Hmm, because there seems to be a large amount of inactivity - as in empty or closed - at the bottom end of Cromford Road, we're now wondering if a recent rumour that I mentioned at the beginning of my moany 'lack of flowers' blog - businesses at the end of Cromford Road being offered large wads of cash - is in fact true.
If there is a hint of truth in the rumours then we're puzzled about who wants to buy land and businesses there, and what they want them for [Godwins next attempt at McDonalds in case their current plans are thwarted, perhaps].
I can see many days ahead - when sufficiently bored enough, I'm not that nosy ... no, really - of t'Interweb cruising to see what I can find out ... failing that we'll interrogate some likely candidates.
There's still no sign at AVBC that the plans are being passed for McDonalds on CJ Cars plot, I'm NOT ever so convinced these plans will be passed as - in my humble opinion - that stretch of road isn't safe as it is now, even without a McDonalds there, because the roundabout is too small and drivers from both Asda and Eastwood actually treat Station Road with an 'I've got right of way' mentality and are totally oblivious to Cromford Road.
And anyway, I have already suggested [ok, rumoured] that Netto would be a much better place for McDonalds - as Asda aren't likely to keep Langley Mill's Netto, which is almost closed - but no-one takes any notice of me.
You'll have to excuse the shortness of this post, but my friends are waiting for me to go out and play [bowls] ... and I still refuse to wear the uniform ...
Monday, 12 September 2011
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
Asda in Hucknall?
Oh dear Asda, have I spoilt your surprise? Well, GOOD. I plan to annoy you as much as your Langley Mill store annoys me - with their effin squeaky gates and the wa**ers they employ in the night to throw pallets about. They've only been asked four times - by us - to get the bolts oiled.
And Johnston Press - go and find your own news and stop reading my blog.
Er, where was I before I got carried away? Oh yeah, Hucknall:
Now someone has started searching for info on Asda in Hucknall and tripped over my blog.
Actually I thought that everyone in Hucknall would know all this by now as I told my sister ages ago - she works in a bank there - and she doesn't do secrets.
It must have been in the pipeline for a while, because it accidentally got included on a map of nearby Asda's when Langley Mill's Asda bumf was dished out.
I've heard [from the same sister] that it's to be on Hucknall football ground - as they're getting a new stadium - but this is just a rumour.
And anyway, it's not really Asda's style. They tend to pick some really grotty brownfield site so they can tell everyone how they'll 'kick-start the regeneration' of wherever it is, blah, blah, blah, so there's very little objection to the planning application, except from the competition ...
.....
Update 17th March 2013
The latest Asda in Hucknall rumours suggest that Tesco is selling their store to Asda because they want to build a bigger one - and there's already a lot of Tesco's in the area ... We'll see
Thursday, 11 August 2011
Monday, 1 August 2011
Langley Mill's Flowers 2011
Before I get carried away with my latest moan I'll just share the latest rumours that a fellow grumpy has passed on:
Apparently some of the businesses at the end of Cromford Road, including an Indian restaurant, a repair/workshop garage and the car park where our council recycling bins disappeared from, have been offered lots of money by a developer, I'm told that these offers were turned down and there have now been larger offers made.
Why doesn't a developer want to offer us even moderate amounts of money? It doesn't seem fair when we're so willing to negotiate.
Anyway on to my latest whinge, 90% of which has been waiting to be published for about three weeks, but having been in a better mood lately [away at the tin hut] and thinking 'hey, give 'em a chance' I put it on hold. Of course, back at home and a few sleepless nights courtesy of Asda's squeaky gates and their annoying deliveries have brought me back to my grumpy senses.
So:
Asda, isn't it about time you got Grace Landscapes to replace the plants that succumbed to last winter's weather. I mean the plants at the top of Bridge Street. We're not bothered about the ones further down - just past our peasants entrance to Asda - as one thick woman encouraged her children to slide over the snow covered plants and killed them all, but we actually care about them up here.
Several weeks ago now [17th May to be precise], my neighbour told the bark-blower [skilled job, wouldn't mind it myself] that they needed replacing, he made a note to say we needed sixty-odd new plants and said he'd draw a diagram for them back at the office. We've also watered the trees - and the few remaining plants - across from us, because as we all know water goes downhill; so leaving our bit parched and they were at least a month's growth behind their bigger cousins half way down the street.
Update August 27th:
Hmm, Grace Landscapes have said they'll do more planting in the autumn because if they replaced the plants now it would mean they'd have to come and water them - so?
Update January 2012:
It looks a lot like Grace Landscapes were telling lies, they had no intention of replacing any plants whatsoever - another grab the cash and run merchant. Someone new has got the contract for Asda's gardens.
And now on to my bigger moan - still alas, plant orientated - and yes, I'm still using big words while I can remember what they mean ... and I'm English so will pooh pooh any suggestion that I use 'oriented' rather than 'orientated'.
I know our councils are supposed to be saving money, blah blah, but how come some councils can take the time, effort and a moderate expense to make the places we live, work and shop in look a bit more cheerful, and others, well ... don't.
Some councils would rather spend an exorbitant sum on a chunk of metal suffering from some sort of heavy duty metal-worm with a hula hoop stuck through it [yeah, yeah, I know there were art grants, donations blah, blah, blah]. You can tell I don't really like modern art - I like to recognise what it is that I'm looking at, rather than needing it explaining to me.
And if that's the sort of 'art' you're into, I can show you - for an arbitrary fee - an unmade bed [daily], and for no extra charge you can have a peek in my drawer full of excess lotions and potions - I will call this 'artistic' drawer 'Hormonal Imbalance'. I've also got a workmate plus lots of spare mahogany doors and a big drill if you prefer your 'art' with ventilation. Do feel free to call me a grumpy old philistine, because I simply don't care.
Hang on, I'm losing me thread here ... Oh yeah, flowers ... councils ... money:
The same council then tell the world at large that they've been working on and improving Heanor. Ahem, we went through Heanor the other day and apart from some unsightly buildings having been demolished, I couldn't see any real improvement.
Now, having only previously seen a photo of this metal 'wing' thing - and the £20,000 price tag - I fully expected it to be on the 'Angel of the North' proportions. Ahem, it wasn't - and any time now it'll probably find itself on the back of one of the many opportunistic and no doubt illegal scrap wagons that turns up at least three times a week.
We frequently pass through - and stop to shop in - our neighbouring Eastwood [Broxtowe council] and practically every lamppost has flowers on it, not to mention the troughs and multi-tiered containers. It actually lifts your spirits to see them and puts you in a much better - spending - mood. Or would have, had I not just been through Langley Mill, because Langley Mill's [Amber Valley Borough Council] lampposts are completely bare and our troughs contain grass and weeds - yes, neighbour ... before you gasp for breath in a 'that's the pot calling the kettle black' kind of way, I will admit to giving root room to a few weeds myself.
I suppose someone will eventually feel the urge to put me straight about it being our local councils that decide whether or not to pretty up the neighbourhood - Well that's OK, I can blame them too, I'm nothing if not generous.
You know, I'm starting to experience a bit of déjà vu - spooky - or maybe this is a lot like my 2009 Christmas lights moan ...
Apparently some of the businesses at the end of Cromford Road, including an Indian restaurant, a repair/workshop garage and the car park where our council recycling bins disappeared from, have been offered lots of money by a developer, I'm told that these offers were turned down and there have now been larger offers made.
Why doesn't a developer want to offer us even moderate amounts of money? It doesn't seem fair when we're so willing to negotiate.
.....
Anyway on to my latest whinge, 90% of which has been waiting to be published for about three weeks, but having been in a better mood lately [away at the tin hut] and thinking 'hey, give 'em a chance' I put it on hold. Of course, back at home and a few sleepless nights courtesy of Asda's squeaky gates and their annoying deliveries have brought me back to my grumpy senses.
 |
| Top of Bridge Street |
Asda, isn't it about time you got Grace Landscapes to replace the plants that succumbed to last winter's weather. I mean the plants at the top of Bridge Street. We're not bothered about the ones further down - just past our peasants entrance to Asda - as one thick woman encouraged her children to slide over the snow covered plants and killed them all, but we actually care about them up here.
Several weeks ago now [17th May to be precise], my neighbour told the bark-blower [skilled job, wouldn't mind it myself] that they needed replacing, he made a note to say we needed sixty-odd new plants and said he'd draw a diagram for them back at the office. We've also watered the trees - and the few remaining plants - across from us, because as we all know water goes downhill; so leaving our bit parched and they were at least a month's growth behind their bigger cousins half way down the street.
Update August 27th:
Hmm, Grace Landscapes have said they'll do more planting in the autumn because if they replaced the plants now it would mean they'd have to come and water them - so?
Update January 2012:
It looks a lot like Grace Landscapes were telling lies, they had no intention of replacing any plants whatsoever - another grab the cash and run merchant. Someone new has got the contract for Asda's gardens.
.....
 | |
| Spot the Difference - Langley Mill and Eastwood |
 |
| Heanor's Entire Floral Display |
And if that's the sort of 'art' you're into, I can show you - for an arbitrary fee - an unmade bed [daily], and for no extra charge you can have a peek in my drawer full of excess lotions and potions - I will call this 'artistic' drawer 'Hormonal Imbalance'. I've also got a workmate plus lots of spare mahogany doors and a big drill if you prefer your 'art' with ventilation. Do feel free to call me a grumpy old philistine, because I simply don't care.
Hang on, I'm losing me thread here ... Oh yeah, flowers ... councils ... money:
 |
| Expensive Wing Thing |
Now, having only previously seen a photo of this metal 'wing' thing - and the £20,000 price tag - I fully expected it to be on the 'Angel of the North' proportions. Ahem, it wasn't - and any time now it'll probably find itself on the back of one of the many opportunistic and no doubt illegal scrap wagons that turns up at least three times a week.
 |
| Eastwood's Flowers |
 |
| Eastwood's Flowers |
You know, I'm starting to experience a bit of déjà vu - spooky - or maybe this is a lot like my 2009 Christmas lights moan ...
Sunday, 17 July 2011
Plans Submitted For Co-op/Potters in Langley Mill
I always wonder when a certain person looks at my blog 'WHAT IT IS THEY THINK I SHOULD KNOW?'. A little visit to Amber Valley Borough Council's planning applications soon put me in the picture.
I mentioned a while back [April, rumour 1.] that Potters on Cromford Road was being made over with no planning permission. It now seems that the plans were submitted - dated 13th July 2011. Yes I know I'm slow - I have to work you know.
I would call it a 'retrospective planning application' but I'm only a nosy peasant so don't really know the rules on planning - although the application form is ticked 'NO' after the question 'Has the building, work or change of use already started'?
Anyway, here's the application number, off you interested parties go and have look for yourselves.
I wonder why it's still called the Co-Op? I thought it was Potters, Hmm, further reading will be done after I've lunched ...
I mentioned a while back [April, rumour 1.] that Potters on Cromford Road was being made over with no planning permission. It now seems that the plans were submitted - dated 13th July 2011. Yes I know I'm slow - I have to work you know.
I would call it a 'retrospective planning application' but I'm only a nosy peasant so don't really know the rules on planning - although the application form is ticked 'NO' after the question 'Has the building, work or change of use already started'?
Anyway, here's the application number, off you interested parties go and have look for yourselves.
AVA/2011/0605 - MIDLANDS CO-OP SOCY LTD 47 Cromford road Langley Mill Derbyshire NG16 4EF
Proposed conversion of existing building to form 5 retail shops, 8 starter offices, 12 one and two bedroom apartments and miscellaneous storage areas. Roller shutters to provide security to each shop and solar panels.
Proposed conversion of existing building to form 5 retail shops, 8 starter offices, 12 one and two bedroom apartments and miscellaneous storage areas. Roller shutters to provide security to each shop and solar panels.
I wonder why it's still called the Co-Op? I thought it was Potters, Hmm, further reading will be done after I've lunched ...
Thursday, 14 July 2011
Out With The Old ...
If you've read my previous post, you'll know that I've been tittering to myself since last Friday. I'll start from the beginning to paint the picture, so to speak.
Monday Evening:
We returned home from our tin hut by the sea with two new sets of bedside draws - a bargain from Skegness Focus as they were closing down.
Tuesday:
I armed myself with the required tools and set about building the cabinet/draws. My grumpy old man was hovering ... I wish he wouldn't as I like to do things alone unless there's a tricky screw I'm not tough enough to turn - and he knows this.
But no, he considerately told me what went where and reminded me not to forget the glue when putting the dowels in the drawer fronts. I reminded him who built every single kitchen cabinet and drawer. All he had to do was simply carry each one into the kitchen and dart (or something rhyming) about with his spirit level, declaring each time, 'Ooooh, that's level'.
It was hot so he thoughtfully got the big fan down from the attic ... yes the same fan I trod on during Friday night - because it never got put away - bending back my poor toe.
The draws were put in place, the old bedside cupboards were taken to the tip. Now I must ask all my friends who read this ... If I'm out shopping with you, please don't let me buy any body sprays or lotions. I could stock Boots! I'm a bugger for buying stuff, placing it where I'll use it. A few weeks go by - after I've used probably a centimetre of body lotion and a few of squirts of spray - then I decide everywhere is untidy.
Don't ask me why I decide this as I'm normally oblivious to my surroundings (my neighbour can confirm this) ... but I strongly suspect it's hormonal. Everything gets shoved in a cupboard or drawer in a willy nilly fashion and a week later I'm buying replacements. This also happens in the bathroom ... I DO NOT NEED ANY MORE BUBBLE-BATH OR SHOWER GEL! It's only a pity I'm not a domestic Goddess for three weeks out of every four and a slob for the one week, instead of the other way around.
Note to self: all my lotions and potions are now in a draw under the bed - the bottom of which is sagging alarmingly!
Hmmm, until that ancient, overwhelmingly large wardrobe goes and everything is rearranged, the bedroom door is in the way. It's forever launching itself at me as I try to walk past, either catching my elbow, dragging me back with a sleeve or pocket, stubbing my big toe, bending back my little toe or just generally trying to flatten my boobs. I requested that my GOM take it off and store it in the attic as it's never shut anyway. We have three doors in the attic now, mostly for the reasons outlined above.
Now I think about it, my GOM spends a fair bit of time moving things (not the fan) so I don't walk into them - anyone would think I was clumsy.
Wednesday:
You know, for the life of me, I can't remember what I did on Wednesday - it's a blank.
Thursday:
That wardrobe really has got to go, it's getting on my nerves ... but where do I put my clothes? Well, I've been asking grumpy for years to put a rail up in my two middle cupboards - there's six altogether, nine feet high and built into the alcove left of the chimney breast, his six are on the right. I wanted them poshed up and extended out but was prepared to compromise with just a rail (for now) to take my hanging clothes - which I never wear but may become fashionable - or even fit me again - sometime in the next twenty years.
This was eventually accomplished with much sawing, screwing and shelf rearranging. Oh heck, more lotions and potions in the bottom cupboards. The bed was by now full of clothes, draws (as my chest of draws was now in the way and needed shifting) and one cat who steadfastly refused to move.
Charity bags to the rescue!! I filled two with my best clothes that I'd bought on a whim and will never wear (okay, most don't fit). Then filled a bin bag with my worst clothes (boo hoo). They were all eventually prised from my fingers to be whisked away by my butler/chauffeur before I had time to change my mind - again. I cheered myself up with the knowledge that I could fill at least four more bags before I noticed anything was missing ... and now my side of the wardrobe was empty!
Friday:
The day we finally got rid of an ancient piece of furniture - yes that wardrobe was nearly as old as me. There was some crap in there I can tell you (his side). Not to mention the black and white telly in one of MY cupboards.
Now, where I was to be found poncing around in three bras (at the same time - very uplifting), a black and purple garter and a pair of red Budweiser braces during my cupboard and drawer rearranging (yes, I was fully dressed, I'm just daft), today my GOM was to be found wearing a Nottingham Forest scarf, fifteen ties, eight belts and a Jerry Lee Lewis T-shirt during the emptying of his stuff from the deepest recesses of the monolith.
Once it was empty and he was sure that we were doing this - sigh - to his wardrobe, we got on with taking it apart. There was lots of unscrewing and conversations that went ... 'over to you' ... 'have you got it?' ... 'pull it harder than that!' ... 'now just ease it this way' ... 'No, No, No!' ... 'ah, do it yerself!' ... 'no, no, come back here and hold this' ... 'I've broke a nail and I'm not playing anymore!' Eventually the wardrobe was door-less and in two halves.
Hmmm, now we've got to get these halves downstairs and onto the yard to be cut up and taken to the tip. This was achieved easily with one - me at the bottom to be squashed if he let go - the second required a return trip back upstairs to turn it around as we couldn't negotiate the corner at the bottom of the stairs. Grumpy was nearly in tears when he put the bits in the car, muttering that 'it's a shame, it's good wood that is'.
The wardrobe doors (got a nice theme going here) were going in the attic because 'you never know when they'll come in handy'.
Oh dear, oh dear, the doors didn't make it to the attic until Saturday, which is a shame really - I really must take this grin off my face. During the Friday night - when I woke grumpy to tell him why I was awake - first he got cramp in his leg and made so much noise that I couldn't hear the Asda delivery properly. Then he went to the loo ... on his way back he walked into the wardrobe doors leaning on the landing wall ... 'Owww, owww owww. I've broke me toe!' ... sympathetic reply 'Hurts, doesn't it?' ... and 'I bet you've woke the neighbours up.'
YES!! ...
Monday Evening:
We returned home from our tin hut by the sea with two new sets of bedside draws - a bargain from Skegness Focus as they were closing down.
Tuesday:
I armed myself with the required tools and set about building the cabinet/draws. My grumpy old man was hovering ... I wish he wouldn't as I like to do things alone unless there's a tricky screw I'm not tough enough to turn - and he knows this.
But no, he considerately told me what went where and reminded me not to forget the glue when putting the dowels in the drawer fronts. I reminded him who built every single kitchen cabinet and drawer. All he had to do was simply carry each one into the kitchen and dart (or something rhyming) about with his spirit level, declaring each time, 'Ooooh, that's level'.
It was hot so he thoughtfully got the big fan down from the attic ... yes the same fan I trod on during Friday night - because it never got put away - bending back my poor toe.
The draws were put in place, the old bedside cupboards were taken to the tip. Now I must ask all my friends who read this ... If I'm out shopping with you, please don't let me buy any body sprays or lotions. I could stock Boots! I'm a bugger for buying stuff, placing it where I'll use it. A few weeks go by - after I've used probably a centimetre of body lotion and a few of squirts of spray - then I decide everywhere is untidy.
Don't ask me why I decide this as I'm normally oblivious to my surroundings (my neighbour can confirm this) ... but I strongly suspect it's hormonal. Everything gets shoved in a cupboard or drawer in a willy nilly fashion and a week later I'm buying replacements. This also happens in the bathroom ... I DO NOT NEED ANY MORE BUBBLE-BATH OR SHOWER GEL! It's only a pity I'm not a domestic Goddess for three weeks out of every four and a slob for the one week, instead of the other way around.
Note to self: all my lotions and potions are now in a draw under the bed - the bottom of which is sagging alarmingly!
Hmmm, until that ancient, overwhelmingly large wardrobe goes and everything is rearranged, the bedroom door is in the way. It's forever launching itself at me as I try to walk past, either catching my elbow, dragging me back with a sleeve or pocket, stubbing my big toe, bending back my little toe or just generally trying to flatten my boobs. I requested that my GOM take it off and store it in the attic as it's never shut anyway. We have three doors in the attic now, mostly for the reasons outlined above.
Now I think about it, my GOM spends a fair bit of time moving things (not the fan) so I don't walk into them - anyone would think I was clumsy.
Wednesday:
You know, for the life of me, I can't remember what I did on Wednesday - it's a blank.
Thursday:
That wardrobe really has got to go, it's getting on my nerves ... but where do I put my clothes? Well, I've been asking grumpy for years to put a rail up in my two middle cupboards - there's six altogether, nine feet high and built into the alcove left of the chimney breast, his six are on the right. I wanted them poshed up and extended out but was prepared to compromise with just a rail (for now) to take my hanging clothes - which I never wear but may become fashionable - or even fit me again - sometime in the next twenty years.
This was eventually accomplished with much sawing, screwing and shelf rearranging. Oh heck, more lotions and potions in the bottom cupboards. The bed was by now full of clothes, draws (as my chest of draws was now in the way and needed shifting) and one cat who steadfastly refused to move.
Charity bags to the rescue!! I filled two with my best clothes that I'd bought on a whim and will never wear (okay, most don't fit). Then filled a bin bag with my worst clothes (boo hoo). They were all eventually prised from my fingers to be whisked away by my butler/chauffeur before I had time to change my mind - again. I cheered myself up with the knowledge that I could fill at least four more bags before I noticed anything was missing ... and now my side of the wardrobe was empty!
Friday:
The day we finally got rid of an ancient piece of furniture - yes that wardrobe was nearly as old as me. There was some crap in there I can tell you (his side). Not to mention the black and white telly in one of MY cupboards.
Now, where I was to be found poncing around in three bras (at the same time - very uplifting), a black and purple garter and a pair of red Budweiser braces during my cupboard and drawer rearranging (yes, I was fully dressed, I'm just daft), today my GOM was to be found wearing a Nottingham Forest scarf, fifteen ties, eight belts and a Jerry Lee Lewis T-shirt during the emptying of his stuff from the deepest recesses of the monolith.
Once it was empty and he was sure that we were doing this - sigh - to his wardrobe, we got on with taking it apart. There was lots of unscrewing and conversations that went ... 'over to you' ... 'have you got it?' ... 'pull it harder than that!' ... 'now just ease it this way' ... 'No, No, No!' ... 'ah, do it yerself!' ... 'no, no, come back here and hold this' ... 'I've broke a nail and I'm not playing anymore!' Eventually the wardrobe was door-less and in two halves.
Hmmm, now we've got to get these halves downstairs and onto the yard to be cut up and taken to the tip. This was achieved easily with one - me at the bottom to be squashed if he let go - the second required a return trip back upstairs to turn it around as we couldn't negotiate the corner at the bottom of the stairs. Grumpy was nearly in tears when he put the bits in the car, muttering that 'it's a shame, it's good wood that is'.
The wardrobe doors (got a nice theme going here) were going in the attic because 'you never know when they'll come in handy'.
Oh dear, oh dear, the doors didn't make it to the attic until Saturday, which is a shame really - I really must take this grin off my face. During the Friday night - when I woke grumpy to tell him why I was awake - first he got cramp in his leg and made so much noise that I couldn't hear the Asda delivery properly. Then he went to the loo ... on his way back he walked into the wardrobe doors leaning on the landing wall ... 'Owww, owww owww. I've broke me toe!' ... sympathetic reply 'Hurts, doesn't it?' ... and 'I bet you've woke the neighbours up.'
YES!! ...
Saturday, 9 July 2011
Just Another Friday Night In Langley Mill
I say Langley Mill, it's most likely happening across the entire country in varying degrees but I can only moan from my point of view.
It's no secret what I think about Langley Mill .... I have described it as a sh*t hole in a previous post - I'm not about to alter my opinion on the place or a fair few of it's scummy inhabitants - and if the cap fits ...
Last night was yet another reason to intensely dislike the place a tidgy bit more.
12.14:
A group of youngish teenagers went grunting past with their usual caveman finesse, I couldn't hear what was being said and I wasn't trying to listen, they may even been comparing kn*b sizes as there was much jollity. Where do their parents think they are? The old trick of saying they're staying over at so and so's, I suppose. Don't parents check or indeed care?
01.45:
I was woken abruptly by what I took to be next door's cat screaming in pain ... this is guaranteed to get me out of bed in a flash. It turned out to be four drunken witches returning home after a night out via Chavsda [yes Asda, you've earned the name]. There were two of these mad bints straight across from us - one using her phone, both clutching their Chavsda bags - screeching at the other two to 'HURRY UP!! ...YOU'RE TAKING THE P*SS!!'
I noticed whilst looking upon this veritable tragic display of young womanhood, the completely invisible Chavsda delivery lorry waiting at the gates to be let in - remember they don't have deliveries in the night [according to one of their security men].
The ladylike reply to the - so far - one sided conversation came a few minutes later when I went to check through the back bedroom window on their somewhat staggering progress ... 'WAIT FOR US, YOU SCREECH, SCREECH $%*%%' - lovely. My annoyance was then made complete when I trod on the foot of the fan that some complete di**khead had left in my way - bending back a previously broken toe ... ouch!
I limped dramatically back to bed and woke grumpy up - I was awake ... this entitles me to make sure anyone in my immediate vicinity is equally awake. Then I explained in great detail why I was awake ... yes, feeling better already - a grievance shared and all that.
01.49:
SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK, clatter ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK! And yes, Asda's delivery gates still haven't been oiled - wa****s!
SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK - lorry reversing, presumably because the driver had driven up to the bell on the gate to announce is arrival - rather than get off his ar*e and walk to it. BRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM ... SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK - lorry reversing again. SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK, clatter ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK! - gates closed. Bang, boom, crash, bang, rattle - the lorry was emptied.
02.11
BRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK, clatter - gates opening ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK! BRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM - lorry leaving ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK, clatter ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK! gates closed.
Peace at last - yeah right.
04.20:
A relationship ended - hopefully ... It didn't end quietly - no such luck, there was much bellowing along the lines of ... from him - 'YOU AND ME ... WE'RE FINISHED!'... from her - 'Wah, wah'. This went on in the same vein for a good fifteen minutes, mostly him telling her why they were finished, interspersed with a bit of sobbing and a lot of effin.
05.10:
Gobby teenagers passed by again ... see the bit above.
05.55:
Ditto.
06.00:
Asda delivery ... you know the routine by now - but this was somewhat overshadowed by someone down the street going on holiday and loudly announcing every item placed in the car. By this time I didn't really care and probably wouldn't even be awake if I wasn't already thoroughly disgruntled and determined to wake up at the drop of a hat - although I don't recall hearing a single train.
Yawn ...
My GOM - who told them at Chavsda this afternoon about their bloody gates for the fourth time - had a worse night, but that's for another post ... I'll just say that I wasn't grumpy the entire night and I still keep tittering to myself ...
.....
It's no secret what I think about Langley Mill .... I have described it as a sh*t hole in a previous post - I'm not about to alter my opinion on the place or a fair few of it's scummy inhabitants - and if the cap fits ...
Last night was yet another reason to intensely dislike the place a tidgy bit more.
12.14:
A group of youngish teenagers went grunting past with their usual caveman finesse, I couldn't hear what was being said and I wasn't trying to listen, they may even been comparing kn*b sizes as there was much jollity. Where do their parents think they are? The old trick of saying they're staying over at so and so's, I suppose. Don't parents check or indeed care?
01.45:
I was woken abruptly by what I took to be next door's cat screaming in pain ... this is guaranteed to get me out of bed in a flash. It turned out to be four drunken witches returning home after a night out via Chavsda [yes Asda, you've earned the name]. There were two of these mad bints straight across from us - one using her phone, both clutching their Chavsda bags - screeching at the other two to 'HURRY UP!! ...YOU'RE TAKING THE P*SS!!'
I noticed whilst looking upon this veritable tragic display of young womanhood, the completely invisible Chavsda delivery lorry waiting at the gates to be let in - remember they don't have deliveries in the night [according to one of their security men].
The ladylike reply to the - so far - one sided conversation came a few minutes later when I went to check through the back bedroom window on their somewhat staggering progress ... 'WAIT FOR US, YOU SCREECH, SCREECH $%*%%' - lovely. My annoyance was then made complete when I trod on the foot of the fan that some complete di**khead had left in my way - bending back a previously broken toe ... ouch!
I limped dramatically back to bed and woke grumpy up - I was awake ... this entitles me to make sure anyone in my immediate vicinity is equally awake. Then I explained in great detail why I was awake ... yes, feeling better already - a grievance shared and all that.
01.49:
SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK, clatter ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK! And yes, Asda's delivery gates still haven't been oiled - wa****s!
SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK - lorry reversing, presumably because the driver had driven up to the bell on the gate to announce is arrival - rather than get off his ar*e and walk to it. BRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM ... SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK - lorry reversing again. SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK, clatter ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK! - gates closed. Bang, boom, crash, bang, rattle - the lorry was emptied.
02.11
BRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK, clatter - gates opening ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK! BRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM - lorry leaving ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK, clatter ... SQUUUUEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK! gates closed.
Peace at last - yeah right.
04.20:
A relationship ended - hopefully ... It didn't end quietly - no such luck, there was much bellowing along the lines of ... from him - 'YOU AND ME ... WE'RE FINISHED!'... from her - 'Wah, wah'. This went on in the same vein for a good fifteen minutes, mostly him telling her why they were finished, interspersed with a bit of sobbing and a lot of effin.
05.10:
Gobby teenagers passed by again ... see the bit above.
05.55:
Ditto.
06.00:
Asda delivery ... you know the routine by now - but this was somewhat overshadowed by someone down the street going on holiday and loudly announcing every item placed in the car. By this time I didn't really care and probably wouldn't even be awake if I wasn't already thoroughly disgruntled and determined to wake up at the drop of a hat - although I don't recall hearing a single train.
Yawn ...
My GOM - who told them at Chavsda this afternoon about their bloody gates for the fourth time - had a worse night, but that's for another post ... I'll just say that I wasn't grumpy the entire night and I still keep tittering to myself ...
Friday, 1 July 2011
Jigsaw Puzzling ... The Crumbly Way
Just lately, with the weather being a bit showery, blowy and somewhat cooler than I need for sitting outside my tin hut, we've been filling some of our leisure time with that age old pastime of jigsaw puzzles. I can sit outside [shivering] when it's moderately draughty with the aid of wind breaks - in some sort of maze configuration; courtesy of my grumpy old man - but even I have to give in when I'm being bombarded with bits of tree.
This puzzling was ok for a short time, I like doing the edges then I rapidly lose interest and just do a bit when I feel like it ... not my grumpy old man, he plods doggedly on and on and on.
Well, that's not such a bad thing, you may say, at least it's keeping him quiet ... You think?!?
There's a constant commentary of what piece should go where ... And what's that bit doing up there? mutter, mutter ... I need another bit shaped like that, now where is it? rattle, clatter as the pieces are shuffled in the box ... aha, ha ha ha, there it is, fancy that being there ... now I'm looking for a piece with a bit of blue on it, mumble mumble ... oh, that's not it, hmm, what if I turn it round, no not that way .. aha! Tap, tap tap - as he made it quite clear to the puzzle, the cat and myself that - yes, that piece did indeed fit there!
Occasionally I'll waft past, pick up a piece [one of his bits] and put it in while he's not looking - not always in the right place ... I am horrible remember. This is mostly because all he lets me do is the sky whilst hogging all the interesting and colourful bits for himself. Even then he had to interfere, because whenever he found a piece of mine that fitted, he strategically placed it right where I'd see it [practically touching where it needed to be].
Once I'd discovered he was doing this - it took at least four pieces of puzzle before I cottoned on - I threw the offending bit of puzzle back in the box, shook it up and threatened that if he touched my sky once more I'd chuck the lot on the floor. I'm like that - I've done the odd crossword where someone has looked over my shoulder to give me an answer [a very, very, very bad idea]. The crossword ends up thrown to one side, my arms are folded, the bottom lip sticks out and a major sulk ensues - yes I am childish, but if I want help [highly unlikely - stamp, stamp] I'll ask for it.
This puzzling has of course taken over my dining table, meaning that we've had to use trays for dinner, something I'm not happy with. Yesterday I decided that we WERE sitting at the table and plonked the place mats on top of his puzzle. I could see him wincing and his hands were hovering protectively above it. I say puzzle, it's mostly pieces as we've finished the one with my sky [foxglove cottage], and only recently started another one.
'Oh, are we having dinner on here? ... I really ought to put some sort of cover on' ... 'Leave it!' I ordered as I flirted bits out of the way to place coasters and condiments - I've told you, I'm proper evil I am.
On this latest puzzle, he's started sorting out different areas on a tray [yet again leaving me the sky]. All was relatively peaceful - apart from the obligatory running commentary - when THUD, clatter, as he dropped the tray. I didn't even turn around to look at the scattered puzzle. I sat firmly glued to my spot, I know he'll be struggling to pick them up with his chewed finger nails, but he shouldn't make us jump [both me and the cat]. Hmmm, he's very quiet, that makes a nice change.
About an hour later ... THUD, clatter! Oh bugger it, I'd better help him this time ... 'There's no need', he announces while holding is hand up in a 'stay right there' kind of way. Oh yes, I can see why. There he is merrily scooping the puzzle pieces up with MY spatula. He's a right tinker with my stuff - you really don't want to know what he does with a carving knife and, ooooh, my poor tea-towels ...
Tuesday, 28 June 2011
A Bit of Twitching
 |
| Male Sparrowhawk, Winthorpe |
And anyway, I've had a fair few thrills bird watching, you can be minding your own business in one half of Mere hide at Gibraltar Point - the noisy half, seeing as the GOM is usually whispering in mega-decibels - when you get a whispered shout from the quiet, studious, serious side to 'come and have a look at this.'
Well, what is a girl to do with an offer like that? Yes, I went. There were three men all wanting to show me their equipment. One had got a posh digital camera with various attachments, trained on an obliging dragonfly. It was truly amazing, I could see it breathing. I was then nice enough [I can be nice, just not very often] to act dim while they explained 'thorax' to me.
 |
| Mystery Bird |
Back to the thrills of Gibraltar Point ... On one occasion we set off on our way around and couldn't help noticing an over-excited group of people [aged variously between 20-70], all wearing shades of green and khaki. They also sported the obligatory walking boots with thick socks over their trousers.
 |
| Female Sparrowhawk, Gibraltar Point |
They were all carrying binoculars [as was I, plus my camera], half a dozen had spotter scopes set up on tripods and were looking intently at a tree in the middle distance. 'Oooh, must be something good if they're all this excited' methinks, so we asked ...
'It's a Yellowhammer!!!' - yeah, right ... So I have to ask myself 'am I getting blasé in my old age or what?' We'd seen three Yellowhammers a few days before and I don't remember walking around and waving my arms about like this lot - but I suppose they may well be repressed thrill-seekers. We saw lots more of them on our usual route [we do sometimes go on a different route if we need a bit more excitement]. We concluded that they must have been on a bus trip from a bird watching club or maybe just escapees from somewhere not very secure.
 |
| Goldcrest |
I remember one occasion last year that we went to test my lovely new gadget [again]. I took photos of damselflies, dragonflies and even managed to spot and take a few shots of a Whitethroat. Upon looking at the photos in situ, the GOM wasn't convinced.
 |
| Whitethroat |
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| Sea Buckthorn |
Thursday, 16 June 2011
Locked Out And The Alleged Revenge
We came back to dear old Langley Mill last Monday after being in our 'tin hut by the sea' for a couple of weeks. We started our usual round of family visits Tuesday afternoon. When we arrived home from the first [number two daughter] grumpy went in - I think - but I noticed our neighbours coming up the street so stayed to have a word with them.
The 'word' was 'are you putting the kettle on?'
Being the lovely person I am - and not forgetting that this is the same neighbour who feeds my fish, waters my plants [and weeds] and takes in all my parcels when I'm not there - I agreed that 'yes, I'm putting the kettle on, tea or coffee?', and we all set off down the entry.
Oh, strange, the door is locked ... 'he did come this way didn't he?' - this is not the daft question it sounds because my grumpy old man has a habit of veering off if he spotsa victim someone to talk to [who isn't quick enough to avoid him].
'Shall I fetch my key?' asked my neighbour ... 'No he must be in so his key will be in the lock.'
We all shouted, I knocked on the door and dining room window. Surely he's heard us, he can't be that far away - the house just isn't big enough, if next doors cat breaks wind I can hear it - and believe it or not, we can be further apart in our caravan than we can at home.
I could see into the front room from where we stood because the door was open. Hmm, I bet he's looking at his 'hosses' on the front room telly. Off I went back up the entry to knock on the front room window - no use knocking on the front door, he'd ignore it. Sure enough there he sits, remote in hand, racing results on ... 'You've locked me out, you moron!' ... 'What?' this reply was accompanied by his best glazed expression.
I know that I'm way down his list of important stuff - I hover between the car and the cat ... in that order [well after the hosses], but how can he forget me like that? Boo hoo.
The following morning ... quite early, I opened the blind and bounced back into bed awaiting my coffee - the bounce was my signal to my butler/chauffeur/grumpy old man to wake up and go and make the coffee. Unfortunately being only a sniff away from geriatric-dom myself, I misjudged the bounce and caught the GOM on his knee with my toe nail. 'Oops'. '. . . . . . .' Oh that's odd I expected more reaction than, well, nothing.
Two minutes later - we're in genuine geriatric territory here so a delayed reaction can be excused - the GOM announced that he was going to get up and inspect his knee; where I'd obviously caused irreparable damage with at least a three inch long cut, probably right down to the bone, he would then hobble downstairs in considerable pain and under great duress to find a bandage and make my coffee.
'It's bleeding!' ... It wasn't, he couldn't even manage to squeeze one spot out of it. 'I'm going to tell everyone and write about it on t'internet.' Yeah, right. This is the same man who falls out with his wireless mouse, declaring that it won't go where he wants it until I take it out of his hand and turn it around.
He demanded I take photos of the injury in case he needed to make a claim against me. He needn't start this tit for tat who-has-caused-who-most-injuries because I'm afraid I'd win hands down - not to mention that he is responsible for at least two broken toes
Only last week he thought he'd give me a hug whilst shaving - a bad idea, don't do it, at least not while it's still switched on - the end result was me minus lots [well about 5 strands] of hair pulled out by the roots and him having to dismantle his shaver to get them out. There's no wonder we spend most of our time giggling ...
The 'word' was 'are you putting the kettle on?'
Being the lovely person I am - and not forgetting that this is the same neighbour who feeds my fish, waters my plants [and weeds] and takes in all my parcels when I'm not there - I agreed that 'yes, I'm putting the kettle on, tea or coffee?', and we all set off down the entry.
Oh, strange, the door is locked ... 'he did come this way didn't he?' - this is not the daft question it sounds because my grumpy old man has a habit of veering off if he spots
'Shall I fetch my key?' asked my neighbour ... 'No he must be in so his key will be in the lock.'
We all shouted, I knocked on the door and dining room window. Surely he's heard us, he can't be that far away - the house just isn't big enough, if next doors cat breaks wind I can hear it - and believe it or not, we can be further apart in our caravan than we can at home.
I could see into the front room from where we stood because the door was open. Hmm, I bet he's looking at his 'hosses' on the front room telly. Off I went back up the entry to knock on the front room window - no use knocking on the front door, he'd ignore it. Sure enough there he sits, remote in hand, racing results on ... 'You've locked me out, you moron!' ... 'What?' this reply was accompanied by his best glazed expression.
I know that I'm way down his list of important stuff - I hover between the car and the cat ... in that order [well after the hosses], but how can he forget me like that? Boo hoo.
.....
The following morning ... quite early, I opened the blind and bounced back into bed awaiting my coffee - the bounce was my signal to my butler/chauffeur/grumpy old man to wake up and go and make the coffee. Unfortunately being only a sniff away from geriatric-dom myself, I misjudged the bounce and caught the GOM on his knee with my toe nail. 'Oops'. '. . . . . . .' Oh that's odd I expected more reaction than, well, nothing.
Two minutes later - we're in genuine geriatric territory here so a delayed reaction can be excused - the GOM announced that he was going to get up and inspect his knee; where I'd obviously caused irreparable damage with at least a three inch long cut, probably right down to the bone, he would then hobble downstairs in considerable pain and under great duress to find a bandage and make my coffee.
'It's bleeding!' ... It wasn't, he couldn't even manage to squeeze one spot out of it. 'I'm going to tell everyone and write about it on t'internet.' Yeah, right. This is the same man who falls out with his wireless mouse, declaring that it won't go where he wants it until I take it out of his hand and turn it around.
He demanded I take photos of the injury in case he needed to make a claim against me. He needn't start this tit for tat who-has-caused-who-most-injuries because I'm afraid I'd win hands down - not to mention that he is responsible for at least two broken toes
Only last week he thought he'd give me a hug whilst shaving - a bad idea, don't do it, at least not while it's still switched on - the end result was me minus lots [well about 5 strands] of hair pulled out by the roots and him having to dismantle his shaver to get them out. There's no wonder we spend most of our time giggling ...
Saturday, 11 June 2011
A Joyride ... On Heanor Haulage Yard
Before you read this, I must apologise for my obvious swearing which is dotted throughout this post, but I was [as my friend observed yesterday] in a really tetchy mood - although I feel much better after my latest mini-rant:
My grumpy old man was just off on yet another of his trips to the tip yesterday morning when Mr Heanor Haulage shouted to him - it was probably only to say 'hello' but my GOM takes any form of greeting as an invitation to move in and make himself comfy ... bless him.
It turns out that HH were broken into, sometime between Thursday afternoon last week and Monday morning. This time there was significant damage caused because some smart ar*e managed to get the crane started and ran amok with it.
Luckily the damage was confined to HH property [no tears from me then], but could have been worse. One of the flat-beds struck by the crane gouged a six foot long furrow. If it hadn't been weighed down [with crap, presumably] it would have ended up in someone's house.
There have been threats made by Mr HH to trees or at least some branches as he wrongly assumed that they were used to climb in over the fence. Not at all, I know how easy it is to get in there, so easy I could manage it myself if I was so minded [I may have mentioned it before].
Anyway we weren't at home - being at the seaside as befits our crumbly status - so not there to enjoy the fun or to ring the police ... of course there were footballers on Queen Street rec that know whodunnit [but are keeping mum], we know this because one of these self confessed witnesses shouted over to ask if they'd caught them yet.
I know Heanor Haulage come and go, make a racket, pollute our atmosphere then bog off on an erratic schedule, but I'd have thought that someone farther down Bridge Street or at the top of Dean Street would have heard the wrecking spree.
The consequence for us poor sods at the top of Bridge Street - well those of us without a tin hut by the sea to escape to - is that the crane is no longer stored in the middle of HH yard, but has now taken up noisy residence - jacked up so immobile - next to the top house.
This is a really bad place for it - because as sure as I'm grumpy [oh yes I am] - Mr HH will start it up for whatever reason [fairly frequently if the last couple of days are anything to go by], and the fumes that that decrepit heap of sh*t chug out are truly horrendous.
These black, acrid fumes just waft straight around the corner and into our open windows - yes, I know it's stupid of us to assume that we can have our windows or doors open without being beaten back by muck, fumes and noise from H-effin-H ... and Asda with their squawk, squawk, squawk [lorry reversing] deliveries and bloody squeaky gates, we've only asked them THREE times to oil them - you'd have thought we'd have learnt better by now [rant not quite over yet - but I am getting there].
At one point - being the twitcher I am - I was on the street taking photos of [evicted] House Martins on HHs yard collecting mud for nests, when the pile of junk was started up again - cough, wheeze - I was fighting for breath and I swear the birds were keeling over ... but I suppose if I do stand in the middle [yes it is the middle, Asda says so] of Langley Mill, expecting to be able to do something as unrealistic as breathing, then I'm just asking to have my nose and lungs - ergo my brain - filled with poison.
My GOM went and asked if they'd mind not using the crane quite so much - they do have a tendency to leave it chugging merrily away to itself, but I'm not convinced this is actually worse than keep starting it up over and over again.
This request was met with Mr HH's usual charm - bolshy bast**d!
Not a good move on his part, because I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever again [do I make myself quite clear?] phone the police when little [or big] tw*ts break into his yard. In fact, when they've finished playing around in there [stealing cable, joyriding - whatever], I'll most likely invite them in for a cuppa and a biscuit - no, I don't believe me either but it reads good.
His totally unnecessary bombastic reaction to such a reasonable request wouldn't have been quite the smack in the face it was, if we hadn't just provided him with the photos of the bored teenagers who broke in at Easter.
Oh yes, and we're all supposed to be getting a visit from the police in case we witnessed anything. If they take as long as the last proposed visit - still waiting - then I won't be holding what's left of my breath ...
My grumpy old man was just off on yet another of his trips to the tip yesterday morning when Mr Heanor Haulage shouted to him - it was probably only to say 'hello' but my GOM takes any form of greeting as an invitation to move in and make himself comfy ... bless him.
It turns out that HH were broken into, sometime between Thursday afternoon last week and Monday morning. This time there was significant damage caused because some smart ar*e managed to get the crane started and ran amok with it.
Luckily the damage was confined to HH property [no tears from me then], but could have been worse. One of the flat-beds struck by the crane gouged a six foot long furrow. If it hadn't been weighed down [with crap, presumably] it would have ended up in someone's house.
There have been threats made by Mr HH to trees or at least some branches as he wrongly assumed that they were used to climb in over the fence. Not at all, I know how easy it is to get in there, so easy I could manage it myself if I was so minded [I may have mentioned it before].
Anyway we weren't at home - being at the seaside as befits our crumbly status - so not there to enjoy the fun or to ring the police ... of course there were footballers on Queen Street rec that know whodunnit [but are keeping mum], we know this because one of these self confessed witnesses shouted over to ask if they'd caught them yet.
I know Heanor Haulage come and go, make a racket, pollute our atmosphere then bog off on an erratic schedule, but I'd have thought that someone farther down Bridge Street or at the top of Dean Street would have heard the wrecking spree.
The consequence for us poor sods at the top of Bridge Street - well those of us without a tin hut by the sea to escape to - is that the crane is no longer stored in the middle of HH yard, but has now taken up noisy residence - jacked up so immobile - next to the top house.
This is a really bad place for it - because as sure as I'm grumpy [oh yes I am] - Mr HH will start it up for whatever reason [fairly frequently if the last couple of days are anything to go by], and the fumes that that decrepit heap of sh*t chug out are truly horrendous.
These black, acrid fumes just waft straight around the corner and into our open windows - yes, I know it's stupid of us to assume that we can have our windows or doors open without being beaten back by muck, fumes and noise from H-effin-H ... and Asda with their squawk, squawk, squawk [lorry reversing] deliveries and bloody squeaky gates, we've only asked them THREE times to oil them - you'd have thought we'd have learnt better by now [rant not quite over yet - but I am getting there].
At one point - being the twitcher I am - I was on the street taking photos of [evicted] House Martins on HHs yard collecting mud for nests, when the pile of junk was started up again - cough, wheeze - I was fighting for breath and I swear the birds were keeling over ... but I suppose if I do stand in the middle [yes it is the middle, Asda says so] of Langley Mill, expecting to be able to do something as unrealistic as breathing, then I'm just asking to have my nose and lungs - ergo my brain - filled with poison.
My GOM went and asked if they'd mind not using the crane quite so much - they do have a tendency to leave it chugging merrily away to itself, but I'm not convinced this is actually worse than keep starting it up over and over again.
This request was met with Mr HH's usual charm - bolshy bast**d!
Not a good move on his part, because I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever again [do I make myself quite clear?] phone the police when little [or big] tw*ts break into his yard. In fact, when they've finished playing around in there [stealing cable, joyriding - whatever], I'll most likely invite them in for a cuppa and a biscuit - no, I don't believe me either but it reads good.
His totally unnecessary bombastic reaction to such a reasonable request wouldn't have been quite the smack in the face it was, if we hadn't just provided him with the photos of the bored teenagers who broke in at Easter.
Oh yes, and we're all supposed to be getting a visit from the police in case we witnessed anything. If they take as long as the last proposed visit - still waiting - then I won't be holding what's left of my breath ...
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
McDonalds In Langley Mill ... Yet Again
McDonalds have resubmitted a planning application for CJ Cars - Planning Application AVA/2011/0443 - 206 Station Road Langley Mill Derbyshire NG16 4AE. Proposed new fast food outlet on the former second hand car dealers site - Resubmission of AVA/2010/1227.
They anticipate a decision by 22nd July 2011.
There are also numerous applications for advertisement consent for totem signs, fascia signs and 14 various other signs. Curiously the decisions on these [three] applications are expected on 21st July [the day before the main plans] ... it looks serious this time folks.
No, I'm not going to do a nice little link to the planning applications at AVBC. Yes, I do have the technology, but we all need to learn how to find things ourselves - tut, I can be so mean at times.
I've not been desperate or bored enough yet to see if the original plans have been tinkered with [access improvements or otherwise] ...
Update 3rd June:
I've had a few teeny-weeny moments of boredom so took a peek at the above planning application. It didn't take too long to find what I was looking for [first guess]. It could be that the council were as unimpressed with the transport assessment as I was. Another one has been carried out - possibly not as big a fantasy as the original.
Oh, and there's a proposed tweaking of road markings at the bottom of Wesley street [middle of the road, right turn in] so access to McDonalds can be extended.
I stopped being bored enough to look any further - I soon lose interest ... it's my age.
Incidentally, I'm not against McDonalds coming to Langley Mill - I don't actually think we NEED one as much as they think we do - but it does need to be safe for pedestrians and traffic. And I do hope they're a bit tidier than another nearby fast food restaurant - because their litter ends up in the canal ...
Update 11th August:
You know, you can get fed up of checking to see if McDonalds have got their planning permission, I'm using up valuable t'Interweb bandwidth through nosiness.
Although a decision was anticipated by 22nd July, they don't seem to have had one so far, nor can I see that they're up for discussion in August 15th planning board documents - yet ...
Update 18th September:
Having had a quick cruise on t'interweb to see if I could find anything about this application as it seems to be dragging on a bit, I came across another - slightly more professional [no moaning] and possibly totally unbiased - blog, namely 'the best of Heanor and Ripley' - which says the plans have been refused [although I can't find where it says so yet at AVBC] because of highway safety - well there's a total surprise ...
So, I wonder where the next plans for McDonalds will be? ...
Update 17th April 2012:
McDonalds have had their application approved - unanimously apparently.
Hmmm, an easy one to slip quietly through while the deeply controversial 'Ripley Gateway' - lets re-class this ‘agricultural land’ off Nottingham Road as ‘recreational public open space’, in our next step to have all that lovely Morrisonsbribe S106 money to spend on Belper - was passed ...
They anticipate a decision by 22nd July 2011.
There are also numerous applications for advertisement consent for totem signs, fascia signs and 14 various other signs. Curiously the decisions on these [three] applications are expected on 21st July [the day before the main plans] ... it looks serious this time folks.
No, I'm not going to do a nice little link to the planning applications at AVBC. Yes, I do have the technology, but we all need to learn how to find things ourselves - tut, I can be so mean at times.
I've not been desperate or bored enough yet to see if the original plans have been tinkered with [access improvements or otherwise] ...
Update 3rd June:
I've had a few teeny-weeny moments of boredom so took a peek at the above planning application. It didn't take too long to find what I was looking for [first guess]. It could be that the council were as unimpressed with the transport assessment as I was. Another one has been carried out - possibly not as big a fantasy as the original.
Oh, and there's a proposed tweaking of road markings at the bottom of Wesley street [middle of the road, right turn in] so access to McDonalds can be extended.
I stopped being bored enough to look any further - I soon lose interest ... it's my age.
Incidentally, I'm not against McDonalds coming to Langley Mill - I don't actually think we NEED one as much as they think we do - but it does need to be safe for pedestrians and traffic. And I do hope they're a bit tidier than another nearby fast food restaurant - because their litter ends up in the canal ...
Update 11th August:
You know, you can get fed up of checking to see if McDonalds have got their planning permission, I'm using up valuable t'Interweb bandwidth through nosiness.
Although a decision was anticipated by 22nd July, they don't seem to have had one so far, nor can I see that they're up for discussion in August 15th planning board documents - yet ...
Update 18th September:
Having had a quick cruise on t'interweb to see if I could find anything about this application as it seems to be dragging on a bit, I came across another - slightly more professional [no moaning] and possibly totally unbiased - blog, namely 'the best of Heanor and Ripley' - which says the plans have been refused [although I can't find where it says so yet at AVBC] because of highway safety - well there's a total surprise ...
So, I wonder where the next plans for McDonalds will be? ...
Update 17th April 2012:
McDonalds have had their application approved - unanimously apparently.
Hmmm, an easy one to slip quietly through while the deeply controversial 'Ripley Gateway' - lets re-class this ‘agricultural land’ off Nottingham Road as ‘recreational public open space’, in our next step to have all that lovely Morrisons
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
Asda’s Torture Therapy
Monday 9th May:
Pretty uneventful day ... work, work. work.
Tuesday 10th May - very early [still dark]:
SSSSSSQQQQQQUUUEEEEEAAAAAALLLLLLLL
What is that NOISE!!????
I eventually got up and dressed and went in search of this horrific noise. Hmm, I think it's from across the road and if it's Asda's 'breathable' building causing it, then it wants chuffing suffocating! It didn't seem to be bothering anyone else though so I was very much on my own ... at this point.
Later:
We went out - I couldn't stand it any more, by now my grumpy old man could hear it too [sans hearing aid] and I was to find out later that so could my neighbour who earlier had been making too much noise of her own [cleaning] to be aware of the constant squeal. After sitting down for five minutes, she became very aware.
Even later:
We arrived home to find the noise had stopped, YIPPEE! They must have fixed it.
Wednesday 11th May- 5.37:
SSSSSSQQQQQQUUUEEEEEAAAAAALLLLLLLL
Oh no, not again. I got up, it's no use staying in bed with that noise, it's bloody torture! I started work, I might as well get some benefit out of being up early.
Lunchtime - My grumpy old man came home after doing whatever it is that grumpy old men do when they're let loose. 'I can hear that noise' he announced, 'I'm going to see 'em at Asda because they can't know about it' ... Off he went.
The manager was asked for, he got a security man and a 'Dave' ... 'It's not us!' the 'Dave' categorically stated. ... 'Hmmm, ok, but while I'm here - and for the second time of asking - will you get some grease on the delivery yard gate bolts? They squeak awful in the night.' ... 'We don't have deliveries in the night, 6.00am is our earliest delivery' ... This from the security guard who either doesn't know what he's talking about and should shut up or is just a liar ... he can choose.
Upon grumpy's return I abandoned my work [losing money here Asda!!!] and went to make sure of our facts as to where the noise was coming from. We saw the aforementioned security guard at the back of Asda and he pointed towards Netto - I have to ask ... with this type of intelligence whether or not he was fit for the job, hmm, probably perfect actually.
I went on over the bridge to check on the units at the top of North Street and although the high pitched squeal/whine was still loud on the bridge it disappeared going down the steps. Grumpy went to check at Smiths Flour Mill. No, it was definitely Asda so I went back to work [you owe me Asda!] and my GOM went back to see the 'Dave' again. By now the 'Dave' agreed it was them and it was being sorted.
So complete denial to full admittance - such training Asda staff receive.
Yes, I know it's boring and long winded but it is a diary ...
Thursday 12th May 5.48:
SSSSSSQQQQQQUUUEEEEEAAAAAALLLLLLLL
I'm up again and getting tetchy now through lack of sleep, I never EVER go to bed before midnight [usually later] because I don't need to. If that f%**%$%*$ NOISE doesn't stop sometime today I'm going to go down to Asda and start making nasty threats. By now, it's obvious that it's something to do with the bakery as it starts stupidly early and finishes 6.00pm-ish. [not sure as I was always out when it stopped].
My neighbour is as badly affected as me, along with our cats and her dog, they just sit rigid with a pained expression on their faces ... Me? Well, I look like I'm sucking on a lemon.
Friday 13th May 4.30am:
A delivery to listen to [these don't happen in the night apparently so feel free to ignore this moan]. Admittedly the 6.00am delivery is louder and sounds like thunder rumbling [pallets and cages], lots of clanking, clattering and booming [like two boats banging into one another in a harbour] what do they do in there?
4.40am:
SSSSSSQQQQQQUUUEEEEEAAAAAALLLLLLLL
I got up and started my new work that we fetched last night - a really, really bad idea. For once it's not the type of work I can do with my eyes glued to the telly or firmly shut while I nod off [I do this].
No, this is the stuff I have to concentrate on whilst looking through a magnifying light at something no bigger than a needle point to get it the right way - 30,000 times and no mistakes or I'm in very deep do-do [it's all very hush hush and I'm not actually allowed to say what could happen if I get it wrong]. The system is; I do a 1,000, check them then the GOM re-checks them then I check them all again much later with fresh wide awake eyes.
I check my first 1,000 - Oh sh*t, so many wrong! I have no choice but to pack it away, my ears are screaming, I've got a throbbing headache and I can't think straight. Oh no! I've got a deadline. I've promised this work will be done and back by 23rd May. There's nothing else for it, we've got to go to the tin hut by the sea two days ahead of schedule.
8.45:
My neighbour phoned ... 'Are you dressed? I can't stand it any longer, are we going to Asda?' ... 'Yes! I'm on my way!!!!'.
We went to customer services and asked for the manager, he was on holiday - we got a 'Kirsty' and a 'Phil' instead. Before either of us got a chance to say anything - 'Is it about the noise?' 'Well, let me apologise and explain ... it's a fan in the bakery [I told you so], it's going at half speed, there's no on/off switch [I could have remedied this with a hammer, I'm sure I didn't suggest it, but I may have mentioned setting fire to the place at some point].
The 'Phil' likened it to a dimmer switch that's turned on half way ... he must use cheap dimmer switches because more expensive ones don't squeal [or indeed hum] - I'd know. If he meant transformer then he should have said so, we do know long words on Bridge Street, some of us use lots of them [irrespective of their true meanings] and anyway I'm very intimate with the workings of transformers.
Yes, I'm being horrible, Phil was actually very, very nice and extremely apologetic and worked in finances, just the sort of person to talk to about maintenance, but the 'Kirsty brought him with her to explain things to us - presumably because she's a woman and doesn't know 'mens stuff'.
Now - to get really pi**ed off ... Apparently they didn't know about the noise until Thursday when someone phoned up to complain - although [if you're going to contradict yourself, don't do it in front of me - auto-pilot or not, my brain still soaks up verbal diarrhoea like a sponge] they could ALL hear it in the offices, hmm.
We explained that my GOM had been in twice on Wednesday and saw a security man and a 'Dave' - 'Oh well we weren't in work then'. Such communication! We said that having been neighbours of Heanor Haulage we're used to being agreed with to our faces, then being fobbed off with false assurances and finally totally ignored ... grimaces all around at the mention of Heanor Haulage and suggestions that they are a law unto themselves. The 'Kirsty' said 'Oh we're not allowed to do that', I said that I wasn't suggesting they were - but they weren't doing a bad job if Wednesday was anything to go by.
Anyway a 'John' was coming to fix it this morning, he was at an emergency in Sutton. He was either going to force the fan to run at full speed or switch it off and order a new unit.
We left sort of satisfied, witnessed what was probably a drugs deal part way down the street then bumped into my other neighbour - they'd been in to complain on Thursday. Don't Asda talk a load of bo***ks?!
During my ironing/packing the noise stopped, I saw two men on Asda roof and reached for my phone to text my neighbour. Ooh, she beat me to it - a text from her saying 'it's stopped!'
Yippee!!
Not for long, it carried on as before.
I'm not going to over-bore you with details on how I was in a right state by the time we got to the caravan [8.45pm], but I will say I was in bed before 9.00pm [unheard of] and I didn't unpack [bugger, forgot lot's of important things in my befuddled state] until Saturday - with my ears whistling their very own tune.
During the weekend I kept in touch with my neighbour, who by Monday seemed to be at the point I'd reached on Friday, with the noise now having a new and interesting vibration.
I know that these Asda people told us that they're not there to annoy anyone - even saying that Asda's built 10 years ago are still receiving complaints, hmm, really - but they're doing a good job of annoying us so far. We'd already had one horrendous year with the demolition/construction [expected] then more noise and mess with them clearing up after themselves this year [unexpected and unnecessary]. But Asda - as with all developers - try to brainwash us into believing that they're doing us a huge favour.
Anyway, I'm lucky. If I hadn't been able to escape, I'd almost certainly be out of a job now. Unreliability doesn't exactly get you sacked at the company I work for, but work would simply run out for me.
I lost hours of sleep, hours of work/money that I had to make up over the weekend [no time to blog either but I'm now finally caught up to where I should be with my work].
I don't suppose Asda will compensate us for our suffering - and believe me, we've suffered.
Two weeks ago Argos inconvenienced me for 20 minutes and gave me a big apology and a £5 voucher. So Asda, over to you ...
UPDATE - Thursday 19th May:
Text from my neighbour ... The high pitched whine has now been replaced with what sounds like a GIANT CRICKET!!!
A Further Update - Friday 20th May:
At last, it's quiet [relatively speaking] the offending fan must have been fixed - and about time too ...
Thanks???? for the facebook link - David - Just call me Miss Marple while I have a chuckle ...
Pretty uneventful day ... work, work. work.
Tuesday 10th May - very early [still dark]:
SSSSSSQQQQQQUUUEEEEEAAAAAALLLLLLLL
What is that NOISE!!????
I eventually got up and dressed and went in search of this horrific noise. Hmm, I think it's from across the road and if it's Asda's 'breathable' building causing it, then it wants chuffing suffocating! It didn't seem to be bothering anyone else though so I was very much on my own ... at this point.
Later:
We went out - I couldn't stand it any more, by now my grumpy old man could hear it too [sans hearing aid] and I was to find out later that so could my neighbour who earlier had been making too much noise of her own [cleaning] to be aware of the constant squeal. After sitting down for five minutes, she became very aware.
Even later:
We arrived home to find the noise had stopped, YIPPEE! They must have fixed it.
Wednesday 11th May- 5.37:
SSSSSSQQQQQQUUUEEEEEAAAAAALLLLLLLL
Oh no, not again. I got up, it's no use staying in bed with that noise, it's bloody torture! I started work, I might as well get some benefit out of being up early.
Lunchtime - My grumpy old man came home after doing whatever it is that grumpy old men do when they're let loose. 'I can hear that noise' he announced, 'I'm going to see 'em at Asda because they can't know about it' ... Off he went.
The manager was asked for, he got a security man and a 'Dave' ... 'It's not us!' the 'Dave' categorically stated. ... 'Hmmm, ok, but while I'm here - and for the second time of asking - will you get some grease on the delivery yard gate bolts? They squeak awful in the night.' ... 'We don't have deliveries in the night, 6.00am is our earliest delivery' ... This from the security guard who either doesn't know what he's talking about and should shut up or is just a liar ... he can choose.
Upon grumpy's return I abandoned my work [losing money here Asda!!!] and went to make sure of our facts as to where the noise was coming from. We saw the aforementioned security guard at the back of Asda and he pointed towards Netto - I have to ask ... with this type of intelligence whether or not he was fit for the job, hmm, probably perfect actually.
I went on over the bridge to check on the units at the top of North Street and although the high pitched squeal/whine was still loud on the bridge it disappeared going down the steps. Grumpy went to check at Smiths Flour Mill. No, it was definitely Asda so I went back to work [you owe me Asda!] and my GOM went back to see the 'Dave' again. By now the 'Dave' agreed it was them and it was being sorted.
So complete denial to full admittance - such training Asda staff receive.
Yes, I know it's boring and long winded but it is a diary ...
Thursday 12th May 5.48:
SSSSSSQQQQQQUUUEEEEEAAAAAALLLLLLLL
I'm up again and getting tetchy now through lack of sleep, I never EVER go to bed before midnight [usually later] because I don't need to. If that f%**%$%*$ NOISE doesn't stop sometime today I'm going to go down to Asda and start making nasty threats. By now, it's obvious that it's something to do with the bakery as it starts stupidly early and finishes 6.00pm-ish. [not sure as I was always out when it stopped].
My neighbour is as badly affected as me, along with our cats and her dog, they just sit rigid with a pained expression on their faces ... Me? Well, I look like I'm sucking on a lemon.
Friday 13th May 4.30am:
A delivery to listen to [these don't happen in the night apparently so feel free to ignore this moan]. Admittedly the 6.00am delivery is louder and sounds like thunder rumbling [pallets and cages], lots of clanking, clattering and booming [like two boats banging into one another in a harbour] what do they do in there?
4.40am:
SSSSSSQQQQQQUUUEEEEEAAAAAALLLLLLLL
I got up and started my new work that we fetched last night - a really, really bad idea. For once it's not the type of work I can do with my eyes glued to the telly or firmly shut while I nod off [I do this].
No, this is the stuff I have to concentrate on whilst looking through a magnifying light at something no bigger than a needle point to get it the right way - 30,000 times and no mistakes or I'm in very deep do-do [it's all very hush hush and I'm not actually allowed to say what could happen if I get it wrong]. The system is; I do a 1,000, check them then the GOM re-checks them then I check them all again much later with fresh wide awake eyes.
I check my first 1,000 - Oh sh*t, so many wrong! I have no choice but to pack it away, my ears are screaming, I've got a throbbing headache and I can't think straight. Oh no! I've got a deadline. I've promised this work will be done and back by 23rd May. There's nothing else for it, we've got to go to the tin hut by the sea two days ahead of schedule.
8.45:
My neighbour phoned ... 'Are you dressed? I can't stand it any longer, are we going to Asda?' ... 'Yes! I'm on my way!!!!'.
We went to customer services and asked for the manager, he was on holiday - we got a 'Kirsty' and a 'Phil' instead. Before either of us got a chance to say anything - 'Is it about the noise?' 'Well, let me apologise and explain ... it's a fan in the bakery [I told you so], it's going at half speed, there's no on/off switch [I could have remedied this with a hammer, I'm sure I didn't suggest it, but I may have mentioned setting fire to the place at some point].
The 'Phil' likened it to a dimmer switch that's turned on half way ... he must use cheap dimmer switches because more expensive ones don't squeal [or indeed hum] - I'd know. If he meant transformer then he should have said so, we do know long words on Bridge Street, some of us use lots of them [irrespective of their true meanings] and anyway I'm very intimate with the workings of transformers.
Yes, I'm being horrible, Phil was actually very, very nice and extremely apologetic and worked in finances, just the sort of person to talk to about maintenance, but the 'Kirsty brought him with her to explain things to us - presumably because she's a woman and doesn't know 'mens stuff'.
Now - to get really pi**ed off ... Apparently they didn't know about the noise until Thursday when someone phoned up to complain - although [if you're going to contradict yourself, don't do it in front of me - auto-pilot or not, my brain still soaks up verbal diarrhoea like a sponge] they could ALL hear it in the offices, hmm.
We explained that my GOM had been in twice on Wednesday and saw a security man and a 'Dave' - 'Oh well we weren't in work then'. Such communication! We said that having been neighbours of Heanor Haulage we're used to being agreed with to our faces, then being fobbed off with false assurances and finally totally ignored ... grimaces all around at the mention of Heanor Haulage and suggestions that they are a law unto themselves. The 'Kirsty' said 'Oh we're not allowed to do that', I said that I wasn't suggesting they were - but they weren't doing a bad job if Wednesday was anything to go by.
Anyway a 'John' was coming to fix it this morning, he was at an emergency in Sutton. He was either going to force the fan to run at full speed or switch it off and order a new unit.
We left sort of satisfied, witnessed what was probably a drugs deal part way down the street then bumped into my other neighbour - they'd been in to complain on Thursday. Don't Asda talk a load of bo***ks?!
During my ironing/packing the noise stopped, I saw two men on Asda roof and reached for my phone to text my neighbour. Ooh, she beat me to it - a text from her saying 'it's stopped!'
Yippee!!
Not for long, it carried on as before.
I'm not going to over-bore you with details on how I was in a right state by the time we got to the caravan [8.45pm], but I will say I was in bed before 9.00pm [unheard of] and I didn't unpack [bugger, forgot lot's of important things in my befuddled state] until Saturday - with my ears whistling their very own tune.
During the weekend I kept in touch with my neighbour, who by Monday seemed to be at the point I'd reached on Friday, with the noise now having a new and interesting vibration.
I know that these Asda people told us that they're not there to annoy anyone - even saying that Asda's built 10 years ago are still receiving complaints, hmm, really - but they're doing a good job of annoying us so far. We'd already had one horrendous year with the demolition/construction [expected] then more noise and mess with them clearing up after themselves this year [unexpected and unnecessary]. But Asda - as with all developers - try to brainwash us into believing that they're doing us a huge favour.
Anyway, I'm lucky. If I hadn't been able to escape, I'd almost certainly be out of a job now. Unreliability doesn't exactly get you sacked at the company I work for, but work would simply run out for me.
I lost hours of sleep, hours of work/money that I had to make up over the weekend [no time to blog either but I'm now finally caught up to where I should be with my work].
I don't suppose Asda will compensate us for our suffering - and believe me, we've suffered.
Two weeks ago Argos inconvenienced me for 20 minutes and gave me a big apology and a £5 voucher. So Asda, over to you ...
UPDATE - Thursday 19th May:
Text from my neighbour ... The high pitched whine has now been replaced with what sounds like a GIANT CRICKET!!!
A Further Update - Friday 20th May:
At last, it's quiet [relatively speaking] the offending fan must have been fixed - and about time too ...
.....
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Bored Teenagers in Langley Mill
We were only back a day from our tin hut by the sea before I was phoning the police - as per Mr Heanor Haulage's request when we see trespassers on his yard. Although they could have taken what they wanted for all I cared, if HH aren't going to provide security with all the money they've been given for different bits of land - well tough.
My concern was that it was dusk and there was one loony walking along our back wall - I'd just gone to turn my computer off and was stunned to see this crackpot behaviour. The wall in question is one brick thick and at least twelve or thirteen feet high, he was asking to break his neck ... yeah, OK I admit it, I shouted 'I hope you fall off and break your neck, you tw*t', through the window - but that's me, I'm quite horrible - but I would have been devastated if he did fall [and broke anything of mine].
There they were, running around the yard, acting ever so big, climbing up onto things, trying to shove one flatbed off of another [I've mentioned that HH double decker them. When they failed to push one off they climbed on top and started jumping up and down, hmm, so that's how they reached the outbuildings wall.
Of course by the time the police arrived they'd climbed up onto something and jumped back out of the compound. I was called back by the police twice, firstly to make sure where it was actually happening [as Heanor Haulage is still classed as being on Wesley Street]. Secondly to ask if they'd got a football with them. I wasn't about to get anyone into trouble that weren't involved so answered quite truthfully that there were already lads on the rec playing football [although they may have been part of the same group].
Two days went by and the police rang again to thank me and to ask if it was an ongoing problem with teenagers playing on HH compound. I replied that they do mess about on there every so often. An email was going to be sent to Langley Mill police, even though I said that I thought they'd be aware of the problem. I was asked if I'd mind the police visiting for a chat. Hmmm.
Yes, that very afternoon ... what the police? no, don't be daft, they were doing more important stuff [this really is trivial until someone gets a spike up their a**e or killed].
The same lads running around HH and climbing on things. Oh heck another one climbing over the fence, watching that really did make me wince. After they made a few more calls to their mates they went onto the front [slurry corner] where three more climbed over - the sissy way - to join them.
Note to anyone who wants to know - Mr HH, police - it's easy to get in just there, even I could manage it at a push ... with a stepladder of course, I'm not cocking my leg up for anyone.
By the time they'd done a bit of sunbathing on the flatbeds and tried to get the crane started they must have lost interest and decided to visit Asda before returning to Queen Street recreation ground.
Now I want to make it VERY clear that it wasn't me being nosy - I was trying to pursue my latest and not inexpensive hobby but the grumpy old man kept asking me ... 'Have you got your camera handy?' and 'Can you see what the tw*ts are up to now!?' it was easier to stand there like a nodding dog by his side at the window than spend my hard earned dosh at ebay.
I didn't ring the police as it's mostly a waste of time, but someone else may have done because a police car was parked on our street. A few minutes later a policeman came back with several bottles that he'd taken from them. This was witnessed by my GOM [who else?], as by this time I'd managed to velcro my a**e to my chair and was spend, spend spending!
So, they were not only stupidly climbing over a high spiked fence but also thinking they could do it easily without putting a foot wrong due to alcohol ... tw*ts.
Minutes later a woman turned up with a fresh supply of drink in a carrier bag. I'm not suggesting for a minute that it was alcohol but they did hide it in the bushes.
Oh incidentally, my superzoom, whizzo camera was glued to my sticky right mitt during bits of this activity and I took a clear photo of each and every one of them - now deleted from my camera as I don't keep crap on it. But, ahem, there is a photo CD knocking around somewhere among my stuff, entitled 'Tw*ts of Langley Mill' .
I wish they'd find something less stupid and dangerous to do during the school holidays or at least do it where I and - much more importantly - my grumpy old man can't see them ...
My concern was that it was dusk and there was one loony walking along our back wall - I'd just gone to turn my computer off and was stunned to see this crackpot behaviour. The wall in question is one brick thick and at least twelve or thirteen feet high, he was asking to break his neck ... yeah, OK I admit it, I shouted 'I hope you fall off and break your neck, you tw*t', through the window - but that's me, I'm quite horrible - but I would have been devastated if he did fall [and broke anything of mine].
There they were, running around the yard, acting ever so big, climbing up onto things, trying to shove one flatbed off of another [I've mentioned that HH double decker them. When they failed to push one off they climbed on top and started jumping up and down, hmm, so that's how they reached the outbuildings wall.
Of course by the time the police arrived they'd climbed up onto something and jumped back out of the compound. I was called back by the police twice, firstly to make sure where it was actually happening [as Heanor Haulage is still classed as being on Wesley Street]. Secondly to ask if they'd got a football with them. I wasn't about to get anyone into trouble that weren't involved so answered quite truthfully that there were already lads on the rec playing football [although they may have been part of the same group].
Two days went by and the police rang again to thank me and to ask if it was an ongoing problem with teenagers playing on HH compound. I replied that they do mess about on there every so often. An email was going to be sent to Langley Mill police, even though I said that I thought they'd be aware of the problem. I was asked if I'd mind the police visiting for a chat. Hmmm.
Yes, that very afternoon ... what the police? no, don't be daft, they were doing more important stuff [this really is trivial until someone gets a spike up their a**e or killed].
The same lads running around HH and climbing on things. Oh heck another one climbing over the fence, watching that really did make me wince. After they made a few more calls to their mates they went onto the front [slurry corner] where three more climbed over - the sissy way - to join them.
Note to anyone who wants to know - Mr HH, police - it's easy to get in just there, even I could manage it at a push ... with a stepladder of course, I'm not cocking my leg up for anyone.
By the time they'd done a bit of sunbathing on the flatbeds and tried to get the crane started they must have lost interest and decided to visit Asda before returning to Queen Street recreation ground.
Now I want to make it VERY clear that it wasn't me being nosy - I was trying to pursue my latest and not inexpensive hobby but the grumpy old man kept asking me ... 'Have you got your camera handy?' and 'Can you see what the tw*ts are up to now!?' it was easier to stand there like a nodding dog by his side at the window than spend my hard earned dosh at ebay.
I didn't ring the police as it's mostly a waste of time, but someone else may have done because a police car was parked on our street. A few minutes later a policeman came back with several bottles that he'd taken from them. This was witnessed by my GOM [who else?], as by this time I'd managed to velcro my a**e to my chair and was spend, spend spending!
So, they were not only stupidly climbing over a high spiked fence but also thinking they could do it easily without putting a foot wrong due to alcohol ... tw*ts.
Minutes later a woman turned up with a fresh supply of drink in a carrier bag. I'm not suggesting for a minute that it was alcohol but they did hide it in the bushes.
Oh incidentally, my superzoom, whizzo camera was glued to my sticky right mitt during bits of this activity and I took a clear photo of each and every one of them - now deleted from my camera as I don't keep crap on it. But, ahem, there is a photo CD knocking around somewhere among my stuff, entitled 'Tw*ts of Langley Mill' .
I wish they'd find something less stupid and dangerous to do during the school holidays or at least do it where I and - much more importantly - my grumpy old man can't see them ...
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
Skeggy And Back
We've been to sunny Skegness to open our 'tin hut' by the sea. Of course the first thing we all do - after the boring, de-wigwamming of the seating and mattresses, collecting swimming salt dishes, cleaning and finally hanging three miles of colour coded [so I know which of the nine windows it belongs to] nets - is to check that all our near neighbours are still not dead ... it's what caravan owners do after winter because most are of a certain age and winter is when we tend to drop off our perches.
As luck would have it, we had no losses this year [unlike last] so all's well with our little world.
Our badgers have been visiting again, it only took a few nights of peanuts left out before we saw one. Then a week went by and although the nuts were gone every morning we never had another badger sighting. The fox did pay us a visit but he's like lightening and won't pose for a photo.
A couple of nights before returning home we decided to wait up until a badger came but had to give in about 2.00am. The following night the cat woke me up at 12.30 [we were too tired to wait up again], I went to
There he was - a badger munching loudly on his nuts. They are very noisy eaters who wouldn't be invited to eat at my dinner table [my grumpy old man only scrapes through by dint of it being his table]. I woke grumpy up so he could have a look and apologised to my clever cat who purred her way back to bed.
It took approximately two hours for most of the birds to return once the food was out, including twelve greenfinches, two thrushes, chaffinches, goldfinches, great tits, blue tits, robins, blackbirds, ducks ... and house sparrows - which strangely enough we don't see in our bit of Langley Mill.
We do have dunnocks at home - who stupidly nested in a bush next to our kitchen window, lining the nest with my neighbours cat's fur. You'd have thought the material used would have told them that it wasn't a good idea. Anyway it was sadly abandoned with one turquoise egg dropped in a flower pot below by the time we got home.
Hmm, home, well that's another story ...
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