Words from a Bird

As we meander through Lockdown, The Sequel, I seem to lurch from one virtual quiz night to the next, the only excitement of the week being what outfit I am going to inflict on the poor husband on the Saturday night. So you can imagine his delight when the theme for this week's quiz was announced as being 'Black and White'.  'Well, that's easy', said the husband, 'James Bond for me.  What will you wear, one of your dresses?' Now this husband of mine has been dressed as various characters over the past eight months or so, including the Easter Bunny, Hugh Jackman, Guy Fawkes, a German bar tender and my own personal favourite, a rather naughty school boy .  And he honestly believes that I will be happy to work all week, and simply don a monochrome frock for the night?  He should really know better... So the face-paint is ordered, and the wigs on standby, and I promise photos for next week. Mind you, I've also ordered up some cans of spray paint for some

The virtual lockdown quiz night has a lot to answer for... Last night's theme was the colour orange, so the husband and I didn't really have to put too much thought into what we would be wearing. At 7.30pm, we donned a couple of his hi-viz orange work t-shirts, and spent the next three hours looking like a pair of road workers on the side of the M4. One bottle of wine later, this image became more relevant as I woke up this morning feeling like I'd been run over. Why do we never learn... Jolly Sock Man's father is Team Leader of the quiz nights, and as we finished last night, the shout came up for next week's quiz masters.  'We are not doing it again', muttered the husband in his best corner of the mouth voice.  'Don't offer, whatever you do'.  Well, like I said, a fine bottle of Rioja had received quite a battering from yours truly, so the husband shouldn't have been too surprised when I said, 'We'll do it'.  This was the cue for

So now that we are fully submerged into Lockdown, The Sequel, the Zoom quiz nights with Jolly Sock Man's parents have resumed. Last Saturday's was the first one, with the theme of 'Remember, remember, the 5th of November' etc, so I decided it would be a grand wheeze to dress as Guy Fawkes.  Now I have many things in my dressing up cupboard (used to be a suitcase, but we had to extend into the airing cupboard) but there was nothing remotely Fawkes-esque so I knew that there would have to be an element of DIY if I wanted to impress. I did find a couple of cowboy hats though, and armed with a couple of black flower pots, some duct tape and a whole load of glue, I finally managed to create something which wouldn't have looked out of place below the Houses of Parliament.  What finished the outfits off though was the postal delivery which arrived by the skin of its teeth on Saturday morning. 'The facial hair has arrived', I shouted up the stairs to the husband.  N

So another birthday creeps past in a flurry of birthday cards, flowers and gifts... What is it about birthday cards that it becomes more acceptable to insult the card receiver as they get older.  This year, I had one card with a row of naked bottoms on it, and one with a reference to preferring the taste of a sausage outside (camping reference in case you're worrying).  I've put these ones at the back of the shelf, leaving the ones with kittens, schnauzers and flowers vying for attention at the front.  I mean, you can't be too careful can you?  I wouldn't want to have to explain the one about the sausage to the vicar (explaining it to The Mother was bad enough). There were lots of lovely presents this year including flowers, perfume, and stuff for the garden, but the husband surpassed himself this year with his present for me. I am incredibly impressed that he managed to keep it a secret as I have a vague recollection of him hopping from foot to foot back in July, telli