It must have been - ooh, let's make a guess - at least an eighth of an inch, maybe as much as a quarter of an inch deep. Not enough to start shovelling.
Saturday, 31 January 2015
Saturday 31st January - Goodbye, January!
I'm so glad to see the end of January. It has been a bit of a pigging month!
I've been under the weather, seedy, feeling grim, or actually unwell for the whole month. Now that February is about to happen, I'm hoping that everything will change, after the current (recurrent?) chest infection is finished. Meanwhile, I'm back in bed, with everything I need to keep me there for the day:
I've been under the weather, seedy, feeling grim, or actually unwell for the whole month. Now that February is about to happen, I'm hoping that everything will change, after the current (recurrent?) chest infection is finished. Meanwhile, I'm back in bed, with everything I need to keep me there for the day:
laptop, mobile phone, killer suduko, mp3 player, kindle, remote control for the radio, box of tissues, cat, and also mug of tea and mug of hot water to drink while BB is out for the morning.
I HAVE to stay in bed, otherwise I would be tempted to do all sorts of things like lesson planning, dusting, clearing the dining room table, cleaning the bathroom. The sort of tasks that I happily ignore when I am well, but have an irresistible attraction when I am ill. Like thinking "now's a good time to do the ironing" when there is a power cut. Must be some kind of contrary-wise wiring in the brain.
Still, the "better" I am at being ill, the quicker I will get well again. That's the theory, anyway.
Friday, 23 January 2015
Friday 23rd January - Bright Frosty Morning
I thought that the coldest day of the year was meant to be a couple of days ago. That's a maybe; this morning, our super-blackout-lined curtains worked well enough that there was ice on the inside of our bedroom windows.
I haven't seen that since I was at my fearsomely expensive (and unheated) boarding school - our flannels and toothbrushes, kept in our dormitories, regularly froze overnight. Coming from a properly centrally heated home, and in view of the huge termly boarding fees, I thought that was pretty poor show.
I've take the whole of this past week off work; downed by a chest infection. I've not felt ill, but incredibly breathless and tired, and it has felt as though my head and chest were - still are - full of glue. We ventured out on Wednesday to see if returning to work was a possibility, but by the time I had staggered from the car park to the Post Office I was completely convinced that I was not ready to deliver full-on samba and ukulele lessons for longer than 3 minutes at a stretch. I guess if I was just sitting at a desk in front of a computer, cherry picking the easy tasks (rather as I am doing now) I could have gone in today. But today's schedule would have started with recorders at 12:40 and continued with three successive ukulele lessons, without a minute's pause in between. So that's a "no", then.
I spent the day pottering about, finally completing my tax return, tidying this, shuffling papers from one heap to another, watering houseplants, eyeing up tasks and deciding not to do them. You know the kind of thing.
Just now I went out to take pictures of our completed drive; it's beautiful. The cat isn't sure about walking on it yet.
The garden without the garage, and it's accompanying jungle, still takes some getting used to.
One casualty has been the old-fashioned washing line which used to stretch down the garden.
The sensible thing would be to replace it with a rotary line. Somehow, the sight of the washing dangling from loopy and over-stretched segments of a rotary line doesn't lift my heart in the same way as a proper line of washing, dancing in the sun.
I think it's probably to do with a half-remembered illustration or maybe story from when I was very, very young.
I haven't seen that since I was at my fearsomely expensive (and unheated) boarding school - our flannels and toothbrushes, kept in our dormitories, regularly froze overnight. Coming from a properly centrally heated home, and in view of the huge termly boarding fees, I thought that was pretty poor show.
I've take the whole of this past week off work; downed by a chest infection. I've not felt ill, but incredibly breathless and tired, and it has felt as though my head and chest were - still are - full of glue. We ventured out on Wednesday to see if returning to work was a possibility, but by the time I had staggered from the car park to the Post Office I was completely convinced that I was not ready to deliver full-on samba and ukulele lessons for longer than 3 minutes at a stretch. I guess if I was just sitting at a desk in front of a computer, cherry picking the easy tasks (rather as I am doing now) I could have gone in today. But today's schedule would have started with recorders at 12:40 and continued with three successive ukulele lessons, without a minute's pause in between. So that's a "no", then.
I spent the day pottering about, finally completing my tax return, tidying this, shuffling papers from one heap to another, watering houseplants, eyeing up tasks and deciding not to do them. You know the kind of thing.
Just now I went out to take pictures of our completed drive; it's beautiful. The cat isn't sure about walking on it yet.
The garden without the garage, and it's accompanying jungle, still takes some getting used to.
One casualty has been the old-fashioned washing line which used to stretch down the garden.
The sensible thing would be to replace it with a rotary line. Somehow, the sight of the washing dangling from loopy and over-stretched segments of a rotary line doesn't lift my heart in the same way as a proper line of washing, dancing in the sun.
I think it's probably to do with a half-remembered illustration or maybe story from when I was very, very young.
Thursday, 22 January 2015
Sunday 18th January - 116 things to throw away
Hurray
Checking through the list of 116 Things to Throw Away, I've managed to clear another seven categories. I didn't actually Do the Deeds today as I am not energetic enough to do much more than sit around and drink endless mugs of tea or hot water.
However these glass jars are leaving the house as soon as they are washed - this de-cluttering business is going well. So that's a bonus item.
The biggest de-clutter of all has been the garage. I have no firm idea of what was in it, and where it has all gone ('I should be able to burn most of that', said the contractor). I know that there were old bits of bicycle, bits and pieces of furniture, wood off-cuts, cardboard boxes, half tins of stuff, broken things waiting to be mended or thrown out... Now the garage, and just about everything that was in it has gone. Good.
That's the easiest way to let go of stuff. Let someone else, who has no attachment to the stuff, do the deed.
Checking through the list of 116 Things to Throw Away, I've managed to clear another seven categories. I didn't actually Do the Deeds today as I am not energetic enough to do much more than sit around and drink endless mugs of tea or hot water.
However these glass jars are leaving the house as soon as they are washed - this de-cluttering business is going well. So that's a bonus item.
The biggest de-clutter of all has been the garage. I have no firm idea of what was in it, and where it has all gone ('I should be able to burn most of that', said the contractor). I know that there were old bits of bicycle, bits and pieces of furniture, wood off-cuts, cardboard boxes, half tins of stuff, broken things waiting to be mended or thrown out... Now the garage, and just about everything that was in it has gone. Good.
That's the easiest way to let go of stuff. Let someone else, who has no attachment to the stuff, do the deed.
Sunday, 18 January 2015
Sunday 18th January - Flowers as Company
Last weekend a surprise bowl of narcissi arrived for me from my brother and his wife. They were just pale little shoots emerging from the earth.
Yesterday the first bud began to unfurl. By the evening, it was shining like a little yellow star, all by itself.
This morning the other buds had obviously decided that it was safe to come out. They are standing in a little huddle. They seem to be peering around, waiting for something to happen.
I am so enjoying watching them.
Yesterday the first bud began to unfurl. By the evening, it was shining like a little yellow star, all by itself.
This morning the other buds had obviously decided that it was safe to come out. They are standing in a little huddle. They seem to be peering around, waiting for something to happen.
I am so enjoying watching them.
Sunday 18th January - It ain't time to worry yet
I've been rather flattened by another chest infection this past week. I've been keeping a close watch on how I've been getting on, and on Thursday I decided that it was time to clock off for a couple of days. Unfortunately I have no way of cancelling my first class on Thursday mornings, as it is a music club that runs before the school day starts at a local infant school. So I weebled round to the school (it's only a couple of streets away) and did the club, and then weebled home and settled down for a day of sloth on the settee.
The advantage of this enforced inactivity is that I have been able to continue listening to Sissy Spacek reading 'To Kill A Mockingbird', in her lovely, lovely American accent. She's been keeping me company when I've been lying awake at nights propped up on three pillows. I was feeling slightly guilty when I treated myself to the CD set a couple of months ago, but I'm so glad that I did.
(I hadn't realized that it only became available as an ebook and audiobook in July 2014
My word, what a book. what writing. I love the sound of
'Dr Reynold's step was young and brisk. Mr Heck Tate's was not. His heavy boots punished the porch and he opened the door awkwardly....'
The phrase 'It ain't time to worry yet' is repeated eight times through the book, read in a gentle, soothing drawl. Here are a few of them; you need to say them in your head in that slow, sing-song, almost sleepy Southern sound;
'Don't worry, Scout, it ain't time to worry yet,' said Jem. He pointed. 'Looka yonder....' Atticus was standing with his hands in his pockets.
... it was not time to worry yet. I waited until it was time to worry and listened for Mr Radley's shotgun.
'Hush, Scout,' he said. 'It ain't time to worry yet. I'll let you know when.'
'Don't you worry about anything,' he said. 'It's not time to worry.'
(That's the advantage of reading it on a Kindle; you can choose 'search this book' from the menu to find a particular phrase.)
I've enjoyed hearing the book read to me so much, that I've downloaded it onto my Kindle to read it again for myself. The words are somehow multidimensional. This could be because I have a memory of the film (must try and watch it again somehow) and now the sound of Sissy Spacek's voice. But I think it is mainly because of the strength of Harper Lee's powerful writing, and the way the story builds.
I've also taken that phrase 'It ain't time to worry yet. I'll let you know when' to heart. Along with Julian of Norwich's famous saying '...All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well'.
And so shall I be, soon. Well, that is. Another couple of days of 'containing myself in patience' and I'll be beating out 'Samba, samba, we love to samba' on my drum again.
Tuesday, 13 January 2015
Tuesday 13th January - Scene of Devastation
quick update;
they arrived yesterday morning before it was properly light.
when I got home from work at 3:30pm, the kitchen floor looked like this; with muddy boot prints all over everywhere.
Then the cats came in from the garden;
The fact that the back doormat is probably uncleanable is not their fault.
However, the evidence on the the cooker top is completely clear. We know for sure where they went walking last night.
So, what is it all about? The three men and their pickaxes and their jack-hammer have transformed this;
they arrived yesterday morning before it was properly light.
when I got home from work at 3:30pm, the kitchen floor looked like this; with muddy boot prints all over everywhere.Then the cats came in from the garden;
The fact that the back doormat is probably uncleanable is not their fault.
However, the evidence on the the cooker top is completely clear. We know for sure where they went walking last night.
So, what is it all about? The three men and their pickaxes and their jack-hammer have transformed this;
into this;
in a day and a half. At last - one of the projects planned for last year is underway!
The kitchen floor, however, and the front door mat, and the back door mat - well, let's not talk about the state that they are in. Certain types of domestic gods and goddesses would make a great performance of trying to put all to rights every evening; other types of people say "what's the point, let's wait until it is all over and do it just the once".
Saturday, 10 January 2015
Saturday 10th January - Flowers
These arrived for me today from my brother and sister-in-law. What a lovely surprise. I'm looking forward to watching the buds appear and the little papery-white flowers emerge.
For my birthday and Christmas, I ran out of things to say when people asked me what I would like. It didn't seem sensible to answer "a Bosendorfer Concert-size Grand Piano and a house big enough to put it in", so I said what I would really like would be flowers.
And I was much, much 'righter' than I realised.
My birthday flowers from my parents give me endless pleasure; they arrived like this one cold Autumnal evening. A camellia on the left, and Christmas Rose (hellebore?) on the right. The huge white blooms are giant plastic roses that my father stuck into the pots "to make them look more interesting"!
I have since removed the roses to the back garden where they are looking surprised, stuck into a patio tub full of weeds.
Just before Christmas I re-potted the birthday plants into slightly larger pots. The camellia is covered in huge buds, and I have already had two bright red flowers come and go. The Christmas Rose was totally pot-bound. It responded to its new home with great enthusiasm, and now looks like this.
For Christmas my father suddenly appeared with a pink cyclamen and a pot of stubby green hyacinth shoots. The cyclamen is now just beginning to fade, but the hyacinths are looking grand. This must be the first year that I have had hyacinths that stand up more-or-less straight.
In the garden, as well as the plastic roses, the Christmas Day snowdrops (so-called because they tend to arrive just in time for Christmas Day) are looking 'blooming'. I've even found a couple of flowers on the little rosemary shrub.
A few flowers just makes all the difference to a dull and manky grey, dreary day.
My next job is to deal with a bucket of sprouting bulbs found lurking in my parent's garage. They are moving soon, so he didn't want them. I might evict the weeds from underneath the roses and put them in there. I wonder what kind of bulbs they are...
Thanks, everyone.
For my birthday and Christmas, I ran out of things to say when people asked me what I would like. It didn't seem sensible to answer "a Bosendorfer Concert-size Grand Piano and a house big enough to put it in", so I said what I would really like would be flowers.
And I was much, much 'righter' than I realised.
My birthday flowers from my parents give me endless pleasure; they arrived like this one cold Autumnal evening. A camellia on the left, and Christmas Rose (hellebore?) on the right. The huge white blooms are giant plastic roses that my father stuck into the pots "to make them look more interesting"!
I have since removed the roses to the back garden where they are looking surprised, stuck into a patio tub full of weeds.
Just before Christmas I re-potted the birthday plants into slightly larger pots. The camellia is covered in huge buds, and I have already had two bright red flowers come and go. The Christmas Rose was totally pot-bound. It responded to its new home with great enthusiasm, and now looks like this.
For Christmas my father suddenly appeared with a pink cyclamen and a pot of stubby green hyacinth shoots. The cyclamen is now just beginning to fade, but the hyacinths are looking grand. This must be the first year that I have had hyacinths that stand up more-or-less straight.
In the garden, as well as the plastic roses, the Christmas Day snowdrops (so-called because they tend to arrive just in time for Christmas Day) are looking 'blooming'. I've even found a couple of flowers on the little rosemary shrub.
A few flowers just makes all the difference to a dull and manky grey, dreary day.
My next job is to deal with a bucket of sprouting bulbs found lurking in my parent's garage. They are moving soon, so he didn't want them. I might evict the weeds from underneath the roses and put them in there. I wonder what kind of bulbs they are...
Thanks, everyone.
Saturday, 3 January 2015
Saturday 3rd January - Waiting for the New Year to begin
These are the last few days of the Christmas Holidays. It seems like a kind of limbo; as though the New Year hasn't properly got started yet.
I've spent the day in this and thattery;
Domesticity
loading the crock pot with a beef stew which is destined for our depleted freezer
the first of many, many loads for the washing machine to prepare for a sudden surge in laundry, because of
More clearing up and throwing away
Some more kitchen utensils have been binned as past their 'use-by' date or added to the pile for the charity shop
I've spent the day in this and thattery;
Domesticity
loading the crock pot with a beef stew which is destined for our depleted freezer
the first of many, many loads for the washing machine to prepare for a sudden surge in laundry, because of
Partings
Son and daughter have gone their separate ways, back to their own lives. It's very quiet; me on my computer, he on his, one cat asleep near him, the other cat asleep near me.
More clearing up and throwing away
Some more kitchen utensils have been binned as past their 'use-by' date or added to the pile for the charity shop
Music Teaching
Several work-related emails, pro-formas and schedules have been dealt with
A number of worksheets have been prepared ready for next week
My 'black bag' that I lug around the schools has been emptied and re-stocked; pencil case with forty pencils, eraser and sharpener - check, glue stick - check, whiteboard pens - check, clean the laminated blank sheets that I use to make flash-cards - check; folder of clean white paper - check, folder of scrap paper - check
I have worked through another couple of sections of my 'green folder' - one section for each school - sorting, updating, throwing the paper as appropriate.
Diary
This year's diary arrived today. Purple, instead of last year's orangey-red. I wanted yellow, but for some inexplicable reason it was going to cost an extra £5. Purple will be fine.
Ridiculously, I struggled to remember what we had done on the 1st and 2nd January. That's one of the reasons why I found it well worth the effort of keeping a diary last year, and why I want to carry on with it. I got there in the end, racking my brains to remember... which brings me to
New Year Resolutions
same as the last few years - they have worked so well, why change a winning formula?
Keep a daily diary/journal
Eat chocolate at least once a week (though I might restrict it to only once a week for a little while, having stupidly weighed myself today)
two bags, of any size, with an unspecified quantity stuff inside, to a charity shop every month
I'm also working through the list of '116 things to throw away' which I picked up on my new time-fritterer, Pinterest, and have signed up for 'The January Cure', a daily email which should 'get your home in great shape'. Apparently completing each assignment 'will absolutely add to the momentum of positive change that lasts long after the Cure wraps up'. These aren't resolutions though - after all, I'm ignoring the first assignment, to vacuum or sweep or mop every floor in your house, moving furniture to make sure you get into every corner. What's the point of doing that until after I've taken down the Christmas Tree? That's just plain daft. I'm also supposed to go and buy some flowers 'as a gift to my home'. I've plenty at the moment, so I'll consider that as done!
Church
I'm playing the piano at the 9am service tomorrow. I usually only play for the 1st Sunday in the month, as there are so many organists at our church that we take turns on a rota. I share with someone who dislikes playing the piano. She will play the hymns (Lord of all hopefulness, The Lord is my shepherd, And can it be) and I will play the song, even though it is one of my least favourite ever (I am anew creation). Hey - what about some more Christmas carols? I'll sneak some in during Communion. Heheheh.
Friday, 2 January 2015
Friday 2nd January 2015 - And the New Me continues
I know I won't be able to keep this up but it has been entertaining and USEFUL so far.
I haven't a BEFORE picture of the airing cupboard. I forgot to take one, and anyway, it was just an uninterpretable tangle of all sorts of towels and bedlinens, interspersed with "what-on-earth-are-thoses".
So I emptied it
and went through every item sorting it into jumble-throw-charity-plumbing towels
or fold-up-neatly-and put away properly.
I've even bagged up the stuff to go - several of the local charity shops will take worn out stuff to sell as rags.
However, a,long the way, I have developed a hatred of fitted sheets. They are beasts to fold and I couldn't make them look all neat and superwormanish.
I should have checked this "How to fold a fitted sheet like a pro" first
or this even easier version.
Got to go. I've just spotted a video to teach me how I should have been folding up my T-shirts.
I haven't a BEFORE picture of the airing cupboard. I forgot to take one, and anyway, it was just an uninterpretable tangle of all sorts of towels and bedlinens, interspersed with "what-on-earth-are-thoses".
So I emptied it
by chucking everything out onto the floor
and went through every item sorting it into jumble-throw-charity-plumbing towels
or fold-up-neatly-and put away properly.
I've even bagged up the stuff to go - several of the local charity shops will take worn out stuff to sell as rags.
However, a,long the way, I have developed a hatred of fitted sheets. They are beasts to fold and I couldn't make them look all neat and superwormanish.
I should have checked this "How to fold a fitted sheet like a pro" first
or this even easier version.
Got to go. I've just spotted a video to teach me how I should have been folding up my T-shirts.