There are boxes everywhere.
I can find nothing.
This does not please me.
Monday, 30 April 2007
Sunday, 29 April 2007
Assaut Course And Battery
It's quite impressive, I know, but I managed to trap myself in the corner of my bedroom today.
As some of you know, I've been moving house this weekend, and most of my stuff is packed up in cardboard boxes – and I have no hope of being able to unpack many of them until certain items of furniture have been delivered.
So, the boxes were transported and piled into my new room, and I could barely move for them. And I needed to swap the bed and the chest of drawers over (that is, the chest of drawers that was – quite typically – in the very far corner).
I do realise, of course, that I should have done this before the boxes arrived. I am not a complete fool.
Using very little skill and only the brute strength that comes about after a long bout of intense frustration, I got beside the chest of drawers and managed to shuffle the bed towards me just enough for me to flip the heavy mattress off the other side. The plan was that I would move the (now considerably lighter) bed as far as I could while the chest of drawers was still in the way, and then slowly shuffle the boxes round into the newly created space, one by one, – kind of like a giant version of those sliding puzzles you can get – and with the chest of drawers following last of all, leaving the space required for the bed to move the rest of the way across the room.
Unfortunately, what I didn't realise is that the slats on the bed are too close together for me to step between, and not stable enough for me to stand on; so, once the mattress had been removed, I couldn't get back over the bed.
I only said that I am not a complete fool.
I thought it was going to turn into one of those stories you see in magazines, where people tell of how they didn't realise somebody was missing for a whole two weeks. They just figured that they'd been really, really busy. Or they'd gone away. Or something.
Until one day they noticed "a strange smell".
That didn't happen, though – just in case you're wondering. I'm still very much alive and well. Albeit covered in bruises.
I made the choice instead to clamber over the boxes and hope that I didn't break anything. It was tough call, as I'm sure you can understand, but I stand by my decision.
Round 4: Architecture In The 1920s
I attended a quiz night tonight.
We did quite badly. But I find no shame in that.
I swear you'd have to be some kind of over-sixty anal retentive who's never left the house to be able to answer most of those questions correctly.
And why can't quiz masters feature music that I've actually heard at some point in my life, and not just raid their mum's old 45s? Is it too much to ask for a couple of nice, modern CDs to feature?
Mind you, if they were that technologically advanced, more of them would be able to figure out how their mics works before causing feedback so loud that nobody in the room will ever be able to hear that particular pitch again, then hardly being heard at all because the bloody thing isn't plugged in properly, and then giving up and just shouting.
Friday, 27 April 2007
Unwelcome Guest
Forget the hedgehog, there's a massive hornet in the shed.
Well, to be fair, I don't know that it is a massive hornet – I have no idea what passes for large in the hornet world – but it's definitely far too big to be a wasp, and it can't stay in there if it's likely to monster the boysies.
According to Wikipedia:
"It is not advised to kill a hornet anywhere near a nest, as the distress signal can trigger the entire nest to attack."
Now, I don't know how true that is, but I'm rather hoping that we can come to a peaceful conclusion.
Either that, or that there isn't a nest anywhere near the shed.
Hogfather
There's a hedgehog in the back garden.
I've taken a photo of it on my mobile phone, but it hasn't come out very well since it's dark outside and the light on my phone isn't very powerful.
I've also got a short video on my phone of a hedgehog in the back garden. Oddly, the date on it is one year ago today. Spooky.
Perhaps this hedgehog is going to visit me every year on 26th April? Perhaps it's some kind of sign.
A sign of what, though, I have no idea; but for now I'll take it as a sign to be on the lookout for fleas.
Monday, 23 April 2007
Rice With Death
How could I have not seen this before?
For about seven years now – SEVEN YEARS – we've been regularly visiting the same takeaway restaurant, and only now do I discover the shocking truth buried deep in a medium-sized font, in a reasonably prominent position near the bottom on the back page:
Dishes on this menu may contain allergies
I don't like those odds.
So, now I'm wondering: is it just the case that some of the dishes that may contain allergies, or am I some sort of miracle of nature to have made it through this many years without even contracting so much as hay fever?
EDIT: And exactly how difficult would it be to include a warning that dishes on this menu may contain peas?
Sunday, 22 April 2007
I Know What You Hid Last Summer
I want this:
Ferret sou'westers: practical yet stylish
I want two, in fact.
But – before you go thinking me some sort of monster for wanting to dress my ferrets in snazzy raincoats – please know that at least I would never do this to them (even when they have been stealing and hiding my stuff):
Ferret tassel hat: impractical yet tasteless
Apparently, there are people out there who would, however.
This frightens me enormously. But that's nothing to how frightened the ferrets should be.
Original Recording By Flanagan & Allen
The zombie rabbit debate continued this evening.
I'm sure that some pretty powerful words were exchanged in the argument, but I forget what they were now.
Still, I really think that this one could run, run, run.
Friday, 20 April 2007
The Lion, The Witch And The Jacket Pocket
Another blow dealt for my accounting skills.
Yes, I'm missing money again. 10 pence this time. Not terribly interesting or important, I'll grant you, but bloody annoying for me nonetheless.
How is this even possible? I just don't get it.
I've come to the conclusion that there's a rift in the space-time continuum somewhere inside my jacket. Either that or a lesser-known portal to Narnia.
I'm just really hoping that it's in one of the pockets that I don't tend to put my hands in.
And that random children don't suddenly erupt from it one day and startle me.
Thursday, 19 April 2007
Ultimate Street-Duck Fighter
The front garden was a venue for duck fighting last night.
I've no idea exactly what the quarrel was, but there were feathers everywhere. There still are today, in fact.
Naturally, upon hearing the racket last night, I immediately rushed outside to offer my intervention. In the form of stale bread (to be fair, it would have been fresh bread, had I had access to any).
Unfortunately for me, however, I was considerate enough to not throw dry stale bread for the ducks, so I ended up with something akin to wallpaper paste all over my fingers.
I'm reminded of some kind of World Eating Contest that I once had the misfortune to witness, in which a tiny slip of a Japanese bloke ate a frightening number of hot dogs (among many other, infinitely more disgusting, things). His technique with the bread part involved dunking them in his glass of water before shoving the soggy mass down his gullet.
Knowing what I know now, I'm amazed that he did that and lived.
And I'm also hoping that I haven't inadvertently made three ducks horribly ill.
Wednesday, 18 April 2007
Cough, Please
So, after being repeatedly nagged, I finally saw a doctor about my cough.
Well, I say "doctor". Actually, I saw a nurse, but I'm sure that's just as good.
And did she find anything wrong with me?
Of course not.
So, there. I shall just carry on hacking away, disturbing everyone around me, happy in the knowledge that I am actually perfectly healthy.
It's all good.
Tuesday, 17 April 2007
Fastest Finger First
Why would an articulated lorry have a sign on its back warning of a finger trap?
Surely, if such a thing was designed to actually trap fingers, then displaying a sign drawing people's attention to its presence would defeat the object. Unless, I suppose, the point is to trap the fingers of all the silly types of people that would see a notice like that, think "finger trap, eh? We'll see about that…" *snap* "Argh!"
I guess that would be one way of getting idiots off the streets. Possibly quite a good way, actually. I might have to look into getting a gadget like that for the back of my car.
It seems more likely to me, however, that this is not, in fact, a plot to capture unwary bodily parts, but a genuine warning. However, this then raises the question of exactly why has a self-confessed finger trap been put there at all?
There's another option, I suppose. Perhaps these signs are designed to put off would-be criminals by suggesting that it's really not worth their time or trouble to attempt to break into the lorry's trailer? I mean, you see signs warning of "guard dogs" being on duty, or trespassers being shot. Perhaps these advertisements for impending digit snaring are also of this ilk.But, even so, the prospect of possibly getting your fingers a bit tangled up doesn't seem quite as dangerous or sexy as facing down angry, slavering and pointy-toothed death, or being shot in the arse with an air rifle.
I'm afraid I just don't get it. Comments or suggestions welcome.
Monday, 16 April 2007
No Pea Plea
I would like to politely request that peas be outlawed.
And, no, I do not believe that this is unreasonable of me.
This plea has come about as the result of a nightmarish experience that I had this afternoon. I was ambushed. By my food, of all things.
I bought a pasty from the nice trolley lady (the lady with the food cart, not a grotesque dwarf lady who lives under a bridge) and I made a horrific discovery.
Yes. It was peas. Well done, you, for guessing. You can have a gold star.
Now, it is my opinion that this type of food booby-trapping should not be allowed! I should be able to enjoy what is, in my experience, normally a wholesome, enjoyable and, most importantly, completely-devoid-of-peas food item in a safe and non-threatening legume-free environment.
It is simply not acceptable that my lunchtimes be terrorised by extraneous vegetables. Especially not ones that I dislike intensely.
We live in a world in which companies have to point out to people that coffee may, in fact, be hot; that peanuts may, incredibly, contain nuts; that you should not use a hairdryer to dry your hair whilst you are still in the shower; and that carelessness causes fire. So, even if an outright ban on peas is not feasible, would it not – at the very, very least – be reasonable for caterers who feel the need to tamper with long-established recipes, such as those for pasties, to supply a warning on their resulting unholy and sacrilegious creations to that very effect?
A catastrophe could have been averted today, if only somebody had shown a bit of initiative. After the cooking process, that is. They showed quite enough in the early stages, thank you very much.
And, no – before any of you pea-defenders out there start on me – peas are not "inoffensive". Why is it that the best word that anybody can think of to use in their defence is that one? Nobody has ever tried to convince me that peas are "nice" or "tasty", or in any way likely to contribute to an enjoyable culinary experience… No, the best I ever hear is that peas should not cause me offence.
Well, they do. They upset me greatly.
And, anyway, inoffensive is such a broad term. I find postboxes inoffensive. I see no offence in hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, or other such rodents. I take no umbrage at pine furniture.
I have never felt affronted by Bruce Forsythe.
But I wouldn't appreciate seeing any of those things wrapped up in pastry and masquerading as my lunch. No matter how hungry I was. And sometimes I get very hungry indeed.
I once discovered a rogue pea in a curry. For the record, it was a very hot curry – either a vindaloo or a phall – and there was a random pea lying, maliciously, in wait for me. A malevolent, sneaky ninja pea which I inadvertently ate. And, despite all the strong spices and flavourings of the curry, I could still taste it. And it tasted bad. Very bad. In fact, if I had not been able to taste its peaish nastiness, how else could I have possibly known that it had been there, eh?
Now, I'm not well up on my fairy tales, but I'm fairly certain that this was one of those tests that demonstrates whether or not a person is actually a princess. And I shall be looking into this.
And – rest assured – should I find out that I am a princess, I shall be rallying royal support for my anti-pea campaign.
And using the words peas and inoffensive in a sentence together will become tantamount to treason, so be warned.
Sunday, 15 April 2007
I've Found My 18 Pence!
Well, actually I've found 2 pence. But I've also realised today that I'd transposed two figures, and wasn't 18p adrift at all.
So, in fact, I'm now 2p up. Result!
So, only partially incompetent, then. And to think that I used to work in Payroll.
Do Zombies Wear Helmets?
Whilst playing Rayman Raving Rabbids on my friend's Wii:
Me: Are you sure they're not zombie rabbits? They're coming out of graves.
Friend: Yes, but they're wearing helmets.
So, then: being undead and wearing protective headgear… Mutually exclusive?
Discuss.
Friday, 13 April 2007
There's Something Nasty In The Woodshed
There is a spider in the shed that is almost as big as my head. I am not impressed by this.
It's so big that I've got these horrible images of me going in there to feed the ferrets and it leaping off the window and attaching itself to my face, before implanting an alien in my chest that will burst out unannounced the next time I'm eating with friends; hide behind some shelves for a bit, whilst growing to a height of approximately eight feet; then slowly pick my friends off, one at a time – some it will kill and others it will take back to its queen to face a fate of bondage and more giant spiders – with its huge claws and lightning fast inner jaw. And, if anyone tries to attack it, it'll bleed everywhere and burn holes in the carpet.
I'd hate that.
Wednesday, 11 April 2007
The Squirrel Conundrum
I've lost 18 pence. It's quite worrying.
For the last few days, I've been keeping a meticulous log of all my outgoings – from the money in my bank, right down to the cash in my wallet.I reconciled my cash at the weekend, and it was spot-on. Now, suddenly, I'm 18 pence adrift.
Of course, I don't in any way consider this to be a large or important sum of money. I'm just scared by the fact that I seem to be either unable to count, completely incompetent, or a combination of both.
I got rather upset whilst driving my car this afternoon. And I don't mean in the shouting-at-bad-drivers kind of way.
An animal of some kind – I think it was a squirrel, but I couldn't be certain in all the excitement – ran out of the road in front of me.
I braked as hard as I could, but I still heard a sad little thud.
Luckily, however, when I looked in my rear-view mirror I saw the same animal finish darting across the road and disappear off into the woods. So it was neither dead, crippled nor stunned at that point.
Now, there's something loose inside my boot (not a euphemism, before you start) that donks against the car when I go round tight bends. I'm desperately hoping that the sound I heard was of that hitting the back of the boot when I hit the breaks, and that no squirrels were harmed in the making of this journey home.
Tuesday, 10 April 2007
Egg Balancing
I conferred today with other people who also had a Cadbury's Creme Egg Minis Easter Egg this year.
The consensus seems to be that the standard number of actual Creme Egg Minis that you should expect to find inside one of these Easter Eggs is a less-than-impressive two. Not great, I'm sure you'll agree; but since two is more than one, the manufacturer is not technically inaccurate here in their use of the word minis. Personally, however, I do consider it rather cheeky.
Anyway, the nature of balance in all things leads me to subsequently conclude from this revelation that if some of us have only received one of these miniature chocolate eggs when the standard is set at two, then somewhere out there are people who got three.
Which can ultimately mean only one thing:
Somebody has got my Creme Egg.
So, if this is you, please feel free to either pop the superfluous egg in the post – to the usual address, or just leave it on top of my car.
Thank you.
Sunday, 8 April 2007
The Curious Case Of The Elusive Easter Eggs - SOLVED
We have Easter Eggs! Yay!
After traipsing across the countryside in search of an even bigger supermarket than the ones we'd tried already (in the hope that bigger does necessarily equal better), but finding it closed, we eventually found overly-expensive salvation sitting on the shelf in our local corner shop.
We don't have much, but we have something. I am happy now.
Alright, so perhaps this particular case hasn't actually been solved in the strictest (or, in fact, any) sense of the word; but my part in the investigation will be ending here, since I've got what I came for. And, after all, that's all that's really important, isn't it?
Interestingly, though, today's excursion has demonstrated to me that potential Police Trap Cars are a heck of a lot easier to spot when the supermarket is closed all day.
Saturday, 7 April 2007
The Curious Case Of The Elusive Easter Eggs
Where the hell are all the Easter Eggs?
I was promised last-minute Easter Eggs today, but nobody seems to be selling them anymore. The sole exception is our local Somerfield, who have row upon row of Creme Egg Minis ones. But I'm not falling into that trap again.
I guess it doesn't help that supermarkets start selling Easter food in January (in fact, if I didn't know better, I'd guess that the eggs actually lie in ambush on the shelves behind the Christmas chocolate) – you could hardly expect all of the shops to remain fully stocked right up to Easter weekend when they start so bloomin' early – but, even so, I'm still a little surprised by this.
Whatever is going on?
Has there been a grand heist about which elaborate and exaggerated stories of intrigue and skulduggery will be passed down to future generations for centuries to come?
"Come sit on yer old Grandad's knee and let me tell you all about the time that they tried to steal Easter…"
Are we living in times of a national Easter Egg shortage? And, if so, does that mean that there'll be a ban in the summer?
Is it a conspiracy? Everyone loves a conspiracy. Is there an embargo because I've been moaning about my meagre Creme Egg Minis ration? Perhaps they're all out to get me. Maybe the stores have all got plenty of Easter Eggs left in stock, but they've set up special revolving shelves just for whenever I walk in. Everybody else gets to go in and browse a veritable cornucopia of seasonal chocolatey goodies, and all I get to choose from is some toothpaste, a few biscuits and some fleece blankets?
Any other ideas or, indeed, answers? I'd be interested to hear them.
Friday, 6 April 2007
Kinder Surprise Watch
Not dreadfully exciting, but they're currently on offer in my local supermarket, so I felt the need to splurge.
Today's yield consists of a pink Cadillac, a mustard yellow sports car, a glorified colouring crayon in a hat (disappointingly, my second of these) and a boss-eyed, yet satisfyingly furry, lilac-coloured monkey chap.
Part of me is certain that toys made more sense back in my day, but I'm probably wrong.
Alarmingly, on second inspection the monkey looks a bit like Robbie Williams in a purple chimp suit.
Thursday, 5 April 2007
How Many Creme Egg Minis Does It Take To Fill An Easter Egg?
I confess I've just opened an Easter egg a little early.
I did have my reasons, but they are too dull to go into in any great detail. I will simply say that they involved the craving for something sweet, and something that I once heard on the BBC about an ingredient in chocolate being good for coughs.
And I have one hell of a cough right now.
Yes, yes… I'll see a doctor next week. Honest.
Still, I was a little bemused to discover that the promised "bag of Cadbury Creme Egg Minis" supposedly enclosed within the hollow chocolate egg was actually more a "bag of Cadbury Creme Egg Mini".
In fact, they could really have not bothered with bagging it at all. What were the makers worried would happen? It might scatter all over the floor when I separated the halves?
The (somewhat blurry and badly photographed) lie
The shocking reality
It's a sad (and deeply disappointing) day when confectionery manufacturers don't know the difference between singular and plural.
That'll Bloody Learn Me! You'd hope.
And there was me defending Grumpy Ferret's honour by claiming that he'd been really good and not-really-very-bitey recently.
I believed it. I honestly did.
But first, a bit of background:
There is a certain blue, knobbly squeaky toy that the boys play with sometimes. It's actually quite stiff, so they never cause it to squeak themselves, but if I pick it up and squeak it for them they go wild.
Admittedly, I've never been terribly certain if this is because they really love the sound of it squeaking, or they really hate the sound. I'm actually still not too sure, but Biscuits definitely got a little over-excited this last time.
As did I, in fact, after he had leapt up and given the bottom of my thumb the Grip of Death.
I'm not proud of it, but I think I nearly strangled him in my attempts to dissuade him. All he decided to do, however, was take this as an opportunity to adjust his grip and clamp down again.
I have counted a total of 10 toothmarks on my hand, half of them bleeding slightly. I also have an attractive lump of flesh that is now only attached in one place by a thin piece of skin. This can be flipped in and out of the surrounding hand on demand.
And I actually swore very loudly when I cleaned this particularly nasty wound up, which isn't like me.
Well, swearing loudly is very much like me; but being such a girl about a little bit of antiseptic really isn't.
The final outcome?
Well, he's right back in the naughty books. Although, I did later let him lick my nose as a show of good faith.
I guess I never will bloody learn.
Tuesday, 3 April 2007
Things I've Learned From… Ghost Stories [Part 2]
- 6. Timing:
- All the bad things effecting you will ultimately build up to a simultaneous crescendo.
Analysis:
- Look on the bright side: yes, your home may be haunted and the spirits of troubled and crazed dead people trying to kill you; but once it's all reached its peak, the air will be cleared. And all your personal problems will somehow be magically resolved as well.
- 7. Family Pets:
- Animals will not be happy staying somewhere that's haunted, and will try to escape at every opportunity.
Analysis:
- Just because you're far too insensitive, stubborn and/or sceptical to believe there's such a thing as a ghost, and even though it's tantamount to animal cruelty, force your pets to tolerate being scared witless every time you take them home. After all, they're probably just being melodramatic because it's a new and unfamiliar place. And you can understand that; the place makes you rather uneasy too. But it certainly isn't haunted: you don't believe in things like that.
- 8. Family Pets That Have Succeeded In Running Away:
- As soon as the aforementioned simultaneous crescendo has been reached, lost pets will come bounding back home.
Analysis:
- Once something leaves your field of vision, it technically no longer exists: it goes into a kind of stasis. You therefore never have to worry about lost pets, since life will be unable to throw anything nasty at them whilst they are out of your care. As soon as the aforementioned simultaneous crescendo has occurred, they will come happily trotting home uninjured, and as if nothing had happened. Then you'll have to start feeding and looking after them again.
- 8. Coincidence:
- Strike this word from your vocabulary.
- There can be no such thing as a coincidence, because that would look far too fabricated.
Analysis:
- Everything in life is part of some bigger, totally convoluted – and sometimes utterly unbelievable – plan. No, really, it is.
Well, I've finally finished reading it. It took long enough.
Not the author's best by quite some way, I'm afraid.
Or, rather, I'm not afraid, which is what actually seems to be the problem.
Monday, 2 April 2007
"The Night Seems To Fade…"
I keep getting Kingston Town in my head on loop.
It's been happening for a couple of days now. I wish I knew what was triggering it.
I know that the short bit of music that Windows plays when it starts up sometimes leads me to have Livin' On A Prayer by Bon Jovi in my head, as it reminds me of part of the instrumental in the middle. I can sort of understand that, but this recent invasion of UB40 seems totally random.
I also now keep being haunted by Ravel's Bolero and a random Queen number crossed with one of the songs from the movie Labyrinth.
If anybody has any suggestions or insights into this – or if you just think that I'm going off my rocker – please feel free to let me know.
Sunday, 1 April 2007
One Month On…
And I still have this bloody cough.
If only that statement was an April Fool's Day gag.
I keep getting nagged at to consult a doctor, but I'm stalling: I don't get on with doctors. They just don't seem to like me.
I've been browsing WebMD. I can see why that's a dangerous thing to do if you scare easily. Just by looking up my coughing symptoms alone, I've already been pointed in the direction of whooping cough, bronchitis, tuberculosis and the Black Death.
Oddly, though, it's the idea of seeing a doctor that bothers me the most.
More on this exclusive and fascinating story as it breaks.
Aren't I good to you?
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