The House Husband

An example to all older ladies: I spotted a woman waiting for the same bus as me, intently reading a rather hefty tome entitled “Algebra: An Introduction“. I figure she’d have been about 70-80. Of course, it might be that she’s gone a bit mental and she thought it was an Agatha Christie. I’d rather think she just thought it was the right time to learn a branch of mathematics that uses mathematical statements to describe relationships between things that vary over time. Maybe she wants to figure out how much better it is shopping in small independent shops when compared with supermarkets.

Being a Tuesday, I rang mum and dad this morning. Whenever I ring them, I text first with a ten minute warning, just to make sure they don’t have a mouthful of something and that they’re just generally ready for the phone to ring. Apparently, mum said to dad that I was calling early which meant I was going to see Dawn today.

When they answered the phone (they have a handset each) mum asked why I was ringing early. When I said it was because I was having lunch with Dawn today she gave a self-satisfied chortle, claiming she was psychic. I can’t think of any other reason for it. It’s not like it happens that often.

One of the reasons I was having lunch with Dawn today was because today was our 500th blip and we wanted to blip together to celebrate. You can see mine here, and Dawn’s is here.

I introduced her to Blip (I’m sure she hates me for introducing her to something which has dominated her last 500 days) and, although she started after me, we have reached 500 together. The reason I missed a few was from when I had no camera during our trip to Oz in 2010 which allowed her to catch up.

So we had a lovely lunch, purchased from the small independent bakery in Liphook (I also had a piece of bread pudding which was about a million miles from my mum’s), before bundling Basil and Polly in the back of her car for a walk over Chapel Common, a place which features in quite a few of her blips.

Basil lagging behind a bit

We wanted to blip each other, blipping each other, which is why the photographs are like they are. Because Dawn is so fussy, we had to take about 20 shots. Of course, each time one took a shot the other had to follow suit, otherwise they wouldn’t be blips of blips. It took her a while but she eventually settled on the one I posted. As for mine, I wasn’t at all bothered.

After a coffee back at Casa Cansfield (so I could hornswoggle Dawn into witnessing our signatures on a document that needed it) she dropped me back at the bus stop for lovely (but long), scenic trip home.

And, finally, here’s a photo of Basil, especially for Mirinda.

Ok, ok, I'm coming. Don't hurry me!

And, just because I like it, here’s a very fast magpie carrying some sticks back to its nest, taken on our early walk this morning. He had about ten goes at picking them up but then, successfully flew off at great speed.

Travelling at the speed of light...almost

I read with interest today (in The Times) that the inventor of the Black Box Flight Recorder died on Monday. He really had to work hard to get anyone to buy into the idea but he really believed it was the way forward. A way to record, not just the state of a planes instruments but also a record of the talk in and between the cockpit and the ground.

His wasn’t the first invented, though. In 1939 two French chaps made one that used photography. While their device was tested in France for 30 years, it was never used in commercial flights and it didn’t record any voices.

David Warren (his full name was David Ronald de Mey Warren) was an Australian. He was the first child of European descent to be born on the island of Groote Eylandt, off Arnhem Land. From here he went to Tasmania then Sydney and ended up in Melbourne where he became established as an electronics expert.

Although Warren’s device was first created as a prototype in 1957 it wasn’t introduced into commercial planes until 1960 following a crash in Mackay.

It was originally called the Red Egg (because it looked like one) but, for some reason not known, it became the Black Box.

He lived a long and rewarding life, dying at the age of 85. I bet he was very pleased when, in 2008, Qantas named one of their Airbus A380s after him.

The reason I took to his story is the fact that he perceived how important his device could be and didn’t give up even though most people in the industry were not interested. A very important man who was awarded the Order of Australia in 2002.

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As well as reading The Times, I had lunch with Dawn today. We had a jolly good natter while Polly nattered to the garden fence and Basil relaxed on the lawn. Once the rain had fled, the day was sparkling and lovely.

Today I saw two Cansfields. Here’s a photo of one of them:

Dawn in the good room which is rapidly becoming a library

I popped over to Liphook on another one of those mercy dashes I’m so good at. The ones involving IT problems which I can never seem to fix. Which is all of them. Actually, that’s not entirely true. The time I went over to rip out an old hard drive I was very successful.

Anyway, the problem was with a laptop that just refused to see the router and, therefore, was bereft of any Internet of any kind. It was my first exposure to Windows Vista and now I know why I hate it so. No wonder there was such fanfare and exhultation after the arrival of Windows 7. I’ll not go into all things I hate about it as it would probably make a longer entry than the snooker one.

But before I failed to fix the IT problem, we went to The Mill at Shottermill for a lovely lunch and a pint of fff. It’s odd but when pubs chalk up the beer from this brewery they write ‘Triple fff Alton Best’ which, unless my maths is worse than it usually is, a total of nine fs or fff fff fff. The brewery is called Triple f or fff. Not that it matters much. Their beer is all that matters. And it’s very, very nice. The brewery is just down the road near Alton.

Lunch over, we popped over to Liphook so I could pretend that I knew what I was doing and managed to score a mug of coffee and a mauling by Basil. That’s a friendly mauling which is more than I can say for Polly! Apart from barking all the time I was there (almost), she just barked! Crazy dog. Her tail wags all the time too. Dawn reckons she’s undecided. I think she’s right.

The photo is to show Nicktor’s Billy construction. I think I mentioned in a previous post about his gargantuan effort to erect 400 IKEA Billy bookcases in the good room and there is the evidence! Dawn was gracious enough to pose so I could splash her all over the Internet. Behind that smile she’s all sufferance.

And, of course, it being a Tuesday, Nicktor is due soon for his weekly dose of Gaz Movie Madness. But first, the pub. And I think I hear his gentle pitter patter on the door just…about…now.

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.