I've been tagged this week by Rosie so here goes with my offering:
4 movies I'd watch again:
I'm going to have problems here because I don't watch many and tend to forget their titles anyway, but top of the list has to go to the Harry Potter films. (I think there are four of those now, but if not, the next choice would be 'About a Boy.'
4 places I've lived:
Bristol, Ireland, France (only for 6 months), Liverpool.
4 TV shows I watch:
Coronation Street, Emmerdale (much to Keith's disgust and boredom!), Waterloo Road, Coast.
4 people I email:
Dad, Elder daughter, TK (who comments now and again on this blog), Craig (ditto).
4 things I eat:
Fish, rhubarb yoghurt, hot cross buns, paella (but not all together).
4 places I'd rather be:
France, out walking, West Wales coast, Scotland.

There, that was quite painless really. Now, how about some input from Gemmak, Yorkshire Pudding, Daphne and Ian ?

Birds and assignments

I'm working on an assignment for my course this morning. It's amazing how such task avoidance strategies such as vacuuming, dish-washing and dusting suddenly seem so much more appealing, far surpassed, of course, by surfing the web!
And then there's just sitting in the garden, coffee in hand, listening to the birds. Fortunately the gale force winds of the past few days have left us and birds are -twittering past themselves. In spite of the fact that the trees at the back of our garden are still bare, there are signs of much collecting of nesting materials as well as evidence of coal tits, great tits and goldfinches, as well as my old friends the robins.
This is something I really appreciate - having the time to 'be still and listen', and even more so when I hear the playground sounds of the nearby school and remember that I don't have to be there!

An accident waiting to happen

Lovely walk this morning in beautiful, calm, early Spring weather that apparently is not going to be repeated tomorrow.
Then I was invited by Keith to accompany him to Manchester to buy stock for the shop. He really knows how to give a girl a good time, that man! So off we went. I hung around trying not to look terminally bored while he agonised over computer cables, padlocks and other such delights, before whisking him off to Borders for some book-spotting - proper shopping, you see!
Back in Wales, we called in at the shop to unload the booty, and here's where the day went sharply downhill.
"Are you only opening the shutter half-way up?" I enquired as he unlocked the door.
"Well, if I open it all the way, people will start coming in," was the reply.
Funny, I thought the lack of customers had been the big cause for concern during the week. However, mine not to reason why.
So, Keith toddled off into the back with some things while I charged, at my usual pace, back outside to unload more boxes...at least, that was the idea, but I got distracted by a broken sign to my right and failed to percieve that I had not lowered my head before attempting egress. Hence the reason for my sitting here for the last couple of hours feeling extremely sorry for myself and clutching an ice pack to the ostrich egg on my poor, bruised head.
And after the initial care and concern, what conversation do I get?
"Did you have duck for lunch today Ha, ha, ha."
(You'll be ducking yourself, my lad, when I get hold of you!)

New style blog

Well, this is it. I'm taking Yorkshire Pudding's advice (well some of it, or maybe just the general gist of it) and spicing up this blog, in eager anticipation of a money- filled book deal. So, here goes...

He was waiting for me in the living room. His head turned towards the door as he heard my key in the lock. I closed the door, making sure I locked it and sashayed towards him.
"Alone at last," I breathed as I leaned forward and caressed his beard.
For a moment I stood there, immobile, my eyes drinking in the hunk of manhood before me. Slowly, deliberately, he stood up. The computer chair rolled back as I gazed on the coiled spring of masculine pheromones before me. He moved closer and I could feel his breath on my cheek as he bent his head to mine.
"I want to whisk you away to paradise," whispered the throaty voice, "Just let me sort out this hard drive first."

He groaned as he lifted his throbbing head from the smashed remains of the monitor...

(Next episode will be about me molesting one of my clients in the new downstairs loo and calling him The Fling. How's that, YP? How would you like to be my agent?)

Fame and fortune?

I've just seen the interview on BBC with fellow-blogger Petite Anglaise aka Catherine Sanderson whose blog was subsequently transformed into a book. She works in Paris and, two years ago, was ignominiously sacked when her employers discovered her blog and although she had mentioned very little about her worklife, took exception to what she had written.
This is something which happens on a regular basis to bloggers and there have been one or two high profile cases over the last few years. When I was in my last full-time teaching post, I was in the habit of letting off steam on my blog now and again about the negative aspects of the world of education and although I too did my best to avoid getting personal, my head teacher at the time did not like what she read and reacted by choosing to ignore me whenever she didn't have to speak to me. This lasted for the last couple of months of my time there, culminating in her complete avoidance of me on my last day and refusing to supply references for me when I signed on for supply teaching where I now live.
However, all that is well and truly in the past but what I would like to know is, does that qualify me for a book deal?
(Maybe I need to spice this blog up a bit first....a few mentions of .....knickers?) Think I might need to work on this....laters, folks. :)

Deadline

I now have a very pleasant counselling room, with blinds and a downstairs lavatory nearby in case clients need to 'wash their hands.' As this space under the stairs was previously the home of the vacuum cleaner, ironing board, brushes, mops etc, a new storage space had to be created.
Step forward Superman Keith who has built me a very smart, while unobtrusive broom cupboard in the corner of the conservatory. I say he has built it, and so he has, right down to the last few screws...
"So will it take very long to finish off?" I enquire guardedly as he sits in front of his computer instead of getting on with it.
Sharp intake of breath: "Oooh, difficult to say..."
"Well, do you think it will be finished before 10 o'clock tomorrow morning, when my client comes?" I persist.
"Aaah, well, possibly.... but then....."
So I am left with a dilemma.
Should I just put everything in for now and shut the door on it all or, if I do that, will the whole damn thing collapse?
And the other question occupying my mind:
What is it about men that they find it so difficult, if not impossible, to FINISH a job???

Z cars part deux

Well, the police car has gone. Where? Who knows? On Thursday afternoon another police car came down the road, turned opposite our house and sped off again. By yesterday afternoon, the abandoned one had gone.
Questions spring to mind:
Did the police in the car which turned opposite the house, do so because they wanted to check out who had made the phone call? ("Ve are votching you. Ve know vhere you live!")
Did they know that the car had been sitting there for three weeks before my phonecall?
Did they care?
Am I becoming one of those paranoid, nosey neighbour types with too much time on my hands?
And the biggest one:
WHY was an empty police car sitting in our road for three weeks???
Are they going to tell me? No!