P P Passion

Right now I should be asleep.

I should be being sensible and making sure I’m not tired when I drive to Wales tomorrow [checks clock] when I drive to Wales today.

I don’t want to be sensible. In my experience being sensible never really ever got me anywhere and, in fact, when I look back, the times when I was not sensible were actually a lot more fun and the moments when I really felt alive.

Passion and love count 99 percent of everything in the world.




Ah Spring is on its way. The daffodils are starting to flower and the trees already have blossom on them. For some reason I woke up this morning in some kind of alpha state with an absolutely inspirational idea for a program (I can’t describe it here since I don’t want anyone who randomly reads this to nick the ideas – I know of at least two business competitors who actually read this blog which, quite frankly provokes in me feelings of “oh shit” to “ha ha, oh shit”).

I’m about to nip out and buy some stuff to fulfill some of today’s objectives. The running order for today is:

Woke up, superbly drowsy after being totally knackered from work yesterday. Made cup of tea, realised I had a humgously brilliant idea and a moment of pure clarity for a new product. Everything came rushing into my head at once and as I drank my must-have ritualistic cup of morning tea (see previous blog entries en passim for correct builder’s strength and preparation technique. I’m still not buying the milk molecules thing btw young midwife…not for a minute).

Looked at flat and assessed the damage of the winter months and the scale of the task to repair it. I had already decided that today was “spring clean the flat day”. Checked my emails. Some lovely ones from secret admirers. Check online banking, excellent, I can afford to buy stuff like food and cleaning materials. Checked news. Noted absence of earthquakes and floods in surrounding area. Removed tin foil hat and water wings. Changed my Vista laptop’s background to this blast from the past (you’ll need Flash installed to view it). Slightly mourned the old background which featured a car and a snow scene from a potential playground.

Ran bath. During bath decided I really really really must buy an Edith Piaf album and play L’Accordeoniste. Piaf was a tragic genius, a true artist and a remarkable poet of a depth that only this kind of tragedy can produce.

Got out of bath, and lit sandalwood incense stick. Smiled at fortunate life of single male, slightly naughty disposition with own flat and no flatmates (wanted or needed) and realised I probably could not get away with half the things I do if I lived with anyone.

I made a shopping list:

  • Vacuum freshener. Spring fragrance. (To promote and elongate feeling of Spring is Sprung).
  • Cleaning stuff viz: scrubby things for skirting boards and pipework under sinks etc. Chrome polishy stuff. Mr, Mrs or Ms Muscle worktop cleaner.
  • New frying pan. (Put old one in bin to ensure I am not tempted to keep it – the handle is now unrepairably loose and it has occurred to me that it’s only a question of time before I pour hot fat down my soft bits whilst ill-advisedly combining the swigging of Absinthe and cooking Bratwurst).
  • Fish (market).
  • Veg (market).
  • Shoes (all others now being past their sell-by date due to building sites and yucky factories).
  • Edith Piaf album.
  • Hubcaps and tyres (part of the deal for the use of the car).
  • Scanner/printer thing.

The flat now smells totally of Sandalwood. So I’m off now to do the stuff on the list. Then, when I am back and done I am going to watch Control which arrived courtesy of Amazon DVD rental.

Meanwhile; whilst you’re waiting, enjoy Edith in full swing and perhaps you’ll agree (even if you don’t speak French) that this performance is an exemplary example of artistic passion and poetic visualisation.

How to make proper English tea for me

For the benefit of Lisa* who, being American, believes tea can be cold and drinkable (wrong) or made from fruit (perverse, and wrong):

No, more like this http://www.flickr.com/photos/lemon_farmer/154952979/ (with the teabag removed, obviously)  🙂

To do it properly (especially if you work with me):

  1. Empty kettle of all water.
  2. Fill kettle half way with fresh tap water.  Not bottled or mineral or anything daft like that.
  3. Put kettle on to boil.
  4. Put small amount of milk in a mug.  About 3 mm i.e. 1/16 of your imperial inches  😉  Semi-skimmed or similar – NOT UHT or other yucky fake milk! Put ONE tetley tea bag into the milk and leave there whilst we wait for the kettle http://www.tetley.co.uk/Our-Products/Ranges/Tetley-Tea-Bags
  5. As soon as kettle boils pour the boiling water into the mug from about 6 inches height, over the teabag until the mug is full.
  6. Remove the teabag from the mug, squeezing it out into the mug as you do it once it looks the colour of the photo. http://www.flickr.com/photos/lemon_farmer/154952979/
  7. Drink when temperature has dropped below “ouch that took the skin off my lips”.

Don’t put lemon in it.

Don’t put ice in it – ever.

If it goes cold – throw it away and make another one.

If it’s not brown, like wood, you’ve made it wrong.

Most of us British have our own preference for teabags, tea leaves and method.  There are likely to be several comments on this blog from fellow British bloggers with their own withering replies on how a “proper cup of tea” should be made.  Many, for example, believe it a cardinal sin to “put the milk in first” which is the subject of much debate and scandal amongst colleagues.  My BIL, for example, says that even to wash out his teapot should be punishable by torture followed by a merciless death and that teabags “contain the sweepings from the hull of a ship” (not true, honest).  Earl Grey is what you get when you accidentally spray perfume near a decent cup of tea – don’t do it.

Oh, and we don’t call our hot drinks by boy’s names such as Joe, Sam, Benny or Frank and no-one outside of 1930’s East-end London calls tea “a cup of char” any more.

Now, Lisa, go off and make me a cup of tea please love – I’m parched.  😉

*Side note: When I first wrote this post Lisa and I had become “blogging buddies”.  Now, two years on we’re married.  How lovely is that? 😀

I am a girl

OK, big mistake.  I took the One Show’s male/female brain test.

I thought I’d share the results with you.

Girl brain

Not, as you can see, exactly what I was expecting.  Apparently I have a woman’s brain.

The break down is even more thrilling – I can read your mind (note the 10 out of 10, get me!):

I can see your thoughts

but, apparently my mastery of the English language makes me a girl.  Blokes can only grunt and make fire.

I am a lady…

This explains a lot… 🙂

Bet you haven’t…

Random things I have done in the last few days (your turn next)…

  • Went salsa dancing.
  • Commented on some Facebook entries and photos
  • Flirted with a  flirty nun (you know who you are)
  • Drank absinthe
  • Cuddled a “dangerous Alsation dog who bites everybody” (who eventually rolled over and let me tickle his tummy and now loves me)
  • Bought  a leather Australian cowboy hat thing
  • Designed a website
  • Played ukelele
  • Told a homeless guy a joke and made him laugh
  • Did something that scared me.  Did it again.
  • Ate some food I never ate before.  (To be fair, this is a bit of a hobby so it’s not that hard).
  • Phoned my dad and told him I loved him

Have fun.