Last night I rejected the usual Friday slouch on the couch to bedeck myself with a bit of glitz and glam for The Bump's Night Out aka a colleague's maternity leave.
Imagine the scene, 9 party-hard-or-die females, 2 I'm-too-old-for-this-but-hey females and 1 obliged-to-go-but-would-rather-be-having-my-eyeballs-pierced male boss. [I'll leave you to work out which category I fall into...]
It all began rather sedately with the main attraction herself waiting for us in the bar. A few stiffies later [calm yourself, it's a drink but somewhat apt] we all moved on to the dining room, suitably chirpy, chatty and smiley. Maybe we should have stopped there and called it a night...
A pleasant young waiter came to take our orders but 11 females make a lot of noise when in party mode and under the influence of alcohol so he had a bit of a job on his hands. He had three goes at checking the orders but kept his smile stapled on like a trouper. Meanwhile, other diners in the very busy dining room were turning their heads to identify the source and nature of the endless shrieks and laughter. Anyone there for an intimate soiree was on a hiding to nothing.
The very sober Bumpee spent most of the evening trying to moderate her hysterical table companions but to no avail. I can't even tell you what generated the hilarity on one side of the table as I couldn't hear the conversations but it must have been lewd judging by the table slapping and eye popping reactions.
What I can tell you is that the climax of the evening [if that's the right phrase] was the arrival of the boss's dessert. He'd chosen strawberry fool. The waiter returned with a little plate the size of a saucer on which was placed half a strawberry, some mint leaves and a drizzle of strawberry coulis. The boss's face was a picture. There was mass hysterics [except of course from the boss]. It was the funniest thing I have seen in ages. It was so small and pathetic. It was the pauper of puddings. The table was awash with 'fool' witticisms.
The boss could barely contain his temper while the waiter with the stapled on smile took the sad half strawberry away and came back with a meringue nest crumbled into a wine glass as consolation. The boss ate it through gritted teeth [no mean feat], left his portion of the bill and escaped Stalag Gynae und Grub at top speed.
I can't divulge what happened afterwards at Bumpee's house but let's just say the follow up photos on Facebook are extortion worthy.
Saturday, 28 February 2009
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Coupledom #1
Today's Witter looks at the mysteries and wonders of Coupledom.
By this, I mean that special connectedness which occurs when two people have been together for a significant length of time. There is no standardised moment when this change kicks in - it depends on the couple. The depth and nature of the connectedness varies too.
Today, my good friend Normski told me about an interesting evening spent with her husband [we'll call him James T- he's a proud Trekkie]. After a tiring day in the workaday world, she was lounging and musing in front of the tv. She told him that she felt the need for a holiday in the sun, somewhere exotic, with a hammock and coconuts...[You get the picture]
"Thinking of coconuts..." cried James T, leaping from his much loved recliner, " I have something for you!" He shot across the livingroom, pulled open a drawer and promptly pulled out - a coconut.
Normski described the moment as quite surreal. James T, on the other hand, was delighted. He beamed at her with obvious pride while she was slack jawed with astonishment.
Once she recovered something of her composure she asked him why he had a coconut and why he'd kept it in the drawer in the livingroom.
"It's our magical connection. Your thinking...my thinking..." he murmured, returning to his recliner as if he'd conquered a Klingon battle fleet.
"No, seriously. Why did you have a coconut in a livingroom drawer?" insisted Normski.
"Aaaaaaaah," he replied, adopting a I'm - an -intergalactic - man - of -mystery - me expression. Normski was baffled. He offered no further explanation and savoured his self satisfaction like a gourmet savours a truffle.
"Could it be he's planning a romantic getaway," I suggested, " and this is the first of a series of clues...?" Normski didn't think so. She said the coconut was bald and a bit scabby looking. It didn't trigger romantic notions. Not for her anyway.
He thinks he has amazed her with his spontaneity. She thinks he is one phaser short of an arsenal.
By this, I mean that special connectedness which occurs when two people have been together for a significant length of time. There is no standardised moment when this change kicks in - it depends on the couple. The depth and nature of the connectedness varies too.
Today, my good friend Normski told me about an interesting evening spent with her husband [we'll call him James T- he's a proud Trekkie]. After a tiring day in the workaday world, she was lounging and musing in front of the tv. She told him that she felt the need for a holiday in the sun, somewhere exotic, with a hammock and coconuts...[You get the picture]
"Thinking of coconuts..." cried James T, leaping from his much loved recliner, " I have something for you!" He shot across the livingroom, pulled open a drawer and promptly pulled out - a coconut.
Normski described the moment as quite surreal. James T, on the other hand, was delighted. He beamed at her with obvious pride while she was slack jawed with astonishment.
Once she recovered something of her composure she asked him why he had a coconut and why he'd kept it in the drawer in the livingroom.
"It's our magical connection. Your thinking...my thinking..." he murmured, returning to his recliner as if he'd conquered a Klingon battle fleet.
"No, seriously. Why did you have a coconut in a livingroom drawer?" insisted Normski.
"Aaaaaaaah," he replied, adopting a I'm - an -intergalactic - man - of -mystery - me expression. Normski was baffled. He offered no further explanation and savoured his self satisfaction like a gourmet savours a truffle.
"Could it be he's planning a romantic getaway," I suggested, " and this is the first of a series of clues...?" Normski didn't think so. She said the coconut was bald and a bit scabby looking. It didn't trigger romantic notions. Not for her anyway.
He thinks he has amazed her with his spontaneity. She thinks he is one phaser short of an arsenal.
Sunday, 8 February 2009
Wordsmith?
In this time of global, instant, communication systems it is natural to assume that clarity of message wil be easy. Not so. There is something about the immediacy of IM and texting which may inadvertently or subtly alter a meaning. [You may have found otherwise but this is my witter so I can generalise wildly safe in the knowledge that a, by now you'll be used to my ramblings or b, you'll be too busy with a Real Life to oppose]
Often, in forum based sites especially, a reader may misinterpret a post and feel so aggrieved that an online argument ensues or the reader types in a huffy post and 'flounces off' in outrage. I wrote a TOME of a witter on this but subsequently deleted it to save your grey matter from self combusting. Believe me, I did you a favour.
Anyhoo...I prefer face to face communication. Letters, texts, posts etc are all subject to the reader's interpretation and, while this is also true of speech, it's easier and quicker to rectify misconceptions during a spoken conversation.
This of course, presupposes that one is articulate and a good listener. I am neither. I try to be both, I really do. In terms of listening I definitely have a saturation point at which I drift off or interrupt depending on the context. As regards the former, something between my brain and my tongue isn't working as well as it might. { No kidding says you]
Here's an example - I've asked children to pass me a teapot when I believed I was asking them to pass me a textbook. I repeated the instruction two or three times and the poor souls looked at me in bewilderment before the bravest spoke up to tell me there was no teapot on the table. Yikes! Stroke city here I come...
Another was the time I spoke confidently and earnestly about someone developing as an inffydidual. Inffydidual??? Yep, you read that right, I didn't misspell it. In my job good communication is EVERYTHING and, judging by these examples, I can't help wondering if the writing is on the wall.
Often, in forum based sites especially, a reader may misinterpret a post and feel so aggrieved that an online argument ensues or the reader types in a huffy post and 'flounces off' in outrage. I wrote a TOME of a witter on this but subsequently deleted it to save your grey matter from self combusting. Believe me, I did you a favour.
Anyhoo...I prefer face to face communication. Letters, texts, posts etc are all subject to the reader's interpretation and, while this is also true of speech, it's easier and quicker to rectify misconceptions during a spoken conversation.
This of course, presupposes that one is articulate and a good listener. I am neither. I try to be both, I really do. In terms of listening I definitely have a saturation point at which I drift off or interrupt depending on the context. As regards the former, something between my brain and my tongue isn't working as well as it might. { No kidding says you]
Here's an example - I've asked children to pass me a teapot when I believed I was asking them to pass me a textbook. I repeated the instruction two or three times and the poor souls looked at me in bewilderment before the bravest spoke up to tell me there was no teapot on the table. Yikes! Stroke city here I come...
Another was the time I spoke confidently and earnestly about someone developing as an inffydidual. Inffydidual??? Yep, you read that right, I didn't misspell it. In my job good communication is EVERYTHING and, judging by these examples, I can't help wondering if the writing is on the wall.
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Obseletely out of the question
Greetings dear reader.
Question: What do a boot jack, a goffering iron and a leather strop have in common?
Answer: They are all items rarely if ever used today which were once commonplace.
This witter is about that which is old, defunct and well past its sell by date. No not me. Well, possibly but I'm talking about items which are obsolete. I had a box load of museum artefacts today. I encouraged the Littluns to investigate to determine age, usage and owner. It was all great fun. We'd been finding out about inventors and inventions so these were considered cool.
Some of the suggested uses were quite imaginative and creative. Little Dynamo thought that the club used to wash and beat clothes was a baseball bat for a fat man. His amigos thought the barber's leather strop was either used to beat unruly children [hmmmm] or as a sash worn diagonally over armour.
They were particularly interested in the glove stretchers which, according to them, could have been been hair combs for Chinese women or curling tongs for rich people. Why Chinese people couldn't be rich or want curling tongs was never quite explained to me.
Their favourite gadget though was a clockwork meat hook which was once hung over a range so that the meat would slowly turn and cook evenly. No-one guessed it although one girl did spot the clockwork mechanism through a small hole. Suggested uses for that ranged from church bell to a weighing machine.
There was a frenzy of excitement over the vicious looking lino cutter which most assumed was for cutting up meat or alternatively, as one person thought, chipping diamonds from rock.
Interestingly, only four out of the nine investigation teams worked out that the lobster measure was a lobster measure despite it being engraved on the metal itself in inch high letters. Time to hone their observational skills perhaps.
It's a pity that I can't show you some images from the day - expressions were priceless. Finally, let me end this witter by warning you that small children may suggest eye watering uses for a goffering iron. Google it - you know you want to.
Question: What do a boot jack, a goffering iron and a leather strop have in common?
Answer: They are all items rarely if ever used today which were once commonplace.
This witter is about that which is old, defunct and well past its sell by date. No not me. Well, possibly but I'm talking about items which are obsolete. I had a box load of museum artefacts today. I encouraged the Littluns to investigate to determine age, usage and owner. It was all great fun. We'd been finding out about inventors and inventions so these were considered cool.
Some of the suggested uses were quite imaginative and creative. Little Dynamo thought that the club used to wash and beat clothes was a baseball bat for a fat man. His amigos thought the barber's leather strop was either used to beat unruly children [hmmmm] or as a sash worn diagonally over armour.
They were particularly interested in the glove stretchers which, according to them, could have been been hair combs for Chinese women or curling tongs for rich people. Why Chinese people couldn't be rich or want curling tongs was never quite explained to me.
Their favourite gadget though was a clockwork meat hook which was once hung over a range so that the meat would slowly turn and cook evenly. No-one guessed it although one girl did spot the clockwork mechanism through a small hole. Suggested uses for that ranged from church bell to a weighing machine.
There was a frenzy of excitement over the vicious looking lino cutter which most assumed was for cutting up meat or alternatively, as one person thought, chipping diamonds from rock.
Interestingly, only four out of the nine investigation teams worked out that the lobster measure was a lobster measure despite it being engraved on the metal itself in inch high letters. Time to hone their observational skills perhaps.
It's a pity that I can't show you some images from the day - expressions were priceless. Finally, let me end this witter by warning you that small children may suggest eye watering uses for a goffering iron. Google it - you know you want to.
Monday, 2 February 2009
SNOW!
It's been thirteen years apparently since Britain had a blast of snow as heavy as the one which hit the UK today. Weather forecasters and news presenters alike were chucking all sorts of superlatives around for dramatic effect. Deepest, coldest, harshest, most dangerous, yadda yadda yadda.
One doe eyed presenter on the Beeb was the picture of angst as she warned her patently idiotic viewers to "...wrap up warmly and take care out there. It's very snowy." God forbid we should venture outdoors without the cast iron wisdom of some twinset clad bimbette who's never travelled further north than Watford. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt as she is heavily pregnant and may be suffering from baby brain. As for the weather woman who thinks she's a nursery teacher... aarrggghhhh!!!!
Yes it's snowing, yes it's cold. Snow has to be cold. [It's in the contract - Snow tried to be bikini weather but God said no deal, you get the thermals and bobble hats.]
But let's not lose the plot here people. A bit common sense is all we need. Anyone who genuinely does need to take advice from the BBC sofa squad shouldn't really be out on their own anyway. I may not be a rocket scientist but I can get about reasonably independently and if I don't get to where I want to be, well that'll be MY fault and I'll live with the consequences. Or not.
I was a bit frustrated today when I saw palm sized flakes blowing horizontally past the window. The 4 year old in me wanted to rush out and chuck huge snowballs at innocent parties but the 44 year old me had to be sensible and stay indoors to earn the daily crust. I had the right gear for outdoors [so no need for the sofa squad to fret for me] but like Snow my contract prohibits any and all fun stuff. I can't blame God for that though, just the council.
One doe eyed presenter on the Beeb was the picture of angst as she warned her patently idiotic viewers to "...wrap up warmly and take care out there. It's very snowy." God forbid we should venture outdoors without the cast iron wisdom of some twinset clad bimbette who's never travelled further north than Watford. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt as she is heavily pregnant and may be suffering from baby brain. As for the weather woman who thinks she's a nursery teacher... aarrggghhhh!!!!
Yes it's snowing, yes it's cold. Snow has to be cold. [It's in the contract - Snow tried to be bikini weather but God said no deal, you get the thermals and bobble hats.]
But let's not lose the plot here people. A bit common sense is all we need. Anyone who genuinely does need to take advice from the BBC sofa squad shouldn't really be out on their own anyway. I may not be a rocket scientist but I can get about reasonably independently and if I don't get to where I want to be, well that'll be MY fault and I'll live with the consequences. Or not.
I was a bit frustrated today when I saw palm sized flakes blowing horizontally past the window. The 4 year old in me wanted to rush out and chuck huge snowballs at innocent parties but the 44 year old me had to be sensible and stay indoors to earn the daily crust. I had the right gear for outdoors [so no need for the sofa squad to fret for me] but like Snow my contract prohibits any and all fun stuff. I can't blame God for that though, just the council.
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