Category Archives: Annoyance

It is finished

Rather a melodramatic title, but I think this deserves it. I have finally, after months of itchiness, boredom and eye-strain, finished the beast that is the clapotis. Never again will I knit in black. Never again will I knit with horrible yarn just because it was a present. I was absolutely determined to finish it off yesterday and was spurred on by catching up with some of the Radio 4 comedy slots that we recorded over the summer – Just a Minute etc. The ends are all sown in and everything, just a quick blocking and then it will wend its way to the lovely person who gave me the black yarn in the first place. Thanks Mum. I am grateful really. Only a week or so late for the birthday as well.

On another note – today marks the start of No Cake Month. No cakes, biscuits or other desserts in September unless through pastoral necessity (sometimes in this line of work you have to eat cake!). I only have 5 cakes of pastoral necessity allocated for the month, so this will require some delicacy. The plan was that college puddings would be offset by the austerity of life as a curate. The plan did not work due to the abundance of cake in the parish. There is a reward planned if No Cake Month is a success. I will keep you posted.

Woe is me

In the grand scheme of things, a tiny mishap that is not worth mentioning. In my day to day life, a slight annoyance that causes no real inconvenience. So why do I feel so bereft when my favourite mug is broken?

It is a recurring problem since I seem to create a hierarchy of mugs from favourite to least favourite. Given that I use the favourite one on all possible occasions, it is bound to get broken sooner or later. I’m currently drinking coffee from the previous second favourite, but I’m not sure it is going to get promoted. I just don’t like tapered mugs.

So, the perfect mug has to be fairly wide, straight up and down or just slightly curved, not too small, quite chunky china and with a handle big enough to get all four fingers through. My efforts at finding a replacement on the internet have not been successful so I will go out at the weekend in search of a replacement.

Farewell oh lovely big red mug.

How to make your T*sco order arrive on time

The last few weeks the T*sco food delivery has been erratic and late, on one memorable occasion not arriving until quarter to midnight. This evening we discovered how to make it arrive earlier…

Order pizza, wait for pizza to arrive, start eating pizza. Bing! Groceries arrive.

A nice side effect of this is that I will have cold pizza for lunch tomorrow, along with my essential supplies of Ribena and plain chocolate digestives and fruit… must remember to eat fruit.

A frustrated post

I am frustrated because I have not got my lovely wireless card to work yet with my lovely OpenSuse operating system, this despite doing a bit of research to find out if it was likely to work. I concluded that it probably was, but am now starting to wonder. However, I still have a long wire to use instead, so that is a problem for another day. Part of the problem may well be that there is still a wired network card involved. Enough of that for tonight.

I am frustrated because it is taking me 1 hour and 50 minutes to get from my bed to college. I must be able to cut some of the time out, but I can’t quite figure out where.
T minus 1h50 – alarm goes off, cunningly placed on a high shelf so I actually have to stand up and reach it.
T minus 1h49 and 55 seconds – Battle begins between will power and sloth.

A shower is involved somewhere here, but I don’t think I take longer than about 10 minutes.

T minus 1h10 (sometimes 1h20, depending on if it is a hairwashing day) – stagger from the bathroom wrapped in a towel

Breakfast happens here
Clothes are found and put on or packed
Various pieces of paper are located and packed

T minus 35 – depart by bicycle, gracefully and effortlessly swooping up and down (but mainly up) various hills. Well, sort of.
T minus 15 – arrive in college, hot, dissheveled, red in the face and aching. Bike is put away, copious amounts of water are drunk, now rather disgusting tshirt is exchanged for alternative garb, prayer book is collected, study books and notes stacked ready.
T minus 4ish – stroll to chapel.
WHAT DO I DO WITH ALL THAT TIME? When I was 14, I had a paper round. I used to get up at 7.10am, 5 minutes before I had to be at the paper shop (5 minutes walk away), do the paper round, shower and walk to the bus stop by 8.25am. How is it possible that I have slowed down so much?

On reflection, I reckon the battle between sloth and will power is prolonged. In my half-awake state, I do occasionally catch snatches of arguments about the water being cold and not wanting to get in the shower, but knowing that I will make more friends if I smell nicer. I must be able to save about 40 minutes somewhere in there for more productive activity.

I am frustrated because there aren’t enough hours in the day.

I am frustrated because I don’t have a working laptop.

I am frustrated because tomorrow I have to put my contact lenses in before 7am so I can go to the opticians for 9am.

I am frustrated because I can think of nothing better to post.

On the other hand, I have very many blessings to count. I should perhaps do more of that, rather than ranting about my insignificant woes. Apologies and Happy Monday (or late Sunday if you are reading this before it is Monday)

How are you doing?

Having a Wale [sic] of a time

This blog entry finds me in Wales. I am visiting my Mum (Dad having beetled off to London on some Railway related mission) and going on a friend’s hen night. One slight problem is that one of the cats has just come and dribbled all over me – I had already got changed. I may have to rethink the wardrobe. It is, however, very nice to see the cats again, despite the dribble, oh yes, and lots of grey cat hair as well. Marvellous. Just the look that is needed.

I am also having an interesting time typing as Mum has one of those computer desks with a slide out shelf for the keyboard, but the chair only fits in if the shelf is mostly still under the table. I am making rather a poor attempt at touch typing, with occasional pauses as I peer under the desk to find things like punctuation marks.

Off to catch the train now to get to the party.

Bind us together, with screws that can’t be removed

This waiting in for home deliveries lark is great, particularly comparing the efficiency of the various deliveries. I think Comet has come top so far, with Ikea and B&Q vying for last place. It will take me some time to forgive Ikea for making me get up and dressed at 7am on Monday in case the delivery arrived near the beginning of the 11 hour delivery window. It arrived at 3pm. B&Q are taking 2 weeks to deliver a washing machine. Not a classic. Thankfully, my sister is allowing us to visit and use her washing machine tomorrow so I shouldn’t smell too bad at Greenbelt (well, at the beginning anyway).

Most of this week has been spent doing large one-time-only jigsaws – yes, flatpack furniture. I love it. Seriously, it is such a challenge to my lack of spacial awareness that the sense of satisfaction on completing a project is immense. I have allowed Mr Farli to play with the jigsaws today.

Dith has asked if I have any further nominations for the bottom 100 hymns. Yes, lots. Here is one to be going on with:
Bind us together, Lord.
This falls into the category of washing machine hymns – those which are often sung with the strong beat emphasised so much that it sounds like a half load of washing going round slowly in a washing machine. All washing machine hymns are best avoided unless you have a good choir or band to lead. Of course, it is sometimes the choir which leads this tendency on hymns they don’t like. What me? No, no.

So, to summarise: Washing machine hymns = bad, washing machines = good, but only when they have been delivered.

My least favourite hymn

We are here! Most boxes unpacked and much furniture and stuff bought. Grown up moving is horrible, remind me not to do it too often.

There were a couple of requests for me to elaborate on my least favourite hymn (see comments to previous post). It is ‘Brother, Sister, let me serve you’, for the following reasons:

It has a bland tune.
It is too politically correct – I mean, seriously, what was wrong with ‘Brother let me be your servant’?
It has two lots of very bad associations for me which I will not elaborate on here.
I just don’t like it, OK?

Right, off to get pizzas out of the oven. I fear I may be watching the Big Brother final tonight, not my choice I hasten to add.

Moving Part 2: Chaos, broken promises etc

People say that moving house is one of the most stressful experiences of your life.

They are right.

After battling with many different firms, we finally have a van booked to take us to our new location. Boxes will arrive this evening and we then have several days to pack. It will all be fine.

I finally remembered last night that praying about it might not be a bad idea. I hope this will help. Any other prayers that people can spare would be much appreciated.

My lovely work colleagues gave me chocolate (green and black’s mmm) and book tokens yesterday to say goodbye. These may not last out the day. I am now off to sort out lots of paperwork.

One final question: If all removal companies ask for moving dates when arranging the quote, why do three out of the five I have contacted then decide they can’t do that day?

This week I have been mostly…

1) Going on rollercoasters
Ow, ow, ow, ow. My muscles all hurt and I have bruises on the sides of my knees. I think I may be getting too old for rollercoasters. However, there is nothing quite like the sheer terror of being swung upside down many times. My screaming muscles are definitely well exercised.

2) Camping
A successful weekend all round. Lots of cake and alcohol, a barbecue, a trip to the beach, frisbee-ing and kite flying. The pound and a postcard challenge went down well: Each person in the group picked a name out of a hat and then had to buy an item of tourist tat costing no more than a pound, plus an appropriate postcard. The gifts were exchanged anonymously and we had a grand unveiling on the Sunday morning where we all had to guess who had been our benefactor. I received a postcard of the North Yorkshire Moors Railway and a keyring with a steam train on. My sister had no trouble guessing that I had bought her a fridge magnet and an educational Captain Cook postcard. She recognised my handwriting, even in block capitals.

A welcome side-effect of the pound and a postcard game was that we all spent so much time trying to find that perfect item, that none of us spent any serious money on frivolous things, although there were second-hand book shops so I picked up a few items I had been strong enough not to buy new.

3) Remonstrating with removal companies
Hopefully, by the end of today, we will have picked the company with the lowest price. I spent some time on the phone on Friday morning chasing them up. One of the firms I filled in an exam paper for then said they were fully booked on that day so I had to find another one. Why they could not have said this 2 weeks ago when I first approached them I do not know.

4) Not filling in forms for college – I dozed and read books yesterday evening instead

5) Not packing, due to not having boxes yet – see item 3

Moving Part 1: A deprived childhood results in some life lessons being missed

My colleagues have been asking me for the last month if I have started packing for the move. I haven’t, mainly due to a lack of information on various points, but also because I WAS CLEARLY NOT TAKING IT SERIOUSLY ENOUGH. I discover that this is not meant to be easy or fun, but a challenge to sanity and stress levels.

I have never moved house properly. I contrived to be out of the country both times my parents moved (not intentionally out of the country you understand, just conveniently) and I have always shoved stuff in the back of a car or van (driven by a parent). I now own a sofa, among other items of furniture, and so much random stuff that this approach will not work. I need complicated things like removal men and boxes. This scares me. Mr Farli is on holiday, so is excused from assisting at the moment. I am in charge.
[quantum leap] Oh boy. [/quantum leap]

My future employers are paying for the move, (hurrah!), but require multiple quotes to be sure they are getting a good deal. It took them a while to get their act together and tell me how to sort the paperwork, so I am left with only just over 2 weeks to organise. This is not enough time for removal men to come and look round to give a quote, so last night I found myself sitting an exam on my furniture and belongings.

Questions 1 through 3000(*): How many of X item of furniture do you have?

I had already made a list of furniture, so this was not too bad, but of 40 things I ticked, I had to item 10 of them separately, since they weren’t on the list. What is a “tallboy, normal” and, more worryingly, what is an abnormal one? Does it matter that I don’t possess one?

Question 3001: If a box for books holds 2 feet of shelving, how many do you need? Add in extra boxes for food and other small, heavy items.

Answer 3001, obtained after an hour of wandering around finding all the books and small heavy stuff (NB, maybe I should have paid attention in applied maths classes – this taxed me more than it should): 45.

45? Forty five? FORTY FIVE? I never thought I would say this, but I may have too many books. The trouble is that a lot of the shelves are double stacked, so I had to count them twice, and then there are the shelves where the books are stacked vertically. Then there was my current reading pile, which will require a special box all to itself.

Note to future self (1): Buy bookcases with shelves that are 1 or 2 feet wide, not 15 inches. Multiples of 15 inches are difficult when you are hot and tired.

Note to future self (2): You weren’t ever planning to move the bulk of your book collection out of Parents’ house were you?

I have been cunning: when the next exam paper arrives, I will cheat and use the answers from this one.

I can do this, no problem.

(*) An exaggeration? Maybe a little bit.