The holiday didn't go quite as planned, because the caravan site called on Thursday morning to say they were very flooded. Well, how nice of them to bother calling on the previous week when the flooding occured instead of trying to waste our time by calling on the morning of our arrival. What were they expecting us to do with our booked off time at such short notice? What if we had travelled early to call in at places on the way? I have to say that I am not impressed with the attitude of those running the site for that reason.
As it happened we were about to leave when the call came through. A hurried call around several other sites in North Wales revealed that they too were either flooded or fully booked. In the end we decided to leave the caravan and head north to Durham to visit the soon-to-be in-laws. It's been a nice few days, if truth be told, and we've had the change of scenery that we needed as well as visiting family.
As I settle down awaiting the Italian Grand Prix this afternoon, I cannot begin to express my disgust at the tosswits who decide to cheat the results behind the scenes of Grand Prixs. After Lewis Hamilton legitamately won last race (and I've rewatched the footage several times and agree with most people that he did not cheat) the tosswits have decided to change the results. What other sport would tolerate faceless imbeciles changing the results afterwards? Can you imagine football fans tolerating watching a match only to find out the following day that the team that lost actually won? I think not.
For me this is another nail in the coffin of F1. I only hope that in the court case fighting this bullshit on the 22nd the Judge thoroughly slaps down the FIA and fines them into oblivion for their deceitful cheating of the results after the races. This isn't the first time that these imbeciles have tried to destroy the sport for what appears to be their desire to cheat the results. Have they a lot of money riding on bets for the Ferrari drivers to win the World Championship? Are they so incompitant that they cannot see that the world regards them as fools intent on destroying F1 as a popular sport?
I digress :)
Sunday, 14 September 2008
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
Has it really been twelve years?
This weekend is my first proper holiday in a very long time. I think the last holiday I went on was to Tenerife, and provided some of the inspiration to parts of some of my books. But that was before I was even at University; 1996 seems for some reason to be a year that springs to mind.
We're only going to north Wales, but as Zoë has never been to Wales at all, it's all new to her. At least we don't have to go through the pain of baggage reclamation and the like because we're driving out there. We're even taking our accomodation with us hitched to the car's towbar in the form of a caravan, so it isn't like the living arrangements out there are subject to being disappointing.
I have to say, I am looking forward to it. It's only five days, but it will be nice to be away with Zoë for the first time in a situation that can be called a holiday. There's plenty to go and see out there. We picked a site by Caernarfon because it was easy walking distance to the town, the Welsh Highland Railway, the castle, and was a short drive from Llanberis, Snowdon, the Ffestiniog railway and Portmeirion.
Hopefully the weather will be nice, though September can be changeable. However the rest of the Summer this year has been very little to go by, so it can't exactly get much worse. Fingers crossed it's good.
We're only going to north Wales, but as Zoë has never been to Wales at all, it's all new to her. At least we don't have to go through the pain of baggage reclamation and the like because we're driving out there. We're even taking our accomodation with us hitched to the car's towbar in the form of a caravan, so it isn't like the living arrangements out there are subject to being disappointing.
I have to say, I am looking forward to it. It's only five days, but it will be nice to be away with Zoë for the first time in a situation that can be called a holiday. There's plenty to go and see out there. We picked a site by Caernarfon because it was easy walking distance to the town, the Welsh Highland Railway, the castle, and was a short drive from Llanberis, Snowdon, the Ffestiniog railway and Portmeirion.
Hopefully the weather will be nice, though September can be changeable. However the rest of the Summer this year has been very little to go by, so it can't exactly get much worse. Fingers crossed it's good.
How to snub your sister - step one
This weekend has been upsetting to say the least. It was my little sister's wedding, and as a mark of how much it seems I am appreciated in the family, I was the only immediate family member who had not been asked to be involved in any way. My older sister was the chief Bridesmaid, and the Groom's sisters were asked to be flowergirls - they never held a flower, but they were asked so that they felt a part of the family and that they meant something to my sister. There were other roles for other people; friends and other family members. But I wasn't asked to be any of them. It seems everyone else meant enough to her to be asked, except me.
I cannot begin to express just how cutting that insult, whether intended or not, was. I was left feeling like a third hand and a hinderance that was unwanted within the family. There's a not really a lot to say about the empty feeling of seeing every member of my immediate family on the top table together, whilst I get relegated to a table at the back for the wedding breakfast. Some of the Groom's extended family did not even realise there was another sister. I felt like a distant relative.
I refuse to believe that none of my family realised that this was going to make me feel unwelcome. It would be a snub in any family to leave just one sibling excluded from everything. People I have talked to have all said it seemed strange that my sister would leave just me out in this way. If it was a genuine oversight by her, then why did no-one mention "Won't Jenny feel put out by being the only immediate family member left out of everything on the day?". You know, even one of our cousins was asked to do a reading in the church. Am I really so distant a relative to my own family? No-one even thought to smooth things out beforehand by talking to me and perhaps giving a reasonable explanation as to why I was being left out. There might have been a reasonable explanation, but no-one bothered to tell me. I was left to feel like I was being shut out. The message being sent was received as "Jenny is the only immediate family member who doesn't mean enough to her sister to be asked to be involved". Anyone else in the same situation would have seen it as the same.
It did not help that the venue for the wedding breakfast and evening event was the worst hotel I have ever come across in all my time of travelling the country. Now, I don't normally drop names. I think that's tacky, and looks like I'm either hinting for freebies, bigging myself up or just trying to score cheap points on the internet. But in this case I'll make an exception because I would not want anyone else to suffer a similar bad weekend. Steer clear of the Holiday Inn in Bolton, because being mugged offers a better experience and value for money than staying there.
There was supposed to be a member of staff directing traffic, because of problems with the car parks being overfull. He apparently could not be bothered to do his job, so around forty cars of guests were left milling around driving through overflowed carparks with nowhere to park. It took us over an hour to find somewhere, only to find that the carpark had to be vacated by 6:30pm. The hotel staff seriously were expecting guests who had paid for a room, and were supposed to be going to a meal with wine and champagne to not drink just so they could spend the evening intermittantly shuffling their cars around. After complaining, I got a space in the staff carpark, but it wasn't much help to many other guests.
The vegetarian starters that were ordered didn't appear, even when asked several times. The serving staff seemed more interested in fobbing the vegetarians off by quickly placing prawn cocktails on multiple occasions in front of them, as if they might get bored of being vegetarian. They served me mushrooms in my food, despite being notified before hand that I had a mushroom allergy.
The room we had was apparently 'executive' but I only dread to think how bad the standard rooms would have been. The interconnecting door into the next room was left unlocked when we arrived and was only locked when I complained. The air conditioning didn't work, and the heating seemed to be stuck on at a sweltering level. Despite Bolton being a soft water area, the cold pipes were disgorging scum-laden and discoloured water. The room had a double bed, but was laid out as a single (one towel, one set of drinks, one biscuit, etc). The light in the bathroom was also suffering from electrical buzzing noises and flickering - one not to touch with a bare finger. Last but not least, the bed seemed to slop inwards from both sides, making it uncomfortable for two people to sleep in. I managed a grand total of three hours sleep, though a further four hours were spent trying to get cool and comfortable and failing.
The breakfast bar was poorly placed, ensuring that staff with hot plates of food and dirties were forced to push their way through the queue at all times. Several of the tables were also swamped by queuers - I would not have liked to have sat there. There were also, like the parking spaces, too few places for the people coming down to eat from the rooms. The hotel felt like it had the facilities for a hotel a quarter of its size. The one plus side was we complained so bitterly that we were promised by the hotel manager a full refund. It still was not worth the stay for free. I cannot reccomend the Bolton Holiday Inn under any circumstances. I will also be avoiding any Holiday Inn too, just in case they are all bad, such was the poor experience.
All in all a rubbish weekend. Made to feel superfluous by my family. Was I not deemed by my sister to mean enough to her to be asked to be involved? Everyone else it seems was deemed to mean enough to her to be asked.
I cannot begin to express just how cutting that insult, whether intended or not, was. I was left feeling like a third hand and a hinderance that was unwanted within the family. There's a not really a lot to say about the empty feeling of seeing every member of my immediate family on the top table together, whilst I get relegated to a table at the back for the wedding breakfast. Some of the Groom's extended family did not even realise there was another sister. I felt like a distant relative.
I refuse to believe that none of my family realised that this was going to make me feel unwelcome. It would be a snub in any family to leave just one sibling excluded from everything. People I have talked to have all said it seemed strange that my sister would leave just me out in this way. If it was a genuine oversight by her, then why did no-one mention "Won't Jenny feel put out by being the only immediate family member left out of everything on the day?". You know, even one of our cousins was asked to do a reading in the church. Am I really so distant a relative to my own family? No-one even thought to smooth things out beforehand by talking to me and perhaps giving a reasonable explanation as to why I was being left out. There might have been a reasonable explanation, but no-one bothered to tell me. I was left to feel like I was being shut out. The message being sent was received as "Jenny is the only immediate family member who doesn't mean enough to her sister to be asked to be involved". Anyone else in the same situation would have seen it as the same.
It did not help that the venue for the wedding breakfast and evening event was the worst hotel I have ever come across in all my time of travelling the country. Now, I don't normally drop names. I think that's tacky, and looks like I'm either hinting for freebies, bigging myself up or just trying to score cheap points on the internet. But in this case I'll make an exception because I would not want anyone else to suffer a similar bad weekend. Steer clear of the Holiday Inn in Bolton, because being mugged offers a better experience and value for money than staying there.
There was supposed to be a member of staff directing traffic, because of problems with the car parks being overfull. He apparently could not be bothered to do his job, so around forty cars of guests were left milling around driving through overflowed carparks with nowhere to park. It took us over an hour to find somewhere, only to find that the carpark had to be vacated by 6:30pm. The hotel staff seriously were expecting guests who had paid for a room, and were supposed to be going to a meal with wine and champagne to not drink just so they could spend the evening intermittantly shuffling their cars around. After complaining, I got a space in the staff carpark, but it wasn't much help to many other guests.
The vegetarian starters that were ordered didn't appear, even when asked several times. The serving staff seemed more interested in fobbing the vegetarians off by quickly placing prawn cocktails on multiple occasions in front of them, as if they might get bored of being vegetarian. They served me mushrooms in my food, despite being notified before hand that I had a mushroom allergy.
The room we had was apparently 'executive' but I only dread to think how bad the standard rooms would have been. The interconnecting door into the next room was left unlocked when we arrived and was only locked when I complained. The air conditioning didn't work, and the heating seemed to be stuck on at a sweltering level. Despite Bolton being a soft water area, the cold pipes were disgorging scum-laden and discoloured water. The room had a double bed, but was laid out as a single (one towel, one set of drinks, one biscuit, etc). The light in the bathroom was also suffering from electrical buzzing noises and flickering - one not to touch with a bare finger. Last but not least, the bed seemed to slop inwards from both sides, making it uncomfortable for two people to sleep in. I managed a grand total of three hours sleep, though a further four hours were spent trying to get cool and comfortable and failing.
The breakfast bar was poorly placed, ensuring that staff with hot plates of food and dirties were forced to push their way through the queue at all times. Several of the tables were also swamped by queuers - I would not have liked to have sat there. There were also, like the parking spaces, too few places for the people coming down to eat from the rooms. The hotel felt like it had the facilities for a hotel a quarter of its size. The one plus side was we complained so bitterly that we were promised by the hotel manager a full refund. It still was not worth the stay for free. I cannot reccomend the Bolton Holiday Inn under any circumstances. I will also be avoiding any Holiday Inn too, just in case they are all bad, such was the poor experience.
All in all a rubbish weekend. Made to feel superfluous by my family. Was I not deemed by my sister to mean enough to her to be asked to be involved? Everyone else it seems was deemed to mean enough to her to be asked.
Friday, 5 September 2008
Lost: One Summer. Answers to the name of Mr. Biggles.
The last couple of nights have shown a downturn in the only aspect of the weather that has been remotely summery. The heat and humidity have gone, to be replaced by a cold Autumnul nip in the air. So that was our Summer then? I think we had no more than half a dozen days over the entire year where you could safely say the weather was like a real Summer.
Last night I slept wearing a jumper. It's something I do when the weather gets colder, and it works. I have several big comfy jumpers that are really comfortable to wear to bed and not too hot or scratchy either. When the weather gets even colder still, I leave my socks on as well. It works. Especially in this climate of gas being ridiculously over priced, it means in more practical terms that we can probably last an extra month before the central heating is required again.
I think we had a barbecue or went to a barbecue no more than three times, and at one of those the weather turned a little damp in that traditional British way as soon as we lit it. Where did the Summer go? I think it decided to take this year off and go out to Abu Dhabi to top up on its tan? After all, it must be nice to get a change of scenery. It's like when there's a bank holiday, why don't the banks head off to the beach with a creak of masonary and a jangle of those pens on chains they have? I certainly would.
We were going to go into Manchester today, but a quick snap poll (involving looking out of the window and seeing the weather) meant that we've cut things back to just going into Bolton. I have an eye examination there at just before four anyway (just routine, no need to worry) so we decided we can probably do everything we want within walking distance of home. At least then we won't get quite as wet. Or at any rate; that is the plan.
I want a particular piece of what Zoë laughably describes as my 'train porn'. That is, I collect model railway stuff. It was something my Father managed to get me interested in when I and my sisters were very small. I suppose faced with three girls, he had to try really hard for his excuse to have a train set to play with. Luckily for him I took the bait and have been interested ever since. There is a small yet expensive shop in Bolton, but these days it works out cheaper than the cost of petrol to drive to the cheaper shop in Burnley or paying for it to be posted from Liverpool or Sheffield. In my office there is an oak chest (family heirloom - it's made from timber salvaged when a tea clipper was broken up in the 1930s in Hull). It is literally full with model railway locomotives and wagons. Occasionally I get them out to play with them. More often I add bits to them. The chest is long since full, and I have crates on top of the wardrobe now. There is also a small model railway which was photopgraphed for an article in the magazine 'Model Rail' though I have yet to see it in print.
We also want to browse books (you can never have too many books!) and I need more underwear. I realised the other day that some of the stuff in my smalls drawer dates from as far ago as 1998 (though, I should add, not all). When I was 19 I suppose some of this stuff was considered pretty sexy when I was out doing the student thing on the pull at parties in short skirts. But I tell you; red lace knickers are a tragic sight when they've spent ten years travelling intermittantly through the fluff cycle on the washing machine.
Last night I slept wearing a jumper. It's something I do when the weather gets colder, and it works. I have several big comfy jumpers that are really comfortable to wear to bed and not too hot or scratchy either. When the weather gets even colder still, I leave my socks on as well. It works. Especially in this climate of gas being ridiculously over priced, it means in more practical terms that we can probably last an extra month before the central heating is required again.
I think we had a barbecue or went to a barbecue no more than three times, and at one of those the weather turned a little damp in that traditional British way as soon as we lit it. Where did the Summer go? I think it decided to take this year off and go out to Abu Dhabi to top up on its tan? After all, it must be nice to get a change of scenery. It's like when there's a bank holiday, why don't the banks head off to the beach with a creak of masonary and a jangle of those pens on chains they have? I certainly would.
We were going to go into Manchester today, but a quick snap poll (involving looking out of the window and seeing the weather) meant that we've cut things back to just going into Bolton. I have an eye examination there at just before four anyway (just routine, no need to worry) so we decided we can probably do everything we want within walking distance of home. At least then we won't get quite as wet. Or at any rate; that is the plan.
I want a particular piece of what Zoë laughably describes as my 'train porn'. That is, I collect model railway stuff. It was something my Father managed to get me interested in when I and my sisters were very small. I suppose faced with three girls, he had to try really hard for his excuse to have a train set to play with. Luckily for him I took the bait and have been interested ever since. There is a small yet expensive shop in Bolton, but these days it works out cheaper than the cost of petrol to drive to the cheaper shop in Burnley or paying for it to be posted from Liverpool or Sheffield. In my office there is an oak chest (family heirloom - it's made from timber salvaged when a tea clipper was broken up in the 1930s in Hull). It is literally full with model railway locomotives and wagons. Occasionally I get them out to play with them. More often I add bits to them. The chest is long since full, and I have crates on top of the wardrobe now. There is also a small model railway which was photopgraphed for an article in the magazine 'Model Rail' though I have yet to see it in print.
We also want to browse books (you can never have too many books!) and I need more underwear. I realised the other day that some of the stuff in my smalls drawer dates from as far ago as 1998 (though, I should add, not all). When I was 19 I suppose some of this stuff was considered pretty sexy when I was out doing the student thing on the pull at parties in short skirts. But I tell you; red lace knickers are a tragic sight when they've spent ten years travelling intermittantly through the fluff cycle on the washing machine.
Thursday, 4 September 2008
Short story reading now confirmed.
Firm details on the reading of my work:
Jennifer will be reading her short story, Bringing home the stars at Milk Wood in Second Life on Sunday 21st September at 9pm (UK time - 1pm Second Life time). She would love to see you there.
Book reading moved and a cushion on the throne.
First things first, a bit of housekeeping before I get on to today's rant. The Second Life book reading of "Bringing home the stars" has been put back by two weeks to the weekend of the 20th/21st of September. The reason for this is because my publicist insisted on having extra time so that proper advertising for the event can be put in place. Something about "maximum exposure" was muttered, so I leave these things in her capable hands.
Yesterday a little habit I have got me thinking when I caught myself doing it yet again. As a little background, I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and one of the things I obsess about is toilet hygiene. Zoë will testify to this fact. I tend to be very uncomfortable in using a toilet until I have used it a few times. One of the worst things I find is having to use a public toilet when out and about.
In my travels I have had to use more than a few skanky ones. You remember that scene in the film Trainspotting? The 'worst toilet in Scotland' scene? Well, I've found a few that try to come close to that. The ones that make me despair are the ones that have a little sign saying: 'these toilets checked every hour'. What does the checker do? Have a look around then go back to their boss to say: "Still swimming in piss; no need to add any more".
Some of the worst offenders have been in some of the places that you would have least expected it. The toilets in the Morrisons distribution centre by the goods inward desk are really bad. I never went in, but the stench that leached out around the door and the tails from white-faced punters as they exited were enough. Other supermarket chains are not exempt. Sainsbury's at their Haydock distribution centre have one that is so bad that some-one has had enough and cocooned the door with 'Danger - do not enter' signs and a note saying the bowl was blocked and brimming over with crap. I hate to think which group of skanky idiots went to the effort of brimming the bowl up with their turds; that takes effort to be that fetid.
No matter what, if a toilet is useable or has to be used, I always then start my OCD ritual. First thing is wiping the seat with some loo roll, in case of any surface splashes. Then I lay out a seat of yet more loo roll so that no part of me actually has to touch any part of the toilet seat. They I use another piece of loo roll to protect my hand from the flusher - well, people who have just wiped their bottoms were touching that.
I wonder if I am not alone. Does anyone else go to such trouble as to lay the loo roll cushion out before they sit down?
Yesterday a little habit I have got me thinking when I caught myself doing it yet again. As a little background, I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and one of the things I obsess about is toilet hygiene. Zoë will testify to this fact. I tend to be very uncomfortable in using a toilet until I have used it a few times. One of the worst things I find is having to use a public toilet when out and about.
In my travels I have had to use more than a few skanky ones. You remember that scene in the film Trainspotting? The 'worst toilet in Scotland' scene? Well, I've found a few that try to come close to that. The ones that make me despair are the ones that have a little sign saying: 'these toilets checked every hour'. What does the checker do? Have a look around then go back to their boss to say: "Still swimming in piss; no need to add any more".
Some of the worst offenders have been in some of the places that you would have least expected it. The toilets in the Morrisons distribution centre by the goods inward desk are really bad. I never went in, but the stench that leached out around the door and the tails from white-faced punters as they exited were enough. Other supermarket chains are not exempt. Sainsbury's at their Haydock distribution centre have one that is so bad that some-one has had enough and cocooned the door with 'Danger - do not enter' signs and a note saying the bowl was blocked and brimming over with crap. I hate to think which group of skanky idiots went to the effort of brimming the bowl up with their turds; that takes effort to be that fetid.
No matter what, if a toilet is useable or has to be used, I always then start my OCD ritual. First thing is wiping the seat with some loo roll, in case of any surface splashes. Then I lay out a seat of yet more loo roll so that no part of me actually has to touch any part of the toilet seat. They I use another piece of loo roll to protect my hand from the flusher - well, people who have just wiped their bottoms were touching that.
I wonder if I am not alone. Does anyone else go to such trouble as to lay the loo roll cushion out before they sit down?
Wednesday, 3 September 2008
"Bringing home the Stars" reading
New update:
Second life at 7:00pm on this Sunday the 7th. I will be reading "Bringing home the Stars" which is a sci-fi/horror story which is completely new. More details to come! Hope to see you all there :)
Second life at 7:00pm on this Sunday the 7th. I will be reading "Bringing home the Stars" which is a sci-fi/horror story which is completely new. More details to come! Hope to see you all there :)
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