Aileen

Visiting the parents

2009-09-26T11:16:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-07T05:26:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-30T02:34:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-30T02:05:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-25T00:59:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-24T01:54:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-10T12:57:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-10T12:21:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-10T11:41:00.000-07:00

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......

2007-09-23T08:17:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-23T07:44:00.000-07:00

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..........

Bees

2007-06-25T04:15:00.000-07:00

I really, really don't like stripy things. There are three types of stripy things. Wasps: the evil of all evil. They sting you for entertainment value alone. Then there are bees. Apparently they only sting you if they are depressed and in a suicidal mood. Finally, there is the bumble bee. As a general rule I love anything that is fluffy, so even though it is striped it can nearly get away with it.
But truth be told, no matter what category of stripy thing, I generally try to avoid them at all costs. This gave me a bit of a dilemma when I was in Italy. We were staying with L and her family when her brother A said something like "you for me take photo of my bee??". My first thought was "never in your life am I going anywhere close to a hive full of stripy things", but at the same time I was slightly intrigued by the challenge. I wondered if it would be possible to capture very small, fast flying stripy things with my new camera. So I agreed and set outside with my longest lens, trying to stay as far as possible from them. As luck would have it, they were way to busy to take any notice of me. I had no idea what I was doing, I just randomly pointed my camera in their direction on "auto" setting. Most pictures were out of focus, but now and again I was lucky enough to snap them in mid flight. As you can see in the photo above (admittedly probably the best one I got) some are hauling back a load of pollen. And seeing them just fascintated me. They really are busy as bees. Flying in and out endlessly. So I found a new respect for bees. As long as they keep out my house, away from my beer and stick to their hive. I can even get quite close to them without completely freaking out. And I even have a photo to prove it......

Photos with my new camera

2007-06-02T13:12:00.000-07:00

Took me many months of wondering, deciding, checking out reviews. But eventually I got my new camera! I went for the Nikon d80. Just thought I would share some of my photos, taken at Kew Gardens and London zoo. (Just incase it is unclear, the photos of the animals are from London zoo and the ones of flowers are from Kew Gardens....

Can I be a Doctor too?

2007-06-02T12:41:00.000-07:00

I have never really been big on titles. I always thought it a bit ridiculous when people change the title on their credit card to doctor the day after they receive their PhD.
But when it comes to Dr. P, my view changes. I mean it wouldn't be the same to call her P, would it? I was very proud when she finished her PhD and ever since have called her Dr. P. So when we applied for a joint bank account I made sure she wrote Dr. as her title. And of course being a Dr. myself, I didn't want to be left out so despite my former views, I wrote Dr as my title too.
I have to admit, I was a little disappointed when our cheque book came with Dr. P and Miss A written boldly on each cheque. Totally unfair, I was a Dr. nearly five years before Dr. P!!! I have been a doctor twice as long!! Infact, it should say Dr. P and DOCTOR A. But it doesn't and I guess I would be a right plonker if I wrote to them demanding the change.
So I'll just stick to being Miss A and Dr P can continue to turn red when they call over the tannoid at the airport "Would Dr. P please go immediately to gate 13, where you are delaying your flight". Who would expect that of a German Dr?????

A German invasion

2007-06-02T11:50:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago the Germans invaded. I have to say it was a shock to the system.
So it all started around 2pm, when I was at work. Dr. P called me and announced "my parents are sitting in our garden". I was a bit surprised, they weren't meant to arrive until about 5pm, but then again Germans like to be punctual. That's fine, but there really is a difference to being punctual and arriving three hours early.....

Not to worry, I dashed home from work (as Dr. P couldn't get away) and indeed came home to find two Germans sitting in my garden.

They were relaxing. But relaxing in Germany is not the same as anywhere else in the world. I've said it before but it's exhausting to watch Germans relax. Before too long I was clearing out my fridge to find place for the prawns transported from France. And then I was carrying a table and chairs from their mobile home to our living room. And then we were putting the legs on the chair. This was all in the first 20 minutes...

That evening, plans were made to go to the gym the next morning. Mr and Mrs P were sleeping in their mobile home and had keys to our flat. It takes 30 seconds to walk to the gym and it opens at 8am. All this had been carefully explained to them. So why were they standing in our living room, with their sport outfits on, ready to go at 7.30 AM????

I was just wondering if you cross a German with an Italian, do they come exactly on time?

The good old NHS

2007-02-09T05:27:00.000-08:00

In general I don't go to the doctor often. Infact I really try to avoid it. I also hate the dentist. Anyone who wants to prod different parts of my body kind of freaks me out. But a few weeks ago I had to go to the nurse, the dentist and the doctor all in the space of three days.....
None were a good experience. The dentist didn't know what was causing my toothache, but suggested taking out a filling to have a look and then a have a crown to replace it. This would enable him to see under the filling, just to check it out. That would cost 1500 pounds....... (I ran away and haven't been back since).
Then the nurse, well suffice to say, she lost my cervix.
Finally I went to the doctor with my weird rash. She actually said "wow!" when she saw it. I wasn't sure whether I should be proud or worried that my doctor was impressed by the rash. She suggested it was eczema and sent me home with creams. The rash was still there a month later so I went back. This time she thought she would try another diagnosis. So she turned to her computer, and to my disbelief she wrote something in "google". Yes, you read right. My doctor googled my rash.....She then found a picture and said "I think your rash looks like this one". She happened to choose a rash that should just go away by itself after 2 months, so no treatment. I have now have had the rash for 10 weeks, I'm not sure if I should go back and try "third time lucky" on the diagnosis.........

Why is the train late?

2007-02-09T04:35:00.000-08:00

It used to be that you stood at the train station and hoped your train would show up. Actually, that is still the case today...
However, something has changed. Before if your train was delayed or cancelled, the reasons were a mystery. Now they like to tell you why your train is late. I kind of like that. It makes it a bit easier to stand there on the platform a bit longer when you realise that there is a fallen tree on the tracks. I mean, you don't exactly want your train running into a tree, do you? But some of the other reasons are annoying, some are tragic and some are on the verge of being funny. "Signal failure" is a favourite excuse. That falls under the "annoying" classification. I mean there is signal failure all the time! Hasn't anybody thought of buying better signals? Sometimes you hear things you didn't really want to know. I can understand that a train has to be delayed if someone fell/jumped under a train, but suddenly you feel this weird sense of sorrow, for someone you never knew. In fact, maybe you know their dead before their family knows. It's all a bit weird.
Finally my favourite "on the verge of being funny" excuse is the following. "Ladies and Gentleman we apologise to the delay to your service, we are waiting for the driver to turn up". I guess it's logical, but before they started given reasons for trains being late, I never imagined that the train driver being late for work would be one of them. I think I have heard that excuse twice in the last two months. Imagine going in to your boss and saying "sorry I'm late for work but the train driver was late for work....". Maybe the train driver was late for work because his bus driver was late for work? You would have to explain that the bus driver driving your train driver was late for work........
I didn't realise being a train driver was such a big responsbility. If you are late for work, you make 800 people late for work.
Yesterday was back to the old classic. Snow. I mean we have been expecting snow for a week now, they knew when it would come and how much. But anyhow the railway company seemed very surprised. So how much fell? 2 feet overnight like we once had in Boston? One foot that we often had in Sweden? No, it was much worse. It was a catastrophic 2 inches.......

I wished I was amused this easily ...

2007-01-17T05:54:00.000-08:00

Watch this with the sound on and try not to laugh.

Home alone!

2007-01-16T05:16:00.000-08:00

Last week Dr. P left Indy and I home alone.
Well you know what they say, when the cat is away, the mice will play. We just couldn't help ourselves. For a week, there were no rules, no plans, just some kind of a beautiful chaos that only Indy and I could appreciate. On the first night, I ate crisps for dinner, fell asleep infront of the television and woke up at 2 am with all the lights on. In retrospect, maybe I could have spent my new-found freedom doing something a bit more daring......
Indy was a bit more adventurous and started sleeping on the bed and walking on the dining room table. We had a ball!
Things were where I left them, when I left my jacket on the floor, that's where I found it. There was no peculiar instances of clothes left on the floor jumping into the drawers.
But after a few days, we were kind of missing Dr. P. I was getting tired of crips for dinner and Indy was longing to be chased off the dining table. The morning Dr. P came back, I got up early to clean the flat, remove the pawprints from the dining room table, stick some fruit in the fruit bowl. We polished our halos and welcomed her home. She had no idea what we were up to when she was away........

Come back Kayna!

2007-01-15T04:06:00.000-08:00

Friday night was the last leg of the world's longest farewell. It all started in early December and finally on Saturday, our mate Kayna left. Quite frankly it should be illegal. No-one who is as nice as Kayna should be allowed to leave the British Isles. If I ever become Prime Minister, I will presonally bring in that law.
Kayna tells us that she is going to go to India. Why? We all know the best Indian restuarants in the world are in London. And if she wants to meet the people she can just go to Bradford. Then she is going trekking in Nepal. Well, we have mountains here. Has she never been to Scotland?? How about the West Highland Way with Paula as the Sherpa? Then from there to Vietnam and Thailand. Again, we have the restaurants here, there is no need to go half way across the world for some noodles. And with the recent flooding here, we could even arrange waddling around in rice-fields (OK, flooded wheat fields, but you wouldn't know the difference). So I just don't understand why she would ever leave. Everything she could possibly want to experience is right here in the UK. Finally she intends to go back to her homeland Australia. For what? We have all the Aussie soaps here. No need to go back. And if she ever misses Australians, she should just go to Edinburgh on New Years Eve. I bet there are more Australians per square foot than in Sydney.......

1095 days with Dr. P

2007-01-05T05:59:00.000-08:00

1097 days ago I decided Dr. P was very cute. 1095 days ago, I found out that Dr. P thought I was cute too. And ever since we've been together.
When I say together, that doesn't mean we lived in the same country. It doesn't even mean we lived in the same continent. At times it was kind of hard. But we made it! And finally, we now not only live on the same continent, but in the same country, in the same city and even in the same flat! That is quite an achievement!
This is our third anniversary. And the first time we celebrate it together. Two years ago I had a party with some friends in Boston, while Dr. P was in Copenhagen. One year ago Dr. P celebrated with friends in Boston while I was in London. This year neither of us are in Boston. We hope our friends can have a party anyway.......

Red Cabbage!

2007-01-04T03:22:00.000-08:00

Dr. P and I were out for a stroll on New Years Day. It was beautiful weather and we enjoyed our walk along the Thames. We decided to stop at a riverside pub for a late lunch. Unfortunately, many other people had the same idea. It was very busy, but we managed to find a seat and eagerly checked out the menu. I was starving, absolutely starving I tell you. I decided that I would love a steak pie. When I went to order, I found that there was no steak pie left and there was an hour wait to get food. I was bitterly disappointed.......
Dr. P immediately tried to cheer me up, by offering to cook me a delicious dinner at home. She promised me Swedish meatballs (specially imported from IKEA), gravy, onion rings. Sounded fantastic. And then came the bombshell. She told me with excitement that we could even have red cabbage. Red cabbage?? I stayed silent, but I was thinking "are you really trying to cheer me up with red cabbage?"
I don't really understand red cabbage. Why's it red? Does it have red cholorophyll? Was it invented to give to children who refuse to eat green vegetables? And I certainly don't understand how it was meant to cheer up a person craving a steak pie. Anyway, we went home and we had a delicious dinner, including the red cabbage. And yes, life was much better after the red cabbage........

Christmas from a cat's point of view

2007-01-03T03:37:00.000-08:00

It's a hard life being a cat. I have important things to do, eating, sleeping, getting my belly rubbed. I have no time for other things to be happening. It has been a stressful time the last few weeks. Thank goodness it is over.

It all started about a month ago. My two slaves Aileen and Dr. P came home with a big box. That was very kind of them, they know how I love big boxes. I investigated immediately and after ordering the slaves to open the box I found strange green plastic things inside. These were kind of fun to chew. The slave that strokes me started building a tree from the green plastic things. That was quite strange to say the least. So suddenly we have a green plastic tree in our living room and you'll never guess what they did next..... They started hanging little balls and long glittering ropes on it! So tasteless. The only thing looking good in a tree is a nice plump bird. Mind you, I did have fun hunting the angels on it. Indeed I caught one quite often.

Then there were the cards. Every day when the slaves come home I run and greet them and demand to be stroked. But suddenly they seemed more interested in checking the post when they got in and seeing if someone had sent them a card. Excuse the pun, but I felt disCARDed.... As revenge I knocked over as many cards as I could after they had been carefully placed on the sideboard. And not one person sent a card of a cat! We had dogs, penguins, polar bears, reindeer. Everything except a cat. I was a bit upset to say the least.

And then my slaves didn't leave in the morning! They just stayed at home, which I find very annoying. When was I meant to find some peace to sleep? The slave who strokes me then completely disappeared with her case. I was quite upset, I love that case! Luckily the slave that feeds me stayed and I made sure that she took over the duties of stroking as well. She actually disappeared for a long time too, she left me by myself one night! I made it clear the only route to forgiveness was posh cat food from Marks and Spencers..... And because I have trained her so well, she immediately did what I demanded.

Then chaos broke out. The slave who strokes me came back and the parents of the slave who feeds me came too! Oh my goodness, it was so exhausting. I got a present, which out of politeness, I played with (so I wouldn't hurt their feelings). I have to admit, I thought the chaos was never going to end... All I wanted was a bit of peace and quiet.

And then finally they listened to my demands. The two old ones left. Then the slave who strokes me started leaving for work. And finally today, the slave that feeds me left too! I am having the time of my life, sleeping, watching birds (in the real tree outside) and enjoying some tranquility. But the slaves better return by 7pm this evening to fulfill their stroking and feeding duties......

Is plane-spotting linked to fear of stripy things?

2006-12-06T04:20:00.000-08:00

I moved to London a year ago and so far my brother Andy has not shown any interest in coming to visit. That was until he found out that I can lie on my sofa and watch planes....... Now this brings up a very interesting question. Is plane-spotting genetic?

Maybe the answer lies in Alasdair. Alasdair is my eldest brother and he has no interest in planes whatsoever (unless it is taking him somewhere warm). He is the kind of guy who doesn't look up when there is a plane flying over. Can you imagine? On top of that, he is not in the least scared of stripy things. Sometimes I wonder if we're related at all.

Andy and I very scared of stripy things. You know those things that come out in Summer with the sole intention of stinging you (some people call them wasps but that's a scary word). If we see one in the same room as us, we leave. No negotiation, we both refuse to share airspace with a stripy thing. So finally I think it's clear. The plane-spotting gene is very closely linked to the fear-of-stripy-things-gene. Will that get me a paper in Nature?

Plane-spotting

2006-11-28T07:51:00.000-08:00

My name is Aileen and I am a plane-spotter. It's been hard to come to terms with this label, but if I am honest with myself, I have to admit I might have a plane-spotting problem.

I never saw it as a problem, I mean there is nothing wrong with looking up if you hear a plane, right? But on several instances I have nearly cycled into a car while trying to work out if it is Lufthansa or Icelandair flying overhead. Then I thought, well I should just stop looking up. But I tried and I can't.

Everyone who has a problem blames it on their childhood and I think there could be something in it. My mother used to take us to the local airport to watch planes (back in the days when the parking was free). It kept us entertained for hours and it was cheap. On top of that, my father worked abroad, so going to the airport to meet him was definitely a positive experience. And ever since, I just like planes and airports.

At first I managed to hide my problem. I managed to convince everyone I was just really nice by offering to drive them to the airport. I think in Boston I once managed to pick-up or drive someone to the airport 5 times in a week. I used to know what times all the European airlines arrived at Logan airport. I was quite proud about this knowledge but I still remember the day that someone hit me with the bomb by telling me "that's sad".

I am not sure how I convinced Dr. P to move with me to a house under the flight path leading into Heathrow. I can lie on my sofa and every 90 seconds I can marvel at a new plane coming into land. It is so fantastic. Maybe I still have a problem, but at least I won't cycle into a car anymore.......