Poppet gets more gifts

Poppet was always excited when she received gifts. She tried her best to be a good friend and neighbour sending gifts back in return. She did wish that Mr Developer would find a way of attaching a return label to the gift so that she didn’t have to remember who had sent what. Often when she was busy she just opened everything without thinking, five minutes later, she couldn’t remember who they were from.

Gifts, was the title of another one of Poppet’s lists. Every day she would make a long list of everyone who had sent her a present. Later, when she had finished the day’s harvesting, she worked through the list and send gifts in return. Recently this daily task had begun to take a long time, the more neighbours that she had the longer and more challenging the task became.

Despite the fact that the Mayor encourages his farmers to take a break from farming and send gifts to friends a number of times each day, farmers actually have a ‘gift limit’ imposed upon them, around twenty each day. When Poppet only had a handful of friends this ‘gift limit’ was fine but now she has oodles of friends and neighbours.

She began to have discussions with herself about who she could send gifts to and who she should leave out, how they would feel, would they think she was a bad neighbour? These rhetorical ponderings caused our little farmer to lose sleep, until one particular morning in the shower; Poppet always had her best ideas in the shower! She came up with a plan.

Poppet changed the way that she created her gift list. She entered all the names of her Farm Town neighbours into a data base, she liked using Excel for these particular tasks, next she listed them alphabetically and finally grouped them into daily gifting sets. This didn’t solve the problem of many neighbours not receiving daily gifts; however Poppet felt that now her system was fair to everyone. She began to sleep better at night.

When the new Farm Town Charter was introduced permitting, indeed encouraging, farmers to own factories the atmosphere around the town changed. The air in the market was buzzing with conversations between neighbours discussing which, and how many, factories they were each planning to buy.

Poppet was no different. She also buzzed with a new level of excitement and indeed rushed out to buy as many factories as she could get. I said earlier that she installed a chicken coop, dairy shed, sugar refinery, dairy processing plant and pizza restaurant on Poppet’s Patch. She already owned a lovely old red windmill; there were many of them dotted across the town. Mr Developer had decided that it was high time that these windmills were upgraded and brought once again into working order.

The day came when Poppet’s factories were ready and open for business. She stood outside, jumped up and down, even clapped her hands excitedly; she couldn’t wait for the first products to roll of the production line. She thought about how much more money she would make and how she would buy even more factories as soon as others became available.

The first thing that Poppet noticed about factories was how much harvest was needed to manufacture the produce. Right from the start she ran out of everything really quickly. She had loads of chickens but the eggs that she collected every morning were gone in a flash, used in the pizza restaurant. It was the same thing with the cow’s milk. The cow meadow was crammed to bursting but even though the cows were milked twice each day there was never enough. She couldn’t produce enough cheese or mill enough flour either no matter how many fields of wheat she planted. She had to plant and harvest other things too, strawberries, blueberries, onions, mushrooms more, more and more.

As the list was growing her farms appeared to be shrinking!

She would be busy working out in the fields overseeing harvesting when one of the factory foremen would come trudging across the fields, a red clipboard tucked under his arm. As soon as she noticed the flash of red she would sigh audibly. We need more they would say, MUCH MORE!

Every day, sometimes all day Poppet asked her neighbours for more gifts. She didn’t feel too badly asking because when she saw a message on the market notice board that a friend needed something she sent the item off immediately. She even sent things to farmers that she didn’t know in the hope that they would return the favour.

WHEN

Mr Developer increased the number of factories for sale and also encouraged farmers to earn more by helping each other out with production. Poppet didn’t really think things through; she just wanted more factories and she wanted her friends and neighbours to come and work in them too. She got everything that was on offer. She spent hours deciding on their location, landscaping the surrounding farmland and planning what to grow. As I said she invited friends to come and work at the end of each day.

When I first met Poppet I quickly realised just how much she needed my help. I informed her that there were stages to achieving more and that she wouldn’t be able to solve all her problems over night. She must be patient but that by the end of my visits she would have as much as it was possible for a Farm Town farmer to get.

This is the part that you really need to read if you don’t yet know how to increase your daily gifts!

The first thing that I advised her to do was to visit some stores that friends of mine owned. These stores were different from any other that she would ever find because they had a truly magical quality about them. Here she could get all of the gifts that were available in Farm Town, not once, not twice, not even three times but over and over again every day. That wasn’t all the good news. At these stores there wasn’t any limit to the amount of the gifts that she could receive, she could take what she wanted and always know that she could return the very next day for more. There was just one thing that the storekeepers asked in return.

NO don’t fret it wasn’t money or anything like that.

What they needed were copies of new gifts, which were then magically duplicated ready for passing on to other farmers. All Poppet had to do, before using a gift, was to take a copy and post this to the store. Simple!

The second thing that I advised her to do was to put another advertisement into the Farm Town News asking for a Manager. She told me that she had already realised that she would never be able to run all the farms, the new factories, restaurants and shops without more help. She decided to put the advertisement in the next day.

Poppet liked to make quick decisions, relying upon her instinct, and just three days later she was shaking hands with a lovely man, Mr Billmore. She liked him instantly he had an air of confidence coupled with a good sense of humour which she believe could be a winning combination when dealing with the public and her for that matter.

The next morning Poppet found Mr Billmore, along with the other factory managers, in the store organising the recent harvest. He informed Poppet which crops she needed to sow and harvest and those that she should acquire from the stores that she had told him about. He went on to say that it was pointless, no matter of the monetary value; to grow what she now knew was freely available.

Poppet liked to make quick decisions, relying upon her instinct, and just three days later she was shaking hands with a lovely man, Mr Billmore. She liked him instantly he had an air of confidence coupled with a good sense of humour which she believe could be a winning combination when dealing with the public and her for that matter.

The next morning, found our little farmer happy. The sun was shining, birds singing her gift box was full to bursting, what a lovely day. Poppet skipped from her house smiling, singing to herself as usual. She stopped suddenly.

Mr Billmore and many of the other managers were waiting for her outside in a little group. She could overhear mumblings and realised very quickly that the faces of those around her were not smiling or happy.

We need more harvest. MORE of everything they shouted in unison.

Poppet Realises That She Needs More

Like most communities Farm Town has a hierarchy. Farmers are ranked by their level of experience (XP), when they first arrive they are considered as ‘Getting Started/ Just Moved In’ (level 1) right the way to the most experienced farmers who earn the title of ‘Industry Leader’ (level 115).

It was Poppet’s good friend Lacey who first told her about Farm Town. Lacey herself had been living there for a little while and owned a farm he used to tell Poppet, all the time, about which crops she was planting, the animals that she owned and the house that she was living in. Farming Life sounded so exciting.

One day, not long after, a neighbour invitation arrived from Lacey. Poppet had grown a little tired of her life in the city. Feeling that she needed a change she packed her bag and made the journey to the country.

When poppet first arrived in Farm Town she moved into a little wooden house on the edge of Poppet’s Patch. She called her farm this because it really was just a patch. A 12 X 12 patch of land which, was provided free of charge, by the Mayor of Farm Town, Mr Developer. Upon arrival farmers are also given some basic tools and a little ‘start up’ cash. When Mr Developer first established Farm Town he only permitted his farmers to own one farm, reach the level of Green Wizard (34) and buy a mansion house.

No contracts are ever signed. The Mayor doesn’t consider them necessary. Farmers are issued with a simple three-tiered challenge: the first to amass coins, required for purchasing everything needed to live and prosper; the second to gain experience points (XPs). As farmers gain experience they are able to increase the size of their farm to the maximum, 24 X 24. More experience also means that they can purchase more, more seeds, more buildings and more animals from the store; the third, to increase the size of the community by inviting their friends to become neighbours. Neighbours can send each other animals, flowers and trees as daily gifts. More neighbours mean more gifts.

With these simple challenges the Mayor perpetuated a culture of wanting more. Exploiting this desire for more cleverly ensured that his farmers remained, like the guests at ‘The Hotel California’, forever ploughing, seeding and harvesting their land, (actually his land).

I may have mentioned before that the Farm Town Market was the hub of the town. Farmers regularly came together, not just to sell produce and hire workers, but also to ask each other for help and advice. Due to the fact that Tom was in charge of running the market farmers went to him with any issues that they had. By way of ensuing the smooth running of the town Tom then passed this information on to Mr Developer.

Recently Tom had sent a message to say that there was a ‘buzz’ of disquiet amongst the residents of the town. Farmers felt constrained by the experience level that could be achieved, the size of their farms and the amount of money that they could earn. They were bored by growing the same crops over and over again and were expressing a desire for different goods to be made available at the store. They were also asking for other ways in which they could earn extra money. Some had even expressed a desire to leave.

In order for Farm Town to continue to grow and prosper Mr Developer realised that he himself needed more. He believed that it was necessary to find new and interesting ways with which to entice his farmers to stay. So he did just that. A new Farm Town Charter was produced. This new charter increased the experience level to that of Industry Leader (level 115). Farmers were offered the option of owning more farms, first two then three, four and five depending upon the experience level and the amount of neighbours that each particular farmer had. They were also permitted to own factories, to hire friends and neighbours to work in them and to sell the produce at the market. Within a week of implementing the new charter Tom was able to report back to Mr Developer that Farm Town was once again a hive of industry. The market was packed every day with farmers and their produce, there was so much stored in the warehouses now that Tom felt he needed to expand, he needed more space.

I do hope that you didn’t mind hearing something of the history of Farm town but felt that it is important to understand that Poppet was no different from any other farmer she received her little patch of land which was the same as everyone else. I could have started telling you our little farmer’s story at this beginning, but suffice to say that she ploughed, and seeded and harvested for all she was worth in those early days. I will tell you though that Poppet actually left Farm Town for a while.

Blue and Poppet met in those early days of farm Town. They quickly became firm friends and neighbours. Every day they used to meet, harvest and plough for each other. The friends chatted as they worked about what crops they would plant next and what animals they would buy. I remember Poppet telling me about a time when Blue particularly wanted a bull for her farm. A friend had one and she really wanted one too but she wasn’t experienced enough to buy the bull from the store herself. Poppet who by this time was an experienced ‘Green Wizard’ was able to purchase anything that Farm Town had to offer. The very next day she woke early rushed excitedly to the store, purchased the bull intending to send it as a gift for her friend. She thought about how thrilled Blue would be when she woke to the sound of the bull charging around her yard. Can you imagine then how upset our little farmer was when she realised that she couldn’t gift the bull to her friend, this option wasn’t yet available. To make matters worse still she had to explain to an upset Blue why it was that she too now owned a bull. Fortunately her friend could see the funny side of the tale.

I have to tell you that Blue and Poppet were amongst the disgruntled farmers who used to talk with Tom at the market. One day, after receiving a letter from an old friend asking for help Blue left to visit her friend in the nearby farming community of Farm Ville. Poppet, disgruntled as she was continued farming. She had other friends who she regularly visited but never felt quite the same after her Blue had left. So it was that some time later when she received an invitation from her friend to visit her for a holiday she accepted. In truth Poppet stayed away for some time.

The news of the recent changes taking place in Farm Town and the new charter spread throughout the farming community. It was this news, the promise of extra farms and the fact that she realised she missed the social aspect of the town that brought our farmer home once again to Poppet’s Patch.

We are very nearly up to date with our story of Poppet but I can feel you wondering how it was that she managed to go from being a green Wizard and owning just one farm, Poppet’s Patch, to becoming the proud owner of five farms and the experience level of Industry Leader.

Well the truth of the matter is that Poppet realised that she was an extremely competitive little farmer. She made it her mission to move through the experience levels as quickly as possible, doing whatever needed to be done in order to achieve this. As I began by saying the best way to become an accomplished farmer in Farm Town is to plough, plant and harvest as much as possible. She went to the market every day, worked for as many other farmers as she could for as long as she could. Poppet never ever turned a job down, except for fishing. Very quickly she earned enough to buy the second and third, farms. Next she purchased factories. At first just a few, the dairy processing plant, the sugar refinery and the windmill.

Poppet had animals on her farm from the very beginning but now they could earn their keep too. As soon as she installed the chicken coop her hens and geese began to lay eggs. The dairy shed encouraged her cows and goats to produce milk. She sent the wheat that she harvested to the mill for flour. The Pizza restaurant was next on her list of purchases because she could send the produce from her other factories to make pizzas. A short time later Poppet was able to buy her fourth and fifth farms and many other factories, she was building a little farming empire.

Poppet’s day now consisted of inviting friends to harvest her crops, trees and flowers. She then ploughed her fields and planted new crops. Took her harvest to the factories and put this into production. The last thing that she did most evenings was to invite friends to come and work in the factories. It wasn’t long before Poppet noticed that her factory production was completed with lightning speed, it was impossible to keep up. She needed to produce more harvests faster than ever before. This in turn meant more animals, more crops, more trees, more flowers and even more factories.

She suddenly realised that she was caught up in a spiral of ‘needing more’.

She put an announcement in the Farm Town News asking for help.

Did anyone know how she could get MORE?

Mr Developer was sitting at his breakfast table early that Sunday morning, eating his toast and reading the paper. He glanced down and noticed the announcement that Poppet had placed in the paper. A broad smile brightened his burley face.

And now, at last, I am going to tell you why it is that I am writing this tale of Poppet. I too was eating my toast that same Sunday morning, drinking coffee and reading the paper. I noticed the advertisement asking for help, just as Mr Developer had done. That very afternoon Poppet and I were standing outside her mansion house at Poppet’s Farm. I explained to her some of the ways in which she could have more. I remember saying that Poppet was an extremely helpful young woman; well she thanked me kindly for my help and advice and before I left asked me to share this information with you.

Poppet Harvests Her Crops

As Poppet walked along she talked to herself, working through the list of jobs that she had to do that day. She often found it easier to talk out loud, things became clearer and by the time that she returned to Poppet’s Patch she had a clear picture in her head of how she would tackle the day’s work load. She was nearing the river when the scent of pine tipped with cinnamon tickled her nostrils. Dear me! Forgotten about those. . . She thought but continued chatting away to herself happily about how, using the new Farm Town axe, she would chop the pine and cinnamon trees herself whilst her friend Sweet 1 (trees only) harvested all the others.

Friends often chatted whilst they worked on each others’ farms and this was one of Poppet’s daily pleasures. She looked forward to finding out how they were and what news they had to tell.

Farm Town reached far and wide, I did say before that it was a magical place didn’t I. Well Farm Town days weren’t like any other that you could imagine, they were twenty hours long, BUT 7am for Poppet could just as easily be 7pm for another friend and for another still it could be the middle of the afternoon. In this magical place mere moments were captured haphazardly from here, there and everywhere. Fragments of time were miraculously woven together to form the social tapestry that enveloped the town. I could stop now to discuss the many tools at Poppet’s disposal, explain how she uses them, go on and on about how valuable they are. Explaining all this would take a long time and her crops need harvesting. SO come with me and find out how she got on.

The first thing that Poppet did every morning, after she checked her farms and completed her charts of course, was to message her friend Sweet 1 (trees only) to let her know which farms she needed her help with.

Poppet was chopping her way through the hundred or so pine trees, which grew daily around the edge of farm five when she realised that the air should be heavy with more than just the scent of pine and cinnamon trees. As she looked out across the fields she realised that the flowers desperately needed watering too. Watering flowers was a chore for Poppet and she wished that the Mayor of Farm Town, Mr Developer, would find a way to water all the flowers on the farm with one single click of her little fingers. At the moment she had to use the watering can tool, this took forever; well at least it felt like it anyway!

Do you know what multi tasking is? Well Poppet does and she is an expert at it, juggling chopping, watering, messaging her friends and harvesting were things that she felt she was born to do. She was happy so sang along with Seth Lakeman whilst she waited for Sweet 1 (trees only) to arrive. The two friends often chatted for a while about what they were going to do later after the harvesting was done. When Sweet finished harvesting the trees on farm five Poppet sent her off to another farm then went again to check her buddy list. She thought she would find out if Anysortof flowes.co, who (I bet you can guess) loved to harvest flowers, and ember were around. Oh dear, no sign of them. Poppet knew that she had no choice she would have to go to the market!

The Farm Town Market was often very busy. Farmers came to sell their produce, hire workers to harvest crops, trees and flowers, plough fields, and fish for them. I haven’t talked to you about fishing yet, enough to say this is another job that Poppet feels should be done differently. I will tell you about why she added the (no fishing) to her name another time.

Farm Town farmers earn 346 FT coins when they hire workers to harvest their Aloe Vera and 288 FT coins when they harvest this crop themselves. Quite a difference so as you can clearly see it makes more sense to employ workers, also this leaves you free to do other things, usually working for other farmers! Poppet used to love working out how much more money she had made when she hired a friend to harvest for her than if she had done the job herself. Often at the end of the day instead of putting her feet up or watching television, like many of the other farmers, she would use this data to produce graphs and charts on her computer.

When you arrived at the Farm Town market Tom, who was very helpful, was always there to welcome you, find out what you needed and direct you to the correct place in the market. Poppet was rather like Tom in that she was an extremely polite and helpful young woman who always tried her very best with any job that she did. She was asked once if she could say two things about herself that she felt she needed to improve, she thought about this question for a while then simply replied that her back stroke was pants and that she had an inability to say NO. . . So that had to be improved too!

Poppet didn’t actually need to earn extra money, she had oodles of Farm Town coins she thought that she would probably need a truck if she ever had to take them all to the bank, but a farmer could always use more. Everyone around the market talked about when Mr Producer would offer the farmers yet another farm. Buying and upgrading farms was extremely expensive so Poppet harvested willingly for others when they asked her for help. There was another reason that Poppet helped everyone who asked and that was because they generally helped her in return.

Poppet knew how important it was to harvest her crops before they could spoil. The one thing that won’t ever wait in Farm Town are the crops. Another thing that she knew for sure was that harvesting, ploughing and re-seeding five farms takes time, plenty of time! Today she didn’t have time to harvest for other people, not until all her own crops were safely harvested and stored away.

She arrived at the market with her resolve firmly in place to find harvesters and under no circumstances to harvest for anyone else. Sometimes a girl could be bombarded with requests asking to harvest, plough and Oh YES FISH!

Poppet had literally just put her foot on the market green, said hi to everyone, when she received a message from farmer Louise asking her if she would harvest some crops. Without thinking she accepted. Aloe Vera, excellent, the percentage that she got for harvesting this crop would come in handy. Whilst she was working she asked Louise if she would like to harvest for her in return for her help. Poppet was a little surprised when she said that she didn’t want to but asked Poppet if she would like to harvest and plough another farm. Because she was a helpful young girl she said that she had time to do that even though in reality she didn’t! Poppet harvested and ploughed the second farm then returned home.

This time, when she checked her buddy list she noticed, thankfully, that ember was online. She sent her a message asking for help, sure that ember would come and help harvest, possibly do some flowers too. Whilst she was waiting she went to the market for the second time with the same level of resolve as before sure that she could find a harvester. Without even thinking what she was doing, she accepted an offer of work from Stacy Loo. Just as she ploughed the last plot of land she was transported to the middle of yet another farm dragging the plough square, which she hated, along with her. When a farmer hired the worker twice, once straight after the other, the plough square vanished making it possible to plough fields in half the time. Stacy Loo ignored Poppet’s plea to be hired twice even though she had agreed to do just that. Poppet also asked if she would like to harvest for her in return. There was no answer, nothing just an empty farm full of, thanks to Poppet, newly ploughed fields.

Thankfully a message from ember saying that she would love to help cheered Poppet up. The two friends chatted for a little while before our intrepid farmer returned to the market for the third time in search of harvesters.

I don’t need to tell you what happened next do I?

You will be able to work out from the images who helped our little Poppet with her harvest and who didn’t. At one point she began to feel like the ‘Little red Hen’ a story that she remembered hearing as a child. I will share with you though, that this tale does end happily. The harvest from all five farms, those that were layered and those that weren’t piled high in Poppet’s storage.

Poppet Loves Farming

Poppet lived right in the heart of a magical land called Farm Town. Some people call the place where she lives a virtual reality, which is another way of saying that it isn’t actually real, but I can tell you that Farm Town is a real place and poppet is a real girl, as real as you or I. I can tell you this because I know her well.

Poppet’s Patch is the name of her main farm; this is where she lives. You can see her house, it’s the one with the big yellow seeder parked outside on the driveway. Poppet Loves farming, so much so that she now owns five farms. Every morning she wakes early and goes out to check her livestock and crops. The very first thing that she does is to find out if her animals are ready to be harvested, she has oodles of them, cows, goats, hens, sheep and lamas. Some of the animals are free to roam and graze in the paddocks, which are dotted around the edge of her farm. Others, because she has so many, stay inside their houses. All the animals are well looked after and happy. Every morning and evening the milk and eggs need collecting, you can see in the picture that on this particular morning the chickens were 100% ready, waiting to be harvest. Some flowers were also ready for picking, in Farm Town also called harvesting, but none of the trees on Poppet’s Patch were ready. Harvesting the livestock just takes a ‘click’ of her fingers, the flowers do take longer BUT the job that takes all of Poppet’s time is harvesting the many different crops that she grows on each of her farms.

As I said Poppet loved farming. She had other things that she also loved to do and one of these was making tables and charts. She loved to write things down; well she had to really, it would have been impossible to keep up with all of her harvesting work without them. So every day when she left her house she took her list, pen and clipboard, which was pink and glittery, with her.

As poppet visited each farm she made a note on her list of everything that was ready for harvesting: Poppet’s Too (she named her farm like this when she only had two farms, it was her little play on words, Poppet’s Patch and this farm too!) had trees and flowers that were ready; on farm three the harvest of pumpkins and broccoli were ready for harvest, so were masses and masses of trees; farm four had trees, flowers and crops; finally, she arrived at farm five where everything also needed to be harvested.

There are lots of special, magical tools in farm Town that you can use to help you improve your farm, make farming easier and earn extra cash. Poppet already had most of these, she was known by her friends as a Greenery Giant. There were also a few really truly special things that not many other farmers knew about; one of these was called ‘layering’. Besides farming Poppet also owned factories. The factories used the crops from the farms to produce many other things that could then be sold at the Farm Town Market. Keeping the factories busy was another full time job, as if one weren’t enough! Layering was like multi-storey farming and I will tell you more about that later.

Look at how Poppet completed her chart.

1	2	3	4	5
F	T/F	T/F	T	T/F
H		H	H	H
P		P	P

· What do you think that the letters mean?

· If you came to live in Farm Town like Poppet would you make charts like the ones that she uses?

One of the best things about living in Farm Town, as far as Poppet was concerned, was that it was a social community, a place where fellow farmers helped each other. Poppet had lived there for some time now and so she had quite a lot of friends. A special friend ‘Blue’ had moved away some time ago, Poppet missed her visited her farm from time to time to water the flowers and clear away leaves. She so wished that Blue would come home again, they used to farm together every day it was fun, but she had gone to a place called Frontierville. Now Poppet really did think this was one of those virtual reality places because she had tried to visit her Blue and another friend Clive there once but couldn’t find any sign of the place no matter how hard she searched. With a sigh Poppet glanced down at the chart she had just completed. . . Goodness me, she thought to herself I do have a hard day’s work ahead of me better go and see who’s around and off she went.

Do Snails Home?

Do Snails Home?

A metaphorical question (I didn't make a mistake. . I didn't mean rhetorical)

Today my spirit has left me.

I’ve had enough of this lounging around stuff, the one addiction that I failed to mention, actually of course there are more, that also aren’t being accommodated, but the one that I need to mention here, the one that is causing me untold grief today is the addiction that I have to moving!!!

I find it almost impossible to stay in one place not doing anything for more than about an hour. This fact was why my friends and those close to me, family, find it amazing that I can sit for hours on end on the computer either working or feeding my virtual addiction. The reason that I have for this ability to sit then and at no other time, in my house, because I can sit in others’ is because at the time when I am sitting in my study on my main computer I am metaphorically blinkered. Well this is the usual state of affairs any

way. Why aren’t my blinkers working today??

Now that I am not supposed to be moving around and doing things the mess that is my existence has reared its head and bitten me, huge monstrous shark size bites. When I glance, don’t even have to purposefully look blessed as I am with excellent peripheral vision, I see mess in every direction as far as the eyes can scan. (Yes like every good teacher I even have eyes in the back of my head, very useful).

My spirit today is as dull as the weather. On a positive note, and yes all hope isn’t completely lost because there is one, massive positive accomplishment. I have climbed the very last flight of stairs to the summit of my mountain environmental mountain, otherwise known as the laundry room. This expedition was achieved all on my own. Without assistance I managed to put my washing into the machine, take clothes out of said machine and transfer to the dryer then down once again to base camp. In truth I didn’t make it that far because stopped off to write this blog to you.

The other day, when I posted a note on facebook saying that I was now permitted to stand, or go outside for twenty minutes a friend of mine came and bless her heart, because her actions meant so very much to me, arrived at my door, whisked me away to her house, fed me good coffee, scones and chocolate cake and then bought me home again when my need for the toilet was too great to stay longer. Her stairs are m

uch steeper than mine and she wasn’t sure that I would make the journey easily, either that or there was a possibility that I could have invalidated her insurance!!

Digressing but read on because trying to make a valid point. . . . When we were in the car the radio was on. Someone was talking about some research project that they were doing, we felt probably as part of their Doctorate; well the hypothesis in question was Do snails home? Because I imagine that you are thinking that the possibility that I am not serious is high I have added the web address so that if you have a mind you can undertake some research of your own. (http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/features/so-you-want-to-be-a-scientist/experiments/homing-snails/mentor/)

I think this a charming piece of research. I have a lot of time for snails, do wish though that you could put some plant into the garden that would attract snails like no other (like cat nip) they would be so very busy gorging on their particular snail supper that the plants which you were cultivating so lovingly would go untouched. I don’t have the same affection for slugs though I do have to say, I am aware that they are just naked snails and possibly as this is the case are in urgent need of our sympathy but sorry they don’t hold the charm that snails do for me I am afraid.

The idea behind the research is to gather up some ordinary garden snails, paint them in your chosen colour, exchange them with a nearby neighbour and then sit and wait.

Will your snails come home?

How long will it take for your snails to come home?

Will you be happy to see them after they have made the challenging journey necessary to return?

My virtual life isn’t helping me today, isn’t captivating me in a way that it generally does. I have even installed one of the latest factories, for producing tea, on my farm. This hasn’t worked. Solving the problem with my cafe (my waiters took their name literally and refused to serve any customers since yesterday) hasn’t made me feel better.

I feel in the frame of mind to do something emotionally crazy. Message or text a snail that I don’t know very well, or worse contact one that I know well but who is definitely a snail in ‘slug’s clothing!

This is exactly what happened that Saturday morning not so very long ago when I went on a fool’s errand. I realise that I am probably going to have to discuss this madness in more detail but not ready to do that now. Today I wanted to write a blog with fewer words more images, which will be easily achieved because to date neither of my posts have any. The images that I intend to produce will give me something to do anyway!

At this time because walking around is so painful and slow I am extremely venerable, not just for obvious reasons. It would never be a good idea to invite unfamiliar snails into your home, even with your own shell complete with mobile phone tucked neatly out of site because let’s face it moving at a pace fit for a snail would not prevent this snail from getting herself into trouble.

The alternative then is to try and encourage your familiar snail to come home, paint it beautifully, let it know that you care, set it free and then wait. . . . . . . . . . . . .

I should love to send my favourite snail a message encouraging him to make the journey, put little snail signposts pointing out the route of least resistance but that would add a variable, skew the research and that simply wouldn’t do.

Now I simply must be off it's been hours since I sat down to write, time taken to produce, in my humble opinion, very mediocre artwork to accompany this post. My 20 minutes has overrun by hours. . . . BUT one good thing has come of this I haven't as yet even picked up my mobile phone!!

HELLO MY NAME IS ANNETTE AND I AM AN ADDICT!!

There you are, I have admitted it. . .

When I was a small child, middle of three sisters, I had no knowledge of personality and certainly didn’t know what an addict was, During this period of my life my sisters and I were innocently addicted to having fun, this we did most days growing up. We were fortunate to live in a very pretty part of Devon and spent our days embroiled in various fun pursuits. One of our favourites was swinging back and forth across the stream (use this term lightly because to any seven year old a large body of water moving faster than a snail is probably more like a raging river than a stream) clinging onto a large knot tied in one end of a length of old rope. The rope was slung over a high tree, which incidentally was cut down every evening, under the cover of darkness probably by a concerned parent and slung back over again by the farm boys who were our daily ‘let’s see what mischief we can get up to today’ companions. We also played chalk games in the road, snail and hopscotch; we were rarely disturbed by cars as there was just the farm at one of end of the road and a few shops at the other.

I can’t quite believe that I am going to openly admit to this next game, we did survive though, writing this blog is testament to that.

A train line ran at the back of our bungalow and at particular times during the day, With the farm lads for support and generally because they were believed to be superior at counting and keeping tallies we would listen out for the whistle heralding the arrival of the hissing metal snail, (I have created this metaphorical imagery in order to allay your fears for our childhood innocent safety) our goal, our addiction, was to score the highest number of passes across the tracks and determine which of our merry band had nerves of steel comparable to those of the train.

Whilst we awaited the arrival of the train we often whiled away the time precariously balancing whilst high wire walking across the wonderful dry stone bridge which crossed the little river dividing river and rail. The air was often quite pierced intermittently by our shrieks of laughter, quieter still when our mothers’ would stand outside and call us in for bed, knowing that just moments ago the sound of shrill laughter and fun could be heard just outside that closed window.

When I was sixteen I went to study fashion at Art College. I came to know what an addict was, we had several in our group of one kind or another, it was the seventies after all. The majority of my ‘college set’ was made up of those addicted to having fun. This fun, pre computers, internet, digital cameras, video recorders and mobile phones consisted of parties, pubs and Pimms!

I never realised that I had an addictive personality. Thinking about it now I suppose that it was when I began to read that the addictions arrived along with the authors. We studied classical literature therefore reading was a compulsory part of our directed study. (This area of study would never now form part of your fashion degree). My mother always read and still does but the books I saw her reading as a child were those found in women’s magazines. She used to tell us that when she was a child her mother used to send her to her room to tidy, she would find a book and begin to read. Hours later a call would reach her occupied mind. . “I hope you aren’t up there reading!” On hearing this and re-telling to my children I have said so many times that I was, and still am the type of parent that would put the reading before any tidying ever took place, between reading and tidying there is no contest.

My aunt also told me similar stories of books and laundry even when she was married she would do the washing, it would of course been Monday, washing was always done on Monday, she would hear her husband returning from work and quickly hide the book under the clothes in the pile untouched due to an afternoon spirited away to some distant land or time transported on the wings of the written word. I was not even aware that the criminally addictive behaviour gene had reared its obsessive head. In those wonderful early days I simply enjoyed studying, reading, working and finding the wrong type of partner. . . I have to say that the latter came far too easily and of course outstayed its welcome.

When I began working for myself, I became addicted to work as that was the only way I could survive financially. I had two young children and a partner who was addicted to talking, primarily to other people. A caffeine addiction honed to perfection ensured that sleep, or the necessity for sleep wasn’t an issue. My body tolerated this obsession for caffeine for many, many years until such time as I returned once more to industry and working for an employer. This was a lovely family business where breakfast was cooked by the owner’s wife and eaten together as a working family unit. Coffee was provided at this time and no other during the working day. A manic week of ‘cold turkey’ abstinence and masses of determination stopped this addiction in its espresso strength tracks and that is where it remains to this day.

What else am I addicted to?

The necessity for answers is a rather troubling addiction primarily in cases of relationships. A sane person will know only too well that the more you search for an answer, and I have the tenacity and endurance of a terrier at a trouser leg, the more the answer will run screaming like a banshee in the opposite direction.

I also have an addiction to food that I have intolerance to. For example eating animal fat will over the course of several days cause my digestive system severe distress, it doesn’t have to be too much, just a bar of chocolate, some ice cream, a cake. I love ice cream, I love chocolate and I love cake, especially when the cake is chocolate and the ice cream is on the side!!! This is possibly my most serious addiction to date, and I know that my family and friends would agree. I fight huge battles with this invisible monster, a fearsome creature that lurks unseen within the family size sweet packet and who isn’t placated till the very last sweet is consumed. I can have sweets and chocolate in the house for months on end, safe in their slumber of the unopened packet. Often great effort has to be expended to open a bag of sweets, especially when your conscious is insisting that you don’t BUT your subconscious, always the stronger twin, probably born first, insists that you do.

The very second that the seal is broken all hope is lost!

I am addicted to studying. I am one of those lifelong learners that people bang on about. I have managed to fast track my way up the educational ladder whilst balancing an extremely challenging workload (60 or more hours each week) and will never rest till I reach the last rung. I can imagine that some people would say that there is no last rung as far as education is concerned and this may indeed be the case and could explain why when there is any sighting made of this last metaphorical rung I move it higher still. Coupled with this is the fact that I am addicted to work. I have combined these addictions because for me work is study and study work, the two are inextricably entwined.

For a short while I became addicted to finding a ‘life’ you know that work life balance that everyone talks about, talks about how this is necessary for a healthy body, mind and spirit. Well I believe that I had found this wrapped up in a creative, quirky film editor. The shocking reality was a creative, quirky, lion in Jacobs’ sheep clothing. (yes ok he was a Leo who dressed in black)!!!

About a year ago I found my most time consuming all encompassing addiction to date. . . FACEBOOK

To be precise a variety of virtual games on facebook, and thank goodness for them at the moment because it has been so easy with time weighing heavily on my hands to fill my endless day with cooking, farming and hunting for endless collections of eggs, spices and the like. Often though I will check in early hours of the morning and realise that I logged out early hours of the same morning. I didn’t use the term addicted lightly in this respect.

The very best thing about facebook is that it lets me multi task my addictions. I can become immersed deep inside my latest endeavour, my right hand controlling the mouse of my virtual world whilst my left hand does battle with the sweet monster in the real world!

Hello my name is Annette and I am an addict . . . .

It has been three days since I opened and finished a bag of sweets

BUT

It has been one hour since my last facebook session!!!

When is a bed no longer a bed?

When the item in question becomes a sofa, a chair, a table, a life’s stage and ultimately an extremely comfortable prison. . .

On my stage the drama of recovering from painful foot surgery has been unfolding, one long, often seemingly endless, day at a time. Actually I wouldn’t even say day as they have rather become messed one into the other. The hours stretch out before me as endless and often as silent as a dark tunnel meandering through some gloomy, desolate landscape. My previous life’s tunnel would be more comfortable housing the bustling Euro express for example. But for now and the next four weeks or so I am painfully and emotionally darkly aware that tomorrow will be the same as yesterday and the day after the same as the day before. . . .

Post surgical reality is that I have time on my hands, actually in all honestly what I have is time on my arse! About 23 hours a day for the last 30 days. . . I have spent these days sitting, half lying or fully laying down, but all with my feet up at waist level or higher. The throbbing in my feet from surgical removal of Morton’s Neuromas (plural, yes more than one), has been complemented by a culmination of other pains. If the surgery was a metaphorical meal then the resulting pains could be likened to a quality colourful garnish. . . . . It has been a while since I have spent so many hours dwelling on pain and suffering, my own that is, I have passed some of this endless time swearing about my condition of the moment, hour or day to my lovely daughter and son. I have sworn out loud to an empty house or facebook page any audience has been rewarded conscious or otherwise to a barrage of colourful swearing and ailments. I realised that there was the distinct possibility that I was turning into a hypochondriac with Toutettts!

For days I dragged myself around the house with my new crutch companions . . . there must have been a reason why I was told most definitely to use them at all times. What I have, at home, are stairs, stairs and more stairs. I completed myself daily on my growing ability to juggle one crutch whilst carrying its partner at the prescriptive 90 degree angle.

I quickly became adept at balancing the crutch not required for stair descending or ascending whilst moving from one location to the other. I was informed that it was necessary to spend at least an hour resting between relocations, permitted, as I am, to walk only for five minutes in any hour. My main problem here apart from the obvious, boredom factor and pain is that I am cursed with the bladder of a two year old, or at least one with the capacity of a tea spoon, I add this because I have personal knowledge of children with bladders that would happily hold the contents of most Olympic sized swimming pools.

Unfortunately, though typically, my need for the toilet increased whilst the ability to comfortably make the stair journey diminished. Dragging myself around up and down stairs has caused pain in my arm and shoulder to become so urgent that I have been forced to take painkillers, something which I am generally loath to do. (more opportunities for swearing).

My feet aren’t in constant pain now, thankfully, the throbbing and burning has been replaced by a periodical watered down version. When I was in ‘real’ pain at the beginning of this journey I didn’t really have the time to think much about anything apart from toilet, eating and resting but now 30 days later I have time, time to think about everything time to experience the emotional pain of 30 days and nights being held captive in my own house.

This is crazy because I have spent weeks here when of course I had the ability to go out I didn’t, like when I had the ability to clean I didn’t. What was I doing, how was I spending my time you may ask??? Well on facebook of course I have an incredibly demanding virtual life. . . . .

Human nature . . . aren’t we a perverse lot!!

Every day I make myself the promise of setting up and writing a blog, not for anyone other than myself rather a platform to process the inner ramblings that are my present, and in honesty, my permanent state of mind. Every day too I believe and resolve anew to write the letter to the DVLA informing of the date when my last car was scrapped and therein lays the problem that information isn’t carried around in my head. Locating said information requires, at worst, delving into piles of carrier bagged paperwork, at best making another phone call to the garage to ask them when they destroyed it.

I also resolve to phone Brighton University to discuss the e-mail that they sent regarding the educational researcher study position.

If this isn’t enough of a daily challenge I also have definitely, yes definitely without backing down or giving in to temptation and laziness to eat healthy YET again.

Right at this moment Adel is musically proclaiming that she’s bored’ she echoes completely my sentiments. . . . . actually though thinking about it I believe that Steve Martin did this emotional condition more justice in LA Story when he wrote on the window of his apartment ‘bored beyond despair’ this statement probably better describes my present condition.

Yesterday, whilst balancing in the shower, I was thinking about the amount of ‘real life that I squander each day immersed in the virtual world of facebook where cooking and farming and egg hunting are the order of my day.

I have began to realise that the mess around my house is driving me to the brink of a distraction. The only reason now that I am not tidying is because I know that at the moment cleaning really would be detrimental to my health??

Just a month ago I could:

· murder weeks in the little yard (did this at 5am on the morning of surgery)

· Trawl around in the pond to remove weed which was transported on the back of the, much desired, school frogs, which incidentally, despite the spacious Harrods style living style accommodation, have packed bags and left!

· Remove twenty years of detritus from my house, cart the evidence of past financial and school endeavours along with the often odd drinking binges (children and friends not mine, this isn’t another addiction that I need to removal help with) to the skip, hospice shop, school fete or other well appointed new abode (came over all Beatrix Potter for a moment, apologies).

· Get in my car and drive seven and a half hours (4.5hr journey time according to Google maps, but failed to realise that it was necessary to check in with the instructions whilst driving – SAT NAV not available for journey) to surprise an ex boyfriend who flirted with me relentlessly for the past six months and then at the witching hour of re-affirming our shagging vows changed his mind only to disappear once again into ‘other’ peoples’ lives. . . .

Hang on I did actually do the latter, but hey that’s a narrative for another day another time, and very probably another life.

Farewell for now audience of mine if I do indeed have one, Cafe World calling . . . . . .