305: deliver us from Evri*

*Other, equally useless, courier companies are available.

Over the last couple of weeks I have been ordering a lot of things for the access trolleys and the quiet space at our new site: from fidget toys and ear defenders to weighted shoulder wraps, twiddle muffs and friendly puppets. Families arriving with children who have additional needs will be able to pick up a sensory bag to take on their journey around the galleries, and adults will be able to choose the items they need to support their visit. In the quiet space there will be calming things for people feeling overwhelmed or reflective.

All of the things have had to be delivered by people who are paid (admittedly extremely badly, in some cases) to do exactly this: deliver things. It is their job. It is the sole reason for the existence of their employers: DHL, Evri, Royal Mail, Yodel and so on. I buy something on a website. The company dispatches the item, either by taking their parcels to the appropriate parcel place or by handing them over to the courier company when they come to collect them. The parcels are taken to a hub. They are sent from the hub to local delivery depots for collection by the local courier. The local courier picks them up and (ideally, in theory) delivers them to the person who ordered them: in this case, me.

This seems simple, yes? Order thing, thing sent, thing received. Unless something goes wrong between point A (the company) and point B (me), this should be the end of things. Things do go wrong, often with Evri in my experience: things disappear in transit, they experience ‘shrinkage’ in the warehouse, the courier throws all the parcels in a ditch in protest at being paid 50p a day or something, the parcel is ripped open in transit and arrives damaged and missing some bits which point A then has to make good so point B can start her new crochet project (for example), the parcels go back five paces, miss a turn and do not pass Go, that sort of thing. These things can often be resolved although not in the case of shrinkage/eddies in the space-time continuinuinuinuum when there is no hope and one must attempt to deal with customer service. The company has my money and I have the goods I have paid for. Like I say, this should be the end of things.

Ah, if only. If only.

I had two days off earlier in the week courtesy of the Grandtwins, who shared a particularly virulent bug with the family last weekend and which knocked out me, my Beloved, Things 2 and 3 like skittles on Sunday night. When I opened my emails on Wednesday the full horror of ordering things online (from UK companies, not even the big river) dawned in the shape of messages from Evri, DHL, Yodel, Royal Mail asking ‘how did we do?*’. Well, you did your job. Jolly well done. That’s really the very least we can expect.

Readers, I work in a ground floor office in the middle of Islington. Drivers can pull up literally outside, step from van to door, ring the buzzer and someone will come and relieve them of the parcel within 30 seconds. It is not rocket science. It is not even normal science. Not a single one of these drivers is ever required to abseil through a skylight, steer a speedboat through shark-infested waters, climb a mountain, freeclimb over a precipitous balcony and confront a vicious chihuahua armed with only a balaclava in order to leave a ~~box of mediocre chocolates~~ parcel on my desk. So why, therefore, should I be expected to rate their ability to hand a box to someone?

I am, of course, aware that these pesky emails are autogenerated. They’re also unsolicited, as I opt out of all of these things – when given the option. Any complaints made via this system aren’t read anyway and it tells you this from the off – especially in the case of the larger companies whose customer service is provided by bots until you accidentally enter the day’s prize password which grants you your wish to engage briefly and usually unsatisfactorily with an alleged human. In the cultural sector we talk about not doing evaluation for the sake of evaluation: ratings collected and input into some spreadsheet which is filed away and occasionally used to say things like ‘90% of our sessions are rated as excellent’ in a funding bid. Nothing is acted upon, so nothing improves, and the world (at least in my opinion) is made just a little bit worse by having to waste time deleting these unasked for, resource-wasting, AI-generated emails from your inbox.

The one that particularly annoyed me this week was nothing to do with work, however. It was from Evri, relating to a Wool Warehouse parcel they had mostly delivered. The new Attic 24 blanket CAL (crochet-a-long) started last Friday so I opened the yarn pack I’d ordered ready to start. I have never taken part in a CAL before so I was looking forward to it.

Six balls of yarn were missing, including the second colour needed from the pattern, some of the bands were ripped and the yarn was unravelling, so I emailed the yarn company who were wonderful as always. On Monday the WW team responded by 9am and despatched the missing yarn. Evri had damaged the original parcel and shoved most of the contents back in any-which-way before taping it up, sticking a new label on and delivering it to me (a day later than expected). The replacement yarn was sent on Monday, next-day delivery. It turned up two days later. So, a parcel that should never have been necessary, delivered late….and they ask you ‘how did we do?’ It doesn’t matter how amazing an online retailer is, how fast they send your parcel and how beautifully packaged it is, if the customer experience is marred by the delivery experience. Royal Mail is now so expensive to send parcels with that the courier companies have customers and retailers over a barrel. Or at least they would, if the barrel had been delivered on time.

*This isn’t even considering the emails from the companies supplying the actual products, who also emailed me. And heaven forbid you leave something in your basket, or put something in your basket and then remove it – that’s a whole new inbox of wheedling, passive-aggressive emails trying to tempt you back.

Things making me happy this week

Getting lots of reading done, which at least makes being ill more bearable
Deciding what to do with the enormous pile of 4-ply granny squares I’ve been glaring at for months

The first ridiculous amigurumi of the year. He’s a KING prawn!

Making a skirt with cargo pockets. Not sure they’re sewed on quite right but they do the job!

It’s been a creative week, as you can see – later today I am off to Heather’s for a crafty afternoon as we’re not going to the wool show this weekend. This week I have a couple of evenings with friends planned which I’m very much looking forward to!

I’ll leave you with a picture of Bailey looking singularly unimpressed….

Same time next week, everyone. How did I do?

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

Mudlarking – Lara Maiklem (Audible)

Cold Shoulder Road/Midwinter Nightingale/The Witch of Clatteringshaws – Joan Aiken

There Will Be Bodies – Lindsey Davis

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy/The Restaurant at the End of the Universe – Douglas Adams (Audible)

The Retired Assassin’s Guide to Orchid Hunting – Naomi Kuttner

Vagabond – Tim Curry

284: getting the hang of Thursday

Thursday was GCSE results today for Thing 2 – we were at school for 8am and then went straight to her chosen college to enrol. Jill brought me coffee in the queue, as she works there, and when the doors opened we got her signed up on the Culinary Arts course and kitted out with chef’s whites, her very own apron and oven cloth, and a pair of extremely no-nonsense steel-toe-capped kitchen shoes. I can’t decide whether she looks grown up or dressed up, but I’m extremely relieved that she got the grades she needed and onto the course she wanted. Apparently there is a shortage of patisserie chefs, so I have heroically volunteered as a taste tester should she go down that route.

Thursday afternoon had more drama – I’ve been feeding Ziggy and the Piggies for the last ten days or so* (next door’s mighty hunter cat and guinea pigs, not a Bowie tribute band) and while chatting to the other neighbour she mentioned that she thought Ziggy had caught a magpie but not killed it, as it was sitting on their lawn. Off I went with Doctor Doolittle (aka my Beloved) in tow to see if the ‘pie could be saved. Its wings were working as it kept flapping away from us, but its legs were dragging. We couldn’t see any cat damage, and Ziggy wasn’t around, so after some manoeuvring Dr D managed to get it into a cardboard box and we covered it with a wire frame to prevent cat attack. In between adding bits to my learning strategy I tried contacting the local wildlife rescues in the hope they’d come and help but they said that if the legs were damaged it couldn’t be rehabbed. I phoned the vet and took Mr Magpie (no idea where his wife and/or children were, though obviously I asked as it’s only polite) round to them. I suspect they would have had to put him to sleep, as the new receptionist didn’t look very hopeful, but at least he was safe from cats.

He wasn’t a fledgeling as all his beautiful feathers were in. We have experience with fledgelings, as we once rescued a baby woodpigeon who’d fallen out of the nest and kept him in a box on the trampoline for a couple of weeks while his anxious parents flew down and fed him. I don’t know whether he was a single chick who was just too fat for them to get back off the ground or if he just went too early. Eventually the rest of his feathers grew in and he fledged properly over a couple of days and headed off. We also used to have a collared dove pair who nested in the Christmas tree where the treehouse was and we always enjoyed watching their nestlings hop around on the railings. We’re lucky enough to have a lot of mature trees around the garden, and usually have robins, blue tits (who treat the trampoline net as a climbing frame), blackbird, woodpigeon and magpie families raising chicks every year. There’s a fierce wren who chased Ziggy off, much to his surprise and embarrasment, and a poser of a bullfinch who sits on a tree stump and shows off. The odd sparrowhawk has been known to rest on the edge of the sunroom roof, and the roof pigeons like to sit on the glass roof and wind up the cats.

There’s a gang of teen corvids – a couple of jackdaws, a rook and a magpie – who terrorise the neighbourhood feeders and hang out on roofs cawing, and sometimes we get visits from the village peacocks on a wander. I think they have extended their territory into the woods behind the house as they were regularly waking me up at 4am earlier in the summer despite sleeping in Loop earplugs. Colin the pheasant – named by our builders, who reckoned he strutted about like one of their lads – used to be a regular visitor and was tame enough to hand feed monkey nuts to. We haven’t had a pheasant for a while but we have had badger cubs in the garden again this year, and a fox investigating the Blink camera. I like to sit out and work in the garden and listen to the different songs – the BirdNet app is great for identifying all the different species.

*Ziggy self-catered this morning, however, choosing to picnic on something in our garden. This is fine, as last time I was in charge of him he was leaving me decapitated meeces in the mornings.

Making me happy this week…

This week was vastly improved by the existence of Wednesday which was bracketed by early morning coffee with Amanda and after work (nonalcoholic)* cocktails with Rhiannon. Epping continues to disappoint, as did the High Court interim injunction this week which is bound to be seen as a precedent for all sorts of other councils to take umbrage at the Home Office’s flagrant disregard for change of use applications and so on. Of course this meant there was shouting and celebrating outside the Bell, where the residents are already too scared to leave the building. The ‘decorators’ have been active in our village again, which I hope doesn’t mean they’re going to start terrorising the families in the Phoenix. I am a cynic, so I suspect the lack of public transport and criminal opportunities other than the farm shop and soft play next door might put the hoi polloi off visiting, unless they fancy some expensive sausages and some cake.

Anyway, Rhiannon and I tried a new food hall type place near St Paul’s Station, where I had a ‘Light & Stormy‘ which was remarkably convincing. It had a herbal elixir (an excellent word) instead of dark rum apparently it contains trendy mushrooms. Whatever- I liked it and if it wasn’t just as expensive as rum I might get fonder of it. We didn’t eat although there was a good range of food options. We had agreed ahead of time that we’d spend exactly ten minutes having a rant, although we did add two minutes for AOB (well, expressing our disbelief at members of the local council). We had a timer and everything, and then we had a lovely couple of hours chatting about everything else.

*apart from the tequila slammer that the nice man gave us in exchange for leaving a review.

A solo trip to Harlow where I had a holiday mani/pedi so I have pretty nails – the colour is Thai Chilli Red which isn’t too red or too orange. It wasn’t my first choice but they’d run out of that – red with a burst of gold – and I like it a lot.
Not Amazon, who have annoyed me this week by failing to deliver a parcel three days this week as they were unable to find my front door. Suggesting they got out of the van and walked up the drive was not helpful.

This week I will be working from France, and appreciating not having to think about feeding people or public transport. I shall mostly be shortlisting…

Same time next week, people!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

The Furthest Station/The Hanging Tree – Ben Aaronovitch (Audible)

The Postman’s Path – Alan Cleaver. meh. Took back to library without finishing as it was disappointing. If ever a book needed Illustration it was this one. He kept going on about sketching and doing walks but there were no sketches shon or even a map. Great premise, poorly executed despite good reviews.

Midnight & Blue – Ian Rankin

The Book of Doors – Gareth Brown

275: A-team, eat your heart out

A grey cat lying on paving slabs with some strawberry plants

I’m writing this sitting in the garden shelter in my bathers late Saturday morning. I am writing it now so I can schedule it for tomorrow morning as I may have melted in the 33 degree heat predicted for this afternoon. It’s been getting steadily hotter all week, and the garden shelter has become my office on my WFH days which has been a blessing as the house has been baking. Bailey’s chosen sleeping spot this week has been plastered against the north east corner wall where it’s cool as the sun never gets into it. Lulu, on the other hand, keeps lying in the sweltering conservatory and looking at me accusingly although there is a perfectly good hard floor in the kitchen she’d be cooler on. She’s not allowed out unsupervised as she swears at Ziggy and last week made it into the neighbour’s garden. Ted is making his displeasure known through the medium of loud miaows.

The shelter was formerly known as ‘under the treehouse’, before the kids stopped using the treehouse because of the spiders and my Beloved cut down the tree because it (a planted Christmas tree from his childhood which had grown enormous) was blocking the solar panels. It’s been one of those projects that, in the words of designerly types, just kept iterating.

The original plan was a small crows nest that the kids could climb up to, but then they got involved and it was big enough to have a small picnic table, some shelves, a crows nest rigged from an old Ercol chair, rigging and a roof. It was bigger than my kitchen. Then Thing 1 and her dad designed a seat underneath made from an old wooden bed frame, and gradually one of the sides got enclosed. The deck underneath it was extended to the edge of where the strawberries and fruit trees live in the winter and the pool in the summer.

The original treehouse with Thing 2 in the crows nest

When the original tree and treehouse came down the platform stayed, although he raised it a foot or so. A green roof was installed with succulents to attract wildlife. Then last year one of our neighbours, who knows of my Beloved’s penchant for recycling, brought over a conservatory which was being removed from a posh house refurb. The doors and windows have been fitted to the shelter so we can sit surrounded by greenery but sheltered from the weather. It’s got quite a nice half-timbered effect at the back and cladding on the corner now too.

This year, he’s added a slanting roof to the front to replace the sailcloth canopies we’ve had in previous summers as they’re never square and always collect rain in a dip in the middle. My role was to remove the plastic protection from the powder coated panels before they went up, and occasionally to have an opinion (something I am quite good at, unlike DIY). Last weekend we rigged a sailcloth along the front for shade for the babies during the Father’s Day BBQ and this has now become a cunningly rolled curtain. I confidently expect to come back one day and find out that it’s been extended to meet the house so the furry thugs can access it via a Great Escape style tunnel from their catio. (He’s just informed me that he’s bought some coolpads for the cats, so this isn’t too much of a stretch.)

I came home from work yesterday and it was full of teenagers celebrating the of their GCSEs with a sleepover (9 of them!) and today it’ll be full of family which is always lovely. I love having a houseful, especially if I am not required to feed them.

Other things making me happy this week

Evidence that the fox is still on site at New River Head, having a good explore of the new concrete floors
Calippos
Getting all the schools booked in for piloting the new school sessions – and remembering just why I used to appreciate Brian and the box office at times like this. Eight days of delivery, eight different schools, three facilitators and one me….
Surviving Thing 2’s GCSEs. Two down, one to go…
Tom Hiddleston dancing. I am shallow.
The day I came home from work and the ice cream van arrived at the same time, followed by a dip in the pool
Air con in the office
Finishing Thing 2’s prom skirt – and she loves it, luckily. She’s going to look beautiful (of course) but also unique as she’s brave enough to make her own fashion choices.
A Solstice swim on Saturday evening – the lake was 27.4 degrees this week
Picnic food. I’m on catering strike.
Making a sensible decision not to train this weekend

This week I’m going to be 52 (how???) and I am planning on going somewhere nice for dinner, especially if this heatwave continues.

Same time, same place next week, unless I have MELTED.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

Shadowlands – Matthew Green

City of Ghosts/The Dream Thief/Dark Waters – Violet Fenn

La Vie – John Lewis-Stempel

Vianne – Joanne Harris

Greetings from Bury Park – Sarfraz Manzoor (Audible)

274: cat among the pigeons

On Friday it was soooo muggy that I gave up on indoors and spent the afternoon working in the garden shelter, watched occasionally by next door but one’s cat Ziggy and some pigeons. Not at the same time though, as Zig has a well-founded reputation as a mighty hunter and has been plotting to poach our roof-pigeons for quite some time. He sits on our conservatory roof and watches them, and they peer down at him from the guttering. One day he’ll make the leap…

He’s a very beautiful ginger tom who – like all animals – is a sucker for my Beloved and also for the nepeta planted near our pond. The pictures above are a before and after set for his plant love-in. The Chinese rhubarb on the other side of the pond is considerably less battered as Ziggy and the occasional other cat visitor doesn’t luxuriate in it. The nepeta was almost completely demolished but is making a comeback. As long as they leave the newt who has recently taken up residence in the pond alone they can keep the plants!

The pigeons, on the other hand, were mostly side-eyeing me as they stripped the blackcurrant bush of pretty much every last currant. I don’t mind this as we never really do anything with them other than make blackcurrant vodka if there’s enough, and also if they’re nicking the currants they’re not eating the strawberries. I am mostly eating the strawberries and the raspberries: there is nothing like a perfectly ripe strawberry picked in the sunshine and eaten still warm.

The promised thunderstorms scheduled for Friday afternoon and evening failed to appear, though it is at least a bit fresher with some breezes. Today we have the family round for a Father’s Day barbecue, which is causing me to wonder why I am supposed to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of what was put in the freezer after the last barbecue in April.

Other things making me happy this week

Surrendering to the Force and giving last week’s pangolin a lightsabre. FINE, he needed one
A surprise visit from young H who’d forgotten her keys and knows there’s safe haven at my house, even though she and Thing 3 are sworn enemies
A visit to the National Portrait Gallery to chat all things programming
An excellent CPD on on object handing at UAL, where we got to see some excellent archival material including a pair of tights made for Grayson Perry

A full moon swim at Redricks Lake on Wednesday night – the water was hovering about 20 degrees, and I was feeling lazy so I mostly dipped and enjoyed the atmosphere. It’s always so pretty with the fairy lights.

And that’s it from me for the week – I’m off for a swim this morning to set me up for the day, then a bit of sewing to finish the prom dress before the hordes descend!

A happy Father’s Day to my excellent dad, too! He may need to re-register his Kindle as apparently we can no longer buy Amazon.com e-gift cards to be sent outside the US.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

Anna Again/My Favourite Mistake – Marian Keyes

Shadowlands – Matthew Green

The Gilded Nest – Sarah Painter

Earl Crush/Ne’er Duke Well – Alexandra Vasti

The Secret Service of Tea and Treason – India Holton

A Demon’s Guide to Wooing a Witch – Sarah Hawley

Hex Appeal/Hex and the City/Hex and Hexability – Kate Johnson

261: in an unusual move…

A few months back my friend Jill, who knows I love a good crime novel, handed over a book called The Raging Storm and told me I’d really enjoy it. I was aware of the author, Ann Cleeves, as I spend a lot of time perusing the crime section in libraries and charity shops, but for some reason I hadn’t read any. This one, one of the ‘Two Rivers’ series which focus on Detective Matthew Venn, sat on the TBR pile for a while until I was in the mood for something new.

The story is set in a small Cornish fishing village, close to where the detective was brought up in a very strict religious sect. A local celebrity is found horribly murdered in a storm, and then another body follows on the same beach. Venn, with the assistance of his colleagues, are tasked with finding the culprit. For the first few days this was my upstairs book (as opposed to my downstairs book or my portable book), and then I was hooked and it got carried around with me – I didn’t work out the murderer until the reveal. By about half way through I’d ordered several more from the library, was rummaging in the charity shops and checking out the Kindle deals.

The first book in this series was filmed as The Long Call, a four parter available on ITVx, and I watched it in one sitting yesterday afternoon. We’ve also been binging one of her other series, Shetland (BBC iPlayer) in the evenings. I am heavily invested in this now, not least because the main character – Detective Jimmy Perez – is played by Douglas Henshall.

I have had a bit of a soft spot for Mr Henshall since Primeval, where he negotiated anomalies and prehistoric creatures in very practical fashion. If I was in danger of finding myself threatened by dinosaurs I could think of no one I’d rather wrestle them with, quite honestly.

However, as we’ve progressed through the series I have become increasingly interested in how cuddly he looks in his trademark crewneck jumpers and I am having worrying Mrs. Doyle-esque thoughts – as in the Father Ted episode Night of the Nearly Dead. I’ve always thought of myself as more of a Father Dougal so this is a concerning progression. In this episode Mrs Doyle (the brilliant Pauline McLynn) wins a poetry competition where the prize is a visit from daytime TV host Eoin McLove (Patrick McDonnell). McLove, a Daniel O’Donnell caricature, is beloved of old ladies across Ireland and known for his love of jumpers and cake.

Rest assured I will not be writing odes to Mr Henshall’s knitwear or, indeed, baking a cake. However, this is not the normal progress of my occasional celebrity crushes – I have never been tempted to send John Cusack lists of my top five break-up songs, for example, or to crochet guitar cosies for Mr Springsteen. Also, I have never had a favourite jumper in a TV series before (it’s the dark green one, if you’re interested). Not even referring to it as CSI: Balamory is helping.

I think I may need to go and watch videos of Robert Plant circa 1976 until I feel better. Or plan a trip to Lerwick.

Other things making me happy this week

A midweek visit to The Goldsmiths Centre to see their Interwoven: Jewellery Meets Textiles exhibition. They always have lovely shows on and there’s an excellent cafe attached.
Excellent progress on the Hexie Cardigan while watching Shetland. (I can’t see Detective Perez in this one.). This is such a relaxing project.
Starting on the cream granny squares for my portable project
A five-mile walk with Thing 2 this morning, at least until she started complaining about the wind, the stitch, the uphills, the drawstrings on her jumper…
The one cat (Teddy) that just walks into the cat carrier and sits down, without requiring a pincer movement and a pre-planned strategy (Lulu) or a short wrestling match (Bailey)
Remembering the genius of Terry Pratchett

Today I have a 15km walk planned, in preparation for the big day next Sunday. Hopefully the weather will behave!

Have a good week, everyone! All crime novel recommendations accepted, as long as they’re not written in the first person.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading

Raven Black/The Crow Trap – Ann Cleeves

The Trouble With The Cursed – Kim Harrison

The Truth/Going Postal – Terry Pratchett (Audible)

237: excuse me, did you see where summer went?

Well, where did it go? This week has been very rainy – indeed, torrential at times – and there’s been a definite chill in the air in the mornings and evenings. I was even forced to wear socks while working at home on Friday which seems a step too far after last week’s warm sunshine. I’ve swapped the cats so Ted and Bailey are the upstairs ones this week, as they’re pretty much guaranteed to lie on me at night and keep my feet warm. The downside of this is opening my eyes of a morning to find the pair of them glaring at me, especially if I’ve had the temerity to sleep in past 5.30am and their breakfast is late. Teddy, in particular, likes to tap-dance on my ribs to encourage me to wake up.

In the usual manner of things, of course, I can’t find the jacket that’s been hanging around all summer, and it’s still not quite cool enough for a coat. It’s also dark when I get to the bus stop in the mornings. It does mean we can look forward to crispy autumn and winter swims soon, and Thing 2 and I had fun popping conkers on the way home this afternoon. She brought me a pocketful of conkers from a walk the other day, knowing how much I love their shiny, silky shells.

I love autumn, it may be my favourite time of year, with the forest showing off its best colours – even London’s street trees get their chance to shed crunchy plane leaves all over the place, at least until the street sweepers turn up. There’s tiny pumpkins in the garden and squirrels are parkouring around the place collecting acorns and burying them so they’ll pop up as little oak saplings all over the garden next year. We* have transplanted enough of these into pots to make a small portable forest.

*Not me, obviously. My beloved, but I admire them when he’s done it and point out new ones when I spot them.

Other things making me happy this week:

Christmas crafting – making gingerbread men and yet more tiny mice
Afternoon at Jill’s for her annual Macmillan tea party. I left before the gin was cracked open…
Colleagues who recommend good books, and library ordering systems
Another cross stitch finish and a StayPuft Marshmallow Man
My job – working in an organisation genuinely committed to EDI and understanding barriers to access both internally and externally. Kindness and respect go a very long way.

Today I am off for a morning swim, and then Thing 2 and I are off to the cinema to see Beetlejuice Beetlejuice – I was in charge of tickets and she’s on snacks, and then we’re going to go and see TT1 and the family. And then she’s in charge of dinner, hurray!

This week is new washing machine week, as Repairman 2 wrote it off. Currently when it goes into spin it sounds like its filled with cats and rocks, neither of which should be included in laundry.

Same time next week, then?

What I’ve been reading:

Murder at the Monastery – Rev. Richard Coles

The Island God – Sarah Painter

We Are All Made Of Glue – Marina Lewycka

Tricky Twenty-Two – Janet Evanovich (Audible – and a lot of live Eddie Izzard)

Real Tigers – Mick Herron

166: careful K, your nerd is showing

Here I am at the end of my first week at my new job, which is pretty flipping exciting indeed.

You know sometimes when you start a new job that you spend the first few days feeling a bit lost, as everyone else is getting on with things and no one is quite sure what to do with you? Or they give you a whirlwind tour of the building and then you spend the next week trying to remember where the staff toilets are, what the coffee arrangements are and who that person is in the corner.

This week was not that week.

Tan and I flew back from Mallorca on Monday night – delayed by an hour, the M23/M25 junction was closed, so was the South Circular, so we had to detour through the wilds of south-west London (there are a lot of Specsavers and Boots stores there, I can tell you). The saving grace was that the loud idiot who had been on our flight out was not on our flight back, though the rest of the hen and stag parties were so we suspect he was either arrested or deported*. I was staying in Ealing, so I staggered into bed just after 2am (bless my brother-in-law for setting up the airbed for me before we got back!) and lurched out again at 6. The plan was to meet my bestie at 8am for a first day coffee, as we’re now working within a few minutes’ walk of each other.

The Elizabeth Line had other ideas – a 25 minute journey took more than an hour and a half, which was either due to a faulty train, someone on the track, an eddy in the space-time continuinuinuum, or possibly the software gremlin which has been causing the emergency braking system to engage randomly since they upgraded it in April. The Lizzie line starts running at full timetable this week, so let’s see how that works.

Anyway. Day one included a speedy tour of the building. We’re lodging temporarily in a comms company’s back office, while our own FABULOUS new site at New River Head is under development. It’s open and friendly, and we’re all in the same room. Hot desks again, so I’m still carrying a laptop around, but never mind. Here, the station to go home is closer than the Secretariat gate at the V&A was from the offices. Once logged in I had a whole pile of emails waiting for me, things to read, and in the afternoon we had a project team meeting at the new site. No time to feel lost! I do need to make a laptop bag though.

The rest of the week has been reading policies and strategies and plans, and delving into my London library (glad I kept that!) to find out more about the history of the New River – ah, you’re a nerd already!, said the Director. Little does she know…I’ve met my team, arranged some more meetings with various people to get up to speed on things, and generally felt useful.

*Our flight out was disturbed by him making downright offensive comments to and about the air staff, passing mothers-of-brides. He claimed he was ‘bringing the party’. I suspect someone else had dropped out and the groom had invited him to fill the numbers as they’d been at primary school together, as the rest of the stag party were nice and well-behaved. The man next to me had words with him. He made a comment about other people needing to wear headphones. I lost my cool (ha!) slightly. Yes, I called him sunshine. We were all friends by the end of the flight but still…

The rest of the week…

Our last day in Mallorca was Sal’s birthday, and we started off with an early swim at the tiny beach in Deia where we disappointed the local white van men delivering beer to the bar by keeping our tops on. We suspect they were waiting for the lithe blonde lady who appeared as we were leaving, who would have made them much happier. Breakfast on the balcony followed, with fresh pastries, oranges from the tree and Spanish hot chocolate. The ‘little stroll’ around Deia we’d decided on turned out to be just under 9k, taking in the beach again, a climb up the hill beyond the villa where we saw a black vulture circling, a wander round the town and finally tapas and a well-earned drink. We also saw a red kite or two, heard a nightingale, and discovered some really loud frogs.

A little stream through Deia, with various washing troughs

On the Sunday we’d tackled a nice easy mountain (!) and scrambled over to very pretty Valdemossa, where we had well-deserved cake and a wander round the town while waiting for the bus back. The buses are a hair-raising experience at times, as the roads are long and windy and the buses are…not. They are bus-sized buses, as Jane said. The bus back from Valdemossa was slightly late, and the driver made a special effort to make up time on the way to Deia. We were sitting down but still felt the need to hold on!

Sally and Jane at the top of the mountain

Yesterday’s long walk was much less exotic, but also a lot less mountainous as it was in Essex – I did manage to find some hills to boost my elevation, though. I took the same footpath I used a few weeks ago but turned right instead of left at the bottom of the hill. I should have turned round after 6k, as a 12k was on the plan but I was enjoying the walk so I carried on. 24k later… the walk took me through Theydon Mount, Hobbs Cross, Theydon Garnon, Theydon Bois (as I’ve said before, Essex likes to make the most of a good name), past Ambresbury Banks and down into Epping, where I joined the Essex Way through Coopersale and Gernon Bushes back home. The sun was out, the glam rock playlist was on, and the pace was fine. Today there’s been a swim at the lake – the swans have one cygnet left and they are quite feisty. One bit an unwary swimmer’s foot, in fact.

There’s a 12k on the cards this afternoon, so I’d better go and fuel up!

As always, you can find out why we’re scrambling up mountains and wandering through forests at our JustGiving page. I’m £175 off my personal fundraising target, and it would be great to raise as much as we can for Parkinsons Research. Gwrachod Ar Daith translates roughly to ‘Witches on Tour’ – a long tour at 100km and now only 6 weeks or so away…

See you next week.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

Last Act in Palmyra/Time to Depart – Lindsey Davis

That Mitchell &Webb Sound – Audible

149: spinning around

Disclaimer: before I begin, any typos are the fault of trying to type at an angle due to having a lap full of cats. Attempts to dislodge them proved futile, as they just sat on the laptop. You have been warned.

As mentioned last week, my partner in woolly crime Heather and I were off to the Waltham Abbey Wool Show on Sunday to fondle yarn and to have a go at spinning on a drop spindle – something I have wanted to try for a while. An excuse to have a go at using all those gorgeous piles of fluff and colour and sparkle that are on offer at the shows, and also to learn a new skill.

Led by Michele Turner, aka Craftyheffalumpus, it was 90 minutes of woolly happiness: fluff and squish and colour and interesting crafty gadgetry. Many of these gadgets are surprisingly spiky (hackles and wool combs, for example) and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find them popping up in a gruesomely bucolic (bucolically gruesome?) episode of Midsomer Murders. The Midsomer Weavers and Spinners Guild could be a force to be reckoned with. You read it here first.

There’s also a whole lexicon of new vocabulary: as well as the aforementioned hackles, there are batts, punis, roving, staple, noils, tops, rolags, slubs, and of course the fabulous niddy-noddy. We had a go at using some different types of spindle, working with different forms of fluff (assorted sheep! sparkly things!) and we all went away with small balls of yarn and a new excuse to go and squish (and sniff) different sorts of yarn at the stalls. My favourite was YarnTings with beautiful hand-dyed batts inspired by photos the dyer had taken.

I came home with some lovely things to spin, some sock yarns (of course) inspired by Doctor Who, and a spindle. There were some stalls missing from previous years but many new ones – I have some linen yarn to try making some jewellery with, which I haven’t seen before, and it looks as if it may need less starching than cotton thread. You’ll see from this week’s reading list that I have been doing some research, but so far I haven’t convinced my beloved that we need an alpaca/small flock of sheep for the garden.

Further adventures with Evri

Well, the missing parcels finally arrived! Having been declared lost in the previous week, they then reappeared and re-entered the delivery process on Monday with a ‘your parcels are out for delivery’ notification. They were not delivered. Tracking on Tuesday showed them as actually going backwards in the system to the sender’s local depot. They finally arrived on Thursday. Ordering something this weekend, I was offered the option of free delivery with Evri, or £3.50 for DPD. Want to guess which one I picked?

Swimming with the (frozen) fishes

Between starting this post and now, I have been up to Redricks Lake for a swim – well, a dip. The lake is covered in an inch-thick skin of ice in the dipping spot, and we did have to talk ourselves into getting in there today! I went up in my wetsuit for the first time since last March, and then took it off before I got in as the thought of wrestling it off again was daunting to say the least. I wore 5mm boots and my 3mm boots on my hands which looked very silly but meant I didn’t have to struggle getting the winter gloves off.

It was definitely only for the hardy today at a surface temperature of 1 degree and an air temp of -5…! Thanks to another swimmer for taking pics of Jill and I in the water…I have my new sparkly red bobble hat on, made by Jill’s mum, and my skin matched it when I got out! I lasted about two minutes and then made a dash for the hot choc and my heated gilet. My foresight in putting my pants and thermal leggings into my hot water bottle cover was excellent and I feel amazing now, honest…

Other things making me happy this week

Kick off meeting to sort out the handling collection before we move back to Young V&A
Omelette at The Full Monty in Bethnal Green
Going public with our plan to do Race to the Stones in July to raise money for Parkinsons UK in memory of David Anderson (my Uncle David)
New shoes, finally delivered by Evri.
Starting to construct the Sew Different Sunrise Jacket – happiness tarnished by discovering that I’d cut one set of panels out the wrong way round. There was swearing.

And that’s it – I’m going to go and defrost in a hot bath now!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

Fool Moon/Grave Peril/Summer Knight – Jim Butcher

Hand Spinning – Pam Austin

Spin to Weave – Sara Lamb

Spin Art – Jacey Boggs

The Practical Spinner’s Guide: Wool – Kate Larson

Thud! – Terry Pratchett (Audible)

139: Definitely (still) a cat person

Right up until this morning this was going to be a blog about how – after decades as a dedicated cat person – I was coming round to the idea of dogs making quite good pets really.

Over lockdown, like manymanymany other people, some of my friends became dog owners. 3.2 million pets were purchased during lockdown (how? I am not sure even Amazon were delivering gerbils and so on). As you all know, I love a good walk so am usually up for a good wander and a putting-the-world-to-rights session with friends, and the advent of furry fiends makes these even more enjoyable.

Bella, belonging to my neighbours, was the first: an adorable miniature poodle puppy who is guaranteed to be pleased to see me and is not afraid to show it. She loves to run after tennis balls and bring them back, adores other dogs and was utterly bemused when a new kitten entered their household this year. Watching her try and encourage the kitten to play by bringing it cat toys was funny to watch, especially as Ziggy was really not convinced. This week we have been watching Ziggy attempt friendly overtures to my three furry idiots through the fence – Lulu is predictably outraged and spends ages staring through to a spot where she once spotted Zig, in case he returns. Ted and Bailey treat him more as a form of entertainment.

Dobby and Kreacher then joined the gang: rescue dogs from Europe, they moved in and have proved resistant to the idea of all other dogs. They live with Miriam and Roy, where I occasionally take refuge when working from home and there is building work happening next door. (OK, I take refuge there when I’m not working as well – this is where I play D&D and drink a lot of coffee). Dobby is the original Heinz 57 mixture and Kreacher is a miniature pinscher with enormous bat ears and a pathological hatred of pigeons. They like to sit on my lap during online meetings and stare intently into the camera. They have Mark, another of the D&D party, so well-trained that with just one look he now opens the door for them to go outside and gives them their biscuit afterwards.

On Saturday mornings Miriam, Jill (when she gets up) and I often go for an early walk through the local fields, come back via the market with pastries and drink coffee. They have now banned dogs from the market as it’s getting busy again but we still walk the hounds. Kreacher barks at all pigeons and other birds just in case, tries to stalk pheasants and both of them go demented when they see another dog. This morning Miriam and I took them out again and Dobby managed to get away from me and went to bounce at another small dog, racing round it in circles and until we caught her again. We had taken Dobby and Kreacher into the middle of the field to give the lady lots of space, but she meandered her way along s-l-o-w-l-y by which time D & K were thoroughly overexcited. I got my adrenalin from that this morning rather than a cold dip… and yes Dobby, you are the reason I am still a cat person this morning!

Other dogs in my life include Marshall and Luna, who belong to my timeshare teenagers; Loki, who is a recent arrival to the gang and the world’s biggest puppy; and Jax, who belongs to a friend in London and who I get to join on the odd walk round Shoreditch when she’s on holiday. Another rescue dog, this one hates drug dealers and has happy memories of that time he saw a squirrel in the dog park. He always greets new arrivals to his home by bringing them his teddy bear, which is very sweet. Honourable mentions to Kalie and Barney – the bruise on my leg from Kalie’s head has just about gone!

Crochet, crochet and more crochet

I finally had confirmation that I have a stall at Epping Christmas Market (3 Dec, 10am – 4pm) this year again, so have been making new stock in preparation – the trick is not letting Jill buy all of it before the day as every time I post something new she puts in an order!

There will also be the usual range of earrings (including felted puddings) and other jewellery, crocheted baubles, shawls, and so on. I am particularly enjoying these little jumpers and will be making a mini clothes rail later to hang them on. The jumper pattern is by Blue Star Crochet if you want to have a go yourself.

Other things making me happy this week

My first outing as one of the external advisors to Eton College Collections this week – a meeting, a short tour of their Natural History Museum and an excellent dinner. The occasion was made even better by the discovery that an ex-colleague is another advisor, so we had a good catch up.
A visit to the Young V&A site – it’s starting to come together! This was followed by cuddles with gorgeous baby Rudi.
The start of a friend’s 50th birthday celebrations in the pub last night – building up to a night away at a spa next weekend.
Coffee out this afternoon with another friend
The Elizabeth Line. 20 minutes from Paddington to Stratford!)

Things making me less happy this week

Three hours at A&E/Urgent Care GP dept with Thing 1 yesterday – severe tonsillitis (which we were told would have been considerably worse had we waited till Monday
Tube strikes (though I fully support their position, obvs.)
Train strikes (called off but still chaos)

Right, the ironing is looking at me (though I will be watching Bruce Springsteen on Graham Norton’s show on catch-up while I do it). Same time next week!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

The Ramble Book – Adam Buxton

Fairy Tale – Stephen King

Last Tango in Aberystwyth – Malcolm Pryce

126: ambassador, you are spoiling us

Last week we ran out of the Furry Fiends’ usual Iams cat food, and as the Amazon subscription delivery was due in a few days I grabbed some Go-Cat from the local Co-op to tide them over. It received the kind of ecstatic welcome I’d expect from the Things if I turned up with a surprise McDonalds. There was winding round the ankles, head bumps, clean bowls and general excitement. Clearly this is junk food extraordinaire for cats: weird shapes, vegetables, that sort of thing.

Considering they are cats and can’t actually speak, they do a good job of communicating their needs to us. Bailey herds us to where we need to be – food, or water – and Ted is very vocal. Lulu is the teenage sulky cat who flops about the place or stalks off in a huff.

All three of the furry landmines came to us as adult cats: Teddy and Bailey from a new blended family where there was an allergy, and Lulu from a home where they just didn’t have room for a cat any more. Ted was four, Bailey was three and Lulu was one. Ted is a lilac haired British Shorthair, Bailey is a chocolate point British Shorthair and Lulu is a dark tortoiseshell domestic shorthair (your common or garden mog, in other words). Much like the Things, they have their own very well-defined personalities.

Ideally they would all love each other and sleep in adorably Instagrammable furry heaps. In reality, the boys hate the girl so every week we have to swap them between upstairs and downstairs. The boys will walk through any open door, Lulu has to be collected by stealth or physically wrestled: no matter who actually does the swapping it’s my fault and my ankles are at risk for the next few hours. The sight of a bag of kitty litter sends her into hiding as she knows what’s coming. For a cat that regularly falls down stairs when she rolls over on the top step and who has been known to miss when she jumps onto something, she’s pretty bright at times. Ted and Bailey will also walk straight into the cat carrier to go to the vets.

Lulu adores my Beloved and has been known to bring him gifts of unwary shrews that venture onto the catio. Last Christmas it took us half an hour, a wooden spoon and an empty cheese sauce pot to recapture a mouse she’d brought him. At least once she’s handed them over she loses interest, so we don’t have to retrieve them from her. She snuggles up to him on the sofa, can recognise the sound of the van and sit up meerkat-style when she hears him coming in, and she hurls herself at his feet when he approaches. The rest of us get our ankles attacked and our shoulders high-fived when she’s ensconced in her favourite box on the cat tree. The computer chair is her favoured sleep spot, and she’s happy to demand space from Thing 3. She also likes to make her presence known in the night by dotting her cold nose on any exposed limbs, or via a piercing mew close to your ear.

Teddy and Bailey are much more laid back (unless Lulu is within sight). Ted’s turned into a bit of a princess at the grand age of 10, seeking out cushions and comfortable beds. All paper work on the floor is fair game, and all pencils are his playthings. He goes through phases of sleeping on my head in the night, as pillows are his property, which leaves me with a cricked neck. I can occasionally employ a decoy pillow to distract him, however. His favourite trick is to demand attention and then to lie down just out of reach of the person attempting to stroke him. He has a loud miaow, which he deploys when anyone has the temerity to a) lock a door against him, b) be outside in the garden or c) not provide undivided attention on demand.

Both Teddy and Bailey can detect a tin of tuna being opened from three rooms away and can teleport to the kitchen. Pedigree cats are prone to gingivitis, so Bailey had a lot of teeth removed a couple of years ago which has left him with a fang on his bottom jaw. He has a faintly piratical air thanks to this and his bandit mask (like the Dread Pirate Roberts). He likes to stand on his back legs to demand attention, and does a silent miaow at you, especially in the mornings when he knows breakfast is in the offing. He’s partial to the odd Quaver or Wotsit, and also likes scraps of ham. His current favourite spot in the heat wave is under the desk in a dark corner, or on the corner stair next to the outside wall where it’s cool.

These two do collapse in furry heaps together, and I suspect Bailey would be open to a friendlier relationship with Lulu if Ted wasn’t around. We live in a house which has had cats since the 1960s and it felt wrong to be without one!

Other things making me happy…

This week one of my colleagues managed to take a photo of me that I didn’t hate, and Thing 2 also captured one of me in my latest attempt at creating work-appropriate pyjamas. (I haven’t tested them out yet as this week has been heatwave time again.)

The red dress photo was taken at Oxford House, where one of my amazing colleagues organised an event for families on Monday. We had a great day meeting local families, playing with the blue blocks outside in the shade and finding out what makes them creative. They discovered what a curator does, saw some of the new ideas for the museum and designed some picture frames too. A local professional photographer, Rehan Jamil captured portraits of children with props while Will Newton, curator of the Imagine gallery, recorded their stories for the ‘This is Me’ section of the space. Naturally the team got in on the act for some test shots – of course I had my crochet with me in the shape of a new Dragon Scale shawl which is my current tube project. Our colleague on mat leave visited with her gorgeous baby, who is – fortunately – resigned to being cuddled by random museumites – the problem with people going on mat leave, I have found, is that you really want them to come back as you miss them but you also want their mat cover to stay as they are equally lovely.
The work appropriate pyjamas are actually the Zadie jumpsuit by Paper Theory – online reviews were mixed on fit, and the PDF pattern was a nightmare to put together but the result was great. I used another 100% cotton fabric that I’d bought as an end-of-roll bargain last year.
Fab lollies. Fab lollies are great. Although this week my beloved’s response to being asked if he’d like a Fab was ‘what time is it?’. That’s on a par with saying ‘no thanks, I’m not hungry’ to the offer of a chocolate. Weird.
Trialling a giant pig in a blanket version of last year’s tree decorations. Chunky yarn!

And now I’m off for a swim! See you next week.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

More Tales of the City/Further Tales of the City – Armistead Maupin

The Running Hare – John Lewis-Stempel

Swell – Jenny Landreth