Adventures at sea

Last year, despite being a sea sick sort of person who couldn’t snorkle because I don’t like getting my face wet and don’t like sea water drying on me, I went on an all eay snorkelling trip. This year, despite the fact they can’t swim and don’t like going in water above their knees, I took my parents. 
The trip is run by a marine biologist. He catches things while you snorkle (or sit on the beach in my parents case), tells you all about them and returns them to the water. Apart from that one poor urchin that he cut open and everyone but us had a bit of a snack on. The poor thing kept crawling across the plate even while its insides were being eaten…
Anyway, here are some pictures:

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One of the three octopuses

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Our boat

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Starfish, sea slug and that snack...

To my amazement, despite having to go thigh high in water and get wet shorts, my parents seemed to love it. So another good day here on Ithaka :o)

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It’s not all relaxing…

…ok, it is really. But I’ve not forgotten the owls and today was owl marathon day. I started on the beach, receiving odd looks from two elderly ladies taking their morning dip when I pulled out my wool and crochet hook. You couldn’t beat the view though…

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I even got Dad involved:

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And we have quite a stash so far:

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Anyway, at least you can see I am not sleeping my days away :o)

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A gentle walk

Today Mum and I went on a gentle walk. Mum was sure she knew where she was going…she demostrated this by telling me to turn right while holding her left arm out.
I should have known it wasn’t going to be easy when the only goat we passed was this one:

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The path disappeared,and we had to choose our own:

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We gave up trying to find the church Mum wanted to get to when I realised we had no idea how to get back.

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I had visions of some sort of international rescue having to happen…
We got back eventually, just covered in tree, thorns and scratches. But it’s ok…Mum says we can wait until next week before we try the same walk again… :o)

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Ithaca – Rachi

Today we walked to my most favourite place on Ithaca…a teeny tiny place called Rachi, where all there is to do is stop at the mini market that the locals use as a bar, and sit outside listening to the wind in the olive trees while you have a drink. You need a drink by the time you get there as it’s a 40 minute walk with not much shade…and its warm over here :o)
On the way back we walked across a beautiful, deserted beach. Deserted, that is apart from a local doing a spot of sunbathing with his bits a pieces out. I didn’t include him in the photo below…
We did get a take out from the mini market…home made spinach pie, home made something else pie that we couldn’t identify, and home made wine…which could probably be used to power a motor boat. But we’ll probably drink it all anyway :o)

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Ithaca, here I come!

I started my day in the office with my fingers in the beard of a man I’ve met once before, trying to establish if there was enough growth to house a shrew.

I finished the day removing clothes from my suitcase so I could fit in 10 balls of wool, 200 eyes and a lot of stuffing.

The bit in between was pretty chaotic too…

But I’m almost ready…the taxi arrives in five hours and this time tomorrow I’ll be here:

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I’m a very tired, but happy Pog :o)

PS:  Apologies if you noticed the random posts last night, I was trying to work out how to blog from my camera.  It seems I’m not great, so the posts over the next two weeks could be interesting!

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Babysitting for beginners

For anyone else who borrows small children, but doesn’t have their own (and by that, I mean babysitting, rather than anything illegal), here are a few things I learned this weekend that may be useful.  Parents, feel free to just laugh at me.

  • When trying to get that snotty bit cleaned from under a Little Person’s nose, wring out the sponge first.  If you don’t, the Little Person will look up at you and smile in a trusting sort of way….and then scream the house down as you pour vast quantities of water down his throat.
  • While relaxing on the sofa while the Little Person sleeps upstairs, be aware of your surroundings.  It can be very confusing to hear torrential rain outside, but notice the ground is bone dry when you go to take a look, until you realise you’ve been sitting right next to the baby monitor.  And the Little Person has a ‘rain sounds’ or similar CD playing in their room.
  • When checking on Little Person, remember that they do occasionally move.  Just because in the pitch black of their room, you can’t find their head – or any other part of their body for that matter – does not mean that they have been abducted by aliens, managed to get out the cot and through the front door without you noticing, or vanished into thin air.  There is no need to have a panic attack.  They could actually be snuggled comfortably right at the far end of the cot, nowhere near where you actually put them down.
A happier bath time.  (Sister 1, I stole your photo...I hope that is ok. x)

A happier bath time. (Sister 1, I stole your photo…I hope that is ok. x)

And added to that, I had the challenge of trying to eat my pizza without ‘help’:

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But in the end, everyone (Little Pea included) slept soundly.  I can hear rain at all hours of the day and still have that panicked feeling when I think of empty cots, but next time has to be better, doesn’t it?  That’s assuming Sister 1 doesn’t remove me from her baby sitting list after reading this :o)

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Just bits and bobs

It’s official – there are insufficient hours in the day to get through everything.  Humph.

I’ve not even had time for real daftness to occur…apart from that training session I ran where 5 minutes in, someone piped up that although I was telling people to look at this, and look at that, they couldn’t see anything.  I’d forgotten to share my desktop so they were just seeing an empty screen.  And there was that one where I thought I’d pressed record but actually muted myself.  It took attendees a few minutes to tell me that this time they could see my desktop on the screen and me moving through steps, just with no explanation.

Anyway, other than those, it’s just been busy.  But here are a couple of highlights of the last week or so:

I met Fluffy.  She is one of ten ex battery hens living at Sister 2’s house.  She is very friendly and Sister 2 says she is now looking a bit more fluffy.  I had some of her (or her friends) eggs this week, now they have the hang of laying again.  They are amazing.

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I harvested my very first (ever) home grown strawberry:

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I had the realisation that cars really do nothing for me at all.  I walked out of the tube station and my only thought was ‘Using those logs is quite an attractive way to display grasses and marguerites.’  I think it was lunch time before I realised that there was a massive car show going on, and the displays were just to enhance the cars.

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And I don’t have a photo, but I saw my very first real life tattoo fail this week too.  From elbow to wrist, this girl had the words:

‘Your writing your own history’

She might very well be writing her own history, but based on that, I’d imagine it’s not the most grammatically correct history….

:o)

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An offer of owl sponsorship

In March I had a week off work.  I achieved three things:

  • I painted the walls, ceilings and skirting boards of Pog towers
  • I went on a lampshade making course
  • I had my first phone call with Jackie

The results?  My house looks nicer, and although two of the three lampshades in my house are made by my own fair hand, that’s one probably best glossed over.  That phone call though?  I had no idea the impact it would have on me.

Jackie was then a colleague, now a friend, who I’m working with to fundraise for the work we’re doing in the Philippines.  I can’t quite believe that it was only three months ago we spoke while I was covered in paint, sitting on dustsheets and started hatching a plan that’s now really coming to life.

We’ve done all sorts of things to fundraise from me selling cards and owl key rings in a field on a rainy bank holiday, to Jackie creating and selling her own cards using her amazing photographic skills, to planning events to just plain old asking people for support.  To say that people have been generous is a massive understatement.

But I’ve had another idea and I thought the best way to get it out there was to blog about it here.  One of my colleagues told me his daughter liked the owl key ring he bought her so much, she took it to bed.  With the help of a friend, we came up with the idea of sponsoring an owl:

To sponsor an owl costs £5 / $8.  In return, I’ll crochet a small owl toy for you, to take with me to give to the kids I meet who at the moment have very little to call their own.  Your donation goes to our fund, and children there get something bright and cheerful that might be a small comfort to them.  What do you think?  Do you fancy sponsoring an owl?  All you have to do is leave your donation (in dollars, so $8, or whatever you can spare) here.

When I go out to Tacloban, I’ll take pictures, and you will be able to see where your owls have gone by keeping an eye on the Helping Hands blog Jackie and I write.  You’ll also be able to see exactly where your donations have gone – quite a unique opportunity*.  All money raised goes to our projects – the trips Jackie and I are making are entirely self funded.

There is so much that needs doing in and around Tacloban.  Jackie has been talking to locals this week to get a plan in place for her visit at the end of the month.  Working out how to split our funds between things like communities needing water and families needing equipment to restart livelihoods is giving us both a sense of unease, so we want to raise as much as we possibly can to help as many people as we possibly can.  When I go out in August, I will follow up on what Jackie starts and, if we have more funds, kick off some more projects.  And hand out the owls of course.  If you have the pennies to sponsor an owl, you’ll be helping us to do more.

:o)

Here's some I hatched earlier...

Here’s some I hatched earlier…

*  It has been pointed out to me that carrying a large number of these small owls in my suitcase could make it look like I am doing a spot of drug smuggling.  I’m hoping that my likeness to Bridget Jones won’t go that far, but I guess that would make a few interesting blog posts…That sort of thing and whether I cope with the toilets will remain on this blog.  That’s quite unique too. :o)

 

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Rudeness vs politeness

I don’t like rude people.  Possibly because I am rubbish at being rude back.  I tried it recently when someone pulled out in front of my car, nearly causing a crash.  I tooted my horn in a terribly British fashion but felt more was needed;  I meant to stick my middle finger up at him.  Unfortunately I got my fingers in a muddle and instead did a ‘you’re a very naughty boy’ gesture while waggling my index finger instead.  I don’t think it had quite the desired effect.

In person, I usually take any rudeness given and get upset about it later.  So I was quite surprised with myself the other day.  I was in a meeting with what turned out to be a very rude little man (who I didn’t have to meet with – I was just trying to be helpful) and he was rude.  Now, this man was doing the equivalent of asking for the stars to be delivered on a silver platter.  I pointed out that this wasn’t possible, but perhaps we could aim for something more within our reach and forget the silver platter?  (I don’t work with either stars or silver platters.  I’m not really sure where that came from.  Sorry about that).  Anyway, he informed me that he’d wasted his time talking to me as I’d not helped him do what he wanted and questioned whether I could actually do my job.  I wasn’t impressed with that, so I walked out of the meeting.

The smiley bit about that incident is that, while I walked out calmly, I put a ranty status on Facebook (as is customary in these situations) and two friends offered to beat him up*, one suggested I beat him up myself** and a lot more people said I’d done a good thing.  So I moved from ranty to smiley really rather fast.  The funny bit is that I’m 90% sure that rude little man will have to ask for my help again in the future.  I’m looking forward to that :o)

The converse is true too though – I really appreciate a bit of politeness.

It’s a long and boring story, but I had to go to my doctors practice to sort out some things.  I avoided it all last week as I find doctors receptionists the most terrifying species who seem to work out what you need and then do everything in their power to achieve the opposite.  Yesterday I bit the bullet, went in and was stunned:  the receptionist was a human.  One that smiled!  It took ages to work everything out – I was there a good 30 minutes and by the end I was getting annoyed with myself, I was being so frustrating.  The receptionist though…she was still smiling!  We finally worked out what was where, when and how and she decided it was best to write it all down for me.  And you know what?  She even drew a smiley face on my list!

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She was so lovely that today I called the practice and told her manager that they need to clone her.

So the moral of this story is:  be nice.  Being rude can result in someone being a bit ranty about you and you might need their help again in the future.  Being lovely could make someone’s day better and may mean they tell your boss / your whoever is important to you how great you are.

I’ll get off my soapbox now :0)

* My friends aren’t the sort that actually beat people up.  I don’t think.

**I definitely don’t.  Please see first paragraph on coordination issues with digits.  Using fists would definitely end badly.

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The daftness gene

You know how sometimes, just occasionally, I come across as a bit daft?  Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that there is, in fact, a daftness gene.  And it definitely runs in my family.  I even have photographic evidence:

Here we have the wooden ducks in my parents bathroom that ‘asked’ my Dad for something to read, but then decided that glasses were needed.  My dad complied entirely:

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Then we have the mirror which writes messages to my parents…:

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And the cress eggs that I can only assume Dad decided needed faces after a few too many glasses of wine:

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The gene has affected my sisters too.  Last Friday, as a treat, we went for a curry.  At the end of the meal, Sister Two calmly glossed her lips, then both eyebrows, before face planting the aniseed sugar sweets that are brought to you with your coffee:

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For anyone concerned that the sweets might have been recycled for other customers, don’t panic.  Sister One and I collected them all as we left and deposited them in Sister Two’s handbag.

So you see, it’s definitely not just me :o)

 

 

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