no scrapping to be seen

After many weeks of apportioning blame and flinging accusations of idleness at each other, we have finally gotten around to decorating Oliver's room.

The red is the current colour, we have had to paint the walls with 2 coats of fungicide, scrape and sand the rough bits and then do 2 coats of PVA. Now it can be painted. I really do feel as if I know this room like the back of my hand.

I have another pigeon refugee - this is Chloe, Rogers sibling. Chloe can actually feed and water herself, but their mother hasn't returned from her training flight from Exmouth, so Chloe needs caring for until she is a bit bigger. She spends her day coiled like a spring in her box, waiting for me to put my hand in so she can peck me and give me a severe flapping. Nice. Mark thinks Roger has some pigeon disease (ends in -osis) which affects his nerves and could go on for many weeks. We nearly got Tom (pigeon buddy) around yesterday to wring his neck, but I had the final say on the death sentence and I wimped out. He is definately not on top of things - he falls over alot and looks pretty pathetic but it is the patheticness which makes him so loveable. If I thought he was in pain, I would get him done over straightaway, so hold your barrage of abuse you animal lovers out there...

And finally.... Oliver has just come in with this bunny in his 3D glasses, speaking like Michael Caine and saying 'well, the encyclopedia book was invented in 1977...' which made me fall about laughing. What goes through their little minds.....

Roger and ramblings

Meet Roger:


Mark brought this scrawny little babe in from the Pigeon loft Tuesday morning with a torn underwing. He made me feel very motherly, so I have hand-fed and watered him, and called him Roger. He repays my kindness by chirping endlessly through all the good bits on telly and shitting on my carpet.

My sis-in law came around yesterday for a cup of tea and a go at me for not blogging more often. In fact, I do believe that if I had blogged lately, she wouldn't have bothered to pay me a visit at all ha ha. Here's the thing: I love the whole concept of blogging, and I love a bit of blog-hopping as much as the next cyber-gal, but it does kind of kill the art of spontaneous conversation as you end up repeating yourself and not even managing to be as interesting as your own cyber-self. . . .

My friend informs me that there are plans afoot to add a lift to Haytor to enable access to disabled people. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!) She is convinced this is true, and is (pretty justifiably I think) outraged at this. Whilst I fully appreciate the need to make 'life' as reasonably accessible as possible to the disabled population, does this type of thing qualify as 'reasonable' access? Methinks not - since Haytor is a geographical monument which has been there for millions(?) of years and therefore cannot be likened to adding a slope to the local greengrocers for disabled entry!!

I think this country is heading towards mindless positive discrimination. Worse, in my mind than your common or garden discrimination, since there is a big helping of hypocrisy in there too.

During her ranting and raving, my friend, who shall remain nameless to protect anonymity, said - and I quote - 'why don't disabled people just realise that life has handed them the shitty end of the stick and just get on with it.' Whilst I saw where that fitted in to her argument, I couldn't help staring at her in open-mouthed astonishment that she'd said it out loud. So callous.

Well, that will do for now. Better try and pull a decent meal out of the ether for Mark tonight, since last night I handed him a tin of beans and a bag of frozen chips before buggering off to work all night. Tsk tsk. I fear I am failing in my wifely duties.

Finished my layout for the Indigo Mill challenge:

The challenge is to create a layout based around a conversation. This is a conversation Oliver and I have on an almost daily basis:

O: Love you.

M: Love you too.

O: Love you more.

M: No, you don't.

O: I do! I really do!

anyway, I wanted to record this particular conversation as he really believes it - he truly believes his love for me is the greatest love ever, and far surpasses mine for him. I just smile away, because I have the trump card - I am his mother, and in time, when he has children of his own (hopefully) he will feel what I feel and know I was right all along - I love him more! HA! I win.

Off to the cinema this morning, working this afternoon and out for a nosh up for nephew Jack's 18th tonight. Phew.

good giveaways

Well I gave in over the cobwebby corners and hoovered looking up. Thinking of rebelling by not bothering to hoover looking down for a few weeks...

I have nearly finished a layout for a challenge, so nothing to post there. Have been a-blog-hopping and seen two lovely bits of blog candy, this on Jacque's joie de vivre blog:

and this on Pinkpuds blog:

Bugger all chance of winning it, what with hundreds of hopefuls, but think my chances are slightly increased by actually entering, so have done so.

Et voila

The much blogged about Christmas Journal 2009. This is it shown closed by the way - too big for it's own bookrings if you ask me....

Have completed this layout for a challenge over on the Kaboodle blog - I am quite pleased with it although it's been photographed in a not great light:

Mark is getting on my WICK tonight and keeps on pointing out cobwebs around the house that I've neglected to hoover up. Bloody hell, who hoovers looking up? Bad enough hoovering looking down I reckon. Like I say, Miss Haversham's wedding breakfast.

Have watched 3 full series of House now. Reduced to re-watching from series 1, since my supplier has not yet supplied series 4. Oh how tragic is my life....

Another obsession

Would love to say I have been doing some dissertation or other like other brainy people and therefore have been waaayyyy too busy to blog, but - no. I have actually been indulging in my latest obsession - House. That would be the American medical drama starring Hugh Laurie. I have, sadly, predictably, fallen in love with the character - rough looking, maverick, dry, all the qualities I find attractive in a man (?!)

My Christmas journal is finished, all bar the shouting. I have no idea what that expression means. It is huge - the 2.5" bookrings cannot take the strain and I am on the lookout for some giant ones. I have recovered my urge to scrapbook (albeit slightly) and done this layout:

It is the 3rd week of the Scrap Weekly, scrap a 'bad' photo (out of focus etc, but one you always wanted to scrap sort of thing). I did do week 2, but am really not happy with it and now it sits gathering dust along with everything else in the house. A bit like Miss Haversham's wedding breakfast in this place.

Had another dream about Vernon Kay trying to tempt me away from my marriage. Give it up Vern, my heart now belongs to Hugh.

Oh the irony

Having left it til the twelfth night to take down the deccies, whilst doing so on Wednesday, snow was falling heavily outside..... just couldn't manage it a week or two earlier huh? Well, snow has wrought it's usual havoc on the UK with everything grinding to an immediate halt as soon as the first flakes started to fall.

On a scrappy note, I have to say that for the first time since I started scrapbooking, I feel like there's suddenly no point to it. My view on scrapping has been to try to capture a memories and thoughts in an attractive and creative way. This then provides me with an arty outlet and a nice hobby. Lovely. But, this week, Shimelle has started her new annual class - Document 2010. This goes along the lines of collecting together 'stuff' throughout the month of your day to day life, events, happenings and taking photos. At the end of the month you then sift through all the memorabilla and pics and scrap what you want to keep.

All well and good, but then I got to thinking: actually, Oliver is not remotely interested in the albums I have produced documenting his every waking moment. I reckon he would be more interested in envelopes full of 'stuff' and pics each month to look through in years to come. Therefore, I could keep 'stuff', take pics, put them into envelopes, bind each year into a folder of 12 envelopes for the next 10 years thereby saving myself a heap of time and money. I could bung in letters, all manner of scribbled notes and thoughts and voila. A full and comprehensive history of his life taking almost no extra time, effort or cash.

Boy I feel pretty flat now I've thought it out like that.