handee

Well, christmas is nearly over, and it's been less terrible than I thought it might be. I'm still here, I'm still sane.

Now there's just New Year to survive. Then I'm back at work again on the 4th as my maternity leave ends. I had initially planned to take some extra weeks of holiday & so on, but there's no point in doing that now that Katie didn't make it. I might as well go back already.

I'm not really sure how I feel about going back to work, to be honest. I suppose I'm just blank, just "blah". Part of me feels it's really strange and wonders how I can ever come to care about it again - compared to the life & death of my daughter, everything else just seems so trivial, so unimportant. But I suppose I have to do something. Whilst my job isn't in any way life-changing or critical to anyone, it passes the time, provides some intellectual challenge and I'm reliably informed that I happen to be quite good at it. Yes, I'm aware that it'll never change the world for the better or anything, but it won't change the world for the worse either. Oddly, it's actually quite pleasant to have something that I have a little bit of control over, and I pride myself in doing everything I do to the best of my ability.

Over the last couple of weeks, my mind has been slowly emerging from the fog of grief. A gradual, creeping, sense of restlessness has settled over me. The first stirrings of boredom. This tells me that it's probably time to re-engage.

One thing scares me a little though. It's the thought that I'll be - physically at least - in exactly the same place as I was a year ago. Apart from a few invisible marks to my soul and a few stretchmarks across my stomach, it is almost as if 2009 never even happened.

But I know differently. The world stopped spinning for one brief moment of my life, and things can never be the same again.

C. xxx

I really love your Santa Tracking website (did Sam Carter help with getting it onto the internet?  I bet she did and Jack teased her about it.), but I have one question.  Where's all the snow that I keep hearing about?  The satellite images look remarkably green.

Love & Kisses
Me

I have boots, wellies, shovel, salt, torch, spare batteries & charger, sleeping bags, stove, matches, food, drink, mobile phone  & charger, laptop, clothes, presents, work to be done over the holidays, new reading glasses, hat, scarf, gloves.

I'm bound to have forgotten something.

Need to turn off the water and sort the heating out.

If you're traveling, be safe.  If you're not, have fun in front of the fire.  Most of all, have the best possible Christmas.  I hope Satan Santa brings you lots of nice stuff.

While I was waiting for my gingerbread latte in Costa this afternoon, I wondered how much milk they get through in a day.  That got me thinking that the current craze for poncy coffee must at least be good for the dairy industry (although I should think that a lot of the milk is probably imported!). 

As somebody who doesn't drink unadulterated milk and doesn't buy more than a few pints a year - usually if I have visitors, or know I'm likely to be at home for a while - my milk consumption has gone up enormously since I started frequenting the poncy coffee emporia.  I probably consume a couple of pints a week these days.

I think this should be discussed in TA.  I'm sure David and Ruth could have a conversation over breakfast about how many branches of assorted poncy coffee shops have opened up in Borchester/Felpersham recently and how the tea room at Lower Loxley has expanded their range of poncy coffees to try and compete.  I can't remember whether I know if Jacks's is still a going concern.  I've not heard anyone there recently, so I assume it has closed down sometime in the years I didn't listen.

I believe there are a few people around who think that I get rather engrossed in certain televisual offerings.  Well, yes, possibly I do.  But not like this!

To anyone who feels the urge to make me one of these, I can say it would certainly be extremely well received.

I've praised BBC Four many, many times in this blog but last night's programming was almost exemplary. Fine tributes to Oliver Postgate, Clement Freud, and the Open University, but pride of place went to another British liberal institution that is impossible to replace. Some of the bon mots uttered by the great man in John Mortimer: A Life In Words were enough to make you want to burst out cheering, and what a pleasure to see someone using the word "libertarian" as it's meant to be used; doubtless the neo-Thatcherite yahoos who describe themselves as such would have been horrified had Sir John wound up as Home Secretary instead of his Oxford Union opponent as televised. That particular debate, on the subject of pornography and from (I'd guess) about 1970, featured Mortimer and Spike Milligan up against Mary Whitehouse and a young, over-enunciating Welsh lawyer with a mouth like a hammerhead shark who talked about "peepul" and "chill-drun" a lot, and you can guess who he grew up to be. Oh, what the hell, just watch it, it's on iPlayer for a week. Bless you, Sir John, you were an inspiration.

Looking at that 24-hour tranche almost all of it is gold and unsurprisingly far better viewing than what will be flung out on Christmas night, what with the docos about the three great heroes of British Grand Prix racing the night before, and of course, Charlie Brooker being Charlie Brooker. In fact the only clunker in the pack is horrible shouty quiz We Need Answers which somehow managed to waste the talents of Neil Innes; it belongs on BBC3 at best. Are there any other phrases in the English language that drop the spirits and sink the heart in quite the same manner that "comedy panel game" does?

Here's a thought - if the Roman Catholic church teaches that the bodies of the saints are incorruptible, then how do they explain the jaw-dropping decision to venerate (of all people) Pius XII? Most people, one would have thought, knew something of his political sympathies long before John Cornwell's highly recommended book was published (h/t annajaneclare for the recommendation) - and it's safe to say Pacelli was equivocal at best - but the stories of what happened immediately after the ex-pontiff's death in 1958 were rum indeed and best not read about before mealtimes. Suffice it to say that what emanated could not be described as the Odour of Sanctity.

Last half-day for me for nearly a week, though likely to be on standby Boxing Day. Debating whether or not to pub it this evening, but chances are Bradford - and Leeds - will be overrun with the pests known as Onepoticus screamerensis vulgaris; always seasonal but never welcome. If it were not for the fact that I have DVDs, food (not a turkey or piece of dried fruit in sight, thank Dawkins), fags, booze, and a hot soldering iron so that I can do some very shed-like things with vintage electronics while the rest of the world is closed, I'd want to get hold of some sort of anaesthetic that will put me under until Sunday. Hell, there isn't even an ISIHAC on Christmas Day; in fact, apart from a documentary about Vivian Stanshall there's very little I'd want to listen to on R4 that day apart from the Count (anyone fancy joining me to see him in Harrogate in February, then?) and of course, Missusnel's panto in Ambridge. Truth be known, this is always a tough time of year for me but I'll get by, because I know this time round at least there's something good on the other side.

Now to weigh in the washing and then into town for three hours, most of which will doubtless involve sitting around like a spare prick at a wedding. Much to be said for finishing one's work in advance.

I'm very disappointed that the "bootnote" in this article doesn't mention SG-1.  Although Teal'c would be happy with the Star Wars reference.

I am partaking of my annual watching of Love Actually. 

The new PM has just arrived at the door of No. 10 and suddenly it hit me.

David Cameron thinks he is Hugh Grant!

Davy-boy's dream is that he'll wake up some Friday morning in May next year and have transformed into Hugh Grant.

My head has just exploded and I don't think I will ever see the world in the same way again.  Brain scrubbers are not going to do it this time.

AAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!

Dude!  Srsly!  Not cool! I have one more day of work before we break up until the New Year.  Snow last week - OK, pretty.  Snow now - DO NOT WANT!  The ice outside was just beginning to disappear.  I don't need to spend tomorrow morning clearing the car and digging out to the road.  And I certainly don't need any more snow before I head Norfwards.

:-(

ETA:  I think I'd rather have snow than televised election debates!

So it's nearly Christmas and I'm bored out of my tree in the office wondering WTF I should be doing.  Someone sent me this, so I thought I should share.   ( HSE Guidance for the singing of 'Festive Songs' ) 

I suppose it was inevitable really.  We've had the wrong kind of snow to stop the trains from running.  Now it's the wrong kind of cold.  As France is colder than the UK due to its climate, is it not possible to predict that the Eurostar trains would experience a range of temperatures between Sur le continong and Dear Old Blighty?  Or should they just turn the aircon up in the Chunnel?

Not only is there no grit in the grit bins around here, but I seem to have bought the last two bags of table salt anywhere in Dav.  Although the main roads are clear, the estate is nicely iced up.  We had a little more snow overnight.  Just enough to cover the ice so that you're not quite sure how slippery the place really is.

Back to work tomorrow.  I might just manage to catch up with all the emails that I haven't read over the the last fortnight and make some appointments for after the holidays.  We finish some time on Tuesday.  But given the number of staff who won't be around, it's not as though there's going to be much going on anyway.

Read me.

ION: So busy, many lovely and fab things have been going on in the last few weeks, but I am far too tired and irate to update you all sensibly atm. I will do so in the not-too-distant, promise.

Bloody hell, it's cold. Yes, I know everybody is thinking it. Hat, gloves, scarf, hiking socks, fleecy jumper, and the nice waterproof jacket, and I still regret being too asleep to remember the thermal base layer when getting dressed this morning.

Need tea. Medical requirement.

No pictures, but I sure am glad I went and emptied the bins 10 minutes ago, cos it looks like it's set in for a while.

Non-story of the moment is the manufactured battle between Simon Cowell's latest automaton and major-label rebellion-by-numbers merchants Rage Against The Machine for the "prestigious" Christmas number one spot, and boy oh boy has there been a lot of hot air about nothing on this subject from unexpected quarters, to say nothing of the zillions of column inches in the prolefeed sheets. What makes it a non-story is not so much the fact that both tracks are released by the same multinational conglomerate megacorp, nor is it Cowell (no relation to Henry) and his marketing methods, but the records show that the list of Christmas number ones ever since the first British charts were compiled in 1952 have, with few exceptions, been not very good. What an unholy mix of the over-familiar and the utterly disposable! To be honest, it's just an extension of the nature of the charts themselves; it must be over 20 years since I could correctly tell you what the current number one is, and well over thirty since I gave a toss. For me, TOTP lost its magic at about the same time that Pan's People retired. Also, without wishing to sound like a crown court judge, who the hell was/is Leon Jackson? Not even Cowell's aggressive marketing by osmosis has implanted this fellow's existence into my consciousness.

Elsewhere in the world, I see our old chum Rupert Read is being unintentionally hilarious again; do all of his colleagues in the Woo Party believe that "liberality(sic) points toward societal disintegration" or that "that way (liberalism) lies nemesis"? Sounds more like authoritarian control freakery than peace-loving ecology to me, and I'm pretty sure it's contra to the Greens' manifesto, unless they're gearing up for a return to the era of Edward Goldsmith or (shudder) James Wentworth Day and haven't yet told anyone in public. Personally, though, I think it's just the bog-standard kind of hysterical, bitter anti-Liberal trolling I come to expect from similarly-minded turncoats, though someone ought to tell him that LibCon's hardly a hotbed of liberalism despite the name...

Apparently, yesterday was National Chocolate Covered Anything Day!  Like we need a day for it!!! To honour the occasion, zinke  posted a poll asking just who we would like covered in chocolate.  I haven't managed to answer the poll, as I couldn't possibly pick just one person to be drizzled with melted G&B and fudge sauce.  In the spirit of the season and because I feel like it, I present my selection.  Being the traditionalist I am, I prefer my chocolates in boxes with a couple of layers! Normally, I'm all for the soft centres, but there are a few hard nuts in there, too.

( Food Come Ahoy! )

I'm in the process of researching something in response to zinke 's Who Would You Most Like Dipped in Chocolate poll and came across this.  The video montage at the end - I'll take that with a crate of G&B please. My full answer will appear later.

ETA: If you haven't yet succumbed to the joy of SG-1, Are you *nuts*??? I suggest you take a look at this to convince you.

Just picked these up. They're fine for reading the screen. Not bad for distance, but not good enough for driving. OK for reading, but not significantly better than my normal glasses, but completely useless for the close up things, like threading a needle, that I specifically want to be able to do. I can still see better by taking my glasses off for close up stuff, which sort of defeats the object. I certainly couldn't sew in these any better than I could with my normal glasses.

Looking at the stuff on my desk, I can certainly see small text (important information on the back of a CC bill) on a piece of paper between the keyboard & monitor better than with distance glasses, but if I bring it within 8" of my eyes, it starts to blur.