Amy - I was on a very delayed train not that long ago where the refunds kicked in at 60 minutes. It will not surprise you to hear that the tardiest arrival at a station was 59 minutes late. Several passengers in the carriage I was in started checking terms and conditions at one point and taking note. (Faulty train at Kings Cross).
The porcine voice seems to have survived the morning service not too badly - I even managed a descant (sort of) - but my lungs are protesting something awful. I'm hoping the solo will be OK this afternoon - it starts on a very low note, which is usually a good thing in such circumstances. As long as I can catch a decent breath in between phrases I should be all right.
We had a bass in the choir in Belfast who regularly (and beautifully) sang solos, and also smoked like a train; you could always tell when he was about to sing a solo, as there would be a volley of coughs from the back row.
Glad you got back home in piece Piglet. I hope the voice held out for Evensong and you can then have a restful day or two recuperating.
We are back from the big 90th birthday celebrations for my mother. After the event we all went to my brothers. Mum lives on the outskirts of South-East London, brother is in a small Hertfordshire town. He and his family drove there with mum and in best Top Gear style husband son and I tried to beat them by using public transport. After lots of running down station platforms and up escalators we reckoned we were in the lead when we got to Euston, where our record attempt came unstuck. It seemed most trains were either delayed or cancelled, and we thought we might have to abandon the idea of getting there at all. Finally managed to get a train and arrived over an hour later than we'd hoped. I think we would have beaten them otherwise.
... in best Top Gear style husband son and I tried to beat them by using public transport ...
And in best Captain Slow style, did you say "oh cock!" when you arrived and they were already there? Glad to hear it went off well!
Anthem safely dispatched with solo piglet (I was pleasantly surprised at how decent it sounded, and D. was pleased), but I'm feeling moderately knackered, and now vegging out on the sofa waiting for the bread-machine to do its thing.
Grump: I would like to be cleaning - but can't use spray cleaners or produce dust clouds currently. I know that many would like an excuse for sitting around doing not much, but I'm finding it more frustrating than anything. (I walked up to town, carrying four big carrier bags of books, two at a time, to the charity shop yesterday. It didn't take long to realise I shouldn't have.)
CK, do be careful, after your horrid experience. Doctors' orders, and all that!
Dust increases exponentially according to the length of time spent not dusting (I know whereof I speak - I live with a solid-fuel Rayburn), but dust can (with prayer, fasting, and WHISKY or GIN) become invisible.
CK, do be careful, after your horrid experience. Doctors' orders, and all that!
Dust increases exponentially according to the length of time spent not dusting (I know whereof I speak - I live with a solid-fuel Rayburn), but dust can (with prayer, fasting, and WHISKY or GIN) become invisible.
IJ
I find that removing my eyeglasses makes my house look much cleaner.
If I hear of anyone going in for cataract surgery, I warn them to do a spring cleaning before the surgery because, if they don't, once they get out they will want to and won't be able to.
As today it was possible to move more than three feet from a radiator without dying, I changed the sheets and towels, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom and tidied the box I tidy things to.
If I hear of anyone going in for cataract surgery, I warn them to do a spring cleaning before the surgery because, if they don't, once they get out they will want to and won't be able to.
When my m-i-l got home after her first cataract op., her first words were "goodness, I must clean those curtains!"
The château gets dusted when we have visitors, or very occasionally, if I think it's getting beyond a joke. I don't think D. knows where the dusters live.
Mr F didn’t know how the vacuum cleaner worked (plug it in, switch it on, point the nozzle at things) nor yet where it lives. On being told, he still managed to put it in the wrong cupboard.
Waiting for visitors to come before you start cleaning** is the only thing that makes me feel young these days! we had a cleaner for years *sigh*
(**oh, and the same holds for house viewings!)
I'll say that for Mr. S, he is more likely than I am to say that the place needs a good clean, and to clean it - and he is more thorough than I (except for skirting boards and behind furniture) If I go to see the Dowager, it takes me all day, and as like as not he cleans the house top to bottom while I'm out
Mr Boogs does all the shopping and cooking, I do all the washing up, cleaning and laundry.
The house is now a newer pin than it has been for months - hurrah, thank you visitor, even if you can’t appreciate it, your Guide Dog can.
Her dog will enjoy the rest. My friend has been leading a huge conference in Manchester to do with her work (she’s a big cheese) and the 300 darn delegates haven’t given her dog a minutes peace, they all want to give her a fuss.
Lots of long walks, followed by nice meals, GIN for the humans and fish cubes for the dogs coming up.
I boarded a few days ago but there have been big and unexpected goings on in the rouge family...
So - my son was in a hurry to see what the big wide world is like and decided he didn't wanted to wait until full term. The doctors don't really know why but think it might have been because of an infection. Consequently he was born early last week by emergency caesarian, a good three months premature. He's now in a incubator and going to be staying there for quite some time. The good news is that he is in one of the best neonatal units in Europe and THANK GOD the French taxpayer is paying for the whole thing. He's now stabilised and doing pretty well. He was born weighing 780 grams (I think that's about 1 lb 6 oz for those who want old British money), which is obviously very small, but on the other hand really quite big for his term. The medics seem to find him genuinely quite surprising. He lost weight last week, as newborn babies always do, but has starting putting it back on now. He's a little fighter and we're feeling quite optimistic.
I hated the maternity ward very much (they might be getting a rude letter at some point about all the dysfunctionments in their service, which sucks like a Dyson*) but I'm now back home, and feeling much better and happier. I'm going rather slow, which is odd and frustrating to me, but well on the mend.
* my arrival announced what is was going to be like. I got there on transfer from another hospital where the caesarian was done, on a day when it was minus five degrees. I was wearing nothing but a surgical gown and it took them a good fifteen minutes just to find me a blanket. It apparently was the only blanket they had. It didn't get better. Also the food was the most inedible thing I have ever seen (not that I have eaten, because I didn't).
O my goodness! Huge congratulations, La Vie and M. en rouge, and welcome aboard to Baby en rouge - may he continue to thrive! I thought I was a small baby (I believe I was about three and a half pounds).
Look after yourselves, and as BF suggested, lots of nice French food to keep your strength up!
We had a thaw, water is flowing from the sink again, so yesterday evening LRP got the washing machine, and as the washing up is no longer taking up the bath I was able to have a good soak in bubbles. I no longer feel stinky.
Congratulations indeed, and welcome to the small red one. You of course have our prayers for his continued flourishing.
It is traditional for people from far and wide to give new mums unsolicited advice, much of it of dubious provenance or value. I see no reason to break with tradition, so here is my advice:
Take it easy. Having a baby is a big deal. Don't overdo things and make yourself sick (no, really, don't do that.)
Congratulations to all the Rouge family - the Redpersons perhaps? Goes with the excellent wines from our Redman's winery and I'll open a bottle with dinner this evening to celebrate from afar.
Congratulations LVER and Monsieur! Our three were all occupants of the neonatal unit, and now at 36 and twins 30 with children of their own we give thanks for the expertise of the medical and nursing staff. I pray that bebe en rouge continues to flourish.
Congratulations to La Vie en Rouge, and to baby Rouge. So pleased all is going well, and may the little one continue to put on weight and soon be home with Maman et Papa.
Congratulations to la famille en rouge.
I concur with LVER's "THANK GOD the French tax payer" who pays for medical assistance. With my cancer treatments I too am on a 100% paid for regime for which I am enormously grateful! My first chemo session (on 22nd Feb) went well, with no side effects save a lost weekend, when I slept for the majority of the time, and a slightly gippy tummy, which hasn't really settled down yet.
I had been advised against travelling to the UK a week after the chemo by my designated nurse,(we had tickets booked for Bill Bailey & Elbow) but, when asked, both the consultant oncologist AND the consultant chemotherapist gallically shrugged their shoulders and said "Why not?" So I went. And it was magnificent. And as soon as I have worked out how to do a link, I will link you to my blog post about it so that, should you wish to, you may read about it in more detail.
I wonder how your weekend had gone Dormouse, or even if you'd got there at all. Sounds from reading your blog that you had a fab time. I'd imagine that you won't be doing a great deal for the rest of this week.
Comments
Amy - I was on a very delayed train not that long ago where the refunds kicked in at 60 minutes. It will not surprise you to hear that the tardiest arrival at a station was 59 minutes late. Several passengers in the carriage I was in started checking terms and conditions at one point and taking note. (Faulty train at Kings Cross).
Still, it's good to hear that she's safely back home in Freddy.
IJ
The porcine voice seems to have survived the morning service not too badly - I even managed a descant (sort of) - but my lungs are protesting something awful. I'm hoping the solo will be OK this afternoon - it starts on a very low note, which is usually a good thing in such circumstances. As long as I can catch a decent breath in between phrases I should be all right.
We had a bass in the choir in Belfast who regularly (and beautifully) sang solos, and also smoked like a train; you could always tell when he was about to sing a solo, as there would be a volley of coughs from the back row.
Hope Evensong goes well, though. I'll catch up with BBC's broadcast of our Ukland service a little later....
IJ
We are back from the big 90th birthday celebrations for my mother. After the event we all went to my brothers. Mum lives on the outskirts of South-East London, brother is in a small Hertfordshire town. He and his family drove there with mum and in best Top Gear style husband son and I tried to beat them by using public transport. After lots of running down station platforms and up escalators we reckoned we were in the lead when we got to Euston, where our record attempt came unstuck. It seemed most trains were either delayed or cancelled, and we thought we might have to abandon the idea of getting there at all. Finally managed to get a train and arrived over an hour later than we'd hoped. I think we would have beaten them otherwise.
Anthem safely dispatched with solo piglet (I was pleasantly surprised at how decent it sounded, and D. was pleased), but I'm feeling moderately knackered, and now vegging out on the sofa waiting for the bread-machine to do its thing.
Oh well, Future Learn courses to do.
Dust increases exponentially according to the length of time spent not dusting (I know whereof I speak - I live with a solid-fuel Rayburn), but dust can (with prayer, fasting, and WHISKY or GIN) become invisible.
IJ
I find that removing my eyeglasses makes my house look much cleaner.
IJ
When my m-i-l got home after her first cataract op., her first words were "goodness, I must clean those curtains!"
The château gets dusted when we have visitors, or very occasionally, if I think it's getting beyond a joke. I don't think D. knows where the dusters live.
(**oh, and the same holds for house viewings!)
I'll say that for Mr. S, he is more likely than I am to say that the place needs a good clean, and to clean it - and he is more thorough than I (except for skirting boards and behind furniture) If I go to see the Dowager, it takes me all day, and as like as not he cleans the house top to bottom while I'm out
The Grateful Mrs. S
The house is now a newer pin than it has been for months - hurrah, thank you visitor, even if you can’t appreciate it, your Guide Dog can.
Her dog will enjoy the rest. My friend has been leading a huge conference in Manchester to do with her work (she’s a big cheese) and the 300 darn delegates haven’t given her dog a minutes peace, they all want to give her a fuss.
Lots of long walks, followed by nice meals, GIN for the humans and fish cubes for the dogs coming up.
Cattyish
I boarded a few days ago but there have been big and unexpected goings on in the rouge family...
So - my son was in a hurry to see what the big wide world is like and decided he didn't wanted to wait until full term. The doctors don't really know why but think it might have been because of an infection. Consequently he was born early last week by emergency caesarian, a good three months premature. He's now in a incubator and going to be staying there for quite some time. The good news is that he is in one of the best neonatal units in Europe and THANK GOD the French taxpayer is paying for the whole thing. He's now stabilised and doing pretty well. He was born weighing 780 grams (I think that's about 1 lb 6 oz for those who want old British money), which is obviously very small, but on the other hand really quite big for his term. The medics seem to find him genuinely quite surprising. He lost weight last week, as newborn babies always do, but has starting putting it back on now. He's a little fighter and we're feeling quite optimistic.
I hated the maternity ward very much (they might be getting a rude letter at some point about all the dysfunctionments in their service, which sucks like a Dyson*) but I'm now back home, and feeling much better and happier. I'm going rather slow, which is odd and frustrating to me, but well on the mend.
* my arrival announced what is was going to be like. I got there on transfer from another hospital where the caesarian was done, on a day when it was minus five degrees. I was wearing nothing but a surgical gown and it took them a good fifteen minutes just to find me a blanket. It apparently was the only blanket they had. It didn't get better. Also the food was the most inedible thing I have ever seen (not that I have eaten, because I didn't).
Does he have a name yet?
IJ
May he grow from strength to strength xx
Stressful times.
Many congratulations and may you all flourish.
BTW, la vie en rouge, are you now permitted to eat CHEESE again?
IJ
Look after yourselves, and as BF suggested, lots of nice French food to keep your strength up!
One of the few advantages of the situation is the reappearance in my life of Roquefort
We had a thaw, water is flowing from the sink again, so yesterday evening LRP got the washing machine, and as the washing up is no longer taking up the bath I was able to have a good soak in bubbles. I no longer feel stinky.
IJ
It is traditional for people from far and wide to give new mums unsolicited advice, much of it of dubious provenance or value. I see no reason to break with tradition, so here is my advice:
Take it easy. Having a baby is a big deal. Don't overdo things and make yourself sick (no, really, don't do that.)
I concur with LVER's "THANK GOD the French tax payer" who pays for medical assistance. With my cancer treatments I too am on a 100% paid for regime for which I am enormously grateful! My first chemo session (on 22nd Feb) went well, with no side effects save a lost weekend, when I slept for the majority of the time, and a slightly gippy tummy, which hasn't really settled down yet.
I had been advised against travelling to the UK a week after the chemo by my designated nurse,(we had tickets booked for Bill Bailey & Elbow) but, when asked, both the consultant oncologist AND the consultant chemotherapist gallically shrugged their shoulders and said "Why not?" So I went. And it was magnificent. And as soon as I have worked out how to do a link, I will link you to my blog post about it so that, should you wish to, you may read about it in more detail.