toxicsoup

Well, not toxic, exactly... maybe just a little bit rank. But in a nice way. With a garnish.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

for your delectation

Rex the Runt - Under the Duvet (listen out for Auntie Brenda!) 9mins34secs




Jesus sings Gloria 42secs

Sunday, October 22, 2006

anti-natal

My sister has asked me to be her birthing partner!

I think about it for about 1.27000004658 of a second and picture things too horrific to be repeated (but that look a bit like a melon in a doner kebab). There is no mirror available but I think I may have paled slightly, due to the fact that I have to sit down hurriedly before I lose consciousness.

It constantly amazes me that childbirth is still legal in this day and age. After all, it is the Twenty-First century and I’m sure Tomorrow’s World said something a while back about mail order and Jiffy Bags.

Next time I see Maggie Philbin I must remember to quiz her about how one may go about this.

Graciously I stand down from my position of Potential Birthing Partner and magnanimously and selflessly offer this midwifery-gift to Imp, pointing out that although I would love to become acquainted with my new niece/nephew as early as possible, I would be quite happy to wait until it has left the birth canal.

This is a stroke of genius! My sister thinks it is a great idea; Imp weeps tears of joy and I am off the hook.

I quickly hand the phone to Imp so that they both can continue sobbing about babies without involving me and, turn back to the important task of putting my DVD collection in alphabetical order……..

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

ouch, my baby bits...

Gif animations at Gickr.com

I learn to ride off (small) kerbs!

It is true, this is not a particularly elegant spectacle, but a necessary one if ever I should be involved in a life or death unicycle chase and came upon a 2 1/2 inch drop.
Ickle Bro watches in envy......... he knows he would die if he were in the same situation (unless the chase was abandoned after 24.6 inches).

Monday, October 16, 2006

dangerous drugs

I am in a pub with a load of ten-year olds!

Actually it is a pretend pub but it has original fittings - a bar, optics, pumps, tables, beer mats, a slot machine, pictures of miners up on the wall.

The kids, however, are totally convinced and their eyes are popping out their heads, planning what they’re going to tell Mummy and Daddy, later.

The teacher settles onto a stool at the back and looks suspiciously at home. I thought it was illegal for teachers to have private lives, let alone one that involves socialising. I determine to report her without any delay to the Local Education Authority.

Meanwhile the children find themselves a stool each and gaze up at the beer pumps, clearly wondering if they are going to be given a half-pint and a straw.
I prop myself up on the bar and grin at them.

“What sort of things do people buy in pubs?” I ask.

Ten right arms shoot up into the air and wave frantically at me.

Champagne!” yells a posh looking girl, all teeth and expensive hairdo.

Blimey.

“Mineral water!”, calls out another posh kid, in a posh voice.

“Cocktails!” This is from a plummy kid perched to my right.

Clearly this isn’t a school from the inner-city.
Normally we go through every brand of lager ever to have graced the hostelries of Britain, along with a few black-market spirits from the illigeal distillery in the cupboard under Uncle Phil's stairs.


“Sherry!”

“Chardonnay!”

“Pimms!”

I don’t even know what Pimms is, so I quickly change the subject before they discover my working classness and demand that I scrub the floor in a jaunty cockney accent.

“So! Alcohol is a drug. That is why you can get addicted to it and, that’s the reason it can cause so much damage to your body if you drink too much”, I chant, in my Blue Peter voice.
Valerie Singleton would be proud of me.

“Who knows the names of any other drugs?”

The hands are slower this time.

A girl with an equine plait limply waves her wrist at me.

“Um… I’ve heard of one, I Think, called something like…. ‘Can’..” she trails off.

“Yes?” I nod, encouragingly.

“Can…something…..”

She’s posh and she’s heard of cannabis! I rejoice to myself and wait for her to (delicately) spit it out.

“Can…..a….”

We’re all leaning forward now, willing her on. The teacher is looking vaguely surprised.

“Cann-A…….Oh! I do know it!”

I’m holding my breath now.

“Canapés!” she announces, triumphant.

I blink.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

creep

I am at Imp's house!

This means I can watch TV.

The benefit of not having a telly of my own is that I am excited about watching old episodes of The Dukes of Hazard.
I bound into the front room (after asking if I can put the telly on) while Imp does grown-up things like putting the kettle on and clanking things.

I am half way across the room, finger poised, before I notice. I freeze in mid-stride, like they do in Scooby Doo.
TinyDog® is asleep on the sofa!

I tiptoe out again, so as not to wake her...

Thursday, October 05, 2006

sitting comfortably

We are snuggling on the settee!

Imp’s house is great because it has a settee that doesn’t have hard bits and it is long enough for me to stretch my legs out, even though I am extraordinarily tall.

TinyDog® is curled up on the other chair, because we are the bosses and she is bottom of the pack. I am an expert on animal psychology, ever since I read a book about dog-training*.

*I don’t think the fact that she keeps trying to shag my leg is a cause for concern, it’s just that even to TinyDog®, I am amazingly attractive.

We snuggle a bit more.

Inexplicably, and before I am able to stop it getting out of control, I am engulfed with a wave of affection for Imp (because she has a comfy sofa) and I offer to get up and make coffee.

Damn!

“That would be lovely”, Imp murmurs, in a not-having-to-get-up tone of voice and, cursing my incredibly generous and unselfish (although sometimes a tiny bit grumpy) nature, I do a stunt-roll off the settee and stomp to the kitchen.

***

“Decaf in the white mug, leaded in the brown”, I chant, as I get back to the front room.

I place the mugs carefully on the little table and wipe up a few drips that somehow ended up on the floor (I suspect gravity) with my sock, hoping that Imp hasn’t noticed my lack of waitress-abilityness. It’s 18 years since I was sacked from my waitressing job.

I stop.

TinyDog® has nicked my place on the settee!

“TinyDog® has nicked my place on the settee!” I report in my squeaky indignant voice.

Imp agrees.

I think she is asleep.

I stand in the middle of the room, bereft and cheated of my rightful position. Now is my chance to demonstrate that I am Alpha Female and TinyDog® is Nothing with a Capital N.

“TinyDog®! OFF!” I command, waving my arms in a way that would have Barbara Woodhouse weeping with tears of joy.

TinyDog® glances at me scornfully and cuddles up a bit closer to Imp.

I sit on the other chair.

Monday, October 02, 2006

humbug

I pretend to think about it very hard.

“So will you come?” Imp asks. “It’s fancy dress, you like fancy dress…”

She is flailing around now for reasons, but we both know it's a weak argument.

“There’ll be beer!”

It’s true, I like fancy dress and I like beer, but I only like certain types of each. For example, I DON’T like Extra Fizzy Cheapo Supermarket Lager at 15p a can…. and I DON’T like fancy dress if it’s a ‘Fifties’ theme at a 50th birthday party and there is a danger that I might be forced to wear a lemon yellow A-line skirt and dance like a girl.

I remain unconvinced.

I think about it again and wonder if I can get away with being a Fifties Root Vegetable or a Fifties Pimp with Sex Slave?

“…and there’ll be Fifties music and everything”, she adds, terminally.

I scowl at the phone and do my best Grumpy Face.

Inexplicably, she can hear my Grumpy Face and does Stern Face.
Imp never ceases to amaze me with her Super Powers. I think it is something to do with Female Intuition and, that I was probably picking my nose and arranging my toy cars in order of how-many-doors-open, near the back of the queue when it was handed out.

I present my best counter-attack, fully thought out and articulate in its every nuance.

“But..but…but……………………….. ”

“..............(but)”, I emphasise, hopefully.

Imp doesn’t agree.

“You’re my partner and that sometimes means coming along to things just to support me”, she says reasonably.

Damnit. She's right.

I agree and scowl a bit more when she isn’t listening.