May. 22nd, 2009

blackberry444: (Default)
I've just remembered an occasion which didn't in fact end in an accident, no thanks to the sodding tanker-driver.

Driving along the same road where I had the previous accident I mentioned, and slowing down (fortunately) for the hamlet, I saw a milk tanker ponderously turning out of a side road.  He can't possibly have looked properly to see if anyone was coming, because there was a straight road for about 100 yards.

I slammed on the anchors, including the hand brake, and did a 180° turn, missing the tanker by about 15 inches.

The poor driver completely went to pieces, because he saw a disassembled cot in the back of the car and thought he had almost hit a Young Mother and maybe a baby.  He kept saying "Is the bairn all right?", which rather stumped me, until I realised he'd seen the cot, which I was returning to a friend after borrowing it to put up another friend and her son for a week.

Then he kept saying "It's lucky you're such a good driver", when I had no more idea of how I'd achieved the turn than the baby who had used the cot would have done!  The poor chap was totally unnerved.

Funnily enough, I never saw a tanker turn out of that road again in another four years.

blackberry444: (Default)
This place feels rather scary.  It seems empty and echoing, even in the ladiesloos.  Am I doing it wrong?  Is at all teeming with life I can't connect to?
blackberry444: (Default)
This place feels rather scary.  It seems empty and echoing, even in the ladiesloos.  Am I doing it wrong?  Is at all teeming with life I can't connect to?
blackberry444: (Default)
Nothing much has happened today.  I didn't go to the gym, yet again, because I had a rotten night through knee pain, and when I finally fell asleep, managed to develop a ghastly sore throat before I woke up.

I feel rather better now, although the sore throat is still there but not quite as bad as it was.

I spent some time in the yard this afternoon, not doing anything but just drinking coffee and reading the paper.  It was beautifully warm even though the sun kept going behind the clouds.

I somehow managed to make a complete dog's breakfast of my day with regard to pill-taking, largely because I didn't feel like breakfast while I had such a sore throat, so I couldn't take my medication.   Unfortunately I completely forgot to take the medication after lunch and it wasn't till I tried to go upstairs for something at about 4.00 pm, that I realised, through the breathlessness I experienced, that I'd had no medication all day.  What an eejit !

Adrian-from-next-door came round this afternoon and told me that his tenants have gone, leaving behind a dreadful mess from something leaking or overflowing in the bathroom on the top floor, which had run its merry way right down to the ground floor, ruining ceilings and carpets on the way.  He will be keeping the tenants' deposit, but it won't cover the cost.  I'm sorry he's been disappointed in his tenants, because as far as we were concerned, they were model neighbours;  we never saw or heard them, except for the occasional bang on the skirting boards from someone hoovering, and the sound of the front door very late at night.  They even managed to put out the wheelie bin without disturbing us in the slightest.

He says he's going to do the repairs and will probably then sell the house, but he intends to give first refusal to the Asian family next-door-to-me-on-the-other-side, which would be fine with me;  you couldn't wish for better neighbours.  Their existing house isn't quite as large as ours and they now have nine people living there, if you include the baby, and I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't arrange No. 2 son's marriage soon.

Tonight Charles made a lovely French Soupe de Poissons, with an unbelievably garlicky aoili.  He made croutons with his GF bread, which were very successful and what with the aioli and the grated cheese, it was very authentic, except we didn't have any rouille.  John and I had Morrison's delicious caraway bread with it and very nice it all was, too.

The weekend weather forecast is pretty good, but there is to be a Festival on the Quayside and on the Gateshead side of the river, with all the sorts of bands I can't stand, so I hope we don't get lots of noise to spoil sitting in the yard or stop us sleeping.

I had a charming e-mail reply from The Poetry Archive this morning saying that they were glad I enjoyed the site and that they would love to put Gillian in there reading some of her poems, but it costs them £4500 for each contemporary poet they put on there and  £2,200 to put on an historic recording; they've run out of the original funding they had and are looking for financial help.  I will have to write to say that unfortunately I'm unable to let them have more than a tenner, but if I win the Lottery I shall be happy to support them.  I thinks it's a shame that something as worthwhile as that can't get funding when I think of all the money that I personally know has been wasted in this area alone on various unproductive Government initiatives.


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