.... random rants and rambles. no agenda. yet.

OK so I accidently broke my must-try-to-blog-1x-week rule, partly because I was busy doing Christmas stuff like eating too much and crawling slowly up and down the M1 in Crazy Festive Traffic (no, I didn't drive) to visit me and C's families... and partly because I have developed a kind of post-work allergy to computers and become strangely drawn to tragic Christmas TV instead.

Wow, that was a long sentence. The last one was much shorter.

But anyway, it all went very well and was enjoyed in all the right places, I am pleased to report. (I hope the same was true for anyone who is reading this!) And now I'm left with a Christmas Belly, a pile of cool pressies including a digital photo frame *yay!*, a permanent, vague hangover and an injured foot.

Yeeees. So our plans to go walking in the new year are now under threat because my foot is black and blue and doesn't work properly. I COULD explain how this happened but I don't think I would manage to do it very well - it was one of those "you had to be there" experiences - but I CAN say it involved the cat sitting in the wrong place, thus giving me a fright and nearly sending me tumbling downstairs, saved only by my foot. And no, I wasn't at all drunk.

Oh yes, the cat was involved. I need say no more. Instead, I'm hobbling downstairs, taking my Christmas Belly with me for more fuel, resolving to fight my new-found computerphobia in 2008 and blog more. Or something.

Posted by j at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's official: Mr Corbett is a geek.

Herewith more evidence...

He loves computers, and kindly sent me into a panic tonight by walking across the laptop and turning the Number Lock on, which took me 5 minutes to work out. So... his new Favourite Place is the space between two computers - one dead [I thank you again for your recommendation, Joe!], one alive - which is much better than the dog's bed...

...so much better, in fact, that he has to be dragged away from the desk in order to come downstairs and be sociable and watch TV with us all. Ring any bells?!

I wonder if this all has some kind of hidden meaning? Or maybe it just means that cats are weird.

Posted by j at 8:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

First off, please admire our fine Christmas tree decor:

Will probably post a photo of it in its entirety - if anyone is remotely interested - when our angels are ready for the top. But they aren't yet. Instead, we have some groovy new LED lights, which make our living room look like a nightclub most of the time (only C knows how to switch on the 'peacefully glowing' setting).

HOWEVER, our neighbours are crazy for Christmas lights. Crazy, ker-azeeeee, indeed. We tried to get evidence, but taking photos from a moving car is not easy (I don't share C's view that it is perfectly normal and acceptable to walk down the street and stand in front of my neighbour's house with a camera, like some kind of paparazzi person)... however, I think this picture gives a pretty good idea of HOW crazy they are:

Yeees. Every single time I pass their house, my breath is taken away. Wow.

In other festive news, Ce has kindly elfed me and C, which can be seen here by anyone who wants to laugh at us (we did, several times).

And A has kindly sent us some cat nip, which looks suspiciously like a bunch of old herbs, and may or may not save our furniture - I haven't had time to put some in an old sock and wave it around in front of the cat's face as instructed - cat fans, you will be updated.

Have a happy weekend, all!

Posted by j at 5:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Don't you just hate it when everything breaks down just before Christmas, and you feel like "agh" because a) it costs money and b) you don't have time to deal with it because you're already spending your entire life trying to deal with the Pre Christmas Rush at work? Well, I do anyway.

And I know there are other things in the world more blogworthy that I should be moaning about, but I don't have the brainspace to think about them, so here is my list of breakages (in no particular order):

1) The car. Haaaaaa, of course it would be the car, because the car always breaks down just before Christmas every year. This year, not content with sustaining a dent after a youth* used it as - er - a trampoline, the car decided to have a puncture in its wheel too, which meant we had to drive around to no less than four garages this morning, before we found the one that was run by Tyre King, who knows everything there is to know about tyres. Then, while he was looking at it, we took the dog for a walk and almost got trampled by a herd of horses who ran at us (it's true... well, at least the dog almost got trampled). And now, we have to go back again tomorrow because Tyre King says blahhhhhh and blahhhhh and whatever, but mainly because it's the most complicated way of doing things.

*exhales*

2) The TV signal. Contrary to popular belief, living on a hill does not help you to get better TV signals, so tomorrow we are getting Sky TV**, because our electrician (who has been 11 times; we counted) said it's the only way we might actually see subtitles and proper TV channels and everything else that TVs are supposed to show.

3) My computer. Oh yes, siree. The Evil That Is V*sta has finally won the war and - er - done something. Sigh. So now my computer doesn't work without randomly switching itself off when I'm in the middle of the Pre Christmas Rush. Thank god for laptops, is all I can say, and that's strong coming from someone who hates laptops.

4) The dog.*** Who is now banned from under the bed for the rest of his life.

5) The cat. **** More catvice needed please, cat fans: how do you make a cat use his lovely new scratching pole thingy rather than scratching all of our doors and furniture to smithereens?

And that was my Broken Things Rant. Thank you and goodnight!

* - we think.
** - if you're interested in the special Dixons £75 deal and the website says it's sold out, don't be fooled because it isn't, and you can save a further 10% by putting in the code SKY10.
*** and **** - mainly just mentioned to annoy OPD, because she thinks I blog about the Harrys too much. And she is right!

Posted by j at 6:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Posted by j at 6:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

... All blame/credit for the above must go to OPD, because she emailed me saying "I think this is very funny....you might not." and asked me to stick it on here. And I did, so I did.

But in all seriousness, the Government's carelessness and stupidity is not funny. Oh, no siree, it is not. There are many things I could say about it but I'm not in the mood.

Instead, I will tell my (in)visible blog readers our Harry Latest. They are both sulking because they went to the vet yesterday; Harry Corbett is convinced it's all a major conspiracy because we shut him in a box against his will and made him swallow an unidentified object, also against his will. And he is a cat, thus must be obeyed at all times, so he punished us by holding a hunger strike. Thankfully he has now given in and eaten, but is hiding behind Harry Barker's chair JUST TO MAKE SURE.

Harry Barker, meanwhile, is grumpy because he has hurt his back by over-chasing squirrels (at his age! oh, yes!) and is therefore banned from Under The Bed, which is one of his most favourite places in the world. He's tried to rebel and go there anyway but it's barricaded so he can't, so he has to stay in the office with me instead, WHICH IS NOT FUN.

And the over-nourished Pussy is nowhere to be seen, despite everyone's wise advice. Maybe s/he thinks we'll take her/him to the vet too?

Posted by j at 1:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I have just fed Pussy*, the neighbourhood stalker cat who keeps scaring me through the kitchen window, for the second day running (and about the 5th or 6th time in total). When I told C this, she just said "Oh good," and carried on talking to her Dad on the phone, as if it was all completely normal.

That's what I want to know... is it normal to feed cats when you've no idea who they are or where they came from, but they're ever so - dare I say it - cute, and you feel really sorry for them and worry that they aren't getting enough to eat? While I'm far from harbouring kittens and becoming a crazy cat woman like A [dodging thump], I need to know. Because if I/we are doing the wrong thing by feeding Pussy and s/he will become over-nourished, if there is such a thing, then I/we will have to stop.

In the meantime, Harry Corbett is smugly sitting in Harry Barker's chair, while Harry Barker pretends not to notice, instead making us feed him bits of toast because he knows we feel The Guilt. Badly.

* - Not his/her real name. Probably.

Posted by j at 12:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)