Kick over the statues

And how did the residents of the elegant spa town of H*rr*g*te celebrate the snowfall this week? By building an large snow sculpture of a knob on the main roundabout, of course. I approach it from an odd angle (as the actress said etc etc) and announced to my 5 year old that some had done a person sitting on a horse...til we got closer. Later, on an beer crisis trip to Waitrose my husband spotted people having their photo taken next to it. We may lose our position as the UK's 4th best place to live over this.

Meanwhile, a bit o'SWP early 80s nostalgia for you...

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow..

And it did....a bit...


(view from my bedroom window...sunday morning)

There's a long long trail a-winding.....

Philip Whiteley (at the back of the picture, with the moustache) born in Leeds in 1889, son of William and Mary Anne. Private 3/9126, 12th Bn., West Yorkshire Regiment. Died in France, 23rd March 1917, aged 28. Awarded the Victory Medal and the 1914 Star. His father, William Whiteley, who died in November 1943, is buried with Philip's medals.

We have loved him in life, let us not forget him in death.

The streets of London

We're in London for the weekend, and I'm blogging on a Mac, which is confusing me.

Anyway, it's warm and sunny darn sarf......we may never come back.

We are off to the theatre this afternoon.  It will be Laura's first theatre trip, and at £125 for 3 tickets she better bloody well enjoy it.  We are going to the Festival Hall to see "The Wizard of Oz", which is her all time favourite movie.  In fact, she may enjoy the whole thing too much...she knows most of the words...songs and dialogue.  I fear I may be spending this afternoon with my hand clamped over her gob.

Full review to follow, but as it stars Roy Hudd and Gary Wilmot I suspect we are in for a cracking afternoon's entertainment.

I should be so lucky....

Nipped over to Leeds with my mother this a.m. She was on a mission at the request of my sister. Niece, who has just finished her first year at Leeds Met, is due to move into into a student house for her second year, after the utter luxury of her student apartment last year. Now, I was never "lucky" enough to be in a hall of residence when I was a stooodent, but frankly...these (privately built) places are posher than anywhere I have ever lived. She had an ensuite bathroom for goodness sake.

Anyway, she is moving into a house with 5 other girls..cue cat fights....and two girls actually moved in this week....so, in fact, cue panic about the awful house, the dirt, the mouse nest , etc etc.....

Mum & I were dispatched to report on the awful house in the rubbish area.....which turned about to be lovely house in vibrant Headingly......the worst we culd find wrong with it was a dodgy socket and some mucky lampshades. My neice had commented on the lack of cable TV and tumble dryer!

Honestly...what is the world coming to? This place was a palace compared to where I lived when I was a student. Mum kindly referred to my student house as a hovel, and, frankly, she was being generous. It was damp, filthy, cold, unsanitary, had things growing on the walls downstairs, had mice, slugs, and silverfish (under my mattress)...and we were happy....we expected nothing less. In fact, living in a dump may actually have been a condition of being awarded an honours degree. (and we got housing benefit!!!! Them were the days!

The windows of the world..

I'm in Sheffield, in a hotel, where the view from my window is most picturesque...the canal..complete with barges. 'cept it's p*****g down. And we are due to have a conference bar-b-q in an hour. I told our delegates from the US and South Africa not to get too excited.....

Yep -it's July - it must be our annual user conference. Two day event. So far so good. The only person I wanted to slap was a colleague not a customer, so that's OK.

Now, must remember to control drinking tonight......must remember......there are 40 + customers downstairs, include two from Salt Lake City...and my boss....must remember!

Catch up - God's Own Country

Who would live anywhere else?

Outings in April and May