well i was only two.
ive always had to hold my breath and take cold water slowly and surely, not straight away. ive always envied folk who run and jump into water that would knock me out with its ferocious cold. well, thats the way it seemed to me.
going to the seaside these days is no exception. i look forward to my swim each year, and each year, its a toe in first, and a sharp exclamation of the iciness of the english seaside water.
i then brave it, plucking my courage, and advance further, and further until im knee high.
now this is where the waves usually break and im jiggling about on the shifting sand and moving further from the breakers into deeper water.
now as im not a good swimmer, just a happy one, the long line of waves crashing into the beach look frightful and menacing and i take my time,
with myself up to my armpits and turn with each breaker jumping and
gasping as i do with each mighty beach long crash.
then, just as i begin to despair, there i am am neck deep having achieved my goal, and suddenly the world looks good and my feet lift and im waterborne.
my arms loll about as i float face upwards moving in a hammock fashion with each passing motion.
aaaahhhhh, this is the life. i tentatively touch bottom, dont want to go out of my depth.
turning, and striking out with breaststroke, i get a little exercise, best sort as i dont have to take my own weight. the beach has assumed miniscule proportions and i seek anxiously my doggies under their umbrella on the beach.
ah, there they are, and i hover weightless for a while, stroking the water backwards and forwards, and then come to rest.
for a long while i gambol about, lazing or swimming in the lovely warm water. yes, warm. how this suddenly came about ill never know.
then its time to feel hungry and i do. dripping wet, i make for the shore, and have to go through the breakers yet again. they come almost knocking me over crashing at my back, and sometimes over my head.
im aware my body has taken on so much more weight. i stagger through the shallows feeling like im ten ton. a little staggering and im ankle deep and the water, once toe deep and icy, now seems very hot and delicious.
plodding up the sand, i make my way towards my anxious doggies whove seen me disappear into the waves. they have clenched their teeth and when i arrive back at the little enclave, there are some very vigorous tail waggings going on and welcomes fit for a queen.
my friend takes one or two to the water for their turn. they have a wonderful time swimming and paddling, and chasing other peoples balls, until its time to come back. next lot get their turn.
they wait till they come back to 'camp' before relieving themselves of excess water and stand and shake, till there are exclamations of dismay, good naturedly from all around us.
we sit and i hand out sandwiches and doggy bickies, and drinks from the flask, and bask in a lovely sun, till its time for my friend to take doggies walkies.
arriving back, he goes for his turn yet again and runs and dives straight in.
brrrr......the hot sun has warmed my skin again and i know i have to go through the painful process all over again for my second dip.
but its so worth it. i lovely messing about in the water. as i said im not a good swimmer, even worse with age, but i just love it.
theres something about a seaside holiday, that jiggles all my troubles and slowly they fade and i feel like a human being just sitting and musing and gazing at the sea and watching all the other holiday makers enjoying the peace and quiet.
some are playing ball, and i can hear young bobbie making little squeaks as she wants to go and join in.
some are building sandcastles. but the essential feeling is peace.
the sea air, the sun, and water, and two weeks of freedom, make me all new and fresh.
waking, its time to go in the water again. oh no, i just cant. but up i get and make a brave face of it and begin the toe process all over again. soon im warm and happy again.
it works every time.
its absolutely great. then its time to go home and i miss my seaward adventure, and cant wait for the next time.
happy days. a long way from a tin bath and a watering can!
- There have been reports of cold calling traders in the Byfleet area 'offering' insulation - they are even bold enough to be ignoring our Yellow Stop Cold Calling Stickers!
- Also reports of traders knocking on doors in the Camberley area over the past week.
- In Dorking we received notification of a rather persistent doorstep caller who wants to work on exterior walls of properties. This individual would not take no for an answer and even pressured an elderly resident to sign paperwork before he would leave.
- Elderly residents in the Guildford area are being cold called by a trader selling mattresses specifically designed for the elderly and disabled. They want to make an appointment to demonstrate BUT this may come with a high pressured sales pitch so please be on your guard!
Our advice is to NEVER deal with cold calling traders whether they be at your door or on the phone.
You can try to deter them by displaying one of our Yellow stickers - these can be obtained from your local police station, council office or library, or you can call 03456 009 009 to request one.
If you fear for your safety please call 999 for Police assistance.
We are always keen to hear about cold callers so please let us know on 08454 040506 (for further advice) or via our Facebook or Twitter accounts (for intelligence only)
Click here for more information
facebook.com/surreytradingstandards and @surreyts
i tried again and then this website wouldnt let me in. so, im passed trying to blog this morning.
this is the first time today ive seen the inside of dropby.
have a good day y'all. xx mwah
i often wonder what i would do if i won, apart from making an inner shreak of pleasure.
my views on that when i was young would be to buy a big house and adopt as many children and animals as i possibly could.
these days, having a nice quiet life, i would use the money, apart from some philanthropic outlets, for a little fun. im too old for children of any kind now and fun is what beckons. ive worked hard, so why not.
fun. now what would i call fun. my first reaction would be to select a site and buy a static caravan. somewhere to go where i was close to the sea, with wonderful views and each morning would rise and look at that lovely blue vista.
i would buy enough clothes to park in the wardrobes [not that i require many] so that i didnt need to pack or unpack, except twice a year or course.
a car that i wasnt worried about, and when you buy necessarily at the bottom of the heap, you are worried.
instead of using old clothes and bits of household things, each doggy would get a nice comfortable mattress for their beds.
and whilst being careful i got good quality at rock bottom prices, [you cant change the habit of a lifetime] nice food.
and yes, nice soft, dimpled toilet paper. recycled of course.
and a good store cupboard for home.
the bed i have came out of the ark and i would replace that too. some nice
divan of a good orthopaedic nature, and some new bedclothes.
so, nothing exciting there then, except for a static van.
my needs have become simple over the years, and apart from the van, i dont
want much more than i have now, except money does bring security.
a safety net against lifes ills, and a fund for doing nice things if i chose.
i would get a car that i could sit in with my doggies and have a chauffeur drive me places of a long distance. hired for the day of course, no need to waste.
i would tidy my house, looking shabby over the years, and get someone to come and do my garden. my friend mows it each fortnight, but its not quite the same as looking attractive. believe me im grateful to my friend, i couldnt do it these days.
so, yes money brings all sorts of things i couldnt do these days, but it seems im not meant to be rich, so i swallow a little and sigh and carry on, just as usual. what else can a girl do, im not into selling matches.
and if i did id only waste it on a few luxuries. well i can dream cant i?
you keep looking at the clock and wonder when daylight is going to arrive for one, and then it takes another millenia to get to everyone elses normal rising time.
even if you keep making cups of tea, it only occupies you for say half an hour each time, from rising steam to drunk and empty.
and then the thoughts that flash across your mind when all else is dark and quiet.....
noises heard off transpire to be the dog snoring and you thought it was a line of burglars waiting their turn to break in.
then you start thinking about old wounds and injuries done by you and others to you. you can get quite a steam up until daylight arrives and its all forgotten.
just when you start feeling dozy and comfortable again, and falling into a deep sleep in your favourite armchair, all that tea starts working obi, and theres nothing for it, but to visit the powder room.
by the time you get back to your comfortable chair all sleep has long fled to brutish beasts and the chair seems like a rock on brighton beach.
gritty eyed and grumpy you spy the first stragglers arriving downstairs rosy cheeked and flushed with a good nights sleep.
good morning, they announce, ohhh. you look rough, any tea left in the pot?
well, its too late to go back to bed, might as well have some more tea.
wee small hours? grrrrrrr.....
The North East has a different take on Summer Time.
Of course as you know the weather is better June-August anyway – in fact air temperature between The Home Counties & the North East only differs by about 3oF on average.
In the Essex to Sussex belt though, Summer means tennis parties, tea on the lawns or sweltering in a suit in the City, whereas up across Cumbria, Durham & Northumberland we are constantly blessed with steady prevailing ‘breezes.’
This breeze tends to mean the bikini 0r the Speedos are covered with a cardie & jogging bottoms.
On a quiet warm weekend the locals still barbecue, mow lawns or trim hedges – with of course the essential car wash & valet, but being an agricultural area my Northumberland can also be blessed, of a warm Sunday afternoon, by the aroma of well-rotted manure or fresh chicken dung being spread on the fields up-wind.
We tell each other it is natural – smiling knowingly.
So the Northerner is hardy, but sunbathing is usually done wearing a leather jacket; [though I understand it is no longer de rigeur for ladies to wear a sacking apron & cloth cap.]
Now you will forgive me, but tea is waiting on the terrace.
my grandmothers house was the same, as were most folks. then suddenly one day, out of the blue, my father was caught in the little room with a screwdriver. wot you doing dad? it was apparent he was fixing a ceramic
square moulded object to the wall. hole in the top oblong, hole in the front, oblong.
off white in colour, he made a good job of it as always. then, the piece de resistance, a square cardboard box slid into the space. it was an exciting day for our household and we all crowded round to have a look..
there thats done. and dad stepped back to admire his handiwork. there on our own wall was a toilet paper holder. my mother had the proud duty of slipping the newly purchased box into the waiting receptacle.
we pulled a salutory piece and it came out like soft greaseproof paper in small square folded sheets. not the most comfortable paper in the world, but it was ours, and very modern it was too.
we made lots of trips to the lavatory that day to try out our new found progress in humanity.
it wasnt quite so nice as newspaper, but hey ho we accepted the change without much further thought. sometimes it was jeyes medicated and sometimes bronco. it all smelt the same to me. strong disinfectant perfume issued from the box on the unwary.
over the years, it was something we took for granted, like gibbs dentrifice toothpaste, a pink paste mixed with water, for cleaning the old pearlies, and the awful stench of lifebuoy soap.
times have changed. somewhere along the line, we got toilet paper twisted round a little cardboard tube in the centre. miles of paper at a twitch.
in the beginning it was used simply for its purpose, now its become a household item i cant do without. i have one in every room for nose and mopping and other purposes.
and one thing more has changed, nowadays its the loo.
the loo itself has undergone a radical reform, instead of pulling the plug overhead and listening to the deafening waterfall, we have little discreet chromium knobs to push and the recessed cystern, allows a measured quantity of water to flush.
all set back in the wall of course. and wonder of wonders, some newer varieties have a self closing lid. gee, what next i wonder.
well weve come a long way from the thunder box, as it was affectionately referred to. or the powder room, or the throne. and an overdose of hygiene has brought about a plethora of goodies to stick round the rim. all to make things smell sweeter of course, and to remove those hidden menaces.
and instead of being a back yard lavvy, we have the whole thing indoors, where nowadays its made a big feature of, and houses are sold by the nature of its beauty. i say, people are funny. from being a room outback where you sat and shivered and read the bits on the squares, its now a thing of beauty.
we sit and luxuriate in central heated comfort, with electrically heated towel rails, [well i dont thats for sure] and scented paper hanging on the wall, or on a little stand with a pole inserted in the tube.
there are sometimes if rich enough, music strains piped electrically from room to room, the bathroom being no exception.
lay back with bubbles in a warming atmosphere, with music playing and
lighted candles on every surface. you could think you were in heaven.
or you might like to step into the shower with a power spray. easy combining every 'convenience' in one room. beats getting a tin bath down from the nail outside and lugging it in by the fire. boiling kettles and then lowering ones rump to the floor of the bath to have the side of ones face toastd red by the end of the wallow. towels warmed by the fire. cosy but such hard work.
so, these days the little room is not so daunting, but no-one crowds round to have a look at what we all take for granted.
not forgetting all the names good or bad we all call it.
whatever size it may be, next to the kitchen, its the most important room in the house. unless you are of an irresolute nature and prefer a life of nature,
you cant do without it.
and dont forget if you are a wee bit posh, you can have a separate loo. just fancy that. no waiting in queues for family members to relocate.
surely we cant go any farther in our quest for things new in the little room. can we? there are ones that spout warm water for...well we wont go into that.
just a minute i must spend a penny. remember that too?
we pass these things into our vocabulary and then its forgotten how it got there by the next generation.
gotta go. something i just remembered to do urgently!
I begin to wonder if the problem is multi-fold. My age; the 24hr a day presance of the twins in a home origenally aquired & layed-out for two; the loss of my father & the sudden sessation of the free time I once enjoyed in abundence.
My years of bringing up very young children ended some 30 years ago when i was so much more resilient & my usual boyence is getting quite a bashing.
Understand please - this is simply a winge & I don't need or expect kindly advice & sympathy, it is just me getting it off my chest.
I'm aiming for a stroll up the bank some time today.
Have a satisfying day.