Knickers to it

Knickers! I dislike clothes shopping at the best of times but shopping for underoos is one of the worst.  

Once upon a few years ago I could go into several high street establishments and peruse their selection, find the multi pack high leg briefs and be spoilt for choice. Spoilt, now there’s a rarity. Nowadays sizes, materials and quality differ vastly from store to store. Steadily the selection dwindled to one high street store, and now that store has closed locally, except it’s food hall. Add the dwindling stores open along our high streets and online sites beckon.

Trouble with online is you cannot handle. My preferred store has an online shop but delivery charges and potential return costs practically matches the cost of the item. On a well known auction site a trader was selling high street store ex-stock so I plumped for a pack. They arrived but they were not my preferred store and the cotton body of the pant stretched more than the waist elastic to such a point the stretched rigid elastic dug into my flesh as I eased them up. To the bin with them! 

I am beginning to think the knicker elastic has been put in the tape measures instead of the garment.

I’ve plumped for another pack, which have the high street store logo printed on the packaging – we shall see.

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February

It began so positively, but best laid plans and best meant intentions so often do.  After waking up I usually lazy and cogitate my plans for the day – up & dress, make coffee & lunch, plant self at desk and tick things off the various to-do lists, shuffle to sofa, fiddle & rest before going to make dinner & cook freezer foods. Simples, right?

So, initially things went as intended, got to desk with coffee and lunch, began back up procedure for computer (not on to-do list but needed), began sorting through piled detritus stuffed through the door over the past few days (not on list).

Phone rings ….. It’s on the sofa, do I wheel across and grab it or leave it, best get it … BFF needed distracting while she walked home from the City (about 1.5miles) while carrying a 4ft6 stuffed swan resplendent in gold crown and punk tutu (the swan, not BFF).  Sandwiches munched and coffee drunk while chatting.

Right, back to it. Source a few photos for new FaceBook album on group I administrate. Hmm, need to crop, tweek and © mark them, but hey it’s a job on the list 👍🏼. Then wheeling self about to get recycling into waste paper basket (not on list). Started business banking log in (ahha, that is on the list) but it’s been so long it errored out on me so had to restart all over again which means waiting for authorisation codes to come in the post (add follow up to list).  Sort through post waiting to be dealt with, add two things to to-do list.

By now I’ve been at the desk just over two hours, which means hips need resting on sofa for a while before I can confidently get up stood ….. this ends today’s productivity time. Successfully ticked off one thing, postponed one thing and added two more. 

Oh and I’ve written a blog (not on the list)

*sigh*

 

When boredom meets taste buds

I has the munchies, despite gorging on my favourite dinner………. So can someone go get, one, some, all the following, that be great….. 

1. Cheese on toast
2. Chocolate biscuits
3. Cornish pasty
4. KFC 
5. Hazelnuts 
6. Walnuts (thank you Kim, for planting that need)
7. Proper mug of tasty coffee
8. BFF’s left overs (she always has sumptuous tasty morsels)
9. Spag Bol
10. Red beans and rice
11. Jambalaya 
12. Roast pork, with veg and gravy
13. Thin crust pizza
14. Mulligatawny soup and rustic dunky bread 
15. Aero minty bubbles

*sigh*

 

January Jaggardness

I don’t like January, it is dark and grey, cold and dank. I don’t leave my dusty hovel, unless there is an absolute cannot be avoided need.  This year it feels like the morbid month began the day after boxing day and still hasn’t progressed past the first week and will drag interminably to its chilled bitter end.  Most January’s I feel like I’m waiting for the sn**, sn**, nope can’t say it, white rain, to fall, settle, freeze, melt, freeze, melt and bugger off.

Today is a typical day, I’ve not even opened the curtains.  Okay, part of that is being lazy, part is because it’s a Sunday and I didn’t begin my attempt at rising until after 12.30 (I was listening to the radio, mostly, but did doze through desert island discs).  By the time I got up-stood, been to the bathroom, then the kitchen to make lunch etc it was gone 1.30 and it would be dark by 3.30/4, hardly worth the muscle strain and ache.

That’s not to say stuff has not gotten done.  I’ve been working on my crochet, occasionally, I’ve grappled with the GDPR requirements on websites (thank you, piggin interfering EU), I’ve reconciled my finances and even remembered to pay the credit card bill.  I’ve got rather successful at playing cards and solved a few puzzles. 

There has been momentary respite, courtesy of my Great Niece and her rendition of ShotGun, Baby Shark, Twinkle Twinkle, Stick, and other pearls of wisdom.  She’s tall for her age and when she trots in wearing her nursery uniform she looks more like five than 3 years 5 months.

My erratic sleep pattern suffers too. I wake feeling more sleepy and weary than when I went to bed. I sit on the sofa feeling too alert to go to bed. If I manage a complete couple of hours unbroken sleep then it’s a rarity. 

Not sure what my next battle plan will be, it’s rather dependant on others and their availability.  Who knows I might even manage to conjure up a white blog or two (steady on).

Tis but the season, and shall pass…..

 

It’s just a Tuesday

I’m not someone who sees the New Year as a fresh beginning, there are those that do and are successful and enthused about the future, their refreshed goals and positive intentions, I wish them well.  New Year traditionally felt like waiting for the clock to strike midnight so I could go to bed.  When I moved out of home it was often the night I was early to bed, sometimes reading a Christmas gift book, or just trying my best to sleep.  Now with portable technology I’m watching something on an app and only the crescendo of fireworks and cacophony of ships horns beyond my window signals the midnight chime, followed later with numerous sirens as the over indulged injure themselves or cause trouble.

This festive season has been intentionally scaled back and quiet because of an off-line family situation that has cast quite the shadow, preoccupying our minds with uncertainty and a side of unknown fear.  Yet it has been pleasant to not be swamped by the stresses of Christmas cheer and so forth.  

While I was googling for an heading image, I was undecided between two, so here’s the other one.

 

Right, let’s shock the fingers and crochet a line or four, maybe conjure up a to-do list of projects for the next month, grapple with organising my usual (not using the word normal, don’t think anything about my world can be described as that).  Happy Tuesday, yes it is only Tuesday.

 

Turn it ….

The blonde senior moments are setting in ……. 

I have night storage heater is in my lounge and bedroom as the primary source of heating. Across the years and through numerous winters I have learnt the techniques of getting the best from this style of heater.  The other day I waddled across the lounge to adjust the settings ready for a cold blast that was due to go through.  As I went to twist the output knob it stopped solid, hmmm, it’s only on number four, I do hope nowt has siezed the works.  I am not very stable when I am on my feet so concluded that maybe it was just a deterioration in my strength and balance which meant this sometimes stiff knob wouldn’t turn. I left it to cogitate awhile. I began to wonder if maybe this 26-year-old heater had finally decided to go on strike and was I looking at trying to replace the whole unit before Christmas and the bad weather.  Oh blimey, trying to find a reputable electrician and supplier, hmmm. 

When I was at my desk comfortably seated in my super duper chair I unlocked the break and wheeled myself to take a good look at the heater knobs and be in a position to use more strength. First of all I applied my eyeballs, and then tutted to myself. There is a little black dot at the end of the bar indicating where it had been turned to, I had been looking at the wrong end, the reason it wouldn’t turn any further is because it was already at full, number 9, and not where I wanted it to be.

Knob turned, heating set, disaster averted.

 

Call My Boobs

I’ve had one of those ‘craft’ moments, my brain was absolutely no help, all it had to do was remember one simple thing.  Settle back and picture the scene…..

I have a distant relationship with my mobile, often it is in the draw needing to be charged to get the code to log into some secure online account or whatever. I might top it up once a year or eighteen months, you see if people need me they call my landline, email or message me via t’internet. I think I’ve just heard the whole teenage generation faint nthe surprise.

An on-going situation requires me to keep the thing handy.  I had made my coffee, shuffled back to the sofa and sat ready to tackle a to-do or two ….. where’s my phone …..

• Is it hiding under the tv magazine …. No
• Is it caught up with my crochet …. No
• Did it slide off the side table …. No
• Did it slip between the cushions …. No
• Has it fallen into the wool bag beside the table …. No
• Did I leave it on my desk …. No
• Did I leave it by the bed or on the pillow …………..

As I was resigning to having to get up and go look I felt something move.

It was in my bra, it had been snuggled in there all warm for the past few hours since I’d got dressed in the morning.