There is a blog I follow called ‘Fridge Soup’ which bills itself as being the place to post all those leftover snippets that aren’t meaty enough to make a post on their own. Well, that’s what this post is, a soup of snippets. Bon appetit.
During one of my bathroom forays the other week, I was quietly minding my own business doing what I had to do. Now any male readers won’t understand this but we women tend to not make an excursion out of an….er… excursion to the bathroom.
For most women, certainly all the women I’ve discussed this with, and there have been a few, think that trips to the bathroom need to be carried out in as little time as possible. Turning it into a miniature day out doesn’t carry the same appeal for us as it does for your average male.
Not for us women the books, newspapers, mp3 player, iphone or any other paraphanalia that keeps men amused during their toilet activities. I can’t for the life of me think why anyone would want to post on Facebook exactly what they were doing at that very moment. As for watching a film, well personally I’d rather be watching it curled up on the settee in a snugly blanket not sat on the toilet curling my toes.
However, having said that, if I had taken a little more time on this particular occasion to stop and smell the er…roses. I might have saved myself from a near heart attack.
Having completed my task, I reached out for the ‘ soft as a labrador puppy’ s arse’ toilet roll and rapidly tore off a huge strip, as is my wont. Unbeknown to me a huge spider had been nestling in the folds of the labrador’s arse, I mean, toilet roll, and as the roll unfurled this huuuuuuuge spider ended up on the top of it, running backwards like it was balancing on a ball in a circus ring. Not looking best pleased either, I can tell you.
I lurched backwards in a panic, all I can say is it’s a good job I was already on the loo or it could have been very nasty indeed!
Obviously I wasn’t going to go back and photograph it sitting menacingly on top of the loo roll, my nerves weren’t up to that but I thought you might like my drawing of it. I was quite proud of it till clingon No. 1 asked me if Baby Bunting had drawn it. Cheek!
There have been very definite signs of spring over that last day or two, the daffodils have finally poked their heads out of the soil and it’s been a balmy 9 degrees today. The church hall where we have our dance lesson still seems to want to maintain it’s arctic temperatures. It was actually colder in there than outside this morning. We’d have danced on the street but the neighbours might have complained.
As it was we kept our coats and scarves on, I’d have kept my gloves on as well but I forgot to take them. All of those clothes and the fact that we had no dance shoes as they were locked up in my car in the local repair shop (I can feel a rant coming on) meant that we probably didn’t perform our best this morning.
Boofuls was wearing trainers that stuck like glue to the floor squeaking and screeching in protest as he tried to sashay around the floor. I was wearing court shoes that kept slipping off my feet.
It was so ridiculous that it made me laugh which warmed me up a bit. John, our teacher thought we looked funny enough to photograph, so here it is: Me and Boofuls cha cha cha-ing round a perishing cold church hall in full winter gear at 8.30 this morning, not the most flattering photo ever but here goes:
Tutty tut tut Boofuls, the position of your back foot is shocking. Shocking I say!!!
After our lesson Lashes arrived for her lesson. She has an exam on Saturday, along with clingons 1 & 2 so wish them all luck.
While she danced I kept Baby Bunting amused either by dancing with her or by letting her take photographs on my phone. Here is her latest effort, she’s really getting quite good at the self portait:
I’m liking the starburst on this one. Obviously she did it on purpose and it wasn’t just a fluke.
Next was trip to see Gembolina and one of the clingons who has been off school this week with various lurgies.
Mrs Woofy has come into season which means no walking or classes for a week or two. The poor dog can’t understand why I’m not taking her out and after jumping around me like a lunatic and dashing in and out hoping I’ll follow her and get her lead the penny eventually drops that she isn’t going out and she just sits and looks dolefully at me with her big brown eyes. Oh, it’s heartbreaking, I can’t look at her.
So depressed has she become about not being able to get out that she has completely let herself go and has taken to slobbing around the house in track suits bottoms:
Just to cheer her up I showed her this photograph which was taken on a walk we went on a few weeks ago. Cheered her up no end, hope it does the same for you: