Tag Archives: humour

I have wonkers


Lashes, Munki and myself were having one of our deep, emotionally mature and intelligent discussions the other day about growing pains. Oh ok then, we were having a multi generational girly chat about absolutely nothing and having  a lovely time doing it. Boofuls gave up trying to join in and beat a hasty retreat back to the safety of his computer desk so he didn’t have to try and make sense of the flow of consciousness emanating from us.

It seems the Munki, having reached the grand old age of nine, is suffering from growing pains. Blimey, growing pains, that takes me back. When I was a child any ache, pain, twinge or tenderness was put down to growing pains. Basically, unless a limb was hanging off or we were projectile vomiting it was dismissed as growing pains.

Nowadays it’s put down to old age.

Anyway, Munki was describing  a particular pain that she was suffering from  while rubbing her midriff.  I mentioned that she’d had a stitch in her side the previous evening while we were walking the dog, could it be like that? Her reply was, “Oh yeah, it’s like that but now I have one ‘coz”…and then she stopped talking to gather her thoughts.

Lashes and I, at exactly the same time, exclaimed, “Wonkers? You’ve got wonkers?  Well we’d better call an ambulance then. Wonkers can be really dangerous.”

The number of times me and that girl say exactly the same thing at the same time is downright eerie, anyway, I digress.

Poor old Munki  couldn’t catch her breath for laughing.  Then it progressed on to wonkers being a body part and in which part of the body they would be located.

When I told her it had to be down the side she and Lashes both gave me a funny look. “What, Nanny?”

“Well, love. Didn’t you realise that people have two of everything down the side and one of everything down the middle?  So, if you have wonkers, it has to be down the sides.”

It was so funny watching them mentally work their way round their bodies, well Lashes did it mentally, Munki had to touch her ears, eyes, nose and mouth before she got the idea and then  as comprehension dawned their eyes widened and they both said ,  “OHHHHHHH YES!!” at exactly the same time. That’s obviously a family trait being handed down from mothers to daughters.

It’s great living with three generations of us in the same house, we never know what’s going to come out next.

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Drectly


Since coming to live in Devon we have discovered that all of the tradesmen seem to work for the same company – Drectly.

We have come across Drectly plumbers, Drectly electrical, Drectly interiors, you name it. They all have one thing in common. Every time you phone them to book an appointment, every one of them tells you – I’ll be there Drectly.

Drectly can be any time between one hour and in the case of one Drectly plumber, three months and still no sign of him showing up.

It’s a very laid back approach to business, a bit mañana but with added pasties and cider.

Oh no he isn’t!


OH YES HE IS!

IS! IS! IS!

ISN’T! ISN’T! ISN’T!

Have you guessed where I’ve been yet?

Ooh, that reminded me of a certain bearded antipodean chap who was very popular when I was a kid…let’s not dwell on THAT!

So. Where have I been?

To the pantomime !

Some friends of our, an English chap and his Thai partner were chatting with us the other week when the subject of pantos came up.   It would appear that in Thailand they don’t have pantos so our Thai friend had no idea what we were talking about.  Of course the shout was, “Let’s all go, to the pantomime, it’ll be great for the cultural experience and it might be also useful for the citizenship exam.”

That’s how Boofuls, me, a gay couple and my Devon bestie all ended up at the pantomime along with  a smallish child, Munki, who had also never been to a  good old English arived on the doorstep of the theatre.  Actually, with that lot we already had most of the ingredients to make our own pantomime. (Oh no you didn’t…..Oh yes we did…actually, that’s starting to get a bit old now).

For regular readers of this blog, you may be surprised to hear that Munki is now a clever, opinionated and very vocal nine year old. For non regular readers, Munki is our granddaughter.

The panto, Cinderella, was performed by a local amateur dramatics group and it was BRILLIANT! It had all the right ingredients. Ugly sisters, Buttons, a fairy godmother, songs, dances and lots of shouting.

As good as it was though the real entertainment was sitting right next to me in the theatre. No, not Boofuls, Munki!

She was enthralled by the whole thing and I was enthralled watching her. Normally she is a little bit reticent about becoming involved in things and especially in the company of people she doesn’t know very well. Last night she joined in with every second of it. Bizarrely enough, it was made even better by the fact that she forgot her glasses.

Eh?

Well, because she forgot her glasses she wasn’t able to see the wires attached to the fairy godmother enabling her to fly around the stage. Munki’s face was a picture!  She bounced forward in her seat, eyes like saucers,  almost screeching with delight “How? How, Nanny? Nanny, LOOK!”

“It’s magic, love.”

She shouted in all the right places. She was booing and hissing at the baddies and clapping along with the songs, even when no one else was. She loved every second of it. Mind you, what’s not to love about a song called, ‘eggs, sausage, chips and beans’? Every now and then she would bounce out of her seat and look at me with a look of pure joy on her face.

When the glitter ball projected stars round the theatre I thought she was going to fall off her seat trying to catch them.

The best bit of all for me was during the scene in the ballroom. The dancers were there in their showgirl outfits,  plumed  feathery headdresses and high cut leotards. Exactly as the music stopped Munki said really loudly, “Well, THEY shouldn’t be at the ball, Nanny. They’re in their SWIMMING COSTUMES!” Oh! Laugh?  I nearly bought a round!

Almost as funny was our Thai friend sitting with his face looking as bemused as Munki’s was joyful. He clearly had no idea what was going on and didn’t ‘get ‘ it at all. I think the whole thing just made him uncomfortable.

It’s been a very odd festive season this year but last night at the panto was definitely the best part of the whole thing. There can be very little in life more precious than seeing a small child totally caught up in the magic of a pantomime.

It certainly made it magical for me.

OHHHHHHHH NO IT DIDN”T………

 

We’re British, you know


How do we know we’re British?

Because we love a queue.

This was proved beyond any shadow of a doubt last Sunday when I went to a very nie hristmas fair at a very nice hotel with my lovely friend.

As we walked in we were faced with the most enormous queue. Without question we joined it. There must have been a hundred people in this queue, all standing patiently. After a couple of minutes a couple walked in behind us and also wordlessly joined it.

It was at that point, being a veteran of many a wedding fair, I tonight, hang on a minute. I’ve never seen a fair of any kind attract this much attention. Not only that but this queue was heading in the wrong direction.  After staking my place in the queue I walked up to the front. “Excuse me, are you waiting to get tickets for the Christmas fair?” “No. We are waiting to check out of the hotel.”

Bugger me! A hundred people stood in a queue and at least a third of them were stood there because they hadn’t had the nous to ask a simple question. For goodness sake! I know we love a good queue but I love a good Christmas fair more.

We hotfooted out of the hotel queue and into the non-existent Christmas fair queue. Within seconds we were happily munching on mince pies and sipping mulled wine as we explored the myriad sparkly and shiny festive items on display. The best bit of all though was the vintage clothing stand staffed by an elderly lady who was as mad as a box of frogs.

She positively encouraged us to try on all the 1920’s hats and coats, draping jewellery over us as we admired ourselves in the mirror and imagined ourselves in a more elegant era. We must have spent half an hour there, laughing, trying on clothes and soaking up the atmosphere. It reinforced that we are really only big kids after all.

Once we had finished playing in the dressing up box we sauntered out to listen to the choir sing. It is the same choir that Lashes and I joined a few weeks ago. We weren’t invited to sing at this event as we are a new choir and don’t know all the songs yet. Ha! I knew enough to be merrily singing along, drawing a few looks from the bass singers we were stood next to as I warbled quietly away to the soprano parts.

All in all it was a great start to the festive season. Since then I have attended two wreath making workshop and  two parties and watched a bunch of people perform a Christmas story round the harbour. It was all very sweet.

I think Boofuls would rather have put pins in his eyes than listen to the folk songs and watch the dancers dancing to music from a fiddle as the storyteller cleverly unfolded the story for us.  Street performances don’t seem to be his thing. Bless him, he put up with it all to keep me happy.  We still have a carol service, a lantern making event and umpteen parties to attend this side of Christmas. I’m not sure will help my convalescence but it will surely make the time go a lot  faster.

Good times


Boofuls Towers is a bit quiet at the moment. In fact, we only have one room booked out this weekend so if you fancy a nice weekend in Devon, give me a shout, I am certain I could find a little discount under the fridge.

Anyway, making the most of the peace and quiet we decided to crack on with a few jobs. Room seven has been beautified, just in time for the hotel inspector’s visit.

What a pularver that was, untucking my beautifully made beds so she could feel the mattress.
“It’s a bit lumpy, time you changed it.”
“It’s a new bed.”
“Hhmm, well put a topper on it then.”
“It’s got a topper on it, all our matresses have toppers on them.”

It was like she was determined to find something to criticise even when there was clearly nothing. Overall, she told what we need to do to improve our star rating and surprise, surprise we already knew. Fancy us knowing what needs doing in our own house?!

It does make me wonder what exactly it is that we pay for with Visit England other than using the logo and having the star rating plaque outside.

We started her tour in what we knew was our worst room and progressed from there. Suggestions were made to change the usage of a couple of our rooms from family rooms to suites. tempting idea, not taking kids but it’s oh so lucrative. These suggestions fell on stony ground with Boofuls who, when he heard them, just harrumphed and walked off.

When she reached room 7, which I’d been saving till last, she actually let out a squeal of delight. “Now THIS is what I’m talking about.” Obviously the bright yellow wall teamed with graphite grey worked for her. I must say, I’m very pleased with it. Even though I had a few collywobbles when I chose the colours but it does work, I’ll post photos for you when I get around to taking them.

So. Back to yesterday.

“Let’s have a bar night.” Boofuls said last week.

A bar night is when the hoteliers with bars fill up the long winter evenings by all going round to each others bars for food and drinkies. The host provides everything for the evening and it can get a bit pricey but then everyone takes a turn so it evens out over the course of the year.

For ease of catering we decided that cheese and biscuits would work well for the food. Beer, wine, prosecco are generally the drinks of choice so we make sure we are well stocked up. Approximately twenty hoteliers rocked up and with seconds of them arriving the party was in full swing. I have never seen a party kick off so quickly. There was no polite small talk, it was straight in to belly laughs and general silliness. What a great night.

Boofuls and our, bordering on being a giant, friend decided to have a karaoke. Dear Lord, what a racket.

People had tears streaming down their faces, I’m not sure if it was because they were laughing so hard or because their ears hurt but it was hysterical to watch.

It’s a hard job being a hotelier and during the summer we don’t even see our friends but my God, we make up for it in winter.

Next social – Tuesday!

Can you just loosen this?


You couldn’t make this stuff up!

We’ve had a couple fo really nice ladies staying with us while they attended a family wedding. This morning was their last morning.

As they came into the dining room I noticed that one of them was carrying a flask. She asked Boofuls if he would open it for her as she was unable to remove the lid. Being the gentleman that he is he duly obliged.

Just as he gave the lid an almighty turn one of the ladies said, “Be careful, it’s had a fruit smoothie in, it might explo……….

As the words left her mouth, the three-day old fruit smoothie  exploded. Clearly having been fermenting in the warm room it left the flask with the force of a rocket. The chairs, tables, floor, crockery and people were all covered in purple smelly slime.  Everyone jumped back in surprise as the lid went flying across the dining room to land three tables away.

The ladies were mortified. Being of that age where they have to step in to clean up rather than watch another person do it, they immediately started trying to clean it up – with my cream damask napkins. Oh no! L et’s make a bad situation worse and destroy some expensive napkins, I don’t think so!

I quickly jumped in and removed them from her hand. “Leave it to me, ladies, it won’t take a moment to clean up”. Still they hovered and faffed trying their best to be helpful but actually just getting in the way. “Sit down, girls, we’ll get you some tea.” They continued to stand there flapping their hands and trying to grab napkins to mop up the mess. By now my smile was starting to slip. “SIT down! I ordered in what I hoped was a jollying along kind of voice and not a ‘I’m going to lose my temper in a minute’ kind of voice.

Finally they did sit and the clean up operation took a couple of minutes. The trouble with the carpet in the dining room is that it is a typical English hotel carpet, very busy and colourful and about thirty years old ( I only mention that fact to remind Boofuls that it’s days are very much numbered). If anyone drops anything not this carpet they have to get down to ground level, ear to the ground like a red Indian scout listening for rattlesnakes, and scan the floor. That’s because it’s height will give it away, trying to find anything on it from a standing position is almost impossible, I once lost Douggie the doggie on it.

The reason I mention the carpet is because I’m hoping that we did actually manage to clean up all the slime. If not then I can pretty much guarantee some guest will come walking in with bare feet and walk straight in it. Ugh, doesn’t bear thinking about. Look out for THAT review!

Doorstop bereavin’


It’s no secret that we love living in south Devon. Now its autumn and we have a bit more time on our hands we’ve been getting out a bit more.  One thing I’ve noticed on our travels is that so many of the business names are so similar.

Salt Rock, Rock Salt, Rock Fish, Salt Water, Wierd Fish, On the Rocks, all names that have been carefully picked to conjure up images of the coast, the seaside, fresh fish, fantastic food, holidays, sailing and generally how good life is on the coast.

Trouble is they are all so similar that they all run together in my mind.

Can I recommend a good restaurant? Yeah. Try Rock Water er….I mean Salty Fish Water.  Eh? Oh no.  I mean Weird Cod Rocks. Or do I mean Rock Fish Balls or maybe Water Salt?

Come on guys. Come up with something a bit more memorable!

*****

Did I mention that Lashes and I have joined a choir? No? Wow! You must be the only people in the world who don’t know.

We are LOVING it.

One of the songs we are learning at the moment is ‘Don’t Stop Believin’.  Every week about fifty of us traipse up to the local village hall to warble away like little (and not so little ) rocking songbirds.

One of the choir members is a really lovely Chines lady who just beams all the way through the evening. She’s a delight to be around. Or so I thought. She sits in the alto section where Lashes sits. I sit in the soprano section so I’m never really near her when she’s singing.

Last week as we left the choir lashes glowered at me and announced that she wouldn’t be sitting near the Chinese woman again.

“She puts me right off.”
“Why’s that then? I thought she was lovely.”
“She is but her accent is so strong and her voice so loud I can’t tune her out.”

It turns out that this lovely lady booms out her own version of the lyrics:

‘Doorstop bereavin…hode on to a fee-ee-eeri-i-i-n’
street rife peepoh…ohhhhh-ohhh-OOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!…

Strangers waitin’ up a’ dow’ a’ bourevar..shadows searching i’ a’ niiiiiiigh’

Bless her, I liked her even more when I discovered this.  I’m not going to be sitting near her anytine soon though.

Just as a Saturday treat, here is the original  version:

Bingo!


It’s official. Munki  now sounds posh. Well, to northern ears she definitely sounds posh. It’s amazing how quickly children can pick up a new accent.

I took her for a riding lesson on Saturday and she referred to the little pony she was riding as a ‘hoarse’ rather than as she would have done a year ago as a ‘hoe-iss’. I love it!!

However, it’s only on a surface level, as I realised recently.

If you live in the UK and have watched tv at any point at all in the last little while then you can’t fail to have seen that irritating advert for Gala Bingo. You know the one:

The one with amply proportioned women  singing Gala la la. Gala la la. Gala la la hey hey hey BINGO!’

Sorry. That will be in your head all day now. Irritating but effective advertising.

Anyway, Munki was singing it in the bath. I was listening and chuckling away to myself. The I heard THIS:

“Gala la la. Gala la la. Gala la la hey hey hey BINGAW!”

Haha. Not quite so posh after all then.

She went away on a school trip week last week. Not exactly a safari adventure, they were about half an hour away but they loved it. Trying to make the most of child free time we suggested a grown up meal in a grown up restaurant.

Lashes of course had other ideas. She and her dad, Boofuls are partial to a game of bingo and have been out a few times to our local bingo emporium since we’ve lived here. I have been happy to babysit and get the house to myself. Bingo? I’d rather put pins in my eyes.

“Let’s all have a grown up night at bingo. It’s not often we all get to go out together”.  Not wanting to be a party pooper, I agreed, having been assured that it’s different now and it’s LOADS of fun.

We turned up at the bingo hall. Right mum, we have to get you registered. Me, Boofuls, Lashes and Lashes’ beau, The Prof, all stood at the enrolment desk. Who’s enrolling then, is it you?” the chap on the desk enquired to The Prof. “Actually, it’s me.” I volunteered and then laughed out loud as his eyebrows flew up so high they nearly fell off his head.

“I’m the last one you thought it would be, aren’t I?”

He agreed that I was and enquired as to how had I’d got to my age without going to bingo. Easily, I thought, it’s more painful than pins in my eyes. I didn’t say it out loud as I didn’t want to offend him or upset Lashes who was clearly enjoying having us all there.

It’s changed a bit since I last played bingo many, many years ago when my bezzie forced me to go as birthday treat. Birthday punishment more like! I remember spending the afternoon terrified of speaking too loudly and incurring the wrath of the assembled matriarchs, or calling out ‘house’ at the wrong time, getting all hot and bothered about  keeping up with scanning and marking my tickets quickly enough to keep up with the caller who spoke at a speed I didn’t even think was possible. The whole event was terrifying and not one I’ve been keen to repeat. How on earth could that be called entertainment?

Now they have electronic screens and you don’t have to do anything except watch it and press ‘claim’ when you  win. Exciting, eh? NOPE!

There are the big money games though where you have to tap the screen when a number pops up. Ooh, that must be exciting, eh?

SNORE!!!!

The chicken and chips were quite good though and to be honest, it all became a lot less boring when I won a tenner. Shame I didn’t win the four grand, I might have been persuaded to go back for a second visit.

It’s my birthday this week.  Happy birthday to me. I’ll be 21 and a few months old. How many months. I don’t know – I can’t count that high.

My natural inclination has always been to moan and bitch about getting older but I don’t do that any more as that’s an option my little brother no longer has and it seems a bit crass to complain about being alive when he isn’t.  So now I enjoy life to the full (except for bingo) and make loads of new friends, explore the beaches and learn new skills.  Life is good, enjoy it while you can!

Generating too much heat


You know when you have what seems like a really good idea at the time but you quickly realise you’ve made terrible mistake and can’t then back out?

That was us a month or two ago.

The hoteliers group hold a monthly coffee morning in winter. The idea is that you put on coffee and cakes and provide entertainment of some sort and it’s a nice social occasion but not totally pointless.

Last month was a talk from a tax inspector. Riveting stuff.

Anyway. They asked for volunteers  to host the next coffee morning.

“We’ll do it”  I heard.

Mad fools, I thought. What? Wait! Was that MY voice? What the hell…? Have I  gone stark staring bonkers?

It seemed like a great idea at the time. We’ve done loads of work and I was keen to show it off.  We’re  really proud of our place now.

Still a few more jobs to go but we have bags of time, I thought. Four months. No problem.

Four months ago we had bags of time.

My, how time flies.

It was yesterday.

Fifty five hoteliers turned up for coffee and cake and to run their critical eyes over my soft furnishing and their wandering fingers over my dados.

In the last week we have ramped up the decorating, furniture painting, cleaning, polishing, and general sprucing up.

By Thursday of last week the pressure was getting to me and a migraine was building up – it was probably over exposure to paint fumes now I come to think of it. I’ve breathed in so much paint that I don’t even notice it any more.

Why the hell did I agree to do it and especially on bloody Valentine’s and half term week.

What a fool!

We had house full of loved up couples for Valentine’s weekend and by Sunday my migraine had me threatening to rip my eyeball out. Way beyond being able to cope and with the cocktail of pills I was taking failing to work I announced to Boofuls that I was off to bed to try and sleep it off.

Our bedroom used to be one of the guest rooms. We have room one.

As I drifted off to sleep I suddenly heard a wailing coming from room two. Oh my good God! Ooh. Ooh. Ooh OOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!!

I thought bloody Lassie was in the next room!

I put my pillow over my heard and tried my best not to listen. Difficult above all the wailing.  Eventually it all calmed down and I drifted off to sleep.

RIIIIIIIINNNNGGGGGG!!!!!!

The fire alarm went off!

I leapt out of bed. Slipped on some shoes and proceeded to work my way round all the rooms, banging on the doors and shouting that it wasn’t a drill and it was time to go. I worked backwards round the corridor, starting at room 8.

Boofuls checked the fire alarm console and established where the fire was.

Room two.

We went and banged on the door and it was answered by the chap, zipping up his trousers. As soon as he opened the door it was obvious there was no fire. So far so good. Bear in mind that Boofuls had no idea about what had been going on in there just a few minutes before. “Have you been smoking in here?  Nope.  I struggled to keep the smirk off my face.

I wanted to save them further embarrassment at having literally been caught with their pants down and suggested that if they’d had the shower on it might have caused the alarm to go off.  At this exact point Boofuls said,  “You’ve obviously been generating too much heat in here.” Their faces were a picture.

Unable to contain myself any further I just walked off up the corridor stifling my guffaws while Boofuls looked at me in total bewilderment at the cause of my mirth.

It was blummin’ priceless! oh, how I love being a hotelier, it’s a laugh a minute.

We never did find out what actually caused the alarm to go off. Maybe it really was because they were hot stuff.

 

Trudge trudge trudge


Every day Douggie the doggie and I walk down to the beach. He does like his daily swim. If he doesn’t get it for whatever reason he gets a proper cob on.

The good thing about walking on the beach every day is that the bad old days of a stinking, muddy dog are long gone. The bad thing is that he, and I, are always wet through.

He gets so excited he runs round me flicking water from his long, waggy tail all over me. It has got so bad that I have taken to wearing wellies and waterproof trousers no matter what the weather is like.  I can’t even wear the wellies without the waterproof pants as he always ,manages to flick water down my wellies and I end up with my own private paddling pool in my boots.

It’s even worse when I forget to put thicker socks on. My feet flop around in my slightly large welliebobs and the walk back up the hill after an hour walking up and down the beach gets more difficult every day. I’m sure they have a device to make the hill steeper when I’m on my way back home. Y’see, on the way out it’s a more gentle slope. On the way back it’s more like a mini Everest. That, dear reader is whenI trudge, trudge, trudge up the hill, tired and grumpy.

Roll on summer when I’ll be glad to be showered with cold water.

Still on the subject of dogs. I got a letter yesterday telling me that the guide dog I sponsor has been dropped from the guide dog programme because of his unpredictable spending habits. WHAT? Who the hell lets a dog go shopping anyway? It’s only ever going to end in disaster giving  a dog a credit card and freedom to use it as he wants. Mind you, if I gave Douggie a credit card he’d just eat it.

It’s rained here today. A lot.

As Douggie and I set off to the beach I realised with dismay that I’d timed it wrong and the tide was in. As I guessed, by the time we got to the seafront  the waves were crashing over the sea wall. Oh well. A walk to the harbour instead, I think. As I walked round the harbour I noticed through the pouring rain dripping off the end of my nose that someone had kindly put a note on all of the benches saying that the paint was wet. Well OF COURSE the paint was wet. It was pouring down! It didn’t take a genius to work that out but I did appreciate the fact that someone tried to help out the tourists by telling them. Heh.

Wherever you are, I hope you’re having better weather than we are having at the moment. Happy weekend!