Friday, August 26, 2005
Our Mogs are Spazzy. Yesterday I heard an almighty thud. What was it?
Tipper running into the patio doors! He'd seen a moth in the utility room and, not realising that there were panes of glass between him and the moth, made a running leap at it! No harm done, not even to his pride.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Well we’re not now. Not for the time being anyway. We’re staying on for a while. We’ll definitely be here for September and possibly October.
So watch this space for more Philly/ US-related blither.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
So today is our penultimate day in Philadelphia. We’ve spent four months here and we have enjoyed ourselves immensely. Last year I came here for long weekends spent sightseeing, visiting bars, spending a fortune in record stores, spending one crazy weekend watching The Darkness at TLA one night followed by a drive to New York to see Dream Theater the following night. It's all been v different living here with a small baby but we've met lots of people, I hope some of you stay in touch.
Unfortunately it’s time to return home to dear-old blighted Blighty. Time to start thinking about going back to work, sorting out the overgrown jungle behind our house, “childproofing” our house and our cats. Before I know it, it will be time to think about where to celebrate Christmas and how to celebrate our daughter’s first birthday. Still we've got a couple of concerts to look forward to - Bob Dylan and The Bravery, just need a willing granny to babysit.
…so I’ll just say fare-thee-well
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
We recently went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Quite an impressive array of works including Picasso's "Musicians" (opposite), Van Gogh's Sunflowers, a smattering of Monet and a selection of Modern Art. Modern Art does not always impress me. The Lichentstein and Warhol works were interesting. There was something by a chap called Twombly (which I thought was the name of one of the Wombles) which looked like a small child had scribbled on some canvas and someone with a knowledge of Greek mythology had scrawled some words pertaining to various myths over the top.
A piece which we particularly liked, besides the Picasso shown to the right, was a sculpture - the name of the artist and the name of the work escape me. If I remember I'll edit this post. I liked the work so much I walked into it.Next time I go to a musuem, remind me to make a note of the names of my favourite pieces. It's not very informative for me to say: "the painting by someone or other was good".
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
I was at a mother and baby group recently and I mentioned how good my daughter was at moving albeit backwards. One of the other "moms" asked if I had child-proofed my home. I haven't and we do need to but it got me thinking whether child-proofing is really the best term.
If an item of clothing or footwear is waterproof that means that the garment is protected from the elements (well from water anyway). If you child-proof a home, does that mean the home's protected from children?
As I write this, my daughter has travelled a distance of 8 times her length. Everthing is still standing. Except her, but she can't stand yet.
Monday, August 15, 2005
It's a common stereotype held among Brits that Americans don't understand irony. Alannis Morrisette's song "Ironic" doesn't really help them much. "Black Fly in your Chardonnay" - Ironic? just plain inconvenient, although it might improve the taste of those really oaky Chardonnays.
Two recent examples show it's not just a stereotype:
Example 1: Someone was admiring my accent (I get this all the time here) and saying "I love your accent, you could read the news."
My response: "I guess I've missed my vocation."
Their response: "It's not too late."
Example 2: I was out for dinner. Someone in the group asked if we minded them smoking - I said that was fine but they'd have to sit downwind. They moved!
Maybe it's the tone of voice and they didn't realise I was joking. Maybe in the first example they were being ironic and really they meant that I'd be an appallling newsreader as I'd bore everyone to sleep.
Check out the following link for further assistance: Maybe I'm the one that needs help from this link
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Here in cent[er/re] city Philly, people have a liking for small rat-like dogs. Some of them I can hardly believe are descended from wolves. Our Shitzsu, Alfie, would fit right in.
So, will you find these cute ickle mutts trotting along behind their owners? No, these fierce and wolverine beasts are to be found carried about in their owners' handbags - be-ribboned head peeking out of bag, tongue hanging out of mouth.
Maybe I'm being unfair, maybe having them in the handbag is for security purposes. After all, Fagin, in "Oliver Twist" did warn his boys to steer clear of the handbags containing yapping mutts (read it carefully, the warning's there, honest gov). If I was a pick pocket I'd steer clear of any bag that was likely to go "arf" if I tried to "alf-inch" it.
Why? I know it's a city and people live in apartments so space is at a premium but since when has Man's best friend been half wolf, half feather duster?
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
While here in the US I have noticed that the English spoken here is rather different to the Queen's English. And to mine too.
Some of the obvious differences: diaper/ nappy; stroller/ pushchair; nap/ kip.
Some less obvious idioms (or are they idia?) that have caught me out:
Today I was telling someone that Isha enjoys her greens. They said "she'll be shooting up soon". I was shocked, was this lady really saying that a prediliction for green veg means a propensity to indulge in recreational pharmaceuticals in later life? No, after a split second I realised she meant that my daughter would be growing taller.
Maybe that's nothing to do with a difference in language. Maybe that's me being blonde.
Talking of which, Robbie Williams apparently lives near my folks. You should hear my Dad on the subject - although his music tastes are mostly stuck in the 50's - when men were men and beer was warm. Most of the villagers were most unimpressed at hearing that he'd moved in - Robbie, that is, not my Dad. As far as I know, most villagers get on v well with my Dad.
Anyway, this is meant to be an intro to my "blog". I started a website - www.sinharay.com but you will see that I am having uploading issues.
Wilkie Collins said something about people who keep diaries. I can't remember exactly what it was. Whatever it was, the same probably applies to people who keep blogs. I fear it means I have too much time on my hands that could be spent more profitably.
You be the judge.