Car washing


I no longer go to Sainsbury's to do my main shop each week. I got tired of being pressurised by over-zealous assistants to use the self-scan tills (I consider that I do quite enough by actually having to go up and down the aisles to collect what I want, without having to scan it all as well!), and of having to beg under-zealous assistants at the tills to help me pack. (Don't they realise that it moves the queue along because the people behind are not having to wait for me to finish packing after I have paid?) I do still (dimly) remember being able to go into shops and be served by a friendly, smiley assistant so this 'take it or leave it' approach seems less than impressive, but enough about that. One of the other things recently introduced by Sainsbury's is a band of roving car-washers who accost anyone who parks there to offer a car-wash service while they are doing their shopping. I believe there are mixed reactions to this but, for all who are not keen on the service, I have a solution.
Since I have taken to drawing up on the car park in my Mitsubishi Pajero, not a small car by any stretch of the imagination, I have noticed  that, far from flocking over to persuade me to let them wash my car for a fiver, the car-washers are suddenly conspicuous by their absence, looking frantically around for another car, any normal sized car. After all, who wants the extra square footage if they can find a nice little mini?
Problem solved!

Anniversary


Yesterday was the sixth anniversary of this blog. Over the past few evenings, I have been looking back over some of my past posts, particularly those written whilst on holiday in France. One of them was this one about our very brief foray into Spain, promping a text message from Hugh. A few tears were shed as I read this unexpected reminder of him but that's how it is. Every now and then something will happen, be said or  be shown on television that gives me a sharp reminder, in addition to the ever present memory running constantly in the background of my brain, of course.
This morning was also a brief jog down Memory Lane. In the field next to the one where Paddy and I were walking are some horses and today there were two beautiful white ones, unfortunately not close enough to be photographed, but they immediately reminded me of White Horses.






I don't remember the TV series but I loved the music and had the 45rpm record. At the time, I was at college, so seeing the horses in the field momentarily transported me back to those carefree days of student life, and particularly all the revision for exams which used to fill the bulk of our hours at this time of year! Maybe not so carefree then...

A grand day out

Well, today we set off to avoid any crowds that might be hurtling along the roads and made our way into the countryside around here, Minera Mountain, Horseshoe Pass, Llangollen outskirts, World's End and Glyn Ceriog, not necessarily in that order, you understand.
Keith is anxious to get into the holiday spirit and was determined to try out our little camping grill to make sure it still works. Given his head, he would have cooked a full meal out there in the wilds, but I managed to persuade him that, as the weather forecast was not the best, it might be better to revise his grandiose schemes, so he settled with bringing the wherewithall to make a cup of tea for us when we stopped. This happened to be between Glyn Ceriog and Llangollen,up  in the hills with only half a dozen sheep for company and freezing cold to boot, so I was quite pleased when the kettle had finally boiled and we were able to fight off the imminent signs of frostbite with a mug of tea. (Exaggeration? Only slight.)
Anyway, Keith was happy and Dad was happy a little later on when we arrived at Glyndyfrdwy to see a steam train chugging its way to Carrog on the Llangollen line
He was even happier when we pursued it to Carrog and he was able to talk to the engine driver, who promised him a ride on the footplate next time he visits.






Three against one


In the battle of the sexes, three against one is just plain unfair.
Dad is staying with us for a week and he and Keith get on very well together. Dad and Paddy get on really well too and Paddy is not slow to take advantage of  the fact that Dad doesn't always know the 'house rules' like no getting to sit on the sofa until invited and then not before seven in the evening.
So, this evening, I have been banished to the dining room with my laptop and Last fm because Keith and Dad were hogging the TV and watching a programme about Dunkirk and Paddy was hogging my place on the sofa.
I am expecting them all to break out in a Welsh version of The Young Ones any minute!
OK, maybe not...

Plaster board and dust

So, we're still no further forward on the British Gas smart meter front and I've given up making non-existent appointments with them...