scribbles tagged ‘scatty’


Friday, October 10th, 2014 | tags: , ,  |

She slurred “Oh, Wendy, Wendy, Wendy, it’s so good to hear from you, I’ve missed you, I love you

Instantly I remembered why I had stopped calling and visiting

Dad’s in a home” She dominated the conversation with the force of rapids escaping a snow capped mountain

Dad’s in a home”  Occasionally she acknowledged my presence

You’ve lost your dad, my dad’s in a home”  the last time I visited her,  I’d drunk a glass of wine as she’d necked two bottles, via a glass.

Sober she is capable, beautiful, engaging. I haven’t spent much time with her since returning to the UK in 2007. I’d been living on the memory of our friendship from the last millennium when she only noticeably drank on a Saturday night

Dad’s in a home

Deciding to let the relationship die from neglect, I remembered making that decision several times before. In between, I forget, only remembering the good times we’ve spent together. Then I start to wonder why we’re not still having those good times and I phone her….

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USA Embassy Non Immigrant Visa lines

Monday, September 8th, 2014 | tags: , , , , , , , , ,  |

USA Embassy Grovenor Square, LondonI completed my DS-160 online and scheduled an appointment at the London USA Embassy

Being over anxious about finding the right place, I turned up 90minutes before my appointment ladened with half a redwood tree of supporting evidence, credit card, and my passport.

I had to line up, in separate lines to:

  1. Announce my arrival – be ticked on a checklist
  2. Go through security clearance
  3. Pick-up a (queuing) number from reception
  4. Hand-over key pieces of historical documentation for the interviewer to review
  5. Pay for the application processing
  6. Be interviewed

Standing in line, sitting in line with a number, is an integral part of the USA visa getting process. There are many ways that new technology could be used to streamline the whole process. Streamlining the process would remove the Kafkaesque quality. Perhaps being Kafkaesque is fundamentally important to government procedures.

The young, blonde, Brit who interviewed me was being observed by a senior member of staff who smiled when I got excited and when I behaved like a normal person… forgetting things, being uncertain.

Interviewer: tell me about your Diplomatic Visa, your A2

Wendy: Gosh, I’d completely forgotten about that, way back in 1999 I worked for the UK MOD on secret things, I signed the official secrets act and they got me a diplomatic Visa. Well done you for finding that out!

The USA are going to give me another  Visa, despite my having to declare that I’d repeatedly lost my passport several times while living in the USA. It seems they can tolerate my human scattiness in return for my fabulous expert knowledge…. mainly knowledge of human scattiness….


USA Embassy Non Immigrant Visa lines
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key purse

Thursday, April 10th, 2014 | tags: , ,  |

Microsoft Card KeyChecking my bag, have I got everything that I need, before I leave the Wendy House for the big scary world outside?

No key card.

Without my key card I can’t get into the safe, secure, place that is ‘work’. An hour searching the finite, small, tidied through previous searching, Wendy House, didn’t uncover the key card. Sigh. I’ll have to cancel this one and arrange a replacement. A photograph of my looking harassed and bedraggled will adorn my key card until the next time I lose it. Why can’t I put my favourite selfie on my key card? Resigned to the dull, administrative, overhead, I wander out to Thomas and open his door

On the drivers seat is my key card


key purse
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4 hour detour

Thursday, April 18th, 2013 | tags: , ,  |

20 minutes out of Crewe, the train doesn’t stop as scheduled:

Crewe Station "A"wendy: I think I’ve gotten on the wrong train (gotten = US english)

train manager: where do you want to go?

wendy: Wilmslow

train manager: (laughs out loud, covers face with hand) yes, you’re on the wrong train

wendy: when’s the next stop?

train manager: (still giggling) London, Euston, in 2 hours

Silently absorbing that I wont be able to present to the 20 people who’ve travelled to Wilmslow to hear me. Trying, successfully, not to cry. I  call my colleague who’s travelling separately. My call is cut off as it’s connected, by a tunnel.  The train manager is fiddling with his ticket machine.

train manager: you can get on a return train immediately, it will get you to Wilmslow by 1.37pm. 

That’s 3 hours after I’m due to start! URGH.  I leave a garbled message on my colleagues answer-service as the train manager fiddles with his ticket machine.  A 2hr each way fast train to London, that’s probably a £200 ticket he’s printing-out. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry….

train manager: no-one else has got on this train by mistake (giggle)

He’s just told me I’m a complete numpty. Don’t cry, don’t cry….   I phoned my host, apologised and explained, asked if we could reschedule to 2pm. They agreed to try for this.  The train manager gave me a FREE return ticket to Euston, at least this ‘error’ hasn’t cost me £200.  I thanked the train manager and sheepishly snuck back to my seat, trying again to call my colleague. 10 minutes later the train manager found me.

train manager: there’re a few people on the train like you, one lady is very upset, she hasn’t stopped crying

wendy: I’m not crying, but I sure as hell feel like crying. (sure as hell = US English)

train manager: could you sit with her? I think it would help

wendy: sure  (sure = US English for ‘of course’)

The train manager lead me to the last, almost empty, first class carriage where a lady with immaculate hair and make-up, wrapped in a shawl, was elegantly dabbing her water filled eyes with a well-ironed handkerchief. We exchanged similar stories. I reassured her that she wasn’t dipsy. The Crewe service announcements and signs were less than adequate. How kind of the train manager to give us free return tickets and treat us to the quiet comfort of first-class seats. Rachel was charming and entertaining. But

Crewe train station is not forgiven, I may have to send them suggested improvements for their signage…

4 hour detour
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drawers for drawers

Friday, July 1st, 2011 | tags: , , , , ,  |

Riding the London commuter train back to Reading I realised I’d left my house keys in the office, luckily my neighbour was home, able to let me in with her spare key. It’s been a week for scattiness. I spent about 3 hours looking for my E11, EHIC, ready for my summer vacation.

Searching was a serious process that involved:

  • looking in all the pockets of 5 handbags (USA purses)
  • The contents of 4 old purses (USA Wallets)
  • 16 drawers, some containing drawers – I might have hidden the card in my underwear. It’s possible.
  • 4 trays of important ‘stuff’ , once recent letters that have faded to the bottom of unotuched piles
  • lesser-used jacket pockets

chest for drawersMy chest of drawers is more organised now that I’ve carefully inspected, sorted, folded and replaced each item. The search threw up some surprises, the condoms with a 2008 use-by date. Thrown away. Pre-Euro continental coinage from the 1990s, re-packed for posterity. No E11 card

Once I’d run out of obvious places, I gave up. A solemn swathe of paranoia about my ability to file and find key documents, a history of losing my passport, drove me to check that the passport was where I thought it should be. It was.

Tucked inside my passport was my E11 card.

A sensible place.



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run wendy run

Saturday, May 28th, 2011 | tags: , , , , ,  |

4yr tricycleOnce the joy of the tinkling bells had worn off I looked towards the end of the isle. Mum and dad weren’t there

It wasn’t fair, they could walk fast or slow. Slow was the only speed I could walk. Slow or running.  They always walked fast, I had to run, whizzing passed so many fascinating things. I’d only taken a moment to listen to the bells while mum and dad wandered off.

I ran to the end of the isle, glancing both ways then looked down every isle. From a safe distance, I even checked the escalators. No mum, dad or brothers. I hadn’t got lost. I know where I am. They are lost.  Welling tears were barely held by remembering mums’ instructions

‘what to do when you are lost’

  1. stay in the last place that you saw mum, dad, your brothers or school teacher
  2. do not talk to strangers
  3. talk to a policeman and they will help you find mum and dad

Standing by the silent bells, soggy red-faced, I wondered if mum and dad were also staying in the last place they saw me, not talking to strangers. People were watching me and talking to each other. A lady bent down and asked if I was alright. I tried so very hard to follow rule 2, not talking to this stranger. It tooks seconds for me to fail. Mucus spluttered

I’ve lost my mummy!

Why did everyone seem so calm? Why weren’t they crying too? My friends and I always cried together. Maybe these strangers were going to take me away to an orphanage and I’d never see mum and dad again. The lady leant forward to grab me.  I scrambled out of her reach towards the bells, crying louder in the hope that someone would join in.

Wearing her angry face, Mum appeared at the end of the isle to rescue me. When angry, she walks faster. I ran all the way home trying to slow mum by singing  I want to hold your hand.

scribble inspired by Nick’s recent musings on lost children
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have you got your marbles?

Monday, August 2nd, 2010 | tags: ,  |

Office manager (OM): Have you got your keys?

wendy: yes

OM: your phone?

wendy: Oh, let me check, yes

OM: your power cable?

wendy: YES! I remember packing that one

OM: your wallet?

wendy: yes

OM: your jacket?

wendy: I didn’t come with a jacket

OM: are you sure?

wendy: yep, I’m sure

OM: OK, so I’m not going to be getting a message tomorrow asking me to find something and mail it back to you?

wendy: that’s right, I’ve got everything I came with and more. I wish there was someone like you in my home, I miss having someone check that I’ve got my marbles before I leave my home. Paper checklists aren’t quite as much fun

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kitchen poltergiest

Wednesday, July 28th, 2010 | tags: , ,  |

Things move around in the kitchen.  They move when I’m not looking. They are not malicious, just playful. Last week I lost the milk. Two days later I found a rather warm and lively milk bottle in the microwave.  My mugs often move from the dresser to the microwave. 

I wonder what I’ll find in the microwave this morning?

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from David to No Doubt

Monday, July 19th, 2010 | tags: , , , ,  |

The people that packed my belongings in Seattle, unpacked my belongings in Reading, had no interest in maintaining the integrity of the alphabeticalisation of my CD collection.  I cringed with the knowledge that I would not be able to find a CD in less than 27.5 sec (on average) because I would not know where it was, on which shelf….

Strangely, for nearly 2 years, there was always something better to do than spend an afternoon reinstating the alphabeticalisation of my CD collection. Until today.  Today

David Bowie sits next to David Byrne and Nirvana by No Doubt

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foundation garment shortage

Monday, July 5th, 2010 | tags: , , , , , , ,  |

In Reading town its Jacksons

In Tiverton town its Banbury’s

A family run store, named after the family.  Selling everything in tiny departments on split-level floors arranged with a maze-like series of turns and staircases. These stores are Tardis-like, seeming small from the outside then corridor after staircase after turn they get larger and larger.  The staff are normally experienced people with well structured hairstyles or quirky youngters. All are personable.  When leaving the Wendy house this morning I was in the middle of scat-fest.  Things I forgot to bring with my included, pants, watch,  tops to wear.  Banbury’s was just the place to temporarily solve my foundation garment shortage

While searching for the cleverly hidden underware department I stumbles across a Linen top with a print reminiscent of the fabulous Finnish Marimekko Unnikko print.  Yummy.

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below par

Saturday, May 23rd, 2009 | tags: , , , , , ,  |

Tea Coseys for saleThere is a branding, marketing, styling opportunity in the tea-cosey market which is woefully or wonderfully underdeveloped depending on your perspective.   This collection didn’t prompt me to part with £5.37

My main tea-cosey was hand-made by my talented sister-in-law.    My name is sewn on the inside incase a moment of scattiness leads to my  losing  it (the tea cosey).   It fits on my head as snug as a custom-made hat.   That kind of personal tailoring does take some beating and these shop displayed tea coseys just aren’t up to par.

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alan’s tips

Sunday, May 10th, 2009 | tags: , ,  |

Words of wisdom from  an almost stranger*.  in this case one of my neighbours when I was returning my front door key after I’d locked myself out for the 4th time since moving in:


Don’t put a spare door key in your garden under a plant-pot.   They’re always under plant pots…   …ours is.


I am following this advice,  and making regular trips round to my neighbours .  



*  past tips provided by Alan the hairdresser.   Lucia the hairdresser, an anonymous  manicurist, a Jackson’s sales assistant, a bus stop philanthropist, a mini salesman  and Reading Police

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Friday, January 16th, 2009 | tags: ,  |

spot the toothpaste....

a sleepy morning


one white tube on the bathroom shelf looks like another


E45 on my toothbrush


toothbrush squiggling over toothipegs




not recommended

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Saturday, November 8th, 2008 | tags: , , , ,  |

chap:   I have to smoke in bed,   I wake up at 3am every morning regulalr as clockwork just to have a fag

wendy: oh  (signifying:   failure to segue effectively into another topic)

chap:   I  can’t give up,   I have a fowl temper if I do (his hand  is shaking as he scrunches his face while taking a long deep draw from his hand-rolled,  warped, filterless cigarette)

wendy: oh (recalls him  slamming  doors, stamping his feet and throwing things  all with  a fag  balanced in  his mouth)   I’ve locked myself out,   got to go and pick-up my spare key.

chap:   do you want a lift?

wendy: no, I’m alright (signifying: no way am I getting in a car with a chap demonstrating signs of emotional instability)

chap: where are you going?

wendy: not far, bye   (signifying: no way am I  letting this chap know  where I store my spare house key)

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Wednesday, September 24th, 2008 | tags: , , , ,  |

When spottydog visited the Wendy House I gave her a full 1 minute tour.   The full  1 mintue tour is the executive version of the 30 second tour.   It is akin to the  15 minute Hamlet only quicker  and with less literary credibility.   As audience, spottydog’s role was to  provide her unique insight into potential lifestyle developments.   Half way through the tour,   near the end:

Wendy:   this is my wardrobe (US = closet.   A closet is a  place where you keep skeletons, hence the title of this post)

Spottydog: that’s orderly

Wendy: its half empty

Spottydog:   its organised by colour and size,   even the shoes

Wendy:   Errrrrmmmmmmm…….     …is that bad?

Spottydog:   its not scatty

Lifestyle development suggestions involved, ‘open the beers’ and  ‘you need more plants’.   Spottydog, spot-on again.

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death by hot wet cycle

Thursday, September 11th, 2008 | tags: , , ,  |

washing machinePhone.

bouncy hot whites cycle.

It was bound to happen one day.

sign me up for the water-proof, slimline, aesthetically pleasing cellphone.

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I want Vista

Tuesday, August 12th, 2008 | tags: , , , , , ,  |

Reasons to retire Darling,   part 4

1. Increasing requirements to contact computer support services

2. I am developing  obstreperous-w intolerance.

3. 8loody hail, breeding task manager

4. I WANT Vista

I’ve used a Vista machine and I love all the search-stuff (start menu, control-panel),     I no longer have to remember where I put things.

Its got a thing called ‘snippit’ which takes pictures of what’s on your screen in a much easier way that control-print-screen,   open-paint,   then paste.  

It’s pretty! The computer I used running Vista is a rather ugly thing,   unlike Darling.   I want to marry the two,   prettiness of Darlings body-work  with  the  human-memory-complimenting  functionality of Vista.

I want Vista
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spectacle between the jumpers

Tuesday, July 15th, 2008 | tags: , , , ,  |

While packing a day-bag to attend a local water-festival I noticed that my Oakley prescription sunglasses  were not,   as expected, nestled amongst my collection of spectacles dating back to 1979,    in my spectacle drawer.  

There was a  minor panic outbreak   because I will need these glasses for my rapidly impending Greek Sailing Holiday.    I quickly searched all sensible places where I may have put a pair of sunglasses.   They weren’t anywhere sensible.   The following morning I double-checked all the sensible places,   the following morning I looked in a few down-right silly places to put sun glasses (e.g. spare tea caddy).

3 days later,   my morning random search for the oakleys included  my winter-jumper draw.  There they were,   between two wool jumpers…..    

The passport under the sink and the sunglasses between the woolly-jumpers are two of the Wendy House mysteries that may never be explained…

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distributed (human) memory

Wednesday, July 2nd, 2008 | tags: , , , , ,  |

<Essay warning>

Not distributed within the mind,  distributed across people and other things.   The work of Yvonne Rogers  in the 1990’s introduced me to the idea of distributed cognition.   Here are some examples from my everyday life:

  • placing my empty bottles by the front door to remind me  to take them to the bottle-bank when I leave the house (memory distributed between bottles and Wendy’s absent mind)
  • going upstairs to get my passport,   when I get upstairs I’ve forgotten why I went there,   going back downstairs and seeing the holiday (excitement level: Amber) details on Darling I remember why I went upstairs. (memory distributed between holiday details on Darling and Wendy’s absent mind)
  • At the pub quiz,   trying to name a song title from hearing a snippit of the  tune,   I can only hum the continuation of the  tune,   another team member can sings the lyrics to my hummed tune,   a third team member can now name the band then the fourth team member can remember the song title (memory socially distributed between team members).  
  • I can’t remember my password as letters and numbers,   I can’t remember the layout of a keyboard,      when infront of Darlings keyboard I  can reliably produce  my password  (memory distributed between keyboard layout and Wendy’s absent mind).   The recent move from US to UK keyboards has been a bit password-disruptive.
  • I can’t remember how to get from St Nicolas’s market to Clifton,   but when I am in Bristol I can walk the route directly with no trouble whatsoever,   very pleasant it is too   (Memory distributed between the city-scape and Wendy’s absent mind).   Note that the Schrocks recently experienced the way that St. Nicholas market can suprise you by turning out to be exactly where you  are wandering.

People, sensibly, strategically delegate the effort involved in constructing some memories to post-it notes,   lists, calendars,  address books,   mobile phones,  bag-contents, places,  blogs, photoalbums, family and friends.  

A die-hard cognitivist might say this is just context-cued recall.   Both paradigms provide the means to describe human behaviour,   but the approaches to psychological  theory building and  research are radically different.   The cognitivist would attempt to identify the specific cues that work most effectively and assess them in a lab,   one specific unusual context,  rather than analyse everyday activities in commonly meaningful contexts.   These different research techniques would yield different practical,   application, recommendations.

The cognitivists make the research language and approach to understanding human behaviour their domain as specialists,   ‘everyday’ approaches enable results to be readily recognisable, understandable and communicable to people outside of a specialist discourse.   They also afford more meaningful pragmatic applications.  

<Essay warning over>

My next essay will probably be on Reading’s buses

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old news: cognitive psychologists study missing minds

Wednesday, June 25th, 2008 | tags: , , ,  |

also known as:   Remembering what to remember

I first encountered the currently popular (in Psychology of memory circles) ‘prospective memory’ as a term to describe  remembering what to remember through Baddeley & Wilkin’s 1984 article ‘Taking memory out of the laboratory’ .   The Laboratory,  Lab, was typically where British psychologists studied  human memory  using rigourous exprimental methodologies.   The lab was normally a windowless, beige, unadroned room lest participants, then ‘subjects’,  be distracted or inadvertantly influenced by non-experimental phenomena that might undermine the effect of the experimental manipulation.    

I liked Baddeleys work because he’d systematically estabished the positive  impact of re-instating memorising context on  recall levels through various studies including  the influence of alcohol (Vodka) or physically being under water (diving)  when memorising,   and recalling.   Both these experimental studies sounded fun,   were themselves memorable,  and were even repeatable* in less rigorous forms with colleagues at University during normal studenty nocturnal activities.  

‘Taking memory out of the laboratory’ was published in a book called ‘Everyday memory, actions and absentmindedness’  .    This was ground breaking news to me in 1984.    There I  was in the middle of a degree course, approved as official content and jargon by the British Psychological Society,  where I had focussed my study  on memory research.    I had just about got the hang of the technically specific language of psychological memory research such as retro-interference, auditory-loop, digit-span, recognition vs recall  and much more.    Then,   THEN!   Those gosh-darn leading memory researchers sprang some non-technical terms that made sense and weren’t  part of the current disciplin jargon.   How cheeky is that?


Cognitive psychologists study the absense of mind.   It was too much,  I had a couple of vodkas and fell in  a local canal with my miss spelt revision notes to celebrate.  


PS:   If I remember I’ll tell you why I’m telling you about prospective memory in a later post…

* Actually conducting the experiements makes them  more memorable and easier to understand an evaluate than just reading or thinking about them over a cup of tea.

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notarised lost title

Saturday, December 1st, 2007 | tags: , , , ,  |

In the US car ownership is established with a Title.   When you sell your car you transfer the title to the new owner.   Loosea’s title has gone AWOL.   I looked everywhere,   honest.     Luckily a swift check online produced a form for declaring her title lost and releasing it to a new owner.    My signature on the slightly confusing form had to be notarised.  The Notary had to ask for a second opinion about what should be filled-in.   All turned out well in the end.   Hoorah,   despite my relocation induced scattiness Loosea will get to go to a new home,   across the road,   the house opposite,   she’s a bit of a home-body

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complicateder and complicateder

Thursday, November 29th, 2007 | tags: , , , ,  |

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.

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UK government loses parents identities

Sunday, November 25th, 2007 | tags: , , ,  |

OOOOPS!   the BBC reports that the UK govenment  has  mislaid the indentity information of people who claim child-support benefit.    Everyone with a child under 16 is entitled to this benefit.  

Alistair Darling does have a fabulous name,   at school in the 1970’s my teachers referred to boy-pupils by their family name,   can you imagine referring to him as Darling in class.   Character building all around I’d say!

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Saturday, November 17th, 2007 | tags: ,  |

Unsuitable for sensitive people

I hurridly put my keys (car, both  house, mailbox) in my back pocket when I came in.   I don’t normally keep them there,   too uncomfortable to sit on I was in a hurry to use the  0.5 bathroom.    After relief I flushed, pulled-up my trousers, and heard


I turned to catch a brief horrorful glimpse of  my keys sitting in the bowl before they dashed around this bend swiftly followed by my hand.   Never to be seen again.   Panic followed by thankfulness for my  spare sets.   Must get another spare set quickly because this is the sort of accident that gravitates towards me at times when I need more composure than normal.

The  symbolism of losing my house and car keys this way could be a tad disconcerting if I was supersticious,   which I’m not.  

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different in your parents’ day

Wednesday, November 14th, 2007 | tags: , , , , ,  |

Shipping (air or land) frieght to the UK requires that the owner  have a valid passport at all points when the freight will be moved.   Frieght moval times are unpredictable because of seasonal and weather variations and because frieght,   especially home-frieght,  is very low priority.   Remember by ditsy person’s annual passport?   It’s due for renewal this autumn…   …while the Wendy House is in transit….   Apart from guffaws of laughter this is what dad had to say when I asked him if I could hand-carry some stuff over to his home and leave it there ready for when I arrive,   just to be sure it would actually get there…

Mum says that will be OK…         …Passports and Passport timings are highly critical factors in travel – at least it is not as bad as in war time when you had to bring your Ration books with you if you were going out of the country – these had to be checked and if you had used next weeks rations woe betide you! That still applied the first time I came to England after the war – I nearly was not allowed to leave!

I should have guessed that it was worse during WW2.     I’m lucky that Britain and the US prefer peacekeeping to war or I’d probably have to live in a bunker at the bottom of the garden.

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easily confused

Wednesday, October 10th, 2007 | tags: , , ,  |

sixty-second in  as unstructured  Wednesday series of posts explaining  my singleness.

Reason #62: easily confused.  

The not being single thing is  all way too complicated.   My theory is that when it isn’t complicated then that’s the right match for me!   Slam dunk,  I’ll know because its all effortless and unconfusing.   It will be like an atronought landing on planet Wendy.

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under sink passport

Friday, August 10th, 2007 | tags: , ,  |

In November I lost my second passport in one year.   I found lost passport # 1 when looking for lost passport #2.   When the UK Govt. sent a replacement passport #2 they put me on a special limited edition.   Limited to 1 year validity.    They call it the  scatterbrain edition.

Tonight I found lost passport #2.    It was under an unused dusty note-book,   in a cupoboard, under a sink,    in a bathroom,   a cupboard that I didn’t think I had ever used.  

Passport.   Bathroom undersink cupboard.   Now I think that’s a bit silly.  

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mixed metaphors unmixed drinks

Sunday, July 1st, 2007 | tags: ,  |

taking my life  as  I take my alcohol

uncloudy, straight,  not on the rocks  

It’s unclear how I get  mixed-up

where the clouds come from

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Sunday, February 18th, 2007 | tags: ,  |

Ma’am!     (check-out person)

….oooops…. (Wendy)

I forgot to pick-up my cash-back when leaving the check-out. I don’t recall ever having being called ‘Ma’am’ before.   The uses I’m familair with have subtle intonational differences that get drowned in  regional accents.   Familiar uses  are:

  1. mumsie talking to, and of,  her own mumzie,   a Northern English term.  
  2. a way of addressing the Queen directly used in the film.  
  3. an abrieviation of ‘Madam’ used for troublesome girls: “she was being a right little madam“;    people who run establishments that comodify the female physique; in the French sense a mature women beyond maidenhood.

I wonder whether the check-out person meant one, some  or all  of these?

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Wednesday, July 5th, 2006 | tags: , , ,  |

This passport is a replacement for a passport ‘Declared LOST’, urgh.   I anticipate delays and humiliation at US immigration.     My new 10yr UK passport ID page has this special warning printed on the back:

LOST passport replacement

Pretty illustrations of different birds on each page and dual language (English and French)  almost make up for the likely extra detailed questioning when trying to get back into the US.   Sigh.

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what do you think of that »