Am intrigued. Blog back in the public domain and yet not updating on other bloggers' sites. Hmmmm. Not good. Makes me look like I am on prolonged holiday - which I am not - or being lazy (ditto).
Do I complain to someone? Who? Bit like when you are self-employed and the pc plays up and you think "I'll just call the IT department." And then realise that you are the IT department. Bummer.
Ideas and suggestions welcome. Either that or I will end up wasting time fretting about yet another of life's little worries - the other being, as usual, how to keep the laundry pile under control. Widget's latest trend to wear two shirts at a time (and two pairs of underpants, no idea, don't ask) is doing my head in. Blame Other Half as he seems to have set the trend years ago to 'double shirt'* and appears oblivious to the growing mound of t-shirts on the sofa in our bedroom. Soon they will sprout legs and walk themselves to the laundry basket. Probably out of sheer frustration.
- take kids to playground so they could run around and defrost parts of their bodies that the polar temperatures had affected during the bike ride along the river.
Somehow the weekend FT will not get read until later during the week methinks.
Now, let's see if this post updates properly on other sites.
* I may not have invented this term, but in essence it means wearing two t-shirts on top of each other rather than, say, a shirt and a vest OR a shirt and sweater, all in the name of keeping warm. Supposedly. Personally I just think it is a fashion statement of sorts.
An amusing thing happened on the tube this evening on my way home. Not only did the token weirdo, as per usual, come and sit right next to me, but he also strove to deliberately raise his left cheek (as in a*se, you can see where this is going, yes?) during the journey and fart, quite loudly, in my direction.
But no, I do not think it was deliberately aimed at me. Nor do I believe it was a case of an undercover agent from the paranoid former employer trying to undermine my serene state in light of final settlement being agreed and signed off.
Monsieur Le Gas was, after all, some 80+ years old and rather doddery, complete with hearing aid, walking stick, old-person-style overcoat (the one that is so stiff it stands up by itself when you take it off and smells deliciously of mothballs) and trousers that you just know are being held up by a piece of string. Possibly on day release from the nursing home. And he had lots of hair sprouting from various orifices which would have amused Blossom no end.
Of course, in true British fashion I deigned to ignore the episode, although stifling a fit of giggles when a) the two blokes on the other side of the carriage were killing themselves laughing whilst trying to keep straight faces, and b) I was reading a very funny paragraph in my book*, was no mean feat.
And all I could then think of was what The Bloggess would have made of this as I wrote a fart-related comment on this recent post of hers.
Hey Jenny, are you reading this? Let me know, ok?
Oh, yes, and btw, the blog is back in the public forum.
Just in case you had not noticed.
* Allison Pearson's 'I don't know how she does it' where the character is ranting about a late delivery and the call centre guy is seeking help from a colleague with the phrase "Whatmygonnatella?". Sounds like a venereal disease.
Last week was our anniversary. Not wedding anniversary, book club anniversary. Ten years - and many, many books - since we started.
We introduced a new member into our midst and everyone was asked to be on best behaviour so she would not be scared off. There were eight of us in the original line-up, of which five remain. We have gained a few more and had some 'one-hit-wonders' (ie eager participants who actually only manage one meeting per year, or worse, one meeting full stop), but on average are similar numbers at each get-together.
In celebration of the 10-year anniversary, each founding member was asked to recall an amusing anecdote from previous meetings.
I recalled the one about our name.
The Lovely Radiographer recalled the instance when we ate all the food on offer and left nowt for her husband (who was out training for the marathon). He subsequently had to order a takeaway and renamed us 'The Bookclub Trough-ers'.
Belfast Blonde recanted her bookstore mishap.
But the winning entry came from our Doctor of Psychology who remembered how a discussion about a book ("An Instance of the Fingerpost" by Iain Pears) led to one of the Kevinettes actually reading - and finishing - this tome, thinking it was what we had agreed upon for the following meeting.
It was some 691 pages long.
She is no longer a member. Funny that.
But it does not seem to have deterred our newest recruit, although she did ask more than once exactly what we had agreed to read for next time.
Just a short one today as everyone seems to be distracted by the snow and ice and cold (yes, it is winter, just in case you had been otherwise entertained).
I did a quick post on my ES guest blog yesterday about this, so will not repeat again. But I will post a couple of photos, just to prove my point about this (possibly unhealthy) obsession I have with other people's hair.
Yes, I know, one day I will get arrested for taking unwarranted photos in public places, but after recent threats from Paranoid Former Employer it will be small fry in comparison... I think.