Minor absence

Apologies for a minor absence for nearly 8 weeks. It has been quite some time involving trips to Budapest, London, Harris, Pitlochry and two weddings.

The time has also involved lots of workmen destroying and then rebuilding and then destroying my flat, a large move, the gas board twice, the smashing up a cast iron bath and discovering no one will take it away, a big leak, lots of plumbers looking at things, scratching their heads and leaving.

It has included the completion and judging of the Common of Houses competition, the collapse of a Lighthouse, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst all the penguins at the National Opera, the construction of a pantry and a war with beetles and flies.

Worst of all it has been a period in which lady luck has left me and the gremlins are trying to mess with my mind - both cars keys have vanished, my phone disappeared and then so did my bank card. Two out of three have finally been found but I'm still walking and cycling at the mo sadly.

Life begins afresh tomorrow and new work will appear here soon.

EDIT: Life did not begin afresh. I forgot I had to deal with an exploded out of date smoothie which had somehow managed to blow its lid off through the bin bag and all over our front door and the close steps. Also the plumbers that were supposed to come today to fix the leak, turned up scratched their heads and informed me that they now couldn't do the work and I'd need another company. Arrrrrgh.

New world begins tomorrow - I hope.

Panda old, Panda new

About a year ago I traded in my wee blue panda (see above) who had loyally served me for 10 years. It was a sad day, but the poor thing was rather unwell and required an owner with more car repair skills than I.

I knew things had reached a culmination the day I was filming a short film in Dumfries. I drove down in the morning and on the way, the engine started to smoke, then the exhaust began to start banging before just out and out roaring, like a trapped lion. By the time I reached the location I had also lost my radio, aerial and the windscreen wiper was malfunctioning. I drove into the quiet farm where we were filming with a RRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrr. The people I was there to film, the producer and all the crew were standing around in the yard. I pulled up and turn off the engine at which point, the car went pfffffff and billowed huge swathes of smoke. Everyone turned and stared at me. I just got out, closed the door and walked over as if everything was normal.

The nice RAC man got the car back to full working order again, though I did have to stop every 30miles or so to let the engine cool down. But it was the final straw and sadly I made the decision to trade it in and I am now the proud owner of an almost identical blue panda, with roof bars. Its a very nice car and very comfortable to drive, but it does lack some of the wonder features of the old model - no turbo boost and no "loud" button on the radio.

Anyway in honour of my old friend I attach below a print out, cut and build card model.

Plumbers are mean

Unfortunately my hopes for a trouble free September are not going so well.

We spent most of Sunday relaying the floor in my kitchen following the recent leaking to the neighbour downstairs. That night I discovered we had no hot water as the boiler pressure had dropped to zero.

We topped it back up but by next morning it again was at zero. I then refilled it but by the middle of the morning and phone call home confirmed my worst fears. The pressure was again at zero and we still had a leak.

I quickly ran home, only to discover on arrival that I had left my keys behind and I had to phone Ann to drive across the city and let me in. To make matters more difficult the neighbour downstairs has gone on away for three weeks and not left an emergency contact so I have no idea if it really is flooding, just a strong hunch but I can;t take the risk.

In 20 minutes I have undone the 5 hours of work relaying the tiles and floorboards and I have discovered that there is water under the floor. I phone the insurances home emergency number and they send out a plumber who finally arrives late, grumpy, rude and unhelpful. He tells me that until I've lifted ll the floor and identified exactly where the leak is he can't help and he leaves.

I then have to rip up loads more floor boards and finally identify where the leak is coming from. The insurance company contact the rude plumber who finally calls at 10 to say that he is too tired and is going to his bed. "But its still leaking" I tell him. He tells me how to shut off that part of the system, which I do, but it is still leaking. I phone back the insurance who send out another company who arrives at 1am only to advise he doesn't have the correct equipment to carry out the job and will have to come back. He also advises that the leak in the pipe is not causing my pressure to drop and that there must be another problem???? Arrrrgh

This morning after no sign of the plumber I chase up the depot, who advise that they are still trying to agree the costs with the insurance company. I chase up the insurance company who advise that they are happy to pay the price. I phone up the plumber who then admit they don't have any engineers available to do the repair today anyway. I currently await further news from the insurance company about what is going to happen next.

viking

Viking (2007)
Clay, cement, wire [45cm x 10cm]

I remembered a story the other day about the time a few years ago when I was asked to go to a big corporate pub quiz event as the representitive of our office. I was the guest of this engineering company we worked with and they picked me up to drive to the hotel where the event was on.

Now, I'm not the best passenger in the world, I tend to get car sick quite quickly even on this most gentle of rides. There were four of us in the car, me and some guy I didn't know in the back and two people in the front. The driver wasn't the best, and did quite a lot of weaving in the road and did a lot of accelerating and then hard braking. Within a few minutes of getting on the road, I started to feel quesy. The car was roasting as they had the heating on full blast so I tried to put down the windows only to discover that thay didn't work. I sat there feeling worse and worse, either too embarrassed or just feeling too ill to think properly and ask them to stop. I think the later cloudyness of the brain due to illness was pretty high as I started to search the back of the car for something to be sick into. But the car was spotless inside and I didn't have a bag or anything with me. For some reason, I decided it would be a good idea to take my shoe off and use this. I am not sure of the logic behind this decision. I am not sure if I thought it would be less embarrasing to be sick into a shoe rather than ask them to stop. So there I am, in a car with four people I don't really know, speeding through the Scottish Countryside with a shoe in my hands and watching the other back seat passenger out the corner of my eye to make sure he hasn't noticed the shoe. He didn't.

Luckily the knowledge of having the shoe ready, just in case, was enough of a placebo and I managed to survive the evening unscathed. Just as well as I have no idea what I would have done with the shoe once we arrived?

The priest in the night

Two nights ago I went to meet this journolist for a quick drink after work and to chat about his new book.Then I went to Anns to pick up an empty bbq gas cylinder.

Then I went to ASDA where despite only planning on buying one thing, I became zombified for nearly an hour and a half. When I finally went over to pay for all my items. The girl at the counter had lost her voice. Resulting in much comedy as I can't understand a word shes trying to whisper to me. A very stilted conversation follows.

Eventually I leave and drive to the flat, where I get gav to give me a hand up the stairs with my purchases. I stick a lasange in the oven and go to park the car.

As I drive round the corner I meet my mate Duire. Durie has been at a NHS training class where he and his fellow nurses have been learning to do self defence. The class finished at 2pm and the nurses have all been drinking since then. He is pretty hammered, giggling and stepping on and off the pavement. I go over to chat to him.

We are standing having a laugh when we hear someone calling over to us for help. We look round but can't see anyone. The call comes again and this time we spy a head poking over the bonnet of a car. We walk over. There is a large man the size and shape of robbie coltrane with crazy birds nest hair. He is sitting on one of those motorised vechicles for the disabled. He is dressed in full kilt and jacket which is covered in various scottish and religious pins. He is also a priest.

Turns out, he is having vechicle trouble. The motorised machine keeps conking out. He asks if we can give him a small push to get it going. We are rather sceptical of this working as the cart is battery powered but we agree. We position our selves at the back and on the count of three we push and push and push but nothing happens appart from the veins in our necks popping out. "Oh wait" calls the priest, "I need to turn it on to get it to move. Lets try again"We're knackered already and Durie is still hammered and sniggering. He keeps looking around and saying we are on TV. I shush him.

We push again and after a few second it does start to move. It is so blooming heavy, its like moving a boulder. The cart then starts and he begins to drive off slowly. Thank goodness. "Cheers lads" he calls.

We look at each other with glad thats over expressions. Suddenly CRUNCH. The cart has stopped again. It has only moved about 2 metres "Oh lads, lads can you give me another push." So we go over and push again. Again it starts, again he drives off, again it gets 2 metres, again it breaks down. It does this over and over, each time it travels less and less.

We keep asking him questions about the cart. Is there a brake on it or something as its hardly moving when we push. Is it out of batteries, has it done this before. He doesn't often really listen and it seems his focus is quite wandering.

Eventually after 15 mins of pushing we manage to get the information that he only bought the cart today and is driving it home for the first time. And that he stays a good twenty five minute walk from where we are. We point out we can't push him all that way as its taken us over twenty mints to get 2 metres. We suggest a taxi but he says, thats what the subway men tried and no taxi would take him???

We then notice he has a box with all the cars kit and instructions in it and we suggest we push him into a nearby petrol station and see if they'll let him charge it up. He agrees and we begin pushing again. We then discover that he's got a flat tyre.

Duire is sniggering away and keeps muttering that its a setup and that the guy is a faker. I point out that he is a nurse and has a duty of care to help folk. And that the only way to find out if he is a faker is to call him on it and that I don't think either of us has the balls to accuse a disabled priest of being a liar.

As we near the petrol station I run ahead to check with them its ok. I go into the shop and say "excuse me mate, I've got a slight situation outside I was wondering if you could help me with. We've got a disabled priest in a kilt on a moterised cart and its broken down, could he come in a charge it up."The guy does look at me like i'm a mental but he agrees to help. He joins us in pushing. The three of us push and push and get him towards the door.

At this point the priest says. "Would it be easier if I got off and walked?" Is this guy taking the mick? We say yes and so he gets off and holds onto the handle bars as we push. He also turns the ignition key and the cart kicks on and zooms ahead dragging him along. It misses the door and bumps into a wall.We have to reverse it back into the shop. He hasn't quite mastered the contorls yet and it takes awhile to get in the door. Much to the annoyance of the customers trying to get in and the customers trying to get out.

Once inside we drive over to the nearest plug socket and he opens the case to get the charging cables. The cable is only about 30cms long. The socket is about a metre up the wall, it doesn't reach. The assistant goes to get an extentsion cable. But the priest refuses to use it as the one bit of advise the second hand cart salesman gave him was - don't use an extension cable.

We hunt the shop for a more accessible socket. Eventually, behind a display of easter eggs we find one. But to get to it, the cart has to be turned around. The priest begins to attempt a three point turn in the aisle. I finally loose it as he manages to get it stuck at 90 degrees in the aisle like a scene from austin powers. He also doesn't have full control so he keeps driving full force, into sheleves of sweets and easter eggs, knocking them down. He edges forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards. The pressure cooker of emotion is to much for me and i just can't help but begin to giggle. The effort of trying to keep it in, causes tears to run down my face.

I compose myself long enough to make our apologies, hand over responsibility to the shop assistants and leg it.

Laughing Durie and I part at the door and I wander home to find my lasange burned. Doh

EDIT: In further news. Last night while we were having a pizza making party, ann nipped out to move her car and went into the petrol station to buy some tomato sauce and the priest was still sitting exactly where we had left him, in the same outfit. Has he even been home? Will he be there tonight? Will the excitement never end?

Communication

Last night, when walking home, a woman walked towards me with a shawl wrapped round her head. She sppeared to be waving at me, but as it was dark I could not clearly make this out. As we got nearer however I realised it was just the way she was carrying her bag and wiggling her fingers. I then noticed that she was staring intently at me with huge bulging white eyes and that she had a pretty weird expression on her face.

The shawl was not, as I had first thought, part of a religious dress but was just a dark wrap of material pulled tightly round her head. There was something about this shawl and about the womans strange expression that made me feel very uneasy - as we passed (her still blantently staring at me) I gave a half smile. She tensed, wiggled her fingers and muttered some words in a deep gutteral tone. The words were angry but unintelligable and the way they came tumbling out gave the impression, they were also spoken almost involuntary. I began wondering if she suffered from tourettes like tha man I saw in the street last week. I then heard her chanting and turned to see her standing still, arms raised out to her sides, muttering loudly - the only good way I can think to accuratly describe this was to say it sounded like a curse. Much disturbed I quickly walked round the corner and went home. But the question remains in my head . . . did I meet a witch.

The power of hoo doo

Yesterday was a spooky day. I foolishly read a horror story when I got home from work and less than an hour after finishing it the power cut to my whole flat. Gav and I investigated but could find nothing wrong. I phoned Scottish Power who advised they were sending out an engineer. I then sat up in bed waiting, reading by the light of a candle and trying to put the spooky sounds of distant fireworks and things on the roof moving, out my head. I waited and waited as my candle flickered and burned lower and lower, I fell asleep.

The next morning, a little annoyed, I called Scottish Power again.

"I'm sorry sir", they advised "We have no record of you calling last night. Are you sure you called us?"

I think halloween arrived a day late to Camphill Gate.