I don’t know why, but when my feet got cold this afternoon, it became hugely important to find matching socks. This was no easy task but, after 40 odd years of never giving a hoot about socks, the little buggars had to match. How weird is that?
It was so strangely important, I started to attach magical outcomes to the achievement of finding a pair. Continue reading
The Great Western Rail experience;
“Hello, can I have a cheese and tomato toastie on crusty farmhouse white bread, please?”
“Sorry, but we don’t have any tomatoes.”
“Ah, never mind. Toasted cheese then.”
“Er, we are out of cheese”.
“Oh. Toast then.”
“Yes, but it will have to be brown bread.”
For further great British food tales see Everyday at 8pm.
I got to the bottom of a tasty bowl of Covent Garden leek and potato soup when I saw what looked suspiciously like a bit of chicken. “EEEEEK!” I shrieked, “I’ve got a bit of chicken in my soup, Richy Rich!” “Uh? That’s outrageous”, replied Richy. Given that I ain’t knowingly* eaten meat for over 20 years, I thought that was a bit of an understatement. A lot more tasty swears came into my mind, but given that this blog has a more than healthy smattering of swearsies, I won’t include them here.
Now, for the purposes of this post, I’m substituting Laughing boy’s surname (which happens to be an endangered species) for Llama. And, I’m pretending that llama’s are an endangered species. When I told some mates this story on the bus a few weeks ago, I laughed so much I could barely speak. They didn’t. Continue reading
Several years ago I travelled by coach to see Rosie sing with her school (and hundreds of other schools) at the Royal Festival Hall in London. We were dropped off a couple of hours before the concert started so I went for a walk round Covent Garden. Bizarrely, I bumped into someone who I’d gone on a random truck trip with across Africa ten years before (long story, inspired by watching Tracy Chapman, on the TV, singing at the Nelson Mandela birthday concert). Continue reading
I love travelling by train. It would be my preferred choice of travelling anywhere. The line from London down to Cornwall is especially nice, following the coast. Unfortunately last time I travelled on that route two gap yah boys recognised each other (through their type rather than personally) and bonded, loudly, across the table I was sitting at. They started with country top trumps; “Whoa Guatamala. Far out.” “Yah, right, but Peru, man”. “Yah, Peru, superb.”
Laughing boy has been called LB for many years now because he is very funny, without any sniff of trying to be funny. It’s a mystery, but very, very entertaining. Continue reading
This is a bit of a saucy one, so be warned…. Richy Rich and I were coming back from London on a very busy bus, one Sunday morning. We were both listening to music on headphones and chilling out, when the bus stopped at Shepherd’s Bush. Richy leant across to me and said in a very, very loud voice; “Have you ever had a shepherd in your bush, dear?” Continue reading
These posts aren’t in a chronological order, so this probably won’t have the resonance it should. But random is good (sometimes). Laughing Boy came into the kitchen tonight and said “Thank you mum for phewddryfhddndfhrrhsssvvbnrtt”.
Whoa!!! Wha?? LB initiating a conversation? Unprompted? That isn’t about a need (toilet, internet access, maintenance of routine…) This is amazing. A “thank you” opening??? What are you saying LB???? Continue reading
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