this and that

Wales 2014 189 (2)

Trying again!

Hoping that today the picture will load. It’s another Post Box for Jude.

Wales 2014 189 (2)

Maybe this should be regarded as an ‘ex’ post box, but it is now used as a delivery box! The house that it serves is over a mile down a narrow bumpy track high up a mountain in Snowdonia! When it was fully operational it served just two houses – each approximately a mile from this point.

A revisit

This is a true story.

Once upon a time there was a lady called Arabella (the name has been changed to protect the ‘innocent’). She was slim, elegant and well-coiffeured. She was the sort of lady that my grandmother would have said ‘had more money than sense’. Always the centre of attention she delighted in playing to her audience. If an entrance was to be made Arabella would know how to do it, and make sure that everyone saw. Her clothes were expensive, and always absolutely perfect for the occasion. Of course, she never wore the same thing twice unless the company was different. She was married to a man with a title, and it was for that exact reason that she had married him. It gave her a standing, albeit a fairly lowly one.
One evening there was a cocktail party. Arabella arrived on the arm of her companion. She wore the most exquisite little black dress. Silk and chiffon stitched to perfection. The neckline was not too low, and the length was not too short. Her heels were exactly the right height to compliment her escort, and her shining hair was tossed from side to side as she listened attentively to every word that was spoken to her. Arabella’s responses were perfect, she always knew exactly what to say and also when to laugh, her tinkling tones neither too loud nor too soft. As always her presence was perfection.
At some point during the evening there was a slight lull in the conversation. It was the moment for which Arabella had been waiting. She had an announcement to make and everyone must know.
‘I’ve decided to take up golf!’
The men in the room flocked to her side. Offers of all sorts were bandied about, there was no limit to the amount of time they were willing to devote to teaching her. The best sources of equipment were also offered, and all this knowing that ladies and men really don’t mix in golf clubs! Arabella spurned them all, no, she was ‘going to a Professional’. From this time on all gatherings took on a different perspective. Somehow the main subject was always ‘golf’! The tinkling laugh still made its appearance, the clothes continued to be perfect, but everyone had to know how things were going, and of course her ‘Professional’ was very pleased with her.
This continued for a good two years, and then it appeared that Arabella had become a little bored with golf, because a whole six months passed with no mention of the subject. Finally one of the men could stand it no longer. He asked the question that was on everyone’s lips.
‘How is the golf going, Arabella?’
‘Oh, it’s really exciting. My Professional is so pleased with me he has said that next week I can start practising with a ball.’
This was first published on nuvofelt.blogspot.com

Goodness! A post from ME!

Chittle Chattle is about chitchat! Or something like that, anyway. Recently, however, I have neither chitted or chatted. Well, today I have something to relate. It’s really to furthere explain the post that you will find here.

Just how mundane can it be?

A wooden spoon?

And one with a chewed end, to boot!

Well, needless to say – there is a story about this particular spoon, and I just hope that our daughter isn’t reading this post!

You see, once upon a time,  a few years ago now (when she was about 5 I should think) this spoon belonged to her! It was part of a cookery set that she was given for Christmas. We spent many happy hours baking cakes and mixing things – daughter with the above spoon, and me with one that was much bigger and more clumsy.

At this time we had two dogs.

One was beautifully behaved – never any bother and a good companion.

The other ……..

… let’s just say that she was boisterous! Full of life and vitality (she was several years younger that the one mentioned previously, by the way) but she chewed!

She chewed anything…..

… and everything!

One fateful day the beloved spoon above was stolen from its hiding place by said dog. Other items in the same hidey-hole were also ‘appropriated’ and destroyed beyond recognition. The spoon survived in its above state – but no more did we fancy using it for cooking :(

Sadly the dog expired. That is another story and not for today, however, the spoon remained, now safely in a drawer, out of sight, out of mind.

Daughter got married and left home! Two children came and went (in as much as they have now left home) and still the spoon lay in the drawer until……

I found it not so very long ago. It’s had another really good scrub and wash – and I’ve started using it again. My goodness me! It’s the perfect size for so many things, and SO comfortable to hold. Does daughter want it back? I don’t know – she doesn’t yet know that I have it. However, I will tell you one thing…….

SHE WILL HAVE TO FIGHT ME FOR IT!   :D

Windows 10 is Poison – Microsoft Help is Woefully Inadequate

nuvofelt:

I think I’ll wait a while!

Originally posted on Skip Allen Paints:

Yes Dear Readers,

Windows 10 is poison to computers; stay away from it.  You know me, I seldom write anything negative.  But in this case, honesty is important; the negative stuff needs saying.  Windows 10 is ridiculous and Microsoft help is woefully inadequate for the number and scale of problems arising.  Here is an outline of my experience.  I first wrote a 2400 word document which had all the names of tech support people and case numbers, but I decided no one would read it.  Please read the shortened version…or just take my word for it…Windows 10 is poison.,

Day 1: Installed Windows 10 on my Surface Pro 3; installation was smooth.  Decided it was safe to install on my Alienware desktop and ran into problems.  Contacted Microsoft who after several hours told me I needed to let the process run for at least 1 to 3 hours.  I let…

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