(11:48:35) dad: hello
(11:49:22) lou: hello
(11:49:52) dad: not on for long going out with Paul for lunch
(11:53:19) lou: going anywhere nice?
(11:53:37) dad: the crown !!
(11:54:51) lou: so, no then :)
(11:56:22) dad: mmmm
(11:56:41) dad: its a amn’s pub us pie and pea’s biys !!!!!!!!!!!!!
(11:57:56) lou: it’s an illiterate’s pub
(11:58:26) dad: man’s
(11:58:31) dad: :D
(11:58:45) lou: “biys”?
(11:58:56) lou: “us”?
(11:58:57) dad: boys
(11:59:00) lou: “pea’s”?
(11:59:10) lou: “its”?
(11:59:17) lou: oh so many things wrong with that sentence
(11:59:17) dad: mmmmm
(11:59:37) dad: ok so I’m not after the Turner prize
(11:59:47) lou: i think that might win the turner prize
(11:59:54) lou: as an artistic statement
(12:00:07) lou: the booker prize, which is actually a prize for writing, on the other hand…
(12:00:28) dad: really you think I’ve a chance !! >:) <):)
(12:00:41) lou: no. not in the slightest.
Categorylife
The general parent category for most of the things I write about on here.
One of the more interesting Louisa-centric sub-categories is biodata (where I explore my personal history with graphs, maps and whatnot), and if you’re that way inclined, you can read about the wonderful felines and canines with whom I’ve shared my life too.
Since moving offices at work, I’ve noticed I’ve been having more pains in my wrists than normal. By coincidence, I’ve also met several people over the last few months that have been debilitated through RSI. I realise that the latter might have made me more conscious of the former but anyway, it’s made me start thinking about how much my life would change if I couldn’t spend all day in front of a computer and forced me to take action to stop (or at least lessen the changes) of that happening. And that’s probably a very good thing.
I’ve started paying more attention to posture and making sure I hold my hands correctly over my keyboard. I’ve also installed a little open-source program that I read about on the RSI page of Wikipedia called Workrave. It is reminds you to take breaks regularly and give yourself a daily limit as to how much time you should spend on your computer. It also, rather nicely, gives you muscles stretching and strengthening exercises to do during your longer breaks to relieve eye strain as well as your wrist/arm/shoulder muscles. And it’s got a cute sheep for a logo.
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I spent yesterday afternoon tidying up the garden for winter. I cut back the wild rose bush (because it’s got too tall) and the fuchcia and other misc shrubs (because they were stopping the gate from opening proper), and turned over the vegetable bed/tubs.
I haven’t grown as much variety of veg as I did last year. I decided to concentrate on things we would use (more than just things I thought would grow) and things that would grow in the north-facing rocky, clay-y soil that we’re stuck with. I started with beans (broad and french) and peas (sugar snaps and garden) in tubs, and onions (from sets) and potatoes (from sprouting old ones) in the main bed. Everything started fine until the slugs and snails descended and by the time they were gone, so had most of the peas and beans seedlings. I planted some more peas out in the bed but it was too late to start any more beans (I tried, they died).
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By coincidence, I’ve read two books on about British social history since 1945 back to back recently. (Actually, I read the excellent “The Lovely Bones” by Alice Sebold in between but I was ill and got through it in less than a day so it didn’t really feel like a long break between the other two books.)
Anyway, the books I read were “Our Hidden Lives: The Remarkable Diaries of Post-war Britain” edited by Simon Garfield and “Windrush: The Irresistible Rise of Multi-racial Britain” by Mike Phillips and Trevor Phillips.
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I saw a very cute thing this morning that I had not really seen before: I saw Carbon fall asleep.
I’m ill at the moment (Fresher’s-Flu-come-early) so spent most of yesterday and this morning in bed. Carbon and Sili (and later Carla) volunteered for nursing duty. I was nursing Carbon too: along with his little sister, he’s having a skin allergy problem at the moment and his response to the itching is to lick and nibble constantly which damages his skin. While he sat with me, I tried my best to break his licking obsession. When he started licking, I put my hand between his head and the itchy body part; sometimes he’d lick my hand then stop licking, other times he would stop straight away and seemingly forget about the urge. I tended to leave my arm gently wrapped around him afterwards to stop him starting up again and this time, I had my arm over his shoulders with his upright head in the crook of my elbow and my hand under his chin.
We sat like that for a good few minutes. I wasn’t doing anything except resting so just watched my boy. I love looking at cats’ profiles at that close distance: down the whiskers so they’re just out of focus pin-pricks, to the curves of their face and the whurls of short fur on their noses. (This picture is of Carla, but you know, close enough). I watched Carbon, assuming him to be asleep and wished I was too. I also thought how I hadn’t really thought about the shape of a cat’s muzzle when I had drawn it in the past: too caught up in the human appearance, I had always drawn the nose sticking out further than it does – perhaps it’s because I have sniffy cats and their noses are always where they shouldn’t be.
Anyway, after a good few minutes of us lying together, Carbon’s head dropped down very slightly. He had been sat in a position best described as “relaxed Sphinx”: his body was relaxed but his head was bolt upright and his paws in front of him (under my hand). Now his chin had dropped into his chest slightly. A minute or so later, it dropped again. Shortly after that, I felt his chin touch my hand and then over the next minute or so, it leant further on my hand and then rolled over so the weight was on his cheek rather than chin. A minute or so later, I felt the twitching start and knowing that boy as I do, I can only assume he was dreaming about the frantic licking I was stopping him doing in real life. I hope he enjoyed it.
The flight didn’t leave until 16.30 so we only had to leave for the airport at about 2pm. Our plan for the time was: bit of a lie-in then check out, breakfast at The Idiot (because we couldn’t be bothered finding anywhere else in the mainly residential area), go up St Issac’s as a goodbye to the city, then pick up a car from the hotel.
We woke up about 10am and looked out of the window, expecting the sunny weather we’d had previously to really get the most out of a trip up St Issac’s. It was foggy. So foggy we couldn’t see St Issac’s itself. “No, no,” I had assured John the day before, “it’ll be lovely weather. We’ll be able to see for miles.” Bah to my weather-predicting skillzz. We checked out anyway (the hotel cost about the same as the Moscow one but it wasn’t as much of a shock this time as we expected the tax) and headed up to The Idiot, thinking the fog might clear as the day went on.
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