Monday, 31 August 2009


I particularly like the word blog.
And blogger for that matter. Not for any reason you could possibly imagine. To give you a clue - other words I like are slack, bled and flock- see the connection yet?
Thought not....
I'll tell you then. They all have the letter 'L' in them.
Why do I like them?
Because I know that I'll always say them correctly.

You see I have this weird speech thing happened, I periodically and rather randomly put 'L's into words where they just don't belong. Sometimes the 'L' is an addition and sometimes it's a replacement for another letter. Occasionally it's not an 'L', it's another letter of the alphabet. I'll give you a few examples:

'Is L-Eastenders on yet?'
"That was a cross between a burp and a pliccup"
'Now, where are those clarrots... ?'
'I'm watching Blee Blee Cee Two...'
Look! It's a big blue-blottle!'
'I'm turning into a bloony! ... I mean loony.'
'I'll change the mirror flame'
'I can't see the big brutton, blutton, I mean button'

Get the picture?

Now I haven't had this affliction all my life, in fact it's quite recent really; I'd say just for a couple of years. It seems to amuse Paul rather more than I personally think it's funny and he's taken to writing my little 'blurpings' on scraps of paper, which now litter the house.
More recently he's been emailing my 'blurpings' to his kids, who also find them amusing. LIke father, like.... I suppose.
Blimey, does that make me a 'laughing stock'.
No I didn't say 'laughing slock' - I can write you know.

But that's not all. You'd think an 'L' impediment would be enough to burden some poor soul with, but no, sometimes I just get in a ridiculous muddle and say, well nonsensical things. You know the kind of thing.....
'Because some idiot did something idiotish'
'Don't do that... not that you did do anything, but if you did, don't...'
'Did I tell you I spoke to Kevin. That's not a question.'
'That's not even boring or funny.'

These next two need a little explanation or you may think me completely incoherent...
So, as described by Paul in email to his kids.....

Because she (that's me) so did NOT want to watch the hobbling scene from Misery, and because she has just watched the ceramic penguin scene from Misery, and then she reached for the remote so quickly when the hobbling scene came on that the remote was sent crashing to the floor.......
"Can you PICK UP MY PENGUIN... NOW! ... Aaaargh! ... Eeek!"

Discussing her (he's talking about me again) choice of a slightly smaller size of trouser, in response to my comment that I had been scared to take her out on a windy day in the other ones lest she got whipped to death by the excess fabric....
"I might billow like a klite."

Come to think of it, I quite often feel like I might billow like a klite.

Friday, 28 August 2009

The other night.....

...we went to a little folk music venue called Green Note to see a great singer called Jonathan Jeremiah, and we almost didn't hang around for this....

I was shooting stills and just decided to switch to video for the last number. Glad I did. What a beautiful voice.

Paul recorded the whole show.
Her name? Madelaine Hart

Tuesday, 25 August 2009

Definition of a Hangover

Overheard at Liz's house last week, whose son had just celebrated his 19th with a rather alcoholic party.

LIZ: I bet there'll be a few hangovers here this morning.
ELLIE (11 year old daughter) What's a hangover?
LIZ: It's when people may be feeling rather delicate with a headache, when they've drunk too much alcohol.
ELLIE: Oh, I thought it was that bit that hung over the top of your jeans

Guilty Pleasures

Just ask anyone. Well anyone who knows me. I love animals, especially baby animals. Puppies and kittens, rabbits and piglets, crocs and hyenas –all of them. As a child, I brought home injured birds, orphaned hedgehogs and all the stray dogs in the neighbourhood, and most likely several that weren’t.

My poor dad was constantly summoned to attend my sick ‘patients’ in my makeshift animal hospital in the garage. After all he WAS a doctor, so he could make them all better. Well, being an anaesthetist he actually turned out to be more proficient at killing them. And I don’t use the word lightly – at seven years old I watched him drown a helpless, mortally wounded baby bird, fallen from the nest. Of course in his wisdom he knew the poor creature had no chance of survival, faced a miserable death and he just wanted to put it out of it’s misery. But I watched in absolute horror, beating him on his shoulders crying ‘Murderer, you’re a murderer’.

All grown up now, I understand. My beloved Dad it turns out, put many of my little ‘patients’ out of their misery, but in the dead of night whilst I slept and dreamed. I could accept their deaths if I found them peacefully in heaven the next morning.

So my guilty pleasure, which I have somewhat digressed from in my meander down memory lane.
I still love animals, especially baby animals. I love to watch them play, pick them up, squeeze them, cuddle them. Gorgeous white fluffy lambs with little pink noses, cute wrinkled piglets with curly tails. Oh and those absolutely adorable baby goats.

I love them all. But more than I love them - I love, just love to EAT them.

I know you hate me now.

Sunday, 16 August 2009

The Rain in Spain

I have spent this week under fabulously blue and sunny Spanish skies, in an ancient citadel on top of a mountain, photographing the very very best rock and roll band on the entire planet – which is one of my very favourite things to do when I am not helping our customers to ’beat the bugs’.