Visiting the parents

I haven't been home for six months. Maybe that's why my Dad didn't recognise me when he picked me up from the airport. I spotted him and walked straight towards him. He showed no reaction until I was standing 6 inches from his nose. I'm not so sure why he was so surprised to see me there, I thought that was why he was standing in the airport to start with.

When I got home I was offered tea and biscuits. "Would you like shortbread?" I was asked. "Yes, please" I answered, "that would be lovely."
"Would you like a digestive biscuit?"
"No thanks, shortbread would be great."
"Would you like a banana?"
"No thanks, shortbread would be great."
Then when I am eating the shortbread "would you like a banana?".........

Sometimes I have been told I am a patient person, maybe I have my parents to thank for that. I have been training for many years....

Home alone 2

Well after every party there is a hangover. But this time it wasn’t me…….
Dr. P was away on a business trip last week and once again trusted Indy and me to stay home alone....... That usually means bit of chaos at home and a few illegal activites (see photo).

On the first night of freedom I met my friend Lady P for sneaky beers (on a work night!). On the way home I smelt fish and chips and found myself stopping by for takeaway fish and chips. When I got home, Indy and I shared fish and chips on the sofa. I didn’t like the fish very much so Indy got most of it. We both thoroughly enjoyed ourselves while watching Friends.
In the morning Indy did not wake me up as usual, to tell the truth I was a bit relieved as it meant a little bit more sleep. Feeling energetic, I went to the gym. When I got back I couldn’t find Indy. I looked everywhere. I was starting to panic, had she fallen under something, was she stuck? I called her, there was no response. I shook her candy, no response. I looked under the bed, on the chairs, behind the sofa while shaking the candy and calling her. Indy was nowhere to be seen.
Finally I moved a duvet (comforter) and it felt heavy. Underneath was Indy, but she hardly moved. She got up looked at me and went on her way. She did not catapult across the room like usual. I tried to give her candy and she refused. She looked pretty rough. I started to worry. I took her outside and ran with her favourite toy expecting her to chase me as usual. She just looked at me and went inside and lay down, not looking very happy. She wouldn’t drink any water (even when presented to her in a glass....) and she hadn’t touched breakfast.
So I decided to take her to the vet. I phoned them up and got an appointment. She went in her cat carrier without much problem and then just sat there looking at me. In the car she cried a little, which I was actually relieved to hear. If she hd the energy to cry she couldn't be too bad.
The vet gave her a check-up. Felt her intestines, listened to her heart, weighed her etc etc. Then she wanted to put a thermometer up poor pussy cat’s bottom. Indy did not enjoy that but did not complain much.
Apparently her temperature was a little high and cats can feel quite bad from that. The vet asked if I wanted her to test the urine but Indy and I decided we would see how she was doing tomorrow before taking any drastic measures. So then we went home.
And then suddenly Indy decided she felt fine (I guess it was the thermometer up the bottom that did it). I gave her a sweet and she swiped her paw and wolfed it down as normal and then she had three more. She had a taste of her breakfast and was following me around like usual.
So it turns out that I took the cat to the vet and all that was wrong with her was she was just really full from the deep fried fish she had eaten the evening before. She wasn't moving or reacting because she felt like Garfield after 3 helpings of lasagne. And this diagnosis cost me 40 pounds……..
So we may have learnt our lesson. You can’t just have a party without suffering the day after…. We both admitted that we can't be trusted to stay home alone. And in the future when Dr.P is away, we promise to eat vegetables and whiskas until she gets back.

Heron fishing

We have a pond close to our apartment, which has quite a few gold fish in it. Quite often we see a heron standing at the side, peering in. We have always joked that he comes by for lunch. However the other day we were lucky enough to witness him getting lunch. Even luckier, I had my camera around my neck. Unfortunately it all happened a bit too fast to get any great shots. But here it is: proof that I take pictures of something other than planes.......

Gold-nosed BA plane

This is something you don't see every day. A British Airways plane with a gold nose. This was the plane bringing home Team Great Britain from the Olympic games. As a tribute to the athletes' success the nose of the plane was painted gold. I thought it was a lovely gesture of British Airways, although I couldn't help notice how much publicity it got them........

To get this picture I had to persuade Dr. P. that we should be hanging out in Kew Gardens at around 3pm last Sunday. With my camera ready with my biggest lens I looked into the sky everytime I heard the rumble of a plane in the distance. And under the flightpath to Heathrow, this is every 30 seconds..... Finally I spotted the gold-nosed plane. "There it is!" I shouted to Dr. P. who was starting to get bored and had all along doubted we could see the nose from the ground. This made other people look up, wondering what I was getting so excited about. I took pictures while Dr. P smiled at the strangers. They probably went home and told the story about what they saw in Kew Gardens that day. It probably wasn't the flowers or the new walkway they talk about. It probably wasn't even the gold-nosed plane. I imagine they may tell the story of this really strange girl who was nearly dancing in glee when she spotted a plane when she was under the Heathrow flightpath........

Red Arrows Photograph

Yesterday Dr. P and I decided to go to downtown London and join in the celebrations for the Olympic handover from Beijing to London. We had read that there would be large screens showing the closing ceremony in Beijing, concerts to celebrate the handover to London, even Michael Phelps (who won 8 gold medals in Beijing) was to be there. However, one of the main attractions for me was the Red Arrows. The Red Arrows are the aerobatic display team of the Royal Airforce. When there is something big to celebrate, they are sure to be there.

I had read on the website about the handover celebrations that you should not bring valuables. I guess the risk of theft is increased on these kind of days. So I actually pondered on whether I should bring my camera. I asked Dr. P what she thought and since she has heard too many times the sentence "oh, I wished I had brought my camera" , she pointed out that of course I should bring my camera.

So off we set, camera in the bag. We headed for Trafalgar Square, as we had read that you needed tickets to get to the action outside Buckingham Palace. We watched the closing ceremony sitting on a step beside other people cheering and waving flags. After the closing ceremony Dr. P suggested that we head for some Japanese food in Soho. She had to be joking, the red arrows were coming in two hours, I was taking no chances.......

We headed up towards Buckingham Palace and soon found out that you don't actually need tickets so before too long we really were part of the celebrations. Camera in hand I was keeping a personal countdown to the red arrows and suddenly they appeared in the distance. I kept on shooting as they raced overhead and over the top of Buckingham Palace. Dr. P was cheerleading, shouting "turn round" and pulling me out of the way of a particularly tall man who blocked the view.

I had been waiting all day and it was all over in about 10 seconds.

Dr. P had always suggested I send pictures to the BBC. When we got home, as Dr. P was making sushi (she really had been serious about the Japanese food), I uploaded a few photos to the BBC website. Before too long I got an email, asking for a phone number so they could call me. We gave them the wrong number, but eventually we got in touch. I talked to a lady who asked me what the day was like and if I had taken the photo myself. I was so excited. They were going to publish my picture! So while Dr. P headed for bed, my adrenalin was punping. Eventually the email came with the link. They had written underneath "Aileen King had been waiting all day for the red arrows". I was a bit concerned that made me sound a little pathetic. But then again, I HAD been waiting all day.......

Check out photo 9 http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/in_pictures/7580152.stm

Olympic games

The Olympics are drawing to a close now. I've got to admit, I'm going to miss them. For the past two weeks I have been on my sofa screaming at the television for people to run, row, cycle and swim faster. And they did..... Team Great Britain had one of its best Olympics ever. The feats these atheletes achieve is amazing, sometimes mind blowing. Take the marathon for example. These people are running at just under 13 miles per hour for two hours. Have you ever tried running at that speed? At my gym the treadmill only goes up to 10 miles per hour, but I thought I would anyway give that a go. Now I have to admit that I am not particularly fit these days, but I can do about a minute before I think I am going to die. How can they sprint for two hours???

It must be great to be up on the podium getting a gold medal. You are the best in the world! Or are you? Not that I want to take anything away from their achievements, but actually they are best in the world of those competing on that day. How many undiscovered stars are out there? Maybe there is someone who would be better, but they just never took up the sport. Maybe it could have been me? Maybe I have a undiscovered talent for fencing and all those years my parents took me to ballet class, what a waste.........

Wedding outfit hunting

I really love going to weddings. But I have to admit, when the wedding invitation lands on the doormat it invokes feelings of panic rather than joy. Because there is one thing about weddings I do not like, and that is hunting for the wedding outfit.

There are several reasons why this is not my favourite sport. One is outlined in a previous blog. I have no idea what colours go together. That makes it quite hard to find an outfit. The next hurdle is the fact that I have quite possibly the shortest legs on the planet, this causes problems in two areas. First running from shop to shop with short legs is like running a marathon. Second: no-one actually makes clothes for people with short legs. Seriously try chopping 6 inches off your legs and see what you can get that fits you. Finally there is the money issue. It's not that I can't afford a new outfit, but I find it a bit ridiculous to part with lots of my hard earned cash for something you will wear a handful of times.

I have known for a few weeks now about L&T's wedding in Sweden. For once I was organised, I had a posh frock! But one small detail was missing. Shoes to go with the dress...... After many attempts to get shoes at TK Maxx for under 15 squid, this weekend was D day. It was 96 hours until we left for the wedding and I was apparently not allowed to wear sneakers. I enlisted the help of Dr. P and we scoured London for shoes. Unfortunately attached to my short legs are tiny feet and just to make the challenge more interesting, their size changes depending on what shop you are in. We spent hours running around London in torrential rain. We started in good spirits, determined we would find the perfect pair of shoes, a bit like Cinderella. But before long Dr. P was tiring and there was real danger she would turn into a pumpkin........

So we panic purchased a pair of shoes. It was an act of desperation. When we got home, as we stared at the shoes, I was thinking "I can't believe I bought shoes that cost that much". Dr. P. was thinking "those don't actually go with the dress....". So we were back to square one.

Today we went to the shop around the corner and actually found shoes that fitted the bill. Cheap, nearly fit, go with dress. We bought them and the other shoes are going back. A whole day of my life was spent running around central London for shoes that I could have got in a local store within 5 minutes. Well, I guess if wedding outfit hunting is like any other sport, one could say it's not the winning that's important but the taking part. I disagree..........

The art of farting

I remember sniggering as a school girl when the rumour went around school that even the Queen farts. I could not believe how she would ever get away with it. Last weekend I was visiting my little nephew Fraser. At one point, he did the biggest fart and looked quite impressed with himself. I had no idea such a loud noise could come from such a little bottom. Everyone seemed extremely happy with this event, and comments such as "wow, that was a good one" and "well done little man" echoed around the room.

I was just wondering, at what stage in life do people stop applauding the fact you farted. When will Fraser be told that despite the fact his farting has always been highly appreciated, it's time to pretend that these things don't happen.

My advice to Fraser is to fart away while he has the chance. He should enjoy his free-farting days while he can. Before too long he will be expected to show some restraint, or at least learn to blame it on the cat.

Fraser

This is Fraser, the newest addition to the King clan. He was born 2nd July 2008 and I am the very proud Auntie.

On hearing about Fraser coming into the world, many people congratulated me. I am not really sure why, to tell the truth I didn't have anything to do with it. I was not a cheer-leader during conception, I was not carrying a water melon around for 9 months. I certainly did not go through labour. I just turned up a few days later, when he was all scrubbed up and held him as if he was a trophy. That was what Auntie's do. But credit where credit due, I think my brother's wife is the only one to be congratulated......

The curse of the travel pillows......

Here's me sleeping on a plane. Do you notice what's missing??? The travel pillow? How can I sleep well on a plane without a travel pillow? Well the truth is I can't. And that is why I seem to own eight travel pillows.
Travel pillows are great inventions for those of us who have to travel cattle class. The only disadvantage of them is that you feel like a right pillock blowing them up. I'm not sure why, but somehow you feel like you are doing something illegal, trying to subtly blow into them. It just never feels like a natural thing to be doing on a plane surrounded by strangers.....
But the main problem with them is that you always forget them. Or you accidently pack them into your hold luggage and only realise after you have passed through security. Which leaves you with a dilemma. Will I risk not having one?Or will I just buy a new one to add to my collection? I always buy a new one. The times I have flown without one, I look on in envy at the people snoozing comfortably with their head supported in a perfect position. You sit the whole flight, with your head falling off your neck, kicking yourself that you didn't spend the 4.95 in duty free.
When you get home you place it with the other seven in your cupboard. And then on your next trip, you realise at the airport you have forgotten it. So you buy one and when you are returning you accidently pack in your hold luggage. So one trip: two travel pillows. When will I ever learn? I would advice anyone to buy shares in travel pillows.

BBS: big brown sofa

There are three types of people in this world:

Type 1: people who have taste,

Type 2: people who don't have taste but know it, and

Type 3: people who don't have taste, but they think they do.

These three types of people should NEVER go to furniture shopping together. Unfortunately I recently broke that rule.....

I am person type 2. I have no idea what colours go together. I just don't see it. In my opinion everything looks OK to me. You can mix brown, green, pink and purple in your outfit, it all looks good to me. But I have learnt from experience that may not go. So I learnt a couple of rules. You can mix black and white apparently with no problems, blue and black can look weird together if you are not careful etc etc. So when in doubt I ask Dr. P.

Many mornings feature the question "does this go?" and a nod or a polite "maybe not" fixes the problem. So Dr. P is type 1. She can dress herself with no problems whatsoever and it always turns out just fine.

My condition is genetic. I get all this from my Mum. She is a clear type 3: in denial. She has no idea what colours go together, but worst of all she doesn't know she has no idea. Very unfortunate.......

So I was furnishing a flat recently to let out and took along Dr. P for advice. But then we had a problem. My mum wanted to help. Mrs. K. had seen a big brown sofa in a shop 15 miles away which was a great bargain. Dr. P. told me immediately that a big brown sofa would look strange in the little flat. I had no idea, but trusted her judgement.

But Mrs. K. was relentless. Talking over and over about the sofa and asking "won't you even go and look at it?". It was 15 miles in the wrong direction, I knew it wouldn't look good in the flat. So how did I find myself in a van travelling to see the big brown sofa???

When we got there, the sofa was big... and brown....To me, it was a sofa, to Dr. P it was a monstrosity and to Mrs. K., it was the bargain of the century.

I don't like making decision, but it was my decision to make. It was like a nightmare, when you are stuck in a room and every exit leads to Hell....Eventually I decided to take the big brown sofa. I knew Dr. P would only be mad at me for a few hours, whereas Mrs. K would probably talk about the bargain I missed for the next 7 years.....

On the way back, I was depressed. That was when Dr. P broke her stony silence and said "well this is kind of funny, you can write about it on your blog". And we laughed at the ridiculous situation of the Type 3 person choosing the sofa.

Luckily none of us had to live with the sofa. That is the job of my poor tenant. When viewing the flat, his grandmother came along. She LOVED the big brown sofa. And convinced her grandson this was a great flat. So the big brown sofa did no harm. If my present tenant leaves, I just have to find an eighty year old lady to move in..........