Mooching

The week saw clear skies, it comes with the cold weather, but it was also a full moon, which I got a couple of decent shots of.

Also visible was Mars. The shots of that weren’t as clear, and so I got just a blob of blurry orange colour.

We were getting a train Friday morning from Crawley station. After what seems to be most of the year, the main entrance is now back inside and undercover. But there must surely be more work to do as there is nowhere to get food or drink in the new glass and chrome station building. No chance of a quick drink before getting a train as there was in the old station building. If they are finished, then although the entrance looks shiny, it will be less use than ever. Plus, the rest of the station still looks like a tip.

Part of the improvements to the station was to build the new footbridge, along with its lifts. Something that has been needed for years. We’re just not sure why it had to be so far down the platform it’s half way to Three Bridges, or why they needed to take the old bridge by the entrance from East Park away. It wasn’t showing signs of falling down, and now for those who don’t need the lift it adds another couple of minutes to their time to get to platform one.

Anyway, we were off to Brighton. Not my favourite destination, but I needed somewhere without the chain store only mentality of so many towns nowadays, and the North Laines is ideal for finding individual shops. I needed this to get some inspiration as for what to buy Helen for Christmas. I used to be really good at this kind of thing, but I struggle a lot now with it. Bereft of ideas as my brain doesn’t want to work in that direction anymore. (or at all it would seem a lot of the time.)

Being on the first off peak train meant we were there before the crowds. And the cold was putting more people off as well. So much so that some of the shops weren’t even open.

It turned out that the second shop we went in was the one for presents, but that was only found out after visiting dozens of others, and I returned to it on the way back to the station and home.

One of the other shops we went in was Snooper’s Paradise. I know I have walked past it quite a few times before, but not paid it any attention in my rush to get the hell out of Brighton. But I didn’t know just what a wonderland it was in there. I think we were in there for about an hour, but that was only scratching the surface. I picked up a couple of random Leicester pieces, but there is a lot I would be interested in going through in a lot more detail, so at some point next year there will be a day trip there in full on snooper mode.

There were a couple of retro shops, which had interesting stuff in them, but, Jesus wept, the prices were ridiculous. Three figures for stuff you can get on eBay for a third of the price. And yet they were full of people buying stuff. More money than sense, and yet all claiming poverty. The worst example was a vintage ugly looking Kappa sweatshirt. Three colours including a horrible brown shade. It was vintage in the fact it was obviously old, had been worn to death and washed within an inch of its life, out of shape and fit only to be used as dishcloths. The price? A snip at £79.99. A charity shop would refuse to sell it, it was so tatty. Yet it goes to show that a fool and their money are soon parted if any idiot decides to buy it.

Friday night saw a Crawley home game in sub zero temperatures, and it was a sub-zero performance to match.

Saturday was writing group, the last of the year, so included some nice non-healthy snacks. And then it was a trip to Argos. We have become wimps and gotten an electric blanket, and dug out the additional quilt to make it up to a lot of togs now.

Saturday night saw another disappointing football match, but at least the bed was nice and warm afterwards.

Helen had booked for us, her sister and mum to go on the winter lights special on the Bluebird Railway on Sunday night. We were meeting them at the Farmers Arms at Scaynes Hill. When we left home it was thinking about snowing, but more a sleet consistency. By the time we’d gone the ten miles or so to Haywards Heath there was a healthy covering on the road, and vehicles were struggling to get purchase to get up the hill in the opposite direction to us going around the ring road.

We got parked and went into the pub, the others turned up and we had a nice meal. In the two hours we were there, an inch of snow had fallen and covered the cars. During this time, we had (well Helen had) been checking the Bluebell Railway’s website and her e-mails to see if it was still going ahead in all the snow. There was nothing to say it wasn’t, and so we made out way there.

In the pub I’d overheard someone say that they weren’t sure about driving home as they hated driving in the snow. I thought to myself that they’d be better off driving in the car. But that’s just me. A couple came in not long before we were going. They had been booked on the 5pm train, but had been held up and missed getting there and had given up and come into the pub instead.

It was one of those evenings where the railway had taken on the wrong name, it shouldn’t have been the Bluebell, as Snowdrop would have been far more appropriate. We got there without too much trouble, only to find out they had cancelled the 8pm train. They had announced it on Twitter, not bothering with their website or e-mailing paying passengers.

It wasn’t directly cancelled because of the snow fall, but it was a by product of the snow and ice, as the 5pm train (which had left late and the couple who came into the pub would have been able to catch it after all), had got as far as Horsted Keynes, but was now stuck due to issues with points and signals and as yet hadn’t made it back.

The lights they did have around the site were good though.

We had a potter around the station (and a quick look in the gift shop), and then headed for home. A proper visit to the railway and gift shop will be something to do in 2023.

The journey back started off OK. The snow was melting quite quickly, and it was only as we started the drag back up to Scaynes Hill that it became heavy going. A long line of very slow moving (but mainly not moving) traffic, that continued in that vein until we got past the turn off for Lindfield (which we were going to take to get around Haywards Heath), but where, as if by magic the traffic disappeared, and we had a clear run.

The issue appeared to be getting around three separate abandoned cars, which was taking a lot longer than it should, especially when there was little to no traffic coming the other way. Three quarters of the hour or so long journey was spent doing two miles.

But we were still home a lot earlier than we would have been if the train had been running, and we’d had a nice meal. And it meant I was back just in time to see the first important action from the night’s football. American Football this time, and as RedZone went on, Deebo Samuel ran the ball into the end zone and the 49ers took an early lead against Tom Brady and the Buccaneers. A lead that never looked like being relinquished, and turned into a 35-7 rout. All behind a quarterback who was the 2022’s draft’s Mr Irrelevant, the last man picked in the draft, who was in his first start. The first time Tom Brady has ever lost against another quarterback starting their first game in the twenty-three years he has been playing. A length of time longer than the age of Brock Purdy. So, a good night’s football after the two nights of disappointment.

And then it’s back to work.

You can’t have everything.

Everything Will Be All White On The Night

And there it was, snow. It eventually settled, quickly became slippery and then almost vanished, only for it to try again and the cycle repeat for a few days. And even with the small amount of snow, not even an inch-thick layer, people lost their tiny little minds again. Forbid they ever live anywhere that has proper snow where it falls a foot at a time. I’m assuming the milkman must have got embedded in a three-inch drift in a cul-de-sac as to why they didn’t turn up on Tuesday.

We had managed to get out for a walk on Saturday before the white stuff arrived. It ended up being a bit of a beast and we were out for over three hours. Full details are at the link below.

https://onetruekev.medium.com/am-i-really-still-in-crawley-ab221714c146

My poor little fatbit didn’t know what had hit it, going off at regular intervals for reaching the daily 10k steps target, and then for reaching 20k and 25k in a day for the first time.

And I managed to write up an old walk around Broadfield as well.

https://onetruekev.medium.com/a-pint-of-the-black-stuff-9b0c15aada60

Sniffles is finding it tough going at the moment. He obviously feels that he now needs to do the work of three pets. He’s got the additional vocal output and food fussiness of his sister down to a tee and is trying to bring in that touch of skittishness. He also has the investigate every corner of the house and getting stuck from being nosey schtick going from the dog, the only bit he isn’t now covering is the racist barking at passers-by.

He has caused me to jump a couple of times recently as he’s suddenly appeared out of spaces that make me wonder how he got in there in the first place. Plus, he’s now taken up a new hobby of positioning himself in my seat at every opportunity. If I nip to the kitchen to get a drink, or go to the toilet, the cheeky little sod is curled up pretending to be asleep in it by the time I get back. Even those times when I’m sure he’s outside.

And speaking of outside, it is always amusing when he whines at the door to go out, only for the door to be opened to the poor weather – howling winds, torrential rain, mini snow blizzard – and him to decide that perhaps it isn’t so urgent to go out. But only after trotting to the other side of the house, as surely the weather is going to be better there.

For the third time this year unexpected water in a dry area led to the emergency plumber being called out (no claims bonus will be right out of the window). This time the waste pipe from the sink in the bathroom decided it had had enough of being connected to the main cast iron waste pipe and had snapped off, and so using the sink would end up with water on the floor in the corner of the bathroom. It was fixed the next day, but it is surprising just how much of an automatic reaction it is to use the sink after going to the toilet.

Sunday was Superbowl LV, an annual watching tradition, back at home this year, with lockdown considerations, and the fact that the 49ers got nowhere near this time around. And no need to book annual leave for the day after as its now a non-working day Mondays. It went the way I wanted it to, so with the first Tottenham win since Cinch starting sponsoring (well, jinxing) them, it was a good day.

Tuesdays are turning out to be horrendous again. It seems to be meeting day, eight Skype or Teams meetings during the day makes me dread Tuesdays as much now as I did back in the day of networks timesheets and Tuesday being JIB day. Being so full of calls it does take some of the joy of the writing group in the evening away, as I can do without another hour and a half on the phone. Although it was the last week of that for a while.

As it has several times over the last few months, the term “Naga” was trending in the UK on Twitter. Every time it does, I click on the item in the hope that it will be some hot chilli related shenanigans, only to find it’s another boring rehash of comments about (or from) a presenter on TV. Just for once, why can’t it be something different and interesting? For example, “Man blames him being found naked in the middle of a field of cabbages on the hallucinogenic effect of him eating too many naga chillies in a chilli eating contest”; or “Woman still hasn’t regained her sight after contest to crush as many naga chillies as possible into her eyes in a minute. It’s been a week now she said, it’s normally worn off after three days or so.”