Saturday, 22 August 2015

Life with Young Adults #102

After extolling how quiet my 21 year old son is when he returns from his bar job in the small hours of morning he decided that making quesadillas at 5am was quite the norm and indeed a very quiet act. I can tell you it isn't! Every cupboard door opening, chopping ingredients on the chopping board, getting a frying pan out from all the other pans sounded like war zone. Why he also had to go up and down the stairs several times during the process I have no idea but he clearly used the squeaky stairs he told me he always avoids stepping on so as not wake me up. 

Needless to say a mum style Banshee joined in this cacophony of sound where upon I was told I was making to much noise as I hissed through my teeth Go to bed! 

It was night back from holiday, and across the house, 
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse... Except my son! My arse! 

Saturday, 1 August 2015

Whip it!

There I was wandering around M&S of a Friday teatime looking for treats ( it had to be done.) Taking a basket rather than a trolley to stop all those goodies jumping into my shopping cart I had already got my Dine in for £10, even though I had dinner sorted, pizza x3 for the ever hungry young adults when I sipied the old Walnut Whip. Chocolate is a must of a Friday evening and these are old favourites. But. Oh walnut whip what happened to you? They are smaller than before I am sure. The chocolate is definitely thinner and the walnut on top is the only nut you are going to get. This isn't the classic I remember. I'm sure if tried the sour apples they wouldn't be sour, black jacks would not stain your tongue to the same depth of colour, space dust wouldn't crackle quite as loud and Hubba Bubba's bubble wouldn't blow quite so big. 

Monday, 29 June 2015

What would you do?

There was a holiday. A blooming amazing one that I won, but more about that in other posts. The thing is there is a sour taste in my mouth from the final hotel. 4 nights we spent there. Breakfast included with everything to else to pay for. We ventured out for our food and drinks preferring to mix with the locals. $10 for a beach parasol and tips on the breakfast as all we spent there so we knew it was a cheap do. Until we got to check out. Nearly $500 had been charged to my room, signature forged and so on. A classic case of fraud by hotel member of staff. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! Don't worry, said the hotel after insisting I must have bought cheap gold jewellery from their overpriced store full of tat, we will do a full investigation and no charges will be applied until the outcome.Can you just stand in front of this security camera like a criminal to help u sin our investigation, they continued.
The charges went on the next day. It's taken over 3 weeks to realise it wasn't me and now I'm still waiting for refund. Here's the thing though. They've offered a refund for the wrongly charged purchases only. I'm stating that they should refund the credit card charges too as they're a direct result of charging when they said they would wait til post investigation. What would you do?

Oh and they had hair dryers with the shortest electrical lead ever which you could only use in the bathroom ( electricity in the bathroom !)

Sunday, 5 April 2015

Easter eggs, traditions and a trophy

Today is egg rolling day. An event handed down from mother it has been going now for .... many a decade. There was a brief dry period when we lost our urge to throw hard boiled eggs down a hill. Then it came back, revisited, reinvented like new series Dr Who, Sherlock or Poldark. It's competitive, there are rules, there's a trophy, sometimes a luge.  Like the Olympic Games of London 2012 or Tour De France grand depart  2014 it is as much around the build up, the food, the themed decoration, the entertainment as it is about lifting the trophy ( yes there is a trophy) above ones head.
Will it be longest reigning champion She-ra back from uni to claim her title? Or will my sisters family, always a bridesmaid never a bride, finally get the sticky chocolatey fingers on the prized silverware. My guess it will be a close call this year. With 14 participants  it's a full house, 2 huge joints of meat, a lot of bubbly, easter bunny on stand by and bunny napkins. Bring on the Egg Roll! 

Monday, 2 March 2015

Ageing process

As age seems to catching up on me I have some observations.
- never ever go anywhere without tweezers. Hairs grow in funny place and can spring up overnight. You may go on a long weekend with a face like baby and come back looking like part of Mumford & Sons
- those killers heels in the back of the wardrobe are going to stay there as you trade them for more sensible block heels 
- you can be taken by surprise by a fart that just slips out
- any appointment to do with you health ( see dr, optician, dentist etc ) will start with the sentence "at your age..."
- at my age I am wiser 
- at my age cynicism has set in
- there are some things just not worth worrying about
- there are no creams that get rid of wrinkles or hold back the ageing process
- there will always be gin in the house
- there are great pleasures to be had in the little things
Anyone wish to add to the list? 

Saturday, 14 February 2015

The fetid flannel

The shower has broken yet again. We have oodles of freezing cold water but no hot. I blame the electrics which are straight out of W Heath Robinson. I should do something about the electrics but the only reliable electrician in the village is straight out if A League of Gentlemen, complete with beige overalls with his name embroidered on the top pocket. He's only happy if he can spend his day between floor boards or in your loft. Sometimes you forget he's there and go to bed to the sound of wierd scrabbling noises. I digress.

We are fortunate enough to have a second bathroom in She-ra's room with a hand held mains supplied water. It's ok.

However today I was in a rush and opted for what I call a Carrie wash ( Homeland)  That is the hot flannel to those who don't know.  There is something rather comforting about a hot flannel on your face. Maybe it's the childhood memories it evokes. The warmth of flannel is most pleasant.

Squeezing out the excess water from said hot flannel, ready to enjoy a small comfort you can imagine my horror when I started to gag.

Within milliseconds I realised that this was no ordinary flannel. This flannel had been used prior. By my 20year old son post football match and was full of rank stake sweatiness. 

My nasal hairs were singed. My gagging reflex in overload. No amount of scrubbing, soap or perfume could remove the odour from my soul. I can still smell it now.