Out of order

Nuttycow can't come to the blog right now. She's too busy feeling sorry for herself.

Normal service will be resumed soon.

Something I promised I wouldn't do...

... is drunken blog.

Yes, in a looooooooong conversation with Ollie I promised I would never blog when drunk.

Well. I gave in. It's 1:19 in the morning, I've had a couple of cheeky vimtos (port and WKD blue in case you didn't know) and hey, I've decided to blog.

The lovely Edward, other half of the fabulous Milla, sent me something off my wishlist - the Scouting for Girls album. I do like it but...

1. The first song sounds likes the words and the backing track are from completely different songs.

2. All the rest of the songs are from the "repeat the words over and over again and maybe someone will like it" school. Great for people like N who can't remember any words but not so good for me who knows all the words to EVERY SONG EVER MADE.

It's alright - not a patch on Jonny Cash though.

Thank you Edward - appreciated.

What if...

I tend to use the time I'm in the car to think. It's a good a place as any. It's warm, it's comfortable and more often than not, I'm on my own. Just recently, I've noticed that the things I think about aren't exactly... normal.

I think about the best things that could happen, I think about the worst things that could happen. I think about myself and about other people. I have scenarios planned out. I have dialogue. Am I going mad?!

What would happen if I got sacked?
Where would I live?
Would N stay with me?
What would I do if we broke up?
How would it feel if my parents died?
Would I know who to turn to?
Would they know what to do?
Am I doing the right thing with my life?
Should I jack it all in, move and do something else?
Do my friends really like me?
Am I good at my job or do I just think I am?
When I look at someone on the street and think to myself, oh my god, I'm glad I'm not as fat as her... am I actually as fat as her and I just don't realise it?
How do other people see me?
Will I age gracefully?
Will I ever have the life I want?
What would my ideal house be like?
Can you imagine living with N for the rest of your life?
What would you do if you suddenly came into money?
What are you doing with your life?

I think I need to stop thinking and start doing!

Tradition

My childhood was full of funny little traditions:

• Santa likes his whisky with a little bit of water.
• Rudolph prefers chocolate to carrots.
• Tooth fairy rates do not increase with inflation.
• On Christmas Eve we will go down to the pub, get merrily drunk and stagger to Midnight Mass no matter what condition we were in.
• Christmas presents are not to be opened until about 3 in the afternoon (after late breakfast, a trip to the pub and before the meal in the evening).
• Easter is a day for chocolate and church. Your egg will be on the table with breakfast and you may eat it then and there as an accompaniment with full fry up breakfast. You will then go to church.
• At the end of the school year you will take a thank you present to your teacher.
• Bread and butter letters will be sent after staying with someone.
• Home made cards are best.
• No matter what the weather, you will go for a walk on a Sunday.
• Saturdays are for going into "nearest large town to the village". We will meet at 11 o'clock at "random small coffee shop".
• All pets will have random swahili names.

It makes me a little bit sad that N doesn't seem to have had all these types of traditions. If we get married and have children it'll be up to me to make sure that, 20 years on, they're sitting remembering their childhood with fondness and having a little giggle.

In Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire...

A bout of chuntering with Milla has led me to realise how unforgiving I am of those who incur my grammatical, stylistical and vocabularical wrath (and yes, vocabularical is a word. A word I made up. Shush, I'm ranting)

There are a couple of things which really really really annoy me.

Toilet:
It's not a toilet. It's a loo. The origins of "loo" are unknown but there are a number of wonderful theories... all which are much better than toilet (which seems to be an Americanism). Lavatory (from the Latin lavātōrium) is of course, even better.

Lounge:
Unless you live in an airport, you do not have a lounge in your house. You have a sitting room (which is normally slightly more informal) or possibly a drawing room. Not used for drawing, but rather withdrawing.

Couch:
Sofa. Sofa. Sofa. Couch? Brings up visions of Land of Leather. Ditto settee

Serviette:
It may sound French. It may be French. It's still horrible. You probably get serviettes in a McDonalds. If you're at my house, you get napkins.

Tux/Tuxedo:
Another Americanism (and hey, this isn't a beat-the-Americans-over-the-head-with-a-stick post it's just I don't like certain ways they do things... politics amongst others). It's a dinner jacket. You wear it when having dinner. Which neatly leads me onto...

Tea/Dinner:
I've never understood this one. In my house it was always... Breakfast, Lunch, Tea, Supper. Breakfast is pretty self-explanatory. Lunch, meal in the middle of the day. Tea, either a cup of tea or a small snack when home from school (at around 4/5 ish). Supper, meal at the end of the day, around 8/9 o'clock. Some people have Breakfast, Dinner and then Tea. How does that work?

Hello, pleased/nice to meet you/how's it going:
Even I have to admit, I'm a bit slack with this one... it depends to whom I am talking. Interviewers, friends of parents, N's parents/friends, certain people I went to uni/school with? "Hello. How d'you do?". Random person I'm being introduced to in the pub? "Hi, how's it going?"

Setting the table:
Fork on the left. Knife on the right (blade facing in please). Finished eating? Knife and fork together in the middle of the plate (blade again, facing in).

Eating:
Fork in left hand, knife in right. Elbows off table (unless you've finished). Finishing your mouthful before talking. Wait until everyone's got food before starting. Napkins on lap, not tucked in anywhere else. If you're a child, ask to leave the table, don't just assume you can. If you're an adult and you need to go somewhere, excuse yourself. If you're a guest, always offer to help clear away. Don't stack the plates. Certainly don't scape the plates at the table. Take them out to the kitchen 2 (or 3 if you can manage it) at a time.

Snobbish? Maybe. Sue me.

EDIT 200308: Thank you peach - a typo meant I'd completely undone all my ranting previously. Knife is now firmly placed in the right hand. Phew.

As old as the woman you feel

A wise man once said "How old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?" And, as it's coming up to my birthday (gosh, I'm going to be so old), I got thinking.

How old would I like to be?

0 - 2 years - No stress. Sit. Lie down a little. Cry a bit. Play. Eat. All your needs are dealt with, no responsibility. Now that's a life I could get used to. Much like a cat I would be ruler of my own universe, know I was right in all circumstances and would be able to turn my affection on and off at whim.

6-7 years - I have few memories from this period but I do remember endless summers. I always seemed to be playing, even when at school. Friends could be made and dropped in an instant. There was no pressure to look good or to wear the right things. If you were teased you were safe in the knowledge that your mother had dressed you so therefore, it wasn't your fault. Food seemed nicer at this age. Maybe because everything was new.

Teen years - Surprisingly idyllic. Is this because I was living in a hot country with few distractions apart from horses and sport? Could it be that I just didn't care what people thought? Still?

30 - 40 years - For some reason I think this will be the best time of my life. I should have my own home. I should be married. I should have children. I should have enough money to see me through. Should.

90+ years - I would have great fun pretending I were slightly mad. I'd put irons in the fridge. I'd make my 10 cats wear different hats and seat them round the table at dinner parties. I would delight in squeezing the cheeks of people younger than me. I would attempt to grow plants in people's shoes and I would make everyone refer to me as "Your Majesty".

What about you?

I know it's tres gauche to blog about what people search about to find your site but I've seriously had a couple of randoms recently which makes me wonder exactly who it is out there on the other side of this computer screen.

Too much Dulcoease? Make your way here.
Want to play rugby in a salsa dress? I'm your cow.
And, naturally, if you want to know about lovely men's bottoms... I have the monopoly on them too.

Banana, speedboat, constipation, erect, jumping up and down, telephone, dip his nib in my ink, swirly chairs, lick...Sorry... just trying disappoint people.

Trains, planes and automobiles

I like Dublin. It's scruffy, the people are nice and the money doesn't seem real (am I the only one who thinks that Euros are like Monopoly money?)

What I don't like about Dublin is the airport. I don't like it when I spend more time in the airport than in Dublin itself. I don't like it when my plane is delayed and I have to sit around for three hours with nothing to do. I don't like the uncomfortable seats. I don't like the internet stations that steal all your money. I don't like the noisy groups of teenagers who insist on standing behind me, shouting at the top of their voices. I don't like the fact you can't get a proper knife and fork to eat the (mediocre) food with.

I don't like the fact that I'm knackered today thanks to Dublin airport.