Today was a bit of a tricky day but I think it's ok now and it looks like the mothership is well enough to travel. I really have to get back if possible to do some stuff before Christmas so tomorrow we set off from Isle of Wight to Norwich. She will be wrapped warmly, I have 2 car blankets, a thermos mug, a fully working car heater and grim determination to get home.
I have a constant eye on the road reports and weather forecast.
Then, after a day's rest we will set off on the trip up to my sister's house in Yorkshire.
I have 2 cakes to ice, a turkey to collect, food stuff to do and oh yeah, I really need to go to work at some point - I'm thinking Wednesday and Thursday morning. And I'd really quite like to see the husband sometime soon...
I have instructed the husband to shut all the doors, put the heating to manual and turn it up to 22 degrees. That should be nice and warm when we get home.
Monday, 20 December 2010
Saturday, 18 December 2010
Nursey Mission
There I was, just arrived at work, putting in a call to the mothership to see how she was, 20 minutes later I was back out of the door dashing home to get some stuff and making a dash to soothe the fevered brow.
I got home, threw a random selection of clothes into a bag (oh, this outfit, yes, the mismatched look is all the rage doncha know.). I'll be like a harlequin set of cups - nothing matching ON PURPOSE), made a cuppa for the thermal mug and set off on the 4+ hour drive to Southampton. It wasn't too bad a drive, except for the stupidity of missing the turning and having to double back twice over - the exit is only on one side of the A14 so I had to go back up past it, and get back onto my original side of the road to pick it back up again - all most irritating as it cost me about 20 minutes and consequently I missed the boat by about 7 minutes and had to wait 90 minutes for the next one. Curses!
Mothership was wheezing nicely when I arrived, just about managed to totter to the door to let me in...ackshewly she was in a pretty bad way. We turned the heating up and I made a steady parade of little snacks on trays up and down the stairs.
2 days later and the wonders of modern anti-biotics and a bit of TLC has worked a great change and she is definitely on the mend.
However, what's in store for the next few days is a mystery too great to fathom as yet. Too great even for Mystic Mog. We have had snow overnight and there is no telling whether we will be able to a) get off the island and if we do, b) drive anywhere. But if we can get the car out and IF she's well enough to be transported in the car then I should be able get her to Christmas with the family. If she isn't, there will be a LOT of phoning and organising and there may be the hunt for the last turkey. Or alternatively a Chicken Kev with a bit of holly at a jaunty angle. Mothership tells me she has a goose breast and fortunately qualifies this by saying it is in the freezer.
All will be well I am sure, it'll just need a bit of planning, and if there's one thing I like it's lists and planning...
I got home, threw a random selection of clothes into a bag (oh, this outfit, yes, the mismatched look is all the rage doncha know.). I'll be like a harlequin set of cups - nothing matching ON PURPOSE), made a cuppa for the thermal mug and set off on the 4+ hour drive to Southampton. It wasn't too bad a drive, except for the stupidity of missing the turning and having to double back twice over - the exit is only on one side of the A14 so I had to go back up past it, and get back onto my original side of the road to pick it back up again - all most irritating as it cost me about 20 minutes and consequently I missed the boat by about 7 minutes and had to wait 90 minutes for the next one. Curses!
Mothership was wheezing nicely when I arrived, just about managed to totter to the door to let me in...ackshewly she was in a pretty bad way. We turned the heating up and I made a steady parade of little snacks on trays up and down the stairs.
2 days later and the wonders of modern anti-biotics and a bit of TLC has worked a great change and she is definitely on the mend.
However, what's in store for the next few days is a mystery too great to fathom as yet. Too great even for Mystic Mog. We have had snow overnight and there is no telling whether we will be able to a) get off the island and if we do, b) drive anywhere. But if we can get the car out and IF she's well enough to be transported in the car then I should be able get her to Christmas with the family. If she isn't, there will be a LOT of phoning and organising and there may be the hunt for the last turkey. Or alternatively a Chicken Kev with a bit of holly at a jaunty angle. Mothership tells me she has a goose breast and fortunately qualifies this by saying it is in the freezer.
All will be well I am sure, it'll just need a bit of planning, and if there's one thing I like it's lists and planning...
Saturday, 4 December 2010
It's like the olden days
Before we left India I discovered that snow had fallen in Norfolkia and it was cold.
Being a forward-thinking type I had already thought about our return and in a burst of ultra-preparedness I packed a thermal vest and a long-sleeved top, and shortly after landing at Heathrow I put lots of clothes on top of the ones I was already wearing and was nice and warm without a sensible coat. It's true what they say about layers...
Anyway, the coach trundled through the dark eastern countryside and by Stansted there was frost and snow on the rooves of the cars in the car-parks.
By the time we got home it was pretty deep, for Norwich, in November. And by the start of the week We were pretty much in the realm of walking-boots-at-work, wild rumours about how much more snow was forecast and a certain level of light giggling. I don't know why snow+work=mild hysteria, but it does. In grown women anyway. Or is that just me?
Hem, hem.
I am reminded of my teens in Hebden Bridge where snow was guaranteed and would go on for months. Literally. I remember snow on my mother's birthday - in April.
I remember slushy, grey pavements, the hissing of damp coal, the damp miasma of drying laundry, the stamping to get snow off boots and shoes, the way said boots never quite dried out, the clammy feel of still-wet gloves and the rise of the snow-covered hills above the town, white slope and white crag merging into white cloud.
And for a short while it's 1979 and school runners are dashing from classroom to classroom making the all important announcements:
"If you live at X place, you can go" from the tops down through the settlements - Jack Bridge, Slack, Colden, Blackshaw Head, Heptonstall - and on the other side of the valley - Duck Hill, Dean Clough, Old Town.
We would get fed-up of the slush, sure, but of snow? Never. I've never tired of snow. And this week has reminded me how much I love and miss it.
Being a forward-thinking type I had already thought about our return and in a burst of ultra-preparedness I packed a thermal vest and a long-sleeved top, and shortly after landing at Heathrow I put lots of clothes on top of the ones I was already wearing and was nice and warm without a sensible coat. It's true what they say about layers...
Anyway, the coach trundled through the dark eastern countryside and by Stansted there was frost and snow on the rooves of the cars in the car-parks.
By the time we got home it was pretty deep, for Norwich, in November. And by the start of the week We were pretty much in the realm of walking-boots-at-work, wild rumours about how much more snow was forecast and a certain level of light giggling. I don't know why snow+work=mild hysteria, but it does. In grown women anyway. Or is that just me?
Hem, hem.
I am reminded of my teens in Hebden Bridge where snow was guaranteed and would go on for months. Literally. I remember snow on my mother's birthday - in April.
I remember slushy, grey pavements, the hissing of damp coal, the damp miasma of drying laundry, the stamping to get snow off boots and shoes, the way said boots never quite dried out, the clammy feel of still-wet gloves and the rise of the snow-covered hills above the town, white slope and white crag merging into white cloud.
And for a short while it's 1979 and school runners are dashing from classroom to classroom making the all important announcements:
"If you live at X place, you can go" from the tops down through the settlements - Jack Bridge, Slack, Colden, Blackshaw Head, Heptonstall - and on the other side of the valley - Duck Hill, Dean Clough, Old Town.
We would get fed-up of the slush, sure, but of snow? Never. I've never tired of snow. And this week has reminded me how much I love and miss it.
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