Month: August 2011

  • It's still quiet.

    To keep you occupied, I give you: the return from Berlin.... which was a Sunday or so ago. I've been doing masses of running since then, and I'm just too tired to blog.  However, this is an extract from the email to P (I was trying to make him feel bad. I think I succeeded).  It's a shame: had I had energy, you'd have hadsome blogs. Oh well.  Photos will go up when it's not after 11pm.

    I got on the s-bahn, changed at Bornholmer Strasse, and waited for the S9.  And waited. And waited. And then the indicator flicked over to the train after the S9 was due.  Which was weird.  A nice old lady said, "Oh, it's just late".  Then "Oh, it's cancelled. But I'm going to Schonfeld, come with me". So, I did.  We went to the next station along (no idea what). Changed to the 42. Then realised we actually needed the 41... changed back again after an 8 minute wait, got all the way round to somewhere like Schonhauser Allee, and then had to de-train and get onto a bus. The bus went as far as Ostkreuz, by which point I started finding out when the next flight was (and wondering if I could break into the chocolate), and then I had to get back on the Sbahn, go to Treptower Park, and change onto the S9.  It started raining somewhere around the station where we realised we were going in the wrong direction. By the time we were at Schonhauser Allee, it was pouring. I managed to post the postcards, and heard all about the lady, her son, her English lessons at school, that it was raining, that her son had the car because she was going into hospital on Wednesday (that was a conversation stopper if ever there was one...) and then she de-bussed two or three stops before me, telling me I had to change at Ostkreuz.

    It was very, very wet at Ostkreuz, and there were lots of stairs. But the chap on the stairs was very helpful, and got me to the right platform, and there were helpful announcements too.  There were loads of signs about the engineering works, at every station other than Bornholmer Strasse.  At BS there were no signs, no functional information system, and no-one to ask. And no maps (what is it with the system that maps are not easily available?)
    I got to Schonfeld with about 8 minutes before the flight. Dad said that you try to get on the plane regardless (I phoned home for advice. Mum feels P should have taken me to the airport. She is Old Fashioned like that and in full clucking hen mode). As long as it hasn't left, you try. So, imagine me, belting through security (fortunately, they didn't stop me other than to put my umbrella in the case), belting along the departure area (Why do people get in the way?), along a corridor, down the stairs: only to come face to face with the polizei who had been checking passports. I was about one minute too late. And they were mean and wouldn't let me through. Nor were they remotely bothered about the fact that I was drifting into a full on asthma attack (fortunately, the inhaler worked. I love the new medication) and left me too it, blue in the face... Had to find someone else to escort me back through security to get to the booking desk. There some incredibly rude woman seemed to think that my troubles were far less troublesome than her troubles and wanted to jump the queue and kept interrupting the booking agent. I perspired aggressively at her.  She did not get the message.  I phoned Dad again, and he said that he's had exactly the same experience. This made me feel rather better about it all, rather than dissolving into a puddle of tears (it was seriously tempting at various points. The run round Ostkreuz. The run round the airport. The unhelpful polizei.  I refrained. Just. Ish).
    So, I got a new flight. To Gatwick. At 9pm.  Checked in, went through security "Oh, you, again?", and kicked my heels for hours. Without the aid of gin because I couldn't find any,  but with the aid of a Mars Bar, and illicit knitting and with K sending me updates on how late things were running, because the airport didn't bother to mention this until after the flight was due to take off, pretty much. Over an hour's delay.  Applied dry socks and let my shoes de-saturate. We got to boarding, and someone nearly had a fight with a group of strangers (I swear, if he'd been chucked off the flight, and had checked luggage, I may well have required restraining myself) Took off at 10:25, landed at 11:30 (vast quantity of taxiing about), took about 3 days to get through passport control (with exciting new passport gate thingy), finally found a loo (really, Gatwick is Not Well Provided with loos), got on the Gatwick Express at 00:05, and decided that after all that, a taxi was necessary from Victoria Station. Rather than falling asleep on the bus. Taxi driver appeared to think he was at Brands Hatch, it's a shame that the London roads aren't as well maintained as those on a racing circuit. Bounce bounce bounce bounce goodness how awake was I after that...
    Note to self. In future, check for closures on the sbahn at the weekend, and always carry a map.
    And have the courage to say to helpful ladies "are you sure we want the anticlockwise train?"  because, I would not have missed the flight if I'd managed to say that.  Also, learn how to say "are you sure we want the anticlockwise train?" in all languages...

     

     

    xxx

  • Little Kitten

    We collected Josephine from the RSPCA when I was 13: she was very little, and she was called Napolian at that point, which was a silly name for a little girl. So we renamed her. She had a soft green collar for her first few years, and a green food bowl, and green litter tray. She lived indoors and outdoors, and was always on the wrong side of the door.

    She hated eating - well, she would eat if she liked it. Maybe.  Mum used to sit patiently while she licked a morsel of food off her finger, and, eventually, after half an hour, she'd manage a meal.  Being a picky eater didn't stop her hunting - baby birds, pigeons as big as she was, the odd squirrel. It also didn't stop her eating grass and being ick.  She'd come running for some dried fishy things, bit like sprats.  And crunchy food. She was a crunchy food kitten, rather than a gushy food kitten.

    She used to love sitting and watching running water. Not touching it. Ooh no. Not water.  She was very unimpressed at having her feet washed. But she had just been wandering through some gloss paint, so it was a bit necessary. You know. To remove the paint remover.  She'd prefer drinking from the bird bath, and, when my parents moved, she much preferred the river water.

    She used to play chase with Mum while Mum gardened. Or lounge around in the green house. She'd climb the highest walls, and occasionally get stuck: until the ladder came out, at which point, she'd bound down. 

    She'd try and climb up the chimney, or leap from the top of the bannisters onto the hall light.  If the door opened, she'd be through it like a shot, into the interesting corners of the cellar, or to find a new spot under a bed.  We spent a lot of time retrieving her.

    She'd snuggle on Daddy's lap every night, and purr. My goodness, she could purr. Incredibly loudly.  She hated having her tummy groomed, and would growl and stick out a paw.  As she got older, her purr got quieter - but it was still there.  She'd sleep with her paw sticking out, hanging over the edge of the cat's cradle.  Just so.  Or, nose under paws, all wrapped up tight.

    She went blind, and deaf. She still ate a little, but lost weight, and lost weight.  She drank heaps, and spent most of the day asleep. She'd meander off for a sniff, then come back, and get lost in the kitchen or the dining room.  She didn't really want to sit on a lap.  She didn't mind being cuddled so much, though, as long as you didn't try to stroke her head.  And, oh, she still purred.  And, on Monday, I said goodbye, and on Tuesday, Mum stayed with her, as the vet hugged our little sweetie, and told her she was a sweetheart, and we made a great big hole.

    Funny how someone so little leaves such a big hole.

    xxx

  • Why yes, I am alive

    I've been on my holidays... Berlin, Munich, Rome and Paris. With a batch of enthusiastic, occasionally rowdy, intelligent, questioning, fun, mad teens.  No, you don't get pictures of them. I can't remember which are under 16. Also, the camera died in Paris, so no pictures from there (well, other than one random tomb).  Shame, as I spent a lovely couple of hours, in peaceful solitude (and, believe me, we were all annoying each other by seven days in each other's company on cramped trains and in various hostels) wandering round Pere Lachaise Cemetery leaving stones on tombs. And it was a lovely sunny day for that too.  The album is here.  Just before we left, I split up with P: realising that, if I cannot tell when he's making a joke (and I never can, so I just lose my temper if I am stressed), and he cannot grasp that it makes life simpler if you do the boring organisational stuff first and then have fun, then it's just not going to work in the longer term.  I must say, I am much less stressed now.  Part of the reduction in stress is not organising Guiding things - and not having someone constantly complaining about how much time is being spent organising Guiding things and, crucially, not listening when I say that this is a particularly bad period for organising Guiding things and it is not usually this busy.

     

    Holocaust Memorial, Berlin

    Three Girls and a Boy. M fell into the small pond that was about 3" deep just behind where I was standing while she tried to get a better shot. Squelchy.

    Noisy clock tower thing that has marionettes and glockenspiels playing at 11am, noon and 5pm. The music goes on and on, and, just as you think it's stopped, it starts again.

    Colosseum.  Had fun talking about lions, tigers, elephants and BLOOD here.

     

    Nuns with gelato. A high speed snap near the Vatican.

    Then I came back to chaos at work (yes, I appreciate you couldn't have fixed it. However, not mentioning it wasn't really acceptable, nor was not doing *anything about it*). The forums on the website came within a gnat's breath of going down. I had Monday off to recover from the trip, and spent the morning putting a contingency plan in place so business could continue. On the plus side, Time Off In Lieu.  Monday did not improve: I had to say good bye to the cat, Josephine. There will be a post about her later (I'm fighting the photo uploader).  Mum misses Josephine dreadfully - the little cat has been a constant for the past 19 years, so it's hardly surprising. I keep getting randomly blindsided by tears if I'm not careful.  She was a lovely little funny affectionate kitten for most of her life, then she slowed down very rapidly in the past year.

    P and I are supposed to go to Berlin next weekend, for the 50th Anniversary of the rising of the Berlin Wall. We still do not have anywhere booked - had we booked the hostel when I wanted to book it, we would have somewhere to sleep. If he doesn't get this sorted out by Sunday night, when I'm back from the prom, then I shall go and book the darn thing anyhow.  As it is, there's only space in the shared dormitories and one single room, so it won't be a restful couple of nights. However, I must sleep *somewhere*. If I am really lucky, the single room will still be available...

    Oh, and I've run 14 miles this week, and have a 10km race tomorrow.

    List

    • Laundry
    • Email Brownies accounts to Dad
    • Find graph paper, plot Sir's Fair Isle
    • Clear out Brownies Trunk in sitting room
    • Prom
    • Race
    • Collect stuff from church ready for Towersey
      • Glory box
      • Sequins
      • beads
      • scissors 
      • needles
    • Tidy sitting room
    • Tidy bedroom
    • Take cheque book to proms for K to sign
    • Having unravelled the sock to the ankle, and found some spare sock yarn, knit paternal sock
    • Collect prescriptions
    • Clean handbag

    xxx