When everyday tasks are not remotely everydayish...

Having finally finished my accounts yesterday afteroon, I had to get them to the accountants. A neighbour was going that way this morning so I promised to deliver the files that afternoon so that they could drop them off. I also had to go and collect my post from over the valley where it had been left as a result of my impassable road, and buy a pint of milk. I know, I know. Surely these are not worthy of a blog entry. I mean they are everyday tasks that we all do without thinking. But you have forgotten, I live in a hovel on a hill where things are rarely easy. Are you sitting comfortably? Then let us begin..........



My journey started as all good journeys should - the packing of a wicker basket of provisions. This has an old fashioned charm to it as a concept, bringing to mind picnics and bottles of ginger ale. Sadly, my basket was packed with a bulging lever arch file for the accountants, but the premise is still a good one.

The Loyal Hound and I locked the door and set off through the corner gate at the bottom of the garden. He instantly shot off to explore the highly suspicious looking rushes that he obviously felt were harbouring all sorts of menaces (or thrills. It can be hard to tell). I stepped out over the white and frozen field, being careful not to wrench my ankles on the frozen cattle prints. Instantly the siberian wind crept through every gap and seam in my coat and gloves. Pulling my scarf over my face so that my lungs weren't stabbed by the needle like air, I carried on. We crossed throught the gate tied with baler twine and slid over the 4' frozen ditch on the other side. I then followed the hare tracks through the snow whilst the Loyal Hound set off on foraging parties to either side of me. Through the rushes I wended my way, the freezing wind nipping at my cheeks and numbing my gloved fingers. The route was a new one, for all the bogs and wet places were frozen solid and so passable with careful balancing and a cautious step. At the far corner, a drunken gate leaned against the fence post.

Frozen solid, it wouldn't move, so the Loyal Hound was tossed over the top and I scrambled over at the hinge end, wicker basket, accounts and all. We were nearing the farm at the bottom of this bit of the valley now and the loyal hound was put on the lead as we headed for the buildings on the far side. He pulled me over the skating rink that is normally a slow and steady running ditch and we made it to the yard, then finally onto the gritted road. The river at the bottom is now nearly entirely frozen over. You can hear the water running underneath but above are frozen waves and torrents. After stopping to chat to the ancient and permanently unwashed looking farmer (who kindly offered me parking space in his yard should I need it) we carried on with our errands. It's amazing how quiet it is. The sound of the stream is muffled by ice and the birds are too cold to sing. Most of the farm stock is in the sheds, munching on silage and huddling together for warmth. The few sheep who are outside are puffed up close to the ground, defrosting a patch of grass to have for their supper.

Swinging my basket down my side, and trying not to get pulled over by the hound when we hit slippery patches we wove our way down through the narrow lanes towards the village. We reached the car and then had the chilly job of trying to defrost the windscreen with hands so cold they couldn't hold anything. If the hound had sat still for long enough I might have just followed the sheep's example and lain him down on the windscreen to defrost a patch.

Eventually we were on our way. The files were delivered, the post collected and the milk bought. I had decided to try and get the car at least half way up the hill and in this we were successful. The worst bit was at the top, between the second gate and the cattle grid where we slid about in a graceless manner over the packed and frozen snow. I decided not to tackle the last bit of road as this was infitely worse than the prvevious section, so parked the car in the field and let loose the hound once more. Whilst he charged around investigating every rock, root and rut I realised that I would need to grit the road around my car if I wanted to ever be able to extract it again. The council gives us a grit bin every 1/4 mile or so but naturally no shovel. A rummage in the boot revealed a frisbee. This turned out to be an excellent gritting implement. It scoops well and sprinkles evenly. Who knew that they were such multifunctional things?

The temperature by now was dropping still further from the delightful -6.5 it had been at 3.00 o'clock so throwing the frisbee back in the car and putting the provisions in the trusty wicker basket, I pulled my hat down, whistled for the hound and we crossed the cattle grid and wove our way home down the icy road through the oncoming dusk.

It just goes to show that some days everyday tasks are simply not everyday.

Paper Mountains

I am sitting at my desk and between me and my computer is a mountain of receipts that I absolutely have to wade through. For the last six weeks I have shoved receipts into every pocket, niche, book and bag that has been nearby, saying to myself as I did so that I would remember exactly why that one was important. I have finally gathered them up and am faintly horrified at the scale of the job ahead. So, naturally instead of dealing with them I thought I would blog instead. Me? Evade important stuff? How could you suggest such a thing.

In addition to the receipt mountain, to the left of my computer lie last years accounts that need to be finished and delivered to the accountant. I had good intentions of getting this done by the first week of December but the will to do so evaporated like snow on a Bahamaian beach and there the pile sits, staring balefully at me whilst I alphatesize my rubbish and do everything I can think of rather than my accounts.

I know I will be on a high for at least a week when I finally tackle both these piles. They have been niggling at the back of my mind for so long now that the sense of relief when they are done will be overwhelming. I may even do a jig in the snow to celebrate.....

Right. I'm going to do it now. Really, I am......

Life, or something like it.

Life and some sense of normalcy has finally resumed. I don't know that I can remember how to do a normal life? I have remembered where the office is and spent time in it doing little work but lots of faffing. I have been all the way to the local town to do essential shopping only to discover that I left my bag of joy with it's accompanying cash and cards in my kitchen in the hovel. It's a good start. Really.

I managed to irritate everybody over Christmas. You know how there is always somebody who everyone gets cross with when you are all together at Christmas? This year it was me. I think the excessive tiredness of not a day off in three weeks combined with a ridiculous diary during Christmas meant that I was so tired I couldn't remember how to be tactful, charming or much else for that matter. Plus the fact that the rest of my family are mean and nasty and were picking on me.... WAAAAAAH.

Chutney Mary insisted that we all get up at seven o'clock to view her precious ones open their stockings. The boys couldn't have cared less whether we were there or not and I was overwhelmed with bitterness that Chutney Mary had not even tried to seduce us out of bed with coffee and freshly baked pastries. Having got to bed at around 1.30 am the night before and been awake every hour through the night (no, not listening for Father Christmas you muppets), I was most grumpy.

Box of Frogs was possibly on drugs - I've never known her to pick so few fights but she did tell me THREE TIMES IN A ROW that she had infinitely better dress sense than me. All this whilst she was wearing a jumper with pigs knitted on it. I'm sorry. I have bad dress sense and you wear a jumper with farm animals on it? Actually, I think you'll find I have totally indifferent dress sense. I wear clothes so that I'm not naked. I like fabrics that feel nice and if my budget allowed I'd only have cashmere jumpers. I don't do dresses and I struggle to do skirts but I NEVER, EVER wear anything with animals embroidered on it. I studiously ignored her for at least an hour after this, and then told Chutney Mary all about it who kept making loud pointed remarks in front of the Box of Frogs about the fact that I was about to put a coat on to walk the loyal hound and perhaps she should help me to choose it.... Aaaah, the joys of a family at Christmas.

I've made only one New Year's resolution which is to find a house to buy rather than continuing renting. I like this kind of resolution. There is very little I can do about it but the prospect of achieving it is nice.

I braved the shops on Tuesday to try and get one of those little notebook computers to have in the house. This is mainly so that I can blog at all hours of the day and night without having to go over to the office but I think that work can pay for it as it sounds like a work kind of thing! I nearly stabbed my pen through the assistant's eye in PC World due to the extreme irritation that she engendered just by talking. Bear in mind that I had had to sign up in a queue just to get her to consider helping me, whereupon she completely ignored everything I said, tried to sell me things that I didn't want and wouldnt' tell me how much things cost other than an airy 'oh around a £100, around £1,00000.00 etc etc. I should have learnt my lesson when the last PC World assistant I spoke to thought I was a hobbit. Needless to say I left without the netbook thingummy and with a blood pressure that could kill lesser mortals.

Anyway, I am in a white world now. The temperature this week has averaged a delightful -3 in the day and -7 at night. My water took two days of lugging buckets of water up from the stream and boiling them up to defrost but what the hell, that's what life on the hillside can be like. I stayed with friends on New Year's Eve and woke in the morning to find the most amazing Jack Frost ice patterns on the inside of the window - they were so thick I couldn't see out! Each day the frost layers itself over the previous layer so that I woke this morning and though it had snowed the world was so white. So, here i am in my silent and frozen world and loving every minute of it.

Happy New Year.

What Day is it? Happy Christmas, one and all.

I know, I know. I have been remiss. I've failed in my blogging duties and have not been here for weeks and weeks and weeks. This is because I have been everywhere else. You name it, I probably went there. The amount of time I have managed to spend at my hovel on the hill this month can be totalled in hours, not days.

I have composed some excellent blog entries in my head during that time. A very Freudian Christmas was one of the better ones, inspired my dream that I was so busy that I actually missed Christmas day entirely. At one stage there was the risk this might happen.

I am now not particularly excited about Christmas because all festive excitement is overshadowed by the prospect of January and a skeletal diary. I amy actually be able to live in the place where I live. I can move out of the car and stop eating quite so regularly at service stations. It's almost too much to think about. It may be my best Christmas present ever.

In between the jauntering around for work I have found time to deck the halls with holly, cut a tree down and throw on every decoration and make wreaths for the doors. None of this for my house but all for my parents house where I am spending Christmas. Chutney Mary and the Box of Frogs will both be here, as will Special Boy (the youngest much adored brother) and his wife, who he lovingly calls 'his nest of vipers'. Aaaa, Young Love.

So, I wish you all a happy Christmas laced with the usual family rifts, bitter looks, excess of chocolate and boxing day hangover and a tree laden with expensive presents that you actually want.

Happy Christmas.

The Bag of Joy

Here it is, the bag of joy that is all my very own. I am resisting the urge to sell it at the moment (even though they are going for over £200 on e bay!) as this is the only time in my whole life I have ever owned anything remotely fashionable and coveted.



It is also the only thing cheering me up from a hideous week of work ahead of me, a week made worse by the flu / cold / bubonic plague that has descended on me in the last 24 hours. I wish you all bags of joy - quite literally! I'm off again tonight to London, France tomorrow (just for the day you understand), then London again on Thursday before Dorset on Friday and back to Wales again on Friday night. The bag of joy is coming with me! Having said it was the only thing cheering me up, this isn't quite true. The best 12 hours of my year are lying just round the corner now.

You see, in between vast amounts of work, Thursday afternoon and evening are an interlude of great fabulousness. Princess Malice, a friend of many moons (genuinely called Princess Malice at one of her jobs which I can't be impressed enough by!!!) and I are going to The Berkeley Hotel for tea. I'm worried I won't actually be able to eat said tea because all the cakes and biscuits are in the shape of shoes, clothes and bags - designed by Alexander McQueen no less! Look -


Following this sybaritic indulgence we are going to the Annie Liebowitz exhibition and then, to round our day off we are going to see Eddie Izzard at the Lyric Theatre.

Now I love and adore Eddie, last time I saw him live I laughed so hard my stomach actually hurt, a lot, for a whole day afterwards. I am determined I shan't succumb to the plague as nothing on earth can make me miss this afternoon and evening of sheer heaven. I mean seriously - cakes, biscuits, shoes, bags, glamorous exhibitions and then comedy. Does it get any better?

Now, must head off and pack the bag of joy for my trip. Au revoir for now....