ganching

What I Did At The Weekend

One of the more enjoyable things about not going to work is that the weekend becomes much less important and therefore more enjoyable.  On Friday evening I met a friend at the V&A to go to a talk.  The talk was about architecture and community engagement so quite relevant for me.  There was a panel discussion and I vaguely knew a couple of the people who were speaking.  The whole of the museum was open until 10 and there was lots of stuff happening.

 It was hiving with young people, m0st of them, I guess design students and many of them  were channelling the 1980s which made me feel quite nostalgic.  I was talking to my sister about this and she pointed out that lots of kids look fantastic wearing 80s gear and so did we although of course self-doubt meant that we didn't realise this.  Normally on a Friday night I would feel really tired and grumpy but this Friday I felt positively serene.

Yesterday I went to Upper Street where I met the same sister for lunch.  Beforehand I mooched around Camden Passage as I was on a mission, unsuccessful as it happens.  I had a bit of time to kill so went window shopping which is not that much fun if you have become a New Frugal (this is a social categorisation which I have just invented.  New Frugals have recently had life changing experiences and no longer have any visible means of support but, here's the thing, it is a big novelty for them and perversely enjoyable.   I imagine that you can only be a New Frugal for a a maximum of three months and then you turn into a gibbering, panic stricken, poor person who shops for food in Catford and crys yourself to sleep every night.  I asked Traybake today if he prefers the new me and he said he couldn't see much difference as I was still morally superior and irritating but just spent less money.) 

The other thing I did yesterday was become a great aunt again.

Today I weeded one flowerbed, baked one chocolate cake and listed one thing on eBay.  I am going for dinner at TB's.  We are keeping mainland European hours so I have been told to arrive at 9.

Tomorrow will be less enjoyable as I have two, horrible application forms to fill in.

I hope you all had a good weekend.

Feral

On Monday of last week instead of buying a monthly travel card I bought a weekly one.  This Monday I didn't buy one at all.  I am now officially on gardening leave.

I feel a mixture of apprehension and joy at the idea of never going back to that place.  My leave started on Thursday of last week and already, I am completely unsocialised  having turned into one of those people who you would rather not have sitting next to you on the bus.

I went out today wearing purple socks with brown shoes and beige trousers.  I was morto, as they say in Ireland, when I realised what I'd done.

 On Thursday, my first day of freedom, I had an encounter with a shop assistant. ( It was in a shop that sold mobile phones so please don't judge me too harshly.)  I wanted to buy a phone, having lost mine on my rain soaked walk the previous weekend.  My mobile phone company had replaced my sim card and had tried to make me change my contract but I held out and said I preferred to buy my own phone.  What I discovered is that it is almost impossible to buy a phone without also buying a sim card which costs £10 over and above the cost of the phone.  I didn't want to spend £10 more than the advertised price of the phone for a sim card which I wouldn't use.

"So the price is actually ten pounds more than the price it says on the label?"

"Yeah, but, you get ten pound's worth of credit."

"But I have a contract."

I could tell that the girl in the shop was getting a bit nervous.

"I have  a contract that I PAY for already.  I don't need ten POUNDS credit."

"Maybe you could give it to someone else?"

"I don't know any drug dealers!"

I could literally see the panic flicker across her face and watched her begin to back away from me  towards the safety of the counter.  She clearly had no idea what I was talking about.  I felt a bit guilty about it as obviously she had never watched The Wire.

I came home and bought a sim free phone from eBay.

Apart from this I am quite enjoying myself (excepting the horrible applying for jobs business).

Traybake made me lunch yesterday. 

"It's only something simple.  A tomato salad."

Five minutes later.

"Could you bring me down some tomatoes?  I've run out."

Five minutes later.

"What about a boiled egg with the salad?  Would you like that? I always like a boiled egg.  Bring me down a couple of those too when you're coming."

We ate in the garden and it was just like being on holiday especially later that evening when I realised I had been bitten several times by a mosquito.

I am looking forward to learning how to garden.

 

 

In Which We All Need Cheering UP

The news today is very bad so here is a picture of Jedward to cheer us all up.

 

Picture Diary

Last Sunday I was in Brighton visiting my friends K and S who I have not seen for some time.  I have to say I was shocked at what I found.  When they lived in London they were quite a hip young couple. In her youth K was in a band which John Peel played on the radio and S lived in Old Street before it was the trendiest place in the universe.  Things have taken a turn for the worse since they moved to Brighton and have had two children.  On Saturday we went to an open day at an organic farm, on Sunday morning we visited their allotment and early on Sunday afternoon I was almost tricked into attending a Spider Web workshop in a living willow bower...and to think S used  to say "never trust a fucking hippy!"

On Monday I had a culinary disaster of epic proportions.  This rather disgusting mess was meant to be a tray of sausage rolls.  I was cooking for a picnic the following evening.  I did eat a little of it for my dinner but had to get rid of the rest of it i.e. I gave it to Traybake who ate it for his lunch the next day and declared it to be delicious.

 

 

 On Tuesday I went to work on the overground aka the ELL.  I love this train so much that I need to write a whole post on it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Wednesday I went to work again on the ELL and took another sneaky photograph. The woman carrying what I think was a hot water bottle, looked a bit like an off duty nun or a mad person or possibly a mad off duty nun. No-one sat beside her anyway.

 

 

 

On Thursday and Friday I didn't take any photographs as I wasn't in the mood for anything.

On Saturday I went for a walk.  We got wet, we got lost, and I lost my phone. We were so wet and dirty we couldn't go to the pub and had to eat our lunch in a bus shelter.  I was glad I did it though as it cheered me up a little. 

Next week I expect there to be some significant changes.  I think things are going to get worse before they get better.  

A Day To Remember

On the day that my mother died I went to Marks and Spencer's.  I had suddenly realised that I had no shoes to wear to the funeral and my brother, having packed quickly before leaving Canada, had realised that neither did he.  We had a couple of hours to spare before the wake would start so Kerry Sister drove us into town.  I bought a pair of cheap leather pumps and my brother got some brogues.  

The shop was fairly empty and I didn't have to queue for long.  While the woman who was serving me was putting the shoes in a bag I couldn't stop myself from yawning.

"Long day?" she asked.

"You could say that." I replied.

Of course she had no idea just how long my day had been and wouldn't have known that there was still  more to come.

I remember almost every moment of that day.

Around 9.30 in the morning  the District Nurse sat us down and explained what was likely to happen.  She finished off by telling us that while death was imminent it wasn't likely to happen within the next few hours.

At 10.30 my phone rang.  It was my boss from work, a woman who has never taken much interest in my personal life.  I'd contacted her a couple of days beforehand to tell her that my mother was not expected to live for more than a day or two so she was fully aware of my situation.  She started the conversation by asking me how my mother was and then she told me I was being made redundant.

My mother died a few hours later.

I am now in dispute with my employer. Yesterday was stage one.  I have no idea where it will end up.

It was a long day and it's not over yet.

 

 

Home Is Where The Heart Is

I have something really, really difficult to do tomorrow so I am trying to distract myself by writing rubbish here.

Something very exciting happened to me on Monday. (That is ' very exciting'  if you have a life of utter tedium interspersed with the odd, deeply unpleasant encounter with figures of authority.)

I was on the way home from work standing at the bus stop in New Cross Gate when two police motor cycle outriders swept into view.  There are two sets of traffic lights there and they rather gracefully stopped the traffic.  Coming up behind them was a huge SUV which was being followed by another enormous police vehicle.  In the SUV were two people in the front and a lone woman sitting in the back, brushing her blond, rather frizzy hair.  They passed quickly by ignoring the red lights.  It was none other than Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall and consort of our future King.  I did not have a stick handy to jab her in the ribs with and confined myself to giving her a surly look.

Later that evening I went to the best Turkish restaurant in London with Traybake and Soda Farl. They were singularly unimpressed with my brush with royalty.

 This is the standard of conversation I had to put up.

Me:  I always sleep with the window open now.

SF:  I don't like keeping the window open at the back.  It doesn't feel safe.

TB:  Yeah, anything could come into your bedroom.  A little squirrel for example.

SF:  Yes, it could, and then it might nibble your nuts.

There was no further conversation for ten minutes as TB and SF were laughing so hard that I thought both of them might have strokes.

I have been at home all day due to a sore back.  If I don't move soon I might actually meld to the bed.  I am going to go for a short walk, hopefully avoiding the torrential rain which has been falling on and off all afternoon.

Keep your fingers crossed for me tomorrow.

Stokey

About 1000 years ago I lived in one of these flats which was just off Stoke Newington Church Street.  It was an up and coming area then but there were still cheap places to live - very cheap in my case as the flat I lived in was a "short life" property, that is owned by the Council and let out to people who wouldn't normally get a Council flat. They were short life because we were only given short tenancies and short life in the sense that they were in danger of falling down. My room overlooked Abney Park cemetery and I was often kept awake at night listening to the owls that flitted about among the overgrown angels and mausoleums.  There was a huge hole in my bedroom ceiling which my brother in law helped me repair.  More accurately B repaired it but I handed him the occasional screw and paid for the materials, We went to the DIY shop on Church Street - now a restaurant - to buy plasterboard and  the shopkeeper laughed at B's Kerry accent.  B didn't mind that much but I was furious.  

I went there yesterday. Our old flat has now been properly gentrified and Church Street is packed with trendy shops and delightful cafes.  I spent an hour mooching around waiting to meet Ms Mansfield.  Ms Mint lived round the corner from me and I managed to take a photograph of the flat where she lived and was pleased to see that the wooden window boxes which her father made for her are still there.

Ms Mansfield was late and I was beginning to get a little bored with looking at things I couldn't afford to buy (the New Austerity prevents me from purchasing "things") when I heard someone call my name. It was an Irish woman, dressed in tiny shorts and a t shirt, sitting outside a cafe drinking coffee with her husband.  I sat down with them and chatted for a while.  It occurred to me that very few people looking at us would have guessed that she was the president of an august British Institute.

Ms M turned up eventually and we went to a vintage fair where again I bought nothing although was cheered to see what other people are prepared to pay for things, especially things which I own and may be selling on eBay.  We then went to Russell Square in Ms M's car via a number of back roads. When I suggested to Ms M that she could have an alternative career as a minicab driver she seemed,  for some strange reason to think I was being critical of her driving.

We saw Potiche which was very silly and very, very funny.  Afterwards I was standing in the foyer while Ms M used the facilities when I overheard someone say,

 " Is that Ganching?  No, it's not..."

Strange not to be recognised.  It was another husband and wife pair who, co-incidentally, also knew the President who I'd been talking to earlier.  We chatted for a while and then they cycled off while Ms M and I set off for Sarf London.

Bumping into people in London is  really rare so for it to happen twice in one day in different parts of the city is quite remarkable.

Today I went to Dulwich Picture Gallery with the delightful Fifi who is a very sporadic blogger these  days.  We saw the Poussin/Twombly exhibition which was very good and then went for a little stroll in Dulwich or, "DullRich" as a friend calls it.  I forced Fifi to go to a different station than the one she had arrived at and when we got to it discovered there were no trains stopping there today.   A couple came along and we asked directions.  They suggested that Fifi walk to a station 15 minutes away where they reckoned she would get a train into central London.  Fifi and I were saying goodbye when the woman half of the couple got out off their car and said they would be passing the station so why didn't they give her a lift.  They may have been in the pay of Boris Johnson with the express task of making tourists believe that Londoners are really friendly and helpful pre the Olympic Games or they may have been people traffickers.  I suspect the former as i got a FB message from Fifi a couple of hours ago. 

I was walking back towards the village when I bumped into Fee, the one who talks a lot who I go walking with.  We went for tea and made arrangements to go for a walk in a couple of weeks. 

Tonight I am going to eat roast beef with Traybake.  He sent me a text telling me what time to arrive at:

9 sharp. Need 2 get bck 2 work by 10

Is it any wonder that educational standards are slipping in this country?

Before dinner I am going to water the garden.  I find it ironic that I have never used any chemical in the garden and yet before I go into it I have to slather myself in carcinogenic chemical sprays to keep the insects away.

 I hope your weekends were as eventful as mine.