Or whimper, as the case may be. Quick catch-up, as I have been remiss with the blogging. Training course - complete, good, hard work, waiting to see how much has been retained. Good dinners. Marginally more clear on what I'm actually going to be doing for a living :-) and the training course only covers the techie part, which is not my first responsibility, the rest I have to figure out as I go. Won't be the first time.
Coming back was interesting to say the least. Virgin Trains from Euston to Glasgow Central at an unholy hour of the morning (06.44, ffs) No WiFi!!! WTF??? Anyway. Uneventful. Knitted quite a lot. Passed Lichfield, felt sad and wanted to get off. (Train didn't stop - probably a good thing, but in hindsight, shame it didn't) Went through Stafford without stopping, wanted to get off to see old workmates and my Mum and Dad. Nearly got off at Crewe, but thought, no, get home, car's stuck on railway car park all on its own, house could have blown away, best get back. Got to Preston.
You know how some days you're the windscreen, and other days you are the bug? This day, I was the bug. Crew changed, and we're still standing at the platform. Tannoy announcement - Flooding at Carnforth. Ah. Problem. Eventually, they terminated the train (sounds painful) and we were summarily turfed off. I went for a fag to consider my strategy, and got rained on. Heavily. Eventually, buses were announced. I damply pondered this. Trains were standing at every platform, confused passengers roamed aimlessly, some sat on suitcases, many glued to phones and cups of waiting room coffee. Bus was going to Lancaster. I considered some more. No trains going North, trains terminating at Lancaster...= bedlam there too. So, I did what any sensible girl does in this situation. I damply phoned my Dad. "Daaaaaaaad, what am I going to dooooooo?" He immediately suggested something that I had already thought about - jump a service back to Crewe, get picked up by him and write the day off as a loss re: travelling, spend the night there (Mum's cooking - excellent) and try again on the Friday. Excellent plan. Enquiries about services to Crewe met with blank expressions from the staff (admittedly, they were having a bad day) and eventually I found one myself. Back we went, I duly hauled my ass across Crewe station and was scooped up by Dad outside. To discover his car was terminally sick and we barely made it back to Stoke. *sigh* Car was dropped in at the garage to the inestimably marvelous Tony, and I settled down for an afternoon of Olympics, watching Dad fall asleep on the sofa, eating biscuits and having a very welcome visitor, if only briefly. Following morning, car fixed by Tony (fuel filter, very easy but seemed terminal at the time) I was ferried up to Crewe by Dad, who was treated to a huge cup of tea and a very large raspberry muffin for his trouble, he indulged in a bit of trainspotting and eventually I hopped onto the Glasgow train. Apart from sharing a carriage with a loudly exuberant African extended family, who had brought enough food, drink and luggage with them for a small army (including a suitcase full of mugs, jars of coffee and a very large Thermos)and who kept sitting on me (I nearly stabbed one with my needles when she sat on me again for the nth time, but they were my KnitPicks and they're expensive)I finally pulled into Glasgow ten minutes early, and very nearly kissed the platform in joy. A short wait, onto the local service, back to my station, car collected intact and started no problem (I love Japanese cars) and the house hadn't fallen down. In fact, it had improved. Not only have they tarmac-ed the road up to the house, the landlord had fixed my wonky laminate and re-set the front step which was wobbling alarmingly.
On the doormat, and delivered by the neighbours were some treats - my NCIS DVD's (Seasons 1 & 3), printer cartridges and my Tesco Clubcard points vouchers. So, I decided to go shopping. I bought some new work clothes (all my old trousers are too big, to the point of only being held up by my hips) and I also bought this:
so I can have this:
Porridge with blueberries, pumpkin seeds, sultanas, cinnamon, ginger and maple syrup. Lovely. I also treated myself to this:
I then realised that the lawn had grown to the point where I was expecting to find David Attenborough out there with a film crew, and there was no way my poor little mower was going to manage without some heavy-duty help. Its mainly the edges, suffice to say that there are Issues with my lawn. So, this morning, at 9.30 (on a Sunday, please note) I trooped up to B&Q and bought:
Yes, its a strimmer. Its only a little girly electric one - I was very tempted to get the big manly petrol one, but it would be a bit overkill, the lawn's bad, but not THAT bad, and it was taller than me. I probably wouldn't be able to start it anyway. So I spent a happy hour or so zapping about the very wet lawn edges. I discovered that strimming is Hard Work, makes your arms all achy, and you get grass in places you would not believe. I also realised that what my lawn really needs is digging up and starting again (Not going to happen) but it looks marginally better when you cut the edges and strim off the three foot high bits. If it will stay dry for a couple of days I may even manage to mow it. I felt quite smug at being the proud owner of a strimmer - "Look! I Am Woman Who Know How To Use Power Tools. Respect Me." However, I've decided that strimming is definitely a job for the boys. Too much like hard work and you get grass in your hair and green fingernails. I'll stick to knitting. Speaking of which - we have hats!
For the Mission to Seafarers.