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pink_hebe
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Name: pink_hebe
Gender: Female
Interests: Knitting, Ceilidhs, Musicals, Guides, Chalet School stories (collection and writing thereof), Bluegrass and mandolin (amateur status), Dancing, pedantry...
Expertise: Fluttering my eyelashes and getting my own way
Occupation: Computer related
Industry: Education/Research
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
6/18/2004
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| I would love to share my weekend, and my new kitchen. However, I am made of knackered, and have caught up wtih emails instead. I still need to order my cooker spare parts. xxx | | |
| Put kitchen contents back into kitchenTake photos of kitchen so you chaps can see (please excuse missing tiles etc. It is a Work In Progress).Debate with my Welshman what to do about the old fridge. Freecycle or get the Council to collect? It's not in the best of nick.- Write up the excitements of yesterday.
Sort out route for walk for Guides on Friday and walk it.Buy paint Weirdly, Hobbycraft didn't like my card. However, I've managed to order a drawer divider with it since. Odd. Odd.Brownies AccountsHoover sitting roomMove sitting room back to correct arrangement (bar fridge).Find a set of drawer dividers for the cutlery drawer (don't Lakeland do something modular?)Knit or sew or somethingWrap Emma's birthday present ready for 28th- Order spare parts for oven need to identify one of them, but, yes, have found the other.
Laundry begun
OK. Must get on. There's a lot of crates and stuff to move. Maybe I should get dressed too? Can we have a vote on that? I'm happy to declare a moratorium on getting dressed until you guys make up your minds  PJs are quite comfy, but my toes are cold. xxx | | |
| Weird. My Welshman turned up for about three minutes before I went out for dinner with my Daddy, and then took himself off back to his...So much for having a snuggle last night. He has, thankfully, found somewhere more permanent to live. With granite worksurfaces, sharing with a pair of brothers. Apparently I am allowed to stay occasionally, but guests shouldn't happen more than 2 or 3 times a month. I wonder if girlfriends really count as guests. It doesn't have any bathroom at present, so I wouldn't actually want to stay at the moment anyhow. Therefore, in my lonely state, I added another blanket to the bed, and thus was warm. It helps that it rained most of last night (Dad and I got very wet trousers), so it wasn't too cold outside. I like having my bedroom window open year round. It gets stuffy otherwise. The kitchen is looking like a kitchen. The electric junction box seriously needs re-doing in the near future, and some re-tiling is required. Also the floor needs to go down. This is going to drag on a bit. Oh well. Such is life. I'm also perturbed that I've lost some cupboard space and I need to buy a shorter ironing board. But, hurrah, the plumbing will work, and things will drain, and the new cupboards are bigger and things aren't disintegrating. There was such a quantity of rubbish in that kitchen, and a good deal of it will not be moved back in. Shelves. I need to get some blue shelves too, and something to sling the microwave from. xxx | | |
| The relevant server is bsod'ing all over the place, or so I gather. The ADSL line for a direct connection still hasn't been enabled (what are BT doing?!) and I need to find out where to buy black paint as a trip to the Early Learning Centre ain't on the agenda this week for anyone until Sunday. A trip to CHQ should be on the agenda for tomorrow, as I need to sort out six badges for some rather patient Brownies. My swine flu vaccination site aches like billio, and I woke up freezing cold in the middle of the night, applied a woollen shawl to my whole body, and then overheated. Thank heavens my Welshman is round tonight to keep me warm but not overheating. Where does one buy black poster paint in London? John Lewis? Hamleys don't have it. Paperchase? They have paint in Paperchase.... We also need glue for the Brownies, but not for this week. This means that my Welshman can go to the Early Learning Centre in Sloan Square between services on Sunday (he has re-joined the church choir - he gets to sing in an excellent choir, and he ignores the sermon in favour of the crossword. I might turn up on occasion both to listen and to take communion. Opinion is divided between us as to whether I should go to communion, which doesn't have such good music, or evensong, where there is no sermon and only a handful of congregation members which would leave me feeling all exposed....but the music is vastly better as the choir are pretty much singing for themselves). I also need to go into the local supermarket to enquire what's happened with the letter I sent them (or, rather, hand-delivered) regarding bag packing. Kitchen is beginning to look like a kitchen though. I need to work out the logisitics of painting it. A paint allergy really does make this tricky. It's nice to have that to fret about, though. xxx
Six hours later, I think that I didn't have a reaction to the vaccination, I have acquired some black paint (In an outraged tone Three-pounds-twenty-five-pence-you-are-kidding-me!) and still can't get onto the servers at work, so I'm doing useful things with spreadsheets that I've been avoiding for much of this week. It took five hours just to get to the spreadsheets. I really do feel demoralised by this morning. Someone is chasing up what on earth is going on with the ADSL line, which should have been enabled by now. Oh yes. I also have a kitchen sink. Hurrah! xxx | | |
| For The Fallen
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free. Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears. They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe. They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them. They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam. But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night; As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain. Lawrence Binyon
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