Get myself connected

The battery on my LG died yesterday afternoon, and as Emily was out and about I thought it best to let her know, and give alternative contact details (because she doesn’t have my work number in her mobile). I borrowed a colleague’s phone and sent her a text, signed ‘your loving husband’. Then I suggested he deleted it, in case his fiancée saw it and jumped to the wrong conclusion. Then I realised I’d actually sent it to a wrong number.

He will probably now be stalked or murdered in his sleep, and it will be my fault.

The Black Ribbon

Last week, Emily picked up a Ladybird book of stories at the children’s centre. This one, we thought, was worth sharing.


Kitsch mugs #5

Lot #5: The tartan bears, May 2012

…and that’s why we love Wikipedia.

A friend of mine brought this to my attention. I don’t know where he found it, but it’s still funny.

Eurovision 2012

As far as I’m concerned, Russia was robbed. I can think of worse countries to have won than Sweden; ‘Euphoria’ is a grower and the Kate Bush thing, while irritating, was reasonably effective. Likewise, Turkey’s ‘Love Me Back’ (and me front) was a sensational piece of silliness, with Sacha Baron Cohen on lead vocals and a wonderful mid-song boat construction reminiscent of something out of Playschool. But such novelty acts are never destined to triumph, and we knew the eventual victor would be something fairly generic. In the midst of a group discussion last night, a friend of mine pointed out that you could do a viable Eurovision sweepstake on components for the winning song – based on trends this year it would feature a female drummer, a chorus consisting of ‘na na na’ or ‘la la la’, and lyrics about sailing. In any case, the simple truth is that nothing, absolutely nothing could compete with the sight of those six Russian grandmothers prancing about and singing about ‘dough rising joyously’, happy pets, and ‘boom boom’ (if you can find a version with subtitles / captions, it’s worth it). After that, everything was very average.

I could go on about the political sensibilities for ages (and I don’t care that we came next-to-bottom; I’ve got used to it) and I think we’re at the stage where we either need to stop taking Eurovision so seriously or just get out of it, because you can’t have it both ways. Political voting is a norm at these things and I wondered last night, for the first time, exactly what the people in these countries who vote politically (the remnants of former Yugoslavia, and the Baltic region) actually think about the accusations levelled in their direction. Do they care? Should they care? Are we just being silly – or, worse, hypocritical – for getting hot and bothered by this? It seems that Eurovision is something we’re happy to dismiss as a joke for 364 days of the year, until the night of the contest (and, I’ll concede, the day after) when we get all hot and bothered by our lack of success. Double standards are clearly at work.

Anyway, that’s not why I’m here this morning; instead I wanted to show you my wife’s impromptu buffet, which we thought was rather splendid. Fresh off the back of a road-sign themed party we gave last week for my middle son’s fifth birthday, she was busy cutting and sticking and Googling at four o’clock yesterday afternoon to find the materials necessary to construct this lot. Captions are all hers…

First course

Not sure how Cornwall would feel about us pinching their national dish and sticking a Union Flag on it, but anyway.

Leaning tower of pizza


Greek salad

It’s potato salad, believe it or not.

Spanish olives

It should have been a turkey, but houmous will do.

Dessert. Note the Maltese-rs…

Strawberries and cream

Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte

That’s why Mum’s gone to Iceland.

I live in awe of the woman.

I cannot believe you just did that

Watching the voting at the tail end of our Eurovision party.

Me: What’s the orange juice / sparkling wine ratio in Bucks Fizz?

Cath: I think it’s about half and half.

Me: Half and half? I could do that.

Emily: We’re thirsty, though. You’re gonna have to start making your mind up.

Where’s WALL-E?

Courtesy of George Takei (who I daresay found it somewhere else, but thanks George)…

By any other name

People in our office have been asked to contribute to a wishlist for herbal teas. This has apparently led to some confusion.

And Goldberry is waiting

“Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow;
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow. “
So don’t have him on your paintball team.

Spotted on iGoogle

Read this article headline.

You’re thinking about The Fast Show now, aren’t you?

%d bloggers like this: