A short post today as I’m off working on the Van Gogh (cruise ship) in a minute.
Bussie deigns to join us on infrequent occasions to tuck into liver served on a china dish, but departs before I can indulge in anything slushy like Conversation or Stroking. He is back to his role as Supreme Cat – not to be disturbed. We are, after all, merely servants.
Life back to normal, then.
Himself has finally decided to sell one of his cornets and the trumpet on ebay. I thought that the instruments would continue to gather dust in the Flowerpot museum forever, purely because he can’t bear to sell them. But nothing like a few bills coming in to force the issue.
He’s asked a friend of mine to sell them for him as she has an ebay account and has acted as agent for him before.
‘I was going to set up an ebay account,’ he told her. ‘But then I thought, why? I won’t sell anything else. And it would mean setting up a Penpal account as well.’
‘Penpal?’ she said, giggling.
You can understand why he’s never been able to sell anything on ebay.
He was busy sending her an email this morning, but to the wrong address, so I told her the new one.
‘…. @hotmail.com,’ he said, typing (with two fingers) as he spoke. ‘I wonder if she has hot knickers?’
Yes, definitely life back to normal.
Showing posts with label cruise ships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cruise ships. Show all posts
Thursday, 6 September 2007
Wednesday, 22 August 2007
Three Beautiful Things (and stuff)
The Thinker posted today about counting our blessings, or 3 Beautiful Things. So here are some of mine, to get us in a good mood on a beautiful sunny morning.
1. The view from my living room window. We look out on Flushing, a small village on the opposite side of the Fal river, which gets the sun all afternoon and evening (when there is any of course.) To the right of Flushing is Kiln Beach, then Trefusis Head, perfect for dog walkers. In front of that is the river, studded with yachts on moorings, the tiny ferry that goes from Flushing to Falmouth, carrying children to school. Today there’s a northerly wind ruffling the waves, splashing the sea gulls perched on visiting yachts. Further in the distance, round to the right, is the headland to the left of St Mawes, more dog walking heaven of green fields and trees with not a café in sight. To the far right of that is Falmouth Docks, a hive of industry (when all’s well) and a bussle of RFA ships, cruise ships and private yachts.
2. The soft perfume of a ripe nectarine (or peach), the soft yielding flesh as you bite into it, and the sweetness of the juice as it dribbles down your chin. You can tell my favourite fruit.
3. The sheer abandoned joy of Mollie, flying through a field of long grass with her ears flying, or splashing into the sea to swim out and retrieve a stick. Dogs can teach us so much about how to just get on and enjoy life.
On that note, many thanks to you all for your help and comments re Mollie’s itching which, touch wood, is a bit better today. Further and even more thanks to Eurodog for Plan B if it doesn’t clear up.
Tomorrow I am back working as a Port Rep – a fancy title for checking people in to the Van Gogh, a cruise ship that provides cheap(ish) cruises out of Falmouth. It used to be a reliable form of income but like so many companies, they have had to make extreme cutbacks. For work we have to wear a black suit, white shirt and red scarf (the latter items provided by the company). When they brought this rule in several years ago, I couldn't find anything to fit me so ended up getting a 13 year old's school uniform from Asda. Its shiny blackness sets me apart, I like to think, though perhaps not in the way that was intended.
But I digress. First part of check-in takes place in the Maritime Museum, for passengers arriving by coach. This lot have frequently travelled from as far as Scotland and are cranky and stiff when they arrive. The second part, for those arriving by car, takes place in a marquee down at the docks which will be cold and windy, as ever.
You’d think that people going on holiday would be cheerful, but it’s amazing how many are grumpy as hell. Still, it provides good copy - some great one liners.
Now, what are your Three Beautiful Things?
1. The view from my living room window. We look out on Flushing, a small village on the opposite side of the Fal river, which gets the sun all afternoon and evening (when there is any of course.) To the right of Flushing is Kiln Beach, then Trefusis Head, perfect for dog walkers. In front of that is the river, studded with yachts on moorings, the tiny ferry that goes from Flushing to Falmouth, carrying children to school. Today there’s a northerly wind ruffling the waves, splashing the sea gulls perched on visiting yachts. Further in the distance, round to the right, is the headland to the left of St Mawes, more dog walking heaven of green fields and trees with not a café in sight. To the far right of that is Falmouth Docks, a hive of industry (when all’s well) and a bussle of RFA ships, cruise ships and private yachts.
2. The soft perfume of a ripe nectarine (or peach), the soft yielding flesh as you bite into it, and the sweetness of the juice as it dribbles down your chin. You can tell my favourite fruit.
3. The sheer abandoned joy of Mollie, flying through a field of long grass with her ears flying, or splashing into the sea to swim out and retrieve a stick. Dogs can teach us so much about how to just get on and enjoy life.
On that note, many thanks to you all for your help and comments re Mollie’s itching which, touch wood, is a bit better today. Further and even more thanks to Eurodog for Plan B if it doesn’t clear up.
Tomorrow I am back working as a Port Rep – a fancy title for checking people in to the Van Gogh, a cruise ship that provides cheap(ish) cruises out of Falmouth. It used to be a reliable form of income but like so many companies, they have had to make extreme cutbacks. For work we have to wear a black suit, white shirt and red scarf (the latter items provided by the company). When they brought this rule in several years ago, I couldn't find anything to fit me so ended up getting a 13 year old's school uniform from Asda. Its shiny blackness sets me apart, I like to think, though perhaps not in the way that was intended.
But I digress. First part of check-in takes place in the Maritime Museum, for passengers arriving by coach. This lot have frequently travelled from as far as Scotland and are cranky and stiff when they arrive. The second part, for those arriving by car, takes place in a marquee down at the docks which will be cold and windy, as ever.
You’d think that people going on holiday would be cheerful, but it’s amazing how many are grumpy as hell. Still, it provides good copy - some great one liners.
Now, what are your Three Beautiful Things?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
