So, today in Starbucks, one of the regular guys who serve me asked where in Sydney I lived. A little while ago he’d asked where I was from and when I said NSW, he asked if I knew Woolloomooloo. After I smiled and said yes, I went on to tell him about Harry’s Cafe de Wheels and his famous pie floaters. We both agreed the idea of mushy peas in the top of an Aussie pie, served from a grotty caravan could only be a good one if you were pretty drunk. Anyway, today was the first time, since then, that I’ve seen him.

I told him I lived on the North Shore, just over the bridge to which he replied, “Near Neutral Bay?” Of course I said yes, that I once knew Neutral Bay very well to which he said that he’d lived in Neutral Bay for four months and worked at The Oaks.

When I lived in Falcon Street, just the other side of the freeway towards the bridge, I could walk up and over, turn left and there it was, The Oaks. It became quite a regular haunt of mine.

It was quite odd. In fact, another Starbucks person, a rather new one, shrieked with delight and exclaimed what an amazing coincidence it was. Given that I’ve been over here nearly eleven years and this is the first time, of all the people I’ve met, who knew and worked in Neutral Bay, I think it’s amazing it’s taken so long.

Tonight we watched Star Trek (the newest one) and enjoyed it a lot. Except Mirinda thought there was a decided lack of women in it. When I said this was because it led into the original Star Trek, she said they could have changed it, after all, they changed the entire future, what could a little re-alignment hurt. I couldn’t argue with that.

A miserable, drizzly, grey day. ‘Nuff said.

Poor Day-z has been having an incontinence problem. This has been going on for a few months. Back in November I took her to the vet and she prescribed some HRT (hormone replacement therapy) tablet that, she explained, would tighten the relevant bit of her anatomy and stop the leaks. They worked fantastically well, and we managed to relax rather than rush her outside every hour and make sure she was sitting on a towel anywhere in the house.

She has to have a tablet every day. She gets it wrapped in whatever sliced meat I’m having for lunch, a practice which both of them have now become accustomed.

Well, the tablets ran out about a fortnight ago and I didn’t think about it too much since she’d been fine. And then we spotted a few accidents again starting to appear. I rapidly grew sick of stripping the furniture and washing everything every half hour and so went down to the vet to get a repeat prescription. Not so easy. I had to make an appointment for Day-z to once more see the vet just to see how she’s going.

Long story, short…the vet was pleased with the progress, told me Day-z will probably always have to take them and gave me a card for repeats with an invitation to see her again in three months time. But that’s not what I really wanted to talk about…

The poodles love going to the vet. It’s weird. When we go up to the park, we follow a path which turns left into the park or goes straight ahead, down an alley and, eventually, to the vet. I watch their tails when we walk along (it’s hard not too when they’re walking in front of me) and they’re always happy, trotting along, tails jiggling joyfully. This makes no difference whether we go left or straight on. And the only reason I take them straight on, is to visit the vet.

When we get to the vet, they get all excited, jumping up and down, panting and licking. We always have to sit and wait and, of course, they climb all over me. The staff generally fuss over them, saying how cute they are and generally making squealy noises which makes them worse, of course. And then we’re called in to the exam room.

It’s like a race! They leap off my lap and can’t understand why they can’t get there quicker (the lead is holding them back somewhat). When we get into the room they both jump onto the chair that’s sitting just inside the door. I’ll unhook one of them while they sit on the chair and lift her onto the table. The other one just sits and watches from the chair. Unless she can’t see. As was the case today.

I had Day-z on the table, holding her steady while the vet examined her and poor Carmen couldn’t see anything. She patted me on the back, repeatedly, until I moved. And then she was fine. Of course, Day-z was a bit unsure on the table but was all bouncy again, the minute I took her off. I’ve never known a dog that actually likes going to the vet but these crazy poodles definitely do. Though, in saying that, they are quite eager to leave as well.

And then, late this morning, I’m busy typing away, working feverishly on my essay and a hunger pang strikes me. Day-z, as usual is curled up on the office chair behind me (that’s right, she insists we share the same chair) and I haven’t seen Carmen for a while. Normally she’d be happily asleep on the Doona but the Friday rule is invoked today.

I stood up, making Day-z jump up and fly through the air in her normal crazed form of excitement and headed out of the study. When I reached the doorway I realised I’d loaded a washing basket and forgotten to take it down to the laundry. I realised it because it was still sitting on the floor outside the bedroom. What I didn’t know but which made me burst into laughter was the fact that Carmen had decided this was a very nice and smelly place to curl up for a nap.

She looked a bit sheepish when she saw me but managed to stay put long enough for me to get the camera and take a few shots of her. She was a bit bemused, I was totally amused! Talk about LOL. I DID!

Carmen in a laundry basket

I should explain the Friday rule. Friday is my day for washing the bed linen. I do it first thing in the morning, and, once it’s washed and dried, replace it in the afternoon. Because of this, the bedroom door is closed all day. I’m pretty sure Carmen is a bit confused. I know Mirinda was when she found out about it.

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Here’s a funny story. This guy parks his car near a speed camera and every time someone speeds by, his car gets fined! Read about it here.

I am working like a lunatic, trying to finish my fourth essay (it’s due next week) and the computer is driving me even crazier. I think my previous long days parked in front of a computer screen are forever behind me. I can’t manage more than a few hours and I need a distracting break for a bit.

And I’m not sure what it is. It’s not like I get a headache or eye strain or sore back or anything like that. I just get a bit bored with doing the same thing. It could also have something to do with the fact that I’ve not had a lot of sleep this week…what with Nicktor coming over and introducing me to a new whisky.

Anyway, regardless of that, I’m up to 2,000 words so I’m almost there (2,500-3,000 required). And while the title seems interesting (An analysis and description of the information communication chain as it relates to the archaeological sector, using aspects of domain analysis) it’s more disturbing how disparate it all is. Too little consistency out there!

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Last night I saw one of the worst sit-coms I think I’ve ever seen. It’s a new series called The Persuasionists and, unbelievably, it was on BB2. Now, believe me, I’ll laugh at virtually anything. As long as it’s vaguely funny. This thing was not. Not once did I smile, let alone laugh. It was diabolically unfunny. And while the script was exceedingly ordinary, when it tried harder, it was even worse. If you happen to see it in a TV schedule, ignore it. Tell everyone you know to avoid it. If you accidentally see a few moments, never admit it. To anyone. It’s not even a ‘it’s so bad it’s good’ type show like Bonekickers, the ‘thrilling’ archaeology series enjoyed only because it was so silly when purporting to be serious. No, The Persuasionists is just plain awful. I can’t believe a commissioning editor read the pilot script, let alone saw any of it.

To quote Tim Dowling, TV reviewer for The Guardian, “It’s hard to locate exactly what went wrong with this project, so I’m recording a verdict of death by misadventure.” His full review (the final paragraph after the bit about pill taking on Horizon, is here.

One final note, in the words of Lynn Rowlands-Connolly (Unreality Primetime reviewer) “…it lacks the one fundamental for a comedy; comedy.” Her full review is here.

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I took the poodles for a jaunt across the Queen’s Bottom today. In the distance I could see a small patch of white, clear and crisp on the green grass. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be, not a discarded bit of polystyrene, not a white bin liner full of dumped garbage (we haven’t had a rubbish collection around here since before Christmas so this would not surprise me), not a big pile of ice cream…no! It was the last bit of snow, slowly melting in the weak winter sun. And here it is. You’ll have to take my word that it’s in the middle of the Queen’s Bottom. Behind me is an equally snow free vista.

Last of the snow

When we lived in Haslemere, we became aware that, because of the surrounding countryside (mostly woods and hills), we were locked in our own little world of weather. Of a morning, it was imperative that I note the London weather before deciding what to wear because the weather in Woking was always different. I should add that Woking is only about 24 miles from Haslemere. All of this was brought back to me today when I once more visited Haslemere.

As I left Farnham, the day was a mix of grey and sleet – a truly grim day. As we (me and the three other passengers on the number 19 bus) trundled through Frensham, white began to appear where it remained on the countryside. This, in itself was not unusual. As we crossed the A3 at Hindhead, the snow started and the white either side of the road was thickening. By the time I left the bus at Shottermill, snow laid all about, thick and even. It was like I’d travelled to another country.

The reason I’d popped over to Haslemere today was to have lunch with Dawn (my second Cansfield this week). I haven’t seen her for ages while I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time with her husband recently. My first task, however, was to take the hard drive out of their old PC. And this meant braving the vicious Polly.

Polly is a Westie, just like Basil, but unlike Basil, she hates everyone. She barks and bites and snaps and…well, she’s generally pretty antisocial. That is until she calms down, then she’s a lovely little dog. So I had to wait outside while Dawn put Polly behind bars. Basil, of course, came running up to say hello, all shaking with pleasure. Secretly, I think he was looking for Mirinda, who he adores, but he always hides his disappointment quite well. Polly remained behind bars while I went upstairs to de-brain the PC. Having had a sticky at their new kitchen, which is LOVELY! The cooker had me very jealous.

Apart from getting covered in the inevitable dust, the hard drive was a doddle and I soon had it cradled in my hand, telling Dawn to put it in a box somewhere and forget about it. I also told her the computer horror story of the man who’s information was retrieved from a PC he’d taken to the dump but which had ended up in Africa.

I foolishly offered to fix her rear wiper but my enthusiasm was a bit hardier than my automotive repair skills and it beat me. Sad and defeated by a silly little bit of plastic, we then went to the Mill for lunch.

I love the Mill. It’s a wonderful, very English pub. And they had Alton fff as a guest ale. Excellent choice. We enjoyed some of this, me more than Dawn…who was driving. Lunch was lovely though I think I hogged the conversation a bit, reminiscing over theatre days…which always makes me miss it…for a little while.

I then took the bus back home. Again, the snow stopped as we crossed the gridlocked (as always) A3. I was greeted over-enthusiastically by the poodles who, no doubt, wanted to know why I’d been to visit Basil and not taken them.

In the Just Too Ridiculous box, I have found the following item. Apparently, a Christian group in America have organised to send hundreds of solar powered bibles to the people of Haiti. Now, apart from the bizarre, what really strikes me as odd about this is how Christians should be selflessly helping these people with things they need. Perhaps if the solar powered bibles also had a torch in them, it would help a bit. I am truly mystified that these people could be so ridiculous.

You can read about it here, on an Australian news site. I read about it in a blog I subscribe to called J-Walk, which is here. Though I should warn you, it gets pretty controversial and is not religion-friendly.

Being Tuesday, Nicktor came to stay so we could finally go and watch Aldershot. The pitch was lovely and green, the crowd was noisy. We played very well and so did they (Rochdale). At half time the score was nil all but it had been fast and furious. A quick half time beer and back to the terraces.

Rochdale scored! We fought hard and in the dying moments of the game, snatched one back. And so it ended. 1-1. Well deserved. The crowd was happy.

We caught the bus home and are about to watch a movie and have a few drams.

Dull and grey today. That was all. And then a little bit of rain this evening. Not that we noticed. We were watching Wallander with Kenneth Branagh.

Now, is it just me, or is Wallander very hard going? It’s all filmed and directed beautifully and the acting is fantastic. The stories are even pretty good but it’s as emotionally draining as a super suction pump under a bath. I just feel like grabbing Kurt and shaking him, telling him to get a grip! Though it wouldn’t do any good. He’d look off into the blue distance, look down and then walk away without a word, while his mobile phone annoyingly bleeped. I’d also like to know if it’s as bad in the original Swedish. I thought the Swedes were a happy bunch.

Today Mirinda had her monthly book club in Chawton. This month it was an autobiography by a slave – Mary Prince – published in 1831 and which had a lot to do with the ending of slavery. If you would like to read it, Project Gutenberg has an online copy here (if you don’t mind reading on the PC).

However, before book group, it was time to visit the hairdresser. This is always scary. Mirinda and hairdressers are not always easy chums.

She has been going to Toni and Guy for ages, even though she can’t stand going there but because she’s used to the girl and the girl is clearly having successful therapy. Well, the girl has been on holiday for a suspiciously long time and Mirinda finally got the hint and booked at my hairdressers. I’m hoping she didn’t mention me.

Anyway, she reported back that all was fine. And her hair looks great. I’ve taken a photo but it’s not very good. You can’t see the red streaks for a start. But it was quite dark. It also includes her playing the guitar, which I’ve been fortunate enough to hear tonight.

And so now, our weekend together is over. Tomorrow morning she’s back off into London and I’ll be back at the essay writing. Although Nicktor is supposed to come around tomorrow night. We’ll go and see the mighty Shots play. I mean, WIN!

A glorious blue day with no snow, rain or wind. And the temperature has risen. So much that I started to work up a sweat on the way home from Waitrose.

After a very late breakfast, we drove up to Hankley to walk the dogs. We haven’t been up there for yonks. There has been a lot of warnings about the impending floods as a result of the meltwater. I think they’re all at Tilford. The river had burst its banks and was flooding the road and swamping onto the village green. We crossed the river earlier and it was swollen but not higher than the bridge.

We parked and started up towards the common. There was little snow left, though what there was, Carmen frantically rubbed her face into. There were far more people than we normally see. Mirinda figured it was because it’s the first sunny day in ages. Maybe, but I think it’s because it hasn’t been accessible for weeks because of the snow.

Whatever…it was lovely and very peaceful. I’m pretty sure Mirinda agrees. Back home we had lunch and watched the miserable Wallander and I put dinner on. After 4 hours, we enjoyed roast duck in cherry sauce.

Having watched Lark Rise to Candleford, I’m now watching Ronnie O’Sullivan play Mark Selby in the Masters final. It really can’t come close to the excitement of the semi-final against Mark Williams. And, talking about sport…

Why do some football players wear those silly little black gloves? Wayne Rooney, a tough, chunky player has started to wear them and I wonder if it’s anything to do with Colleen, worried about him handling the new baby with cold fingers. But all of them can’t have doting wives, surely. I mean, Berbatov thinks he’s pretty slick but he looks pathetic wearing gloves. I’ll never understand it. Mirinda thinks it proves they are real men because they’re not afraid of standing out when they have cold hands. She’ll never understand football.

Anyway, Chelsea thrashed Sunderland yesterday 7-2, so I’m happy.

The snow is all but gone! This morning we woke to grey clouds and rain, turning the snow to mere pools of it’s former glory. Sadly, Mirinda really missed out on the beauty. Last night we walked home via Borelli Walk but even here the snow was vanishing quicker than a ice cube in a microwave. Everything is now looking a bit sad and forlorn. Even my snowman is merely a puddle. I observe, however, that Snowy next door, though clearly dead, is still fairly recognisable as a snowman.

As a side note to this entry, I have just read (completely unauthenticated I should add) that Farnham is one of the most haunted towns in England. There’s apparently several at the Bush hotel and a particularly active ghost in Borelli Yard. Both the Borelli Walk and Borelli Yard are named after Charles Ernest Borelli (1873-1950). He was a local politician who, along with architect Harold Falkner, were largely responsible for conserving Farnham as a Georgian town. We have them to thank for how perfect the town centre can look and the preservation of the ‘yards’ etc.

I’m pretty sure we could draw a line directly from these two guys to the later decisions not to allow too many chain stores and fast food places into Farnham, ensuring it would not become another boring clone town. And here it is, apparently a ghost town instead. Not that I’ve seen any, of course. Or heard any for that matter. Perhaps Bob and/or Claire can comment on the ghosts in the Bush Hotel.

Walking into Farnham this morning was a very slushy experience. Life, it seems, has returned to normal. Traffic once more crowding Castle Street, mobs crowding the footpath in the Borough, shopping trolleys crowding the aisles in Waitrose. The only crowd free place was, thankfully, Starbucks. (Today Alex the Schumanian was wearing an odd glittery Alice band on her head. It looked odd. When I asked her why, she shrugged and said “It looked happy.” I can’t really argue with that.) So, for possibly the first time in two weeks, I could enjoy a relatively noise and people free coffee.

As I entered Starbucks, standing outside all orderly and well behaved, were two Dalmatians. No leads, just sitting, patiently waiting for their owner who was inside buying a coffee. Amazing, I thought. Our two wouldn’t do that. As soon as the door opened, they’d be in. But I walked past the Dalmatians, patting their heads as I did, opened the door and walked in and they didn’t move.

But, continuing on about crowds…for some reason, every time I tried to go down an aisle in Waitrose this morning, it was blocked by two trolleys, the drivers of which were chatting or just generally dithering over product selection. I always use a basket rather than try and manoeuvre anything large around the store but even that was a pain today. I’m sure people do it just to annoy me. They all hide in the aisles until I approach, then, on some supersonic wavelength, a signal is given and they all bunch up, blocking my way. I’m fairly sure they all have a jolly good laugh about it afterwards. It reminds me of flash crowds.

It’s amazing the number of great photo opportunities I miss. This morning, for instance, returning from Farnham and heading up Long Garden Walk, ahead of me I spotted a woman holding an umbrella, standing behind a pram. Nothing odd in that, naturally, but to her right was an upturned umbrella resting on the ground, gloriously open to the elements. I fumbled with my phone, trying to get the camera working as I moved closer. I was ready to take the picture when someone walked by from in front of her and blocked the shot. I tried again but I was too late. From in front of the pram (and out of my sight) was, I assume, the father of the child. He stood up, grabbed the umbrella and they walked off.

“Bugger“, I thought, putting my phone back in my pocket, “There goes the picture for today’s blog entry.”

We walked the poodles up to the castle and back in the late afternoon. All the lovely snow has been replaced by slimy, muddy splodgy, grass. At least that’s how most of it felt beneath our feet.

YAY! Mirinda’s home! After an extended London stay of nearly two weeks. She almost missed the snow but a bit remains…though rapidly melting. I’m sure the poodles will get filthy when I take them for a walk tomorrow.

Before I go any further, I need to let my mum know that there is no way she would like Sid & Nancy. Take it from someone who knows. Me. If you REALLY need to know what it’s about, you can look here.

So today was basically essay writing, studying in order to accomplish said essay writing and the inevitable housework. And, of course, the usual shopping trip into Farnham. Although, for the first time in almost a fortnight, I was cooking for someone else…as well as me, that is. And being Friday, we had one of the Chez Gaz specials, lightly smoked salmon fillets, crusted with avocado and sitting on kale and rice. It was eaten with great relish. That’s not a new kind of condiment, either.

So, I’m afraid, that is it for tonight. Except for one last thing. In the garden of the house next door, the kids built a snowman. With the warming weather, most snowmen are gradually melting away but for them, clearly a mercy killing was the only solution.

Snowy, mercifully saved from the rigours of melting

This morning it rained. Just a little bit but enough to pockmark the snow that still sits thick upon the ground. Though, having seen Lorna’s photographs of Fargo, I’m not sure we can really call what we had, snow. In Fargo, it reached the second storey of houses. Here it was a foot at the most. The temperature has risen a bit too, so everything is becoming slush.

Last night, Nicktor & I went down to the Six Bells again, had a meal and then watched the FA Cup replay between Liverpool and Reading. It was not what you’d call exciting football. We were sat with a Liverpool supporter who was upset when it was 1-1 at full time. Liverpool’s passing was sloppy and poor and Reading were playing a hard and fast game with wonderful defence. A couple of times Reading should have scored but didn’t. As I said, it was far from exciting. When the score was 1-0 to Liverpool, one Reading fan appeared to be leaving the ground (wanting to beat the rush, presumably) and missed the second goal AND extra time! Ha! Serves them right.

At full time we decided to leave and watch the extra time back at the house, as did the Liverpool supporter, who had some odd ideas about good restaurant food. He claimed that if he was given a plate that wasn’t hot, he would send it back to the kitchen. In fact, because he worked in the catering trade, he was so used to it that at home he would send his wife’s meals back to the kitchen if the plate wasn’t hot.

Anyway, the game ended with Reading winning 1-2. And, oddly enough, Reading players scored all three goals – the first being an own goal. The commentators were all over the result calling Reading minnows. Now I can understand if a team is three or four divisions below a premiership team you can call THEM minnows but Reading is only in the Championship. I think they were trying to talk the match up because it was so dreary.

After the game we watched Sid & Nancy (Nicktor’s choice) so it was another late night. Though we didn’t drink as much as the night before: it was hard enough staying awake as it was.

And so Nicktor spent another night and then pootled off to work this morning. My day was spent on my essay and general housework in preparation for Mirinda’s return tomorrow night. Finally. She’s been gone nearly two weeks and has yet to see the snow. Fortunately there is still plenty of it around. Though not as much as Fargo.