The clocks go back, 4 seasons in a day, and a dose of England’s wildlife

Waking up to torrential downpour and relentless wind, I glanced out the window fearing that the sun was a distant memory that I wouldn’t see again until the spring of 2008. I wound my clock back an hour recognizing that in a few weeks it would start getting dark by 4:00 p.m. (Matt has told me that I’ve become very British with my pessimism and gloom!). To overcome what could have been the dreariest Sunday in the history of Nottingham, I resorted to an old staple pick-me-up, i.e. American breakfast. I cooked up a feast of French Toast casserole and cheesy potatoes. Although he continued to refer to the French Toast as ‘Bread and Butter Pudding’, Matt seemed to enjoy the American classic as he helped himself to excessive portions.


Assuming that I had already experienced the highlight of the day with breakfast, I was utterly surprised and delighted to see the sun appear. Taking advantage of this gift from Mother Nature, Matt and I ventured down to the Trent River for a walk. Certainly not alone on our amble along the river, we were accompanied by sheep, horses, cows, dogs, cats and bulls along the way. We pushed both the animals’ and our own comfort zone limits approaching them for pictures, and a bit of TLC (e.g. Matt wiping the snot from the docile Sheep’s nose).
An English wilderness tour would not have been complete without a stop for a coffee halfway through the journey. While not pleased with the shortened day, my spirits were revived, at least temporarily, with the simplicity of the small, yet pleasant surprises on a Sunday afternoon.

Dogs- gotta love 'em

You really can’t help but love dogs, no matter what they do. The past weekend of dog sitting for Badger, Andy and Sarah’s border collie, coupled with 4 weeks of getting to know the Charity’s new sprightly vizsla puppy, Amber, I am convinced that Dogs are the reason for term unconditional love.

I emphatically agreed to, if not suggested in the first place, that I take care of Badger while Sarah and Andy spent a weekend out east visiting friends and family. Dropping Badger off on Friday evening was nothing short of emotional for Sarah, Andy and Badger. Badger is a Rescue dog with a turbulent past, so Andy & Sarah have worked patiently and tirelessly over the past 8 months to convince him that he wouldn’t be abandoned again. With such a history, it is no wonder that poor Badger was frightened in a new home the night that Sarah and Andy left. I figured giving Badger free reign of the house would be the best plan so he didn’t feel trapped and could sleep on the floor in my room if he wanted company. Unfortunately, the plan backfired.

I have a vague recollection of the distinct sound of a dog attempting to bury something- that undeniable quick paw/nail motion against a surface. I couldn’t work out what the surface was as I have minimal carpet downstairs and it certainly didn’t sound like hardwood floors. I dismissed the sound, assumed I was dreaming, and went back to sleep.

Early Saturday morning, I woke to find Badger comfortably settled on the small rug in my living room. I smiled and gave him an enthusiastic morning greeting of lots of petting, ooohhhing & awhhing, and loving dialog ‘hello Badger, you’re such a good dog badge. How did you sleep Mr. Badger’. My attention then turned to the cushions on my couch and oversized chair that seemed to be in slight disarray. Uh-oh.

I calmly walked over to the couch to assess the damage- 2 cushions soaking wet, 1 cushion with a brown spot. I removed the cushions and to my dismay the liquid had seeped all the way to the foundation of the couch. I cringed as I walked over to the chair. I found the cushions and pillows on the chair to be in the same state as the sofa. My first thought (okay, so perhaps my second or third thought) was what an intelligent dog! I could hardly be mad, but rather impressed that Badger identified the two items in my entire house that were worth any value, and that shouldn’t get wet. How in the world did he know that?! As I sat on the floor, head in my hands, contemplating what to do next, sweet Badger came up right next to me, put his head down and gave me a sympathetic look. I couldn’t help but put him at ease by petting him, shaking my head, offering a pouting yet forgiving smile, and realizing that there’s nothing more endearing than a sad dog seeking approval and attention


The couch has since been cleaned…well at least it has since dried (!), and Badger is happily back at home with Sarah & Andy. While my dog craving was temporarily satiated, I anxiously await my next visit with Amber or the opportunity to have Badger stay over again.

Underworld- a 'cultural' evening at Rock City

As a girl who calls herself a fan of dancing and up for any concert, I certainly had an eye opening experience to a dance/concert world with which I am completely unfamiliar. Give me JT’s Sexy Back, Beyonce’s Crazy in Love or even go as far as pretty much any 80s Hair band, and it’s hard to pull me off the dance floor. Throw on techno and I’m lost, not exactly sure how to contort my body with the rhythmic movements that seem to come so naturally to techno groupies. In fact, until today’s Google search, I could not distinguish techno, trance, house or dance. Now I can (by definition only, certainly not based on sound) proudly state that last night I had the pleasure of seeing/listening to a trance group/band (haven’t yet worked out the nomenclature for Trance!). Matt and I ventured to see Underworld at Nottingham’s famous venue Rock City.

The first question I asked myself was what exactly does one wear to a small concert setting when going to watch/listen to techo-ish music. Is it clubbing, in which case people are decked out trendy? Is it grunge? Is it concert? Hmmm…had to reach out to my lifeline Jennifer Kirsten Binder Capasso to help resolve this critical quandary. Keith, in his hung-over state, lent the valuable advice that black would be a safe choice. As I discussed outfit selection with Jenni, I realized that I had no idea what I had in store for the evening.

Upon entering Rock City with a few glasses of wine under my belt, I first saw a girl wearing vintage/trendy/worn looking jeans, white Converse shoes and a casual fitted white tank. She looked the part. Matt, much more familiar with this musical genre than me, sported a black Carhart t-shirt, trendy worn jeans and black shoes. He looked the part. As Matt and I pushed our way up towards the front and center (because apparently to hear the sound properly you must be in the front and center), I noted the guy wearing enormous, feminine sunglasses. I chuckled to myself and thought that somehow he fit in as well. As the lights began to pick up with the music I actually understood why the large sunglasses were in fact a wise accessory- and I was secretly jealous of the tamed lighting that the Dolce & Gabana boy was experiencing. Gazing across the room, there was certainly a look that these fans all seemed to sport- the retro unstylish/stylish t-shirt, jeans, short hair (many men had shaved heads), and casual unstylish/stylish shoes (e.g. Converse), that I would need to remember for my next techno/dance/trance outing.

Not only did everyone seem to look the part, but they acted the part as well. The mood and energy in the room ebbed and flowed with the music with the audience altering from jumping to standing dead still at a moments notice. As a non-regular, it wasn’t blatantly obvious to me when I was supposed to be standing still- the music was still going…perhaps the bass wasn’t? The expertise of the fans continued to impress as they seemed to recognize each song immediately. This phenomenon wouldn’t be surprising if we were listening to The Killers and they were playing Mr Brightside, but we were listening to techno beats after all (or am I revealing my utter lack of understanding again?!). As if watching the crowd wasn’t entertaining enough, we had the joy of observing random images on a screen just above the stage and large inflatable tubes- perhaps catering to those on substances other than beer and wine?

My keen and naïve observations extended beyond just the crowd and the screen, and I watched the stage with wonder. To my untrained eye, the main character (singer/dancer…not sure what he was exactly) on stage had a striking resemblance to Buddy Holly with his metallic sport coat, light hair and broad smile. Just when I had him pegged as a Buddy Holly look-alike, he would break out into a routine that could only be described as aerobics. Suddenly, I was convinced that it was Richard Simmons that we were all jumping around to. Finally, during the denouement (perhaps not the appropriate term for Trance concert?!) our main character morphed himself into a Stevie Wonder look-alike with eyes shut, beaming smile and slower movements.

The second guy on stage had a role that could only be described as backup. The young man in a black shirt was completely nondescript. Although arguably decent looking, my eyes were never drawn to him.



Oddly, my eyes weren’t drawn to the charismatic silver-sparkled-coat-wearing-entertainer either. I couldn’t avert my attention from the third character on the stage. Thin, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, he resembled a scientist working in a lab. Although he certainly was not the main character, nor did he have any uniquely pleasant traits, the mad scientist was the one who caught my eye. Not once did he look into the crowd or even appear that he was in the same room as anyone else (let alone thousands of screaming and dancing fans!). Perhaps his most striking characteristic was his undivided attention to the machine/lab in front of him, and the resulting ambivalence to the crowd. Ironically, it drew me in!

Despite walking into the concert a novice, I walked out as a new loyal fan of Underworld, easily persuaded to purchase the one-size-fits all (so they claim), £5, black, stretchy Underworld t-shirt. Sadly, with my new curvaceous (aka lack of training) body, the shirt cuts off the circulation in my arms and barely covers my belly. Despite its limitations, I threw the shirt on and enthusiastically sang the lyrics to one of the popular songs: “You’ve been lied to. You’ve been lied to.” I sang to Matt in a stentorian, off-key voice as the taxi driver drove us towards Nuthall.
“What are you singing?” Matt asked with a look of curiosity and amusement. “That song with 3 lyrics that everyone seemed to love, You’ve Been Lied To,” I stated brazenly.
“Oh, you mean, You Bring Life To” Matt states with a smile. I broke into laughter undeterred by my lyrical mistake. I continued to sing You’ve Been Lied To with Matt shaking his head and probably questioning the soundness of his decision to introduce me to the world of trance music.

I went as far as to request that Matt play Underworld upon arriving at his house. I must admit that I am a huge fan of Born Slippy and would recommend that even my non-trance/techno/house friends give it a go! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKLspd7QQw0.

New home in Mapperley Plains

I suppose moving wouldn't get it's bad rap if everything went smoothly, and I certainly wouldn't uphold my reputation of minimal attention to detail had I taken precise measurements prior to selecting my future home...

Oh, but the house was perfect...not too big or too small. Less than 4 miles from work. Walking distance from shops, and a quick easy jaunt to meet the Sherwood Saturday Club Ride. The only flaw in my perfect new home became immediately apparent as the movers struggled and eventually failed at moving my box springs up the first stairwell. I knew this limitation did not bode well for the enormous couch and entertainment center that were yet to make the attempted journey up the narrow stair case. To my dismay, after the movers left, I had 2 box springs, an entertainment center and a couch sitting in my garage. Just short of resigning to the idea of making my garage my bedroom and living room, I called my landlord who proposed that I hire 'window removers' who might be able to hoist the furniture up into the living room. His idea was not only brilliant, but successful. Matt, his dad Peter, and two window removers successfully emptied my garage and filled my living room with furniture. Phew- disaster once again averted...haven't quite thought through the prospect of moving out of the house!