember where from. The poor thing had been allowed to get rusty eyes ! When Lucy took her to play-school, the old dear taking the money on the door turned her to face the wall while she minded her for Lucy ! !
This picture of Aidan holding Hamble so carefully is very precious.
Aunty Rose chillin!
We haven't done this in a while, sitting around a dining table, catching up. Stephen and I are due to catch up on this as soon as we can and we can't wait!
Geet kettle on Mother !
Hey I made it ! This is just a taster for now, many more to follow.
Our House
WE play at our house and have all sorts of fun,
An' there's always a game when supper is done;
An' at our house there's marks on the walls an' the stairs,
An' some terrible scratches on some of the chairs;
An' ma says that our house is surely a fright,
But pa and I say that our house is all right.
At our house we laugh an' we sing an' we shout,
An' whirl all the chairs and the tables about,
An' I rassle my pa an' I get him down too,
An' he's all out of breath when the fightin' is through;
An' ma says our house is surely a sight,
But pa an' I say that our house is all right.
I've been to houses with pa where I had
To sit in a chair like a good little lad,
An' there wasn't a mark on the walls an' the chairs,
An' the stuff that we have couldn't come up to theirs;
An' pa said to ma that for all of their joy
He wouldn't change places and give up his boy.
They never have races nor rassles nor fights,
Coz they have no children to play with at nights;
An' their walls are all clean and their curtains hang straight,
An' everything's shiny an' right up to date;
But pa says with all of its racket an' fuss,
He'd rather by far live at our house with us.
Edgar Guest
Stephen is now home and at my elbow. Let's see how we go.
Down at Lucy's old flat - bunking in together.
Ooh! The look ! !
Here's Harry Potter and his half bud !
Captain Inside Out Pants !
Nathan under a tea cosy. Lucy knitted this little number for me at about the same time that Polly knitted me one. My girls know how important a pot of tea is to me! So this is Mon thru Wed tea cosy and Pol's is Thur thru Sat with alternate Sundays!
This was our visit at Easter this year. We were surprised with the whole family meeting us at Lester Pearson airport. The last time we saw Thomas was last summer and I was worried how he'd react to us. He was in Stephen's arms as we walked to the car park! Here he is chillin' with my MP3 player. Little love!
Aidan just loves dressing up. That is a bit of an under-statement really. He's a magpie whose eyes light up when we've been shopping or someone comes to stay. Aunty Polly made them their very own dressing up bag one Christmas filled with masks, hats, cloaks. I'll miss Sir Prance-a-lot when he grows out of this.
Now what does a Knight snack on, a pretty tired looking Knight?
Answers on a postcard please.
Three of my bestest friends - Aidan, Ben and Lucy's evil looking dolly from play-school, Hamble.
Poor old Hamble was an old doll when she was passed on to Lucy, I can't remember where from. The poor thing had been allowed to get rusty eyes ! When Lucy took her to play-school, the old dear taking the money on the door turned her to face the wall while she minded her for Lucy ! !
This picture of Aidan holding Hamble so carefully is very precious.
Aunty Rose chillin!
We haven't done this in a while, sitting around a dining table, catching up. Stephen and I are due to catch up on this as soon as we can and we can't wait!
Geet kettle on Mother !
Hey I made it ! This is just a taster for now, many more to follow.
Our House
WE play at our house and have all sorts of fun,
An' there's always a game when supper is done;
An' at our house there's marks on the walls an' the stairs,
An' some terrible scratches on some of the chairs;
An' ma says that our house is surely a fright,
But pa and I say that our house is all right.
At our house we laugh an' we sing an' we shout,
An' whirl all the chairs and the tables about,
An' I rassle my pa an' I get him down too,
An' he's all out of breath when the fightin' is through;
An' ma says our house is surely a sight,
But pa an' I say that our house is all right.
I've been to houses with pa where I had
To sit in a chair like a good little lad,
An' there wasn't a mark on the walls an' the chairs,
An' the stuff that we have couldn't come up to theirs;
An' pa said to ma that for all of their joy
He wouldn't change places and give up his boy.
They never have races nor rassles nor fights,
Coz they have no children to play with at nights;
An' their walls are all clean and their curtains hang straight,
An' everything's shiny an' right up to date;
But pa says with all of its racket an' fuss,
He'd rather by far live at our house with us.
Edgar Guest
A little eye candy!
Having all the time in the world this weekend, Stephen managed to download all the photos off my phone I've ever taken since I got it. What a lovely meander down memory lane!
Down at Lucy's old flat - bunkering in together.
Down at Lucy's old flat - bunkering in together.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
slow news day.
Today I thought I'd ask for a bit of reader participation.
As you know, I'm the only female in a town of eight males. Six are Scandavian, two from other parts of the world and the husband. There you have it, you see. The brain has furred up and I can't even count up to nine now!
I'm spending each day knitting up a storm. The afghan. &nvsp; I have been saving up the Archer's each day to enjoy a whole hour's worth of the omnibus (move along inside, please!)on Mondays.
A great discovery was a knitting podcast called Cast-on.com. Again it's an hour's worth of, well, sitting and knitting with a sympatico friend, I guess. I love it and am enjoying delving back into previous podcasts as Brenda, the podcastor from Wales has gone home to America for the summer. I am now a devoted podcastee with a yen to try it for myself!
Besides this Stephen has kindly uploaded Bill Bryson's Notes from a small country onto my Ipode. There's also a lot of brass band, I do like a bit of triple tonguing, and some classical but not much, if any come to think of it, modern or pop music.
Then there's the sound of silence which I'm growing to appreciate more and more. Maybe it's the constant drone from the air conditioners (a toss up at night; cool din or peaceful sweating?) or maybe it's just the first real opportunity to experience it. 7nbsp; Silence is definately golden !
So here's the thing. which programmes or music do you enjoy listening to and why?
Listen out for the silence peeps!
xxxxxxxx
As you know, I'm the only female in a town of eight males. Six are Scandavian, two from other parts of the world and the husband. There you have it, you see. The brain has furred up and I can't even count up to nine now!
I'm spending each day knitting up a storm. The afghan. &nvsp; I have been saving up the Archer's each day to enjoy a whole hour's worth of the omnibus (move along inside, please!)on Mondays.
A great discovery was a knitting podcast called Cast-on.com. Again it's an hour's worth of, well, sitting and knitting with a sympatico friend, I guess. I love it and am enjoying delving back into previous podcasts as Brenda, the podcastor from Wales has gone home to America for the summer. I am now a devoted podcastee with a yen to try it for myself!
Besides this Stephen has kindly uploaded Bill Bryson's Notes from a small country onto my Ipode. There's also a lot of brass band, I do like a bit of triple tonguing, and some classical but not much, if any come to think of it, modern or pop music.
Then there's the sound of silence which I'm growing to appreciate more and more. Maybe it's the constant drone from the air conditioners (a toss up at night; cool din or peaceful sweating?) or maybe it's just the first real opportunity to experience it. 7nbsp; Silence is definately golden !
So here's the thing. which programmes or music do you enjoy listening to and why?
Listen out for the silence peeps!
xxxxxxxx
Sunday, August 23, 2009
A spot of housekeeping.
Time now, to catch up on all our quizzes and queries.
We start this week with our reader's letters to 'Dear Tabitha'. Matthew in Guand Uaapids writes, Dear Tabitha, my little family and I left a week ago for our annual vaccation to the family cottage. Upon returning last night, we discovered our kitchen had gone! Then we remembered we were having it renevated. My question is this: how do we get through this testing time, especially with a youngster in the house?
Well, Matthew, I suggest you and the missus take September, October, November and Christmas's beer allowance first thing each morning, preferably on an empty stomach. Oh, and give little Tommy that trumpet to play with , his Aunt Lucy thoughtfully got him last birthday. That should keep the guys on their toes!
Thanks to Stephen in White Rock City,''where the girls are so pretty', for the tip on what not to do with a broken bottle. Unfortunately, we're unable to print his full email as this blog goes out before the watershed.
The correct answer was Tony Blurr, in our 'Odd one out' competition. All the rest were great leaders. Too many listeners wrote in with the correction answer there, so that two pound bottle of champagne Stephen bought in 1994 at the 'Everything MUST go' sale at the Saints grounds will be put back in the cupboard till next week.
This week's fashion dilemma comes from Polly from Pimlico. She would like to know what to wear for that all important job interview, when first impressions mean so much. Well Polly, I always say it's best to be honest, so go with the bucket over the head and let them know up front what a fruitcake they're taking on.
Now here's Lucy Lupino with the gardening corner. "This week m'little grasshoppers, I'd like to warn you about getting your hollyhocks mixed up with your dandelions. You could end up with a bunch of dandelocks and a wet bed! Lucy finishes with a heads up for getting the sprouts on in time for Christmas!
I'd like to introduce a new segment called 'Find me a pen-pal.' Rose from Rouen wants someone to write to with similar interests to her own. They're listed as being extreme ironing, in fact the more inacessible the better and she writes,'you should see my party trick with a suppository!' Good luck Rose!
Finally, I'd like to thank all our viewers who took the time to vote in the 'Where shall we send Nan to next?' competition. Caroline in tent 3 wants it to be know that she had her last time!
I'd like to sign off with this bon motte: If you win the rat race, you're still a rat! GET OUT BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE ! ! !
TTFN !
xxxxxxxx
We start this week with our reader's letters to 'Dear Tabitha'. Matthew in Guand Uaapids writes, Dear Tabitha, my little family and I left a week ago for our annual vaccation to the family cottage. Upon returning last night, we discovered our kitchen had gone! Then we remembered we were having it renevated. My question is this: how do we get through this testing time, especially with a youngster in the house?
Well, Matthew, I suggest you and the missus take September, October, November and Christmas's beer allowance first thing each morning, preferably on an empty stomach. Oh, and give little Tommy that trumpet to play with , his Aunt Lucy thoughtfully got him last birthday. That should keep the guys on their toes!
Thanks to Stephen in White Rock City,''where the girls are so pretty', for the tip on what not to do with a broken bottle. Unfortunately, we're unable to print his full email as this blog goes out before the watershed.
The correct answer was Tony Blurr, in our 'Odd one out' competition. All the rest were great leaders. Too many listeners wrote in with the correction answer there, so that two pound bottle of champagne Stephen bought in 1994 at the 'Everything MUST go' sale at the Saints grounds will be put back in the cupboard till next week.
This week's fashion dilemma comes from Polly from Pimlico. She would like to know what to wear for that all important job interview, when first impressions mean so much. Well Polly, I always say it's best to be honest, so go with the bucket over the head and let them know up front what a fruitcake they're taking on.
Now here's Lucy Lupino with the gardening corner. "This week m'little grasshoppers, I'd like to warn you about getting your hollyhocks mixed up with your dandelions. You could end up with a bunch of dandelocks and a wet bed! Lucy finishes with a heads up for getting the sprouts on in time for Christmas!
I'd like to introduce a new segment called 'Find me a pen-pal.' Rose from Rouen wants someone to write to with similar interests to her own. They're listed as being extreme ironing, in fact the more inacessible the better and she writes,'you should see my party trick with a suppository!' Good luck Rose!
Finally, I'd like to thank all our viewers who took the time to vote in the 'Where shall we send Nan to next?' competition. Caroline in tent 3 wants it to be know that she had her last time!
I'd like to sign off with this bon motte: If you win the rat race, you're still a rat! GET OUT BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE ! ! !
TTFN !
xxxxxxxx
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Invasion of the dates !
We will be bringing dates back with us! That is a promise, people ! ! Yes, yes, kids, I know we still have boxes that your Father has been bringing home over the years. As I strafed the newspaper for interesting snippets about Ramadan I came across an article which made me think twice about those gorgeous sticky brown things.
The Prophet Muhammad recommended breaking the fast at iftar with dates. I guess he knew a thing or two. During the summer season dates abound in fruit markets. Date shops display them arranged in pyramids inside glass boxes like gems and sell them at considerably high prices.
For Westerners, dates and the palm tree symbolize Arabia. Ancient Arabs thrived and survived on the palm tree, which surprisingly prospers in arid land and yields the nutritious date.
Arabians found use for every section of the palm tree. They employ the fronds to weave baskets and ropes and to thatch roofs. Palm trunks are used as pillars to support houses and tents. The liquid of boiled luqqaah (the sheath of flower clusters) is given to quell upset stomachs. Date pits yield cooking oil. The center of the palm trunk, jummar or heart of palm, makes a delicious salad ingredient.
Let's look at the fruit again, the date only ripens at the peak of desert heat (August) which yields a superior quality fruit. Dates are eaten at different stages. The first stage is the deep red and bright yellow crunchy balah. The best in the red balah is the long zahou Al-Madinah and the shorter barhi in the yellow ones. As they mellow, one half becomes soft and brown. They are called munassaf, meaning half and half. When they turn completely soft and brown, they become rutthab. Freezing can maintain the latter stage for months, making it available all year long. Some types are better than others for freezing. To last a whole year to the next season, they need to be dried to become tamr. Different types of dates are dried to different levels. Date syrup is sometimes added to keep them soft and to preserve them.
Now, are you still with me?! Lets take a look at just how good they are for you.
Dates have very little fat and no cholesterol. Yes, no fat ! ! !
Magnesium in the fruit lowers blood pressure; relaxes the muscles, nerves and arteries; helps make bone mass; protects against cancer (lung); and controls hypertension and heartbeat along with its copper content.
Calcium in dates is another muscle, artery, and nerve relaxant; builds bones; prevents osteoporosis; and helps regulate blood pressure.
Potassium from the fruit strengthens the heart muscles; enhances appetite; prevents muscle spasms; lowers blood pressure; improves bone structure; and reduces cancer risk.
Boron in dates builds bone; relieves arthritis; enhances sexual desire; and treats brain cancer.
Phosphorus in them protects teeth and bones and stimulates the reproductive and sexual organs in both males and females.
Selenium in the fruit prevents infections; prevents antibiotic resistance; works against cancer; strengthens immunity; reduces joint inflammation; improves mood disorders; normalizes thyroid activity and enhances fertility.
Sodium, chloride, and potassium contents in the fruit help balance stomach acid.
Iron along with vitamin B2 and copper in dates builds red blood cells; transports oxygen in the blood and muscles; improves vision; provides energy; is important for child bearing years and pregnancies and eases delivery.
Fluorine in the fruit protects against tooth decay, making dates a good substitute for sweets for children.
Vitamin C in dates is high enough to protect against scurvy; strengthen blood vessel walls; help gum disease and bleeding and bolster and aid in liver detoxification.
Vitamin A's availability in the date improves eye and skin dryness, night vision and sexual drive.
Vitamins B1 and B2 respectively treat nervous system disorders and anemia.
Pectin in dates, like apples and pears, lowers cholesterol to prevent cardiovascular disease.
Fiber is high in dates. It improves digestion and bowel movement and decreases colon cancer risk.
Can you beat all of that?!
Traditional medicine in Arabia prescribes dates for many conditions ranging from digestive and respiratory disorders and bone building to pregnancy, childbirth, flagging sexual drive, low-sperm count, fertility, and insect bites.
During pregnancy, they bolster energy; supplement mother with important nutrients; prepare for delivery and lactation; regulate contractions and prevent haemorrhage.
Different regions of the Arabian Peninsula have different recipes to ease childbirth. Some suggest eating several dates with cinnamon tea; others use clove, cumin, or anise tea with dates. After delivery, dates are given to prevent postpartum bleeding and void the placenta. To invigorate the new mother, they give her dates, black seeds, Nigella sativa, and fenugreek, or they prepare for her wheat gruel with dates, butter, pepper, and aromatic seeds, plus an egg in the morning.
Date cures may have been influenced by the Holy Quran when God addresses Mary, or Mariam, Mother of Jesus during her labour pains: "And shake the trunk of the palm-tree toward thee: It will drop fresh dates upon thee".
Until the invasion of modern diets, the date was the main nutrition in the Arabian Peninsula. Most desserts such as henaini, saeedha and maamoul, are made from dates, even rice and vegetable recipes include dates. They can be added to pastries, cakes, pies, and chocolate bonbons. Date syrup is used in desserts. Dates with nuts make a nice snack. Plain or nut-stuffed dates are savoured with the cardamom flavoured Arabic coffee.
Dates are particularly popular during the Holy Month of Ramadan. Breaking the fast with one, three or up to seven dates is highly recommended by Prophet Muhammad to energize after a long day of abstinence from food. Nutrients replenish and antioxidants detoxify. He suggested: "Whoever takes every morning seven dates of ajwa, he will neither be harmed by poison nor sorcery on that day". Ajwa, the Prophet's favourite date, is the short black highly-prized date, grown in Al-Madinah.
The average date contains 20 calories. Eating too many can be detrimental to health and counteracts weight control.
I can see a new super-hero ! Datedude ! ! !
So, now you know what y"all getting for Christmas !
The Prophet Muhammad recommended breaking the fast at iftar with dates. I guess he knew a thing or two. During the summer season dates abound in fruit markets. Date shops display them arranged in pyramids inside glass boxes like gems and sell them at considerably high prices.
For Westerners, dates and the palm tree symbolize Arabia. Ancient Arabs thrived and survived on the palm tree, which surprisingly prospers in arid land and yields the nutritious date.
Arabians found use for every section of the palm tree. They employ the fronds to weave baskets and ropes and to thatch roofs. Palm trunks are used as pillars to support houses and tents. The liquid of boiled luqqaah (the sheath of flower clusters) is given to quell upset stomachs. Date pits yield cooking oil. The center of the palm trunk, jummar or heart of palm, makes a delicious salad ingredient.
Let's look at the fruit again, the date only ripens at the peak of desert heat (August) which yields a superior quality fruit. Dates are eaten at different stages. The first stage is the deep red and bright yellow crunchy balah. The best in the red balah is the long zahou Al-Madinah and the shorter barhi in the yellow ones. As they mellow, one half becomes soft and brown. They are called munassaf, meaning half and half. When they turn completely soft and brown, they become rutthab. Freezing can maintain the latter stage for months, making it available all year long. Some types are better than others for freezing. To last a whole year to the next season, they need to be dried to become tamr. Different types of dates are dried to different levels. Date syrup is sometimes added to keep them soft and to preserve them.
Now, are you still with me?! Lets take a look at just how good they are for you.
Dates have very little fat and no cholesterol. Yes, no fat ! ! !
Magnesium in the fruit lowers blood pressure; relaxes the muscles, nerves and arteries; helps make bone mass; protects against cancer (lung); and controls hypertension and heartbeat along with its copper content.
Calcium in dates is another muscle, artery, and nerve relaxant; builds bones; prevents osteoporosis; and helps regulate blood pressure.
Potassium from the fruit strengthens the heart muscles; enhances appetite; prevents muscle spasms; lowers blood pressure; improves bone structure; and reduces cancer risk.
Boron in dates builds bone; relieves arthritis; enhances sexual desire; and treats brain cancer.
Phosphorus in them protects teeth and bones and stimulates the reproductive and sexual organs in both males and females.
Selenium in the fruit prevents infections; prevents antibiotic resistance; works against cancer; strengthens immunity; reduces joint inflammation; improves mood disorders; normalizes thyroid activity and enhances fertility.
Sodium, chloride, and potassium contents in the fruit help balance stomach acid.
Iron along with vitamin B2 and copper in dates builds red blood cells; transports oxygen in the blood and muscles; improves vision; provides energy; is important for child bearing years and pregnancies and eases delivery.
Fluorine in the fruit protects against tooth decay, making dates a good substitute for sweets for children.
Vitamin C in dates is high enough to protect against scurvy; strengthen blood vessel walls; help gum disease and bleeding and bolster and aid in liver detoxification.
Vitamin A's availability in the date improves eye and skin dryness, night vision and sexual drive.
Vitamins B1 and B2 respectively treat nervous system disorders and anemia.
Pectin in dates, like apples and pears, lowers cholesterol to prevent cardiovascular disease.
Fiber is high in dates. It improves digestion and bowel movement and decreases colon cancer risk.
Can you beat all of that?!
Traditional medicine in Arabia prescribes dates for many conditions ranging from digestive and respiratory disorders and bone building to pregnancy, childbirth, flagging sexual drive, low-sperm count, fertility, and insect bites.
During pregnancy, they bolster energy; supplement mother with important nutrients; prepare for delivery and lactation; regulate contractions and prevent haemorrhage.
Different regions of the Arabian Peninsula have different recipes to ease childbirth. Some suggest eating several dates with cinnamon tea; others use clove, cumin, or anise tea with dates. After delivery, dates are given to prevent postpartum bleeding and void the placenta. To invigorate the new mother, they give her dates, black seeds, Nigella sativa, and fenugreek, or they prepare for her wheat gruel with dates, butter, pepper, and aromatic seeds, plus an egg in the morning.
Date cures may have been influenced by the Holy Quran when God addresses Mary, or Mariam, Mother of Jesus during her labour pains: "And shake the trunk of the palm-tree toward thee: It will drop fresh dates upon thee".
Until the invasion of modern diets, the date was the main nutrition in the Arabian Peninsula. Most desserts such as henaini, saeedha and maamoul, are made from dates, even rice and vegetable recipes include dates. They can be added to pastries, cakes, pies, and chocolate bonbons. Date syrup is used in desserts. Dates with nuts make a nice snack. Plain or nut-stuffed dates are savoured with the cardamom flavoured Arabic coffee.
Dates are particularly popular during the Holy Month of Ramadan. Breaking the fast with one, three or up to seven dates is highly recommended by Prophet Muhammad to energize after a long day of abstinence from food. Nutrients replenish and antioxidants detoxify. He suggested: "Whoever takes every morning seven dates of ajwa, he will neither be harmed by poison nor sorcery on that day". Ajwa, the Prophet's favourite date, is the short black highly-prized date, grown in Al-Madinah.
The average date contains 20 calories. Eating too many can be detrimental to health and counteracts weight control.
I can see a new super-hero ! Datedude ! ! !
So, now you know what y"all getting for Christmas !
Friday, August 21, 2009
Ramadan Mubarak !
Saudi Arabia, the birthplace of Islam, will start the Muslim fasting month of Ramadan on Saturday.
Muslims scan the sky at night in search of the new moon to determine the start of Ramadan, the holiest month for the world's more than one billion Muslims, during which observant believers fast from dawn to dusk.
Businesses and offices reduce opening hours during the day and often re-open in the evenings.
During Ramadan, Muslims are required to abstain from food, drink and sex from dawn until dusk as life slips into a lower gear during the day. Activity peaks between "iftar", the breaking of the fast at sunset, and "suhur", the last meal of the day before sunrise.
However, rising swine flu numbers and warnings from governments and the World Health Organisation have heightened fears of being in crowded places.
The impact of the pandemic on Ramadan iftar dinners when people sometimes invite hundreds to break the fast together in homes, tents, and hotel ballrooms just after sunset has yet to be seen.
Normally several hundred thousand people travel to Mecca during Ramadan to perform the umrah, a shortened version of the hajj major pilgrimage that takes place in late November this year.
The umrah is popular because people can come at any time and do not need the permits that are assigned to countries by quota for the hajj, which is required of Muslims once in their lifetime if they have the means.
Business in the holy city of Mecca could be down by 40 per cent in the coming month because of flu fears.
However, . . . . . .
A record Ramadan shopping spree has boosted sales in the West End of London this summer.
Sales of perfume - a traditional gift at the end of the Muslim festival - over the past four weeks are up 60 per cent at Selfridges, compared with last year thanks to a surge in the number of wealthy Middle Eastern visitors.
Nearly 150,000 are thought to have visited London in the past month to escape the scorching heat of home. The weak pound has made it better value to buy goods in Britain than in Paris or Milan.
Several shops have introduced later closing in the run-up to Ramadan to suit Middle Eastern customers who are used to shopping in the evening at home when it is cooler.
Selfridges saw sales double of perfumes by Trish McEvoy, Tom Ford and Chanel whose powerful, heady scents are popular with Middle Eastern women.
The store has more than 50 Arabic - speaking staff and it's Clarins counter has introduced a secluded area for sampling beauty products which has proved popular with Muslim women who do not want to remove their hijab in public.
Ramadan, the ninth month of the Islamic year, was the month in which the Prophet Muhammad, received his first divine revelation from the Angel Gabriel.
For this reason, it was chosen by the Prophet as a month of fasting, a time in which every Muslim could "cultivate piety".
For this reason, it was chosen by the Prophet as a month of fasting, a time in which every Muslim could "cultivate piety".
During Ramadan, Muslims are exhorted to read the whole of the Holy Qu"ran.
The "Night of Determination", the night during which Muhammad received his first revelation, falls towards the end of Ramadan. On this night, the Holy Qu"ran tells Muslims that Allah sets the course of the world and all human affairs for the coming year.
The "Night of Determination", the night during which Muhammad received his first revelation, falls towards the end of Ramadan. On this night, the Holy Qu"ran tells Muslims that Allah sets the course of the world and all human affairs for the coming year.
You give but little when you give of your possessions
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give
For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow.
And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
Tisbahi ala Kheer! Good night ladies!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Hummus bi tahina.
Today Stephen and I schlepped to the local supermarket and I had a craving for some hummus. I love one from Tesco or Morrison's that is made with red pepper. I could eat it till the cows come home!
I couldn't find any ready made stuff nor cans of chickpeas so came away with a packet of chickpea seeds, a couple of lemons, a bulb of garlic and some tahini, in liquid form! We shopped early, nine-ish. The majority of Arabs at this time of the year shop later in the day, to avoid the heat.
I began the hummus as soon as we got home; soaking, simmering, a little more simmering and yet more simmering. The darn things just wouldn't soften up! About six hours later . . . . . after a wrastle with the Moulinex food processor, (why can't they leave the information booklets with the machines?!) I eventually produced a bowl of hummus. Not my lovely red pepper version but hummus all the same.
Well, I wasn't feeling very well today and the rather bland bowl of paste was the straw that broke the poor old camel's back!
Then as I was about to go to bed I noticed Stephen, (poor lad said it was lovely), had looked hummus up on the internet. Beside all the history to it, I spotted a variation that I think I might try adding tomorrow.
Just in case you're interested:
Hummus Kasa, from a 13th century Arab cookbook called, 'Kitab Wasf al-Atima al-Mutada', substitutes vinegar for lemon juice, throws in extra herbs, not specified, and adds walnuts, almond and pistachios.
The famous Roman orator, Cicero, was named after an ancestor who had a wart on his nose, resembling a chickpea!
Hummus is high in iron and vitamin C and when eaten with bread it serves as a complete protein.
Syrians in Canada's Arab diaspora prepare and consume hummus along with other dishes like falafel, kibbe and tabouleh, even among third and fourth-generation offspring of the original immigrants.
Palestines garnish with olive oil and 'nana'mint leaves, (must trace those!), paprika, parsley or cumin.'
A related popular dish in Jordan is laban ma"hummus (yogurt and chickpeas) which uses yogurt in the place of tahini and butter in the place of olive oil.
There are hummus-only shops in Israel called humusiot.
During the intifada, the Palestinian uprising against Israeli rule in the late 1980's, Jews would sneak in to risk their lives, sneak into the Muslim quarter just to have a vital, really genuine good humous.
That must say something about the appeal of this gorgeous dish.
Which one am I going to try? Firstly, the walnuts one, simply because we bought some today and then the laban one as Stephen loves this milky yogurt.
Anyone else dig this dish?!
Peace out peeps. xxx
I couldn't find any ready made stuff nor cans of chickpeas so came away with a packet of chickpea seeds, a couple of lemons, a bulb of garlic and some tahini, in liquid form! We shopped early, nine-ish. The majority of Arabs at this time of the year shop later in the day, to avoid the heat.
I began the hummus as soon as we got home; soaking, simmering, a little more simmering and yet more simmering. The darn things just wouldn't soften up! About six hours later . . . . . after a wrastle with the Moulinex food processor, (why can't they leave the information booklets with the machines?!) I eventually produced a bowl of hummus. Not my lovely red pepper version but hummus all the same.
Well, I wasn't feeling very well today and the rather bland bowl of paste was the straw that broke the poor old camel's back!
Then as I was about to go to bed I noticed Stephen, (poor lad said it was lovely), had looked hummus up on the internet. Beside all the history to it, I spotted a variation that I think I might try adding tomorrow.
Just in case you're interested:
Hummus Kasa, from a 13th century Arab cookbook called, 'Kitab Wasf al-Atima al-Mutada', substitutes vinegar for lemon juice, throws in extra herbs, not specified, and adds walnuts, almond and pistachios.
The famous Roman orator, Cicero, was named after an ancestor who had a wart on his nose, resembling a chickpea!
Hummus is high in iron and vitamin C and when eaten with bread it serves as a complete protein.
Syrians in Canada's Arab diaspora prepare and consume hummus along with other dishes like falafel, kibbe and tabouleh, even among third and fourth-generation offspring of the original immigrants.
Palestines garnish with olive oil and 'nana'mint leaves, (must trace those!), paprika, parsley or cumin.'
A related popular dish in Jordan is laban ma"hummus (yogurt and chickpeas) which uses yogurt in the place of tahini and butter in the place of olive oil.
There are hummus-only shops in Israel called humusiot.
During the intifada, the Palestinian uprising against Israeli rule in the late 1980's, Jews would sneak in to risk their lives, sneak into the Muslim quarter just to have a vital, really genuine good humous.
That must say something about the appeal of this gorgeous dish.
Which one am I going to try? Firstly, the walnuts one, simply because we bought some today and then the laban one as Stephen loves this milky yogurt.
Anyone else dig this dish?!
Peace out peeps. xxx
Tesekkür ederim Gül'gün !
Selam !
I'm just showing off now the bits of Turkish Gülgün taught me.
This is the delightful little coffee set that Gülgün actually gave me after our coffee time! It is from Istanbul and is absolutely gorgeous!
With the coffee we had fresh dates and chocolate. Gülgün dries her own dates and then freezes them. She was taking a bag back home with her as they are an absolute delicacey! We exchanged email addresses so now I have a friend in Istanbul!
My other photo is of a little cracker I'm calling Gheckl the gecko. Not to be confused with Gordon (Matthew's Echo car!)
As I water one of the tall bushes in the front garden in the evenings this little fellow scuttles out and up the front wall. He hangs around a little bit longer each evening, I think deciding that maybe I'm not so much of a danger after all.
Apparently these beautiful little creatures have the amazing ability to hold to any surface you can think of, except . . . . .
Should he try to hang on to a Teflon coated fry pan (!) then he'll slide right off! Gecko's are unique among lizards in their vocalizations, making chirping sounds in social interactions with other geckos. So should you want to hear one, then just try enticing one into your fry pan!
Van der Waals interactions are the attractive forces that hold geckos to surfaces. Teflon has very low van der Waals forces so the gecko cannot stick to it.
Some species are parthenogenic, meaning the female can reproduce without copulating with a male . However, where a single female gecko populates an entire island, said island will suffer from a lack of genetic variation within the geckos that inhabit it. In other words, the toilet seat will remain down !
Geckos climb
Pasted on the walls
Silent witness to the day's progress
Weed Wackers and Cloud/ cat and sun/ aquarium waterfall and creeks edge
Silent fisherman/ wooden catch/
A day passes in silence
The days are slower as a child
And quiet as the world labors
The sun is gentler and the birds are friendlier
And the old come out to play
Guillermo Veloso
Sa`g olun !
Be healthy be strong !
I'm just showing off now the bits of Turkish Gülgün taught me.
This is the delightful little coffee set that Gülgün actually gave me after our coffee time! It is from Istanbul and is absolutely gorgeous!
With the coffee we had fresh dates and chocolate. Gülgün dries her own dates and then freezes them. She was taking a bag back home with her as they are an absolute delicacey! We exchanged email addresses so now I have a friend in Istanbul!
My other photo is of a little cracker I'm calling Gheckl the gecko. Not to be confused with Gordon (Matthew's Echo car!)
As I water one of the tall bushes in the front garden in the evenings this little fellow scuttles out and up the front wall. He hangs around a little bit longer each evening, I think deciding that maybe I'm not so much of a danger after all.
Apparently these beautiful little creatures have the amazing ability to hold to any surface you can think of, except . . . . .
Should he try to hang on to a Teflon coated fry pan (!) then he'll slide right off! Gecko's are unique among lizards in their vocalizations, making chirping sounds in social interactions with other geckos. So should you want to hear one, then just try enticing one into your fry pan!
Van der Waals interactions are the attractive forces that hold geckos to surfaces. Teflon has very low van der Waals forces so the gecko cannot stick to it.
Some species are parthenogenic, meaning the female can reproduce without copulating with a male . However, where a single female gecko populates an entire island, said island will suffer from a lack of genetic variation within the geckos that inhabit it. In other words, the toilet seat will remain down !
Geckos climb
Pasted on the walls
Silent witness to the day's progress
Weed Wackers and Cloud/ cat and sun/ aquarium waterfall and creeks edge
Silent fisherman/ wooden catch/
A day passes in silence
The days are slower as a child
And quiet as the world labors
The sun is gentler and the birds are friendlier
And the old come out to play
Guillermo Veloso
Sa`g olun !Be healthy be strong !
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Yeh for friends ! !
I've just hosted my first visitor. Gülgün, who hails from Turkey, dropped by for a coffee. Unfortunately she and her husband Selim leave here for home in Istanbul, next Thursday.
We had a good old natter about family, friends, values and generally putting the world to rights. As you do. I'm looking forward to learning as much as I can about Turkey before Gülgün leaves. She is Muslim but that is a very different matter from being a Muslim woman here.
Now that I think about this I wonder that I am meeting people from different religions at the moment. I joined a Gospel choir, really just to sing but have found people from other religions there. I am a Catholic and my faith is very important to me. Meeting people who have strong beliefs in other faiths seems to be happening to me just now. I may not have noticed it before but I don't think I have met many people believing in something before. Is it just me, now, or is the world turning to having faith in something, anything?
Anyhoos or bees, as Pol says, tomorrow I have a date for Turkish coffee after gym! I can't wait!
You never know what's around the corner.
We had a good old natter about family, friends, values and generally putting the world to rights. As you do. I'm looking forward to learning as much as I can about Turkey before Gülgün leaves. She is Muslim but that is a very different matter from being a Muslim woman here.
Now that I think about this I wonder that I am meeting people from different religions at the moment. I joined a Gospel choir, really just to sing but have found people from other religions there. I am a Catholic and my faith is very important to me. Meeting people who have strong beliefs in other faiths seems to be happening to me just now. I may not have noticed it before but I don't think I have met many people believing in something before. Is it just me, now, or is the world turning to having faith in something, anything?
Anyhoos or bees, as Pol says, tomorrow I have a date for Turkish coffee after gym! I can't wait!
You never know what's around the corner.
Friday, August 14, 2009
What I'm at.
So here's some photos of the afghan I'm busy with.
It's from Debbie Abrahams' Blankets and throws to knit'.
The blocks are a melange of cables, bobbles and other textured stitches like moss stitch.
I began this throw back in February 2006, just in time for Lucy's birthday! Well, a few birthdays later, hopefully it'll be going home from here in one piece. Lucy has recently moved into her own flat. I just hope she likes the colour! I have a thing for green.
We buried the chap who wrote the Hokey Kokey, the other day. We got the left leg in . . . then it all started to go wrong.
Peace out people!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Hilary is a little busy today working on Lucy's knitted quilt which has become her cause celeb. So I, number one husband, am writing today's eulogy. It is my day off from the grind of churning out my three months notice. It is 9:30 and the temperature is already in the mid 30's. Things are very quite here in The Garden Of Eden, Site 3, Buraidah, there are only eight westerners left so the residence camp seems even more deserted than ever.
A sub contractor from Ireland is visiting the site for a week, his name is Eoin, he's been here several times before so I know him quite well. Last night three of us, Eoin, Hilary and myself played pool in the makeshift clubhouse that has been unoccupied since Jimmy Smalley left, and of course there was some ambre nectar to be consumed.
As you can see from the pictures Hilary has taken on the task of watering the garden, just a little water and everything seems to grow like buggery.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Happy birthday Aidan !
Today is a red letter day !
Today our grandson Aidan will be six years old !
Because he is camping in Plymouth with his Mum, Caroline and brother Nathan and we are here, we've made a special surprise for him to enjoy ! He's just the right age.
lots of love little man, from Nan and Big Granddad
X X X X X X
Today our grandson Aidan will be six years old !
Because he is camping in Plymouth with his Mum, Caroline and brother Nathan and we are here, we've made a special surprise for him to enjoy ! He's just the right age.
lots of love little man, from Nan and Big Granddad
X X X X X X
Saturday, August 8, 2009
The road trip.
The lonely driver chases the ribbon of tarmac - never ending - like a treadmill in a barren desert,
The air conditioned hamster wheel treadmill,
for what?
Where's the family?
the son you are so proud of graduating in Manilla?
"Good morning, sir"
"No problem, sir"
Your view is grey and brown, the road in and out of Riyadh
but when do you go home?
You wait patiently in the heat of the mall car park,
papers ready for the checkpoint; eyes front!
You left the beautiful Philipinnes for the far side of the moon,
Qassim 300m.
The red sand dunes, the tyres discarded; the fallout from the train of wagons,
no living soul,
the relentless pursuit of the end of the road;
the detritus of a moments lack of concentration,
your passengers snoring gently or tapping to the beat in their ears.
Twenty years you proudly say you've been driving in Saudi!
You've seen new builds come and go,
the flat desert, like a huge landing strip for some Mothership from another place.
"We called, but they weren't home!"
And yet who would come if you failed?!
They would surely come out of rocks and the gulleys; ready to give you aid.
I search for the silence in the sands.
The air conditioned hamster wheel treadmill,
for what?
Where's the family?
the son you are so proud of graduating in Manilla?
"Good morning, sir"
"No problem, sir"
Your view is grey and brown, the road in and out of Riyadh
but when do you go home?
You wait patiently in the heat of the mall car park,
papers ready for the checkpoint; eyes front!
You left the beautiful Philipinnes for the far side of the moon,
Qassim 300m.
The red sand dunes, the tyres discarded; the fallout from the train of wagons,
no living soul,
the relentless pursuit of the end of the road;
the detritus of a moments lack of concentration,
your passengers snoring gently or tapping to the beat in their ears.
Twenty years you proudly say you've been driving in Saudi!
You've seen new builds come and go,
the flat desert, like a huge landing strip for some Mothership from another place.
"We called, but they weren't home!"
And yet who would come if you failed?!
They would surely come out of rocks and the gulleys; ready to give you aid.
I search for the silence in the sands.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Miss Construe
Re-reading my blog last night I had a jolly good laugh! I think I've managed to make this sound like Brideshead By Camel Train. 'One hump or two vicar?
White Rock City, the name of this camp, (more on this later) is within a wire fenced perimeter. The dusty dirt road in here is about ten minutes drive from the main tarmaced road. That main road is about a thirty minute drive to the nearest supermarket, in a one camel town called Oyoon Al Jawa; an hour's drive from here is the city of Buraidah, where I could have the choice of two supermarkets; three and half hours driving at one hundred miles an hour is the capital city of Riyadh and it's even larger selection of supermarkets, malls and sprawling markets.
There are no buses connecting us with anywhere, nor any taxis to be rung for at a moment's notice. The company therefore have drivers to service the works and the accomodation camps. In Saudi Arabia it is illegal for a woman to drive. So we have the choice of either being driven by our husbands to collect the groceries or arrange for a driver to take us.
Jun is a part of the maintenance team here on the camp. They maintain the villas, school, pools, gym, sports courts and clubhouse. All the gardens, hedges and trees are looked after by them also.
Stephen, living as a bachelor here is given the option of having someone come clean his house once a week. He can have his garden watered daily and send his clothes to be cleaned and pressed. As this is an extra income for the maintenance men we are continuing with it until we leave.
The camp restaurant is open daily for breakfast, lunch and evening meal. This is a valuable service here for the men as it not only provides them with three square meals a day but gives them the chance to socialise over a meal. A nod at normality. The meals are of a high quality and inexpensive so we visit the restaurant daily, usually at lunch-time and catch a moment or two away from work.
As the job is winding down, the numbers here at the camp are dwindling and the properties are being renovated. The restaurant has been moved to a villa two doors down from us in English Gardens. There are just the four tables set out in what was the through lounge/dining room. The staff numbers four or five and provide delicious meals and impeccable table service. It is an absolute treat I look forward to!
The bedrooms have become a comfortable tv lounge and a dvd/book library with a computer. So, on Tuesdays I will enjoy a coffee with the restaurant staff and let Jun get on with his job here.
White Rock City, the name of this camp, (more on this later) is within a wire fenced perimeter. The dusty dirt road in here is about ten minutes drive from the main tarmaced road. That main road is about a thirty minute drive to the nearest supermarket, in a one camel town called Oyoon Al Jawa; an hour's drive from here is the city of Buraidah, where I could have the choice of two supermarkets; three and half hours driving at one hundred miles an hour is the capital city of Riyadh and it's even larger selection of supermarkets, malls and sprawling markets.
There are no buses connecting us with anywhere, nor any taxis to be rung for at a moment's notice. The company therefore have drivers to service the works and the accomodation camps. In Saudi Arabia it is illegal for a woman to drive. So we have the choice of either being driven by our husbands to collect the groceries or arrange for a driver to take us.
Jun is a part of the maintenance team here on the camp. They maintain the villas, school, pools, gym, sports courts and clubhouse. All the gardens, hedges and trees are looked after by them also.
Stephen, living as a bachelor here is given the option of having someone come clean his house once a week. He can have his garden watered daily and send his clothes to be cleaned and pressed. As this is an extra income for the maintenance men we are continuing with it until we leave.
The camp restaurant is open daily for breakfast, lunch and evening meal. This is a valuable service here for the men as it not only provides them with three square meals a day but gives them the chance to socialise over a meal. A nod at normality. The meals are of a high quality and inexpensive so we visit the restaurant daily, usually at lunch-time and catch a moment or two away from work.
As the job is winding down, the numbers here at the camp are dwindling and the properties are being renovated. The restaurant has been moved to a villa two doors down from us in English Gardens. There are just the four tables set out in what was the through lounge/dining room. The staff numbers four or five and provide delicious meals and impeccable table service. It is an absolute treat I look forward to!
The bedrooms have become a comfortable tv lounge and a dvd/book library with a computer. So, on Tuesdays I will enjoy a coffee with the restaurant staff and let Jun get on with his job here.
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