Round and round in circles

Posted on June 19, 2015 by thepogblog

Things keep going around in all different sorts of circles at the moment.  Earlier this week I blogged about post it notes, the next day Facebook reminded me that exactly a year before I’d blogged about…post it notes (I’m thinking my life must get a little boring in June)

Last week I admitted to two of the girls at yoga I’d spent the first few weeks hearing the teacher repeatedly tell us to release our scrotum, before realising she was actually saying ‘sacrum’ (which still didn’t help me out much in terms of the where or the how).  A few days later, Facebook reminded me that I’d posted a status about it two years earlier.

Last year I was blogging about going to Tacloban to do relief work.  Next Friday I’ll be on my way to the airport to spend 4 days with the amazing family I stayed with back then, before trying a brave holiday on the next island, on my own.  I can only hope we don’t go in circles and repeat any aspect of the last holiday I did alone….

And then there is the what goes around comes around type of circle.  Do you remember when I planted sunflowers with the kids next door to encourage them not to pick my flowers?  When I did that, I kept some seeds back to pop in my back garden.  I had visions of theirs not growing and though if the worse came to the worse, I could transfer some of mine (which of course, would be amazing) into their pots at night.

This is one of their pots:

g3

This is mine:

g1

Admittedly I have to water theirs, but I water mine too – I’ve no idea how mine are so pathetic other than maybe someone is trying to teach me not to be so smug.

It’s not all round and round in circles though.  I have a very tiny back garden, but it appears nobody told the plants that (other than the blimin’ sunflowers!)  Everything seems to be growing up and out with huge enthusiasm (and without regard for where the flower beds are):

g2

I’m not complaining though- it’s not a bad view to look out on when I’m working from home :o)

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Smiley post it notes

Posted on June 16, 2015 by thepogblog

I’m not keen on cleaning.  My weekend is too precious to me to spend a few hours making Pog Towers a shiny place.  I’m also pretty terrible at it.  By happy coincidence, both my sisters are amazing cleaners and for a while now, Sister 1 and Little Pea have been cleaning my house every other week (in exchange for money, obviously – I’m not taking advantage here).

There is one major issue with this:

Little Pea loves Norman (or Normy, as he calls him).  Normy, on the other hand is not keen on anyone under 5 foot.  One time when Little Pea came to visit I got out Norman’s most favourite cat treats, which he just can’t resist.  Sure enough, I managed to get Normy literally eating out of Little Pea’s hand.

Little Pea is a clever little thing and now every time he comes to visit he gets the closest thing he can to the cat treats – plain old cat biscuits from the cat bowl –  and moves from room to room waving g them around and calling for Normy.  Norman, not being interested in something he has a bowl full of, stays hidden.

The end result is that on Big House days (that’s what is feels like when I come home from work when Sister 1 has worked magic – the house actually feels bigger), I come home to a few surprises.  This week it was biscuits on top of my fire, in the shower, and, when I took the Norman proofing blanket off my sofa, a small pile there too.  At this point Norman decided that was as good a time as any for a bit of a snack:

s3

I texted Sister 1 to thank her for Big House day and to say that I’d found quite a few biscuits, along with a rock from the garden in my bedroom.  She replied that she’d assumed Little Pea had eaten the biscuits rather than left them for me as he’d indicated he wasn’t keen on the red ones….  That’s ok then.

The other great bit about Big House days (the first bit being the ‘big’ bit, not so much the biscuit hunt it results in) is that I get left post it notes.  I have a small collection on my mirror now and they make me smile, even at silly o’clock:

s2

And just so you don’t think I’m too much of a lazy bugger, I did some secret bakering at the weekend:

s4

And I was left a post it as a result of that too:

s1

Post its can be very smiley things, apparently.  As can Big Houses and, I’ll admit it, hunts for cat biscuits that a certain 2 year old nephew leaves for his Auntie Pog :o)

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The very big box saga: Part 2

Posted on June 10, 2015 by thepogblog

So you know how everything that could go wrong with the very big box situation had gone wrong?  It turned out it hadn’t.

Having hefted the thing to London last Thursday, I couldn’t face taking it out of the box until Monday afternoon.  At which point I discovered that although all the pieces were there, the bit across the bottom that allowed the counters to stay in / come out was a few millimeters  too big to slide in and out.

Cue a trip on the way home to Homebase for one of those things that look like a cheese grater for wood, but turn out to have a name: surform.

surform

Yesterday morning, I was in the office, surforming like a mad thing while receiving bemused glances from colleagues and outright laughing from those who know me better.  I gave myself a cheer when the bit across the bottom finally did it’s slidey thing as that was everything sorted. I just had to get it from the 2nd to the ground floor.  Nothing else could go wrong, could it?  It turned out it could.

For some stupid reason, I came over all independent.  I didn’t ask for help, and even when one lovely lady offered, I said no.  I actually said ‘I’ve done a 2 hour commute with this thing, I can manage 2 floors’.  I am an idiot.

About 10 feet from the room that was my destination, as I dragged the thing along the floor, I heard a crack that was definitely not a ‘dragging a Connect 4 board across the office floor’ sound.  It was more a ‘something just broke’ sound.  The leg to be precise.  I was now being stared at by colleagues on the ground floor as I stood surveying my giant board that was now in 4 pieces.  (It turns out when one leg comes off, the whole thing kind of looses the plot.) FFS.

I got the various parts to the room, had a short and swift panic and called the handy man who knew nothing about any of this.  ‘Do you have any super glue?’ I asked ‘A leg just fell off’.  To the handy mans credit, he didn’t ask anything – just said he’d try to find some and meet me at the room.  30 minutes later it was glued, taped and ready to go.

Happily, it all stayed together for the duration of the office tournament.  Obviously, it all fell apart when I picked it up to take it back to the 2nd floor, but that was ok.  I hid all the pieces in a cupboard and I will be very happy if I never see another Connect 4 board ever, ever again :o)

c4board

 

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A commute with a box. A very big box.

Posted on June 5, 2015 by thepogblog

We have (another) big thing happening at work next week.  I had to arrange a ‘fun’ element of the day, along the theme of ‘Connection’.  I decided to hold a giant Connect 4 tournament (with additional work type stuff to get people finding out about each other).  I researched the boards and was impressed with myself that I realised I could buy one for the same price as hiring one, and we’d get to keep it.  I got budget approved and ordered one from Amazon.  I was quite proud of myself.  I clearly remember typing in the office address for delivery.

Only I got home on Wednesday night to discover a HUGE box blocking my front door.  Oops.

I just managed to drag the box inside and sat down to look at it and work out what the hell I was going to do:

c45

There was only one option really.  I couldn’t courier it to the office as that would take a massive chunk out of my budget for the day.  I had to carry it in with me.  I took it out to the car (I couldn’t get my arms round it to lift – it weighed nearly 2.5 stone and was wider than my arm span- so I had to do that thing where you rest it on one foot and shuffle), dropped down the back seat, hefted it in, and….couldn’t shut the boot.  I moved the front chairs forward as far as they would go, and finally managed to wedge it in.

c47

Thursday morning I got up half an hour early.  I drove to the station with my knees around my ears, tilted slightly over the steering wheel, got to the station and….it was stuck.  After much pulling from one angle and pushing from another I finally got it free, left it by the gates and went to park.  As people arrived for the train they gave me looks of pity.  Then they mostly laughed.

I got it on the train though.  It blocked most of the aisle and I spent a lot of time apologising to people, but at least I was part way there.  The problem was that in trying to get it on the train, I damaged one wrist quite a bit and I couldn’t work out how I’d get it through Charing Cross station and to the taxi rank.

c41

Enter, David!   David (a complete stranger) overheard me telling a lady the story of the heavy box and took pity on me.  He was very lovely and helped me carry it from the train to a taxi.  Even with two people it involved quite a lot of huffing, puffing and ‘can we just put it down a second?’ s.  I’m embarrassed to admit that even with all this going on, the fact that he was helping me and being SO lovely about it impressed me so much, my focus on the box wandered to whether he was wearing a wedding ring (No idea – we were both in such weird contorted positions, I couldn’t even see his hands…).

David got me and box into a taxi:

c42

Just:

c43

And the taxi got me to the office:

c44

Faced with a flight of stairs before I reached the lift, I thanked my lucky stars that I always ‘Good Morning’ the cleaner.  He came to rescue me, got me to the lifts and hooray!

c46

The 2 hour commute from hell was over.

I had a moment recently where I thought I might have finally grown up and become sensible.  That these sorts of things had stopped happening to me.  It appears not.

The morals of this story:

  • Always check the delivery address
  • Always say hello to the cleaner – you never know when you might need their help
  • Always look for a David

:o)

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Little Pea and me, some ceramic pots and ducks

Posted on June 2, 2015 by thepogblog

Saturday was a Little Pea and Me day.

Little Pea apparently loves feeding the ducks and it’s something we’d not done together yet.  I’d not even been to the local ponds since I was a child, so (after a slightly fraught trip to a garden center – note: ceramic posts and two year old nephews don’t mix well), we pottered off, armed with an entire seeded loaf, courtesy of Sister 1.

I had a romantic notion that I might be able to recreate this photo of me and my Mum, taken at the very same place.

duck 5

I am clearly a deluded auntie.  My first picture was snapped as I realised I shouldn’t have left Little Pea’s reins in the car as he hurtled towards the nearest pond, and I ran after him:

duck 8

The closest I got was this:

duck 3

We discovered the joys of throwing a leaf in one slide of a bridge and watching it come through to the other side.

duck 9

Only apparently I wasn’t clear that you could use a new leaf each time and didn’t have to get into the stream to retrieve the leaf:

duck 7

We also got to see a heron…

duck 1

….and experienced the crushing disappointment that 1) it wasn’t coming over for any bread and 2) Poggy couldn’t throw bread that far.

But we did spend a long time with the baby ducks (geese):

duck 2

And we liked them a lot.

I’m proud (and very relieved) that not only did neither of us fall in any ponds, but also that neither of us needed to change any clothes at any point.  For us, that has to be a record.

We did have a few tricky moments.  This is a two year old sulking because he is not allowed to drive the car (By the time I had ignored him for 30 seconds and taken the photograph, he actually forgot he was having a sulk and things returned to normal.  If only adults were so uncomplicated…):

duck 6

The other tricky moment was Little Pea attempting to flee the garden center into the car park while I paid for the pot we were buying.  I picked him up and he did the kicking / screaming thing.  I had a small insight into how mummies must occasionally feel, knowing I could not control such a small thing and feeling slightly embarrassed by all the people watching in a disapproving way.  I have a tip though.  My response was a very loud ‘If you don’t behave, I’ll tell your Mummy you were a naughty boy.  Please be good for Auntie Pog’.  Even if it didn’t resolve the kicking / screaming (that took a ‘Do you want to feed the ducks?  Only good boys get to feed ducks’), it did get me some pitiful looks rather than annoyed ones.  Clearly, as an auntie it ok to have no idea what you’re doing.  Sister 1 (his Mum!) said she might start doing the same thing. :o)

'Me do it!'

‘Me do it!’

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Ouch

Posted on May 29, 2015 by thepogblog

I just got back from the dentist.  Again.  We’re still correcting the bad work of old dentist here with weekly appointments.  I’d kind of hoped that the dentist was exaggerating a few weeks back when she said she might not be able to fix a bad filling that had been done in my wisdom tooth as there might be a bit of decay.  In that case, she said, she might have to extract it.  I didn’t really think it would come to that though – people go to hospital to get knocked out to have their wisdom teeth out, don’t they?

It turns out she wasn’t exaggerating:  there was a big hole and a rotten root.  It also turns out that you don’t have to go to hospital or be knocked out.  Although I think I would have preferred the latter.

45 minutes after sitting in the chair and watching High School Musical on silent on the tv attached to the ceiling (is it any better with sound?  I have to say, I’d almost have preferred watching animals kill each other with David Attenborough), I emerged with this in my handbag:

tooth

 

Apparently that’s quite a big root.  And I guess it left quite a big hole judging by the bleeding, so I’m off to sit on the sofa and maybe have a snooze.  I need to be all better for tomorrow – it’s a Little Pea and Me day.  Hooray!  :o)

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It turns out it’s not always about the wool

Posted on May 27, 2015 by thepogblog

Sister 2’s boyfriend is completely nonplussed by my crochet.  He says he appreciates the time and effort involved, but I’ve yet to show him anything I’ve made he actually likes.  I suspect that if I stuck a Superdry label on any of it and told him I bought it, he’d feel differently, but there you go.  I don’t mind this in the slightest, everyone is entitled to their opinion (although I admit, I secretly hope one day I’ll impress him) and his is that he’s not even a little bit interested in wool.

Which made a car journey last week slightly odd.  Sister 2 was in the back, her boyfriend was driving and I was in the passenger seat.  We were having a three way sort of conversation about the thing I’d been making….a sort of scarf.  He was saying (somewhat sarcastically) that a scarf was exactly what I needed as we were coming into summer.  I was replying that it wasn’t that sort of scarf – it was part silk and that silk keeps you cool.

I was so stunned we were having a conversation about crochet and wool, I think I forgot to listen properly.  This is how the rest of the conversation went:

Him: ‘Has it got cashmere?’

Me:  ‘No.  Alpaca.  70% alpaca.’

Him: ‘What are you talking about?’

Me:  ‘The wool.  You asked if it contained cashmere.  It doesn’t, but it does contain alpaca.  70%, so that’s….30% silk.’

Him: (I think he swore)

It turns out that what he’d actually said as we drove past a petrol station was ‘Does that have a cash point?’

Apparently not, but it does have Alpacas.  :o)

alpaca

Unlike the petrol station, this does contain alpaca…

 

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Courses and events of all shapes and sizes with the added Pog Factor

Posted on May 22, 2015 by thepogblog

Enough has happened in the last two weeks for me to write about 20 posts, but work keeps getting in the way.  Instead, this will be a summary of the highlights / lowlights.

 I went on a Zendoodle course. 

Overview:

These are doodles:

x5

This is a Zendoodle:

x6

(Essentially, its something created using one colour, using repetitive patterns in a 15 minute block where you focus entirely on that to get yourself into a calm, meditative state.  I just got frustrated that my pattern didn’t look nice.)  Top tip:  Don’t walk into the room of attendees and greet them with ‘have any of you seen the radiator in the toilet?  It’s so pretty I had to take a photo’.

But it was pretty:

x9

I went cupcake decorating:

My lovely nearly neighbour friend invited a group of us over for dinner, to drink and to make cupcakes (not necessarily a good combination).  I got over excited that one of the eggs still had a feather on it, made it into a face and made another lovely friend keep him in her pocket.

x4

I also grated my thumb into the orange and lemon cupcakes.

Top tip:  Icing cupcakes is not very successful when you do it 3 hours into drinking time.  It’s a hell of a lot of fun though….

x2

x3

I went on a course at work for senior managers:

(No, I don’t know why / how either).

Probably the less said the better, but…

Top Tip: Avoid courses at all cost that contain your manager if you have to speak in one of those awful circles where everyone takes their turn if you’re terrible at speaking in public.  All that happened is halfway through your first sentence you lose the ability to swallow and sit, shaking in your chair, gulping for air like a beached whale.

 I set up and ran a big event at work:

After technical and security meetings where I only understood that the ‘red line’ was critical as to whether it was even possible, then converted ‘red line’ to ‘central line’ in my head, I finished one particular meeting with ‘so will the central line definitely work?’ to be told that ‘you know this has nothing to do with the Underground, don’t you?’, it was a miracle it all went as planned.  Except:

Top tip:  When running from one floor to another to sort out technical issues on the big event, make sure you have your pass with you at all times.  It turns out that people do listen when you ask them to watch the big event from a room with a big screen rather than at their desks.  In turn, this means that when you leave the ground floor and run up two flights of stairs, there will be nobody to let you out of the stairwell that you have managed to lock yourself into….

I saw two things this week that made me laugh because they so accurately summed things up.

First, the day of the big event, the lady on the toilet door had become headless:

x1

And then this, on the work microwave:

x7

Thank goodness it’s a bank holiday.

Top tip: Don’t book root canal surgery for 8.45am on the Saturday of a bank holiday.  Bugger.

:o)

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How to make a Secret Baker smile

Posted on May 19, 2015 by thepogblog

The loveliest thing happened yesterday.  After traipsing to work with four trays of Sticky Bicky Cake (a delicious gooey refrigerator cake that my best friend’s mum used to make when we were kids), that weighed more than my rucksack (and I know that weighs a stone, so the commute was some sort of endurance test, between the two), someone commented that a post that had been added to our company intranet.  The post was about the secret baker…

secret baker

In case you can’t read that teeny tiny print, it says:

‘Who is the Hatton Garden Secret Baker?

We seem to have a Talented Baker, sitting on the third floor in the London Hatton Garden office. Who on a monthly basis creep’s in on a Monday morning to deliver goodies.

I think this person deserves a MASSIVE Thank you. ‘

I slightly dispute the ‘talented’ part.  And the third floor part (we’re on the second), but the fact that someone has noticed that this happens every month and weirdly, gave me the ‘Secret Baker’ name I was given in my old office absolutely made my day.  And I’m still smiling now.  :o)

 

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Dinner and chinchillas

Posted on May 12, 2015 by thepogblog

One of the very good things about living on my own is that I never have to consider anyone else when it comes to dinner.  This is also one of the very bad things as most of the time it means my dinner consists of toast.  Not plain toast, you understand – I have a variety of spreads in the cupboard – raspberry, marmalade, chocolate spread, marmalade, marmalade.  I have a lot of marmalade.  Sometimes I’ll push the boat right out and throw in some scrambled egg, beans, or cheese into the mix.  I know how to live life on the edge.  I have good intentions.  I have ‘stuff’ in the freezer, but I usually forget to take it out.

And honestly, I don’t have the time or inclination to spend more than a few minutes cooking when I get home from work – I’m either leaving for yoga or upholstery or I’d rather just get on with something more enjoyable than 30 minute of cooking that Norman will fight me for and will have disappeared at the same speed as the toast anyway.

I’ve realised recently though that despite the varied colours and flavours, this probably isn’t adding up to a balanced diet and could be contributing to the fact my skin is looking pretty terrible and that most of the time I feel like a zombie.  So I thought I’d give actual cooking a go.  You know….something involving my one saucepan, one frying pan, and possibly a wooden spoon or two.  I used to cook, and there was one meal that took very little effort but involved meat, a vegetable and not even a crumb of toast.  So I set to work on chicken a’lorange, my style.

I put on some rice and cooked mushrooms, turkey (it was all I had in the freezer), threw in some marmalade (I couldn’t completely ignore the jam cupboard) and plopped in some crème fraiche.  Which promptly separated.  I assumed I’d just not added enough so plopped in a bit more.  Funnily enough, that separated too.  I checked the best before date:  the 15th.  I added some more (didn’t someone once say that repeating the same action, expecting a different outcome was the definition of madness?).  The contents of my pan looked…well I won’t say, but it wasn’t good.  I looked at the date again.  The 15th…of April.  Ok, so that was probably the issue.

I didn’t want to waste everything though – I was cooking enough for two nights and that just seemed wrong.  So I popped the whole lot in a colander and gave it a good wash under the tap :o)

I made a crème fraiche variation with a bit of cream cheese (I scraped the mould off first) and milk, put the washed turkey, mushrooms and marmalade rind back into the mix and hey presto!  Dinner was served.

Now do you see why I stick to toast?

I did buy some broccoli last week.  I’m not really sure what to do with it so I cooked it last night (it was going a bit funny looking) and I’m planning on a broccoli and cheese on toast extravaganza tomorrow night.  It’s not that weird, is it?  And at least dinner will involve a vegetable.  And not a drop of crème fraiche :o)

And in other news, I spotted this yesterday:

chinchilla

I can’t work out if it’s a joke, but I like the fact that someone is trying out names on it.

‘Archibald?  Gerry? Jemima? Oh, give me a clue….’  :o)

Posted in Cooking, food, Pog Life | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment