The Parcel Came!

Thanks to Eric Lester for his lovely comment full of gentle resignation. The parcel got here at last, the slipcovers within it were a joy, and after much huffing and puffing, and puzzling and pushing, I got them on the sofas. I am telling you, my delight knew no bounds, so I sent a thank you email to slipcovers.com, bless their little cotton, faux suede, velvet, etc. hearts. It is so gratifying when you buy something because it looks good in the pictures, and you find it meets your expectations in reality. Oh, if only life were always so simple and pleasant.

Today, we are in the realms of Spring. So I got rained, hailed, snowed and blowed on in the course of my perambulations around the locality. I am not going to go into those, people would be propping their eyes open with match sticks and reaching for strong coffee to stave off yawns. All I will say is, that to get my bum on this computer chair is bliss, as it is the first rest I have had since 8.45 a.m. Enough.

What am I going to do tomorrow, with no rugby to watch? Perhaps I will purchase a pattern for knitting things and attempt to be creative. Am boring myself now, so will bid you farewell. That is, if there were any people who even said hello to this lot of rambling nonsense. Green men, little and large, wherefore art thou? Comment in your own language, I will attempt to translate.

Away With the Postal Services

Looking at the date of the last post on here, I realize I just do not have the discipline to be a good blogger. When writing becomes a chore rather than a pleasure, then maybe it is time to reconsider the "why" of it all. Anyway, this week I have been mostly tracking a parcel from the US with various robotic, automatic voices, not to mention via the wondrous internet. The fibs these non-humans tell you would make your hair curl, that is if you haven't pulled it out in frustration.

Suffice it to say that my long awaited slip covers set off from their home in America on March 9. Fine, I could track on line and was told that delivery "was attempted at 4.41 a.m. on March 23." Now, I don't know about other parts of the globe, but here in the UK, you won't find a man with a van knocking on anybody's door at that unearthly hour. With pen and Yellow Pages at the ready, I trawled the lists to seek inspiration as to which carrier here would possibly take over from the USPS, when along came the postman with a letter. Bear with me.

The letter told me that Parcel Force had my parcel and had paid duty on it to Customs; they would deliver when I paid them back. Ransome, no less, plus £8.00 for doing me a favour. Armed with a telephone number, I rang and did that, being electronically assured (what!) that it would arrive with me March 25. So I waited and waited, and finally rang to track progress. "Your delivery has been rescheduled" said the tinny, smug robot at the end of the phone line.

"To hell with this for a game of tin soldiers" fumed I. Back to Yellow Pages and get a number for their headquarters. Finally, I spoke to a human being. She noted that payment had been made, the parcel had been "forgotten, sorry" and that she personally would go and put it for the man with the van to bring to me today, March 26. I am waiting, and waiting and hoping. I may compose one of those jokes about postal services, you know, along the lines of "How many...does it take to...?"

Six Nations? No Just One, Ireland, My Own.

Well, we did it and I am almost incandescent, nay incoherent with joy. For the first time in 61 years, Ireland won the Grand Slam. We also won the Triple Crown and the whole Championship. Glittering prizes, sportsmanship in all its glory, that was what it was all about. The Welsh team, mostly called Jones, apart from Gavin Henson, who is Charlotte Church's beloved, fought bravely to the end and almost pipped us at the post, but missed the penalty in the dying seconds.

To see the pride and delight on the faces of Brian O'Driscoll and his team sent shivers down my spine. It was a brilliant match, and of course, Ronan O'Gara was a wee star - what a man of character. I am still smiling with pleasure, though have less hair and fingernails than I did before the game started. That's it folks. Must go and celebrate.

Blogger Improvements?

Yesterday, I wanted to say how I felt so much sympathy for Liam Neeson and his family at the awful loss of his wife, and those little boys' mother. But blogger improvements meant I could not get in. I wanted to post a comment in response to Vets, it wouldn't let me. So by some miracle, several emails and some funny scripted magic words, I got here today.

St. Patrick's Day! A Good One to You All

Here I am, a time traveller, having fast forwarded one day and got mixed up. I was nearly going to break out the Guinness yesterday, 16 March, instead of today, when I wished you all a Happy St. Paddy's for the wrong date! Oh well, it just proves the possibility of loss of cognitive processes from certain medication. Not that I can afford any such loss, but you learn to live with dopiness, I have discovered, even if it drives those around you to excessive alcohol intake.

The point is, I am missing my shamrock, because whilever I had my Irish family alive and well, every year a little box would be posted to me, full of shamrock, which I would then pin on my lapel and strut around wearing for all to see. Alas, that is gone, but the good memories of the wearing of the green linger. So I am away to get out my favourite green sweater and wear that instead. Wherever and whoever you all are, if you celebrate the patron saint of Ireland, our Patrick, enjoy, sing and dance to your heart's content.

Victory for Ireland!

First of all, I must offer a hundred thousand apologies for spelling the great Ronan O'Gara's name incorrectly yesterday. Ta bron orm, Ronan, a croi. But onto the games. Well I have to say Italy impressed me in Rome, with their storming confident battle with Wales. And though I should have been cheering my Celtic compatriots to victory, I believe Italy played the better game and deserved to win. Not the form from Wales we have so far experienced, and if they want to stand a chance against MY team, Ireland next week, they better pull their socks up!

At first, when the Scotland/Ireland game started, I could not bear to look at the shambolic shuffling of my heroes. They seemed to have left their brains and confidence in the changing rooms. It was almost like watching paint dry, and I've done enough of that for one week, thank you very much. However, as the first half drew to a close, suddenly, the green shirts were everywhere in defence, and even attack, and the pace was more like it. Though they left the field at half time with 9 points to Scotland's 12, I sensed a stiffening of the sinews and a bit of iron in the blood.

The rugby played in the second half was great, with Ireland showing just how a line out should be done. As for Ronan, bless him, he did it so well under great pressure. The RBS Man of the Match was well chosen; I had already decided he was the hero of the day, little Peter Stringer. What a player! Fast, intelligent, generous and just everywhere. Well done Ireland, and I will be cheering you on while drinking Guinness next week. A little early perhaps, but to everybody out there, Happy St. Patrick's day for tomorrow, 17 March.

The Six Nations Again!

Today, Saturday 14 March, I am about to indulge myself in hours of rugby union excitement. I will wear gloves, I think, in order to stop myself biting my nails, when later today, Scotland and Ireland battle it out. Of course, I want Ireland to win not just the Triple Crown, but the Grand Slam. They are ahead by points, but were rather "iffy" at the last turn-out. I pray Ronan O'Garrah has his kicking foot in good working order. But first, I will see what Italy can do to give Wales a run for their money. Not much, I fear, but then Italy has only been part of the tournament for a few short years. Yet they a are brave and very game team, which is what for me, rugby union is all about. I am sure to be on here with some lay-woman's views after these events. Incidentally, if you want to read my explanation of the Triple Crown and its meaning for me, you can find it written by my middle name, "Dolores" at the link below - I hope! Links and I have a very stormy relationship, but I do try.

Bloody Blogging!

I have stayed away to rest my head and hands, and then, when I want to say nice things to people about their blogs, the bloody thing keeps sending me odd scripts to copy, that is if they even load. "Tether" and "at the end of" are words I hear now. Anyway, that's enough of that carry on. Today the sun shone, the daffodils were almost open, the birds sang and my nose ran. To think I have got through major surgery, two bouts of very cold weather for these islands, and not a sniffle. But just when you think it's safe to get out there and dig, everything aches and you can't speak properly.

Echinecea (I think that's how you spell it) pills by the dozen, that's my policy and to that I must add hot lemon juice, tea and sympathy. I do have hopes for the lemon, if nothing else. Oh shut up, I tell myself, it's just a cold, get on with it. Sorry these ramblings are less than entertaining, but I have to let you know I feel so sorry for me that I need to express the feelings before blowing my sore nose yet again. Perhaps tomorrow will bring hope and comfort. Oh, look at those pigs flying past the windows.

Being Remiss in the Blogging World

Many apologies for the long space between communicating via this here blog. But what used to take me two days to accomplish has taken me a whole week; namely decorating one room. On the surface, it all looks quite fine, but my grand-daughter's beady eye pointed out where "Bits are missed." So what, but today has really put the tin hat on it, I can tell you that varnish is a nasty, nasty substance and my new doors look a bugger. However, I am not going to worry, and if they become too much for even an imperfectionist like myself, I can always slap a bit of paint on. I certainly have plenty.

I have the greatest sympathy now for Michelangelo and his work on the Sistine Chapel. I could hear him sighing in dismay as I slapped yet another blob on the floor, as opposed to the door frame. Never mind, I do enjoy being creative with paint, brush, roller and lots and lots of cleaning materials. OK, I am boring myself now, so if you saw this one, thank you, if you didn't, I can't say I blame you. All you painters and decorators out there need have no fear of competition from me, rest assured your jobs are safe!

Painting the Clouds with Sunshine

Well, I got Eric's weather blog back and now have NDR so I did something right! Today, it has chucked it down with rain, so I did not wait for the meticulous assistant and instead, spent five happy! hours leaping up and down a pair of step ladders. Though I merely undercoated one wall, painted the cornices and then a small alcove, I have disturbed the TV's equilibrium, dropped a Wilbur Smith book into the paint tray, and decorated my hair most tastefully with a huge white blob of paint.

Were it not for the fact that said blob is in the middle of my hair, I would take the scissors to it. I do not know how it happened, but there was paint running down the leg of my ladders, into quite a big pool on the floor. I got it folks, don't worry, I have five damp cloths to hand when I mount the steps. There was of course, a lot of climbing up and down and the use of the "f" word was prolific. Still, I should have it finished by tomorrow and then must address the task of varnish! Why in heaven's name I ever start these things, I will never know. If I don't stick my fingers together (I need to use superglue tomorrow), I will update you. Good to know NDR does dusting behind the furniture like I do.

What Am I doing Wrong?

Just when I thought I was getting the hang of it, I have lost Eric Lester's blog and NOT added NDRs as I smugly believed I had last night. Perhaps I am not cut out for this lark. Perhaps I had better dust off my telescope and start inviting the little green men in, that way, I might have some success, as they are bound to be more technologically advanced than I am!

Talking of dust, well today I surely was - really covered. I defy anyone to tell me they pull out their big furniture items to dust behind them every week. Today I did that in preparation for my BIG PAINT JOB. Now I know where that packet of throat sweets went last winter (2007) and also the King Edward cigar from circa same time. It was a good job I washed my face before setting off to school to pick up my beloved grand daughter. The washcloth was brown! Oh well, I feel the need to lie down with a good book and a bottle of horse linament. I promise to try harder with connecting, but quite what efforts are going to work is a mystery to me. Be patient and thank you, kind followers.

That Rugby Business!

Well, Scotland beat Italy 26-6 yesterday and I thought the game was rather oddly balanced. The Italians fought bravely, but the level of rugby to which most of the team is accustomed, meant they really had little chance. But they were brave indeed. In fact, the whole thing was rather fumbled, and reminded me of a toddler's party where Pass the Parcel degenerates into unforced errors and the "passers" keep dropping the said parcel - or ball in this instance. So it was not a great rugby experience, I would have to say. Anyone unfamiliar with the teams would have been forgiven for getting muddled; one Italian player was called McLean, a Scots name if every there was one, and another delighted in the name of Griffin, again Scots-Irish. But if your grandparents hail from your national side, then off you go and play for it. I had hopes of a better battle from the Ireland/England match in Dublin, which followed.

Ireland won by 14-13, and to tell you the truth, I was rather disappointed by the performance all round. Had it not been for captain Brian O'Driscoll's great drop goal and try, it might have been a sad day for the wearing of the green. For some reason, kicker Ronan O'Garra seemed to get the urge to kick at the most inappropriate moments and then when he was in position to kick for penalty points, he missed a few, poor lad. Despite O'Driscoll having been rendered dazed and dopey by injury, he played on and gathered the troops, so the second half was exciting. I confess to finishing another chapter of my book and peeling potatoes during the first half. England were very naughty and got sin-binned with yellow cards.

Now Ireland stands a chance of winning the Grand Slam, but I hope they gets their heads sorted and connected to their feet and hands in time for the next foray. They are a great team and a joy to watch, particularly disciplined and brave. So go for it boys, I want to see a better score and more intelligent play next time. Don't let me down.