Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Randomness

No see for a little while. Had trips to Whitby followed by hordes of relatives coming to stay so have been somewhat overwhelmed. Work is also a little mental with the joy of the financial year end coming.

So no coherence, just some thoughts:
  • My dishwasher was on fire. I now need a new circuit board and it's hideously expensive. Yay for shitty workmanship!
  • Beer is bad. I spent three days drunk at the weekend. I sang in public. I did disco karaoke. Nuff said
  • I'm having a midlife crisis, it's official. I joined a book club, which apparently only women in search of men or an affair do. Hmmmm....
  • People are idiots. Especially the posh twats on Tynemouth beach who insist my dog must be in heat when she tries to tear the throat out of the idiotic male dog that keeps trying to shag her. She's been spayed. I think they need an anatomy lesson.
  • I learnt that teenage boys can actually be quite nice creatures at the weekend. Teenage girls however are extremely high maintenance. Two baths a day?! And they only eat cheese and chocolate and leave a trail of sweet wrappers in every room.
  • The sun is shining. Time to hibernate for the summer.
  • Whitby is still gorgeous, even though I was allergic to the cottage (cats had been staying prior to us). And if you do your best puss in boots impression, the pub landlords will let you in even with a big stinking lump of dog. However, the locals aren't happy when you disturb their Countdown viewing with the Rolling Stones and Iron Maiden. They retaliate with Britney and Lady GaGa. JukeBox FaceOff commences!
  • Note to self: do not buy DVDs from strange men in Whitby pubs that have heads and a strange 1980's fuzziness to them. Especially when said man is later spied wielding large knives in the local Chinese take away...
That's it. That's my life. Not very exciting is it?!

GD is: awaiting the full horror of the cost of fixing her electrics to come through; engulfed in a fury of spring cleaning but unfortunately breaking everything she touches, reading Twilight by Stephanie Myers, as it was given to her by the aforementioned teenage boy as a thank you, and a bit unsure as to how I feel about it. Oh, and listening to Guns and Roses' Appetite for Destruction because she loves Mr Brownstone.

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

There's an eel in ma garden, what am a gonna do..

OK. Given the last post you'd think my close encounters with the rubbery species were a one off. Oh no. Another overnight storm, another eel in the garden, specifically this one:

But the worst thing? The poor little bugger was still alive, despite being dragged out of the waves, caught up in the winds and then dumped in my garden on the shale just in time to be inspected as a tempting doggy snack. Thankfully Miss Sally was under close supervision (she currently thinks the clematis stems are breakfast and is biting them all off a the bottom. The cow.) so I caught her before she could do anymore damage.

So I chucks it in a bucket of water and it comes back to life, it's hideous maw opening wide and giving me nightmares that will continue to haunt me for decades. Dog lead in one hand, jug on the other I sprinted for the sea, specifically the shale beach just across the road. Of course the tide was coming in, but in long shallow runs rather than deep pools. I didn't want to throw the critter in just to get damaged on the shale so I made a run for the deeper part of the sea when the flow went out.

The inevitable happened. I went arse over tit and ended up plonked ungraciously on my butt as the sea swirled around me in all it's Arctic glory. The dog was thinking it was a great game and throwing herself on top of me, I couldn't stand up or even think coherently for laughing. And then I saw I had an audience of rather gobsmacked dog walkers ringing the top of the walkway down to the beach...

Naturally I was wearing jeans. Squelching home I must have looked a complete loon because I couldn't stop laughing. Ain't hysteria great?

But at least I let it go, even if the poor thing dies ten minutes later. I did my best.

GD is: on the settee in her jimjams warming her butt up under several blankets; reading lots but finding very little satisfying after finishing David Mitchell's wonderful Black Swan Green; listening to Radio 2 which is currently playing the dreadful Madge yowl. I could flick the switch and change the station but I'm just too damn comfortable..