The death of coolness

Posted on September 24, 2013 by thepogblog

It’s been dawning on me a while.

It started with finding Radio Four interesting to listen to and learn from, rather than being boring due to lack of music. And finding listening to it, coupled with a spot of crochet, a very relaxing way to pass some time.

Then on Coronation Street a few weeks back Haley told Roy she could imagine him driving down the country roads with The Archers blaring out (Coronation Street being a terrible UK soap that, yes, I’m sorry but if it’s on when I’m on the sofa, I watch.  Roy is the least cool person in the world – a 50 ish kind of bloke with a deep interest in steam trains).  This coincided with the discovery, to my joy, that The Archers is on at just the time that I’m driving to yoga.  Through the country roads…

But then it happened.  This weekend I think the last little shred of coolness in me shrivelled up and died (not that there was ever very much there in the first place, to be honest).

One of the things on my ridiculously long to do list was to cut down the two buddleia trees in my front garden so I grabbed my pruning shears and ipod and got out there.  I decided some 80’s music was needed to speed up the pruning and picked Neneh Cherry; I actually own her ‘Raw like Sushi’ album.  It’s not something that should be admitted to really.

Being sensible, I’d changed into clothes old enough to garden in.  Hoodie, tracksuit bottoms, and Crocs.  Shoes that should not be worn in public.  So it was dressed like this, while attempting to rap along with Neneh, doing a few little moves between cutting down the trees that a neighbour tapped me on the shoulder.  Amazingly, he wasn’t threatening to call the police for causing some sort of public disorder offence, he wanted to tell me that there was ‘a giant bird, possibly an eagle, pulling a pigeon apart in his back garden’.  I went to look.  It was a buzzard, rather than an eagle (!) but was still impressive.  Unlike me.

However, I decided to embrace the death of my coolness (that’s probably not even the right word to use these days) and when I’d filled 12 sacks with the bits of garden I’d destroyed I drove to the tip (could I sound anymore middle aged?).  With the Pet Shop Boys blaring from my stereo.

I’d better go now.  It’s yoga night and I don’t want to miss the start of the Archers :o)

cool Bumpkinsville cat

cool Bumpkinsville cat

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Not selfless but smiley

Posted on September 19, 2013 by thepogblog

Is there a truly selfless act?  One that you gain absolutely no benefit from?  Sister 2 and I discussed this in depth a while back and we went through all sorts of scenarios.  In the end we realised that ultimately all were done, at a minimum, to feel good about doing them.

It really annoyed me as I thought truly good things should be selfless.  But then I decided that actually, it didn’t matter.  If you feel good for making someone else feel good, so be it.  And I’ve noticed that when I feel a bit fed up with things, I make myself feel better by trying to bring a smile to other people.

I’ve been feeling a bit fed up for no particularly good reason so I decided to get off my grumpy backside and do some nice things.  They weren’t big things, but as a result, this week I’ve received thank you-s in the shape of seven text messages, one e-mail, a card and a bunch of flowers.  I don’t feel fed up anymore :o)

Next time you feel a bit humphy, it might be worth trying – it’s a win-win situation, and really, does it matter if it’s not selfless?  Surely it’s just better to do something for someone else?

Note:  None of this stops stupidity.

I still spent half a day in the office with chocolate on my nose because nobody thought to tell me.

I still had an entire day with Mr Majeika hair that refused to be tamed no matter how many times I tried the ‘Mum trick’ of licking my palm and trying to smooth it down.

I currently have 25 eggs in my fridge because…  Well, I have no idea.  I’m wondering if a chicken has taken up residence in the kitchen and views the fridge as a nesting box.  My secret baker-ing this weekend is going to have to involve a lot of them as it’s getting a bit crowded in there and Norman cat doesn’t like eggs.  Even boiled, with soldiers.  Hopefully the result will be some smiles in the office and for me too.  That’s kind of ok, isn’t it? :o)

Just to prove that no exaggerations were made in the writing of this blog...

Just to prove that no exaggerations were made in the writing of this blog…

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The Dress of Daftness

Posted on September 17, 2013 by thepogblog

Last Friday I took half a day’s leave.  I spent it sitting in my parent’s cellar with my Mum.  I was sewing a dress and Mum was helping me (there were pleats, darts and bias binding involved.  There was no way I was going to attempt it alone).

We had a few problems and I won’t bore you with the details, but I can only assume that I managed to stitch in some daftness.  I finished the dress on Sunday afternoon and I was rather proud that I could wear my creation to work yesterday.

It started ok, but went downhill at my first meeting.  10 minutes after the meeting was due to start, the people it was with hadn’t bothered to turn up and I was not happy.  They needed me to advise them and they were making me wait?  I don’t think so.  I gave them a few more minutes then thought to check the invite, just to make sure they had accepted it before I sent them a short sharp mail subtly indicating my displeasure.  One look at the invite and I realised I was in the right room but on the wrong floor.  Luckily, they were very lovely, patient people who were very kind when I explain my stupidity.  To thank them for their kindness, as I attempted a hand shake at the end of the meeting while holding too many things, I managed to pour the dregs of my coffee over one the hand of one of them.

We have to wear passes at work to get in and out of the building.  Once inside, the only time you need your pass is to get out of the stairwell.  My dress of daftness only had one place (a tie type of thing at the side) where I could clip my pass and to be honest, I wasn’t sure of the quality of my stitching in that area so I decided to leave my pass on my desk rather than risk an unravelling situation.  Of course, I forgot this when I rushed up one flight of stairs to talk to the same person I’d poured coffee over an hour later.  Yes, I was stuck in the stairwell.  With no phone.  And the stairs aren’t used very often so there was little chance of someone passing me and letting me out.  I had to hammer on the door for a good five minutes.  And explain to the poor bloke that I was late again because I’d been stupid again.

And it didn’t stop there.  Yesterday was very windy outside my office.  I was getting over the above issues with a quick cigarette, feeling really proud of myself that for the first time in years I didn’t have to worry if my usual gallon of hairspray would hold my comb over in place or that my wig might fly off.  No, I had lots of real hair like most of the population.  Unfortunately, with little experience of said real hair, I didn’t think what wind could do to it.  I walked back into the office, queued for the lift with a lot of other people, went to my floor and then caught my reflection in a glass wall.  My hair had blown almost entirely on end, and courtesy of the gunky stuff I tame it with, it had stayed there.  I looked like I’d stuck my fingers in a plug socket.

But that was it.  The rest of the day was ok.  I thought I’d write a blog post on this so when I got home I decided to take a picture of my dress to illustrate it.  Only Sister 2 is away so I had to do a selfie.  I’ll post some below as I think they’ll give you a smile without even having the story.  I was aiming for one picture that made The Dress of Daftness look ok.  I failed.  They kind of sum up the rest of the day. :o)

too dark

too dark

oh, don't be an idiot

oh, don’t be an idiot

not quite ready

not quite ready

well, at least you can't see the wrinkles. Or much else

well, at least you can’t see the wrinkles. Or much else

A bit of a muddle with the timer. Look at those pleats though!

A bit of a muddle with the timer. Look at those pleats though!

I actually forgot to move in front of the camera

I actually forgot to move in front of the camera

Made it! Kind of....

Made it! Kind of….

You can see I was bored by this point. And I'd forgotten to breathe in. And I didn't know what to do with my left arm. But sod it, this will do.

You can see I was bored by this point. And I’d forgotten to breathe in. And I didn’t know what to do with my left arm. But sod it, this will do. This is The Dress of Daftness!

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Relaxing yoga and Mr Feet

Posted on September 12, 2013 by thepogblog

Tuesday was the first day of term for my yoga class and it was like starting big school again.  We were in a new, bigger building, with people who were almost all new to me.  Added to that, courtesy of Gorgeous Godson’s lovely mum, I had my own yoga mat.  No more borrowing from teacher.  (The equivalent of borrowing PE kit from the lost property box, a practice which seems so wrong now.  Actually, it felt wrong at the time too.  Bleugh.)

So anyway, I went into the shiny new room with the shiny new people and unrolled my shiny new yoga mat.  Then a man came in – an older, portly gentleman with a rather tight tshirt.  We will call him Mr Feet.  I turned away for one minute, turned back and Mr Feet was STANDING ON MY MAT.  My nice, shiny, purple mat.

I don’t like feet.  I hate them.  I will not go near anyones feet, ever.  And Mr Feet had hairy ones with gnarly nails.  And they were on my mat.  He didn’t even move when I tried to subtly shift the mat.  I decided (possibly a little unfairly) that I didn’t like him.  When he eventually removed himself and put his mat next to mine, I turned mine over – you didn’t think I’d put myself where his feet had been did you? – and the class started.  In yoga you breathe in and out through your nose.  I can only assume Mr Feet had a cold as he sounded snorty.  For an hour and a half.

And then….at the bit at the end where you lay down and relax – my favourite part, he obviously relaxed a lot.  Because he started snoring!  Grrrrrr.  I think I was more stressed by the time I finished the class than I was beforehand.

Next week I will be very careful where I position myself.  And it will be nowhere near Mr Feet :o)

I really need to learn how to relax at the speed Norman can manage it.

I really need to learn how to relax at the speed Norman can manage it.

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Salesmen and guard cats – a bit of a warning

Posted on September 10, 2013 by thepogblog

Last Thursday evening my door bell rung.  Two men from a big UK window company stood there and informed me that they could see I had decent double glazed windows, but had I thought about a conservatory?  I said I had (big enthusiastic smiles from them) and that in fact it had been finished just a few months ago (disappointment crossed both their faces).  Ahh, but I’d not had my fascias, soffits and gutters done had I?  (Big grins from both).  I agreed I had not and was told that many of my neighbours had booked just appointments for a quote.

Now, I’m not a pushover and I normally politely say no thank you before shutting the door on these sorts of people – I am perfectly capable of finding reputable people to give me a quote when I decide I want one.  But this day I’d not expected to see anyone and was standing in very short shorts (the sort never worn in public), and a very flimsy white vest top.  And not a lot else.  And there is only so long you can stand with your arms folded and keep your legs behind a door before you’re in danger of falling over.  I agreed to an appointment for a quote on the basis that I would not be expected to sign or commit to anything.  I was assured that neither would happen and that in fact the quote would be honoured for 12 months should I decide to go ahead.

So last night the salesman turned up.  I made that very clear that I would not be buying anything and just wanted a quote.  He did absolutely nothing wrong, but from a completely objective view his sales technique was quite clever.  This isn’t really a funny post, but I wanted to tell you what he did as, had I been less objective, or a more vulnerable person, I’m pretty sure he’d have made a sale. And if you have a vulnerable relative or friend, maybe you will want to warn them.

  • First he asked where he could sit.  Nothing wrong with that except I was expecting him to whip out a tape measure and calculator, write down the price and leave.  He actually had two cases, a folder of papers and an ipad.  I sat him at my table rather than the sofa next to me, but the amount of space he took up was quite imposing.
  • He then told me (in a very long winded way) that most appointments took 1.5 to 2 hours.  I informed him that this one would not.
  • He spent 10 minutes filling in a form with my name and address – something that possibly could have been done in the last 3 days – claiming that despite the fact he’d just driven here and greeted me with my full name, he’d forgotten the lot.  He used this time to find out about me and, I think, establish some common ground.
  • And then I was taken outside to be shown what would be replaced – fair enough, but all the while he was telling me that this would be a very cost effective house to do, he’d be able to give me a ‘good price’ etc.  Subtle, but effective.
  • And then the fun started.  One of his cases turned out to hold a demonstration of what they actually did – this bit goes here, that bit goes there etc.  In this demonstration it was explained to me that in a house the age of mine, the felt that goes under the tiles and protects from damp will have been pecked by birds, eaten by wasps or have rotted away, and that was if it had been done properly in the first place.  And that meant that the damp would get in.  And damp travels.  By the time he’d finished the demo I was wondering if the timbers holding up the roof may actually be on the verge of disintegrating…
  • …of course, they could fix it all and supply everything needed to make sure my house was completely protected.  Of course they could.  Other companies wouldn’t do all that to the same extent.  Of course they wouldn’t.
  • So I pushed for a price.  Now remember, Pog Towers is the smallest house in the world, being a terraced bungalow.  I’ve just measured the width and it’s about 4m 65cm (15ft 4) wide.  Nothing needed doing at the back because of the conservatory, so I just needed one horizontal drainpipe, one vertical one and the boards around it.  (With no measuring done, how can you do an estimate of this sort without knowing the dimensions?), but a lot more talking we finally got to the cost.  £1784.

I have no idea if that is a good price or not (I suspect not), but I reminded him that I wasn’t buying anything, that I’d been told the quote was good for 12 months and I’d be in touch if I decided to go ahead.  He then informed me that there was a price hike due in September and another around six months after that.  They could probably hold the quote but he couldn’t be 100% sure.  However, if I paid 10% now, that would guarantee I got the price he had just quoted….  I actually had a bit of a panicked thought that if my roof was on the verge of crumbling maybe I should write a cheque and work out where to find the money later.  Even though I never intended to buy anything, a teeny part of me wondered if I was being daft not to just get on with it.  Happily, a bigger part of me sat on that teeny part and shut it up.

I’m not a pushover as I said, but I do need to make an effort to be assertive and it took quite a lot stop him from talking about his cat, his long work hours and of course the benefits of his offer to get him to pack up and go.  I had to stand up and open the front door and thank him for his time (!) before he got the hint.  And that is when I knew I’d been right in not feeling comfortable.  Norman cat started walking in the open door, saw the salesman and backed out with a quiet hiss.  And Norman is never wrong about people :o)

So not a funny post – I’m sorry.  But maybe it’s worth being aware of the subtleties of salesmen, – especially if you have a vulnerable friend or relative.

Or get them a Norman so they’re warned of undesirables.  A guard cat, if you like :o)

How Norman spent the rest of the evening. Either it all got too much or I have a cat that wants to join the circus as a cat contortionist.

How Norman spent the rest of the evening. Either it all got too much or I have a cat that wants to join the circus as a cat contortionist.

PS:  This man was definitely not as bad as the washing machine delivery man who used my mobile number (which he had as part of the sales information) to text me to ask me out.  And no, I didn’t :o)

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Happy blog day to The Pog Blog!

Posted on September 6, 2013 by thepogblog

Tomorrow it is three years since my first blog post on here!

This week at work we were shown a new presentation tool.  I don’t think it’s actually that new – bright young things are apparently using it to write CVs these days.  It was new to me though, and in an attempt not to get left behind I thought I’d learn how to use it.  I thought I’d use it to do something I actually wanted to though, so I present my Prezi of the last three years of The Pog blog.

I have no idea if this will work properly, but if you click the image below it should start up. (If not, you can use http://prezi.com/zetxiqsipfxb/?utm_campaign=share&utm_medium=copy&rc=ex0share)   You use the arrow at the bottom to move through it and you make it full screen using the button on the far right corner.  If you put your sound on, you’ll even hear music (which I think I may have screwed up a little, but I did at least try!).  Should you see a name appear on this, it’s not mine, I’ve used a generic work account for this (shhhh)

pb

If you don’t take a look, I just want to say thank you for coming along for the ride with me.  I hope I have brought you a few smiles here and there :o)

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Norman’s first day…

Posted on September 5, 2013 by thepogblog

There have been pictures all over Facebook today of little people starting at reception, big school or big, big school.  Norman and I have felt a little left out, so we put our heads together and decided that at 3 and a bit, Norman is probably a bit young to be starting somewhere. But he still wanted to dress up.

Couple this with the fact that HM Customs and Revenue recently wrote to me, very kindly, to inform me that there have been recent changes to Child Benefit, it seems that somebody somewhere thinks I have my own little person.

So here you go, just indulge a mad cat lady for a moment:

Norman Cat. All ready for his first day at...um...Bumpkinsville Cat School. (You didn't think he'd actually let me dress him up did you?!)

Norman Cat. All ready for his first day at…um…Bumpkinsville Cat School. (You didn’t think he’d actually let me dress him up did you?!)

Good luck and have fun to all the little people starting somewhere new this week and next.  I still have one good friend from primary school and a few from secondary school.  It’s quite exciting to think all of these little people are making friends with others who might be in their lives for decades to come :o)

PS: I just realised that I have highlighted the fact I have no little people by finding the time to doctor a picture of my cat for my own amusement.  It’s the little things…!

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Mr Bumble, Little Pea and Me

Posted on September 3, 2013 by thepogblog

Monday mornings are not my favourite things.  I imagine that most people would agree.  Recently though, I’ve worked out a way to look forward to getting into the office.  I don’t open my laptop at the weekend unless I really, really have to and there is a lady whose blog I follow who always posts over the weekend and whose posts I love.  So my treat for getting up at 4.30am, contending with the road, train and tube and being in the office before anyone in their right mind should be, is to take a look at her blog as soon as I log on.

Often, she blogs about walks that she has been on with her family.  I love the photographs and the fact that, based in New Zealand, she is experiencing the opposite to me in terms of the seasons.  I should point out that I don’t know this lady other than via our blogs, and having mentioned her once before I’d like to assure everyone that I am not turning into some sort of stalker…I promise.

Anyway, this Sunday, I realised I had the opportunity to take photos to create a similar post to those ones I like so much.  I had my first outing with Little Pea on my own (Sister 1 took the opportunity to use a free hour to…go to Tesco.  There is no accounting for taste, but there you go.)  We went to a local wildlife reserve which was once a gravel pit and is now ‘a Site of Special Scientific Interest’. So this was our walk in pictures and a few words:

Little Pea and Mr Bumble. Bright eyed and busy tailed.

Little Pea and Mr Bumble. Bright eyed and busy tailed.

A Little Peas' eye view

A Little Peas’ eye view

'Mr Bumble, just look at those ducks!'

‘Mr Bumble, just look at those ducks!’

I just rather liked this view

I just rather liked this view

And this one

And this one (even though the light is all wrong)

Teasels remind me of my childhood. I think because I had a hedgehog made from one...

Teasels remind me of my childhood. I think because I had a hedgehog made from one…

All the excitement got a bit much for Little Pea. Mr Bumble was still raring to go though :o)

All the excitement got a bit much for Little Pea. Mr Bumble was still raring to go :o)

And then I got into the office on Monday and happily, The Green Dragonfly had posted about her Sunday walk.  Mine pales into insignificance next to it – take a look here – it’s beautiful.  Little Pea, we all have to start somewhere, but I think we may have to get more adventurous!  :o)

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My name’s not Joseph….

Posted on August 29, 2013 by thepogblog

…but I do have an amazing technicolour dream coat.  Well I sort of do.

You know I mentioned that on Monday I may have been a bit enthusiastic with my wine intake and sung and danced down the path to my front door?  (Sister 2 informs me that it wasn’t just the neighbours who I may have disturbed, it was most of the street).  Well the song was inspired not by my days in the local choir (yes, really) when we performed Joseph in the village hall, but by my newest creation.

I’ve been crocheting like a mad old spinster with a cat. Oh….

Anyway, I’ve been crocheting madly for a few weeks and finally finished my first big project which was

***Trumpet fanfare, please***

This:

despite Sister 2 taking around 98 photos, this rather awful one is the best in terms of showing off the dreamcoat

despite Sister 2 taking around 98 photos, this rather awful one is the best in terms of showing off the dream coat. Apologies for hair / face/ double chin etc

 

I realise it’s not to everyone’s taste, but it’s kept me out of trouble for a while :o)

Should you be a crochet type of person too, the pattern is in a book called ‘Crochet in No Time’ by Melody Griffiths although I did alter it quite a bit – I made it shorter, built up the neck a lot, added buttons and missed out the pom poms.  And it can’t be that difficult as I only learned to crochet 5 months ago :o)

And just because you have to do a bit of swirling in a thing like this, one final picture :o)

coat2

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Bank Holiday Lessons Learned

Posted on August 27, 2013 by thepogblog

As I said in my last post, I went to visit the Lovely Nut in her lovely house in a field on Friday.  I came back on Sunday which meant that the long weekend somehow felt longer.  It was certainly long enough to learn a few things…

  • When you’ve watched a 76 year old light a fire (hearth, not bonfire) with wood, newspaper, firelighters and…a liberal sprinkling of paraffin one night, you become very enthusiastic about doing it yourself the next night (it gets cold at night time in the middle of a field).
  • Learning the amazing stories behind furniture that’s been collected over almost half a century is really interesting – it gives you a real insight into how much effort went into that house.  My favourite story was a bit like this though:

Me:  Why is there a big hole in the leg of that desk?

The Lovely Nut:  (said in a completely matter of fact tone) Oh, that was when someone was checking his shotgun was loaded…and it went off.

Me:  Right…

  • It turns out that a shower (walls as opposed to the watering bit) really can be held together with Duck Tape.
  • Lovely Nuts are no wiser when it comes to packing for a summer holiday than I am (I was given the task of making sure she didn’t over pack).We managed to agree that two boxes of porridge weren’t really essential though.
  • Trying to teach the Lovely Nut how Facebook and Twitter work -well, that was just daft:

(The Lovely Nut: Could we look up my cousin Alexander in Holland?

Me:  No, I’m not friends with him

The Lovely Nut:  Why not?  He’s a lovely man…)

Sunday I spent finishing a big crochet project I’ve been working on (I’ll tell you about that another time).  Just as I finished and a microwave meal for one was beckoning to signal the end of the weekend I got a text from a friend suggesting the pub.   It just goes to show how fast things can change – I was whisked off in a very posh brand new car to sit in the last of the sun with a glass or two of white wine and a lovely dinner.  When I got home I decided to sing something from Joseph and his Technicolour Dream coat as I danced down my path at Sister 2 who was hanging out of her bedroom window.  I guess the final lesson is that I should have gone a bit easier on the wine.  Ahem :o)

field

It really is in the middle of a field!

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