Tuesday 31 July 2012

An admission

Ok. I've got something to admit. I was unfriendly yesterday. I didn't mean to be, because I'm attempting be more friendly recently.

I was swimming and there was a woman in the same lane as me going a similar speed. So I started having a little Olympic race of my own against her. While breast stroke and back stroke were in play, we were almost the same speed. Then she started doing front crawl. Therein lay her mistake.

She did that kind of laboured don't-want-to-put-my-face-in-the-water front crawl. Every stroke required her to throw her body in the opposite direction in order to get her arm forward. She was a gonner. I sped ahead. 'Eat my splashes, swimming lady!'

As we neared the edge of the pool, I snuck in first for the gold, and my competitor came in a second later for silver.

She had been looking at me over her shoulder like she wanted to say something and now that I was alongside her, she went for it.

She said something about it being a lap lane and that I was supposed to be behind her, not next to her. I thought about saying, 'yes, I know it's a lap lane, but I can't swim behind you if you're swimming slower than me because you'll slow me down.' I didn't say it. But I wanted to.

What I did instead was reached the side of the pool and threw myself into a length of backstroke without even the slightest pause. Just as though I hadn't heard her say anything. Totally ignored her. That was unfriendly. But she was being nonsensical. When the front person is going slowly, at some point, someone will overtake, so for a brief time, there will be two people next to each other instead of behind each other. Don't go slow then get grumpy when someone overtakes you.

So I was unfriendly and I'm sorry for deviating from the mission. I shall try harder.

On the other hand, I was walking behind a lady the other day who had her hands full pushing a bike and she dropped a red pepper. As she tried to juggle holding up the bike with bending down to get the pepper, I pottered over, friendly mission face on, and picked up the pepper for her.

So maybe my pepper picking friendliness cancels out my swimming unfriendliness....?

Monday 30 July 2012

In the garden

There's a lot of Olympic-fever about. Even I, not a sportswoman by nature, have let myself get caught up in it all. I have downloaded the London 2012 app to my phone. Yes. That's right. I have the app. And yesterday I did my fair share of whooping and running around to see the women's bike ride in Richmond Park (no near-death experiences with deer this time!).

So anyway, while it is all quite exciting, I feel like I might need some time out for something different. With the latest sunny weather (yes, I'm aware there was thunder during the bike race yesterday, but in general, it's been sunnier, honest), the garden is looking fabulous. So I thought we could have a little tour around.

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Tomato plant flowers


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Fuschia


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The lavender is finally attracting bees! Woop!


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Umm... What are these called? Pansies?


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More pansies


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Marigolds, I think....


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Pansies, again


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Not sure.....


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Pansies....


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Tomatoes


So there it is. For the long winter months, it looks like a wasteground so I am understandably excited that the sun has come out and there is something to show off.

Tomorrow I am off to do some Olympic stuff. There are loads of free exhibitions and, rumour has it, a maze made out of books! Thousands and thousands of them! How amazing would that be?! I'll let you know how it goes.

Sunday 29 July 2012

Gymnastics

In the spirit of the Olympic Games, I thought I'd tell you a little story about gymnastics.

I don't remember going to a gymnastics club when I was younger. I did go to trampolining, which was huge fun and was always at a drama club, channelling my inner thespian.

My friend, however, he didn't need no stinking 'club' for his gymnastics. Him and his brother and sister had reached Olympian standards by just practising at home. They were highly organised about it.

They would stand in a line, oldest to youngest, and his sister would take the lead. She would choose a move, a rollover, or a cartwheel, or a handsstand. And when she finished the move, she would throw her arms up in the air and shout, "GYM!"

My friend would come next. He would have to copy the move exactly and, when finished, throw his hands in the air and shout "NA!"

Younger brother would come last and copy the move, hands in the air and shout "STICS!"

When all done, they would shout "GYMNASTICS!" together and then get in line for the next move.

Another rollover - "GYM!" Another one - "NA!" Another one - "STICS!" All together - "GYMNASTICS!"

They also spent quite a lot of time perfecting their ice skating skills. They would push the furniture back against the walls in the front room and roll up the rugs. And they would 'ice-skate' around the front room and do commentary on each other's skills.

I haven't seen any of their names in the Olympic line-up for the gymnastics or the ice skating but, of course, they might be going by aliases. Because if people knew how good they were and that they were representing Britain in the Olympics, they'd probably get mobbed... Probably.

Saturday 28 July 2012

Laura Maisey, Fully Qualified Piglet and Multi-Award Winner

Well, this is a good week. Passed my exams and been nominated for two awards. I'll do the other one in a separate post. So for now, I would like to thank Wealthymatters for the nomination for the One Lovely Blog Award. This blog is a mixture of useful info and tips on creating wealth (always a useful thing when emerging from a period of self-imposed student-loan-related poverty!).

So the rules for this award are that I tell everyone 7 things about myself and nominate 15 other blogs for the award. So I'm going to have to think of 7 new things as I swear I've told the most interesting stuff already. Ok, here goes...

1. Sometimes I think I might like to spend my life becoming the new Alfred Wainwright, a famed English walker, who spent his time walking the Lake District and writing fantastic books about it, known as Wainwright's Walks. In light of this possible life goal, I'm looking into walking the Pennines for my birthday next year. It takes about two weeks apparently. A friend did it and had a heart attack and had to be airlifted off to hospital. I don't think the heart attack was related to the walk.

2. I once walked the Great Wall of China. It took about two weeks. It was exhausting. A lady in one village tried to sell me a Great Wall-themed t-shirt and when I said I had bought the exact same one at the previous village so didn't need another, she said, in desperation, 'But I have extra large!'

3. When I was travelling in Namibia with a friend and her family, we were staying in the middle of nowhere in a tented camp. As we walked in the pitch black from the dinner tent to our sleeping tent, we looked back up the path and shone the torch, and we had walked straight past a huge HUGE male lion with a massive mane. It had been lying down next to the path, clearly not hungry enough to have a go. If any of us had reached out an arm while walking past it, we would've touched it.

4. When I was younger, I named every single cuddly toy that I had, and I had a lot. When I was supposed to be going to sleep, I gave them all personalities and created a little life with them. My favourite doll, which I'd had since forever, was called Yvonne.

5. After I've been swimming, I eat far more than is really necessary, to get my energy back up. I'm probably burning enough to have two or three cereal bars. I tend to eat four or five, then a bit of everything else I find in the fridge. I know this is silly. And I know overall, the swimming can't be having that much effect, due to my massively increased food intake, but I have decided to pretend that it's not happening. If you would pretend too, then that would be great. Thanks.

6. I love a project. Love it! If someone says 'I need to file all this stuff by tomorrow, I'll never get it done' I love it, I get straight in there. Or if we need to check the best before dates on everything in the shop, I'm on it, I've already started! Re-organising a drawer or re-arranging furniture, I love it. Let's get the garden looking pretty, someone says. I'm your woman! I love it. I get excited thinking up projects for myself to work on.

7. I feel quite a bit of pressure to do something law-related now that I have my degree but in all honesty, I quite like what I'm doing now, even though it has nothing to do with law. People say, 'O, so what will you do now?' And I'm like, 'Well, at the moment I am mostly baking and writing. Which I like. So I'll do that.' Lots of people with grown-up jobs don't like them very much. Whereas I love my job, it's great fun. I think I should count myself lucky in that and not be in a rush to go and do something grown-up, just for it's own sake.

Ok, so now you all know me a bit better (I'm running out of cool facts to tell you all actually. Any more awards and I'll be telling you things about myself that are of the 'I had a cup of tea this morning' variety), and it's time to nominate 15 other blogs for the One Lovely Blog Award. This is fairly easy as they're all pretty lovely, lovely enough for me to take the time out to read them every day. I'll try not to repeat any I've done before.

1. Thought Catalog - This blog is just fantastic. There are no other words for it. It's witty, painfully honest and always hilarious. 33 Things You Should Know Before Dating Me is my favourite of the recent posts, but the'yre all worth reading.

2. A Year Of Reading The World - This blog is great. 196 countries, and a year to read something from all of them. I was super excited the other day when I saw a book from Namibia on the list.

3. The Good Greatsby - I love love love this blog. Invite Me To Your Yachting Party and Thank You For Inviting Me To Your Party. I Apologize For My Behaviour At The Party are among the funniest things I have ever read.

4. Belle Grove Plantation - This blog feeds my history obsession. It follows the restoration of the plantation in Virginia, US, where James Madison was born. The little stories of discoveries on the land and tales of the families who lived there are absolutely fascinating. At some point, I'm definitely visiting, it looks amazing.

5. socomfortablynumb - This blog had me at "I'm not all that pretty. I dress wierd."

6. CyclingEurope.org - This man cycled around Europe and wrote a book about it, which I'm in the middle of at the moment. It's a great book, fantastically entertaining. Read it.

7. Bagni di Lucca and Beyond - Gorgeous gorgeous photos. I've never wanted to go to Italy more! In fact, I have booked myself a trip there soon and my sole holiday research has been this blog!

8. hairsprayandhemingway - I was initially attracted to this blog by the name. The blog is described as being about 'literature, beauty and life.' What's not to love?

9. AsiaDreaming - This blog always has beautiful photos from exotic faraway lands, that make me want to drop everything and jump on a plane.

10. Blogging for a Good Book - It's the Williamsburg Regional Library blog and every day I come and check out which book they have recommended. I've read a few that have been suggested and they were very good.

11. Tokyobling's Blog - Again, amazing photos and a fascinating insight into another part of the world. The colours and liveliness in the photos are great.

12. Project 365 by Kenneth Todd - One photo a day for a year. Does what it says on the tin. There are some lovely lovely pictures on this blog, check them out if you're into photography or if you just like looking at pretty things.

13. Fitness and Frozen Grapes - The great pictures of food are just one of the reasons I love reading this blog. No matter how active I am, I always feel lazy when I read this!

14. Lyrics and Chocolate - The most recent post, List of things that never change was great!

15. Steeshes - A Photo Collection of Mustaches - This blog is just great. There's always a new picture of a moustache. I feel it is good for one to be up-to-date with the latest moustache fashions. That's partly why I love this blog so much. Check it out. You're bound to discover something amazing.

 

PS. As a London-dweller, I feel I should say something about the Olympics. So here it is = the Olympics are nice, aren't they?

Friday 27 July 2012

I came. I saw. I passed.

Yes, that's right. All that hard work has eventually paid off. My results came out on Monday. I was working so had it in the back of my mind to check them after work. Then when I got home, the weather was nice enough to have a barbecue so I did that and it totally went out of my mind to check my results. Not because I'm not bothered about them or anything but because it's just not in the front of my mind anymore. It feels like forever ago that I was sitting around making up stories about Wayne Rooney to remember case names. It was so exhausting that I couldn't wait to get them out of the way and move on with normal life. So long as I didn't have to resit, I was happy to have finished them.

The day after results came out, a friend sent a text message asking how I did. That's when I remembered they'd been released and I hadn't checked them! I was in work, again, so thought I'd check on the computer when I got home. After work, I pottered off home and sat down with a book. Again, I'd forgotten about the results!

Finally, something clicked and I realised I should go and get my results. Fingers crossed I didn't have to do any resits!

And.... The good news is... There are no resits! I passed everything. Pheeeeeew! I'm probably not going to get a call from Supreme Court asking me to join them anytime soon. But I passed! Embarrassingly enough, my best result was in land law. Please don't tease me.

After discovering this amazing news of passing, I thought I'd check what my title now is. Are you ready...? This is how I can write my name now, should I choose to be pretentious and show off.

Laura Maisey BSc, Pg Dip (Law)

I'm not too impressed. BSc is from my first degree. Pg Dip (Law) is from the one I just did. Pg Dip?! It makes me think of tea = PG Tips. Yesterday, three people, independently of one another, said it made them think of 'Pig Dip'. It developed a bit further as people got experimental and the current favourite is 'Piglet'.

So I've spent the last two years of my life enslaved to my (less than interesting) textbooks learning about mortgages and voluntary manslaughter and parliamentary sovereignty and offer-and-acceptance... all so that I could have the enviable title of:

Laura Maisey, Piglet.

Great.

Thursday 26 July 2012

Dicing with death in Richmond Park

The day before yesterday, I had a day off and decided I was going to do an epic trip around some of London's open spaces.

I started the day by watching the Olympic torch pass by. While I didn't feel especially excited, I thought that in the spirit of Getting Excited About Stuff (a challenge I set myself a little while back), it might be good fun. And sure enough, it was. The build up took a while, one convoy came, then some motorbikes, then some running people. It went on and on. And by the time came, I barely had time to take one, slightly rubbish, photo and then it was gone.

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It was fun though, and the atmosphere was lively.

Then I headed up to Richmond Park to start a walk which also took in Putney Heath and Wimbledon Common. As I came out of the Roehampton Gate of the park, I managed to catch this amazing picture of a butterfly on a flower.

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I went to university in Roehampton so was back on familiar ground as I followed the road toward Putney Heath. I couldn't resist popping up the little high street to a place called Dong Phuong's, which we ordered from with such regularity that they didn't even ask our address when we ordered anymore. O, the junk-food-related memories...

Next I was on Putney Heath and starting to feel the heat. I rifled through my bag and came up with some Body Shop body butter so slathered myself in it and hoped for the best. It didn't have any sunblocking qualities. It was just moisturiser. But it was the best I had.

I fought my way through thick foliage...

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...until I suddenly stumbled onto an open playing field and a beautiful little hidden country pub called The Telegraph.

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From here it was a short walk to go under the motorway and on the other side I was greeted by Wimbledon Common and a beautiful pond, called King's Mere. Virginia Woolf apparently called this end of the Common, 'the bleak end.' Now I don't know Miss Woolf personally but I would argue that the bleakness was maybe not in the Common but in herself because this end of the Common is fabulous. It's a riot of overgrown trees and paths. Everywhere I stepped, wildlife teemed. It was on this stretch that I saw two rabbits, a mother and ducklings, could hear the constant sound of birds and lots of dog walkers wandering about too. Not bleak at all.

This was my view during my Chocolate Stop (I was walking this one alone so was allowed a Chocolate Stop whenever I wanted).

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From here I walked toward Putney Vale Cemetery, which was essentially overflow, when all the church graveyards nearby were too full. At the end of this was a war memorial and some rugby grounds and that's when I started getting hot again. The sun was out full blast. No clouds, just raw, untarnished, skin-cancer-inducing sun. I'd been shaded by trees for most of my walk until now. But as I crossed over the road and re-entered Richmond Park by the Robin Hood Gate, I started to worry and applied a second layer of my verging-on-useless body butter.

As I struck out across country, trying to get through the park as quickly as possible, I found myself with zero tree cover and started to regret my decision to wear jeans. Hotter and hotter, I got. I started to wonder if it was possible to die of heat in England. My water supply was rapidly diminishing and suddenly... I was in the middle of a group of extremely threatening looking deer with massive antlers!

Shit! How had that happened? Was I in such a heat daze that I hadn't noticed them? I stopped.... They were heading straight to me.... I wasn't terrified as such but I was quite nervous!

I started to edge sideways into the long grass and crouch slightly, trying to become invisible. Then I worried that they might think I was crouching ready to attack so I stood up tall again. They split and started walking either side of me. So close!

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They kept walking a few steps, looking at me, going again, stopping to look... Etc. It went on for what felt like ages until they were eventually all on one side of me. I carefully edged away from them, the deer looking back at me threateningly all the while. After about ten minutes of creeping and trying look as inconspicuous as possible, I continued on my path, heart racing. It was all very exciting/nerve-racking.

Shortly after this, because I had gone into the long grass, I stumbled across some mushrooms and was beyond tempted to take one home and cook it! I didn't though, because I have no idea about which mushrooms are safe to eat.

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It wasn't long after this that I reached Richmond Gate, my start point, and some trees to hide my burning shoulders under. I think I might wait until late afternoon next time I want to do a five hour trek in the open!

Lessons I have learned from this walk = don't wear jeans on a long walk, always carry suncream, make sure the t-shirt you catch a tan in, is pretty much the same shape of most of your other t-shirts. I am suffering the teasing of having an odd shaped tan at the moment.

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Wednesday 25 July 2012

Just don't want to finish this book!

Before I start, the answer to yesterday’s blog about how much I spent on a ‘small’ shop in Waitrose was £64 – which I felt bad about to start with, until the guesses where closer to £100. Now I feel quite restrained and pleased with myself!.
Today, we have another post from my regular guest blogger on a subject I’m sure a lot of us can understand...

I wonder if you’ve ever started to read a book and then not wanted to finish it; perhaps you did finish just because you started it and didn’t want to be beaten by it or perhaps you didn’t and just put it back on the shelf, passed it on, threw it away or whatever.

There are some books which you begin reading and you lose interest in. Sometimes it’s the story line: you don’t think it’s that good or believable. Sometimes it’s the characters: he/she/it just wouldn’t or possibly even couldn’t do that in your view. Maybe the characters themselves are a little “thin” or superficial so you don’t feel as if you can empathise or even marvel at things they do. Maybe the plot of the whole thing just doesn’t work or some of its parts don’t hang together very well. I’m sure you’ve been there. I’m also sure, like me, one of those books you’ve put down was praised beyond belief by another reader or even critic who has reviewed it. You sit there thinking “Is it me? Have I missed something?” I’m sure you’ve got a few of those T-shirts – I know I have. You’ve only got to look at some (of course not all) of the various prize winners of the many different awards to know it’s true. Literature has a way of dividing opinion just like music, art (and sculpture) and other cultural areas. It’s very personal. It’s your experience. Normally no-one else shares it with you. When you read a book you’re in your own little world for a time; you don’t usually read the same book with someone else there and even if you did it wouldn’t be at the same speed. It’s a solitary experience although you can be in a crowd while it is happening: on the Tube/Subway, on the bus, in a car (not driving of course), on the beach or even in a library. If anyone speaks to you it’s like they’ve interrupted your mind’s interaction with the book. It’s like they’ve “butted in” when you didn’t ask them to. Your imagination runs wherever you want to go with it for a while and you want to enjoy the “dream” and not have people “waking you up” as it were. Been there? You know, you look up and give them the “Do you realise you’ve just spoilt my reading experience” glazed look or a more serious “keep away” snarl. You may try to be friendly through your gritted teeth. You might even try a half smile when they ask “Good book?” and you reply “Yes I’m just at a really exciting point here” hoping they’ll take the hint and leave you alone. Perhaps a Reading - Do Not Disturb T-Shirt could be a winner; (now where are those phone numbers for GAP, Calvin Klein & Tommy Hilfiger?) You can speak to me when I’ve put my book down, when it is closed with its bookmark sticking out of the page I’m up to; you don’t fold over the top corner of the page, do you? Of course you don’t, one just do that sort of thing!
But there are some books which you begin reading and you don’t want to finish because they’re SO good. You want the experience of reading that novel or biography or straight factual book to go on so you can enjoy it for longer. You’re in that imaginary world of where the text on the page has taken you, even captured you. Perhaps it’s generating emotions of love or dislike of a particular character; perhaps a mystery is unfolding and you’re enjoying all the twists and turns and trying to work out the “whodunit?” yourself; perhaps a relationship is formed and you don’t want it to end but you can see the signs. All of these things can make us want to prolong the experience of reading that particular book although you know it really does have to end.

Knowing there’s a sequel or even a number of sequels because it’s going to be a series may make you get through the book more quickly as you want to find out how things progress.

So why do I not want to finish the book I’m reading right now? If you’re wondering which book – it’s called The Land Of Painted Caves by Jean Auel. It’s part of a series called Earth’s Children. Let me give you the series list with each book’s first published date (it is relevant):

1. Sep 1980 – The Clan Of Cave Bear (also film)
2. Sep 1982 – The Valley Of Horses
3. Sep 1985 – The Mammoth Hunters
4. Nov 1990 – The Plains Of Passage
5. Apr 2002 – The Shelters Of Stone
6. Mar 2011 – The Land Of Painted Caves

Overall 31 years from book 1 to book 6! As you can see there’s quite a variation in the length of time between each of the novels; the longest gap was from book 4 to 5 - 12 years! I came to the series in the late 1980s beginning with the book & film.
Book 1 got me hooked and I’ve read the rest over the years since then. Each paperback is a kind of “brick-sized” thickness; the last one is 782 pages so a good size to keep me busy. The action is in a pre-historic world of Southern Europe involving tribal groups of Cro-Magnon & Neanderthal origins. I’ve watched characters grow together, sometimes grow apart, go on long journeys, make friends and lose friends; I’ve seen them age & have children; I’ve seen some move up the social scale and some down; I’ve seen them discover things about their world and about each other – some likeable, some not. It’s a bit like everyday life today set in this early world. You may not agree with some parts of the story in terms of personal belief but this is their world and it’s what they believed in their world at that time.

By about page 200 I was thinking - this is the last book (so far as the, now 76 year old, author has herself said) and this imaginary world which I’ve been a visitor to for just over 20 years will come to an end. These familiar characters will stop - frozen in time at the end of this book. I don’t know what they might do in the future because there is no future for them – they will cease to develop any further whilst I, on the other hand, will not. Time for me will continue (without my imaginary friends from the book) as it will for everyone but I just don’t want to leave these folks behind. I suppose, in a way, they will stay with me in my mind, because I know about them, because I’ve visited their world, but there will be no more stories about their lives. So what did I do? I picked up another book and read that for a while. Soon however I wanted to find out what was going to happen in that world of Earth’s Children’s so back I went to The Land Of Painted Caves. I read some more and got to page 300 & then 400. Then, guess what? I put the book down again and picked up another one, different to the book I read after 200 pages. And I read that for a while, hoping to keep The Land Of Painted Caves alive for a bit longer. I only got another 100 pages or so before putting it down again and going off with another book. It’s tough as, inevitably, I was drawn back once again to TLOPC. As of today I have reached page 629 so just about 150 pages left. Even if I restrict myself to 10 pages a day I’ve only got 2 weeks left. I know it’s got end but I just don’t want it to be now. Maybe I’ll pick another of those books up and spend some time with them. Eventually, I know and you do too, that TLOPC’s Jondalar, Ayla, Jonayla and their “Cave” & the other “Caves” and “Hearths” of their world will draw me back. You see the big difference with this book, which wasn’t true for the other five, is that I know there will be no more. If the author had just said nothing I would quite happily have read through to the end and just waited for the next one – maybe 2, 3, 5 or however many years.

I’m curious though. Is it just me or have any other readers found a book or series of books so fascinating they just didn’t want them to end? Have you actually stopped and then gone back later?

I feel I’m on the fringes of addiction here but not sure what the cure is. Where’s my nearest literature re-hab centre? I wonder whether I’ll meet some of you there; I’m “virtually” certain I will.

Tuesday 24 July 2012

My love affair with Waitrose

It's partly because of the cool rush of air that greets you as you enter. It's partly because of the amount of things that have 'organic' written on the label. It's because it makes me feel safe and nurtured. I know where everything is, I feel comfortable there. They know exactly what I want and have it in stock. It's also kind of because there's a whole aisle dedicated to yoghurt. Actually, there are plenty of reasons why I have a long-standing love affair with Waitrose. Let me just tell you about what happened last time I went to see the love of my life.

My shopping list had these things on it:
Shampoo
Conditioner
Asparagus
Something for dinner
Sugar
Eggs

Let's enter my head to see what actually happened.

Oo! The cool air rush. Mmm. Nice. Ok, grab a trolley. I wonder if people think I'm a grown-up cause I've got a trolley. Hee hee. I love pretending to be a grown up. Oo! There's an offer on something! Raspberries! I'll just get one box. And another. Ok, I'll get four! I can make jam with them. I love making jam....

And so it starts. It's one of those days. One of those days where I have to have one of everything.

Let me get some bananas for banana bread. And a few aubergines. They're always good. I guess I'll make a parmigiana with them. So I need tomatoes. I'll get some strawberries on the way to the tomatoes. Beetroot! Oo, I like raw beetroot shaved into a salad with smoked salmon and rocket. Laura! Calm down! You don't need everything! Yes I do, I NEEEEED the beetroot. I need it. Ok then, just get it and shut up. Yesssss, beetroot in trolley. Do I need to stop at the fresh pasta section? Not really, but I like lingering there and looking at it and pretending I'm in Italy. Right, moving on, my favourite sections are coming up. The meat and fish counters. I can feel my eyes lighting up. O no! Here I am in front of the counter ordering tons of fish, before I can stop myself. I'm walking away with a bit of everything, scallops, prawns, squid, mahi-mahi, tilapia, salmon, rainbow trout. What on earth did I do that for?! When can I possibly eat all this fish?! O well. Down the chicken aisle. Oo, what to get? The turkey's on offer, or some duck? Don't be ridiculous, why would I get a duck for normal dinner at home. I must learn to distinguish when fancy dinner is required and when to just do normal dinner. Ok, I've actually got enough fish to feed an army, so maybe I don't need any chicken. And so to the yoghurt aisle. Too much choice! Too exciting! The nice Waitrose yoghurts made with Jersey cream are amazing. I'll get one of each flavour. There are about ten flavours. I don't need them all but I can't stop myself. And some of the passionfruit flavour. Mmm. And a large vanilla one. Mmm... And some of the Greek stuff. Omygoodness, there is NO way I'll be able to get all this home. Ah well, keep going. Skip the freezer aisle. Next aisle, tins and cooking stuff. Actually, I've run out of ground ginger and oregano so let me get some of those. Next, to the juice, yessss, they've got that iced peach tea, two please. Round to the crackers and cereal aisle. I need oats and I'll get some crackers too, they're good to have in. Next aisle, need chocolate for making flapjacks. Eggs, yes please. Sugar, two types please. Flour, yes please. I need hazelnuts too actually. I can feel this is becoming slightly crazy. I can't stop though. Next aisle, spend a while deliberating over which shampoo and conditioner are most suited to my hair. Last aisle, do I need anymore washing up liquid or clothes softener? Foil? Cling film? No I think I'm fine.

And so I emerge from the last aisle, hurrying a little as I try to stop putting things in my trolley. Ridiculous. I didn't even have everything e.g. parmesan for the parmigiana, salmon or rocket for the beetroot salad I planned, the asparagus that had originally been on my list, etc. I practically ran to the tills, like a guilty lover, trying to pretend the rendezvous had never happened. But it had. I had three heavy shopping bags to prove it. It was one of my silliest shopping trips ever. How much do you reckon I spent? Have a guess and I'll reveal the answer tomorrow.

Monday 23 July 2012

My first bikram yoga

I went to bikram yoga for a little while last year. Hands up who's been to bikram yoga? So you guys know exactly what I'm about to tell you. For those of you who don't know what bikram yoga is, it's like yoga on acid. The first few classes, it's mental. It's a yoga class in a heated room, something to do with relaxing the muscles so you can stretch further in the poses. I thought I'd share my first experience of bikram yoga to make you aware of exactly what is involved in this intriguing new exercise class.

All I knew on my first class was that it was yoga in a heated room. Sounds interesting, I thought. I'll go along for a trial class. Little did I know.

I was in a t-shirt and leggings, suitable attire for a yoga lesson. I entered the room, found a space for my mat and sat down. I noticed everyone else was dressed in barely anything. All the men were just wearing swim shorts, no t-shirts. The women were wearing little crop tops and tiny shorts. It was like being at a swimwear photo shoot.

I was wearing more clothes than anyone else in the room and suddenly was like, 'What is wrong with these people? This isn't a fashion parade. Why are they showing off their bodies? Have these people got no discretion?!'

And then the class started. The teacher entered and turned up the heat and for the next hour and a half, I was a complete mess. If you'd have asked me my name, I wouldn't have been able to tell you it. My thoughts during the class went something like this....

OMYGOODNESS I'M GOING TO PASS OUT! What is she asking me to do with my leg? I think I'll fall into a heap and disintegrate if I attempt that. Just keep control of yourself, keep control. I might have to sit down. Water! Water! Ok, let's get involved again, whoops, stood up too quickly! Head rush. Sit down again. TOO HOT! I wish I hadn't worn so many clothes now. O no, I think that tickling on my elbow is a bead of sweat which has run all the way down there from my armpit. Ugh, there is a sweat patch on my mat where I've been sitting. Ok, get up. Doing some kind of twisting leg and arm thing. Try to concentrate on one spot and keep my balance, the teacher is saying. How can I concentrate?! How can I concentrate when I'm melting? I THINK I'M GOING TO DIE! Can you die of too much heat? If no-one has before, I'll be the first. I feel like I've been in here forever. How long has it been? Omygoodness, only 15 minutes. 1 hour 15 minutes to go still. I can feel delirium setting in. I think my brain is actually sweating. I'm starting to fear FOR MY LIFE. I'm being asked to balance on one leg and hold my hands in prayer position. I can barely concentrate on standing up, balancing is asking a bit much, don't you think? Maybe I'll just stand here, not fainting, and that will be my main achievement for my first class. Nope, not standing, sitting. I've never been this warm in my entire life....

After the class, I left the room, went into the corridor and leant on a window sill, trying to remember who I was. When I eventually stumbled into the changing rooms, I got into the shower, ran it on the coldest setting and stood there with trembling legs, holding onto the wall, trying to regain my composure.

My next two or three classes were similar to this but a little less messy each time. I eventually got to a point where I could go to a class without having to stop and sit down at all and I could still remember my name when I left the room.

For those of you who are thinking of trying a bikram yoga class anytime soon, let this post serve as a warning to you. Be prepared...!

Sunday 22 July 2012

"Are these donuts?!"

The local drunk. There's always one, isn't there? Every place I've lived, there's a local well-known face, who spends all their time drunk, on drugs or generally being out of control.

The local drunk near me is a shuffler. You know what I mean, he's so drunk all the time, that he can't lift his legs up to walk properly. His hair is straggly and grey and he tells the most amazing stories. Were we to believe him, he's been a doctor (a psychiatrist to be precise), a law student, a life-saving neighbour and an artist. In fact, any time he hears someone talking about something, he says he's done it.

He heard me talking about studying for my exams, asked me which exams, then said, "O, I used to be a lawyer... Studied law... Yeh, I studied law... Really interesting.... 'Sgreat, all that... Yeh, I studied law too... 'sgood, isn't it, law..." Mumble mumble, he went, about the law, about how interesting it is.

Seriously, this man can barely walk, I'm not sure how he studied law. Well, clearly there was a time before he spent all day and night drinking, so maybe he did.

A lady was once saying her next door neighbours had a new baby and it was up all night crying.

Along he comes, we'll call him Mr Red Wine, as that is his beverage of choice. So Mr Red Wine lumbers over and says, "Yeh, my neighbours have got a baby... They've got a baby too!... And it was up all night crying... I thought it didn't sound well so I went over and told them to take th'baby to hospital... All night I sat up with it... All night!.. wi'th'baby ... In th'ospital.... Baby cryin... All night.... 'sbetter now though..." Mumble mumble mumble, nonsense nonsense.

So this one day, Mr Red Wine was shopping for red wine. In he goes, to the shop. This day, he was looking especially manic. His hair shot up and out at funny angles. His t-shirt had a rip in it. He smelled more pungent than usual. His shoes had holes in.

Four hours after entering the shop, he has climbed the two steps that greet him at the entrance. He has shuffled to the wine shelf and, in doing so, has passed the fruit shelf. On it, he sees some Spanish donut peaches. Peaches. Donut peaches. They're small, they're a bit flat, they're yellowy orange and furry. Definitely a peach.

His eyes widen in shock. He leans toward them to get a better look. His mind is boggled. He can't understand quite what he is seeing. Picking up a box of the peaches, he approaches the till. He has forgotten his red wine mission.

He puts them down and looks at the girl behind the till, eyes squinting in disbelief, and asks, in shock, "ARE THESE DONUTS!?"....

When the girl says they are not donuts, his eyes widen. He can't cope with this information. He shuffles back out of the shop and off home to think about what has happened that day.

The girl at the till has not seen Mr Red Wine for a while. She thinks the donut peaches were too much for his brain to handle.

P.S. The girl is me.

Saturday 21 July 2012

Au revoir, tooth

I know what you've all been thinking for the past few days.... How did it go, Laura, having your tooth out? Are you ok?

I know you've all been worried sick and I apologise for not letting you know sooner.

So, it went fine. I went there at 20 past 3 but wasn't seen until 3.45 but I wasn't really complaining. There was some super old cowboy film on in the waiting room that I was really getting in to. The damsel in distress was just being kidnapped by the baddie and ridden off into the distance when the dentist came and called me.

He was a nice dentist. It's easy to have an inherent mistrust in dentists, given that they're getting paid for each thing they do, so are inclined to advise you that you need loads of work doing. I went to a dentist last year who recoiled in mock fright after looking at my teeth, said I needed everything fixing and they were the worst teeth he'd ever seen. I then went to the hygenist a few days later, who said there was nothing wrong with them, she'd just give them a quick clean.

This dentist was nice. He said almost the same thing. I asked if I should book an appointment with the hygenist and he said I could if I wanted but it wasn't urgent.

So already I feel ok. I'm in safe hands. As I entered the room, he was like "Ok, we're going to take it out aren't we? How are you feeling? Do you get nervous about needles or anything?"

I don't, which I told him. But I also acted uber casual about the whole thing. "Yeah, I'm fine." A bit more casual than I was really feeling.

He took his huge needle and put the anasthetic into my gum. It didn't hurt as such, but it was quite uncomfortable. Shortly afterward, a time during which he told me he was going to see Derren Brown that evening, I did my best impression of a stroke victim and started dribbling. In a nice polite way, the dentist informed me of the dribbling, said the anaesthetic must be working and got started.

All manner of torture implements went in there - forceps, pointy things, clampy things, spannery things. He tugged and he pulled, he twisted and he turned. All the while I lay dribbling and trying avoid the awkward eye contact thing by looking at the light on the ceiling.

It went on. And on. And on. He tugged. I dribbled. He pulled. I dribbled. He tapped. I dribbled.

And eventually, probably only about five minutes later, he gave an almighty tug that made me worry my jaw might break and pulled it out.

"Do you want to take it with you? I can clean it up for you."

My immediate reaction was no. What would I want with a back tooth? It'd only sit around gathering dust till I threw it away anyway. So I said no thanks. After I left though, I chatted (slurred) to a few friends who all said, "Let's see it. Have you got it with you?" Is that the usual thing, taking it with you? Have I missed out on a fantastic opportunity to show my tooth off?

Anyway, it's been ok since then. It aches a bit but not very much. I realised, with shock, how big the tooth was when I looked at the hole it had left. I was kind of under the impression that there were more teeth at the back there, so the very last one going wouldn't be a problem. But actually, there are only two big massive teeth there. And I've had one taken out. That's half of all my back teeth on one side. There's quite a big hole there. Have I done the right thing, getting it taken out? Or was I far too hasty to be parted with it?....

Friday 20 July 2012

To Aslan's Mountain with a wisdom stick

Everything was perfect. The weather was sunny. I had the afternoon off. I had a bag of snacks and water. And I was ready for an adventure.

Off we went, Danda and I, in search of the highest point in South East England. It was quite easy going at first so we were tricked into thinking it might just be a gentle stroll. We each found a stick to use, to make us look like seasoned ramblers. I felt mine made me look quite wise. So we started referring to them as Wisdom Sticks.

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As we pottered along, admiring the views and how lovely the evening sun was, we came to an area where all the trees had been chopped down. It looked so out of place, in the middle of such dense forest, to have a field which had been cleared so abruptly. I remember thinking that I hope there was a valid reason for chopping down all those trees. On the other hand, some of the moss covered stumps made for beautiful photographs.

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We had barely left this empty field when we found ourselves in a tiny little hamlet called Friday Street. I'm not sure why it is named that but I bet there's some interesting history behind so I'll Google it later and let you know the story. Anyway, aside from its unusual name, this hamlet is significant for another reason. The Archbishop of Canterbury in the 1200s, a major influence in the drafting of the Magna Carta, was born here. His name was Stephan Langton and the first thing we came upon in Friday Street was a pub named after him.

Legend has it that he was involved with King John in various ways. Good old King John of the Silent Pool from last week's post, Searching for Agatha. And he's not any more likeable in the legends that connect him to Stephan Langton and Friday Street.

Stephan was living in Albury when he was 18 and had fallen in love with a girl called Alice, later to become the Abbess of St Catherine's in Guildford. Stephan and Alice were walking along in the woods one day when they were attacked by King John and his followers. I think King John needs to have a long hard look at his behaviour and make up his mind to act like a king, rather than a career criminal. (Actually, this story is quite hard to marry with historical fact as King John was around 1 year old when this was said to have happened!) Anyway, the king kidnapped Alice - more kidnapping - and took her to his hunting lodge nearby. If Stephan had had a Wisdom Stick, he could have fought the king off. Just saying. Wisdom Sticks are useful.

Stephan followed, then set fire to the house. I'm told it was in an attempt to rescue Alice but he apparently buggered off without her when she fainted from the smoke.

The logical outcome from this series of events? Well, of course he ran off, became a monk and was chosen by the Pope to be Archbishop of Canterbury. Of course. King John refused to accept him as Archbishop, Rome got grumpy, France threatened to invade... It was all going downhill. Until Stephan stepped in and the Magna Carta made its appearance in 1215.

In the meantime, Alice became an Abbess (I can't stop saying 'absess' in my head when I write that word). They were both at Mass in a church years later and were reunited. But she was apparently so overcome with emotion that she died in his arms. I'm sorry? She was so emotional when she saw him that she DIED!? She died of 'emotion'. I bet Stephan realised how rubbish she was then. I bet that's why he left her in the house after he set fire to it.

Anyway, back to Friday Street. It was gorgeous. I could have been anywhere, the French Alps, an Italian lake, the Swiss Mountains. It was just so pretty and picturesque.

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We came across this little sign as we were leaving the village and I obviously got two jars.

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We also came across a sign for duck eggs and chicken eggs, £1.50 a box, which I would have loved, but there were none left. All in all, Friday Street was one of the highlights of the walk, so small and peaceful, the houses just like a bit of the countryside. They had a way of seeming like they belonged there just as much as the trees did. I did wonder where people get stuff from though, there were no shops at all.

After leaving Friday Street, the going got tougher. Steep inclines and sharp drops saw me making lots of 'oo' noises as I almost fell yet again. My Wisdom Stick was invaluable for this section of the walk. I started to get a bit breathless and requested a Chocolate Stop. To be honest, I'd been asking for a Chocolate Stop since we started and Danda hadn't allowed me one, said I was being a greedy guts. I didn't dispute this fact, but I still wanted a Chocolate Stop. This was our view during our stop. Beautiful.

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Next we started the climb to our main destination, Leith Tower. The hill is at 965 feet above sea level so the tower was apparently built because someone (I forget who) wanted to be 1000 feet above sea level. I couldn't wait to get up there, climb the tower, look out, get some great pictures to show you all.

On our way we came unexpectedly across this beautiful waterfall....

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.. and stood marvelling at it for a while. As we turned to leave, there was a surreal from-a-film moment, when a load of flying ladybirds attacked us. I say 'attacked', they didn't really. They were were just flying and they were near us. But it was bizarre, some did fly into us. I spent forever trying to get shots of bugs on flowers and finally got an ok one.

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Anyway, we kept on our way and got to the tower finally. Remember how excited I was to go up it? To see the view?....

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It seems the English countryside closes when Laura goes for a walk.... This happened last time in Shere, everything closed. Anyway, never mind. The views were still stunning.

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You can see sheets of rain coming down from the clouds on the left and a patch of sun breaking through to the right. It was amazing how far I could see. I felt a bit like Simba and Mufasa, you know the scene where Mufasa is like, "Everything you can see belongs to us. Everywhere the light touches."

Talking of lions, the walk back to our start point was equally as beautiful. The hilltop feels so high up, I imagine this is what Aslan's Mountain is like. If any of you have read the entire Chronicles of Narnia, you'll know what I mean. The last book, The Last Battle, finishes on Aslan's Mountain, and Prince Caspian, the fourth book, starts on Aslan's Mountain. In my mind, it's like this.

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After standing around, imagining I was in Narnia for a while, we wandered back to the start point to finish the walk, where I gave my Wisdom Stick back to nature...

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...and said an emotional goodbye to it. Not emotional enough to die, mind you.

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Thursday 19 July 2012

Update on the Friendly Mission

My latest challenge has been interesting. Sometimes it barely makes a difference and is quite easy. Other times, I really have to force myself.

Examples of times when it was easy to be friendly:

When a friend visited with her new 6 day old baby and slept peacefully the entire time.
When a customer complimented my homemade flapjacks.
When the weather was nice and I was walking along happily.
When I was swimming and someone moved out of the way for me.
When I was buying presents for a friend's birthday and getting excited.

Examples of times when it was not easy to be friendly:

When I was getting my tooth pulled out.
When there were lots of people standing around chatting in the supermarket and blocking the aisle with their trolleys. For ages.
When a customer shouted at me that it was "a korma, not a curry!"
When the same customer shouted at me "I'm in a bad mood today! I'm a manic depressive! Do you know what that means!?"
When I wanted to post a letter and had been waiting in line for ages then they closed when I got there, because it's Wednesday afternoon. All Post Offices close on Wednesday afternoons, didn't you know? (Who made this rule up? It is a stupid rule.)

Despite such adversity, I have pressed on with my mission. I find that smiling a lot more gets me in the friendly zone. Being helpful easily translates into friendliness. So if I'm not feeling friendly, I try to be helpful instead and it appears as friendliness, so helps me stick to my mission.

I must admit, I have not picked up any new best friends in a cafe or discovered I've got tons in common with my next door neighbour. Although when I was having my tooth out, I didn't see the dentist till 20 minutes after my appointment time because he was late and I was really friendly about it. That might possibly have been because I wasn't dying to get into the room and have my tooth out! Then when the dentist was tugging and pulling with a huge pair of tweezers (I'm sure they're not called that), I didn't fuss. I was all cool and chilled and friendly, although it wasn't nice at all.

I think the mission is going well so far. As long as no-one tests me too much!

Wednesday 18 July 2012

Bird Droppings

It’s over to my guest blogger today for some fascinating facts on this subject:

Today I thought I would take a break from the more serious subjects I’ve covered recently. The topic today is bird droppings (or more commonly pooh). Unsightly mess? Spoils public buildings & many other structures – definitely. But how much do you know about it? Will you even carry on reading this because you think it’s boring and uninteresting. Tell you what – I thought that before I started thinking about it. It almost became something “to get excited about” as LLM might say.

I wonder if you’ve ever been hit by bird droppings from the sky as you walked along outside? I have. I was fortunate though, it landed on my shoulder (and therefore thankfully missed my head although it did get some small splashes) and left me with a stained shirt for the rest of the day. Yes, I was on my way to work walking from the train station. Oh well, it gave people in the office a good laugh when I arrived with the mess down the front. (“I see you had some visitors drop in on way to work this morning”, and other such witty remarks.)

So what could be interesting about bird muck? Well, in case you’re struggling, one of our national newspapers came to the rescue recently. It published a survey analysing droppings found on cars in different cities in the UK. It seems to suggest that it’s not just where you park your car that affects whether it gets muck on it but that it is related to the colour of your car. Is there a colour, for instance, which does or doesn’t seem to get hit as much as others? Yes there is but it’s not as simple as that. Before we go any further let’s look at the published table below:

Red – 18 per cent
Blue – 14 per cent
Black – 11 per cent
White – 7 per cent
Grey/Silver- 3 per cent
Green – 1 per cent

This is quite interesting as you can see that nearly 1 in 5 cars that are hit are coloured red. Hmm.. perhaps you won’t buy a red car next time. Before you get too carried away by this revelation just look at those figures again. Now you don’t have to be a maths whizz to see that the figures don’t add up to anywhere near 100%. I make the total 54% (and this is the full table as appeared in the newspaper). (You might have to add 7% if the white/grey means two colours tied on that figure but it doesn’t say.) What happened to the other 46% of the sample? Were they all colours different to the ones specified? If so why not include an “other colours” category? LLM covered “getting excited” about stuff but at this point I was doing “getting angry” (at the quality of this presentation). Why publish such a rubbish table which appears to show only just over half of the number surveyed? Is the paper really that bad at its adding up? (Is this turning into a “Chat 2” blast?)

Ok so let’s look at some more of the detail behind table. They looked at 1,140 cars across five cities: Brighton, Glasgow, Leeds, Manchester and Bristol. Sounds like a fair spread, north, middle & south, but wait a minute, think about this – why no London investigation? (London is noted for its population of pigeons in certain areas so should have been a good area to get a lot of test results.) Seems like a fair number of vehicles but did you know, as of the most recent figures, there are 31 million cars in the UK (and 134 million in the USA). Now take the sample size and divide it by the total number of cars (& times by 100) to get a percentage – any guesses? I’ll tell you it’s 1,140/31,00,000 = 0.00367% – that is 1/272 of 1%! Just take a moment to think about that – not half of 1%, not a quarter of 1%, not even one 100th of 1% or one 200th of 1% but 1/272 of 1%! How small is that? Now come on, since when did a fraction of 1% as small as that represent a big enough sample to make inferences about cars across the whole country. And yet, there in a national newspaper, the survey is given some column inches with no ref to how small the sample is when compared to the total number of cars on the road.

So far, amongst other things, we have: an apparently incomplete table that doesn’t add up to anywhere near 100%; we have a sample size so small that it makes it hard to deduce meaningful data; and we don’t know why the capital of the country has been excluded from the survey.

Steam is (metaphorically) beginning to come out of the ears at this point but bear with me there’s more.

The next bits are what I would call basic. Think about it – we are not told anything about the locations surveyed. Were the car parks on open ground? Were the cars just parked in streets? Were there overhanging branches or even road or rail bridges which often have metal support girders underneath providing many ideal perches for pigeons? (The car park at my own place of work actually has a dual carriageway going over it so has two bridges & therefore lots of girders & therefore lots of pigeons.)

Remember too that the research did not consider the type of birds doing the fouling of the vehicles. (They actually spelt it “fowling” at one point in the article – haha.) Whilst they could not possibly see all the birds doing the deeds it is possible that they surveyed at a place in a city where there is a resident population of a particular type of bird –pigeons, sea-gulls or starlings for example. Btw, did you know that pigeon pooh is more damaging than say seagull pooh? I’m sure you want to know why so I’ll tell you – it’s because pigeons eat seeds and therefore produce grainier pooh and it’s that which causes more blemishes on your car’s paintwork. However what about all those smaller size birds: sparrows, starlings, blackbirds, finches, thrushes etc?

The article also gives you the useful info, from car polish experts Autoglym, that car paint damage is NOT caused by the acid or alkali in the pooh which I always thought – so I did learn something useful from reading it. I won’t bore you with the technical explanation – if you’re really interested you can look it up.

Did you know that insurers estimated that the annual cost of damage to paintwork from bird droppings is about £57 million? Best advice? – just clean it off as soon as possible. Well I’d never have thought of that!

In the car park where I work two people have yellow cars. Why is yellow not in the survey table? Does this mean it’s the safest colour to buy because the survey did not spot one yellow car with bird muck?

Another stat which might have been helpful is the colour distribution of cars on the road. Supposing, for instance, that 18% of all cars on the road are red, it would be no surprise that 18% of the bird muck survey were found to be red cars would it? This again is basic stuff which any normal person would ask. It’s like saying that a survey found that the average age of people going into a particular building was say 68 and you say why so high? Why were there not more younger people going in? Ah well, you see, it’s a day care centre for pensioners. Bigger picture springs to mind here!
It takes about 3 seconds to research colours of cars sold. Here’s the table of colours of cars sold (so not the actual total in the country, but does include yellow) for most of 2010:

1: black Cars sold: 465,249 Percentage share: 24.7
2: silver Cars sold: 402,537 Percentage share: 21.4
3: blue Cars sold: 310,331 Percentage share: 16.5
4: grey Cars sold: 270,863 Percentage share: 14.4
5: red Cars sold: 192,335 Percentage share: 10.2
6: white Cars sold: 188,463 Percentage share: 10
7: green Cars sold: 20,735 Percentage share: 1.1
8: beige Cars sold: 17,237 Percentage share: 0.9
9: yellow Cars sold: 7,621 Percentage share: 0.4
10: brown Cars sold: 6,967 Percentage share: 0.4

These figures do come to 100%. Again simple bit of research – look at the top 3 in the bird dropping sample (red, blue, black) and add up the percentage figures. It comes to 43%. Now look in the table for 2010 sales and add up the percentages for the same 3 colours – it’s 51%. Not that far apart I’d say.

Inference – the more cars there are of a certain colour the more likely they are to get hit! It’s not rocket science but it doesn’t make headlines and you know as well as I do that “headlines” sell papers.

Another newspaper gave the following table apparently for most popular car colours IN THE WORLD! And here it is:

1. Silver – 26 percent
2. Black/Black Effect – 24 percent
3. White/White Pearl and Grey – 16 percent each (tie)
5. Red – 6 percent
6. Blue – 5 percent
7. Brown/Beige – 3 percent
8. Green – 2 percent
9. Yellow/Gold – 1 percent
10. Others – <1 percent We see that this table also does add up to 100% (you do have to add 16% to the 84% total because two colours were tied in third place). Black, red, blue comes to 35%. Not that far off 43% really. Now, apart from the fact that I was “getting angry” about this terribly presented (bird droppings) survey, I was amazed to note what I had come to believe over many years was actually being confirmed. I have on a number of occasions come to my car to find it has droppings on and yet the one next to it has none. When it first happens you don’t notice anything special but when it keeps on happening you begin to wonder: am I parking under a bird’s nest? Is there a tree branch over the parking place? Did I definitely remove the “Pooh here” notice from the roof of my car? Ooh… wait a minute was the notice invisible? – remember “Invisible Art” from 4.7.12. Better check that.
Ok so now you know the facts but will it influence the colour of car you next buy. Will you rush to the research paper and get the info and then decide to buy a GREEN car or even SILVER?

And you thought bird pooh was not that interesting. (Maybe you still do after reading Mr Angry’s rant.) What about readers of this blog sending in the colour of their car and whether it gets “pooped on” on a regular basis.

Last word has to go to the Ornithology experts who were quoted in the article:
“The British Trust for Ornithology is more circumspect on the role of colour in the ‘drop zone’ for birds.

A spokesman said: ‘We do know that birds can be attracted to certain colours during display but droppings on cars are probably more to do with where you park; if you park where birds roost then you are going to get more droppings on your vehicle.’”
Incredible! Would you have thought of that? – and they didn’t even do a survey to back their conclusion up.

Tuesday 17 July 2012

An ode to my tooth

Tooth, we have spent many years together. There have been highs and there have been lows.

In our 27 years, 2 months and 25 days, we have seen plenty of action. We have sampled the local spicy delicacies in Laos, lived off rice in Namibia, eaten strange unnamed bits of animal in China and devoured our fair share of chocolate. I always showed you the best things, focussed on homemade. I even homemade tomato ketchup for us to enjoy with our fish and chips.

Ok, so I didn't always pay attention to you. When I was younger, I was too busy naming my millions of cuddly toys or hurtling down the stairs in a sleeping bag to remember about looking after you. When my parents would shout up the stairs to check whether I'd got you ready for bed, cleaned you up, I'd shout back 'YEAH!' with my head in a Famous Five book. That was disrespectful toward you and I apologise.

But I was young then. I looked after you better as I got older. The past few years I've showered lots of attention on you, bought fancy expensive things to keep you sparkly, visited a hygienist for a thorough clean.

I was warned about two years ago that I should break it off with you, that we should go our separate ways. I was warned you would hurt me, but I was faithful to you. I dismissed their opinions as scaremongering. They didn't know you like I did. I didn't want to lose you.

But now... Now it is time. We both know it's the right thing. We aren't happy together anymore. Maybe you have grown dissatisfied with me because you have abandonment issues from our childhood? Or maybe you don't know how to resolve things so you go on hurting me, knowing that I will eventually end things between us?

I don't know. But the other night, I was so upset about how things are going between us that I was awake at 2am, my head in my hands, knowing I had to end it. It hurt me so much, but I knew what I had to do.

And so today will be our final day together, last tooth on the bottom left. I have been told that a replacement awaits it's turn to push through and emerge. It seems that, in the words of Beyonce, "I can have another you in a minute." They call it a wisdom tooth and say it will grow into the empty space that you will leave in my life.

I regret that it will end this way, in such violence, tearing you rapidly out. I'd like to say I will regret our parting but the dentist has assured me that I won't feel a thing. I guess there has been too much hurt between us. I will feel horrible after it happens though, I won't be able to eat a thing, I know it.

So now I bid you farewell, dear tooth. It has been amazing, the years we have spent together. I think we both know that our separating is for the best. We are not making each other happy anymore.

I will miss you. Always.

Monday 16 July 2012

Search terms

These are things that people have searched for on the internet and ended up at my blog. Some of them must have been gutted as they were clearly looking for some important information and got me instead...

chocolate keys 60 count
large elephant vs bus
graham lockey
beautiful small heart tatoos on up of arm
wellies
vaynites
thanks driver
what happened in laura?
woman and dog sex
law exams last minute
jaberwocky lewis carroll banned
the web of lies
stick figure stupid faces
hairy chat inbox
physical filing made easy
pregnant swimming picture
cow peppa pig
diary of making a wedding cake
chan man sin v a-g of hk
thanks friend but i'm alright
just reg
i wet myself at my ballet
peppa pig evil
scientifically minded wordpress
dinosaur tattoo
n is for spid
dennis hopper song lyrics
gourmet chocolate truffles
winston churchill chose to rebel
fool heavy neck
kindle university library doj
croquet rules hitting someone else's ball
french word can i have
fat lady in swimming pool
highgate paparazzi
think of the worst manager you've ever had
what is art for a. p. herbert
where all can i do skydiving and bungee jumping

Sunday 15 July 2012

Feedback from Day 1 of being friendlier

I woke up in the morning, my resolve was strong, I was feeling light-hearted and friendly. I couldn't wait for the approaching day and the prospect of being friendly to everyone. Come on people! I thought. Come here and let me be friendly at you!

I was up early, baking banana bread. I had been awake a bit in the night, with toothache (the dentist is taking it out on Tuesday so I wasn't worried or anything) so hoped it wouldn't make me grumpy.

Into work I went and started getting everything ready for opening. I left the door slightly ajar as it was a bit stuffy but kept all the lights off and covers down on everything. As I was doing something in the kitchen a lady walked all the way in and to the till and 'Halloo'ed me, as though a silent dark shop with the fridge covers down and all the food clingfilmed was how a shop would operate.

"Is your coffee machine on yet? Can I get a coffee?"

Every coffee place I've worked, people check this when you're near the end or beginning of a shift. Is the coffee machine on? I'm going to tell you all a secret about that. A coffee machine does not go 'on' or 'off'. It's always on. I mean, you can turn off the mains, if you want. But you don't. You never turn off the coffee machine overnight. Never. But it provides you with a convenient excuse if you don't want to serve someone. I worked in a coffee place which closed at 10.30pm. I was exhausted by then and wanted to clean and go home asap. I used to nod, and shrug helplessly, "Yeh, it's off already, I'm sorry."

So this lady is here, in my quite obviously not-open-yet shop, while I'm running around like a mad woman, baking croissants, asking if the coffee machine is on.

Be friendly, be friendly.

"It is on, but I'm not open until 8, sorry," I smiled in the friendliest way I could at that moment. Satisfied, she said she'd be back at 8 and not to worry. Phew, grumpy Laura disaster averted.

But wait! The phone was ringing! I picked it up. The voice on the end said, "O great! I was just checking if you're open and you are."

"I'm actually not open until 8, unfortunately."

"Ok, well if I come down now, will I just be able to buy some bread from you?"

"Well, I'm sure it will be fine. I'm quite busy so it would be better to wait til 8, when I've opened up..."

"Right, well I'll be down soon. I'll just hang around till you've got a minute to serve me."

Be friendly, be friendly.

I made myself smile and said into the phone, "Ok, great, I'll see you soon then."

It's like they organised themselves to test my patience today because they knew I'd be in friendly mode.

Down pottered phone customer five minutes later, and way before 8am, and I smiled as much as I could.

Those were my first two interactions on my first day of being friendly. The rest of the day was fine. Once I'd got into the swing of things, it was fine. I'm not usually unfriendly, so it wasn't that difficult. It's when I'm not in work that I'd like to be friendly and approachable.

Wish me luck for Day 2. I'm off swimming in a few minutes and that might test my patience a bit.

Be friendly, be friendly.

Saturday 14 July 2012

Being friendlier

The day I finished my exams, I told myself (and all of you) that I was going to give 'being friendlier' a go. I did 'getting excited about stuff'and that was good fun. I did 'being sporty' and I still swim most days (people have started to comment on my arms in a complimentary way but I'm still worried they're getting Madonna-ish).

So now it's time to try being more friendly. Now I'm not unfriendly. I'm perfectly nice to people I like. But I don't often go out of my way to be nice. You know when people have those stories about how they met their new best friend in the launderette? Or on the train or something?

That is never me. I am never saying those things. Firstly because I don't ever go to a laundrette. I don't think I've ever been in one in my entire life. I also try to avoid public transport by living my life within a distance that doesn't require me to go on public transport. If I am on public transport, I put my earphones in and listen to a book. I don't look around for people to chat to.

I usually think I'm kind of ok without new friends. My phone book has as many names in it as I need and, to be honest, I'm quite busy a lot of the time.

When I started law school, my excited classmates gathered in the hallway after tutorials, chatting enthusiastically and working out which pub was closest to get to.

"Yeh, that sounds great. Let's go there. Come on guys! Is everyone coming? Yeh? Yeh, come on. Laura, are you coming?"

And me... Little old me... Little old antisocial me.... What did I say? Did I say "Sure, I'm there! I don't have any plans. I'm definitely coming"?

Of course I didn't. I said something along the lines of "I'm sure you're all really nice but I'm here to get a degree not some new friends, so actually, I'm going to go home and get started on the stuff they told us to read for next week." Paraphrased slightly, but essentially that.

I've always thought it'd sometimes be great fun to be the person who's all carefree and lovely and nice to everyone. But most of the time, I don't feel like being nice to people, especially when they're swimming at me in the swimming pool or standing in my way in the shop.

But I am going to try. I am going to try to be friendlier, to not be annoyed by people who don't stick to the unspoken rules of social etiquette, or who swim in my way, or who push in front of me in a queue, or pronounce something wrong, or appear to be unfriendly to me. I will be relaxed and smiley and friendly, regardless. I'm not sure how well this will go, or how long I will last before someone annoys me. I am going to try though. I am up at the crack of dawn today so by about mid afternoon, grumpiness will set in. That's when it will be hardest to keep up the friendliness. Wish me luck. I'll report back.

Friday 13 July 2012

Searching for Agatha

Yesterday I thought I'd go for another walk. My day in Highgate was so lovely, I thought I'd try another one. I decided to go to Newlands Corner, near Guildford and potter about in the countryside for a while.

The area is linked to Agatha Christie's 'death' because this is where thousands of people met up to scour the area looking for her body. Her husband had apparently told her one day that he was off to spend the weekend with their nanny! (There's bound to be a lot more to it than that, but anyway, that's what we know.) She flipped, obviously. In the middle of the night she got in the car, leaving the dog and baby at home, and sped away into the night. Her car was found at Chalk Pit, a little further down from where I started my walk but Agatha was nowhere to be seen. Stories covered every newspaper. The husband came under scrutiny and became the murder suspect. People searched the countryside and woods for her body. Ten days later she was found, chilling in a little B&B in Harrogate. As you do.

Anyway, yesterday I thought I'd go on a little Agatha search of my own through the woods. It started near a beautiful organic vineyard...



....and my path followed it along it's edge until I passed another spot with some mysterious history.

The Silent Pool is strangely silent, as the name suggests. The water is totally still and clear. You'd expect, if water was that still, that it would be stagnant, or growing a bit of algae. But this water is clear.


You can see where the water line is, from the reflection of the stick, but the grass and ground underneath are still really visible.

Anyway, the story goes like this. A girl and her brother were bathing in the Silent Pool when King John rode past on his horse. He decided to take the girl with him, but she was not so easily captured. Her and the brother fought against him, waded too far and drowned together. Since then, a ghostly white figure is seen at night bathing in the moonlight. *cue scary X-Files music*

As it was the daytime, I saw no bathing ghosts and kept on my walk, which became a huge steep hill within minutes. I pretended not to be panting like mad and powered on up, every minute wondering when it would stop rising. It finally levelled out and I was deep in a thick forest.


It started raining very lightly but I just ignored it. The forest walk went on for a good hour or so, lovely dense trees and one little windy path through them that I followed unquestioningly. I wish I had questioned it more, actually, because not knowing where I was became a bit of a theme for the day...! But in going slightly off route, I stumbled across some amazing little things. Like this statue of a man with a hook for an arm and his dog...


... some chickens, some grand houses that were all but hidden in the foliage until you passed directly in front of the gate and a quiet little pub, where it became impossible to ignore the rain, which had by now made me a little damp and cold all over. I also realised that I was in Gomshall, which is not Shere, where I was supposed to be. It was Gomshall. The wrong place. Gomshall wasn't even on my Newland's Corner map. And I hadn't gone under the A25 like I was supposed to have. I pretended all was fine and I sat in the warmth of the country pub, munching away on a freshly baked baguette which may be the best bread I've ever eaten. It was still warm and so soft.

As I gazed forlornly out of the window, watching the rain get heavier, the man behind the bar warned me, "You're no good waiting for it to get better, it won't. This is it for the day now."

"Really?"

"Yup. Where are you trying to get to?"

"Shere."

"It's the second on your left, about a half an hour walk away."

I finally admitted it was raining and took my waterproof jacket out of my bag. Like a wearied soldier heading back to the battlefield, I donned my jacket, shouldered my rucksack and headed into the rain to Shere. I was thankful for the waterproof but maybe the jeans weren't helping matters. It wasn't a long way to Shere but I figured I should stop for another cup of tea when I got there or I might drown! So I looked...


...and looked....


Well, at least the museum will have something, I guessed. That's what I'd come into Shere for anyway. I had done my research, I knew the museum was open on a Thursday. Making my way there under the shelter of overhanging trees, I arrived at the door to see this ...


... It was 4.30pm...

So I figured it was time to head back to my starting point to finish the walk and head home to dry off. On my way, there was loads of bunting around. Some looked to be leftover Jubilee stuff and some said London 2012 on it. It turns out that next week, the Olympic torch is coming through the area. I'll just say this, they'd better be bloody open then! I won't say 'I hope it doesn't rain' because I don't want to jinx it.

Anyway, the walk back to the beginning/end point was quite pretty, even though the rain fell harder and harder....!



And not once did I see Agatha Christie.... O wait, she was in Harrogate, wasn't she...?

Thursday 12 July 2012

"Have you turned the switch on?"

A few years ago, I was working in a coffee place (the same one where I did my detective work) and my manager had asked me to turn off the freezer to defrost it one evening. I spent most of the evening, with this massive freezer, trying to keep the melting ice from flooding on to the floor, whilst also trying to serve customers and do everything else. It was a bit of a headache but it needed doing so I  didn't mind. I left the door on the freezer open when I closed up and left, to get some air in. It had been a while since it was last defrosted and it was noticeable. All was well, I pottered off home, feeling like a job had been well done.

Next day was delivery day. I was due in at 2pm, around the time the stuff was being delivered. I was just walking along happily, humming a little tune maybe, ready for my shift.

As I approached, I saw the delivery man.... And I saw a huge freezer on wheels being hauled towards the stock room.

"Guys! What's going on? Why is this here?"

"When I came in this morning, the freezer wasn't working. It's broken. So I called Head Office and got them to send a new one."

I was actually astounded. I didn't know what to say. The same person who had asked me to turn the freezer off and defrost it, had opened the shop the next day and thought the freezer was broken because it wasn't on. How short-term can someone's memory really be?

"Ok, stop. Take this freezer back to your van," I told the delivery man. To the staff on shift, I checked, "Did anyone try turning it on?"

They said they had and pointed to a switch on the actual freezer, the one that you use to increase or decrease the temperature.

"No, did anyone turn it on at the wall?"

They pointed to a socket, with two plugs in and said those were both on so they didn't know what was wrong. I'll tell you what's wrong. There are three machines here, two freezers and a fridge. And there are two plug sockets there. So clearly, there must be a third one somewhere else and it's a safe bet that that's where your problem lies.

I looked a little to my right and, sure enough, there on the wall, in plain sight, was the third plug. Switched off. I switched it back on. The freezer started up and made engine whirring sounds. The mystery was solved. I didn't say anything else to the other staff. I didn't need to.

You make you own conclusions about that story.

Another good one was when we got a new member of staff and when she was being trained, she was told to throw away the bins every night after her shift. The shop was always very clean when she had worked, even the coffee grinder had been cleaned out. Quite impressive, as it was usually only done once a week.

After a few weeks, we noticed that she always left the binbags upstairs and hadn't taken them out. Someone said to her about taking them out and hadn't she been told to do it and, as the conversation went on, it suddenly became clear what had been happening.

She thought she had been told to 'throw away the beans' every night! So when she finished her shift, she threw away all the perfectly fine and useable COFFEE BEANS and left the BINS in the shop...!

Oops......

Wednesday 11 July 2012

Trolleyology

I'm handing over to my guest blogger today for a bit of philosophy. Enjoy!

Today’s subject is in the area of philosophy but please don’t switch off. It will be, as you will see, very personal & very practical. What follows will I think challenge you to take stock of what you really believe about right & wrong. This particular area of philosophy has become known as something called “The Trolley Problem”.

Although the problem is as old as the human race this particular way of representing it is fairly recent & only goes back to 1967. It is defined as “a thought experiment in ethics” (Wikipedia). It is called “Trolley-ology” (I kid you not). Never heard of it? Let me explain. There are many situations we all meet in our day-to-day lives which are dangerous: crossing the road, driving, getting on/off buses or trains and for some people even swimming! However if I was to start by asking you if there are any circumstances under which you would take a decision resulting in the death of another person you would probably say normally ‘no’ but ‘yes’ only in very special situations – maybe in self-defence or in war. What I want you to consider is some situations that have to have an action taken which will unfortunately result in death. That can’t be avoided but it is how we make the decision which is important. We will look at a few imaginary scenarios, in order to do this, but with very direct applications to real life.

You may not think what comes next has any bearing on reality but I assure you it does and with situations which have to have a decision made. In other words you can’t choose to do nothing because people will still die if you do nothing. You can’t do nothing just because you don’t like what is going to happen or because you say, well, it will never be me who has to make that decision so I don’t need to bother.
Have a think on the following and see what you come up with.

Scenario 1: Suppose you are standing by a railway track and an out-of-control train (called a ‘trolley’ in the terminology of this field of study) is hurtling along. It is going to hit and kill 5 railway workers who are doing some work further down the track. You notice you are standing by a lever which operates the “points” at a junction on the track before the place where the men are working. If you pull the lever you can divert the train along another track where there is only one person working who would be killed. What would you do? Easy isn’t it? You divert the train (trolley) and only 1 person is killed so in the final settlement 5 out of 6 people are still alive. Job done. Feel comfortable? Probably, although obviously you still regret the one person dying. However their life lost has resulted in 5 being saved. Still good?

This type of situation is faced in various guises in real life but let me use an example from WW2. When the German military were sending rockets over to attack London the British found they were falling short of their target (London) and landing in the Kent countryside. The government took a decision to feed info back, via double agents and false reports, that targets in London had actually been hit. This would cause the Germans to send more rockets to similar positions but with the risk now that towns and villages in Kent could be hit and innocent people would die. It was a strategic decision and had to be taken in order to preserve the organisations dealing with the war effort in London itself. Ok for London? –Yes; not OK if you live in the Kent countryside where the rockets are exploding. Winston Churchill had to make that decision and he did – he fed the false info back and the bombs dropped in the Kent area, in some cases, hitting residential areas.

However consider a variation on Scenario 1 - what happens if I tell you that the 5 workers were all in their 60s nearing retirement and the one worker on the other track was just 18 yrs old. Would make the same decision now? On what basis would you either keep to your original decision or change it? Not so easy now, eh?

Scenario 2: You are standing on a footbridge over the railway. The same train (trolley) is hurtling out of control down the track. This time though there are no points nearby. However next to you on the footbridge is an obese gentleman. His bulk, if you pushed him off the bridge onto the track, would be enough to slow the train sufficiently for it not to reach the 5 workers. You know the question now don’t you? Would you push him off the bridge to save those 5? Well would you? Now it’s a lot harder because instead of just pushing a lever you actually have to push another human being to their death. More issues are raised, I think, because of the physical contact which now involves you in committing a criminal act to save the 5 people whereas pushing a lever didn’t seem to.

If you’re interested, in surveys done on this subject, most people answer Scenario 1 with a ‘yes’ but Scenario 2 with a ‘no’.

Scenario 3: You are a GP Doctor and one day a homeless man comes into your surgery. After speaking to him and examining him you find he just has some minor medical problem causing him the pains he’s complaining about. However you know you also have 5 patients who are all awaiting an organ transplant – each one a different organ. All of this man’s organs are healthy and intact. By killing him you could give life to 5 of your patients. Seems easy doesn’t it? A quick injection and it’s all over; he has no known relatives, no-one apparently will miss him or complain if he dies - 1 life taken and 5 saved. What would you do? Does the age of the homeless man matter – whether he is 18 or 70? Does it make a difference if among the 5 some may possibly be old or even terminally ill but would gain an extra 5 or more years of life with the transplant? Suppose, on the other hand, the homeless man is terminally ill (but the required organs are still ok to use)? Would you change your mind now?

To bring this one into the real world – a situation faced on-goingly by hospitals across the world: how do you allocate the money you have available and to which patients? A recent radio prog highlighted the difficulty. One hospital said they had a lady who required life-saving treatment which would cost £20,000 and her family, naturally, were pressing for that op to be done to save their relative. However the hospital also had 100 patients who would have their situations (not life-threatening) improved by a course of treatment costing £200 each. At this point, the hospital had only £20,000 to spend – so they could treat either the 1 or the 100. What would you do?

I hope you can see these scenarios are not really about runaway trains (trolleys) or imaginary doctor’s surgeries. They are about real life and a finite supply of money which cannot treat everybody. On what basis do we make decisions which have to be made and yet sadly involve the death of at least one person. They are about ethics and how we determine the rules we will live by. Is it more important for the individual to be granted his/her wishes for a longer life or that society takes a view on how to benefit the greatest number of people with the resources (financial & material) it has available?

There are a number of other scenarios in this field and I hope to look at a few more next week. For the moment ask yourself the question – what would you do if faced with the real life versions of these imaginary scenarios. What variations of the situations would make you think again? Definitely tough, isn’t it?