It was no better then. I could see from the outset that these were films which needed to be watched on a large screen.

Having borrowed the first one off my then boss, @otoolealexandra, I marched into work the following day admitting my defeat and noted that the films were long enough without having to pause them intermittently for Monday night double episodes of Corrie. Alex, bless her, was apoplectic and close to issuing my first written warning.

Their setting and inspiration, however, could not be nearer my heart. There is an arrogance within that rejoices in the fact that more observers than not note that Tolkien was living in the Ribble Valley at the time the books were written.

So this little, lime green, fluffy lost glove was right in the heart of Middle Earth (for all I know this reference might be a Star Trek one, I know I’ve heard folk mention it….but, to be fair, I’m not a fan of either, yet their respected fanbases seem to attract the same people).

My name is Inigo Mantoya, you killed my father, PREPARE TO DIE!

I loved this glove not least for its colour – my favourite shade of green, but also because from this angle it looks like the thumb is concealed underneath the hand of a six fingered man! Ha ha ha ha, which, of course, leads me to recall a great book and one of my favourite films, screened, by chance, this last Saturday, The Princess Bride. A star studded cast, it never ceases to amaze me how few of my closest friends have seen it, yet, to me, it’s probably my own personal Python! (at this point should I mention I have never seen a Python film?)

The quotes come thick and fast from “Never start a land war in Asia” to the best, “Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die”. Why has Mandy Patinkin not had more huge roles….he is fabulous.

Anyway to return to the glove….it was not owned by the six fingered man..

…..there is no concealed thumb!

And the walk, whence this bright loss was spotted…..well that took place last weekend, when it snowed throughout, when stopping for sandwiches seemed like a good idea but resulted in my fearing I’d never feel my fingers again. Note to self…buy mittens, gloves don’t cut it. It was a walk which started in a layby beyond Hurst Green, backed up on itself and took us through the grounds of Stonyhurst (setting for Three Men and a Little Lady school scene) and up on to Longridge Fell. It would be such a pretty walk without doubt in the Spring and Summer, but the view was marred by low lying snow clouds.

From Stonyhurst we walked up Kemple End and through the woodland on Longridge Fell, dropping back through Green Thorn, Deer House Wood, over Sandy Bridge and back into Hurst Green.

7 miles, 4 hours. Fabulous.

Let me in....

My friend Kath went away just before Christmas, with a few friends, for a long weekend in York although how she managed to get anything done is beyond me. York, it would seem, is littered with the lost.

Artistic placement

I love it when folk place lost stuff in obvious places so that the owner will see it. That said, a reader of the lost socks laundromat messaged me via Facebook recently to tell me she collects lost stuff, so I consider myself fortunate to get any shots at all.

Her approach is much worthier! I just leave the detritus where I see it!

Another fan favourited the lost trainer from my last post on my flickrstream! FAB.

A pair, now that's rare

I’ve not been to York for a long time. I think the last time was to negotiate a reciprocal arrangement with Best Western to promote the last company for whom I worked in exchange for using their venues where we could. It seemed like a great idea on paper but I seem to recall our getting few, if any, referrals.

My only other recollection of time out in York was it taking far less time to drive there than I’d ever imagined only to then spend an eternity trying to find somewhere to park….am guessing the train is the answer!

 

I handed over to Gillian, who set us right, allowing me to indulge in the pursuit of the lost.

And not long before we came across this…

Leftover from the fell run?

How do you lose one trainer?

Our route for the day was a walk I’d chosen from one of my favourite walking books and was a 7 mile, 4 hour circular walk around Cartmel, taking in Hampsfield Fell as an optional offshoot.

The great guy in the tourist info office, on the village car park, told us there’d been a fell run the day before with not a single parking space available from about 11am onwards…so I wonder was this rather new looking trainer belonging to a runner?

A few yards further on we spotted this…

As you know I’m not really one to veer away from clothing or footwear but the dummy seemed so photogenic I couldn’t resist. Seriously though, I know someone mounted it on a branch so that it could be easily spotted but am inclined to think if I’d dropped my baby’s dummy, I’d not want it back after it’d been dropped in God knows what muck half way up a country path!

The walk saw us through woods, wandering on farmland over fields, a bit of road walking, many stiles and finally up Hampsfield Fell whose summit is complete with a stone hospice…….when Gillian read this aloud I’d seriously imagined a rest home up a hill……but no, it’s a stone tower…no idea what its purpose, but given the wind it was a perilous climb to the top where I literally sank to my knees for fear of being swept off.

Back to the main path and  semi steep descent into claggy farmland once more and another loss hiding on a wall, we thought it might be a hat

We were home just in time for the heavens to open and refuge to be sought in the fab King’s Arms. Can I recommend, please? Wonderful, attentive staff, good ale and food at the bargainacious offer of £25 per couple YES per couple for a 3 course dinner as part of the Sunday Supper Club. I had smoked salmon, a roast beef dinner and then banana bread, ice cream and toffee sauce…….all for £12.50. And it was all delicious. I’ve not enjoyed such value for money in ages.

Sad that we didn’t have time to wander round the priory but I suspect I’ll be back in Cartmel sooner rather than later when I hope to check out L’Enclume! Hmm I wonder how I’ll find the value for money there….watch this space.

I made a concerted effort, mentally, earlier this week to start maintaining the lost socks blog as I’ve been more than remiss these past few months.

So I find it totally annoying to present these photographs and have absolutely no recollection where they were taken.

If any of my walking friends can recall (fat chance) then please do enlighten me.

My appalling memory has started to cause me concern. I’ve always had the classic elephant’s memory – I never forget.

Only yesterday I had lunch with a former colleague of 14 years ago and mentioned that whenever I see Errol Brown I think of her, similarly George Michael…she’d been mad about both in her youth and I vividly recall her describing her utter disbelief the day she found out George was gay!

She was amazed by my memory. Yet, in my defence, I have to say that while I can name probably all 120 girls in my year at school in 1980, I can’t remember the name of someone to whom I was introduced yesterday…and, worse still, no disrespect girls, but that person I met yesterday might be someone who would hire me tomorrow!

Is it just me or does everyone hit 40 and life thereafter is just not the same? You forget everything and have to make lists, ALL the time. You can’t shift half a stone yet at 39 you drop could drop it in a week.

Curious.

Lost in the Night Garden

It’s funny how I’ve had this photo for ages and have chosen not to post it. I think first and foremost because strictly speaking it goes against my code – which is articles of clothing and garments only….however, I couldn’t resist.

It was lying on the hedge of the doctor’s opposite my old house. The house had been on the market for over a year and we finally sold just before Christmas at the back end of November. On the one hand it was a relief. On the other it was an absolutely beautiful 1930′s semi, drenched in sunlight, lots of original features and in a nice neighbourhood so it was sad to see it unoccupied.

The irony was just before I finally packed the very last thing…..I found this in the front garden…

Actually is that mine?

The irony is two fold…first off to have a discarded sock in my own front garden….who’d have imagined……and secondly because looking back at it now, I am wondering if it’s one of my own!

Dumbasses of the world unite!

What I mean is, I fear that two days of frost was it. But I loved it.

I love crisp mornings when it’s bitingly cold but not a cloud decorates the sky.

This from regular contributor, fab photographer and close friend MarkyMarkF. If you’ve still not seen his flickrstream you’ve missed out. I love the Norwegian-ness of the print, shame to lose such a lovely item.

Lost in Lytham

Sorry my postings have been absent for so long. newroomsonline has been holding my full attention, what with tweeting, flickring, facebooking, ebaying, newslettering and more the last few months have been a blur.

I resolve to provide a better service in 2012.

Happy New Year – buy some name tags for your clothes!

It seems Mancunians lose much bigger items than the mere glove…..a jacket…and can I just say I love the bridge over the River Medlock here’s colouring…

and the lost cardigan

I’m so grateful for the donated photos these days as I almost feel I’ve lost my way. I don’t seem to be coming across the lost goodness very much of late, or if I do I’m either in a car travelling at speed or I don’t have my camera with me.

On Sunday David (said groovy guy) and I headed up to Glenridding Sailing Centre for a spot of dinghy madness with some friends. Enroute I spied a fabulous patterned, child’s, pink fleece draped over the railing at Patterdale Hall Estate and was itching to get the shot later in the day but had to get to the lake to catch the Epic swim series.

I was all geared up to do the mile swim a few months ago until I read that you have to wear a swimming wetsuit or you cannot enter. I was so disappointed and all it did was raise my usual be-irkedness screaming in my head….it’s just not that easy!

I have a love hate relationship with active wear….is that its name? Well anyway…stuff you wear to do whatever sport. If you walk or climb and don’t wear the proper gear then the snobberati rightly or wrongly berate you for putting yourself in danger by being inadequately clad – well then meet the odd shapes half way then! You tell me where you can buy any proper walking/climbing/sailing gear for the 5 foot 2 size 22 woman’s frame!

It’s nigh on impossible and much as you want to get into all these actvities  - you just don’t find the right attire. There’s a business idea for Lord Sugar and his entrepreneurial elite!

Did anyone catch that last night? I know you did and why oh why was it not a double sacking??? Why couldn’t we just get rid of that slimy slippery nausea inducing bullsh*t merchant Jim. Honestly he makes my flesh crawl. And that caustic cow who was finally sacked last night got off lightly if you ask me too…..why did nobody pick her up on being such a god awful bully….I would love Susan to have have waltzed out of the boardroom, gone to give her a hug and just slapped her hard across the face before walking out and leaving a tip for the taxi driver. Am guessing televised assault isn’t the route they wish to pursue…but how the nation would have applauded.

Anyway to recap – the swim was a great sight…and it transpires you can get swimming wetsuits to fit the larger frame more easily, not only are they stretchy but you can just cut unneeded waste off….and when I drove past the lost fleece site later it had gone : (

So if you’ve lost your way…can I draw your attention to the Burnistoun Rap…I am sure it was made for this blog!

Rant over and out!

I love the detail on this coat, my how children’s clothes have come on in the years since I was so little!

Clothes were always the bane of my young life. I was always a chubby child, always told I’d lose my puppy fat and I never did, and, as a consequence spent many of my young years wearing clothes designed for young women, looking like I’d got a mammoth crush on Miss Marple! I was never cool, let’s put it that way…and long dresses….well they never came in my girth! Gutted.

Children’s clothes are just so darling these days that I’ve often wondered if it’s an area newroomsonline should explore. I’ve dabbled from a gift perspective but I think other people do it much better than me, like loveitloveitloveit whose website I love.

I was 8 stone at age 8, 9 stone at age 9 and 10 stone at age 10….so you can see where my naive mind was going…..you had to go up a stone for every year of your age.

I’d hate anyone to think this was a lack of parental control, far from it, I had three healthy meals a day but I did no exercise worth talking of. As a youngster with asthma in the 60′s it was on the strong advice of the doctors that I did no exercise as it would gravely affect my health.

As followers of this blog will be aware, I am currently trying for a baby and my weight, and age, is proving a potential issue. I am surrounded by people telling me age is no problem as women have children well into their 40s, but the weight is a problem. It’s not shifting and I’ve lost all momentum. I swim when I can and I swim anything from 600m to 2km every time, usually averaging 1400m.

I was doing quite a lot of walking and running but my famous boredom threshold kicked in when I bought a new pair of trainers, went for a run and literally could not walk or stand or sit within an hour of completing my usual route…so I haven’t been for a month now.

Life, eh? If nothing else it’s a hell of a roller coaster and on that note I really must get back to database management and the quarterly VAT return!!

Sorry but I’ve been working hard to get newroomsonline‘s updated platform live and it’s full of quirks and things which need getting used to, plus trying to sell our former house, a mother who has had a fall and a sister visiting from the US – it’s all go and not a moment to chillax about the lost stuff!

Apologies to all my lovely fans who have donated photos, I promise to catch up.

And on that note, here’s a fab one from @markmarkf who spotted this lost Croc in Alderley Edge.

Alderley Edge has always had a bit of a magical sound to me purely because as a young girl attending a new school, it was the first class book I remember us reading.

The Weirdstone of Brisingamen was set there and while I can remember absolutely nothing about the plot, I just remember it being really magical and loving every minute of it. Latterly I’ve met a few people from Alderley Edge who claim it is far removed from my romantic notions….one former colleague had gone back there only to find her former school had been bulldozed which proved a different kind of magic exists!

The book is up there with The Changes. Anyone remember that TV programme? That was another strange but magical plot which half scared the pants off me and half enthralled me. I just remember my sister and I being hooked and all these weird metallic scrapy sounds every time people walked past pylons. And wasn’t the strange force coming from a cave near Sheffield? I half wonder if this wouldn’t be the right time in history to run it again!

I know people think the 60′s was psychedelic but hey, the 70′s had its moments too!

George, my divine godson, was on the beach with his brother, Oliver, Equally perfect, and friends, when George spotted the shoe..

Evidently George set about taking the shot while Oliver distanced himself and the others from the task in hand…..at 12 and 14 years old I am not proud to have brainwashed them to such a degree that they too can no longer walk past a lost item without feeling the urge to take a pic, regardless of the potential social awkwardness that may result. Top guys.

It was taken on Lytham beach, one of my favourite places….and scene of these losses, found while out with David. Training shoes and Lytham beach do not exactly conjur up the happiest of memories for me….school lies just across the road and cross country always entailed a jog across the hockey field followed by a run round Fairhaven Lake, then across the dunes back to school…all clad only in your school issue orange sweatshirt and your brown knickers, plain not ribbed!

As the asthmatic, fat kid of the class I was excused cross country and instead was left with the other sporty misfits to do netball practise in the games hall. Urrrrgggh. To this day I don’t know if my games-time asthma was brought on by physical exertion or the stress and fear generated by being in the presence of our games mistress who frankly scared the hell out of me.

At 44, however, isn’t it just a little odd that I can run for a mile, climb a mountain, swim long distances and cycle…..?

What I love about beach losses more than the regular ones is that nine times out of ten the item is covered in sand making it look immediately camouflaged or like the ghost image of something which was once left on a beach.

A single boot, however, always seems a bit macabre.

It took me a long time, as I’ve mentioned before, to start seeing Lytham in a positive light. I think when you leave school, initially, you just don’t want the reminders, you’ve moved on, but the birth of my godsons now many moons ago changed all that and I see Lytham for the fab place it is. Strolling round Fairhaven Lake is, too, one of my parents favourite pastimes, so we diverted off the beach enroute back to the car, and round the lake.

There is evidently someone equally obsessed living round there too. Every pile of dog mess had been circled with aerosol paint and a date written by it. I can’t begin to describe my joy at seeing that – adorable foibles of the eccentricati (does such a word even exist??).

But back to Lytham and sport. People who have never visited will know Lytham for one thing if nothing else and that’s Royal Lytham, local home, infequently to the British Open, and I couldn’t let this weekend go by without publicly mentioning Seve Ballesteros. I don’t know if I cry for his death and the fact that as a teenage girl I thought he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen or if I weep for the fact that that bastard disease has claimed another victim, or for the memories of happy family times in front of the TV watching Pro Celebrity Golf with him and Lee Trevino.

It was a firm fixture in the Edmundson household. My Granny would come round for tea and after we’d all sit round and watch, and laugh at Jimmy Tarbuck’s awful jokes, swoon at Seve’s looks and bristle at Peter Aliss‘s  terribly proper commentary.

Whatever the reason my Dad is such a keen golfer and fan of golf that Seve Ballesteros’s name has been bandied around our home for more years than not. What a huge, huge shame, what a terrbily sad loss. I just hope it sparks dated reruns from Gleneagles and becomes cult viewing.

One last loss before I go….it’s not clothing so strictly speaking really has no place on these pages, but I saw this on the beach and thought…what the hell? Aside from wondering what it was, I find its foetal nature really alarming ……shudders.