Ten thousand smiles (ish!)

Ok, numbers aren’t important.  Well, hmmm.  I guess that depends actually…

When I started writing this blog I realised quite rapidly that I could track the number of people clicking on it.  ‘It’s not important’ I tell myself on a regular basis, ‘but it is rather interesting’ I argue back as I check the stats for the 19th time that day…

I can’t manipulate the figures before you wonder.  The blog ‘recognises’ me and so doesn’t count any of my clicks, which is why it is a bit exciting when the numbers go up.  Because it’s you spending your time reading my words.  Which is all a bit daft when you think about it, after all, I’m pretty sure that it was suggested I wrote the blog so that friends didn’t have to actually listen to the trials and tribulations of this Pog.

So why am I wibbling about the numbers now?  Well, over the weekend the number of hits on the blog wandered over a bit of a landmark.  I now have over 10,000 hits.  Yes, TEN THOUSAND. 

So thank you for reading.  It means that me trying to make you smile has made you make me smile back.  I think :o)x

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Dinner anyone?

You might want to give this one a miss if you are a veggie….

A few weeks ago I came home from work to discover the latest gift that the boys had brought in.  Half a piece of raw bacon.  It’s been a while since they’ve stolen dinner from whichever neighbour doesn’t protect their food so I wasn’t too worried – it was only half a piece of bacon after all.

Apparently though, I shouldn’t have been quite so relaxed about the thieving.  This Saturday I fell asleep on the sofa and woke up to spy a new present in what the boys seem to have decided is the ‘present-leaving-spot’.  I say I spied it.  I couldn’t have missed it.  I actually spent a few minutes in a sleep fuddled state trying to work out what it might be.  A tortoise?  A bat?  A rat?!

No, it was this (vegetarians, I warned you):

dinner anyone?

Yes, that’s a raw, very large steak.

Could this be a hint?  Have thee boys gone off their ‘Claude’ pouches and Go Cat biscuits and feel they should go up in the world?  Or do they not approve on my diet and feel more protein would be beneficial?  I really need to work it out soon as I think at the moment I may have a rather hungry neighbour somewhere on the road…

:o)

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The ‘joys’ of exercise – a flump on wheels

This morning I went for my first bike ride in over a month.  I’d love to tell you that it made me feel exhilarated, full of energy, ready to start the day.  I could tell you that, but it would be a lie.  Mostly it just made me feel very sick.  

Clearly I’m so out of practice that I’ve forgotten how to dress… when I got home I discovered my top was inside out and the wrong way round which meant that the label had been rubbing on my (double) chin the whole way.  I also forgot that when you are really cold you need to warm up a little before you just in a hot shower or you get really itchy scratchy (so much so I managed to scratch through the skin on my left thigh, which was nice).

It would seem my muscles are a little out of practice too.  10 hours or so later I ache.  A lot.  Even trying to do charades to Sister 2 through our windows across the road while on the telephone to her was a little painful (especially when caught by a neighbour – although that was more mental rather than physical pain as it may not have not helped what I suspect is my ‘weird cat lady’ reputation… ).

I will however, attempt to do the same again tomorrow.  And keep going until I am back in the rhythm of the exercise malarkey.  Because I look like a flump at the moment.  (I’ve started avoiding mirrors now as my reflection makes me feel rather grumpy.) I was thinking of one of these: 

Flumps of the sweet variation

But having looked up ‘flump’ on Google, I found this…a scrap of childhood tv memories:

A flump of the Pog variation

 And I think that’s probably quite an accurate image of me (although for anyone who doesn’t know me / hasn’t seen me in a while, I would like to mention I have slightly less facial hair).

So if you are starting your Saturday with a bit of relaxation, please spare a thought for this flump wheezing round Country Bumpkinsville on two wheels.  I’m sure it will be…exhilarating!

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a mouse, a wig and a hand…

It’s been a slightly odd day. 

At 5am I was trying to work out why I’d left a note for myself saying ‘power mouse’. 

‘What the hell…?’  Your brain (or at least mine) is more than a little foggy at that time and I had visions of a body building mouse.  Or a mouse that had power dressed in shoulder pads…  It took until I got out the shower to realise that there should have been a comma involved.  ‘Power, Mouse’.  Take the power pack and mouse for the laptop to work …makes perfect sense with a little punctuation.

And then I had to mime to a song I didn’t know in the (busy) office kitchen whilst wearing a wig and being filmed.  As you do.  It wasn’t just me – it was five of us.  It was some bright sparks idea to create a ‘hilarious’ video as a colleagues leaving present.  It certainly caused hilarity for those who saw us in the kitchen…and for the complete strangers who saw us outside in Canary Wharf acting like loons….

Having survived the embarrassment I thought might kill me, I did some work – quite a lot really.  But that must have been where I peaked, as I don’t remember very much of the 1.5 hour meeting that rounded off my 9.5 hours in the office.  Very few notes were acquired.  This was though:

my talking hand

That could have been the end of the slight oddness, but no, I had my finale in Tesco when I got in a pickle trying to find my purse, emptied out the contents of my bag, including my wig, on the till and handed the slightly stunned Tesco lady my club card with my talking hand.

Boy am I glad it’s Friday tomorrow :o)

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Fairy tale facts…

I was worried on Saturday night that I had to get a taxi on my own.  I wasn’t worried about the actual taxi…more the fact that I was wearing a wig, wings a tutu and a 3 foot tail.  I was off to a nursery rhyme and fairy tale themed fancy dress party for Sisters 1 and 2s birthday.  (I was a Fairy Tail….get it?)

I needn’t have worried, the taxi driver didn’t bat an eyelid and, as Robin Hood said to me when I got there, she’d been embarrassed to have to go to the bank in her outfit but was relieved to see a ladybird had arrived just before her…

So here’re some things I learned whilst dressed as a fairy tail for an evening:

  • White rabbits need to insert a loo roll into their mouths in order to breathe.
  • The three blind mice weren’t blind – they were just wearing dark glasses inside…
  • Little Red Riding Hood’s basket is an ideal place to smuggle in contraband alcohol to avoid the paying bar (and that was my parents doing that!)
  • Whiskey shots can even make wigs look drunk (and make their accompanying mermaids become mostly horizontal)
  • Beauty’s can get very overexcited about their hoop skirts (to the point that they create their own little version of musical bumps on the dance floor because it ‘makes it look all poofy’).
  • Beast’s face can stay sticky enough to stick to a fairy tails face and scare people even  more than when it was part of Beast
  • A 3 foot tail is great for twirling but also for tripping up its fairy (especially after the 6th or so vodka)
  • Ali Baba doesn’t look that great in a long blonde wig
  • A blind mouses tail can also be used as a piggy wig tail and an elephants’ trunk, should they be required.

So there you go.  A few things I imagine you didn’t know before now… :o)

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An alarm clock incident

I had a slight incident this morning.  On the days I am in the office (as I was today), I set my alarm for 4.30am.  (I get in early).  I can comfortably doze until 1/4 to and still be out the door on time…at a push I can snooze until 10 to. 

This morning I woke up and my alarm clock said 12 minutes past. TWELVE MINUTES PAST!  Very late.  There was however, still the teeniest chance that I might be able to make my train.  I hurled myself out of bed (feeling hugely thankful that I live in a teeny house that can be crossed in about ten steps) got the kettle on, cleaned my teeth, threw myself in the shower for quickest of washes and noticed the clock…

v

v

v

v

v

04:15

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Thank goodness it’s the weekend.  At least the alarm wont be going off at silly o’clock for a couple of days :o)

the light at the end of the tunnel...?

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Fixer Pog

I can sew.  I can cook (only cookies and banana loaf, but that still counts, right?).  I can’t, however, do DIY.  I try.  And 90% of the time Dad or a fixer-man has to spend twice as long fixing my ‘mending’ than if I’d never touched it.  As Dad pointed out this week when I borrowed a second roll of duck tape to fix the shed roof, I’ve almost used enough now to have re-sealed the roof, walls and floor….

And the electrician who fixed my dodgy light switch nearly passed out when I explained that it often turned itself off when I was mid shower, so (while still in the shower) I’d lean out and fiddle with the switch until it worked again…

Despite this, when the extractor fan in my bathroom progressed from sounding like ‘fighter plane taking off’ to ‘dead’, I decided to fix it on my own.  I wasn’t daft – I have learned (a little).  Knowing I couldn’t turn the power off as I needed some light to put the master plan into place, I waited until Sister 2 came to visit.

I provided her with a coffee and positioned her near the phone with instructions to dial 999 should anything go ‘pop’.  Or worse, ‘bang’.  I then shouted updates at her. 

‘I’ve taken off the outside thingy…am sticking screwdriver into the fan bits….wiggling it around…. Not long enough.  Swapping screw driver for a knife…jiggling it right into the top bit….’

It was disgusting.  A good 20 years of extracted bathroom ‘stuff’ fell out.  I wriggled, jiggled, wiped, eventually put it all back together again and…you’ll never guess what…not only does it work, but now it purrs like a small, quiet and happy cat.  I AM single woman fixer extraordinaire! I may stop the DIY at this point though.  I don’t want to push my luck too much…  :o)

pretty loveliness...

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Sleepy issues…

Last night I couldn’t sleep.  It became one of those nights that I became so frustrated that I couldn’t sleep that there was no way I was going to.  So instead I lay there and tried to work out what was different to every other night when I have been able to sleep. 

And then it dawned on me….

Pog Towers is very small (did I mention that before at all…?)  And as a result, I can hear when one side has a heated discussion or the other side sneezes (although to be fair, his sneezes could move mountains – I’m not sure any thickness of walls could protect anyone from those explosions…).  The other thing I hear though is the dvd or CD player of the little boy next door – the wall my bed head is against must be the other side of the wall it’s on.  And I think I must need its calming tones as much as he does.  We seem to share a bed time…and although I find that a little strange with our 32 year age gap, it seems I should hope we’ll continue to do so. 

Otherwise I’m going to have to invest in a heap of children’s sleepy time recordings in order to get some of my own sleepy time…!

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Popping my market trader cherry!

For years my mum has called me a toad (except last week when she ‘accidently’ called me a fat toad.  I’ll gloss over that for now though…).  The reason for this comparison?  She thinks I was born cold blooded.  I am rarely warm – even in the summer it needs to be close to tropical for me to feel a little toasty.  And that’s why Sunday was such a challenge for me. 

I had my first stall at my first ever Farmer’s Market.  That was a little hair raising in itself, but as I left home at 6.30am (another Sunday challenge), it was -6.5.  When I arrived at the market it was -3.  Then it started raining…ice.  Mum, dad and I put up my newly acquired gazebo, set out the stall and they, very sensibly, left.  I settled in my gazebo sporting the following:

Underwear, two thermal vests, one long sleeved top, one polo neck jumper, one very thick cardigan, a pair of tights, a pair of normal socks, a pair of thermal socks, boots, a pair of leggings, a pair of tracksuit bottoms a pair of oversized ski trousers, a coat, a snood, a hat, a pair of gloves and….a slanket (one of those blankets with arms).  Within two minutes of sitting still I was completely frozen.  And being laughed at by passers by.

poggyW market stall!

In an attempt to stave off hypothermia I attempted to continue moving by taking notes throughout the 6 hours I was there.  These were as follows:

Embarrassing moment 1:  Attempting to run through the market to grab a cup of coffee before parents left…and loosing ski trousers as I went (tip:  this does seem to be a  good way to break the ice with other stall holders)

Embarrassing moment 2:  Discovering that the reason things felt a ‘bit funny’ when I moved to get a carrier bag for a customer was because the sheer quantity of clothes I was clad in meant that I’d not managed to release the stool from between my legs.  I was therefore waddling around looking like I’d sprouted a camping stool shaped tail.

Awkward moment:  Realising I’d accidently broken into Sainsbury’s having forced the door open so I could use their toilets (it hadn’t opened yet)

Lovely moment 1:  My aunt arriving with freshly baked delicious cookies and a bottle of homemade raspberry vinegar (to be consumed separately)

Lovely moment 2:  Sister 1 and Sister 2 arriving together and buying me hot porridge to try to stave off the hypothermia

Lovely moment 3:  My godson and his big brother appearing out of nowhere having driven an hour or so to see me (well, their mum and dad drove…they’re clever boys but they are both of an age where they still eat with their fingers…)

Happy moment 1:  Taking my first pennies from the first friendly face to visit (thank you cycling friends mum) having been told not to expect to take any money for the first couple of markets

Happy moment 2:  Taking enough money to cover my pitch bearing in mind it was my first market and it was the sort of weather that only polar bears really enjoy

Happy moment 3:  Taking a little over my pitch money!

Overall, it was a FREEZING but fantabulous day.  I met so many lovely people – customers and stall holders.  I feel I am now an authority on dog coats – having seen, I think, every shape and style ever made.  I am slightly concerned by the re emergence of rainbow knitwear that seemed to surface in the shape of jumpers, coats, hats and (worryingly) leggings.  I’ll blame the extreme temperatures for that though.

When I got back to mum and dad’s house, dad helpfully found out the weather forecast for this week.  As I told him, the next date that I care about the weather for is 11th March as that’s when I do it all again.  Only hopefully in slightly fewer layers…and maybe I’ll have warmed up by then :o)

PS:  The poggyW website (for those not keen on hypothermia) is www.poggyw.co.uk :o)

behind the scenes...and the offending stool...

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A weirdy old week…

Wow, it’s been a weirdy old week.

Snow in Bumpkinsville meant that Sister 1 had to extract me in her 4×4 on Sunday so I could get to the station and to Milton Keynes for a training course.  Of course, the trains were being ‘interesting’ due to the snow, but those of us trying to work out the next train were still slightly stunned to me told by station staff to look on the internet on our phones as they had no information…

Anyway, I made it to Milton Keyes with just the one embarrassining incident (somehow getting the zips on the inside of my boots stuck together on the concourse at Euston, narrowly avoiding a forward roll as a result, but instead having to walk like a penguin until I could separate the things).

The course was brilliant – lovely, lovely people, interesting things to learn and a constant supply of delicious food.  I’m never mentioning people’s accents again though…

 ‘Oooh, are you from Argentina?  No?  Oh, Ireland…’  And

‘What part of Australia are you from?  You’re English?  From Birmingham.  Right…’

So I had two days of loveliness and then had to get back to reality. Reality has, as some of you know, not been terribly lovely recently.  But what I have discovered this week is that I have some very, very good friends who think I’m ok just the way I am.  So to those of you who have listened to me and to those of you who have sent me messages, you are fantabulous.  I’m sorry I’ve not had many smiles to share, but thank you for lending me yours.  It’s meant a lot :o) xxx

some love bugs, from me to you. x

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