SandraK wrote:Carol
Guess who has just fallen off the stool treating green fly on arch. ....... ??
Fallen off the perch again Sandra?
Let me give you a word of advice - use a proper piece of climbing equipment, such as a STEPLADDER not a stool and only drink
plain water before mounting an offensive on aphids/greenfly, or better still, leave the job to the ladybirds. (that's bugs to you Young Bill, not wishing to sound rude.)
For some strange reason I've not been getting notifications about postings for a while, but now they've coughed and spluttered back into life, so here I be.
No talk about aphids, gardening and corrupt politicians for me, oh no, except that we have almost arranged to have our Stone Age bathroom re-furbished, if I can get elected on time and claim the money off the hapless taxpayer. So much for the Mother of Parliaments. Oh and i'd like a moat and a duck pond please.
Okay then.
We have just returned from our annual pilgrimage to the Isles of Scilly. Ready ?
On a cold windy Thursday evening we set off for Paddington to make the overnight trek to Kernow, when a Traumatic Event occurred:
We were sitting on the Underground train surrounded by bags when Himself’s face suddenly became ashen. “I’ve forgotten my camera.”
Horror of all horrors! Of all the items to have left behind: tickets; money; clothes; this was the very worst. He sat chewing his nails and looking anxious as the train roared through the tunnel, and as it stopped he suddenly leapt out of the opening doors. “I’m going back home for the ca…” The doors slid shut and the train pulled away, leaving the three of us to carry four people’s luggage.
“I’m not waiting him,” I said. “It’s too bad if he misses the train; we’ll go without him, I don’t care.”
We arrived at Paddington Station in good time and sat on the bench staring at the departure board.
The Night Riviera was due to leave at 11.45 pm. At 11.30 we dragged our luggage to the platform and at 11.40 precisely, just as we were about to board Himself sauntered into sight clutching the precious camera.
He was quite unperturbed, saying that he would have driven to Cornwall overnight and met us there. Would only have taken seven hours or so; it was worth it to get the camera. Couldn’t have the holiday ruined, could we?
I would have gone without him you know.
The sun rose, and we found ourselves in Cornwall. It was cold, sunny, and extremely windy as we made our way to the harbour. As the helicopter is now too expensive we had decided to take to the High Seas on ye goode shippe MV ‘Scillonian lll’.
We checked in the luggage and made ourselves ready for the two and a half hour voyage across the forty mile stretch of North Atlantic.
Some of us had sense. Two of us - Daughter and I, had taken travel sickness pills. One of us—Himself—had never experienced sea-sickness at any time, so didn’t need to take pills, and one of us, my esteemed and beloved son, said that as he was a tough and macho Man he did not need to take pills either.
As we set off an announcement was made: “Ladies and gentlemen, the sea conditions are moderate to rough. Please make yourselves as comfortable as you can.”
A sound of mass groaning rippled its way across the deck as the passengers exchanged anxious glances and paid rapt attention to the ‘What to do in case of emergency’ instructions.
Son, however, being a Macho Man, grinned and said, “Oh good. Up and down, up and down!”
The conditions were not ‘moderate to rough’, but rather ‘rough to rougher’, and then rougher still, and ‘Scillonian lll’ found herself being tossed not just up and down, but from stern to aft, port to starboard, aft to stern, starboard to port and back again. It was so ‘moderate to rough’ that at one point the cap’n had to switch the engines off. The crossing, which would normally take two and a half hours, took four.
It was quite fascinating to watch Son’s slow descent into sea sickness. First he became quiet and adopted a rigid body posture with pursed lips. Then his eyes glazed over as he appeared to enter a trance-like state, and his face gained a yellowish tinge.
I had never seen him move so fast before in his life as he dived for the railings and said, “Bleurrgh!” in a loud voice. He never spoke again until we reached dry land…
As for the remaining three members of the party, we were fine, just fine.
Apart from my hair that is. Never under control at the best of times, it had been blown, tossed, pummelled, swished and entangled about my face so that I resembled a mad cavewoman.
Son took the pills for the homeward crossing, and the sea was as calm and still as the proverbial millpond
And that's all fer now Folks!
Oh Bruv, congrats on your new and worthwhile job.xxxx
Ta ra
Noe
Try doing your report in Word and then copying to the posting screen. You can then edit and add smilies in a few minutes and then post.
