Mostly lemon based

Category: General

  • That little boundry

    See, I went down to make lunch and I walked into the kitchen and the little voice that’s been in the back of my head switched from being a little voice to a full on shouting one. The kitchen needed cleaning and needed it right now. It’s no dirtier than it was last night, but I just had to clean it.

    Which would have been a more pleasant experience if it hadn’t started with a bowl that’s cracked in the dishwasher hiding it’s cracked state until I went to pick it up at which point it sent a small piece of ceramic stabbing several millimeters into my hand. At which point I yelped, discovered I was actually bleeding a startling amount, lost the chunk of ultra-sharp ceramic and then couldn’t find the plasters [band-aid/elastoplasts] (which normally live in my first aid box).

    Anyway, the kitchen is substantially towards cleaned. I didn’t empty the bin, take the recycling to Sainsburys (anyone want to answer me why South Glos council won’t recycle plastic*?), and I didn’t wash the floor. However, the cooker and surfaces are now spotless, the fronts of the cupboards by the cooker and dishwasher are substantially cleaner (and so on, I’m writing about cleaning ffs).

    I’ve done something ‘unfortunate’ to my arm while I was fixing the car yesterday. It’s sore. I noticed it when Nikki had to brake hard today, and suddenly my arm declared it’s intense soreness. This really is a very dull journal entry.

    I think I’ll shut up now…

    Anyway, to those of you who didn’t bother to look, go look at my new photos; don’t make me beat you; for once I’m really quite proud of them. They’re pretty good for me learning how to use a new camera. It’s actually quite hard to use – because it’s hard to tell what it’s focused on, the LCD screen isn’t really sharp enough, which is a bit frustrating because it makes the ‘manual focus’ option a bit redundant.

    But the camera’s dead quick – it only just did the 39 photos on the 64 Meg card, and on the one set of batteries – so I’ve ordered some new NiMH batteries (not least because I want to have my CD player back in the car!) – and it’s really nice in use; so yay, generally.

    * actually I know the answer, it just happens not to make any sense.

  • Abandoned Fossil Car Stuff…

    Here: Horfield 2006 (and one of the centre of brizzy at the moment).

    I’m dead pleased with the new camera – the light was very wintery today – very white and bright, no warmth to it. Very clean. Anyway, I took the camera and myself down to the Horfield Regeneration Project and spent a couple of hours freezing myself to death. It’s peaked at 5 degrees C, and considering there was still a good thick layer of ice on the ground – and I didn’t have my gloves on (in aid of being able to work the camera) I got really quite cold.

    So anyway, there’s the photos.

    I’ve been very good today too; I went to the supermarket and stocked up on veggies again; and fruit; mmyum. And then I got back and despite the fact it was fracking cold I changed the faulty shocker (now at a level of ineffectiveness rivaling most politicians) and put the new drum on – but I think I also need to adjust the handbrake cable.

    There was quite a bit of swearing involved – the cutesy bit in the manual about undoing bolts and removing neglected the bit where I ended up cutting through the shock-absorber to split it enough that I could get the damn thing off the shaft. By this time I was *cold*. Not ‘a little bit cold’ but cold to the point where I could touch the cold bits of myself and think my hands were warm.

    Shortly after this, after lying on the floor at probably around 3 degree C for about an hour I started to shiver, but handily I’d finished. I even topped up (read: refilled from nearly empty) the diff. As I was laying there, face in the gravel I found something funky though. I’ve got a little fossil – it looks a bit like a chunk of an Ammonite – I thought I’d dropped it back in the chunky gravel but fortunately managed to find it again. It’s not like a big bit, nor is it terribly well preserved, but it’s funky none the less and now adorns the top of my monitor – along with much else in the way of crap.

    Anyway, having warmed up (several hours in front of a fan heater, multiple super-huge-mugs cups of tea) I’m now ready to celebrate my housemates birthyday.

    As promised, here’s a quick shot of the picture that Rachel painted for me…

    Rachel's fabby painting

    I found the wood I wanted to find, I hope I’ve got enough – I think I have – so when it’s dried out fairly thoroughly I’ll start cutting it up to make the frame.

  • Get me the fuck out of this country…

    And there I was laughing at the US.

  • Oh Great Journal Readers

    What do you do when you split up with someone and you’re left with letters and… cards… and (in this case) stories? I never know what to do with this stuff; I don’t want to throw it away, because it means a lot even after the fact, but… I never know what to do with it.

  • It’s 8:33 in Vancovuer

    You know when you’re having a sucky day… it’s when some 80 year old biddy (and yes, I mean that in the most derogatory sense I can come up with) accosts you when you park.

    Let’s just make this clear, I didn’t park outside her house, I parked on a street with no parking regulations on it whatsoever. I parked within an inch of the kerb at both front and rear. I left plenty of space for the driveway behind, such that any person with even half an ounce of driving skill should be able to successfully drive out of it.

    Having done this, I was accosted by said biddy who told me I was ‘a bugger’ for parking there, and ‘at least I’d not parked as badly as the person in front’… She then went on to complain about how the hospital staff at the RUH *dare* to park on *her* road, and how it was appauling, and how she was “more important” than me because she had to “go out and buy a paper”. Oh my dear god! Had I but realised she needed to buy a paper then I’d not even have considered parking on the road she so clearly pays for the whole entirety of.

    Part of the reason I’m so ranty about this is because I was later than intended (or only just going to make it on time if I was quick) so I didn’t have time to beat her with a stupid stick until she fucked off. It’s really annoying. We live right by a railway station, and yes, our road is sometimes jammed full of cars. But somehow we cope. If you live one road away from a hospital with inadequate staff parking in a city country with crap public transport then you just learn to put up with this stuff. Pissing off every passing individual is not the way to deal with it. If it wasn’t further away from the hospital than I normally park I’d be sorely tempted to park outside her house every fracking day just to wind her up.


    Then I got to my Work Based Learning Day. Last night, as you might have noticed, I wasn’t in the best of moods. I was feeling lonely and not just a little down. So I stayed up chatting to people; this meant that this morning I was very very tired. Possibly even outright exhausted. I got to my WBLD and I got there on time.

    However, I wasn’t feeling very chatty and didn’t have anything to greatly add in terms of ‘reflection’ – I reflect quite nicely by myself thankyouverymuch. If I’ve got something to share, I will, but I’m not just going to ramble for the sake of it. So the break approaches and people are leaving and the facilitator, who by some unfortunate freak of bad luck ended up sat next to me, turns to me and says “You’re very quiet today”, to which I said “Yeah, generally am”, because, frankly I didn’t feel like expanding on it to which she said “I’ll have to pick on you when I get back” (the phrase ‘pick on you’) was definately in there.

    Given my whole history of being bullied and what I went through when I first started at university this time round (the place feeling like a school, me feeling incredibly uncomfortable to the point of distress (predates this itteration of my journal, if anyone’s desparately interested I’ll see if I can fish it out of my old GreyMatter journal)) and my general mood today it was *really* not what I wanted to hear.

    I don’t *like* her, to be honest. I’m sure she’s a great person but she doesn’t tally with my whole opinion of how WBLDs should work, and I feel like she’s overly critical of people in the group’s opinions. For a facilitator she damn sure seems to go that step further into leadership. And I know we’re a weak and wooly group who kind of need leadership. But… yeah… anyway. Enough ranting.

    I just really didn’t need it.

    Anyway, I’ve got home and failed to do anything. Work? No. E-mail? No. Going to see if I could find that wood I wanted to make frames out of? No. Bloody useless tart I am – at least, I can be. Where’s my energy gone today? Anyway, in the realms of not working, the L-Word S3E3 has arrived, so I’ll watch that I think :-)

  • Tired

    So…

    My mum’s sick – again – with bronchitis. This is not good. This is the third time; she says I shouldn’t go home, she’s got antibiotics… But, I’m worried. She’s very ill.

    I’m tired but I don’t feel like going to bed. I dunno why. I want to talk to people, but I really do need to sleep. I guess I’m feeling lonely. Bah.

    Vague disatisfied worried tired. I should sleep.

    But Ivy Blossom and James are on. And they’re ‘good people’.

  • The *best* post

    So, I got Rachie’s letter today, and her painting. It *rocks*. I’m a bit unsure about my framing idea now – I’m thinking maybe something plainer would be better, I need to get the wood I was thinking of and look at it by the wood, we’ll see. I might go and do that tomorrow on the way home.

    But the painting. It’s fantastic. She painted this:

    And I just love it… It’s fantastic… I’m so happy :-)

    *And* I’ve got CD’s to listen to and a letter to read. I also had some of Aunt Peter’s coffee to get me awake and Lauren bought me a Bacon buttie for breakfast (‘cos I ran her back from the garage where her car’s being serviced). I got some time to talk to friends on IM last night (Dave, James, Alexa and IvyBlossom). I am slowly getting the hang of handover (as in, where to find the information I need in the notes), I’m starting to get a loose idea what at least some of the conditions are, and what investigations they might have. I can still be staggeringly dozy.

    I’ve finally managed to sort out an appointment with A&E – so I’m going to be orientated to the place in my Professional Development Week. So, generally. Ra. And now I’m off to read Rachel’s letter.

  • But that makes no sense…

    Frustrating in the extreme…

    Canada will recognise and issue a Canadian licence to holders of American, Austrian, German, Swiss, Japanese or South Korean licences. You’ll note the distinct and frustrating lack of the UK from that list. Now, what’s even more frustrating is that as part of the European Union, Austria will directly convert a UK licence to an Austrian licence.

    Anyone else see the annoying-slight-insanity?

    I’ve got a UK driving licence. A full one. I can drive anything from a 50cc moped to a 7.5 tonne lorry, I am deemed ‘competent’ to do this (although the biggest thing I’ve driven is a 3.5 tonne lorry)… and I’ve been driving for a while… and… gah. Bloody sod grr.

  • Mr Lucas, thou art damned.

    So, I spent the morning doing a variety of tasks, mostly spraying grapefruit juice over my keyboard, desk and monitor. Done that well…

    …then we got on to swimming, had a very nice swim thankyou very much.

    …and then we spent 20 minutes cleaning connectors around my indicator. See, car electrics work like this: the power wings it’s way from the battery all along little wires, through switches and to the object, in this case, a light bulb. Having got there, the car’s body is used as the other wire to get the electric back to the battery.

    This is all fine and dandy when the car is brand spanking all shiny metal new. But when the car is 36 years old and the joints aren’t quite so good, and any bits where there were once connections are coated in a thin layer (at least) of rust, you find that the earth route attempts to go back via bits of rust and dirt. Which doesn’t work. And then interesting things start happening, because electricity is a determined force, and it’ll do it’s damnest to get back to the battery.

    This is why you’ll quite often see older cars – before their MOTs at least – lighting up like a the Christmas Display at World’o’lights, blinking and flashing in a bizzare array of unhelpful indications. On my Minor this meant that the day after the MOT (thankfully, but bizzarely), the Right front indicator stopped working and instead the sidelight bulb when into epileptic fits of delight as it flashed manically.

    So I spent the morning sanding and cleaning joints. Attempting to get a connection at least ‘good enough’ to tide me over. But no. After 20 minutes I found that despite my attempts and the appearance of shiny metal in a variety of places connections were not being made. So then I did what I should’ve done in the first place, I ran an earth wire back from the indicator unit to the earth point for the headlamps (apparently headlamps warrant an earth point whereas unimportant little orange lights which tell people where you’re going, do not).

    I’ve also contacted A&E – the people I need to speak to are in tomorrow, renewed my MMOC membership – making my insurance valid (but hurting on the paying money stakes), rung Burwin to find that my bike engine is with Martin, or at least, with Martin’s house… Martin currently being on holiday. And ordered the new brake drum and shock absorber so I can spend a delightful afternoon (or morning) in the freezing cold doing my brakes and damper. Aren’t I just the lucky one :-)

    Now I’m going to eat lunch and *if* I manage to leave early enough I’ll had my essay in :-)

  • Argh! Stop being stupid!

    *sigh*

    Why is it that all of the western countries seem to be following each other in a desparate race to flush their civil liberties and culture down the toilet faster than anyone else? Or, as I’m feeling: “how dare Canada elect a Conservative government after I’ve decided I want to move there”. Apologies to all the Canadians out there who didn’t elect a conservative government.

    *sigh*

    I guess I’m a hopeful sort of left-of-the-centre type, and kind of hoped that despite what I knew about the political situation in Canada at the moment (which isn’t *that* much, but is just about enough to make a vaguely reasoned decision) the Liberal types would trundle out to the polls and stick them back in for another term. But it appears not. I guess I’ll be watching the political situation in Canada more closely now than I have been before anyway, since I still want to move there, but now, with the election of a (minority, granted) conservative government I’ll be watching even more closely… and it’s disappointing.

    And yes, before I get beaten over the head, what right have I to comment on another countries political situation when we’ve got Blair in charge here? Well, I didn’t vote for him so…

    I am, it must be said, distressed by the western political climate at the moment. I’ve kind of been dragged, kicking and screaming into being a political being. I’m not, by my nature, polticial. I’m kind of a left-wing; but not screamingly so; pro civil liberties type. And slowly it’s dawned on me that the nature of the majority of politics in the UK is rather more right-of-centre than I find myself comfortable with. I’m hardly activism central, but the odd letter to my MP has been fired off, and certainly I vote, and I also seem to be getting involved in local politics too. It’s all a bit far off what I expected of myself, really.

    …

    …

    In more positive news, I’ve just had confirmation that at the moment both my car and my motorcycle are exempt from import regulations – and can be registered just as they are; so my mildly modified mog will get into Canada just fine.

    And now I am in need of a shower.