Doctor Who 4.12 - The Stolen Earth

By-crikey what a fabulously exciting episode of Doctor Who last night... (here be spoilers)

So, something's gone a bit awry on planet Earth....

But don't worry that bloke from Dempsey and Makepeace, UNIT and Martha Jones'll sort it.....

Ah, ok then.....not to worry....Torchwood will send the blaggards packing with tails between legs.....

Hmmmmmm......well obviously The Doctor is on the case and will swoop in to save the day any minute now.....

Huh.....well things couldn't possibly get any worse....

Right....well what's needed here is a cunning plan.....

And of course a dashing hero with a big.....er....gun.....

Right....so, showdown time....but hang on, everyone's looking a bit serious...

Oh dear, I do believe it's all gone tit's up....


GAH!!

Humdrum with a Pinch of the Crazy

Not anything terrifically interesting to talk about really....tomorrow is the 'Audience with the Hewlett's' and anyone who knows me realises that I would have been there if I could but for a couple of factors....money and the stupidity that is my job...which means I have to work on a Saturday...until 10pm no less...so no Hewlett's for Emma....to be fair I probably scared them enough back at P2 a couple of years ago and the restraining order still has a couple of months on it, so best no rock the boat....;-)

So, what has been the highlight of my week...well let's run through shall we....work, work work (at which there's no bags, no change, no staff...too many customers, too many vouchers, too many miserable sods.....staff and customers...dodgy equipment, which is apparently my fault....and at one point no electricity...also apparently my fault.....as is the price of bread which has increased ridiculously...no air-con, because of the electrician brought in no fix the electricity problem....oh, and today a middle-aged drunk with a lazy eye announced that he prefers to be served by the 'cuddly' ladies on staff....don't really know what to do with that, except for maybe get a restraining order of my own)

What else have I been up to...um....er....um....nope....I got nothin'....oh, wait I bumped into a slightly off the ball gent, with wild hair and dressed in a pin-stripe suit who was in search of a banana to shove in the tailpipe of strange, metallic, cone shaped individuals who appeared to be vaporising cotton tops who weren't quick enough to run up flights of stairs.......hmmmmm, there is a slim chance that may have been a dream......which reminds me...the first part of the finale of Doctor Who tomorrow....Woo-hoo...which almost makes up for missing out on the Hewlett's......I said almost.

Feelin' Grumbly

In the great tradition of British summer weather's it's all gone a bit pants and things in the work place have fared no better...apparently the word is out that it's open season at Co-op and it seems like every bugger has been pinching some really random stuff...obviously wine and beer seem to walk out the store on their own but this past week has seen entire shelves of cheese, lamb joints, 185g bars of chocolate and an assortment of other bits and bobs apparently growing legs and wandering off....and for the most part there is not a jot I can do about it....not that my priority is to chase thieving toerags down the street...but the reaction on my late night Saturday shift from the customers in the store at the time was not exactly what you would call understanding.

7.30pm on a Saturday night...three (out of four) tills are open and there are four staff members in total...three of which are girls and the last a young lad of 17.....I'm wondering why we are so packed since Doctor Who is on and I'll be dammed if I'd rather be out buying a pint of milk if I had the choice.....so, like I said, we're dead busy with around 20-25 people waiting to be served...and I'm vaguely aware of a group of youngsters ( aged about 12-14) heading to the shop door looking rather shifty....I ring for the supervisor as they head out the door and hear from the awaiting customers that the little darlings have taken off with a keg of beers....the supervisor finally puts in an appearance and goes to check the CCTV...some of the customers start to tut and mutter comments under their breath along the lines of 'they've just walked out with a bunch of beers...what are you going to do about it?' to which I bluntly reply 'sod all'....apparently the customers prefer that I be in two places at once (serving them and enforcing the law) and also lay myself open to the abuse which I would no doubt get from the little 'rascals' who pinched the beer......not that any of the 20 or so people in the queue (right next to the beer shelf I might add) stepped in to suggest that the teens were too young to be messing around with alcohol and that they'd be better off going back to their mothers....oh no, apparently that's something else I'm supposed to be seeing with my third eye and dealing with my extra sensory perception....that and my obvious superpowers, which is what I would have needed if I had tried to chase after them and reclaimed the stock....and although I am indeed often mistaken for Wonder Woman, even I have to admit that is in fact where the similarities end.

So in summary...my job blows....the customers have their heads stuck firmly up their own arses, but will gladly contribute their opinions as to how I should be doing my job.....and those not sticking their oar in are probably the ones vacating the premises without paying with a basket full of cheese....oh and I forgot to mention the box of tins which split and fell on my arm this afternoon leaving me with one hell of a bruise forming....and the elderly woman and her daughter who were beaten up outside the front of the store last Monday by a woman with a baseball bat because the elderly lady didn't cross the road fast enough!!

I need a holiday...preferably somewhere like:

London Calling

Right, before I begin my mass write up of my hugely fandabbidozy( it's a Crankie term and I'm bringing it back) weekend I just wanted to share this:

British summer = British Strawberries......Yum!



Right...onward...had a couple of days off so myself and a few choice friends mosied on over to Londontown for some exploring, culture and the most rocking two hours of the year so far.

Upon alighting the train in the Capital this is possibly not the most reassuring sign to read in the current climate:


A WWII bomb, dug up after 60 years which apparently had started ticking and was causing a bit of an inconvenience on the underground system....on the only weekend in which I needed to be in London and travel on said underground system, naturally.


The 'gang' (from left to right in above photo Chloe, James & Tom) was coming for far and wide...and Cornwall...and so the first stop of the day was lunch with some social type natter at which Tom regaled us with the oh-so humorous tale of when he became trapped in a glass telephone box and made a richeous Red Dwarf reference when Chloe tried to diss him with a 'L' sign by asking if she was a dyslexic hologram.....So, we ate, drank and chortled to Tom's anecdotes and then tootled along the South Bank to the Tate Modern...to attempt to assert some culture into our lives.

Now I've never been to the Tate before and although I'm open minded and pretty liberal I'm fairly certain that the majority of 'artists', a term which I used very loosely, are in fact taking the mickey...because if not then every piece of artwork which I produced circa 1983/84...which I like to refer to as my 'crayola' period...should be worth a mint by now. The 'gang' split into those trying to appreciate the deeper meaning behind the illustrious works of 'art' and myself and Tommo...who blundered round the galleries disbelieving the gumpf filled descriptives attached to splotches of colour and squiggly lines on canvas and in turn discussed our own conclusions as to the intended metaphor and mind set of the 'artists'....one of my favourites from dear Tommo was 'Lemmings in coloured suits through a combine harvester' as a descriptive of Pollock's 'Summertime' (an image of which I insert for you own conclusions...feel free to comment)


After a few frowns and a couple of 'tut's' from a middle aged women in horn rimmed glasses and plaid the 'gang' vacated the vicinity of the Tate and headed off for the finale of the day.

I say headed off, but there was actually a fair amount of incessant faffing from a couple of member of the group (one not pictured) who insisted in stopping in practically every pub on the way to Wembley and even though we had arrived many, many hours before the gig started we still managed to get into the stadium and find a suitable ( if not completely ideal) spot a mere matter of minutes before Grohl and Co appeared on stage.....gig? Wembley? Grohl and Co?....Oh yes did I not mention the reason for the 'gang' to be London bound...only the biggest gig of the season for which we had 'shiny' tickets. Now our lateness, as mentioned, meant a further away experience that first anticipated...though is was still a pretty good view of grunged up Dave Grohl (aka Uncle Dave....aka The Foo Fighters)....and without the usual Mosh Pit squashiness (those born pre 60s/70's may wish to google 'mosh pit' for explanation).

Now the following 2 or so hours are already becoming a bit of a blur, but the Cliff-notes go something like: Much whooping, singing, rocking out, saluting of Dave Grohl, drink flinging, acoustic lighter moments, head banging, guitar solo, richeous Tyler drum solo, Triangle solo (yes I said Triangle solo!), swearing, Uncle Dave's appreciation of the masses (86,000 to be exact), flashing (of the photography kind to clarify), crowd solo, finale, encore and fireworks....And so we come to the end and my photos from Foo Fighters @ Wembley Stadium (and other Londontown randomness including the after gig Chinese, Kensington Gardens, Chloe 'lending a hand' and the Albert Hall) 2008.

Gremlin's at Work

I'm pretty sure that Gremlins were are work during my shift today....you know the type....you put your keys in the basket on the side table near the door when you get in, a process you have repeated daily etc etc....but of course the moment you're in a hurry the keys are not in the basket on the side table.....or in the vicinity of the side table....or even in close proximity of the hall in the which the side table is situated....instead they are eventually discovered in the fridge.......I believe I have mentioned the 'lumpy pavement' variety of Gremlins in a previous entry....obviously they have different roles and obligations to aggravate and humiliate the human population.

Today various Gremlins were at work....for starters the weather Gremlin had seen fit to provide a miserably damp and grey day. I opened my curtains and was immediately greeted with a huge, and disgustingly runny, dollop of bird poop....of which I'm unfortunately going to have to put up with until either the next heavy down pour or a good Samaritan randomly decides to jet wash my bedroom window.

At work I set too distributing vital supplies in a visually appeasing and functional manner, while multi-tasking, when needed, as money handler/sustenance provision liaison /gossip girl/Co-op tomtom.....to aid with the distribution...OK,OK so it's officially called shelf-stacking....I seconded a shopping trolley and dutifully began my day....soon I was hearing bells.....the, not so subtle, indication that my talents are needed elsewhere and so to the tills I trundled...several minutes, a few dozen slightly confused and completely deaf cotton tops with purses full of change, two leaky milks and a pack of broken eggs, later and I returned to my original task at hand....only to discover that a Gremlin (obviously related to the 'missing keys' Gremlin) had half inched my trolley full of goods......this particular Gremlin, however, actually goes by the name of Richard, a colleague, who likes to think of himself as a prankster and had moved the darn thing to confuzzle litt'l 'ol me.....that's fine, but what Rich doesn't realise is that I'm a thinker and a planner...and he should be afraid.....very afraid.

So, anyway, not a Gremlin.....later I slogged away in the loo roll isle, ensuring that the residents of the West Worthing/Goring area didn't have to resort to using yesterdays Daily Mirror/Mail/Sun to wipe their derriere...again the 'co-op call' sounded and again upon my return from battle I discovered my immaculate display of 'Charmin ultra velvet' was now in disarray.....seeing Rich in the vicinity I called him on his mischievousness asking if he again had been playing 'silly buggers'.....and with a genuine expression of bewilderment (granted it is an expression which Rich carries off on a regular basis) he denied any involvement...so then, a 'toilet roll display altering' Gremlin at large in Co-op.

Finally, I was deemed worthy of a tea break and walked the half-mile up a thousand stairs, across roofs and, today, swum through flood water to the 'staff room'....my hands were scummy from opening boxes and crawling around hands and knees (which is not as much fun as a 28 year old than it was as an 8 year old) and I wandered over to the sink to de-scum....The soap was contained in an industrial size plastic box fixed on the wall with one of those plunger type things on the top....I held out my hand under the nozzle and pushed down on the plunger...no soap...I pushed the plunger again....again, no soap....I push the plunger a third time, at which point a jet of dark green soap shot out of the nozzle, missed my hand completely and spread a line of green slime up my arm, along my shirt sleeve and over my shoulder, dispersing across and chair and table halfway across the room and leaving me with the feeling I'd just been 'slimed'.....the rest of my break was spent trying to rid my being of the industrial soap, which smelled not unlike industrial waste....there was a definite 'sticking plunger' Gremlin at work there me thinks.

And finally......fortunately my green-eyed regular was back in today....unfortunately I wasn't on till and so didn't serve him....fortunately I was wandering round the shop floor 'working' which was a great excuse to admire from afar....unfortunately there was no excuse to initiate conversation....fortunately stocking low shelves enabled me to oogle his basket.

Hearing Tunes

No you haven't gone mad....the TARDIS hasn't materialised inside your head.....I have discovered the wonderful world of Playlist.com....and promptly went to work finding as many of my favourite theme tunes as possible, so enjoy while you cogitate on my thoughts, rants, observations etc etc. (by the way don't blame me, blame my fellow 80's obsessed blogger across the pond fireflymom and check out her own play list at http://packofhungrysnails.blogspot.com/ be warned though, after a few minutes, you may feel inclined to grow a mullet and wear stonewashed jeans)

Co-op 101

By the time I finished work yesterday my left foot was aching so badly I had quite a limp...my normal 15 minute walk to get back home took a little over half and hour and my foot continued to throb with gusto for around 4-5 hours after I put my feet up. I strapped up the foot, hoping that it would make a difference for my shift today, alas not...throbbing started after less than an hour at work and, even though I asked to be placed on the only till with a chair (apparently only family members of supervisors get that privileged) I was on the kiosk, standing all day.....I alternately stood on one leg and attempted to hop to the section for ciggies, which must have looked a tad strange to the customers, but to be honest I couldn't give a hoot.

I was busy serving all day, as well as attempting to restock the booze and ciggies....got moaned at from a customer as I didn't have any open carrier bags on my till (I had actually opened hundreds during the course of the day, but funnily enough opened bags get used).....but then this particular old fart had a woman with her who did all her packing anyway and didn't need any carriers, so I guess she just felt the need to bitch and moan at the poor sales assistant to make her life feel complete....I will now remember her face in the future and make sure there are plenty of bags on offer when she next passes through the till....and will laugh as the shopping falls out of the bottom which inexplicably falls out.

Fully crappy day in all....except of course for a certain tall, dark and green-eyed fella who apparently IS a regular...now all that is needed is a way to convey 'I think you're hot' in 'do you have a co-op card?' and 'would you like to go for a drink' in 'would you like the receipt?'.

I Have the Best Job in the World......read title with extra sarcasm

Right, as you probably have gathered I have started a new job, a week and a half in now, and therefore I may have the desire to rant...we'll forget the 'acme' throbbing feet and spine which feels like that of an arthritic contortionist....for now.....no today I would like to dedicate my blog to the people who seem to leave their brain at the door when they come into the shop....and in some cases I'm not convinced they had one before they crossed the threshold.

Exhibit A - Coming in to buy a bottle of whiskey 5 minutes before closing on a Friday night and paying with a carrier bag full of pennies and two pence pieces is not going to endear you to either the staff who've been on their feet all day or the poor sod in the queue behind who came in for a pint of milk with the correct change.

2. - As a 'representative' of the store I work in I am obligated to ask certain questions...ie would you like a bag/cash back, do you have a loyalty card etc...I would appreciate that your (ie the customer) facial expression was a little something more than 'blank' and a little less than 'your words insulted my grandmother'....Oh, and answering the question 'would you like the receipt?' may seem like a challenge, but in reality is actually easier to answer than, say, working out PI to the thirteenth decimal place.

iii - Since there are a gazillion different brands of cigarettes...as well as packs coming in 10's 20's 40's menthol, smooth, king and superking and are all similar colours (and I'm a non-smoker so haven't a bloody clue anyway) speak up, speak clearly and please don't attempt any world records in speed talking because 'twentylambertnbultlersuperkingmentholblue' or 'p'ketofs'imfil'ers, rizz'ers and a b'gofgol'envirg'a' is going to leave me confuzzled, flustered and 100% likely to chuck your way the first packet which comes to hand....your preferred brand be damned.

And D - When I politely decline my services at the till as I'm heading off for a break...saying 'Sorry, could you go to the tills round the corner'...I mean the tills contained within the store we're currently situated in, not the ones in the shop next door.....can I get a bucket full of 'doh' for the gent who did just that at the weekend.

Urgh...Okay, that's me ranted out for the time being, though I'm sure there will be much more material soon....on the plus side, today I served a positively lovely (and by 'lovely' I mean drop dead gorgeous) young man (whom I'm hoping is a regular) who can come through my till any which way he likes!

New Job

After several months of unemployedness and a bank account which barely registers, I've finally happened upon a vacancy which should keep me afloat at my current digs, with just about enough money left over to buy food and a few luxuries...or should that be the other way round. It's nothing at all special, regressing back several years of training and study to serve the general public once again....the ignorant, grumpy and impatient general public, who expect me to be at their beck and call, have the ability to read minds and know not only every product we hold in store, but also the best way to prepare and cook it.....all this for the minimum wage....and minimum breaks i might add.

Inevitably this new job, which I started last Tuesday, came about just as Britain basked in a mini heatwave...temps up to 27 degrees C, glorious blue skies and perfect weather for a bit of exploring and BBQ's.....for every other bugger that is...me, I've been pretty much either been chained to a till or sweatin' bullets replenishing stock to shelves....Oh, I shall continue to search listings for other jobs, while hoping that someone will give me a chance to work in a job which electrifies the synapses rather than killing off braincells due to mind numbingly boring repetition.

In other news, I did actually get out into the sunshine on my day off last week and took a stroll along the seafront to the pier. While chatting to an old boy and munching on an apple I became aware of the lifeguard rescue boat racing in our direction, it passed through the pilings and stopped a one man catamaran on the opposite side...they had words with the sailor who was under the impression that he would be able to sail straight under without incident. I figured crisis had been averted and went back to my apple only to feel a thud moments later. The sailor apparently ignoring the advice of the lifeguards had crashed his mast several feet taller than the pier scraping the side. As I turned to get a better look the craft was in the process of capsizing and drifted out the other side, the gathering crowd switching sides to watch the hapless man floundering in the water (which must have been freezing) with the rescue boat along side...not unlike a game of pooh sticks The lifeguards then aided the man the right the boat, taking several attempts, and towed him back to dry land...the mast looking decidedly wonky....what a numpty.

And after many misses in the most recent series of Doctor Who I'm glad to report a top episode at the weekend....the introduction of the Doctors daughter was interesting and emotional and happily won't put the nose out of joint of any of the die-hards out there in terms of canon and mythology...will be interesting to see if 'Jenny' turns up in an future episodes, or even Torchwood for that matter.

Right well that's me for now, I'm off to order a new pair of feet and crack my spine into a more natural position, until my shift tomorrow anyhoo.

Those Thing We Do

I may have put this up a while ago, but I just came across the video again on Youtube and it really cheered me up so I'm putting it up again.



That's from left to right Megan 'cheap flip-flops knicker thrower' Perriman, Me, Alison Burket and Alison '10ft tall screamer' Wallis...hehe...we had all commented before the taping that Alison W was wearing quite a revealing outfit and yes she has always been THAT gobby....and poor Megan, the only reason the flip-flops got picked up was because she had been given a pair of knickers to throw and had decided to take the things off her feet to 'whip' the pants off easily...which hit Graham Norton when she did....it's always the quiet ones.

Spring.....For a Day

Well, wasn't yesterdays British weather cunningly disguised as a lovely spring day (so much so that I am already demonstrating another British trait....the English(wo)man's tan)....as opposed to what transcends as a 'Spring' day today. And I got out and about too, to what is fast becoming a favourite spot to wile away a few hours with a good book.

There's a patch of grass several hundred yards shy of Ferring which has a fairly unspoilt view of the Downs to the north and is a mere 'brow of a hill' away from the beach, where a multitude of people gather on a sunny day. This is partly why I am partial to the area, as I can happily amuse myself while being happily amused by others, who are happily unaware they are being amusing. (This is a trait to which my fathers DNA has to be directly responsible, and which my mother is in despair of whenever my father and I put in an appearance together amongst the general public)

So, I do like to keep my ears open when I'm out and about and a grassy knoll just below a beachfront footpath is the perfect place....admittedly in the time it takes for a person to walk by it is a mere snippet of conversation, leaving much up to the imagination (much like flicking through TV channels in an ad break) but that too can be just as interesting.

Some things, however, should just never be overheard by the greater populace. For example the following snippet from a couple of lady cotton tops:

CT 1 "It's the done thing you know, the fashion, it makes it smooth"
CT 2 "Doesn't it chafe?"
CT 1 " I would presume so.....but then if you were orange you wouldn't want it matching would you"

Like I said, imagination......of which I, apparently, have in abundance.

Something in the Air

This morning when I popped out to get the daily rag I noticed a funky smell in the air. As I crumpled my nose against the obnoxious fumes I realised I had a bag of kitchen rubbish in my hand, which I duly deposited into the dustbin at the end of the drive. I turned into the road to walk the few hundred yards to the newsagents, but a few paces in I once again noticed an offensive odour, had I in avertedly trodden in a deposit from the local mongrel community. I duly checked the soles of my shoes….all clean. Slightly puzzled I bought my newspaper (a term which loosely describes the Daily Mirror….but then I only really buy it for Andy Capp) and turned back to the house. The hairs in my nostrils continued to burn away from the odd smell likened only to what farmers spray on the fields….ah, farmers, that must be it, though admittedly those fields are a fair way off, but then there has been a prominent wind in the last couple of days…..and I can smell a bag of doughnuts a half a mile away so it is indeed possible.

It was only when reading the Beeb’s news online did I find I had almost been right in my assumption of the source of the smell….which is apparently….er….Mainland Europe. The strong Easterly winds we have been experiencing have brought to us all the polluted air across the channel and have been accosting sensitive noses all along the South of England…..One more utterly repugnant article to come out of Brussels then.

I realise that not everybody has yet been informed that the odour stems from our European neighbours…..and I’m slightly humoured by the fact that many thousands will be checking for ‘fudge’ smears on the bottom of their shoes for the rest of the day.

Oh....nearly forgot...I hereby dedicate this post to my sister who's Birthday it is today.....take from that what you will.

6 Unimportant Things About Me

I surfed over to cyberspace.....cadet Fireflymoms blog ( http://packofhungrysnails.blogspot.com/ ) the other night and read six things that, although titled as unimportant, were interesting, insightful and borderline obsessive compulsive....and since I was tagged by merely letting my eyes roam over the words on the screen, I feel the need to reciprocate.....although I make no apologies for any odd, geeky randomness which I divulge, so without further ado (your on the edge of your seat I can tell)....Here's 6 Unimportant Things About Me:

1.) I have an interest in the paranormal and, until recently, belonged to a local investigation group who would visit hotels, pubs, houses, castles, woods, gibbets, stone circles and other mysterious areas of interest armed with an allsortment of scientific gizmo's (alas no Proton packs) in an attempt capture a 'Slimer', 'E.T.' or simply disappear into the 'Twilight Zone'.

2.) I hate tomatoes with a passion, can't stand the smell or taste and hate to touch them (which wasn't too much fun whilst working in a supermarket....bag that fruit and veg people!!!).....I do however love Ketchup, go figure.

3.) I once cheated in a sandcastle making competition whilst on holiday at Pontins on the Isle of Wight in 1985 or 6. My castle collapsed while I was digging out the moat, I got all upset and when the kids club host asked me what was wrong I told him another child had trodden on it....nobody owned up, obviously, when he asked for the culprit to come forward and so I won by default....a pencil with the islands famous multi-coloured sand in a glass tube on the end was the prize, which I think I broke shortly thereafter......My sister came second with her Fort like castle design (she would have won if I hadn't gone all hissy fitish, so sorry bout that sis).

4.) I love nothing more than to become engrossed in a bit of research, be it for an essay (not so keen on the actual writing part) a question someone has asked me or my own interests. I will endeavour to thoroughly know the subject or at least know enough to get by......if you ever need to know , who that guy was in that film about the wotsit set in thingymebob, what the legend is surrounding the Yew tree forest at Kingley Vale, which 'Friend' was once in a British advert for Ketchup or the socio-cultural aspects of the televisual representations of Robin Hood....I'm your girl.

5.) I have a large collection of television theme tunes (2,000 and change)...old, new, classic, rare...you name it I've got it, because, lets face it, sometimes the theme tune is the best part of the show.

6.) According to a tour guide in Boston, Ma, my accent is indistinguishable in terms of what region I come from in the UK....The guide said he could place any person merely by listening to them say a few sentences, but couldn't fathom where the heck I was from....This may have been due to the fact that I had travelled through Australia, New Zealand, Canada and various parts of the US before I had reached Boston and had picked up various pronunciations and slang terms along the way, causing my normal British Southern accent to morph into a hybrid of regional colloquialisms with a prominent Aussie twang....to this day....7 years later....the Aussie twang makes itself known when pronouncing certain words, especially after watching an omnibus of Home & Away.

So there you go...if you have a blog and wish to enlighten you are hearby 'tagged'.

Eee Gads

Whilst watching Britain's Got Talent (for the record I was only waiting for Pushing Daisies to start and for the most part.....No they don't) a young girl played a fab bit of classical music on the piano.....I informed Pete, my housemate, that when I was young I could play a flawless rendition of 'Suicide is Painless' on the keyboard.....Pete asked 'What's that?'....'The theme tune to M*A*S*H' I replied....'What's Mash?' Pete puzzled......I resisted the urge to slap my televisually challenged young friend upside the head, while I contemplated the best way to stop the aging gene.

....But They Don't Fall Down

I managed a jaunt into town and back today, without the need for stabilisers, hazard lights or an emergency crew on stand by.....okay so I chose to amble rather than my usual brisk walk, but that was mainly because I felt the need to observe spatial awareness towards those pesky little critters who seem to throw obstacles into my path when I least expect it...you know the ones I mean....your walking along a perfectly straight and flat piece of carpet/pavement/grass when all of a sudden you catch your foot on an ridge or divot which, upon closer inspection, has mysteriously disappeared causing those around you to believe you're a.) wearing shoes from 'Clowns footwear 'R' Us' and b.) are ever so slightly mad due to the meticulous nose to ground inspection of the area muttering about the 'Stumble Sprites'.

So yay me for mastering the ability to walk....next weeks activities include: eating with a fork AND a knife, reading something other than the comics in the newspaper, using oven gloves to remove cooked food from the oven and learning the distinction between actual food, which constitutes dinner, and a packet of crisps.

Weebles Wobble

For those wondering, yes I am still alive....look here I am *waves*. I am however down in the dumps.

First, my computer developed a USB port problem, as in I couldn't use the damn things.....It's amazing how much stuff gets plugged in to those little buggers and I've been listening to the same songs on my MP3 for approximately 6 months....so vital TLC was needed (mainly because I may actually turn into a 70's disco dancer if I listen to 'Ma Baker' one more time). Naturally the problem wasn't an easy fix and was directly related to the virus of a couple of months ago.....so, blah, blah, techno babble, blah, blah and I eventually get my computer back.

In the mean time, I had wandered into town during an utterly abysmal day; rain coming in sideways mixed with a slushy ice mix is a favourite weather condition of mine. On the way I passed a lady, on a particularly narrow part of the pavement, who had her face buried in a book (now I'm normally an advocate for broadening ones literary horizons, but what happened next is probably why such activities are best kept to park benches and comfy couches.....besides not sure Jordan's autobiography can really be classed as 'literary' ) As I gave the woman some extra space in passing, since she hadn't acknowledged my existence, my foot slipped off the wet kerb, I bent my ankle at an angle which should only be practiced by gymnasts, managed not to fall into the path of the oncoming traffic. I felt ligaments tear away from bone and grabbed onto nearby fence as I sent forth a deluge of choice phrases, which no doubt educated the mother and toddler on the opposite side on the road......I spent the next few minutes pondering, between waves of intense pain, how I was going to make it to my appointment (a further ten minutes walk away) and watched the book-reading figure disappear without so much backward glance.

Later that afternoon I wrapped the ballooning ankle in a wet towel and attempted to thaw/dry out from my utter drenching (waterproof jacket my arse).

That was a week ago, I have since been through several stages of 'Ouch'....currently the setting is hovering around the 'fine as long as I don't rotate it to the right' mark. Oh, and I have learned that when crossing the road at a pelican crossing (that's the one with the red and green man for those who don't know) I am apparently expected to go from 'hobble' to 'sprint' at the sound of a revving engine as soon as the green man starts to flash, no matter where my position on the highway.....the educating continues as I demonstrate my sign language to said motorist.

So, like I said I have the computer back and everything was fine...for about two days at which point Internet freezing, abundance of pop-ups and sloooooooooow connection just possibly indicates a problematic event....I guess I'd better be on the lookout for cracked paving slabs, dodgy curbs, wayward pedestrians and of course those pesky pebbles (see entry Jan 24th 2008) as if the cycle of problems continues I see a broken appendage in my future.

Right I'm off to eat my leftover Easter 250g slab of Dairy Milk, and by eat I mean devour..... quite possibly followed by throwing up.....Then settle down to watch the finale of Torchwood....and if the rumour mill is true I'd better have a box of tissues handy!

Captain Birdseye R.I.P.

There were a few adverts as a child that were particularly memorable Cadbury's Finger of Fudge, Clarks 'Magic' Shoes and Nestle Milkybar....the Aero Bubbles ad with the guy in a towel (okay so the last one is a little less twenty years ago and a little more last week).....One other was Birdseye's Fish Fingers due to the 'Father Christmas' type Captain Birdseye and his motley crew of kids sailing in exotic lands sustained by breaded fish.....Well Captain Birdseye passed away today, so in dedication....a couple of adverts:




Course the advertisers may go back to the younger Captain Birdseye...you remember the one with the designer stubble and a glint in his eye who put in an appearence a few years back.

Oh, and for those wondering:

Toys I Pestered My Parents For

So, shock horror, I have been spending a little time reminiscing about my childhood days (where chocolate bars were bigger, the TV was better, summer's were hot and long and I still had the ability to cartwheel without falling on my face) and I starting thinking about the games/toys I used to play with....and more to the point the ones which I wished I had, but usually belonged to the girl down the road (who I suspect was paying off Father Christmas on the sly).

Now, this was me in the 80's.....

I know ain't I a innocent little cutie....and totally pulling off the dungarees/cardigan ensemble I might add. And I was no girlie girl either....why spend your time fiddle farting around with dolls whilst being all neat and tidy in pink frills when there was much more adventurous activities (usually involving trees and crawling around in the mud) to be had....nope, not me....Tomboy all the way.

That being said the first toy I wanted would probably be considered 'girlie'....but, the advert was strangely memorable......'Wake up Daddy, breakfast's ready'

Blue Bird's A La Carte Kitchen....where 'breakfast' apparently consists of a strawberry swiss roll with cold baked beans....Mmmmmmm. I'm not sure why I figured that plastic utensils and cardboard 'food' stuffs would equal hours of fun but as a 6 year old messing about in the kitchen is always fun....'mess being the operative word. Personally, I blame the lack of the A La Carte Kitchen in my life directly responsible for my completely dire cooking ability in adulthood.....I did as a child have a play bank and post office set and have never had any trouble counting money or....er....sticking stamps on stuff so it must be true.

Next....Big Trak....

So, what was so cool about Big Trak...well there was this key pad thingy and you could enter in instructions which it would then carry out on it's own....Ooooooo, seems lame nowadays, but at the time it was quite possibly the most amazing concept....a toy which followed you every command...as long as said commands were accurate and you didn't command it to careen into furniture...not that the Big Trak 'careened'....more, snailed.

I had plenty of board games as a kid....for the rare occasions in the summer holidays where the weather decided to re-green the lawn....but obviously we couldn't have them all....there were a few which I craved to own.....

Pop-up Pirate.....similar to Buckaroo or Perfection (neither of which I owned) where you continued to place swords into the barrel until the pirate...well, er.....popped. It's appeal....the drama, the adrenalin....it was like Russian Roulette (minus the gun) for kids.....I fear the parentals choose to keep this particular game from my 7 year old grasp due to the 'poking eye out' potential....not necessarily mine.

Mousetrap....What a genius game...build up the trap and then let rip a well engineered chain of events to 'trap the mouse'....that is of course if all the pieces are lined up correctly and indeed aren't stuck down sofa/eaten by pet/eaten by child (delete as applicable). To be honest had I owned the game I may have spent more time just setting up and releasing the trap than actually playing the game itself....years after craving this the parentals did purchase Screwball Scramble, which was all the fun without the boring game play.

Space Attack....Quite possibly the best game EVER.....similar to air hockey one player would wind up then release a spinning top (aka alien invader) and battle would commence.....it was fast....it was furious.....and invariably the 'alien' would at some point launch clear off the board a disappear under the dresser or 3-seat sofa.

As mentioned, I was (and still am) a Tom Boy......my parents and various relatives attempted to point me in the direction of girlie toys....baby dolls and Sindy (the poor mans Barbie) and I do remember picking them up on occasion (quite possibly to launch across the room during a tantrum) but Action Man was what I was really after....especially since playing with Action Man gave me the excuse to crawl around in the shrubs and across the rockery commando style. He did look a little creepy especially with the lever in the back of his head which allowed you to move his eyes from side to side.

The Millennium Falcon.....find me a child of the 80's who didn't want anything to do with Star Wars related merchandise and the above was definitely the golden ticket to popularity amongst peers in junior school....though I don't think anyone in my class had this, the girl down the road however.....

I've always been fascinated by the large domino displays....an interest fueled by Roy Castle and Record Breakers....one minute they're just little pieces of plastic standing in a row, then a toppling to reveal flags of the world, the Queen's head, Statue of Liberty etc etc....course it was always just as funny when things went a little wrong....two domino's slightly too far apart and viewers are treated to half of the Union Jack or Paul, John and George but no Ringo. I would imagine the lack of this toy in my childhood was mainly due to the 'mess' potential (cleaning up after myself has never been my strong point)....I tried to compensate by finding alternate uses for my collection of Enid Blyton books.

I'd completely forgotten the existence of this particular toy until a programme which was shown at Christmas involving Top Gear presenter James May and the toys of his sisters which had irritated him immensely growing up. This one was fabulous fun for ickle people....but perhaps not so much for the adults within earshot of the scratchety mono-tones, even when you were hitting the right buttons. My memory is vague, but there were cards which you inserted over the keypad and you could then play such enchanting tunes as 'Baa Baa Black Sheep' and 'Three Blind Mice'.

Mr Frosty....Ah, another attempt to introduce some domestic talent to my young life....My best friend had one of these and the thought of creating your own cool refreshment on one of those balmy summer days of my youth was definitely appealing....Of course the same result could be obtained by crushing ice cubes with a rolling pin and adding fruit juice.....but at such an impressionable age it's all about the packaging. Slush Puppies came along a few years later and I discovered it was just as easy to buy a ready made icy treat than to faff around doing you own.

The BMX.....E.T. has much to answer for with this one....Oh, how I craved and begged for a BMX bike. Owning one obviously meant that I would automatically have the skills to skid to a stop, career over hills and ditches and jump cars. And they looked pretty darn cool too....especially when you had added stickers, reflectors and spokey dokeys from packets of Frosties breakfast cereal....alas it was not to be....when I did get to choose my very own first bike it was a red Raleigh with a basket on the front and stabilisers....and the one time I attempted something 'cool' involving a ditch on a later bike it didn't go quite as planned....let's just say there was blood, bent spokey dokeys and a few shed tears....and it was all my sisters fault.

The Speak and Spell...who'd have thought an educational toy would be so sort after....again the fault of Steven Spielberg, Drew Barrymore and a Prune shaped alien with Emphysema. I think I found this interesting because my only other experience of learning to spell was from cards given to us at school to learn at home....which were kept in tobacco tins.....I used to sniff the cards while at school....yep, healthy. The Speak and Spell then vastly more interesting and less likely to encourage addiction to nicotine.

Skip-It....a later 80's craze. The 80's was great for re-inventing the 'wheel', so to speak, and the Skip-it was no exception, but immensely fun....until the kid using it kicks out to high and gives the one standing next to them concussion.....I seem to remember this was banned in the playground after one to many injuries.

And lastly....Tomytronic:

The computer game era was firmly taking hold but much of it was beyond my price range....pocket money was great for penny sweets and comics, not so much for the advances in gaming technology. Now I did have a viewmaster....which consisted of a plastic viewfinder in which you could insert wheels of pretty pictures which then appeared 3-D....Tomytronic was the next step...and would allow players into an almost virtual reality game in 3-D...think I only ever met one person with one of these things (for once it wasn't the girl down the road) but it was the toy I craved after the most during my formative years....we got instead a Commodore 64.....Nuff said.