A good screw

Well, I eventually managed to screw in the new door knob with the aid of a replacement screw... all were exchanged without a hitch at the big DIY superstore on the outskirts of Oxford. All my knobs are now matching and none are loose. I feel much better.

The last garden design session was yesterday and I proudly presented my Base Plan to the tutor and had to apologise for the muddy paw prints across the carefully drawn dimensions. It was a really good short course that has inspired me to look for another course that will take me further into the mysteries of garden design and horticulture.

It's so strange to me that I've discovered pleasures and talents that I didn't know I had, and which are so very different to previous career paths taken. I think it must be true that we often only achieve a fraction of what we can really do in life, and that we often fall into a career that is not wholly suited to us.

The worrying part about all this is that time is running out. Can I still achieve some pleasurable milestones before I die? I suppose finding a good screw for my wardrobe door knob was a mini-achievement!

Knobs and Screws

I know I'm not the world's best at doing DIY jobs around the house, but I think I'm better than some! I bought some lovely knobs for my wardrobe doors, which came with screws. Five screwed in well, one did not. Eventually the screw sheared off inside the door. I managed to remove it and the knob. Now I have to find the receipt and take it back... five miles' away! So I shall march up to the information desk and demand a knob with a decent screw!

As for Art class... the example here is a still life painted last night... not really as the tutor wanted it; he wanted lots of bright colour background and bigger and looser with no detail. Sorry mate, but I prefer my own style. Yes, I think I'm developing a style. All the other classmates thought my work really good, so I came away with a smile on my face for a change. However, I don't think I shall be Teacher's Pet.

Also some sad news... a phone message asking me to ring a distant cousin. Oh, oh... whenever that happens I know someone in the family has died. Yes, I was right. My cousin of 62 years died recently... quite quickly... cancer. That's all I know for the moment. Life is too f***ing short!

Cabin Fever

I have tramped to and fro the snow for the last few days, to buy my paper and essentials from the little Post Office a mile away. I have hundreds of great pics to remind me of the magical wonder of snowy landscapes once the thaw sets in.

However, while adjusting my gloves outside the now busy and bustling shop - (full of neighbours I never knew I had who were snow-bound, despite most of them owning 4x4's), a few children - (schools closed), were playing nearby. One little girl wore a pink fluffy hat, she had big blue eyes, pink cheeks and red rosebud lips. Her blond curls were poking under her hat as she ran after two other children. What an angel, thought I... how cherubic and angelic looking against the backdrop of thick snow... in one defining moment my illusion was shattered; "Cum 'ere you fat smelly cow..." her voice trailed off as she scrambled ungainly further down the road trying to catch the others. Ah well, for a split second I was lost in my little world of perfection. Then, as I turned the corner by a not-so-reputable public house, a gang of teenage boys were having a snow-ball fight. I tentatively walked around them, deliberately not looking any of them in the eye, when a boy of about 12 came up to me with a handful of icy snow and with a smile on his face said, "Shall I?" I adopted my authoritative teacher's voice and said quickly, "No!" Then smiled, and ran as fast as my booted legs would go. He hurled the snowball at me but missed.

The roads remain icy; no snowploughs around here, and so I remain incarcerated and have now had enough and want to escape... go to the Gym, go to Garden Design class (cancelled), go to Art class (cancelled), go to latin dance class (cancelled). I am rapidly developing Cabin Fever, and don't like it very much.