Thursday 22 January 2015

Thursday Run Around



I spent much of this morning cleaning the hoover.  This fancy piece of Tesco cleaning technology requires cleaning itself once a month and I may have missed a month or two.  There was so much muck that I could not get it open. Once open the dust had solidified so it would not come out.  This is where the use of ageing chopsticks come into their own.  Every home requires a set of cheap chopsticks as one of these rammed up inside the blessed equipment eventually releases sufficient dust to require another hoovering of the whole house!  Once I had poked, brushed, shaken and thumped several parts of this almost totally plastic machine I put it to good use, clearing up the mess left by cleaning the brute.  It did make a difference mind, the thing almost stuck to the floor once I put it to use and soon the place was back to the normal standard of grime.  A whole morning spent on this!


About noon the weather chilled a wee bit and I wondered about turning on the heating.  There was a New Zealand soldier from the Great War I had to research and was surprised just how easily his information could be found.  The Aussies are similar regarding Great War men.  However I had to download 24 pages and this took over an hour.  Interesting stuff mind but it took time.  
As my fingers began to freeze an email from the museum that was somewhat confusing arrived. The effort of answering this meaningless communication (she is a woman) led me to consider it might be better to go there and talk to her. (When there it still took a few moments to get through and in the end I was not sure I knew what was what!)  Anyway as the museums heat was on off I went. After avoiding the hundred Victorian children running around learning about the past we discussed WW2 and the stuff I have been ignoring!  It looks like I have lots to do now, starting tomorrow.  

When there I took one or two not very good pictures of stuff in the shop in an effort to sell them to the locals online.  I was a bit rushed and will have to do it all again on Tuesday when it's quiet.  The pictures of the headscarves and cards came out just about workable but the others were a bit peely wally.  It is amazing what folks buy in a museum shop.  As we are linked to the silk mill museum down the way we have many cards based on their designs and women are always buying them, every day we sell cards for a variety of purposes, and before the cards shown (not from the silk mill) were on the shelf they were being bought.  Personally I want folks to buy books re the town history but money keeps the place open.  
A whole day in which only three things have been done!  I don't usually manage that many. 

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8 comments:

Lee said...

Men are unable to manage three things during any given day, Mr. Ad-Man, so don't beat yourself up over it. You're not Robinson Crusoe...all your brothers out there are just the way you are; you're not alone. Pat yourself on the back for achieving those three things...you done well, laddie!!

Men can't multi-task like women can; but that's okay we women understand, being the understanding creatures that we are.

As for chopsticks...they are handy little tools as are bamboo skewers. Each can multi-task...they've multi-uses for multi-purposes. Unfortunately, they don't work very well as toothpicks.


soubriquet said...

Men multi-task very well, you know that really, Lee. And we understand maps whatever way up they are.

Relax Max said...

“HORRID, DISGUSTING STUFF!” screamed the headline of your previous post, seizing my short attention span by the throat and demanding comment. Handicapped as I am by the low reading comprehension afforded by my abysmal American education (as your fellow Guardian commentors constantly affirm) I am forced to attempt to absorb the content of your posts only by analyzing the pictures you thankfully provide.

“HORRID, DISGUSTING STUFF!”
The first picture is no help, showing only a picturesque scene of delightful fluffy snowflakes drifty down upon a lovely English crime-free, gun-free neighborhood. Nothing horrid in that picture. Perhaps, I thought, Adullamite has experienced an epiphany regarding the true nature of Socialism. Could it be? After all these years? But no, the next picture quickly squashed that possibility. So what was it that was so horrid? So disgusting?

That leaves only Haggis, I think to myself. After all, Adullamite is a son of Scotland and Saturday is Burns night, right? That must be it -- Adullamite has stocked up on enough cheap whiskey (sorry, “whisky”) to get himself well and trully snockered (3-4 oz. or so) which in turn will allow him to force down, however temporarily, a bit of haggis before reciting some incomprehensible Burns poetry Saturday night. That’s it. Fits the bill. Both horrid and disgusting.

Thou eunuch of language!

No, I’m not passing judgement on my friend Adullamite’s blog posts. Those words are the opening sentence of a loveletter that Rabbie Burns sent to an English critic of his poetry and grammar.

Happy Robert Burns night, Adullamite. Take a cup o’ kindness for me.

Lee said...

Soub! Soub! Soub! Have I struck a nerve! lol

the fly in the web said...

I no longer harbour a hoover...the last one -French - seemed to prefer blowing to sucking so I never got round to buying another over here. Brushes and brooms have to take the strain - but at least they don't get clogged up.

Adullamite said...

Lee, I fail to understand!

Soub, Indeed, a sensible comment.

Max, How lovely that you have managed to fond someone to translate your colonial linguistics into pigeon English!
The Socialist paradise here is sadly under the control of the fascists of the Conservative Party. A new candidate has been chosen to replace the one exiting stage right after showing pictures of his dingle over the web. It's the Tory way!
Those lovely freezing balls of cotton wool are horrid, remain horrid and should never be allowed!
You, and this is your intention I guess, drive me to drink! Whisky, spelt WHISKY, may well cross my mind at some point and Haggis certainly will, if I remember to buy one. I doubt this English butcher will be able to supply such however. He comes from rural Suffolk, where peoples are mostly inbred.

How lovely to read your ramblings!

Lee, No!

Fly, I suspect a hoover could not cope with all those animals and Leo!

Lady Di Tn said...

Your last statement is the kitty justice to my statements on the multi tasking of men. You just proved me correct. Thanks. Peace

Adullamite said...

Lady, I was misquoted!