How can you tell if librarians like cake?

Well you hold a bake sale and make over £160* for Comic Relief of course!

There's much to be excited about in a library environment when there's talk of a bake sale... well mainly the availability of cake and maybe the odd biscuit. A colleague enlisted my help with a Comic Relief bake sale. I was delighted, I could dress up in the style of Sue Perkins and eat cake (guilt free) all day! 

Unfortunately, I was suffering from a cold... fortunately the lovely offspring was more than happy to bake some biscuits. We thought biscuits in a bag so they could be transported home and consumed at a convenient time - and we included a free joke. High quality jokes about biscuits are, as it happens, plentiful. 

For example:
Which biscuit singer sang Dancing on the Ceiling? 
Lionel RichTea!

Classic. Who wouldn't pay a £1 for the joke alone?

As people delivered their offerings to us in the morning, I was aware we needed to be mindful of nuts. When a colleague presented an orange and almond cake I did, to my embarrassment, ask... "does it contain nuts?" He looked at me as if I was nuts and said "Yes - almonds!" In my defence, it was early and we were being overwhelmed by cake deliveries! (The cake was delicious btw).

We baked, we had photos of the bakers in red noses on the wall and we had bunting. People were surprisingly excited by the bunting. "Ooh look, bunting," led me to think we need more bunting in our lives, well in the tea room at least. We had a little bit of rivalry with another library site who had organised a quiz. I think that may even have accused us of having soggy bottoms, but all in good fun. It felt like a good community event and we ate loads of cake (not just me). There was a spotty cake, a spotty tablecloth and, I suspect, spotty complexions after all that sugar, butter and chocolate. But who cares? All for a good cause.

*full amount to be verified next week.

What's his name? Chess, like the board game Chess.

We had to say goodbye to our lovely Chess earlier this year.

It was a privilege to have had such a lovely, fun, calming, good natured dog in our lives. 

When we first adopted him, he was a rescue from greyhound racing, we had to teach him everything about living in a house. He had never even been up stairs before. He soon settled into family life though and was always a pleasure to take for walk. 

He amused us with his collecting. When he was left on his own, he would collect household objects - including mandarins and items of clothing - and sit with them in his bed. There was the one time though which gave us a bit of a scare....

We came into the lounge one afternoon and had a small panic, there was a little bit of 'dissaray' in the lounge, and a chewed up bit of fur on the rug. Oh my goodness we thought, he's killed a cat! But no - our daughter had been gifted a possum tail (a strange gift I know, but this was in NZ where possums are to be discouraged). Chess had found this and obviously thought it was an excellent game to toss this around the lounge and chew and pounce on it. Soon after, we purchased him 'Mr Cuddles' a rope toy which looked like a monkey. He was obviously now relaxed enough to allow himself to play. He loved Mr Cuddles. 

Chess also loved pizza night and the leftover crusts, he loved a glass of wine (if one was left unattended that is), loved bananas, bacon, especially chicken and his family. He struggled on the ice (it seemed he had too many legs), his farts could clear a room and taking him for a walk in the rain was similar to taking a sulky teenager anywhere - until you turned to go home that is.

He wasn't much use as a guard dog, he loved people and was always excited to see anyone at the door - some one else to lean on. EXCEPT...if you were travelling by hot air balloon. Chess didn't bark much, so it was of great surprise one afternoon, when Chess was barking frantically at the window. On closer inspection, there was a hot air balloon, flying really low over the street. This was obviously very disconcerting to Chess. We took him outside to watch the balloon landing safely on the neighbouring cricket pitch. This didn't reassure him much but at least the 'perceived' danger had passed.

To watch him run was amazing

RIP Thrilling Chess

14/1/2005 - 9/1/2015

21 things* to do with a redundant Tax disc holder

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Times are a changing, I’ve been driving around the streets of the UK now proudly displaying a tax disc for 20 ish (cough) years and yesterday, suddenly there was no need. I still have my tax disc displayed - along with countless other drivers -, but alas - it expired on the 30-09-14. It sits there all forlorn on my dashboard as the stickiness of the holder expired long ago. Actually, it’s not alone, there are possibly three years worth of tax discs there, shoved in the back as I’m too lazy to have removed them. (maybe the cause of the lack of stickability to the windscreen).

This has all led me to consider…what to do with all these tax disc holders. I’m sure I’m not alone so I thought - why not come up with a handy dandy cut out and keep guide? If only I had the technology to make it a perforated press out and keep guide, that would be good.

1. A tribute to tax discs gone by, it could remain on the dashboard/windscreen for the rest of the ownership of the car to remind ourselves of the pain of the perforations and tearing out the round disc without tearing it in half
2. I thought it could house emergency biscuits, particularly digestives - just the right size. Essential when stuck in traffic and blood sugar is running low. Possibly just one biscuit. n.b. try to avoid emergencies, and don't eat and drive, and maybe avoid chocolate biscuits
3. A handy place to store your driving monocle
4. A handy place to store a drinks coaster
5. A handy place to store  - well most round flat things
6. You could put it in your glovebox or the car door, with the remaining tax disc/s in as a symbol of not being quite as lazy as not bothering to remove from the windscreen/dashboard
7. Bring it inside to languish in a draw to be discovered by future generations to prove - yes they had invented the car xx number of years ago
8. Instead of storing a coaster, use as a stylish coaster instead. Guaranteed the stickiness would revitalise itself and stick to the bottom of the cup/mug/glass when you have your mum/vicar/in-laws round for tea 
9. A quirky accessory to any window, complete with tax disc. A great conversation starter “why do you have a tax disc stuck on your bedroom/lounge/bathroom window?” Yes why indeed…freak
10. Stick to the kitchen window to store the kitchen sink plug
11. A novelty hat for a small pet
12. I’m getting desperate now
13. Curious to see if you could keep it on the windscreen, but put a tomato in there for sun drying purposes…however, this is Britain.
14. Did I mention I was getting desperate 

*there may not be 21 things

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Please excuse the time difference

A delayed blog...mainly due to jet lag. Falling asleep in front of Coronation Street after dinner has been the norm for the past week.

Anyway, enough excuses... our trip to NZ

In the beginning, there was the journey, there was the driving, there was the waiting at the airport, there were the massively uncomfortable long long flights and then the comforting feeling of arriving safely.

The journey was unremarkable, the only thing of note was the incident in the duty free at Heathrow. To be fair, I was wearing a tight t-shirt and my new best foundation garment. Even so, the short back and sides haircut should have been enough indication to the squirt boy that I would not be interested in the latest Marc Jacobs scent Daisy Dream. However, said squirt boy approached with intent to spray. Honestly - he was way more feminine then me. Was I interested? No!

To recover from my trauma, I strode over to the pour homme section and sampled products from the butch looking receptacles.

We arrive at Leanne's parents, Lorraine says "John, get the cake out from under the bed dear" and there's a news feature on the TV about pies. Yep, we are in the right place.

We went to the zoo and saw kiwis, we walked on various beaches, we caught up with friends and family, we went swimming in hot pools and cold, we ate pies, timtams, lamingtons, sushi and cake. We took a boat to Waiheke, had a massage, drank coffee and met a dog called Lionel. A very lovely time had by all.

Car Boot Considerations

Following on from the popular post Jumble sale etiquette I bring you...car boot considerations.  

The boot was bulging, the cockerels were cock-a-doodle-dooing the teen assistant was dressed and ready (a miracle in itself) we were all set to go. Using an element of guess work I reverse out the drive, no chance of seeing out the window past all the crap treasures squashed in to sell.

Consideration number one

Have the requisite amount of money upfront...sensibly car boot organisers want their pitch fee upfront (just in case no one thinks your treasures are worth parting with their hard earned pennies for)

Consideration number two

People that hover round you car as soon as you arrive are traders, consider politely asking them to piss off and come back when you have finished un-packing. 

Consideration number three

Talk to teen quietly, nicely and clearly, they could go off at any moment. Being a teen, being up incredibly early, being without breakfast because they didn't understand the instruction to eat something before we left the house renders teen completely without any idea how to be helpful apparently (some might say - just like normal then - but I'm too nice)

Consideration number four

People at the car boot that turn up this early are a little crazy. Just keep smiling and nodding. 

The man who chatted to us for a full five minutes was my favourite. He was clad in a big ski jacket, had ski goggle type glasses on, a giant blingy watch and the worst teeth I've seen in a long time. Unfortunately we couldn't understand a word he was saying. Occasionally we caught 'Essex girl', 'Bargain hunt' and 'car boot' I sure it was a fascinating monologue. He appeared again several times during the morning, I felt we were good fiends by the end.

Actually people who turn up at any time of day to a car boot may all be a little 'eccentric' you just adapt.

Consideration number five

Send the teen to buy espresso, hot chocolate and pastries as soon as there is a convenient gap between chatting about car boots I have known and loved and listening to comments like "I wasn't going to come to another car boot I don't need anything, ooh how much is that plate?"

Consideration number six

When you agree to sell something for 50p that originally cost you £8 smile, consider yourself  grateful! When people get offended that your prices are way too high as they are just buying for the church, just smile and say that's nice. When you agree on a price of £1 and the bloke gives you a handful of coins CHECK  IT. It will add up to only 54p.  

Things to remember

When it's pissing it down with rain...just think sods law would mean that you would only be camping in a field instead of trying to flog your old plates and jumpers in one.

People who say "do a car boot you will have fun and make loads of money, we made £200" are lying.

A charity shop desperate for donations is only a car drive away.

You could have a new Facebook friend (if only you could have caught his name)

The woman at Age Uk will be really grateful.

Actually we must have shifted a fair amount as we could see out of the back window when we packed the car up. We felt good for having provided an element of care in the community. We made £57.

Junk in the trunk?

Panama hat? I can't sell that, I look so cool in it!

Car boot time...I've been threatening for around three years to do one...the time has come. The past's treasures (aka junk) are piling up into an unmanageable mass almost visible from space.

Into the boot it goes. Destination - a field on a Sunday morning. Of course the forecast is for rain. It would be the same if we'd decided to camp. I am undeterred. Serious buyers will turn up in the rain. The will be unable to resist our wares. I'm hoping the Dr. Who fish tank will be a big earner, what about those Barbies  (only slightly matted hair) must be worth a £1 to make a small girl happy?

I've been busily filling up boxes and bags, family have been busy retrieving treasures "we can't sell that" is the cry. Why can't we sell it? You haven't seen or used it for five years. Well...I have news, I'm home alone and it's all in the car boot already. Hopefully the 7am start will mean offspring is too dozy to notice I'm selling off her egg cup collection. 

Up the garden path

Honoured to be invited the grand opening of a newly re-furbished garden however - a little surprised to be greeted on the drive with scissors. There was me thinking these were friends of ours. But no, scissors were thrust into my hand and I was told you will need these, you have to go round the side. 

OK then, round the side we go.

Round the side we were greeted with paparazzi* and there was an air of expectation. The expectation being that I say a few short words to ‘open the garden’ and also cut the bloody great yellow ribbon across the back gate - hence the need for scissors. Small sigh of relief.

I launch into a speech to honour the occasion only to he heckled by the paparazzi to get on with it. I dutifully get on with it and cut the ribbon in one quick snip - an we were in. Kudos to the paparazzi for catching the quick snip.

It was indeed a slate of the art garden, no not a typo. friends had persuaded the preceding lumps of concrete to depart, and be replaced with far more attractive slate. Lovely. All kept in place with rather attractive sleepers. Unusually blazing sunshine accompanied our afternoon of elderflower cordial, coriander pesto and rather nice BBQ cooked offerings.

*Antony with his iPhone