Z cars

There is a police car further down our road. Nothing special, just an ordinary North Wales police patrol car with 'Heddlu' written on it. (That's welsh for police, Dale.) What is unusual is that it has been there, without turning a wheel for over three weeks now and Keith is beside himself to know why. He has even considered opening it up (he is a locksmith and car security person, you see), turning it to face in the opposite direction and then locking it up again - just to see if anyone would notice.
So, in an attempt to put him out of his misery, I rang North Wales Police the other day.
"I was just wondering," I said, "whether you know that we have an empty police car in our road which has been there for three weeks and doesn't seem to have moved in that time."
"Ah," said the voice at the other end of the phone, "Well, I don't personally know about it but I'm sure there is someone who does. It's bound to be there for a reason."
He didn't sound too sure, though.
"I'll look into it," he said. "Can I have your name, address and telephone number, please?"
Ooh, I thought, he's going to get back to me and tell me what's going on.
But he didn't.
The car is still there and now there is no way Keith can open it and turn it round as they have all our details.
They probably wouldn't think it was very funny anyway.

Cars, loos and decorating

A couple came to look at the Probe yesterday, with a view, one hoped, to buying it. She was very pleasant and chatty, he neither looked at me not spoke to me until he had inspected the car from end to end and then said, "No, not interested," before turning on his heel and walking back to his car.
"Is your husband rude and abrupt by nature?" I asked his wife, "or did he have to go to charm school to get so good at it?"

OK, no, I didn't say that, but I wanted to. Politeness costs nothing, but I hope he heard me as I took a leaf out of his book and muttered, "Idiot!" to myself as I locked up the car.

We sold it today to a very nice man who thought it was a bargain but it did occur to me that perhaps it would not be advisable for me to consider a career on the garage forecourt.

Meanwhile, I have finished decorating our new lavatory and it looks very smart if I do say so myself. The walls, while painted in a tasteful shade of cream, do look a little bare. I wondered whether some graffiti would jazz it up a bit - you know, the usual sort of lavatorial stuff, well, maybe not absolutely the usual - something innocuous, along the lines of
"Cloth Ears woz 'ere" or "No more cake for Keith!" and "Down with skool!" alongside a few cartoon drawings.
I ran the idea past Keith.
He wasn't keen. No artistic soul, that man!

Which character am I?

I came across an amusing quiz on Rosie's site
This was my character - Eleanor Dashwood.
Have a go yourself. Females only, YP!

Take the Quiz here!

More workmen

More workmen in today. (Will any of the neighbours begin to think that I am running a house of ill repute, I wonder?)
Today's task was to install a downstairs lavatory under the stairs. The reasons are two-fold:
It will be helpful to Keith during the day as it will save him having to go up and down the stairs so often
It is necessary for the delight and delectation of my counselling clients - always assuming that I am actually going to get more than one in a blue moon.
Keith was very pleased.
"Two loos, short trek!" he exclaimed happily as he did a quick road test.
(Well, you KNOW boys never grow up!)

Groundforce @ Jennyta

When we first moved to this house, over four years ago now, the garden had been neglected and little attempt had been made to whip it into shape since the house had been built. Though the soil is mostly clay and so very heavy and difficult to work with, I did devote some effort and money towards trying to get something to grow, as you can read here but, sadly, to no avail. I should really have pulled everything out, got some topsoil and a new lawn but I didn't.
So, over the last few years, I have primped and pruned, planted tubs, mowed the weed-filled 'lawn' and, generally wasted my time, but this week, I took the bull by the horns and introduced the services of two gentlemen of the soil who could claim to know what they were doing. Deciding to go for the easy option, I instructed them to rotivate, level the ground and lay a new lawn fence to fence, reuse the available slabs for a small patio and repair the side gate. Easy! So now all I will have to do in future is mow the lawn, tend a few tubs of flowers and lie back in the recliner and enjoy.
But first, I have to keep the dratted cats of the neighbourhood from digging up the newly laid turf!

Nigella mark 2?

It started when I noticed some cheese scones on television.
"I could make some of those," I remarked.
Keith looked at me in amazement. "But you never make me cakes," he said. "You always say I can't have any."
This is true and is in vain pursuit of a leaner, svelter man, but so far, it hasn't worked.
So, by the time he got home I had been shopping, bought the required ingredients and utensils, and there was a superb scent of newly baked scones wafting from the kitchen.
I used to do a lot of baking when my children were growing up. Those were the days when I could produce six dozen mince pies on Christmas Eve and be left with an empty cake tin by Boxing Day.
But today - those scones. They were so light, a puff of wind could have blown them away. Didn't take long to make, either.
Hmm, I feel a new creative urge coming on.
Nigella, eat your heart out, girl. Make way for the expert!

Street cred

My Ford Probe is up for sale.

I was quite happy with my aged Peugeot 106 until Keith acquired the Probe and made me take it on. I have to say, I got used to it. It was quite pleasant having leather seats, electronic windows, air conditioning and cruise control. Actually, scrub the cruise control - I never really got the hang of that.

However, it was quite addictive shooting up the A483, being able to outpace the idiots who, seeing a mere woman at the wheel, foolishly thought I'd be no match for them and shouting, "Eat dust!" at them as they trailed behind in the ever lengthening distance...

But, back to reality.

It is now time to pull in my horns, take account of my newly restricted budget and take delivery of something a little more economical...

like a Toyota Yaris, for example.

OK, it's not so good for my street cred, but it is better for my budget.