wendy house

also known as

 ‘why I’m never buying a kebab from there ever again’

‘BYB’ (Bring your own bucket)

‘almost enough to put a nice girl off a nice cup of Tea’  (6 different pint mugs full were promptly returned to the mug.  I have to say I was somewhat proud of managing to capture them in the mug)

While in the US I was served beer in all sorts of different shaped and size glasses and some germanic mugs.  I was never served beer or Ale in a beer mug  of the particular short-fat proportions with characteristic concave sections in the glass that is commonly found in UK pubs.  Last night at a post-work birthday drinky session we all tucked into beer served in classic English beer mugs.  Yummy.

I’m on foot,  carbon foot.  because I have no car,  not even a rental,  and even my bicycle is out of action with buckled wheels…

in the city cemetery

at cemetery junction

wandering around as if they own the place and no way-out except using the pedestrian crossings across the A4 or A329.  Neither crossing to be taken-on lightly by even the most hikingly-well-equipped-human. 

Odd to find wild deer in the city so close to my home…  well protected deer,  by the community police that live in the cemetery gate and parole the area in small bicycle packs…

A spiritual sensitive spent the night in the Wendy House guest room. He picked-up on Wendy House memories.

The house remembers several of policemen looking at the bedroom wall over the kitchen. On several occasions since I’ve since seen flocks of policeman on bicycles swarming past, the Wendy House. He also saw a fellow on the landing darkly dressed, silent, wearing a bowler hat, watching the police people search, not ominous. I wonder what the house remembers?

I wonder how I can find out what the house remembers through more conventional means than dream observations… …dreams have revealed nothing to me… …yet…

On the 1hr drive to Reading from the Gatwick Animal Reception Centre Matrix rode gunshot purring, chatting and rubbing the journey away. Sampo silently hid under her food dish. Within an hour of being given free reign of the Wendy House Matrix had eaten, drunk, pooped, then snooped into every cat-sized orifice she could find. Meanwhile Sampo slurped a sack of water then watched the goings-on from the safety of under the dining room table before a tip-toe exploration.

Then. They both got on with the serious matter of snore-laden snoozing in front of the fake-real fire.

Pleasing the kitties was a primary influencer when selecting a new-old Wendy house. The main bedroom, conservatory and fake-real fire are already big-hits. Phew.

Tricky-test passed.

Now champagne and kebabs… Hoorah!

A neglected building in downtown Reading still bears the title ‘Womens Information’. 

Has Womens Information emigrated to Australia, or become a Democratic Political movement in the US?

Aside from the obvious move-in expenses of emergency plumbing services (leaky kitchen and radiators) and emergency locksmith services (took the wrong key out of the house with me).  I’ve whipped out my wallet for the following items

• DeLonghi portable dehumidifier.  For all my steamy shower & indoor clothes drying needs.
• Wind-up, solar powered radio.
• Cat litter box.
• Dyson Animal canister vacuum cleaner.
• Extension power-cable with surge protector.
• Donner Kebabs.
• Champaign.

Coming soon:   power drill.

I am way too excited about impending power-drilling activity in house and garden

 WhirrrrrRRRrrrrrrRRRrrrrRRrrrrr

The 1980’s UK social classification of electrical products divided into ‘white goods’ (fridge, washing machine, Iron, etc) and ‘black goods’ (TV, Hi-Fi etc). This division was reflected in the location of the items in shops and the marketing styles.

The only electrical goods that came with me from America fall outside the colour classification by being red (laptop & camera) or silver (network drive). The new old Wendy House came with some white goods (fridge, cooker, microwave, combination boiler, radiators) and no black goods.

Should I buy some form of black goods?

This is a non-trivial question. Judging by Bang and Olufsen’s website it is a decision the price of a small car. I’m not spending that much money….

Collegue:  did you catch a taxi home last night?

Wendy:  no,  I walked

Colleague:  how long did it take you?

Wendy:  35 mins,  5 of those were spent crossing the road at cemetery junction

I’m working on my commute conversations,  but I suspect they are still well-below par

Kebab Shop Man (KSM):  are you married,  do you have a boyfriend?

Wendy:  No,  never married,  no boyfriend, its a long story…

KSM: I’m not married.  My family are all in Pakistan

Wendy:  You have friends here in Reading?

KSM:  these are my only friends (gestures to the 2 other staff members in the Kebab shop).  I want to get married.  I want an older woman (Looks directly at me)

Wendy:  good luck

As part of the pre-christian blessing Tiger wrote a blessing and we jointly smudged every room, and cupboard, with a Sage and Copal smudge stick while whispering the blessing:

Lady day and Lords of light

Bless this Wendy House and keep it right

Protect it with your love and might

and keep all evil far from sight

Cleanse and bless in love and truth

and keep Wendy safe and prosperous ‘neath your roof

Later,  when the smoke had cleared,  I pulled one of my hawthorn runes from thier bag to name and bond with the house.  I pulled Odal:  “The Odal rune is often associated with property and inheritance, wealth and prosperity“  The association was pleasingly appropriate to the previously written blessing.

unsuprising:  “would you like a beer?”

unforgivably suprising:  “I just need to pop out to the corner store and pick-up some beers”

Plumber.  Canadian.  Cheerful.  If he can’t,  he knows someone who can.  Given the numerous needs of the new old Wendy House and Kevin’s clear talents I suspect he will soon be visiting again.  Here’s Kevin’s first work quote:

Quotation for the following work to be carried out at:  :: The Wendy House :: 

Repoint some of the lower bricks on the front face of the residence that seem to be allowing water to pass through into the kitchen. The next step is to build up the area and surroundings with a light layer of sand. Some stakes and light framing to outline and contain the continuation of the cement or the new cement we are to add. Next mix and poor cement into outlined area giggling and smoothing down into place. Once the cement starts to set you can brush the surface with a broom to give it a gritty top and sign the bottom corner with artists signature and its finished. This will then require a few days to set and all the water to run out before you may put it to use. 

Quotation for labour £ 200.00 vat inclusive

Materials estimate £35.00 realistically 

Alas, the kitties will arrive too late to put their paw-prints in the cement…

I’m just going to put you on hold while I reboot my computer,  it will be quicker

I fell off my chair with stomach rippling laughter.  Clearly I’d misinterpretted the true meaning of  ’hold’

A jumble sale in the local church,  not something I came across in the NW US.  The word jumble didn’t crop up at all.  Ah,  memories of crowds of people waiting for a sale to open, the rush to get the bargains, old people with elbows of steel aimed with the precision of military training at my softer-parts…   …money raised being put towards renewing the church roof….

sixty-nineth hypotheses about the multitudinal causal factors of my singleness

Reason #69: home improvements

Getting the new  old Wendy House running smoothly is going to be keeping my hands away from potential boy-girl naughtiness and may turn me into a bit of a bore judging by recent posts

Wendy:  I accidentally pulled the bathroom light fitting on the ceiling,   today I picked up a newer sealed light fitting.

Dad:  Do you want me to bring me tools?

Wendy:  Not really,  [brothers' name]’s coming round with his tools, advice,  and innovative home-improvement books on Wednesday.  I’d rather he climbed the ladder than you or I.

Dad: Yes, I do get a bit dizzy when my feet leave the ground.

Words of wisdom from my outrageously expensive and handsome young product-dispensing hairdresser:

Have you tried Nirvana?  you should, you deserve it

After all the cleaning,  box unpacking and furniture moving excitement of this weekend Alan’s clearly a fellow who knows how to point a Wendy in the right direction. 

In a fit of unfettered curiosity about the wonkily hanging light fitting on the ceiling of the Wendy House bathroom with a bulb that didn’t respond to the light switch,  I turned off the mains electricity then used one of my fancy little screw-drivers to remove the fitting.  It was not a water-protective fitting,  the wires were bare.  I need a complete new light fitting,  not just a bulb. 

Even Wikipedia acknowledges the pecularities of English home electirical wiring traditions.  There are no sockets in English bathrooms and the light is controlled by a pull-chord.   I noted the red and black wires hanging from the ceiling,  covered the ends in insulation tape and bounced off to a lighting shop (by bus). 

All the lights looked jolly pretty with a mass of  small chandeliers both modern crystal and psuedo candelabras. 

I asked the lighting assistant if I could look at the wiring on the lights to see how I would attach them to my two wires in the ceiling.  The lights in the shop all had 3 wires,  yellow,  blue and stripey yellow-green (earthed).  I asked about how they mapped to my 2 wires.  The assistant tushed  in a patriarchally concerned manner and advised that I get an electrician to install my light.  Luckily,  dad and one brother are electricans. 

Phew.

This weekend I’m moving into the new Wendy House.  A stable.  This may lead to blogging service interruption as it takes a while to get the Wendyhome up and running with unpacked furniture, services connected and hay out of the corners etc 

Hopefully my passport will not get mislaid in the move,  there will be no explosions,  falls, and the neighbours will not die suddenly and suspiciously.  It’s happened before…

Sat on the top of a Reading bus route 33,  exploring the hinterlands of Reading from the comfort of a heated doubledecker,  we pull up at a bus stop and I hear:

hoards of passengers downstairs:  the driver’s missed the turn,  gone the wrong way,  let me off!   

sound of people stomping off the bus

little boy upstairs: the bus has gone the wrong way, do we have to get off?

man with litle boy: it might be the first time the drivers driven this route,  we can stay on and he’ll go near to our home.

The driver found a place to turn-around and continued on the right route without the passengers who like to have a good shout at someone who’s made,  what in the whole unvierse of mistakes is, a tiny easily retrievable mistake.

New Zealander: are you homesick?

Wendy:  Homesick?

New Zealander: 8 years is a long time to live in the US, do you miss it?

sixty-eighth post in a series attempting to explain the subtle complexities of my singleness

Reason #68:  Teddy bears picnic

The chorus to this well known childrens song is turning-up as auditory hallucinations in my day today.  

Once I’d manage to throttle the teddybears into silence Marc Bolan turned up singing Debora,  a much more desirable intrusive thought,   you’ll find me attempting to harmonise with the Marc in my head,  its enough to put-off even the most soppy of suitors and definitely a downer for T.Rex fans.

Waiting in the cold March night air at a crowded bus stop…

Ottowan: I’ve learned so much from you British
Wendy: give an example?
Ottowan: how complaining can be used anywhere, anytime, to entertain complete strangers, like at a bus stop where you’re waiting 30 minutes for buses that are sKeduled to turn up every 8 mins
Wendy: nods, giggles, “look, there are 3 buses coming now” and 3 buses did indeed arrive together

Does this count as a good commute story?

In order to get the benefit of online services I have to maintain, over 30 different usernames including cash cards, and regularly renew the associated 30 passwords or PINs. This amazing feat would challenge the most well-practiced mnemonics experts.

When I relocated to the UK I took-on 3 new cash-cards. The good news is that I managed to memorize the 3 seemingly random card PIN numbers. The bad news is that I forgot to memorize which number went with which card. Luckily this enabled me to cycle through 2 mistakes before getting the right PIN, gradually I’ve learned the card-PIN relationship.

Phew, pint of beer to celebrate methinks.

I dropped by the Reading branch of my bank and

•  banked a final goodbye from Uncle Vaughn
•  arranged to wire the deposit for the new Wendy House to my solicitor
• learned more about my friendly local bank clerk, the clerk with the neighbour-from-hell

She noticed when I got to the front of the line and came over:

“I know this customer, I can deal with this”

Ushering me to a private side room, she dealt with all my banking needs efficiently then relaxed as she continued with her life story.  Now I know the make and model of her car, its recent maintenance history, how much it cost, how old she’ll be when she pays off the car loan, why the gear stick is special…. and more….

I really like the personal service at my Reading bank branch

Wendy: could you withness my signing this Mortgage information document?

Witness:  Yes,  “The Wendy House’,  where is it?

Wendy:  down by the [local landmark]

Witness:  I used to live in ‘The Wendy house’ [Describes its layout and location in a recognisable way]

Wendy:  What was living there like?

Witness:  Well,  the boiler broke so I have lots of memories of a cold dark unpleasant time,  I’m sure its not like that now.  My partner kept getting confused about the orientation of the house and would walk into the wardrobe when he meant to leave the room to go downstairs.  [mentions some house characteristics that aren't like the Wendy House]

Wendy:  [highlights this difference and mentions the street name]

Witness: The Wendy House we lived in was on [name] street

More than one Wendy House in the district how cosey is that!