Birthday Cards, puppies and matching socks

This week it feels that I have spent most of my time in stationers and card shops searching for that elusive item; the perfect greeting card. There can be no finer feeling than finding the ideal card for the person whose birthday/anniversary etc is coming up. The card with the exact picture and words I need, the card with the appropriate humour and message. I can happily spend hours browsing through racks of cards admiring floral fronts often accompanied by equally flowery sentiments inside, cute pictures of puppies and kittens, glittery handmade offerings and funny cards galore.

I'm often amazed by the variety of cards on offer, it seems that there is a card for every occasion. As well as the usual birthday, anniversary, get well, retirement, exam and birth congratulation you can also get thanks for watering the plants whilst I was on holiday, sorry your hamster has tonsillitis and we'll done for wearing matching socks for a week.

Why then, if there is so much variety, have I had such trouble finding the right card?

I started looking for cards for some up coming events a few weeks ago, however when I then visited the card shop it seemed that 78% of the shop space was being used for Valentines cards. I decided therefore to wait a few weeks to choose my cards, to get Valentines out the way, so that I had a better choice.

This week I headed back to the shop anticipating racks full of wonderful birthday cards to select from only to find that the Valentines cards have been replaced by Mother's Day cards. I know that if I wait till after Mother's Day I'll find that the shops are full of Easter cards.

Following hours of fruitless searching I have a few suggestions for card shops and card manufacturers.

• Please be mindful that people have birthdays and anniversaries all through the year. There is a need for Good luck in your new job and Happy Retirement cards even in the run up to Christmas, so have a seasonal display but please leave us some choice of year round cards.
• Don't print and display so many over the top, slushy cards. When you read the words in many of the cards on display you'd think that the world was made up of angels and paragons of virtue. I often want a card that says Happy Birthday, I hope you have a great day but end up leaving the shop with a card that states that with each birthday the recipient becomes a bit more perfect and that my life would be empty without them.
• Conversely please don't make all the humorous cards X-rated.
• Yes have a few novelty cards such as Thank you for making me a cheesecake or Sorry you broke a nail but most of us are looking for regular birthday and anniversary cards, so could we please have more of these on display.
• Not a suggestion but a question this time. Why are cards so expensive? How come I can get a box of Christmas cards for the same price as one Good luck in your driving test card? I'm not buying them a car you know.

Well that's my rant over. I feel like I should be sending out Sorry this blog is a moanfest card, I'm sure that someone has printed one. I'd also like to apologise to my friends who have birthdays coming up, I know that it may seem strange to get a Best Mummy in the world card (especially the men amongst you) but they were the only cards I could get.

Fences, graffiti and Hermann Hesse

This week I have discovered a new hobby and I'm very excited to tell you about it. As some of you know I have been a big fan of walls for a while now. Those of you who read this regularly will probably be fed up with hearing about Hadrians Wall, which incidentally is one of my favourite places and definitely my third favourite wall ever. There's something special about the arrangement of stones, the play of light glinting off mica and the warm fuzziness of the lichen that grows on walls. However this week my new hobby has become fence spotting. Yes you read it right, fence spotting.

It came about quite by accident as these things often do. You see storm Imogen took away several of my Mums fence panels as she blew through, so Mum has been getting some quotes to have her whole garden fence replaced by something a bit more sturdy. I happened to be at her house the other day when one builder arrived to take a look at the job. After he had left, Mum and I realised that there was a lot about fencing that we didn't know. He had described different types of fence posts, both wood and concrete, different panels, from "Hit and miss", to picket and full panels and had also discussed the optimum height of the fence. We decided therefor to go for a walk to see if we could spot some of the fences he had been talking about.

What followed was a very enjoyable hours walk where we were amazed by the number, variety and dare I say it the beauty of fences. There were those built on the ground, those that topped walls, some had vertical boards and others horizontal, many were topped by trellis, some had scallop shaped tops and the rest were plain. They also came in a variety of colours, some were left as natural wood others were stained various browns and greens and we even saw a couple of controversial blue fences. The heights also varied enormously, from knee, to waist, to shoulder to standing on tippy toes and still not being able to see over. We found out that on the new fences the builders had put a little plaque on them to say who had built it, a bit like a graffiti tag, and by the end of the walk we were able to identify the work of two builders before we got close enough to read the plaque. Mum and I both got home and agreed that it had been an unexpectedly enjoyable walk and even Billy was happy as he had been able to christen a few of the fences.

Since then, where ever I go, I find that I am spotting fences and not just walls. I'm not sure that it is going to take off into a widespread hobby but I do recommend it if you have a spare half hour. It's free to do, gets you out and about and is educational.

Hermann Hesse wrote an essay entitled "On little joys" where he explained that he thought that happiness and contentment come about in the little and often overlooked aspects of life. He felt that we would be happier if we paid more attention to nature: the beauty of a blade of grass growing through a pavement, the song of a bird and the feel of the sun on our faces, and focussed less on the "bigger  pleasures" such as promotions, material goods and social standing. Hesse was definitely focussed on nature and the little joys that this would bring but I think that there can also be a lot a pleasure in other "little" details in life too, such as peeling an orange and keeping the skin in one piece, the sound of the first drink being poured from a new bottle of wine, writing a sentence that you are happy with and the appreciation a well made wall or fence. Here's to the little joys in life.

Audrey Hepburn, Storm Imogen and log fires.

Eventually my broadband was sorted and after a few very frustrating weeks I am now back on-line. Unfortunately pretty much as soon as my broadband was fixed my tablet died, it had been sick for a while but it seems now to have given up the ghost and I've yet to replace it. I really hate technology, it's great when it works but there always seems to be something going wrong with it. A bit like cars, they're just big money magnets, yes they are useful to get around in but are often a pain.


Whilst I'm on the subject of pet hates, I've discovered a new one these last few days. My new hate is the automatic, hole in the wall, hand washing machines that you get at service stations. Let me explain why.


I've been away for a long weekend and travelled back to Cornwall in the height of a storm. There were times on the journey when I feared the car was going to turn into Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and take flight, so strong was the wind. After driving for about 45 minutes the road was closed, and we had to take a diversion which added about an hour to our journey. Eventually we were diverted back to our normal road and were back on track, only to realize, all too soon, that myself and my travelling companion both needed a toilet break. Luckily we quickly came to a parking area complete with toilets, and a greasy spoon café.


Having used the toilets I went to wash my hands in one of the metal upright sinks where you have to put your hands into the aperture of the machine and hope for the best. For a nano-second I always feel a bit like Aubrey Hepburn. Not the most obvious time to feel like a glamorous film star maybe, standing in a drafty, smelly, public toilet. Nevertheless as I tentatively place my hands into the gaping hole I'm reminded of the scene in Roman Holiday when Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck visit the Bocca della Verita, or mouth of truth, a stone gargoyle that is supposed to act as a lie detector and will bite the hand off anyone who tells an untruth whilst their hand is inside. Anyway I braved the possibility of having my fingers bitten off in the hope of washing my hands.


I stood with my hands just inside the machine for a few seconds, nothing happened. Gathering my courage I plunged my hands further into the gaping abyss. Immediately a jet of soap squirted up my sleeve and ran down my hands and fingers. I rubbed my hands together but despite them being coated by about half a pint of soap there was no lather. Then off to the far right of the machine the water started to dribble out in a half hearted manner. I moved my hands into the luke warm trickle only for the water to drip to a halt and the air blower to start up. My still soapy hands were then blasted by an icy gale that put Storm Imogen to shame, then just in time to blast chill my hands without drying them at all it turned off. If I put my hands in again I would only end up soapier and colder so there was no point in repeating the process. I returned to my car with wet, soapy and freezing cold sleeves and hands. I don't honestly recommend smoked mackerel and soap sandwiches for lunch.


In the interests of balance and as Valentines Day is approaching I feel that although I hate technology, cars and hand washing machines (not to mention Morris Dancing, the feel of cotton wool and ironing) I should point out that there are many things that I do love. I really enjoy spending time with my family, I love winning at games, the unexpected warmth of the winter sun when sitting on a rock on the beach, Victoria sandwich cakes with raspberry jam and cream, a crackling log fire and crisp roast potatoes. So although technology is a pain, cars expensive and hand washing machines are inefficient the positives in life still out weigh the negatives. Or to quote the Monty Python team:

"Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And always look on the bright side
of life

Always look on the bright side of life."

B*** BT!!, beeping call centres and fudgin Broadband!

I spoke too soon last week when I sang BTs praise for their excellent customer service, much too soon.  This weeks experience has been very different!


Last week when I called BT, by some miracle I got through immediately to a very nice woman who told me that she could see what the problem was and an engineer would be out to fix it on Thursday. I explained that I would be out on Thursday but she told me that the engineer wouldn't need to get into my property to fix the problem. I got home on Thursday expecting to find that everything was sorted and that I'd be able to catch up on reading some of the blogs that I normally follow, only to find that my broadband still wasn't working. I then noticed that my answer machine was flashing and when I listened I found it was a message from BT saying that they hadn't been able to fix the fault as I had been out when the engineer called, could I call again to arrange another visit!


What followed then were some of the most frustrating phone calls I have ever made, I can feel my blood pressure rising just at the thought of them. In a nutshell:

• Firstly, when I called to rearrange the engineers visit, I was on the phone for 20 minutes in a queue before I even spoke to anyone. Eventually my call was answered and I explained that my broadband wasn't working. The person I spoke to ran a check on my line and informed me that my phone line also wasn't working. I then informed him that I was calling on my landline which was working absolutely fine. He still insisted that the problem was my phone line and he would have to transfer me to the phone helpline and before I could protest I was back in a queue.
• Fifteen minutes I was in the second queue before BT phone helpline answered my call and enquired what the problem was. I again explained that my broadband wasn't working, the person I was speaking to then told me he would have to transfer me to the Broadband helpline. Luckily I was able to interrupt him before I was back again in a queue and explained that I had just been transferred from there. This second operator ran another check on my line and informed me that my phone line was out of action. Grr! Again I told him that I was calling from my home number and that it was working fine. Nevertheless he informed me that the problem was with my phone line and he would arrange an engineer to visit on Saturday morning to fix it. He asked for my mobile number so that the engineer could inform me when he/she was on the way. I explained that there was no mobile reception where I lived but they could call on  my landline, only to be informed again that they wouldn't be able to do this as my landline wasn't working. By this time steam was coming out of my ears.
• Saturday morning the BT engineer arrived at about 9.00 o'clock. I explained that the problem was with my broadband and my phone was working fine. He still insisted that the problem was with my phone line and sorting this would fix my broadband. He spent the next 2 and a half hours replacing the line which, where we live, runs underground. Eventually he came back inside and proudly announced that with the new lines my broadband should be even faster. He turned everything back on and, yes you guessed it, the broadband still wasn't working. It was only then that he looked at my broadband gizmos and identified that I had an intermittent power fault on my router. He told me that I would have to call BT again and ask to be sent a new router. I begged on bended knee, whilst sobbing into his toolbox, that he make the call for me as I wasn't sure if I could face it again but he heartlessly refused.
• This next call took 37 minutes to be answered. 37 minutes when I repeatedly listened to messages telling me how important my call was to them and telling me that I could get help on BT.com (assuming my broadband worked). 37 minutes when I contemplated whether I really needed the internet or in fact a phone. 37 interminable minutes where I paced the room, felt my blood boil and was able to perfect my teeth gnashing technique. 37 minutes when I wrote the weeks shopping list and attempted to clean the grouting between my bathroom tiles one handed. 37 of the longest minutes of my life. Eventually my call was answered and I told the operator what the engineer had said. She again insisted on running a line check and quizzed me about what exactly the engineer had said. At one stage it was touch and go whether she was going to take his advice as he was a phone engineer not a broadband engineer, apparently I should have originally requested to see a broadband engineer! Eventually she agreed to order me the part. It should arrive Wednesday or Thursday of this week.

I'm really hoping that the new router sorts the problem as I'm not sure that I can face calling BT again. How can a phone company, a phone company mind, take so long to answer a phone call? I'd also like to suggest that there be an international agreement that no head of state, who has responsibility for pressing the red button that releases nuclear warheads, ever be allowed to phone a call centre, the risk of them destroying the planet in their frustration is just too great.