Today
I've just got back from a jolly weekend in Edinburgh to celebrate both Becky & Beatrice's birthdays and to sample the festival.
We saw all sorts of Fringe dance, acrobatic and musical events.
After we returned from the "Walk of the Dead" around the City graveyard and covenanters' prison, we didn't feel like sleeping, so we played our own version of room 101, only limited to pop stars. I was upset to find that I couldn't persuade the others to dump Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan, but they did agree that Roy Orbison had to go. This then moved on to the worst pop songs. Was anything worse than "My Boy Lollipop"? Unless it was "I Like 'lectric Motors". Finally, we turned the game on its head with "pedestals". And everyone agreed with my choices - Queen, Annie Lennox (well, we were in Scotland) and Joan Armatrading.
This kept us going till after 2.00 am; we laughed a lot and learnt a good deal about each other's passions.
In My Day
We played a lot of games as children (no telly, you see), and not only board games like monopoly. We had our own precursor of Just a Minute, in which you had to talk for 2 minutes on a subject not of your choosing and with some words which you weren't allowed to introduce (these you didn't know in advance). (Such as "car" if you had to talk about driving etc.)
We played definitions, where a given word was written down one side of the page and up the other. You then had to fill in each gap with a word and give only the definition to the group. This worked well if there were a lot of possibilities; but we heard of a game where the only possibility seemed to be "emu". One player did try postulating a bird with (presumably) bird flu that called itself an "ebu"......
We had a whole book of limericks written by the family. This worked a bit like consequences, in that all but the line immediately above were concealed (you had to know what word you had to rhyme with).
"Won't you come up and look at my etchings
And my collection of beautiful sketchings
And if you should tire
There's a couch by the fire
That you can use for your stretchings"
Is an approximate memory of one.
Paul and I continued this with our family with Paul's version of "Call My Bluff" and our hilarious version of Noel Coward's "Adverbs". I remember one word "joyfully" - Paul was asked to remove our cat. Amelia from the arm of the chair in this fashion, which he did, vigorously and with a whoop of joy. I don't think she ever forgave him. And we puzzled Izzie for a long time with "deafly" as we ignored all her questions till she thought to write them down.....
Anyway I was very tired the next day what with all this frivolity,
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Today
What a spendid week! I've just returned from a "5 day slimaway" break at my favourite health hydro the lorrens in Babbacombe.
I've been going with the girls for some years now. It's a family run place for ladies only and the package manages to fit in 35 treatments of different types to help kick start your slimming programme.
I've been exercised, pummelled, massaged, electrified, vacuumed and fed extremely carefully calorie-counted meals. I've sauna-ed, jacuzzi-ed, steamed, baked, scrubbed, showered, exfoliated. I even did some running and walking.
By so doing I managed to lose 6 1/2 lbs and 15 1/2 inches.
Result!
In My Day
I was a fattish child from the start, weighing in at 10lbs. I didn't much like exercise, and never made the connection between eating and weight gain. I was permitted to eat crisp sandwiches, even sugar sandwiches (white bread, butter, white caster sugar). There were no particular restrictions on the consumption of biscuits or bread.
I don't know that I was a very greedy child, but no-one then seemed to talk about diet. I ate my school dinner every day, including pudding (blancmange & jelly or chocolate sponge with chocolate custard featured) as well as a full cooked evening meal.
If you were fat, people veered between sympathy and sarcasm, but no-body suggested that you would be better off without sugar sandwiches or second helpings.
It wasn't till I was about 17 that I began to think about these things. I was put on a diet by my doctor (it would make amusing reading today) but thought I would help things along by lunching on liquorice sticks and drinking a lot of black coffee. It seemed a rather arty sort of thing to do!
I did lose some weight, but have spent the rest of my life trying to be very careful. Sometimes things go awry, such as when I somehow hit 14 1/2 stone in 2001.
The trouble is I have this fantasy, that if I'm very careful for a whole day, I will wake up the next morning with all the weight dropped off.
Now, where's that glass of wine?
What a spendid week! I've just returned from a "5 day slimaway" break at my favourite health hydro the lorrens in Babbacombe.
I've been going with the girls for some years now. It's a family run place for ladies only and the package manages to fit in 35 treatments of different types to help kick start your slimming programme.
I've been exercised, pummelled, massaged, electrified, vacuumed and fed extremely carefully calorie-counted meals. I've sauna-ed, jacuzzi-ed, steamed, baked, scrubbed, showered, exfoliated. I even did some running and walking.
By so doing I managed to lose 6 1/2 lbs and 15 1/2 inches.
Result!
In My Day
I was a fattish child from the start, weighing in at 10lbs. I didn't much like exercise, and never made the connection between eating and weight gain. I was permitted to eat crisp sandwiches, even sugar sandwiches (white bread, butter, white caster sugar). There were no particular restrictions on the consumption of biscuits or bread.
I don't know that I was a very greedy child, but no-one then seemed to talk about diet. I ate my school dinner every day, including pudding (blancmange & jelly or chocolate sponge with chocolate custard featured) as well as a full cooked evening meal.
If you were fat, people veered between sympathy and sarcasm, but no-body suggested that you would be better off without sugar sandwiches or second helpings.
It wasn't till I was about 17 that I began to think about these things. I was put on a diet by my doctor (it would make amusing reading today) but thought I would help things along by lunching on liquorice sticks and drinking a lot of black coffee. It seemed a rather arty sort of thing to do!
I did lose some weight, but have spent the rest of my life trying to be very careful. Sometimes things go awry, such as when I somehow hit 14 1/2 stone in 2001.
The trouble is I have this fantasy, that if I'm very careful for a whole day, I will wake up the next morning with all the weight dropped off.
Now, where's that glass of wine?
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Today
I've just got back from taking my cat Abby to the vet for her flea treatment. In order to get her there I have to plan a little campaign, Firstly she has to be lured indoors the night before. Then, while she eats her supper, I block up the catflap and put out cat litter. She is then confined to the utility room for the night.
Excursions to the kitchen during the night or next morning have to be carefully managed or she'll dart out and scarper, not to be seen for 2 days.
This isn't always successful and we have more than once had to cancel appointments with the vet or cattery because she's simply hidden herself somewhere.
Putting out the cat litter is more of a precaution than anything else, since she hates using a tray and by the time morning comes is holding it all in! No wonder she looks cross. Then I have to pop her in the basket and I'm all set. She's been having the flea treatment all her life so has no idea what it feels like to be eaten alive by fleas. Otherwise she'd be more grateful.
In My Day
I had my first proper cat when I was at art school. I think my flatmate actually thought of the idea but then couldn't cope with the house training and had made no provision for weekends and holidays. So Ariadne became mine by default.
She was a little stubby tabby with bight eyes and placid temperament. Because of my flatmate's attitude, when I went home for the weekend, Ariadne came with me. This involved a journey by train and bus. She became very relaxed about journeys in the cat basket. At holiday times, I had to manage suitcase, sewing machine, sewing box (I was a costume design student) and Ariadne at Worthing stations, sometimes changing at Brighton, and getting the bus at East Croydon.
On one occasion my half-brother invited me to spend a week with him and his family in a chalet at Blue Anchor Bay in Somerset. I enquired of British Rail about tickets for a cat. Learning that I would have to pay half fare if she travelled in the compartment and unwilling simply to leave her in the luggage van, I bought a ticket for me and hoped for the best.
I got on the train at Paddington. In 1970, the train took 4 hours to get to Taunton, then you changed to the local line (later closed and then reopened as the preserved West Somerset railway). I climbed into my compartment - there was only one spare seat. I took Ariadne out of her basket (which I then put in the luggage rack) and sat her on my lap. The ticket man came round "Got a ticket for that cat?" he said. I looked suitably blank and he probably decided he hadn't got time for the paperwork, because he said no more.
At one time I had visit the loo. I put Ariadne down on my seat and went off. When I got back she was still there, calmly keeping my seat warm. And not a single person in the compartment said a word. The journey home was a repeat.
Anyway, Ariadne had a lovely time at Blue Anchor Bay, hunting under the chalet (which was a stilts on the beach).
I'd like to teach Abby to travel to Brighton with us.
I've just got back from taking my cat Abby to the vet for her flea treatment. In order to get her there I have to plan a little campaign, Firstly she has to be lured indoors the night before. Then, while she eats her supper, I block up the catflap and put out cat litter. She is then confined to the utility room for the night.
Excursions to the kitchen during the night or next morning have to be carefully managed or she'll dart out and scarper, not to be seen for 2 days.
This isn't always successful and we have more than once had to cancel appointments with the vet or cattery because she's simply hidden herself somewhere.
Putting out the cat litter is more of a precaution than anything else, since she hates using a tray and by the time morning comes is holding it all in! No wonder she looks cross. Then I have to pop her in the basket and I'm all set. She's been having the flea treatment all her life so has no idea what it feels like to be eaten alive by fleas. Otherwise she'd be more grateful.
In My Day
I had my first proper cat when I was at art school. I think my flatmate actually thought of the idea but then couldn't cope with the house training and had made no provision for weekends and holidays. So Ariadne became mine by default.
She was a little stubby tabby with bight eyes and placid temperament. Because of my flatmate's attitude, when I went home for the weekend, Ariadne came with me. This involved a journey by train and bus. She became very relaxed about journeys in the cat basket. At holiday times, I had to manage suitcase, sewing machine, sewing box (I was a costume design student) and Ariadne at Worthing stations, sometimes changing at Brighton, and getting the bus at East Croydon.
On one occasion my half-brother invited me to spend a week with him and his family in a chalet at Blue Anchor Bay in Somerset. I enquired of British Rail about tickets for a cat. Learning that I would have to pay half fare if she travelled in the compartment and unwilling simply to leave her in the luggage van, I bought a ticket for me and hoped for the best.
I got on the train at Paddington. In 1970, the train took 4 hours to get to Taunton, then you changed to the local line (later closed and then reopened as the preserved West Somerset railway). I climbed into my compartment - there was only one spare seat. I took Ariadne out of her basket (which I then put in the luggage rack) and sat her on my lap. The ticket man came round "Got a ticket for that cat?" he said. I looked suitably blank and he probably decided he hadn't got time for the paperwork, because he said no more.
At one time I had visit the loo. I put Ariadne down on my seat and went off. When I got back she was still there, calmly keeping my seat warm. And not a single person in the compartment said a word. The journey home was a repeat.
Anyway, Ariadne had a lovely time at Blue Anchor Bay, hunting under the chalet (which was a stilts on the beach).
I'd like to teach Abby to travel to Brighton with us.
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