Those Thing We Do

I may have put this up a while ago, but I just came across the video again on Youtube and it really cheered me up so I'm putting it up again.



That's from left to right Megan 'cheap flip-flops knicker thrower' Perriman, Me, Alison Burket and Alison '10ft tall screamer' Wallis...hehe...we had all commented before the taping that Alison W was wearing quite a revealing outfit and yes she has always been THAT gobby....and poor Megan, the only reason the flip-flops got picked up was because she had been given a pair of knickers to throw and had decided to take the things off her feet to 'whip' the pants off easily...which hit Graham Norton when she did....it's always the quiet ones.

Spring.....For a Day

Well, wasn't yesterdays British weather cunningly disguised as a lovely spring day (so much so that I am already demonstrating another British trait....the English(wo)man's tan)....as opposed to what transcends as a 'Spring' day today. And I got out and about too, to what is fast becoming a favourite spot to wile away a few hours with a good book.

There's a patch of grass several hundred yards shy of Ferring which has a fairly unspoilt view of the Downs to the north and is a mere 'brow of a hill' away from the beach, where a multitude of people gather on a sunny day. This is partly why I am partial to the area, as I can happily amuse myself while being happily amused by others, who are happily unaware they are being amusing. (This is a trait to which my fathers DNA has to be directly responsible, and which my mother is in despair of whenever my father and I put in an appearance together amongst the general public)

So, I do like to keep my ears open when I'm out and about and a grassy knoll just below a beachfront footpath is the perfect place....admittedly in the time it takes for a person to walk by it is a mere snippet of conversation, leaving much up to the imagination (much like flicking through TV channels in an ad break) but that too can be just as interesting.

Some things, however, should just never be overheard by the greater populace. For example the following snippet from a couple of lady cotton tops:

CT 1 "It's the done thing you know, the fashion, it makes it smooth"
CT 2 "Doesn't it chafe?"
CT 1 " I would presume so.....but then if you were orange you wouldn't want it matching would you"

Like I said, imagination......of which I, apparently, have in abundance.

Something in the Air

This morning when I popped out to get the daily rag I noticed a funky smell in the air. As I crumpled my nose against the obnoxious fumes I realised I had a bag of kitchen rubbish in my hand, which I duly deposited into the dustbin at the end of the drive. I turned into the road to walk the few hundred yards to the newsagents, but a few paces in I once again noticed an offensive odour, had I in avertedly trodden in a deposit from the local mongrel community. I duly checked the soles of my shoes….all clean. Slightly puzzled I bought my newspaper (a term which loosely describes the Daily Mirror….but then I only really buy it for Andy Capp) and turned back to the house. The hairs in my nostrils continued to burn away from the odd smell likened only to what farmers spray on the fields….ah, farmers, that must be it, though admittedly those fields are a fair way off, but then there has been a prominent wind in the last couple of days…..and I can smell a bag of doughnuts a half a mile away so it is indeed possible.

It was only when reading the Beeb’s news online did I find I had almost been right in my assumption of the source of the smell….which is apparently….er….Mainland Europe. The strong Easterly winds we have been experiencing have brought to us all the polluted air across the channel and have been accosting sensitive noses all along the South of England…..One more utterly repugnant article to come out of Brussels then.

I realise that not everybody has yet been informed that the odour stems from our European neighbours…..and I’m slightly humoured by the fact that many thousands will be checking for ‘fudge’ smears on the bottom of their shoes for the rest of the day.

Oh....nearly forgot...I hereby dedicate this post to my sister who's Birthday it is today.....take from that what you will.

6 Unimportant Things About Me

I surfed over to cyberspace.....cadet Fireflymoms blog ( http://packofhungrysnails.blogspot.com/ ) the other night and read six things that, although titled as unimportant, were interesting, insightful and borderline obsessive compulsive....and since I was tagged by merely letting my eyes roam over the words on the screen, I feel the need to reciprocate.....although I make no apologies for any odd, geeky randomness which I divulge, so without further ado (your on the edge of your seat I can tell)....Here's 6 Unimportant Things About Me:

1.) I have an interest in the paranormal and, until recently, belonged to a local investigation group who would visit hotels, pubs, houses, castles, woods, gibbets, stone circles and other mysterious areas of interest armed with an allsortment of scientific gizmo's (alas no Proton packs) in an attempt capture a 'Slimer', 'E.T.' or simply disappear into the 'Twilight Zone'.

2.) I hate tomatoes with a passion, can't stand the smell or taste and hate to touch them (which wasn't too much fun whilst working in a supermarket....bag that fruit and veg people!!!).....I do however love Ketchup, go figure.

3.) I once cheated in a sandcastle making competition whilst on holiday at Pontins on the Isle of Wight in 1985 or 6. My castle collapsed while I was digging out the moat, I got all upset and when the kids club host asked me what was wrong I told him another child had trodden on it....nobody owned up, obviously, when he asked for the culprit to come forward and so I won by default....a pencil with the islands famous multi-coloured sand in a glass tube on the end was the prize, which I think I broke shortly thereafter......My sister came second with her Fort like castle design (she would have won if I hadn't gone all hissy fitish, so sorry bout that sis).

4.) I love nothing more than to become engrossed in a bit of research, be it for an essay (not so keen on the actual writing part) a question someone has asked me or my own interests. I will endeavour to thoroughly know the subject or at least know enough to get by......if you ever need to know , who that guy was in that film about the wotsit set in thingymebob, what the legend is surrounding the Yew tree forest at Kingley Vale, which 'Friend' was once in a British advert for Ketchup or the socio-cultural aspects of the televisual representations of Robin Hood....I'm your girl.

5.) I have a large collection of television theme tunes (2,000 and change)...old, new, classic, rare...you name it I've got it, because, lets face it, sometimes the theme tune is the best part of the show.

6.) According to a tour guide in Boston, Ma, my accent is indistinguishable in terms of what region I come from in the UK....The guide said he could place any person merely by listening to them say a few sentences, but couldn't fathom where the heck I was from....This may have been due to the fact that I had travelled through Australia, New Zealand, Canada and various parts of the US before I had reached Boston and had picked up various pronunciations and slang terms along the way, causing my normal British Southern accent to morph into a hybrid of regional colloquialisms with a prominent Aussie twang....to this day....7 years later....the Aussie twang makes itself known when pronouncing certain words, especially after watching an omnibus of Home & Away.

So there you go...if you have a blog and wish to enlighten you are hearby 'tagged'.

Eee Gads

Whilst watching Britain's Got Talent (for the record I was only waiting for Pushing Daisies to start and for the most part.....No they don't) a young girl played a fab bit of classical music on the piano.....I informed Pete, my housemate, that when I was young I could play a flawless rendition of 'Suicide is Painless' on the keyboard.....Pete asked 'What's that?'....'The theme tune to M*A*S*H' I replied....'What's Mash?' Pete puzzled......I resisted the urge to slap my televisually challenged young friend upside the head, while I contemplated the best way to stop the aging gene.

....But They Don't Fall Down

I managed a jaunt into town and back today, without the need for stabilisers, hazard lights or an emergency crew on stand by.....okay so I chose to amble rather than my usual brisk walk, but that was mainly because I felt the need to observe spatial awareness towards those pesky little critters who seem to throw obstacles into my path when I least expect it...you know the ones I mean....your walking along a perfectly straight and flat piece of carpet/pavement/grass when all of a sudden you catch your foot on an ridge or divot which, upon closer inspection, has mysteriously disappeared causing those around you to believe you're a.) wearing shoes from 'Clowns footwear 'R' Us' and b.) are ever so slightly mad due to the meticulous nose to ground inspection of the area muttering about the 'Stumble Sprites'.

So yay me for mastering the ability to walk....next weeks activities include: eating with a fork AND a knife, reading something other than the comics in the newspaper, using oven gloves to remove cooked food from the oven and learning the distinction between actual food, which constitutes dinner, and a packet of crisps.

Weebles Wobble

For those wondering, yes I am still alive....look here I am *waves*. I am however down in the dumps.

First, my computer developed a USB port problem, as in I couldn't use the damn things.....It's amazing how much stuff gets plugged in to those little buggers and I've been listening to the same songs on my MP3 for approximately 6 months....so vital TLC was needed (mainly because I may actually turn into a 70's disco dancer if I listen to 'Ma Baker' one more time). Naturally the problem wasn't an easy fix and was directly related to the virus of a couple of months ago.....so, blah, blah, techno babble, blah, blah and I eventually get my computer back.

In the mean time, I had wandered into town during an utterly abysmal day; rain coming in sideways mixed with a slushy ice mix is a favourite weather condition of mine. On the way I passed a lady, on a particularly narrow part of the pavement, who had her face buried in a book (now I'm normally an advocate for broadening ones literary horizons, but what happened next is probably why such activities are best kept to park benches and comfy couches.....besides not sure Jordan's autobiography can really be classed as 'literary' ) As I gave the woman some extra space in passing, since she hadn't acknowledged my existence, my foot slipped off the wet kerb, I bent my ankle at an angle which should only be practiced by gymnasts, managed not to fall into the path of the oncoming traffic. I felt ligaments tear away from bone and grabbed onto nearby fence as I sent forth a deluge of choice phrases, which no doubt educated the mother and toddler on the opposite side on the road......I spent the next few minutes pondering, between waves of intense pain, how I was going to make it to my appointment (a further ten minutes walk away) and watched the book-reading figure disappear without so much backward glance.

Later that afternoon I wrapped the ballooning ankle in a wet towel and attempted to thaw/dry out from my utter drenching (waterproof jacket my arse).

That was a week ago, I have since been through several stages of 'Ouch'....currently the setting is hovering around the 'fine as long as I don't rotate it to the right' mark. Oh, and I have learned that when crossing the road at a pelican crossing (that's the one with the red and green man for those who don't know) I am apparently expected to go from 'hobble' to 'sprint' at the sound of a revving engine as soon as the green man starts to flash, no matter where my position on the highway.....the educating continues as I demonstrate my sign language to said motorist.

So, like I said I have the computer back and everything was fine...for about two days at which point Internet freezing, abundance of pop-ups and sloooooooooow connection just possibly indicates a problematic event....I guess I'd better be on the lookout for cracked paving slabs, dodgy curbs, wayward pedestrians and of course those pesky pebbles (see entry Jan 24th 2008) as if the cycle of problems continues I see a broken appendage in my future.

Right I'm off to eat my leftover Easter 250g slab of Dairy Milk, and by eat I mean devour..... quite possibly followed by throwing up.....Then settle down to watch the finale of Torchwood....and if the rumour mill is true I'd better have a box of tissues handy!