Return of the happy pants

My happy pants went on again today with real intent.

Here is a brief background:

  • My house went under offer a few weeks ago
  • I’d already had my offer accepted on what was to be Pog Towers 2
  • I started wondering if Pog Towers 2 was the right house for me after all (because although it is slap bang in the middle of the countryside which is very lovely, it is smaller than Pog Towers – which as you know is ridiculously small – with very little potential to expand it)
  • I viewed Pog Towers 2.1 and discovered it was overpriced and mostly broken and would cost oodles to fix
  • I viewed Pog Towers 2.2 and discovered it was overpriced, mostly broken and would probably bankrupt me to fix
  • I viewed Pog Towers 3 and fell completely and utterly in love.  With a house.  I didn’t think that was possible.
  • I put in an offer a few hours later
  • The estate agents couldn’t contact the lady who owns it
  • Or the next day
  • The next day they got hold of her granddaughter
  • The next day another two offers had appeared.  The granddaughter was to talk the lady through them
  • The next day I lost Pog Towers 3
  • The next day I did a long early morning bike ride and decided to have one more try and upped my offer (I know this makes me a horrible person, but I understand it happens a lot in this house buying malarkey)
  • My offer was accepted, but I was told to hold on for 5 days to see if the people who had originally got the house would up their offer.
  • Those 5 days were up today…

And…today I’ve been told the house is mine.  There is still a small possibility that the other person could come back with a higher offer, but apparently at this stage it is unlikely.  I know the house is not really mine until the keys are in my hand, but for today at least, my happy pants came through again :o) :o) :o)

Of course, this is me, so it’s not that simple.  The lady who currently lives in the house is waiting for a place in an old people’s home.  Quite a specific place, by all accounts.  So nothing can proceed on that side until a space comes up which means I’m waiting for….well, you work it out.  There’s only one way places come up in old people’s homes….

(That feels a bit terrible)

Pog Towers 3 is the complete opposite to Pog Towers 1.  A while back a friend’s cats sent me a card (that happens to other people too, right?) asking if this was Pog Towers:

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I love the image, and I think it may have influenced me quite a bit.  Pog Towers 3 isn’t quite so ornate, but it is 3 floors (3.5 if you take into consideration that the bathroom actually doesn’t seem to be aligned with any floor at all) and it has a cellar!  Norman and I wont know what to do with all the space, but I am sure we will manage.

Thank you happy pants, and thank you all the lovely friends and family who have lived the last couple of weeks alongside me on the rollercoaster.  It’s flattening out….for a short while, at least. :o)

 

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A recipe for a pretty perfect Sunday

Take two friends:

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One dog:

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Ignore the weather:

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And wander for a few hours, appreciating the countryside and chatting like you have never chatted before:

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Then go to the pub, eat twice as many calories than you have used on the walk and chat some more, solving a few world problems while you are at it.

Finish the day with a visit to see the family that includes Little Pea who has moved on from the stilettos, but introduced a catalogue pose to his repertoire:

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I wish weekends were three days so I could do it all again :o)

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Stay away from the Ribena

This week has been a roller coaster week.  This is just one of the incidents:

I’d been working for almost 12 hours non stop but hadn’t made much of a dent on my to do list, so I decided to get a large glass of Ribena and sit down to get just one more big thing out of the way.  I don’t know how it happened but I do know Norman was sitting on my right hand while I tried to use my mouse (his way of informing me he requires attention) and I reached for the Ribena.  The result was the sticky purple liquid ALL over my laptop.

After a bit of squealing I pulled out the power lead and turned the computer upside down, just as the screen went black and all the lights went out. Realising that it had probably gone to laptop heaven, I focused on saving the carpet, the desk, a cushion…and those velour trousers (I said they were comfy.  I’m not going to stop wearing them).  And by the time I finished…the laptop had rebooted, all on its own.

Unbelievably, it was still working the next morning, (although the space bar was clearly very sticky underneath as I wrote several emails that looked like astreamofconciousnessastherewasnothingseperatinganything) but at lunchtime I ended up taking my desk to pieces to try to replace the power cord as it wasn’t charging.  It turned out it wasn’t the power cord.  The laptop may have been resurrected, but it was only short term…it really was on its way to laptop heaven.

I hurtled down to IT, cornered the only IT man who knows what he is doing, explaining I’d had a cat / Ribena incident (a first for them, apparently) and…to cut a long story short…we had just enough time to copy over my work onto a spare laptop that I now have on loan.  The problem is that ‘liquid spillages’ are not covered by warranty.  And my laptop has only been mine for about 4 weeks.  ooops.  We wondered of we could convince anyone it wasn’t actually a spillage.  I suggested we explained the issues were the result of a really enthusiastic sneeze.  But apparently that wouldn’t work.  So I’m just hoping it can be fixed without too much cost.  And quickly, as I think this spare laptop may have been build by Fisher Price.

But anyway, It’s Friday.  The roller coaster is over for a few days.  Cheers!  (I’m going for wine tonight, rather than Ribena.  And I’m putting this laptop safely away first ) :o)

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Kinky…stilettos

Yesterday was boot shopping day. It became a group effort with Sister 1, Sister 2 and Little Peas all in attendance. It went quite smoothly. We found a pair we all liked that fitted, but they were rather expensive.  So we went to another shop, tried on about 482916 pairs and found some for a third of the price.

The best bit though, was when Little Pea decided to wander off when we were all engrossed and came back to show us these:

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He was a little upset he couldn’t take them home, telling his Mummy ‘but they’re fabulous!’

Another couple of photos to bring out at his 18th :o)

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Pog’s personal shopper

I’ve never really been into fashion.  The only time I’m ever ‘on trend’ is purely an accident.

Today, for example, I’m wearing a hoody (hood up – it’s been cold in my conservatory today), a HUGE pair of velour tracksuit bottoms that an ex’s Mum gave me, which she bought 15 years ago (doesn’t that happen to everyone?) and a pair of fluffy slippers.  It’s not a good look.  To be fair, I am working from home, but still….

I’ve slowly started getting my winter clothes out and last weekend mentioned to Sister 1 that I don’t like my winter boots anymore.  Partly because I bought them out of desperation when a previous pair fell apart, and partly because that was two years ago and they now look more knackered than me.  Sister 1 pleaded to accompany me on my boot shopping this time round.  Judging by the sniggers, neither she nor Sister 2 appreciate my sense lack of style.  I agreed.  We’re boot shopping tomorrow.

But Sister 1 clearly has aspirations of being a personal shopper.  Today she dropped in with a plastic bag.  She’d taken things a bit further and bought me a pair of jeans and a top that look 100 times better than either I currently own and cost about 1/4 of the price.  And I didn’t even have to leave the house!  She’s so blimin’ organised, she said I needed the right trousers to be able to go boot shopping.

I think I’m just not going to bother with clothes shopping – I don’t enjoy it anyway.  Sister 1 can just bring things to me on demand.  You never know, this could be the start of a whole new Pog.*

*Apart from the days I work from home.  These velour things might look terrible, but they are sooo comfortable :o)

looking good, right?

looking good, right?

 

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The three legged donkey

Oh lordy.  I’ve seen a video of myself running.  This is not good.

I started running 5 months ago.  I was warned by my sisters over the years never to do so in public, and I didn’t.  But I was talked into a beginners course by the lovely people at my fit ball class and thought I’d take the risk.  I was so proud of my achievements – I run 5k every week on my own and around 8k with the running group every Saturday.  I’m not good, but I enjoy it, and I can finally fit back in the trousers that became a bit of a gamble to sit down in last year.

When I run on my own, it’s around Bumpkinsville.  I started running through the fields, so I couldn’t be seen, but as I got more confident I moved to the roads (with the added benefit that I didn’t have to run sideways through waist high nettles or get soggy feet from long grass).  People smile at me when I run.  I thought it was that Bumpkinsville was full of friendly people.  Now I know better.  I’m pretty sure they are all laughing at me.

Because that video?  Everyone else in it looks elegant, effortless.  But wow.  I look like a lump on legs with uncontrollable arms.  I actually appear to be trying out the upper cut punches I was taught at kickboxing years ago. (I was terrible at that too – so terrible I put myself in hospital after kicking….well, thin air.)  I told Sister 1.  She said Sister 2 told her I breathe funny when I run too.  So now I know I look and sound ridiculous. The irony of all this is that I blogged about the beginners course on their site as ‘The Three Legged Donkey’ – I should have gone for ‘Black Beauty’ (Or Chilli Chocolate Beauty, if we’re going to be accurate about it) – it might have been some sort of self fulfilling prophesy.

The problem is that I have (very stupidly) signed up for a 10k run in November.  Lots of people will see me.  I mentioned this to Sister 1.  When she stopped laughing, she suggested a costume.  I may have to crochet one.

Tonight I am off to fit ball.  I just hope nobody has any bright ideas about videoing that, or my exercise options are likely to dramatically reduce :o)

At least the only thing I have to look at is the view :)

At least the only thing I have to look at is the view :)

Posted in Bumpkinsville, exercise, fitness, Pog Life, running | 3 Comments

When things don’t go to plan

Yesterday didn’t quite go to plan. The plan was to do a lovely autumn morning run with my group, finishing with everyone in pink running through Bumpkinstown high street for Breast Cancer Care, and in the afternoon to take Litte Pea to run the children’s race.

Things started ok. Over 100 or so women gathered and started the run and it was lovely….but this is the uk, and it’s October. The heavens opened and I couldn’t tell if the liquid running down my face was rain, sweat or snot. Either way, I suspect it wasn’t attractive.

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Just before the downpour

I had arranged to shower at Sister 1’s house before I went to the hairdressers as I didn’t have time to get home. Unfortunately I also hadn’t had time to check my bag before I left in the morning and I’d taken a tea towel to dry myself on and forgotten my bra and hairbrush and didn’t have time to put on any make up.  Which I felt the need to explain to everyone at the hairdressers…

It was so soggy we decided the afternoon kids race wouldn’t be much fun so sister 1 and Little Pea came to my house to do some makingness. Makingness is a relaxing thing for me. Not so, it turns out with these two. Little Pea just wanted to ‘go round and round’ on my sofa chair thingy and play with Norman’s toys, the washing machine was on, and Sister 1 decided to drown it all out with some singing along to a cd. She is notoriously bad at hearing lyrics correctly, but I am still surprised she though one particular line was ‘I won’t be your porcupine’… It was chaotic:

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But makingness was achieved, and we managed to put the house back together eventually…

Norman and I needed a rest after all that but it turned out he was so exhausted, he forgot how to cat:

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Today Pog Towers is feeling very quiet. Happily, we are all meeting at Sister 2’s house this afternoon :o)

 

 

 

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Confusion and happy pants (again)

I got a weird phone call today.  It went like this:

Him: Hi, is that Ken Jones, the electrician?

Me: Sorry? (Because, you know, I might have completely misheard that entire, very clear line he had spoken)

Him: Are you Ken Jones, an electrician?

And because I was feeling happy (1 – It’s Friday, 2 – I have my happy pants on*) I replied with:

Me: No, this is <my full name, full job title full company name)

Him: Ah.  Could I check, is this number I just dialed definitely you’re number?12345678900

Me: That’s definitely my number

Him: <Mumbled something>

Me: <Hedging my bets as I’m not likely to speak to this person ever again>  Um….No?

Him: You don’t?

Me: <Realising that ‘no’ might have been the wrong answer>  Sorry.  I meant yes.

Him: Ah, ok.  You’re moving house soon aren’t you?

Ok, this just got weird.  A random person calling someone else knows I am moving house.  And if he didn’t already know, as well as my phone number he now has my full name, job title and company name.  I am an idiot.

Me:  I’m sorry.  Who are you?

Him:  I’m John.  I think she must have written your number rather than his.  You said you know her – The Lovely Nut (an elderly friend of mine who does indeed, frequently get things in a complete muddle).

So it turned out that John was calling an electrician for the Lovely Nut, but she’d written my number down rather than the electricians.  John knew who I was.  I (not given to remembering faces, names, and especially voices) still hadn’t got a clue who he was.  Eventually, after even more confusion, I worked it out.  I was told the Lovely nut sent her love (she was there all this time and didn’t think to explain to either of us?!) and that was the end of that.

 

The phone call after that offering to replace my fantastic but just out of warranty shower for an even better model for half the retail price and a new full 5 year warranty seemed completely normal in comparison.  (Although, let’s be honest.  Why would they do that?  They’ve even offered me the same for my new house…and knocked some more money off.**)

* I was hoping for a letter to progress the house buying process.  Of course, pants in place it dropped through my letterbox this morning.

** My happy pants have obviously been working hard today

Happy passion flower in the garden today

Happy passion flower in the garden today

 

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How to make friends and influence people – two examples

1. There is an unwritten rule in our office that you don’t talk in the lifts.  Even if you know someone in there, you must talk in hushed tones.  It’s like an extension of the commute, I suppose.

Anyway, some of the time I obey this rule.  Some of the time I don’t (it is so awkward when there is only one other person in the lift with you, and I mostly just stick to asking why someone has 4 cups of coffee, or like last week, just a bottle of ketchup in their hands.  You get the picture).

So, it was a bit of a surprise when yesterday, someone got in the lift, looked at me and said ‘Nice flower’.  I have this flower on my jacket to try to make it less corporate and black:

imageNow, I know my response should have been ‘thank you’, but I was so stunned that someone had spoken to me, rather than the other way around that instead I went for:

‘Thanks.  I super glued my fingers to it last week.’  There was a confused silence so, I continued ‘the beads were falling off, so I tried to glue them back on, but you had to hold them to make them stay and I ended up stuck to it’.

The man looked a little pained, and we still hadn’t reached the ground floor, so I thought I’d add a bit more colour to things.

‘I probably shouldn’t use superglue.  But at least it wasn’t as bad as that time I glued my hand to the gear stick of my car.’

He laughed.  Then, as we left the lift he asked which floor I sit on.  He said he would be avoiding it at all costs….

2. When I get off the coach which takes me from London to close-ish to Bumpkinsville, I have a short walk to my car.  It only takes about 10 minutes so I usually spend it thinking through the day, planning the next day, or considering what topping to put on my toast when I get in.  I don’t usually listen to music, but last night I discovered that I can crochet on the coach without being sick, which was very exciting.  I couldn’t do it in silence though, so I put my earphones in and was very restrained by not singing along (anyone who does fitball with me will confirm that if I know anything close to the words, I’ll mutter the along with enthusiasm, if not with much tune).  My walk to the car is down a quiet, empty road and footpath, so I admit, I kept my earphones in and made up for my earlier restraint.  I was singing ‘I’ve got a burning desire for you, baby’ really quite loudly as I passed by a parked car.  Which, I then discovered, had a man in, with the window open.  He looked terrified.  I attempted an explanation that I didn’t have a burning desire for him, although I was sure he was very lovely, before scuttling off, and trying to work out another way to walk home for the rest of my commuting life.

So I’m not sure I make friends.  Or influence people.  Maybe I just make an impression and scare people a bit.  It’s probably best not to follow my example :o)

 

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Autumn and scarecrows

Autumn has officially started, so I took a few pictures on some of my escapades over the last couple of days.

Fridays’s bike ride:

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Saturday’s run:

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And this morning it was all a bit bleak:

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But I did find conkers:

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And I passed through a village holding a scarecrow competition:

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Mermaid

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The BFG

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Um…someone has some views on Trump…

And (I think) some pokemons

And (I think) some pokemons

I’m sad summer is over, but there are lots of smiles in Autumn too :o)

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