The first of Jan. Early hours. All is quiet on the windfarm. Some may argue that it’s too quiet and they may well have a point but seeing what date it is and all the seasonal sentimentality that goes with it, I’m glad it is.
What a pooh year 2011 was on the friends and family dieing front!! Pleased it’s over. Welcome to you 2012 and fingers crossed it will bring more joy than your predecessor.
A friend commented tonight that it had been very quiet on the allatsea blog of late. He’s right, bless him for noticing; truth be told that blogging motivation of late has been a bit thin on the ground. Tch tch. In an effort then to spin out a few lines, I’ll give you an update of all that’s been happening (or otherwise) at the towers. In the spirit of lethargy I’ll keep it dry/terse and see how it looks later.
Bro in Oz seems a lot better and dealing with his terrid year with great aplomb and, dare it be said, with a bit of Howell dash. Dash and Howell are two words that can’t be used in the context of allatsea but is well deserved in bro’s case. He won the Western Australian Archery championships this year by the way (Longbow) and came third in the Australian Nationals. Blimey!!!
Uncle allatsea continues to quaff vast quantities of voddy but managed to stay reasonably sober for Xmas lunch and didn’t fall asleep in his plate, set fire to the cat or upset anyone. Improvements on the norm thankfully.
Memsahib remains full of loathing for her workplace but none the less turns up early for work every day and comes home looking bushed and drained. It’s been the same story for the last 16 years, so short of the place going bankrupt (quite possible according to the rumour mill) she will continue to carry on just the same for the next 8 years when, hopefully, HMG will cough up a pension for her. Hooray.
Allatsea himself carries on with the Ramsgate thing, 7 nights, 7 days, 14 leave. It’s not so bad, just a little dull. The contract expires in 12 months so best he gets off his broad padded backend and sorts something to do from Jan 2nd 2013. Bring it on you marine project managers, I’ll be ready, gorgeous, clean shaven to BBS standard and available at sensible rates. With luck my definition of sensible and yours will match. Fingers crossed.
Our resident critter/domestic/moggy population increased by one large lump over the holidays. I’m not sure if it’s permanent or not. He’s huge, gorgeous and very very very soft which sort of hints that he got left behind while his owners went away over Christmas or something along those lines. He’s far too ‘squeaky’ clean and fussy to be a stray. A stunning creature, half puma half moggy that is about three times the mass of our resident biggest mog (bigbadtom from previous posts, he moved in during xmas 2010). Part of me wants him to go home and the other half wants him to stay. He’s just so beautiful, there is no other word for him.
The straight razor collection has expanded much more quickly than is prudent or practical. It leads to a daily conundrum as to which one to use. A Thiers Issard? A stainless Dovo? A carbon steel Dovo, or a 1930 Ford and Medley or a 1920’s Kropp, or a 1910 Boker? Then there’s the size and grind; 4/8 or 5/8 or 6/8 or 11/16, fully hollow, half hollow, ¼ grind, full wedge, shoulderless?? Eeek, I had no idea it could be so complex or, to be honest, so important :o) Once the blade’s been decided on, the soap or cream has to be chosen, (there are at least a dozen of either available in the towers) and once that’s been sorted (often with much tugging of heart strings and umming and urring and stuff) there’s the question of brush. Badger or boar or synthetic, stiff or soft, large or small. Uuuurrghhhhhh!!
Fortunately the shaving skills have improved quite a bit over the last three months so cuts and decapitations are far less frequent and the use of a large block of alum to stench the flow of blood quite rare indeed. Shaving is still (I hate to say it in all honesty) the highlight of the allatsea day and I find myself wishing I had four faces to attend to instead of just the one. Sigh.
There you have it then, the sad and shallow update, albeit written by the smoothest shaven chap in England (probably).
Happy twenty twelve to you.