Busy Doing Nothing

I was busy working the other morning and I noticed our tin-hut neighbour strimming around their caravan. Grumpy was out shopping - via the bookies - but I knew he wouldn't be long.

Sure enough, he returned, did an 'Owen' impression (Vicar Of Dibley) and slung the shopping bags into roughly the area the contents were destined for, then tootled off out to help our neighbour whose attention had now turned to our dense strip of jungle.

This vision of grumpy going past the windows with his brush, rake and bag of grass, huffing and puffing, and generally giving the impression of having been hard at (manual) work for the previous two hours, made me titter and took me straight back to when we all worked - or in certain cases, attended - Aristoc.

Grumpy did his - electrical - training at Vic Hallams but it wasn't until he went to work at Aristoc that his acting skills were honed to perfection and put to good use. And I don't think I'm far off the mark when I say that ALL the male maintenance staff seemed to be equally good actors and some even deserved Oscars. They'd spent so much time living this exaggerated - I'm working really, really hard - life that I'm sure they all came to believe in their own and each others performances.

They didn't fool us 'wimmin' though and to us they were positively laughable. Something we could have done in, say five minutes with the right screwdriver, would take an eternity of head scratching, chatting, sighing, flirting, measuring and squinting hard ... and this was just a precursor to DOING the actual job.

Of course to do the job there has to be a TOOLBOX ... grumpy had got two of these blue metal things, one contained all his best personal, engraved tools and the other one mostly rubbish with just one or two useful items. At Aristoc he could occasionally be seen carrying one of these toolboxes around with him. But alas, the one with all his proper tools was stolen from the boiler house - with no compensation. Grumpy was aggrieved to say the least. But it did mean that from this point he only took with him the tools he actually needed for the job in hand.

This remaining toolbox was carried like it contained the weight of at least four house bricks, when in all likelihood there was nothing heavier in there than green/yellow earth wire sleeving, his snap, a newspaper and a pack of cards. But it was all about THE LOOK . If he did actually need any of his tools, they were mostly stashed in one of his many boiler suit pockets. If there was a really big job the toolbox was placed on a trolley and pulled along.

.......

Now I've mentioned it, there's the BOILER SUIT ... this was in a fetching shade of bright blue, We were fairly certain that he slid around the floor on his bum to maintain the correct degree of muckyness when they came back nice, clean and ultra-bright from the dry cleaners.

I'm not sure how many of these boiler suits he had but I think he's got two left now. Whenever I spot him wearing them I think 'ey up, it's serious'. This is usually a forewarning that he's going up the ladders to clean the windows (I've not seen 'em out this year).

.......

Then there's the WIPE ... this is done with the back of his hand across the forehead to denote a tricky or fiddly situation. And implies that much sweat has appeared upon said brow, and even more may follow as the day progresses. This gesture was often further enhanced by making sure there was a moderate amount of oil on his hands.

As I've said, Grumpy is an electrician by trade but he can turn his hand to most things. I found him replacing some tiles in the ladies toilets once, he didn't do the polite thing and leave when we walked in, he just shouted 'I'm here' ... like that was any use to us while trying to do a quiet, unheard, ladylike wee. Although we needn't have worried too much as he was just about the noisiest person I knew, constantly rabbiting on or singing ... This was years before we became affiliated and I just thought he was a daft prat (nowt's changed there then).

.....

Then there was my BUCKET ... as I said grumpy masqueraded as an electrician a good portion of the time, but he did have other uses. Where I sat to do my ahem, arduous (reprocessing) job was in front of a leaky radiator; which meant I had to catch the drips in a bucket and empty it every other day or so. I'd repeatedly asked the plumber to fix it and although he'd waved his tools about, the drip remained. In fact it should be noted - it got worse.

Along comes grumpy one day pulling his toolbox on wheels. We exchanged pleasantries (okay flirted, it's what he did) as I passed him on on my way out with my dribbles bucket. By the time I got back, the leak was no more, he'd fixed it.

Another time - after the main part of Aristoc shifted to Belper and grumpy was left behind to ahem, brilliantly (he's read this and wants it noted that he did a good job) maintain the warehouse. He was asked to tidy up around the car park and the perimeter of (mostly) empty buildings. His boss told grumpy he was going to hire him a strimmer and asked him which day would he like it.

Oh dear, oh dear - I think day - he had it six weeks! Although in his defence, he did say the grass was 6ft high, which roughly translated (wimmins measurements) means just under 1ft.

.......
 

Ooh yeah, then there's the TUBE ... this is his version of the more intelligent (me) person's notebook and pen, and for special effects pockets full of socks, a pile of tights and leotards thrown over one shoulder - this was during my Quality Control years (must write about those one day). In other words ... nowt to do, but must look busy.

Grumpy was often seen - and yes, heard - passing by with a 5ft fluorescent light tube gripped in his grimy mitt, what he didn't realise was that we knew it was the same one that he'd been carrying around with him the previous two weeks, and this was the point we burst into song ...

"He's busy doing nothing,
Working the whole day through.
Trying to find lots of things not to do.
He's busy going nowhere,
Isn't it just a crime,
He'd like to be unhappy,
But he never does have the time."

Poundland For Heanor Retail Park?

I put this in my 'rumours' the other day, but I've since had a few moments - because I've had enough of looking at Androids for two minutes - to cruise a little further away from Langley Mill in the planning applications at AVBC.

I find that you have to be relatively sneaky to spot a 'new' shop taking over by looking here, but the application is:

AVA/2012/0433 Heanor Retail Park Unit 4 High Street Heanor DE75 7EX (where Peacocks is now)

For:

Advertisement consent for 2 blank fascia signs and replacement signage

The applicant is:

POUNDLAND

The total lack of punctuation above is nowt to do wi' me, I know's how to punctuate (mostly), I just copied it from AVBC ;-)

Righto, back to really important stuff ... which Android is to be my delicious choice today? Eeny Meeny Miny Mo ...

.....

Update 17th May 2012:

This application and one connected with it - AVA/2012/0431 - have both been withdrawn (16th May).

So now we'll have to wait and see ...

Home Bargains For Langley Mill

Rumours:

1. I've heard that Peacocks at Heanor is closing.
2. A Poundland (or similar is taking its place).

And after hearing several rumours about Home Bargains moving into Langley Mill's old Netto store, I finally had it confirmed last night (just in case you don't read my 'recent comments' section), by Sarah at The Best Of Heanor And Ripley, and again today by my neighbour who has seen the notices at Netto.

Even though this can only be good news for Langley mill, I do hope this has no negative impact on the Home Bargains store at Heanor.

If you go on the store finder section on Home Bargains Website it will tell you a new store is opening in The Acorn Centre, Langley Mill July 2012.

Of course, ahem, not actually being in Langley Mill myself at this specific moment - and having my mind chock full of what exciting shiny new Android jobby I'm having next - does have huge repercussions on my nosiness, or I'd have written this (as a rumour) before now ...

Update 31st May:

Planning application from Home Bargains for advertising consent etc - units 4 and 5 Acorn Centre is now at AVBC

Update:

Home Bargains Langley Mill is due to open on Saturday 7th July ;-)

Songs You Get Stuck With

I think our fox is blind in his right eye

I spent the later hours of the last two nights watching the magnificent Roy Orbison on Sky Arts. To me this was four hours of pure undiluted bliss.

I was, as ever, to be found intermittently with my bum sticking up and the top half of my body hanging through the window flashing at Mrs Badger and Mr Fox ... at least this position doesn't induce me to pass wind like a certain bad photographer I know. I will upload my photos as soon as we're home because I'm fast running out of t'Interweb here.

Then as it was a clear night, I went and squished through the moat (hosepipe ban?) that surrounds our tin hut to take some moon, planet and stars photos, I did get a - presumably - amateur radio satellite going over, well at least it was definitely something man made.

I could still hear the music, there's no-one else within hearing distance daft brave enough to live in a boggy old turnip field so our tin hut had been turned into a glorified boombox and it was rocking.

Managed to evict this pair with two minutes to spare before Mr Fox arrived

I soon went back in because it was a bit chilly around the ankles and I'm sure me and the tripod were sinking. I thanked grumpy for coming out to see if I'd been kidnapped, sucked down by the bog or worse (he said he was just on his way - yeah right), and I resumed my earlier position - warm spot - in front of the telly.

After we'd finished singing along in a totally tone deaf - but not caring a jot - kind of way, I sat fiddling with my increasingly annoying android - I've run out of battery juice, but not really - phone, and grumpy decided to watch the next program ... It was chuffing awful!


After two whole minutes of this dreadful row grating on my eardrums I asked himself what it was I was being subjected to, and would he please switch it off!! I was informed it was 'The Troggs', I had vaguely heard of them in my dim and distant past but was fairly certain that I wouldn't voluntarily listen to them.

Being the good egg he is, he promptly hit the off button, switched half the fairy lights off (not as bad as it sounds, you can't see 'em but they give off a lovely glow above the pelmets) and tootled off to bed, leaving me to switch the other half off after I'd done fiddling with my phone.

This I eventually did, and I was just scrubbing the old gnashers and realised that I was humming through my toothpaste ... no, not a wonderful Roy Orbison number as you'd expect, but a bloody Troggs record - 'A Girl Like You'. This caused much hilarity in the bedroom when I told grumpy of my dilemma. Obviously this was because I only know four words of the song, yes, them's 'em  ... and I quite dislike it.

Of course this afternoon I'm still singing 'A Girl Like You' - well, mostly dum de dums - this is despite the fact that I've been listening to Roy Orbison again all morning while I work ... 'dum, de dum de dum, de dum dee dum, de dum de dum, with a girl like you, de dum de dum' ...

McDonalds Gets Go Ahead for Langley Mill - Again

The most recent planning application for a McDonalds in Langley Mill - AVA/2011/0443 came up at the planning board last night (16th April) with a recommendation that it be passed, so it's fair to assume with AVBC that it would be.

This means that we'll soon be spoilt for choice on which way to waddle for our fast food breakfast/dinner/tea/supper or even a snack if we get peckish in-between.

Of course, I suspect that most of us will go by car ... thus preventing many an unsightly grease splat in the middle of the road - when we get squashed by speeding traffic near the exceedingly dodgy Asda roundabout - because we're not really quick enough to get across (even with pedestrian splitter islands) ... hmmm, or is it only me that gets over-stodged and too tired to walk after the smallest amount of fast food? Which is a shame because I like it - yum.

Mind you, this isn't the first time McDonalds have had a planning application in Langley Mill passed. They got planning permission to build a 60 seater restaurant in 2002, roughly (or even exactly) where KFC now stands ...

Update 26th April:
For some weird reason I keep forgetting to add this pertinent bit of info - probably because the vast majority of this post was written on 19th July last year; in anticipation of it being passed on the 22rd July 2011 as McDonalds expected.

Ahem, not only are we getting this totally unnecessary artery-furring (possibly brutally halal slaughtered) fast food - and I use the term 'food' loosely - restaurant. It will be 'open to the public 24 hours a day, 7 days a week with 3 deliveries a week' - or so it says in the documents over at AVBC.

So there you have it, when Asda wake me in the night, I'll be able to stomp down to McDonalds and calm myself down with a dollop of unhealthy fast food gunk ...

Can You Tell Me What It Isn't?

Or ... Please tell me that's not a UFO over Langley Mill

Now, I know this is a bit off my normal every day whinging subjects but I've been a bit spooked by what I saw - or actually didn't see - on Wednesday night.

The fuzzy light to the right of Venus and the Pleiades

I was out in my usual position on the back yard with my super-whizzo-zoomy camera and tripod, plus my brilliantly-gadgety-app-laden-android-jobby, taking photos of anything that didn't appear to move, and even more photos of things that were meant to be passing over, i.e. Iridium's and other satellites (got an app for that).

Ahem, as I'm still learning and don't believe in reading instructions until I'm desperate - yes, I am a woman, honest - I keep making minor adjustments on the camera and taking photos of the same bit of sky - in this case the moon, Venus and the Pleiades - in the hope that I'll get a brilliant photo. Meanwhile I'm looking at the android phone to see what's due over next and scanning the sky for low aeroplanes as they make interesting subjects too.

Eventually my grumpy old man popped out to see if I was ready for a cuppa and I went onto the front to take a last disastrous photo of Sirius (too much lighting), before going in.

The moon is the bright light (obviously)

I was somewhat excited because I knew I'd got a decent photo of an Iridium flare. I looked at them all on the camera and came to the three I'd taken together and I was perplexed as to what was there.

I went out again armed with my equipment to see if I could recreate what was on the photos, impossible though as we'd moved relative to the stars, and the moon and Venus had moved relative to us.

Anyway what I want or NEED is as many debunkers as possible to tell me what caused these 'light anomalies' on my camera. Maybe it was the moon reflected, an airship over Langley Mill or a moth going past extremely slowly - two 13 second and one 15 second exposures - I can honestly say I saw nothing so I won't be arguing with anyone about 'what I saw'.

I know it's the darkest photo but also clearest of 'it' when tweaked

I went out again last night but I didn't enjoy myself at all, it was possibly too cloudy, I was staring too hard, and then I got the horrible feeling I was being watched - I do have a lively imagination. Eventually I grabbed the tripod by the middle swizzly bit (to straighten it out in one deft move) and ran in.

The photos are exactly as I took them, no tweaking, cropping, anything. Obviously I have done so with my copies, including superimposing them over each other, lightening, sharpening, softening, de-colouring, etc. etc. But I'm still no wiser. So download them (left click on photo to the next page, right click 'save image as' - bigger than just right click), play with them, tell me they're reflections, specks of dust, a four spotted double crested three winged Weeble Turd Muncher walking across the lens, whatever. Just don't tell me it's actually what it looks like to me.

Not a suspected UFO (I hope), this was me trying to recreate the metallic, knobbly blob. The photo number (15) is a coincidence, there are 30 more between 14 and 15, they're from different days and folders.

Oh nooooooo, I've just looked at last nights photos - it's definitely the moon reflected on the cloud ... yeah :)

Update 1st April: (yes I am aware of the date)
I bravely went out again last night (earlier though, so not all that brave) and took many photos of the moon to recreate the first three photos (28th). I nearly did it - OK, I didn't even get very close - but we'll definitely discount the last one (29th) as 'moon reflection' shall we?

However I spent a lot of hours yesterday going through all my hundreds of 'sky at night' photos. I saw absolutely nothing out of the ordinary in any Skegness photos where the moon, Jupiter and the International Space Station feature quite a lot.

Close up of The Pleiades, Venus and the 'thing' (photo 14)

And then I got to the at home photos ... oh dear. Nothing at all odd in any direction except directly over the Nottingham to Sheffield railway lines - all recent (seven) photos - with and without the moon in situ.

So, ahem, are there UFOs zipping from Nottingham to Sheffield over the railway tracks - the occupants having a pause and a jiggle over Langley Mill, to laugh at that daft woman - wearing pyjamas - on her back yard taking really bad photographs?

One photo was taken immediately before this and two after in exactly same position, without the 'shooting star'.

 Hmm, I don't know what to believe, but if there are UFOs passing over, can you stop pratting about and give us a lift to skeggy ...

Heanor Haulage - Still A Langley Mill Nuisance

Not Bad for a company that's supposedly left our village.

I was busy working this morning when I heard that bloody HH crane start up. 'Here we go again' I thought. Mr HH regularly comes to play with his toy, just to make sure it works. Sometimes he actually uses it to move stuff, but nine times out of ten, it just sits there chugging out horrendous fumes. This means that:

1. I have to rush around closing windows.
2. Swear out loud when I remember my sheets are hanging outside.
3. Run outside to fetch the sheets in.
4. Swear again when I realise it's too late, they're already impregnated by filth and fumes.
5. Sit muttering to myself about loss of earnings.
6. Get really bad-tempered and start 'twittering'.
7. Publicly (twitter) threaten what I'm going to do to that pile of junk.
8. Start a headache.
9. Feel sick.
10. Tell all of the above to my grumpy old man when he returns.
11. Try to continue working.
12. Throw bits of work across the room because the fume-induced headache means I can't see what I'm doing (squinty, serious work).

If this gets lit while I'm at home

I cannot vouch for the safety of the crane

The crane was running to itself for probably 40 minutes while Mr Heanor Haulage and his buddy went around collecting more wood for their bonfire to be.

As is my wont when I'm in a foul temper - mostly caused simply by being in this hovel ... and I'm referring to Langley Mill here - I went around the perimeter of Heanor Haulage and took some lovely photos.

Getting back to my moan about this BLOODY crane, my main annoyance is because it's right near our houses, when there's a huge amount of empty space it could be in. Thus no matter whether he actually uses it for lifting - or just fannies about with it as usual - it is always puthering super-filthy fumes and muck for the first ten minutes or so, and should be well away from us.

Plus when Asda and MR HH got permission to foist an Asda upon us, one of the biggest changes for Mr HH, was that ALL THEIR OPERATIONS WOULD HAVE TO BE IN AN ENCLOSED BUILDING WITH THE DOORS SHUT!

So go on then, tell me what he's tw***ing about at ...

The Real Pictorial Langley Mill

As opposed to the one our illustrious council would have you believe:

This is only the bit from the top of Bridge Street, over t'bridge, up Thompson Street, along Upper Dunstead Road (yes Aldercar) and finally back down Cromford Road, with a hint of Station Road thrown in at the end.

If you click on a photo it will open in the same window, click again and it'll be full sized.

This is just inside Heanor Haulage land, it's a disgusting mess which gets worse every day ... thanks to some of the chavviest Chavsda customers.

These shopping trollies are thrown from the bridge at the footpath ... they don't always reach.

The Trolley again ... time you had a locking mechanism Asda.

A lovely view under the bridge. I do believe this land also belongs to Mr Heanor Haulage ... It NEEDS tidying up!

A Langley Mill artist who either fortunately has a short enough name that he can spell it (twice) ... or was practising for 'The Sound Of Music'.

A bit more rubbish I passed on my way ... this is on a public footpath, not some secluded, hidden away spot.

Only the very best alcohol will do for our teenagers ... who sells it to them?

Nice airy roof ventilation, I don't know if this is just derelict or a listed building, but it's certainly leaning a bit ...or was that me?

I love the warning sign on this building ...

somewhat pointless by now.

The same building from the other side ... I think it's past its best.







Smiths Flour Mill, just about the only industry left in Langley Mill ... recently rumoured to be closing.

We've no idea who these containers belong to but they come and go ... Colson has been suggested, but why are they on a derelict pub yard?



Apparently squatters were responsible for setting fire to the insides of this ex-pub ... but no-one I know believed that's how it happened.





A bit of rubbish left over that the council either missed during cleaning up someone elses mess ... or is it a recent addition?




A close up of one of Langley Mill's most beautiful eyesores.






The car wash with no current planning permission to conduct business there ... and still it continues  nine months later.

I Love Heanor

And of course a bit of obligatory moaning from yours truly.

Write in the book about why you love Heanor and get a cookie

There was a bit of a meeting at top o' t' hill in t' market square for people who love Heanor. It was cold and wet but we were all cheerful.

We had our photo taken from the top of the church with telephone instructions from up there about where we should stand to create a heart shape. And for anyone who doesn't recognise me, I was the one in the red coat - and white knickers with red hearts on - holding a red balloon.

Look up and wave that balloon!

I'm glad I went as I do love Heanor and have done since the first day I arrived there in November 1979.

It's still a mystery about who organised the event which came into being through Facebook  and Twitter. Whoever it is could do with following some of their followers on Twitter as there's no interaction without doing so, unlike on Facebook. 

There's a super write up about the event over at TheBestOfHeanorAndRipley  Which saves me writing much.

I love Heanor too

Just as well really as my brain is not firing on all cylinders after last nights escapades by our local yoofs and yoofesses ... shouting, screaming, bawling, squealing up and down Bridge Street and banging on the bridge hour after hour.

Plus Network Rail decided that last night was a good time to hoik up the tracks and/or sleepers with lots of clanking for that special night-time effect, and then spin dry the stones ... well that's what it sounded like. And they move along the track at about two inches a minute so plenty of listening time. My brain fizzled out at about 3.00am.

Then dear old Chavsda woke me up at 7.05am - yawn ...

Odd Numbers, Crackpots And Wrong Feet

Or ... ever so slightly obsessive

I hate odd numbers. This is a problem I've had for as long as I can remember ... I am not alone, I know one or two other odd number haters.

It actually affects every day things, minor little details I know, but they're so annoying. The most common one - and most frequent - is the volume on the telly ... it has to be an even number, it doesn't matter if I can't hear it or it's blasting my eardrums, it will never be left at an odd number.

I constantly count things, going up or downstairs is one example, of course that's always an odd number. In days of yore, I'd jump a step down or stride a step up to make it even. Now that I'm advancing in years I just make sure both feet hit one step. If I didn't do it, I'd have to go back down/up and do it again before doing whatever I went for.

Then there's cracks in pavements or just the lines between the slabs. As a child we'd play a game that if you stood on one or the other, you were a line post or a crackpot. Alas, I didn't leave this behind. At home it's fairly okay as the pavements are tarmacked, but walking at Skeggy is a nightmare, it's slabbed and cracked. I have to watch every step - as well as counting them - if I do stand on a line or a crack with one foot then I have to do it with the other, with the crack in exactly the same position under my foot. If I misjudge it, I could spend half an hour stepping on cracks until both feet are even.

Knitting is off the list of things I can do comfortably as I need to push the point of the needle with a finger on one hand so then have to do it with the other - even though I'm achieving nothing - just to even things up [this is not for the action but the feel on my fingertip], so I give in. Fortunately all my other hobbies and more importantly WORK are not affected even though both hands do entirely different things.

I am ambidextrous; I don't know whether this is natural or forced by a need to be able to do the same things with both hands. It is useful only for ironing and painting - both my sisters are left-handed. I can write backwards with both hands, or backwards with the left and forwards with the right, at the same time.

Numbers ... ah yes, as I said odd numbers are awful, imagine being born in November 1959. So what did I do to overcome this problem? Yes, I made 11 okay as it was double the same odd number making it even, and I'm afraid that - to me - 1958 and 1960 were odd years, seeing as 1959 had to be even. And there's my age, you'll never, ever hear me admitting that I'm an uneven age, I was 44 for four years [a delicious number], 48 for two years, you get the picture. And later this year, woe of woes I'm going to be - as well as odd - a prime number ... again, or would be if I admitted to it.

Phone numbers ... If I've bought a sim card and the odd numbers have outnumbered the evens, I've thrown it away and ordered another, luckily this hasn't happened often but the first thing I do is count them ... odds on my left hand, evens on the right. Fortunately - in my world - zero is even.

As a very small person I'd been learning about left and right, this was when I was either two - or the number straight after. One day we were at the park, my parents were playing tennis and I was wandering around - looking for beetles and stuff presumably - and I noticed my shoes. They were white t-bar shoes with little cut-outs over the toes; they were my favourites.

But oh dear, they were scuffed, one much worse than the other ... the right one, but this couldn't be right because it was wrong so it had to be left. At the time I couldn't differentiate between left and right and right and wrong. I had to make it right. First I walked with my legs crossed, making them left/wrong and right/right. I fell over. So then I swapped the shoes over and wore them on the wrong feet, uncomfortable but preferable.

I designed our kitchen a few years back ... this was a bad idea, it looks lovely because it's as symmetrical as I could get it, but highly impractical ... although I really wouldn't cope with it any other way. I also tiled it, we bought lots of different colours back from B&Q, I spread them out on the floor in a random order. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't possibly have two tiles the same colour touching unless there was a pattern. So that's what I've got. We kept three colours and swapped the rest.

Ahem, ironing. I count all the items before I start, if it's an odd number I'll get a hanky - or three - from the already ironed pile. Twelve is my favourite starting point as it's very divisible. I count in fractions until I've completed the job - ie 1/12, 1/6, 1/4, 1/3 ... nasty one coming up 5/12, 1/2 ... ugh, another one 7/12, 2/3, 3/4, 5/6 ... I can just cope with next one because the job is nearly done 11/12.

I could go on and on about ornaments, plants, coat-hangers, measurements and an overwhelming urge to confess to the minutest misdemeanour, but it'd take days - probably six or maybe eight. Weird aren't I? ...

My Thermostat Is Broke!

Now, before Bernard reads any further ... It's nowt to do with the gas boiler. In fact, this post is entirely for 'wimmin'.

Now, we all know I received lots of lovely booze and choccies for Christmas. The grumpy old man is still munching his way steadily through the chocolates, and I've made a bit of a dint in the alcohol. But, alas!! Not nearly as big a dint as there should be by now.

I appear to be unable to drink at this specific moment in my life and this has to be the worst symptom of perimenopause - for me - yet. We have already covered most of the symptoms before in my blog [memory not gone yet]. Oh heck I've just looked at the date I wrote that post ... HOW LONG IS THIS GOING TO LAST?

Is it not bad enough that I'm sat shivering and muffled up to the eyebrows one minute, then stripping off and throwing caution to the wind - and a 'don't even think about it' glare at my GOM; watching with a twinkle in his eye - the next?

Then there's the mood swings, I spend two days bawling and blowing my nose into a snot-stiffened tissue every time an advert comes on the telly for poorly donkeys and starving babies. So I turn the telly off and listen to music - while I work - to take my mind off all the depressing things in the world. Only then I find that I've gone into reminiscing mode and start blubbing over every dead dog, cat, budgie, pigeon, hedgehog, rat, mouse, fish et al I've been in contact with.

Of course straight after this episode I popped over to Bernard's lovely blog which was happily on about parrots and parakeets ... then I got to the comments. That set me off again, I pictured this poor little bird sat by the side of the road hour after hour - oh bugger, I'm off again, where's me hanky? - waiting for its lifelong mate to get up after it's been flattened.

The following day I was in a vile mood, I told a scrap man to p**s off just for daring to knock on the door - and he was ever so nice - he told me to have a nice day, that just made me want to throw something - non-metallic - at him.

And now, back to my 'drink problem' or 'lack of drink problem'. I just can't do it. One little dropsicule and I end up in a major sweat with a dreadful headache, which no amount of pain killers will shift. I even had to go back to bed on Tuesday after only one hour's work.

I'm not about to give in though. I've finished all this week's work ... so tonight - after total abstinence since Monday - I'm going to let my hair down, have a drink or two and no doubt take all my clothes off ...

See Hear

I was just finishing my usual morning routine - this is before I get up - of reading stuff on the Android jobby. I catch up with tweets on twitter, the latest info on Facebook - I still don't like the openness of Facebook, it gives me the jitters, however it can be a useful tool. Then I read the news for Derbys, Notts, Lincs before finally arriving at the 'most read' news items at Aunty Beeb.

By now, it's very nearly time to get up. The bikkie crumbs have been wafted onto the floor and the coffee has been slurped. Yawn, s-t-r-e-t-c-h ... What is that noise now? I leant out of bed as far as the cat allowed without glaring at me. Nope, I can't see owt.

Dedicated nosiness required that I get up, sigh. Thus, not only was treated to a slitty eyed glare, but there was a distinct movement of paw with claws as I went past madam ... in her futile attempt to keep me in bed.

One of these days we're having words about this morning moodiness and day long idleness. She got picked up and unceremoniously chucked out last week because she belted me around the chops - no claws - for daring to get close while she sunbathed snoozily on the windowsill.

Heck, I haven't a clue what I'm writing about ... it's gone, lemme see ... ooh arr, I remember:

The noise that was assailing my early morning - okay mid morning, have it your way - senses was a zuzzzzing sound, so either grinding or cutting, and was coming - presumably - from one of the Asda units.

I asked my grumpy old man if he could hear it ... 'No.' was the expected reply - I don't really know why I bothered asking him - 'Well, stand over here and open the window' ... he obeyed ... 'Nope, nothing'.

We exchanged further pleasantries along the lines of ... 'Yer deaf owd t**t.' and ... 'Less of the old' ... before I lost interest and started pairing socks up that had finished airing overnight. Grumpy was still standing by the window listening really, really hard. Then he crossed the bedroom, put his glasses on and went back to listening.

'I still can't hear anything.' he declared ... Hmmm, well maybe if he put his hearing aid in, he'd be able to see what I'm doing and pair his own socks up ...

A Langley Mill Eyesore

Oops, I've just twittered about this - and been retweeted, thanks Sarah - and then realised that I'd not yet published my blog post on the subject, and ahem, this was written on January 9th. It didn't get published then because I wanted a photo of the eyesore. grumpy went and took one or two but the camera focused on a lamppost that was in the way. I then got sidetracked  by other stuff - as you do - so now I've whizzed across Asda's car park and taken a few snaps myself.

We've just passed one of Langley Mill's most grotty eyesores, namely a car-wash. It sits on The Railway Tavern car park at 188 Station Road. It's ugly, shabby, and as far as I can tell ... illegal.

They did apply for - AVA/2009/0538 - and receive, a TEMPORARY 2 year consent for this pile of green, yellow and blue garbage - aka a portacabin and portaloo - to sit on the car-park, but the permission for it ran out in June 2011.

I quote: 'This permission is valid for a limited period only, expiring on 30 June 2011. On or before that date the use hereby approved will cease, the building(s) approved shall be removed from the site and the site shall be restored to its former condition, unless a further application has been submitted to and approved by the Local Planning Authority'.

I can't find any more applications regards this site, so why are they still making Langley Mill look even shabbier than it needs to be. I'm not saying they do a bad job, on the contrary, they probably do a very good job and they must work hard as they always seem to be busy. But the very nature of their temporary permission has created an unnecessary long term eyesore.

Rant over for the day ...

Bad Manners Maketh The Post Office

A visit was made to our local post office the other morning, you know the one I mean - next door but two to Asda. The place was absolutely thronged with ... one customer, aka my grumpy old man.

He'd gone to renew his road tax. He shoved his envelope containing all the necessaries through to the nasty b***rd that works there, and he shoved it back saying 'you're not disabled are you?' ... This didn't bother grumpy in the least - he just took out the contents and passed them through individually. Because unlike the rest of us - with slightly thinner skins who'd rather go 2 miles out of our way for the services a post office has to offer - grumpy just ignores him, declaring that he's the same with everyone.

He went on stoically to exchange pleasantries while he was being served - as this is the kind of person he is - but clearly this type of behaviour is frowned upon in this particular establishment, Grumpy remarked that it was cold in there (zero heating for customers) and you couldn't hang around. Mr post office replied 'well we don't want you to hang around.'

Definitely time for this grumpy post office person to bog off into retirement so the place can get some custom back. Other post offices in the area are aware of this, ahem, gentleman's deplorable customer service methods, and are quite pleased that we all go further afield.

Langley mill post office was for sale last year, with the price being dropped at least twice. All seems to have gone quiet on that front which is a damn shame, because we could really do with someone who wants to do the job - maybe even with a smile ...

Update 9th February 2012:
The post office is still for sale ... now at a much reduced price of £175,000 ... will someone please buy it!

Cromford Road Car Park

Before I get onto my next proper grumpy whinge, I just thought I'd mention that it looks like Cromford Road car park is for sale. Or something? ...