- The Northern Irish health service is being reorganised and I have to 'make an impression' if I want to keep my job. I can say 'would you like some toast' in the manner of Sean Connery but I don't think that's going to help somehow.
- My kitchen is being rebuilt so walls down, dust everywhere, intermittant access to the cooker* etc.
- I don't want to be labelled an addict (see last post).
- My eldest is entering her teenage years which seems to involve a lot of door-slamming and mood swings which require me to stand in the corner and be verbally abused in a sarcastic manner and have my make-up nicked.
- I have 28 books piled up next to my bed and I'm feeling guilty about not having read them.
- I'm doing a post-graduate diploma thing which is extremely dull but I have only 4 months to go so I'm supposed to do some assignments and stuff.
So I will be here reading but perhaps not posting and commenting as much as before.
CB wanted to see some examples of Northern Ireland vernacular architecture. Here you are then, don't say I didn't warn you...
*cue noise of mass wincing*
This may not look so bad but in rural Northern Ireland ALL the houses look like this although they may also have large, rampant lions on the gateposts and a 6foot high model of a windmill in the garden. Such houses are often called 'La Ponderosa'.
17 comments:
The Sean Connery / toast thing impresses the heck out of me.
Kitchen Hell - BTDT. Sympathise, one day at a time, you'll laugh about it later etc etc.
It's too late.
No experience of teenagers other than having been one. I hated it.
28 books! What treasure!
Post-grad? Cleverer than me then.
Coral Browne was in a play once when she was about 60. Rehearsals were fine, but everyone worried about her reaction to the stage set when they eventually got to see it. Bare stage apart from a 6foot high model of a penis. She walked around it, looking it up and down, and turned to the director.
'No-body I know' she said.
Ha - I'd forgotten about the endless roads of rancho ponderosa's over your side of the pond.
I posted up something about being an addict yesterday but in my highly addictive state I must have freudingly deleted it or somehow not posted properly.
Anyway - good luck with everything - I seem to have a 5 yr old son like your teenage daughter at the moment. I'm blaming it on 'growth spurt and hormones'. Let's hope it's all out of his system by the time he will no doubt be smoking dope out the loft window aged 14 and calling me stupid!
Take care - podcast coming soon - I'll play some vinyl for you xx
Hope you don't suffer too much cold turkey, or whatever the technical term for coming off an addiction is. Hope too to see you around the blogsphere (or whatver the latest term is).
I gotta say that endless roads of white bungalows is a fair sight better than the endless roads of red brick row houses and semis around here. Actually, that photo has a distinctly American feel to it. Maybe the reason it appeals.
Good luck with all the stuffage. I remember puberty. It sucked.
La Ponderosa is a thing of beauty compared to the blight in my city known as the Vancouver Special.
Being the parent of a pre-teen stinks - I've done it once and am currently getting ready to do it all again. Take heart from the fact that, when it's all over, (yes, it DOES pass) what you get is a lovely, nearly-adult, sometime companion, who only bears a passing resemblance to the troll you've been living with for the last (insert appropriate number) of years!
Ah, Coral Browne - what a dame!
i've been doing that reading but not commenting thing lately which means i haven't stopped by to tell you what a foxy voice you have
perhaps a career in hospital radio beckons...
oh, ffs - it's me, urban chick
god only knows why it says i am not sharing my profile
i blame beta (am continuing to resist myself)
me again
sorry, forgot to add:
HOLY COW THAT HOUSE IS UGLY!!
re Kitchen - poor poor you - my bathroom refurb drags on - this morning, as a treat to myself, I'm grouting!
Pondarosa is where we had breakfast once in Florida en route to Disneyworld. Those were the days when I didn't have teenagers, my children loved me and never answered a question with "whatever"
(without pronouncing the T)
::sigh::
wait till the insult your clothes and then steal them!
You are in pole position to keep us informed as to the current clothing of choice for teenage girls. When my daughter was in her teens no home was complete without it's resident greek widow. Black from top of head to toe of Doc Martens - but not Goth. About as communicative as an ancient greek widow too - either spitting venom or sighing histronically, with much underbreath mutterings of dire predictions of her fate having been saddled with us as parents. Oh happy days! Just remember "A Mother's Place is in the Wrong", and you will sail through it all.
That pic would be making me homesick if it weren't for the fact that I hate my hometown so much. It reminds me of the horrible cold, damp new-build bungalow I grew up in ('cept we didn't have a double garage or much of a garden).
CB - you've got to imagine this en masse. The whole of Nrn Irn is covered by these soulless monstrosities dwellings. A row of redbricks is a thing of beauty.
I can't do impressions.
I live on a Wimpey estate, so I don't think I'm in a position to comment on tacky architechture!
I also live on a Wimpey estate. Everyone goes around flapping there arms saying "Oooo... I'm not doing that!!!".
books including anna karenina?
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