Snory Story Revisited


Heres a story I came across while I was looking back at a few old posts. It made me laugh out loud as I remembered it. I hope it makes you chuckle too.

Here’s a little snory story for you

Since weeknights have become a no alcohol zone in our house in an effort to economise, lose weight and generally get healthy, I’ve noticed a welcome but totally unexpected side effect. Boofuls no longer spends most nights snoring and I no longer spend most nights cursing, digging him in the ribs and shouting at him to ‘”Turn over and SHUDDUP!!” Usually followed by, “Right! That’s it! You’re p***ing me off now. Go and sleep in the spare room.”

Peace, perfect peace. I’m loving it. I’m loving getting up in the morning and not spending half the morning trying to get my poor brain out of it’s sleep deprived fog.

Weekends, however are the perfect reason to open a nice bottle of sauvignon blanc and partake of a wee drinkie.

Last Friday night, sauvignon blanc-ed to a nice fuzzy level, Boofuls and I retired to our bed.

Sure enough, within a few seconds – yes, that wasn’t a typo I did mean seconds, how that man can fall asleep so fast is beyond me. It’s like turning off a light – Boofuls was asleep and snoring gently. I’d decided to read a couple of chapters of my latest Harry Potter.

Within a few more seconds the snore fest had begun and the volume level began to rise. Soon it was reverberating around the bedroom and I was starting to suffer from sense of humour failure.

Now you may or may not know that I’m not a woman known for my tolerance. I let the cacophany continue for a few minutes with the occasional “shuddup” or “turn over”.  It was obvious he was dreaming by the twitching and muttering that was going on in between the snores but I soon got bored of listening to it and as normal announced. “Right! That’s it. You’re p***ing me off now, go and sleep in the spare room.”

He jumped, grunted and in the most pathetic voice you can imagine said, ” I can’t. I don’t know where it is.”

Oh how that tickled my funny bone! I was apopleptic with laughter and stuffing the duvet into my mouth in an attempt to not laugh out loud and wake him up too much.

” Well, love. Get out of bed, turn right, open the door and walk up the landing and it’s the first door on the right.” By now I thought he’d be fully woken up and noticing my sarcastic tone but instead he thanked me gratefully for my directions, got up and went on his way!

I laid there laughing till the tears poured down my face and my stomach ached. The following morning he didn’t remember a single thing about it.

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Who knew?


Who knew that heart attacks and panic attacks have EXACTLY the same symptoms?

Not me!

Want to know how I found out?

Well. Make a brew, pull up a comfy chair and read on…

There is a lot about this story that I can’t actually tell you for legal reasons but suffice to say that it’s been a very stressful year and in the end WE WON. Or to put it another way: common sense prevailed and the law wasn’t an ass.

Anyway… in the run up to the final events we can’t mention for legal reasons it’s fair to say that I’d been feeling the pressure a bit. One final set of legal papers arrived before our court date. I looked at them quickly and then took Douggie the doggie out for a walk/training session in the pouring rain to try and clear my head a bit.

We quite like training in the rain. No tourists walking all over our training area in the park (how very dare they?!) and no one stopping to interrupt our training to chat and tell us we should go onto Britain’s Got Talent. In fact, there wasn’t a soul to be seen, just the way we like it.

Anyway, I digress. Armed with my usual pocketful of tasty sausages we went to our usual training place and practised some of Douggie’s latest dance routine. Douggie was having a ball while I began to feel decidedly unwell.  ‘Ignore it’ I thought.

I felt worse. Can’t breathe. Ooh, ground’s going round and round. What are these pains? I’m going to faint. Oh. My legs aren’t working. Why am I on the floor?

Douggie, of course, thought I was teaching him a great new trick and jumped all over me while I knelt on the ground thinking  I was dying.

After a couple of minutes it dawned on that I was getting very wet and on the ground in the pouring rain was no place to die. I slowly got to my feet and made my way to the nearest bench, clutching my chest and crying.  Once I got to the bench I sat and googled heart attack symptoms in women. Yes, yes, I know. A more sensible thing to do would have been to phone an ambulance, or Boofuls, or 101. I didn’t think of any of that. I didn’t want to make a fuss. I’ve learnt since that women not wanting to make a fuss is the cause of lots of us losing their lives through heart attacks.

Anyway. Let’s have a read of Google. Oh crap! I’ve got that. That. That. That. That. That.

I don’t want to die on a park bench!

After sitting for a few minutes I  decided to get home and the only way to do it was to set off walking – so I did. Slowly, sobbing, breathlessly and holding onto my chest to keep the pains at bay I walked up the hill to home.  Douggie didn’t once pull me, he must have realised that something was amiss.  The second I opened the door Boofuls looked at me horrified, “What the hell’s happened to you?”

Despite my protestations, Boofuls phoned our GP who said go straight to A&E.  Quick tip: If you ever want to jump the queue at A&E just mutter the words ‘chest’ and pains’ you’ll be whisked straight through like royalty.

Staff swiftly attached wires, took blood, did lots of other things I wasn’t aware of.

You know, we complain a lot about the NHS but when you really need it, it’s there and it’s amazing.

Cutting an extremely long story short. I was admitted overnight to hospital to be on the safe side.  In the morning a really lovely consultant come to see me and told me I had not had a heart attack and was anything bothering me?  They thought that what I’d had was an anxiety attack.

Mortified at having wasted their valuable time and resources I apologised profusely and repeatedly, only to be told that they would far rather keep me in and send me out alive that have me arrive too late and not go home at all. The only thing I was to do differently if it happened again was to not chuff about (my words) and ring an ambulance immediately. I could have cost myself my life.

So there we are. That was my brush with death. Since the event my GP has referred me to a counsellor and given me some bloody amazing magic pills. Has it happened again? Yes it has. The difference now is that I know it is anxiety and I’m not going to die from it. That on its own is a great calmer.

Isn’t it awful that life can get so stressful that your body has to make you think you are actually going to die before you’ll pay attention to it?

.

I know he’s here somewhere


Nothing much has changed since I wrote this. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Tripping Over Pebbles No More

Mr Douggie the Doggie managed to break the penultimate rule a while ago and was allowed to start sleeping in our bedroom with us. The ultimate rule is ‘no dogs on the bed’ which he tries to break on a regular basis but gets met with a sharp ‘GET OFF!!’ Every other rule in the book went by the board a long time ago. “I’ll never let him on the furniture”,  for instance. Now he just jumps up and gets settled wherever and whenever he feels like it, usually using me as a pillow. Ok, I admit it, I like the doggie snuggles while I’m watching a bit of evening telly.

To be fair, we only relaxed the bedroom rule so he could alert us if he was going to have a seizure but I have to be honest, I hate him being in the bedroom.

As if Boofuls doesn’t…

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Toilet humour


Tripping Over Pebbles No More

Oh, how I can relate to this

Talking of technology but not so cutting edge, no pun intended. We had a small bathroom malfunction the other day.

Call it what you will; lavvy, loo, throne, potty, pissoir, privy, wc or any other of the myriad of names (I’ll try and use as many as I can in this post) applied to it, that invention of none other than Mr Crapper himself makes life mighty difficult when it isn’t working.

Boofuls, being the nearest handyman on call, fixed us up with an inconvenient way of flushing the convenience in the absence of any flush mechanism. It came  in the form of a large black bucket, the plan being to  collect water from the bath tap and hence chuck a bucket full of water down th’ole as way of a makeshift flush until he was able to procure the means of fixing…

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Momo


This week I’ve learnt a lot about the internet.

I mean, I’m not stupid, I know there is a lot of terrible stuff on there and I know that perverts, paedophiles, sadist…let’s not go on, you get the idea, are all on there looking for their next victim.

Worse than me learning a lot about the internet is lovely  ten year old Munki learning about it. She lives here with us and has for the last four years but in my head she is still a four year old innocent. That’s probably why I found this so shocking.

Having been so thrilled about getting her own phone as recently as Christmas. It has now been taken away from her. The reason being that she has spent 90% of her time since getting it sitting alone in a corner chatting to people she doesn’t know and forming relationships with them.

Luckily for her, her mum checks her phone regularly to make sure that nothing untoward has been going on. Luckily for her, her mum checked her phone the other day and found a conversation on there that was way beyond Munki’s years and very worrying.

Don’t worry, it wasn’t a paedophile grooming her but it was highly inappropriate and shocking to read. It’s not my business to share on here and I’m only mentioning it as a way of flagging up other things.

Lots of conversations followed in the wake of the phone discovery. One of the things that came to light was an internet character called Momo. You are probably much more savvy than I am and not shocked by this but I have been sideswiped by it.

For those who don’t know. Momo is an internet character that frequents children’s chat rooms, instagram etc. It develops from a small egg and is a cute endearing little character. It pops up in the middle of children’s programmes like Peppa Pig. It threatens to creep into the child’s bedroom and kill it. It sets challenges for children. Small things like, ‘Hide your mum’s glasses. Don’t tell anyone, it’s our secret.’ As time goes on Momo, and the challenges get bigger and more serious. Always the message that accompanies the challenge is, “You can’t tell anyone. I’ll come and get you if you do.”

Kids are being sucked into this and are so scared of Momo and the threats that they are suffering nightmares and stress. Such is Momo’s power over these kids that eventually they get told, “You have to go and kill yourself now.”  And kids have been so scared that they have been doing it.

Just typing this gives me chills. The more I think about it the more upset I get.

The message that has got to get out there as a matter of extreme urgency is to keep your kids close. Know what they are looking at. Make no bones about looking at and checking their phones and everything they look at. Limit their time on the internet but mostly; love your kids. Let them be kids. No child should be subjected to such emotional distress that they kill themselves.

Munki


For those of you not familiar with Munki, let me introduce her.

She is our nine year old granddaughter, she lives here, along with her mother, Lashes at Booful’s Lodging Emporium.

Always a feisty child, she always has an opinion. Whoever gets this girl in later life will need to keep on their toes. She’s sharp. You never really know what she’s going to come out with next. I have a suspicion, for various reasons, that she may she may be on the ‘spectrum’. This girl just tells it like it is and there are zero filters between her mouth and her brain. As often as we talk about manners and not being rude, she still hasn’t managed to get a filter in place.

I once took her to an exhibition of local artists’ work. She stood in the middle of the hushed gallery and announced in strident tones, “Well, I don’t know why we are wasting our time here, Nanny. It’s all rubbish.” As much as I wished for the ground to swallow me whole it stayed steadfastly solid under my feet as everyone in the room (mostly the artists) glared at us. To be fair, it wasn’t the best exhibition I’ve ever seen but I’d rather she’d whispered it to me rather than bellowing it for all to hear. I really must locate her volume control.

Having said all that, she is loving, quirky, incredibly funny and quick witted as well as being a very talented artist. I love being in her company as she always has me in stitches of laughter.

Last night it was Lashes on the receiving end. Having had a busy day and not feeling great she decided to take the easy route for dinner. “What’s for dinner, mum?”, Munki enquired.

“You’re having soup today.”

“Soup? What flavour?”

“Tomato.”

“Tomato soup? Out of a tin? It’s like being in a war. Except we aren’t in a war, are we, mum? It’s just you too lazy to make a meal.”

Wow! Just wow! I think it might be time to have another chat about manners and respect. *stifles gales of laughter at her perceptive comment*

Sausage Roulette


I love a good game of sausage roulette in the morning. I mean. Who doesn’t love a game of sausage roulette?

Right.

Wash your mind out right now!

Sausage roulette involving actual sausages from the butcher. Honestly, what are you? Twelve?

Never heard of it? It’s a game we hoteliers love to play on a daily basis. How many guests have we got in? How many are going to want sausages? How many shall I actually cook?

It can be a risky game. I’ve held my nerve on many occasions and won, doing a little victory lap around the kitchen with a roasting tin devoid of sausages held aloft. I’ve lost my nerve on many occasions and wished I’d held tight. I’ve never outright lost and needed a sausage and not had one but I’ve had sausages leftover on many occasions. Douggie the doggie never complains and neither do the staff.

This weekend I was going to win. No doubt about it. Three vegetarians, one vegan, four meat eaters. Strangely, I have discovered that the fewer guests we have the more likely they are to want a full English breakfast so I put in four sausages.

The vegetarian/vegan group came down to breakfast first. I stood in the kitchen awaiting their order, hand on the freezer door ready to pull out a pack of Linda McCartney’s.

“One scrambled egg on toast. One hash browns, tomato and beans. One hash browns mushrooms and beans and one full English.”

“Veggie full English?”
“No. Full English, bacon, sausage, the works.”

“What? No. They can’t. They’re vegetarian.”
“Not today they’re not.”

Bugger. I set to making their breakfasts and then contemplated my hand in the game of sausage roulette. Four people due for breakfast. Only three sausages. Hold my nerve or cave?

I held my nerve. The next couple came down for breakfast. “Two full English, Please.”

I was starting to panic. Two guests, one sausage.

Then I remembered that I’d caught sight of the remaining couple when they checked in. Fair to say they enjoyed their food. I caved. In went another sausage.

The last couple came down. The washer upper, Lashes and I stood and waited with bated breath for the order to come in.

Boofuls came in with the order.

“You lose.”

Paint, frogs and flowers – it’s all in a days work.


I was having a browse through and this came up. The little green frog!!

I tried to find the post with the video and it’s disappeared. It must have hopped off! Shame, that was a super cute memory but never mind, we still have these photos as a memento of the day.

Tripping Over Pebbles No More

Every now and then it’s nice to have a little bit of family fun. I came up with an idea to keep the grandchildren amused for half a day at the studio. The idea was for them to build and paint themselves a set and then do a little performance in it which we could film. The day started easily enough, a quick rummage round the shed for paints and brushes followed by a trip to Matalan to buy frog green tights, a couple of lei’s, party blowers and some flowers. I have all manner of other props and fabrics at the studio so there was plenty of stuff for inspiration.


Back at the studio I resurrected the remains of an old paper roll backdrop for them to paint just in time for DIL arriving with the kids. All the ideas on how they wanted the set to look flowed…

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Cornwall Adventure


Boofuls and I decided that we wouldn’t buy each other Christmas presents. There is nothing either of us wanted or needed so we decided to spend the money on something we did want. A few days away together.

After a lot of diary jiggling we managed to find three days. We rented a log cabin in the middle of nowhere, well not quite nowhere. Perranporth, which is nearly the same thing.

The next couple of days we discovered Cornwall. Although we have lived in Devon for four years now and I used to live in Devon as a kid I have never made it to Cornwall even though I’ve always wanted to. It did not disappoint. Well, except for Newquay, that disappointed. What a dump!

The Minack Theatre, that most definitely exceeded all my already high expectations. It’s an almost magical place. We loved it and Douggie the doggie especially loved the beach next to it. Here are a few pictures from our trip.

Reset Password?


What? No! No I don’t want to reset the bloody password! I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN MY PASSWORD, YOU HAVE!!!

Use my current password you nobjockey!!GAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!

Locked in a series of circular resets. All I want is to get my own bloody pictures off my own bloody phone!

Why, oh, why did I upload my photos to the cloud to free up storage on my phone. Ok, There’s the answer right there in the question.
But WHY DID I DO IT?

I can’t get my photos to download. Lightroom, my preferred photo editing and storage suite, seems to think I have only seven photos on my phone, and they are not even in sequence. What the hell is going on?’

I’ve spent the last hour trying to log in to the cloud and ended up getting logged out of my Apple account and I still haven’t got my photos.

Flitting between my phone and my computer trying to make it all work. Apparently I am allowed back into my account tomorrow.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!Deep sodding joy.
I bloody love technology.

Rants, raves and ramblings about whatever takes my fancy

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