Author: Isobel

I like animals, colour, the Thames, reading, cooking, writing, eating, walking. I don't like bullies, butchers' shops, crowded public transport, Nigel Farage.

Getting comfy

I think I’m getting the hang of this site now and starting to feel at home.

I blog here and on my page, click between the two, a bit like MyT without the Disordered Personalities.

I go to see what the Freefarmer has written and drool over the photos.

I go to the dashboard and each time find something new to play with (though how can I change the names of blogs on my blogroll?  I want John Mackie’s to say John Mackie and not Embraforever).

I can waste every bit of much time here as I did on MyT.  And I do.

Yep. I like it. I think I’ll stay.

Big World of WordPress

I’m off to bed in a sec, but I was just wondering if anyone has had as comment here from someone else on WordPress as opposed to people we already knew from MyT.

When I first posted on MyT I didn’t know a soul. Pretty soon I began to recognise other bloggers, look out for the ones I enjoyed, made comments, got comments back and so on and so forth.

By clicking on the latest blogs bit at the bottom of the dashboard (it moves jolly quickly) I’ve found a few blogs that interest me. I’ve left some comments, but that’s been it. I’m missing the interaction of the old place, but each time I go back there I hate it!

Mother Anxiety

I just called my mother. She sounded okay, but wanted to pass me onto her visitors pretty sharpish as though, as my uncle says, the phone were a hot brick.

I was very worried when one of them told me they had had been greeted by staff saying Mother had had several accidents yesterday and had had to have four showers, so they were not to give her anything to eat.

There was no mention of a doctor, or any medical attention at all. The acting manager is not about. I’ve received no information about this. So I’m writing this post partly to distract myself while I wait for an answer to my flagged email or for Mother’s visitors to get more information from staff on duty.

Generally my mother is fairly hungry. She should eat little and often. She enjoys the scrambled egg her visitors make her every Saturday for elevenses and I really want to know if there’s a medical reason why she shouldn’t have it, or if it’s a high-handed decision made by one of the staff.

Robbie Williams’ Fan Club

I’m thrilled to bits to learn that Robbie Williams’ Fan Club has been visititing my post.

But how about Robbie?

Has the great Robster also popped by to learn about his canine namesake? I believe he is a dog lover. Maybe he’d like to meet the little fellow.

Robbie, if you read this, give us a sign. And if you like, I’ll try to broker a meeting between you and the champagne-coated one.

Robbie Williams

I saw Robbie Williams this morning.

He was going for a walk. I smiled at him but he didn’t see me. I was on the bus.

I see him quite a lot. If I meet him on the street he’s very friendly.

He’s still quite stocky though he goes for several walks a day. But it doesn’t seem to worry him. He has a lovely coat. It’s a sort of soft  champagne colour.

Unusual for a Westie.

I still haven’t understood quite how he got his name, but he’s a minor celebrity in North Lambeth.

Hi

Quite a few of the emails I receive  have Hi as their subject. They are usually from friends, catching up on this and that. sometimes they are from people I know less well and the Hi can seem a little inappropriate. I mean, Hi is a sort of familiar, light-hearted way of greeting someone. You wouldn’t expect a message from your bank manager or GP to be addressed this way. At least not unless you knew them very well and it was some sort of relaxed and friendly communication. Tone and register are important clues as to the seriousness, or not, of a message.

You get my drift I hope. Continue reading …

Incognito

On holiday, as at parties or here, I don’t really want to talk about what I do for a living.
So, when I was asked on the first evening of my recent holiday, I explained that I had been trying to think of an alias, something that would not appeal to people so they wouldn’t want to talk shop.
I thought pest controller might fit the bill.
The conversation diverted and we talked of more interesting things. Then it was time for an early night.
A couple of days later, I was walking beside Our Glorious Leader, as one of our group dubbed him, when he asked me if I had any advice to offer about getting rid of moles.
For a moment I was completely at sea, and then the penny dropped.
Presumably, someone had half overheard my conversation and believed that was my profession.
So if you meet someone just back from holidaying with a ratcatcher in Sicily, you’ll know it was me!
Next time, I’m going to be a debt collector.