The House Husband

We had about 2″ of snow last night. I know because I took a metal ruler out to the path this morning and measured it. Of course, the poodles went mad and Carmen spent far too long rolling in it. With no more snow forecast, it’s now going to turn to slush very quickly so we went for an early walk. Well, early for a Sunday, anyway.

Lots of families with kids on sleds, wearing bright colours so as to be easily found in the snow. Here’s one wandering off home. Her mother said she has a strong independent streak and had had enough of the snow.

Screw you guys, I'm going home

I realised my mistake in wearing wellies far too late to change them. Rubber is not a very good insulator ensuring that my toes were frozen by the time we returned home. Then, like the good neighbour I am, I took the shovel outside and cleared our drive and the path outside our house.

Actually, it was because I almost slipped over a few times and I remember last time how treacherous the ice was after the snow started freezing. Each time I started slipping, I felt a twinge in my right wrist. Fortunately I remained standing.

After shovelling out the front, I cleared the path out the back as this, too, was starting to get a bit slippy. What a joy! The last time I tried to clear snow resulted in, what looked like, a luge channel. The path makes it so much easier. How could anyone not love our path?

Being a Sunday means, of course, it’s a day of rest, so I spent a lot of it doing family history research. I haven’t touched it for ages which means a bit of a refresh first…just to see what I was up to last time. I am stuck on the Cornish policeman who went to France in the mid 1800s. Very annoying.

Also, I need to apologise…sort of. A slide guitar isn’t a type of guitar but, rather, a style of playing a guitar. There’s a wiki article on it here, which I’m sure Mirinda will be interested in.

After our walk

This morning, I decided to put a load of washing on before I went shopping. I filled the basket up from the bedroom with a black load and was about to put it in the machine when I realised I’d forgotten something. I put the basket down and went back upstairs to retrieve my trackies. Upon my return, greeting me with a mischievous grin was Carmen, all curled up and snugly in the basket, soaking in the human smells.

But I like it here!

I can’t remember her ever doing this before (although, Day-z can often be found curled up in a pile of dirty washing if it’s left in a pile on the floor) and wonder if she’s somehow telling me not to wash our clothes because she prefers them smelly.

I asked her if she wanted to get out now but her only reply was to lay her head down and feign sleep. She moved pretty quickly when I picked the basket up and leapt out looking a bit upset.

I suddenly realise that I haven’t mentioned Dawn’s marmalade. She posted a blip the other day and, in her comment, mentioned she’d been making some. She’s not exactly what you’d call a country kitchen, Kirstie Allsop, WI, jam making type so it came as a bit of a surprise. My comment in reply was that I hoped I’d get to taste it.

On Thursday she handed me a jar with the warning that it was too thick. I told her it was probably in her imagination because it looked fine. I can confirm that she’s mad. Thick? It was perfect! Not too sweet, nice and orange-y, tangy in the right way, perfectly spreadable. I’m not a big marmalade (or jam for that matter) fan but it sure tasted good on my toast.

I think she should add a secret ingredient and call it Dawn-alade.

Ignoring the dire weather warnings from the BBC (we have been on an amber alert since last night; not that I know what that means after all, on the roads it means make sure there’s no pedestrians and proceed as if green) I caught the train into town to visit with the patient at the quarantine hut. It was very clear first thing this morning, looking like anything but snow but as I left home, the clouds, with big bulbous bits of grey had appeared.

The trip across town was, remarkably effortless. Generally, the Jubilee Line is not my friend on weekends but it was running a good service today and I hopped on a tube train almost immediately. Strangely, I can’t say the same for Starbucks. Very unusually, they took an age to get the coffees out. It could have been because one of the staff was a trainee.

At the flat I was very glad to see a much improved Mirinda. She claims it’s a combination of a vast collection of drugs, not leaving the flat for four days and the absence of stairs. Unlike home, if she wants to move from bedroom to lounge, it’s just through a door. At home she’d have to climb up and down the stairs.
Whatever the cause, she is a lot better and should reach her goal of returning to work on Monday. Of course, the other reason for her improvement could be the ingesting of ice cream and cup cakes, a universal cure if ever I heard one.

While I visited, we watched a wonderful film called The Chorus. Susanne recommended it to Mirinda years ago and we’ve only just got around to watching it. It’s a lovely French film that we thoroughly recommend to anyone who loves a story about ordinary people making a difference against the odds. It is beautiful. The music and singing is haunting. And the acting is superb. How they manage to get such brilliant performances out of little kids, I’ll never know. I always remember the youngsters Mirinda tried to teach in the mountains. They hid any talent for performance well away from any public scrutiny.

It was nominated for the Best Foreign Language film at the Oscars and I’m amazed it didn’t win. The one that did was a Spanish film called The Sea Inside which I’ve never heard of. It’s the true story of a guy fighting for 30 years in favour of euthanasia and his own right to die. Doesn’t sound very entertaining if you ask me. I prefer The Chorus.

Anyway, all good things must come to an end, even visiting hours, so I was all too soon on my way back home. The weather had turned even colder. Mirinda stepped out on the (steel) balcony in her bare feet and instantly regretted it. Fortunately I wore my big Russian great coat so was snugly and warm.

Coming out of the Jubilee Line at Waterloo, I walked by the big entrance and it was snowing. Very lightly and without much effort, but it could have been a portent. A big electronic sign in the main station proclaimed that all was well but if the weather was to deteriorate, things could get bad. That’s like saying, if you stand under running water, you’ll get wet! A stupid sign if ever I saw one. I texted Mirinda to let her know and missed a wonderful cultural reference she made.

As is normal in England, the train was very toasty. What’s not normal is that it was announced 20 minutes before it was due to leave so I didn’t have to stand around on the breezy concourse for very long.

During the trip home, Mirinda sent me a text to say the snow had started at Canary Wharf. By the time I reached Farnham, the snow was starting to settle. I knew I’d timed it right. Any later and I think this post may have had a different ending.

Walking across the railway crossing was a slippery affair so I decided to get a taxi home. This turned out to be a very good idea as our street was covered in snow, forcing the taxi driver to slow right down. I almost slipped over just walking across our drive. It would have been an awful walk home.

Of course the poodles were outside and covered in snow.

Our street, just before I went to bed

We had snow last night! A light dusting, it’s true, and it was all gone by the time I returned home from uni, but snow all the same. Very pretty walk to the station for us both this morning.

Robert Llewellyn (Kryton on Red Dwarf), makes these podcasts every week. He calls them Car Pool. It’s a simple premise. He drives someone somewhere and, on the way, they chat about…well, anything really. His car is fitted out with small cameras and microphones and he edits the whole thing down to about 40 minutes. So far he’s talked to people like Patrick Stewart, Stephen Fry, Adrian Edmondson, Chris Barrie and lots of other, slightly less famous but equally interesting, people.

When he’s finished with the edit, they are loaded up to iTunes and his own website where people can download or just watch them online. They are free and excellent entertainment. In case anyone wants to see one, his website is here. The most recent Car Pool runs automatically but the past episodes are on the right hand side. They are well worth looking at.

Anyway, I download them onto my iPod Touch and watch them on the train back from uni. They are always entertaining and sometimes enlightening. Like Rebecca Watson, the current one. I was happily ensconced in it this evening, chuckling away to myself and wondering why I’d never heard of her, when a chap sits down next to me. He pulls out his headphones, adjusts them on his head, takes out his iPod Touch, turns it on then starts to watch…you guessed it…Car Pool!

I often see people watching things on their laptops or their personal DVDs but this was the first time I’d seen another person with a iPod Touch AND watching Car Pool. I have no idea whether he realised I was watching the same thing. He was watching the Patrick Stewart one from a fortnight ago. He was quietly chuckling to himself. I soon forgot about him as I once more became immersed in my own Car Pool.

What a delightful coincidence.

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.

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.

And so it snowed again last night, causing havoc throughout the south, including here. This meant Nicktor was unable to go home this morning. With great joy he is staying with me again tonight.

Last night we went down to the Six Bells for, I thought, dinner and some beer. Dinner was a pathetic pork and apple sandwich because Nicktor wasn’t very hungry! The beer was good though. And, of course, the company. It wasn’t a very busy night at the pub so we almost had the place to ourselves.

Nicktor takes great delight in beating me at virtually everything. So we played darts. Of course, my maths is so abysmal, he has to do the adding up, subtracting and scoring. I won the first game! Highly unusual. “Best out of three,” chirps Nicktor, knowing my skills are extremely limited. I won the second game! He went back to the bar to return the darts, his shoulders starting to droop a bit.

He returned to our table with a crib board and cards. Like me, he grew up playing crib (though he doesn’t know the rhymes which help me in the maths) and plays very fast which, sometimes, takes a bit of the fun out of it. He would have loved playing with my grandad who was just as serious. Well…I WON! So, darts, crib…there was a quoits set on a table near us but we didn’t bother.

We sat and watched Eastenders because the barmaid wanted to watch it and we were the only customers by then. When it ended she was generous enough to put the snooker on.

At 10pm she told us she was closing at 10:30 because we were the only ones there. We did think of going outside and trying to tout for business but, instead, as 10:30 rolled around, we went back to the house where Nicktor wanted a cup of tea! Weird. I had a port.

I managed to convince him to watch Pulp Fiction, which I think he liked. Well, most of it. I think it was a bit too wordy for him. We finally went to bed at about 2am.

Tonight we’re back down to the Six Bells for (a real) dinner and beer and then back to watch Sid and Nancy which is far more up his alley.

A bit windy today which is making the snow fall off the trees. This is particularly funny when a poodle is underneath. Blue skies, no more snow, though there was a bit of a flurry late in the day and Mirinda reports light snow in London.

I’ve had quite a concentrated day, staring at philosophy books and trying to make sense of Theodor Adorno and Jacques Derrida, two 20th century philosophers with an inability to write in coherent sentences! Well, coherent to me, anyway. A chap called Buckland isn’t much better with his “Before we can have a philosophy of information, we first need to figure out what we mean by information…” It’s all making me a bit crazy so updating the blog is a welcome relief from it.

My walk into Farnham was much like yesterday though I note, with genuine pleasure, that our council has done a splendid job in salting the footpaths leading into town. From what I could see, the path leading up to the station is still as treacherous as it always is but Hale Road is a nice slushy walk. Pity about the melting icicles creating pools of ice at the doors of some shops but you can’t have everything.

I have noticed a lot of people carrying shovels in their cars. I spotted one driver, slowly progressing along an untreated road who, in trying to turn into a driveway, stopped as the wheels of her car slipped and slid, lacking in any traction. She immediately jumped out of the driver’s side, shovel in hand and started to dig her tyres out of the ice. And very effective she was too. In no time, she’d cleared all her wheels, jumped back in and continued on her way. And she wasn’t the only one. I must have seen at least ten drivers digging themselves free in Castle Street. I should say that in all the advice I’ve heard about travelling in snow (always carry extra clothes, water, food, etc) not once have I seen a shovel mentioned and yet, it’s so obvious when you think about it.

Speaking of shovels, our crazy neighbour was outside this afternoon, clearing the road from the park down to his house – he is two from the end. It looks very odd because the rest of the road is still covered with about five inches of ice. I’m not sure what he did with all the snow. Maybe he’s going to do some more tomorrow and keep going until he has the entire road cleared. Actually, I do know why he’s done it. It’s so cars can turn around without slipping and sliding into the parked cars, our road being a dead end, and all. So, not so crazy. Though I would prefer a sign at the other end saying “Do not park in this street, it is ice-bound and you won’t get out again” seeing as it’s been so nice and quiet this week without them.

And talking of quiet…we haven’t had a postal delivery since Tuesday. Whatever happened to the Royal Mail creed? No matter the weather, the mail must get through! Ha! Oh, how standards have dropped. Whatever happened to people working together against adversity?

Which reminds me of an awful story in the local paper this week. Apparently, a lot of people came home on Wednesday to find their cars covered in snow in the station carpark (as well as the carpark itself) and couldn’t drive home. They must have made their ways home somehow, with the thought of returning for the cars later. Well, first thing Thursday morning, there’s a guy putting tickets on all the windows because their tickets had run out! When asked why (and remember, the ice and snow was still there) he said his employer had told him to do it. What a jobsworth. And the emergency services saying it is dangerous to drive. I hope none of them pay the fines and, instead, go round the boss’s house and paste the tickets to his head.

Oh well, I have rested long enough and must return to Messrs Adorno, Derrida, Floridi and Buckland…

A day of freezing temperatures, increasing the ice on the paths and roads. But no snow. Not here in Surrey, anyway.

Today I walked into Farnham via the main road, to see the state of the footpaths (and because I’m still sore from my slip yesterday) wearing, of course, my Spikeys. Hale Road was all slushy, no doubt from the gritting and salt. The path has also been salted and is pretty easy to walk on until you come across the big slabs of ice every now and then. I saw a few people slipping and sliding. The cars were all driving slowly (very unusual) and there was a lot of people walking (also unusual). The world was strangely peaceful.

I picked up my glasses and went into Starbucks where no-one noticed them. Last week Alex gave me a little book of tickets which give me 50p off each day. Combined with my Starbucks card (which entitles me to free extras) I get a very good deal for a month of coffee. I sat and read some Jeeves then went into Waitrose. It was much more like an ordinary day with people clearly coping with the snow after a few days living with it.

As I left Waitrose I spotted a young mother and two little girls. Each of them was dressed in pink…completely. The girls were both under five. As well as the little pink jackets and little pink trousers, upon their heads were pink, heart-shaped ear muffs! They didn’t look particularly cute. In fact they looked extremely silly. Just the sort of thing a little girl would spot at the point of sale and beg to have. They looked like they cost about £1. All plastic and excessively fluffy. They were all off to the park and each girl held a small sled. And, yes, they were also pink. It did occur to me that the mother had no chance of losing them in the snow.

I used to think we gender dressed our children and that was what explained a girl liking pink and a boy liking blue but I have it on good authority that little girls are quite capable of making their own minds up when it comes to a desire for pink. This is clearly a fashion thing as it hasn’t always been the case. Though the eye piercing shades of pink you see these days have not always been available in such luridness.

I have read a theory that claims that the feminization of the colour pink was due to the Nazis because they made homosexuals wear an inverted pink triangle therefore feminizing it. Historically, in the 1920s gender colours were the other way around. Pink was deemed as more appropriate for boys as it was close to red and girls were encouraged to wear blue because of the Virgin Mary. And then, in the 1940s, for some reason, it switched around. Some people claim that females prefer pink because it reminds them (subconsciously) of ripe fruit and healthy faces. Though I’m not sure why only females would fancy ripe fruit and healthy faces. Some sociologist claims it comes from hunting and gathering and knowing how to spot the ripe fruit.

Whatever the associated preferences, in studies made across cultural groups, most people, regardless of gender, prefer shades of blue to any other colour group. So there. Though personally, my favourite colour is yellow, I think I prefer looking at green. As my grandmother always said, green is the most natural colour, soothing and calm. And, as anyone who has worked at a computer for long stretches knows, if you stop every hour and stare out the window at the trees, your eyes will refocus and not hurt so much at the end of the day.

This gender colour thing is something that has interested me for a while. I like pink and I don’t see why it should be a problem…though, clearly I know it can be. I think it’s a happy, fun colour. Does that make me a girl? I don’t think so! Would I wear a pair of bright pink heart-shaped ear-muffs? Not on your life.

Anyway, the snow has caused Mirinda to stay in town this weekend which means I have no excuse but to complete my essays. So I shall get back to them. But, before I do…here’s my new glasses.

Sorry, mum, I know I need a shave.

PS: In a strange case of coincidence, tonight on QI the entire show was about gender differences and they spent a long time discussing the blue/pink thing! And, even stranger, I never normally watch QI but it was on while I was having tea.