WEEEYOOO! WEEEYOOO! PARP! PARP! PARP!

Yesterday was full of enough hassles - a full schedule that required some skilful time and motion management. It was with great relief that, tasks and obligations fulfilled, we all headed home. Now, Thursday night is chocolate treat night, so we parked up and leapt out of the car at the Co-op. I pressed the remote locking fob and...just as we were walking into the shop, a car alarm started up. weeeyooo weeeyooo weeeyooo! I had to do a double-take: surely that couldn't be mine? I pressed the unlock/disarm button and it stopped. Oh well. relocked and turned to go back into the shop when......weeeyooo weeeyooo weeeyooo! Bollocks: what's wrong with it? Try again. Unlock, disarm, relock. Run into shop to buy chocolate. Come out and....weeeyooo weeeyooo weeeyooo! Only this time it won't disarm: the car unlocks, but the alarm won't stop. I get that nasty cold chill of panic at the base of my neck. Perhaps if I dock the key fob? Open the car door and PARP! PARP! PARP! The horn component , the armed and uncancelled motion detector attracts the attention of the two Community Support Officers lounging and chatting in the adjacent Chinese takeaway. I bundle the kids into the car and shove the key fob into the ignition. Fortunately the horn stops, but the shrill alarm fails to be mollified. We drive off, observed by two laughing plastic policemen, who've come out of the takeaway to gawp at closer quarters. They don't seem to think that we're effecting a vehicle theft, or if they do, they're not that bothered. We drive home with the alarm going off. Very embarrassing. With the car finally at home I run to get the spare keyfob, hoping (without any real hope) that it's just a fob battery problem. But of course it isn't. The problem is not solved. So I get the owners' manual and search through for any available help. Nope: a good description of how to operate it , but nothing about troubleshooting. Okay, okay...what to do? Inspiration strikes: remove the fuse that serves the alarm. Locate page; find appropriate fuse on diagram; locate fuse box within car (under the passenger glove box - very awkward); locate fuse; remember that spade fuses are really difficult to remove; run into house; locate needle-nosed pliers; get the boy to hold the torch STEADY PLEASE!!!; tug vainly at fuse, chavelling it about until it comes out. Result! Only now, of course, the remote locking won't work, so I have to; locate page in owners' manual telling you how to lock your car when the remote won't work; find the door that has the manual lock (not the driver's, surprisingly!); remove the lock-cover with the unsheathed keyblade from the remote fob; work out which way it goes into the rather primitive-looking lock; turn it and.......phew! Job done.
I phoned the garage this morning first thing and was told the nearest appointment was for a week's time. Booked it in anyway. I asked whether it was safe to drive the car without the offending fuse in place. After a mumbled off-stage conversation, the very pleasant-sounding receptionist told me that 'they can't say'. As is, they are unable to, or they will not? Covering their backs, I suppose. Gingerly, I replace it in the fuse rack. Nothing. Softly, I lock it with the remote fob and....creep.....quietly.....away.....

Half-Term AGAIN?

Fortunately the half-term holiday has coincided with an improvement in the weather. The prolonged cold snap has given way to much milder temperatures. The birds are super-active in the garden, squabbling over the fat balls hung in the ceanothis bush, and setting the bird table rocking with their constant forays. Having got a rather dull and boring Monday out of the way, we are set to go to the cinema to watch Disney's latest CGI offering over a bucket of popcorn. It may prove to be entertaining. I'm sure the children will think so, even if the elder does affect a world-weary langour that I came to in my late teens (NOT eleven!). Tomorrow she is going to her friend's house for some educational jollity, so I'll have the boy to amuse on my own. That's easy: latte and a giant cookie in Starbucks. Thursday, the children are going round to their Granny's whilst I go swimming with the Pregnant One - hopefully the exercise won't shock her system too much - followed by a Healthy Lunch. Friday generally takes care of itself, with the shopping arriving in the morning, and the husband arriving home by mid-to late-afternoon. Then the weekend (hooray), then normality returns on Monday, with a long trek down to the Midlands for a supervisory meeting on Wednesday. I love having a plan!

A Bit Thin...

Well, the husband performed brilliantly at the English Indoor Rowing Championships last Sunday, and I'm immensely proud of both his performance and the dedication it took him to get there. He came up trumps for the competition and knocked 5 seconds off his personal best. A week of careful training and carb-loading seems to have paid dividends. It was all rather exciting: the pre-dawn departure, the drive acrosss the snowily spectacular Pennines and the buzz that always surrounds a gathering of like-minded individuals in competition. I have to admit that I'm quite tempted to train up for the British Championships myself - there seems to be a dearth of competition in the female heavyweight 50-59 year-old class. Just to check the feasibility of this I jumped onto the rowing machine at the gym the other day and put in a 500m sprint at 2mins 10seconds. Not brilliant, I'll admit, but I had just done half an hour of pretty intense cycling (14 km) so I reckon that with a bit of practice I could whittle that down a bit. the winning time for the first 'lady' was 1min 45....so there's something to aim at. I don't think I could do the 2000m though....far to much like hard work!

The new exercise regime seems to be working out quite well. In going to the gym just after the school run, I manage to minimise the disruption to the working day, being back at my desk mid-morning, energised and raring to go. My thought processes seem more cogent too, probably as a result of the extra oxygen being pushed round my reluctant and sluggish system, plus the endorphins released. I am actually starting to look forward to the sessions now, rather than search for reasons to avoid going. I do feel much better than I did even a couple of weeks ago, when the post-virus malaise was still lingering. I feel more positive than I have for months, optimistic and organised. The rapidly increasing daylight hours help a lot as well.

As I was walking the dog the other day in the bitingly cold (for England) winds, I encountered an ol chap and had an exchange of words that, I reflected, would be almost unintelligible to anyone from outside Yorkshire.

"A bit thin" he said. I agreed. "Still" he continued "We're going the right way now."

My thoughts entirely.

Feeling Fat and Quite Grumpy

Same as last year, the season of self-loathing is here again. Fortunately, this time I can recognise it for what it is: a temporary blip on the radar. Christmas has seen a ridiculous amount of gorging on food and drink, plus inactivity that has (if I am honest) stretched right back to before the summer holidays. I definitely need a goal to aim for. Last year it was to lose a stone or so before I bared my scary carcase on the beach and to get fitter before I carked with a bloat- or stress- induced MI or stroke (mainly at my husband's behest - I am supremely lazy).

So... I am not q u i t e back at square one - I think that, although I have certainly put some of my lost weight back on in the past few months, I probably weigh less than I did at this time last year and I have got a bit more muscle visible than in my most whale-like days (my triceps are a good indication). I just need to get back down to it. Luckily we scraped another year at the gym, so I feel pretty well obliged to get my money's worth: anything else would just be ungrateful. But I do really want to change my training routine - less heavy weights and more toning/stretching/cardio as befits a lay-dee of my inexorably advancing years! I've got an induction on those Pilates-wobbly machines, which look a bit daft, but I'll give it a go. I don't know that I fancy getting back into the Tai-Chi - it just seemed to go nowhere and although the idea appeals, the mid-day timing bisects the working day too radically.

The key to success is, as the husband suggest, making a regular commitment to exercise which is what I have been sorely lacking in the past few months. Thinking back I can see where it all went pear-shaped: the summer holidays past, I had no definite goal or plan, plus the boy breaking his wrist meant that the two times a week that I went with the children were dropped until he healed, by which time I was out of the habit of scheduling gym-time. We MUST get back into good habits - and that's ALL it is - GOOD habits. As a couple we're going to cut out alcohol for a few months as from tomorrow: him because he's in training for the Indoor Rowing Championships and me because it's really fattening and I'm getting a bit concerned about all this talk of a link with breast cancer and I must start looking after myself more as the menopause hits. Foodwise I shall cut back on the usual suspects:chocolate, butter and wheat-products which have an adverse effect on my gut in more ways than one. I thought about following Michael Winner's approach to eating - just Eat Less! I am considering the half-portion approach: whatever I would normally eat, eat half that amount, but eat it more slowly and with more appreciation. Wish me luck!

The Ennui of Christmas

It all drags on far too long really. I love certain aspects of Christmas - the procession through Advent, the twinkling lights in the dusk, the anticipation of the first Mass of Christmas, mulled wine, frosty starlit nights, leisurely family meals....

But some stuff I really don't like at all. The rampant greed that can be seen in the shops, the elbowing, the mean acquisitive faces, the commercial overload, that slightly nauseous feeling of tinsel in sunlight and the tedious days where, completely sated, morning slides imperceptibly into night with no sense of pleasant tiredness or achievement. Every surface is covered with plates or cups or undisturbed gifts. No-one wants for anything, but nothing is actually wanted. Sluggish ill-humour is the order of the day. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, no money left anyway. And then the ultimate cynicism: all those carefully chosen, purse-searching gifts, so well-meant are consigned to the bargain bin in the highstreet stores.

Shorten it all. Shorten it all, I say. End this tacky gift-swap. Spend Christmas and Boxing Day with your loved ones. Eat, drink and enjoy each others' company then go home. Leave the telly off. Sleep well and then return to the daily fray. Forget New Year and its sentimental treacle, this year's best, Auld Lang Sine, Jools' Hootenanny and his washed up celebs, the hangover, empty promises and regrets...

More Books Than Sense

(just a small section of my bookshelves)

The ever-excellent Barbican bookshop - of my favourite local emporia - has recently acquired a whole swathe of second-hand International Critical Commentaries, including (as luck would have it) Robertson and Plummer's 2nd Corinthians. Needless to say at a mere £6, I snapped it up. I also spotted the Plummer-only 1st Corinthians nestling alongside and was about to add that to my basket when I just couldn't remember whether I already possessed that one or had only borrowed it from the library in the dim-and-distant days of my undergrad final year. So, pausing a moment, I tried to picture my bookshelf: I knew that I had Fee's First Corinthians, a number of Galatians commentaries (inc. Lightfoot and Betz - remnants of my MA year where it was easier to buy than run up overdue charges and chance someone else requesting them), books on Pauline theology, Lightfoot' Philippians, Colossians and Philemon, other ICC's - OT and NT; Proverbs, Isaiah vol.1,Matthew, John, Thessalonians, Phil&Philem, Hebrews, Pastorals and both volumes of Revelations...but could I remember if I had 1st Corinthians? No, I could not. Guessing that there probably would not be a run on them overnight, I went home and made an inventory. No 1st Corinthians in sight, so this morning saw me add it to my collection. What a sad case!

I have to admit that they are pretty ancient - 1st Cor. published in 1911 and 2nd Cor. a 1925 reprint - but to say that the oldest is nearly 100 years old, in fine condition. Looking at some of the more recently produced books in my possession, and particularly at the new Oxford or Bristol Classical texts (not cheap!) with their photocopy-quality pages and glued spines, I'm fairly certain that they will not be doing the rounds a century hence. The quality of books today is appalling: I'm sure I'm not the first old reactionary to say this, nor will I be the last. During my earlier years of Greek study I bought the Pocket Oxford Classical Greek Dictionary because it was one of the few Greek dictionaries with the English to Greek section essential for prose composition. It didn't even weather the degree years, the middle leaves coming loose at the end of the second semester. What on earth is the good of a poorly-made dictionary? A book that will almost certainly see heavy use, lots of back-and-forth page turning? I had to stump up for the middle Liddell, a vast improvement, and when I got truly serious, the Big One, which is still giving good service.

Tired but Happy

Well, Rome WAS lovely and we managed to pack a lot in our two days. The weather was merciful in that the rain occurred mostly during the hours of darkness (except for a magnificent thunderstorm while we were sat on the steps of San Francesco in Ripa, waiting for it to open), and the temperature was pleasantly mild. Highlights? Apart from the usual stuff (Trevi Fountain, Colosseum, Pantheon, Piazza Navona, Spanish Steps etc.) I really enjoyed exploring the Mithraeum under San Clemente, going up the new panoramic lift at Il Vittoriano (staggeringly good views) and some new churches in Trastevere. We'd not really explored that side of the Tiber before - last time we ventured into it it felt a bit 'other' so we'd scuttled back over the river. This time however, armed with an itinerary and opening times we boldly strode through the winding streets and were utterly entranced by the area. Santa Maria in Trastevere had the most wonderful mosaic apse that easily rivalled (when we fed 50 centys into the metered light) those of Santa Prassede and San Clemente. San Francesco in Ripa housed Bernini's 'Ecstasy of the Blessed Ludovica Albertoni' and in the basilica of Santa Cecilia in Trastevere we saw Maderno's marble recreation of the saint's remains (see photo). Diligent searching ensured that we enjoyed some excellent meals at the oldest pizzeria in Rome (on the via Genova), La Gallina Bianca off the via Torino and La Fontanella Sistina (via Sistina off Piazza Barberini) where our rather grumpy wait for a table was rewarded with the finest tiramisu ever tasted. Tazza d'Oro just off the Piazza Navona provided a reviving caffe corretto. A tour of St Peter's (up the cupola, down into the crypt) was, of course, mandatory. A wander up and down the via Veneto ended in the atmospheric ossuary of the Capuccins at Santa Maria della Concezione - a sobering reminder of mortality. An unpleasantly early start Saturday morning (5am) saw us trudging up to Termini to catch the Leonardo Express to Fiumcino, and our early (and rather turbulent) flight saw us back in the UK by half-ten.

Exhaustion caught up later in the day: sitting slack-jawed in front of the telly heads started nodding in the very early evening. Bed summoned by 8.30pm.