Sunday, June 22nd, 2003
I can’t believe Paul was keeping quiet about this. He’s going to be on Countdown! Am I, the Habershons.com webmistress, the last to know about this? Perhaps someone could tell me the date so that all Habershons and Habershon fans can tune in?
Saturday, June 21st, 2003
I know nothing about boats, and had never heard of a Drascombe longboat until David’s excited e-mail and picture arrived this morning. He is now the proud co-owner of this 23-footer (that’s two Minis!) pictured in Chichester Harbour.
For those of you who have also never heard of a Drascombe longboat, I’ve found a website detailing the specs and history.
Congratulations, David! Let’s have a picture with the sails up, too.
Tuesday, June 17th, 2003
Dad kept a lot of stuff in his desk. I was amazed when David gave me a box full of my old school reports, and my amazement turned to horror when I started reading them. Was I really that bad? Here’s one from when I was twelve years old. They get progressively worse as I get older, and I’m thinking of burning them.
Conduct marks were really bad. They counted as 15 points against your house (mine was Stuart). Three conduct marks during your school career were grounds for expulsion. The one on this report was for whistling at some boys on the way to church. I did get another a couple of years later, but that’s another story.
Sunday, June 8th, 2003
Ricky e-mails that he was also at the dentist on Thursday. He was having a crown done to replace the filling he opted for ten months ago. It disintegrated. Gee, thanks, Ricky.
John and I had a laugh at the rest of Ricky’s e-mail. It appears that he, William and Jamie went to Bath Abbey for a performance of Verdi’s Requiem. Helen was playing and they got free tickets. They sat next to “a couple of Americans (southern Los Angeles) and of course they immediately started chatting to us (unlike the boring English). They had come over for a two week holiday to spend money in England for our support in the Iraq war. They won’t be going to France.”
What’s happening over there in England? Are you all talking in church now?
Sunday, June 8th, 2003
There are four Bikram Yoga instructors at my yoga place. There may be others on weekday mornings, but I’m familiar and comfortable with four of them. They all bring something different to the class, even though the routine is exactly the same each time. There’s Amy, Farida, Ed and Darla. It doesn’t matter to me which one of them is instructing. I never wonder on my way there who it will be, because they’re all good teachers and keep me motivated.
I have to say something about Darla, though. She’s the owner. I don’t know what her schedule is, but she’s usually instructing on weekends. Sometimes her giant brown poodle, Frankie, is wandering around, too. Darla reminds me of Basil Fawlty. A mild form, mind you. She differs from him in that she is extremely efficient and very likeable; that is if you can handle her dry humour. She is the boss as soon as she walks into the room. She’ll tell the newbies to get in the back row and order them to “cut the chitchat.” She’ll come up with lines such as, “This isn’t vacation. This is yoga,” making the weakest of us chuckle. When the class has been going for about ten minutes, the receptionist will slide a clipboard through the door. This gives the instructor a count of how many are in the class, who hasn’t paid (probably), and who has medical ailments, such as herniated disks, bum knees, asthma, etc. Today Darla looked at the list and there must have been a note that one of the students had signed in with an illegible name. Darla asked us which one of us had a name beginning with N-A-T. A lady owned up to being called “Natalie.” “What’s your last name, Natalie?,” asked Darla. “Severino,” (name changed here) was the response. “Thank you,” said Darla. “Are you a doctor?”
I didn’t get it until the middle of the tree pose, and lost my balance.
For some reason, I always work just a little bit harder in Darla’s classes.
Saturday, June 7th, 2003
Hello Habershons and other rabid habershons.com fans. My apologies for not updating this page all week. I know you’re all dying to know what I’ve been up to. Well, let’s say the low point of the week was my toothache. I finally took it to the dentist on Thursday. He gave me the option of a crown (good for life) or a filling (could last anywhere from 5 minutes to life). I went with the latter for a mere $198. The toothache’s gone, but golly can I feel where the needle went into my gum. He was using some new equipment for giving injections, and I swear I was the guinea pig and that was the salesman standing behind the dentist’s chair as the needle hit a nerve, I jumped, and the dentist asked why the warning button wasn’t on.
We had a Mini meeting. The Houston Mini Motoring Society (HMMS) now has nineteen members. You know what I’m like when it comes to Minis. Imagine us in packs, and getting larger.
Hey, where are you all going?
John and I went to a movie. We saw Finding Nemo. ADORABLE! The star is a fish with a gimpy fin, and I shall not reveal the plot other than to say that I cried three times. Those Pixar movies (Toy Story, A Bug’s Life, Monsters, Inc.) get better and better. The colours are amazing. Catch it when you can, dear family.
Those of you who have already seen Finding Nemo will find it interesting to note that we went to dinner at John’s mum’s house on Thursday and she has a fish tank in her dining room. No loose ends to my week, eh?.
We’re now heading to New Braunfels to hear the Dead End Angels. They are having a CD release party. It’s their first CD.
Sunday, June 1st, 2003
It was was about 95 degrees when I walked home from my yoga class this morning. It hasn’t rained here in weeks. The grass is crispy underfoot, and the smell of dog crap lingers in the air. It got me thinking about this time last week. I was walking on the Southwick Park Golf Course (here’s the front of the scorecard) in the South of England, holding the pin for David, Libby and Charlie, raking the sand traps, and keeping score for them. I thought it was going to be tough just walking the course and not playing, but decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to try swinging a club — it might interfere with my yoga classes.
As it turned out, it was a perfect day. I walked down the middle of the course deriving great pleasure from watching the three of them hit brilliant shots punctuated with less brilliant shots punctuated with those really unbrilliant ones — you know — the kind that roll along the ground a few yards or into the nearest lake. I was so glad it wasn’t me. Libby and David are very relaxed players, and both have good swings, considering they didn’t play when they were children. That’s not meant to be an insult, L & D, so don’t flood me with e-mails. Charlie, who plays just about every other sport, hits a long ball with a nice draw, and also has a major competitive streak. I could see it eating away at him as his dad consistently scored lower than he did. Enjoy it while you can, David. I think he’ll be breaking 90 by the end of the summer.
To embarrass the three of you just a little bit further, everyone may click here to see the scorecard. No mulligans. Every single shot was counted.
It rained three times during the course of the afternoon but I didn’t get cold. And I know they didn’t. HAH!
About the dog crap. I’m not complaining. I love going back to England for visits, but Houston’s where I want to be now.
Sunday, June 1st, 2003
I seem to be working backwards with last week’s news. If you go to Dad’s page you can read about the send-off we gave him last Saturday. After the service we all headed to the Barn House for a drink, and then to lunch at the Brecon Hotel. We then returned to the Barn House for another drink, or was it tea? Sadly, this was probably the last time we’ll visit the Barn House, as Jean has sold it. The buyers seem to be in no hurry, though, and are giving her plenty of time to pack up all the memories and look for a new place.
Before we left, Jean gave us a sightseeing trip around Rotherham, pointing out some of the landmarks. We drove to the site of the former Habershon Steel, the history of which can be read here.
Strangely enough, an employee of Habershon Steel signed the message
book yesterday! Is his name familiar to anyone? He signs himself as Ken Clarke and says he worked for the firm for 43 years until it closed in 1981. That must make him at least 80 years old. I love it when the older people use computers and surf the net! I’ve sent him an e-mail and hope to hear back.
I’d made my way to Yorkshire by train the day before, but this time hitched a ride down south with the Emsworth Habershons. This was the first time in many decades that I’d travelled a long distance in a car in England, let alone down the M1. I saw some funny road signs and plenty of Minis, old and new.