Velociraptors, dreaming and over-run melons

The Great Ursus, his Lovely, Boy and I went to see Jurassic World last night. It was brilliant! Loved it so much. Only go and see it if you are able to suspend belief/science knowledge, don't require much of a plot and can resist face/palming yourself too often at character stupidity. 

I went for the velociraptors. Of course.

Now that my hay fever season is behind me, I'm now tackling weeding the greenhouse where my melons are installed. Bashing my foot means I can only do a little bit at a time before it hurts too much. But in that time, I've been able to turn an over-run garden bed into a WWI battlefield. I've managed to kill two melon plants who were twinned in and amongst the weeds and the chicken wire to keep the chickens off. 

The chicken wire, it has to be said, was less than successful. When I got into the greenhouse this morning, there was a white hen all settled in the weeds. She was very pissed off when I started grabbing handfuls of weeds near her and let me know in no uncertain terms what she thought of my intervention. Her language was fowl. 

Yesterday, I indulged in a bit of daydreaming and a Zoopla search. I found my dream house. All I need is £125,000 - £135,000 cash for an auction next week. It's a lovely bungalow, in the middle of nowhere, with a garden in the wilds of Suffolk. It's about a year too soon. I'm not ready to liquidate my assets just yet. It was still a useful exercise in that it solidifies what I'd ideally like. 

I know I never want to have another mortgage again. No more owing banks money. It does mean there's going to be a trade off between my need for seclusion and space and what I can afford. I look ahead and there's quite a bit of DIY in my future. That's okay. I'm good with that. Dave has trained me well to be a good builder's assistant. 

My space here has shown me the way I want to live. I would have never thought to put a greenhouse at a back door. It's such a great idea. It reminds me of the principles of perma culture, where you zone your garden. Herbs and needy plants are kept close by, with less needy plants and bigger veg put further afield. Granted these principles are meant to be implemented on a much bigger, farming scale, it still makes sense to me.

I'm dreaming now. I definitely want a greenhouse at my back door and a bigger greenhouse for the bigger plants (like melons). I want to have mixed beds with the emphasis on companion planting and edibles growing amongst flowers. I found out strawberries are brilliant in keeping weeds down. 

I don't want a pretty garden. And if I get my way, I will have my own velociraptors to ensure it never is pretty. Z tells me we have 3 nesting hens now. These are the first batch of chicks. They've grown so much.

I wonder if I can train them to run in formation behind me on a bike?

Happily, I can indulge these fantasies. I try them on for fit and adjust them accordingly. For example, with any house I next purchase, I must have a bedroom for Boy. Even if he graduates and buggers off to travel the world. He must always have a space here with me. It will also double quite nicely as a guest bedroom for the endless stream of visitors I'm sure I will have (*snigger*). I also need a room big and bright enough to write and be creative in. Here's where a bit of compromise works well, I could always get a garden office and kit it out to my exact specification, which would then have the bonus of facing onto my gorgeous garden.

Anyway, unless we win the lottery, or sell 50,000 cups of coffee this weekend, it's all pie in the sky at the moment. 

Reminds me of the joke my Psychology tutor told me:

Neurotics build castles in the air
Psychotics live in them
Psychiatrists come to collect the rent. 

Z still seems happy with me to be here and there's no rush yet. Next spring is a long way away yet. And who knows what Life will be like next year?

From the Sublime to the Ridiculous

Ladies and Gentlemen, my apologies for my absence in Blogland for the past few days. I expect you've been wondering where I've got to, since I'm normally lurking on here 24/7. My Staycation has been filled with doing Not A Lot. I've spent time on my sofa, wandering around the world of Oblivion, sleeping, eating and seeing people briefly. Yes, I really should have done this a few weeks ago. It's been overdue.

Earlier in the week, Boy's girlfriend's Mum (are you keeping up?) hailed me on FB and asked if I would like to go to the Voewood Literary Festival with her friend and work colleague (single), who won 2 tickets. None of his friends was up for it. I certainly was. We agreed that it wouldn't be a blind-date, fix-my-single-friends-up situation. So, off to Holt I went Saturday morning.

I had a blast. Somehow, I had all of my favourite things delivered in one day: literature, steam trains, the seaside, olives and live music. Mutual friend was brilliant company: witty, intelligent, generous. He didn't raise an eyebrow as I jumped up and down about steam trains. He was interested in the talks going on, he knew interesting people there.

I didn't know what to expect. I had a brief look at the programme and none of it stuck. I just rocked up with an open mind. It was great. I went to talks, drank coffee and soaked up the atmosphere at the gorgeous setting. People were wandering around and I kept thinking 'I should know you, you look like you're big in your field'.

Yesterday, I only went for the day sessions. It was like a Creative Writing reunion, two of my old tutors were there as well as the two stars of our course. What really surprised and moved me, was how warmly I was welcomed by all. I've been absent from that world for a good 18 months after my work with Unthank Books finished and I've not been doing anything creative since. Not only that, I sniffed out some freelance editing work through one of the talks I attended. One of the things which has come out of my time this week, is that I really need to be on firmer financial ground.

I love my job. I love the people I work with and I love working with words, even just writing copy. But I do need to be kept in the manner to which I have become accustomed. There are coffees and sparklies to buy. Fortunately, this does not lead to any heart-breaking decisions. I'm employed four days a week. I have at least another two to be filled. Therefore, doing the NLP professionally and going after creative writing opportunities makes complete sense. I am a woman who wants to have her cake and eat it. It is all possible, with a big enough bit of cake.

Yesterday afternoon, with a great deal of reluctance I left Voewood. The Great Ursus and his Lovely invited me to the cinema to see Conan the Barbarian. I've neglected them of late and going to the cinema with them is always good fun. It was originally to be the 3 of us, then Gee wanted to come along, her Number 2 Son rang me up and said he wanted to come. Boy decided he wanted to come out when he heard what was happening. So, we all bundled into my shiny car and off we went.

We go to the Hollywood Cinema in Anglia Square. The best that can be said about it is that it's a flea pit. However, the tickets are about half the price that the big shiny cinemas charge. The staff are friendly and are always up for a laugh and you don't need a small loan to buy popcorn and a drink.

Going to see a movie with the Great Ursus et all, is always an adventure. The Great Ursus has an odd sense of humour. While I cower at scary or gory bits, his great belly laugh echoes throughout. Not to mention the fact that we all have a very sarcastic movie critique-style. The more awful the film, the more fun we have with it.

Now Conan was never going to be Oscar material. I have fond memories of the original and Arnie, swinging his big sword around in the 80s. However, when one of the longest bits of dialogue Conan delivers is: I eat, I sleep, I slay. I am content. You know they didn't spend enough of the budget on script writers. We spotted the Lord of the Rings references, the orchestral score was diabolical and speaking of which, one scene had us all rolling around in the aisles laughing: the lurve scene. Well, actually, it was a scene not too far removed from a porn movie. It included bare breasts, different positions and a lot of thrusting. Some bright spark matched this with the most romantic and orchestral music which would have been more appropriate for a Chick-flick movie. Oh we how we laughed. There was gore, bare breated slave girls, limited plot and incest. Boy summed it up in one sentence: two men fighting over a girl. We all decided that it had been written by three, 15 year old boys. Given we're in the middle of an economic melt-down, I'm shocked this garbage got funding.

For this, I missed Adam Ant playing at Voewood. I tweeted about it late last night and this morning I was somewhat disconcerted to find @conanthemovie is now following me on twitter. I don't think he's going to be following me for long.

I'm still undecided as to whether I head out to Voewood this afternoon for the final night. My house is a pit, I have nothing to wear to work this week and my energy levels still aren't very good. I've got to be up bright and early tomorrow for my working week. I dread to think what I've got waiting for me. I think I'll put a couple of loads of laundry on, dig out my kitchen and see how I feel.