I would be an amazing drummer if I had a sense of rhythm. And better co-ordination. And quicker responses. But apart from that ...
I have decided that marching through Mumbles playing a drum is beyond me. I have enough trouble walking in a moderately straight line at the best of times without the added confusion of trying to keep with the beat, man.
There was a manic dwarf in a black hat dancing to the bells. He had that crazed look in his eyes that said, 'Can you hear what they're saying? No, you can't because it's only me they talk to!! Ha ha ha ha.'
There is a high percentage of French drummers amongst us. And a Fin. (Finn?) She told me of her distress on learning that Finland had been beaten in the finals of the ice hockey by Sweden. She said, 'It's like Wales being beaten by England.' I empathised.
Lent begins tomorrow. I am giving up computer games for Lent. That is six and a half weeks without Spider Solitaire or Super Collapse or Tetris. However the daily jigsaw is not a game so I can do that.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Thanks, Maryb
This was quoted by Maryb on CHM's blog, but I think it's so wonderful I had to repeat it here. It's from Erma Bombeck:
"I haven't trusted polls since I read that 62% of women had affairs during their lunch hour. I've never met a woman in my life who would give up lunch for sex."
That made me google Ms Bombeck and I found these other gems.
"Just think of all those women on the Titanic who said, "No, thank you," to dessert that night. And for what!"
"One thing they never tell you about child raising is that for the rest of your life, at the drop of a hat, you are expected to know your child's name and how old he or she is."
I love all of those quotes but the last one really hits home. Children get older that's the trouble. if they didn't, I would know instantly how old they are.
"I haven't trusted polls since I read that 62% of women had affairs during their lunch hour. I've never met a woman in my life who would give up lunch for sex."
That made me google Ms Bombeck and I found these other gems.
"Just think of all those women on the Titanic who said, "No, thank you," to dessert that night. And for what!"
"One thing they never tell you about child raising is that for the rest of your life, at the drop of a hat, you are expected to know your child's name and how old he or she is."
I love all of those quotes but the last one really hits home. Children get older that's the trouble. if they didn't, I would know instantly how old they are.
Shrove Tuesday
For the first time in my life I am not having pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. This is because
a) I am on my own and you can't make one (two/three/four) pancake;
b) I am on a diet and I can't eat one (two/three/four) pancake.
I am very unhappy about this. I normally like my pancakes either simply with sugar and lemon or, if I'm feeling decadent, with syrup and ice cream. I don't think there are enough Syns in the whole of the Slimming World world to cover that.
And I didn't lose any weight last week so I am feeling particularly fat and grumpy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Apparently Gavin was feeling 'suicidal' after the game on Sunday. You can't help but feel sorry for him - not something you often feel for Mr Henson - but he shouldn't have been put in that position. I hope Charlotte cooked him his favourite meal or refreshed his tan for him. If only he didn't walk around with his mouth open all the time. It's almost as bad as people who chew (gum or otherwise) open-mouthed. I have to stop myself commenting when I am with a chewer. Particularly when they are in positions of authority and, more importantly, have a say on my pay.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
George Michael was arrested for possessing Class C drugs. I wonder if Marmite comes in that category. I am convinced it is addictive.
a) I am on my own and you can't make one (two/three/four) pancake;
b) I am on a diet and I can't eat one (two/three/four) pancake.
I am very unhappy about this. I normally like my pancakes either simply with sugar and lemon or, if I'm feeling decadent, with syrup and ice cream. I don't think there are enough Syns in the whole of the Slimming World world to cover that.
And I didn't lose any weight last week so I am feeling particularly fat and grumpy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Apparently Gavin was feeling 'suicidal' after the game on Sunday. You can't help but feel sorry for him - not something you often feel for Mr Henson - but he shouldn't have been put in that position. I hope Charlotte cooked him his favourite meal or refreshed his tan for him. If only he didn't walk around with his mouth open all the time. It's almost as bad as people who chew (gum or otherwise) open-mouthed. I have to stop myself commenting when I am with a chewer. Particularly when they are in positions of authority and, more importantly, have a say on my pay.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
George Michael was arrested for possessing Class C drugs. I wonder if Marmite comes in that category. I am convinced it is addictive.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Vicariously
I've been trying to remember that word for about fifty hours. It came to me in the middle of my shiatsu. I have been trying to keep it in my head all the way home and, in spite of almost losing it a few times in favour of voraciously, I succeeded. So that's good.
Shiatsu was so relaxing that, when I left afterwards, I walked into the car door. Now have large bruise on shin.
Asked the Madman of Pendine about yesterday's rugby. He said, "It didn't happen. Nothing happened yesterday. Everything's fine." A good approach, I think.
Shiatsu was so relaxing that, when I left afterwards, I walked into the car door. Now have large bruise on shin.
Asked the Madman of Pendine about yesterday's rugby. He said, "It didn't happen. Nothing happened yesterday. Everything's fine." A good approach, I think.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Things you shouldn't say II
We were talking about love handles. Husband said, 'You haven't got love handles ... so much as a grab rail.'
It was a day for saying the wrong thing. I did it twice in church. I had to apologise to one person but the other was Tim and it was his own fault, so I didn't.
Benny was speaking on Reconciliation. He asked us to imagine that our dog had stolen our car, sold it on ebay and was now heading for Crufts with a nice little collie he'd picked up. It worked for me.
But that apart, it was a bad weekend for English and Welsh rugby fans. If I think about it, I will only start to sigh, so I won't. But now having thought about it I can't think of anything else, so, sighing deeply, I will stop writing and go play Super Collapse II.
It was a day for saying the wrong thing. I did it twice in church. I had to apologise to one person but the other was Tim and it was his own fault, so I didn't.
Benny was speaking on Reconciliation. He asked us to imagine that our dog had stolen our car, sold it on ebay and was now heading for Crufts with a nice little collie he'd picked up. It worked for me.
But that apart, it was a bad weekend for English and Welsh rugby fans. If I think about it, I will only start to sigh, so I won't. But now having thought about it I can't think of anything else, so, sighing deeply, I will stop writing and go play Super Collapse II.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
A thong too far
I was in a specialist shop today - I am aware that there are some sensitive souls who read this blog so I am trying to choose my words carefully - and the young lady in the changing cubicle next to mine was obviously buying her wedding under-garments - she was choosing from a number of thongs. Now that's fine but she'd brought her fiance with her and the poor boy was sitting in the middle of the shop (and it's only a small shop) trying to keep his head down and his eyes and ears closed. Now maybe he's like my brother-in-law who is a great fan of Trinny and Suzannah and can discuss the advantages of a good bra with the best, but your wedding day trousseau of all things should surely be a mystery until the day/night.
Anyway, ladies, I'll just say that I am thrilled with my purchases and, hey, we're worth it.
My excuse is that I didn't have to pay out for new glasses. Apparently my sight hasn't changed. I find that hard to believe; I think she meant my sight while wearing glasses.
All in all it has been a good weekend so far (I'll reserve final judgement until after the rugby tomorrow). Dancing class last night, the first time since November. And if I'd had the ball gown, the high-heels and the ability to dance, you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between me and Ginger Rogers.
"There may be troubles ahead, but while there's moonlight and love and romance, let's face the music and dance."
Of course we mustn't forget there is a rugby match tonight. Scotland against England. It is hard: my heart will be cheering on Scotland but my mouth must say, 'Come on, England.' I don't think I really fool anybody though.
Anyway, ladies, I'll just say that I am thrilled with my purchases and, hey, we're worth it.
My excuse is that I didn't have to pay out for new glasses. Apparently my sight hasn't changed. I find that hard to believe; I think she meant my sight while wearing glasses.
All in all it has been a good weekend so far (I'll reserve final judgement until after the rugby tomorrow). Dancing class last night, the first time since November. And if I'd had the ball gown, the high-heels and the ability to dance, you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between me and Ginger Rogers.
"There may be troubles ahead, but while there's moonlight and love and romance, let's face the music and dance."
Of course we mustn't forget there is a rugby match tonight. Scotland against England. It is hard: my heart will be cheering on Scotland but my mouth must say, 'Come on, England.' I don't think I really fool anybody though.
Friday, February 24, 2006
TGI Friday
I've recently been introduced to a new game. It's probably not new to most people - it's on its second incarnation - but is is to me. And to Alun who brought it to my attention after he'd been enslaved by it, thanks to Angelo.
It's called Super Collapse II. And it is addictive, oh, my word. You can download free trials from various places on the net. Alun has downloaded so many they all recognise him now and refuse to let him have any more. So he plays through me. 'Red left, green bomb coming, no, wait, now!' (This is in our tea break, you understand.) I am a nervous wreck by the time I have finished.
Alun's top score is over 1 million. Yip, that's right, 1 and six noughts. And he's only been playing it for three weeks. You're probably all sitting there quietly gloating because that is peanuts to what you've scored, but, hey, I'm easily impressed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To get back to men and rudeness, I was called a brazen hussy today. And I was only talking about rugby!
Talking of which this could be either a remarkably good weekend or one of the worst on record. I am in faith for it being good. If Scott Johnson really is the man behind the success then it should be no problem. Even without Alfie.
Still I shall be glad when Sunday has come and gone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Eye test tomorrow. First thing, which was a bit of bad planning on my part. My eyes don't wake up until some time after the rest of me. I will probably end up with a prescription for glasses like the bottom of milk bottles.
You don't see many milk bottles these days. We still have milk delivered but I guess we are one of the few families that does. Probably won't be long until the milkman joins the red telephone box as an attraction in someone's garden.
You don't see police boxes any more either. We did see one in London, or was it New York? Doctor Who should perhaps transmogrify the outside of the Tardis to help it to fit in more. Although it hardly fits in in most places that it lands in. I do like David Tennant though. He was brilliant in Blackpool and Casanova. Christopher Eccleswaite or whatever his name was, had that sort of manic grin. Which reminds of a vicar I saw today. His photo was on a website. He looked decidedly smarmy. Brrrr. I wouldn't want to go to his church. He was the second Christian today that I took an instant dislike to (I am assuming he was a Christian although with the c of e being what it is, who knows). The first one phoned me. Asked who he was speaking to and then used my name like he knew me. Brrr again.
It's not that I'm picky, you understand. I am very tolerant and loving and all-things-Christian, except on Fridays. And occasional other days.
It's called Super Collapse II. And it is addictive, oh, my word. You can download free trials from various places on the net. Alun has downloaded so many they all recognise him now and refuse to let him have any more. So he plays through me. 'Red left, green bomb coming, no, wait, now!' (This is in our tea break, you understand.) I am a nervous wreck by the time I have finished.
Alun's top score is over 1 million. Yip, that's right, 1 and six noughts. And he's only been playing it for three weeks. You're probably all sitting there quietly gloating because that is peanuts to what you've scored, but, hey, I'm easily impressed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To get back to men and rudeness, I was called a brazen hussy today. And I was only talking about rugby!
Talking of which this could be either a remarkably good weekend or one of the worst on record. I am in faith for it being good. If Scott Johnson really is the man behind the success then it should be no problem. Even without Alfie.
Still I shall be glad when Sunday has come and gone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Eye test tomorrow. First thing, which was a bit of bad planning on my part. My eyes don't wake up until some time after the rest of me. I will probably end up with a prescription for glasses like the bottom of milk bottles.
You don't see many milk bottles these days. We still have milk delivered but I guess we are one of the few families that does. Probably won't be long until the milkman joins the red telephone box as an attraction in someone's garden.
You don't see police boxes any more either. We did see one in London, or was it New York? Doctor Who should perhaps transmogrify the outside of the Tardis to help it to fit in more. Although it hardly fits in in most places that it lands in. I do like David Tennant though. He was brilliant in Blackpool and Casanova. Christopher Eccleswaite or whatever his name was, had that sort of manic grin. Which reminds of a vicar I saw today. His photo was on a website. He looked decidedly smarmy. Brrrr. I wouldn't want to go to his church. He was the second Christian today that I took an instant dislike to (I am assuming he was a Christian although with the c of e being what it is, who knows). The first one phoned me. Asked who he was speaking to and then used my name like he knew me. Brrr again.
It's not that I'm picky, you understand. I am very tolerant and loving and all-things-Christian, except on Fridays. And occasional other days.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Walkies and stuff
It snowed on us! I had a snowflake on my nose just like in the song. Me and Harvs were dead excited ... okay, you weren't. Harvs was indifferent ... What? Oh, sorry, Harvey said he was blase about the snow (Methinks the dog is getting pretentious.) ... don't you dare say it, Harvs! ... I just know you were thinking of saying, 'Moi, pretentious?' I could see it in your eyes.
It's turned to rain now anyway.
On the way home from our walk yesterday we passed a man who said, 'There's always one, isn't there?'
I agreed wholeheartedly although I had no idea what he was talking about. I was sure there probably was always one of something. But then today I found a 2 and a 3, an M, an H and a G but no 1. Does that prove there isn't always one?
Harvey tripped over a bramble twig today (It's all right, he's asleep now so I can talk about him). Poor old thing. He can hardly manage the back-door step these days; he has to turn around and take a run at it. And he needs someone standing by to encourage him when he goes down steps. I love him so much; it's horrid to see him become this old so suddenly it seems.
It's turned to rain now anyway.
On the way home from our walk yesterday we passed a man who said, 'There's always one, isn't there?'
I agreed wholeheartedly although I had no idea what he was talking about. I was sure there probably was always one of something. But then today I found a 2 and a 3, an M, an H and a G but no 1. Does that prove there isn't always one?
Harvey tripped over a bramble twig today (It's all right, he's asleep now so I can talk about him). Poor old thing. He can hardly manage the back-door step these days; he has to turn around and take a run at it. And he needs someone standing by to encourage him when he goes down steps. I love him so much; it's horrid to see him become this old so suddenly it seems.
Something I've noticed about men
On Jodie's blog recently I commented that Tim was rude to me; he retorted that I should be 'touched' because he is only rude to people he likes.
Alun's the same. I put up with hours of abuse in the office and he claims it's only because he likes me, adding, 'but it's all true!'
Women are rude to people they don't like; men are rude to people they don't like and to people they do like. It's like the little boy in the playground who goes and pushes over the girl he likes. They're just unable to express emotion in any other way, being all masculine and manly.
What happened to poetry? What if (desperately tries to think of a poet who wrote about women rather than daffs or bridges or war) Shakespeare had written,
Shall I compare thee to a broken down car?
Thou art less rusty and more weathered:
Rough winds do shake the steering wheel sometimes,
And the bottom's pretty holey:
Sometime too hot the heating doth blow,
But more oft far too cold;
And every bit of welding declines,
By chance or holes in road;
But thy windscreen shall not crack
Nor lose possession of that windscreen wiper;
Nor shall Mercedes brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in lay-bys thou waitest for rescue:
So long as men can drive or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
(Just a minute, I can hear a drip somewhere ... found it. I needed to turn the tap on to stop it dripping.)
Where was I? Oh, yes, men and poetry. Where has the poetry gone from men's souls? Prove me wrong, boys. Be nice.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The upstairs toilet is sitting on the landing. That is fine except husband gets home tonight and I fear that if he gets up in the middle of the night, in his still-sleeping mode, he won't notice and pee on the floor.
Alun's the same. I put up with hours of abuse in the office and he claims it's only because he likes me, adding, 'but it's all true!'
Women are rude to people they don't like; men are rude to people they don't like and to people they do like. It's like the little boy in the playground who goes and pushes over the girl he likes. They're just unable to express emotion in any other way, being all masculine and manly.
What happened to poetry? What if (desperately tries to think of a poet who wrote about women rather than daffs or bridges or war) Shakespeare had written,
Shall I compare thee to a broken down car?
Thou art less rusty and more weathered:
Rough winds do shake the steering wheel sometimes,
And the bottom's pretty holey:
Sometime too hot the heating doth blow,
But more oft far too cold;
And every bit of welding declines,
By chance or holes in road;
But thy windscreen shall not crack
Nor lose possession of that windscreen wiper;
Nor shall Mercedes brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in lay-bys thou waitest for rescue:
So long as men can drive or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
(Just a minute, I can hear a drip somewhere ... found it. I needed to turn the tap on to stop it dripping.)
Where was I? Oh, yes, men and poetry. Where has the poetry gone from men's souls? Prove me wrong, boys. Be nice.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The upstairs toilet is sitting on the landing. That is fine except husband gets home tonight and I fear that if he gets up in the middle of the night, in his still-sleeping mode, he won't notice and pee on the floor.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
As good as it gets
Who will look after Harvey when I am in jail? No-one else understands his little foibles except husband and he is away half the week. We will have to hope that Bill Gates likes dogs.
You see the day started fine and dandy, if not a trifle early, except for the fact that I couldn't send or receive emails. This went on all morning so eventually I decided to try and find out what was happening. I could detail the whole experience but it would bore me so I'll just say after seven phone calls BT decided they couldn't help me and gave me another number to ring. This turned out to be Microsoft who wanted to know the product ID. When I told them, they said I was using it illegally. Any moment now I am expecting a knock at the door.
Can they trace me from a phone call? Surely BT wouldn't give out personal information willy nilly. But they must be working hand in hand with Microsoft and even if they weren't Microsoft could hack into BT's system and get my address. There is probably a swarthy man in a suit making his way to my house right now. Oh me oh mi.
The man on ebay assured us it was genuine and legitimate. He didn't mention that we were supposed to be a school.
I used to think that 'as good as it gets' meant something was absolutely wonderful. Then I saw the film of the same name. In it, Jack Nicholson's character uses it in quite a different way. He says to a crowd of people in a psychiatrist's waiting room, 'Suppose this is as good as it gets?'
When I thought of the title to the post it was that usage that I was thinking of, but actually my life is just excellent. I am very happy (as long as I don't think about Welsh rugby) despite computers, kettles and cars. Thanks God, my life is as good as it gets.
Oh, and by the way, after I'd rebooted the computer, my emails worked okay.
You see the day started fine and dandy, if not a trifle early, except for the fact that I couldn't send or receive emails. This went on all morning so eventually I decided to try and find out what was happening. I could detail the whole experience but it would bore me so I'll just say after seven phone calls BT decided they couldn't help me and gave me another number to ring. This turned out to be Microsoft who wanted to know the product ID. When I told them, they said I was using it illegally. Any moment now I am expecting a knock at the door.
Can they trace me from a phone call? Surely BT wouldn't give out personal information willy nilly. But they must be working hand in hand with Microsoft and even if they weren't Microsoft could hack into BT's system and get my address. There is probably a swarthy man in a suit making his way to my house right now. Oh me oh mi.
The man on ebay assured us it was genuine and legitimate. He didn't mention that we were supposed to be a school.
I used to think that 'as good as it gets' meant something was absolutely wonderful. Then I saw the film of the same name. In it, Jack Nicholson's character uses it in quite a different way. He says to a crowd of people in a psychiatrist's waiting room, 'Suppose this is as good as it gets?'
When I thought of the title to the post it was that usage that I was thinking of, but actually my life is just excellent. I am very happy (as long as I don't think about Welsh rugby) despite computers, kettles and cars. Thanks God, my life is as good as it gets.
Oh, and by the way, after I'd rebooted the computer, my emails worked okay.
I got up by mistake this morning
I mean, I have to get up but not quite this early. So I've been browsing.
According to maryb in Atlanta, Scarlett O'Hara country, the New York Times has published an article about why ice is slippery. There's scientific debate about it apparently. I bet someone is getting funded to work it out. I wonder if I could get a grant to find out why pigs can't fly.
Maryb also talks about her mother's favourite sayings. It reminded me of my great-aunt. Auntie Vi was president of the local WI, had been to garden parties at Buckingham Palace, had a hat for every occasion and could swear like a Townhill teenager. (I'm sure Mumbles teenagers are just the same, it's just that TT flows better.) If someone annoyed her, she would say, 'Kiss my arse Tom Chalk.'
I never found out who Tom Chalk was. But there was another story about my great-grandfather and a fellow-builder name of Sparrow. He must have upset my great-grandad because, one day, when Mr Sparrow was up on a ledge, my great-grandad took away his ladder, saying, 'Now fly, you bugger!'
I'm from good stock.
And now the time is 8.15, which doesn't sound very early but the internet broke down in the middle so I've been and showered in between starting and finishing this post, which began at 7.25 am.
According to maryb in Atlanta, Scarlett O'Hara country, the New York Times has published an article about why ice is slippery. There's scientific debate about it apparently. I bet someone is getting funded to work it out. I wonder if I could get a grant to find out why pigs can't fly.
Maryb also talks about her mother's favourite sayings. It reminded me of my great-aunt. Auntie Vi was president of the local WI, had been to garden parties at Buckingham Palace, had a hat for every occasion and could swear like a Townhill teenager. (I'm sure Mumbles teenagers are just the same, it's just that TT flows better.) If someone annoyed her, she would say, 'Kiss my arse Tom Chalk.'
I never found out who Tom Chalk was. But there was another story about my great-grandfather and a fellow-builder name of Sparrow. He must have upset my great-grandad because, one day, when Mr Sparrow was up on a ledge, my great-grandad took away his ladder, saying, 'Now fly, you bugger!'
I'm from good stock.
And now the time is 8.15, which doesn't sound very early but the internet broke down in the middle so I've been and showered in between starting and finishing this post, which began at 7.25 am.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
The phone just rang
It told me I had a message. It never does that. The message: One to the Arsenal. Then it thanked me for calling BT.
My life is very confusing sometimes.
I think I saw a UFO on the way home from aerobics - I was on the way home from aerobics not the UFO; I don't know where that had been. More likely it was going. It seemed to be heading in the direction of the water melons. Perhaps it was a case of 'ET go home'.
I have been insulted by three different men today. Perhaps I will ask Mr Guinness if that can go in his record book too.
I went to aerobics instead of drumming as my circuit trainer is skiing.
I hope daughter found her way back to the station and home again tonight. I have not heard from her since she wanted to know where she was.
I should have been born two centuries ago then I could have worn a dress like Scarlett wore to the barbecue. All lace and flounces and green and white. Fiddle de di. But really Gone With the Wind is a strange film. The opening sequence laments the passing of the Southern way of life with slaves. Rhett Butler is rather dishy though.
And that is probably all the rambling I will do for now. I have noticed that I write rather more on my blog than anyone else seems to write on theirs.
My life is very confusing sometimes.
I think I saw a UFO on the way home from aerobics - I was on the way home from aerobics not the UFO; I don't know where that had been. More likely it was going. It seemed to be heading in the direction of the water melons. Perhaps it was a case of 'ET go home'.
I have been insulted by three different men today. Perhaps I will ask Mr Guinness if that can go in his record book too.
I went to aerobics instead of drumming as my circuit trainer is skiing.
I hope daughter found her way back to the station and home again tonight. I have not heard from her since she wanted to know where she was.
I should have been born two centuries ago then I could have worn a dress like Scarlett wore to the barbecue. All lace and flounces and green and white. Fiddle de di. But really Gone With the Wind is a strange film. The opening sequence laments the passing of the Southern way of life with slaves. Rhett Butler is rather dishy though.
And that is probably all the rambling I will do for now. I have noticed that I write rather more on my blog than anyone else seems to write on theirs.
It's what men are for
Emails have been flying back and forth this afternoon.
Me: Kettle's blown up.
Him: Probably the fuse.
Me: Fuse?
Him: (sigh) In the plug.
Me: And what would I do about that?
Him: Change it.
Me: For ... what? A frozen pea?
For goodness sake he's known me long enough to know I don't do fuses. Yes, I know that's girly and pathetic but I am girly and pathetic - it's part of my charm.
But I NEED A CUP OF TEA! And boiling water in the saucepan is a pain as the automatic lighter on the hob doesn't. I might have to try husband's suggestion and put a teabag in the coffee percolator. It's either that or suck a teabag.
It's a good job I can still hop and skip when I am out with Harvey otherwise life would be truly unbearable. I haven't perfected the clicking heels together in the air at the side yet. Although I can almost do it to the left but not the right. I must be left-sided. I am right-handed but left-eared.
Me: Kettle's blown up.
Him: Probably the fuse.
Me: Fuse?
Him: (sigh) In the plug.
Me: And what would I do about that?
Him: Change it.
Me: For ... what? A frozen pea?
For goodness sake he's known me long enough to know I don't do fuses. Yes, I know that's girly and pathetic but I am girly and pathetic - it's part of my charm.
But I NEED A CUP OF TEA! And boiling water in the saucepan is a pain as the automatic lighter on the hob doesn't. I might have to try husband's suggestion and put a teabag in the coffee percolator. It's either that or suck a teabag.
It's a good job I can still hop and skip when I am out with Harvey otherwise life would be truly unbearable. I haven't perfected the clicking heels together in the air at the side yet. Although I can almost do it to the left but not the right. I must be left-sided. I am right-handed but left-eared.
Major crisis!
My kettle has blown up!
That is worse than coming home planning on having sandwiches for lunch and finding that I have no bread. And no car, as already explained.
So that is two things. Do I believe in the 'things happen in threes' saying? No, definitely not. But perhaps I should avoid anything electrical, mechanical or likely to break in any way for the rest of the day. Not that I am superstitious but just in case.
That is worse than coming home planning on having sandwiches for lunch and finding that I have no bread. And no car, as already explained.
So that is two things. Do I believe in the 'things happen in threes' saying? No, definitely not. But perhaps I should avoid anything electrical, mechanical or likely to break in any way for the rest of the day. Not that I am superstitious but just in case.
Faster than the speed of ...
At 3.17 pm I emailed some sample monologues to a publisher; at 3.38 pm I received a rejection. Now that is quick even by my standards. I wonder if it could go in the Guiness Book of Records. I think I shall ask.
Postscript
I have submitted my claim to the Guiness Book of Records. I will let you know if I am successful.
Postscript
I have submitted my claim to the Guiness Book of Records. I will let you know if I am successful.
It runs in the family
Daughter just phoned me from Plymouth wanting to know where she is.
Thank goodness for google maps.
'Is the railway line to the north or south?'
'It's to my left.'
'Well, you need to go down the map so make sure you're always walking downhill.'
She's my daughter all right.
I wonder why my apple tastes fishy. Not so much tastes as smells fishy.
Betty broke down this morning but at least she was kind enough to do it before I left home this time.
We've chosen a towel rail. £179. Last of the big spenders us. We've also chosen tiles and pretend tile flooring, which is nicer than it sounds. We haven't actually bought any of these yet as we didn't take any measurements with us.
You've never got a toad when you want one, have you?
Thank goodness for google maps.
'Is the railway line to the north or south?'
'It's to my left.'
'Well, you need to go down the map so make sure you're always walking downhill.'
She's my daughter all right.
I wonder why my apple tastes fishy. Not so much tastes as smells fishy.
Betty broke down this morning but at least she was kind enough to do it before I left home this time.
We've chosen a towel rail. £179. Last of the big spenders us. We've also chosen tiles and pretend tile flooring, which is nicer than it sounds. We haven't actually bought any of these yet as we didn't take any measurements with us.
You've never got a toad when you want one, have you?
Monday, February 20, 2006
Forfar 5 Fife 4
Any Plymouth Argyle fans out there? Daughter has to write 1000 words about them and as she knows nothing, she would be grateful for any tips.
When she mentioned the Plymouth football team I instantly thought, Plymouth Argyle. That is the result of a childhood spent with a wireless in the house. Coming home of a Saturday teatime, I'd find my grandfather sitting in the corner, listening to the football results and marking his pools coupons. The names of the teams were, and still are, as familiar as old clothes.
Charlton Athletic _ _ _ 1 _ _ Queen of the South _ _ _ 3
Although I think Queen of the South might have been Scottish so that wouldn't have happened.
It was always the same man reading the results. I don't think he ever took a holiday. In fact, he probably modelled for Tim, 'On the third stroke the time will be 4 15 and twenty seconds.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I've managed to find a new top to go over the new top I bought. Fortunately there were three women in the changing room at M&S advising their friend so I got them to advise me too. I really need someone to dress me.
Although I later discovered that M&S has an in-house style guru who will advise on colours and styles and help you choose outfits. And all for free. The trouble with something like that is that I would feel obliged to buy what she suggested even if I didn't like it. I suppose I could always take it back another day. When she wasn't there. Which she wasn't today.
That is dreadful: I just did a spellcheck and discovered I had spelt grateful as greatful. See, that's one of the signs of ageing I was talking about.
When she mentioned the Plymouth football team I instantly thought, Plymouth Argyle. That is the result of a childhood spent with a wireless in the house. Coming home of a Saturday teatime, I'd find my grandfather sitting in the corner, listening to the football results and marking his pools coupons. The names of the teams were, and still are, as familiar as old clothes.
Charlton Athletic _ _ _ 1 _ _ Queen of the South _ _ _ 3
Although I think Queen of the South might have been Scottish so that wouldn't have happened.
It was always the same man reading the results. I don't think he ever took a holiday. In fact, he probably modelled for Tim, 'On the third stroke the time will be 4 15 and twenty seconds.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I've managed to find a new top to go over the new top I bought. Fortunately there were three women in the changing room at M&S advising their friend so I got them to advise me too. I really need someone to dress me.
Although I later discovered that M&S has an in-house style guru who will advise on colours and styles and help you choose outfits. And all for free. The trouble with something like that is that I would feel obliged to buy what she suggested even if I didn't like it. I suppose I could always take it back another day. When she wasn't there. Which she wasn't today.
That is dreadful: I just did a spellcheck and discovered I had spelt grateful as greatful. See, that's one of the signs of ageing I was talking about.
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