So many clever people

The last few days have seen some of the cleverest and brightest at London’s Southbank, demonstrating their design talents. Students from Brunel University have spent four days proudly displaying part of their coursework.

How do I know about this? My youngest step son, Alec, was one such student. As part of his degree in Product Design, he had to design and produce something inexpensive, durable, sustainable and useful. There was no doubt much more to it than that but the last time we spoke he used ‘paradigm’ in a sentence and we weren’t even talking about Dr. Who. His dad and I tried to look as though we knew what he was talking about but I don’t think we fooled him for a minute.

Back to the clever students: my step son came up with designing eating and drinking products (he had my full attention at this point) for those with hand disabilities such as arthritis. The utensils are made from cork optimising its natural qualities, but the mixture of cork and other materials he designed himself. He broke four blenders in the process.

What was great about the array of projects by students on display was seeing ideas from prevention of HIV from mother to child in breastfeeding to a stress reducing asthma device for children.

The photograph here of Alec’s work doesn’t do it justice, due to my photography and in no way to his project. 

Thirty years on, still laughing at the same things.

Thirty years ago this September, I started secondary school. Last night I had the great pleasure of meeting up with five of my best friends for a meal. We began our days at our girls' school in total ignorance of each other but left good friends. This friendship has grown and grown over the years.
There are usually seven of us but one of our number moved to Devon and sadly wasn't able to make it this time. There's a lot of miles between Devon and North Kent and while she usually makes the journey, it is a long way to go for steak and chips.
Over the last 30 years we've been through the usual together - difficult teenage times of first boyfriends (now we often laugh about them), breaking up with those boyfriends (we cried together at the time but now it's hilarious - I shook one's hand. Who does that?), holding each other's hair back when we were violently ill through drinking too much Thunderbird on the bus on the way to the school disco. The usual.
Last night we covered a number of topics and as good friends do, they were fully supportive of my writing, interested in my novel, all wanting to know if they were in it and are eager to read it when it comes out. I had previously told them that Myriad Editions have given me a two book contract and have my mates' full support.
Are my friends in any way concerned that all this will go to my head? Not in the least. They're all prepared to   bring me back to earth. Never any fear of getting too carried away with myself. Will we all still be friends in thirty years' time? You can count on that. They know too much...

Webbed feet and coincidences

Really what are the chances that four years ago, I would start work in an office and the person sitting at the next desk would become a great and trusted friend? In fairness, the bookies wouldn't probably give the best of odds on that one. What would the odds be however, on that person becoming a friend and months later sharing with you that they like you, have webbed feet? I feel that the likelihood of such an event happening is rarer than Halley's Comet.
I'm open to being wrong about this but it's not something you bring up upon introduction to someone new in your life. "Hello, I'm Lisa. Mind if I sit here? By the way, I have webbed toes."
"Really, me too. Which toes? You're kidding me. The same as mine!"
It's not likely is it?
What's prompted me to share this with you is the rain we've been having. I didn't know whether to walk home from work or hop.
Got home and watched the X-Men. I'm not quite in their league but a girl can dream.

Now it's time to sober up and get on with it.

On Wednesday I won the Myriad Editions Writer's Retreat competition. I can't begin to describe how pleased I am. Just to be shortlisted was fantastic but to win when up against some fantastic entries, couldn't have been more overwhelming.
My entry was the first 5000 words of my novel I've been working on. The celebrating started with a couple of glasses of wine on Wednesday evening, curtailed by the massive headache the excitement of the day had brought with it.
Thursday saw a few more drinks, Friday a couple more and Saturday, well I think you get the picture.
This morning, I felt enough was enough. My internal organs must be hoping that nothing else worth celebrating  happens in the next couple of weeks. I don't think they could cope with a lottery win.

Close to perfect Saturday

The day started with a chocolate muffin for breakfast. Yes, I know, it's hardly nutritious but it was very good. The sun was shining. We took the dog for a walk. He ran about like a great big red fool. We even saw a white albino squirrel in the trees. I swear that we both saw it so I wasn't still asleep or suffering from the night before.
Leaving home a bit later, the dog with a look of disgust on his face, we went out shopping together for some very harmonious his 'n' hers shopping. Husband and I got the purchases we required, we had a coffee and came home. Aah. Good stuff.
I did some gardening just in time before the flexible rose tree touched the lawn and then the ice cream van stopped just outside the house. This was too much. I would have shoved a '99' in my face but the dirt under my fingernails was quite impressive at this stage. I settled for a lolly on a stick. Anything I didn't have to touch with my filthy hands. It was either that or lay under the ice cream tap. OK, I thought about it. My husband had the '99' complete with flake. I had ice cream envy.
This was followed by an hour of reading "You're next" by Greg Hurwitz (only half way through but loving it), fingernail dirt removal, wine and a curry.
How I love a weekend free from work and having to be anywhere at all.
Hope your Saturday was as good.

What's wrong with chinchillas? Discriminated against while cats, dogs and ferrets get away with it.

Since last year, as proud Labrador parents, we have planned more and more holidays in England. Many parts of the UK are beautiful and make fantastic holiday locations but the British weather does little for a vitamin D boost.
Our destinations are therefore looking once more to Europe. Europe has always held a fascination for me. Alighting from the Eurostar in Paris or Brussels has always left me staring dumbstruck at the destination board. To get on a train in London or Kent, get off in a foreign country, change trains at another platform before travelling to yet another country, enchants me. Bit sad, I know. It must be the island mentality.
The end result of being tempted by foreign lands once more, meant that our thoughts fell to taking the dog with us. It appeared quite simple. All we had to do was get him a passport. He's already been chipped so I looked it up on the internet.
The results surprised me. It is indeed possible to obtain a passport for a cat, dog or a ferret.
The demand for passports for cats and dogs is something I can fully grasp. People get very attached to their pets. Dogs are supposedly man's best friend and I totally understand the companionship of a cat. I don't fully get people who take their ferrets overseas with them. Admittedly, I've never owned a ferret. They make superb pets, so I've been told with intelligence equal to that of a cat or dog. Just what do Border Control have against chinchillas, hamsters and gerbils? Are they of no importance or is it simply too difficult to stop their toothy grins at the photo kiosk, rendering the use of automated passport gates obsolete for facial recognition?

Centuries of history in such a short time

Last night, I was very lucky to attend the Ceremony of the Keys at the Tower of London. I love London, particularly as I don't have to commute there every day. Truly, I think it is an amazing city. In my opinion, the best. In fairness, I haven't been to them all and I am English, so somewhat biased.
Anyway, the tour was led by 'Jimmy', a prouder and truer Englishman I've yet to meet and I've been to a couple of rugby matches at Twickenham. I will admit to not being the most fanatic rugby fan ever but my dad played his last game aged 50 something and my brother at 44 is still playing. That aside, 'Jimmy' was so knowledgeable and keen to share his vast knowledge of all that was the Tower of London and its history.
After showing us the Bell Tower, Bloody Tower, Traitor's Gate, Queen's House, Executioner's Block to name but a few, giving us a fascinating and amusing history of one of England's most breathtaking attractions, we waited in the falling dark for the ceremony to begin. It was amazing to witness.
In over 700 years, this ceremony has never been missed. (It was late once in the Second World War by six minutes according to Jimmy.)
Go online and get yourself some tickets. There's a wait of over a year apparently (I didn't organise the trip) but here's the best bit - THEY'RE FREE.