With Knobs On

George Constantinosopoulososos
Manager
Hotel Bunion Beach Resort
Greece

Dear George
First thank you for the most enjoyable holiday experienced by the Blighty family.  We really did have the most super time. 

We are sorry about the small plumbing issue we caused; as I explained at the time, we did make Boys 1 and 2 aware that they were not to throw toilet paper down the loo as per the notice in the bathroom*; unfortunately we did not expressly ban the flushing of other foreign objects, so Boy 1 was convinced that it was ok to try to flush Boy 2 away.  Hopefully the repairs to the U-bend will not prove too costly.  And please apologise again to the lady in room 128, I can only imagine her shock at the sudden appearance of Boy 2.  Boy 2 is recovering well, he is now able to approach the bathroom without screaming.

Now, I thought I would just raise one small issue with you, as I do believe feedback is important in helping you to provide your excellent service.  Many service providers have thanked me for my tireless devotion to pointing out any deficiencies in their service, for example, they write back to me using words like "harassment"  "tiresome"  "legal department" and, on one memorable occasion, " old bat."

What I should like to raise with you is knobs.  This is an issue which needs a firm hand, it needs grappling with. (note to self: please stop this now, this is awful..)

I attach below 3 pictures of knobs.

Exhibit 1 - the knob of our room, room 127

 Exhibit 2 - knob of Room 128

 Exhibit 3 - knob of Room 126

As you cannot have failed to notice, the size of the knob on our door was considerably smaller than that of the knobs on the adjacent rooms.  This is not acceptable - it caused my dear husband Mr Blighty to feel he was deficient in the knob area, thus reducing his full enjoyment of the whole door opening and closing process.  In fact, he became so ashamed of the diminutive size of his knob, he would only use it when no one was looking, which made the whole business of getting into and out of our room very tiresome.

I therefore urge you to upgrade and harmonise your knobs, so no one else will have to suffer this indignity.

Yours sincerely, 

Bledwina Blighty**

* I remain mystified as to why you can't put the loo paper down the loo in Greece even in modern hotels, I am sad enough to want to know and will no doubt Google it shortly

** I was inspired to write this when I heard that the manager of our hotel in Greece reads out customer comments every week to his staff, and sometimes there are some really silly ones, like the chap who claimed the engine of the waterski boat was too small to pull him out of the water....

A Complete Clock Up And A Costume Drama - Chocolate Required Urgently

Hello Dahlings!  So much to tell, so little time!  (Ha, so little time, in fact no time at all, I crack myself up!)

Blighty HQ has been struck down by Systematic Clock Failure.

This clock does not work.

This clock does not work.

This clock does not work.  (Yes Mr B, I have tried putting in new batteries)

Even Mr B's trusty hi-tech Casio which updates using satellite signals beamed  down by little men on Mars (oh yes, I read the user manual  - see p.175. section 4a)  is Not Performing Properly.  This is his arrangement to top up its solar power panels.  Er, Mr B, that's the teabag jar you have used for propping up   - can I risk a cup of tea or will it jeopardize the important work of the European Space Agency (Buckinghamshire branch)?

AND - Boy 2 cheerfully informed me that he had lost his watch at school
BUT - his friend Clifton Perkins ( not his real name) found it for him on the astroturf

BUT THEN - watch later crunched in freak classroom collision scenario and now hands (of watch not of Boy 2) free floating so possibly time keeping not 100% accurate..

AND - my old Omega watch which I bought 100 years ago has also stopped working
AND - I took it to Omega shop in Regents Street Lundun
AND - they phoned and told me it needed "servicing" which would cost £250 - I kid you not - £250, has the world gone mad?  They could not tell me what wrong with watch but yes, 250 big ones would be needed.  I am going to contact Scotland Yard as I feel this is a watch hostage extortion type situation.  I want a SWAT team to storm that building and get my watch back.  I can always paint the hands to the correct time using my handy laundry marker pen.

But I think the Universe (the one that directs Faux Fuchsia to bake and me to buy nail polish) is trying to send a sign:

A Rolex is the answer.  Everything will continue to be Out of Alignment till I get a Rolex.
(Mr Blighty, how am I doing? Is this convincing? Oh well. it was worth a try).

As if I didn't already have enough of a crisis on my hands, Daphnes4Boyz, that excellent country club (with school attached) to which Boys 1 and 2 belong, has thrown me a curved ball re Boy 1's costume for the Tudor play.

I had already cobbled together this.

Then my lovely neighbour M ( hello M!) lent me this brilliant doublet - her grandmother used to organise pageants years ago and she has the most fabulous range of costumes - matador outfit anyone?

But then Daphnes4Boy$ (not a typo, they have just rebranded to make it clear that they are happy to be paid in US dollars, they have an Equal Opportunities Policy where hard currency is concerned) - sent me these instructions!

 Has the world gone mad?  Do they think I am some sort of 1950s housewife with nothing better to do than drink cocktails  tea and eye up the tennis instructor  Rolex website?   My clock calendar clearly says 1982 ( oh sh*t, not another clock gone!).  I have not got the skills to do advanced origami type dressmaking.

Plus, I have already got my outfit prepared BUT

it's a 1537 one, not 1538!  Oh the shame!  All the other boys will be in the latest fashion for 1538, Boy 1 will stand out like a sore thumb and be scarred for life.  The horror! Total crisis!

To take my mind off these trying events, I have now taken complaining letters to an all time low.

I'll leave you to read this.  And yes,  I did actually send it.

Must go now, might be time to get the boys from school. Or to get them to school. Whatever.

Oat So Disastrous

Dear Mr Quaker



I am writing to express in the strongest possible terms my dissatisfaction with your Oatso Simple instant porridge and the accompanying claims you make for this product.



You jauntily claim that it is "Now only 2 mins to Perfect Porridge". You then add, treachorously, in my view "Psst...measure milk using sachet."



What in God's name are you people thinking? Does the picture below in any way ressemble "Perfect Porridge"??? I think not. (Though I will admit that it did indeed only take me 2 mins to cover Blighty HQ in a light coating of semi-skimmed).



And your handy dandy measuring tip re use of sachet was quite frankly the worst piece of advice since that Marie-Antoinette girl opined on the eating of cake as the way forward for the masses..









And does this look like a Good Morning to you?? I think not.







Finally, I feel further insulted by the jolly little directive on the side of your packet, which I noticed after a couple of hours of manning the bilges, swabbing the decks and other nautical type references which I can't presently come up with.




It seemed completely unnecessary at this stage to point out that in fact I am a complete dosey cow. This has already been more than adequately demonstrated.






I will not be Actioning (TM FauxFuchsia) Oat So Simple for breakfast in future. I will stick with something simple like jugged hare or souffle.



P.S. Dear Quaker Oats, I have now succeeded in making the Oat So Simple under the careful supervision of a grown up i.e. Boy 2 aged 8, and it turns out to be quite delicious, so please ignore my earlier complaints. Any chance of a couple of free boxes? Right ho, thought not.

Email to the Headmaster

To: ArbuthnotTerenceHeadmaster@DaphnesSchool4Boyz.com

From: BledwinaBlighty@btifwefeeluptoit.co.mumbai

Dear Headmaster

I am sorry to bother you during your well-earned half term break - the two and half weeks of term have just flown by and what a lot you have packed in!

But I felt I must bring to your attention serious concerns I have about the kind of education your well-endowed institution is giving our boys.

I attach a picture of a piece of work Blighty Minor brought home recently.

Upon studying this picture I was shocked to see that Blighty Minor was not being given the classical education which I had so hoped would be provided.

At first glance the presence of the word "Hermes" is very reassuring. But on closer perusal one can clearly see a picture of some Greek chap with winged feet. What is the world coming to?

I do not want my son's head filled with this wishywashy modern nonsense! I expect Hermes to be taught in the context of a leading luxury consumer goods company with an annual turnover of around one billion Euros; I wish my son to know that this company is responsible for some of the most covetable and iconic brands. I don't expect at this stage that he would be taught the history of the Carre or how to tie a scarf, but he should at least be made familiar with the Kelly Bag, Birkin Bag and the Jumping Boot. How else is he to make his way in this world of ours?

I hope you will take my views under consideration.

Kind Regards

Bledwina Blighty

P.S. May I just say, the new helipad is looking splendid and congratulations on the opening of the Beckham Aromatherapy Suite? I was disappointed to hear planning permission was turned down for the nuclear processing facility, but the new plans for the Happy Holidays Kennels and Kids Hotel ( "Go Away Knowing All Your Little Beasts Are Happy in a High Security Environment") are little short of genius.

P.P.S. So sorry about the misunderstanding over the "Bring your toys to school day"; I had no idea that the Blightys Major and Minor had brought those contraptions to school; I do hope Mrs Rumpington is back at work soon, the A&E chaps told me they sometimes find bolas injuries take a while to get over. I know dear Mrs R will be sorely missed in the Ballet and Metal Work Department.

A Man in the Kitchen

Guess what? Even as I write, a man is in my kitchen, cleaning my oven. Don't worry, I haven't kidnapped him (I promised Mr Blighty I'd stop doing that). He is from Oventeam, he has a van and a matching T-shirt and he assures me that my oven will be gleaming by the end. Wonder if they have MummyRefit, too (waxing, polishing, tightening, replacement of worn out parts, corkscrew maintenance)?


This stems from my slavish devotion to Faux Fuchsia's lovely blog - she recently got her oven cleaned, so I had to copy her! ( I do try to emulate her where ever possible, and the oven cleaning seemed more achievable than the Pucci and Marlene Birger... ) Isn't it just amazing, the power of the blogosphere and the reach of FF's blog: Faux Fuchsia, the blog that reaches parts other blogs cannot reach, even your oven!

On a more serious note, today I have made a Bad Fashion Choice. I am wearing this top from H&M. At the time of purchase it seemed cool and sophisticated. In that annoying thing known as Real Life, it has turned out to be a complete liability. Things keep getting caught in the open weave - big things like passing fishing trawlers, light aircraft and the handles of my kitchen cupboards; I got hooked up on the latter about 5 times just at breakfast. Boys 1 and 2 found it most amusing. And they could shout rude things at me with no fear of retribution as I was firmly hooked up, powerless!



Meanwhile the weather has gone to pot: after autumnal sunshine early in the week we now have grey rain. This type of weather makes me want to give up, unhook myself from my kitchen units and watch escapist films. I do not want to see important films about single mothers in sink estates being terrorised by loan sharks; I want nice clothes, scintillating dialogue, full make up (possibly not on the leading men).
I "curated" this recently from the charity shop. I hope it might point the way to some classic films.
Below, Joan Crawford in "Mildred Pierce". I saw this ages ago and must re-visit it.

Below, still of the party scene from "All About Eve" with Bette Davis in full swing and a young Marilyn Monroe. I watched this one rainy afternoon not so long ago with Grandma Whacker and loved the witty lines and the elegant clothes.

I want more films of this ilk. Recommendations please ladies.

Grandma Whacker is on her way to visit. She is bringing her new laptop so that she and Mr Blighty can do some technical tuning and trouble shooting. It seems that BT is no match for Grandma W, they are undone by the novelty of providing her with email. On the plus side I am now being called daily by Harold from the Chairman's office (you can get email addresses for CEOs, how handy, opens up a whole new hobby for me). He is from the High Level Service team. Wonder if he is any good at cleaning ovens?

Must go ensure boys have not left crisps/water bombs/socks/school friends in guest room.

Have a great weekend everyone. I leave you with another essential public service announcement.

Cutting Edge Technology

So we went up to Grandma's house yesterday in Broadway in the Cotswolds, to set up the laptop we gave her for her birthday. Grandma is entering the 21st century and embracing technology. Mr Blighty was in charge of technical issues. I was in charge of childcare and riot control. Boys 1 and 2 were super well behaved right up until the moment they stepped inside Grandma's house. Then shouting and fighting broke out. So I took them to the Broadway playground.

It's a wonderful playground in a lovely setting, a far cry from the crowded London playgrounds we used to frequent when the boys were tiny. Our local was the Princess Diana playground in Kensington Palace Gardens, full of great things like the big pirate ship but so over-crowded, you queued for the swings and then after a few minutes felt obliged to get the boys off the swings due to the hard stares of the waiting parents/nannies. Stressful.

Grandma is good at growing things.

Her garden looked very pretty.

Here is Grandma having a tutorial on laptop skills from Mr B. Pay attention Grandma. Only 46 more points to take in. You need to be hacking into the Pentagon by next week. (Dear Mr American Security Agent please this is a harmless joke, please do not raid Grandma's house, remember she grew up during WW2 and does not take any nonsense).

When I had finished my exhausting child containment activities I spent some time shouting at BT ( apparently a telecomms company) about their failure to set up Grandma's email, ordered in mid August, and their failure to let us know this (obviously being a telecomms company communication is not their strong point, they send letters, now and again which are soon overtaken by events). And of course their technical dept is based in India. The lady was charming. And brilliant at politely not being able to promise anything at all. Ater that I slunk off and read the papers. The Mitfords seems very in vogue at the moment. Debo has an autobiography coming out.

Debo also looks formidable. And what wonderful hair.

Then we went home. I had a couple of calls later from Grandma, very excited about her new toy. Grandma, if you are reading this, switch it off now and go to bed! 12 hours at a stretch is too much!!