You can take the girl out of Colney...

Yesterday Mr Fink whisked me off to a wonderful warehouse full of junk. It was officially a 'Vintage Emporium' but looked like an old auction house/warehouse/Aladdin's cave.
We wandered round, recognising various artefacts from our youth and one or two from the antiques roadshow.
The warehouse is split up into 20/30 booths where different vendors show off their wares.
As i was wandering round, i happened across a 9 year old local girl (I could tell she was local by her posh accent and the way she and her mum were behaving!) riding a vintage tricycle up and down the gangway. "Jocasta, please put that away." said the mum (all pashmina and cashmere'd up against the weather).
"mummy, why are you so grumpy...you never let me have fun..I'm bored...when are we going home...why are you grumpy...mummy....mummy....speak to me mummy."
Well, we've all been in those situations and usually good taste, Englishness and the fear of reprisal prevents our inner mind from speaking out. Not me. As the girl continued her whining insistence, i could stand it no longer.
I spoke out in a loud clear voice, which echoed throughout the building.
"CHILD. GIVE IT A REST!"
As the child and mum walked away, I heard mum say, "Well, there's no need to be cross with me."
I eventually found Mr Fink and over a wonderful cup of tea I asked if he heard me chastise the girl. he said,
"I thought to myself, 'that sounds like Mrs Fink'!"

Walk With The Stars

Last week, Astral spent her second week in the local hospice. what a beautiful, serene, 'happy' place. While I was visiting on Monday, I came across a leaflet, "Walk With The Stars" raise money for the hospice by completing a sponsored 5 mile walk. "I'll do it." I thought.
I registered, i set up my sponsor page and as an incentive I said, if I were to get £100 I would do the walk in my pyjamas. The next thing I know, The Foggs (and many others) had sent £100, just to make sure I wore my pyjamas. I said If I were to raise £200 I would carry Graham T Heron round with me on the walk. My work chums pitched in and Graham was on the team. Lastly I said if I raised £400 I would wear the flashing bunny ears. Friends, family and old school chums didn't let me down and the picture shows what I looked like as i set off on my very first sponsored walk.
I was terrified, I didn't know how far 5 miles looked like, could I walk that far? How would I explain if I couldn't make it? Anyway. I met up with Bionic-Woman (had a new knee and a new wrist) and she and I walked the 5 miles. It was hard going for the last little bit and i have a decent sized blister on the ball of my foot which gave my gyp, but I did it. I walk 5 miles in 1 hour 30 minutes and felt a huge sense of achievement. (Mr Fink went to bed early as he had a Father's Day golf game in the morning) so The Glums had kindly offered to 'pick me up' and take me home. I shared my triumph with them and went home to bed.
Just one thing makes me wonder - I wonder what people would have asked me to do for £1000?

Kirksanton Nuclear Power Station

This area of the Lake District National Park, a site of Special Area for Conservation, an Area of Special Protection, protected under European laws on nature and habitat (RAMSAR wetland site of importance), the home of the most beautiful view in all England (as voted by the country) is currently being proposed as the site for a nuclear power station. It would be built in the space bewteen the fell and the foreground in this picture.

At the initial consultation about the Kirksanton site in Cumbria a local resident made this heartfelt statement.


Chris Reed
I live in Haverigg. I have been lucky enough to live in this area all my life. When I was growing
up, I was worried about jobs, because I did not want to leave the area. I now have two girls, 16 and
14, and I would dearly love for them to stay around here as well. Someone once said, 'When they
have you by the balls, hearts and minds will follow.' Our MP is telling us that there is no Plan B to
nuclear in this area. This seems to be an approach being taken by the Government, and the
consultation seems more of a threat than a consultation at times. The area around Kirksanton is
incredibly beautiful and a very special area, and I just find it hard to believe that we are actually
standing here discussing the possibility of destroying it. When you read the Government's
consultation document, it just reads like a company balance sheet. It just concerns me that guys
like you, with your creative accounting and slick arguments, are just piece-by-piece sucking the
lifeblood out of the planet. We have laws to protect these spots, and you just seem to trample all
over them. I just feel that you people, you are to the joy of life what the thought of Anne Robinson
is to an erection!
To me, this is a very precious area, and it just would be a huge loss if it was destroyed by a nuclear
power station. I just do not feel that people like me have been represented in this consultation, so
my question is: can you explain why you have not assessed the extent and the effect of this feeling
of loss in people, like me, in order to decide whether building a nuclear power station at Kirksanton
is worth the pain and that sense of loss? Is it your aim just to gradually lobotomise humanity, over
time, and just to remove all of our feeling for life? Thank you.


How can the committee consent to building such a facility in such an area of natural beauty?

I Made a Kake

I don't make cakes. Once, when I was in the 2nd year at Secondary school, I sympathised with the school bully when her cake didn't turn out right, I said, "It looks like one of mine." Meaning 'I feel your pain.'

At lunchtime she waited for my friends and I to return from the sweet shop in the village, she cornered me and beat the **** out of me. A passerby stopped her and I ran home.

When my mum and dad saw me, they called the police, she (15 years old) was arrested, charged and eventually convicted of ABH on me.

So my history of cake making has never been auspicious.

However, I bought a book today, '100 bread maker recipes' of which some were cakes. I chose a ginger and lemon cake. mixed the ingredients as per the recipe. then it said, 'put the mix in the bread maker and set it to 'cake' setting'.

My bread maker doesn't HAVE a 'cake' setting! doh.

I set it to 'stun' instead and voila, one lemon and ginger cake.

What the crocodile hat, was that?

I work with and for consultants at the hospital. I am the head consultant's Pa. I know my place.

A few weeks ago a consultant asked me to fill in his expenses and travel claims from June to present day - working out his journey to and from 4 hospitals every day for 4 months. I said I was very busy and would try.

I have been very busy and didn't get it done. I even brought it home to do in the evenings, when I thought, hang on, this is above and beyond the call of duty.

Before I got chance to tell the consultant I would not be able to complete his expenses, he phoned today. He asked me to get the expenses in quick as if they are left too long, he can't claim them!!! What the crocodile hat is that all about?

Bad Mother Award - Bronze Medal

Today I took Little Fink and Marsha to the local swimming pool with flumes. They left me with my book in the seating area at 11.30am. Little Fink had a horse riding lesson at 4pm which meant they needed to be out of the water at about 2pm - 2.30pm.

The time marched round to 1.30pm and it occurred to me that I had seen neither hide nor hair of them in 2 hours. Eek. What a bad mother I was. I looked around, up the stairs where the children were waiting to take their turn, in the lazy river, in the paddling pool and in the throng of children walking past.

I thought that by the law of averages, I should have caught a glimpse of them by now, but i had not.

I started to worry, what if i have to admit to the lifeguards that I can't find my children? He will ask what are they wearing? To tell the truth, when I see the girls, of course, I will know them, but to describe the costumes was beyond me. I know the one she had when she was 6 but not this one.

Then I saw a slither of black and Speedo orange....Little Fink floating past on the lazy river. I put two fingers in my mouth and let out the ear splitting Mrs Fink "come here" whistle (which all Little Fink's friends know and respond to - it even worked at a Premier League Football match!). Duly 2 figures came trotting over and sanity was restored, children were dried and changed.

We got to the riding lesson to find it had been cancelled. Doh!

The Big Test

I had to take Billie The (Unsociable) Bunny to the vet to get her back end checked out - I noticed it looked a bit dirty as she was bouncing around the garden. Yesterday I took the plunge and cornered her and picked her up. In the 4.9 seconds I had to check her before she bucked free, I saw she had not been cleaning herself. there was no way I could hold her to clean her so off to the vet she must go.

The vet slid her (the rabbit) out of the carrier, she was incredibly well behaved. The vet agreed she needed treating and I left them to it.

I collected her after school and the nurse told me Billie has a 'hot spot' on her back and jumped up when brushed there. I looked and it is red raw. the nurse told me I have to apply steroid cream to it every day. Oh dear. I also saw the Rabbit Guru at the vets and we discussed what I can do to get Billie more friendly. I've even asked her to take Billie on but she has so many rescues at the moment it is not feasible. The Rabbit Guru suggested I confine Billie and not give her the run of the garden for a while, so I have created a run in front of the hutch and she is confined to quarters. This will also make it easier to catch her when I have to apply the cream tomorrow.

Anyone got any body armour? To be continued....

Jobsworth

I went to the new part of one of the Trust's hospitals to work today. I was keen to use my new swipe card that would gain me access to the swanky new building. I was also nervous as I wasn't completely sure which way to go to the department and I know I am totally hopeless with my sense of direction.

I approached the automatic doors and swiped my access card. Presto, the door opened. as I stepped through, a young woman tried to sneak in behind me before the door had time to close.

"Do you have an ID badge? Where is your swipe card, you are not supposed to follow someone into the building like that, it makes a mockery of security." She replied that she worked in the pharmacy and had done since the place opened. I huffed and flounced away.

About 5 minutes later, after wandering round half the hospital, I was back at the front doors again. I am so rubbish at finding my way I had got lost and gone in a big circle. I re-entered and this time found my way to my department, only to see the young woman already changed into her work gear of lab coat, gloves and goggles, working away, where as I was just arriving with all my bags looking hot and bothered. Thankfully she didn't say anything but I knew what she was thinking!

Do you practice to be this obtuse or does it come naturally?

Right, here is today's tale of woe and pain. Are you sitting comfortably? Yes?, then I'll begin.

I work at the local hospital. I park my car at the local park and get on the hospital-provided shuttle bus that drives back and forth from the park to the hospital to the park to the hospital etc etc. This saves on parking spaces at the hospital.

The timetable for the bus is listed on the hospital intranet along with the timetables for the other 8-9 buses that travel between the hospital sites.

A couple of times I have worked late and aimed to catch the 1820 bus back to the park to pick up my car. Each time there has been no bus and I have fumed, I mean, walked back to the park.

Today I spoke to the drive about this, he said he finishes at 1730 and there are no more buses after that. I checked the timetable, the bus is supposed to run until 2030?????

So I phoned the NHS transport department - they look after the drivers, design the routes and control the timetables, to try and get to the bottom of the great timetable mystery.

I asked the lady what time the last bus went from the hospital to the park. A simple question? No. She gave me the details of every other bus the Trust runs except mine. As I explained for the hundredth time ITS THE BUS FROM THE HOSPITAL TO THE PARK, not another hospital, THE PARK. she said, "I've got one here that runs from the hospital to the park, it could be that one?". "Yeeeeeees" I said, what I meant was, "YOU DON'T THINK???". "Which day are you interested in?" she asked. "Everyday, it runs every week day." She then stated in triumph, "Half past one, that's the last bus." I argued for a little while that I nearly always get the 1445 bus, 90% of the time I will get the 1445 bus, but she was insistent that the last bus was at 1330.

I was getting really mad by this time. "Is there another page of numbers, more information?" "Nope, nothing, nada, niet." I am feeling exasperated now and running out of patience at her constant dimness, so I throw in my trump card, "Please can you tell me who I am speaking with?" I find this tends to focus people's attention when I'm getting nowhere on the phone. "Hang on" shad she. Christ, I thought, she doesn't even know her own name and she's gone off to ask someone.

"She came back to the phone and said (and this is totally true), "This isn't the Transport Department." "WHAT! WHAT! What is it then?" I shouted. "It's the switchboard, we take over from the transport department when they go home at 1630." (Struth on a bike.)

I asked what time they wake up in the morning (an attempt at levity and humour - will I never learn?) and she said, "Who?"

"Never mind," said I and disconnected the call.

Geez, is it me? (Then I met a man in the charity shop who told me his ambition was to be on The Grumpy Old Men TV programme! Natch!)

Falling Down

Remember the film "Falling Down"? Micheal Douglas is the office worker, just trying to commute to work, several things go wrong for the umpteenth day in a row and he looses it, abandons his car in the traffic jam and goes on a rampage. You know where this is going, right?

It all started at 10 to 7 this morning, as you may know, I am not a morning person. I had been awake part of the night with back pain and mentioned it to Mr Fink (love of my life) at 7am this morning to which he (with love in his voice) said, "Perhaps that will give you the incentive to get fit?" Not my ideal, "Morning honey, sleep well?" I was looking for.

The rest of the morning was relatively uneventful, if you discount me pushing a Ford Focus up the road as it's first gear had packed up - those things are heavier than they look (and me with a bad back!). Got to work and all quiet. Left for the other hospital 7 miles away for a meeting at 2pm, all fine, didn't even get lost. The meeting finished at 4.20pm, I went to get the Hospital Transport back to my base hospital, collect my bag and belongings, get 2nd hospital transport to my car and head home to family and rest. HAHAHAHA. The driver (who I witnessed on Monday, chuck his orange peel across the road at the hospital and down the wall of the building onto the floor) was one of the really helpful breed, consider...

Me (4.20pm) Will you be leaving for Base Hospital soon?

Him, No

Me, what time will you be leaving?

Him, 5.15pm

Me, Someone has removed the timetable from the sign here, is there another earlier bus?

Him, No

Me, Thank you for your help.

I got back to base at 6pm. the Department where I work was locked down - no entry to be had. What a good job I thought to take my phone and car keys with me when I left at 12.30? By this time the buses that run from base to the park where my car is, have stopped running (who designed the timetable?). So by the time I walked back to my car, it was 6.30pm.

The kind people that lent me the cat carrier needed it back as their cat is ill so I hit home running, grabbed the carrier and headed out again. I have finally sat down and looked at the clock - it's 9pm. What happened to that day?

To add insult to injury - the hospital have announced next week will be - "Cycle To Work Week". You just couldn't make this stuff up.

So True

Little Fink is away in the camper van with Nanny and Shouty Grandad this week and I've really been missing her. Every night we make phone contact (signal permitting) and last night we spoke and were regaled with tales of being chased by geese (Grandad), sending messages in bottles - but making sure not to be spotted by the nearby fishermen who might not appreciate it! and also of Shouty Grandad's little known super power. He has the power to turn invisible at will. Little Fink was all too aware of this at their local supermarket, while she and Nanny queued up at the tills, Grandad went off to collect an item they had forgotten and promptly disappeared. Nanny was getting nervous as, like The Queen, she never carries money, she would be embarrassed when the shopping was all put through and she couldn't pay. A search of the shop was made to no avail. Eventually, Shouty Grandad re-materialised, along with another random male who was also being waited for by a nearby family. Is this ability men acquire when they get older? Little Fink's solution to the problem was thus. "You know you have creches where you can leave your children while you go shopping and you know they are safe, they should have them for Grandads." How true!

Is it a code of some sort?

I just had my shopping delivered from ASDA - the best £4.50 I've spent today. 

One thing puzzles me.

Why did they send 3 cucumbers instead of 1?

WHO EATS 3 CUCUMBERS IN A WEEK?

Yoghurt, fire alarms and shouting

They say things come in threes.

1. I took a delicious Madagascan Vanilla yogurt to work for my breakfast. I opened my bag with anticipation at the thick creamy treat I was about to enjoy. NAH, something must have rested on the carton and squashed it. The top had burst and yogurt had exploded all over the inside of my bag. Deep joy. I cleaned it up and as one of my friends says, "Look for the silver lining"...at least my bag smells nice - I hope it lasts and doesn't turn sour.

2. The fire alarms went off at the hospital where i work today. The patients were ushered out, fire engines zooming around and lots of general mayhem going on. (Pity the poor patient stuck in the middle of an MRI machine at the time.) While all this cacophony of noise and people was going on, a patient approached me and asked, "Do you think my 2 o clock appointment will be late?" I surveyed the seven shades of chaos around me, turned to the man, gestured at the melee with my hands and said gently, "Sir, i would almost certainly guarantee it."

3. Little Fink's first netball game at the local sport centre. the chaps tried hard but were soundly beaten, lots of healthy encouragement from the sidelines by the parents. As the children were taking a drinks break between matches, the panic alarm on the nearby tanning booth kept going off, much to the annoyance to the sociopathic receptionist (she and I have history). She tutted, stomped up the corridor, made sure no one was dying in the booth, shut the door and reset the alarm. A few minutes later the alarm went off again. As she marched back to her desk and throne, she said, loud enough for the parents to hear, "Those kids keep setting that off, I don't know WHO is supposed to be looking after them?" I had been watching the booth. As the children were running up and down,. the vibration was causing the door to open and this must have somehow set off the alarm, none of the kids went in. So as she uttered her accusation, I took it personally. "THOSE KIDS as you say, are not setting the alarm off, there is no one in there, you want to get your facts right before you start accusing the children." She said, "Don't you shout at me." (bare in mind there are 4 teams of 9 x 11-year-olds along with parents and coaches talking, yelling and encouraging, in the background). "I've got to shout to be heard over this din." quoth I. she just sat and festered. I've got a good mind to write to the sports centre about her anti social attitude. She acts like we are intruding on her domain instead of being helpful and welcoming. well she doesn't know but I've hexed her good and proper. Boy is she going to be surprised when she wakes up with that boil in the most uncomfortable place for a receptionist!

I'll hex the lot of 'em

Right an update.

Filofax - lost, now found

Christmas cards - half done

Parcel, delivered, disappeared, denied, returned to sender, re posted - watch this space

Credit card - cloned, stopped by bank.

I had a phone call last night from a polite lady purporting to be from my bank's fraud department. She wanted to talk to me about my credit card which ends in 1234.

She wanted to ask me some security questions to make sure I was the card holder. (she phoned me remember) I confirmed my name, address and date of birth (all readily available on the internet). She asked me what the current limit on my overdraft was, I told her I wasn't going to tell her that as I had no proof of who she was. She assured me she was genuine, "I'm C.... and I'm here in Peterborough." I had the devil in me and was out to prove a point, "Yes, and my name is Mickey Mouse and I'm sitting in an igloo at the North Pole. Do you see my point?"

She suggested I phone in on a number she would give me. "But that could just be your friend sitting in the room next door. I know, you tell me what my mother's maiden name is, the Bank knows that." She didn't have access to that information. She suggested I phone the number on the back of my card. Success. i thanked her and rang the number.

Oh how I bet she laughed.

I was transferred at least 6 times....push 1 now....push 4 now...push 3 now, it was like having a baby. I got through to a human who put me through to the fraud department. It rang and rang and rang. I can see them all now, probably 4 in the room, all laughing and pointing at the phone saying, "That will teach you to be smart with us!" anyway they eventually answered the phone and the upshot is, my credit card details have been copied. They have stopped the card, refunded the erroneous amounts and will send me a new card. (I thanked them profusely.)

So, in the run up to Christmas, the busiest 2 weeks of the shopping year, when more money changes hands than at any other time - how long till my new card comes? 10-14 days. argh.

How will it be sent? ROYAL MAIL. NNNNNNNNNNNNNoooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Never to be seen again no doubt. Goodbye cruel world.

On a happier note - Little Fink has had a story published, achieved her yellow belt at Ju-Jitsu and has just spent the 40 minutes before bed making a dodecahedron calendar. Don't ask!

Oh, Woe is me!

Please send all the sympathy you can, I've just been to the dentist for a filling. I put it off as long as i could. Paid for it up front last June, cancelled the appointment twice. In the end the dentist sent me an ultimatum, turn up and have the filling or be wiped off the NHS books.

So i made the appointment, made one for Little Fink too, I thought if she was with me, I was more likely to keep my chin up and be brave.

I sat in the chair, told the pregnant lady dentist (only the person you are LEAST likely to hit out at in the world) how scared I was. She started to give me injections. I felt a needle stab me in the tooth, right down to the nerve, something squirted out of my mouth and I screamed. the dentist said, "What was that?" She tried again. the tears started to flow, I couldn't keep a lid on it, despite Little Fink being in the room. The dentist was kind and said, "Are you ok?". I said, "I'd rather be in Barbados." and layed back down again. I couldn't stop the tears, my chin was wobbling and I was shaking all over. The assistant opened the window and put a cold flannel on my head. the dentist told me not to hold my breath.

The ordeal lasted 30 minutes and I'm home now. I've got jaw ache, a tension headache, a numb mouth and a bottle of wine in the cupboard. I'VE EARNED IT.

That Pharmacist is a hoot!

Poor Mr Fink, he has hurt his knee at either Hong-Kong-Kung-Fu (Ju-Jitsu) or Squash. Subsequently he is hobbling around and wincing.

I went to the chemists to get him some ibuprofen, the assistant advised me that he should take the pill with food. I commented that I didn't realise I had to feed him as well as buy his medicine. she said, "You could just throw him a biscuit!" This dint arf make me larf!

I'm feeling shattered, I woke up at 4am to the noise of what sounded like a combined harvester coming through the roof. When I got up, it was the Police helicopter hovering over the estate. It had it's search light on, obviously trying to locate a baddie or where one of the coppers had dropped his Happy Meal! When you see the searchlight beaming down through the darkness, you can see where these stories about alien abduction come from! I recon they are taking me in the night, working me like a dog till morning and that is why I'm so tired during the day! Needless to say Rip Van Winkle and Goldilocks slept through the whole thing!

Halt, Who goes there?

(The Oracle's No1 son has a pair of shoes like the ones drawn in the picture.)

Picture a man, somewhere beyond sight and sound....do do do do (wiggle fingers up and down).

Picture Mr Fink this morning at 5am (yes 5am in the morning). There was an almighty crash coming from somewhere within our house. It sounded like someone smashing the patio doors in or someone beating their way out of a wardrobe full of metal coat hangers with a sledgehammer.

I sat bolt upright in bed trying to work out if the noise could have been anything innocuous, Little Fink falling out of bed, books or teddies failing out of her bed or the cat falling out of her bed. Negatives all round. Dammit, must be something big and scary. Mr Fink wakes up all bleary eyed and says, "Are you going?" "Are you mental?" say I. (reminds me of a smashing Pam Ayres poem my friend chose to have read at her wedding. http://weddingwords.vox.com/library/post/yes-ill-marry-you-pam-ayres.html

We check Little Fink - no damage there. All windows and wardrobes intact - mystery....

Mr Fink bravely goes downstairs, stark, you know what, naked. I tell you, if there was a burglar in the house, he deserves a medal for facing Mr Fink in the altogether at 5am.

Mystery solved - 2 pictures are missing from the walls, the 2 collages I made of our first trip to see the outlaws in Spain, A3 clip frames with tickets, postcards, local papers etc in. they must have gone up in value for a burglar to break in and only steal them??

No. the truth was, I had put them up on the wall using those clever new sticky pads that you can peel off the wall when you have finished? Newsflash - They don't work. Both pictures were at the bottom of the stairs, smashed to bits. We cleared up and went back to bed.

Never a dull moment eh?

I LIKE IT DULL AT 5am THANK YOU!!!!!!

Look out! Rant alert!

It's happened. I'm officially one of Terry's TOGs (Terry Wogan's Old Geezers). There are so many things niggling away at me at the moment I could have a Micheal Douglas journey (Falling Down) any day now.

Item 1. The mothers at school. About 8 years ago the children of the primary school Little Fink goes to, made some totem poles out of redundant junk found in the school, old chairs, bits of table, remnants of wood etc. They made the sculptures, painted them and had them planted in the school grounds. They looked great, really original. None of the school children has defaced these poles or touched them in all that time, until this week. This week when the 6-7 years old moved up to the playground in readiness for the next school year. 3 separate mothers completely ignored the fact that their children were breaking these sculptures, climbing all over them, hitting them with the broken off bits. I am sick and tired of women not being responsible for their childrens' actions. I turned to one and said, "Is that your son climbing on that statue? It has been here for nearly 10 years and your son has been here less than a week and is about to break it." She didn't say anything to me and tried to call her son away to no avail. He is obviously used to doing just exactly what he likes, as are the others.

Item 2. Of which no 'crime' is being committed, apart from the imagined one in my mind!
There is a driver who parks his green Vauxhall Astra outside my back gate some nights and it makes my blood boil. He lives about 200 yards around the corner in a 3 storey town house with 2/3 parking spaces at the front of it. It drives me mad, why does he have to park there? When the whole road is empty, he parks outside my gate. WHY? I want to write a note on his car, report him for a phantom infringement, just get him away from my home and out of 'my' parking space. Yes i know you all pay your road tax, so do I. But why does he have to park outside my house when there is more than enough space outside his house? ARGH

OK rant over, just enough left in me to say, Little Fink starts Ju-Jitsu on Thursday, with the tutors that used to teach Mr Fink! Roll on Thursday!

A Rubbish Way to Diet

Picture the scene.

It's Tuesday morning (I am not a morning person), I have about 20 minutes to, empty and refill the dishwasher, feed the cats, get Little Fink's breakfast, make sure she has brushed her teeth and hair (with the correct brushes - you have no idea how absent minded she can be), empty and fill the washer, fold up dry clothes and hang out wet ones, make my sandwich for lunch, gather all our bags, coats and luggage and dash out the door to get the car and go to school.

I have prioritised the tasks and decide to only do those I need to do to get out of the door, so the dishwasher, washer and airer go out the window til i get back and I concentrate on feeding the cats, Little Fink and my own lunch. I put the cereal etc on the table and start on my sandwich.

Ooh, no boss in this week, I'll have something stinky, cheese and gherkin, yum.

Made the sarnies, just cutting them (sarnies ALWAYS taste better cut into triangles rather than oblongs - fact) when Little Fink picks up the juice bottle and fills her cup, she slips, the head of the bottle goes into the shallow cup producing a spectacular fountain of orange rising up in the style of 'Ole Faithful' all over the work top and specifically ALL OVER MY SANDWICH.

To be fair, there wasn't that much cleaning up, just the floor, the wall tiles, the base unit cupboard doors (inside and out) the sink and draining board. the majority of the worktop was relatively dry because the juice had been soaked up by MY SANDWICH.

No time to make a new one, we grabbed the bags and ran out the door.

It's no way to diet you know!

What's the weather going to be like?

I've been checking the weather carefully for the last couple of days. The Fink family and Mrs Cub-share's son, J1 are off to Cub camp at Thriftwood in Essex this weekend and, if you are a regular reader, you will know how much fun camp is in the rain.

Last night on the TV weather I heard the vaguest most sit-on-the-fence report I have ever heard..

"This weekend half the people in the south-East have a 50% chance of getting wet."

Well that just about covers everything and I'm none the wiser!