No more wee, thank God.
And no, we didn't take all of the above home, in case anyone was wondering about the title of this post. I was more referring to the piles of randomly procured things in the kitchen and on the washing line that need to be Freecycled by us, but not yet because WE ARE GOING ON HOLIDAY SOON, so for now they're kind of temporarily classified as memorabilia.
Crazy? Yes. That's me. And C.
Bag ladies? Not yet. For now, just crazy cat ladies. OMG.
What would I say if you asked me if I'd spent all weekend traipsing around a field in the mud, voluntarily picking up rubbish and recycling other people's alcohol-related debris at a camping festival that I'm not even camping at, because they don't allow dogs, and also because we're kind of running a cat B&B at the moment (which is a whole other story for another day)?
I'd say yes. And I'd add that 10am is a particularly horrible time to have stale beer all over your hands.
Heh. It's actually fun, believe it or not, mostly because of the obvious environmental benefits, but also because it's quite a sociable job and C and I have both met loads of lovely people - and nagged them about recycling, of course.
It's also really disgusting. Who knew that baked bean flavour baby food could make so much mess? And also who DIDN'T know that sanitary towels can't be recycled?! Oh, and if the two men who peed drunkenly in the plastics bin outside the main marquee ever tell me it was them, they will live to regret it*. Nuff said!
The weirdest thing we've found so far has to be the pair of gentleman's suit shoes which were placed neatly at the bottom of one of the bins soon after the festival started. All very mysterious!
So. More mud and beer cans beckon tomorrow... just please, no more wee*.
* And yes, I know that was probably all Too Much Information, but, umm, how else am I meant to process such weirdness?
The scene: Our kitchen, just now. Doorbell rings.
C: There's someone at the door. [goes to front door, opens it]
Through the glass door, I can make out three people on the doorstep; one of whom is wearing a weird bib thing (think netball) with "NDCS" on it. I bid a hasty retreat to the back garden to throw breadcrumbs out for the birds. A minute later, C appears.
Me: I know who it is and I'm not doing it.
C: Oh, come on. Just meet them. I told them I have someone I'd like them to meet...
Me: I don't want to! You can't make me!
C: Oh come on.
Me: No!
C: GO!
I go into the hall, to find NDCS Bib Man stroking Harrythedog who is lying across the doorway, with two very smart looking women standing behind.
Bib Man: SaysomethingbutIhavenoideawhatblahblah.
Me: [pointing to bib] Can't you sign?
Bib Man: [going red] Er, no.
Me: Can you?
Woman 1: No.
Me: Can you?
Woman 2: Er, no.
Me: [voiced over by C] You work for the NDCS and you can't sign? Shame on you!
Bib Man: [redder] Well, I've only been working for them for three weeks.
Me: [voiced over by C] Oh, plenty of time to learn then!
Bib Man: Er, yeah. Um, have you had any services from the NDCS recently?
Me: [voiced over by C] Um, not lately. I'm 33!
Bib Man: No?!
Me: Oh yes.
C: I don't think there's much you can tell us about the NDCS that we don't know already.
Bib Man: Well. Bye then!
[they leave]
Me: And now they're going to tell our neighbours all about deaf children.
C: Well I hope they don't think it's because of you!
Me: Did he really not believe I'm 33?!
C: No!
Am I glad it's the weekend? Very glad. I'm especially glad because me and C spent a lot of last weekend Doing Things, and this weekend the only thing we're doing is going to see this play, which should be quite exciting, partly because I've never seen subtitled theatre before.
I digress. One of the things we Did last weekend was spend a lot of time skidding about in the mud picking up loads of rubbish that stupid people had thrown all over the nice countryside. No, we didn't lose our minds, we joined in our local Clean Up thingy, along with quite a lot of other people who agree that people who throw rubbish all over the countryside are stupid. Me and C were lucky enough (!) to get a whole patch of our own at the bottom of a slope, which looked like this when we started:
Well, actually, that's only about 20% of it all. And that bike was HEAVY, but kind of useful, as I used it as a kind of pick to jam into the ground and hang onto when I was skidding back up the slope again. No idea if that made sense, but it's what I did. Oh, and the speaker (the black box thing in the photo) was EXTRA HEAVY, and kind of fell apart on the way up the slope, taking me back down with it about 3 times.
Which brings me to ask: WHY go to all the bother of dragging a really, really heavy professional DJ's speaker along a countryside path and then pushing it down a slope, where it stays for a few years before some stupid person (i.e. me) comes along and almost breaks her leg dragging it back up and sticking it in a skip? Seriously... why?!
People are weird.
But that's not the weirdest thing we found... there were several bikes, a fridge, a mouldy old dartboard, a cooker, a sewing machine, millions of cans and crisp packets and God knows what else, all strewn across the countryside. And. That. Makes. Me. Mad.
Here's some of the evidence:
And when we had finished our patch, it looked like this:
I can't tell you how satisfying that was. Like I said, people are weird.
I am just sorry that I missed this. What does it mean?!
Is it art? That is the question!
Spotted in the Calder countryside this afternoon...
I think someone got something wrong somewhere?!
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.
Tonight after work we had to go and pick up a fireguard I'd claimed on Freecycle for a friend who needs one, which involved driving to Bradford and rooting around behind someone's bins to find where she'd left it, then trying not to laugh at the idea that her neighbours probably thought we were burglars. As you do.
And while we were there, we decided to get rid of the Travel Bug that we found on Sunday because I felt like we were holding a relay baton and had to get rid of it quickly as possible. So we went Geocaching again, this time in a park, keeping an eye out for 'geomuggles' (innocent passers by), making sure they didn't spot C poking around in a bush like a madwoman.
And did we find the cache? We did.
And guess what was in it? Another Travel Bug...
This innocent looking plastic frog (it's upside down in the photo, sorry, and the camera battery died before I could turn it over) originated in America, travelled to Canada and spent a while travelling around Australia before moving to the park in Bradford that we found it in. It's travelled over 23,000 miles, and now it's in our kitchen!
Re-spect.
Anyone who thinks that the hills of West Yorkshire are boring should carry on reading this and hopefully change their mind in the end... not that I am trying to be a tourist information-type person, by the way (!)
On Saturday, we walked up Scout Rock (i.e. the hill in the photo at the top of this blog) and gasped in awe at the major views over Mytholmroyd, later gasping in shock and embarrassment when we realised that our new golden blinds could be seen shining er, goldly, in the sun from where we were, which was about 2 miles away..! Let's just hope they don't distract a pilot or something.
On the way down, we bumped into a couple of other walkers who were chuckling to themselves about the fact that a van had driven down the hill and got stuck after following its sat nav rather too religiously. It was now being pulled out, after spending the night there, so we hurried along to see the drama. It was weird to see; a tractor was pulling a recovery vehicle (!), which in turn was pulling the van, which was bobbing from side to side like a toy, closely followed by an annoyed-stroke-embarassed man and a small, excitable boy. I managed to get some photos without being shouted at:
Would you drive your van down there?!
Needless to say, the van was all beaten up and looked like it had been squeezed through a very small space (which it had) ... As we walked down and down the road-that-was-a-road-ages-ago, C and I were gobsmacked that it had managed to get that far! We also found this:
(a scraped rock)
(bits of van)Oh dear. Sometimes it is hard not to laugh at other people's misfortune, even if you feel a bit mean doing so.
As if that wasn't enough excitement, on Sunday, we finally gave in to much nagging from A and went geocaching, dragging an amicable Ce along with us. Basically, geocaching is treasure hunting for geeks, where you drag yourself on longggggg, lonnnnnng walks up biiiiiiiiig, bigggggggg hills to look for tupperware boxes full of, er, crap, hidden in gaps in walls and things. And it's fun! Yes, really.
The first one we looked for could not be found, despite checking on our sat nav - ha! - and searching obsessively for ages and ages and ages.
We tried as hard as we could, but there was nothing to be seen, although poor Ce managed to scrape her forehead on a bit of rusty old barbed wire. Sigh. Disappointed, we walked along the top of the hill to see if we could find the 2nd cache, which we did, within about 30 seconds of arriving. Hooray!
And this is what was inside:
(a tea light and stuff) Not to be outdone, when we got home, C emailed the man who had hidden the first cache that we couldn't find, to tell him that it had probably been stolen by someone for a laugh, or thrown down the hill or something like that, because it definitely wasn't there. The man emailed back to say he'd found 17 caches (hello?! 17?!) yesterday, thus making us feel really, really inadequate. He also helpfully explained exactly where it was, adding "Watch out for the barbed wire that will be above you when you bend down to look!" AAAAAAAAAAAAGH.
So now we have to go back. Hooray!
In a definite sign of age, C and I are now members of Neighbourhood Watch. Laugh if you will, but we didn't exactly have much choice. After a party on Friday night that mainly involved teenagers skulking up and down the road and being sick in front of our house (I took a kettle of boiling water outside to wash it away the next day, partly to impress C and partly to pay my penance for my own youth - nuff said), the local Head Of Neighbourhood Watch was at his most vigilant.
In fact, he was so vigilant that he lurked at his gate until C and I walked past with Harry, and practically made us join. Now, we too have to be vigilant (well, C does - I'm not allowed to be because I'm apparently too paranoid already) and stick their sticker in our window and watch out for things. Fine, anything to please Mr Head ONW; I'm just worried that we'll get invited to a meeting, which will not make us popular with some of the other neighbours.
Weirdly, they all seem to be trying to get us on their sides. It's not exactly like neighbourhood wars here, but everyone is very friendly towards us and doesn't seem to like anyone else. After slagging our next door neighbour off (poor bloke! We like him), Head ONW's next door neighbour even tried to give us a loop system for free (!) when he found out I'm Deaf - "I come across a lot of stuff, you know." Riiiight.
Talking of coming across things, we found a load of stuff in our loft, including a huuuuge car racing game, that a very excitable woman is now on her way to pick up. Yes, I've been Freecycling like crazy all weekend and today too; so much that one bloke (who has been round a record three times!) asked me if I actually had any stuff left..!
Getting up at 6am on Thursdays provides excellent photo opportunities, as you will see if you can see my new masthead above (if you can't, press SHIFT-REFRESH).
As with many photos, there is a story behind this one. It's slightly embarrassing, but I will explain anyway. As we haven't had a door on our bathroom for the whole time we've lived here (although we DO have a CURTAIN instead, OK!), it is possible to see out of the office window while sitting on the loo, if the office door is open, of course. And as luck would have it, that happens to be my favourite view of all; a view of the trees above the magnificent Scout Rock.
Today, everything changes. Today, we finally get a bathroom door.
While that is great news, all things considered, I am devastated to lose my view. So, in honour of Scout Rock and loo views, please stand back and admire my new masthead for a minute or two*.
I thank you, and good day!
* Please note; I didn't take the photo while sitting on the loo, just for the record!!
One of the things on the rather long To Do list is to buy a doorbell, so that the flashing thingy will work and I will know when people are at the door, rather than relying on my eyes or C or Harry to tell me someone is knocking. Haven't got round to it yet... today I wished I had!
The saga started when C texted me to say she had finished work early in Preston, and as it was such a nice evening, we agreed that I would walk Harry along the canal towpath and meet her at the station at the other end. However, I was halfway down the hill when she texted me to tell me that her train had broken down and she was stranded in Blackburn for at least 30 minutes. Change of plan: I walk Harry down by the canal and then pick her up in the car later.
It wasn't until I eventually got home that I realised I'd lost the car key. Panic! I frantically looked all over the house (which had suddenly doubled in size) but could not find it, so I turned on MSN and panicked to A instead. After an hour of futile searching, made worse by the fact that I'd spent most of today cleaning the house/unpacking/doing washing/generally moving things around, and the other fact that I couldn't really remember what I was wearing that morning [it was 7.30am when I drove C to the station, alright!?], so basically... The Key Could Be Anywhere.
So off me and Harry went out again, down the hill and along the canal towpath all over again, meeting C halfway and turning around and walking up the hill again. Home. C and me turned the house over for another hour, but did we find the key? No, we did not. HOWEVER, C found the spare key which we don't use because it's broken and I'm very likely to get it stuck in the ignition or something equally stupid, knowing me.
By this time it was getting dark and we'd kind of decided that someone had nicked the key and was waiting for it to get dark so that they could come along and steal the car, and then we wouldn't have a car any more. We have an old steering wheel lock that we thought might be useful, so we decided to go and open the car with the dodgy key and make it more secure. While we were just putting the lock on, our neighbour walked past.
"Did you get it, then?" he asked C.
"Get what?"
"Your key? My kid found it on the path and gave it to the old man next door."
Hooray!
Unfortunately the very nice old man next door didn't know I'm Deaf - he does now! - so he'd been round to ring the doorbell twice already, but we don't have a doorbell, so he'd knocked, and Harry had barked, but I'd just told him to be quiet and stop being so neurotic, like I usually do.
And that is why we need a flashing doorbell... and SOON.
Just got back from a 2 hour walk up and down hills and across Midgley Moor, because what is the point of living next to a footpath if you don't use it? However, we weren't really supposed to be doing that after work. We were supposed to be buying a shed. But walking up very high hills and seeing views for miles [note to self: must take camera next time] is much, much better than going to B&Q, so I was quite happy to be distracted.
Me and C also got distracted from the endless unpacking yesterday by going to a local gala (!), then a local cafe and then a local pub. Somewhere in the middle of all that we got distracted again and wandered around a house clearance/antiques shop, where we found this book, and had to buy it because it was only £2 and looked hilarious:
... and this is what it says on the back...
We can't decide if it's real or not. On one hand, it seems to be a very serious book from 1962, explaining how women must do their duty to keep their husbands in good health by making them exercise and not letting them smoke or eat too many pies. On the other hand, however, is that really possible?!
Either way, I like distractions.
I have a confession to make.
Yesterday, I allowed A and R to somehow convince me to set up a Beb0 account. They cunningly told me that if I did, then I could convince the rest of the world that BLOGGING IS SO MUCH BETTER and get them all signed up to Deaf-blogs.com in a second, or something like that; kind of along the lines of "if you can't beat them, join them". When I tried to explain that Beb0 is evil and makes me shake and see double, they just laughed at me. Apparently all I need to do is put my info online and leave it there, without doing anything much apart from adding a few videos and things from time to time.
I JUST NEED TO RESIST THE EVIL.
So anyway, I am a weak, weak woman and am not at my strongest on a Sunday afternoon, so I grudgingly did it. That's peer pressure for you! And, if you are at all interested, you can view my Beb0 profile here, complete with a too-brightly coloured, disgracefully garish, overdesigned skin, just like everyone else's.
Goodbye world. It was nice knowing you. Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to get sucked into a vacuum...
I meant to post this afternoon because it was Friday afternoon and therefore I was supposed to be relaxed and winding down and doing useless small jobs in preparation for the weekend. But it didn't work like that - instead, I was scrambling around going to the post office to find out why the mail from our post box didn't arrive this week, and fixing tech problems and whatever. Also this afternoon we found out someone wants to view our house tomorrow. OMG.
Someone wants to view our house tomorrow! A first time buyer! Help! Cue sad feelings about whether we really want to leave Preston or not after all (yes, essentially) and about how someone else might live in our house (yes, eventually) and panicky feelings about having to clean the house (tomorrow morning, because we can't be arsed now) etc.
On a completely different note, I have to mention how last night I went to the theatre, terped by my fave terp, and was gobsmacked to see a sideboard on the stage with loads of 1960s ornaments on it that were owned by my entire family.
Er, well, obviously, the ornaments were props, and they hadn't been stolen from my family - I was just taken aback by how they were exactly the same as the stuff my Nana/Grandma/whoever used to have. Red glass shell shaped horn thing? Got. Giant green wine glass-type thing? Had. Wooden deer ensemble? Check. Wooden elephant family? Yes. Red glass 'abstract' art thing? That too. Several vases? Just the same.
You get the picture? I was transfixed, and was furthermore astonished halfway through the play when I saw a china rose bunch ornament thingy on another shelf, exactly like the one my Nana has. After seeing that, I feel convinced that in the 1960s, people just went to shops and bought a big box of 'miscalleneous ornaments' which were all exactly the same, and distributed them at different places around their houses, mixing and matching and whatever. Well, how else do you explain the fact that ALL of the things on the sideboard on the stage also belonged to my family at one time or another?! My family are not particularly big on hoarding, so it's not like they have millions of wooden deer. Far from it; they had just the same as what was on the stage.
The mind boggles.
In other news, albeit rather late, this is my favourite recent news item! Bless! (We used to have free-flying cockatiels, but that is another story.)
And finally, in a brief-but-calculated act of cruelty, I bring you... Bloons 2! * Enjoy.
* Apologies for the 'obscene nature' of the Bloons 2 link that I posted. I've now changed it to a family-friendly one, after Ce pointed it out and gave me a new URL! (Didn't notice the first time round)
Warning: v v long blog post coming up!
It would be something of an understatement to say that our lives have been shaken up in the last few hours! In fact, I feel really weird and excited and shaky and unsure what will happen next... here's why:
To cut a long story short, for a while, C and I have been planning to move from Preston to the Hebden Bridge area. There are several reasons for this - nothing sinister - including how, now that we have mouse, we can work from home and live anywhere we want to. And what we want to do really is live in the middle of nowhere with lots of nice fields and green things and PEACE and CALM all around us. The Hebden Bridge area is cool too, so we are aiming to live there next.
Down the road from HB, one mile to be precise, is a lovely, but rather unfortunately-named village called Mytholmroyd. Yes, I know it is probably a bad idea to move somewhere so hard to spell, particularly when having to fingerspell, let alone pronounce. In fact, it took me 2 months to learn how to spell it, but now I can!
So that is why we have been doing up our bathroom and garden [apart from the fact that it's fun] and porch and generally behaving mysteriously recently. We are moving somewhere that is hard to spell. Gulp.
After extensive G00gling and trawling of the net, on Saturday, we looked around 4 houses in the area (two were too small, one was too wrecked, and the other had potential) and last night we were due to view 2 more. As Preston is about an hour away, it is understandable that we were rather annoyed to get a call from the estate agent just after we arrived, to tell us we could only see one house because, for some godforsaken reason, they didn't have the key for the other one, which was the more interesting one, of course.
So anyway, as we were there, we let a 20 year old estate agent (who was wearing a flashy suit with a pink tie, and kept calling us "guys", thus making us feel about 80) show us around the house they DID have a key for. It was, er, how should I put it? Large, but rather unfortunate. It had just been repossessed, so it looked like someone had done a runner - I will refrain from detailing my more personal theories here because they are irrelevant - and they had left a rather bad doggy smell and a kind of sad aura behind.
Me = no.
C (who is rather more optimistic) = maybe.
Sooooooooo anywayyyyyyyy, after bidding Suit Boy and the house goodbye, we decided to drive a different way back, thus passing another house we have lined up for this Saturday, amongst others. But we didn't get that far!
Driving up the hill, we saw a new 'For Sale' sign, which had obviously been handmade by the owner of the house, and had a mobile number on it. As it backed out to the surrounding hills, I said to C, why don't we phone the number? And the conversation went something like this:
C: Hello, we are calling about your house. May we look around?
Man: Err, yes. When were you thinking of?
C: Well, we're outside your house now, so if it's convenient...?
Man: What, now?!
C: If you wouldn't mind?
Man: Oh, I was just watching the footy. Erm, er. My wife hasn't tidied up yet... oh, go on then!
So we got out of the car and waved at a rather confused looking man who had just emerged from the house and was looking up and down the street to see where his new-found stalkers were.
After establishing that we were perfectly sane and wanted to buy a house in the area, The Man explained to us that he had sold his house at around Christmas, but it had fallen through because his buyer's buyer's buyer (or something) had pulled out, so the whole chain had collapsed. He was really upset, because he wants to move to Spain with his wife and 2 kids, and they were all packed up and everything. So, he though "sod the estate agent" and on Tuesday night, he made a 'For Sale' sign and stuck it in the garden in the dark. I don't know why it was dark at the time(!) but he hoped someone would pass by on their way to see another house that was for sale in his street (there are a few), like we were... under 24 hours later!
Anyway we liked the look of the gardens, especially as the back one backs into a hill with many, many fields and green things attached to it, and were very excited to see a footpath right next to it. Trying to keep a poker face was very difficult because when we went inside we could see it was even better, with a big new kitchen, fantastic views and everything else we wanted.
OH MY GOD, WE FOUND OUR PERFECT HOUSE! DON'T SCREAM. BE COOL. NNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG. GRIN INSANELY AND NOD. BREATHE.
The Man wants to sell his house ASAP. That is not a problem, because we both want to live there, like tomorrow. Preferably without The Man, obviously.
So after we had calmed down slightly this morning, we phoned The Man and told him we want to buy his house. He said "oh OK."...!! Now we are trying to sell our house and sort out money things and tidy up ready for viewings and get the conveyancer to do the legal things and try and stay calm and see more houses so that we have a Plan B if it doesn't work and ohmygodineverthoughtiwouldwantahousesomuchbutido.
You cannot buy views like that. Space! Agh!
So if anyone wants to buy a really nice 2-bed house in Preston near the Docks with a garage and a lovely garden, please do let me know ;o)
*Breatheeeeeeees*
Because I am 32 today, and because we fancied some peace, C and I decided to spend a quiet weekend in the Lakes last weekend. The weekend was lovely, but not always peaceful...
On Saturday, we were driving along a winding country road behind a silver Nissan Micra [the only reason I know what kind of car it was is because my friend G has one, and the only reason I am mentioning what kind of car it was is because if I don't, people will ask me... OK!?]. All was fine for a while, until we noticed the Nissan was swerving a bit from side to side, and was driving rather too close to the centre of the road, so C, who was driving, kept a safe distance behind. It was quite worrying, but we didn't expect anything to happen.
But, it did (and I feel scared even typing this out, but I feel I have to as it might make me feel better).
All of a sudden, the Nissan zoomed over to the other side of the road - WHAT THE HELL?! - hit a wall, drove up a verge - THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPENING! - flew right up into the air - THIS ONLY HAPPENS IN FILMS! AM I IN A FILM? - and - OH MY GOD - did a back flip, twirling around, then did a kind of bounce and landed on its side.
Apparently, I screamed; "OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"
C steered our car past the Nissan-Micra-on-its-side and onto the verge on the other side of the road and looked at me red faced, in blind panic. "YOUR PHONE! GET YOUR PHONE! CALL 999!" she said, seemingly forgetting I was Deaf for a few seconds. We got out of the car, and while I was locking it, C (who is a qualified First Aider, it must be said) ran over to the crashed car. By the time I had turned round, I was absolutely amazed to see that a youngish man was standing up inside the wreckage, with his head and shoulders poking through one of the front windows. Somehow, he managed to climb out, and while he was doing so, C The Hero helped three other twentysomethings to climb through the space that used to be the back window.
Even more amazingly, they only had small injuries!! The driver and the front passenger were OK, with only cuts on their fingers, while the girl who was sitting in the back had hurt her shoulder, and the man sitting next to her had a cut knee and blood pouring down his forehead, but he wasn't too bad.
[The same cannot be said about the car, which was a complete write off, with smashed windows and dents everywhere. One of the front wheels was blown and the bit of metal above it was all mangled, and, strangely, looked like it was made of ribbons. I couldn't stop staring at it in disbelief. All of us stared at it, in fact.]
More importantly, I was soooooooooo relieved that they weren't dead. Imagine that. I really tried so hard not to cry; it would have been a bit weird if I had, expecially as all of the people who were actually in the car were surprisingly calm... presumably in shock.
Anyway, I didn't cry, and amongst all the chaos, some kind of system formed. Another First Aider joined C The Hero and helped to stop the worst-injured man from passing out, and talked to him and kept him calm and warm, while people from a nearby house fetched water and kitchen towel roll and a broom to sweep up all the bits of broken glass and things. Some more people directed the traffic - because traffic jams had formed on both sides of the road by now - and tried to phone 999. It was difficult to phone at first because we were in the middle of nowhere and there wasn't a signal, but I think someone walked down the road and phoned from a phone box.
While we waited, I was overcome by a strong sense of teamwork; it was weird. Here we were, about 10 random people who had just happened to be driving past at the time, suddenly all being nice to each other and looking worried and saying "How long do you think the ambulance will be?" and things like that. One glamorous older woman wearing huge film-star sunglasses got excited every time a motorbike went past, thinking it was a cop or some other kind of emergency-type person. She saw me watching her flap her hands around importantly and said - as if it was a guilty secret - "I always wanted to be a policewoman, you know!" and winked. Two or three others also said they'd always wanted to be police..!
Anyway, the emergency services - two cop cars, two ambulances and a doctor - eventually did arrive, and we all went away.
I don't think the driver was drunk or anything like that, I think he was just crap at driving. He already had a few points on his licence, I think. One thing is certain, however; the airbags in the car saved the two people in the front, and seatbelts meant that they all only had small injuries, despite being thrown in the air, twirling around and bouncing all over the road.
So: always wear your seatbelt.
And yes, it could have been a lot worse, but I don't want to think about that right now.
In other, less dramatic, news, we managed to walk about 40,000 steps (a bit more than 15 miles) each over the weekend. It would have been more if the above hadn't happened... we were on our way for a walk at the time, and afterwards we decided we wanted to go to the pub instead(!)
So, please wear your seatbelt.
Once upon a time, G asked me and C if we'd store two sofas in our garage for a few weeks. That was over four months ago! As time went on, our garage became fuller and fuller, with many things piled high on the sofas, and then around them, and then in front of them, until we could hardly even get into the garage without breathing in and walking sideways.
And then, we found out that G didn't want them any more!
Men.
To cut a very long, boring story short, too much time passed, and then A suggested we use Freecycle - that was like one of those moments when you feel really stupid and wonder why you didn't think of it in the first place. So yesterday afternoon I stuck an ad on Freecycle, and a few minutes later, I got emails from two women asking if they could have them, like, now! (Like duh, whyyyyy didn't I think of that before?! Thanks, A. I owe you one, as usual.)
Anyway, three really sweet and lanky skinhead youths (the winning woman's son and his mates) have just tied the sofas to the top of a really high van and are driving through Preston as I type. I hope to God they don't squish someone on the way. The rope I gave them from an old demo banner should have helped a bit(!)
So people, REMEMBER FREECYCLE IS THE ANSWER TO ALL YOUR SOFA PROBLEMS!
(PS: G has also fully redeemed himself by plugging a new memory card into my PC for me, and driving us to town to get a new one when we realised I'd bought the wrong one. Bless him!)
I've just spent the last 30 minutes trapped in the evil clutches of Bebo.
No, that isn't usually how I start off on a Monday morning(!) ... I was simply reading my emails, then came across a link to someone's fundraising page in one of them. Clicked on it, then somehow ended up at his Bebo page, then at someone else's and then someone else's, and then someone else's and all of their million zillion friends' pages, reading profiles of people I haven't seen for, like, 10 years, with all of them linking together in one huge, massive, tangled, muddled, mismatched, random, badly designed, brightly coloured web. Jeesh.
As you can see, I have finally managed to pull myself out of the huuuuuuuuuge neverending Bebo vaccum, but I am in shock.
I've always ignored Bebo invitations - so please don't send me one again, people! - because they are so much like hard work. Seriously, you could spend all day there just adding your friends to your list, then adding your friends' friends, and your friends' friends' friends, and telling people what music you like (or you don't like cos you're Deaf and all that), and drawing on their whiteboards and commenting on their comments, and uploading photos and whatever else. It all makes me feel about 87.
Really, in comparision, blogging is so simple and clean and just, well, goddamn EASY. I think I'll stick to it.
Whew.
I think I need coffee.
Yesterday morning, I left the house to walk Harry, wearing a jacket. When I rounded the corner and faced the wind, I could feel it was starting to rain, so (grumpily) walked back home and put on my waterproof. I set off again. When I got to the dock, the rain and wind had turned to snow/sleet, and it was freezing. A couple of minutes later, the sleet stopped. After another few minutes, the sun came out and shone merrily as if it was June, not January, the world wasn't falling apart and nothing was out of order.
All this in the space of about 10 minutes. Scary.
... what's wrong with my monitor?!
When I switched it on this morning, I saw a kind of pink 'leak' inside. Weirdly, the leak is getting smaller, not bigger. That's confusing.
Would be grateful if any geeks who read this could drop any of their diagnosis/ideas/advice into the comment box, please?!
... I was rather taken aback by how much Sports Car Neighbour looks like Ricky Gervais. In fact, for a few moments, I thought Ricky Gervais really was my neighbour, but after looking hard, I realised I was mistaken, which was probably a good thing. Does that make me weird? Probably.
... This week I also broke my favourite glass into tiny pieces for the second time. I say it was the second time, but technically it was the second glass... about 10 years ago, Ce bought me a cool Royle Family glass that moved house every time I did, miraculously managing not to get broken. I became quite attached to it, and was reallllly upset when I broke it last year. So upset, that Ce very nicely bought me a new one on eBay, bless her cotton socks. So when I broke the second one (don't ask, I just dropped it for no reason), Ce was less sympathetic; "You silly moo!" she said - "I don't think I'll be able to get you another one!" I don't think it was meant to be.
... This week I have been worrying about the local dock looking very, very full. The water has risen quite a lot, which is quite weird; I hope there won't be floods in our area. Probably not, but you never know!
Right, time for less waffle and more work methinks. TFI Friday!
What in god's name is this?!
C and I were rather alarmed to find it in our veg bag yesterday. Having never seen one before, we have decided to call it Alien Vegetable until we find out what it is, and, quite importantly, what to do with it. Any ideas? You know where the comment box is...
In one of life's more surreal experiences that only happen when you're getting old, last night I assessed the fingerspelling skills of 18 Brownies, so that they could get their Communicator badges. K assessed their body language, and C assessed, er, their French. Don't ask! It was fun and hilarious!
Basically, all they had to do was ask me my name in BSL, and then tell me theirs. Some of them were really good, and I felt like pulling them aside and saying, "You could be an interpreter when you grow up, you know? Yeah, we are kind of desperate here"... and some of them were OK, and some of them were... erm, not very good.
There was the one who sat down and said to me - she was the only one who spoke to me - "What do I have to do?!" Errrr. I tried to show her she was to ask my name, but it totally didn't work, and she ended up copying everything I signed, until we both sort of sat there staring at each other in confusion, surrounded by a small group of 7-10 year olds, all looking at me. Eventually, she got it and started spelling out random letters to me, while a small girl behind her was shaking her head with wide eyes, to tell me that wasn't her name...! Bless them. She got there in the end, and came back later on, laughing her head off, and signed the whole thing to me all over again with a proud face. Ahhhhhhh.
The best part was probably when K told them, "J can't hear anything at all" and one wee girl looked so amazed, as if that was totally impossible and she so didn't believe it. I looked at her and nodded seriously that K was right, and smiled because it was cool, but her mouth got wider and wider, so I opened my mouth too and we looked at each other, open mouthed; me kidding, and her serious, as only an 8 year old can be.
Ahhhhh kids. Luvverly! And yes, they all passed and got their Communicator badges, of course they did!
When I was a wee girl, I was very attached to my bike. In fact, I used to ride it all the time, and didn't mind falling off it quite often... one of my favourite things to do was to speed fasttttttt downhill, in the middle of the road, with no hands. Typing that now makes me feel a bit ill, but that was in the 80s, before danger was properly invented..! I also loved to build ramps from a couple of bricks and a plank of wood... we'd all crowd round them and ride over them and things, narrowly missing breaking our fingers and whatever.
Ah, those were the days.
Never mind the fact that my green bike was much too big for me until I was a teenager or so, I loved it. That was partly because no one wanted to steal it, and I refused to have a mountain bike or anything else.
So, when I moved to East London and my parents kindly drove a van down with some stuff for me, I asked them to put my old green bike in the van too. They thought I was mad, but did it anyway, and it saved me so much cash. Again, no one wanted to steal it, but that was London, so I locked it just in case!
Anyway, that was about 10 years ago now (and yes, I do feel old thinking that!) ... in between East London and now, I lived in South London, where there was nowhere safe to cycle, so I kept my bike in my flat, and then moved to North London, where I lived at the top of a very big hill that I wasn't crazy enough to even try to cycle up. It was a really big hill, OK! Unfortunately, my old green bike had to stay outside because my landlord never got round to building a bike shed, although he promised to, and they don't have garages in London. So it got a bit weather-worn, which made me feel bad, but it still worked.
When I moved to Preston, of course I took it with me. But I stayed with a mate at the start, and there wasn't room for most of my stuff, so I stored it with the nice people at the Deaf Power House.
Yes, there is such a thing. A Deaf Power House. In Preston.
Basically, the Deaf Power House came about when four Deaf students started sharing a house together in the middle of all the Deaf Power demos and stuff a few years ago. The Deaf Power House seemed a good name, so that's what it became - or DPH for short. DPH has been the home of Deaf students for the past few years, and also, obviously, many house parties!
Anyway, my stuff stayed under the DPH stairs, along with banners and ropes and paint and piles and piles of other demo-type things, until I was ready to move. Unfortunately, there was no room for my old green bicycle, so I left it in the DPH's outside toilet (which was un-used, in case you were wondering), promising to pick it up soon. That was five years ago(!)
So why am I blogging about this now?!
Because as from next Saturday, the DPH will be no more... the final Deaf student moves out, marking the end of an era. Also marking the end of an era, they held their last house party last Saturday, and I went along.
C and me arrived at 11pm, because we'd spent most of the afternoon/evening making our office look more like an office, and we couldn't stop until we'd finished it. Was weird to be back in the DPH after a few years' absence, but it was exactly the same as before - even the tinsel on the wall was the same(!)
After a few drinks, I suddenly wondered if my old green bike was still there. Could it be?! No, impossible. I had kind of assumed that someone had thrown it away along the years, not knowing it was mine, and of course I felt sooooo bad, but I have another bike now and I never had time to go along and check, and I have so many other excuses it's impossible to list them all here.
But as my Dad always says, you never know unless you try, so I asked Andy (the DPH's last ever Deaf resident) if I could have a look in the outside loo. At first, he didn't know what I was talking about, and then he said, 'oh, yeah...' as if, like, whatever, he didn't know what I meant and he didn't care.
So I opened the door of the outside loo very carefully indeed, and yes!! My old green bicycle was there! Upside down, and a bit rusty, but it was there and it was OK and it was mine!
Andy was so amazed to see it, and even more amazed to see a toilet at the back of the outside building, behind a huge pile of junk and things. The other people at the party just looked at me as if I was crazy, but I didn't care. It was fab to see my old bike... there's nothing like childhood bikes, is there?
The weirdest part of the night had to be at 2am when we wanted to go home. I thought we could craftily sneak out from the backyard through the side door and along the alley, but it was all blocked up with beds and mattresses and other health hazards and things, so we couldn't.
Unfortunately, the walk-through living room was full of people watching R give a drunken speech about the history of the DPH, so I thought we were trapped... until C made me hoist my old green bike above my head and carry it through the room saying "excuse me" about 50 times... I have no idea what they thought!
But I don't care.
Old Green Bike Power!
I did this by myself!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ME!!
I made a template thing to make my blog look cool!! Am SO proud!
Only thing is, I appear to have lost my 3rd column. I wonder where it's gone?!
Will finish it soon..!
*jigs*
God, I'm a geek aren't I?
... so I thought I would brighten it up a bit with one of the marvellous Ian Stevenson's latest works:
Yes, it will be alright! It had better be. I have made a new template for this blog - on my day off, no less! - but haven't a clue what to do next.
So, while you wait for that exciting development(!) have a look at this. Cool eh?! I'm having a go.
The sun is shining and it's warm outside. I'm looking forward to the May Bank Holiday weekend. So why did I receive a Christmas card today?!
Answer: Because I (very obviously) don't check my uni pigeon-hole often enough (!!!!) *Makes a mental note to do so*
Have a fab Bank Holiday, people, and don't forget to check your pigeon-holes. You may find something important in yours.
A Valentine's card, perhaps?!
This morning, Harry received this in the post from a crazy-but-kind-of-sweet fan:
The note was accompanied by these.
Harry says thanks very much to his fan - it is nice to know someone cares - and he is thinking about it (i.e. how to get as many Doggy Chocs as possible). In the meantime, you'll have to make do with the rollercoaster in the post below...
Jane Horrocks was great at UCLan last night. She came across as really a very nice person indeed. Oh, and she's tiny, much smaller than she appears on the telly.
Ms H answered the questions from the UCLan journalism lecturer so charmingly, she had all of the audience laughing along with her... and the whole time, I was thinking 'God, she's so nice, please don't ask her OPD's question. She might be upset. I can't upset Jane Horrocks. She's so nice!"
Anyway, the journalism lecturer came to the part when he had to ask Ms H questions random members of the public (like me) had sent in. It was all rather boring, until he coughed and said..."Well now I have a question that's rather different. Jen Dodds wanted me to ask you..." Inside, I was like 'NO I DIDN'T WANT TO ASK YOU! OPD MADE ME ASK YOU! PLEASE DON'T LOOK AT ME. I AM NOT HERE.' ... "...How did you manage to wet yourself every night when you were in Macbeth at the Theatre Royal?"
A slight pause.
Ms Horrocks. "Er, I drank a lot of water. Will that do?"
*I vanish completely amidst the audience*
The lecturer then decided to move swifly on, but Ms H brings him back again. "Can we just go back a bit?" "Er, OK." "...I'd just like to add that I had to clean it up myself after the performance every night... I had to mop it up with Dettol and all!"
Bless her. Happy now, OPD?!
Today, the world's biggest bird poo landed on my arm as I cycled under a bridge. I swear it was so big that I felt it thud! Of course, my jacket is now in the washing machine.
Why me?! And why am I even telling you this?!
If you click on this link that H showed me, you too won't be able to close your mouth for a whole minute.
My mouth is still open!
Just been to visit my family, and thought I'd Google Cocklawburn Beach (nearby) as I was there on Saturday - it's a fab place and I thought it'd be nice to put a photo on here. But I didn't know the beach was haunted!? Freaky, I walked past that exact place, by the way. Didn't know beaches were supposed to be haunted either..!? Erkkkkkkkkk.
Anyway, here's the photo!
As you may have noticed, I recently joined Freecycle and put a link to it in my links section further down on this page. It's really cool... for those who didn't know, you can join your local Freecycle egroup and give away your stuff to random strangers, rather than throwing it away. Kinda like free recycling, hence the name. Of course, you can also get things for free.
C, being C, decided she wanted to ask Freecycle for some compost (yes, poo, rather than computer parts or a spare widescreen TV, for example), and was thrilled when an old lady gave her some horse poo. As you do(!) She was even more thrilled when an old man offered her some chicken poo, which is apparently even better for the garden than horse poo - and smells a lot worse too!
So, today, I offered to go with her to pick up the compost/chicken poo/whatever, thinking it would be really easy. Ha. We drove farrr into the middle of nowhere, where we came to a house with the world's longest garden - no joke, man it was long! - with many different birds wandering around.
The very nice old guy took us down to the bottom of his longgggg garden, where there was a huge pile of chicken poo. The easiest way of getting it was to stand on it, so we did... well, C dug while I held the bags open and pushed the wheelbarrow up to the other end of the longgggggg garden and generally freaked out and pulled faces cos I didn't mention I don't actually get on very well with chickens, and they were looking at me funny, and I couldn't believe I was standing on a giant pile of chicken poo in the first place, especially not on a Saturday, and especially not when we were meant to be working (oh well, there's always tomorrow)...
... And now I have bird flu paranoia.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaghhhhhhhh!
Apart from that, today is the 3rd anniversary of BSL recognition. I'm feeling grumpy about it here.
For example, we make silly films like this:
And yes I know I am saddddddddddddddd... I personally blame A. Bad influence. If you don't already, I would advise keeping away from her or she'll turn you into a geek. You have been WARNED!
If you're having a bad day today, just be glad you don't live in this village.
As you may or may not know, I recently started a postgraduate course, which means I've had to apply for Disabled Students Allowance to pay for interpreters. The last time I was a uni student was 10 years ago, but not much has changed since then...
Last week I got a letter from my GP to confirm I do indeed "suffer from profound deafness." I found this hilarious as I hadn't noticed I was meant to be suffering... even wondered if I should go back to the GP and explain that I wasn't suffering at all, I liked being Deaf, and would they change the letter to say that? But I couldn't be bothered.
Then, today, the uni assessor asked me if I wear hearing aids:
"No."
"Never?"
"Never... I used to but not for over 10 years, no."
"Oh. OK."
"Well they didn't work!"
"Ah!"
(Assessor writes on form: Used to wear two hearing aids but does not wear any more because they did not work.)
..."Do you lipread?..."
*sighhhhhhhhh* What's the point of all that, other than to make me feel as if I'm about 18 again?!
And the best part is I have to go through it all all over again next year, just to make sure I'm still suffering from profound deafness and all that...!! Ha. Am sure I will be(!)
H sent me this link, insisting it works! Only problem is most of them are in London but never mind eh... she says they will be opening new bars over the UK.
So come on - mine's a Stella, thanks ;o)
Bizarrely, C has broken up two fights in two weeks. We are all amazed!
The first fight was in a household shop called Wilkinsons, when C and K were innocently shopping (as usual!). They were looking at shampoo and things, when they suddenly saw two women - both with prams, shamefully - screaming rude things at each other. Then one woman punched the other one, grabbed her and threw her down on the floor and beat the hell out of her... C jumped in and separated them, and then held the craziest one back while K shouted in her face to calm down eh... a crowd formed and the babies wailed. Then 'security' arrived(!) C and K carried on shopping.
The second fight was last night. We were walking down our street with Harry, when the fastest blur in the world ran across our path and dived at Harry. Shocked, I saw that the blur was a dog, and a strange one at that... a cross between a Bull Terrier and a Border Collie (the result was a shaggy, chunky wee dog with a massive face)! So, we will call this dog BorderBull (BB).
BB and Harry started to fight, running round and round in circles on a random person's garden, with me, C and BB's owner frantically trying to get them to a) stop it pleaaaseeeeeeee and b) calm down. Well, that didn't work. Still fighting, the dogs moved into the middle of the road, causing a mini traffic jam, and just for good measure, BB's adopted brother (a HUGE brown dog about twice the size of BB and Harry put together) sat and watched, and barked crazily in a deep doggy voice.
Then the worst thing happened. Somehow, BB managed to bite Harry's ear, and clamped down hard. Poor Harry! They ran round in circles again, with BB's jaws firmly locked on Harry's ear, and the three of us nearing hysteria:
"STOP IT! Oh my GOD, STOP NOW"
"Harry!"
"BB!"
"Yowllllllllllllllllllllllll"
"Oh GOD!"
"Woof woof WOOF"
"Stop! Agh!"
"Harry!"
"BB!"
"WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!"
.... etc. You get the picture.
Just when it seemed it would never end, and BB would bite Harry's ear off and have it for dinner, C The Hero PUT HER FINGER IN BB'S MOUTH and rubbed his lip hard against his teeth to make him let go. It worked! Thank God! Hallejuliah, etc.
(Tip of the day for dog owners: If your dog won't drop something, it is a good idea to rub their lips against their teeth. They hate it. It is, however, risky, especially if the dog in question is crazy.)
BB's owner, bless her, would not stop crying, no matter how many times we said "He's OK, don't worry" or patted her arm. Blimey. He IS ok, apart from a small hole on his neck, and he is loving the attention and all the treats!
C is available for weddings, christenings, nightclubs and anywhere else that may need a security guard.
It is now exactly two weeks since the Finger Accident, and I still can't feel the top part of my littlest finger on my left hand. My doctor told me today that I may never feel it again in my whole entire life, ever. Oh well. I don't use it for much anyway.
But beware, people, next time you are cutting a cabbage. Body parts are meant to have feelings!
Oh my GOD.
I would like to assure my readers that when I woke up this morning, I had no memory of writing the second two posts last night! When I saw them I was like, "WHAT was I talking about?!" I do apologise. And I think it would be kinda funny to just leave them there, so I will...!
I had no idea I was even awake at that time. Jeez.
Bye.