Where the blue card is.

Where the holepunch went.

Getting stuff out of the shed.

When the advertising banners will arrive.

Whether city sprint will actually ring the doorbell.

Why county events seem to cost £10-£15 when it’s perfectly possibly to run an event for £5 per head and, still, apparently, have a little profit (haven’t got the expenses for pancake cooking in yet, but I’ve currently got a £400 surplus and I doubt it’s going to be *that* much).

The environmental impact of laminating.

Whether 150-odd Brownies and Guides will enjoy themselves tomorrow.

What the hell we do with the damp canvas tents.

Seriously, where is the hole punch and the blue card?

Also my thermal underwear. D’ove?

Whether we’ll weather the weather, whatever the weather, whether I like it or not tomorrow.

How I managed to end up running this thing by stealth. All I was meant to do was provide a venue. Lesson learned.

xxx

Monday saw me hie up to York, to go to Al’s funeral. Funny, brilliant, caring Al. Who was the most wonderful Dr Who who never was. Who made us all laugh until we cried. Frequently. Whose sense of the bizarre was heightened, and who felt that silly hats were vital. Who loved Morrissey, Dr Who, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Monty Python, and, most of all, Jenny. We sang ‘Always look on the Bright Side of Life’, and had a Dr Who re-enactment (complete with Cyberman made by covering some earmuffs in tin foil) during the funeral. I have never laughed nor cried so much at a funeral. I still tear up – all those people. And, anything that I think he would have liked is making me a bit smeary at the moment. Apart from Dr Who. I don’t have time to get emotional over Dr Who this week. It’ll all fall to bits if I do. I may have to go and find a copy of The Chap, as he used to write for that.

Jenny was doing much better than anyone who has lost the love of their life to cancer could be expected to be. She always was grounded. Caring, lovely, huggable, and friendly. I will do much better than I used to at keeping in touch *wanders off and sends email*

Al describes himself best: “Seriousness should always come last, after fun and dreams and friendship.”

Saturday we dedicated Em’s place, a lovely campfire and talking circle up at our campsite in Herts, and it was sunny, and wonderful, and vastly less traumatic than I’d anticipated. Challenging, at times, but not traumatic. Sunshine will do that for a day. When I got asked for my input, I was absolutely clear that it should be FUN, and it was.

Friday, I had a lapse and suggested that a Brownie’s tea had escaped, and that she might want to wipe her face (it honestly looked like she was wearing baked beans). Parent has pointed out since that she has a sore face, and that I was insensitive and not looking properly. Lesson learned. Do not mention that a Brownie looks smeary, because they probably aren’t, you will get told off (she’s not leaving, so it could be lots, lots worse) and you’ll then spend a good three hours beating yourself up over it.

Who Day is nearly here. I can’t wait. I can’t wait for it to be over.

xxx

We haven’t had one of those in forever…

• Change sheets
• Take bedspread, coat, tie to dry cleaners
• Photos of knitting (I’m nearly done on Al’s Widow’s Bigger on the Inside, which is just as well, as his funeral is Monday. I’ll write more about that when I’m through the whole wretched thing).
• Tidy sitting room it is less worse. But I keep doing stuff…. Right now it has two mahousive pieces of poster board out, ready to be photo’d. One mahousive piece of board, random photos, a receipt book, some dying flowers and an awful lot of bags. But the fan heater has been put away.
• Send more commissioner’s qualification evidence through Some sent. I need to .pdf lots of it.
• Finish off K9 (he needs stuffing and decorating)
• Collate the WhoDay risk assessments Bwhahaha. I need the assessments. So far, I have about two.
• Make the wretched ribbons for Who Day – does anyone fancy a bit of a ribbon twist party on Thursday at coffee? I’ve got ribbon, scissors and safetypins, and want to make twists like AIDS awareness ribbons now postponed to the train journey on Monday – 4 hours on a train should sort it.
• Sort out the felt llama templates for Em’s memorial
• Print pictures of Em, get a photo album, get some really BIG sheets of card to stick them on It was raining at the crucial moment for the card, but lovely @ciorstaidh got me card on Tuesday night. Glue fest commences soon. done! Giving up on album for the time being.
• Frames for Thanks certificates (x2)
• Mail seeds
• Finish the Bigger on the Inside nearly there...
• morris at Spitalfields Market (there’s a festival called ‘The Big Weave’ on, and there will be sheep – I must take some antihistamine)
• Cocktails
• Laundry Wednesday, as I WFH then
• Yoga postponed, N does not have yoga shorts with him!
• Run

It’s been a funny old week. Very black and white for a lot of people. I’m going to work from home on Wednesday, the day of the funeral – both my cycling routes to work are blocked off by the procession, as is the bus route, and, frankly, I don’t want to get caught up in any unrest before or afterwards. I also have a nice chap coming to fit the new cooker. The cooker itself fits in the space widthways, but the cavity at the back is a totally different design from the previous cooker (I could have saved so much hassle by simply ordering the same model, but it didn’t get such good reviews in Which and Good Housekeeping), and it won’t all sit remotely flush to the wall until I’ve had the gas connector changed, rotated, moved, or something. And I can’t have it sticking out as much as it is, there’s a HUGE gap for food to fall down, and it’s in the way. So, the gas man cometh, and the cooker will be legally fitted, even though N and I are perfectly capable of getting it fitted ourselves, apparently it has to be done by a gas safe engineer. Sheesh.

From an iron lady to the gas man. My life.

I was hoping for a lie in this morning, but the pneumatictastic drills started up at 8.10am. They have now, at 10.30, shut up. Highly annoying.

xxx

And I’m hibernating.

My friendships on facebook, and, to a lesser degree, Twitter (for some reason, it seems to be a tad more left-wing on Twitter) vary from those who my Mother describes as being “True Blue Tory” to “Bright Red” via various other hues, and with a degree of vaguely anarchistic thrown in for good measure.

The sheer strength of feeling over Baroness Thatcher’s death is overwhelming. I can see both sides of the arguments. All three sides at some point. I can see why people are appalled that she’s being given a state funeral. On the other hand, I can understand why she’s being given a state funeral.  The first female Prime Minister does deserve recognition just for that achievement: but no-one can look at her legacy and say that everything she did was a good idea (Poll Tax? And let’s not get into the Belgrano. Someone dared criticise that move at a political dinner in the Carlton Club, once. Someone else disagreed, and the rest of the room was within a gnat’s breath of breaking out into a rousing rendition of Land of Hope and Glory combined with the National Anthem, simultaneously. It was very weird. I didn’t go to another dinner).

Anyhow. Outright violence is going to erupt at some point, because there are an awful lot of people who think it’s a wonderful idea to go and celebrate her death, and an awful lot of people who think that this sort of behaviour is beyond the pale. The natives will be restless tonight

I also suspect the city’s going to end up in some sort of immense lockdown for her funeral at St Paul’s Cathedral.

And there will be a riot.

In slightly more positive news, my recycling didn’t get collected this morning owing to a handbag lurking on the top of the bin. No cash or phone, but there was a debit card, and an awful lot of really nice makeup and a huge bunch of keys. So I took it to the local police station, which was closed, and then took it to the next local police station. All this bussing about took well over an hour – but: I managed to track down the bag’s owner via Linked In, and let her know I’d found it, and what I’d done with it, and she’s very happy.

xxx