Ruth Bradbury-Horton's Blog: Ruth2Day, page 5

Five minutes if I’m lucky to put something down

I’m not good at waiting for the clock to hit whatever time it is I need to be ready to leave, meeting, phone somebody or anything. Hence why I leave any getting ready to the very last minute. Rush and do. Lastminute.com sums me up.

Right now I should be dressed and on  my way to a birthday party. Instead, I am writing here, sitting in the hubsters dressing gown and no idea what to wear.

Hey-ho, better go

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photo – mine – me up there

Fifteen minutes – day trip with the colleagues

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Odney – photo –  mine

Funny how the idea of a work road trip brings up such mixed emotions. Elation at a day out and leaving the desk, and familiar mouse to gather a few hours of dust. Panic – shit, who will I sit with on the bus? I don’t know them all that well. I’m not a great small talker, will I by virtue be bored shitless? Clothes, can we ditch the uniform for civies? How joyous to not wear my Business Dress shirt that likens me to a member of a local ten-pin bowling team. As in too big, in need of darts all over, and how can I forget the official shade of blue.

As it was the bus was OK. All official with its logo. Instructions to buckle up before we drive off, and even stronger instruction for no moonies on the motorway – jeepers who do I work with?! Everybody took up position, rabble in the back, graduating to the quieter ones and our leader up front with the driver.

We were off to the company Heritage Site, about an hour and a half away. Our leader having been there before, relayed how deciding to not leave her doggie at home, booked her into a local doggie day-care – at great expense. Lovely dog was provided with paw massages and facial, and our leader was provided throughout the day photo updates to her mobile of lovely doggie running freely amongst fields and orchards.

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Heritage site – photo mine

Along the road, newly married and about to be married colleagues shared how they were/would be ovulating during respective Honeymoons completely unaware of how their voices were travelling across the bus.  Needless to say, much laughter and blushes when I turned back and said, “Thanks for sharing, Ladies.”

“Members Only,” the signage said at this beautiful place we arrived at.

Heritage site, though small, holds a wealth of information along with an extensive fabric library, items conserved in various methods, physical and digital.  And if you were looking for bedtime reading, they have copies of the company magazine that’s been going for over 100 years and is the longest running in-house magazine – I stand corrected but think our lovely Archivist said in the world.

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Like a little boat trip – photo mine

As you enter there is a memory of the Oxford Street branch, bombed during WW11 – a small tin mangled, chared, with coins melted to the bottom. Very poignant.

We saw print blocks used for fabrics. An example piece called Tree of Life is on the wall. This beauty required over 300 blocks to produce and needed well over 3 years to complete. As you can expect these were pricey items, not for the regular man in the street. Jeepers one of the blocks I could hold was so heavy. Apparently, the printers knew exactly which block to use in sequence. Any mistakes, well the fabric was discarded at huge cost.

The entire place, not only the Heritage Site, for it is on a private members only estate, is idyllic. There are walks along the Thames, footbridges to take you across to further lush and extensive grounds, rowing boats available, accommodation, spa, the lot. You can even take your dog, and indeed we saw a furry friend swimming in the Thames, the ducks oblivious.

Back to the Heritage site, our Archivist – Hannah – was wonderful, sharing great snippets of company founder’s links to the Zoological Society and how after taking on a pair of gibbons to assist with breeding, founder managed to create quite an upset with his local villagers.  Apparently while he believed gibbons do not swim, he’d overlooked how they do wade, and in fact did so, deciding to take a pleasant stroll through the village.

We also saw some items pertaining to Queen Victoria, one being a rather solemn black, bejewelled funeral bonnet. The other was far more romantic. When she was sent a fabric print to agree to for Balmoral, Vicky added the silhouette of herself gazing across the printed forget-me-nots towards a silhouette of Albert. When the example was returned, these were incorporated into the print run, and yes, there they were, feint, but there.

We left in glorious sunshine, all keen to return. Let’s hope we do.

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Time to say farewell – photo mine

 

 

 

Might have cheated here a bit, this was written on the bus and needed a bit more than 15 minutes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fifteen minutes with a cold sore, hangers, goats and cows

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(Photo from HERE )

Flipping heck. If there is one thing that really gets my goat going, it’s waking up and finding myself staring at a cold sore. Bad enough though they are, mine always reside beneath or within my nose. Slap bang in the middle of my face. The hubster can’t look me in the eye, preferring to travel towards my poor old nostrils. And if he does this, then everybody else I meet, pass, talk to will be doing the same.

My lovely daughter tells me not to worry and that everybody gets them. I know, but man oh man it does make me a grumpy old cow.

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(My photo)

Fifteen minutes with a cold sore, feels like fifteen months with a cold sore.

Did a sort out of my cupboard recently, chucking out things that I like, but not so much they will be missed. Must admit I can’t ditch a denim shirt that’s not been of the hangar for about 3 years.  Got a jacket or 2 like that too. Need to be brave and chuck them. Motivation, buy something else to put on those empty hangers.

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(Image from HERE )

Flipping heck number 2. The hubster was in the garden with his slippers, stepped in poop and walked it through the house! Suffice to say the air is not good on so many levels

 

 

 

 

 

Purpose of this blog should you have fallen upon it:

Having fallen out of love with writing, yet deep down really wanting to, decided the best way was to write whatever comes to mind in 15 mins and then stop

Fifteen minutes – and it be Sunday with a wild life roundup

I’m not sure why it’s called SUNday, because there is no blooming SUN today! Googled the reason and lost interest when each reference went off into Roman Times and Germanic terms. Evidently, there is no need in my day to be educated.

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photo from here: HERE

In the last week or so, I’ve seen a deer, fox and hedgehog. Hedgehog was in the garden outside the back door, and the fox and deer as expected were crossing the road as I headed either to or from work. Whenever there is wildlife about I find myself smiling and cheerful.

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Quite fond of a hedgehog we started putting out some mealworms and water, with some success. Hubster erected some make-shift retreats out of old wood, bricks and an old chopping board. All was pretty good, however, we decided to upgrade facilities and today installed a proper hedgehog shelter, allowing us to create a bit of a scamper-way through the beds, round the mancave, into a selection of homes, and then out through the hedgehog highway.  This all sounds as if street planning was needed, and perhaps rather OTT, but no, it’s a simple set up, very basic and rural and with luck will be helpful.

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Photo from here: HERE

Back to Sunday then. Hubster is going to do some planting and me, well lucky me, I’m off to work. Food is good there, and chances are a roast could be on the cards.

 

 

 

Purpose of this blog should you have fallen upon it:

Having fallen out of love with writing, yet deep down really wanting to, decided the best way was to write whatever comes to mind in 15 mins and then stop

Fifteen minutes – Fosbury Flop

Had such a brilliant earlier evening with the hubster.

Watching the European Athletics on the old television with him, I roped him into doing some running with me. On the spot of course. We do the warm-up with the runners, set ourselves in dummy blocks and when the gun goes, we’re off!

He really got into the swing of it. We were doing the 800m.

“Coming over,” he shouts out, moving towards me.

“Elbows,” I respond, flapping them like a chicken to remove him from my spot.

“Elbows,” he responds, equally flapping and moving me out the way.

We did alright, came in 1st and 2nd.

Next, I had a go at the high jump. Flinging myself onto the settee/couch. Performing my best Fosbury Flop, or should that be plop?! Pretty happy with my performance, and satisfied my expertise rests with the running.

Honestly, if the neighbours were strolling past our front window they’d be wondering what the blazes we are up to.

Went to find out about the Fosbury Flop. Found this little video on Youtube.

Fifteen minutes – day off, reading a book written in the 80s, peep-hole coffee and sippy-cups

Funny when you read a book that was written in the 80s. Funny because even when the plot is crime, the old DCI never reverts to social media, mobile phones or carries a coffee in a disposable cup to slurp during moments of deep thought or general out for a walk.

And yet the crime is solved, life was not splattered over the globe and coffee was enjoyed from a reusable mug, namely a chunky china/porcelain or other washable substance, while sitting at home or at a desk.

I know I’ve pondered this before, but what is it with carrying coffee around? I don’t get the enjoyment of slurping my frothy drink through a peephole in a plastic lid? Actually, just thought how it reminds me of reverting back to toddler-hood and using a sippy-cup!

 

Day off today. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. What to do? Well, lunch with my mate, which is going to be great, because she makes me laugh and has shown me how to communicate far my easily when things are not quite right at work. Never easy to do that. The approach being, go in positive, say what needs to be said, and have a solution to offer. Sure, things may not be sorted exactly, however, they have been aired and bedded in the mind of the person who was made to listen.  And more importantly, there will be no or at least limited internal festering within my gut.

 

 

 

Purpose of this blog should you have fallen upon it:

Having fallen out of love with writing, yet deep down really wanting to, decided the best way was to write whatever comes to mind in 15 mins and then stop

 

Fifteen minutes – rolling on the floor with a quiche

How did I feel about work today, and what to eat this evening? Were we to have baby potatoes or chips with our Salmon and Broccoli quiche, the hubster asked.

I looked him directly in the eye and said. “After the day I’ve had I’m quite happy to throw the quiche on the floor and roll in it.”

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photo borrowed from here

The quiche was far too tasty to waste, and instead, I went about ridding myself of pent-up frustration by running on the spot while watching the men’s 200m sprint at the European championships in Berlin, followed by a few swimming strokes while flat on my stomach on the carpet. Next, the ironing was completed and even the tea-towels were ironed to perfection.

 

 

 

Purpose of this blog should you have fallen upon it:

Having fallen out of love with writing, yet deep down really wanting to, decided the best way was to write whatever comes to mind in 15 mins and then stop

 

 

Fifteen minutes and a frozen t-shirt

That game was good we played yesterday. Who’d have thought a frozen t-shirt would give so much joy and competitiveness. 5 couples competing against each other to thaw and unravel a frozen t-shirt, with one member fully wearing it for the team to be declared winners.

All the t-shirts were screwed up tight before being plunged into water and then frozen. It was like being given a ball of ice to thaw, with your front door key in the middle.

No cheating allowed . . . at first. But after some of us (the hubster) had smashed their ball of fabric ice on the floor, demonstrated key tug-of-war skills while one team member gripped a scrap of fabric and the other held on for dear life, while others rubbed at it as if willing a genie to appear, the cheating began. Couples darted in all directions, holding the solid mass over the barbecue, running the hose over it, and of course the old hot water solution, before the winner charged back to the garden ripping their shirt off and pulling on a wet and soggy t-shirt to huge applause.

It was indeed a great ice-breaker – what a terrible joke to end with!

 

 

 

Purpose of this blog should you have fallen upon it:

Having fallen out of love with writing, yet deep down really wanting to, decided the best way was to write whatever comes to mind in 15 mins and then stop

Fifteen minutes with Poirot and Poldark

tukka-tukka 2, tukka-tukka 2, time to write and be amused.  What the heck rhymes with 2? And how the heck do you spell tukka?

Suppose I could have used one of these:

crew, few, true, boo, knew, new, pew, poo, who, pooh, emu – hmmm, not sure about emu.

There’s heat in the house today. That muggy, stifling heat that says no matter what I do or where I am, the old body will end up sweaty and yukky. Yesterday at work the aircon was set to 17, pretty cold. However, with the roof off the office, which is within a distribution centre with no aircon, it might as well have been set to fierce heat.

Been thinking about a character for a book. I can sort of picture him but have a suspicion of channelling Agatha Christie’s Poirot. Think I need to shake him up a bit. Have him maybe a bit more along the lines of Poldark as in ovary thumping abs, fondness of wearing not much, and gets around on a horse.

Can’t find a photo of Poldark on his horse, bare-chested.

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Purpose of this blog should you have fallen upon it:

Having fallen out of love with writing, yet deep down really wanting to, decided the best way was to write whatever comes to mind in 15 mins and then stop

 

 

Fifteen minute grab-a-rooney

Highlight of my day so far. Used my new hairbrush and it seems to do what it is supposed to do. Yep, not only brushes my hair but also helps dry it pretty darn well too. Jeepers, how boring can a life be if all that excites me of a morning is a hairbrush!

It gets worse, how about those good ten minutes browsing rows of bristles with handles of every shape, size and technology, at Boots. And would have been there longer if not for rushing to work.

There was a brush with a giant hole in the middle. Like a ring-doughnut. Apparently, it helps the air flow when drying.  Not convinced mind, thinking it would probably catch on my ear, or socks and ribbons and whatnot will end up tangled around and through it.

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photo source: Mark Hill

15 mins are up

 

 

 

Purpose of this blog should you have fallen upon it:

Having fallen out of love with writing, yet deep down really wanting to, decided the best way was to write whatever comes to mind in 15 mins and then stop