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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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| Put kitchen contents back into kitchen- Take 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 Accounts
- Hoover sitting room
- Move 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 something
- Wrap 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
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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| (and a total lack of photographs). Naturally, in the midst of a kitchen remodelling (there are tiles coming off the walls as I write - but the fitters are being careful of my cherished hand-painted tiles which came with my flat, and which are replaceable but I'd rather not have to), one's thoughts turn to baking. Specifically, gluten-free baking. My usual method is to use a gluten-ful recipe, chuck in some extra oil, and hope for the best. However, I have a copy of BabyCakes, and a trip to Florida in the offing, so I'm thinking some of the more esoteric ingredients may be easily acquired. The various types of bean-flour and so forth. Xanthan gum I can get in my local Fresh'n'Wild, or Whole Foods Market, depending on whether I'm looking at the sign or the label on the bag. I am dreaming of cupcakes and gingerbread. Last night, I headed out to iKnit London to listen to Franklin read. He amused us greatly with an extract from the new book, which has to be turned into an audio book. He's got such a distinctive voice, and to hear him read his prose is a real treat. I resisted buying sock yarn, or any other sort of yarn, enabled the buying of someone else's Christmas present, and happily escaped from the shop, wallet intact, to get the bus home. Most days, I cycle over Waterloo Bridge. Last night I got the bus in the dark, and could indulge my daily desire to spend the whole crossing looking from one side to the other like a demented tennis fan. Came home, continued my Daddy's sock, watched Born Romantic, and decided that I have to own the film. It's very London-y, and a vast number of scenes were filmed in Camden. Three times this week, I have been in my Club. For drinkies, for curry and for dinner with friends. I would like escape out again tonight and have a terribly indulgent dinner there, but suspect I shall potter out to the High Street and find something a little less finangly and which doesn't require me to change out of my jeans and into reasonably smart business attire. Changing out of jeans also means changing out of knitted socks (currently sporting a blue pair made out of very strong and soft and slightly fluffy Bear Mountain yarn, knit as part of a sockapalooza). I have no kitchen sink, and washing up in the washhand basin seems somehow dreadfully unhygienic. I also haven't worked out where to put the microwave so that I can use it properly, so I am even beyond baked beans on toast. Toast is not a problem. No real washing up required for that other than the plate. Drinkies at the club was ridiculously fun: one of the Younger Members hauled out a rather large trophy "Takes 9 bottles of champagne to fill it, you know", and was filling it with a bottle at a turn and passing it round, rather like a very fizzy communion cup that threatened to overwhelm the supplicant. The location of a napkin, which was used to wipe after each drinker, only served to underline the resemblance. Curry was curry and obliviated my need to eat anything for 24 hours afterwards - I had a little bit of everything and was entirely stuffed. Dinner was plain lovely. It's a shame that the clock moved inexorably towards hometime and we had to disband. On Saturday, I intend to head up to Loop, to see Ysolda and have her sign books for a friend and probably for myself as well. Sing out if you want your own copies. They are £12 each. Today's glittering delights involve a trip out to collect a prescription. Oh. Finally. You remember how often 'The Book' appeared on my to-do lists? And may have noticed how it's fallen off again recently. That would be because it's being published on 17th November, and is now available for pre-order from Amazon. I'm a bit chary of singing out too much - I like to hold onto the last of my anonymity in this internet world. If you know me, it's easy enough to find... Needless to say, when I had completed the overwhelmingly sad exercise of looking for myself on Amazon last night and actually found myself, I did an awful lot of excited, silent squee-ing in the privacy of my bedroom. It's out there. I can actually believe that it's happening. Folks. I wrote a book and someone seems to think it's good enough to publish. xxx | | |
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