Monday, 13 June 2011


I am in France. There was literally a monsoon. The pool awash with mud needs emptying. Some flooding. No Internet for a week. Doing this via bloody titchy horrible iPhone that insists on correcting all my perfectly spelt words to non words. Eg it just tried to change spelt to Speke. I'm defeated and pissed off. Always problems.
At least I have lovely eyes. ( iPhone wants to change them to lively eyes. Lovely not a word steve jobs you twat? )
R x


  1. Oi, a monsoon. :(. Sorry about all that Rachel.
    And the perfection of your iphone.haha
    But as always you are able to inject your wonderful sense of humour!


  2. ps: what happened to the days when you could type whatever you wanted, without a machine correcting you all the time! lol

  3. What, there's no app for iPhone for halting monsoons and drying floods?? But this means... this means... that Steve Jobs is NOT the messiah! Argh! That's it, I'm returning my phone!

    Luckily, at least the auto-correcting can be switched off in the settings.

    But no wonder you're royally pissed off. I'm sorry to hear about the problems caused by the monsoon :(

  4. ...just remember iphone speak is American, should help out a bit...

  5. Hola Rachel,

    Sorry about that, Rachel, hopefully the weather will be better tomorrow, and also Skrapovsky is with you!!
    We had heavy rain last week. My family own some lands with cherry trees, and the rain caused the crop to fail, not everything is lost though.

    I've been watching fireworks from my window some minutes ago. I don't know why there are fireworks tonight, but it's been nice.

    Cheer up!!

  6. Welcome back from the storm, Rachel.

    From one storm unto another....

    Here’s some more thunder, Rachel.

    And now for something soothing.

    Now back into the fold.

    Go Stevie go, from The Big Apple! If the Brits aren’t taught that spelt isn’t really a word ANYMORE, by and large, it’s spell, spelled, spelling, and that’s it. There ain’t no spelt in there. No wonder NATO doesn’t work worth a shit.

    And don’t try no dove on him. Because Jobs and everybody in America knows what a dove is. It’s dive, dived, diving – period.

    Anthony Lamont

    PS; I hope you were able to find some pleasure and got some enjoyment during your little (miss)adventure this past week. God knows it wasn’t planned. I mean it certainly wasn’t directed at anyone, specifically. Just those that happened to be there and got in the way. Nothing personal – remind me to give you “The Fathers” on a cold miserable day.

    PPS; I don’t know if Steve Jobs is really a twat, but if he is, I bet he’s a tight one. As far as “lovely” goes, Steve probably went with love, loved, loving, thinking he had it covered. A common error.

    It’s all about grammar.


  7. yo! twat is a word and you do have lovely eyes. I am more happy you and all are okay, though.

  8. That is correct, you do have lovely eyes, among other attributes.........
    Oh behave...........That's a pisser about the monsoon. I didn't know France gets monsoons like that. Global warming........get used to it. Every house needs a dingy. Hope the damage is not too severe Rachel. Take care.

  9. A Strange Commonplace – Rain – The fathers...

    ...and their lost children on gray and hopeless Saturdays: after the puppet shows and the botanical gardens, the parks, the zoos and rowboats; after the ice-cream sodas and hamburgers, the hot fudge sundaes and roller coasters, the Yoo-hoos and Shirley Temples; after the loose change pressed into the dirty, sticky little hands, the dollar bills; after the museums and museums and museums and pony rides, the Cracker Jacks and new sneakers and toy fire engines and dolls and hair ribbons and plastic barrettes; after the thin fake smiles and the small talk with the wives’ understanding and kind and reliable new boyfriends, the sharp words about meager child support and clothes for school; after ruining their shoes in the rain, after their sodden overcoats, the dark bars where nobody knows them but where the children get their 7-Ups on the house; after the introductions to Graces or Mollies or Annes or Elaines or Lindas or Charlottes or Anybodies dressed so as to look serious, so as to look like Moms, to look like Somebodies who could be Moms, who were just like Moms, just as good as Moms; after the long nights later over whiskey and beer and worries about how nothing had gone right; after the movies, the ice-cream parlors, the diners, the melted cheese sandwiches, the pizzas, the aimless walks; after the friends who say how big the children are getting, how pretty, how smart; after the long trips back to the wives’ little apartments in Bensonhurst or Washington Heights or Bay Ridge or Marine Park or Park Slope or the Lower East Side or Sunset Park or Brighton Beach, Ozone Park, Kew Gardens, anywhere; after the buses and the penny arcades, the boardwalks and amusement parks, the hot dogs and lost gloves and scarves and hats; after the boredom and tears and silences and bewilderment, the cheap souvenirs; after Snow White and Dumbo, Pinocchio and Tarzan and Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck; after the Neccos and Charms and Nibs and Black Crows and Baby Ruths and Milky Ways and Mounds; after the quarrels in hateful whispers because they were back too late or too early or because the children were too tired or over-excited or spoiled again, as usual; after the rages over who had been at fault, who had stopped caring about anything; after the old accusations of adultery and gambling, drunkenness and abandonment, withdrawal and frigidity and contempt, nights with phony friends, days with venomous bitches, yes! on the phone; after the discoveries of other men’s clothes in the closets, shoes, razors and after shave in the bathroom; after the nights watching television, playing records suddenly disliked, held in contempt, hated; after coming across old gifts given them by once-young, once-passionate, once-loving, once funny and warm and caring women who had been, was it possible? their wives; after shouting and cursing and blaming and suffering; after meandering affairs with secretaries and office assistants and receptionists, widowed or divorced neighbors, waitresses and God knows how many faceless unhappy women met at bars and parties and weddings and, Jesus, wakes; after the unbearable old photographs with their images of contentment and joy and love and now-harrowing smiles of optimism and hope and endless and wonderfully stupid youth; after all this, after walking from the subway in the rain, it seemed always in the fucking rain; after all this, the doomed, the hated Saturdays, again and again, the fathers remembered, in a dazzle of candor, the specific moments when the last tenuous links between them and their restless and distracted children began to dissolve, disintegrate, remembered their children in the act of fading away from them, fading into their actual lives: to which the fathers had no access, of which the fathers knew nothing at all and never would.

  10. The fathers would sit with their beer and their whiskey, their Camels or Luckies or Chesterfields, their crossword puzzles and sour jingo political columns and imbecile horoscopes and righteous editorials and think about the time when they were not expected to be anything but simply alive. Alive and waiting for the glittering future: of beautiful wives and happy children and perfect lakes and summers and long vacations and bright beaches. And the absurd, wholly impossible bliss that awaited them, a thing of beauty.


  11. Sorry to hear you had a monsoon. No fun to clean up after all the flooding and mud. I hope all is much better now and that you can relax now and enjoy a swim.
    Lucky for I phones. Nice back up when you can't use a computer. How did we ever survive with out these electronics. One thing we did not have typo's so no spell check. LOL. We had to use correction type on the typewriter's. That is if we notice them at the time.
    Yes you have lovely eyes.
    Take care,

  12. We had a bit of a monsoon here as well and they are predicting more storms tomorrow. I hope Skrapovsky wasn't too scared.
    Take care, Denise

  13. At least you stayed out of a very dangerous sun.There is always a bright side to things,and you have stunning eyes as well! My Niece is spending this Summer in London/Europe studying the fashion industry.I'm sure she would love any/all input here

  14. And so I visited my own Niece's Blog for the first time tonight.I read her past posts, 'Thrifty Find',there is a photo of her clothes air drying in the hotel room.On the right,drying on a desk,a WHO/MOD t-shirt. God I am proud of her,though I'm not sure it counts as high fasion.First class ticket,she is.

  15. Bad Luck, Rach but things will get better. As someone else mentioned, your sense of humor always comes through. As close as we can be in the different worlds we live in, you have taught me some amazingly valuable things; one of which is to laugh even when things seem dark.
    I love that about you.
    Oh, and my i-phone wanted me to post " LSD " when I wanted to write the word " best" ! What does THAT say about Mr Jobs, then, Aye?

    Here's to the sunshine returning and reflecting in your lovely eyes.

    As for me, I'm now "crushing" on the new Dr Who, Matt Smith; can't stop watching Episode #1.......Fish Fingers and Custard and a very scary crack in Amy's wall.
    What would I do without BBC America?

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  17. Rachel,
    you are so much stronger than this set back. recently in Australia we had some devestating floods whcih claimed many lives. without sounding harsh ,material things can be replaced. The most important thing is that you and the ones you love are safe and unharmed by such natures whims

    all the best


  18. Rach that is my BIGGEST Pet Peeve I have had since getting my new iphone in April. My iPad does that too, however I can catch it before hitting send on an email unlike my cell. So annoying! That's my excuse as to why half my Facebook posts seem like I am uneducated. Hell....maybe I am ha! Hope all is well with you! -Molly xo