Being childish and immature. And laughing a lot.

I’m not sure if it is because it is getting towards the end of the year or whether there was something in the air on Wednesday, but everything got a bit silly.  (Note:  These may all be things where you had to be there to appreciate them, but I wanted to do a post anyway, just so I could remind myself of them in the future.)

To set the scene properly, I work in a really committed team.  So much so that when I passed out at my desk (well, I got on the floor first so there was no dramatic crash or anything) nobody even noticed, so focussed were they all on their work.  That was absolutely fine by me – less fuss all round – but it does make the other things that happened seem more of an anomaly.

First I had to find someone in the office called Regina.  I ended up asking a PA if she knew where the person in question sat and we both ended up giggling when she pointed out that actually the name was said ‘Regeena’ and didn’t rhyme (as I had made it) with Vag…. Well, a ladies parts.

Back with my team and a regular noise kept punctuating the air.  It took a few moments for us to realise that it was a colleagues mobile rather than her farting with astounding regularity.  Cue more giggling.

Calm was restored until a teleconference later in the day when someone did my trick and mispronounced a name.  The name was ‘Bona’.  He was referred to as ‘Boner’.  One of the team turned a fantastic shade of pink, collapsed with the giggles and it became contagious.  The London contingent of that call had very little input to the meeting for a while as we all had to put ourselves on mute.

We had just recounted this for the rest of the team in yet another teleconference later in the day when someone asked me the name of a company.  I couldn’t remember the exact name but announced that it was ‘something to do with balls’ (It was ‘Bounceball’, I remembered too late).  Cue Pink > Giggling > Muting of phone once again.

We all calmed down and were back to our usual selves.  At least, I thought we were.  I got involved in a discussion with an American colleague on the call when I saw the hand of the lady opposite me slide across the table and put these in front of me:

the pair of balls

the pair of balls

Somehow, she’d found some balls in the room.  And that was it.  I tried to continue talking but it sounded like someone was strangling me, I was laughing so much…

I enjoy my job, but I love the people I work with.  We were very childish and daft, but it made for a different sort of a day.  I just worry if that is the start of the Christmas spirit, how much worse will it get over the next few weeks?!  :o)

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Norman Cats and Crochet

I like to crochet a bit a lot, ok, almost obsessively.  Norman doesn’t seem so keen.  As soon as I get out the bits I need he tries distraction techniques.

h1

If that doesn’t work, he lies on my pattern….

h3

….or the ball of wool I’m trying to use.

h2

If all else fails, he just lies on me while I crochet

h4

I stared wondering if it was crochet envy.  So I found all of the practice squares I did when I started and thought I’d make them into his very own blanket.

I laid them out to work out what should go where and….Norman sat on them.

h6

This was good though – it meant he would like the end product.  I spent the evening sewing them together, presented him with the finished blanket and…he got off the sofa and spent the rest of the night on the floor, staring at me.

h8

Today we had a breakthrough though, I put the blanket on the floor in the conservatory while I worked, turned round and….ahhhh :o)

h9

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Collapsible Pog

It’s been a weird week.  It started normally, then on Tuesday I worked from home and was standing at the back door, minding my own business when everything looked a bit funny.

Then I was looking at this:

01

It’s the sky, through my conservatory roof.

To cut a really long story short, I repeated the performance on Wednesday at work and ended up having an ECG at the surgery that evening followed by a trip to the hospital yesterday.

I was a little stressed (it was the thought of them trying to find my brain that did it.  I was sure they would just find sawdust and strawberry jam) so I ignored my crochet and book and people watched instead.

I watched as a doctor walked in a set of double doors, walked a few steps and went back through the doors.  He did this three times in a couple of minutes.  The third time he had to be told by the receptionist how to open the door:  ‘You need to push it, Doctor.’  I decided if he was the doctor I got, I was going to leave straight away.

I didn’t get him.  I got Levi.  He had a surname but I missed it and all that came to mind when I tried to remember was ‘Strauss’ and I was pretty sure that was unlikely so we ended up on first name terms.  I spent the entire time he was examining me working out if he could actually be over 16.  In the end I asked and it turned out he wasn’t quite that young, but he was 9 years younger than me.  I felt old.

Later, Levi came back with his boss. I won’t forget his name as I thought it was rather unfortunate.  He was Dr Graves.  Dr Graves had the sense of humour that Levi was missing (I guess you’d need one working in the medical profession with a name like that).  This was a good thing.  He stared by asking what had happened and then if anyone had been with me. This is how the conversation continued:’

Me: Yes

Him: Who?

Me: Norman. (Hurriedly followed by) He’s my cat.  (I’ve been caught out on that one before).  He didn’t have much to say about it.

Him: Really?  My cat would – he doesn’t ever shut up.  What sort of cat is yours?

Me: Black moggie.  Yours?

Him: Siamese.

Me:  Well there you go then.  You don’t get one of those if you want a quiet life.

Him:  Too true.  Do you know, he….  How did we get so distracted?

Me:  Could we continue with the cats please?  It’s far more interesting.

Anyway, eventually we got back to the subject and basically it’s nothing to worry about.  Most likely it’s just a blood pressure thing.  Hooray!

And just to prove that I did go to hospital (I think a few people may have doubted me) here is my special hospital bracelet.  I had a bar code.  I’m taking it into Tesco next week to see what it comes up as.  Mad cat lady, perhaps?  :o)

02

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A week off work

It’s been a while since I posted as I had a whole week off work :o)

It was lovely and I won’t bore you with all the details, just give you the highlights:

On Sunday I did a course – Reiki Level 1 –  with my Lovely friend.  Now I have to practice and it turns out Norman isn’t keen.  It gives him twitchy ears (really).

On Monday it was cold and wet so obviously, I decided to destroy  put my garden to bed.  I don’t have a back entrance to the garden so I carried the sacks through the house and was feeling quite proud of myself until I realised I’d blocked Norman and myself in…

oops

oops – PS – see that house opposite? That’s where Sister 2 lives :o)

I bought a buggy for Little Pea and Me days out.  (His real buggy is big and my car is so small it can either take him in his car seat or his buggy.  Not ideal).  The auntie buggy is very basic, but still took 15 minutes to put up, 10 mins to get the canopy and rain cover on and 10 minutes to put down.  I also took the instructions with me on our outing as I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it unaided.

It took an entire day to make dinosaur spikes and eyes and owl eyes and braids for six hats.  That was a slightly boring day.

Norman has discovered my wool stash.  He now removed all the wool from bags, lays it out and uses it as a bed.

c2

I can pass for a 60 year old.  Mum bought cinema tickets for us to Philomena and didn’t think to tell them that she was the only OAP.  Nobody questioned it though.  I’d have rather paid the extra £1 and lived in ignorance of my ability to look over 20 years older than I am….

Little Pea has a new friend:  HotPoint

c3

It was a mistake to take Little Pea cross country in his auntie buggy.  I ended up having to pick the thing up, with him in it, when we got stuck in a particularly hillocky (is that an actual word?) area.

Golf courses, on the other hand, are great for auntie buggies :o)

c6

Going on a secret mission with Little Pea can be somewhat stressful (I can’t tell you the mission as it will spoil a surprise we sorted between us).  So stressful in fact, that my hair ended up standing on end.  Really – I actually had to straighten it back into submission.

Lovely Friend and her husband really are very lovely.  I offered to babysit so they could go out and they said that they would rather have dinner with me!  (Lovely Friends husband did admit that it was in part due to the fact that he could fall asleep on the sofa if I was there, which he couldn’t if he went out, but he stayed awake and I had delicious food cooked for me).

I do like a bit of time off work.  I’d like to think that my brain has recharged, but that might be a little hopeful.  Maybe it will last until Christmas though :o)

Oh, and this was the roof of my conservatory this morning.   A bit brrr, but beautiful…

c1

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Crochet hats and a potential black market

One of my friends at work asked for my advice recently.  She was going from hair to wig (for very different reasons to me) and was worried about getting a cold head in bed.  I don’t know if bald men have this issue, but I do know that when you go suddenly to no hair, bed time is rather nippy.  She’d looked for a hat but couldn’t find anything that was thin enough and wondered what I’d done.  I had made myself one, so I offered to do the same for her:

hat 1

But it looked a bit boring, so I made a pretty hat for out of bed:

hat 2

Then I thought she might need a smile or two, so I made these for her:

hat 3

hat 4

Her wig is beautiful, by the way, and knowing that I named mine, she decided to do the same.  Hers is Gwyneth :o)

I thought maybe I could sell some of these hats for charity in my office and as my facebook friends will know, yesterday I checked with the head of facilities for our office to make sure it was ok.  I assumed that, as we have cake stalls for charity all the time in the office, I would get a ‘yes, no problem’.  I didn’t.  I got a ‘We would need to check that the item is appropriate, then we will need to inspect the items to check the quality, then we will need clearance from the Legal team as it could be seen that you are running a side business in work hours’. I wasn’t impressed.

But it just so happens that I had a meeting with some of the Legal team later in the day, so I asked them if they could see an issue with what I wanted to do.  They nearly fell off their chairs laughing (at the red tape, not me!).  They took me to meet the Legal lady who Facilities would be talking to.  It turns out that she is a crochet-er and was more interested in pictures of the hats and where I got the patterns than anything else.  Then she suggested that rather than jump through hoops, I just e-mail work friends to let them know what I was doing (as she said, ‘there’s nothing stopping them from mailing their friends’) and have an unofficial stall under my desk.

So I shall be starting a black market crochet hat stall in the next few weeks.  Hopefully I can raise some pennies for Crisis – a charity that help homeless people with all sorts of practical things including healthcare, education and housing.  At Christmas they open centres in three UK cities so that people can get a bit more support through services that volunteers offer, hot food and a few warm night’s sleep. I kind of hope that the Facilities person finds out, and that see that there is a difference between the important rules and the petty ones that stifle people.  But then again, maybe it’ll be safer if they don’t.  In fact, I may invest in a black market disguise – dark glasses, a mustache and a dinosaur hat, perhaps :o)

For crochet people, here is the Pattern for Owl and the Pattern for Dinosaur.  Both of these pattern writers are rather talented bods!  For the other two hats I used the start of the owl pattern and then increased and reduced to change the shape a bit and finished with a few rows of doubles to make a band.

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Not thinking things through

You may have realised by now that I don’t always think thinks through.

Like this Sunday when I walked into my bedroom and did a high pitched squeal as I discovered a dead body part way under my bed.  If I’d thought it through I’d have realised what I was looking at were my boots – the ones that had fallen over sideways at the end of my bed as I discarded them a whole five minutes earlier.  Not too bad though – Norman was the only witness.

Slightly worse was the experience in a supermarket car park recently when I walked back to my car and noticed a lot of paint had flaked off that bit under the passenger door.  I waved at the lady about to park in the space next to mine in a ‘could you hold on just a minute? way, as I bent down to inspect it.  ‘How could this happen?  The car is only three months old.  Had I done something wrong to it?  I’d have to take it to the garage.  RIGHT NOW.  And tell them what I thought of their shoddy paintwork.’  I it was shaking a bit (I tend to do panic really well), but more so when I noticed the dent in the door.  When had that happened? How had I not noticed?  And so the questions went on…

I realised that the trying-to-park lady was looking a bit impatient so I waved in an apologetic way (isn’t it amazing how many types of waves there are?) and walked round to the driver side, still shaking.  I assumed that was why I couldn’t fit the key in the lock.  It took a while to realise that actually, the reason was that the car might be small and red, but it wasn’t actually mine.  My small and red car was a few spaces away…  I kept my eyes averted from the now very confused looking lady as I walked away and got in my car.  It seems that there aren’t that many types of waves.

But actually, I saw someone do something even dafter last week.  I was waiting for a tube when I heard the London Underground man shout:

‘Madam, Madam!  WHAT are you doing?’

‘Well you haven’t got a lift.’

As he ran towards her I heard ‘But that is NEVER going to work…’

What had she been doing?  Well, as she’d not spied the lift, or apparently the ‘up’ escalator all of 10 feet to her right, this lady was attempting to get up a ‘down’ escalator.  With a buggy.  With a child in it…

Now even I would think that one through.  I hope :o)

Norman doesn't think things through either.  Lucky for him I don't have a webcam.

Norman doesn’t think things through either. Lucky for him I don’t have a webcam.

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Another Secret Baker update – some smiles and some grumps

My September Secret Bakering wasn’t terribly successful.  I made Dorset Apple Cake – mainly because it needed a lot of eggs and I seemed to have a ridiculous number in my fridge for absolutely no good reason (25 to be exact)

On the Monday, I picked up my bag containing the four cakes (which I’d stacked on top of each other overnight) and my arm lengthened a good foot or so.  I weighed the bag…it was almost half a stone.  I hefted them in to work, laid it out…and realised that it had all sort of collapsed in on itself.  I’m not sure if it was the apple or the fact that they’d squished each other in their stack, but I ended up leaving a note suggesting people avoid the middle pieces.

1a

I thought I should redeem myself in October, so last weekend I made mum’s gorgeous Chocolate Spice Cake –and it actually turned out well, which in turn became rather problematic as we had a ‘hurricane’ on Sunday night.  It was just a few gusts of wind, but in their usual style, the rail people couldn’t run any trains on Monday morning, so I worked from home.  With a lot of cake.  I also work from home every Tuesday, so the quantity reduced a little more, but happily, on Wednesday I made it into the office with about 90% of the cake I’d made and popped it in the kitchen before anyone arrived.

1b

I listened out for comments but I couldn’t catch what seemed to be a long conversation about the cake a while later, so I wandered to the kitchen on the pretence of getting a coffee.  The conversation between two men went something like:

‘It shouldn’t be allowed.’

‘No, I agree.  We stopped all children taking cake to my son’s nursery, because you never know with nut allergies.’

‘Exactly.  And what if there are nuts in this?  They may have written the ingredients out, but what if someone with an allergy didn’t read it properly?’

‘It’s a weird thing to do, anyway.’

I felt a bit sad.  I didn’t say I thought if someone had a nut allergy they would probably read the ingredients, or maybe even give it a miss to be on the safe side.  And I didn’t say that yes, I know some people think might find it weird, but is it that bad to try to make the office a bit more smiley?  Then I remembered….the health and safety group had moved to our floor a few weeks earlier, and these individuals were part of that team.  Then I just felt sad for them.  What a miserable existence when you can only see problems everywhere you look.

And actually, it didn’t matter anyway, all three cakes were gone in a couple of hours, by then I’d heard lots of nice comments, and this was left in their place:

1c

So there must be a few people around who can overcome the weirdness and enjoy a spot of secret bakering. :o)

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Karma – redressing the balance

Karma is a bitch.  Or it’s a good thing, depending which side you’re looking from.

Remember that horrible lady from the Introduction Agency who refused to match me with anyone due to my negative attitude (when I’d actually just asked why she’d matched me with someone after disastrous dates 1 and 2)?  I waffled in a very lengthly way about it and lots of you gave me advice, kind words and suggested I name and shame online.  I didn’t, because I had a feeling….  It took a few months to happen, but sure enough, I got a mail last week saying that the business was being closed after having very little success.  If she treated other paying customers like me, I’m not surprised.  I think that might be karma.

But if that is the case, after last night’s post, I thought it might be wise to redress the silly photo balance.  When I posted about the yoga retreat last week, I included pictures from a 1978 yoga magazine where the men were in pants and the women were in Lycra.  It resulted in a Facebook conversation about the fact that yes, I did have a ‘cat suit’ in the 80’s and no, I would not be wearing it to my yoga class, but yes, if I could find a picture, I’d post it here.

I found a picture.  I’m grateful for once that my mum was truly terrible with the camera back then, and that in those days we didn’t have zoom lenses.  It means you can’t see me properly, but as promised, you can see below when I was around 5, 6 and 7ish respectively and how my ‘sense of fashion’ (a hilarious concept if you know me) developed:

The sensible tracksuit, aged five.

The sensible tracksuit, aged five.

The black leotard, aged six

The black leotard, aged six (Well, you can make out the leotard, just not much else!)

And the electric blue catsuit, complete with wrap cardigan (which I LOVED), aged 7 ish

And the electric blue catsuit, complete with wrap cardigan (which I LOVED), aged 7 ish

It turns out I didn't have legwarmers then - I remember having real legwarmer envy of the girl behind me in this picture though.  AND she had a two tone leotard / legging combo.  It just wasn't fair.

It turns out I didn’t have legwarmers then – I remember having real legwarmer envy of the girl behind me in this picture though. AND she had a two tone leotard / legging combo. It just wasn’t fair.

And just because they were in the same albums, and because I am making things up to you Little Pea, here’s a possible reason why I ended up being a smoker.  I’m five:

(It wasn't lit, honest!)

(It wasn’t lit, honest!)

And this is when we went camping in Dorset when I would have been about 8 – so 1984.  Was I the only one back then to have such an appalling taste in hair do’s?! (which I assume I must have slept in as I am in my pyjamas)

There's a bad hair day, and then there is this...

There’s a bad hair day, and then there is this…

I hope that redresses the balance when it comes to making Little Pea look a bit daft last night.  I think it’s safe to say I now look far dafter :o)

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Bad Auntie Pog

I am a bad Auntie Pog.

Little Pea is just perfect, but does have a distinct lack of hair.  I know this is not unusual, and I didn’t want to give him a complex or anything, but I did want to see what he’d look like with luscious locks.  And it just so happens that I have my own spare luscious locks in the shape of Bradley.

So for our family entertainment at yesterday’s Sunday dinner I did this:

(By the way, he’d just had tea and forgot his bib – he doesn’t usually have such a dirty top!)

What the hell...?

What the hell…?

I'm not convinced....

I’m not convinced….

I mean, where did my ears go?

I mean, where did my ears go?

Frankly, this is a bit scary now

Frankly, this is a bit scary now

phew!  That's better :o)

phew! That’s better :o)

I am sorry, Little Pea.  You’re gorgeous with your baldy head (and who am I to comment?).  But I apologise now as these pictures will come out again…around your 18th.  And possibly your wedding.  That’s what aunties are for though, isn’t it?  :o)

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(An attempt at) Crochet Class

My mum is a terrible teacher.  We both agree on that and we both dread it when I have to ask her help with sewing type things.  I decided (in a rather high and mighty way) that  I couldn’t possibly be that bad, so when two friends at work asked if I’d give them a quick lesson I was really happy.  I had visions of a regular crochet lunch in the office, helping them to make Christmas presents…

It turns out that I have inherited the inability to teach from Mum.  It started well.  I wound little balls of wool for them, remembered to take crochet hooks to the office, took in some examples of the two stitches I was going to teach and had the pattern for a simple hat that they would be able to make once the two stitches had been mastered.  I did a slow demonstration, and talked them through as they started…

crochet 1

And then…well this happened:

crochet 3

crochet 2

One managed to invent her own stitch, the other wound her wool so tight that there were no holes to stitch the next row in to.

I’m hoping I’ve not put them off for life.  Who would have thought crochet could be stressful?!  :o)

PS:  We used 30 minutes of our lunch break – no skiving off work was involved!

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