I've been waiting in for the plumber.
Leaking, rusty old radiator in the bathroom that must now be replaced. Good job I was in; he turned up an hour early! "Ah" he said, "did I say one o'clock or two o'clock?"
Still, he's a good bloke, done several jobs for us.
One day we will have the entire bathroom refurbished, as it must be at least thirty years old.One day...
To keep myself out of mischief I've made a start on my Tresco photos.
Oh dear. Are you there Mr Photo Fanatic Bill? As you know, I ain't no photographer; haven't the patience.
"That's nice." Point, click, quick check, done. Move on." Is it slightly blurred? Don't care, it will do." I take about thirty seconds, whereas Himself drives me crazy spending twenty minutes photographing a flower from umpteen different angles.
Anyway, something has gone wrong. Admittedly on some days it was a little dull and misty, but some of my photos look as if they were taken with a black cloth over the lens! Himself said I had somehow managed to adjust the settings on the camera, which he has now nobly corrected for me. I'm going to have to do some enhancing on the computer, which is cheating really.
Hey ho. Maybe I should stick to what I do best....
Hi Noe
Your old man sounds a mirror copy of mine, please tell me he will straighten and align everything,including yourself if you stand still long enough. Have found no answer to this problem in twenty eight years - assume I am either one very sad person ,or, as I suspect he is ! Moved the marmite pot out of sync. yesrerday and valium required,no, not for me but the laughter I surpressed was tangible
sandra
Hey Sandra whats wrong with wanting everything perfectly aligned and arranged? Mary Lou asked me to hang a picture one day and said she wanted it centered over a long cabinet, so I eyed it up and then proceeded to walk up to the wall and hammer in a hanger. She asked me how I was sure it was centered without measuring so I got a tape measure out, handed it to her and told her to check. After careful use of the tape she strongly proclaimed that I was not exact but was actually a 1/16th of an inch off. Do you think this might be a result of my Germanic background?
Noe, Using the computer to adjust or correct for bad settings or for cropping a picture is not cheating. Back in the days of film this was done all the time during the developing process to make the print more closely resemble the actual scene. Using the computer to do this is just easier, faster and cheaper. Airbrushing out details or adding in or superimposing images is cheating.
That is the exotic and rather pretentious name for the overnight “sleeper “train service from Paddington (the least exotic place imaginable) in London to Penzance in Cornwall; the ancient land of Kernow, which the spellchecker has never heard of.
We have always taken the five and a half hour trek from London to Cornwall during the day, with the constant worry that we will be delayed and miss our helicopter to the Isles of Scilly; so we would book the last ‘copter of the day, and the first train out of London, just in case.
This year we decided to try the Sleeper.
We did some research and discovered we could book a cabin on the Night Riviera train leaving Paddington at 11.45pm and arriving in Penzance at 8.00 am having chugged and juddered its way through Cornwall via Timbuktu.
Our daughter could not come with us as she had to study for exams, so she stayed with her godparents who took her out to restaurants and chauffered her around to barbeques and the like. I think she would have liked us to stay away for a little longer. My hubby and son went to Cornwall a day early to take photos of, wait for it- trains and railway stations; something I would not do if you paid me! This left me to travel with our friend, the skipper from our canal voyage.
We arrived at Paddington Station in good time, having been told we could climb aboard at 10.30. Naturally this did not happen as a carriage or lump of coal or something was late arriving, so we didn’t get on board until 11.30.
Our friend had booked a First Class cabin, if you please, leaving me alone in Peasant Class.
I staggered into the carriage with my case and walking pole. I had tried to collapse the pole to fit it into the case but it had got stuck halfway, so I had to carry it under my arm like a baton.
“We-lll, hell-lo my dear!”
Oh- oh, a posh drunk. Shouldn’t he be in First Class? Too much champers probably. Just because he spoke like the Earl of Somewhere and was wearing a bow tie doesn’t mean he was rich, and what money he had he’d spent on champers.
“Do be careful of that stick my dear. Don’t want you to hurt yourself”. He stared blearily into my face and gave a tipsy smile.
“I’m all right thanks.”
“Good, jolly good.”
I escaped into my cabin, and could hear him calling to his friends down the corridor: “Come on now you chaps. Stir yourselves. Let’s see some action here”.
A member of staff appeared dressed like a “Maitre D”.
“Good evening madam. My I verify your reservation and give you some information?”
He ran through the safety procedures and informed me that I would receive a wake –up call at Truro.
“Truro?”
“Seven-thirty”. Presumably in his job you think in terms of places not time. “Would you prefer tea or coffee in the morning?”
Oooh! Didn’t know about that!
He went to see his next customer and I explored the cabin. Didn’t take long; two bunk beds, a sink, mirror and coat hanger. I locked the door and then opened it again by way of an experiment.
As I did so I heard “This is a travesty!”
What is? It was a Loud American and His Quiet Wife. Before I could hide he cornered me. Have you seen Fawlty Towers, where the chef goes home and the American guest wants a Waldorf salad? This chap looked and sounded like his identical twin.
“How didja lock the door?” he asked me.
“Um, well I just sort of flicked the handle” I said.
“Ya just sorta flicked it huh?”
“Well, yes.”
He grinned.
“That’s your story and you’re sticking to it huh? Your final testimony huh?”
“Yes”
“And we’re neighbours too.”
This is a good thing?
The Quiet Wife smiled.
The Loud American followed my example, flicked the handle, and locked and un-locked the door. The Quiet Wife smiled at me again.
“Ah-ha! OK!” he exclaimed.
He looked at me and grinned again.
“Trains are bigger in America.”
“Isn’t everything?” I replied.
“Yes. And more obnoxious” he said with a laugh.
Let’s be clear about it; I never thought he was obnoxious, just LOUD.
The Quiet Wife smiled at me.
I bade them goodnight and retreated into my cabin, flicking the handle behind me, never having discovered what the travesty was.
It was past midnight by now, and I heard a familiar voice.
“I say is the bar open chaps?”
It was the Posh Drunk. Bar? It’s midnight. I’m putting my pyjamas on.
Night all.
It’s rather fun going to bed on a train.
The motion of the train gently rocks you to sleep, and it was quiet. Presumably my neighbours were slumbering and the Posh Drunk was in a stupor under the bar. The only strange thing was that sometimes the train would slide me down the bed, and then, just as I thought I would fall off the end, it would slide me back up again so I thought I might bang my head.
Then I had to answer a Call of Nature. Have you got up to visit the You Know Where on a train at 2am? You put on your dressing gown and creep down the corridor, clutching your valuables as the cabin door only locks on the inside and of course there is no key. You have to sort of flick the handle.
There is a nice carpet, and little blue lights along the floor to guide you, but it is oh so quiet, and oh so eerie! It would make an excellent setting for a horror film.
Any second now something nasty is going to jump out, and who’s driving the train? Is anybody driving the train? Where are we going? Will we ever be seen again? Am I the last person left alive in the world?
So the night passed and at seven thirty the Maitre D knocked on the door with some tea and biscuits. This must be Truro, I thought.
Now, Himself had told me that they don’t rush you off the train at Penzance, so when it stopped at 8am I didn’t worry about not being quite ready; I like to savour that first cup of tea you see.
I was cleaning my teeth when Himself suddenly appeared, having gallantly decided to leave his Bed and Breakfast place to meet me.
“Come on, you’re the last one on the train. It’s going to the depot in five minutes!”
“But you said there was no hurry!”
“No I didn’t. Get a move on!”
So I leapt off the train, teeth half cleaned, hair uncombed.
It was 8.05. I went to the Ladies Powder Room to continue my ablutions, and returned ten minutes later to find the train still there, doors open.
I never saw the Posh Drunk again, but I did say hello to the Americans, who by now were both quiet.
Maybe it was the culture shock of going to bed in London and waking up in Cornwall, where there be palm trees, clotted cream, and Olde Tales Of Pirates and Wreckers.
Methinks that even if I had said no that you still would have posted your story as it's unlikely you could have whipped up one of your charming tales in a mere nine minutes. You also seem to have forgotten your little dig at your dear husbands expense when you told me it wouldn't involve photography.
As always your tales are amusing. Having so little rail travel available in the states for the last fifty years it's interesting to hear what to us Americans sounds like a scenario from an old film or book is still reality elsewhere.
Mr Poyap, YHAOS, MSW,
OK I admit it. I've been writing that story for about 3 days! I deliberately waited for you to emerge from your different time zone so you would be the first to read it. See how thoughtful I am?
It's all true, I promise, and yes I had forgotten the photography bit!
You must come over here and try out one of our sleeper trains; great fun.
And how about starting a campaign to bring back trains in the US?
Night all
Love
Noe
xxxx
Noe
Tis this Debn maid yer, so sorry trip to down yer werent all to be spected -us cant elp want goes on your way y'now.Us parties just go about and don't take much mind. You made me laugh I was thinkin that there Paddington were a bear,now you'm tellin me tis a station. Where's that then,cos ave to tell me family or um won't believe me.
Sandra
Debn Maid,
I do hope Bill, Gisela and all can understand that! ( by the way, have we heard from Steph recently?)
I know bits of Devon; Paignton, Torquay, Dawlish, Lynton and Lynmouth. I also like, Somerset, Dorset, anywhere west of where I am now really! When I say "know" I mean that I've been there once or twice, not that I know it like a native! I love the West Country accents too; so soft and warm.
Here endeth my tribute to the West of England...
Noe
Boring old Hertfordshire maid with a South Eastern accent.
PS
The train company give you their magazine as a little light reading when you're tucked up in bed. What's on the front? Paddington Bear! (Who was named after the station)
Hmmm, are we now going to get into a discussion about Paddington Bear?
Phew! Only been away from the computer for 24hours and I find a whole page of waffle to carch up on.
Firstly... very interested in all the female comments on their men's need for order in the world. I thought that it was just me. I struggle against it (as I like to think that I'm a bit of a gentle anarchist) and I joke about having a mild case of OCD but now I see that it may actually be a masculine trait. Hmmm... need to think about that one.
Secondly... deeelightful tale Sis. It played in my mind like a monochrome Ealing comedy.
Thirdly... I too have been wondering where Steph and Brian are. Do they go on holiday? David would know. HEY, DAVID. DO YOU KNOW?
Steph and Brian and totally occupied with the imminent delivery of Lil' Baba. Steph is staying with friends near the hellhole of a hospital and has very limited Internet access. Its two weeks since I heard from her and the due date is in two days time - on Saturday 26th.
I've jumped in over David's head because he may not have heard from her in the last few weeks. Steph and Ali were keeping it private. However, Steph wrote to me two weeks ago and said that I could announce the news if anyone noticed she's gone missing.
So, I'm sure you all join me in hoping that everything is going well and that we might be expecting a new forum member in a couple of days time.
Steve Wooler myTobago.info - the definitive Visitor Guide to Tobago
Lots of it 
Do you think this might be a result of my Germanic background? 
You also seem to have forgotten your little dig at your dear husbands expense when you told me it wouldn't involve photography. 
