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 |  Empty or full, shiny or a little in need of washing and sometimes just cracked! |
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I heard about these blogs and wondered why people would want to air their dirty laundry online. But I feel safe on this site so maybe it's worth a try. We'll see. This blog is complete. Please find my new blog from the link below...
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| I returned from a day out with my friend Big Pam yesterday evening. Of course we'd shared a few wines and had a few giggles. The outing was in order to find a suitable red hat to wear at Ascot later this month. How can it be June already? But I digress. The hat mission was unsuccessful - not one shop could offer a red hat at a reasonable price which looked nice or felt comfortable. I'm not paying the earth for something I'll probably only ever wear once. But of course the wine had mellowed my mood and on return I decided to have just one more while I checked out WDC. I mentioned to my son the lack of hat for Ascot and he suggested looking on e-bay. So I spent half an hour on there perusing hats and eventually found one I thought suitable at a fifth of the price of those in our shops. Clever lad my son - what will I do without him?  But I digress.I poured one more glass of wine and signed in to WDC. I looked at the blog list to see who'd been blogging and received quite a shock. Guess who was at the top of the blog list? You can't? Okay, give in? MOI! Now, unless I'd drunk more than I realised or lost my memory I didn't remember making a blog entry in that half an hour I'd spent at the computer. I clicked on the link and read the blog entry, which was so untypically me I was reassured I hadn't written it, but then who had pinched my blog and written a false entry in it? I stared again - my name was still at the top of the list but now I noticed I seemed to have been demoted to a black case. What crime had I commited while I was out shopping? Had a moderator read my blog, decided I drink too much wine and punished me? Slowly, the cogs started to grind and the penny finally clanked into place - IT WASN'T ME! I checked out the writer's portfolio and sure enough there is another SCARLETT on the site and she's just started a blog. Now forgive me if this sounds petty or unreasonable but I strongly object to this. I can't remember how many sites I've joined and had to think up new handles because the ones I select have already been taken. Surely, this HAS to apply to this site too? The user name may be different but the handle is exactly the same as mine. And it seems this second Scarlett has been a member of WDC since March 2004. I think I have to complain to someone and get something done about this. What if this writer gets promoted? How confusing to see two yellow-cased Scarletts on the blog list. (Perish the thought I hear you mutter lol) This surely can't be right and proper? What if it happens to others? Imagine a writing site with three Tors, five Nadas or ten CCs.  I don't know if any moderator would be prepared to take this matter up for me or not, or whether others think it acceptable for two writers on the site to have the same handle. BUT I DO NOT! I WANNA BE THE ONE AND ONLY SCARLETT. And seeing as I was here first I think I deserve to retain the handle. No malice intended towards the other one but I think she should be politely asked to alter her name in some way. What do you think? No rude answers please.  Until I am assured my title belongs only to moi I shall sulk and grump and cwy and whine. Oh please don't mention wine - I'm NEVER drinking it again.  |
| The grumpy old woman is back. 'Back' being the appropriate word. Woke up at five this morning and thought I'd have to be crane lifted from my bed. As well as the rotary cuff injury I've developed a mystery muscle spasm in my lower back. I had to get up at six and have spent the day like a geriatric Quasimodo. Not very conducive to making preparations for a holiday on Saturday. I've been to the doctors and now have more medication to pack than clothes and less money to change into Euros due to the cost of prescriptions. Our hospitals should be like five-star hotels the amount we're charged for a tiny pack of pills. But you know how I hate grumping.  But I must just make a complaint about the weather. I'm reading blogs every day about glorious sunshine, high temperatures, outdoor activities and people even complaining how hot it is. Well, believe me, I can't remember the last time I even saw the sun. Day after day of rain, followed by grey skies and cold winds. This must be the worst May on record. And you know what? Come Saturday there'll be a heatwave. I know this because I'm going out the country seeking sunshine, so it's bound to arrive here. Okay, so that's enough grumping. But I must just say how absolutely sick I am of this country's obsession with football. (soccer to you) For weeks now, the World Cup fever has been brewing. Flags fly from cars, windows, pubs and more and more television and radio is devoted to England's team, statistics, fixtures and colour of underwear. Living with two men, it's hard to escape and the prospect of a month of wall to wall football matches makes me want to emigrate. But it's time to stop grumping. But I must add it's very annoying to think the glasses of wine I'm taking for medicinal purposes are so calorie packed they'll probably add ten pounds to my weight by morning. When you use a treadmill and know exactly how much effort it takes to burn up one single calorie, these sort of things play on your mind. But frankly my dears, tonight I don't give a damn. |
The morning was clear and bright so after walking into the city we decided to take a boat trip from Liverpool docks.   All together now - you all know the words - sing up - 'So, ferry 'cross the Mersey...' After lunch we boarded a vehicle from the sixties, renovated and restored for the sole purpose of visiting Liverpool's famous Beatle's landmarks.  Les, the driver and Eddie, the tour guide were very amusing and entertaining. Originating from the same era as myself and The Beatles, these two Liverpudlians (natives of Liverpool) had attended the same schools as members of the group and are still in close contact with family members of The Beatles. They certainly knew their stuff and relayed some very interesting and funny anecdotes. First stop was the inspiration for a famous Beatles song 'Penny Lane.' The barber's shop, bank, fire station and bus shelter mentioned in the song are all still standing.  Next stop was another famous landmark - Strawberry Fields. I forgot to take my specs off.   Strawberry Fields was actually an orphanage until last year and the earliest memory John Lennon had was seeing it from his bedroom window as a child. I forgot to take my specs off (vain sod) but as the song goes - 'Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see...' We visited many other places connected with The Beatles but the photo I took of George Harrison's childhood home didn't take and we didn't get off the coach to see Ringo's old home as it's boarded up awaiting demolition. No doubt it will be bought and restored for posterity, just as the childhood homes of John Lennon and Paul McCartney have been. Both are privately owned and open for public viewing by appointment. They are decorated and furnished inside just as they were in the days the band wrote and practiced their early music as young teenagers.  Hard for me to believe it's over forty years since I had my photograph taken outside John Lennon's home. I can confirm it hasn't altered in any way since then. Shame the same can't be said for me. lol  Paul McCartney's childhood home, restored to its former glory. He still visits it from time to time and also helps teach young musicians at Liverpool's music acadamy. He wasn't in when we visited though.  So, here endeth Scarlett's trip to Liverpool; something I thoroughly enjoyed and hope to do again some time. I leave you with a conversation the guide told us about between Paul McCartney and Queen Elizabeth a few years ago. Her Majesty - 'I've still got some records by The Beatles.' McCartney - 'That's great. I still have some by Queen.'  |
| It was three in the morning. The parents and more mature members of the group had collapsed into bed after a night on the town, praying all their hangovers would be little ones. The last act had left the stage at The Cavern several hours ago and the group 'For This Day,' along with the younger, hardier fans had moved on to sample the bars and nightclubs of the area. Scarlett was pleased to hear she'd missed her son and friend attempting to sing 'Daydream Believer' at a nearby Karaoke bar. During the walk to a nightclub Craig, the group's keyboard player/ vocalist, ex-pupil of Scarlett and best buddy of her son found himself seperated from the rest of the youngsters. Unable to remember where they were heading or the name of the hotel he was staying at, he placed himself at the mercy of a local businessman, who kindly offered to take him back to the hotel he was staying at and order him a taxi. After reaching the posh hotel, the gentleman told Craig to sit in the lobby and watch television while he waited for the taxi. Craig did as he was asked, then promptly fell asleep. An hour later he was woken by a member of staff and informed his taxi had arrived. Still very sleepy and inebriated Craig tried to decribe the hotel he was staying at to the taxi driver. Not very successfully by all accounts. After a tour of several Liverpool hotels the driver threatened to drop him at the docks and make him swim the river and find his own way back to Nottingham. Great sense of humour these Liverpudlians. Eventually, the right hotel was located and the driver kindly charged Craig the minimum fee. Completely forgetting he needed his room card to access entry into the hotel, Craig discovered the doors were locked. After knocking up a member of staff, he finally staggered into the hotel around five in the morning. Opening the door of his room he discovered his roommate (my son) asleep, fully dressed on top of the bed, a Kit-Kat in one hand and a can of beer in the other. Obviously very concerned about the welfare of his best mate - not. By some miracle, we all managed breakfast on time and although a little more subdued than the previous evening, managed a few laughs before setting off to further explore the city of Liverpool. More about that next time; bet you can't wait can you?  My son Paul, Craig and friends enjoying the sunshine in the centre of Liverpool.  The majestic old Liver Building, famous for its mythical 'Liverbirds' topping the towers. One looking out to sea for sailors, the other looking over the city for bars. |
| It was a dry yet fairly chilly evening. A crowd of fans and the rock group 'For This Day' had earlier travelled from Nottinghamshire to Liverpool in various vehicles. The afternoon had been spent exploring the city and the shops. Early evening saw the group in the bar of a very pleasant hotel, just a few streets from The Cavern club. The gang then enjoyed a good meal and several bottles of wine at local bars. Around eight o' clock they descended into the depths of The Cavern and sampled more wine before watching with pride as our musicians performed on the famous stage. They were excellent and well received. A few glasses of wine later, during the performance of a rather heavy rock group, Scarlett's hubby announced in his usual charming romantic tone "I'm not standing here, listening to this crap," and left the room. Scarlett was left alone but fairly happy to gaze at the young, rather striking musicians gyrating on the stage pictured below. However, the wine glass and energy level were soon rapidly depleting, so she thought it best to go in search of hubby and son. The Cavern is four flights of stairs below ground and very dimly lit. The smaller stage is in a seperate room which was by then very crowded. After attempting to focus, Scarlett decided everyone looked pretty much the same in the dark, except some of the people closest to her seemed to have several sets of eyes. There appeared to be no sign of hubby or the rest of the gang so she carefully climbed the four sets of stairs to get a breath of fresh air outside The Cavern. It was of course dark outside too by this time and that fresh air hit her a bit like a brick. There was no one outside she knew, but she had the feeling if she attempted to descend those stairs again, she may end up with more than just a rotary cuff injury. The sensible thing to do seemed to be to return to the hotel. Scarlett can confirm the streets of England's cities are nowhere near as dangerous as the media would have us believe, as she explored many of them before locating the hotel. It was then she realised her card to open door 431 was actually inside room 431, so had to persuade a member of hotel staff to provide her with another. Suddenly, the bed looked extremely inviting and it was only when her mobile phone rang to the tune of Robbie William's 'When you can't wake up in the morning,' she remembered she still hadn't discovered where hubby had gone to. Seems he was in that other room at The Cavern after all and proceeded to wax lyrical about how worried he'd been. She doesn't remember much after that, but for some reason her head felt a little sore the next morning. Otherwise, no one was harmed during the evening or the aftermath. And if you think that's bad, wait until you hear what happened to the young man on the left in the photo of the group later that evening. I obviously passed on all my most endearing qualities to him during the time I taught him many years ago.     |
| The good news is - We had two days of sunshine in Liverpool. The bad news is - It's not stopped raining since we returned. The good news is - We had a great time and many a laugh over several calamaties I may relate in other entries. The bad news is- Since we returned there hasn't been much to laugh about. The good news is - I took some great photographs I'd love to share. The bad news is - My portfolio is almost full. Yes, I know I could delete a lot of those old images, but somehow I rather like having the photos etc in my blog and would feel bad with all those 'not an image' messages displayed. Maybe it's time to upgrade? The good news is - Apart from the inevitable hangover on Thursday, I felt fine during the trip. The bad news is - My course of anti-infammatories has finished, but my rotary cuff injury is becoming painful again and I don't want to go on holiday next Saturday with a useless left arm. The good news is - I'm going now as I'm on my fifth observation and it's late as American Idol has only just finished here. Don't know why I bothered watching it anyway as it was a foregone conclusion. The bad news is - I'll probably return some time tomorrow and endeavour to catch up and leave inane comments in your blogs. |
| I woke to the sound of silence this morning and the sky a strange bluish colour with no precipitation falling from it. What a change that made. It's still far from warm and a cold wind doesn't make spending too much time outside a pleasant experience, but it did give me a chance to pot up some of those poor, neglected bedding plants into tubs and baskets. I could almost hear their sighs of relief as I rescued them from their waterlogged containers and rehoused them in fresh, dry compost. Being in the garden made me realise why rain is essential, although I'd like a bit less of it lately. Without the rain, the beautiful specimens in the photos below wouldn't survive or blossom. Life has its difficulties and problems right now and is far from perfect, but some things make me really appreciate being retired from work. The joys of blog reading with breakfast, the opportunity to seize this little patch of dry weather to spend in the garden and the freedom to choose how to spend a spare hour are rewards no wages can match. And whatever we believe life to be, no one can deny the beauty and pleasure of some of the things nature has presented us with. Next time I'm whining or being grumpy, just remind me of this. I probably won't take any notice but… Tomorrow we're going to Liverpool for a couple of days. A friend of my sons is playing in a band at The Cavern, so it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. I used to teach this young man when he was six. Record companies are seriously following them; when they are rich and famous I fully intend to remind him how his old teacher used to make special shopping trips to purchase 'Teddy Robinson' books for him. Oh, and rain is forecast - how quaint. So, while I'm away, I won't be able to write home every day, but be sure Scarlett will be thinking of you as she revisits the home of The Beatles because - SHE WUBS YOU. YEAH, YEAH YEAH.    |
| Now don't go looking at that heading and thinking I've had a brainstorm or am about to reveal some profound and articulate discovery. Surely by now, you know me better than that. It's actually the title of a book I discovered in my bookcase yesterday as I was hunting for some suitable reading material to take to my mum. The weather this weekend has been so bad, it wasn't even fit for her to take the short trip to the library and without a book she's totally lost. This little book was sent to me by an Australian friend some time ago and I'd forgotten it was in my collection. Every page features black and white photographs of animals, some quite hilarious with little philosophies under each picture. It was a joy to read through it again and so true I thought I'd share some of its messages. Well, what else can I do on yet another rainy day? I daren't risk going shopping again for at least another year. lol The book claims life isn't about answers but about questions such as - 1. Why are we so overly impressed by and obsessed with objects and achievements of immense scale, when it is actually the tiny little things that, when put together, make big things possible? 2. Why do we create our own little worlds so we have the illusion of being totally in control of our entire existence, when we know with absolute certainty that we are not? 3. Why do we go on and on about individuality being the very essence of who we are, and then accept a degrading level of conformity in virtually every facet of our lives? 4. Why do we get so hung up on what we don't agree on, when in fact it's our differences that make life interersting? 5. Why is it when passions are inflamed we choose to argue and fight, when dancing the cha-cha is less injurious, far more enjoyable, and equally effective in resolving the tension? I thought these rather thought-provoking and very very true. As for the meaning of life, the book doesn't claim any profound theories, but does conclude, ' The only theme that resonates throughout the numerous, popular life theories is love. Love, in all its fragile forms, is the one powerful, enduring force that brings real meaning to our everyday lives.' Not just the people you love, but figuring out what you love to do and doing it. That way, by doing the things that make your whiskers curl up with delight you will inspire someone else to go after their dreams and go to sleep at night knowing you gave your all and made a difference. I thought this rather appropriate to our little blog world, our place to share our thoughts and dreams, our successes and failures, our joy and sadness, fears and ambitions. And it is a place filled with WUB; not a day goes by without some proof of that. Today I thank Nada   and chalaedra for the lovely merit badges and for anyone who hasn't seen the following two items please check them out. I guarantee you'll WUB them too.
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| I think I mentioned the joy of the unexpected in my last entry. Well, my shopping trip certainly threw up a few unexpected twists and turns, but I wouldn’t exactly call them joyous. Let me take you back to Wednesday. The morning was mild, but I didn’t set off as early as anticipated for various reasons. Still, there was nothing to rush for; I’d a whole day to shop and had arranged with hubby to phone him when I’d finished and he’d fetch me. The plan was we’d peruse some pubs on the way back for suitability for a school reunion I’m organising in July. Mistake one…NEVER make plans. The train was on time; I sauntered through one shopping centre in Nottingham but didn’t see anything I liked except a sun hat. I didn’t want to carry that round with me all day, so made a mental note to return for it later. My next task was to ‘pop’ into a large department store to make an exchange for something my friend had bought last week. Mistake two…NEVER think anything you do in a shop is a five-minute job. I often wonder if anyone goes to work but if they don’t, where do they acquire all the money to buy twenty items at a time? So, I spent a happy half an hour queuing for one small item, but at least it gave me chance to eat my lunch, drink a bottle of water and practice my swear words. I then wandered to the other shopping centre in Nottingham, quite a distance from the first one, but the walk would burn up those calories. As I said, the day was mild, so I thought sandals and no coat appropriate attire for the day and for easily trying on clothes. Mistake three…NEVER assume a day in England will not see at least three changes in weather. After a few errant plops of rain, I hoped it would blow over but a few minutes later the heavens opened and torrential rain set in for the rest of the day. By some miracle, I did actually have an umbrella with me, but that doesn’t prevent wet feet and sliding around on damp sandals. I managed to find some very nice items for my holiday wardrobe in the warmth of the shopping centre, but now have no arms and legs due to the cost of them. Leaving the centre with bags, umbrella etc and trying to have a crafty smoke between shops did pose a few problems however. I thought I’d just have a quick look around my favourite shop before phoning hubby. A rack of mixed clothing caught my eye, but on further perusal there was nothing I fancied, so time to leave and go back for the hat after phoning hubby. Mistake four…NEVER fail to notice what sort of rack you are looking at. This particular one happened to be mobile, with a huge metal bar between the wheels I hadn’t noticed until my ankle hit it. On the positive side I did manage to remain upright this time and practice even more swear words. The rain continued to lash down, so I stood in the shop doorway with my mobile phone, bags, umbrella, throbbing ankle and wet feet. I’d charged my phone up the night before, so it was just a simple matter of phoning home and arranging to meet hubby. Mistake five…NEVER go out without making sure your mobile is in full working order. For some obscure reason my phone refused to connect to any number I tried, so I decided to fetch that hat before trying again. The shop had eight tills and a lot of customers. Only one till was open and the queue snaked half way round the shop. I really liked that hat, but after twenty minutes of standing on the same spot, I decided I didn’t like it enough to risk growing roots and put it back. Tried the mobile phone again but same result. Despite the inconvenience and money, I thought it would be a simple matter of calling hubby from a phone box and that would see an end to my problems. Mistake six…NEVER assume phone boxes will co-operate or men are where they say they’ll be. After depositing bags, umbrella etc on the floor and scrabbling for change, my coins got stuck in the slot and wouldn’t move either way. The second phone box was broken so I scrabbled again for coins in the third. Finally managed to phone home but my son informed me hubby wasn’t at home. “Where the **** is he then?” “He said he’s going to fetch you.” “But he doesn’t know where I am.” “He said to call him on his mobile.” I didn’t realise there were so many swear words in my vocabulary. Scrabbled for more coins and his mobile number. I’m useless at remembering phone numbers. Eventually he answered. “Where are you?” I managed sweetly. “In the Victoria Centre. Where are you?” “Near the Broad Marsh Centre. Where shall I…” Pip Pip Pip…phone ran out of money. Scrabbled for the last of my coins and dialled again. “I haven’t any more coins…tell me where to meet you quick.” “Erm…Erm… In the Victoria Centre near…” Pip Pip Pip. Dead phone and no more coins. So now I had to walk the whole length of Nottingham again in the pouring rain, carrying bags, umbrella, etc with only the knowledge that he was somewhere in the Victoria Centre. Well, it’s only got about five hundred shops and seven car parking levels. All the shops were now closed, so I couldn't buy anything to get more coins for the phone and no chance of asking a passer-by for change as I only had a ten pound note. Exhausted, wet, in pain and starving I reached the Victoria Centre and finally found an open shop where I had to purchase a pair of earrings I don’t need to get some change. Staggered to a call box and phoned hubby’s mobile again. “The number you have dialled has not been recognised.” Moved to the next call box, double checked I was dialling the correct number and got the same message. I didn’t realise so many swear words even existed. Finally phoned son at home, who then phoned hubby on his mobile while I stood feeding coins into the phone box to stay connected. I think I may have spent more on phone calls than clothes. Finally son told him where I was and said to stay there and hubby would find me. It’s some years since I’ve looked forward to seeing my husband so much. Finally we met up and I assumed that would be the end of the disastrous saga. Mistake number seven…NEVER take it for granted men can remember where they’ve parked their car. After walking the whole of the centre again we had to find a security guard to direct us to the level where hubby thought he may have parked. At seven o’ clock we left the city, the rain still pouring down and the idea of looking at various pubs forgotten. We fell into the first one, ordered a meal and emptied a bottle of wine in record time. Hubby repaired my stubborn mobile by opening the back of it and blowing on the Sim card. Good job someone has a technical mind. I apologise for the length of this entry, but the tale has been brewing for a couple of days and at least it got me writing. And as it's pouring with rain yet again, I thought it wise to stay in and not risk any more disasters. But then I can probably get into scrapes even sitting at a computer. By the way, I’m thinking I should maybe change my handle to the name of another famous movie character – Calamity Jane. P.S. Yes, I realise my mistakes go beyond FIVE but as far as mistakes go, I can always go way beyond my favourite number. And for Tor's information I PAID FOR THE MEAL, WINE and PARKING FEES. lol Donations to the Scarlett Survival Fund gratefully accepted. |
| I've had a busy morning preparing sandwiches and snacks as the host of a geriatrics tea party. As I mentioned, my 92 year-old Aunty, accompanied by her son-in-law has been over to see my parents. Realising preparations would be too much for my mum and dad, I volunteered to prepare the food. Anyway, it's done and dusted and I'm now back at home and about to start preparing dinner here. When I retired from teaching I didn't expect to go into the world of catering, but life constantly throws up surprises. On that note I'd like to thank jessiegirl for the lovely c-note and merit badge. This young lady never fails to amaze me with her kindness and thoughfulness to others, despite facing a lot of her own problems. Also a HUGE thank you to the lovely Nada for making my otherwise humdrum day very, very special. She'll understand what I mean. Tomorrow we were supposed to be going for a day at the seaside with some friends, but something has cropped up and they can't make it. After five days of parent caring and visiting, I've decided I'm going to treat myself to a shopping expedition instead. Call me shallow, materialistic, vain, selfish or any other adjective you choose but I'm going to shop until I drop and spend, spend, spend. Just keep everything crossed there are no falls or emergencies while I'm gone. |
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