I have left my blog to later deliberately this morning – I’m trying to see the funny side of things, and still failing miserably. Himself is off work today, he’s attending a funeral (I always think that’s a weird word, ‘fun’ doesn’t seem quite right, unless you think about what can happen at the wake afterwards when the drink's flowing).
Anyway, I’m not really a morning person – and mornings are always a rush - so much to do, so little time. Himself was being a right pain in the arse – where was this, where was that – I’m not his bloody mother for God’s sake – he should have sorted things out last night, instead of leaving everything to this morning. Did I want toast? Why not? Did I want a cup of tea? He fecking well knows I don’t drink tea very often – why on earth would I want a cup this morning?
So when he asked me if I would iron his shirt just as I was about to leave - I may have gone off on one. OK, so I threw a right Freddie, which he didn’t appreciate – he seem to think I had been a right mouthy bitch all morning – and didn’t think my language was at all called for. I soon put him right on that one, I can tell you - which was quickly followed by him putting me right. Right across the arm of the sofa. He was under the impression that I could have made my point without ripping his head off and that I’m articulate enough to make my point without resorting to that kind of language. Personally I felt I expressed my feeling extremely fluently – I hardly paused for a breath – and it was very descriptive.
I left the house in a dignified manner – totally not speaking to him and feeling very hard done by.
++++
I experienced a bit of a nostalgic moment yesterday when collecting the newspapers - they still sell zip firelighters, a lady in front of me had decided to light a coal fire as it was getting cold. Both my nan and my mum used to use them.
We didn’t have central heating when I was a child – and I don’t consider 41 to be over the hill, thank you very much – we just had a coal fire in the living room and kitchen. By pulling a sliding plate up inside the chimney the kitchen fire also heated the hot water. If the tank got too hot, it used to make a high pitched singing sound and you had to run off some water. In the summer the water was heated by an electric emersion heater.
I woke every morning in winter to the sound of my mum scrapping out the ashes, which were put into a tin bucket and then placed outside to cool down, they were later tipped onto the garden as they were good for the plants. She used to get up early to make sure the room was warm for when I got up, I always got dressed downstairs – the bedrooms were freezing. We all used to wash in the morning in the kitchen sink, the bathroom had ice inside the window and the pipes used to freeze in the winter. I can remember my dad using a hair dryer to try to defrost them before they burst. We used to leave the tap running slightly to try to stop them freezing up.
When I went to bed at night I looked like Scot of the Antarctic, not only did I wear pyjamas, but also a cardigan and a pair of bed socks. We didn’t have duvet’s either, but sheets, blankets & eiderdowns – must be where the saying as snug as a bug in a rug comes from. We put a hot water bottle in bed half an hour before bed time - no electric blankets for us. Mind you part of that was because I was terrified that they'd catch fire. This is where I admit to setting upstairs alight - it was an accident - so I don't think I could be classed as an arsonist.
I've just remembered I had a night light with Top Cat stood by a TV. Just think if I still had it - it would probably be worth a fortune now.
It didn’t get any better when I got married – the only form of heating in the first flat we lived in was a coal fire in the living room – which also heated the water. We had metal window frames too, the whole place suffered from condensation and mildrew, we had mould growing on the bathroom walls. I just used to scrub it off – it was all very normal back then, now a days the flat would have been condemned!
++++
I read in the news yesterday that the trading standards have written to The Welsh Dragon Sausage Company about it’s labelling, which fails to state the words – Does not contain dragon meat. What!*?
They also wrote saying ‘It is recommended that you include the type of meat eg: pork/beef in the name of the food." It’s the company name for God’s sake, I don’t think for one minute people would think it contained actual dragon.
Just think, someone is being paid good money to write those letters and I bet they’ve got their own pencil sharper too, which they don’t let anyone else use.
++++
Updates in case you haven’t noticed – and before you say anything, yes I do work, I’m allowed a lunch break – are Hic Draconis (Cobweb & Gnome) & Lady Jodie. Gillibran Brown has added another chapter too. Everyone's putting me to shame.
++++
And last, but not least ~
I WON I WON I WON
Scally sent an e-mail without a joke on - Yes, *punches air* - so by default, although she tried to argue the point, we are now even – one all. It's all down to the decider!
Anyway, I’m not really a morning person – and mornings are always a rush - so much to do, so little time. Himself was being a right pain in the arse – where was this, where was that – I’m not his bloody mother for God’s sake – he should have sorted things out last night, instead of leaving everything to this morning. Did I want toast? Why not? Did I want a cup of tea? He fecking well knows I don’t drink tea very often – why on earth would I want a cup this morning?
So when he asked me if I would iron his shirt just as I was about to leave - I may have gone off on one. OK, so I threw a right Freddie, which he didn’t appreciate – he seem to think I had been a right mouthy bitch all morning – and didn’t think my language was at all called for. I soon put him right on that one, I can tell you - which was quickly followed by him putting me right. Right across the arm of the sofa. He was under the impression that I could have made my point without ripping his head off and that I’m articulate enough to make my point without resorting to that kind of language. Personally I felt I expressed my feeling extremely fluently – I hardly paused for a breath – and it was very descriptive.
I left the house in a dignified manner – totally not speaking to him and feeling very hard done by.
++++
I experienced a bit of a nostalgic moment yesterday when collecting the newspapers - they still sell zip firelighters, a lady in front of me had decided to light a coal fire as it was getting cold. Both my nan and my mum used to use them.
We didn’t have central heating when I was a child – and I don’t consider 41 to be over the hill, thank you very much – we just had a coal fire in the living room and kitchen. By pulling a sliding plate up inside the chimney the kitchen fire also heated the hot water. If the tank got too hot, it used to make a high pitched singing sound and you had to run off some water. In the summer the water was heated by an electric emersion heater.
I woke every morning in winter to the sound of my mum scrapping out the ashes, which were put into a tin bucket and then placed outside to cool down, they were later tipped onto the garden as they were good for the plants. She used to get up early to make sure the room was warm for when I got up, I always got dressed downstairs – the bedrooms were freezing. We all used to wash in the morning in the kitchen sink, the bathroom had ice inside the window and the pipes used to freeze in the winter. I can remember my dad using a hair dryer to try to defrost them before they burst. We used to leave the tap running slightly to try to stop them freezing up.
When I went to bed at night I looked like Scot of the Antarctic, not only did I wear pyjamas, but also a cardigan and a pair of bed socks. We didn’t have duvet’s either, but sheets, blankets & eiderdowns – must be where the saying as snug as a bug in a rug comes from. We put a hot water bottle in bed half an hour before bed time - no electric blankets for us. Mind you part of that was because I was terrified that they'd catch fire. This is where I admit to setting upstairs alight - it was an accident - so I don't think I could be classed as an arsonist.
I've just remembered I had a night light with Top Cat stood by a TV. Just think if I still had it - it would probably be worth a fortune now.
It didn’t get any better when I got married – the only form of heating in the first flat we lived in was a coal fire in the living room – which also heated the water. We had metal window frames too, the whole place suffered from condensation and mildrew, we had mould growing on the bathroom walls. I just used to scrub it off – it was all very normal back then, now a days the flat would have been condemned!
++++
I read in the news yesterday that the trading standards have written to The Welsh Dragon Sausage Company about it’s labelling, which fails to state the words – Does not contain dragon meat. What!*?
They also wrote saying ‘It is recommended that you include the type of meat eg: pork/beef in the name of the food." It’s the company name for God’s sake, I don’t think for one minute people would think it contained actual dragon.
Just think, someone is being paid good money to write those letters and I bet they’ve got their own pencil sharper too, which they don’t let anyone else use.
++++
Updates in case you haven’t noticed – and before you say anything, yes I do work, I’m allowed a lunch break – are Hic Draconis (Cobweb & Gnome) & Lady Jodie. Gillibran Brown has added another chapter too. Everyone's putting me to shame.
++++
And last, but not least ~
I WON I WON I WON
Scally sent an e-mail without a joke on - Yes, *punches air* - so by default, although she tried to argue the point, we are now even – one all. It's all down to the decider!
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