All Souls' Day

Taffa has a job! At least, she’s been offered one. Alliance and Leicester, a building society, have offered her a post in her local branch. She has accepted it. Tentatively (though they don’t know it’s tentative).

Taffa has about a million job interviews! Yesterday one for Forbidden Planet, interview in London, job in Cambridge. She did ever-so-well in the interview and in the hypotheticals, but came a serious cropper in the geek-dom test (Forbidden Planet is a Sci-fi, fantasy, horror shop a bit like the Minotaur in Melbourne). Today she had an interview with a scary Swedish company which sells beds for very unlikely high prices. Tomorrow she has one for the Council, for an events job. Next week she has one with Thomas Cook. You can’t say she doesn’t get any practice. I think she would quite like the events job.

We have been having some stunning “winter” weather this last couple of days. We lurched yesterday, really quite abruptly, from pleasantly balmy autumnal warmth and cloud to freezing cold and very sunny. It was glorious when the sun came up this morning. Everything was covered in frost (I have brought in the fuchsia and the bay tree!). The birds’ water bowl was frozen. The cat and I crunched across the grass to the compost heap and to inspect the frozen plants. There were birds singing. There were sheep baa-ing. It really was lovely. Then I went back inside where it was nice and warm, and had a cup of coffee and some toast!

I was at home this morning (I am working yet another evening shift) and decided that it would be a good plan to take the forms to the doctors’ surgery to transfer our registration. We need to have a pre-registration medical. Only one of the doctors does these, and the receptionist can’t book more than two of them in per session. I am not always available when the doctor is available. The Builder and I are booked in for DECEMBER FOURTEENTH!!!!!!! Hope we don’t get poorly sick before then. Still, at least The Builder has plenty of time to warn his building people that he will need the afternoon off. Assuming he is still incarcerated in the psychiatric hospital!

Anyway. I decided, there being no great hurry for me to be anywhere, that I was going to follow the laneway by the side of the surgery to see where it goes. From our bedroom window you can see a rugby goal post. And on those occasions I have taken the bus into Chesterfield in the mornings, I have seen people taking dogs on leads down there. I assume playing fields, but I want to see. And I think there are public footpaths down there somewhere too. I have occasionally caught glimpses through the trees of people apparently climbing over stiles. And there are public footpaths. And then there is a proper footpath. I was a bit surprised to find it but trundled along anyway. The sun was shining brightly. The fields and hills were an iridescent green. All was peaceful. And suddenly I found in front of me --- a small WETLANDS!!!!!!!!!!! With wood hides you can stand behind to watch the birds. And there were swans and ducks and little brown birds I didn’t recognise and all sorts. It seems it’s quite a large reclamation project on the site of the old coke processing plant and the old coal mines, which will eventually make its way up the valley quite some way towards Chesterfield with walking trails and things. And the path by the side of the Rother (a small creek at this point) which has been closed since we moved in, is due to be re-opened soon (work was slowed down on the engineering works along it when they discovered bats roosting in the culvert about 12 months ago). And eventually the old footbridge over the railway line is to be reopened too so we will have rather a nice round walk on our doorstep. I hadn’t properly realised quite how close we are to open countryside until this morning. Nor had I realised how very pretty it is, not really. You will find the project at http://www.theavenueproject.co.uk/Homepage.aspx and some photos from May under Progress/Current Progress. Such a discovery. I had absolutely no idea it was there!!

The recreation area has: a rugby field; a soccer field; some swings; a slide; several pigeon sheds; many ordinary sheds, purpose unknown to me; lots of dogs running around on it; several people wandering about.

I have also been to the (new) allotment. There is absolutely no danger that anyone is ever going to nick our vegetables. I walked in and greeting some old codger in the (different!) pigeon sheds with a cheery “good morning”. “Good morning,” replied he. “Are you looking for Colin?” Colin? Who’s Colin? “No,” said I. “I’ve come to look at the allotment.” “Look at the allotment?” he repeated. “Why?” Why? Well, why not? I looked at him. “Because it’s my allotment?” I offered. “Eh?” I spoke up., “It’s My Allotment!” I averred sternly. He didn’t look convinced. Really not convinced. Then light dawned. “Is that your chap that’s been digging down there? Right. He’s not been heavy enough. You tell him that from me. Not heavy enough”. OK, Mr Under-Gardener. Consider yourself told. You’ve not been heavy enough. But don’t ask me what he meant cos I’ve got no idea! Eventually he decided that I should be allowed in. I ambled down. There were many men on their allotment Doing Things. I greeted them all with a cheery Hello. Well. You would have thought I was wearing a balaclava, a hoodie and one of those veil thingies that some Muslim women wear to completely cover their faces, and that I was armed with secateurs , a pruning saw and a sturdy trug and was advancing on someone’s carefully cultivated tomato crop (bit late for tomatoes, though), given the suspicious looks they all gave me. I went down, carefully watched. I inspected the one bed we’ve got, greeted the man on the next allotment who was planting out cabbages and seemed supremely uninterested in me, the rest of the allotmenteers or anything else (though he did talk to me about cabbages for a bit), weeded the not-germinated broad beans and beat a retreat home. Where I dismantled the rickety trellis in peace, without being glared at by anyone. It is perfectly obvious that Allotmenting in Tupton is a Man's Job. And a Registered Man’s Job at that. I shall obviously have to do it under cover of darkness. Or accompanied by a Registered Man!! I keep being challenged when I go onto the allotment site. Must look mightily suspicious, me!

I have bought a new DVD player. It’s very tiny. Very cute. I bought it on an impulse yesterday because the old DVD player wouldn’t make any sound (this might have been because it wasn’t properly connected to any sound making equipment; you were supposed to run it through the surround sound system). I probably could have solved this small problem. I probably *should* have solved it. I feel a bit guilty now that the poor old DVD player has been banished to the landing cupboard with its speakers and replaced by a sexy little flibbertigibbet. But it is a very cute flibbertigibbet. And it will play DVDs with sound with absolutely no effort on my part. The only problem now is that the television has quite abruptly started showing everything through a pink filter. A tad disconcerting. Even more disconcerting because I was watching a documentary on elephants last evening when it happened. Do you think perhaps I should stop drinking wine? I can feel a new television coming on! (I don’t think I can fix general pink-ness in a television’s picture.)

The Builder really has been incarcerated in the mental hospital. They’ve closed down the builders’ entrance and they have to go in through the secure hospital entrance. They get searched and screened and everything. It’s worse than preparing for a long haul flight. He has to have plastic cutlery, can’t take his phone in, can’t take hacksaws or skeleton keys or anything really useful in. At least they let him take his tea flask in, but I think it was a close run thing!

I see that the government is loosening its restrictions on taking liquids onto planes now. I can now take a very small, covert gin and tonic on board. Enough to get me to Paris or Amsterdam!