Damn MAES to hell and b ack

Had a lovely evening last night. DD came to pick me up and took me to sister's BF in Bolton where we had a simple and tasty meal with lots of yummy wine.  Obviouslly evening verged on alcofrolic madness with much giggling, double entendres and spilled wine - not mine, I protected my glass very jealously.  God knows what sister's BF thinks of my loose mouth.  DD suitably alcoholfree as she was driving.

Dear little DD worried about me because I am a bit depressed but nowt to be done but endure it and work through it.

Today decided to do some painting as weather not really joyous for a walk.  Just getting in swing of it when got news that the art annexe where our art classes take place has been invaded and is being taken apart without so much as a word.

Manchester City Council Education Department is unbelievably high-handed and dreadfully STUPID.  Not only are the admin staff at the centre about as efficient as a constipated camel, but the 'bosses' (that word being used in a scornful manner) don't seem to know how to plan, how to manage, how to communicate with learners - their core reason for their jobs! We have been treated in the most shabby way possible by Manchester City Council over the past few years, with the words 'cuts' as the reason for everything - and this all started well before the recession started.

Every class is being disrupted for bloody bloody ESOL classes! How about immigrants learning to speak English and learn to add up BEFORE they get to these bountiful shores??  Why is OUR money being tied up in this wasteful and aggravating way?

My fellow students and I have all worked VERY hard, ALL our lives, paying taxes (are you listening here, Jimmy Carr and the rest of you greedy grasping selfish bastards?) so that we could now enjoy what time we have left in doing things we couldn't do when we were young - mainly because we had to earn a living to keep body and soul together.  But Manchester City Council as ever playing the politics card - it's the Government - and the political correctness card - foreign immigrants never having had the money or opportunity to learn things (join the bloody club) are making sure that our happy hours in adult education are swiftly becoming a thing of the past.

Don't these stupid people know that the more new interests people take up, the more healthy they are and the less likely they are to have to use expensive medicines and the less likely they are to claim benefit?  is it me, or has all the world gone mad?  In Manchester at least?

Rain, wood, pie and return of Darling Daughter

To MBF yesterday morning with new Ikea chair which is too hard for my old bum, a whinberry pie and an empty pick-up truck.  Rain sheeting down while we collected wood from neighbour's two trees, and some belonging to MBF whose garden is wonderful after years of planning, replanning and general backbreaking work.  Ergo, now and then, some of her trees need pruning and shaping (tamarisk, etc) and total removal (walnut) and our wood burning stove is duly grateful for herefforts and her offcuts.

Caught up on shopping and library in between huge cloudbursts.  Flooding in Todmorden and Hebden Bridge - unheard of.  And home again to read and watch old films.

DD back last night and came round to see us today.  Caught up on all the news, brought me lovely flowers and a hug, which I have missed most of all.  Do wish I didn't feel so downhearted lately, everything seems a drag and that is not how I am used to feeling.  DD adamant that we should get another dog and that prompted a huge difference of opinion between me and BH - he wants dog outside and I don't.  I love Alsatians, think they are wonderful dogs and would love one.  Also big fan of Jack Russell terriers but we shall have to see what's on offer at the rescue centre.  And hope that our cats will take to newcomer, whatever the breed, or mixture of breeds.  I suspect DD is more bothered about the dog getting me out for exercise - to lose weight and to make me feel less depressed.

Spent a couple of hours sawing logs and stacking them before DD left.  She isn't thrilled with this new job but there is very little on offer at the moment.  Most people who have jobs seem to be doing longer hours for the same money which isn't fair.

Why on earth aren't all these non-doms and bonus gobbling bankers being taxed in a more fair fashion?  Why isn't HMRC chasing more of these wily tax-dodgers?  Grrrr

Return of the Beast

Our car, aka the Beast, was returned today in pristine condition, the interior has never been so clean since the last time it was wounded in action.  Even the back is clear for the time being.  It may be prudent to apply some superglue to the lock to prevent BH once more filling it full of useless tools, straps, ropes, etc which are no longer used but which he retains with happy memories of his demolition days.

Gosh, I am so glad to get the car back.  Had to beg a lift off a fellow art student on Wednesday and have still not fully recovered.  Suspect she might be a devotee of one of those death race computer games....she certainly looked like Mad Max at certain points of our journey to Fletcher Moss Gardens.

After a lot of snappy phone calls regarding DD's car - apparently there is something wrong with heat circulation system - and haggling over moneys to be returned to buyer, we have come to a happy conclusion.  Poor DD, on holiday in Italy, to be bombarded with questions and requests for decisions instead of relaxing..ah well, she says she has thrown several coins in the Trevi Fountains so perhaps she will go back and take me with her.

Treasured Sister (TS) and Bro-in-law (BIL) came yesterday to celebrate TS's birthday and to complete my tax return.  Yes, there is always a quid pro quo in our family.  Joyous to see them both although I fear I was whinging away because of the weeks' events.  Happily she had a soothing effect on me, as always.  Will see her again on Monday with DD for a couple of hours before she departs for Scotland.

They brought their little dog with them, a kind of Staffie crossbreed, who is pathologically against cats having been attacked by a ninja cat.  Said cat had previously had stroke and is only capable of a one-sided attack.  Dog went ballistic on seeing my two tigers, one of whom gathered up her dignity and departed for the shelter and warmth of the greenhouse, turning her back on the dog in a dismissive manner, while the other tiger opted for the security of our bed.  As she does most days, to be fair.

BH entranced by dog as he is missing our recently departed dog, and I can see that we shall soon be trolling the animal rescue centres for a replacement.

Tomorrow I go to see MBF taking with me new Ikea typist's chair and a whinberry pie.  What a combo.  In return I shall pick up several bags of logs from MBF and MBF's neighbour.

Aaaaargghghgh! What a day.

Yesterday was bad enough.  Beloved Husband decided to sell daughter's car while she lolls on an Italian beach.  Hassle, hassle, hassle.

Dearest Daughter has not, despite many requests from me, cleaned out the car over the ten months it has languished on our drive.  Ergo, battery dead, flat tyre and car which smells and looks like the inside of an old dosshouse.  Can only assume that her passengers have spent most of their journey times emptying packets of crisps on the floor and then clog-dancing over them.  For an encore, they have deposited many dollops of eaten and uneaten chewing gum.  Delightful.

Even though I have steadfastly refused to pick up dustpan and brush (my cylinder vac having been transported to DD's house and my current noisy upright Vax is unable or unwilling to do the necessary), today I had to succumb because no-one else was going to do it.  Much swearing.  Much brushing with handbrush.  Much damping down with wet cloth.  Much spraying of air-freshener.  Much washing and polishing outside of said vehicle.  Much scrubbing of scratched areas.  Much swearing at bird poo.  Much looking for documents for car. Much texting and phoning to DD in Italy.

BH decides scratches on DD's car must be covered with spray paint.  Much searching for a Halfords within walking/bus distance to get same.  No luck.  Logbook discovered to be at DD's house in Prestwich.  How to get there?  How to get to Halfords?

Our car taken into custody today for repairs following BH's bump last week.  Many calls from insurance company discussing who at fault; other side OBVIOUSLY claiming personal injury (SHOOT ALL LAWYERS) so long drawn out arguments will ensue.  Therefore no car to do the errands listed above.  Man coming to pick up car tonight.  Rush, rush, rush.

BH discovers pump to put air into tyres no longer works.  Drives Demented Neighbour mad asking to borrow his air pump.  Much rabbiting resulting in refusal with the excuse that his newly bought pump doesn't work/or might be at caravan park in Blackpool.  Hmmmm.

Interspersed with three phone calls from Mad Best Friend who is organising finances and membership cards for art group.  she tells me her neighbour has some logs for our wood stove and that she (MBF) and husband (MBFH) have chopped down a tamarisk tree and wood is very hard and therefore considers it to be suitable for wood stove.  She will bring some bags of logs tomorrow with art group paraphenalia and at the same time will cast knowing eye over our half finished bathroom.  Some tiling done, some tiling to be done - she is summa cum laude at tiling.  Tommy Walsh would do well to take tips from her, or employ her in some advistory capacity.  Also I need some ideas on storage.  Must just give BH a valium before she arrives.

Ah, some relief....man not collecting car till tomorrow so a little respite to get paint and other stuff sorted.

And yet another strange cat day

How the devil do they manage to keep doing it?  This morning heard one cat mewing in distress, searched high and low.  Could see small tiger prowling about but large tiger missing.  After 20 minutes or so searching, tracked her down to the space under the eaves where she, and her enormous belly, had wedged themselves under the insulation and woven in and out of the wiring and the piping.  Pathetic.  Couldn't get to yank her out so just had to clear a path for her and rattle her food dish downstairs.  My word, talk about quick release.  A jet pilot couldn't have ejected at a faster speed.  Had thought a small spell of incarceration might have reduced the old tum but no.

And Charlie pranged the car last night so stressful spell today with insurance company, garages and so on and so on.  In between went to art class, thank God, for a spell of what passes as normality.  such a laugh, such a relief. It's amazing how much I learn from just critiquing my own and other people's work in these sessions.  An eye-opener and heartening to realise that you are not alone in struggling to get depth and perspective into a painting.  And more members for the art group...getting quite a respectable number joining.

More art tomorrow, followed by taking car to specialist garage for their earnest consideration and report.  Probably then chasing all over looking for reasonably priced (!) replacement parts...   Hmmmmm, as Marg Simpson would say, flashing her eyes and drumming her three fingers on her arm.  Not the same arm, silly.

And now have realised that  I have TRIPLE booked myself for Friday so no birthday luncheonette at jamies and no exhibition with Barbara - aarrrggh.  Simpleton that I am.

Barbara has tracked down another source of logs for me, bless her, so as soon as car repaired and in fit condition, will pick some up.  Why can I not sort out a simple calendar/diary combo?  All too often, I find myself without diary in some situation where I airily agree to doing something, then later finding out I have already committed to something else ont he same date.  Perhaps I need a PA.....or a new brain cell..

A scintillating evening

with my reading group friends who are all very funny, very erudite and very wise.  I always leave our meetings full of good food, good wine (of course!) and aching from laughter.  And I am to see them again Friday for a birthday lunch at the new Jamies restaurant recently opened on King Street.

Earlier in the day, I had spent lots of time trying to sort out bank accounts - oh yes, it's a never-ending saga.  Also repotted some of my ailing orchids and Christmas and Easter cacti and had crammed them all on the windowsill to take advantage of some weak sunshine while I did other things.  Now, I don't know what the correct procedure should be, but I tend to stick some marbles into the bottom of the planters so that the orchids can perch on top enjoying the moisture without allowing their roots to rot.  There's nothing worse than a case of the galloping root-rot - unless it be a lack of good wine.

At some point during the afternoon when I was playing scrub nurse to Beloved Hubby, passing tools as requested while he tried to make the stuck wheels of our bad-tempered trailer work.  He has tried this many times in the past, to no avail, as the tyres stick when the trailer has been standing for a few weeks and they become quite bald because they skid along the ground with the stuck wheels bouncing and screaming along, burning rubber - and not in a good way.  So many new wheels....so much bad temper...so many tools thrown around garden, lost forever in a sea of peat and nettles.  And still he won't get some professional in to sort it.  Perhaps it has become a kind of hobby.

Anyway, the kitchen window had been left open during this sojourn into the outside world of mechanics; when I escaped at last into the kitchen, I found the feral cat - the Grey Shadow - in there, cleaning off the two tigers' food.  Upon seeing me, it tried desperately to get back out of the window but became confused and flew madly backwards and forwards several times along the windowsill, pinging plants, pots and marbles all over the tiled floor.  It was like a cat shooting gallery until I opened the door and let him fly out.  Quite, quite hilarious even though there was much clearing up to do and I doubt if my orchids will ever recover from such brutal treatment.  The fuss awoke my own two tigers who languidly batted stray marbles about which I had missed.

And now I must turn my attention to devising a programme of events for my art group.

So the dear old Duke is out of hospital and

and celebrating his 91st birthday at home.  Cheers, old boy.  Glad to see you out and about again.

It has cheered me up after a few days of deep depression, perhaps due to my incompetence at changing bank accounts, or possibly the political news - though there hasn't been any good political news for years now.  Or maybe because losing sleep with painful hip and knee.  Or maybe I just need a drink and to get stuck into something interesting to do instead of fulminating against life because I can't get everything sorted out as I'd like it.

Reading Group tomorrow so that will be lovely although think the book has not been a smash hit.  'Never the Bride' by Paul Magrs.  Should provoke some discussion.  Have not yet started to read the other book 'The Poisonwood Bible'.  Just don't feel in the mood for it somehow.

met the adorable Andi last week with darling daughter and had a meal and drinkipoos at The Bakerie - jolly nice.  Gorgeous Prosecco and Italian waiters - what's not to like?  Glad to see she seems happier in this new job than the last although she has lost weight and some of her joie de vivre.

Darling daughter in Italy for two weeks and saw some shots of Rome on tv tonight watching the fatuous Lynley Mystery thing.  It's so utterly predictable and boring.  How on earth does anyone stay a detective when they are always (a) having woman/man trouble (b) coping with idiotic/dysfunctional work colleagues (c) shouting at their colleagues for no good reason but  it makes it more dramatic (?) (d) getting inappropriately involved in cases or being accused of murder/rape/tax evasion (f) being thrown off the case but carrying on regardless because they, and only they, can solve the crime.  and really, is murder so complicated?  I bet that the majority of murders are simply crimes of opportunity and greed.

Having said all that, Lewis is as bad but I do love it because of the great rapport between Kevin Whateley and Laurence Fox.  Oxford is a very dangerous town for academics, just as Midsomershire is dangerous for any village idiot.  Lovely....

Sis and bro-in-law to call for a day in a few days - Sis's birthday - and bring along their little dog to cheer up Charlie and terrify the two tigers.

Then a few days later, i should be toddling up to visit them and I am looking forward to it.  But before then I must sort out bank accounts and make up programme of events for our art group.

Queen's weather

Yes, it was almost a re-run of Coronation Day 1953; the rain poured down on the poor Queen and the Duke, and they looked so cooold, poor lambs.  She never sat down once in all that long long time on the Thames.

A magnificent pageant, excellently organised.  It would have been lovely to have been there in person.  The colour and the uniforms were gorgeous and all the boats - including the little ships from Dunkirk, how poignant.  Hope they all had a hot rum when they transferred to The President.  And oh how I wish someone would have thrown the rancid Parker Bowles woman into the Thames.  All the waving and the posing she did...still it's probably the most work she's done in her idle life and no doubt she's rehearsing for when she becomes Queen - pass the sickbag.

But on the whole, it was a joyous occasion, despite the weather.  What wonderful surprises as the Queen sailed along - Warhorse was stunning at the National Theatre and the HUGE photograph of the Queen and her family - pretty good.

But now the dear old Duke is in hospital, with a bladder infection.  No wonder in all that cold rain.  Let's hope he's soon out again.  After all, although it's the Queen's Jubilee, she couldn't have done it without his support.

Spent most of the day in front of the television so today (which has been pretty warm and sunny) decided to get some work done.

Spent about an hour trying to clean all the grout and tile adhesive off the bathroom floor, good exercise for the hips, not so good for the knees.  Then spent some time in garden weeding and tidying up.  Used the splendid flame-thrower weedkiller again.  It does work but longstanding weeds like docks, nettles and bindweed seem to need several blasts a couple of days apart.

Feral cat trotted into kitchen via window following our two resident tigers.  Charlie not amused.  Feral cat not for budging and settled down quite calmly in living room in front of fire.  Long lecture on inadvisability of feeding feral cats and unlikelihood of him coming around to the idea of adding this particular one to our existing menagerie, even though our two tigers obviously don't care much one way or the other as long as they received their quota of food, grooming and petting.

Am supposed to attend Barbara's street party tomorrow as there will be nothing in this street, unlike past occasions.  But the make-up of the residents has changed quite dramatically over the past three or four years and the whole neighbourliness and good humour has disappeared.  How dreary.