Trappy Flowering

Posted on May 15, 2013 by Tin Roof Press

Trappy is very horny.

It has taken him nearly 2 months to peak.

A slow grower, my wee Trappy.

I’m going to try to self-pollinate him.

Is that too racy to say on a blog?

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The Letter

Posted on May 8, 2013 by Tin Roof Press

The ex is SUCH a curtain-twitcher.

(So cute)

You know the type -

Auntie-uncle types who sit behind curtained windows, watching the street,

“Look at that girl,

Haan haan, new boyfriend.

She will fail exams.

I should do my duty and tell you madam

that your child is a shameless.

I saw her wearing short skirt

and talking to boys.”

Largely the ex does this via Facebook, (although the ex also occasionally does this literally, when feeling particularly suspicious of a parked car behind the flat) taking note of the people (largely old school friends) who have on weight.

I like virtual curtain twitching, taking note of:

People with unpleasant looking babies. (Especially ones with odd-shaped heads.)
Attractive women with podhu husbands. (Usually Indian women. There must be something in the water.)
Indian men who seem to get married and promptly grow a paunch and lose their hair. Maybe it’s a sympathetic pregnancy.

The ex received this letter in the post a week ago.

I think I died a little.

In a good way.

The Letter

The Letter Detail

“Dear <The Ex>

Re: <Flat Name>

Thank you for your email of 10 April 2013.

Our contractor has now had an opportunity to inspect the building and look for the missing brick in the boundary wall.

Unfortunately he could not find a missing brick, however, he did find a hole. He took a photo of the hole and I would ask you whether this is the hole that you are referring to.

If so, this is not a missing brick but an outlet in case the gully overflows. It has been there for years, which is why I need you to confirm if we are talking about the same hole.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Kind Regards.

Yours sincerely,
Liz”

The Evidence

Ideally and perhaps more poetically, this letter should have been posted wrapped around a brick.

This made me lolz for ages, not just because of this response, but also thinking about the ex sending the first letter about a missing brick to begin with.

Here are the various letters & complaints I have sent in the past. They are equally silly.

Consolidated Report of Various Non-Events

Posted on May 1, 2013 by Tin Roof Press

I find myself writing less and less these days.

Not because the days at work or home have grown more dreary but because I feel spread a little thin, like someone being stingy with the butter on my toast.

I don’t think I can manage both drawing and blogging.

That being said I have now accumulated a decent backlog of fascinating non-events to report

1. I lost a piece of chocolate fudge cake the other day at work.
I bought it for lunch.
Then I ate lunch.
Then I went back upstairs.
Much later I realised I had left the cake downstairs.
I went downstairs to check. It was gone.
I was devastated.
There is no pain greater than losing a piece of moist cake.
That is also the only acceptable use of the word ‘moist’ in a sentence.

2. A client bought in a red velvet and buttercream icing cake.
It was a goliath of a cake.
A huge red velvet monster with an inch of buttercream top and middle.
I ate just one slice of this cake and was plunged into a sated, bloated cake depression, butter cream oozing through my pores.
The whole office developed a strange lack luster lethargy after eating this cake.
I started calling it the cake of depression.
Except Lottie, who had a fairly rock hard pice nearly a week later without particularly bad effects.

Side note
It may seem like there is a lot of cake in our office but I just tend to remember events that involve cake far more clearly than any other events.

Cake of Depression

3. I have a lot of spam to report.
The most recent one, which I particularly enjoyed, was an email,
converted into a jpg,
and then that jpg was emailed to me.
The subject title was “THANK YOU!!”
I like this man’s style.

4. Giant Eggs

I’ve been trying really hard to get Emma (Leo’s girlfriend) to cultivate hens that lay giant eggs because of an article I read in the Metro. (A worthy supplement if there ever was one)

I can’t even begin to tell you how much effort I’ve put into emailing her various words of encouragement with no success.

Apparently all you need you just need to feed them lots of broccoli but Emma is worried laying a giant egg will hurt them.

Emma has no scientific curiosity.

But I havent yet despaired. I’m going to try to convince her to invite us down to Cambridge and try feeding Honey, Sugar & Treacle (the hens) broccoli myself surreptitiously.

5. Monty has been sending me emails.
Then sends me texts to check if I’ve received the emails.
On principle I ignore those texts.
When did Monty turn into my great-aunt?
That’s what she does, but then she only just found out about the internet at 70+ something

6a. Regular Lunch

I briefly, sporadically made a huge effort of social skills and went out for lunch with the guys at work for nearly a week.
Shortly afterwards this burst of social energy died as suddenly as it began.
The guys at work eat far too early.
I like my work day split up neatly into 2 relatively equal chunks.

6b. Birthday Lunch

Yesterday the chaps at work all said

“Hey! Where do you want to go for your birthday lunch!?”

I was enthused! Yay! Birthday lunch.

“Yes! Can we go to Pizza East??”

They have the thinnest, yummiest pizzas I’ve ever . Their Margherita is particularly good.

JO & AL, who have lunch notoriously early said they couldn’t even wait until 1:30 pm.

We were in the middle of negotiating them down to a more reasonable time of 1:00 pm when Adam, killed the scheme and said we all had to go at 12:30 for some work related reason.

There is no way in hell I’m having lunch that early in the day. It leaves you with 5 hours of work without a break. The afternoon stretches out interminably.

So I didn’t attend what was presumably my own birthday lunch.

Mark later sent me an email with a photo of them all eating at Pizza East.

I sent him an email back rejecting his photo.

I refuse to acknowledge a birthday lunch for MY birthday when:

I’m not present
It’s practically breakfast.

They got me back a piece of cake though and a helium balloon. Which was so nice of them.

This post features a heck of a lot of cake.

Now for some photos for flowers I took a couple of days ago in the Canal park, which is exactly where I’m off to today. Its going to be a sunny day! Yay!

Dull stuff but its MY birthday and it’s MY blog.

SO SCREW YOU, REJECTED EARLY BIRTHDAY LUNCH!!

I don’t think anyone uses telephone boxes except sex workers and Trannies anymore.

Green Shoot close up. Very delicate. I looked like an idiot taking these photos.

Green Shoots. I like the way these were scattered.

Kind of cloud like tree

White flowers closeup.

Daffodil Closeup. Riddhi says flowers are phallic and make her horny

Park Shadows. I wish I had a buddy nearby to chill with in the park.

Red Hellebore. Actually I have no idea what this is.

This is a particularly pretty tree. It has no leaves. Just the flowers

Apple Blossoms? I don’t know what these are either.

I’m very fond of this telephone box.

Apple Blossoms Closeup. Well…I assume it’s apple

Yellow Flower Buds

Pink Tree Barbed Wire. See its a metaphor about blah de bloo de yawn

The Strollers Brigade. Angel is full of ‘em.

The King

Grafitti Man Outline. Someone defaced him recently. Sad face.

The Breakfast CLub always has good signs and a long queue.

Milky Way Window

Rock Garden Sunny

I like the shadows in the rock garden

A contrast. You know…

Misc photos so I feel like I’ve posted something

Posted on April 30, 2013 by Tin Roof Press

I’ve actually got 4-5 written and saved drafts but I keep posting from work just before my lunch break, so the most I can do is upload photos.

So spring has sprung and now begins a whole series of totally mediocre flower photos.

But don’t worry. I’m going to work up to it, slowly.

For now, just one.

Westbourne Bridge at twilight

Double rainbow, a sure sign that Spring is coming

Purdy Purdy

The best cat. Did I post this already? I can’t remember

Work meme

Columbia Road Market Photos

Posted on April 17, 2013 by Tin Roof Press

2012_08_12 Columbia Rd Market

Pink flower closeup

Ceramics

Sunflower dude

Purple

French Lavender – Oo La La

Lady Seller

Alpines

Nettleish thing

Very Mary Poppins

Herb Girl

Crowds

Wee Trappy

Multicoloured Cacti

Columbia Rd Mural

Olympic Graffiti near Essex Road

Assorted Photos In No Particular Order or Theme

Posted on March 11, 2013 by Tin Roof Press

A mixed bag of photos that I haven’t really sorted out in any coherent theme or scheme.

Because I’m lazy, and I’m procrastinating.

But mostly because I’m lazy.

I’ll theme the next, next lot.

That’s the lot after the next assorted lot.

These are photos from June 2012 – September 2012

Also why the hell haven’t I been using the gallery before?

I like the little circles.

Click to view large.

Arthur, one of the smelliest dogs in the Office

A sunny street near work

Westbourne bridge

Red Shoes (alas, long gone) and broken glass

A dog ball

Banksy with school children. Lower right corner is blank. So new rat is defo new.

Brandy at Kings X

A pint for Leo at Kings X

A stabbing near Pizza East

Covent Garden Market

Phone Box Art

My work computer with to-dos and notes

Igloo Flowers at Angel

Compliment Confusion

Posted on February 25, 2013 by Tin Roof Press

I was strolling through one of those pop-up markets that appear in posh places (like Islington).

Very dangerous business indeed. Especially if you have a bit of cash jingling in your pockets. Nothing like a market to fleece you off it.

A lady at a stall said she loved my hat, and in a moment of compliment-haze-madness I was conned into buying one of her £8 bags of home-made hot chocolate.

£8.00

Fuck.

Imagine if every time someone paid me a compliment I handed over cash. What a dolt.

This better be the best frikkin hot chocolate I’ve ever had.

I’ll report back when I’ve tried it.

BTW: I have a MASSIVE backlog of images I havent uploaded (since August. Christ).

I know my 2.5 readers of this blog will be more than keen to wade through all those.

Sorting out the Barbara Cartlands

99.9% Real Gold Foil Cards! Bling Bling!

Ace King Queen.The ex got this back from the Punj. I didn’t realise they were real and I then spent 2 hours obsessing about it.

Joker. These come in a lovely wooden and felted box with the certificate in a pocket below. Plush! Why didn’t Bond use these in Casino Royale?

Authentic! Blew my mind a little.

V. Important Monday Morning Meeting Notes

The only photo I have of the stylish hat (Xmas gift from the ex)

Home Alone – Captain’s Log, Star Date 09.02.2013

Posted on February 9, 2013 by Tin Roof Press

Weekend #1 of partner being away:

Ate the dokhla the ex kindly made before leaving, slowly over 4-5 days

Went shopping for food last Friday so would be stocked up with ready-meals for the weekend and most of the week.

Increased my intake of plums.

Cleaner cleaned half-heartedly on Saturday morning.

Saturday afternoon sat in front on my drawing for many hours. Occasionally rallied to draw a single line. Promptly sank back into lethargic nearly-end-of-drawing-stupor

Did some laundry.

Stayed up till 4 on the Saturday watching Wonders of the Universe.

No reported psychedelic dreams on this occasion.

Went to bed at a reasonable hour on Sunday.

Didn’t leave the flat until Monday morning.

Weekend #2 of partner being away:

Dry laundry still in the washing machine.

Run out of underwear.

Am forced to go to the washing machine instead of my clothes drawer.

Didn’t re-stock food supplies all week.

Forgot to defrost food in the freezer.

Went to the pub on Thursday. Ate instant noodles for dinner.

Forgot to defrost food in the freezer again.

Went to the Monty’s on Friday. Ate 1/2 pack of salt and vinegar crisps, 1 dark chocolate bounty & 2 plums for dinner.

Went to bed at a totally unreasonable hour.

Saturday morning no cleaner.

Have very considered plans not to leave the flat at all this weekend.

Need to buy food.

Conflict with earlier resolution not to leave flat.

May need to eat more instant noodles.

End of Captain’s Log.

Boat – Yaoi Kusama exhibition (June 2012)

Dot room – Yaoi Kusama exhibition (June 2012)

Mirror Room – Yaoi Kusama exhibition (June 2012)

St. Lucia – Part II – Tantrums in Paradise

Posted on February 3, 2013 by Tin Roof Press

This is how untimely I am. This post is from last April ’12. Late is an understatement. And I think I still have one more post from that holiday.

After the first night in the Fond Doux plantation we were moved from our beautiful Banana Cottage room to another one.

When I asked the women at the reception hut why we had to move, they smiled stiffly and said

“Well so you can see both kind of rooms.”

I translated this correctly: The second room wasn’t going to be as nice.

The room was still pretty and quaint but it was distinctly smaller and slightly darker because it was on the ground set among a swathe of luxurious foliage and trees.

As expected, the ex was most displeased.

I tried to soften the blow by cheerfully praising the room, as one would with a sulky child.

Raise your voice and use lots of exclamations.

“Oh look it’s cute! I like it! What a lovely bed!”

“I don’t like it. I don’t want to stay here.”

“Come on it’s not that small. Look we get a patio!”

“I refuse to stay in this hole!!”

“It’s not a hole! It’s cute!”

“It’s tiny and dark and I hate it!!”

“If they had given us this room first you wouldn’t have known better and you would have liked it.”

“No I wouldn’t! And it was THEIR mistake! They shouldn’t have put us in a nice room first and then in a shit hole!”

(Regrettable. Agreed. It was a bad tactical move on the hotel’s part.)

My cheerful veneer worn thin by now, I resort to hard reality.

“Look, there are no other rooms. We have to stay here.”

“I don’t HAVE to do anything!”

“Well all the hotels are fully booked. You were with me when I booked this one. So you can’t leave.”

“Oh yeah? Oh yeah?? Just watch me! I’m leaving!!”

That was perhaps also a tactical error on my part. The Ex needs the softly-softly gently-gently approach as a general rule.

Now the tantrum began in earnest. None of my pleadings worked. Once the Ex begins a huff there is no backing down.

“Baby please don’t leave! Where are you going to go? Most hotels are full!”

“I don’t CARE! I’m LEAVING!”

Huffing and puffing and dragging a large suitcase, the Ex stormed off.

Or would have stormed off if the suitcase hadn’t kept toppling over on the uneven pavement, thus ruining the momentum of the dramatic exit.

I cried, because that’s just what I do in these times of crisis.

But then I called the reception again and begged in my most melancholy, hushed tones to get another room.

Then I told them the ex was upset and wanted to leave.

There was an awkward pause on the line.

I imagine the reception also saw the ex speeding off like a hell-born brat in the hired car which probably helped prompt them to kick out a guest in another hotel room.

She was the niece of the owner, (and staying for free, hence no trouble) so we got her room. Yay!

I felt and still feel a tad guilty partly because of the other lady and partly because this sets such a bad moral precedent.

The Ex now thinks this validates the tantrum throwing. I’m afraid on the face of it, it rather does. I would have just shrugged and taken the smaller room and that would have been it, but a well acted out hissy-fit and we got a lovely room.

Tsk tsk. Well there goes the moral.

Shall I describe the hotel?

(If you’d rather not read the description, skip ahead to the photos. If you’d rather not do that either, I can’t believe you even made it this far down the post at all.)

Fond Doux was a 2000 acre working plantation. Set high up on the hillside and nestled among many Bougainvillea, coconuts and ginger lilies were the tree houses, on the ground were a few plantation style cottages. Maybe 10 huts in total.

The plantation grew mostly cocoa and some banana and had originally been part of a much bigger, slave-run estate. The next owner was eventually a freed slave once the oppressors were sent packing. Then the plantation got sold and this was the only part left. I forget the rest of the history. That’s pretty much the gist of it.

They grew a variety of other things: Coffee (or ‘Jungle MnMs’ as the tour guide lady smugly told us. A tourist winner, that phrase.), clove, cinnamon, various other spices. The planting was natural, with winding paths through the groves, the cottages mostly hidden. Fairly homely, family run, quiet place. The owner would be in the bar chilling most evenings. He was like a kindly uncle hosting some kids at his place. I liked him a lot but his accent took some getting used to.

I think I have an excellent knack of picking a good holiday place (Mostly). Patting myself on back right now.

Being somewhat competitive about my new-found talent, I started to actively check out the various hotels as we drove past them or visited their restaurant. On the whole (pat pat), I’m pleased to say, in my opinion, I think ours was by far the nicest.

That is, to phrase it more eloquently, I think I fucking nailed it.

Click on a photo to view large.

African Tulip House. We only stayed here one night. Look it IS cute!

Although the room was small the door cast lovely shadows

African Tulip walkway

This was our neighbouring cottage called Angelina. It was a plantation style house with more than one bedroom and the occasional snake.

The old capital of Soufriere. Which I learned from another tour means ‘Sulphur in the air’.

The Volcano nearby. People used to walk across it until a guide fell in one of the vents and miraculously survived even though he sustained 60% burns on his lower body. I wonder if he could have sex after that. I mean, wouldn’t his penis be badly burnt? Waste of money this tour.