Goodbye Sky Broadband

I just happened to be doing something extremely important whilst still in my pit yesterday morning - an update for our Terry Pratchett ~ Going Postal page - when I heard the shout from Oddjob below ... "I've got 'can't find server' has t'interweb gone off?" ... expected today as we've cancelled it.

I leapt out of bed and shimmied into the front bedroom where the router now resides since the bedroom swap. And there before me was the saddest sight a t'interwebber can ever see ... two green lights - power and wifi - and one amber light - no t'interweb - sob.

"Yeah, we've been cut off, switch the mifi on" I shouted ... I knew I was wasting my breath so followed my voice downstairs to do it. I did the deed, connected the laptop to the correct network - I couldn't quite bring myself to unplug the router yet, so I had to manually get the laptop to swap networks - and tootled off back upstairs.

"Great", says Mr Grumpy a little later when the phone was also dead - not even an amber light on the router now ... "no more phone calls from people I don't want to talk to". Despite being on the 'do not phone us or accept you're going to be verbally abused' -TPS - list, we got an inordinate amount of unsolicited phone calls.

Less than ten minutes later I heard his mobile phone ringing ... no one phones him except me, his mate in the next door but one tin hut or the doctors. 

It turned out to be a cold caller waffling on about tax and insurance in 2010 ... I haven't stopped laughing since ...

Terry Pratchett ~ Going Postal Around The World ~ and on Facebook

Anyone who knows me - or has read my profile - will probably guess that I - along with millions of other fans - was left totally devastated at the news of Sir Terry Pratchett's untimely death.

As we started to turn up on the Facebook group page 'Discworld Monthly' we started to feel less alone and shared our grief as well as a few happy stories.

After a while several people - elsewhere - came up with the idea of keeping Sir Terry in the 'overhead' ... Pratchett fans won't need GNU Terry Pratchett explaining, non fans can find plenty of references on t'Interweb.

Anyhoo, someone within the group decided to give away a Discworld collectors item by drawing a name out ... I didn't win, boo hoo. But along the way - and I think someone else mentioned it too - I had the idea that if I won it then I'd keep it a week and send it on to someone else drawn out of the hat.

Then we realised that it wasn't exactly practical, so since then we came up with the idea of sending a book to each other - using proper snail mail - where we could fill it in with a few details ... our names, where it's been, our first Terry Pratchett book, what his books meant to us and anything else we wanted to add. We'd also take photos and upload them to the Facebook page.

There are also suggestions of a travel bug or something like ... this Sea-Turtle-Cachekinz.

If anyone is interested in joining us and keeping Terry Pratchett Going Postal then click here ... Terry Pratchett ~ Going Postal it's never too late to join in ...

My Spiffing New Torture Machine

Whilst I was doing the bedroom flit in my last post I'd ordered a fabby new elliptical cross trainer thingy in an attempt to get my wobbly jiggly bits less wobbly and jiggly.

 

It is now unboxed and assembled and looking very imposing ... this performance was ahem, a bit tense with lots of "are you sure that's on the right way?" and oodles of "so that's a wavy washer, why do I want wavy washers?", "oh I say, a curved washer" and even more "just hold this will you".

Anyhoo, here's the story of my spiffing new torture machine:

I'm not stupid - methinks - whilst choosing one, I'll buy one that plugs in, no use in overdoing it ... well, I go to foot of my sock! Do you know you still have to move your legs by yourself???? I thought I could just stand there and go for a ride, nope, not a bit of it, mutter, mutter :(

I gingerly climbed aboard and twiddled the knob and pressed the button, dunno what they do yet, I don't do instructions until I'm really REALLY desperate ... which was a bit sooner than I expected.

Twenty hard seconds - and 3 calories - later when my pulse was pushing the top end of the 60s BPM, I thought I'd better have a rest ... and while I'm at it, ahem, have a proper look at the computer doodah.

The damn thing got all personal asking questions like ~ age, height, WEIGHT, SEX ... I spent five minutes looking for the 'not this month' button before having a closer look ... and there was a teeny weeny pic of a stick girl in a skirt alternating with a teeny weeny pic of a stick girl not in a skirt. This may or may not be a boy. I chose the one in a skirt so I would get plenty of fresh air around me wotsits when I'm being taken for a ride - oops I mean, when I'm stepping/pedalling/whatever.

Tomorrow I will raid my under-bed drawer which is crammed full of - hardly worn - keep fittery outfits in lots of white and lovely bright colours. I bought them at the beginning of 2013 when I had a three month flirtation with Zumba. Ooooooh, they might be too big. Way-hey I feel a shopping spree coming on.

I wonder how long this relationship will last...

Bedroom Swap

I wrote this last week on Facebook during the marathon 'bedroom swap' and decided to share it here too - as I used to in the olden days before social media got in the way:

Not everything in this pic is still there, I was mid-rearranging.

As it's quite clear that Chavsda and the feral yoofs and yoofesses are still waking me through the night and aren't about to give in - despite the council visiting Asda - I think it's time to give in and switch bedrooms.

So ... let operation *BEDROOM SWAP* commence.

This isn't as easy as you may think because the other - smaller, *underwater* - bedroom currently houses 'BigJobs', my lovely underused - at the mo - computer and all the paraphernalia that goes with it ... big desk, scanner/printer, blah blah blah.

My craft desk and half ton of crap that I've amassed to make cards that I'm no longer making ... but one day.

New view from my bed

Sun bed that no one wants. MY iron and MY ironing board. I love ironing and get all my best ideas standing with iron in hand - even though I've got a steamy thing (oh yeah, and that) - whilst gazing through the window.

More stuff to go to the charity shop ... my chauffeur is taking that out of my way.

Stuffed toys. I need to give most of these away as they're totally unnecessary ... I keep putting them in plastic bags then fetch 'em back out 'coz they can't breathe.

And last but not least, stuff from the tin hut that I can't cram in anywhere else.

It's Wednesday now and I will be missing at least until the weekend. Probably without food, I may have to eat my left leg ... or not, it's another set of triple fast days ahead of me. Got to shift this lard that I've had since I was 13. It's hanging on and on and on. Time for it to give in and let go.

Stuck

I can't believe my husband has just been up to ask me about whether some old trainers need chucking out. I'm here with this! Half in half out the room. And he just went again, never offered me a chuffin hand or owt.

Oh duck! I'm stuck! I'm going to have to phone him.

Escaped! Getting serious now. All jewellery off and I'm down to my smalls in an attempt to keep cool.

Knackered! Rearranged front bedroom until I've got no strength left and I'm still not happy. Off I go back to have another go. If it's not working for me this time then the single bed will have to go ... as Mr Grumpy keeps telling me.

Mostly crafting essentials - completely rearranged 8 times in 3 days.

Why is my effin brain switched off? Common sense tells you that when something heavy - under-bed drawer full of crafting crap - is balanced precariously coz summat else (ironing board) is holding up proceedings - you don't nudge said ironing board with your knee when your bloody feet are under the drawer. I daren't look at my bruises. I'd already amassed a fair few without doing this. Oh well, back I go to put the other drawer in.

Hmmm, it's like this. I didn't stop lifting, moving, dropping, rearranging crap - apart from my very brief whingy updates - until after 6.30pm. I'm ever so slightly peckish having eaten nowt and I'm currently in the bath admiring my bruises ... how do I get out of the bath? In fact how do I reach the shampoo, soap then towel?

To my right, the woody bits are part of the sunken galleon oddjob made

Himself and Miss Tia Pussykins are trying out the new bedroom. I bet one of them would come to my assistance if I shouted.

Hmmm, may as well stop here, I can keep topping up with hot water using my left foot.

Oh, I'm saved, Mr Grumpy is here passing me soap. I daren't tell him I want the shampoo first ...