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Sunday, 20 November 2016

Christmas Present Wrapping Tutorial

Saw this hilarious youtube on Christmas present wrapping.

I laughed and laughed and laughed ~ so funny.

Hope you like it.

Thanks Bernie for introducing it to me.

Monday, 7 November 2016


It has been quite some time since I posted. I have been very busy with various aspects of quite a crammed packed life and also I have taken a long blog break, always intending to return.

Whilst driving a bus for Dial-a-Ride today I was telling some passengers about some of my ambulance experiences and this dear little story came to mind when one of my passengers mentioned a Nursing Home south of Bristol. It was the same Nursing Home where one of my former patients lived. 

About 7 years ago I was scheduled to pick up a 99 year old lady called Doris from the Nursing Home and arrived to find a very friendly and quite active lady who greeted me with a huge smile. She asked me how old I thought she was and playing politics I said, "Oh, maybe early 80s!". A triumphant look dominated her face and she said, "I am 99 and I am going for my annual health check at the Royal United Hospital in Bath. Next time you come for me next year I shall be 100!"

I had to smile, bless her, and we walked to the ambulance and I helped her into it and we proceeded on our way, chatting and having quite a conversation.  

I was passing through my home town and I slowed down and pointed to a cottage alongside a hill we were climbing. I said, "Doris, see that cottage, my Great Grandfather lived there!".

She said, "Fancy that! Is he still alive?"


I said, "Er, no Doris, if he was still alive he would be 169. He died in 1905."

She said, "Well I thought he might have lasted a bit longer than that!.

The dear lady, apart from that was as sharp as a razor.
I often think of former patients.  I have met some interesting personalities.

I hope to resume posting soon, including a large project I am making. I am building a tree bench and I am looking forward to telling you all about it.

Thursday, 2 June 2016


I received a text message this morning and it changed my day. It was such a peasant surprise.

The Blood Transfusion Service wrote to me concerning my donation to them last week. Nothing unusual about the donation ~ I do it every three months and have been donating on and off for the last 50 years and done so well over 100 times.  The text message was to thank me for my donation and to inform me that my blood has been sent to Birmingham Children's Hospital, and that every donation counts.  

This is the first time I have had any feedback as to where my blood went and whom was/were the recipients, and I realise that it is illegal for them to provide any information other than in general terms. 

It gladdens my heart that in some way I have helped a little child, although of course I would greatly prefer that the child was not ill or in hospital in the first place.  

I am going to keep donating for as long as I am able.

If you feel you are able to donate please consider doing so . . a pint donated can save three lives and there is nothing more precious we can give someone than our own living blood and in a way breathe life into them.  Thank you. . . . :)

Saturday, 30 April 2016



I had Peter over again yesterday and his dad joined us in the afternoon because he was on holiday.  The weather was a bit disappointing so we stayed at home and entered the plane making profession.  We started designing and manufacturing aeroplanes using Duplo, one of Peter's favourite building toys, and competed vociferously for available building material. 

It appeared that young Peter thought he was the chief Quality Control Manager because he exacted very harsh and severe treatment to all our designs and smashed almost all the 'brain childs' of his dad and grandpa.  Very few of our creations were allowed their tests and maiden flights and destined for recycling.

He seemed to approve of the WW1 biplane, shown in the photograph, and it somehow survived all his belligerence, so he loaded two plastic passengers aboard.  He made a hasty take off to an unknown destination across the room, and caused his pilot to make a very rough and bumpy landing. His flight attendants lacked decorum when he ordered the passengers off the plane, shouting a loud, "Get out!" . . . lol. 

Tut tut, you'd never hear that from a British Airways or Virgin Atlantic crew.  Jonathan and I were in hysterics.    

In the photo the background shows our family 'rogues gallery' and in the foreground is my Freddie Flintstone coffee mug, which can be seen quite clearly.

The red table and chairs are over 30 years old and belonged to my daughter, Selina, when she was little. During the morning I was sewing my jeans in the next room and I heard a few noises and was amazed to see that Peter had moved the table, chair and heavy box of duplo all by himself near my chair.  I was summoned into the room by a "Grandpa, come . . . build bricks with me . . . now!"  . . . oh he is so impetuous . . lol

When they had gone home I had the bricks all to myself and proceeded to start building a very large jumbo jet . . . . lol

I must finish it and show him next time he comes.  I expect it's working life will be extremely short . . lol

Thursday, 28 April 2016


Two Henry's are better than one!

Peter, my little helper arrived this morning together with his vacuum cleaner, a fully working Henry, who was delighted to meet his big green brother . . they got on famously . . lol. The little red one has it's own batteries and really sucks up dust.

"Grandpa! me work big one . . . it works better . . you have mine!"

. . . and he then proceeded to clean under the table.

I had to have a little chuckle.

It reminded me of his wanting to help me cut the lawn a while ago, and wants to do everything himself.  

He always insists on emptying the grass clippings:

On Saturday his Mummy and Daddy bought him a playhouse and we have been busy painting it . . . hopefully we can get it assembled at the weekend.

We'll get him a little table and chair to go inside, and finish off the roof with some felt roof tiles.

Tuesday, 26 April 2016


3 years, darling.
Miss you so much!

Cherished memories of 40+ years together. Thank you.

Until we meet again, Maria . . . . . X

Tuesday, 22 March 2016


"Grandpa, Grandpa . . . stair rail broken . . . me fix, now!"
And with that my dear little grandson, Peter, fetched his tools . . . 

. . . . proceeded up the stairs . . . .

. . . .  and laid them carefully in a row when he reached the top.

The problem was well known to me. For as long as I can remember the top fixing bracket of the stair rail had come away from the wall and the rail was flapping about.  I had tried several times to repair it with larger fixings . . . to no avail, and I had always meant to do something more drastic to fix it.  So I thought no better time than the present, and we could make it into an interesting little project.

We had been watching Bob The Builder on TV and, being a favourite of Peter's, I quoted Bob, saying, "Can we fix it?" . . . and together we laughed and said, "Yes we can!"

I said we needed some stronger tools so I got my drill and drill bits and I asked Peter if he would like to unscrew the top stair rail bracket from the rail and from the wall, and without hesitation he did ~ no problem. He already had a good appreciation of screws, screw drivers and which direction to turn for screwing in and screwing out, so it came quite naturally for his 2.5 years.

It looks as though he is left handed like his mum and dad, but I am not so sure.  Anyhow, it took him a while but he got all five screws out and then we took the fixing bracket away and kept it safe with the screws.  The wall was very soft and crumbling so I cut out all the loose stuff and removed a lot of very soft and quite useless cement.  I got a large drill bit ready and fitted it into my electric drill and Peter passed it to me:

Fortunately we did not need anything as big as this . . . lol

 Peter was watching, wide eyed and taking it all in.

I drilled it out deeply ready for filling with a special paste which sets rock hard like concrete after 24 hours.

There was quite mess so I asked Peter to fetch the vacuum cleaner which was in my bedroom, just across the landing.  He brought the attachments and then pulled the hoover, unwound it and plugged it in then switched it on and then used the nozzle to clean out the holes  ~ all by himself.  Then he hoovered the stairs clean.

"Good boy, good job!"  He looked as proud as punch to be helping.  Then he switched the hoover off, switched off at the wall, unplugged it and wound in the cord again. He did it all in the right order.

I got the paste ready and worked it into the holes and said I would have to fill it in two or three goes because it was so deep.  He understood and said, looking at it, "Grandpa, wet, wet, don't touch!" . . . and then we went downstairs.

Two days later, after more filling and allowing to set rock hard, he came to help me again and we attached the bracket to the rail and piloted three new holes into the wall.  Then I drilled three new screw holes, knocked in the plastic fixings, and screwed the bracket firmly into the wall.

It has never been more secure ~ well done Peter.

I asked him if he was Bob the builder and he said, "No, Grandpa ~ you Bob!"  . . . bless him.