She was a day......tripper

I fell up the stairs during Friday night. Well, to elaborate,  I fell up them once , and an hour or so later I tripped up them.  So, in truth,  I had two altercations with the stairs in one evening.  The latter occasion was a mere trifle (no, I do not mean that an example of one of those extraordinarily flamboyant desserts was sitting idly on the stair by the way….and no my lack of spatial awareness was not from over-indulging on  a sherry-fuelled pudding either).  However, even if I do say so myself, the first time was really quite impressive – one of those dramatic moments that can never be repeated in quite the same way.  An off the cuff theatrical masterpiece if you like. A BAFTA moment even.  But one that was not witnessed and/or investigated by those others residing in the house, apart from “You alright love?” from Jon who was on the ‘phone to Nick Redfern at the time of the event.

As I scuffed and bruised both elbows, both knees and my chin and lay sprawled on my stomach I had expected that my noisy ’ kerthump’ ,  and the loud exclamation of annoyance that burst forth from my lips would have caused the occupants of the rooms upstairs to open their doors to allow them to  investigate the commotion.  Mais non.  The doors remained firmly closed…well it was middle to late evening …so I must remember not to fall the more conventional  way (ie down) next time, especially during the evenings.  And particularly if Jon has already retired for the night; my poor broken and bruised body would probably not be found until the morning or when one of the other doors creaked open to disgorge its occupant on a midnight wander to find food in the kitchen.

The whole affair did not do much for my back either, which – although much improved – has still not recovered from whatever it was that I did to it after the Weird Weekend.  I suppose one could say that I am currently going through a phase of experiencing poor judgement of my surroundings. Or perhaps someone is drugging my tea…..hmmm.

Gorblimey hello Mrs. Jones, how's your Bert's lumbago?

After days of nagging warnings, it finally gave out on Thursday.  I am not sure what started it all off or even the exact nature of that which played the part of the last straw, but something  has obviously gone awry in my poor old back.  So, I am now hobbling around like some ancient and wizened old crone from a well-told fairy story.  Apart, that is, from the fact that I do not have a long crooked nose, a wart, or dishevelled, dry, wispy grey hair and do not possess a gnarled and bent walking stick, and I still have most of my teeth.  In fact, upon reflection, not really much like a crone from a well-told fairy story after all, so that little cameo is ruined. 

But hobbling I am, and bent over I am.  It took me around ten minutes this morning to go from lying in bed to sitting up,  and then  to get my legs to take me in some weird half-standing/half-crouching crab-like walk into the bathroom to attend to those oh- so-necessary morning ablutions.  I rue the day all those years ago when, being younger and without such cares in the world,  I washed my hair over the bath, much as I had done since I was but a slip of a thing but clearly, on that occasion, with misplaced enthusiasm.   To find that I couldn’t stand up straight again for hours afterwards came as a surprise, albeit - I suppose - merely one of those early warnings that youth was being left behind as I climbed towards the summit of that hill that would all too quickly reveal its somewhat slippery descent on t’other side.   Suddenly, something I had done for years was not possible any more without discomfort, and has now most definitely progressed to an absolute no-no. 

Whatever I did to cause this episode has well and truly scuppered my plans to film 'Watcher of the Skies' for the next edition of On the Track whilst tap dancing and juggling three coconuts at the same time.  Hmmm, I think we are back to long noses and well-told fairy tales again.

However, I am chuffed to note that I am providing Jon with some small entertainment as I shuffle around, followed by Pru the hop-a-long dog.  We must look a right pair. 

Happy birthday Jonathan!

One thing about the Weird Weekend: everything else seems to get put on the back-burner to a certain degree, and having a birthday the day after the event finishes is perhaps not the best day either.  So....YES .... I am late in posting birthday felicitations to my husband.  But better late than never though, and he did get birthday cake so I am sure he will not mind the tardiness in the publishing of this blog.

Happy Birthday, dearest Jonathan

xxxxxxx

Modern shameless CFZ advertising

Thanks to the superb photography of Olivia:

A fine display of mugs to commemorate the forthcoming expedition to search for the orang pendek:

She captured yours truly demonstrating the perfect use for said merchandise:

From two useful angles

but then it was realised:

that it is better to take more water with it:

Ah well

Saturday at Weird Weekend 2011

Saturday afternoon saw the renowned Weird Weekend cake eating competition in all its gory, stomach-churning, chocolatey glory:

Jon found a very sweet, stray chicken called Bo:

The children's activities, courtesy of the wonderful Dave, Joanne and Rosie Curtis, were in full swing:



And the creepy crawlies were creepy crawling courtesy of Nick, Kara, Lilly and Harriet Wadham:

All in all a pretty busy and fun-packed day for all concerned.

Friday night at the Weird Weekend 2011

Dr. Darren Naish in deep concentration.

After months of preparation the doors opened at 6 pm. Oll Lewis, Professor Bryan Sykes and Dr Darren Naish were on the opening bill, and it was at last time to relax and go with the flow.



And then there was dinner time...... I always look forward to the food at the Weird Weekend, there is always something tasty to be eaten and tonight it was delicious chilli and jacket potato. Thanks ladies!



Weird Weekend Thursday 18th August 2011

A few photos of the setting-up process for the cocktail party on Thursday night.