Recent activities chez nous have reminded me of an old routine by the comic Jack Dee. He believed that the merest whiff of interest in central heating systems condemned you to old-fartdom. I remember laughing along with him, nodding my head in agreement, howling at the whole loser-ness of anyone over the age of forty. Central heating? All these people needed was a good shag and a bifta…that’d warm them up a bit.
So anyway….as snow is forecast in these parts, heating and insulation have risen to the top of our agenda. Draughts are being excluded like never before. Shutters pulled tight as soon as the light fails. Leave a door open at your peril.
God, I feel old.
So, it is cheering news I bring you of The Best of British Mummy Bloggers carnival being hosted by the completely Potty Mummy. She rather ill advisedly invited me to take part, which I am more than happy to do – I’m so used to being the wheezy fat blogger at the back who never gets picked for anything…so it makes a change. Please go and take a look...I guarantee you'll find something that'll take your fancy!And if you vote for me, I’ll let you send me a fiver. Yes...surprising and frankly, worrying as it may seem...I AM a mummy. How did that happen?
There you see? I’m feeling happier already. Now I’m going to seek someone over the age of eighty with whom to discuss my chillblains. The benefits will be twofold. I will feel younger. Moaning is always a good tonic. I can sit in someone else’s warm house. And drink their wine. And eat their delicious, hearty fare, instead of my boring peanut butter sandwiches. Erm…that’s fivefold, I reckon.
In the background as I write this, my darling Spouse is watching Donald Sutherland on Arté, enthusiastically art-humping his way through Fellini’s Casanova. It’s quite disconcerting to keep looking up only to see old Don’s rather hangdog expression contorted in an approximation of sexual ecstasy. Ooh my word. Now he's wearing a lit candelabra on his head. Do be careful of singeing, mate. Spouse keeps mumbling about Sutherland’s improbable, hirsute lightbulb hairstyle. And the fact that all the actresses squeak at the point of orgasm.And there's a drunken harpsichordist...
Monday, 24 November 2008
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6 comments:
Peanut butter sandwiches are never boring... Or do I only think that because a) I'm a mummy b) I have nothing better to do than arrange carnivals, clearly c) I'm over 40 and d) Peanuts are contraband in this house due to life threatening allergy - not mine - so have become an incredibly exhilarating treat only to be enjoyed when no children are around... Hmm. That would probably be yes, yes, yes and yes...
A drunken harpsichordist. Well, what more can life offer?
Now that sounds like a good film. And I remember that Jack Dee routine. I think it was in the same one that he discussed cats and dogs and how dogs just 'love you'. I fell in love with him a little then. Sighhhh.
So, so, sooo long ago, before the chilblains and the bunions, and the wrinkles, and...
Harpsicords and drunkeness....... whatever next?
Will have to go over to your link and see what it is all about.
was that Donald Sutherland? I saw that last week at some impossible time like 4am on Arte while breastfeeding and gorging myself on Twix
strangley enough it was the only scene I saw, just a black deer head thing shagging a gasping pale Italian wench...then I switched to teleAchat..less disturbing....
I hate it that I've started nodding along in agreement to Jack Dee.
Must start eating smooth peanut butter so the bits don't get stuck in my dentures. Better for rubbing on bunions too.
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