Skip to main content


Words from a Bird.  Day 80

We had a really early start this morning, as the husband had 'offered' to take daughter number two and her BFF to Luton Airport to kick off their week's skiing.  If I had taken them to the airport, I would have parked up, seen them and their luggage in and probably had a coffee with them, before bidding them a teary goodbye.  The husband slowed down for a twenty second period outside the departure gate and kicked them out onto the pavement, such was his resentment at daughter number 2 heading for the powder again. 

The Saturday Family Breakfast went well this morning. The drinks were hot and the food was quick.  You'll wonder why I even mention this, but history has taught us that neither of these is a given.  The conversation then turned to Nerdy Bags.  This is the name my sister has christened a rather large fabric carrier bag which slips neatly into its own zipped pocket to be used instead of the 5p emotional blackmail tax offered at every shop counter.  I got mine out, my aunt got hers out, my sister got hers out and she then gave my mum one, as she had no Nerdy Bag of her own.  I can't say that she was thrilled...the word 'polite' springs to mind.  Having taken the bag out of its handy pouch, it was most amusing watching her OCD brain try to fold it neatly enough to get the bloody thing back in again.

It was quite an exciting breakfast this morning as we were also celebrating my special friend Mrs W's 23rd birthday (again).  Breakfast tradition demands a Marks and Spencer Colin the Caterpillar Cake.  I have often wondered whether other supermarkets have similar cakes with brand-appropriate names.  Waitrose would probably name theirs Quentin, and Asda would have a Kyle.

So Colin was duly presented at the end of breakfast, ablaze with many, many candles (more than 23, that's for sure). 

'Come on then', says my sister.  'Give Colin a blow...'

Deathly silence round the table, rapidly followed by raucous laughter, which was rapidly followed by disapproving stares from the four spinsters of this parish sitting behind us.  We were going to offer them a bite of Colin's head, but decided that if we wanted to be allowed back next week, it might be better to keep quiet. There are so many eating establishments in Marlow where we can no longer show our faces, that we can't risk losing this one.

After Wednesday night's Chocolate Cake Poisoning Incident, I am trying to 'eat clean' again.  Slices of Colin wafted past me, little white chocolate feet mocking me as they tapped against the plates. 

Nobody ate Colin's head in the end.  I wish they had, as his eyes seemed to be following me round the table, saying, 'You know you want to'.

Well I didn't...and guess what?  I sort of felt quite proud of myself. 

Oh, and just a little pi**ed off...



Popular posts from this blog

Say goodbye...

Here's a question for you.  Why is it that when we are dieting, we say that we have 'lost weight'.  To me this implies that at some time in the not so distant future, we're going to find it again.  I like to imagine a 28lb blob of yellow fat in a three piece suit, winking lasciviously at me and saying, 'Oi skinny.  I've missed you.  Fancy letting me ride shotgun around those hips again?'
So instead of 'losing weight' I am getting rid of it.  Throwing it away.  Killing it.   Banishing it, never to be seen again.  Previous experience tells me that I will probably have old Blobby hanging back around my middle in a couple of years, once I've tired of leaves and crispbreads, but I am trying to do things slightly different this time.  Slowing down the stampeding rate I eat (I blame hurried school lunches for this), speeding up the walking, and being more aware of what I am doing and why I am doing it.
Someone once told me that if I ever felt like pickin…

Cold wind blows...

I don't know how cold it is with you at the moment, but I spent yesterday morning snapping the two furballs off various trees and posts as we attempted a walk before I went to work.  I had made the schoolgirl error of asking myself, 'Just how cold can it be?' before putting one extra sweater on beneath my walking coat.  I also had my Olga from the Volga fur hat, a scarf and gloves (to be fair, I've been wearing all of these since the middle of October).  Unfortunately, what I hadn't taken into consideration was the above the knee dress I was wearing to work yesterday.  I imagined that the extra warmth up top would somehow work its way to my knees.  
I was wrong.
Getting back indoors after forty five minutes of combat with The Beast from the East, I looked down at my legs.  Even with the black 100 denier tights I was wearing, I could see that my legs had taken on a slightly different hue to normal.  They were looking like two red pillar boxes, and it took ten minutes …

A man could go quite mad...

I have started to realise that there are many things about me which drive the husband mad.  When you first get together, those small faults are cute and a little bit quirky.  However, fast forward a couple of decades and they become a fairly acceptable excuse for manslaughter.  
I started thinking about this after the contretemps with the cutlery drawer a couple of weeks ago.  If you remember, the husband informed that that I was messing with his feng shui by putting the boiled egg spoons in with the dessert forks.  He only seemed to notice that I did this after I bought a new cutlery tray for the drawer, so I'm blaming Groupon for grassing me up.
The other thing is my snoring.  When we first met, this was described as 'endearing', and he told me that as he lay next to me at night, he used to smile to himself and listen to me.  This swiftly moved on to comparisons with a nasally challenged warthog, and more recently to a Boeing 747 with a noisy exhaust.  I'm considerate …