Friday, 24 April 2015

The Future Me

I CAN'T help it if I'm gearing up to be one of those woman who die alone and is eaten by her cats. I like cats. In fact, I like cats better than I like a lot of people. 

Not that I'm yet wandering the streets with half a dozen cats in a pram talking to myself and swearing at random passers-by - no matter how tempting that sounds. 

And I'm not one of those women who lives in a house with 56 cats, all pooping where they please. I live with a normal-ish man and just one cat. None of us poops where we shouldn't. Not even after a night on the beer (that's the man, not me or the cat). 

But I found the picture below on the internet and I fear this is how I'm going to end up - aggressive, friendless, toothless, badly-dressed (have already achieved that one) and living with my cats. Can't wait.

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Thursday, 23 April 2015

Long-Tailed Tits In A Tree

IN an effort to prove to my sister Doubting Thomasina that I get long-tailed tits in my garden, I took this picture of them in a tree.

I think I was a bit late.

Bloody things.

May as well tell her I get golden eagles.

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Wednesday, 22 April 2015

Man Shoots Computer

Come on computer, make my day

WE'VE all been there. You're sitting at your computer with lots of work to do and it starts to go slower than a snail on Valium. Or some Russian gangster inserts a Trojan horse into your registry and suddenly a virus is galloping its way through your system and before you know it you're being charged for buying an old Second World War tank and a load of spiv gear from Russianmafia R Us. 

So I wasn't particularly surprised to hear that a man from Colorado Springs in America became so enraged with his computer that he took it outside and shot it eight times. It was - you won't be surprised to hear - completely destroyed. 

Unfortunately Lucas Hinch was arrested on charges of discharging a firearm within the city.

According to friends and family, Mr Hinch is a nice man but he cracked under the strain of doing battle with his computer day after day. In a fit of fury he took it to the back alley by his house, stood it up against a wall and shot it.  As you do.

I wonder if he asked it if it had any last requests?

"Please, could you just switch me off and on for one last time....."

Now Mr Hinch, who said he didn't know he was breaking the law, has to face the judge. I hope he is lenient.

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Friday, 30 January 2015

Thursday, 4 December 2014

Tips To Get You Through Christmas

Around My Kitchen Table
DON'T worry, it will soon be over – the family fights, the tantrums, the crocodile tears and the melodrama.

Yes, that’s the EastEnders Christmas special done for another year.

I hope the rest of us are well on the way to preparing for a joyous occasion. And to make the festive season go without a hitch, I have some tips to avoid the Christmas pitfalls.

  • Be sparing with the red food colouring, otherwise your Christmas nibbles will look like you’ve accidentally sliced open an artery while cooking.
  • Do not blindly follow last year’s Christmas card list. A certain percentage will have died, divorced, had a sex change or moved to Timbuktu, probably to get away from Christmas.
  • Never do those Christmas quizzes which ask for things like your month of birth and the first letter of your name so they can ascertain your “Christmas fairy” name – not unless you want to be called Sparkly Knickers for the rest of your life by your young niece.
  • Always leave your Christmas lights carefully wrapped around cardboard to avoid hours of frustration and rage as you try to untangle them, only to find three hours and a bucket of tears later they don’t work because one of the hundred bulbs has blown.

  • Wrap up a box of chocolates so that if someone you weren’t expecting turns up with a present you can quickly write on the tag and give it to them, as if they were on your mind all the time. Make sure it’s chocolates you particularly like yourself so that if they’re not needed you can eat them after Christmas. Actually, better be on the safe side and wrap up two boxes of chocolates, plus a couple of bottles of red wine and maybe some nice perfume and that scarf from M&S you’ve had your eye on for a while.

  •  Do not offer to make Christmas decorations with children under the age of 10. By the time you’ve finished with all that glue, glitter and tinsel you will look like Liberace’s doppelganger. 
  • Don’t believe parents when they tell you their children are “just as happy playing with a cardboard box as the present inside”. I can assure you, you will get some very sideways looks if all you give their child is the old box your Amazon books came in. There’s just no pleasing some people.
  • Gentlemen, do not buy your wife any kitchen appliance, “sexy” red underwear that’s too risque for a burlesque dancer or a woolly bed jacket that’s too boring for your granny, or a box set of Top Gear DVDs, a car-cleaning kit, any book by a super-model that tells you how they lost two stone in a week, or a Black and Decker drill – not unless she has expressly requested such a gift or you don't mind said gift being inserted into an orifice.
  • Remember, just because that liqueur tastes like melted toffee swooshed around in cream, it still contains alcohol. A few glasses before cooking dinner is not recommended – as I found out one year when it was my turn to host Christmas dinner. Since then we have always eaten at my sister’s house, but I’m sure that’s a coincidence. Probably.

  • Don’t forget to say well done to ALL the children in the nativity play, even though your nephew, Third Shepherd From The Right (the one with the crooked tea towel on his head kicking the child next to him) was the best by a country mile.
  • Disconnect the front door bell so that if unwanted in-laws turn up, you can pretend you haven’t heard them.
  • And finally, sweep the chimney, hang up your stocking and wait for Santa to bring you everything you have ever wished for.

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Sunday, 26 October 2014

Spelling It Out

Around My Kitchen Table

PEOPLE think I'm a grammar and spelling Nazi, but I'm not. I couldn't care less if you don't know the difference between your and you're or its and it's - unless it's (not its) your (not you're) job to know.

The dearly beloved is a cabinet-maker. He's not brilliant at spelling but then, I couldn't knock up a beautiful Welsh dresser if you gave me all the state-of-the-art tools in the world and a year to finish it. Each to his own.

However… if you're (not your) a person who makes their (not there) living with the written word then you should be able to spell the damn word. It's a part of the skill-set. I don't expect a brain surgeon to tell me they are  darn good at their job, well, apart from the slight matter of suffering from Parkinson's.

I don't want my bankers to be innumerate, my roofer to be afraid of heights or my gardener to be allergic to plants.

This principle doesn't seem to hold true in the world of the media. I can forgive the odd error - it might just be a typo and we all make mistakes when we're rushed or tired. But some of the media is littered with ungrammatical, badly spelled articles and postings. Even the Daily Mail website was wittering on about Jada Pinkett Smith getting a "desert" thrown in her face on a TV show. Which desert would that be; the Sahara, the Gobi, the Kalahari?

Don't even get me started on the BBC. Their captions are so littered with errors that I spend half my time screaming at the TV while the dearly beloved searches frantically for his ear plugs.

So what has brought on this rant? There is, as I write, someone on the Linkedin website who is advertising their services as an EDITER. I go to the foot of our stairs.

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Friday, 19 September 2014

Pat's Ice Bucket Challenge

Around My Kitchen Table

I have been nominated for the ice bucket challenge. It'll be tough. But here goes...

First get your bucket.

Find some ice in the deep freeze. I will probably need a few of these.

Then put ice in bucket.

So far, so good. Now for a tricky bit...have to get this just right.

Here it comes!

Well. That wasn't quite so hard as I was expecting. Don't know what all the fuss is about.

£20 has been donated to  Motor Neurone Disease

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