Friday, 25 May 2012

Was it Chubby Checker?

This week has been a bit of a quiet one for me - almost too quiet as I've had such a tough time writing this blog. I have even gone as far as contemplating porcicide. I don't know if that is a real word or not but, yes, I was so desperate tonight I almost killed my pink chocolate Percy Pig Easter "egg" that Scott bought me (I say Scott bought me, but I strongly suspect Siggy was responsible for it as Scott seemed quite surprised that that was what he had got me on Easter Sunday). However, I have resisted so Percy lives for another day. Mind you, with the fantastic weather we've had this week, he may melt soon and I'll be forced to put him out of his misery, but I'm going to try to keep him as a special treat at the end of term. I'm sure he'll appreciate it.

If the weather keeps up, of course, I can always put him in my exceptionally cool new fridge - and when I say cool, I don't mean it's hip, trendy, "rad,man",at the cutting edge or any of that nonsense. I mean cool. Actually, no, I mean cold. Our old fridge was on its last legs some months ago but we fought on bravely as, with three TEMs (Teenage Eating Machines) in the house, it is very seldom that we have food in the fridge for long enough for it to be a problem. And, of course, Siggy was absolutely determined that the only problem with the fridge was that the boys were incapable of closing the door properly. I have to say, I do agree with him on that.

Which is another weird thing, Siggy and I have been doing that a lot recently. No, not that "that". Agreeing.

We've agreed that the boys need to study more, by which we mean they need to study, full stop. We've agreed that pear cider is actually quite nice.

We've agreed that Siggy should at least put the ironing away after I've gone to the trouble of doing it. OK, we didnt actually agree, I just kept putting it back on his side of the bed every night until his resolve was well and truly broken and he had to put it away. Must be getting old, he never used to be so resistant to an excuse to go through my knicker drawer. 

We've agreed that the TEMs really ought to be able to watch Scott for a few hours during the day as long as we're not too far away, which is how we managed to escape to Ikea on Sunday for the new fridge. That was as close to free time we've had together in a long time.

Mind you, I apparently nearly wrecked that before it began. He's so bloody touchy at times. We were drawing out of the driveway and, because he had no rugby on Saturday and had got around to cutting the front lawn, he said "Well at least the grass looks better, amazing what a difference a weekend with no rugby or football makes"

"Yes and we can get started on the upstairs rooms now too if you've got all those free weekends," I replied innocently.

Well, can you imagine the petted lip that produced! No? Just imagine a small child who's just had their favourite lollipop taken away and you're about a quarter of the way there. All he said was "Be nice if you could just accept one job completed without adding ten to the list once in a while." He didn't so much say this as mumbled it into his chest, but I could hear him ok. Still, that didn't mean I had to answer, so I just asked what else we could maybe get whilst we were at Ikea and whether I should check if Pheobe still wanted the king size mattress she had been talking about. I bbm'd her and left him to stare, open-mouthed, at the road ahead for a while.

Pheobe had been saying the previous night about the mattress when we had gone out to the local "Brewers Unfair" as it has now been christened. It was one of those spontaneous decisions to nip out for a meal when we realised that two TEMs were out, so we took Donald and Scott and I invited the SPOT  group around. Pheobe and Bobby came along for dinner with their 13 year old son as their daughter was away to an "unders" disco (I'm sure you're not supposed to call them discos any more, but it annoys the hell out of them and I thought I should mention as a tribute to the sad passing of both Donna Summer and Robin Gibb this week). Toni and Jack said they had already fed their kids, so they said they'd come along later just for a drink.

The pub is one of those order-at-the-bar-with-your-table-number jobs and we were struggling at first as we didn't have a table, but the barman helpfully pointed out a couple sitting near the door at a table for four who were just about to finis, so said if we waited for ten minutes, we should be able to get their table. Pheobe, though, was hungry. I think it must have taken all of 90 seconds before she strode over to the girl who was sitting on her own as her partner had gone to the toilet. From a distance, we saw her obviously asking if they were using the two spare seats at the table and was obviously told "No," so Pheobe sat promptly sat down and, bluntly, STARED HER OUT whilst she had one, maybe one and a half  more spoonfuls of the huge chocolate fudge cake before getting up and flouncing out the door. We went over and sat down and I'm sure I saw a rather embarrassed and slightly disoriented boyfriend come out of the toilets and look around hurriedly before heading for the door too.

The meal was fine and either Siggy or Bobby had texted Toni to let her know we were eating our main course so she could head over anytime - they're only two minutes from the pub, but we all appreciate how long it takes to get  a 5 year-old girl, her ten-year old sister and 12 year old brother ready - not to mention her 43 year-old hubby - so we wanted to give her time to get there. Toni, super-organised or gagging for a drink or both was there within about three minutes. She really is a marvel, especially when there's the promise of a drink involved.

On arrival, however, the plan went, frankly, totally tits-up! No sooner were they through the door than the "helpful" barman was over explaining that no children were allowed in the bar area after 9pm. We did point out that it was only just after 8pm, but apparently the kids are only allowed in if their eating and they stopped taking orders at 8pm. So Toni and Jack had to make a hasty retreat.

First time I've ever seen Toni thrown out of a pub sober but we made up for that as she and Jack had us back to theirs afterwards and we had a really nice wee night. Cheers, guys!

So following the night out, I got my new fridge fitted and have been enjoying ice cold milk on my cereal all week as well as really nice cold meats, cheese which isn't sweating and, best of all, butter that doesn't spread itself (not actually butter, that pretendy-butter stuff that's OK because it's not margarine)

So, once the weekend was over, I had a very quiet week. I got around to booking our November weekend away and thereby proved why we need to book early - bloody place was fully booked by the time I went to book it on Tuesday after it had been available all weekend when I'd checked. So we're going back to the same place as last year.A hot tub's a hot tub, right?

I really stuck to the menu Siggy had carefully written on the whiteboard, how I was supposed to know that "week 2 " meant the second week of the menu. I mean, how is "this week" really that obvious? Once he'd explained that all the stuff on "week 2" was frozen and most of "this week" was fresh (in my new fridge), I suppose it was kind of obvious.

I went to a couple of meetings in the town - even parked in the space as last week and didn't lose my ticket in the space between the dashboard and the windscreen.

I even went for a very slow jog with Siggy and Dappy in the park. So a really quiet week with no slip-ups, disasters or comedy moments compared to the normal. I don't care what Siggy says, falling backwards into the dogs bath whilst it was half full of water so my a**e got wet and I got stuck, lying in the back garden like an upturned turtle whilst shouting to Siggy in his office and disturbing his videoconference is not a slip-up or a disaster.

Spending the afternoon sorting out six months worth of receipts for work expenses, putting them in nice, month-by-month piles, then going in to grab a coffee and finding the wind has taken them all over the decking is not a slip-up or a disaster.

And its not a comedy moment either.

A comedy moment is when your friend BBM's you from a wedding to tell you the bride has been taken to hospital because she twisted her knee at her first dance and the only response you have is "Was the first song Chubby Checker?"

Face it - every one of you is now adding to the list of alternatives that created - Twist and "ouch", Everybody "Kneeds" Somebody, anything by Twisted Sister or Kneel Diamond...... just send them in as comments!

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