Cinderella and the Pumpkin

I suppose I've never questioned *why* cinderella went to the ball in a pumpkin-turned-carriage. If you have magic on your side you could turn anything into a carriage, surely?

Mr Me's sister donated us a pumpkin last week. I have to confess that I've never done anything culinary with pumpkin before but I now understand why cinders went to the ball in one...

It's big enough AND it saves her carving the stupid thing.

What do you do with *that* much pumpkin? When we were offered the pumpkin I was hoping to use this recipe from Woolly Green. Unfortunately this pumpkin wouldn't fit in my oven.

And I thought cutting up swede was tedious!

So I got on with the cutting, scooping and slicing and hoped inspiration would come to me. I had read a fab recipe for sweet baked pumpkin seeds that I thought I might try. So the scooped out innards sat and waited patiently for my attention.

Firstly, soup. A sweet potato and pumpkin soup. Mmm. Lunches for me and still portions left over for freezing!

Orange. So orange.

Next, soup for my sister! A kilo of it!

She can make the soup herself!

Er... now what? There is still so much pumpkin! I got researching and found this Sausage, Pumpkin and Sage recipe. It sounded tasty enough. So, with friendly company and countless bottles of wine we got to work! Part way through cooking the verdict was the same. Watery. Not quite tasty enough! So in went a sprinkling of chilli flakes. YUM! Better. The transformation came when I ate the leftovers for my lunch. Perfect. I would recommend the recipe with the switch from sage to chilli *and* less stock. The consistency the day after was, keeping with the fairy tale analogy,  just right!

Golilocks Sausage and Pumpkin Casserole

Now for the rest of the pumpkin. I was pointed to this on twitter - thanks TA! :)

Mmmm, this does look like a winner!

However, by this stage the pumpkin had been inhabiting my kitchen for *too* long and it was long past midnight. Cinderella was tired of this:

Cinders and the Giant Pumpkin!

The Nigella Thai option is going to have to wait. And that is pending the results of the great Frozen Pumpkin Experiment. The freezer is bursting with chunks of frozen pumpkin!!

Oh, and the seeds? I binned them in the end. It would seem that less is more when it comes to pumpkin!

PeoplePerHour Review

I joined people per hour in July. I thought this might be a good way to generate a bit more business and, on the face of it, the concept is really good. It's free to join and advertise yourself - in accordance with VERY strict guidelines - no personal branding allowed. Which is hard, that kinda goes against the point of advertising. You only "pay a fee" once you've been paid - so if you earn they take a cut. I thought, fine, still cheaper than other advertising packages. I'll give it a go.

My smiling face - why wouldn't you hire that face?

My first job came in - a short copywriting piece for a lovely client and the money appeared. Oooh. Exciting! £12.00. Oh, that shrunk to £9.84 but that's okay. This could lead to more work and I did get 5 star feedback from the client.

See, would I lie to you? Okay, you get it, I'm good, so hire me?

The first trouble came when I tried to withdraw the funds. Now, ANY freelancer will tell you that when you do finally earn a buck it feels great. That £9.84 is all mine and will go a little way towards the food bill.

Except, you can't withdraw your funds if the balance is UNDER £10.00.

Wow - that is frustrating

Another thing that any freelancer will tell you is that you must spend time on your own business admin/advertising and portfolio. You need to stay fresh and relevant in order to appeal to the market. So I updated one of my adverts - People Per Hour call these "hourlies".

This concept of an hourlie sort of shoots itself in the foot. If you really are just doing an hour for a client and 15% of your earning is being deducted from your fee AND you can't withdraw funding under a tenner then you are looking at an hourlie rate of around £14.00. That is fairly steep in a competitive market where people are scrabbling around to earn whatever they can. The only way around that would be to sell in bulk. "I can do x in 3 hours for £xx.xx" but I don't think that is as appealing to a buyer. People PER HOUR. The clue is in the title.

These details aren't that easy to find to be honest.

Once you've got your advert, or hourlie, set up you have the option to share the advert - on your chosen medium. I opted for twitter, g+ and facebook. Again, this is you scratching their back as well as advertising your services but it is free and takes no time at all.

A word of warning, make sure the hourlie has passed the very stringent moderation guidelines. I updated mine and pushed it out only to be told (hours later) that it hadn't passed moderation as People Per Hour had updated their "best practice" rules.

The massive downside with is was the exposure that I'd already got (PPH make a point of retweeting hourlies that they see posted on twitter and had RT'd mine) with a broken link to an error message hinting that I had, in some way, broken the LAWS OF THE INTERNET.

Bearing in mind, for a moment, the services I offer  that is potentially going to ruin my small business. It makes me look massively unprofessional. I spend my working hours advising people on social media and URLs. To send out broken ones myself is a tad embarrassing. To send out links with the implication that I am breaking rules is quite something else.

However, I complained and the team got back to me straight away, which was good customer service at least.

On the whole I recommend PeoplePerHour if you are looking to get freelance work - or hire a freelancer. Just be careful to know everything upfront and don't fall into the trap of the £10.00 minimum withdrawal limit, rules on hourlies and the slightly confusing billing system!

British Gas. Again. What *is* it with these people?

I ceased being a British Gas customer on 23rd August. I switched as British Gas were incapable of following simple admin requests.

Here is a picture of the final, final, actual final statement. You can see that the statement
date is the 4th of October. You can see that the statement period is until the 23rd August.

Notice the dreadful maths here too - balance-£156.68, what you paid - £166.68. Hm.  I don't have the energy (pardon the pun) to fight that. They win.

You might wonder then, as indeed I am, why they felt the need to send me this letter dated the 12th October.

Slightly smudged - it was raining, I wasn't crying with frustrating and stress or anything...!

Maybe if British Gas didn't waste so much money sending letters to people who aren't, in fact, their customers then they might not have to raise the price of energy.

Now I begin to question whether they are still treating me like a customer and whether I will get billed for energy already supplied to me by the more admin savvy EDF? Time will tell.

I am living in fuel poverty. Price hike or not, I can't afford to turn on the heating.

An evening by the sea.

Last night I was treated to a very rare evening out, courtesy of Mr Me's parents. Fighting a cold all weekend I was looking forward to the fresh Autumn sea air clearing my head. It worked.

We spent our evening in Torquay. Now, those who know me know my opinion on the seaside towns in Devon. I rarely wax lyrical about them. Although lots offer fab places to eat great local fish so not all is lost. If you are looking for amazing restauranty type fish I'd recommend the No 7 Fish Bistro near the Harbour in Torquay. Or, if it's great fish and a view that you are after (as long as you aren't fussed about the side dishes) I loved the atmosphere of The Breakwater Bistro in Brixham.

Last night we were treated to a turn (or 3!) on the Torquay Wheel. On loan until 4th Nov (so hurry!) this giant wheel offers splendid views over the bay. According to their site "At 60 metres high the big wheel recently installed on Torquay sea front is taller than Nelson's Column. " Not entirely sure how relevant that is. All I can tell you is that I couldn't see Nelson's Column from Torquay sea front*. If you *would* like to see Nelson's Column you can do so from the top deck of most central London buses. My favourite time and way to see said column is from the N87 to Kingston (via Clapham Junction) at about 5 in the morning.

But back to the "Torquay Eye". We went on in the evening, not as cold as you'd think, and were treated to views of the bay all lit up. Looking out for Berry Head lighthouse was my favourite bit and I was certainly treated to a nicer aspect of Torquay that I am used to. If you have a problem with heights I wouldn't suggest you go on it - it does rock a little and is glass, not to mention being an awfully long way up! Although it was a lovely evening and it did clear the cobwebs...

*In much the same way that Mrs Richards couldn't see herds of wildebeest sweeping majestically across the plains from her Torquay Hotel bedroom window

Time Keeping. Keeping Time

Up until yesterday I was using myhours as my online time keeping solution. It is web based and free and so over the past 12 months is has become a huge part of my daily business admin.

myhours.com

As someone who is self employed, keeping track of the minutes that you spend working on a project is vital when it comes to invoicing a client. Those five minutes here and there matter and soon mount up. After all, no-one is working for free.

So, last week, when myhours inexplicably went down and starting throwing out 503 error pages I was a bit annoyed. I assumed it was a glitch, kept a careful eye on the clock myself and got on with the job in hand.

Yesterday, the site went down again. Hmm. Part way through 4 and something hours for a client. Great. Once is forgiven. Twice and this consumer will walk. I wanted to email them - don't you know your site is down? But I couldn't as their "mailto" is hidden on the home page that is broken.

I took to twitter. Other people seemed to be having issues. I tweeted in the hope that the solution (or a contact for myhours) would appear out of thin air. Nothing.

So I googled and I came across paymo.biz

Cleaner, sexier UI

Okay, it is prettier. And it is more modern in tone. And the free basic package seems to offer everything I need as a one man band. So I signed up. I've clocked up a little over 4 hours so far without a single issue.

And, more importantly for me? I got a response to my twitter myhours query from a gent in the states. I replied suggesting paymo as an alternative as he too was struggling with myhours. Within the hour paymo got in touch:

Real customer service

I haven't had chance to look into the reporting element of the software but I've added the clients I am working with this week and I'm tracking the time I am spending so I am happy. And I am a sucker for a company getting it right...

How much are British Gas making on the sly?

It doesn't have to be British Gas. In this instance, it is. But it doesn't have to be. All companies get it wrong - every person has a complaint about one company or other. But British Gas has got *everything* wrong.

I moved house. I am a tenant. By definition tenants move. I called British Gas to say "hey, lucky you, you supply the energy to my new rented house. WOO! Please register me as the account holder."

Well, according to their advertising they have heard the term "landlord" before.

This happened AFTER the landlady had called them to request a final bill.* The property had been empty for a while and so she'd taken on the bill. That is fairly normal behaviour in my vast experience.**

Over the course of the next couple of months the following happened over and over again.

1 British Gas write to my landlord at my address with a bill for the energy used since I moved in
2 I call/email/tweet British Gas to pay
3 I can't pay as I am not the account holder
4 I call/email/tweet British Gas to complain

And so, again, and again.

At one point, British Gas - post offering me verbal and empty apologies for their admin error - very kindly and generously passed on my landlords debt (actually mine) to a debt collection agency. Nice people. Only the "debt" had my mobile phone number, my email address and my landlords name attached to it. They couldn't talk to me due to the Data Protection Act. Great.

Eventually I was allowed - after too many phone calls and emails on my part - to pay my bill. I am honest like that and only ever want to pay what I owe.

At this point I switched to EDF Energy. And looked forward to the day when British Gas would leave my life forever.

He is so cute, and all warm in front of clever advertising fire. Who wouldn't want to be green *and* warm?

EDF did everything and I happily set up the Direct Debit and got on with being busy.

Last week I got a bill from British Gas. The maths didn't add up and so I called the complaints team. Again. Just to check. I no longer trusted them to get the admin right and the £51 bill seemed too much energy from August 17th when EDF took over on the 23rd!

I spoke to a lovely man at British Gas. Oh, by the way, everyone I spoke to at British Gas was lovely. It isn't their fault that they don't work for EDF.

EDF did request that British Gas cancel the account and stop supplying energy to my property. British Gas took this request and failed to process it. Sorry? Is there anything that you do do right?

I have requested a full investigation into ALL communication between us and want a full explanation. I doubt that will ever happen. But why should I pay for energy twice?

How much money do British Gas make from unsuspecting customers who aren't going to question them?


*That bill arrived. She paid it. I know this as I actually happen to know her rather well.
**I am 28 and have had 13 addresses. 7 of those as a "bill payer" and tenant responsible for choosing energy suppliers. Therefore, I feel qualified to use 'vast' as my experience status in the land of bill paying and tenanted properties.

Dartmoor. Poem-y post.

Granite

Wild moors give us Granite.

Defying nature's cycle, underfoot predates time.

Breeze bringing rain, hail and snow

send hikers and ponies scattering as Autumn winds blow.

But the tors are different.

Giant soldiers raise up refusing to be beaten.

Granite glories in sunshine, exhaling exhaustive heat - 

in frost, icicles march to mirror the rock's own beat.

They are part of a rhythm - unending.

This battalion has winking eyes and is warm to touch.

A steady Oak encourages life with protective branches but doesn't withstand the storm;

posthumously proffering scarred roots for spring growth is all.

Graceful soldiers abandoned by ancient Gods never fail.

Hound Tor in the snow.

A Blog About Blood.

Last week I donated blood for the first time. I realise that a lot of people donate blood all the time and that I shouldn't really be "showing off" about it. I shall endeavour not to come across as worthy in this post. I certainly don't want to give you all ins and outs of blood donation from a sciency medical point of view. For all those details see the wonderful PR and Comms on the blood people's website. Team GB. Team Give Blood. Oh, that is clever. I like that. See? They can market themselves wonderfully without me getting all lyrical about it.

However, I wanted to tell you about my experience. There is no getting away from the fact that giving blood is a bit worthy and that it is hugely worthwhile. Those that can give blood, should.

Yes, yes, but actually going about it provides a million excuses for the everyday sort of procrastinator, much less the sort who has a fear of all things Hospital. I get nervous just sitting in the Dr's surgery. I don't get on well with hospitals and have had some nasty times in them. Aside from the smells, noises and trapped souls I think the actual architecture doesn't help. Hospitals, like hotels, are a maze of corridors lined with large bins of dirty linen, with windows that don't open and false, eerie lighting. Prone to sensory overload and a rising panic it is best that I don't frequent hospital environs.

I decided though, for personal reasons, that I would like to try and give blood. What is the worst that could happen?

I could faint. Yes, I could. I nearly passed out having a blood test once. It was fine. In the end.

It would hurt. I don't actually have a problem with needles but surely it would hurt.

It would be the opposite of the wonderful sensation of the anesthetic flowing, coldly, into your veins... And?

So Mr Me and I went off on a Friday evening to give blood. It did help that it was in a Primary School Hall so it didn't feel like a hospital. Also, the double doors were thrown open so there was lots of air. The machines do make a noise but there is a gentle chit chat of people who haven't seen each other for a while, nurses chatting while people eat their biscuits and drink themselves strong enough to go home. The team have a clear system so that you don't feel that you are lost or out of place. They are reassuring. They can read people. They can sense a nervous patient or a donor virgin. They smile, reassure and gauge whether you need longer lying down or not.

An info card to take home 

There have also been changes made since I went and saw my sister give blood a few years ago. Now you have to drink a pint of water before you start and you are given exercises to do throughout the process to prevent your blood pressure going all over the place. Ultimately to reduce the sense of wooziness or fainting. I lay there staring at the comforting art of primary school children that adorned the walls. I crossed and uncrossed my legs. I nearly gave myself the giggles in trying to clench my bum cheeks and thigh muscles as per the exercise suggestions. I looked at other donors and wondered, briefly, if they were doing the exercises. I am a bleeder so about four minutes later my donation was complete. I'd done it. NOT SO FAST. You've not tried standing up yet and surely the relief might, in itself, make you collapse. A nurse appeared with the nicest little cup of lemon squash I've ever tasted. She sat me up and saw the blood drain from my face. So we chatted. We chatted about the local area, the school, her grown up son. I was laughing. She was laughing. Then she helped me stand and sent me to the corner for biscuits/crisps and more drinks - hot or cold. I had done it. I felt fine.

A sticker to prove to myself that I really had done it!

And, there was barely a mark on me. By the time I got home I was exhausted and I did sleep well that night but I think that is allowed, under the circumstances.

I would urge anyone reading this (if, indeed, such people are) to donate blood. Don't assume that because you are scared, busy, or "going to do that tomorrow" that you can't. The team are great. It's easier than you think and yes, it does leave you feeling just that little bit worthy.

Recession Rant. Or, Blackbirds and Whales.

Apparently there is a recession on. I'm no economist, so I cannot comment on the verisimilitude of that, but "double dip" "economic downturn" and "austerity" are still the keywords of the political and economic arena. On Sunday, Chris Packham (of Really Wild Show fame) said something on Radio4 about weather versus climate. To paraphrase, he said: "The blackbirds will be okay, they are evolved to withstand a bad weather year. I can't comment on the whales. Whale behaviour is to do with climate, not weather. Climate is long term."

Knitted blackbirds aren't concerned with weather.

Why am I linking weather and the recession? Because everyone else is. Politicians, journalists, economists and commentators keep telling us about the current economic "climate". Which, according to Chris Packham and the whales, is long term.

People are tightening their belts. Are they? Even ignoring vast olympian spending and poor unsuspecting couples winning £148 million on the lottery, I still fail to see people curbing their spending. Facebook, twitter and overheard conversations lead me to firm evidence that holidays are still being booked, gigs/theatre still attended and cars still being upgraded. Whether this is weather or climate, I still have no spare change. Guilt ridden that I don't pay farmers the correct sum of money for milk, or even buy their veg if I can source it for free from other people's gardens, I continue to get by the best I can on the least amount of money.

Save every penny

Maybe it's just all relative. Maybe those going on holiday are now staying in the UK to save money. Maybe those upgrading their cars are just refreshing rather than buying. If you had five pots of money and you now only have three I suppose you do adjust your spending. But what happens if you only had one pot in the first place?

Maybe those with money are "riding the storm" but not accepting climate change? Or, maybe some of us are blackbirds and some are whales. I fear I am a whale.

Meteors, Bats and Devon's most overpriced Rabbit Pie?

I haven't actually done ANY formal research into the price of Rabbit pie in and around Devon - or, more specifically, Dartmoor. However, I'm willing to bet that £11.50 for Rabbit Pie, Chips and Veg is over the odds. Aptly named "warreners pie" at The Warren House Inn, you don't need much imagination to assume that this home made pie has little in the way of overheads. The mark up must be huge. Word to the wise - if you are heading out that way for lunch then stick with the lovely £7.50 ploughmans. I'm not really meant to be reviewing the pub. It's a fine pub. Check it out for yourself. The views are fantastic - when it's clear - and it's geared up for the tourist who loves a good ghostly story of the Devil and his card playing ways. Not to mention the magic of an everlasting peat fire...

I said this *wasn't* a review. We didn't even go. That is the point.

Last weekend it was Mr Me's Thirtieth birthday. Each year his birthday coincides with the Perseid Meteor shower and Mr Me is a geek. A real geek. The genuine article. Not a geek a la mode. One untouched by the charm of Prof Brian Cox and his beautiful hair and playful eyes.

Wonderfully wistful

Sorry, distracted.

YES. It was Mr Me's birthday. He has more beautiful eyes than even Brian Cox AND he is my own personal geek. I got him some awesome gifts including a rather nice pair of binoculars to watch said meteor shower. I planned it all down the last detail. It was going to amazingly romantic. A tent, the open moor, fantastic skies, malbec, pie - we wouldn't eat overpriced Rabbit Pie but instead munch on these:

Perfectly priced pie

There was even salami, chorizo, tiger bread and apple juice for the most middle class of picnic breakfasts. I know Dartmoor. It's in my blood. I know it, I love it and I respect it. Driving through the Wray valley the rain came in. I reassured Mr Me that it was thin mizzly rain and would be low cloud-y sort of rain. Up high it would be clear. Up we went. And it was clear-er. It wasn't raining at least. But from Cosdon Beacon way North the storm clouds were looming. In fact, the only clear sky was back down towards Hound Tor.

Determined NOT to let the trip be a complete waste of time I said a little prayer to Mother Earth to let the skies be clear. She responded with the echoes of thunder. Not before we were able to sit out near Hound Tor and have a few sips of wine and our pies though:

Time for a pie before the rain...

Pieminister clearly know pie. I don't know if the taste was enhanced by the fresh air, the wine or the good company but it was a fine supper. In spite of the clouds.

Embarrassingly, only hours after packing the car we were unpacking and taking the camping chairs to sit on the patio. "We'll still see some meteors, it's clear here." Ever the optimist. For an hour we sat there with me pretending very hard that it was open moorland and not the back garden. It should have been an evening with delighted cries of "oooh, there's one" as the dusty debris burnt up on collision with our atmosphere. Instead the evening was punctuated with "bat!" every time another bat swooped over the garden. This was soon followed up with "bat... lightning... bat... bat... lightning... THUNDER". And a move to have an early night while the massive thunderstorm raged from coast to moor and back again.

The Perseid Meteor shower went unseen. Displays of great shooting light across the sky was reserved only for the tops of angry clouds. Bats came down to feast on the midges that had earlier been feasting on me. And we ate cured meat under a sleeping bag on the patio. We can see shooting stars next year perhaps but for Mr Me's 31st I don't think it will hold the same sense of romance...

Wheelie Bins

Mr and Mrs Retired Opposite pay someone to clean their recycling wheelie bin. That is, the green bin. The one that says "no hot ashes" like the council think we don't realise that plastic melts or that fires burn people.

Bemusing though it seems this recycling bin is not the bin that, in fact, say "Waste for Recycling". That bin, black in colour, is actually for landfill. Like the council are making it hard on purpose. Looking for ways to jump up from behind hedgerows and lecture people on waste management.

The recycling bin is for garden waste, "thin" cardboard (the cardboard equivalent of Topshop if you will) and leaky, moist, rancid biodegradable bags for compostibles. Ibles? Ables? Who cares.

Anyway, Mr and Mrs Retired Opposite pay the imaginatively named "Wheelie Bin Cleaning Company" to come and, well, clean their wheelie bin. I watched them do it. Two uncomfortable looking teenagers with a squirty wheelie bin wash and mobile hosepipe van moved, opened, sprayed, hosed and closed the bin leaving without so much as an "eww, this is well gross". Mr and Mrs Retired Opposite obviously have enough disposable income to keep even their waste disposal system squeaky clean. They are just that type. I am not judging them, merely observing. They hang their hosepipe neatly, water their hanging baskets regularly and have the cleanest wheelie bin in the cul-de-sac.

I can't say that I know the bin habits of the other residents in our collection of miniature executive homes, as geography prevents me from observing them. However, like Mr and Mrs RO I have little private names for them all and feel that we could be perfectly personified in a Lloyds TSB or British Gas advert. Although I am not convinced that our bin is nearly clean enough...

Redundancy and Freelancing

Yesterday I read this interesting blog post via The Professional Copywriter's Network. It poses questions about the "fear" of freelancing. And it made me think about the choices I have made.

Freelancing for me wasn't brave, risky, heroic or any of those worthy things. I ran at freelancing after being made redundant. No, *I* wasn't made redundant, the post I carved for myself was made redundant. Though I wish I could, in all honestly, say that I felt that at the time. But I can't. At the time it felt very personal. That I was somehow redundant. That I could no longer offer anything of value to the company. I blamed the choices I had made in the past on the decision that management made. I am pragmatic and impulsive. When I decide to do something I, more often than not, go ahead and do it and hang the consequences. When things go wrong, and they do, I don't let people say they told me so but I draw the positive and move on to the next impulsive project. I don't know whether my decision to move out of London and work from home affected the choice to make me redundant. I never will, but I knew, almost at once, that redundancy had to become something positive. If I didn't make it positive then life would become very hard.

The skills I had built and my natural tendency to put pen to paper meant that finding the "perfect" job was never going to be easy. And that process was never going to be complete in rural Devon during a recession. I am naturally well organised, obsessively driven by detail and thrive on going from project to project so offering myself as a freelance copy writer and web co-ordinator seemed to be the solution.

One thing that I noticed about redundancy - and maybe I ought to blog about that on it's own - was the lack of support from governing bodies. The Job Centre were uncaring - I was middle class, educated, could run their computer software better than they could and they had no intention of helping me. The council were unsympathetic as I didn't fit the quota of having "dependents". My GP just wanted to give me antidepressants in lieu of my anxiety. In the closer community it was different. Friends and family rallied around in a way that I didn't think was possible. People showed up for a cup of tea bringing real milk, veg boxes, bottles of wine. One friend even gave me a leg of lamb "it's just sitting in the freezer, and we don't really eat lamb". Good job too as the benefits take forever to come through and I was redundant minus two weeks wages. The Daily Mail view of the "benefit bums" in this country is skewed at best!

Freelancing was my easy option. Ok, so I am struggling, I won't deny that. But something is better than nothing. I've learnt so much about how I work, what I can do and the legalities involved. The "fear" of freelancing wasn't financial for me but about failure. But I'd already failed so what had I lose?

The people who go into freelancing having voluntarily walked away from paid employment, secure in the knowledge that they can afford the rent, have annual leave, sick pay... they are the ones who are brave, worthy and taking the risk.

I am not that risk taker; I am just positive and try my hardest.

MOO Business Cards

Any company called MOO gets my vote.

I was poking around looking for free business cards to promote my smiley self and webby services. I desperately didn't want generic images. A load of templated to death Vistaprint business cards would do nothing to enhance the creative vibe that I am trying to get across.

This is where Moo came in. Not only did I get 10 free cards and the freedom to design them myself but also I didn't have to pay hidden postage costs and I could choose to have them printed on recycled paper.

Looks good, doesn't it?

New Moo

It wasn't only the product that I was impressed with - the whole brand and way they communicate pleased me as well. Look at the cute mail I was sent:

Moo Mail

Companies that bother and care with customer service and good PR are few and far between in my experience*. So, instead of ranting about companies with shocking customer service I thought I'd wax lyrical about a company who are getting it right!

Granted, I didn't actually *pay* for anything. But if I ever earn enough to spend on marketing/promotion of Elizabeth Dyer - Web Services I will be starting with Moo.

*If you are lucky I might blog the transcript of angry emails between myself and the rubbish British Gas house move mess!

Embedding Audio on Website/Functionality Rant

I am not a web designer. Nor am I a web developer. However, what I am is ambitious and project focussed*.

I created (with a little help) my own website to highlight my skills. Granted, it is a little restaurant menu in style. Incidentally, if you *run* a restaurant and would like help designing your site/menu, get in touch!

When my brother approached me with a request to build him a website I was filled with fear. He knew the score, no blagging on my part, and he just needed an online business card to highlight his wares. His "wares" (ware? wares? I have no idea of the correct syntax) happen to be creative in tone and would need audio. Would that be hard? NO, of course not. To embed video you use youtube/vimeo and you get the code snippet and link to the file. Easy. Audio will be fine.

Yeah...No. It won't. I found, after having a little google, the Google Reader Audio Player. Simple, you copy and paste the code and amend the URL to reflect your file. It works!

Google Reader Audio Player

Well, it *did*. Then, around the 7th June it just stopped. Nothing. After more googling I realised that google changed the URL and corresponding code. Not only could I not find the new code but did I really want to use a player that would be likely to change without so much as a by your leave?

No. Sorry, Google.

Apparently there isn't an audio player that you can embed that offers a simple, clean layout and that will work (without odd plugins needed) across platforms and browsers.
It is no longer acceptable to ignore functionality.

Audio files need to work on Grannie's PC in IE6 as they do on Nephew's tablet in Chrome, stranger's iphone in Safari and my own humble HTC. You would no longer accept a site where the content text wouldn't render in anything other than FF on a Mac? Why should audio be different.

Functionality matters, more than ever in a time when you just don't know what platform is going to be circulating the masses in the next couple of months.

A site needs to be functional and - again, forgive the cliche - organic.

I know all this but don't necessarily have the requisite code experience to be able to solve the issue. However, if someone out there could provide a solution that would be great!

There must be something somewhere that I am missing - meanwhile I am using the working (though not aesthetic) yahoo player. It is doing the trick for now but I think I need to get back to searching for something that ticks all the boxes.

Yahoo Player - Slide Out MP3 Player

*And, contrary to the evidence, against wanky corporate "buzz" words.

Slugs

Yay! It's July! That means outdoor eating, peeling shoulders, flip flops and the first of the new potatoes.


Oh, it's still raining. Well, if not raining then mizzling. The kind of rain that gets you drenched without penetrating your clothes. The kind of rain that means you are perpetually walking through a cloud. The kind of rain that never lifts long enough to dry clothes, eat outside or wear flip flops.


In fact, since you asked, I am wearing thick warm winter boots. 


Since hacking the herb garden to death I've been waiting and watching to see if the runner beans will climb the wigwam I've lovingly built for them. Should I be watering them? It really is very wet out there. But they are looking less healthy than when they were given to me. 


I ventured out.


I wish I hadn't. Death and destruction met my eyes. Slugs? But I'd been so careful with my lettuces in the veg plot. Pesky slugs. Right, that is it. I shall give in and sprinkle (liberally) blue scary pellets all over the soil. And add more compost. And water. Then I shall walk away and wait like a patient James for my beanstalk to appear magically...

Wigwam and watering can

Whether or not we'll actually get any beans this year is yet to be seen. However, I am pleased with the slug free lettuce. It may be raining but I shall eat salad!

Homegrown lettuce and spring onion

After the Storm - Death Nettle.

Another gardening post? Yes.

Dead birds. Two, so far, though I like to hope that there will only ever be two. One on the patio - a fledgling blue tit, I think - and the other amongst the newly flowering Maris Piper in the veg plot. Where are they coming from? A great height judging by the flatness. But no other damage. Blown from a nest? Or a disastrous debut flight?

Either way it isn't very nice. I collected the little bodies - beaks first - and put them in the bag along with the weeds from the veg plot.

Where did all the weeds come from?

And Nettles. I specifically said that I wanted the nettle bush left where it was so that I could cook up the nettles in times of hardship. I got a strange look from my Grundy but I ignored him. His seventy years of gardening versus my seven weeks, what does he know?

Grundy knows everything. The nettles came from nowhere to dominate the herb garden. In fact, the herb garden became a boxing ring, post storm, with the nettles threatening in one corner and the mint plant gearing up for a fight in the other. The Lavender was a good audience as that too is flowering and cheered on the mint and nettles. The groundlings however, in the form of Tomato plants, Rosemary and Sage were looking distinctly like the losers of this fight.

Something had to be done.

On Sunday, true to form, it was a sun-ny day.  So Mr Me and I tackled the garden. Hours later and with sore abs I looked out onto the now sparse looking herb garden with a sense that we'd won. Although, judging by the petrified leaves on the now potted Mint plant and the retreating back of the sad and death nettle looking Nettle bush I wonder whether, in fact, we'd committed murder.

Piles of petrified Mint. And I always garden in witch socks.

Pinterest an "online pinboard".

A while ago a friend of mine asked me if I'd heard of "Pinterest". I hadn't. Though I can see why she thought I might have. The concept is simple. You share ideas and interests with "like minded people". 

I decided to go and have a look around to see what all the fuss was about.

Request an Invite. 

Pinterest homepage

Pardon? I’m more familiar with a self registration sort of social media. I need inviting? Who invites me? That implies some sort of elitism. Does the thin, pretty and devastatingly clever popular girl of the Internet pick people based on their sporting ability? In that case I'll go and write a furious diary entry pretending I never wanted to play Pinterest anyway.

Oh, no, hang on, it would seem that the only qualifying criteria I need is a valid email address. So is this "invite" stuff really any different to registering the regular way? Beyond not capturing my postcode, gender or age demographic? No.

While I sit and wait for my "requested invitation" - like the guest you invited only because you felt sorry for them - I think about the name. Pinterest. A pin board of your interests. Published for everyone to see. Everyone invited, that is. Admittedly there is a vague echo of "internet" in the name but it isn't catchy. It is clumsy. It is also more than a little resonant, to my mind, of Bing. No-one uses Bing. Apart from Chandler in Friends. And Friends is so old that it isn't internet interested. Joey still buys porn. Which, according to my partner and his brother in law, is no longer about videos/DVDs and magazines but *all* about the internet. They'd know I suppose. I have no desire to delve into their hard drives for evidence. Pardon the obvious yet unavoidable pun...

Er, yes, so I don't like the name. The cloak of mystery is about to be unveiled as my invite has arrived in my inbox. It welcomes me to their "little" community. Aw, that is nice. And provides me with a list of etiquette so that the socially inept can keep their noses clean. It is inviting me to create an account and wishes me a "happy pinning".

With that, I’m off to pin and explore this new environment.

My Garden. April Showers.

The fact that I can have a blog titled in this way is extraordinary. See my March blog: "Onions".


However, I now have a garden of my own. In fact, *smug*, I now have a red brick, family home with a garden and a garage. I have a view over fields, a tiny front lawn with a small picket fence and a patio. In short, I am a Privet Drive sort of dweller minus the wizard living in my understairs cupboard. Which, incidentally, contains the hoover (which is actually a vacuum cleaner), spare dulux (which is probably Homebase own) and a pair of 1960's stepladders with a myriad of paint splatters adorning it.


The onions, now in my veg plot, are in a good crowd with spuds and garlic as their bedfellows. I even have my own herb garden complete with mint, sage, thyme, lavender and a bay tree. In fact, with the nettles, rhubarb and dandelions on the lawn, my "Kitchen Garden" is coming together nicely*.


Since moving the April Showers have been doing their dance. While this has been annoying road users it has pleased the grasses and crops in the fields as they have responded by becoming greener and lush, the birds have been singing louder over the constant sound of the rain and a large female blackbird stuffed her beak with too many worms to carry. 


Yesterday the sun shone. I put laundry out to dry and explored. I met a catty friend, see pic, and found the smallest of "new" potatoes had fallen onto the patio in a bid for kamikaze self harvest. 


I now have my garden and the pressure is on to enjoy it, use it and attempt to feed myself and my partner from it. I hope for a clear May now that April is done with and look forward to sitting on my patio with a large glass of something cool with the fire pit burning and a good book waiting to be read. It would seem that my whinging was no bad thing, after all...

*Be under no illusions that I have done any of this work. My Ma is the one to thank. 

The anomaly of free social media

Social Media is free! FREE... how can you afford to ignore something that costs NOTHING. That is what I keep telling people.


That doesn't mean you shouldn't expect an invoice once I've done the work.


It doesn't really matter how much free software you are using - how many great tools there are for calculating what is working and what isn't. You focus on your strategy and set up your accounts, you follow/join/like/link in the hope that someone, somewhere will reciprocate. You utilise all google products til you dream in alerts, analytics and ads. 


You learn the etiquette for the medium, get to grips with Groups on Facebook and strive to "participate in the conversation". You stumbleupon and digg Del.icio.us articles on the best way to achieve a perfect social media presence.


You search, re-search and research your audience. Twitter, google+, facebook, youtube, pinterest, blogs...


Social Media costs time. Once you've spent that time you watch and wait and hope all your time doesn't turn into white noise on the web.

Onions

About six weeks ago I was whining in the general direction of my Ma about my lack of garden. I am sure that I was whining about lots of things that day. She was pointing out the new plot that my step father had worked on to put the potatoes in. She was excitably telling me about the strawberry plant, the over zealous appearance of garlic and the new shoots of real rhubarb appearing beneath the old tin bath that is their home. 


Assuming that there wouldn't be any hybrid cross flavours developing in the plot below I quickly accepted the armful of fresh leeks she'd pulled for me to take home. I might not have a garden but I eat freely from those that do.


I was giving up on the whining. In the face of my mother skipping around her veg plot in a long swishy skirt and expensive wellies I couldn't battle with her positivity. However, never underestimate a mother's ability to be listening whilst appearing to be silly. I was sent home with a plant pot containing some soil and four onion bulbs.


Every couple of days I peer into the pot to see what is happening. Now the tall green shoots are watching the highstreet below and basking in this unseasonal summer weather.


It would seem you can grow onions indoors. However, I suppose I'll have to wait until I pull them to see if the bulbs have formed into real onions.


Onions, cress, tomatoes. It isn't a bad start, though I still long for a garden of my own.

How to create great HTML email

Keep your template clean and concise and your content to the point. People are being bombarded with “stuff” – white noise that they filter out – so you want your message to be clear and focused.

1 – Subject line. You wouldn’t open an email if you thought it was spam, so be honest in your subject field. Give your customer an indication that this email is relevant to them.

2 – Unsubscribe. Don’t be afraid to give your audience the option to unsubscribe if they want to. By hiding it in obscure font in a footer you aren’t achieving anything, in fact, your run the risk of being marked as junk.

3 – Clutter. If you have to include a lot of images why not offer the customer the chance to view the email online to give them the full effect? Though, in my opinion, you should steer of anything that cluttered. Your email is a targeted message, not a website condensed into someone’s mailbox. Lead your audience to you through clever and savvy content and design.

4 – Think webmail. Hotmail, Yahoo and Gmail are still the three biggest so check your email is displaying as you’d expect. Don’t forget about Outlook users either, sometimes a plain text version of your email might be a helpful addition.

5 – Environment. Think tablets, smart phones and any new technology. You want people to be able to navigate freely – avoid putting links too close together and concentrate on putting your important content in the area that is seen without scrolling through the email.

Great HTML email

HTML email has a bad reputation. From what I can see that reputation has been earned from a mixture of bad email creation and Web Designers rolling their eyes whenever it is mentioned. However, I am here to say that I think html email done well can be a great thing.

Before dismissing it out of hand I’d like you to consider the following fact:

If email was a country, its 1.4 billion users would make it the largest country in the world. Bigger that the populations of the USA and the EU combined. Bigger, in fact, than China.

Can you really afford to ignore that? Sure, some email gets deleted unopened, some stuck in spam filters and some email might result in a customer removing themselves from your mailing list. However, by mailing your customer base directly, you are speaking to someone who is constantly checking email. 

According to the Office for National Statistics 30.1 million adults in the UK accessed the internet every day in 2010. Undoubtedly you cannot ignore ever-evolving technologies, including social media and search engines, but with the number of email users on the rise you cannot escape the fact that email communication isn’t going away.

Embrace this cost effective way of communicating with your customer base or end user and see what happens.