Little Cottages at the Harbour.

We have a saying, here in Great Britain, which is said to someone you haven’t seen for a time.  It’s:  ‘Well look what the cat dragged in!’,  and it seems pretty apt right now, for I haven’t been able to blog for almost 4 weeks.  FOUR WEEKS!  And …. I haven’t even brought a note from my mother either!  Tsk tsk. (more about why I haven’t been, in a minute).

Well … I’m here, dragged in by the cat (so to speak), and sharing a little thing I actually made during July.  I photographed it … and then couldn’t find where I’d saved the photos, so I’ve ended up photographing it all over again, so that I could come and share it with you.  It’s called:  The Little Cottages at the Harbour.

the Little Cottages at the Harbour

I have a small bundle of driftwood, here in my craft room.  It’s all incredibly lovely to handle – so smooth and has its own story,  a  life as being part of something else – I’d love to know what, but that’s a secret kept only by the sea.  The sea did what the sea does and made this wood something incredible, but now I needed to give a piece of this driftwood a new life to lead.

I sat with a little piece of it on my desk for a few days before finally deciding that it would be a base for some little fishing cottages that would be found by the sea – perhaps not quite as close to the sea as I’ve put them here, but a little artistic licence came into play in the creating process as I very much wanted to include a boat in the scene, so water was (obviously) a must!

Close up of the Little Sail boat
see the sea-foam where it’s splashed up the bottom of the boat, and is slowly ‘dripping and draining’ away again?

The houses and the two seagulls (stood having a chat on the top of one of the houses) I made from clay.  The clothes hanging on the washing line were all cut by hand, from felt;  and the grass,  the slate pathway, the wet looking sea with its sea-foam, and all the other various bits and pieces, were all made from things I have knocking about my craft room, all stored in wee little pots, just waiting for their chance to pop out and play.

the rear of The Little Cottages at the Harbour
a view around the back of the little cottages.

Of course …  the smoke coming out of the chimney is real.  [cough-porky pie-cough]  🙂

The whole thing measures just 5.25″ long (or 13.3cm) and 1.75″ wide (4.4cm) at its widest point.

Well that’s the crafty bit over and done with … now comes why I wasn’t at school for ages.  So … if you only came to have some crafty joy, please stop reading now.  Those of you who are gluttons for punishment, read on….

An Alternative Note than one from my mother:

I shall put it all in as few words as I can:  An ongoing, long-standing medical problem is being a problem, but after six and a half years with my new doctors sending me for test after test;  so many x-rays I swear I glow in the dark;  huge great hollow needles being shoved into my hands (had to mention that one as it horrified me when I saw what they were about to do), which was testing nerve responses;  and so much blood taken from me for tests that I now put every phlebotomist under the one title of:  ‘The Dracula Brigade’ – …  I’ve finally been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia – which,  for those who don’t know what it is,  is a disease of the central nervous system.

For years I’ve been blaming my spinal injury (result of a RTA some years ago) for all these things that had begun to happen, and they were getting worse and worse and driving me crazy, but it was something else which was happening all the time!

Apparently Heaven is determined to get its hands on me and is wearing me down, one injury, one illness, one ‘broken’ bit at a time, until I eventually give in or give out!

Then . . .  the oven [in the kitchen] decided to turn up its toes.

Then . . . the dishwasher apparently couldn’t cope with life without the oven and it died of a broken heart.

Then . . .  Mr.Cobs, in his attempt to get the dishwasher out of the kitchen, manoeuvred it out of its hole which it lived in, (under the work top).  He got the machine out but then had to crawl into the now vacated spot to unplug the dishwasher from the hidden electrical socket …. and upon completing the unplugging task, he was backing out of the space …. thought he’d backed out far enough and . . .  lifted his head . . . only to find that he’d misjudged the distance and WHAM … he hit the top of his head on the underside edge of our wooden, 2″ thick work tops and cut his head open!

OH MY GOODNESS!!!  SOOOooooo much blood!  Clean tea-towel after clean tea-towel came into use and I folded one into a firm pad and gave it to Mr.C with the instructions of putting it on the cut and holding it firmly in place.  I managed to get him to a comfortable place to sit (I was scared silly that he’d pass out on the floor, as this is not a weedy chap we’re talking about here.  He’s a tall, meaty chap and there would be no way I could pick him up or drag him anywhere!

After asking him various questions (who’s the Prime Minister of our country.  What year is it.  What’s his date of birth etc) to establish that he was still in mental working order, I feared to look but knowing that I had to . . .  with torch in hand I carefully examined the site and found that damage was a small cut of less than half an inch!  From the amount of blood I honestly thought that there would be a huge gaping gap of around 4/5 inches.  I’d already planned to call an ambulance as I feared him bleeding to death if I drove him in the car to the hospital.

He suffered a bit of a headache (as you’d expect) but a couple of pain killers and sitting quietly for a while made him feel a little better.  And … the blood flow stopped … which I’m guessing is down to the amount of prayers I shot out of my heart and head from the moment I saw the blood dripping down his face.

Rest assured though dear reader, he is perfectly fine and totally groovy now.

Of course, while all the above was going on, normal life was also taking place – as it does – but somethings got left, pushed to one side, or put on the back burner, and sadly blogging was one of those things.  Sorry about that.

I don’t know what’s going on this summer.  Is it the heat?  Is it the fact that we in Great Britain aren’t used to this amount of ‘Summer’ happening all at once?  I have no idea.  I only know that this Summer has [personally] brought trouble with it and I’ll be really rather glad to see the back of it.  I’m looking forward to Sunday, 23rd September – for that’s the official date that Autumn begins here in the UK, and from that date I’ve decided that there will be no more trouble.

Autumn is one of my most favourite times and I’m in talks with God about how life hasn’t been very fair recently.  God, though, has an answer for everything – and says if not me, then who?  And I and my heart truthfully can’t answer that one.

Anyhoo . . .  I hope that you haven’t met with any problems or even disasters, which were too much for you to cope with.  Remember – into each life a little rain must fall, so don’t feel that you’re alone when something happens out of the blue which you would rather hadn’t happened.  I can guarantee that at least one other person reading these words as you read them right now, will have gone through pretty much the same thing and can relate to how you feel.

So  . . .  If you’re going through ‘it’ … we’re all standing right beside you, cheering you on and shouting words of encouragement.  You’re not alone.  We’re right here.

Thanks for coming and taking a peep at the Little Cottages at the Harbour, and having a read of this ‘diary entry’ for what happened in August!  It’s truly great to see you.  I’ve missed you all so very much.

Have a fabulous Monday and a truly blessed week.  Much love ~ 

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Once upon a time . . .

Are you sitting comfortably children?  Then I’ll begin . . .

Once upon a time …  when I was a little younger than I am now,  …  not much younger you understand,   just a little, I was watching daytime TV when all of a sudden what should appear on the screen than some darling little houses.  Just for a flash.  A moment.  The longest, they were on-screen was about 3 seconds.  BUTI saw them and that’s what’s important here.

I tried to find the little houses on the internet, by doing a search for the TV programme on which they made their momentary appearance, but, sadly, it was not to be.  I discovered that they were never featured within the programme, so they were just there in the introduction as a colourful addition to the film sequence which ‘introduced’ the programme.

BUT ….  I’d seen them,  and once seen, they could never be forgotten.  They were imprinted upon my brain.  Well … my one brain cell had drawn them on a  post-it note and pinned it to the wall of my brain so that I remembered them.

They were on the ‘back burner’ of my mind for the longest time, when one day, some weeks ago I mention\ed them to Mr.Cobs. 

Mr. Cobs has a collection of scrap bits of wood – off cuts of this, that and the other which he cannot bear to throw away.  As a crafter I can fully understand this behaviour.  I ventured down the garden, pretending to look for one of our cats, but I was sneakily peeping through the windows of his Man Cave.  He caught me at it!

A voice boomed from somewhere and made me jump:  “What are you up to, young lady?”.  I gasped, audibly.  Was that God speaking to me?  A ghost maybe? (because we’re pretty certain we have one – along with many ghosts of cats).  I looked towards the house but could see no one there.  Again, the voice asked “What are you doing?” only this time I knew where the voice was coming from.

…..  “I was just looking in the shed windows.  Y’know….  like y’do.”  I said, feeling that would be enough of an explanation.  But it wasn’t.

Mr.C wandered into the conservatory and I instantly knew I was ‘in trouble’.  He was putting on his gardening shoes, and that meant only one thing . . .  he was coming out!  I’d been caught in the act, and I was going to have to explain myself.

Now Mr.Cobs is a ‘stamper’.  Not a crafting stamper you understand, but a  ‘BANG HIS FEET DOWN ON THE FLOOR AS HE WALKS BECAUSE HE A HUGE BEAST OF MAN’  stamper.  He’s on the other end of the scale when it comes to ‘Ballerina’. In fact … he’s totally off that scale.  Think more Sumo Wrestler – but slimmer.  He’s a tall chap, and does carry a little more timber around the middle than the Doctor is happy about, but he’s not huge.  However …  he’s going to totally stuff up the internal ‘shock absorbers in his legs’ with the way he walks.  He can’t do anything light-footed.  He can’t creep, and I swear to Dog that he can’t walk gently.  He  S.T.A.M.P.S  his heels down with the heaviest feet in the whole wide world.

He exited the conservatory.  The ground was shaking as he approached.

“You were looking for something – I saw you.  What are you looking for?”

“I was just gazing in the windows.  Just, y’know ….  gazing”  I replied.

“So you weren’t hoping to go into the shed to find something and remove it then?” he said as almost an accusation.

“Uhm .. well, no, not quite  ….  not now you’re here.”  I said, grinning,  and feeling the warm glow of guilt coming to my cheeks.

Oh, right, well then I’ll go away.  He said, pretending to turn and walk away.

“Well … actually….  since you are here….”  I ventured, in a cajoling tone…. 

He turned is body back around and lent his head to one side, in a questioning sort of angle – his eyebrows raised, clearly (voicelessly) asking … “What?”

“….  I saw something on TV a little while ago, and I would rather like to make some of them”

“So you WERE looking for something then!”  He said, accusingly, but with a laugh which also showed as fun on his face.

“…..  Welll … Yes  …   I was really.  Sort of.  I need some little bits of wood”.  I said in my most Sunday best, angelic voice that I could muster.

“Bits of wood?  What for?  What do you want to make and what size of wood are you hoping to find?”.  He was warming to the subject matter, I could tell.  Bits of wood are Mr.Cobs ‘currency’.

Lifting my hands to demonstrate,  I said:  “Well, I need three bits ….  around this sort of size”  … (making box shapes with my hands).  “I want to make some little houses”.

“Little Houses?”   He repeated, while his brows furrowed….

“Yes.  Simple, rustic looking little houses, out of cut wood, and I will paint doors and windows on them!”

He’s that used to my hair brained ideas for crafting things – I’ve been a crafter all our married life, so he’s used to me now – that he didn’t flinch or give me one of his  ‘Are You Totally Mad, Woman?’  faces that he can do sometimes.

“Ok…  I think I can do that.  But … what about the roofs?  What are you going to do for those?”  He asked.

“Uhmm … ….  paint them I suppose.” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“Ok.  Give me a little time.  I’ve got to finish getting the garden in order and  . . . ”  … he reeled off a list of VITs  (Very Important Things), and ended with:  “…  and then I’ll get to your wooden houses.  OK?”

During the weekend just gone he presented me with three little blocks of wood.   I took my pencil and drew how and where they’d need to be cut in order to give them a roof.  He took the blocks of wood away and a few minutes later he presented me with these:

LittleHouses Wood Blocks

Three almost but not quite little houses.

I painted them with an under-coat, and as I did so, Mr.Cobs appeared back in the craft-room and asked me again about the roofs,  telling me that he had some ‘slates’ left over from when we built our porch.  “I could cut you some of those slates to the right sizes, if you’d like Slate for the roofs.”  He said.  I jumped at the chance!

He measured up the little houses and went away humming to himself, and a little while later he came back and gave me six individual little pieces of slate – all cut to the right sizes for each of the houses, and with little holes in them, so that they could be fixed in place!  And this is what they now look like:

Little Houses Pink
Little Pink Painted House

 

Little Houses Yellow
Little Yellow Painted House (a farm-house, maybe?).  You can see, over to the left as you’re looking at this photo, a steel rule which is showing (as best as can be) the height of these houses. They’re measuring at roughly 4″ tall (or 10cm)
Little Houses Blue
Little Blue Painted House.

I painted the backs to look different from the front ….

Little Houses Backs
The backs of the Little Houses

  so that you can compare the fronts and the backs . . .

Little Houses Fronts
The fronts of the little houses

And that’s how the adventures of the Little Houses began.

They’re not Fairy Houses, and they aren’t houses which go in the garden.  They’re rustic, little cottagey type houses – the type of cottages found by the seaside here where I live in the South of England.  They’re just for decoration inside our cottage.  To look sweet on a shelf somewhere, or on a table or bookshelf.  These three are going to sit on my coffee table.

I’m already planning to make some more…. only the next one’s will be a bit different to these.

Thanks for coming and spending some time with me.  I love your company.  But  then …. you know that already.  ❤

Be good to yourselves this month.  Give yourself a smile in the mirror every now and again.  A REAL smile.  One which reaches your eyes.  And …  don’t expect so much of yourself.  It’s great to have goals and ambitions, but sometimes, a body needs to know it’s loved.  Love yourself. Because if YOU don’t love you, how can anyone else be expected to love you.  (But please always remember that I love you in spite of yourself! lol)

Sending love, from me here in my corner, to you there in yours.

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Happy UnBirthday Balloons ~ an ATC for World Watercolour Month

Who said you could only have a balloon on your Birthday?  Actually .. why have balloons become a special occasion item at all?  When I go back to my childhood (not too great a stretch of my imagination, admittedly) I can remember the joy of being given a balloon!

I’d actually seen an image very like this painted onto a birthday cake for a little girls birthday.  It had obviously lodged itself in my brain, and because I’d been thinking about birthdays (my own only being a few days away.  not hinting or anything), and who can have a birthday without cake?  (NOW I’m hinting.  Cobs Snr. take note: CAKE – if I can’t have *this one*,  then I’d be very happy with *this one*  … or even *this one*)

Back to the ATC Cobs!  …. …  …  …  with the white mount:

Happy UnBirthday 2
Happy UnBirthday!  An ATC made for  #WorldWatercolorMonth

This little ATC took me a bit longer as I’d over wet the watercolour paper before I began so once I’d sploshed some colour on for the background, I had to wait a while for that to dry.  Patience not being one of my strongest points (I try.  I really do try) …  I eventually plugged my heat gun in and ‘helped’ it to dry.  (read:  forced the little bu&ger to do as it was told).

Happy UnBirthday 3
Happy UnBirthday!  An ATC made for  #WorldWatercolorMonth

Once it was finally finished I rather liked it.  It had a gentleness,  which I loved,  and innocence – which made me think of me.  (yeah,  I’m laughing at that one).

After trying the mounts ….  I think I actually like it naked.

Happy UnBirthday 1
Happy UnBirthday!  An ATC made for  #WorldWatercolorMonth

I think I’ll cut off the border (which I leave on so that I can handle the ATC while I’m painting it),  and I might even mount this one onto a card.  Perhaps a Birthday Card or a ‘hello I was thinking of you‘ card.  That sort of thing.

Thank you so much for coming and for sharing a few minutes with me.  I so appreciate your company.

I’d just like to say a warm welcome to some new followers which have joined our happy team here in the last few weeks.  I won’t mention you by name, but you know who you are.  It’s lovely to have you here.  Don’t be afraid to comment and let yourself be known.  I’ve found that I’ve SO enjoyed some comments on other people’s blogs that I’ve clicked to see what that person is ‘about’, and ended up following them.  So please do make yourself known.  Who knows … you may end up with a few new followers!

Well … it’s Thursday already.  Someone has stolen two days out of my week this week.  Tuesday and Wednesday have gone missing altogether.  If I catch that little rascal who’s snaffling days out of my weeks I’ll grab him by the collar and shake the little divil until all the days fall out of his hiding places!  pffft.

Have a wonderful day.  Remember … do it to them before they do it to you …  be nice to people that is.  Smile at them.  PLEASE!!!  This sort of thing  WILL  make the world a better place.  C’mon!  Let’s heal the world…  it has to begin before we can win.  Let it begin with us!

Sending great big Thursday Squidges ~

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Three Little Fishies ~ an ATC/ACEO – painted for World Watercolour Month

Down in the meadow in a
little bitty pool
Swam three little fishies
And a mama fishie too
“Swim,” said the mama fishie,
“Swim if you can.”
And they swam and they swam all
over the dam
.
Boop boop diten datem whatem choo
Boop boop diten datem whatem choo
Boop boop diten datem whatem choo
And they swam and they swam
right over the dam
.
Three Little Fishies 1
#WorldWatercolorMonth
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The idea of painting Koi Carp popped into my mind and so I went with it.   Never painted fish before so this was a surprise choice for me!
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Painted in ATC/ACEO size – 2.5″x 3.5″
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The poem is one I remember singing with my girls when they were little,  and I remember singing it with my mum when I was a little girl  (back before dirt was invented – at least it feels like that some days).
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.Anyhoo … 
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HAPPY MONDAY!  Yes, I know that you perhaps might not feel overly happy that it’s Monday … but hey …  you have two choices:  You can either feel miserable all day and totally miss out on any smiles which could come your way.  OR  …  you can choose to feel happy that although it’s Monday, You’re Alive!  Now that surely has got to be an improvement on the alternative.  So choose happy!
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But … you don’t have to.  However,  remember that which ever you choose,  happy or miserable,  it was YOUR choice to feel that way.  So you can’t complain that life has given you a rubbish day, because you chose ‘miserable’.
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(This is why I always choose ‘happy’.  It always ends up being the best choice I’ve found).
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But … which ever you choose, may your day be peaceful and may you feel like you’ve made a positive difference in someway to someone else.  Be the smile that someone else needs.  Just do it.
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Be nice to yourself  …  and each other.  It helps the world to go around in a much better way.
Sending love ~
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Little Robin Redbreast ~ an ATC/ACEO – painted for World Watercolour Month

We’ve recently put up two bird feeders right outside my craft room window, and there is a little Robin who hasn’t yet built up enough courage to take a turn on the feeder.  Now I’m guessing that’s because of the following two reasons:-

  1.  Maisie.  Miniscule cat who has a ‘second name’ of:  Squeaky,  because that’s how she sounds when she meows.  Squeaky cat has, since the bird feeders have been put in place, taken to sitting on a little table we have in the garden – for it gives her the perfect view of the bird feeders.  Aaaand we all know why that is.  But the little Robin has very good eyesight and can clearly see that there is a monster in the garden, so he/she I think, is waiting for Squeaky to be snoozing in the house, before he jumps down off the fence and has a little nibble.
  2. Magpies and PigeonsMagpies … well I’m surprised quite frankly that they visit anymore since Squeaky jumped up from where she was hiding and grabbed Mr.Magpie around the body and held him, mid-air, in a big ol’ cat hug …. that was until I shouted her name and clapped my hands SO loudly that it scurred her and she let him go.

The pigeons I have no idea why they come, they seem unable to plot a course to actually land on the big feeder dish itself, and so go through this elaborate dance on the decorative curved metal top of the one feeder, trying to grip it with their big chunky toes and failing miserably.  I sit in my craft room watching them from the window, bemused at their lack of agility, and their stupidness.  All the flapping of their wings is like cat morse code  and Alf Capone will lift his weary head and watch for a while … however he can’t be bothered to drag his weary you know what out of his bed – not for a pigeon.  (Apparently Pigeon is not good enough for Mr. Capone).  But Squeaky?  Aw …  she’s game.  She’ll attempt to catch anything if it has the audacity to be alive.   But … so far, there has been no pigeon burials.  So far.  So good.

So … anyhoo … (back to the storyline Cobs!!!)  about the Robin…  He visits our garden and stands on the fence and sings for all he’s worth.  He’s the most delightful little chap and doesn’t seem overly frightened of me. I’ve stood with him in the garden and chatted to him as he’s sung to me.  So lovely is he, that I thought about him on Friday as I was wondering what to paint and it struck me that the Little Robin Redbreast was THE very thing that I should paint.  So I did.

It’s erm … not an exact picture of him,  but more the way the memory of him in my heart sees him.

Little Robin Redbreast
#WorldWatercolorMonth

I hope the little Robin does, one day, when Squeaky cat isn’t around, plucks up his courage and comes to the bird table and has a nibble of something wonderful there.  And I also hope that I happen to be looking out of the craft room window when he does come for lunch, as I’d love to see him finally having a bite to eat on my feeder.

Little Robin Redbreast 2
#WorldWatercolorMonth

This little Robin was painted in ATC / ACEO size of 2.5″x 3.5″.

Thank you so much for coming and sharing a coffee with me.  It’s lovely to see you here and I’m so thankful to you for visiting.  Please feel free to leave a chat behind via a message.  I promise I’ll answer.

May your Sunday be spent in a way which fills you with happiness.  If you can …  share your happiness.  Say good morning to someone you pass along the road as you go for your paper.  Smile at someone and share your warmth.  But if either of those things aren’t really your ‘thing’, then ... perhaps you could pray, or just send good wishes, for someone you happen to pass on the street or even who walks past your house today when you’re looking out of the window.  Pray for a stranger.  Or, if you’re not a believer then simply send out really good wishes for that person, and push those wishes out of your head so that if the Universe is listening at that precise moment then it might just agree with you and grants that person your wish.  Wouldn’t that be brilliant?

Have a truly beautiful day.  Be good to yourself ….  and where-ever you happen to go today, may your God go with you.

Sending love  ~

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Things I Learned This Week.

I’ve learned that I love my postman and that I appreciate him and the job he does even more than I ever realised I did.

postman
Postman Pat and Jess the cat, picture courtesy of the BBC

When we first moved into this property we originally inherited a postman who … erm … how can I say this...  …   who really ‘wasn’t up to scratch’.

The chap spent the whole of his post round talking to his friends or partner on his mobile phone.  You would have thought that phone was super-glued to his face and would have to be surgically removed.  I had to speak to him one day (he’d delivered a letter that wasn’t only not for our address but not even to anyone in our area), he still didn’t remove his phone from his ear.  He just took the letter, shoved it into his post-bag,  carried on gossiping in his phone and didn’t acknowledge me in any way at all.  You’d have thought I didn’t exist!  I did question if I was perhaps invisible – but Mr. Cobs assured me I was clearly visible, and that  the postman was ignorant and obviously without manners. (telling me!)

Then, after a time, the post office did the thing they do now and again, and swapped all the post men/women around and gave them all new routes.  So we got a new Postman, and he has been amazing.  He’s a thoroughly lovely chap.  Looks out for people and if he hasn’t seen someone for a few days then he’ll check up with neighbours to make sure that Mrs. So and So is ok, or that someone has seen elderly Mr. Xyz.  AND … he puts regular letters in the little post box, but bigger things go in the hidden parcel box to the side of the porch.  Sometimes, if he has time and he knows we’re in, he’ll knock the door and actually bring them to us, have a moments chat etc.

post-box-and-magazine-roll
our post box on the front of our cottage, and below it is the metal newspaper/magazine ‘roll’ where they can be stashed until we collect them

However … we’ve had another delivery man this past couple of weeks and he’s been shoving all sorts of things in our little post box – which is designed for letters – not parcels, packages or magazines.  There’s a metal ‘thing’ below the post box for magazines and news papers.  But no, he didn’t use that.  There’s even a parcel box, water-tight with a well-fitting lid, positioned out of the rain and hidden from general view … even with a blackboard by the front door telling a post man/woman where it is but did he use it?  No.  He shoved all manner of things into the post box which really didn’t fit.  Mr. Cobs had the divil of a job getting one thing out because he’d pushed it so far in that it was jammed in there and himself was there huffing and puffing trying to get this item out without damaging whatever was inside it!

THEN … at the start of this weekOUR POSTMAN WAS BACK ON DUTY!  YAYAYAYAY!!!   [doing the happy dance].  Mr. Cobs was in the front garden when Mr. Postman turned up with letters.  Mr. Cobs said he’d never been so glad to see someone as he was at that moment, even telling the Postman that.  The postman said that he’d been on holiday.  Mr. Cobs told him how we’d missed him, what a nightmare the temporary chap had been, and that he wasn’t allowed on any more holidays.  lol.

I knew I loved our postman …  but now I love and appreciate him even more than I did before.  I just hope the post office doesn’t do the change around thing, because we’d all miss him dreadfully in the area where I live.

I learned this week that when you suddenly find yourself singing and humming a song which you used to know all the words of but have forgotten most of them, and actually haven’t heard that song for ages and ages, – I’ve learned that the one thing you really shouldn’t do is go in search of the song on You Tube so that you can listen to the song all over again.

You see … if you do, you won’t be able to STOP SINGING THE  *#&%!+*  SONG after that and, when you’re lying there, in the dark,  it will thoroughly get on your very last nerve at 3am in the morning when you can’t stop the darn thing playing over, and over, and over, ad nauseam inside your head! 

Please … enjoy the song before you go any further in your reading…

I used to sing this song for and to the amusement of our two girls when they were little.  They thought it was funny and would join in, singing in their little girl voices which quickly turned into giggling and falling about laughing.

But many, many years later – with one daughter now in her thirties and the other in her late twenties – that song, although I still love it to the moon and back,  should not be an ear worm and keeping you awake at 3am on any day! (I still love the song, and NO ONE, in my opinion, could ever adequately ever fill the role which Carol Burnett played in the film Annie,  for she was THE best actress for that role).

This week I’ve learned that …  if I  hurry up  just a little, I can take a shower and wash my hair in ten minutes.  Now this upset me because I had guessed that I was doing it in about 6 minutes,  but no.  TEN MINUTES!  Cor, what a waste.  I’ve got to improve on that time.

No, I’m not planning to enter the Shower Olympics in four years time, but I swear that I used to be in and out of the shower in a lot less time than ten minutes, and this really has kind of ‘upset’ me.  Is this more disturbing evidence that I’m growing old and cannot move fast even in the shower?  Hells Bells!  So right now … I’m in Training.  I have to improve my time to shower and wash hair.  I’ll keep you posted.

This week I’ve learned that I will NEVER, EVER, EVER get to that magical, mythical moment of having …  AN EMPTY IN-BOX  on my email account.  I seem to get almost there … just a few more emails to open ….  and the phone rings… by the time I’ve got off the phone 400 new emails have arrived and I’ve got to start all over again.

I don’t visit my email box every day.  I know that statement might make some of you gasp, but … well …. I have better things to do than open that email account up and spend an hour trying to sort through emails.  I visit my emails say, maybe 2 or 3 times a week.  The rest of the time I’m off doing something far more enjoyable which has nothing to do with computers or tinternet.  I don’t ‘do’ Fakebook.  I’ve actually got a Twitter account but I don’t ‘get it’.  What can you say in 140 characters which would be worth reading?

I’m going to the shop.  I’m back from the Shop.  I bought a cake.  I ate my cake…  here, have a picture of an empty plate.  I’m out with friends, having a great time. (Can’t be that great if you’re sending messages to Twitter). No…  I really don’t get the pull of Twitter. I’m just obviously not a Twit.

And finally …  I’ve learned this week, at around 3.30am one morning, when I was trying to go to sleep with an ear worm going round and round my brain,  that if someone with money and know-how doesn’t invent some sort of gadget or machine which will deliver an electric shock to a snoring husband,  the minute they start to snore too loudVERY SOON …  I’ll bally well do it, and I have just the person to test it on as well.

I love him like no one else, to the moon and back a gazillion times plus tax,   but I swear that I won’t tickle him next time to stop him snoring  roaring and rumbling like a lion,  I’ll buy a new bed just for me and put it in the spare room …. along with a lock on the door so that he can’t come and find me.   I’ll just stick a note on the outside of the door saying …  Do Not Disturb.  🙂

I had a trick which worked until four nights ago, when it stopped working.

You can try it if you have a snorer…  Imagine that you’re tut tut tut tutting a cat or a dog by kind of pulling your tongue off the roof of your mouth, quickly, over and over. You can do it softly, or you can do it loudly.  It’s supposed to work with around three tuts.  But I always found it took four or five loudish tuts.  It’s a sound which brings a sleeping snorer just up to the surface (but doesn’t actually wake them up) and stops them snoring.  And it worked brilliantly, but sadly it doesn’t work any longer. 

So … someone better invent the electric shock thing soon.  I swear to dog that they’ll make mega bucks from it.

Well, I’ve learned a lot this week.  phew!

So … what about you?  Have you learned anything that you’d like to share with us all?  Oh … and how long does it take you to shower and wash your hair?  Don’t guess the time, because I did that and was totally wrong.  Time yourself…  then come back and tell me.  We’ll compare notes.

Sending you loving wishes for a wonderful Friday, and hoping that your weekend is filled with peace and love.

Be nice to each other.

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