Blighty's Winter of Discontent and Shovelgate

Dahlings, how are we all? No, calm down, that one ready made lasagne you had back in 2010 probably wasn't 100% horse...and almost certainly wasn't Shergar, he can't still be doing the rounds, he wasn't that fat...now back away from the Linda McCartney cookbook right now..*

I am (sobs) suffering a Winter of Discontent.  By which I mean I am bl**dy grumpy:  It has snowed again, Mr B is work stresssed, Boy 2 has lost his school trousers, his fountain pen and his rugby socks, Boy 1 has lost his rugby top and a mobile phone and left his entire games kit in the back of the car, Boy 2 has developed something nasty on his nose (impetigo?), Boy 1 smells of sausages and refuses to have his hair cut even though he is starting to look feral, and I can't even begin to understand how to do Boy 2's Maths homework, also I am being stalked by a man from Subaru as Mr B once looked at their website...meanwhile Boy 1 tells me I don't work hard like Mr B, I just stay at home and look at my iPad.  Cutting.  And untrue.  I've been spending a lot of time putting cream on Boy 2's nose and avoiding phone calls and emails from Jim at Subaru, for example. It's hard work I can tell you.  No matter, I am not taking Boy 1's accusation seriously as it was prompted by me "encouraging" him to put some plates in the dishwasher.  After taking him through 21st century socio-economic factors and the shared earning power of men and women,  I ended up shouting that if he did not load the dishwasher when he was grown up HIS WIFE WOULD LEAVE HIM.

I think it was Richard III that went on about this Winter of Discontent in the old Shakespeare play?  That just makes me even more grumpy about my recent parking ticket incident:  the other day they dug up old Dicky in a car park in Leicester.  And did he get a parking ticket? Even though he'd been there since 1485 and the Battle of Bosworth, which MUST mean he exceeded his parking ticket time? No.  See, it's one rule for the Royals and another rule for plebs like me....

And today we had Shovelgate:   the drive was covered in snow this morning so I decided to clear it before driving on it.  Where are the snow shovels? (Boy 2 bless him was keen to "help" which involved standing in the way and building a snowman). No sign. Not in the garage.  Not at the side of the house.  I check and double check and do a lot of muttering.  There may have been some bad words involved.  I become convinced that our shovels have been stolen, dark conspiracy theories swirl around.  Eventually I ring up Mr B.   Who has craftily  made an early exit to work this morning on foot.  "Oh " says he, " I put them in the shed, they were getting in the way..."

I tramp through deep snow in the back garden to retrieve shovels from shed.

Dahlings, I cleared that drive in record time, such was the head of steam I had built up...snow and gravel were flung aside without mercy...

It is only now I realise the utter brilliance of Mr B's ruse....
hide shovels
enrage wife
drive cleared....



Feeling a bit better now.

 

 

 

 

And don't worry, Mr B won't escape unscathed: why do we have a broken printer popped on top of here??? Is it to become an interior design accent Mr B or are you expecting  a flood and feel it important to preserve defunct electricals?  Please explain....otherwise you will get the socio-economic dishwasher talk too...and you won't like the ending at all....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* I ate horse in France as a kid. They told me it was steak.  Sorry Dobbin.

GUB GUB GUB

Need your windows cleaned, love? Pic from Vogue on-line

WARNING: THIS IS ME WHINGEING ABOUT FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS FOR A LAUGH, I DO REALISE HOW LUCKY I AM TO BE ABLE TO DO SO!


Things are not going smoothly at Blighty HQ and I am officially Grumped Up Bigtime (GUB).  Details as follows:

Gary and his very pretty wife, from TNT magazine

  

1. My idyll with Gary Barlow is Over.  He has just announced he is expecting his 4th child with his very pretty, slim, blonde wife.  Wail - he told me he was sleeping in the spare room!  Linda in Chile - I need Daniel Craig back now, just dust him down and post him to me.  Note to Gary's lawyers:  I have never actually even met Gary, these are just the musings of a woman suffering from a midlife crisis, and I can produce a medical certificate to prove it (receipt from TopShop for leatherette leggings).  On the bright side, Gary is still working really well as punishment for Boys 1 and 2 - after a violent, sweary tussle over a hockey stick, I played Gary's very lovely rendition of "A Million Love Songs" in the car this morning and Boy 1 moaned piteously that his ears were bleeding.  By the way, why do Daphnes4Boyz think hockey is a good idea, surely arming them with wooden sticks is an incitement to riot?  Have we learnt nothing from the Peasants' Revolt?
2. Grandma Whacker is in residence again and has been continuing what can only be described as a vendetta against my window cleaners.  A few months ago during a previous Blighty HQ minibreak, Grandma Whacker sacked the cleaners while I was out.  This led to Domestic Tension: Mr B saying to me testily, " Will you please ask YOUR mother to stop sacking MY window cleaners. And you can tell her to get up on the roof herself and clean the skylight." (The last bit was really unfair as Grandma is over 80 and  not as agile as she was and so I would have to give her a leg up, which would strain my back..)  I managed to get the cleaners back by grovelling and having to hear for the 100th time that they clean Sophie Dahl's windows.  Well, history has repeated itself - a couple of days ago while I was out, the window guys came and the Big G "supervised" them. They have also put their prices up. They have not been back to get paid so I assume they have Got the Hump and I will no doubt have to grovel/hear about Sophie D.  But just yesterday Madame Whacker mentioned they did not have their hose attachment thingie...further enquiries have now revealved that these guys were not actually my window cleaners at all, which explains the unexpected price hike...it transpires that the Whacker has surpassed herself, she is now sacking window cleaners who aren't even my window cleaners.  Final score:  The Association of Fenestration Hygiene Technicians - 0; Grandma Whacker - 2.
3. Before Christmas, with guests coming, I went full speed into decluttering, re-purposing and minimalism - I read a lot of those blogs!!  Now every time anyone goes in the garage there is an almighty crash as they fall over all the stuff I have stashed away there, and in the house no one, including me, can find a darn thing.  Grandma has taken it as a personal affront, she suspects I am trying to pull off a Fanny By Gaslight number to make her think she is getting a bit vague with age...
4. Boy 2 was strongly advised not to take his brand new Warhammer figues to school as he would lose them. Boy 2 took his Warhammer figues to school.  Boy 2 has now lost his Warhammer figures.  Last night I found myself deep undercover SAS style dressed all in black including balaclava in the boys changing rooms searching for the missing Warhammer, without success.  Parents are strictly forbidden from entering the changing rooms for child protection reasons so now I will probably be on some sort of register. Super.  In my view, boys should be strictly forbidden from taking Warhammer to school for child protection reasons.
5. Boy 1 came home from Dahpnes4Boyz yesterday and informed me he has lost his trousers and his games shorts.  Is loss of garments from these regions a worrying sign? Don't worry, he still had his white PE shorts which he came home in.
6. Boys 1 and 2 have given me to understand in no uncertain terms (by wailing and shouting) that Daphnes4Boyz is putting them under unbearable academic pressure and that the homework demands are excessive.  They have also told me I do nothing at all all day except think about Gary Barlow and nail varnish and have loads of fun prancing about the supermarket. I find this a bit dismissive of my contribution to Blighty Inc, as there is lipstick to think about too.  But when I suggest that perhaps I might get a job OUTSIDE THE HOME Boy 2 bursts into floods of tears and has to be consoled by his (lazy, stay at home doing nothing) mother...
7. Boy 1's  Science homework is getting too biological for my liking.  I can cope with plant cells but his homework last night seemed to focus rather a lot on, ahem, sperm.  Boy 1 said he would love to see some sperm with their wiggly tails - I was sooo tempted to quip about "wait till you are fourteen and then ....
8. I just managed to delete this entire post and have just re-typed it...aaaaaaaaaaaaggggggh!

GUB GUB GUB!!!

From Wikipedia.  Government Health Warning: this sort of thing can cause excessive expenditure on Warhammer

I leave you with action replay of Grandma cleaning the windows.