Hanging On The Telephone

"Hi Peter"

"Pardon?"

"Hi Peter Smith"

"Errr, hello."

And so it started, twelve phone calls in three days on landline and mobile numbers at random times of the day, as early as 8:45am and as late as 9:15pm. Where on earth do they get our telephone numbers from especially when we are registered with the telephone preference service? More to the point is how on earth do they know exactly who lives at this number too?

Of course after the first couple of annoying cold calls you realise that it's a no holds barred have fun time so have fun I did, the next caller from the same number got this...

"...Peter Sm"

"Yes, is it about my pizza? If you have forgot my extra pilchards I'm going to come down there and bust your balls"

Bzzzzzz, it worked and they disconnected. A few hours later they were back for a little more punishment.

"Is that Peter?"

"Is that really you? Do you really still work here? I need you to tell me so I know who I'm looking at"

That freaked them out a little and they disconnected noisily, probably looking over their shoulder but like a dog with a bone they really couldn't stop themselves and the very next day they tried again.

"Hello Peter", bit more polite I thought.

"Sorry I can't hear you clearly" I said banging on the table, "The police are just about to raid my crack house, can you call me back" I said in my poshest voice.

Silence on the other end ensued.

Bang! I dropped the phone. "Oh no! They have broken the door down!" I pushed the phone around the floor a little for effect then disconnected.

As you can see I was getting a little more dramatic each time, opportunities like this don't come along often so I let rip.

Day three.

"Hi Peter can I..."

"You have reached a restricted number in the UK that is monitored by the digital legal protection agency. Your phone call is a breach of national security and will be reported immediately. Your case number is 76248 should you wish to appeal against your fine. This is a recorded message and will now disconnect"

After checking some of the numbers and the way the telephone preference service works I found out that it really doesn't work unless the calls originated in the UK, many firms are now using this to bypass the service and route their calls so they come from out of the area covered so it looks like I will be getting many more in the coming days, I just wonder how more inventive I could be.

"Thankyou Sir or Madam, you have dialled the future, I am not a recorded message I am the McFly iTalk the latest innovation from Appleberrypie. Your options are - Press one to hear the winning lottery results for the next draw, press two to hear a cute noise, press three to teleport your pet, press four to order your own hover board or wait to be connected to the deity of the day. Thankyou for calling McFly iTalk, your call is important to us, please hold if you agree to us calling you every day for the next ten years. Thankyou I have added you to our preferred callers list. Have a nice day"

 

Posted with Blogsy

Kerplunk

Things have been rather busy of late, so busy that the blog has suffered yet again, it always seems to be the first to go although being on the O2 network hasn't helped. Anyway, it's allowed me to plow on with things Impossimal and get ready two sets of paintings. One for this year and the second for early next year giving me a little more time to work on other Impossimal related projects and to have enough time to make things like this for a weekend get together.

Battleshots, a great party game that takes over from where battleships finish. Basically it's the same game only with cardboard battleships loaded with shot glasses, which in our case was filled with wine to avoid collateral damage from unsteady players. It's exactly the same rules apart from when an opponent scores a direct hit you let off your party popper with a satisfying explosion and down your shot glass. First person to sink all the opponents ships win, simple but effective entertainment. It was either this or beer pong but after looking at the Battleshot boards online this looked more fun than a few paper cups filled with beer.

An amusing diversion but this week it's back to the business of painting and moving the studio out of the house and into a new location. Currently the studio is housed in what should have been our dining room but I think after nine years it's time for a move, hence all the work in and around Bunnyopolis of late. It was due, the studio has been split between painting, sculpting, designing and animating when really it needed dedicated areas for all these things to be done properly. So that's the next project for July and August, moving the studio, just hope the rain stops long enough to do it!

Posted with Blogsy

Man the Lifeboats

With an evil laugh our delivery bloke walked away, "Good luck moving them, they are going to tip over and you will probably break them all" he shouted over his shoulder. Gee, thanks for that, so yesterday we were left with five bags of sand, all with various holes in them skilfully designed to be hidden until you try and move them, one bag of cement and eighteen 600mm x 600mm paving slabs, each one weighing the same as a small horse. To make matters worse it was placed on two pallets with the slabs hanging off one end on a sloping drive. Sigh.

Mr delivery driver was one of the uncheery fellows that delight in giving the minimum of service with the maximum of comments, don't you just hate that? I paid for delivery not a comedian although looking at the precarious balancing act of slab and pallets he obviously thought I was a magician. He had even 'thoughfully' cut the plastic tie around them all rendering the first few loose potential toe crushers as you approached and the rest balancing domino style ready to go at any moment.

Right Mr delivery man I won't let you get the better of me I thought and set to working out a plan of action. Due to their elevated position if they did topple they really would topple so I needed some kind of slab stopper. At the back I wedged a piece of timber against it weighted down with a few bags of sand. Against the other side I piled the remaining three. The idea was to remove one slab at a time then push the sand closer to the remaining ones to avoid a topple and a comedy home accident moment. Here goes...

...and you know it actually worked, the stack toppled terribly half way through but a steady hand from Jayne and a repositioning of the sand bags worked a treat. Still took us the best part of an hour to move them all onto the garden but at least they are all now in place ready to be laid. It was about then the heavens opened with a loud crack of thunder and the great deluge began, wish I had ordered wood for an ark instead, although with hindsight Mr delivery driver would have constructed some weird see-saw contraption out of the delivery that would have resulted in some Tom and Jerry like accident no doubt.

Even as I write this the next day it's still raining, the green house was washed away late last night, Bunnyopolis was last seen floating past Milton Keynes manned by three bunnies in striped deck wear and the upturned table I'm now sat on has started taking in water, although York is nice and I did get chance to wave to a few people as I floated by.

Posted with Blogsy

Pot

I'm not sure if I always get on with garden centres being the odd places they can be. Take yesterday for example, we have been looking for a new addition in the garden, nothing too fancy just a little place to sit on a in a little used corner from where Bunnyopolis's new veg bed came from when we stumbled upon a garden centre promising the earth outdoor building wise.

True enough it had plenty to choose from, which was nice, but it had an odd feeling thought the place, the feeling of a wet flannel. Every visitor shuffled around as if they didn't want to be there but it was a place they thought they ought to go to because it would be nice. Couples, normally in their fifties and sixties, lifted up pots, tutted and placed them back down only to repeat this several times, others walked in groups having been shipped in en mass to aimlessly gaze into a middle distance at everything they looked at.

Even the staff looked strangely subdued and for a minute I wondered if we had stumbled across a garden centre that had received some strange pod like plants replicating an invasion of the bodysnatchers incident. I was tempted to poke a few people as I passed to test my theory but Jayne made me put the stick down and we strolled on.

No doubt visit the garden centre at the weekend and it's a different matter, buzzing with people aimlessly wandering through mountains of sweet peas and begonias accompanied by children pushing mini trolleys full of sunflowers. You get the picture, same situation just a generation downshift, you see, garden centres really are not my thing but then again neither is this...

Looking for something new to eat I came across a site promising wonderful recipies, Chicken Voila sounded nice I thought, then I saw the picture and realised that "Chicken... Voila!" was something the cat would say after doing a lot of yacking and leaving you a present on the carpet.

Nice.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Impossibunnies

Strange things are afoot in Bunnyopolis this morning, it's gone all Olympic. All I can think of is the Olympic torch passing last week has worked its magic. Jayne opened Bunnyopolis door this morning and out trooped Aaran, Jura and Iona, in order, they did their customary nudges to say hello and bounced up the garden. Moments later they were back, in order again and they ran in the shed side, then through the cat flap in perfect unison to the run, then out again through the run door and back in the shed door completing an anti clockwise circuit. Then carried on doing the same thing again and again. Strange.

 

I know that bunnies run around the one they love in circles but this was different. The only thing that comes to mind was a book I read a while ago about hares, in the book a farmer explained that he watched as five hares came out of a hedge only feet in front of him and proceeded to run in perfect circles for a few minutes before again forming into a line and disappearing back into the hedge. Unexplained but I would love to know what it all meant.

 

Anyway, shortly after this Aaran was to be found all Olympian like on top of the podium, his bottom eeriely hanging off the edge in some random bunny balancing act as you can see from the above photo.

A few minutes later he was joined by Jura who assumed the podium postion two, although Aaran had now turned around and threw his bottom off the other side...

Last but not least came Iona, a bit reluctant to be third place so she just settled on chewing the podium to bits which is not very sportsman like at all. We shall see what happens, you never know by this afternoon with all the rain they may have learned to swim too!

Posted with Blogsy

Chip Cannon Ball

Pasta with chips and cheese sauce, one of the latest offerings from the takeaway menus that have dropped through our door recently. I really believe that we live in possibly the most chip hungry place in the UK judging by the menus, I mean, chips with pasta - really?

So without further ado lets look at some of the other mouthwatering food available at the end of my telephone should I feel like a massive intake of carbohydrates and fat.

For starters I was seriously tempted with the Round The House pizza, a tempting combination of Ham, pepperoni, salami, chicken, bacon, chilli beef, prawns and tuna with a healthy splash of green peppers and black olives unsurprisingly with a side order of chips. Hang on, what's that I spy under the vegetable extra toppings? it's butter, seriously, it's butter listed as an extra veg topping. Love to see the cow that came from.

Ah, another menu, let's see what I fancy here. Hmmm, the burgers sound nice, especially the 3/4 pounder and especially the Doner Bolo, skilfully created to mash together two cuisines this whopper brings doner kebab meat and chilli bolognese sauce into one mouthwatering £5 meal that will keep you on the throne for weeks especially as it comes with chips.

But maybe I'm more partial to something a little more slimming, maybe a light chicken wrap for example. Ah, here's one, a chicken wrap served with salad. Hang on, what's that underneath? Smothered in garlic butter and served with chips and grilled cheese. Just the thing to make that chicken slip down nicely.

Jacket potatoes, theres an idea. Hmm, with butter, with butter and cheese, with butter and mayo, with beans and cheese, with cheesy coleslaw all served with a side order unsurprisingly of chips. Its the food worlds equivelent of double denim.

I need to seek solace and find something from out of these four menus that I wouldn't feel bad about eating, how's about the kids meals? All served with chips apparently and proudly listed on all the menus.

Sigh.

So, seeing as I have just invested in a large potato field and bought a brand new chipper for my new business Chipalotalonga may I suggest that chips become obligatory for every meal and is written into the new constitution.

Fancy a breakfast of cereal and juice? Well it's not complete without some cheesy chips, dunk them in your yoghurt for a taste sensation your mouth won't believe.

Brighten up your trifles with a selection of chips to replace the spongy ladies fingers you use. Imagine the delight and surprise as your guest tuck in to jelly and chips, the fun never ends with this new 'chelly' combo.

Smear salmon sandwich spread on individual chips to create instant 'fish sticks', roll them in breadcrumbs and deep fat fry them again to get not only a twice cooked gorgeous chip but also a makeshift fish finger too, the possibilities are endless.

For the ultimate chipfest though make a Chip Cannon Ball, basically get a 1lb of minced beef, add a 1lb of cheese to bind it and roll it in a ball. Get 5lb of chips, dip them in egg to help the binding process and roll your beef and cheese ball through them until they coat the ball completely. Smother in butter and roll your new head sized snack in breadcrumbs. Using an industrial fryer cook until crispy, drain and serve with cheese, mayo and chips for that ultimate late night light bite.

N.B. Recipie untried, quantities are adequate for one small drunken snack or alternatively donate your chip cannon ball to a family so they can eat for a month. Chip Cannon Balls are only one of the untried tasty recipes available at Chipalotalonga under their 'Cook a Coronary' speciality menu. Try the sumptuous Chicken Chip Gobbler or Beef Basketball from our house special and receive the bonus recepie Chocolate Chip Dippers absolutely free.

I'm off to chip some chips. Happy chipping and remember if it's a chip it's got to be a Chipalotalonga chip!

Hmmm, I wonder what's for tea?

It's chips! yippee!!!!

Today's chiptastic blog has been bought to you by the Chipalotalonga marketing board, chipping chips since 1642.

Posted with Blogsy

The White Horse Of Whohah Woohah

Filling up the latest addition to Bunnyopolis, a large semi triangular vegetable bed, took a lot of doing. Tons of earth had to be moved from one side of the garden to the other, not a big distance just a repetitive dirty and heavy job to do when you are not used to work like this. Eventually though we nearly filled the new bed and decided to top it off with a peat free soil improver. It was in one of these bags of improver that I found this, a small white plastic horse.

Now I don't know the history of why it ended up there in the first place or even what it's original use was for but lets imagine a little and perhaps give it a reason for being...

The White Horse Of Whohah Woohah

A long time ago when people wore funny hats and used words like verily and sire there was a toy maker of great repute famed for his fantastically detailed and extremely large painted wooden horses, toy horses fit for Kings and Queens and Princesses and Princes and even Queencesses, can you imagine that!

He lived in Whohah Woohah, a small village in the kingdom of Wullandianobledom, which if you think that is difficult to say try Snoofytoofyrootybootie, the word for thank you in Wullandianobledom. Our toy maker spent his days making his fantabulous horses for his wealthy clients but deep down he was unhappy, unhappy because his clients were so wealthy that only Kings and Queens and Princesses and Princes and even Queencesses could afford them and he couldn't lower his price for then all the Kings and Queens and Princesses and Princes and even Queencesses would be angry and this made him sad. For all he wanted to do was to make toys for all the children to enjoy, children he saw everyday as he looked out of the workshop window.

Our toy maker turned to his latest work, a very fantabulous looking horse for a very important Queencess. It had striped legs, a spotted body of many colours, twenty bows for a mane and a tail that twirled and twirled around that was grand enough to be the hair of the Queencess herself. He stood back wearily and admired his horse, surely this indeed was the best toy horse he had ever, ever made, the Queencess would be so happy. He covered it up with a sheet and went to bed, tomorrow was a special day, tomorrow was the Queencesses birthday, tomorrow the Queencess would come for her horse.

That night our unhappy but skilful toy maker couldn't sleep, he was kept awake by the thought of all the toy less children and everytime he shut his eyes they returned in his dreams to look through his workshop window, longing to be able to play with one of his fantabulous creations. Eventually he did manage to sleep a little too well actually...

He awoke to a hammering on his workshop door, oh, no! He had overslep and looking outside he realised to his horror that the Queencess herself and a hundred carriages full of shoes, clothes, sweets, chocolate, shoomball cake, Wubberwalloons and toys of many descriptions lay waiting. She had come for her fantabulous horse, a horse fit for a Queencess, a horse fit for a Queencesses birthday. Today was the Queencesses birthday and boy did she look unhappy.

'I demand my horse!' she bellowed, 'Its my horse and I want it now!'

For Queencesses are quite rude you know.

'If you don't open this door by the time I count to ten I'll scream and scream until I feel yick, then I shall put you in a cage and poke you with a stick, then I will feed you cake until you are sick'

For Queencesses are very, very, very rude indeed.

Our toy maker ran downstairs and flung open the door, the Queencess had just started to scream but not yick. 'Out of the way little man, I want to see my horse' she screeched as she squeezed and squished her way into the workshop. For Queencesses are not only rude, they are also stuffed full of food although that would be crude to point out not to mention lewd so I will not be quite as rude about one stuffed with food.

'Your f-fantabulous horse my Q-Queencessness' our toy maker stammered out, for Queencesses were known to be rude you know, as he removed the sheet from the horse.

The Queencess was yick, then sick and with a big kick shouted 'This is not my horse! I'm mad and bad and your going to see my dad who will poke you and prod you and place you in a cod stew for the horse you have created is just not right, you have until tonight!' and with that our squishy screechy Queencess departed slamming the door with such force that even the walls wobbled.

Indeed, it was not the Queencess horse the toy maker was horrified to see, gone were the stripes, the spots, the bows, even the twirly tail and lost its pose and all that remained was a little girl, short and proud dressed in a gown that was neither quiet or loud. In her hand was a horse of miniature size, every inch the same as Queenies surprise. It had all the stripes, spots and bows too with a twirly tail of the greatest bright blue.

This is for you said the girl as she offered it over. Upon taking it though all the colour was gone, it was just a plain horse for he was not the one. The girl was a guardian of children worldwide, as you were a child in part of your life, you let your childhood leave and hide in the dark, it's time to find it so don't be a snark.

She had come to show the toy maker a path, to one of great happiness and not one of faff, for making his toys for those that are rude was actually quite wrong and she did not approve. Make from the heart she told him wisely for that's when in return you will stop feeling so sad, keep up the warmth and kick out the bad.

The miniature horse she explained was only for children, chosen by need and not born of greed, make all your toys like this one horse and hide them away where they can only be found by those that play.

So that's what it is, the horse that I found that lay somewhere deep in the soft ground, waiting for a child to have a great need so in a child's hands it becomes a magnificent steed. The stripe, spots and bows all reappear, even the tail looks better than ever and it becomes once again a fabulous toy, in the right hands it brings so much joy.

So if you are larger or wider or taller than a small person who would value the horse remember its there for need and not greed so place it back until next time it's freed.

 

Posted with Blogsy

The Cavalier Olympian

Not the best weather to run with a gold lightening rod on fire through the streets but yesterday it was Mansfields turn to witness the spectacle of the Olympic flame as it passed near enough for us to walk to the end of the street for a prime position. The weather wasn't kind, the picture above was taken half an hour before and conincidec with a storm that forced the torch off the road due to flooding and lightening fears.

Although personally I would have been more worried about this which popped up on the Twitter feed as I watched the live tweets. A bit cavalier I think taking an open naked flame into a forecourt full of flammable liquids. Hope they remembered to switch off their mobile phones. I had visions of Mansfield becoming known for the accidental destruction of the Olympic flame and support crew with lightening striking the torch rendering everyone within twenty feet to suffer a fate similar to crossing the plasma streams in Ghostbusters whilst the entire firecourt exploded in a fireball that could be seen from space and made the residents of nearby Nottingham applaud as they believed they were witnessing Mansfields Olympic sized firework celebrations. Needless to say it didn't happen that way and the torch safely made its way through the town.

Mansfield did the right thing on the day and the whole event, despite the rain was a real credit to its people. At the end of our street the crowds had swelled, far more than I would have imagined there to be and cheering could be heard in the distance. School children stood proud with their banners, people waved flags and the sound of chatter and laughing seemed to fill the quiet car free streets.

So, another moment in history goes by, it may have only been a few minutes to come and go but it did achieve what it was supposed to do, make us feel proud and for once bought us all together to witness it.

Posted with Blogsy

Fifty Shades Of Green

I might be a little rough said Arthur Cumberpatch as he undid his corderoys. Muriel Ramsbottom squirmed at the mere thought of Arthur's rampant snake as he pulled at it frantically. It needs a woman's touch he whispered, lowering his gaze to look at Muriel's ripe melons. Give it a tug for me I can't do it on my own said Arthur as he gripped her hand and pulled it towards him.

Muriel paused, touching Arthur's snake had seemed a dream, this man of sixty, this man of means was complex, a paradox, a fantasy. Arthur's muscular stature and chiseled features were burned into Muriel's memory, how she had longed to hold him in her arms, feel his firm grip and touch his gigantic snake.

At this point, if you have read a popular book at the moment you will be wanting more so let me reveal the tawdry secrets behind Arthur and Muriel...

Arthur had run his pet shop for years, Muriel had watched Arthur from behind her row of ripe melons on her fruit and veg stall as he looked after his favourite pet python, a snake she had always wanted to hold.

They both joined hands and walked down the street to the local pub, the Cockwell Inn, Tilit, Herts.

TBC...

Or if you prefer a different type of novel, primarily the bodice ripper try Captain Giles Welldeep in his latest adventure One Good Thrust...

The bedroom door burst open as Giles unbuttoned his tunic, Lady Amy Upforit stood seductively in the doorway licking her lips. That needs a good seeing to said Giles as he rose from the bed holding his stiff sabre. Lady Upforit nodded, I know, it's what I have been waiting for she replied then lifted her petticoat.

Giles tore off his tunic and using his sabre cut a neat strip from it and wrapped it around her leg covering the cut she had sustained just moments before whilst clearing out fireplace. See, said Giles, that's a lot better, if you don't see to injuries like that they could turn nasty. Lady Amy sat down relieved that it had stopped bleeding, filled her pipe and smoked some rough shag.

Romantic gold I'm sure, maybe I should try to do a whole book...

John Hardsteel stood on the roof of his chip shop holding the girl of his dreams, Tracy Murmington, a fish skinner from Urmston and bent to kiss her. The smell of the grease from her hair mingled with the heady aroma of fish guts and made him feel light headed. After their first encounter over a mangled carp that Tracy had just skinned their love had grown. Could this be the one?

Can't decide if that passage is a bit too romantic though, maybe I should change the location to the local refuse tip.

Is That It?

It's took some doing with the extremely lousy British summer but we have our first bit of home grown produce to eat. Admittedly is not too exciting but it's the first time we have grown mini cucumbers so to be able to pick one and have it on dinner was a bit of a thrill. OK, maybe thrill was a too strong word to use but it is a good feeling none the less.

The tomatoes on the other hand look a bit small by comparison, it's probably going to be the worst season ever for growing them this year even though they are in a greenhouse and in full sun, well, it would be full sun if we ever get any. Why am I blogging about this today? No reason other than over the last few weeks we ripped out two veg beds made out of 18 railway sleepers and reassembled them in Bunnyopolis creating one gigantic bed to supply Bunnyopolis residents with fresh produce, the only problem now is getting the right things to grow in there.

Rabbits you see can be fussy (ours don't do herbs unless its parsley) and there are certain plants and veg they cannot eat. Anything from the onion family for example is not good for them. We have found, quite by accident, that our three will happily demolish lavender plants, hosters are a favourite and as for bamboo, well, they could easily give a panda a run for their money not that I recommend any of the above. So with all this in mind we have decided to stick to broccoli, cabbages, brussels, parsnip and carrots to air dry into strips and finally curly kale. The new veg bed has been made to a certain height to avoid nibbling which in the case of our three bunsters is a minimum of three and a half feet.

So all we need now is plenty of sun, at least that's what I think it's called it's been so long since I have seen it my vocabulary is suffering.

Two Soups

During the weekends appearances we decided, after arriving early on Saturday morning at our destination, to have a spot of breakfast in some nice surroundings rather than in the car at some grotty car park that smells of wee. This was a break from routine as we can usually be found tucking into a Tupperware container full of food and sipping coffee from plastic cups, so this, essentially, was a treat.

I use 'treat' in the most loosest of terms as events wasn't exactly treat worthy...

A nice place announcing a breakfast menu, titillating us with eggs benedict, smoked salmon, kippers and the usual choice of a full English looked promising. Even the interior looked shiny and inviting, so in we went to be seated. It wasn't full, after all it had only been opened fifteen minutes so we were only the third table to be seated. The waitress came over and gave us the menu taking an order for coffee at the same time, it all looked too fab.

Then, like some cheap clothing, slowly the threads began to unravel. Or coffee came ten minutes later in a rather small cup, this was a large one by the way, with a seemingly impossible handle. No matter how you tried to lift it with the handle it just slipped through your fingers. I laughed at Jayne as she tried to steady it only to nearly throw scalding water on my own crotch seconds later, the handle was too small to grip and the inside was too small to get your fingers in to steady it, so instead we assumed the position of drinking from a mug on cold winters day using both hands cupped around it.

Still, it passed the time, which was a good job too as the waitress decided to take the orders out of sequence for the tables, so the last table seated got to be first and a family who had been here before us had to wait until last, although all that didn't matter as them mixed them all up in the kitchen anyway.


The next twenty minutes was spent watching from our vantage point a pair of kitchen staff, one of whom included the chef, prepare a breakfast. Unluckily it wasn't ours or even any of the other tables, it was chefs, who stood and ate it whilst idly stirring a few pots. Delightfully he signaled the end of his repast with a eradication or burp as some might call it much to his own satisfaction and a quick wipe down of his hands on his apron he was ready to start work. Twice he burnt the muffins and whilst preparing a haddock almost took his own finger off.

Even the waitress looked like a younger Mrs Overall, I half expected the front of the cooker to fall over and reveal it was actually balsa wood with a candle for flame effect such was the feeling that we had stumbled into the culinary version of Acorn Antiques. We had some excitement though, the waitress came towards us with food after 25 minutes, unfortunately it was short lived as it was delivered to the last table to come in.

Thirty five minutes after the order had been taken it was delivered safely to our table. Cold. We we the lucky ones, the family of four that had ordered a full breakfast still sat idly twiddling their thumbs in that 'oh, I mustn't complain British way we all do from time to time'

As you probably imagine from the blog, we were not impressed. Even more so as this establishment was supposed to be a half decent one too, I mean, a cup of coffee was £2.50 even though it came in doll tea service cups. It had over forty tables too, how on earth did they cope when it was full?

It got me thinking and as we walked around the shopping centre I felt myself people watching. The shops had not been open very long but already the staff in many of them looked bored, no, not only bored but also lifeless too, this disinterest in service or efficiency it seemed was endemic. Slowly though I started to analyse each and every shop we passed, why were some better than others?

I came to the conclusion that it depended entirely on what they sold. If it was practical like clothes or shoes it became mundane unless you reached a certain level of social product status, sell designer wear and suddenly you smile more and look as if your enjoying it, sell £9.95 trainers and suddenly it's all too boring. Selling technology too had its break points, work in an Apple store and it feels aspirational and fun, sell the same items in a large retail chain like Comet and everything suddenly seems so grey. Essentially for any retail job to feel fun and for you to get the most out of needs to be selling items you aspire to or you need to look at things differently.

For an example of just how to change your working environment without changing your job have a look at the Seattle Pikes Place Fish Market. Yes, I know that sounds rather weird but they follow a philosophy called Fish!, a philosophy that teaches you to chose your attitude and mindset every day to get the best out of yourself or your occupation. It's quite interesting to see just how selling fish, an essentially boring job, can be turned around to be just as fun and exciting as selling high end technologically fun products.

My waitress and chef were obviously disappointed in what they do, everybody feels like that at some point but hey, the bills need paying. It doesn't stop you dreaming though and you never know, that person you serve efficiently or the lady you smile at as you place the coffee cup down might just be the person to change it all for you. Chances are you are reading this thinking, yeah, right, just like a Mr Jacob Williams did when serving a customer who looked rather scruffy in New York, he smiled and went the extra mile to attend to his customers needs by doing a simple task as fetching a sugar bowl even though his customer was being quite difficult at the time.

Mr Williams was serving one of New Yorks richest men who at that point was sat in the restaraunt with a cup of coffee pondering replacements for his personal assistant, a job worth $300,000 a year. Mr Williams attentiveness caught his eye and he decided then that Mr Williams would be an ideal replacement.

Mr Williams started working for his billionaire as his dog walker the very next day at $2 an hour and never looked back.

See, you thought that was going to end quite differently didn't you? Well, it did, Mr Williams eventually became his personal assistant and when his billionaire died ten years later he was left over $10 million in shares, one million for each year, for his service, all down to a smile and a bowl of cubed sugar.

Telstar

"Simple" said the packaging, get wonderful HD channels beamed right to your home with only a few hours of work installing your own satellite dish. Hmmm, I thought as I read the box, looks easy and it's been reduced to £40 too. Television in our house has not really progressed past the Freeview stage so I felt strangely excited at a bit of a foray into satellite technology, it must have shown too at the checkout where a overly familiar member of staff decided to inform me o the best channels. I have to say he was well into something called Babestation and promising me untold entertainment shows of the finest order...

So yesterday I set to and unpacked the extensive bits and began the long process of attaching A to D using 3xR's fastened to G. Eventually I assembled two parts, one the satellite dish and receiver the other being the bracket for the wall. The cable went in perfectly, the bracket was mounted on the wall and the said satellite dish was added and secured.

I used a basic approach to find the satellite Astra 2a, at 10:50am I had thoughtfully placed a stick down in the direction of the sun, which at that time of day was exactly at 144 degrees the same as the satellite I was trying to pinpoint 22,000 kilometres away. Finding anything at this distance was always going to be tricky, not only did I have to get the direction right but also the angle and rotation, tricky stuff when you don't have any equipment to do it so I improvised. Using an old protractor and two sticks I mocked up the 23.7464545 angle I needed, a handy cardboard circle gave me the -12.645 degree rotation and using these two and a compass to check things I set up the satellite and rushed inside to enjoy the overwhelming TV entertainment I was promised.

Blank.

Totally blank with a little bit of white text "No Signal".

Imagine the hands of a clock whirring round as many hours passed. I checked the cable, degree settings, power, angle, TV, receiver and oodles of other things over and over again. Stupid £40 satellite dish, I was on the cusp of swinging from its bracket and using it as an elaborate fruit dish when I noticed something.

The dish was being pushed out of alignment by the wall it was mounted on. A quick check revealed that the wall was infact angled at 142 degrees meaning the satellite dish could only move to 144.7 degrees, a small amount but enough when you are trying to target something so far away.

Unfortunately this mean moving the whole thing another six foot so anyone passing the garden around 4pm yesterday would have heard some delightfully colourful language as I attempted to get the well fixed bracket out of the wall ten foot off the ground. Once moved though the signal changed from its sombre 'No Signal' to a delightful colourful bar that whacked it up to full strength.

Great! I thought and waited with anticipation as the 69847 stations rolled up the screen. Surely I can only be moments away from TV heaven...

It finished and flicked up its first offering!

Northern Birds. OMG

Nooooooooo! What have I done? I'm scarred for ever, please tell me it gets better... Please!

Shine*

Free shampoo, free notepad and pencil, free soap, all these pale into insignificance when you enter a hotel room and find a shoe mitt. Shoe mitts are the holy grail of hotel freebies, forget the emergency sewing kit, put aside the complimentary shower cap, shoe mitts are probably the most useful of all the non essential fluff you going to get.

For a start they clean shoes. I know that is obvious but they really are good at doing just that, you even get to slip your hand in the mitt so you can give them a good rub. They really come into their own though when you use them for jobs they were not designed for...

Got a smartphone or PDA? Yes? Shoe mitts make excellent screen cleaners and in some cases are large enough for you to slip your hardware inside to give you a free handy dust cover.

Don't want to lose jewellery in your suitcase? Pop your items in the shoe mitt pouch and not only will it keep them safe it will also buff them up a little too.

They make excellent finger dusters for those hard to reach places such as the top of door frames and awkward light fittings.

Cut a lemon in half, pop it inside the mitt and squeeze. Voila, instant lemon juice minus all the pips.

Got a cold? Use a shoe mitt as an emergency handkerchief, they are soft enough to soothe your nose and tough enough to take the punishment of a good sneeze.

They make excellent sleeping bags for mice and with the addition of a shoelace handle they can also transform into a makeshift shopping bag for cats.

In a culinary emergency assert your authority with the shoe mitts instant chefs hat. Ideal for that f*!?! Gordon Ramsey moment.

During Summer (in the UK I'm referring to the 3rd July, between 1:45pm and 2:12pm, other places may experience a different Summer) use the mitt to apply sun cream without getting your hands all sticky.

In Winter a pair of mitts make excellent mittens, double them up for extra warmth.

Got loads of shoe mitts? Wear them all at the same time to give you a free oven glove.

New potatoes can be safely carried in this miniature potato sack.

Staple one to your favourite armchair to give a pocket for your favourite remote control ensuring you never lose it again.

Attach one to your belt for a wallet scabbard. Bystanders will be amazed as you whip out your wallet just like a sword to pay for that mocha latte frappe double chocalotta large coffee with cream.

Save them for Halloween and hand them out filled with sweets to trick or treaters, after the contents have been scoffed the mitt will ensure they never have dirty shoes again, it's the gift that keeps on giving.

Shoe mitts make excellent shark repellents, I wear mine constantly at home and have never been bitten by a shark yet.

So the next time you are in a hotel room cherish the shoe mitt, save them, use them, you never know when you will need one.

*Shine - All shoe mitt suggestions should only be carried out by a shoe mitt expert grade one, purple belt. Amateur shoe mitt devotees should just stick to shoe mitt recommended duties for safety reasons. Shoe mitts are not designed to replace boats, edible items and/or people no matter how many eyes you draw on them. Shoe mitts come in various sizes, always choose your shoe mitt carefully to avoid disappointment. Never use shoe mitts to apply makeup or to feed lions. Never leave a shoe mitt unattended after midnight and never EVER feed them popcorn.

This blog has been sponsored by the Save-a-Mitt Foundation, your donation of £6152 a day could save a starving family of Shoe Mitts from a fate worse than buffing. For details of sponsoring a shoe mitt family call 08912-MITTSAVENOW-9861 and ready your credit card.

 

The Trip Stop

 

Let's face it, motorway services provide a service and amusement in equal measures. I talk from experience after using them twice in the last few days which catapulted me back into a sketch show for a few hours. It all started quite innocently with our 560 mile round trip to Glasgow for an appearance this weekend and a need for a toilet stop and a refuel along the way.

for a start I didn't expect to see some of the unusual things I came across. Firstly was this, a motorbike racing car being driven randomly by a guy that looked like the Stig followed by three other motorbikes to accompany him. They zig-zagged their way out of the no entry sign and went the wrong way down the entrance route.

Weird but not as amusing as the man excercising his dog, a dog who obviously needed a little more than exercise when it decided to take its own toilet break in the middle of the car park surrounded by families and a coach load of tourists now trying to gag their way through packed lunches. That was mildly amusing but not as amusing as when he bent down to clean it up as his phone popped put of the top pocket and bounced dangerously close to the aforesaid dollop. There followed a scene out of a thousand movies similar to a hero defusing a bomb as he tried to remove his phone without getting anything on him, the phone or his clothes, all done in glorious slo-motion and from a safe distance (arms length). He nearly got a round of applause until he capped it all and spoilt the scene by sniffing the phone at the end.

Inside, apologies for the poor photo, I felt a little conspicuous as we were glared at as we entered. Probably due to the fact we were both dressed ready for the appearance and looked a bit extravagant. The music Tony Christies 'Is This The Way To Amarillo' played in the foyer and a smell of breakfast; two eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, fried bread and crusty beans wafted up my nostrils. Several 'guests' were already tucking in, one gentleman had decided that one breakfast was not enough and had ordered two, all lined up ready to be devoured with military precision. His fried bread had already been transferred and I watched him carry on this routine with an expert deft of hand in which he lifted a fried egg intact from the second plate and placed it squarely on the fried bread, a quick stab of the fork and a golden river of yolk flooded the surface. He was going to love every bit of it and for a moment I envied him.

In their heyday motorway services quickly became a destination for the motorist, indeed, at the start they were the only place to be seen in on the new tangled motorway system that wowed the UK. Today though, it's a different matter as we wandered it's noise filled arcade machine corridors amazed that they now only offer only the basics at inflated prices which I suppose you should now only expect from a place with a captive audience. But it was still buzzing, albeit in a zombie kind of way as families shuffled their way through the halls stopping occasionally to consume a burger, individuals looked shifty and furtive, truck drivers looked, well, trucky, foreign tourists looked amazed and disgusted all at the same time and occasionally a member of staff rushed through looking rather worried after receiving a report of a foreign object in cubicle three. And as always you get a squirt of air fresher to the back of the head from those automatic dispensers as you walk in the toilets, why do they do that? Do I really smell that much that a waft of faux pine is needed?

I suppose it's a bit like the eBay of the soul, lots of people coming through the door in an unending random listing each with their own agenda, story and reason for being there in the first place. I could go on but instead I will leave you with this, urinals are not for sitting on. Try telling that to the gentleman I found perched on one not three feet from myself.

How will he explain the ring on the back of his trousers I will never know.

Dream Toilet Griddles With Eggs

Oh my, just when I thought that I had seen the ultimate toilet seat cover with the kitten covered one a few weeks ago I find this. I don't know if it's the hat, the jaunty shorts or the total twee effect that would make me barf first. Still, if you have one of these I bet it looks great with the musical ballerina toilet roll stand and loo brush. I do think they have missed a trick by not providing a toilet mat that looks like his feet, now that would be cool.

Fortunately or unfortunately depending on your point of view I have yet to meet somebody who wears attire like this, certainly take away food shirts are the way forward and I wholeheartedly recommend wearing one to your next job interview. Who could not be wowed with your confidence to wear such snappily dressed cutting edge fashion. Now if it had pizzas on it I'd have two in a snap.

Probably not quite accurate but I like their enthusiasm to use all capital letters for their product. Can't help feeling as a kid you may not be getting accurate information across from this.

Dad! Look what I found, it's a Dog!

No son, that is an Ostrich, now take off the lead, put down the bone and let it go.

Dad! Look what I found, it's a Pig!

No son, that's a tig... Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!! Rrrrrrrippp! No, no, nooooooo! Gurgle.

Now this I like, wake up on the tasty side of the bed with the griddle equivelent of the Teasmaid. Pure genius, imagine waking up to the smell of sizzling bacon, get that early morning munchies over from the comfort of your own bed. Just be carefull when you wake up a bit dopey and try to reach to switch the alarm off, on the plus side those 3rd degree burns would wake you in a snap. Look carefully, ever detail is there, a nightlight feature and a snooze button that preheats your muffins so to speak.

You really can't beat the Japanese though for pure inventiveness, why use an egg when you can use a sausegg? No more pesky egg shaped eggs to contend with which are so eggy and SO yesterday, get the cutting egg-dge Sausegg and banish all your egg based woes in an instant. Also available butter in the shape of a dog - the Dogbutt and a new range of Cat shaped marangues, the Catamarangues.

In our continuing series of inappropriate toys and items and can't help feeling a little uncomfortable with this. Go on, feel it, you know you want too. Urgh.

But for a whopper topper stopper of a doorbell guaranteed to deter ALL doorstop callers try this. Just don't press it too hard... Seriously, why? Or maybe your thinking, why not? Either way an ass a day keeps the callers away I suppose.

Bunnyopolis Phase Three

Although the veg and herb garden has started to show signs of life it's still not been particularly good for growing much at all. The weather, as usual, remains unsettled so as a bit of an upgrade to help them along we have decided to start Bunnyopolis phase three earlier than planned. Initially we were going to do this after the growing season as it involves deconstructing two veg beds and combining them into one mega bed inside of Bunnyopolis.

Each one is made from made from nine untreated railway sleepers that are extremely bulky (1.8m) and very heavy to lift, their new position is on a slope so also needs extensive work to get level. Plenty of earth shifting to begin with, then cementing of blocks to create a level foundation followed by moving the sleepers and using bolts and assorted treated wood to secure them in place.

As you can see, upon being told Iona was only half interested, that half being access to fresh food.

So we have began, it's going to take some weeks to complete as we need to dismantle the sleepers carefully and rebuild them whilst bunny proofing at the same time especially as they could easily make convenient steps for the residents of Bunnyopolis to make a dramatic, if what simple escape attempt.

First sleeper in place, cemented in, just a twenty four hour wait and I can start to build the foundations on which to lay and secure the other railway sleepers. Can't be as bad as building Bunnyopolis can it?

 

Fly The Flag

In the cold light of day deciding to hold a Jubilee party for the entire street unannounced during a 4am merry imbibing session seemed a little foolhardy, after all with only 36 hours to go would anybody come? So much to sort out too; invites, drink, food, decoration, tables, chairs, music and of course to top it all the weather.

Six hours later things didn't look good. The weather was shocking for the official street party day, even the Queen looked a bit damp on her barge after four hours in the drizzle and we could only hope that it would clear up for our impromptu one pencilled in for the 4th with a 4pm start.

Miraculously we managed it with a little help from our friends, the garden looked generally Jubilee, invites were sent, food prepared and beer and Pimms chilled, even the sun decided to pop out in time to bring a lovely afternoon glow to the proceedings.

So by 4:30pm things were starting to roll, neighbours both old and new came along, old school friends too, each bringing something different to the party. Then it got even better, a neighbouring party had hired a live band to play so we were treated to a great and free concert too, what a jubilating way to Jubilee!

I hope you all had a great Jubilee break, I'm off to deflate my balloons, un-twirl the bunting, fold up the flags and start the first stage of the big Jubilee tidy up.

Modelling Models

Unable to fit a full sized horse, tiger and pelican in the studio I decided to do the next best thing and get some models to work with. Admittedly they look rather normal at this stage but with a bit of makeup...

A plasticine work over changed a normal stallion type thing into the Crystal Tipped Unicone. The tail had to be inverted, as on the model it was between the legs so to cope with that I heightened the rump too and then made little ice cream swirls for it's mane. Finally the head was remoulded and the cones added. The side of the mountain to the left is a yoghurt pot, the rest is all plasticine. It was really all for the shadows on this one, trying to paint them any other way would have been so difficult. The colour was changed during the painting to a dappled white, basically to blend in with it's environment, after all for a beast that only appears every ten years it needed to be well camouflaged.

But the modelling went to a whole new level with Pompidoos French Fancy Filly, basically a tall boy with a head and open drawers. Even the paving slabs and stone work behind was carefully created and measured for accuracy. Matchstick strengthening helped the support due to its ability to easily overbalance and little items of clothing were cut out of an old cloth and scattered in for effect. Both were time consuming to do taking two days to complete and oodles of more time to paint them.

Lady Pompidoo

Lady Pompidoo, one of the most respected French aristocrats and a direct descendant of Empress Eugénie who fled the Tuileries, a royal palace that was destroyed in 1871 for Great Britain had been settled in Britain for many years but still held a passion for French pastries and sweets. The arrival of a new chef at her estate Pompidoo Hall was greeted with delight, finally she had managed to secure one of the most revered chef and master of the new ‘fondant’ method first pioneered in 1877, Chef Charles Ranhofer (November 7, 1836, Saint-Denis, France — October 9, 1899, New York) for three months.

Charles Ranhofer set to work in the extensive kitchens and produced some of the most magical creations of his career, from the huge Crème de la mountain fountain to the fabulous Choux Pistache aux Fruits Rouges with Rum Baa-baa et Flambé. His crowning glory though was a delicate little cake filled with a fondant cream and decorated with four delightful colours each one to represent memorable characters in Shakespears plays. Othello was represented by chocolate, Desdemona by white, Lago was coffee and the fourth pink after Rosalind from ‘As You Like It’. A drizzle of a second colour set off the whole thing and they quickly became Lady Pompidoo’s favourite.

The three months went very quickly for Lady Pompidoo and she amassed vast stocks of French Fancies which were kept securely in a special room called the Cakeararium, an exquisitely decorated room reminiscent of a pre French Revolution boudoir filled with rare and expensive furniture. Only Lady Pompidoo was allowed entry and she would sit for hours looking out over her vast estate delicately eating her beloved French Fancies.

Then one day she noticed a rather odd thing, a gap had appeared in her precious stocks, immediately she summoned her servants. It was impossible, not only did all the servants deny taking any but they also pointed out that Lady Pompidoo had the only key to the room.

After much discussion Lady Pompidoo allowed one of her most trusted maids to hide in the forbidden room whilst a tray of French fancies was placed temptingly on the table in full view. Shortly before midnight the maid heard a noise sounding like footsteps and leaped out to surprise the thief. Instead she was surprised to find herself standing face to face with an ornate tallboy in the centre of the room and promptly fainted, a piece of furniture that Lady Pompidoo had recently acquired from the sale of items from Hamilton Palace.

The next day the maid told her curious tale to Lady Pompidoo who, whilst full of doubt decided to investigate. Holding a French fancy up to the tallboy elicited no response, neither did a full plate of fancies so she popped the plate on the table and went to return to the maid. Only then did she hear the slightest noise of a drawer being opened as she approached the door, turning around quickly she caught the sight of a drawer quickly closing.

So there was something in there. Very slowly she took over the plate of fancies and softly spoke to the tallboy. After a few minutes Lady Pompidoos soft and reassuring voice elicited a response. From out of the top draw came the most beautiful sight of a furry pink nosed head with amber eyes and the tallboy tentatively shuffled forward. Delicately picking up a French fancy with its mouth slowly the bottom draw opened to reveal two more woolly faces, this time with lemon and purple noses. Gently the French fancy was passed down to the drawers occupants who purred with delight.

Lady Pompidoo and her French Fancy Filly as she called it could regularly be seen at Pompidoo Hall sharing plates of French Fancies, a friendship that lasted many years and was commemorated in this painting. A painting which Charles Burroughs our renowned explorer was commissioned to paint and eventually formed part of a brief touring exhibition of his works inspiring furniture makers of the time to adopt the French Fancy Filly’s delicate curves and detailing into their work.

Records show that the French Fancy Filly is still out there, so should you come across a tall white set of French drawers don’t forget to check all the drawers and of course always have plenty of French fancies available.