Posted by: hilaryusfun on: February 4, 2010
I am a knitter. No, not a nutter.
Well not ‘or’ a nutter.
Knitting is trendy, apparently. It’s OK, they still let me do it. I love knitting, its soothing, it makes nice things, it legitimizes trashy TV watching (Yes I need to watch Buffy; I’m making a present!) and you get to buy yarn.
Yarn is lovely. So soft. So pretty.
Like any other apparently trendy activity there are rules, and one of them is that you have to like Kidsilk Haze. It’s a blend of silk and mohair, and just looking at it makes every cell of my body itch. This is considered funny, particularly to my wool allergic friends. It’s the sort of thing which is incredulous to the keen knitter.
So I’m sorry. Please let me carry on.
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: February 1, 2010
We have an elderly king size IKEA duvet. (Other king size elderly duvets are available; I’m sure I can dig one out from under the guest room bed) I regard it with fondness; it has been with us our whole relationship and now it is not in a good place. There is clumping; and not as much warmth as really it should have in it. I decide to get a new one. I decide to get a new one which is ethical, and biodegradable and so on.
This was two years ago. I now own 4 hot water bottles.
And Dr Usfun.
(Well I don’t own him)
The thing is; and there always is a thing; is that there is no one thing which constitutes an ethical duvet. Feathers? Well I don’t eat fowl, so even if they are happy chickens and give their feathers willingly it feels odd. Synthetic? Doesn’t wear as well, and goodness only knows where that comes from. Camel hair? presumably not endorsed by camels and not entirely within my budget.
So what did I do – I bought a 13.5 tog non feather duvet from an ethical supplier with an organic cotton cover. I then discovered its only cold enough for a 13.5 tog duvet – even for me – two days a year. There was then swearing. And rocking. And chocolate. Yes it was fair trade.
This winter it did see a bit more action. It still is a bit thick though and so I do need a 10.5 tog duvet. I’m going to get this one. It’s hard to know whether reusing plastic bags is very energy intensive, or whether in fact means we need to produce plastic bags, and all in all my head gets hurty.
It shouldn’t be this hard.
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: January 18, 2010
So Bunsters, right, are fairly fragile. Flimsy; one might even say. And when they get ill, it seems that the answer is nearly always Panacur. Panacur, it appears is the lapine equivalent to that packet of polos which lived in the bottom of your mum’s handbag and solved all manner of tummy aches and bruised knees. However Panacur has to be administered in two 9 day programmes per year. This is not joyfully anticipated by almost anyone; me as there may be swearing, Guinevere as she has to have her meds and by Dr Usfun as he may be driven to swearing. The only family member who looks forward in joyful anticipation is Sir Lancelot.
These days the Panacur process is simple. Sir Lancelot gets his dose which he receives with such enthusiasm you have to hold the syringe firmly and be prepared to withdraw it before he bites the end off.
Again.
(Was a time stands still moment. Rabbits can’t vomit and Sir L is slightly less intelligent than a turnip. We were just going to scoop and run to the vets when he spat it out)
At this point Guinevere, who is blind, works out what is going on, and skedaddles, thumping her back legs (which basically means. Piss off. Now) behind the sofa, breathing fire. Dr Usfun then moves the sofa and grabs her all the time with her expression suggesting satanism. He grips her between his knees (remembering to keep his feet crossed; Caution Lagomorph Reversing) and in goes the meds. There is then flouncing.
This is an effective technique which has been honed over the past two years following several notable failures.
Panacur in raspberry – Guinevere hopped off disdainfully. Sir Lancelot ate raspberry.
Panacur on cabbage leaf – Guinevere ate round the panacur. Sir Lancelot ate the cabbage leaf.
Dr Usfun backs Guinevere into a corner and tries to tempt her to take the panacur getting some on his fingers. Sir Lancelot bites Dr Usfun and Guinevere flounces off.
Oh yes, rabbits have personality…
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: January 11, 2010
I am a fan of public transport. I am a fan of public transport providing it obeys the rules. The rules are simple;
Never let go of Hilary
Never let Hilary be taken from behind by a man in a uniform.
I usually travel by train using a manual chair, of the pushable variety (I’m strictly powerchair all the rest of the time) because this can, with an enthusiastic friend or spouse, be manoeuvred up or down the odd step. I am rather fond of my manual chair; he and I have travelled widely and well together and taken in some wonderful experiences. What I am not fond of, however is being pushed. Yes, I know its been 20 years and you’d think I’d be used to it by now. I’m also not a big fan of lifts. I know, I know. In my house? yes. Your point?
Anyway; when travelling on public transport there are rules. Rules which apply (see above, to the aforementioned enthusiastic friend or spouse) as there are rules which don’t apply, or certainly didn’t. Rules about public space and about not touching people you don’t know, and absolutely NOT grabbing them and taking them away without asking them first.
So now you know.
NB Spiderman outfit does not count as a uniform, OK?
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: January 7, 2010
So Dr Usfun and I are keen gig goers; and last year had a decision we should go to at least one gig per year which we were uncertain of. Last year; New Model Army.
The experiment paid off; it was a top gig, the band were on fine form and the audience were even more entertaining. The urge to pop up in the middle of it and ask if anyone could help me with my tax return was almost irresistable. From a distance a man appeared to have the famous haircut sported by Keith from the Prodigy; from close it was apparent he was merely bald on top and his hair dyed blue around the sides.
And in the midst of all this I looked around me and noticed that everyone was dancing the same; a sort of stomping from side to side, with a wiggle on each ankle, and a vague banging of the head. All accompanied by a thrashing of the arms. It made me vaguely nostalgic for my student days when there were actual indie nights at various local clubs.
And this was when it hit me; does dancing have a vintage? Does the way you dance indicate your key cultural influences? Am I not hanging out with enough Young People?
I did once end up, entirely by accident, at an event involving dancing and a whole load of people in their 60’s. Now I’m a kind and considerate person, but the phrase ‘thriller video’ was used by one of our number…
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: January 4, 2010
As any reasonable person knows; spiders are scary. And as one of these reasonable people, I wish to a) despatch said spider b) without hurting it in a c) environmentally friendly fashion. And while the screaming ‘Dr USFUN’ loudly and girlishly is an effective technique, there are times when he is away from home and the little feckers keep on coming.
And I guess these criteria are well known among my friends, as one of them bought me this for Christmas. That’s right; it’s a spider friendly environmentally safe spider remover. This friend rocks. (This friend actually Grew Up on A Farm in Africa, and thus also mocks me for my tiny British wildlife)
(Yes it’s good for the spider to be outside. What’s your point?)
And Dr Usfun felt a bit usurped. He claimed, vigorously, that he had a spider catcher at the end of each wrist. He couldn’t see why I needed a spider catcher, particularly one that unlike those on the ends of his arms which could be rubbed up and down my legs post removal while ‘you know what that is, it’s the hand that touched the spider’ is actually hilarious fun. Then he tried it out. Why the change of heart? Why, he discovered the practice spider in the box.
Many hilarious simulations followed. For yes; a practice spider is considered fun.
For some.
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: December 28, 2009
My toenails? A kind of gun metal grey, with glittery bits in. Yes on purpose. I bought it – it’s called ‘Nearly Middle Aged Woman Clings onto the Idea she was a Bit of a Goth Once’.
I was a terrible teenager; not in the smoking drinking shagging sense, but rather in the sense of never ever working out how to go about it. I wasn’t rebellious; no-one but my crimplene loving Granny would have called me well dressed. I didn’t do that well at school. I did pass quite a lot of music exams, and I did read all the Agatha Christie novels.
I did own a few Echo and the Bunnymen albums; and wore a fair amount of black. I tried being a Goth once, but my mother told me not to be so ridiculous. So I didn’t.
The thing, I suppose is that growing up as a disabled person is that you know you don’t quite fit in, and as a teenager I was only just beginning to know who I was. In most cases I was right – I have similar views now, even though I no longer think these things simple or immovable.
But really, mostly I’m glad I’m not a teenager any more; if for no other reason than I no longer have to hang out with them. My uncertainty around them has not reduced over the past many years.
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: December 17, 2009
So, I feel that in a modern marriage, the preparations for such events as Christmas should be divided equally between spouses, such that both contribute to the preparation.
To this end I will be writing the Christmas cards. It seems only fair; Dr Usfun will be doing all the removal of darning needles from the insides of wheelchairs….
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: December 10, 2009
(I haven’t fallen down a hole, it is all alright. But blimey, where does the time go?)
So I don’t much believe in political correctness; I don’t think we need a concept to tell us how to talk about other people with respect.
(pauses to consider…)
I think its sad that we *may* need a concept to tell us how to talk about other people with respect… and try to ensure I am up to date with the terminology. However; it’s in terms of gender things fall down. In writing, or to describe myself, the word women or woman is exactly right.
When trying to bring a group of women participants back to the room during a noisy coffee break; it does not. Now I’m loud. 3 years of opera lessons and 18 years working with groups. I moved into the middle of the room. ‘Time to start again’ I cried, ‘Ready everyone?’
No response.
A participant stands up.
‘Ladies!’ she said. Everyone fell into line.
So this week, I am mostly trying to think of a term which suits us all. I can’t bear the term ladies; it connates with twee and delicate and incapable in my mind. Of being on a pedestal and venerated in a Bad Way. It seems the same applies to men; Bill Bailey had a similar sketch in which he demonstrated that men don’t respond well to being called ‘men’ but do respond to ‘blokes’ and so far that seems to bear out. But I can’t think of an equivalent to ‘blokes’ for women. However; ‘Laydeez’ it is not.
Posted by: hilaryusfun on: November 23, 2009
About a month ago, a mattress fail is repported within the house. About two days later, a new mattress is ordered. The interwebsite tells me it will be delivered in a week.
I believe it! Turns out; I don’t learn so fast. Four definite delivery dates later, and an interesting new patch of grey hair, the mattress arrives. And, thank goodness, it is both correct and enormously comfortable.
Mattress shopping is always fraught with difficulty. The beds slept on by the warren occupants Currently Regarded as Able Bodied are all Scandinavian in origin, and thus a non standard size, and every time we have ever ordered a mattress using the power of the interweb Something Has Gone Wrong. Something which always involves staying in for a whole day watching the front door and ending with a tetchy phone call.
Now, one thing which is always easy to find, and always reliably delivered, is hay. Usually this is only of interest to the lagomorph contingent of the family but now I have a plan. Hay plus single or double duvet cover? How is that not a plan?
At least it will smell nice.
