PG has an interview for a job today, his first, jobs here are about as rare as hen's teeth so this is quite a feat in itself.....though talking of hens, chickens are not being counted by any means.
The not working situation is really beginning to get him down now, a week or two off work was a novelty but now it's becoming significantly less than funny...along with the rather hefty financial implications which are beginning to bite.
As ever though nothing is simple, the position is fifty miles away and permanent night shifts, he doesn't mind the shifts but I'm not entirely sure I relish five nights a week stuck away here in my field on my jack....but hey, if he gets it a jobs a job! :o)
Thursday, 4 May 2006
Respect!
Yesterday afternoon meandering my way home from work in the sunshine on the first really warm day of the year my day was brightened further by a visit to a petrol station. This may sound an odd way to gain pleasure of any description and as the norm I would have to admit that filling up is not my favorite task, but fuel was becoming dangerously close to the desperate situation and tyres required checking so in I went.
Whilst stood there gazing at the pump dials endeavoring to hit a round figure (don't you just hate it when you go one penny over, you just have to go on to the next round ten pounds, if it fits!) I was jarred from my reverie by a thunderous sound, a sound I know well from my past, as onto the forecourt rolled with aplomb an Aprila RSV
Now for those of you uninspired by vehicles with only two wheels let me tell you this is a piece of engineering to die for,and probably on but I won't go there, there is little like it, it is an absolute shining star among many stars, perhaps the 'must have if can ever afford it' for many petrol heads.
So onto the forecourt rolled this stunning machine and from it dismounted it's rider and pillion. Well actually the rider didn't, in true 'man rider' style he stayed seated whilst poking nozzle into tank (yes there is good reason for this aside from laziness) and she trundled off in the heat and her leathers to pay.
Now as ever in these situations I felt obliged to strike up conversation with this couple (it's a biker thing) and revel for just a minute or two in their experiences with aforementioned beautiful machine....which unusually for a Mille was 'sporting' throw over panniers....a sight almost unbearable on such a piece of machinery but necessary on occasion.
What earned my utter respect was this. The couple in question were on a holiday touring Scotland, that in itself may seem like no big deal but believe me, having ridden pillion on one of this beauties I can promise you it is! This is most definitely not a thing of comfort, it is a thing of beauty, of outrageous speed, of cornering on rails, of scratching and racing, it is not a thing designed for comfort in any respect whatsoever. Riding pillion on this requires one to be almost acrobatic in the ability to curl ones body into odd shapes, it requires that not only the rider but the passenger deal with the full force of wind and high speed turbulence, it requires one's knees to be almost under one's chin and legs and back bent into uncanny positions for hours on end. Oh....and then there's the suspension to deal with! I promise you, as someone who has spent an enormous amount of time in such a position and who can on most pillion seats fall fast asleep, this is not one of those 'comfortable touring' experiences!
Add to that the lady in question was no spring chicken and was on the 'larger lady' side the fact that she could even consider touring for a week on this marvel earned my utter respect....and envy, an envy that was only heightened almost intolerably as they screamed past me at a break-neck rate of acceleration a few minutes later!
Whilst stood there gazing at the pump dials endeavoring to hit a round figure (don't you just hate it when you go one penny over, you just have to go on to the next round ten pounds, if it fits!) I was jarred from my reverie by a thunderous sound, a sound I know well from my past, as onto the forecourt rolled with aplomb an Aprila RSV
Now for those of you uninspired by vehicles with only two wheels let me tell you this is a piece of engineering to die for,
So onto the forecourt rolled this stunning machine and from it dismounted it's rider and pillion. Well actually the rider didn't, in true 'man rider' style he stayed seated whilst poking nozzle into tank (yes there is good reason for this aside from laziness) and she trundled off in the heat and her leathers to pay.
Now as ever in these situations I felt obliged to strike up conversation with this couple (it's a biker thing) and revel for just a minute or two in their experiences with aforementioned beautiful machine....which unusually for a Mille was 'sporting' throw over panniers....a sight almost unbearable on such a piece of machinery but necessary on occasion.
What earned my utter respect was this. The couple in question were on a holiday touring Scotland, that in itself may seem like no big deal but believe me, having ridden pillion on one of this beauties I can promise you it is! This is most definitely not a thing of comfort, it is a thing of beauty, of outrageous speed, of cornering on rails, of scratching and racing, it is not a thing designed for comfort in any respect whatsoever. Riding pillion on this requires one to be almost acrobatic in the ability to curl ones body into odd shapes, it requires that not only the rider but the passenger deal with the full force of wind and high speed turbulence, it requires one's knees to be almost under one's chin and legs and back bent into uncanny positions for hours on end. Oh....and then there's the suspension to deal with! I promise you, as someone who has spent an enormous amount of time in such a position and who can on most pillion seats fall fast asleep, this is not one of those 'comfortable touring' experiences!
Add to that the lady in question was no spring chicken and was on the 'larger lady' side the fact that she could even consider touring for a week on this marvel earned my utter respect....and envy, an envy that was only heightened almost intolerably as they screamed past me at a break-neck rate of acceleration a few minutes later!
Wednesday, 3 May 2006
Pretty in pink!
'Madam' showing off her new collar. Well actually she's had it for a while, both she and Ditto have one, gifts from over the pond (thank you Joanna) some time back but Tilly only just grew into hers!....and yes, it's PINK! :o)
Tuesday, 2 May 2006
Just for a day
I'm not usually a 'lying on the beach, running away kinda gal', I'd be way too bored within half an hour but just right here and right now I wanna be at this place!
Just for a day or two maybe, just to do nothing,think about nothing, just to listen to the water gently lapping at the shores edge, feel the sun on my face, feel it warm my soul, to take a deep breath and let all that is on my mind melt away. Just for a day a welcome distraction from the things that are my reality in gemmak's-ville right now.
Just for a day or two maybe, just to do nothing,think about nothing, just to listen to the water gently lapping at the shores edge, feel the sun on my face, feel it warm my soul, to take a deep breath and let all that is on my mind melt away. Just for a day a welcome distraction from the things that are my reality in gemmak's-ville right now.
Monday, 1 May 2006
Never believe all you read!
Life in gemmak's-ville has been a little disenchanting of late as you know and yesterday my colleagues and my own feelings of skepticism with life were given a rather sad and somewhat annoying helping hand!
The local rag last week reported on it's front page the terrible story of an elderly lady, and octogenarian of the locality who whilst browsing in a charity shop had her purse stolen. It contained just a few pounds but that small sum was all the money she had in the world to support herself and her beloved cat until she next collected her pension. It was not a great deal of money but when it's all you have it might as well be thousands.
Enraged and horrified by this story of some thugs heinous disregard for an elderly and harmless lady the situation became a much discussed point over the weekend and one of our number quickly decided to collect donations for this unfortunate woman and to make up for her a small hamper of food and to give her a little cash....and over the weekend that's exactly what we did. It was to be an anonymous gift that we hoped would at least help the victim of such a crime over the initial difficulties.
And so, collection raised and food hamper (including cat food I might add) made up the colleague who had made the arrangements went to the charity shop involved ( the lady concerned is involved in this charity and it was our only point of contact) to pass on our small offering....but what happened next came as a rather unpleasant surprise to all of us.
It would seem that whilst it doesn't detract for one moment from the hideousness of the initial crime or of those like it, our 'elderly and destitute' beneficiary is far from all it seems. Elderly she may be but destitute she most certainly isn't! The charity concerned were full of apology, they had no idea this lady would go to the press but know her well and know that not only did she lose much less money in the theft but also, rather than herself and her 'beloved cat' being likely to struggle over the next few days just for food to eat, she could in fact likely feed the whole town for she is and extremely wealthy (and I mean millionaire kind of wealthy) local eccentric who is well known to some!
Slightly floored by this information and not a little upset my colleague left the cash as a donation to the charity itself and returned to work with the food still in her possession. Ditto and Tilly have subsequently benefited there but the whole issue is kind of sad in so much as not only did we feel duped but more so because in future I think it has had the effect of making some of us more skeptical should we ever consider such a story again.
Realistically we know that such reports of crimes of this nature, are all too true and are devastating to the victim but it can't help but leave something of a lingering 'bad taste' and make us all just a little tiny bit less likely to consider such actions again....that in itself is the saddest aspect of the whole sorry tale.
And the moral of the story, never believe all you read in the press!!!
The local rag last week reported on it's front page the terrible story of an elderly lady, and octogenarian of the locality who whilst browsing in a charity shop had her purse stolen. It contained just a few pounds but that small sum was all the money she had in the world to support herself and her beloved cat until she next collected her pension. It was not a great deal of money but when it's all you have it might as well be thousands.
Enraged and horrified by this story of some thugs heinous disregard for an elderly and harmless lady the situation became a much discussed point over the weekend and one of our number quickly decided to collect donations for this unfortunate woman and to make up for her a small hamper of food and to give her a little cash....and over the weekend that's exactly what we did. It was to be an anonymous gift that we hoped would at least help the victim of such a crime over the initial difficulties.
And so, collection raised and food hamper (including cat food I might add) made up the colleague who had made the arrangements went to the charity shop involved ( the lady concerned is involved in this charity and it was our only point of contact) to pass on our small offering....but what happened next came as a rather unpleasant surprise to all of us.
It would seem that whilst it doesn't detract for one moment from the hideousness of the initial crime or of those like it, our 'elderly and destitute' beneficiary is far from all it seems. Elderly she may be but destitute she most certainly isn't! The charity concerned were full of apology, they had no idea this lady would go to the press but know her well and know that not only did she lose much less money in the theft but also, rather than herself and her 'beloved cat' being likely to struggle over the next few days just for food to eat, she could in fact likely feed the whole town for she is and extremely wealthy (and I mean millionaire kind of wealthy) local eccentric who is well known to some!
Slightly floored by this information and not a little upset my colleague left the cash as a donation to the charity itself and returned to work with the food still in her possession. Ditto and Tilly have subsequently benefited there but the whole issue is kind of sad in so much as not only did we feel duped but more so because in future I think it has had the effect of making some of us more skeptical should we ever consider such a story again.
Realistically we know that such reports of crimes of this nature, are all too true and are devastating to the victim but it can't help but leave something of a lingering 'bad taste' and make us all just a little tiny bit less likely to consider such actions again....that in itself is the saddest aspect of the whole sorry tale.
And the moral of the story, never believe all you read in the press!!!
Sunday, 30 April 2006
Red sky at night
Ok....can you tell it's another day of bank holiday retail hell heaven, more images, no words, no time!
This sky was my view yesterday evening driving home from a late shift after a particularly crap day......almost compensation. :o)
(Clickable)
This sky was my view yesterday evening driving home from a late shift after a particularly crap day......almost compensation. :o)
(Clickable)
Saturday, 29 April 2006
Friday, 28 April 2006
Friday's Feast (91)
Appetizer
On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being highest, how polite are you?
Ummm....6 or 7 maybe.
Soup
What was the last thing that made you laugh out loud?
Something someone said to me in an email.
Salad
Who is your favorite cartoon character?
Shrek...does he count, is he technically a cartoon??
Main Course
Tell about the funniest teacher you ever had.
I don't think I ever had a funny one....funny peculair maybe but not funny 'ha ha'.
Dessert
Complete this sentence: I strongly believe that ...... Life sucks sometimes!
On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being highest, how polite are you?
Ummm....6 or 7 maybe.
Soup
What was the last thing that made you laugh out loud?
Something someone said to me in an email.
Salad
Who is your favorite cartoon character?
Shrek...does he count, is he technically a cartoon??
Main Course
Tell about the funniest teacher you ever had.
I don't think I ever had a funny one....funny peculair maybe but not funny 'ha ha'.
Dessert
Complete this sentence: I strongly believe that ...... Life sucks sometimes!
Thursday, 27 April 2006
Wednesday, 26 April 2006
A camellia and a pick up truck!
Some years ago, maybe seven or eight, whilst I made my way across a Sainsbury's car park on my daily foray from work to find myself some lunch, I looked on in some degree of miff-ment as a woman driving a very large American pick up truck, merrily reversed into another vehicle.
Not satisfied with merely hitting this parked and brand new car she proceeded to drag her very hefty bumper the full length of it....and then move forward and drive off. She knew without doubt I had watched her antics but off she drove anyways.
Incensed I hastily took her index number and left a note on the windscreen of the now badly damaged victim vehicle giving details of where I could be contacted.
Two days later a woman I didn't recognise approached me as I went about my business in the store I worked in at the time and introduced herself as the owner of the damaged car. I gave her further details, she thanked me and left....returning later that day bearing a small thank you gift for me.
The gift in question was a small Camellia, no taller than maybe a foot, a twig really but I 'do' plants, my dream job would be to be a botanist or horticulturalist at Kew gardens (ok I'm twenty years too old and short of a first class degree but that aside) and so I took it home touched that this stranger had been kind enough to offer me a gift at all and planted said twig to begin its new life with me.
And it grew and it grew but when I left London for Scotland I decided it would unlikely enjoy such bitter howling winds and so transplanted it into a pot for re-homing at my parents.
Every year now my father regales me with progress reports and photographs and my once little tiny twig, has in it's seven or eight years now transformed itself under the close supervision and tutelage of my mothers green fingers into this:
It's now bigger than me (yes I know most things are) and happily produces it's stunning blooms year after year...much the same as the insurance companies involved in the original accident claim who harassed me year after year for five years for one statement after another.....but each spring it is worth it. :o)
(Images clickable)
Not satisfied with merely hitting this parked and brand new car she proceeded to drag her very hefty bumper the full length of it....and then move forward and drive off. She knew without doubt I had watched her antics but off she drove anyways.
Incensed I hastily took her index number and left a note on the windscreen of the now badly damaged victim vehicle giving details of where I could be contacted.
Two days later a woman I didn't recognise approached me as I went about my business in the store I worked in at the time and introduced herself as the owner of the damaged car. I gave her further details, she thanked me and left....returning later that day bearing a small thank you gift for me.
The gift in question was a small Camellia, no taller than maybe a foot, a twig really but I 'do' plants, my dream job would be to be a botanist or horticulturalist at Kew gardens (ok I'm twenty years too old and short of a first class degree but that aside) and so I took it home touched that this stranger had been kind enough to offer me a gift at all and planted said twig to begin its new life with me.
And it grew and it grew but when I left London for Scotland I decided it would unlikely enjoy such bitter howling winds and so transplanted it into a pot for re-homing at my parents.
Every year now my father regales me with progress reports and photographs and my once little tiny twig, has in it's seven or eight years now transformed itself under the close supervision and tutelage of my mothers green fingers into this:
It's now bigger than me (yes I know most things are) and happily produces it's stunning blooms year after year...much the same as the insurance companies involved in the original accident claim who harassed me year after year for five years for one statement after another.....but each spring it is worth it. :o)
(Images clickable)
Tuesday, 25 April 2006
Into the big wide world
Yesterday Tilly made her first foray alone out into the big wide world, well not exactly alone, I chaperoned her of course, she needs a little practice at finding her way back before she will be allowed full freedom and anyways I was mindful of her still relatively small size and the local thug tom cat who still regularly terrorizes the larger more battle hardened Ditto. Ok....so I'm an overprotective parent but hey....
So, her contraceptive issues having been suitably dealt a lethal blow and having healed up nicely It was decided yesterday was the day for the first big outing but
things did not work out quite as the young Tilly anticipated, for having spent six months rushing excitedly to the door each time it has been opened and trying to jam herself through the little gap as we attempted to close it again she suddenly discovered that 'outside' is somewhat more scary place than she had anticipated, particularly that stuff we humans call wind and that she had never encountered before. Her first attempt was rather abortive, she rushed headlong through the door onto the balcony, came to a shuddering halt, turned tail and rushed back in again!
Second and third attempts progressed only marginally further but eventually she found a little more courage, became fixated on a sparrow and with a little persuasion made it all the way to the bottom of the stairs......before she turned tail again and headed for the front door in a state of rush and panic!
This however is not a bad thing, we barely see Ditto over the summer months and I rather like the idea of a more 'indoor Tilly' to keep me company....I suspect though that she will soon find her feet in the big wide world and it won't be long before the both of them are bringing me 'summer gifts'. Ugh!
So, her contraceptive issues having been suitably dealt a lethal blow and having healed up nicely It was decided yesterday was the day for the first big outing but
things did not work out quite as the young Tilly anticipated, for having spent six months rushing excitedly to the door each time it has been opened and trying to jam herself through the little gap as we attempted to close it again she suddenly discovered that 'outside' is somewhat more scary place than she had anticipated, particularly that stuff we humans call wind and that she had never encountered before. Her first attempt was rather abortive, she rushed headlong through the door onto the balcony, came to a shuddering halt, turned tail and rushed back in again!
Second and third attempts progressed only marginally further but eventually she found a little more courage, became fixated on a sparrow and with a little persuasion made it all the way to the bottom of the stairs......before she turned tail again and headed for the front door in a state of rush and panic!
This however is not a bad thing, we barely see Ditto over the summer months and I rather like the idea of a more 'indoor Tilly' to keep me company....I suspect though that she will soon find her feet in the big wide world and it won't be long before the both of them are bringing me 'summer gifts'. Ugh!
Monday, 24 April 2006
The first sunny Sunday
Some things never leave you, some things, however distant, can return and fill your mind and senses in an instant with memories usually long forgotten, vivid all absorbing memories, the sights, the sounds, the smells, the feelings, all conjured up in a moment by perhaps a very small incident.
The first sunny Sunday is for me one such incident. The first sunny Sunday is not a fixed date, it is just what it says, the first Sunday in any spring where the sun shines all day and everything feels new, the tantalising promise of the summer to come, the Sunday when from an early dawn the sun is high in the sky already evaporating the dew, transforming it into a light veil hovering above the ground, a day when new lambs are rushing around madly, no longer huddled for warmth by their mothers, a day when daffodils bob their yellow heads gently in a light breeze and suddenly everything green seems greener.
But it is none of this that transports me to another place, that fills my head with long forgotten memories and alerts my senses, for me the first sunny Sunday means just one thing and yesterday, on my routine early morning drive to work some guy, someone I don't know and have never met turned my ordinary day into a very different one, just for a few minutes.
This is not a tale of great love or loss, not a tale of any world shattering event but it is a tale of a passion that once found is never lost.
It happened in a moment, a split second, without warning he was there, almost unbearably close, breathing down my neck, big and powerful and stunningly beautiful, dangerously exciting and offering a tantalising promise of things to come.
......And then in an instant he was gone leaving me lost in another time, lost in my memories.
But as I said this is no tale of a great love lost, my unknown man, he who inspired in me on this first sunny Sunday such memories was no long lost lover, no hero, he was merely an unknown guy on a bright gleaming all powerful motorbike who hung on my offside rear for that split second it takes at phenomenal speed to make the decision to 'go for it'!
Bright chrome and paintwork glinting in the early sun, expensive and matching leather race suit, harsh halogen headlight glaring at me from behind, the feel of extreme power rumbling through me, of tangible torque waiting to be unleashed for that split second, the sound, the sweet sound of a highly tuned 1200 cubic capacity 'doing it's thing' the engine whistle, the can popping with impatience, the gentle 'clunk' of dropping one cog.... and then with an almost imperceptible flick of the wrist my leather clad stranger was gone, leaving me almost breathless in his wake, lost in my memories!
For me the 'first Sunny Sunday' is not about lambs, it is not about gentle mist or bobbing daffodils but about the promise of dry roads, warm air and the possibility of a whole long new summer, released from the confines of snow and ice and biting cold, it is the memory of raw power, of excitement, of Friday nights at Chelsea Bridge, of Sunday afternoons at Box Hill, of hours and hours just riding, the high speed turbulence beating against leather, of (wo)man and machine in harmony, the smell of petrol and exhaust, burning rubber and knee sliders making their first contact with tarmac, the aching limbs and muscles, unused for months, to such punishment, the fear, for there has to be a little fear, the momentary frission of a rear wheel twitch......
Hey, you can take the girl out of the bike but you cant take the bike out of the girl!
The first sunny Sunday is for me one such incident. The first sunny Sunday is not a fixed date, it is just what it says, the first Sunday in any spring where the sun shines all day and everything feels new, the tantalising promise of the summer to come, the Sunday when from an early dawn the sun is high in the sky already evaporating the dew, transforming it into a light veil hovering above the ground, a day when new lambs are rushing around madly, no longer huddled for warmth by their mothers, a day when daffodils bob their yellow heads gently in a light breeze and suddenly everything green seems greener.
But it is none of this that transports me to another place, that fills my head with long forgotten memories and alerts my senses, for me the first sunny Sunday means just one thing and yesterday, on my routine early morning drive to work some guy, someone I don't know and have never met turned my ordinary day into a very different one, just for a few minutes.
This is not a tale of great love or loss, not a tale of any world shattering event but it is a tale of a passion that once found is never lost.
It happened in a moment, a split second, without warning he was there, almost unbearably close, breathing down my neck, big and powerful and stunningly beautiful, dangerously exciting and offering a tantalising promise of things to come.
......And then in an instant he was gone leaving me lost in another time, lost in my memories.
But as I said this is no tale of a great love lost, my unknown man, he who inspired in me on this first sunny Sunday such memories was no long lost lover, no hero, he was merely an unknown guy on a bright gleaming all powerful motorbike who hung on my offside rear for that split second it takes at phenomenal speed to make the decision to 'go for it'!
Bright chrome and paintwork glinting in the early sun, expensive and matching leather race suit, harsh halogen headlight glaring at me from behind, the feel of extreme power rumbling through me, of tangible torque waiting to be unleashed for that split second, the sound, the sweet sound of a highly tuned 1200 cubic capacity 'doing it's thing' the engine whistle, the can popping with impatience, the gentle 'clunk' of dropping one cog.... and then with an almost imperceptible flick of the wrist my leather clad stranger was gone, leaving me almost breathless in his wake, lost in my memories!
For me the 'first Sunny Sunday' is not about lambs, it is not about gentle mist or bobbing daffodils but about the promise of dry roads, warm air and the possibility of a whole long new summer, released from the confines of snow and ice and biting cold, it is the memory of raw power, of excitement, of Friday nights at Chelsea Bridge, of Sunday afternoons at Box Hill, of hours and hours just riding, the high speed turbulence beating against leather, of (wo)man and machine in harmony, the smell of petrol and exhaust, burning rubber and knee sliders making their first contact with tarmac, the aching limbs and muscles, unused for months, to such punishment, the fear, for there has to be a little fear, the momentary frission of a rear wheel twitch......
Hey, you can take the girl out of the bike but you cant take the bike out of the girl!
Sunday, 23 April 2006
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