Our House In The Middle Of Our Street

In my wrap up post for last year, I suggested that I might try a couple of 30 day challenges, in order to have a little fun, learn something new or just make a couple of tiny improvements.

I have just completed two in a month.

I thought I would start with easy challenges, just to ease me into the concept and acclimatise me to the discipline required.

The first challenge was to walk at least two miles a day for 30 days. I usually go for a lunchtime walk at work just to get me away from my desk but I don’t usually force myself to walk as far as two miles, usually a little under. Also, I don’t walk every day at weekends.

This proved to be easier than I thought. Armed with an application on my phone and a pedometer to measure distance etc., I marched around the streets with my trusty iPod as a guide, pumping out decent well timed music.

When the snow came, last week, it was a little tougher but I completed the challenge with a 2.3 mile walk around Didsbury.

The pedometer proved to be extremely useful because it measured how far I walked during the rest of the day, rather than just on a two mile walk around the block – I was surprised to be honest that I actually walked probably twice that distance just ambling around the office, running up the stairs etc.

My second challenge was to dedicate an hour a day to learning Spanish. Again, this seemed relatively easy because I have been learning on and off for the best part of two years now, but this was tougher than I thought. Again, my smartphone came in very useful, allowing me to learn new vocabulary with a suitable application, and to read a Spanish web site whilst on a bus, at home on the settee or even on the throne.

Now that I am used to it, I will try to read a little Spanish and learn some grammar and vocabulary on a more regular basis.

So now to the next challenge: I am going to start improving my photography. I have an assistant for this one because Mrs PM is a keen and able photographer, so I will spend the next 30 days either taking photos or reading some of her books on how to improve my techniques.

“What has all this malarkey got to do with the blog post title?” I hear you ask.

Allow me to elaborate. I’ve taken a few photos from around my house this weekend and I thought I would share them. They’re nothing special but I hope that may change with a little practice and insight from Mrs PM and her books over the coming month.

Here they are with suitable captions.

There's a meerkat in our mug cupboard

I don't even drink spirits!!!

An English Rose

The Warrior who guards the gasfire

Flower and lamp

A chequered bathroom

A glimpse of my CD collection and, yes, it is in alphabetical order!

Cheshire Cat seems happy.

Mantlepiece

Some books - they are not all mine!

A boring cloudy day through a pretty window

Straight from the 1970's to our bedroom

And, of course, I can't take photos of our house without my three bosses.

Jasper has had such a busy day - he's exhausted!

Poppy is terrified - what on earth is the oaf pointing at me now?

Liquorice plotting her next attack from the comfort of her furry tube.

If you fancy letting me know what you think, please feel free.

Cat Burglar

My house is a total mess and it is all Mrs PM’s fault.

Ever since we moved into our current house, she has had plans to shape it into her ideal home. In the past few years it has become a total money pit, sucking all of my available cash, cash that I would and perhaps should have spent on essentials such as holidays, books, gadgets, CDs etc.

At first I agreed with her totally because our house was initially a mess. Our bedroom was so dark it looked like the bat cave; the walls were dark avocado green and the previous occupants had replaced all bulbs with the lowest wattage possible. Our lounge was straight out of the 70’s with cladding on the wall and the rest of the house was rather strangely decorated. The carpets were about twenty years old and the previous carpets had been used as underlay. Every room was covered in woodchip glued to even older wallpaper underneath and repainted numerous times.

Now after some building work and lots of cash we have had a new kitchen, knocked down a wall, replastered almost everywhere, had a new bathroom, new front door, new doors throughout the house and redecorated almost everything.

We have spent a fortune.

Finally we are in the midst of having the hall, stairs and landing replastered, having had the last of the woodchip removed (along with half the wall). We are currently waiting for the plaster to dry so that we can paint and decorate and get a new carpet.

There is dust everywhere, particularly on the cats who are spreading it throughout the house.

All of this upheaval is not a great thing for our new cat, Liquorice. She is still at odds with the other cats and, driven outside by a strange man plastering our house, and has met next door’s dog, with disastrous consequences resulting in yet more of my hard earned cash being handed over to the vet.

The good news is that she is absolutely fine but is ever so slightly nervous and has taken out her frustration on my hand and other body parts. How dare the vet inject her with anti-inflammatory medication and antibiotics. How dare the vet give her worming tablets, take her temperature and administer flea repellent.

Somebody had to pay – me!

Handing over money to the vet in full view of the cat was a mistake because she now definitely blames me for everything. She started her revenge by pissing in my car on the way back from the vet and then scratching me when I offered her food.

“Why stop there?” she thought. “I will scare the living daylights out of him.”

“How can she do that?” I hear you cry.

Let me explain.

She can jump, that’s how.

When we first moved into our house and acquired the other two cats, Jasper and Poppy, we had to get the burglar alarm serviced and adjusted to cope with the furtive movements of our felines. And it has been fine, with one or two exceptions.

Sadly Liquorice is a jumper who prefers to sleep in high places, like the top of our wardrobe, the top of the kitchen units, bookshelves and anywhere above head height.

The burglar alarm isn’t used to this and has expressed its wrath several times – all of them in the middle of the night.

The first time it happened, I awoke in a state of dumbfounded shock and ran out of the bedroom screaming and waving my fists in the air like a demented boxer. It was an instinctive reaction; it was a courageous reaction; it was a bloody stupid reaction.

What on Earth was I thinking? I might have encountered a mad axe-wielding maniac.

If I had been awake when the alarm had gone off I would have peered outside the bedroom door, prepared to barricade myself in the bedroom and call the police.

Sadly, because I was deep in slumber I ran out of the room with thinking of the consequences, armed only with my scary hair, a weird aggressive posture that resembled a mad orang-utan defending his banana and a torrent of gibberish being hurled out of my mouth aimed in no general direction.

And of course, because the hall stairs and landing are being decorated, I pelted out barefoot on decrepit floorboards full of splinter and plaster dust. Thankfully, Liquorice hadn’t the presence of mind to leave a deposit outside the door – but she could have.

There was of course no burglar – just a sniggering cat.

She got me four times that night and three times the following night.

Our neighbours hate us. Our neighbour’s dog hates us (which I’m not too bothered about – and neither is Liquorice).

The last time it happened I was genuinely angry.

I raced down the stairs.

“WILL YOU STOP SETTING OFF THE EFFING ALARM YOU LITTLE BASKET” (bad words replaced for those easily offended).

If there had been a burglar there he might actually have fled, such was my wrath.

Mrs PM has come to the rescue and reprogrammed the burglar alarm. Unfortunately she has actually forgotten the new settings and set it off herself a couple of times.

But now, thankfully all is peaceful again. Liquorice has forgiven me and I have forgiven her. We are mates again and she is only biting me when I deserve it.

I haven’t told her that she has an appointment with the vet next week for her annual jabs.

It’s OK – I’ll tell her it's Mrs PM's fault.

Mauled By A Russian Over Hugh Laurie

It seems that my post about Hugh Laurie didn't go down too well with a Russian House fan. Personally I didn't find the post too controversial - I was merely expressing an opinion.

I was intrigued to see a few visitors from there so I ran the referring web page through a translator. It was a forum and the translation came out as follows. The bits in blue are my words from the post:

I hate your Brits So take a one-sided, so stupidly did not see, so moronic to write: Let’s start with a scene from Friends (yeah - I know its American but it does show Hugh Laurie doing what he does best ). I was just shaking from indignation

I think that the poster (called "swallow") was quite upset.

I'm also criticised for the use of the phrase "our very own" when describing Stephen Fry. Correct me if I'm wrong but the last time I checked, Stephen Fry was British.

If any of you understand Russian then I'm sure there may be a few other choice insults. Here's the link:

http://house-md.net.ru/forum/15-5612-92

Oh well, c'est la vie. I don't care. In fact I find it quite amusing.

By the way, if you pop over here again, "swallow" and want to comment on my post directly, please feel free. I am a nice chap and will extend you every courtesy. I wouldn't want to start an international incident over an American show starring a British comedy actor and I certainly have a skin tough enough to cope with being called "one-sided" and "moronic". What's even funnier is that I was merely trying to show another side of Hugh Laurie; it is you, "swallow", who is being "one-sided" really - there's more to Hugh Laurie than Gregory House.

I have this nice message for you, "swallow":

Спасибо за комментарий. Просьба прокомментировать снова. посетил Россию, и было очень приятно провести время.

And finally - he is still stupid Prince George to me.

Hugh Laurie Is Not Dr House - He's Stupid Prince George!

I read a bizarre blog post the other week, describing Hugh Laurie as a sex symbol. The blog author was an American woman and was a huge fan of his highly successful series over there about a maverick medical misanthrope called Dr Gregory House.

I watched an episode out of curiosity and was amazed at how he has managed to transform himself into this strange character.

In the UK, we know Hugh Laurie as a comedy actor who usually plays gawky idiots. He is also a talented writer and musician who has starred in a sketch show with his comedy partner, our very own Stephen Fry.

From what I’ve read from American blogs, I have a feeling that Hugh Laurie’s early work is unknown across the pond. I’ve therefore decided to enlighten any Americans who stumble across this post with some of the best Hugh Laurie moments from his earlier career in the UK.

Let’s start with a scene from Friends (yeah - I know its American but it does show Hugh Laurie doing what he does best):



And now in Blackadder II as evil Prince Ludwig:



And now my favourite Hugh Laurie character; stupid Prince George in Blackadder The Third (with Stephen Fry and Rowan Atkinson):



And as George in Blackadder Goes Forth:



Here’s a sketch with Stephen Fry:



And finally an early musical composition to show off his musical talents:



I hope that gives you a deeper appreciation of Hugh Laurie. I cannot think of him as Dr Gregory House at all – to me he will always be Prince George, the bumbling stupid idiot from Blackadder The Third.