Tree surgery; clutch; comedy snippets

Have been wrangling for some time over what to do with the conifer in the garden that has been growing with splendid enthusiasm into next door’s garden. At the time Ray planted it looked like a brown, awkwardly-shaped overgrown twig, and I recall joking that it looked dead. Ray maintained that it was still alive and needless to say he turned out to be right; it has since then grown into a healthy-looking, shapely green specimen - but, as it was planted close to the boundary with number 51, a big part of the healthy-looking green portion had started growing into their garden and was starting to look in danger of twining itself around their children's trampoline. Ruth toyed with the idea of chopping it down, but I was too sentimental to allow this so we ended up doing an amateur piece of tree surgery, with her lopping off the portion that was growing into next door, while to prevent it falling into next door I tugged on a piece of twine tied around its trunk. We can be hired for larger jobs.

Since the New Year our cheery if slightly too laid-back electrician Chris has completed another few bits of work in the house, including a bizarrely-positioned shaver socket (at an informal debrief, Ruth and I agreed that we really should have decided beforehand where it was going to go. Bet the people featured in Living Etc never make that sort of mistake) and, most noticeably, an enormous red pendant lamp that Ruth bought from Heal's, to replace the more modest white pendant lamp that I had installed last year, but which didn't give out enough light. The new lamp certainly gives out more, albeit red, light - what with the red walls, not sure how this might look to the people who back on to our house.

Chris also disconnected the socket set into the kitchen chimney breast, in preparation for probable removal of the chimney breast at some point to create more space in the kitchen - though given our record so far with house refurbishment, it could be a while before that happens. A man from Aqua-King came to service our boiler on 11 April and asked cheerily (or possibly slightly mockingly) after the progress of bedroom 3. Ruth has concluded that our favoured tradesmen now know us too well and that we must move.

Sudden problems changing gear a couple of weeks ago resulted in having to fork out just short of £400 for a new clutch. I had been hoping that all that was needed was a top up with a bit of gearbox oil, but no such luck apparently. I am inclined to trust Anglos as they have on a couple of occasions investigated potential problems that turned out to be false alarms and not charged me for the labour, so didn't dispute their diagnosis. When I went to collect the car, Shelley, one half of the duo that owns the garage, announced "That was broken!". I know, I replied, the mechanic phoned me earlier. No, literally broken, she advised me; apparently the clutch plate had a crack all down it and had actually broken apart in the mechanic's hands when he removed it. A necessary repair then. Now pondering whether I change gear particularly roughly.

Travelodge living during the weeks continues. Had a cold a couple of weeks back and didn't fancy cold food - an exciting combo of cheese and oatcakes – for my dinner, so perused Waitrose for ‘just add water’ snacks. Picked up an Ainsley Harriott version of Cup-a-Soup (acceptable) and two products by itsu, a noodle pot (wouldn’t do it again) and a pack of miso soups (haven’t tried yet). This week I was moderately organised and managed to make some dinners (stir-fried tofu and noodles) in advance which I boxed up and am storing in the office fridge. Have to eat them cold, but it's an improvement on oatcakes.

Flicking through a ‘Toys R Us’ catalogue/supplement that arrived with the local free paper a couple of weekends ago, I was struck – in addition to being struck by the nauseating pinkness that still identifies the ‘toys for little girls’ pages – by the scatological nature of some of the toys on offer these days. As Exhibit A, Baby Born’s ‘Interactive Potty’ – when you sit the doll on the potty and press the button, you get to hear ‘funny tinkling sounds or her passing gas’. Excellent. As Exhibit B, ‘Barbie Potty Pets’, featuring Barbie armed with poop-a-scoop and cat litter tray. I suppose the second could be regarded as vaguely educational in the sense of familiarising kids with the requirements of real life pets. Not sure about the first; that may just be gross.

Spent most of the Easter weekend at Mum and Dad's. Went for a pleasant solitary walk on the Saturday afternoon while Ruth did some weekend work for her current contract. The rest of the family came on the Sunday for a roast lamb lunch followed later by a Betty Crocker carrot cake and a batch of chocolate brownies, to celebrate Hannah's birthday on the Monday. Here she is blowing out a couple of candles, intently watched by Nia and Bertie.

Continuing the intermittent theme of absurd job titles: the OU is currently advertising for a Scrum Master. I am aware that Scrum is a project management framework, but this still sounds ridiculous. My friend Helen, who works in software testing, was part of a team a while back that had Scrum imposed on them, and it all sounded a bit of a nightmare. Essentially it seemed to involve everyone having to have a bash at everyone else's jobs. Wikipedia has a detailed entry on Scrum, currently including this charmingly incomprehensible paragraph:

Ruth and I paid our by now annual visit to the Reading Contemporary Art Fair on Sunday morning - unusually, she didn't buy anything, but I fell for a pair of Alce Harfield paintings that had been reduced in price and are the perfect shape for our stairwell. I already have one of her paintings, so it's perhaps a bit excessive, but I think that's all our wall space used up anyway. Among the artists displaying their work, possibly the weirdest display was Myung Nam An's porcelain eyes (postcard right).

Made the mistake of standing too long by one display of animal sculptures made with a slightly sentimental back-of-Sunday-supplement look and had one of the maker's leaflets thrust into my hand. Scoffed later at this insert which offers to create a lasting memory of your pet from its ashes.


Victoria has recently discovered a character listed on the OU staff list under the name ‘Warrior-Princess Meridian’. We pondered that we haven’t seen anyone around campus who looks as though they’re called that (imagining someone in a flowing cloak with perhaps a sword and spurs - but she’s probably a grey-haired lady in sensible trousers and a rucksack; there are quite a number of these at the OU). Assume that she must have changed her name via deed poll, unless she's the child of Wiccan priestess parents or similar.