wendy house

After recieving a note in the post from the Royal mail saying they had tried to deliver a package, but it was too big to go through my door, it hadn’t been left with a nieghbour and it hadn’t been left at my local post office, I decided to drive to work via the delivery centre where it would be stored for pick it up.

I bounced into the delivery centre, handed over my note and my ID to the delivery centre staff (DCS). The DCS looked at the note and ID, grunted, then shuffled off away without a word, pressumably to get my parcel:

DCS: your parcel isn’t here

wendy: can I arrange to have it delivered to a local post office?

DCS: No, we can only send things to a post office once we have them here

wendy: can I phone the number on the note and get them to arrange delivery to my local post office?

DCS: No, we dont know where your parcel is so we cant arrange to deliver it anywhere

wendy: what can I do?

DCS: Complain

I chose not to complain, instead I waited a couple of days, called the number and discovered there was nothing in the fully automated phone menu system that could tell me whether the Royal mail knew where my parcel was. The delivery centre did not answer the phone.

At the delivery centre I happily picked up my parcel a momento from my time in the USA. The girl who bought LooSea, my car, has sent me Loosea’s number plate from 2001:

My journey to Paris today was all a bit exciting

electronic checkin:  we cannot check you in please go to an Air France Desk

Air France desk: are you on one of the plane’s that’s been cancelled?

Apparantly I was. Luckily they got me on another flight in the emergency exit seat with more leg room than I could reasonably justify even when waggling my skinny legs around enthusiastically.

At Charles De Gaulle airport the first train wasn’t going exactly where I wanted to go.  What the heck,  I got on with the intention of changing when the routes differed. This tactic got me where I needed to be in time.

I did notice the signs on some platform,  information signs, saying no trains….   …I managed to get where I needed to be without realising that Paris had been immobilised by industrial action

programs are aborted

processes hang, are hung, then killed

and data is executed

I wonder whether anything is  slaughtered, murdered, guillotined, or assassinated by abbatoir processes. Maybe things are slowly drawn, quartered and impaled.

In no more than 36.25 (not recurring) sentences discuss the nature of diversity implied by the classification options illustrated in the form below:

Why I love England #4.    welcoming

England welcomes all sorts of people,  even bus enthusiasts, as long as they behave like responsible citizens by following health and safety instructions and reporting suspicious unattended packages to the appropriate security authorities.

Once upon a time,  
in July 2007,

when Raymond referenced the Wendy House I would receive around 1,000 visits in one day!   GADZOOKS!  

For the sake of introducing a new acronym, rather than an argument,  we will call this the Raymond Referenced Readers effect,   or the three R’s effect  henceforth to be written 3Rs pronounced ’3 arse’ followed by an gender-irrelevant obligatory giggle.

Yesterday, Raymond referenced the Wendy House again.  

Raymond’s readers were so keen to click on his links that this year the Wendy House recieved nigh on 3,000 visits in the first day.   ECKY THUMP!   That’s a big 3Rs (giggle).

A couple of Raymonds fabled nitpickers have already helped improve my blog-post content accuracy with spelling details and everything,   what helpful people they are.

Hello Raymond’s readers,   I’ve added a ‘Raymond’ tag so that you can easily find cross,   rather than angry, references.   Am I just too nice to you or what?

Not irritating graffiti or  marks that appear on your fabulous benches.  Benchmarking, to me,  means sensible comparisons.

While I was wandering along the corridors of Technorati,   I started to sulk because the Wendyhome blog only warranted an ‘Authority of  5′.   I have no idea what an Authority of 5 means,   but it sounded fairly lowly.   My bottom lip protruded as I read the  information provided by Technorati on who had linked to my blog.   Then.    OH YES… ….THEN,   I noticed that Raymond Chen’s blog got a Technorati rating of 9.   NINE.    

Lets look at this relatively.   I’m not related to Raymond but our blogs have relatively different readership and page-load numbers.   If my blog is rated 5 and I had to subjectively estimate what Raymonds blog would rate on  the same scale I would guesstimate Raymond’s blog would rate at  an approximate  3 zillion 4 million 5  thousand, two hundred and seventy-nine point  five.   Taking regular daily hits into account and deducting 5 points for nitpickers.    

In short,   which Raymond is,   relative to Average US adult male heights,   that my blog got 5 on a scale that rates Raymonds blog as 9 is a significant achievement.   My bottom lip retracted and the champagne bottles were popped.   Hoorah.    The Technorati Benchmarks are in my good books for today.   Just for today mind,   there’s no telling what tomorrow may bring…

welcome to Sea-At-TULL,  mount rainy-air on the left

I’ve been 2 months back in the UK,   living, working, trying to buy a new Wendy House with a view to permanently drinking my tea and beer here.   I wrote to the US immigration lawyers explaining this and requesting they stop my greencard application.    Immigration services have decided to ignore my requests,   instead,   they have announced  that I am a permanent resident.  

The words bolt,   stable door and horse all come to mind.  

Raymond’s Birthday Poem

If a fellow knits stuff and does it quite quick
and never once tangles the wool on his stick
would you say of the clatter and say of the click,
Well, he’s not knitting knots at a fair old lick?

And if he trained head-lice to help with the job,
gave them little needles, paid them a few bob,
explained how to cast on and then later cast off,
would you believe in the nits now not knitting knots or would you just scoff?

But the smaller the fingers the finer the weave,
and employing such workers is great, I believe,
for creating new woollens with panache and far
greater strength than is found in the cheaper Kevlar.

Some folk find this mixture of factors spot on,
more crafty than denim, warmer than cotton,
a wide choice of sizes for men and for women,
but not really clothing one should try to swim in,

’cause wool absorbs water and clogs and weighs down
and encourages wearers to submerge and drown
which isn’t the greatest of hobbies to take up:
it ruffles your hair and smudges your make-up,

and no one really wants to be looking their worst
when they’re dragged from the river and offered bratwurst
(which is how in Bavaria they check you’re alive
(or so I was told by a fellow called Clive)).

But this super-tough knitted material’s handy
away from the rivers, where it’s dry and dandy,
for protecting the wearer from bruises and bumps
and contusions and grazes and fractures and lumps,

say out on a bicycle, whizzing downhill,
with the wind in your hair, no trace of the chill
thanks to the weave that covers you up
as you weave around litter and pooh of the pup

that’s been left in the gutter along with road-kill
and yesterday’s paper and one espadrille
and cartons and bollards and packets of krill
split open and slimy and a rickety grill

that covers the sewer, well almost, not quite,
and in England the cars are all on your right,
hooting and braking and fucking about,
opening doors and letting kids out,

so thank God you’re in wool that’s been knitted by nits
and is doubly-woven on your private bits
’cause a million things are waiting to do
harm to a person as lovely as you,

watch out for the stick that gets stuck in your spokes,
watch out for those tumbling stray artichokes,
watch out for the kid who runs after his ball,
watch out for the dog who runs after his ball too,

watch out for the dangers that you least expect,
the unlikely ones that will make you eject,
the uncanny, perverse, bizarre things that disturb
for instance, who’d think?, a guest starring kerb.

Thank goodness for wool, thank goodness for knitting,
thank goodness for not having grazes with grit in,
thank goodness for bikes that keep us all healthy,
and poets with patrons who are quietly wealthy.

A.F.Harrold

(PS publication of this poem does not in anyway coincide with Raymonds actual birthday,   which is,   one of natures mysteries)

senior colleague:

“Wendy is one of our best.    She’s the sort of girl that, when she says she’s leaving you think,   Wow that’s a great new job but boy are we f**ked“

junior colleague:

“blub-blub-blub,   blub-blub,   blub-blub-blub” (or noises to that effect)

someone in the corridor:

“f-off back to blighty then you old trout” (no-one was plucky-enough to actually say this,   I made it up)

senior colleague

“once you’ve learned how to spell,   stop wearing velvet,  and start talking properly rather than your geeky research stuff then  the world will be your oyester” (Mushroom implied,   this wasn’t Raymond)

friend

“would you like a lift to the airport?”

colleague:

“how many days vacation will you get?”

friend

“they have Anne Klien in the UK” (me – who’s Ann Klien?)

anonymous

“do they have mountains in England?”

sadly deluded commenter on theoldnewthing blog ‘shipper’

“disappointed that Raymond and Wendy didn’t end up together”

The New York Times

”       “

Disclaimers:

• this blog is fictional.

• any offense caused to any friend or colleague is purely intentional.

• all spelling mistakes are deliberate.

• I reserve the right to relocate again  if someone makes me the right offer.

• are you still reading?  You get brownie points for perseverence, ability to scroll or possession  of a huge monitor or dense screen resolution (take your pick).

• I like lists

Condensed recap of the story so far, I

1. lost my passport-1 in my US home
2. applied for a replacement
3. received replacement 10yr passport-2
4. lost the replacement 10yr passport-2
5. found the lost passport-1 while looking for lost passport-2
6. sent passport-1 back to Washington DC consular and passport services with an application for to replace passport-2
7. received ditsy-person replacement passport-3 that will only last for 1 year – until November 29th – must be renewed at Washington DC consular and passport services
8. found lost passport-2 in September and sent it to Washington DC
9. Sue from consular services phoned to say that she will hold onto passport-2 and renew it (10yr version) when she receives my renewal from for passport #3 towards the end of November.
10. Accepted UK job offer to start on November 26th. Planned to fly to the UK on November 23rd with my old passport then mail it to Sue in Washington DC for renewal promptly upon arrival thereby getting my 10yr passport back.
11. My belongings are being shipped to the UK, they require passport details. Shipping service confirmed that having my passport renewed should not be a problem.
12. Completed passport-renewal form on November 13th promptly after returning from a UK visit to secure a place to live when I arrive on the 23rd. I can now complete this form in less than 10 minutes due to regular practice. The last page before signing includes a set of statements that I hadn’t yet memorised If you squint you might be able to see the unforeseen challenge in bold-type:

 The new stuff:

“I am, today, in the country of application and will be at the time of issue.”   This says to me that when I get to the UK I can only renew my passport in the UK.   This is at odds with the ditsy-person renewal requirement of only renewing in the Washington DC office where they have my 10yr passport-2.    I can’t renew in the US because I discovered this requirement 5 working-days before I am due to fly to the UK,   insufficient time for passport renewal US-side before I repatriate.   I phoned the Washington British Consular and passport services who charge at a rate of $2.45 per minute for the luxury of talking to a real, expert,  person.   I explained my situation and the passport expert said:

OH, that is a tricky one

Then put me on hold to discuss the options with other expert people.   We made some decisions that will get me to Britain on the day that I sell my home here and 2 days before I start work there.   I suspect this is not over yet.   Stay tuned.

OH Look at this!  

Excel is trying to tell me something about pies and drinkies.

I’m not sure what exactly Excel is trying to tell me.    I like green*,   gradual shading,   tea, ale and pie so I’ll  immerse myself in the visual aesthetic of  the pie chart experience and understanding might emerge with time and fermentation.  

Well done Excel,   you surely must be  right.

Previous sporadic entries in this series where Excel produces:

1. a Laptop purchase decision prediction
2. Astrological reasons  for why I’m single
3. explaintion of variable Breaking distances with car colour
4. Explanaition of why some bloggers get more comments than the :: Wendy House  ::
5. Scatttered    reasons for why I’m single.

* thanks to Raymond for pointing out the essentialness of the  green-shaded-3D-pie.

Whenever Raymond cites :: The Wendy House :: in his blog my visit statistics soar to  approximately 1000 in a day from their normal baseline of approximately 100 per day.   See dashboard graph below.

Looking at the dashboard,   initially,  I  was extremely pleased that the average visit time is nearly 10 minutes.   Then I looked at the distribution of visit times on another graph.   The distribution was bi-modal with 75% of visitors spending less than 10 sec on :: The Wendy House ::   The good thing is that 75% of visitors can assess that this blog does not provide what they want within 10 sec.      

The second mode is for visits that last  between 1 and 10 minutes. Which seems a reasonable time to read a couple of posts and take a couple of swigs from your freshly brewed  cup of tea.  

 Squint to see Raymonds peaks:

fiftieth  in a Wednesday series of posts  revealing the seemingly unending reasons of my  single-ittude

Reason #   50: underwhelming in person

software developer (SD):   YOU read Raymond Chen’s blog.   Why?

wendy:   I may not understand the code but I can read his attitude,   its funny.

SD:   yeah,   if it wasn’t for Raymond I never would have discovered Jenn or Wendy

wendy:   the Piehole and the Wendy House?

SD:   yeah

wendy:   I’ve met Jenn ………….and wendy……..that’s me,   that’s me,   I’m wendy (full horror-show of yellow wonky teeth glinting in the spring sunset frightening oncoming traffic as we drive west)

SD:   YOU?   wendy,   you ARE wendy?

wendy:  yes-yes, yes-yes,    YES,    that’s MY blog.    I did it ALL myself…    … I did ask Raymond for help setting it up.   He  pointed out that working on Windows was not the same thing as being an internet website development consultant      (…sleep inducing monologue of everything I think I know about blogging)

fifthteenth in a  series of  Thursday posts about taking tiffin with  (black) tea  and milk in the NW USA.

Thursday Tiffin #15 Tea in Panama

Panama:  The Panama canal was a significant engineering achievement sponsored by the Americans and French prior to WW1.   The Panama Hotel dates back to the 1920′s and is based in what has become Seattle’s ‘International’ district.   The Hotel’s Tea rooms provide a pleasant mix between oriental and English tea customs.   The tea was well made, not stewed, plentiful and upon request an appropriate jug of milk was supplied.

Goodnesses:   I had advertised that I would be loitering in this Tea house on a Sunday afternoon at 3pm to 12 or so favourite people.   To my enthusiastic suprize 8 people* turned up to join in.   We were able to arrange to sit around one ‘coffee’ table and share conversation.   This made the afternoon really enjoyable.     The tea prices were reasonable at  $6.00 for a pot of at least 6 cups of tea and some classic (Darjeeling) and interesting (lavendar flavoured) choices.   Yummy,   naturally I finnished off one pot of Darjeeling  all on my own and managed to scrounge cups from friends’ pots!   The Tea house provides free wireless access,   there were groups of people with Tea and Laptops opened on long tables.   The rest rooms were very stylish,   though difficult to spot from the outside,   not labelled.   I accidentally walked into the broom cupboard,   perversely this was actually a highlight for me,   giggling in the broom-cupboard bought back lots of fun memories.   The clientelle looked mainly,   but not solely, Asian and of varied age maybe 20 through to my 43yrs.   Girls and ….boys….   and sometimes it was difficult to guess….

Discomforts:   these were miner,   I feel a bit churlish even mentioning them.  The shiney wood floors and some of the hardwood seats gave the place aslightly cold, uncomfortable edge.   I kept my coat on to stay warm and was lucky enough to find a seat on a soft sofa.

Panama Hotel Tea rooms are  a  good place  for a reasonably priced and brewed hot tea in a relaxing environment conducive to good conversation irrespective of age and gender

* People included:   LaCroix, Raymond, NitwitOddment, Mark, The CultFigurine, the DevilsGulch.   No-one was a post-menopausal woman (not even me!) consequently several people risked taking milk in our tea,   Hoorah!   I even put milk in my Darjeeling….   just a comforting ‘dash’…

this weekend’s assignment is directly copied from a 7th grade in-class exercise:

“Your science teacher Wendy  has invented a time machine. You have been selected to take the first trip. Explain in a multi-paragraph letter comment to your teacher Wendy where you will go and why.”

a careful inspection of the chart below reveals some spectacular truths.   For example:

1. Jenn (Piehole) is on  track to become like Raymond (oldnewthing).   They both have very shiny black hair and tanned complections.   I’d never realised this similarity until Excel pointed it out to me,    but its undeniably true.  
2. I am going to have to turn into Jen (quarterlife crisis) before I can make headway on being as popular as Jenn.   Jen and I both have fair skin and wear jeans.   It’s striking how Excel can spot these similarities and show you the way.

I’m planning to keep consulting with Excel to improve my general popularity level,   eventually becoming like Raymond.   My next move is to get a good tan and maybe some contact lenses to make my eye’s brown.

note: edited to adjust the number of n’s in Jen because I got it COMPLETELY wrong

I suspect Tinkerbell knows I’m planning to dump her in favour of a newer, pinker, thinner, faster companion.   She revolted and showed me her version of a BSoD. Appparantly the infamous ‘blue screen of death’ (BSoD) has several different forms.    This might be from the Hardware manufacturer,  not a real Microsoft OS blue screen.

Whatever,   its blue,  Tinkerbell died.

A ‘reboot‘ put  Tinkerbell in a temporarilly compliant mood.   I don’t trust her anymore.   She’s been playing up  since the shutdown  power cable meltdown incident.    A pretty Sony Viao is looking more like a good investment with every day that passes.   I want Windows Vista ‘ultimate’.    If I buy a pretty pink laptop thang before Vista is on sale I’ll have to work-out how to  ’upgrade’ and maybe find out what a ’64 bit processor’ would give me.

More technical stuff.   YUCK!

All came from Google variously searching for:  

• ŦĦ  
• dream suppressant
• fake street lamp
• painting small objects
• (Not Swedish but  Norwegian [thanks Raymond]  application of google): descartes skull  

3/5  searchers may well have been pleased with the results

during  immediate post-relationship insomina-trauma my ‘your absolutely fabulous’ votes go to:

• Rob -  because he’s a boy with the gutsiness to  double-cheek kiss british rugby players.   Hooray for pluckiness!
• Raymond - for providing wacky overnight reading material to make me giggle,   how does he find the time to be a ‘guru’,   speak and code in multiple obscure languages, and dig up obscure, yet spookily sensible, sociological  phenomena.
• M - for an outstanding,   promptly delivered,  2 hour phone conversation that included gems like ‘insomnia makes things happen’ and wonderfully surreal details of M’s own passage through life followed by some subtly subversive plans for upcoming weekends.   Hooray.   I’m so lucky to know people who can understand what I’m saying through the sound of blubby-blubby-really-blubby-tears in a foreign accent over a cellular service.   M’s the best.
• Drew - because he recommended the book on plastics in culture which impending post-realtionship insomnia will now give me time to read.   He’s also aware of Spokane.   Spokane is a mystery to me,   maybe I should drive there one night and tell you all about it.   What do you think,   Spokane,   land of mystery ‘exposed’?
• Tiger - for suggesting a painting project and tackling the hug-over-7,000-miles-apart-over-the-internet challenge.
• 4 individuals who invited me out to dinner almost every evening  this week.   Maybe some of them want a complimentary painting to their own brief?
• The Gal  who blames the full moon.
• The Posse who spontaneously arranged to chauffer me to a bar that sells good British beer for a mini party.

The goodness is I know that I can still ‘feel’ with the passion of a teenager.    Years haven’t ‘numbed’ me with sensible,   detached, reasonableness to being suddenly single.   It would seem I’m not sensible by nature.