Saturday, 28 February 2009
Update
I thought that it was about time to update the blog. Well I'm a helper with the tiny's team at calisthenics. Schools going well and in about a term and a half we'll get to go in the new school.
Thursday, 26 February 2009
My dad is a pirate, what's yours?
Scars, tattooes -- our Dad is turning into a pirate! Perhaps we can get 'im a parrot for his birthday? Argh.
I've heard lots of anecdotal evidence that ground apricot kernels (in the appropriate amount) is good for healing/avoiding cancer growth. One of our friends in Melbourne has gone into remission (I almost said recession -- that's the financial climate over here!) from lymphoma. He had chemo, then super health diet (nothing processed, all fresh) including apricot kernels and mananuka honey. Actually, I'm on the mananuka in tea for a cold at the moment.
Us, we've been quiet because the only access to the Sillyweb we have is from work or on the phone -- so silly Facebook statuses have been updated from phone whilst walking home or at lunch or in a boring meeting or on the bus. Although I must confess I think it was a taste of how parents must feel when their child comes home with e.g. cybernetic implants (or a mobile phone, or a hologram for a friend) to hear that my Mum is reading about me on Facebook.
Well, it's a bit quieter at work today, so here goes. The move went well, because we were more organised and prepared this time than ever before in history. The weekend before we packed almost everything into boxes and put them into Colleen's room -- she'd already moved out. The following Saturday Chris, Andrew (Chris's girlfriend's brother) and I picked up a small van, while Dee and Tina (C's girlfriend) cleaned the new apartment.
The three men loaded the van, drove to the new place, and unloaded. It was regular as clockwork -- complete with roles: I unloaded from van to door (to keep an eye on the van); Andrew from door into elevator (he hates lifts); and Chris unloaded from elevator at the top. Two van loads and we were done by about 3pm! In fact, the only two hiccups were waiting an hour for a van (some mixup in their system) and a bookcase which was slightly too big for the elevator ... and had to be walked up (in shifts) 10 flights of stairs!!
The new apartment is smaller but with more usable space: We've got the desk in our room, the piano in the lounge, and are looking for a shelving unit to put in the kitchen. A few problems, mostly with our estate agents being "pants" about replacing broken stuff -- we've been there almost two weeks and they still haven't replaced the worn out mattresses, nor sent a sparky 'round to fix various lights and sockets. We suspect the last tenants were dodgy -- things have been thoroughly broken, then gingerly put back together to create the illusion of repair. The coffee table, for example, rested on four entirely broken legs, whilst the condition report listed it as "wobbly". The report now looks like a Grade 5 school essay in which the student didn't use spell-check -- it's covered with additions and corrections. I stopped short of giving them a C-minus on the front cover ...
So we're slowly but surely settling in. The boxes are all unpacked now, and today we had the phone-line connected (here comes broadband). Phone number, apparently (haven't tried it yet) is:
The address for postcards is:
Here's a map showing the place, and where we work. Takes me probably 20-30min to walk to work:
http://maps.google.co.uk/maps/ms?hl=en&ie=UTF8&msa=0&msid=100294927689049556522.000463d02ac0f2411c4ae&ll=51.531387,-0.111237&spn=0.071441,0.154495&z=13
I'll get some photos up when we finally get online.
I've heard lots of anecdotal evidence that ground apricot kernels (in the appropriate amount) is good for healing/avoiding cancer growth. One of our friends in Melbourne has gone into remission (I almost said recession -- that's the financial climate over here!) from lymphoma. He had chemo, then super health diet (nothing processed, all fresh) including apricot kernels and mananuka honey. Actually, I'm on the mananuka in tea for a cold at the moment.
Us, we've been quiet because the only access to the Sillyweb we have is from work or on the phone -- so silly Facebook statuses have been updated from phone whilst walking home or at lunch or in a boring meeting or on the bus. Although I must confess I think it was a taste of how parents must feel when their child comes home with e.g. cybernetic implants (or a mobile phone, or a hologram for a friend) to hear that my Mum is reading about me on Facebook.
Well, it's a bit quieter at work today, so here goes. The move went well, because we were more organised and prepared this time than ever before in history. The weekend before we packed almost everything into boxes and put them into Colleen's room -- she'd already moved out. The following Saturday Chris, Andrew (Chris's girlfriend's brother) and I picked up a small van, while Dee and Tina (C's girlfriend) cleaned the new apartment.
The three men loaded the van, drove to the new place, and unloaded. It was regular as clockwork -- complete with roles: I unloaded from van to door (to keep an eye on the van); Andrew from door into elevator (he hates lifts); and Chris unloaded from elevator at the top. Two van loads and we were done by about 3pm! In fact, the only two hiccups were waiting an hour for a van (some mixup in their system) and a bookcase which was slightly too big for the elevator ... and had to be walked up (in shifts) 10 flights of stairs!!
The new apartment is smaller but with more usable space: We've got the desk in our room, the piano in the lounge, and are looking for a shelving unit to put in the kitchen. A few problems, mostly with our estate agents being "pants" about replacing broken stuff -- we've been there almost two weeks and they still haven't replaced the worn out mattresses, nor sent a sparky 'round to fix various lights and sockets. We suspect the last tenants were dodgy -- things have been thoroughly broken, then gingerly put back together to create the illusion of repair. The coffee table, for example, rested on four entirely broken legs, whilst the condition report listed it as "wobbly". The report now looks like a Grade 5 school essay in which the student didn't use spell-check -- it's covered with additions and corrections. I stopped short of giving them a C-minus on the front cover ...
So we're slowly but surely settling in. The boxes are all unpacked now, and today we had the phone-line connected (here comes broadband). Phone number, apparently (haven't tried it yet) is:
+44 207378 1204
The address for postcards is:
1004 Antonine Heights
City Walk
London
SE1 3DF
Here's a map showing the place, and where we work. Takes me probably 20-30min to walk to work:
http://maps.google.co.uk/maps/ms?hl=en&ie=UTF8&msa=0&msid=100294927689049556522.000463d02ac0f2411c4ae&ll=51.531387,-0.111237&spn=0.071441,0.154495&z=13
I'll get some photos up when we finally get online.
Monday, 2 February 2009
Snowed under with work
Whilst we wait to find out who won the "guess the time and eye-colour" competition ... you would almost think those two had something better to do with their time ...
It is snowing in London today. The worst in 18 years, says Danielle's cabby, and more set for tomorrow. Most of the tube is down, or severely delayed - not the Victoria Line, strangely - and my office is just about empty. Which is okay for me, because I've taken my shoes and socks off and sequestered a small portable heater that was on a colleague's desk to warm my toecicles, legacy of a mis-step into an icy puddle only metres from my door.
Climate-change is brilliant! Picture it, Britain: a Winter Wonderland for six months of the year, and a humid, tropical oasis for the other six. With resulting destructive and violent storms in between, of course.
The walk this morning was fun. The city is pretty under a layer of the white stuff, but there's not much chance to look up and admire it - eyes down on the treacherous icy foot paths and snow-covered cobblestone lanes, else it's argon over titanium for a bruised and wet behind. And I don't think the few people in the office would appreciate me "dropping trou" and drying my undies on the heater the way I can with wet socks ...
It's warmer, and thicker, than when it snowed in Edinburgh. The wind is icy, but perhaps the built-up office blocks provide more cover against it. Overhead, a grey ceiling looms like an enormous doona (duvet) stuffed with snowflakes, trapping what heat comes from buildings and people and cups of cocoa and warm crumpets. Oh dear, I've made myself hungry.
Do I venture out? It's snowing again now, I can see through the windows, laying down another layer. Think I'll dry my socks first ...
It is snowing in London today. The worst in 18 years, says Danielle's cabby, and more set for tomorrow. Most of the tube is down, or severely delayed - not the Victoria Line, strangely - and my office is just about empty. Which is okay for me, because I've taken my shoes and socks off and sequestered a small portable heater that was on a colleague's desk to warm my toecicles, legacy of a mis-step into an icy puddle only metres from my door.
Climate-change is brilliant! Picture it, Britain: a Winter Wonderland for six months of the year, and a humid, tropical oasis for the other six. With resulting destructive and violent storms in between, of course.
The walk this morning was fun. The city is pretty under a layer of the white stuff, but there's not much chance to look up and admire it - eyes down on the treacherous icy foot paths and snow-covered cobblestone lanes, else it's argon over titanium for a bruised and wet behind. And I don't think the few people in the office would appreciate me "dropping trou" and drying my undies on the heater the way I can with wet socks ...
It's warmer, and thicker, than when it snowed in Edinburgh. The wind is icy, but perhaps the built-up office blocks provide more cover against it. Overhead, a grey ceiling looms like an enormous doona (duvet) stuffed with snowflakes, trapping what heat comes from buildings and people and cups of cocoa and warm crumpets. Oh dear, I've made myself hungry.
Do I venture out? It's snowing again now, I can see through the windows, laying down another layer. Think I'll dry my socks first ...
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