Here we see the lesser Saab male in his (un-natural) habitat. I want to know how the car picture was framed professionally and then on the wall within hours of it arriving in the house when I have pictures that have been here since my birthday, since we decorated the lounge, since we moved in are still languishing in cupboards?
I can’t use a drill but I can put pictures a up with a nail and a shoe. No one ever showed me how to do DIY but it’s amazing the variety of related tasks I’ve got through with only a butter knife and the tiny, tiny screwdrivers that come in Christmas crackers. Apparently “You can’t put things on the walls here as they are too soft” but SAAB goods and mega large curved screens (for work purposes!!) literally leap up to adhere themselves to the walls. I can’t get to any of the tools in the garage as garage is filled with crapola – I should take my friend Linda’s advice and build a tool kit of my own.
P.S. Swearing is now emanating from DIY zone so pleased to report that normal service has been resumed.
Today Wendy and I accompanied Suzanne to an orthopaedic appointment at Minehead Community Hospital. May I venture to recommend it as an excellent knitting venue? Comfy chairs, relaxing music, great natural light and vending machines. The first cup of tea was vended (as Wendy is never knowingly under-tead) and Wendy took one look and decided to leave the tea and opt for coffee. The tea must have been bad as she never drinks coffee. I decided to offer the unwanted cup of tea to an elderly gentleman who was curled up over a newspaper. He declined. When has an OAP ever turned down free tea? I can only presume that either he had already experienced tea from that particular machine or thought I was a sexual predator who entices OAPs with promises of refreshments. As you can see I got a fair bit of knitting done. I really need to get on and finish it as it’s getting boring to look at but the Virgo in me is making me complete this before starting the next project. Suzanne returned to our little knitting base with a clean bill of health so she can now go to Australia with her brother. She was wearing a very soft jumper, so much so that I commented on it, to which Suzanne replied “I only ever wear cashmere”. Apparently once you’ve worn it you never go back which is a bit like handmade socks.
Wendy was very happy that we found a missed yarn forward in her shawl (not) so we couldn’t leave the hospital until we’d unpicked and knitted back. The receptionist provided us with paperclips to act as stitch markers – God bless the NHS. We then decamped to the Cosy Club in Taunton where Suzanne treated us to lunch and cheeky G & Ts. I was persuaded to trot along to TKMaxx where I purchased a raincoat for Mr M and some storage jars for the ever burgeoning button collection. I don’t know where they come from, but every time I look there are more.
I took Alice and Georgaberga to Cabot Circus today to pick up a few essentials and to treat the girls at the Bobbi Brown counter. We did this last Christmas after a jaunt around the ice rink at Cribbs. The boys were away for the day sorting out paperwork and keys for the new abode of the first born so it was an ideal opportunity. Unfortunately, I hadn’t remembered that it was a bank holiday.
After a smooth journey, we sauntered across the glass bridge in a sheep-like formation. The Bobbi Brown counter in House of Fraser was deserted. Several other customers came, waited and went but I couldn’t leave as I needed someone to grab a face powder out of the magic drawers. Eventually I went across to what looked like an adjoining counter where three young ladies were chatting. After a while I was rude enough to interrupt their conversation to ask if there was anyone who would be able to nip across and help with Bobbi Brown. Blonde lady number one, left blondes two and three to continue looking at the pictures on three’s mobile and informed me that “we are all Bobbi Brown”.
The assistant then served me with a fixed grimace, she clearly either didn’t want to be there, didn’t like her job or didn’t want to stop looking at important photos. I don’t think I’ve ever been served by someone so grudgingly, she said the right words but clearly didn’t mean them and her smile didn’t reach her eyes. To be fair she may have worked lots of extra hours over Christmas but this was not the Bobbi Brown I am used to, a caring professional service. I made my one essential purchase and realised that the girls didn’t want to stay there, let alone choose their treats. We retired elsewhere (to MAC) where the girls made their purchases but not until I spoke to the Floor Manager to let her know what had happened. I wasn’t shouty, I wasn’t cross but I was disappointed, I expected better and I wanted her to know how many customers they had lost just in the short time that I was there. She wasn’t a happy bunny and was last seen striding purposefully towards the Bobbi Brown counter.
Cabot’s was a little like Bedlam, lots of rude, pushy people stripping the shelves of anything with a reduced sticker, this made us extra polite and accommodating to make up for all the rude people. Stranely we received nearly the same level of service in Debenhams at the YSL counter. The Chanel lady had to help and she clearly didn’t want to. Why work in a customer environment if you don’t like people? It’s like children’s entertainers who don’t like children – why not choose another avenue of employment? I like helping people and meeting new people so I work with people. It’s not rocket science.
It’s Christmas Eve and the magic begins. We’ve been to Nanny Bunty’s for seasonal shindigs and gathering of the Williams and Rooney clans. The pavlova speaks for itself. Raspberries should always come with meringue and cream and Nanny is particularly proficient with a pavlova (and pretty much every other form of comestible provisions).
Upon my return to the homestead I was met with these beautiful roses from Mr W. Is it just me or is a sudoku puzzle quicker than opening a flower food sachet? They invariably either don’t open or dress your outfit with a fine flower food jus. You can’t use your teeth in case you ingest the stuff. Then you have to trim the flowers which leads me to kitchen scissors, it doesn’t matter what you do with them, they all end up the same regardless of the initial outlay; sabatier or £1 from ikea they are all rendered to the same level of uselessness after approximately two months in a standard kitchen drawer.
I had requested that the first born take a commemorative photo of Monsieur Maurice this evening in his jaunty Christmas waistcoat. He did, he just didn’t save it (gee thanks I birth you and everything and just want a photo).
At 11.30 pm we are waiting for the small folk to go to bed in order for Father Christmas to work his magic. What is actually happening is: –
- I’m dragging them back downstairs as they’ve forgotten to hang their stockings
- dog is whining as he is confused by sleeping upstairs (imagine the chaos if the Easter egg consumer had full reign over the present encrusted lounge)
- firstborn has realised that he now has to locate paper and wrap the presents he brought in a grand flourish earlier today (I’m not sure where our nearest petrol station forecourt is)
- firstborn has also realised that although he handed his stocking back last year (replete with solid and mouldering clementine), he cannot find his present sack and is having to resort to a bin bag.
I wish everyone a happy, healthy crafty Christmas.