Category: General

Quizzical

A very good evening to you, beloved believers, as I sit and listen to possibly the worst karaoke version of ‘Killing Me Softly’ I have ever heard in my life.
It seems so LONG since I last offered any advice on living life to the full and I realise some of you may be wondering if my inspiration has dried up and if you will have to search elsewhere for another guru to guide you through life’s thickets and tangled undergrowth. FEAR NOT! I have been a little busy of late – shopping, lunch, shopping, lunch, visit to Doncaster, shopping, lunch, shopping, lunch, visit to Oldbury (near Birmingham), shopping… you get the idea. Actually, I had written a piece for you on being pretentious in a taxi, but I can’t find it now, so that will have to be for another time.
As you know, I have a vague, passing interest in quizzes, but FEAR NOT! I am not about to test you on your knowledge of geography or sport or the first ten presidents of the USA (although I am sure there are those among you who actually know this! Why?). No, I am going to ask you to contemplate the responses of a team of bright young things in a recent quiz at my local. Actually, when I say ‘bright young things’, I’m lying – one of those words is incorrect, but I leave it to you to decide which one.

quizzical

And FEAR NOT! I am not going to spend time bemoaning the dismal lack of knowledge of today’s generation, as so many others do. That is unfair to those who do have a wide-ranging general knowledge as well as a good understanding of politics, economics, history, philosophy, literature, maths, socio-economics, business, psychology, chiropody, finance, neurosurgery, rocket science…

Here we go:
Questionmaster: What is a John Dory?
Bright Young Things: A tandoori? It’s an oven; yes, put down ‘oven’. They use it in Indian restaurants. Tandoori chicken, that sort of thing.

Q: Who is the patron saint of animals?
BYT: Anoraks? Patron saint of anoraks?
Another BYT: No, it was ‘patron saint of adenoids’. I’m sure it was. Who’s the patron saint of adenoids?
Another BYT: What are adenoids?

Q: The giant panda is the symbol of which organisation?
BYT: Chinese panda? It’d be the symbol of China. Yes, put China.

Q: What are the first three words in the Bible?
BYT: I know, I know – Book of Genesis! (You can’t fault the logic here!)

Before you accuse me of making fun of a group of BYT with hearing difficulties (as if I would!), let me explain that the reason they didn’t hear some of the questions correctly was because they were constantly talking, even when the questions were being asked. Needless to say, they didn’t do very well, but FEAR NOT! They had a jolly good time and found it hilarious (and not unexpected) that they came last.
As they were leaving the pub, one of them was still asking who the patron saint of adenoids was and another was saying, ‘No, no; anoraks, not adenoids.’

Sleep well, dearest devotees. May your dreams be free of anoraks and adenoids (unless you’re Philip K Dick, in which case, you may dream of ‘android sheep’!). 😁

Stuff What I Have Learned Recently

The Strangest Question?

I always like to share my knowledge with you, as you know, so that you will always have a ready fund of useful hints and tips at your fingertips, ready for anything that life may throw at you, and I feel that I may have surpassed even myself this time.
1. Do not assume that Marks and Spencer will ever be fazed by anything that you may ask of them. Some of you will already know the bare outlines of this story if you have read next-sibling-down’s Facebook account, but it was a far more substantial experience in reality.
Next-sibling-down had explained to me that he needed to buy a small bra for a play in which he was appearing, but he didn’t like to ask his co-actor for one of hers, fearing being regarded as a minor Harvey Weinstein – heaven forbid! He knew I was going shopping (or, if he didn’t know, he guessed, since this is a favourite activity of mine, on a par with eating out) and asked if I would find a small, cheap bra. I had decided to do a major refurb of my underwear drawer(s), so this was no hardship. I strolled into M&S, spotting a few other items that might sneak into my bag (not in a shoplifting sort of way, I hasten to add!) as I headed for the underwear section. Having found enough underwear items for myself to satisfy (and even fit) a small Third World country, I went to the fitting rooms where there were two very nice assistants. The conversation went as follows:
LSG: I have a rather strange request which might surprise you.
Assistant: Nothing surprises us. We’ve had all sorts of requests over the years. (Other assistant nods in agreement.)
LSG: I need the smallest, cheapest bra you’ve got.
A: (With just the tiniest hint of surprise as she eyes my ample bosom.) Is it for you?
LSG: No, it’s for my brother. He needs to attach it to his shoe.

Still the eyebrows moved in only the tiniest acknowledgement of an unusual request.
I then explained the exact circumstances and the assistant couldn’t have been more helpful, and became thoroughly absorbed in the task, suggesting that an underwired, padded, colourful bra might be more visible on stage, especially if velcroed to a shoe.
We eventually settled on a special offer of two plain, white bras for a tenner (and I had an offer of 20% off as well), but the lovely assistant also suggested that I compare prices in Primark and bring the M&S ones back if I could get them cheaper at Primark. You do NOT get service like that in most places!
I mentioned Primark to next-sibling-down, but he had already taken the labels off and tried one of the bras on…
2. Dealing with past disappointments:
I read a quote recently which said, ‘No one remembers who comes second.’ and I thought, ‘I DO! I DO!’
I came second in a Miss Cilfynydd contest many years ago. There was a very good reason for this (to my mind, anyway!) – the girl who won was going out with the captain of the local football team, while I had ‘palled up’ (for want of a better phrase!) with the captain of the local rugby team. Since the competition was taking place in the local rugby club, one might have expected that the votes would have been overwhelmingly in favour of the rugby captain’s ‘squeeze’, but NOOO! The football captain had rounded up all his mates for the night and they greatly outnumbered the rugby captain’s mates – he hadn’t rounded them up because he hadn’t expected such a level of opposition – bit like Hillary Clinton, really.
But the best thing? Miss Cilfynydd decided she couldn’t be bothered to turn up and be crowned at the August Bank Holiday fete, so I got the crown and my photo in the paper! Second best is better than nothing, as Plato said (or was it Cicero? It may even have been the captain of the rugby club!)
3. This final piece of information is possibly the best you may ever come across and should be remembered for ever. It was passed on to me by youngest sibling, who knows everything about everything, especially if it’s scientific.
If you want to dispose of a body ENTIRELY, forget acid – use BLEACH. I have stocked up.

Sleep well! 😊

Being A Sex Pest

A very good evening from the Lifestyle Support Guru, but I am sorry to say that it is with great sadness that I have to confess to being a sex pest. Given the confessions and disclosures of the past few days, I feel that it is only fair that I, too, should own up to having taken advantage of being in a position of power; in this particular case, the power came from being female. (When I say ‘came from being female’, I don’t mean that I am no longer female, but that I was female at the time – and still am – but had a little more ‘oomph’ then than I have now; in other words, age has taken its toll.)


I shall set the scene, as usual:
The scenario is an international rugby game at what was then Cardiff Arms Park, many moons ago, when you only had a seat if you were really posh; otherwise you stood and watched the game with the rest of the ‘normal’ people. The ‘party’ consisted of three people – the LSG, DODO and the male sibling of a very good friend called Karen (that’s the good friend who’s called Karen, not the male sibling…). We only had two tickets for the game, but didn’t see this as an obstacle to all three of us getting into the Arms Park – the optimism of youth (and a few pints of Brains Dark!).
We waited until the crowds had died down a little (well, actually, we ordered another pint in a nearby pub so that we could be sure of the crowds having died down…), then headed for the ground and waved the two tickets at the policemen standing at the first gates – but we waved them so quickly that they couldn’t tell if there were two or three tickets (they’d probably been ordering a last pint as well). The big test would come when we got to the turnstiles where it would be obvious that there were three of us, but only two tickets. Luckily, good friend’s sibling came up with a CUNNING PLAN! I’ll call him Nigel for the sake of anonymity.

Nigel: LSG, if DODO and I take the two tickets, why don’t you go to another turnstile and see if you can talk your way into the ground while the national anthems are playing. Come up with some sort of sob story.
DODO: Sounds ok to me. (Obviously has no problem pimping his sister if it means he can watch Wales play.)
LSG: Fine. (Obviously no problem with thinking up sob stories – useful for future reference.)

The LSG, in her younger and more attractive incarnation, heads for a different turnstile and finds a young man manning it (could a woman ‘woman’ it?). The conversation goes as follows:

LSG: I’m really sorry, but I wonder if you can help in any way? I came to the game with my brother and his friend but I’ve lost them and they’ve got my ticket for the game. (Remember, this was WELL before the days of mobile phones!)
Young Man: Oh dear, that would be a shame if you missed the game. (Strains of ‘God Save the Queen’ in the background.) But I can’t really help because I have to check every ticket through and you haven’t got a ticket…
LSG: What can I do, then? (Tears well in her eyes – further useful practice for the future.) They’ll be expecting me to meet them at the front of the enclosure. They’ve forgotten they’ve got my ticket.
YM: Well, tell you what, if you give me a kiss, I’ll let you through the turnstile.
LSG: Just a kiss?
YM: Yes, just a kiss.
(A nanosecond of thought because this was the 1970s and he wasn’t exactly the Omar Sharif of turnstile ticket collectors.)
LSG: OK

The YM closes his eyes in anticipation, expecting a passionate snog, but the LSG kisses him quickly on the cheek and says, ‘Can you let me through now, please?’ YM realises he’s been conned in some way, but opens the turnstile just as the Welsh national anthem starts!

‘And that, m’lud, is exactly what happened – at no time did I put my hand on the Young Man’s knee.’

Sleep well, devoted devotees!

Life With An Invalid (Part 2)

Problem Kiddley

A very good evening from the Lifestyle Support Guru! Once again, I wish to show how living with an invalid can offer hours of fun! DODO (Dai Of Derby Only) had to go to hospital today to undergo an operation because of a problem with one of his kidneys, so I took him in for 7 am, as requested (I’d forgotten that such a time existed), and found that we were at the back of a queue of people who’d also been called to attend at such an unearthly hour. A very cheerful nurse (especially for that time of the morning) informed us that we would each be told which room to go to for a consultation with the anaesthetist before going to another waiting room which, she excitedly told us, was much bigger and had…A TELEVISION in it!

Television

There was almost a round of applause at that! Although I had intended going straight home after dropping DODO off, I decided to stay and see what the anaesthetist had to say (I have an enquiring mind – i.e. I’m nosy) and to marvel at a larger waiting room with A TELEVISION in it.
After the anaesthetist (who had a real sinus problem, as he explained to us – I could only hope he would blow his nose before administering the anaesthetic) had seen DODO, we were told to follow a lady with a trolley full of medical records who would lead us all to the room with A TELEVISION in it.

Trolley Sprinter

Well, she set off down a long corridor at the pace of an Olympic sprinter! Imagine it, if you can, dearest devotees – a group of (mainly elderly) patients, carrying overnight bags, trying to keep up with her. She took the trolley into a lift, but indicated the stairs for those who wished to use them – unfortunately, those at the back (the stragglers) didn’t see her get into the lift and when we got to the top of the stairs, which overlooked the corridor, there was one elderly couple wandering off down said corridor, heading straight for the exit! They may still be wandering around this very large hospital looking for the waiting room with A TELEVISION in it, for all I know.
When we arrived at the waiting room with A TELEVISION in it, we all collapsed into chairs. panting because of the speed at which we’d had to keep up with the lady with the trolley – apart from the only young couple, who were panting mainly because they’d been snogging most of the way to the waiting room with A TELEVISION in it. (I have a feeling they may have come to the wrong establishment, believing they were on their way to a room in the Premier Inn opposite…) The TELEVISION was switched on at a very loud volume (to drown the sound of panting, I should imagine) just in time for ‘Homes Under the Hammer’. And I’d got up at 6 am for this!!

I finally surrendered DODO to the tender mercies of the NHS and the snotty anaesthetist and went home to recuperate after all this early morning exertion. It was alright for DODO – he would get a nice sleep under the anaesthetic!

Jelly Babies

I visited this evening after ringing the ward to ask if DODO would be too groggy for visitors. No, they assured me, he was in fine spirits, so off I went, expecting to find a lively DODO, so I was a little taken aback to walk into his room to find him fast asleep rather than bouncing around the room. However, he woke up when I noisily dragged a chair cross the floor – not deliberately noisily, of course; I am much too caring a sibling to do such a thing. We chatted about the operation (not that DODO remembered much of it, of course, so the anaesthetist’s sinuses must have cleared up sufficiently for him to do his job properly) and then… I found out how much more VALUE the NHS offers than I had previously thought. Whilst working on the kidney, the surgeon had decided to remove a lump on DODO’s arm which was scheduled to be done in a couple of weeks. Two For One, BOGOF offers galore! Jeremy Hunt, are you aware of this aspect of the NHS? Think of the money to be saved!
The thing that was worrying DODO most, though, was not his kidney or his arm, but that his overnight bag had still not been delivered from the room with A TELEVISION where he had been told to leave it. Obviously, he wanted his phone and iPad (to which I believe he is surgically attached) as well as his toilet bag, but of greater concern… his jelly babies were also in there.
He was still chuntering about his jelly babies when I left…

Personally, I am still concerned about the whereabouts of the elderly couple last seen heading down the corridor to the exit – unless they were heading for the Premier Inn?

A Day in the Life…

A very good evening, BBs (Beloved Believers) and FFs (Faithful Followers)! As you know, I have been playing the role of Florence Nightingale in recent weeks, looking after DOT, but now to be known as DODO (Dai Of Derby Only) since he is no longer in either Turkey or Tanzania and is only in Derby.

Caring Role

This caring role has involved much work, including, unfortunately, a great deal of COOKING! Now, as you know, whilst many may regard me as a Domestic Goddess, COOKING is not really one of my strengths unless it involves a kettle (for a Pot Noodle) or a microwave (for anything that is NOT a Pot Noodle). To this end, DODO and I decided to buy a second microwave, following TOFU’s (Trefor of ‘Ull) suggestion – he told us that he can cook peas and (frozen) mash in his two microwaves at the same time as he is warming his M&S ‘home cooked’ steak and onion pie in the oven. I was instantly convinced, Dearest Devotees and Ardent Admirers, and immediately rushed out to my nearest electrical store.

Microwaves

We are now the proud owners of not one, not two, but… THREE microwaves! We would not have acquired microwave no.3 if there had been nothing wrong with microwave no. 1 (i.e. it heats the food and pings when it’s supposed to) but it has gone rusty inside. (No, I’m not sure how a microwave gets rusty either, but we decided it probably wasn’t too hygienic.) There has only been one drawback so far with the acquisition of this third miracle item – I haven’t found where to put it because of all the unnecessary garbage I have collected over the years and which has been piling up next to microwave no. 1.

Clutter

This garbage includes a) a tin of tuna (to tempt the appetite of the now-departed Charlie), b) a roll of garden twine – what is that for? – and c) several cookery books – what are they for? Add to that Molly’s flea tablets, a bottle of out-of-date cat milk and a couple of envelopes containing flower seeds from the garden of an ex-boyfriend and you will realise that there is no space for much else. As a result, microwave no. 1 is still ‘in situ’ and has been joined by no. 2 while no. 3 remains in its box. Anyone in need of a tin of tuna, some garden twine and a couple of cookery books, one of which has a recipe for Welsh cakes and laver bread? Or even an ex-boyfriend? (Of course, I mean ‘in need of’ an ex-boyfriend, rather than a recipe for one, but hold that thought…)

Turkey or Torquay

I have to say that life with an invalid has afforded some lighter moments as well, such as when we went to the bank the other day. DODO had a query about transferring money from Turkey, so I wheeled him up to the Enquiries counter where a very nice lady listened very carefully to him explaining about having an account in Turkey and asking if there would be any problem transferring funds from there to his account in Derby because the funds were in Turkish Lira. The very nice lady looked quite concerned and called over another very nice lady to ask for her help and advice. ‘Oh dear,’ I thought, ‘this is going to be more complicated than we first imagined.’ DODO started explaining again about having an account in Turkey and the first very nice lady’s face suddenly brightened and she said in a relieved tone, ‘Oh, I thought you said TORQUAY!’ She had obviously been puzzling over why someone would have an account in Turkish Lira in Torquay – I giggled for the rest of the day over that!

An Extra Inch?

Following that spot of hilarity, we trotted off (well, wheeled off) to a well-known computer/electronics store to look for a new computer monitor so that DODO could add another screen to his collection (he now has four). As he studied the monitors on display, deciding between a 22” and a 23”, he explained the various pros and cons to me, not realising that there was a female customer standing right behind him as he said, ‘You don’t need to pay another £30 for an extra inch.’ I smiled sweetly at the female customer then wheeled him off as quickly as I could!
So there you have it, camp followers – life with an invalid can offer an infinite variety of experiences, rather than a life of doom and gloom! Remember: however long the tunnel may be, there is a light at the end of it; no matter how deep the mine, there could be gold at the bottom; life’s what you make it – a Pot Noodle is more instantly gratifying than a four-course meal that you have to wait hours for AND have to do the washing up afterwards.
Sleep well, AAs, BBs, DDs and FFs – I’m off to boil the kettle!