K*ndle Surprise

So yes I have a K*ndle,I admit it but I am not addicted, I can give it up any time.........the RP decided I am an "early adopter" a geek term it seems that implies I am impulse driven [blame my potty training] and want everything NOW.
Of course it is also a useful excuse to blame me when he gets diverted by a new gadget.
When we were in the States last we saw them in the book cathedrals [obviously everything is bigger there]I poked them excitedly and declared instant lust, but to some extent the staff weren't really au fait with their ingenious machine and really just kept it chained up to tempt customers.
However Am*zon started advertising recently that one could purchase a machine from the comfort of one's own computer. so he ordered one for my birthday.
It arrived via air-mail two days later.
No doubt a S*ny version from a warehouse down the road would have taken at least a week, or maybe a month. { I stupidly ordered a 2nd hand book thru Amazon 2 weeks ago and it still isn't here].
Anyway the K*ndle is lovely, it should ensure that the house doesn't collapse with the weight of the book shelves, I can read in bed without squashing my chest, and I only occasionally get so excited by a plot that I reach out to turn a page instead of push a button.
I rarely bath these days, the hot water tank is disappointing, I stick to listening to the radio when I am showering each morning.
So all good.
Not quite, given that it is a Yankee toy, it plays to Yankee rules, these include only offering dead authors for more or less nothing, or crap authors for a bit more. I have downloaded and read the new Michael Connelly and some others but most new books have still not crossed the copyright ocean.
Thus i ordered a Xmas supply between hard and soft covers this morning - from Amazon!
I think I would always read printed books, but for cheapness,speed of delivery [about 30 seconds for a complete book] holidays, reading in pubs and cafes while RP does his crossword, I will enjoy the neat little K*ndle.

a fairy story

Sometimes in the murk of a dirty winter a bright light shines forth, or perhaps from evil cometh grace, or..............
anyway this couple owned a haberdashers in town. [It was actually more just a fabric shop but I like the word] the shop was OK, very bright and filled with shiny materials and cross stitch and fun fur, the usual stuff.
Mrs Shop is/looks like a large, rough skinned, matriarchal Romany, arms folded across her bosom and somewhat accusing eyes. Sometimes I bought something, not often I am a threads girl on recycled tat usually.
However the world turns, as it does - relentlessly, and paying no attention to us tiny persons clinging to our life stories- and Mr Shop took the money and upped off with another. We spit on his story, which may have a different bias from his point of view, but we work with what we have got.
Mrs Shop doubtless uttered curses of occult vengeance, gathered up her stock and retrenched at home, which reveals itself as an attractive Victorian farm workers cottage in the next village.
Last week I was invited into her ancient and rickety shed in the back garden where the stock piles, quietly glittering. She has had several sales in village halls which I had dismissed in my ignorance thinking they would be the usual rip off.
However to move the stock on [before it rots] and provide a tax free income she is now selling to all comers for £5 a bolt, regardless of how much fabric is wrapped there on, plus listening to her story and that of her four strapping sons and her daughter in law's fathers gout, etc.
Obviously I turned into a manic magpie and Needed as much Shiny as i could fly out of the door - and had to be tied down, notwithstanding the above comment that I rarely buy new fabric.
I now have a magical corner in my smaller room and enough glittering fabric to clothe a regiment of fairies and the occasional elf.
At least it will warm me through the winter just by its glow.

temptress

my machine but how does it work!!

deflated

It is hard, in this grey, wet and stormy weather to keep one's pecker vertical. It is even so mild that I can't convince myself that a roaring fire would be a good idea, so no glow from the grate, just wind in the chimney.
I did manage to get the car MOTd, always a stretch as I hate turning up and looking useless, but where cars are concerned it is who I am, pointless trying to put on a show of confidence as i would be disdainfully rumbled in two ticks and the garage men are already arrogant enough.
Actually i have found that the service centre is bearable for my little Cleopatra as it has counter staff that distance me from the oily rag macho men, there is a very emollient guy called Paul who even phones up afterwards to make sure all met my expectations. As my expectations mainly wallow in humiliations I am usually ecstatic, especially as they washed the car too this time.
However Paul was busy soothing another woman when I came to claim my prize, so I muttered [safe in the knowledge that I was nearly through the torture] and a young female decided to deal with me. I was a receptionist/typist/dogsbody once and I swear I wasn't as snooty as so many who serve behind counters these days. Fight or flight led me to give her my card, grab the keys and run.
Only when I got home did I see that the numbers beside my tyre depth measurements look somewhat reduced. Is a 2 bad? I fear it may be, I can only hope young Paul can spare me the time to check on my well being so I can enquire.

harvest

Life is difficult and emotional at the moment trying to support poor daughter thru her problems, so it is good that there is still some colour to cheer in the garden.


A colour for every emotion
We have dried some in a low temp oven,which we will store in a jar for a years supply and will experiment freezing some others. Apparently it says on the Interweb we have to line them up, not touching till they freeze separately, then we can wrap them and keep them in there for future use.
Trouble is the freezer is already full of odds and sods and many packs of gooseberries, harvested earlier this year.
When ma used to come to Sunday dinner each week we would extract one and have as dessert with some ice cream. Neither ma of myself are capable of making cakes, or .........trifles.
However ma has now decided that her occasional irritable bowel means she will restrain herself to a Royal Visit on Sunday afternoon, where I shall pay court and listen repeatedly to repetitions until she decided it is getting dark so she better toddle off.
The portability of stitching comes in very useful at these time, needlework has saved many a female's sanity under such pressure to look as if one is listening.
Thus we are robbed of the opportunity to have a nice roast and a pudding, sometimes the former, but the latter seems extraneous when there are only two of us.
Thus excessive gooseberries clogging up the system. Maybe a Gooseberry party is the answer............or for breakfast, that might be an idea.

head start

Went to see Felting Needle at her Xmas Village fair, first festive outing of the season.
The village hall was warm and jolly, just as it should be - as opposed to the miserable soulless lights that have been strung across the town streets since October, cheering no-one, except maybe the very young and the very old. Certainly not the medium-old like me.
Felting Needle has wonderfully made me a hat inspired by Lorina Bulwer and Elizabeth Parker and even Agnes and her jacket [Embroderers blog] which I hope to embroider with a few words
or perhaps something more chirpy

away days

Birthday by the sea, excellent weather, food, company. Much walkies. Almost worth being a year older.

Even Hattie the dog went on a go slow after several hikes, walking along the coast, thru the gorse, across the golf course to Southwold and back; birthday money burning a hole in my pocket exploring the posh clothes shops. Finally all I bought was a stripey Tshirt, but it was a posh one - reversible and organic cotton.

If the ferry had been running it would have shortened the mileage; the notice would usually have covered their lazy arses, being November - obviously they didn't expect the sun to be shining quite so brightly, and such a lovely few days.
Quite posh meals, tho mein hostess was a little confusing, one of those toffs that are all over you in a smarmy manner, but simultaneously seem to be disdaining any contact.
First night I had delicious rabbit and bacon casserole [sorry bunnies], next night was baked cod and then faggots on parsnip mash. The latter more working class fare was partaken at another hostelry after bonfire and fireworks, very jolly.
I did only have one almost full English breakfast, but the scrambled eggs on other days were Elizabeth David, so the lbs have piled on and will take till just before the next holiday to shift.
Now this was the strangest thing, the RP who notices very little outside his own head or something attached to a plug............. or roots.......................called me into the loo to witness one of those miraculous occurrences randomly formed with a spare bit of thread, presumably as a reminder from Hattie.

Holloween blues

Halloween is taken more seriously in America. Personally we just turned off the lights and hid under the table until the burble of little children had passed us by.



If imperious daughter had appeared i reckon they would have disappeared even more quickly.
She is hoping to get onto a fashion design course, I say her strengths would be exotic corsets and trousers, she says pretty dresses. Isn't it strange how one's offspring can't see sense when you wave it at them. Possibly just as well we live apart.
I could feel quite distraught at missing so much, fortunately I am enjoying what I am doing........if only they were next door.
Then of course the devil points out the kingdom of temptation ........daughter phoned with news that the house next door but one to them was for sale, for a very credit crunch price........we+they could buy it, rent it out to pay the mortgage, stay in it when we visited!! Soooooo tempting, five minutes thought piles up all the reasons why not........so frustrating.

books & boats

I am watching the film "the Boat that Rocked" on Sky Box Office, it is ghastly.
I hate it, but I have paid £3.99, so I am forced to let it burble on - so naffly, at least the music is soul stirring.
When we were young.............so young...........at College we used to have the pirate ships on all day, and possibly all night. I nearly failed my finals because I was incapable of turning Radio Caroline/Radio London off.
Keith Skeuse is still on Radio Norfolk...........................old DJs never die, some are unlucky and turn into Tony Blackburn, but most like John Peel linger in the ether, he lived near here....old DJs return to the roots - to marinate.........
Fortunately my run of good books continues.
Robert Crais - Chasing Darkness was diverting, and The Owl Killers by Karen Maitland was - frightening in a very muddy medieval way. I now know what a beguine is/was other than a dance from S America.
But best of all I have found Mick Herron, he is brilliant. I would download his trilogy of the lady private eye called Zoe onto my birthday pressi [my Kindle surprise] but it is a Yankee machine, and only seems to have the second part, why?
Also they won't have the new Terry Pratchett available until next week, always a glitch in new technology.

PS I must admit the flotilla of little boats rescue at the end squeezed a tear.