Recent Posts

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91
The Lounge / Re: Members birthdays
« Last post by Amanda_George on August 22, 2024, 11:08:34 AM »
Sweetpea is celebrating a big birthday today!   anim_65
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The Lounge / Re: Members birthdays
« Last post by Amanda_George on August 21, 2024, 07:03:59 AM »
Did you have a good day celebrating your birthday yesterday, ParsnipPierre?

:yourock2:
93
Fun Stuff / Investment
« Last post by Pip on August 20, 2024, 05:23:06 PM »
An investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The banker complimented the fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.  The fisherman replied, "Only a little while."
 
The banker then asked why didn't he stay out longer and catch more fish.  The fisherman said he had enough to support his family's immediate needs. 
The banker then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"
 
The fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take a nap with my wife, stroll into the village each evening where I play guitar and sing with my friends. I have a full and busy life."
 
The banker scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and I could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to a big city where you will run your expanding enterprise."
 
The fisherman asked, "But, how long will this all take?"
 
To which the banker replied, "15-20 years."
 
"But what then?"
 
The banker laughed and said that's the best part.  "When the time is right, you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions."
 
"Millions.  Then what?"
 
The banker said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take a nap with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could play your guitar and sing with your friends."
94
One Step At A Time / Re: *ahem*
« Last post by Pip on August 20, 2024, 05:09:52 PM »
 :happy0158:
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One Step At A Time / Re: *ahem*
« Last post by Amanda_George on August 18, 2024, 06:12:50 PM »
Thank you so much, Pip.  It's still hanging up on my whiteboard and hasn't come apart yet so maybe the 80 instead of 120 was right after all?
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One Step At A Time / Re: *ahem*
« Last post by Pip on August 18, 2024, 04:20:30 PM »
 :happy0158:  Well done, I can remember when we got our laminater and worrying that we would do something wrong.  You've found out that you are more than capable of doing something right  :excited:
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One Step At A Time / *ahem*
« Last post by Amanda_George on August 16, 2024, 05:53:21 PM »
I'm sorry if you think I'm being big-headed with this post but I've just achieved something that I didn't have the foggiest clue about yesterday so I don't care if you think I don't deserve this moment of pride, just for once I'm going to let me be proud of myself and if you don't like it then you can stick it up your jumper.



On Monday I had a document that had been hanging around since January 2023 that needed to be laminated but I couldn't find anywhere that would do it and send the laminated document through the post for me.



Yesterday I bit the bullet and ordered my own personal laminator and the films that needed to go with it.



Had I ordered the right laminator?  The right films to go with it?  Would it be too complicated for me to use?  Would it disturb my neighbours because it was so loud?  Cause a fire because it got so hot?



It was delivered this afternoon, so I read the booklet cover to cover three times then made myself a preparatory creamy hot chocolate and read the instructions again.



It needed to be plugged into a wall socket as opposed to an extension lead and I didn't fancy risking putting it on the floor in the living room so I took it all upstairs and read the instructions again.



Plugged it in.



It didn't turn on.



I panicked.



Then I read the instructions again and realised that I hadn't turned the switch on the front of it on.



Flicked the switch.



It made a soft whirring sound.



I hadn't broken it already had I?



I sat down on the floor and followed the instructions to the letter.



I only realised when it was half way through that I'd turned it onto 80 (the cold lamination setting) instead of 125 (the hot lamination setting that the lamination sheets needed.



Too late to worry about it now!



It slowly came out of the back of the laminator and I was starting to feel a little bit more confident with each centimetre that came out.



Had I successfully researched, bought, set up an used something that I knew pretty much nothing about??



If it hanging up proudly in the kitchen is anything to go by then that's a very big yes!!



I'm sooo proud of myself right now and my good day has just got even better... I'm even willingly smiling at myself with utter pride too, which is an even rarer occurrence!



I'm gonna go and reward myself with a very creamy hot chocolate and for once I'm gonna bask in the glow that I'm not a technical dunce after all!

:yay:


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The Lounge / Re: Members birthdays
« Last post by Pip on August 16, 2024, 04:14:36 PM »
Belated  :happybday: carrie_m
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https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-13747935/humiliated-reaction-confronted-bully-tormented.html

She mocked my teeth, said I stank and humiliated me. But my reaction when I confronted the bully who tormented me 33 years ago shocked me...

By Shona Sibary for the Daily Mail

Published: 01:59, 16 August 2024 | Updated: 08:08, 16 August 2024

On a school reunion day, I saw her before she saw me. At first, I could not believe it was her.  Unremarkably middle-aged and a bit plump, she was wearing a floral summer dress with sandals, and I noticed her ankles had that tell-tale puffiness certain overweight women in their 40s get.  But that's just me being mean, still trying to find reasons, after all these years, to take her down. To take her power away.  I wouldn't have given her a second glance if we'd passed on the street. Yet this was the girl all grown up now who had made so much of my life at school a misery.  I'd spent 33 years rehearsing what I'd say if I ever saw her again. Now she was here and I couldn't find the words. I didn't know if I could forgive her. Can anyone really forgive their bully?

We were at a convent school in Sussex together. I joined as a boarder in 1980 at the age of nine. Before that my family had been in Fiji for four years, where my father worked as a land developer, and the only schooling I'd known had been somewhat unconventional. There was no TV in Fiji in the late 1970s, so I devoured Enid Blyton books and dreamed of boarding school fun with midnight feasts and freezing dormitories.  And when we moved back to the UK following a catastrophic flood, my parents happily obliged.  I remember arriving on that first Sunday night and my mother unpacking my belongings into the cupboard by my single bed, tenderly placing my teddy on the pillow. 'Just hold back a bit,' she said, hugging me tightly. 'You'll need to find a way to fit in.'

She was right. Looking back, I can see I was blithely unaware that I had wandered into a world of unspoken rules and nuance. A world where, if the coolest girl in the school decided she didn't like the look of you, then that was it.  That first morning in the refectory, I innocently skipped in and was assigned a seat at a table with let's call her Mandy. She was two years older, and clearly in charge.  Buttered white toast was brought round, piled high on plates. I took a hot slice from the top and Mandy's eyes narrowed. 'Put that back, new girl,' she ordered. 'You get the cold toast from the bottom.'

Shocked, I dropped my slice, knocking her glass of juice over the table and onto her skirt. She glared at me with such a look of disdain I shrivelled into my seat.  And that was it. My fate had been sealed in less than five minutes over a loaf of Mother's Pride. From that day forth, pretty much until the day she left, Mandy made it her mission in life to torment me. Her weapons of choice were words and ever-so-clever psychological toying.  If I'm honest, I made it easy for her. I was a quirky girl with no filter. I hadn't had siblings to knock that out of me and I assumed everyone would like me. They had so far, and this had given me the confidence fatefully to be myself.  'You're such a weirdo, aren't you?' Mandy would say every day at breakfast, announcing it like an unarguable fact.

Of course, everybody agreed with her.  'Why don't you do something about your wonky teeth? And what's wrong with your eye?' (A birth mark as a baby had left me with a squint, as well as blind in one eye.)

It was a daily, relentless taking down. It was easier for the other girls to sit back, say nothing and allow Mandy her reign. Why would they stick their heads above the parapet for a slightly annoying new girl who'd never seen Tiswas?

A savvier girl would have cowered, made herself less visible. But I did the opposite, stupidly holding on to the belief that, if nothing else, I still had my spirit (as I said, I'd read a lot of Enid Blyton).  Mandy knew I wanted to be an actress. So one day she casually announced her father was the director of the new West End production of Annie, and he'd asked her to scout for orphans for the show.  I remember thinking: 'I'm sure your dad is in the Navy, but at the same time, I was so desperate for the opportunity I wilfully suspended disbelief. And anyway, all the other girls, eager for sport, confirmed it was, indeed, true.  Mandy corralled everyone into the gym where there was a stage. Looking back, I still cringe at how I stepped onto that platform, ignoring the warning voice in my head. I warbled through Tomorrow and then, for good measure, Its The Hard Knock Life. She pretended to make notes while everyone sniggered.  As I finished there was a moment of thrilled anticipation, a bit like when a roller coaster reaches the top of its climb before tipping towards the drop.  'You're rubbish,' Mandy announced. 'Don't call us, we'll call you.'

And then everyone burst into hysterical laughter.  When I look back at that moment possibly one of the most humiliating of my life I wonder why I never spoke up or asked anyone for help. Much of it was to do with self-preservation.  I didn't see my parents for weeks on end and the nuns were distant. We were expected to stand on our two feet and get on with it. But as an adult, I feel furious for my younger self. I wasn't a bad kid. Annoying, yes, but I didn't deserve Mandy's campaign of cruelty.  This thought was rankling in my mind 33 years later at our reunion, when there she suddenly was, standing in front of me holding her daughter's hand.  I hated myself for wishing I'd worn something more flattering. Then I noticed her roots needed doing. 'Stop it,' a voice in my head admonished. 'You're a grown woman. You don't need to do this.'

Yet, still, I was aware of rearranging my face, feigning nonchalance a force of habit as my survival instinct kicked in.  'How are you?' she asked. 'Long time.'

I nodded, still unable to speak. We moved together down a corridor so familiar to both of us, passing a spot where she once shrieked, holding her nose, telling everyone I had bad BO.  'I'm glad you're here,' she said. 'I think I was a bit of a bitch to you at school and I'd hate to ever think of my daughter going through the same.'

The girl looked up at me and smiled. She looked nice. Not the kind of person who could ever tell a classmate their face resembled something Bugs Bunny had vomited all over.  I took a deep breath. I doubted Mandy had lost any sleep over the years for the way she treated me at school. She just wanted to be let off the hook. Maybe motherhood had softened her.  'Look Mandy,' I said. 'You really hurt me.'

She looked immediately stricken, and still a people pleaser, I couldn't help wanting to take back the words. 'I'm so sorry,' she whispered.

We were standing on the same spot we stood so many times before, aeons ago. I thought of all the girls in the future who will stand here, too not quite women yet, feeling their way.  Mandy had just been a teenager, with a dad away in the military, probably struggling with a whole heap of problems of her own. I breathed out, realising only then that, finally, after years of agonising over what had happened, I no longer cared.  'It's OK,' I replied with a grin. 'Let's get a cup of tea.'

And, despite everything, it was OK. I had forgiven her. I think my 11-year-old self would be proud. She was more resilient than I give her credit for today.
100
Gardeners World / Re: Fresh lavendar
« Last post by Amanda_George on August 15, 2024, 04:44:08 PM »
Personally I'm dangerous near plants except for roses and trees despite liking all types of plants but I seem to give them the kiss of death.  They can be put inside particularly in the winter but the advice is to have them outside in the ground or hanging baskets, thisis article is straightforward https://www.jacksonsnurseries.co.uk/heathers-planting-guide.html

Thank you Pip... sounds like Lavendar isn't right for me then unfortunately... I was in waaaay too deep within a couple of sentences of reading that page!  lol  There was a rose that was already  planted when we moved in 26 years ago and it thrived despite absolutely no care from us at all lol
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