Hestia ..... is back!

Sorry for the long absence!

Nothing dreadful has happened, other than the fact that I've not had terribly much of interest to share!

The imac has been resurrected more times than Lazarus and the Geeks at the Genius bar managed to get my photographs of the holiday in Argyll off and safe.  Everything else got fried in the reloading of the software - which turns out to have been quite a lot really :-)

So here's a quick resume of what you've missed:

• I met Paolo Nuttini.  Paisley-born rocker.  Cuter than a button.
• I went to see Wicked in Glasgow.  It was wicked.  I have not an original thought in my head.
• I have been looking after a baby blackbird who turns out to be the runtiest crow chick EVER.
• I'm still 11 stone.
• I went to see Justin Currie in Glasgow.  I luff him. 
• I am going to a self-catering chalet 5 miles from Alton Towers.  Am dreading Roller Coaster Day.
• Nero is going to kennels for the week.  I am also dreading this.
• I have been buying some new paintings.
• My mother is still sending me clothes 'that might fit me.'
• I have developed a taste for cider.
• This hot weather is too much for me.
• Sonshine won a Bronze in a UK Maths Challenge thing.
• I am addicted to the US version of the killing (am at Day 20) DO NOT TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS.
• I have a jar of jam to offer as a blog prize.
• Turns out my lucky pants aren't lucky.
• Tartarus has seen the Scandinavian version of The Killing and made a blurt about the plot which resulted in MANY hours of shouting and door slamming and angry stabby motions into a poor defenseless loaf in the kitchen.
• SOMEONE weed-killered my clematis.

And that's about it.  See? Nothing to report.

But I just want to thank you lovely, lovely people for your regular e-mails and little notes on my blog, asking where I was and if I was somehow locked into Downward Dog.  All I can say is, you should see my Reclining Pigeon.  You'd be itching for an air rifle to put me out of my misery.

So that's me back.  Normal service will be resumed just as soon as I can sneak on to the computer unnoticed by Tartarus.  So just pray for rain, ok?

Hestia gets a Video Nasty

So, I've got this brilliant little yoga app called Yogastudio (think it was about 99p or something) and have been trying to do one of their beginner routines.  On the screen (white background, calming tinkly music) each pose is demonstrated and a lovely lady describes what to do.

Inside my head, I fondly imagine that I am like this:

This is the Yoga Studio lady.  Isn't she fab?

However, I thought I'd get Sonshine to video me (using the wee point and click which takes about 10 minutes or so of video footage) so that I could compare MY form with what it ought to look like, as demonstrated by Yoga Lady.

I changed into sweatpants, a sports bra and my thermal vest (come on, it's only April!) and got started.

Sonshine duly worked his way around me, taking shots of my back, my bending over etc.  It was only a 15 minute warm up, so I quickly uploaded it to the computer to watch back in comfort.

And then I watched it back.

And then I watched it again.  Of course, I was about as flexible as a Mortgage Provider and nothing was moving in the direction that it should but....

My GOD, I had no idea that I really looked like that!  Yanno, I KNOW that I'm no oil painting, but dear Lord, with no make up on at all, I was utterly fearsome - my natural expression looks like someone has left rotting herring under my nose.

And my waist! There ISN"T one!!

And my ARSE in those sweatpants?!  I jumped up from the computer and strode into the bedroom and yanked off the sweat pants in a single, horrified, move.  They are going STRAIGHT to a charity shop (once I've washed them, of course).

I painted my face - primer - the whole works.  Removed my hair from its habitual pony tail and smoothed it into submission with oil.  Got dressed in some proper clothing and sat on the edge of the bed wondering what to do.

Reader, some people might have taken this video as a wake up call to start doing something about their health - for their family's sake if nothing else.  

Me?  

I headed straight downstairs to the biscuit tin and made myself a stack of Digestive Biscuits and jam. With creme fraiche.  Yes, it was the posh strawberry and rose petal jam.  I don't mind telling you, it was fantastic.  But 'fantastic' in the way that you might have frenzied drunken sex with Ian from Accounts in the toilet at the office Christmas party.  You know that you're going to HATE yourself in the morning.  And he won't call, of course.  Because you showed yourself to be a SLAPPER and STRUMPET. 

Yes, I hated myself.  I WAS that slapper and strumpet.  All for a stack of 6 digestive biscuits.  And jam.  And cream.  But, like the office party scene, I could NOT stop myself from doing it.  Even though I was hating myself as I stuffed every bit of creamy, jammy biscuit into my gob.

I decided, in the manner of all the best self-help manuals, to examine my relationship with food.  Turns out it's the most fulfilling relationship I've got.

1  I overeat at every meal - my portion size is about the same as Tartarus's and he's a very active man - fitting log-burners, tiling, cementing. I am only active on facebook and twitter.

2  I eat when I'm watching TV. Which is most evenings between 7pm and 10pm.

3  I eat when I'm sad.  Which is a lot of the time, thank you world.

4  I eat when I'm stressed.  See 3.  And 1. and 2 as well.  Now that Lucy's been bumped off in Eastenders.

5  I eat what's left on Sonshine's plate.  Mothers hate waste.  Also love buttery mashed potatoes.

6  I don't enjoy cooking (see: just about every food posting that I've made on this blog.  Never goes smoothly) so it's often straight from freezer to oven/microwave etc.

7  I adore sweets - no bar of choccy is safe when I'm around (see: Easter Sunday tomorrow when Sonshine goes to open his Easter Egg.  It no longer exists.  Or eggsists.

8  I adore savoury.

9  I adore patisserie.

10  I MUST have a biscuit with every cup of tea or coffee.  I have about 6 teas/coffees per day.

Something's got to change before I drop dead.

Suggestions and solutions welcome :-D

And no, I am NOT putting up a photo of me trying to do downward dog :-D  

Hestia stacks up some Brownie Points in Heaven

not our actual crow - I was too busy to take
photos of the Rescue Operation!

Of course, as soon as the wood-burner is cemented in place a bird flutters to its doom down the chimney.

Sonshine and I listened with dread to the gentle tappings as it hopped around on top of the aluminium plate that had now been permanently sealed across the bottom of the chimney.

No longer could I just pull out the plate and let the bird fly to freedom.  No siree.  But maybe Tartarus had built in an escape-plan for trapped birds.  Maybe.

But Tartarus is now in Israel.

I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN!  We've had three birds down this chimney in the past and Tartarus has been away at work every single time.  With a heavy heart, I set to work.

I unscrewed the aluminium plate from its position and tried vainly to dislodge it, but it was not for moving - when Tartarus cements something in place, it is a pretty good bet that it is cemented in for ever.  If I ever disappear in mysterious circumstances - tell the police to check up the sealed chimney, ok?

Then it was a rush upstairs to facebook and email to 'Mayday' the newly arrived and knackered Chief Engineer as to how we might rescue the bird.

After lunch we got the message - the actual pipe from the burner to the chimney SHOULD slide out. Yes, SHOULD slide out is not the same as WILL slide out, but with some judicious hammering and a fair old bit of swearing from yours truly and some nascent swearies from my son, we managed to slide the flue out from its casing.  So now the flue moved freely up and down in the aluminium plate.

But could we slide it out into the room and leave a hole for the bird to escape? Could we fuck, ladies and gentlemen.

We pushed and pulled and swivelled and swore, but there is no way we could actually remove it.  So we instated our emergency plan:

Shove the flue as much as possible into the chimney void and hope against hope that the bird would decide to launch itself down the flue into the unknown.  We wodged the flue up in place and hoped for the best. I left the torch on, so that it would have definite light to move towards.  Heck, I even prayed aloud to God, much to Sonshine's amusement:  'Come on, give us a break! We're trying to save another life here!'  OK - so its not quite the Lord's prayer, but it was all I could manage given the circumstances.

Many hours later (like 10!) Sonshine came bursting in to my Masterchef fantasy time and announced that the bird had tumbled into his room in a cloud of soot.

We both ran into his room and there, perched on the cornicing and, literally, shitting himself was a massive crow. I slammed off the lights and opened one of the curtains whilst simultaneously hauling open the sash and case window (not opened, incidentally, since the last time a bird got stuck in the chimney)

Nero was left in the other room while Sonshine and I tried to shoo Birdy to the window.  He got the right idea, but headed for the TOP of the window, not the lower bit that was open.  This led to me dispatching Sonshine to the garage for step ladders so that I could try sliding down the top window. THIS window, never opened, well, in living memory. Unbelievably, it gave a protesting squeak (the window, not the bird) and slid open!!!

And with a couple of panicked 'caws' and a big streaky smelly shit over Sonshine's White Dwarf magazine collection.....the crow flew straight out!!!

God listened! Tartarus helped! Sonshine helped! At last we managed to SAVE A CROW!

And today's job is to wipe all the bird poop off all surfaces and phone the roofer to install a mesh protector to the chimney can.

Save any lives today at your end?

Hestia's Note To Self

Note to self:  

When Sonshine confirms that  yes, he's washed all the dishes, 

it's always worth checking what he means by 'all'

Hestia's favourite jam

Strawberries and Roses
Bloody gorgeous

Oh my, but this is beyond delicious!

Henshelwood's are based here on the isle of Bute and you can pick up their gorgeous range of jams and chutneys via their website.

Imagine your favourite strawberry jam....now imagine it infused with the delicate scent of roses.  Honestly, you won't know whether to eat it or dab it behind your ears!

Hestia and Nero

We have been jolly adventurous with our big greyhound and taking him to the beach twice a week. We go when the weather is not so wonderful, to minimise the number of dawgies that we might run into.

I don't think he's got an aggressive bone in his body - he's a runner, not a fighter.  Although if you are a Yorkshire Terrier, he might just eat you....

Anyway, here we are at the beach:


https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10152029074818284&l=4026889167742180031

Sorry about this not being an embedded video, but living on an island where the internet is still cranked up by hand (ie sloooooooooow) I couldn't face another 45 minutes to upload the film!

Hope you enjoy it - and sorry about the wind noise.  It was blowing a gale at the time!

Also:

Sitting in bed with Tartarus having a cup of tea on Sunday morning.  I am singing along to a tune on the radio.

Me (with pride) :  Frank (my long-suffering music teacher) says that I have a very musical ear.

Tartarus:  What, just the one?

*no longer puffed up with pride*

How was your weekend?!

Hestia is Elizabeth Taylor - Day 7: What was it allllll about?

Can it really only have been 7 days ago that I foolishly decided to do a daily blog about bringing out my inner Elizabeth Taylor?  That Buzzfeed quiz took over my life.....

I had hoped that Thursday would be my 'Martha' day from Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?' but I had too much to do after Tartarus got home on Wednesday.

Oh and about that - I turned up to pick him up with all the makeup and bling on and he ACTUALLY MENTIONED Elizabeth Taylor.  My heart soared - maybe I was morphing into her after all!!

But then he said that he had been reading my facebook posts, so he knew what I was up to.

Well, that's a bit more like it then.

Hestia is Elizabeth Taylor: Day 6 - Husbands!

Elizabeth Taylor's love life is the stuff of legend - death, divorce, adultery - all seen through the lens of a newly born media merry-go-round.

And mine is exactly the same - apart from the death, adultery and celebrity.

There's a lot to get through - shall we just dive in?

Hestia is Elizabeth Taylor.....Day 5: Career

I'm not about to pretend that every frame she shot was stuffed full of significance and quality, but I've jumped into her imdb page and perused her entire Filmography.  Did you know that she managed to punt out about two movies or screen performances a year right up until the late 1980s? She's got the longevity of Kevin the Pain Au Chocolat, no?

IMDb also lists 43 award wins and 18 award nominations - three of those were academy awards, or Oscars :-)

With an enormous list of movies to choose from, I've selected only

Hestia is Elizabeth Taylor: Day 4: Causes

Elizabeth once quipped that some of her finest leading men had been horses and dogs and it was no idle joke - National Velvet and Lassie Come Home confirmed her money-making abilities for the studios and secured her youthful place in the glittery Hollywood firmament.

She adored animals - even as a small child she had ponies, chickens and dogs and fellow actors recall her turning up on set as a youngster with squirrels, dogs and all sorts of pets.

Although the pets on set stuff stopped as she matured into a shapely teenager, she continued to support animals in crisis and she became a patron of Dogs Deserve Better - a charity the rescues chained dogs and gives them a better life.

Elizabeth had converted to Judaism on her marriage to Eddie Fisher and continued to support Israeli causes throughout her life.  In fact, when the airline hijack took place at Entebbe Airport in 1976, she

Hestia is.... Elizabeth Taylor: Day 3: Hair, Hats and Wigs

Farking TWINS we are

 It can't have been easy, being the most beautiful woman on the planet.  People expect you to look fabulous all the time.  Even when your husband has been killed in a plane crash (Mike Todd) or you are caught having a Weekend Away with your bestie's hubby (Eddie Fisher).

I don't know how long it took ET to get herself ready to face the day, but it's 11.15am and I've had to send Sonshine out for the Sunday papers and take the dog a walk because it's taking me so long to get my inner Liz fluffed up and ready for the day.

Hestia is Elizabeth Taylor.... Day 2: Bling

Today's Elizabeth Taylor challenge is to wear Big Jewellery.

One might only remember the names of less than a handful of her movies, but we ALL remember the jewellery, right?

When her jewellery was auctioned at Christies, it raised a staggering £100,324,209.  The woman might have had dubious taste in men, but her taste in gems was unsurpassed.

Today's challenge will be tricky because I'm fresh out of plate-glass-shattering diamonds and mahoosive pearls that could sink The Bismarck. I do not own anything remotely approaching the Taylor Burton diamond.  

But I DO shop at QVC.....

Hestia is.... Elizabeth Taylor: Day 1

So, it's like this.  I did one of those sanity-shredding quizzes that Buzzfeed pops onto facebook - Which Movie Star are you?  I secretly hoped for Jayne Russell - you know..... the smoulder, the bosoms, the smart line in patter.

How I got Elizabeth Taylor I'll never know.  As far as I know it was all diamonds, empty whisky bottles, Richard Burton and marvellous wigs.

So I have decided to live my inner Elizabeth Taylor for a week.  Liver failure notwithstanding.

Hestia is...never googling herself again

NEVER Google yourself, dagnabbit!!

And if the accent is too impenetrable for you on THAT one,

here's Steeleye Span.  With Lyrics.

I'd much rather be a recalcitrant domestic goddess than the ugly old witch.

I'll ask Tartarus and Sonshine what they think.

On the up side:  I has a SONG WITH MY NAME ON IT!!!!

I am also a film director AND a director of Sport.

There is more chance of hell freezing over than me being associated with anything sporty.

Other than Spice.

What do you get when you self-google?!

Hestia's New Squeeze - Tom Hiddleston

All other Favourite Men lists are temporarily suspended while I indulge my addiction to the divine Tom Hiddleston:



I first fell in love with Mr H in his role as Captain Nicholls in War Horse.  Only watch the next clip if you've seen it before.  And make sure you have a hankie ready - all that golden corn, all those young men.  What a waste of a generation.  But the movie also had another darling in the form of Benedict Cumberbatch.  I seem to be moving towards the slightly slighter gentleman as I am 'maturing'......


Anyway, to more upbeat roles.  He is the scene-stealing slightly fey Loki in the Marvell Avengers series.  Makes his brother Thor look like an utter twat, imo.

Here he is being Loki, but with the kids from Comedy Central:



And here he is being a baddy in the Jaguar advert (oh, be still, my beating heart!)



But he does very serious stuffs too - Coriolanus (I think I might faint clean away if I ever get to see this)



So - go on, share! Who is your current favourite squeeze on screen?

Hestia and Some Blummin Awkward Shapes

Pretty!!

No, dear Reader, I have not taken up interpretative dance and tried to throw a few shapes on the dance floor.  I have been at a day-long workshop on Cutting Awkward Shapes in glass and it was fantastic.

There was minimal use of elastoplasts.

Very little swearing.

And FLAMES!

Hestia and the mystery of the disappearing bag....

It's hardly Louis Vuitton is it?

So, every day Nero and I trot out to do our two miles through the increasingly sodden, but undoubtedly Spring-like, woods. There is a great deal of talking aloud and sometimes the frantic sloshing of me clearing blocked culverts with my wellies.

There are ALWAYS poop bags.

These are actually nappy bags.  We abandoned the dog-poop bags (in Opaque Racing Black) when we realised that it was two quid for 50 dog bags or 99p for 250 from Semi-Chem.

Granted the nappy bags are peach-coloured and peach-scented and semi-opaque which is pretty gross, but I am £1.00 up on the deal so I can cope with hints of dog shit shapes through the plastic.

Anyhoo, the most peculiar thing has been happening....

...come closer

*conspiratorial stage whisper*

Hestia and Nero

Please check out the artist's website Life Earth Sky
Kathleen Coy is painting 30 sighthounds in 30 days.
Fantastic artist and fantastic project

You know how I love my big Usain Bolt (ie my big black runner) of a dog and everybody laughs at me because I take him out in cold weather in his jacket and snood.

Although the snood is usually shirked off quite early on in the walk.  And usually as he stoops to sniff an interesting pile of dog poop.  The snood's been in the washing.  A lot.

Anyway, you get the picture.  I love him to bits.

The other night Sonshine disappeared out with his group of fellow ne'erdowells to go to Guildford Square to 'stand and chat'.  Or whatever it is that teenaged boys do in the dark on a Monday night.  I don't ask.

Hestia's Del Amitri Moment

Yes, this will do me nicely.

And so it came to pass that I found myself lugging my overnight stuff plus flowers plus wine up the stairs to Bobby and Colette's lovely home.  At last - it was the day of Del Amitri!!!

Colette greeted me with a hug and an expression that I shall refer to as STF (stressed to fuck).  'It's so lovely to see you was your journey okay we've had a disaster WE CAN'T FIND THE TICKETS' all rushed out in one panicked breath.

I dump down my stuff.  This was serious.  C explained that they had had to move all their furniture so allow carpet fitters clear access for fitting and the tickets hadn't been seen since.  That was November. Idly I wondered whether

Hestia's....Window

So, it's a New Year....but it's still the same ol' shit.

Life here at Mount Olympus has not been without incident recently.  The Christmas holibags flew past as expected - nice pressies, nice food, rubbish telly, incomprehensible Dr Who etc - but on return to school, things started to go a bit pear-shaped.

Sonshine came home and announced that Child X (let's just call him Satan.  It will amuse me, if no-one else) had been telling everyone in the class that Sonshine had shit himself in the woods. Reader, I have no idea whether this is true or false.  Even if true, it's not the sort of thing that you want people to remember you for, right?

Anyway, as the week wore on, more tales come home from school of mild unpleasantness from Satan.

Wednesday evening arrives and Satan turns up at the front door for Sonshine to 'come out and play'.  At 8.30pm on a dark, wet, January night.  Clearly they were all going to be Up To No Good.  Sonshine said he didn't fancy it.  Door closed.  End of story.

Except it wasn't.

A short while later, while I was deep in the bowels of something or other of VITAL importance on the telly (ie Big Bang Theory) there was a terrible hammering on our front window. Cue nervous greyhound bladder evacuation and, if I'm honest, a partial Hestia evacuation too.

Tartarus shot out of the chair and ran outside.  Perps were gone.  Undeterred, Tartarus pulled up his hoodie and set off down the road.  Where he duly encountered a group of three boys.  Including Satan. You've seen the photos.  Tartarus didn't get that face by sitting at home at night doing knitting.  He left them in no doubt how things would go if he encountered them banging on the windows again.

And that was that.

Except it wasn't.

The following night, Tartarus was enjoying a spot of X-Box fun in the living room when I announced that Nero needed a feed.  I dragged the dog off his bed and just stepped my foot out of the living room when there was A Situation.  For a split second, I thought, 'Fuck, the sound effects in Deus Ex are good!' only for Tartarus to fly past me in the doorway and out into the night.

Yep, living room window shattered.

We have four cylinder glass, Listed B status windows (ie cannot remove them, must replace like with like, cannot install double-fucking-glazing etc) and one of them was in long, evil shards of thin Victorian glass, all over the floor.  And Nero's bed.  Unfortunately, I had removed the glass that had landed in his bed by the time I took the photographs.

I uploaded the photos to facebook where I spewed a furious 'public' rant at the little shit who had done this to us.

The police were called.  They duly turned up and took statements.  Including the details of the incident the previous night.

And then.

Nothing.

No visits to any of the previous night's perps to give them a stern talking to....NOTHING.

The law, is, I'm afraid, an ASS.

Sure, Tartarus couldn't positively ID Satan for the window breaking, but the two coppers sat on the sofa taking statements and saying how unlikely a coincidence it would be for another kid to break exactly the same window the next night.  How the kids could probably do with a bit of a fright, a warning shot across the bows...or at least their parents informed of the Wednesday night situation.  So I thought that was going to happen.  But no.

Sonshine goes to school and Satan gloats.  Sonshine goes to Games Night at a friend's house to discover Satan is also present.  Sonshine gets 'bare bummed'.  Which is the delightful process of being pinned down and someone planks their naked bum on your face.

So, I'm afraid that it's all down to your Friendly Non-Domestic Goddess to go and sort this out with Satan's parents and, sadly, with the parents of his 'friends' who held him down. And certainly the parents whose house this took place in.

Wish me luck.

I have also had my 3-yearly smear.  So for a bit of light relief and fun at Tartarus's man-love's expense, after all that doom and gloom, read this

Hello 2014!

Kevin wishes you all a happy and prosperous 2014!

Well, here we are again - we've made it through another year!  *pats everyone on the back*

I'm not making resolutions this year because, well, I always get to about the 10th of January and decide that it's all too complicated and console myself with another bit of cake and a large whisky and ginger ale.

This year I've decided to focus on FOUR feelings that I would like to experience and basically, I will be trying to do stuff that makes me feel these sorts of ways.

What are the four words?

Hestia's 2013

Me, Sonshine and the inimitable Legend!

My 2013 kicked off by finding a neat pile of fluff and ended with my memories of my own school dance horrors and trying to encourage Sonshine to be kind to Those With Unfortunate Frocks and Bad Hair.

February saw the commencement - after years of *cough* preparation - to work on the stained glass windows for the front door.  It's only taken the best part of three years, but 2013 saw the completion of BOTH windows.  There are lots of posts on the Windows Update (the only Windows' update that won't turn your computer screen blue.  Only my language) but here's the first post and the last post (should I toot a bugle when I say that?).