I don’t like photos of myself so of course I couldn’t take this seriously, Dido couldn’t either!
Julia has been to a conference this week and took advantage of the opportunity to talk about the childrens version of 100WC which is a huge success in schools around the world. She is always on the look out for people to visit and comment on the children’s writing so if you have a little spare time go and talk to her. The conference inspired her prompt this week, it was just a sea of faces.
Here is my tongue in cheek attempt.
I took a bow with the rest of the troop, one – two – three and the music started. It’d been a long time since I last performed that routine, I was desperate to keep up, one step wrong and we would have ground to a halt. I stopped looking at the audience, it was only a four-four beat, but I had to concentrate to get my feet right.
It was just a sea of faces, but I recognised Nina, Lori, Rossi, Louisa, even Dido and Daisy – goodness knows how they snuck in!
I don’t often swear but tonight . . . the air was blue. This week at work has been horrid, the third in a row and I’m fed up with being treated badly.
Last night I was supposed to be going out with friends, my turn to drive. I set off in heavy rain, to pick up friend number one about three miles away, but pretty soon turned back because I was aquaplaning, and the fifteen mile drive to friend number two would have involved three miles of winding, potholed, single track lane with high hedges, ditches on the sides and pitch darkness. Result, beans on toast and an early night instead of a nice pub dinner and a good belly laugh.
So today I arrive home from work with the beginnings of a bug that’s going around the office – people bring their germs to work these days to share, because if you go sick you have to face a ‘return to work interview’. If you are sick too often you get monitored and then sent to occupational health. Luckily, in the three plus years I’ve been there I’ve only clocked up two sick days.
I thought I’d sit with a cup of tea; check my email and WordPress reader to shake off the stress.
Of course the broadband didn’t work! I checked the connections, nothing happened. I reset the router, nothing happened. I turned it all off and back on again, nothing happened. I thought perhaps the same bad weather that stopped play last night may be causing the problem so l left it, cooked dinner, watched some TV and then tried again. And again, then I started swearing.
Eventually I called the broadband provider, was in a queue for twenty five minutes, and then I got cut off. I dialled again and after eighteen minutes I finally spoke to a girly that had me jumping through hoops, giving her an endless stream of passwords, mother’s maiden name and the date of birth of the cocker spaniel that belonged to my second cousin when she was five.
Next I had to unplug, re-plug, unscrew parts of sockets and rummage through drawers to find spare white plastic thingy’s that came with the original package four years ago. None of it worked and she told me she would have to get an engineer to call back and asked what time on Saturday would be best. Saturday, that’s not tomorrow, I squealed, how on earth could I manage until then? I could tell that she felt sorry for me but there was nothing she could do so I said goodbye with the thought that perhaps the time had come to check out some other providers.
While watching TV I had the company of a certain Border Terrorist, Dido, curled up beside me demanding that I gave her a tummy rub and giving me a look of disgust every time I paused for a second. This same fur baby has a wicker toy box below the shelf with the router. She gets frustrated when she can’t find her favourite toy of the day and chews on whatever she can find instead.
Have you guessed yet?
It’s laugh or cry time!
In my post earlier, photos in sepia tints for Cee’s Challenge, I mentioned being busy and that my grandmother used to say I would meet myself coming back. Seonaid from http://breathofgreenair.wordpress.com/ asked what I might say to myself if I did!
It’s an interesting thought isn’t it?
My snap reaction was ‘Oh no not you again’ but then I thought on.
‘Stop chasing your tail’
or maybe ‘Smell the roses’
‘We each have an alloted number of heartbeats, don’t waste them’
‘You spread yourself too thin’
‘But there’s so much world’
‘Have we met?’
‘Sloooww dooown’,'Where’s the fire’,'Tell me a story’,'Is it ready yet?’
So how to stop the relentless chase of life in our high tech world? Are you the same? are you always overloaded? Maybe you don’t see it as a problem, maybe I don’t. It’s just the way it is, I’m a Gemini, quicksilver. I want to experience as many things as I can in this lifetime with all of my senses. To meet and listen to as many people as possible, to have them share their stories, to touch people in some small way.
So tell me, are you the same? If so what would you say to yourself? If you can, maybe you could share with our community.
Seonaid, I suspect you’re far too mindful to rush around as much as I do!
Julia acknowledges that we may take the ‘left field’ with her prompt this week so I saw this as a double edged challenge.
From the Balcony
Parting is such sweet sorrow. Must I utter those words whilst spittle oozes from that pustular mouth? How many times must I spy the rise in his hose and the curl in his leer? He is too long in the tooth to dally as Romeo, canst thou not see? Whilst I, still a mere slip of a boy, I can still appear as a maiden fair, fresh from her mother’s breast.
Good Master Shakespeare, hear my plea, rid me of this Roman. My friend, bring me instead your countryman, the bonny Marlowe, the beauteous serpent to assuage my sorrow. Make haste, on the morrow.
the most ridiculous news story goes to . . .
Only in Essex, unless you can tell me otherwise?
I’m sure the ones in the photo above were delicious and very safe, photo by http://100cookbooks.wordpress.com/2013/01/09/dairyfree-vegan-flapjacks/
This made me laugh out loud, thanks to my friend Kathy.
As a small child I remember certain things that were supposed to be ‘good for me’. Back then I wondered if it was only me that these things were good for, I don’t remember any other children I knew that had these ‘good for you’ experiences. The earliest GFY was Cod Liver Oil, teaspoons of it. I can’t remember the taste, more the idea of it. I mean it hardly sounds appealing does it? Surely it might have been easier to swallow if it had been called Golden Smile Squash or something, any other ideas? Even as an adult – well outwardly, the idea of extracting oil from a cod’s liver is gruesome and quite strange. Who first thought of such a thing and how and when was it decided that it was GFY?
Next, when I was in infant school, a third of a pint of full cream milk in a glass bottle was thrust upon us every morning at play time. No doubt it was the government’s attempt to keep the countries children well nourished. Well it was wasted on me. The fact that I was made to drink it was guaranteed to make me rebel, but aside from that it made me sick. Luckily a willing victim grateful recipient in the shape of one of the Henry sisters was waiting for me to sneak it to her as soon as Miss King’s back was turned. I’ve never been able to drink a glass of milk and can only tolerate skimmed milk in hot drinks.
Also in school, where the classroom was converted into a dining room at lunchtime, ready to serve the dreaded green vegetables. I don’t think anyone liked them but everyone but me managed to eat them anyway. I would move them around my plate until they were stone cold and eventually teacher – who was probably desperate for her own lunch, took pity on me and let me out to play. That is until Miss Dunn arrived and saw me as her personal challenge. She would stand over me with a very stern face and a sharp tongue insisting that I would sit there until I had eaten it, or until class resumed. On one lovely sunny day I really, really wanted to play with my friends so I stuffed my cheeks, hamster fashion, with a couple of Brussel sprouts, smile sweetly and she let me go. Sadly for me she caught me just outside the door, spitting them down the drain. Headmasters office for me, but I’ve never, ever, eaten a sprout.
Medicine is GFY and when I was about ten with an ear infection; it was bright yellow anti-biotic pills, big enough to choke on. I’d never taken a pill before and these tasted nasty. The doctor suggested mixing them with something to disguise the taste, and at the time I had a craving for oranges. Tucking a pill into the flesh of my orange should do the trick it was thought. I cried and cried because all it did was spoil my orange. I suppose I must have taken the course of pills but I can’t remember it or imagine how.
All these memories were triggered by this evenings GFY experience. Green tea. A few years ago at the end of a Tai Chi class, green tea was served from a punch bowl, I tried a sip to be polite but as I wasn’t a tea drinker I didn’t expect to enjoy it. Since I had swine flu a few years ago I haven’t been able to drink coffee and so I have become a tea drinker, not bog standard tea, but Lady Grey or Earl Grey, and lately I’ve braved out and can do the odd Rooibos, all poncey stuff, according to most people. So perhaps I would now like green tea? Perhaps my palate has acquired the necessary degree of sophistication to appreciate its beneficial properties. Uh, no, I won’t be drinking that again. Good for me? Someone is having a laugh.
Julia doesn’t like Halloween, I can’t say I’m over keen either but it’s an excuse to be silly so here goes with A Recipe for a witch perhaps you would like to write one as well?
Five Century Cackle Buns
Take nineteen apples, bobbed and then spat out. Chop and mix into a litre of pepto bismol. Mince the fingers of seven ladies and soak them in mackerel juice for three Sabbaths.
Whisk all together with sprinklings of powdered caterpillar, the feathers of a dodo, the warts of a crone and an eyebrow from an Arctic chimp.
Bring to the boil, strain through a hermits sock, saving the mashings for later. Tip into fifty individual dragon’s egg shells and bake.
Mix the mashings with hair removal cream and spread over cooled buns.
Enjoy with a large mug of boiled bluebottles.