Eavesdropping

As I stood in a Post Office yesterday a dapper older gentleman stood at the adjacent window chattering happily. The lady serving him asked him how he wanted his money and he asked for small notes. There was then the clatter of coins and he started, looked down, looked up at the lady and said; "Well not quite that small!" She chuckled and said that was just the change for the item he'd just paid for.
He grinned, cocked his head and said; "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm all of a tizz today, my wife kissed me this morning and I wasn't expecting it."

I'm still chuckling to myself.

High Heels

There comes a time in life when you have to accept a few home truths.
I have to accept that, as much as I covet high heels, I absolutely, cannot walk in them.
I went to the hospital this evening to see my stepfather, following a surgery and thought I'd be good and park a short distance away and have a bit of a walk. Except I was wearing heels. I never wear heels. About a quarter of the way my calves started to complain and I pondered the wisdom of parking where I had. Half way I started to panic about the walk back to the car.
Three quarters of the way there my left ankle decided that it seriously objected to my choice of footwear and refused to proceed.
It's really difficult to limp in heels. Just for reference.
So let's bear in mind it's almost freezing out there, I am walking like a crazed drunkard, I go for the only option available. Shoe removal.
I wouldn't believe a pavement could get that cold.
On a positive note, my feet were so numb that it didn't hurt to walk on the gravel.

I made it back to the car, forced my feet back into the shoes and drove to the hospital and parked as close to main entrance as possible. I walked (read:hobbled) across the car park and made it inside the hospital. As far as the chapel, where I didn't stop to pray but to remove my shoes. Walking in bare feet whilst wrapped in a huge winter coat doesn't make you look at all odd. Ahem.
I held my head high and strode on, I'm used to getting strange looks and as time goes on I just don't care any more.

It was good to see that Tim was doing well, they both eyed my bare feet and the shoes clutched in my hand and Mum said that explained why they hadn't heard my approach.

I gave up completely on even trying to walk back to the car in them and strode back down the corridors in my bare feet and out into the cold air, ignoring the glances from passers-by, I'm sure they thought I'd escaped my strait jacket.

It's been ages since I drove barefoot, but I couldn't bear to have them back on my feet. I picked up Gary for the pub quiz, hobbling out of the car after he demanded I go into the house to see his exciting news. And I was mightily pleased I did! They're buying a house. It's exciting and brilliant.

So, off to the quiz. I walked to the pub, insisting Gary let me lean on him so that I didn't enter the pub shoeless. Weird that I worry about the floor of the pub, more than that of the street. But seriously, would you want to be barefoot in a pub toilet? No? I thought not!

Anyway, I am home, without incident, my shoes kicked off in the conservatory, never to be worn again. My ankle aching gently. I think this means my gorgeous orange shoes have to go. It's time to give in and accept if I want to wear a heel, it has to be of the kitten variety.

And by the way, we did really badly in the quiz, I moved aside for Gary to be able to collect the booby prize when our team was called out. Then we were both shocked to discover someone had actually been worse, with almost half the amount of points we had. How that's possible I'm not quite sure.

Posturing

Recently, every time I've driven to my barn the pheasants have been out in force. I really want to know what is driving their behaviour as there is definite posturing.
It's not the mating season and yet they are facing off against each other, staring down, totally unaware of everything around them. I had to stop on the road as one pair unblinkingly tried to intimidate the other, before they alternately jumped, feet first with claws outstretched at the head of the other.
Why are they doing this?
One friend suggested their pea sized brains makes them stupid, but that seems overly harsh. They must have something that leads them to behave in this manner deep in their instinctual behaviour.
Another friend suggested that as winter approaches perhaps it's a claim for territory as food grows scarcer. That's my current favourite theory.

I just know it's really quite impressive to watch, their colours are so bright and vibrant it's hard to tear your eyes away. I would love to be a photographer to be able to sit and capture an image of them.

The past few days the air has changed. Winter is squeezing Autumn out of existence and the chill in the air is clear as your breath forms clouds in front of you with each exhale. Finally I get to dig through my trunk to find my wealth of scarves and wear my long vintage gloves. Simple pleasures. Aren't they the best kind?

Question

So, here's a question.

Why did my smoke alarm choose to start its death throes not only in the middle of the night, but also during a power cut when I had no lighting by which to see?

They say timing is everything, but quite frankly, its timing sucked.

Wrong Numbers

Phone rings.
I run up the stairs, cursing forgetting to bring the cordless downstairs.
Me: Hello!
Gentleman Caller: Hello, how are you?
Me: Fine thanks, and you? (thinking, who the hell is it?)
G. C.: Who is it?
Me: Who am I or who are you? (thinking, is it a test to see if I remember them, then thinking, shit, I don't remember them)
G. C.: Who are you?
Me: Who were you expecting?
G. C.: My sister.
Me: Then I'm definitely about to disappoint you.
G. C.: Oh, I wanted to wish her a Happy Birthday.
Me: Well, you're five months late, but you can wish me a Happy Birthday if you like?
G. C.:Happy Birthday!
Me: Well thank you!
G. C.: I suppose I'd better go find my sister.
Me: Ta ra!

That now holds the record for the most belated birthday greeting of my life.

On an unrelated note, my friend Paul - who has blackmailed me in the past, called me last night to tell me he forgot to poke his jacket potato. Which, isn't as rude as it sounds, but it did result in his oven door blowing open.
And Paul... I'm still waiting on photos of the debris.
The moral of this story - always prod your potato.

A Friend Of The Family - Lisa Jewell

Ok, so it's not going to win the Booker prize or anything, nor any other prestigious literature awards, but I really enjoyed it. But then, I've enjoyed everything of hers that I've read. She has a way of describing the characters that make you feel you've met them somewhere before, throughout the course of the book you feel like you wish you were friends with all the characters.
She creates an empathy in you and I always fly through her books.

She took what seemed like a perfect family, exposed their flaws, all flaws you felt you could have in yourself or recognised in others and made you realise that people change. Who you were is not who you are, nor who you are going to be.

Yeah, so it might have a hint of the old Mills & Boon, you know you're likely to get a happy ending and you know what? I love that once in a while. I'm a woman, I like my fairy-tale endings. I love Pretty Woman, Dirty Dancing and Amelie just as much as I love Battle Royale, Leon or Like Water For Chocolate.

So, as I haven't even mentioned it really, A Friend Of The Family tells the story of Bernie & Gerry, happily married for 40 years and their three sons; Tony, Sean and Ned.
Tony's in a relationship with Ness and unsure, running his own business which he's made successful but isn't happy.
Sean, a published author who is in love with Millie until she throws him a curve ball and he questions everything.
Ned, home from a three year stay in Australia - where he's left his girlfriend, Monica who loses it when he leaves her and takes to sending him her hair and eyelashes amongst other things.
Then there's Gervase, the lodger who knows things...

I really liked it, easy reading and I was almost tempted to pick up another of hers that I haven't read from my shelf. But am moving on to Wuthering Heights instead, which I can't believe I've never read.

Love

I love Autumn. I sit beavering away at my desk and the only view I have from my window is of trees. More and more of the sky is becoming visible as the leaves fall and the skeleton of the tree is revealed.
I've loved watching the colours change, the remaining leaves are a bright yellow and starkly contrast against the deep green of the evergreen firs.
I love the confetti feeling as you walk and the leaves tumble around you.

But what I really love is running, skipping and jumping through the piles of leaves that accumulate on the paths. I love kicking them and watching them fly. Because there are parts of me that never grew up and I hope they never do.

I love jumping in puddles. Running in the rain until I'm soaked through. I love finding a grassy hill, laying down and rolling all the way to the bottom so that I'm so dizzy it's only the colours of the heavens and those of the earth that let me know which way is up.

I love the smiles that these things put on my face. Such broad smiles that your cheeks hurt, which in turn leads to those hearty laughs that come from so deep within you.

These are indeed, a few of my favourite things.