Down Under

I think I've just about managed to get the new blog up and running:

www.nonwhingingpom.blogspot.com

If any of you have a blog you would like me to link, send me the URL to nonwhingingpommy@yahoo.co.uk

Toodle pip!

Well then chaps, I'll be awf!

Apologies for having abandoned this blog of late. I have been stuck in the wilds of Suffolk with the world's slowest internet connection. The stress of living with my parents is turning my husband into more of a mentalist than ever, and all his pent-up energy is resulting in him cooking non-stop; Sophie has done quite well out of this as it means she is given a gourmet lunch to take to work each day to lord over her colleagues. Whereas I'm turning into a bit of a biffer.

But the news just in is that my visa has finally been approved, and this time next week I shall be heading for pastures new! I am very excited, if slightly apprehensive about the long flight. Just think: in no time I will be walking upside-down, wearing a hat with corks on it, and saying 'G'day mate' to everyone I see!

It's time to tuck up this blog and put it to bed. I may start a new one in Brisbane, if only to fill it with wondrous pictures and tales to encourage you all to come and visit!

Byeeee for now...

Ice-skating

A cold and frosty morning: Tuesday, 8.30 am, on a windy country road. The sparkling silver frost contrasts strikingly against the smooth shiny oil-like blackness of the ice at the side of the road. As the brakes lock on my car and I skid sideways past the large on-coming van that I had originally thought I was destined to hit head-on, a thought occurred to me. "This perilous journey to work has suddenly become far more scary with the onset of the frosty seaso....". My thoughts are interrupted as I land sideways in a bush.

It was only when I reached the office that I realised I was in shock. The fact that I sobbed uncontrollably and was unable to string sentence together, was shaking and feeling ready to throw up, were a bit of a giveaway. I decided to work from home in the afternoon.

When I got home, joy of joys, Dad was there, which meant I was treated to a Daddy cuddle, the likes of which I have not had in far too long. I snuggled into his jumper as he put his arms around me and rested his chin on my head. "When I hit a patch of ice on my motorbike", he told me, "as I was flying through the air, I said to myself 'You'd better land on your left side because if you land on the right all those cars there are going to run you over'. It's amazing how much time you have to think and how time slows down in these situations, isn't it?". Ah, Daddy. James enquired how many times in his life he's had time to ponder such things when flying through the air. "You'd be surprised", said Dad. I suspect, however, we wouldn't!

Meanwhile, in the Antarctic...

... look what Ryan found in the goody cupboard at his base...

People often find their way to this blog by googling "rhubarb phobia" but I don't think this is quite what they would be expecting.

Ryan has promised me he didn't write it himself! As long as he also didn't eat it himself, then all is okay in the world. Apart from the nightmares I'm going to have tonight about tinned rhubarb! TINNED RHUBARB!!! How wrong is that ?!

Extreme Napping

Since my computer has been as dead as a dead horse, it has been rather difficult for me to blog. I am limited to doing very short blogs from work, and hoping that nobody here notices that I have strayed from my normal duties. Since starting this very entry, for example, I have had to shrink the screen three times and pretend I'm doing something else. It's not easy being a furtive blogger, I can tell you!

It's also not easy being me in general. On Friday my wife was given temporary custody of me so that we could attend our College's end of term party. I arrived with strict instructions to Mo on how she was responsible for getting me to bed in a semi-sober state to avoid one of my crippling hangovers. Things didn't quite work out. My evil twin prevented her from doing anything to help, refusing all offers of water and herbal tea and falling asleep fully dressed and only reluctantly surrendering her contact lenses. Much of the evening is a blur, which is probably a good thing as I think my behaviour was rather appalling.

So, Saturday morning was not pretty. It was ouchie. I had to beg the porter to let us stay in the room into the afternoon so that we could have a second sleep. And then we had our third sleep in the carpark of a local Tesco's. We probably looked like we had been murdered. Or people thought we were tramps. The phrase, "I'm getting too old for this shit" springs to mind.

But the hazy memories I have of the evening are rather amusing. I think my inner evil twin needs to be let out once in a while if even just to remind me of why I lock her away for so much of the time! And if it weren't for the crazy Friday night, we would not have invented the exciting new hobby of Extreme Napping the following day. My plan is now to nap in a variety of interesting and unusual places, possibly starting with my desk in my open-plan office at work, my keyboard being used as a pillow... the possibilities are endless.


PS. Thank you, Mo, for trying to look after me and for taking my contact lenses out and for the use of your car as an afternoon napping venue!

My Mo-Fo of Motherboard

Dear Readers! My laptop is dead: dead, I tells ya. And, let me tell you, it's the last computer I ever buy from Dell. I've written a poem about it:

Dell
Can go to hell
Can Dell
Dell smells

I'm going to send it to them and see if I get a refund.

In the meantime, can anyone else give me a few hundred quid so that I can get a new laptop? Please?

Retirement

It was a crisp November day, as my colleague and I took her dog for its daily lunchtime stroll around the paddocks. There was a chill in the air, the first taste of ice on the breeze this winter and the morning frost had not yet quite managed to melt; the ground was still crunchy under foot and our welly-clad feet still manged to produce a spring in our steps. Me, my colleague and her small, yappy-type dog were in good spirits as we set off to explore the paddocks and say hello to our favourite horses.

But before the walk had begun in earnest we were stopped in our tracks. I stood on the path, frozen to the spot, as a large beige object on the ground only a few metres to my left caught my attention; Kirsten was similarly rooted to the spot squinting at something a good 20 metres away on the path ahead. "Look!", I said, slightly shocked and disturbed, pointing to the left. "No, you look!", she said, pointing at the path ahead with rising panic in her voice. And thus it was that our gazes shifted focus, and I stared at her dead horse whilst she stared at mine.

We stared backwards and forwards at the shapes, then looked at each other: "Is it ...?", "yes", "it's not just sleeping?", "No, it's very much no longer with us, I'm afraid". "Ah".

I still stared at its belly for a while, the naive 10 year old in me wanting to see signs of breathing. But I think even 10 year old Becky had enough equine knowledge to know that horses don't sleep like that during the day, and are certainly not allowed to have power naps in the middle of a path. They were very much ex-horses. They were no more; they had kicked the bucket, ceased to exist.

We opted for a different walking path, deciding it was time to meet some new horsey friends...


(PS. Ryan: I was going to call this blog Sigourney Weaver - geddit?)