Friday, 14 October 2005
Watching me, watching you......
Ditto, it appears, has a passion for Magz rearing horse avatar, it is far more attractive than any mere cursor to a blogging cat..... and one stage on it seems that Magz' blogging cat has a fancy for watching my blogging cat watching Magz......
Thursday, 13 October 2005
Flies!
I have to admit, my intention wasn't to photograph the flies we are so infamous for here, but it seems flies is what I got somehow....how undelightful.
Click for flies!
Sponsor me?
This coming Sunday the 16th of October is the day I have to muster my little legs into some semblence of activity and with two friends, one a blogger and the other a colleague and join many others to take part in an 8km sponsored walk to raise money for Cancer research UK's breast cancer appeal.
Details of where and when we will be making this small trek can be found here,
if you happen to be local feel free to join us if you wish and if you can't or are just feeling generous, on my sidebar is a paypal donation button, all you need to do is click it to sponsor me.For ease there will be no fiddling about with sponsorship per kilometer, it's all or nothing, if you wish to sponsor me and I make the whole walk you pay up, if I don't you don't.
Every penny/cent counts, we all know someone who has suffered this illness so please, if you have anything to spare hit the button!
It will remain there until a few days after the event and accepts all major credit cards etc. etc. Any charges incurred at this end for receipt of payment by credit card I will cover personally.
THANK YOU.
Wednesday, 12 October 2005
I can't help but laugh
Well, my day is done, all tasks complete but not without the usual hairdresser mishap. Why can I never go to that place without there being some minor 'carry on'. As it is I avoid all and any attempts to persuade me there until it really has to be done and still something, albeit minor, always happens.
In the past it has been arguing staff allowing their personal affairs to spill over into the public domain, on another occasion a young female stylist received a text message from her boyfriend 'ditching' her rather unkindly that resulted in tears and tantrums in the salon, I have had a cup of coffee poured over my foot when it's server tripped and I have had my hair emit smoke. You might wonder why I still patronize this establishment, well aside from these few minor mishaps it is the best in town at what it is supposed to do, the business of haircutting, and I'm kinda getting to be amused by the minutiae of life that I see there for the half an hour I visit now and again.
Today's mishap? Nothing catastrophic, just amusing. I was taken to the dreaded backwash by a new and very young apprentice, desperate to do everything right, as ever I asked her to only wash once and no conditioner for fear of acquiring a permanent neck injury and off she set. All was well, she was a little light of touch but hey, she was new and nervous and then it all went horribly wrong. Rinse time....she dropped the shower head, on my head, in her panic at retrieving it she dropped it again and this time it did that thing showers 'do' of twisting itself around and sending a shower of water over my face. By now I was laughing out loud, she tried again in panic to rescue the offending implement but in her efforts managed to shower me from chest to knees! The poor girl could easily have died, I tried my best, I honestly did, to assure her no harm was done but I just couldn't help laughing almost hysterically at the look on her managers face and the whole awful-ness of it all to her, new in a business where customer service is considered all. My heart bled for her really..... but still I laughed!
So having completed the hairdressing task I set off on foot newly washed cut and straightened for the police station....in the pouring rain, with no umbrella. By the time I arrived I was favouring a drowned rat but in I went and was immediately ushered away. Apparently in this 'we have to prove guilt' environment it has to be assured that I could not have spoken to anyone else whilst I waited and therefore perverted the course of justice or some such. So I waited, with my minder, a P.C. who seemed thoroughly bored by the proceedings and sat in this little room with me without uttering a sound.
Luckily I had only to wait a few minutes before I was collected. Identity parades are certainly not what they used to be. To cut a long and video taped story short I was required to watch a video of nine images, twice, and when asked offer my identification if I could.
Any worry that I had quietly harboured about letting the whole system down by not being able to identify the suspect very rapidly disappeared, the moment I saw his unpleasant face I knew beyond any doubt.
And that was it, job done, a few signatures and warnings about not discussing it with a colleague who is also to go through this process and I was out on the street again, in the rain, with my already catastrophically wet new hair 'do' only slipping further into the abyss of bad hair days!
I can't help but laugh.....£30 to look like a drowned rat, tsk! :o)
In the past it has been arguing staff allowing their personal affairs to spill over into the public domain, on another occasion a young female stylist received a text message from her boyfriend 'ditching' her rather unkindly that resulted in tears and tantrums in the salon, I have had a cup of coffee poured over my foot when it's server tripped and I have had my hair emit smoke. You might wonder why I still patronize this establishment, well aside from these few minor mishaps it is the best in town at what it is supposed to do, the business of haircutting, and I'm kinda getting to be amused by the minutiae of life that I see there for the half an hour I visit now and again.
Today's mishap? Nothing catastrophic, just amusing. I was taken to the dreaded backwash by a new and very young apprentice, desperate to do everything right, as ever I asked her to only wash once and no conditioner for fear of acquiring a permanent neck injury and off she set. All was well, she was a little light of touch but hey, she was new and nervous and then it all went horribly wrong. Rinse time....she dropped the shower head, on my head, in her panic at retrieving it she dropped it again and this time it did that thing showers 'do' of twisting itself around and sending a shower of water over my face. By now I was laughing out loud, she tried again in panic to rescue the offending implement but in her efforts managed to shower me from chest to knees! The poor girl could easily have died, I tried my best, I honestly did, to assure her no harm was done but I just couldn't help laughing almost hysterically at the look on her managers face and the whole awful-ness of it all to her, new in a business where customer service is considered all. My heart bled for her really..... but still I laughed!
So having completed the hairdressing task I set off on foot newly washed cut and straightened for the police station....in the pouring rain, with no umbrella. By the time I arrived I was favouring a drowned rat but in I went and was immediately ushered away. Apparently in this 'we have to prove guilt' environment it has to be assured that I could not have spoken to anyone else whilst I waited and therefore perverted the course of justice or some such. So I waited, with my minder, a P.C. who seemed thoroughly bored by the proceedings and sat in this little room with me without uttering a sound.
Luckily I had only to wait a few minutes before I was collected. Identity parades are certainly not what they used to be. To cut a long and video taped story short I was required to watch a video of nine images, twice, and when asked offer my identification if I could.
Any worry that I had quietly harboured about letting the whole system down by not being able to identify the suspect very rapidly disappeared, the moment I saw his unpleasant face I knew beyond any doubt.
And that was it, job done, a few signatures and warnings about not discussing it with a colleague who is also to go through this process and I was out on the street again, in the rain, with my already catastrophically wet new hair 'do' only slipping further into the abyss of bad hair days!
I can't help but laugh.....£30 to look like a drowned rat, tsk! :o)
Here's lookin' at you
Much of this area has woken this morning to severe flooding, the local television news is carrying images of towns within 30 miles of here under many feet of water but thankfully for us, whilst we had torrential rain for most of yesterday it has been nothing like as bed as areas further west. There is a small stream to the rear of this property which over night has turned into a raging torrent, broken it's banks quite spectacularly and flooded the fields through which it runs but that aside we seem to have escaped lightly.....though it is still raining.
This afternoon I am forced to vacate this seat and make my way into town which has the potential to be quite and 'interesting' journey, the road I am bound to take floods relatively easily let alone after the level of rainfall we have experienced in the last twenty four hours.
I have to say I would prefer not to be going out at all, the purpose of my journey is to attend the identity parade I was summoned to last week so I can't avoid it or make my excuses, it has to be done so whilst I am having to make the trip I will kill two birds with one stone and pay a visit to my less than favourite place....the hairdressers! Ugh....any one of you familiar with my witterings here will know just how much I don't enjoy the hairdresser hoo ha and of course there is the decision to be made.....just a trim and keep growing or hack the whole lot off and be done with it. We'll see, I'll decide when I get there.
On the subject of the identity parade It strikes me that the process should be re-named for it appears that no-one actually 'parades' any longer, nope, technology has made it's way even to the identifying of a suspect and I am given to understand that it is all on video....somehow it just doesn't seem the same does it and I would imagine it makes it more difficult in some respects but hey ho time will tell, I just hope that I can I.D. the guy unquestionably, I know he did it and he knows he did it...... despite what he might want the legal system to believe!
It's no wonder the police get frustrated, all this performance over a crime I know with absolute certainty he committed but as ever it seems is the way it is down to the innocent to prove the guilt. Believe me when I say I have sat in court and listened to many a toe-rag spout absolutely unbelievably stupid tales in their defence and the magistrate takes it all in, behaves like cops and security staff lie for a living and return a 'not guilty'.....ok, ok, I know it's not quite as simple as that, there is the 'reasonable doubt' issue and no one would advocate any miscarriage of justice but hells bells, it just seems to have swung so far in the opposite direction that any one who feels like defending themselves with a heap of BS can have a magistrate eating out of their hand and escape punishment with any old tale of ridiculous claptrap.
Arghhh......don't get me started on that one! I'll stop now I think before my soap box disintegrates in the rain!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And completely off topic for those who kindly asked, 'small cat' is as happy as a pig in muck again, chattering away and rolling around on her back relaxed and happy, she was even heard to emit a purr last night, something that until recently we thought she just couldn't do and have rarely heard from her even in her happiest moments. She spent a couple of hours scouring the place yesterday afternoon for any sign of the kitten, backed off from a few places where she could obviously still smell her and then eventually satisfied she was gone, returned to her normal happy self.
This afternoon I am forced to vacate this seat and make my way into town which has the potential to be quite and 'interesting' journey, the road I am bound to take floods relatively easily let alone after the level of rainfall we have experienced in the last twenty four hours.
I have to say I would prefer not to be going out at all, the purpose of my journey is to attend the identity parade I was summoned to last week so I can't avoid it or make my excuses, it has to be done so whilst I am having to make the trip I will kill two birds with one stone and pay a visit to my less than favourite place....the hairdressers! Ugh....any one of you familiar with my witterings here will know just how much I don't enjoy the hairdresser hoo ha and of course there is the decision to be made.....just a trim and keep growing or hack the whole lot off and be done with it. We'll see, I'll decide when I get there.
On the subject of the identity parade It strikes me that the process should be re-named for it appears that no-one actually 'parades' any longer, nope, technology has made it's way even to the identifying of a suspect and I am given to understand that it is all on video....somehow it just doesn't seem the same does it and I would imagine it makes it more difficult in some respects but hey ho time will tell, I just hope that I can I.D. the guy unquestionably, I know he did it and he knows he did it...... despite what he might want the legal system to believe!
It's no wonder the police get frustrated, all this performance over a crime I know with absolute certainty he committed but as ever it seems is the way it is down to the innocent to prove the guilt. Believe me when I say I have sat in court and listened to many a toe-rag spout absolutely unbelievably stupid tales in their defence and the magistrate takes it all in, behaves like cops and security staff lie for a living and return a 'not guilty'.....ok, ok, I know it's not quite as simple as that, there is the 'reasonable doubt' issue and no one would advocate any miscarriage of justice but hells bells, it just seems to have swung so far in the opposite direction that any one who feels like defending themselves with a heap of BS can have a magistrate eating out of their hand and escape punishment with any old tale of ridiculous claptrap.
Arghhh......don't get me started on that one! I'll stop now I think before my soap box disintegrates in the rain!
And completely off topic for those who kindly asked, 'small cat' is as happy as a pig in muck again, chattering away and rolling around on her back relaxed and happy, she was even heard to emit a purr last night, something that until recently we thought she just couldn't do and have rarely heard from her even in her happiest moments. She spent a couple of hours scouring the place yesterday afternoon for any sign of the kitten, backed off from a few places where she could obviously still smell her and then eventually satisfied she was gone, returned to her normal happy self.
Tuesday, 11 October 2005
Why is life never simple ~ part 2
This morning when it all happened I really didn't feel like blogging the situation with 'baby cat' and I can't say I relish the idea now but a few hours have passed and having blogged the whole of the rest of the kitten hunting antics it seems only right that I make the effort with this part. I have gotten over the 'why does nothing seem to be going right lately' phase and pulled myself together a bit so here goes.
Firstly thank you all for your kind words, I seem again to have had a less than fabulous day and yet again you lot have been a great help.
The sad end to the baby cat story was not anything awful in so much as she was lovely, a happy, purring little soul and as fit as a fiddle, the problem was in the interaction between her and Ditto.
Introducing any two cats is not easy, there is always spitting, hissing and grumbling and a careful eye has to be kept on the combatants but in this case poor Ditto seemed not to cope at all, she suffered much more than any cat I have ever dealt with in this situation and neither she nor I could 'hack it' She wouldn't eat, use her litter box and finally went outside and sat miserably in the torrential rain until she was soaked through. No amount of persuasion would tempt her in and when we attempted her physical removal back into the house she turned into a wild thing, biting and scratching. Not the usual 'I am slightly miffed' kind of biting, this was the real deal.
We could have persevered a little longer, it had been a very short period of time but we felt after much snivelling and discussion that if she was that unhappy it would be more unfair for all concerned if ultimately we still had to take the baby back to her breeder. She would be more unsettled, Ditto might be even more stressed and to be honest it was just too upsetting for me as well. So we called the lady we got her from and explained the situation and she very kindly agreed to take her back. Her kindness added to our upset in some ways, we had got on so well with her and she had been so nice we felt like we were letting her down too.
It is far from the first time I have dealt with introducing two cats and it has never been anywhere like as bad, even from the outset, why I'm not sure. I did overlook the fact that 'baby' was actually 20 weeks old and was hence considerably more like introducing an adult cat, something I wouldn't have considered. That was my fault and lack of thought, my head just said 'kitten' and I didn't think it through. Maybe it is just those two cats or maybe Ditto will only ever be a 'one cat' cat....we have no way of knowing but whatever, I feel guilty for The baby, Ditto and the breeder and I feel miserable about the whole issue. The only good part is that in making the decision fast the little soul barely knew she had been away from her brothers,sisters and mum and was immediately comfortable and happy 'back home' and snuggled in with them.
We may try again sometime with a tiny kitten and see if Ditto copes better, if not then she can remain a happy single cat, but for now the kitten hunt is severely curtailed, I can't go through it all again in too much of a hurry :o(
So, that's the story.....onward and upward as they say, we did what we hope was the best thing under bad circumstances and I'm attempting not to dwell on it. I seem to have felt sad about one cat or another for weeks and I need now to try not think about sad stuff for a time.
Perspective gemmak, perspective!
Firstly thank you all for your kind words, I seem again to have had a less than fabulous day and yet again you lot have been a great help.
The sad end to the baby cat story was not anything awful in so much as she was lovely, a happy, purring little soul and as fit as a fiddle, the problem was in the interaction between her and Ditto.
Introducing any two cats is not easy, there is always spitting, hissing and grumbling and a careful eye has to be kept on the combatants but in this case poor Ditto seemed not to cope at all, she suffered much more than any cat I have ever dealt with in this situation and neither she nor I could 'hack it' She wouldn't eat, use her litter box and finally went outside and sat miserably in the torrential rain until she was soaked through. No amount of persuasion would tempt her in and when we attempted her physical removal back into the house she turned into a wild thing, biting and scratching. Not the usual 'I am slightly miffed' kind of biting, this was the real deal.
We could have persevered a little longer, it had been a very short period of time but we felt after much snivelling and discussion that if she was that unhappy it would be more unfair for all concerned if ultimately we still had to take the baby back to her breeder. She would be more unsettled, Ditto might be even more stressed and to be honest it was just too upsetting for me as well. So we called the lady we got her from and explained the situation and she very kindly agreed to take her back. Her kindness added to our upset in some ways, we had got on so well with her and she had been so nice we felt like we were letting her down too.
It is far from the first time I have dealt with introducing two cats and it has never been anywhere like as bad, even from the outset, why I'm not sure. I did overlook the fact that 'baby' was actually 20 weeks old and was hence considerably more like introducing an adult cat, something I wouldn't have considered. That was my fault and lack of thought, my head just said 'kitten' and I didn't think it through. Maybe it is just those two cats or maybe Ditto will only ever be a 'one cat' cat....we have no way of knowing but whatever, I feel guilty for The baby, Ditto and the breeder and I feel miserable about the whole issue. The only good part is that in making the decision fast the little soul barely knew she had been away from her brothers,sisters and mum and was immediately comfortable and happy 'back home' and snuggled in with them.
We may try again sometime with a tiny kitten and see if Ditto copes better, if not then she can remain a happy single cat, but for now the kitten hunt is severely curtailed, I can't go through it all again in too much of a hurry :o(
So, that's the story.....onward and upward as they say, we did what we hope was the best thing under bad circumstances and I'm attempting not to dwell on it. I seem to have felt sad about one cat or another for weeks and I need now to try not think about sad stuff for a time.
Perspective gemmak, perspective!
Why is life never simple??
It's a long story, that I don't feel like blogging right now but 'the kitten with no name' had to go back to her breeder this afternoon.
Maybe it was just not meant to be. I feel sad and awful....... I've had my fill of sad cat stuff these last few weeks, perhaps we'll just stick to Ditto for a while! :o(
Maybe it was just not meant to be. I feel sad and awful....... I've had my fill of sad cat stuff these last few weeks, perhaps we'll just stick to Ditto for a while! :o(
Monday, 10 October 2005
Meet........
....the kitten with no name!
Yes, you've seen her before a few days back, the Burmese we couldn't afford, only today, courtesy of someone's generosity and kindness we suddenly and out of the blue could!
The day we first met her we fell in love but having decided she was beyond our means we have spent the last few days trying to talk ourselves out of her, not very successfully I might add, most days I could be found looking at the photograph I had of her intermittently!
So, this morning, and it wasn't a very good one up until this point, things changed, the details I can't divulge, I have promised not to, but someone made it possible for her to be ours!! That person, knows who she is and again we would like to extend to her a big 'thank you' :o)
And that was it, no time was wasted, we collected her from her other 'mum' and bought her back to her new home.
Ditto is not a happy cat right now, as was to be expected poor soul but I'm sure with a little time and patience at least a truce will be called in a day or two, right now they are at opposite sides of the room playing 'who can stare the longest' and emitting the odd grumble here and there!
Finally we need a name, she 'kind of' has one, it's part of her registered pedigree name and it's kinda sticking right now but all suggestions are welcome :o)
So here she is....the kitten with no name:
And for anyone who really knows what their pedigrees she is not a straightforward Burmeses, she's an 'Asian Self', which as far as my understanding goes is basically Burmese but a bit different....I'm still confused, I just know she's a real sweetie and I love her already!!
Yes, you've seen her before a few days back, the Burmese we couldn't afford, only today, courtesy of someone's generosity and kindness we suddenly and out of the blue could!
The day we first met her we fell in love but having decided she was beyond our means we have spent the last few days trying to talk ourselves out of her, not very successfully I might add, most days I could be found looking at the photograph I had of her intermittently!
So, this morning, and it wasn't a very good one up until this point, things changed, the details I can't divulge, I have promised not to, but someone made it possible for her to be ours!! That person, knows who she is and again we would like to extend to her a big 'thank you' :o)
And that was it, no time was wasted, we collected her from her other 'mum' and bought her back to her new home.
Ditto is not a happy cat right now, as was to be expected poor soul but I'm sure with a little time and patience at least a truce will be called in a day or two, right now they are at opposite sides of the room playing 'who can stare the longest' and emitting the odd grumble here and there!
Finally we need a name, she 'kind of' has one, it's part of her registered pedigree name and it's kinda sticking right now but all suggestions are welcome :o)
So here she is....the kitten with no name:
And for anyone who really knows what their pedigrees she is not a straightforward Burmeses, she's an 'Asian Self', which as far as my understanding goes is basically Burmese but a bit different....I'm still confused, I just know she's a real sweetie and I love her already!!
Sunday, 9 October 2005
Not a day of note
Today was of no particular interest, it was spent at work, a very busy day but nothing more noteworthy to report than the fact that winter is most definitely on it's way, it has been particularly chilly and the autumn leaves are beginning to scatter themselves in the wind.
Ditto is miffed, wind is not her 'thing', she has started again her 'dancing on the doorstep' routine of previous winters, the constant process of howling pitifully to be let out and then dithering just over the threshold unendingly, deciding if the wind is just a little too scary....before turning tail and dashing back in, only to repeat the whole process a few minutes later. Like I have nothing else to do but keep getting up to open the door for her!
Aside from that zip, nothing, nada. PG has 'man flu', I am having to do my best impression of Florence Nightingale and we are still kitten-less........but on the upside I have the next three days off the day job, yayyy!
The best I can offer for your delectation today is this:
© No idea but not me.
Very poor show I know but hey.....give a girl a break when she's tired and dealing with man flu. ;o)
Ditto is miffed, wind is not her 'thing', she has started again her 'dancing on the doorstep' routine of previous winters, the constant process of howling pitifully to be let out and then dithering just over the threshold unendingly, deciding if the wind is just a little too scary....before turning tail and dashing back in, only to repeat the whole process a few minutes later. Like I have nothing else to do but keep getting up to open the door for her!
Aside from that zip, nothing, nada. PG has 'man flu', I am having to do my best impression of Florence Nightingale and we are still kitten-less........but on the upside I have the next three days off the day job, yayyy!
The best I can offer for your delectation today is this:
Very poor show I know but hey.....give a girl a break when she's tired and dealing with man flu. ;o)
Saturday, 8 October 2005
Cretins and cops ~ update
You might recall a few weeks back my post regarding the shoplifter incident, the one in which some half-wit cretin so blatantly stole a high value item from my place of work as to make it nigh on impossible to ignore and do nothing about.
What happened next got lost among my upset at Poppy's death just a few days later but a progression has bought the matter to the fore again.
What transpired immediately after the incident left me almost spitting with annoyance. Bear in mind here that I am familiar with this territory and whilst it is a fair number of years since I was involved in the pursuit of shoplifters on a reasonably regular basis it is not something one forgets.
So, having almost crippled my unfit self in my attempts at catching the aforementioned half-wit and having spent over an hour giving a statement, one might expect perhaps just a small thank you from one's boss. One would be very wrong!
What I actually got was told off, not a hint of gratitude in sight. A fanfare I didn't want nor expect but a 'cheers bud' would have been kind of appreciated.
Company policy it seems goes along the lines of 'don't give chase, we don't want your risking being injured'. That translates directly to 'we don't really give a damn about you the individual, we just don't want you injured and suing us'. Now I understand that and I would never advocate someone who knows nothing about that particular situation giving chase, or doing anything other than alerting a member of management, but I am familiar with the situation and ultimately, if we all sat by and just watched when things get a little 'iffy' instead of doing something about it, would that not result in anarchy?
For me it's simple, the cretin did wrong, I could do something about it, so I did and I have to say, I'm sorry but regardless of company policy, if I was presented with the same scenario tomorrow I would take the same action. Yes the company owns a part of me for the time I am there but they don't own all of me. Hell, I'm hardly likely to take unnecessary risk am I, strangely I kinda like my life!
Anyways, my annoyance at the lack of anything positive being said about the incident subsided until yesterday when the police asked me to attend an identity parade one day next week, that's fine said I, I'll be there....and on informing my employer there was still an apparent and decided lack of support.
There is a part of me that wonders why I bother, I know really why I bother, the same reasons as I took action in the first place. I'm happy to use my own time to attend the I.D. parade, and if it ends in court I'm happy to do that in my own time and at my own expense but still, a little tiny thank you wouldn't go amiss and the initial 'telling off' still rankles!!!
What happened next got lost among my upset at Poppy's death just a few days later but a progression has bought the matter to the fore again.
What transpired immediately after the incident left me almost spitting with annoyance. Bear in mind here that I am familiar with this territory and whilst it is a fair number of years since I was involved in the pursuit of shoplifters on a reasonably regular basis it is not something one forgets.
So, having almost crippled my unfit self in my attempts at catching the aforementioned half-wit and having spent over an hour giving a statement, one might expect perhaps just a small thank you from one's boss. One would be very wrong!
What I actually got was told off, not a hint of gratitude in sight. A fanfare I didn't want nor expect but a 'cheers bud' would have been kind of appreciated.
Company policy it seems goes along the lines of 'don't give chase, we don't want your risking being injured'. That translates directly to 'we don't really give a damn about you the individual, we just don't want you injured and suing us'. Now I understand that and I would never advocate someone who knows nothing about that particular situation giving chase, or doing anything other than alerting a member of management, but I am familiar with the situation and ultimately, if we all sat by and just watched when things get a little 'iffy' instead of doing something about it, would that not result in anarchy?
For me it's simple, the cretin did wrong, I could do something about it, so I did and I have to say, I'm sorry but regardless of company policy, if I was presented with the same scenario tomorrow I would take the same action. Yes the company owns a part of me for the time I am there but they don't own all of me. Hell, I'm hardly likely to take unnecessary risk am I, strangely I kinda like my life!
Anyways, my annoyance at the lack of anything positive being said about the incident subsided until yesterday when the police asked me to attend an identity parade one day next week, that's fine said I, I'll be there....and on informing my employer there was still an apparent and decided lack of support.
There is a part of me that wonders why I bother, I know really why I bother, the same reasons as I took action in the first place. I'm happy to use my own time to attend the I.D. parade, and if it ends in court I'm happy to do that in my own time and at my own expense but still, a little tiny thank you wouldn't go amiss and the initial 'telling off' still rankles!!!
Friday, 7 October 2005
Vanity, vanity all is vanity
For years, nay decades I resisted the temptation, when all around me fell into the trap, when fashion dictated it and then when time suggested it, still I resisted. Gradually necessity began to shout loudly and insistently at me, the idea became less and less resisted and more and more attractive, until finally not two years ago I capitulated, all previous arguments and reasoning abandoned for vanity. My resolve weakened, time having marched suitably on I could deny it no longer and finding to my horror not one but perhaps five grey hairs I too fell into the dying trap.
I told myself this was merely a 'touch up', that after all it was only my natural colour, I wasn't actually changing anything, I was merely assisting nature.
Assisting nature my foot! If you have ever dealt with one of the heinous chemical concoctions you will know just how far from anything remotely natural the whole nasty business is.
My last day at work, when I politely enquired of a friend what he was going to do with his day off the following day, he looked down upon my seated self, over this spectacles and said in his best thespian tones, "I don't know, why, what are you doing? Your roots?"!!
Ok, point taken, my reluctance to go through the whole dying performance yet again had persisted since last time way too long and so today I set about making good the situation.
In television ads this process is carried out in a mere second or two by some stunning thirty something who swans elegantly around a delightfully chic apartment, a velvety towel wrapped around her head, as the magic is performed beneath. It sure ain't like it is in the movies as they say.
Our attractive 'thirty something' it seems, doesn't have to deal with quite the same myriad of problems the rest of us do. As we upend the box containing 'all you will need for a truly beautiful result' (who are they kidding, is there a plastic surgeon going to spring from this box like a genie from a lamp??) Firstly there is the 'protective gloves' to contend with, in an effort presumably to save costs these are never the surgical kind that might actually fit, no, they are something less well fitting than a common or garden plastic bag might be and made with the hand size of Goliath in mind. Next having got loosely fitting gloves dangling off the ends of one's arms there is the instructions to check. For me it is always so long since the last time I read these it is necessary that I do it again but always I remember to do so after I have deposited my glasses 'somewhere'!
Reminded of the procedure next comes the application, this is the really tricky bit, for one false move and disaster strikes. In my case I am already elegantly attired in old decorating clothes, I know just how easy it is to ruin almost a whole wardrobe in one fell swoop with this carry on, but still there remains the problem of ones surroundings. The minutest splash or drip of this noxious substance will render the flooring with a not so beautiful 'marbled effect' as it strips the colour out in an instant! Strange that, it puts colour into one's hair but takes it out of just about every other surface known to man or in this case woman!
Product applied and the next stage requires that one, rather than swanning around elegantly wrapped in a velvety towel, hovers around for something approaching thirty minutes, whilst doing a fair impression of wearing a surgical neck brace for fear of a stray strand of hair springing loose and applying the marbled affect to yet another room's flooring, wall, soft furnishings, cat, etc. etc. Why is it that at this point someone always knocks on the bloody door??
Door answered and apologies for appearance duly made, one starts to notice about now that this stuff, so carefully applied to the head, really starts to sting and the ability to breath and to see from un-bespectacled, watering eyes is begining to suffer impairment from the cloud of engulfing fumes!
Finally the prescribed time is up and the washing out shenanigans can begin, more of the fumes, even more of the splashing risk and this time added to it, the frantic grappling for the towel left just out of reach, as chemical laden water runs into an eye, despite having it closed tight shut. Of course, as the towel grappling is in progress the shower head is forgotten and invariably twists itself around soaking the entire bathroom and sending an interested small cat running for cover.
Rinsing and washing complete there is the then the 'extra special' conditioner to contend with, this stuff seems to be barely more than gear grease in disguise, presumable heavy enough to attempt to make good some of the damage the earlier chemical assault has had. This concoction takes almost the remainder of the day to rinse out and by the time the job is done weariness takes over.
At last, not in the the advertised time of thirty minutes later but closer to three times that, the whole carry on is over....and what for, a cursory look in the mirror reveals nothing has changed, there is no transformation to the elegant thirty something in the ad, there is merely me, but sans roots!
There is perhaps something to be said for short, greying hair.....ok...perhaps not but chemicals that sting like hell, take the surface of just about everything and leave my scalp sore for the following twenty four hours or so cannot be good!
Vanity....tsk!
I told myself this was merely a 'touch up', that after all it was only my natural colour, I wasn't actually changing anything, I was merely assisting nature.
Assisting nature my foot! If you have ever dealt with one of the heinous chemical concoctions you will know just how far from anything remotely natural the whole nasty business is.
My last day at work, when I politely enquired of a friend what he was going to do with his day off the following day, he looked down upon my seated self, over this spectacles and said in his best thespian tones, "I don't know, why, what are you doing? Your roots?"!!
Ok, point taken, my reluctance to go through the whole dying performance yet again had persisted since last time way too long and so today I set about making good the situation.
In television ads this process is carried out in a mere second or two by some stunning thirty something who swans elegantly around a delightfully chic apartment, a velvety towel wrapped around her head, as the magic is performed beneath. It sure ain't like it is in the movies as they say.
Our attractive 'thirty something' it seems, doesn't have to deal with quite the same myriad of problems the rest of us do. As we upend the box containing 'all you will need for a truly beautiful result' (who are they kidding, is there a plastic surgeon going to spring from this box like a genie from a lamp??) Firstly there is the 'protective gloves' to contend with, in an effort presumably to save costs these are never the surgical kind that might actually fit, no, they are something less well fitting than a common or garden plastic bag might be and made with the hand size of Goliath in mind. Next having got loosely fitting gloves dangling off the ends of one's arms there is the instructions to check. For me it is always so long since the last time I read these it is necessary that I do it again but always I remember to do so after I have deposited my glasses 'somewhere'!
Reminded of the procedure next comes the application, this is the really tricky bit, for one false move and disaster strikes. In my case I am already elegantly attired in old decorating clothes, I know just how easy it is to ruin almost a whole wardrobe in one fell swoop with this carry on, but still there remains the problem of ones surroundings. The minutest splash or drip of this noxious substance will render the flooring with a not so beautiful 'marbled effect' as it strips the colour out in an instant! Strange that, it puts colour into one's hair but takes it out of just about every other surface known to man or in this case woman!
Product applied and the next stage requires that one, rather than swanning around elegantly wrapped in a velvety towel, hovers around for something approaching thirty minutes, whilst doing a fair impression of wearing a surgical neck brace for fear of a stray strand of hair springing loose and applying the marbled affect to yet another room's flooring, wall, soft furnishings, cat, etc. etc. Why is it that at this point someone always knocks on the bloody door??
Door answered and apologies for appearance duly made, one starts to notice about now that this stuff, so carefully applied to the head, really starts to sting and the ability to breath and to see from un-bespectacled, watering eyes is begining to suffer impairment from the cloud of engulfing fumes!
Finally the prescribed time is up and the washing out shenanigans can begin, more of the fumes, even more of the splashing risk and this time added to it, the frantic grappling for the towel left just out of reach, as chemical laden water runs into an eye, despite having it closed tight shut. Of course, as the towel grappling is in progress the shower head is forgotten and invariably twists itself around soaking the entire bathroom and sending an interested small cat running for cover.
Rinsing and washing complete there is the then the 'extra special' conditioner to contend with, this stuff seems to be barely more than gear grease in disguise, presumable heavy enough to attempt to make good some of the damage the earlier chemical assault has had. This concoction takes almost the remainder of the day to rinse out and by the time the job is done weariness takes over.
At last, not in the the advertised time of thirty minutes later but closer to three times that, the whole carry on is over....and what for, a cursory look in the mirror reveals nothing has changed, there is no transformation to the elegant thirty something in the ad, there is merely me, but sans roots!
There is perhaps something to be said for short, greying hair.....ok...perhaps not but chemicals that sting like hell, take the surface of just about everything and leave my scalp sore for the following twenty four hours or so cannot be good!
Vanity....tsk!
The importance of underwear
From the Watford Observer comes this story of a Garston couple who
drove their car to the Harlequin Shopping Centre, only to have their car break
down in the car park. The man told his wife to carry on with the
shopping while he fixed the car. The wife returned later to see a small
group of people near the car. On closer inspection, she saw a pair of
male legs protruding from under the chassis. Although the man was in
shorts, his lack of underpants turned private parts into glaringly
public ones.
Unable to stand the embarrassment, she dutifully stepped forward,
quickly put her hand UP his shorts, and tucked everything back into
place. On regaining her feet, she looked across the bonnet and found
herself staring at her husband who was standing idly by.
The mechanic, however, had to have three stitches in his forehead!
True or not? Who knows but thanks to 'P' for landing this in my mailbox this morning and making me giggle. It has added interest, if you can call it that, for me, Watford is close to where I grew up and is still a very familiar place to me.
drove their car to the Harlequin Shopping Centre, only to have their car break
down in the car park. The man told his wife to carry on with the
shopping while he fixed the car. The wife returned later to see a small
group of people near the car. On closer inspection, she saw a pair of
male legs protruding from under the chassis. Although the man was in
shorts, his lack of underpants turned private parts into glaringly
public ones.
Unable to stand the embarrassment, she dutifully stepped forward,
quickly put her hand UP his shorts, and tucked everything back into
place. On regaining her feet, she looked across the bonnet and found
herself staring at her husband who was standing idly by.
The mechanic, however, had to have three stitches in his forehead!
True or not? Who knows but thanks to 'P' for landing this in my mailbox this morning and making me giggle. It has added interest, if you can call it that, for me, Watford is close to where I grew up and is still a very familiar place to me.
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