Tag: lunch

Vegetables, Anyone?

Good evening, faithful followers and beloved believers. Tonight, a tale with a moral.

I had a most excellent lunch today with a couple of good friends, marred only by the lack of awareness of one of the party of how many vegetables should be taken from the dishes placed in the middle of the table. I shall refer to the friends as Mr and Mrs Marzipan, to spare their blushes (the name comes from the fact that are both members of a quiz team called ‘Marzipan’), although they aren’t married. Actually, they ARE married, just not to each other; but, before you sit in judgement on them, I hasten to add that they are happily married to other people who hadn’t come to the lunch – one was working and the other was trying on some lederhosen (but more of that later).

We were a jolly trio, chatting gaily about anything and everything. We ordered our food and continued chatting and, when the main course arrived, the plates were placed in front of us, with the vegetables in separate dishes in the middle (although the LSG had a salad – not for any reason of feeling virtuous but because I didn’t feel that French fries or potatoes and vegetables would go with risotto). I tucked into my risotto with gusto (a bit like pesto, but nicer) when, suddenly, Mrs Marzipan said to Mr Marzipan, ‘Do you especially like carrots?’ ‘Yes,’ he replied, heaping the rest of the carrots onto his plate as well as dropping one or two on the table.
Mr M then realised there was a point to this question and looked up. ‘Ah,’ he said with dawning comprehension, looking at the vegetable dishes (now denuded of carrots) in the middle, ‘they’re meant to be between us, aren’t they?’
‘Yes,’ replied Mrs M. ‘but that’s ok.’
‘No, no,’ he said anxiously, ‘have some of these off my plate – and there’s a couple that have fallen on the table. Will they do? And what about some extra broccoli? And you can have all the potatoes if you want!’ (I clung on to my risotto for dear life, I can tell you, in case he started on that as well!)
By this time Mrs M and I were in hysterics, wiping our eyes at the stricken look on Mr M’s face – even the stern-looking lady at a table across from us couldn’t help smiling as we squealed with laughter! What larks, what japes!

And the lederhosen? That was Mrs Marzipan’s husband, who waved to Mr Marzipan through the kitchen window when he came to collect Mrs M for lunch.
‘Why is your husband wearing lederhosen?’ asked Mr M as Mrs M got in the car.
‘Yes, I could see the straps across his chest through the window.’
‘They weren’t lederhosen straps – that was the harness for his saxophone which he’d been practising before you arrived.’ When I heard this story, picturing Mrs M’s tall husband in lederhosen, it sent me into gales of laughter, once more bringing a smile to the stern-looking woman’s face! At least she left the restaurant happier than when she came in!

And the moral? Get stuck into the vegetables before anyone else does! Enjoy your weekend, whatever you may be wearing! (I couldn’t find a lederhosen emoji, so you’ll have to make do with a carrot, some broccoli and a laughing face!)

An Alternative Existence

I had a lovely lunch today with my very good friend, BFG (Bazza the Friendly Geordie). Apparently, her husband, BSG (Bazza’s Shy Geordie), would have joined us but when he dropped BFG off at the restaurant, he plaintively informed her that he ‘hadn’t been asked’. Mortified, faithful followers, mortified!

However, since we touched on ‘ladies’ bits’ (just a manner of speech) during the lunch, it was probably a good thing. We also touched on feminism – in a very genteel way, of course – although I have just remembered that I forgot to tell her about the phrase that DoD (Dai of Derby) came across in a book he’s reading: ‘the insects in the room gave off a genital hum’. We still cannot work out if it was a misspelling or if this man was particularly attuned to the sexual habits of insects. Who knows? Who cares?

Anyway, as usual, I digress. The purpose of my missive to you this evening is to help you deal with the difficulties of dementia, something which is becoming a real problem in modern society as we live longer, and which I know many of you have encountered personally. BFG and BSG are currently going through some hard times with his mother, who is in a nursing home (of necessity, not choice) but I am not here to depress you – far from it!

BFG told me of many instances when she and BSG have laughed and she is happy to share such moments with others, so picture these scenes:
1. The BFG’s mother-in-law’s GP has come to see her (the MiL, not the BFG, of course!) to check her over, but MiL is being a little uncooperative, to say the least. The doctor asks if she likes singing and BSG says yes, so BFG sits holding one hand, BSG holds the other, the GP listens to her chest with his stethoscope while all three are singing ‘My Way’. Even Monty Python couldn’t better that!
2. There is a lady called Doris at the home and she likes to wear a leopardskin onesie whilst standing at the front door charging everyone 50p to come in. She also likes to tell you if you have a ‘cheap’ haircut – apparently, BFG’s hair is cheap (I very much doubt that!).
3. There s nothing that’s much more fun than a reading club (so I’ve been told), especially in a nursing home. BFG, BSG, MiL and Margy, another resident, were sitting enjoying some tea – MiL was shovelling down (BFG’s words) a concoction of cream cake with extra cream in which her tablets were hidden (this is a woman who used to enjoy black coffee with no sugar), while Margy was sitting reading ‘Sex in the City’, the front cover describing it as ‘Jane Austen with frilly knickers’. Margy turned to BSG, whom she thinks is the manager of the place, and said, ‘I don’t think Jane Austen wrote this.’ In the meantime, playing in the background is ‘The Banana Boat Song’. Monty Python, where are you now?
4. The inevitable sing-song – My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, followed by ‘Billy, Don’t be a Hero’ – what a choice! It made us wonder – what will be the sing-songs of choice in, say, 30 years? Will the 80s generation be swaying along with their Zimmer frames to Duran Duran, A-Ha, Adam and the Ants, Take That? I shall be expecting Maggie May, Layla, Streets of London, maybe a little Pink Floyd to hum along to (genitally, of course!).
Sleep well, humming genitally to yourselves!

The Perfect Guest

Welcome sign


A very good evening to you all from the Lifestyle Support Guru! This evening I am going to give you an important lesson on BEING A GOOD GUEST. It is always useful to know how to behave when visiting other people, as they will inevitably have different habits from your own, so you need to learn how to ADAPT! I have drawn up a list of easy-to-follow instructions which will ensure that you will always be welcomed in future as the PERFECT HOUSE GUEST!
1. DO make sure that you give as little notice as possible of your intended arrival, even though you may have been planning your trip for weeks, maybe even months – an hour, maybe two, should be ample. This is, of course, entirely for the benefit of your host, to save him/her spending hours cleaning and tidying prior to your arrival. You are thus saving your host days of stress and worry.

cat licking its paws


2. DO make sure that you arrive at least an hour later than you had said. Again, this is for the benefit of your host, who will have been able to put that extra time to good use by doing a little more cleaning and tidying, thus alleviating any earlier concern he/she may have had about the house not being spick and span. It also means that the friends the host had arranged to meet at the pub will have had a whole extra hour to drink more alcohol, thus making them far more relaxed than the host!
3. DO make sure that you bring a gift for the host – I suggest a box of kippers. This will ensure that the host’s house will be gently perfumed with a tantalising smell which will entrance the host’s cats, even if the host hates them. Again, this is all for the host’s benefit because it keeps the cats happy and the host is also able to use up a large number of carrier bags wrapping the box of kippers to try and mask the smell.
4. DO make sure that you have some unspecified leg injury which means you are unable to walk for long and need to spend the evening resting when your host had been thinking about a meal out, perhaps Chinese or Italian. Once more, you are doing your host a great favour because he/she needs to lose some weight anyway.

wet floor

wet floor

5. DO make sure that, when you have a shower, you fail to put the bath mat down, so that the floor is lovely and wet when the host goes for a shower. Once again, you are selflessly helping your host, who is thus able to practise long-forgotten skating skills and who hadn’t realised he/she could do the splits!
There are other instructions, but I think these will suffice for now; there are certainly enough to ensure that your host will have a BIG SMILE on his/her face – WHEN YOU LEAVE! Sleep well and don’t forget to put the bath mat down unless you have a wish to become another Torvill or Dean. (For those of you who may be worried, the PERFECT GUEST has a sense of humour!)

The Martyr and The Transport Manager

sad sunflower

Sick bed

So, a very good evening from the recently-risen-from-my-deathbed Lifestyle Support Guru, pleased to have made it through a whole day without having to return to bed at least twice during the day since Friday. Having rather overdone the Random Thoughts post last week – I got a bit carried away! – I hope to help you with a couple of shorter lessons in life in this post, passing on my recent experiences as a MARTYR and as a TRANSPORT MANAGER.
Firstly, being a MARTYR can be difficult and some of us can achieve this with greater ease than others (myself, for example), but it CAN be done with practice. To be a MARTYR, you need to practise self-sacrifice and thinking of others and this is exactly what I did, dear followers – I sacrificed a LUNCH on Saturday!

restaurant table

restaurant for lunch

Those of you most familiar with my habits and preferences will know that this counts as almost the MOST COMPLETE SACRIFICE I could make! But how could I inflict my sorry self on the proposed companion and, more importantly, on the lovely little Italian restaurant and its lovely food? (Actually, thinking about it, the proposed companion has never shown such consideration when suffering with his sinuses or ear problems, so I shall remember that for the future… )
As further evidence of my MARTYRDOM, I even sacrificed a dental appointment!

So, you will now be wondering how I have gained my experience as a TRANSPORT MANAGER, especially if I have been suffering. This actually relates to the earlier MARTYRDOM when I decided that, instead of returning to my sickbed for a third time yesterday, I would meet some friends for a planned meal and a cinema visit. Following the film – during which I learned that Van Gogh can be pronounced ‘Van Go, Van Goff, Van Cough or Van Choch (like the Welsh ‘ch’ sound); why not just stick with Vincent? – I went to catch my bus. The bus stop has one of those

bus stop

Bus stop

electronic signs telling you when the next bus is due and where it’s going. A youngish (30? 35?) man came and studied this sign for a minute or two then turned and asked me if I knew when the next bus would be going to Mansfield. He then explained that he was dyslexic and thought the sign had said in 40 minutes. ‘Yes’, I said, ‘that’s right.’ and he walked off, muttering. ‘That’s not dyslexia,’ I thought, ‘that’s not being able to tell the time.’
Immediately following this, an elderly (older then me!) woman asked me if I knew which bus she should get to South Normanton. Do I look like a walking bus timetable? ‘Sorry’, I replied, ‘I don’t, but there’s a printed timetable just two yards away.’ At this point, a young hoodie who had been standing in the bus shelter intervened and, having consulted said timetable, told her that the bus would be along in another 30 minutes. And I had been convinced he was a potential MUGGER, dear followers, and so was hanging on to my handbag for dear life!

So, there you have it, believers and non-believers – life as a MARTYR and a TRANSPORT MANAGER is just grist to the mill for the LSG: all in a day’s work.
Sleep well (and see if you can work out when I should and shouldn’t have used ‘So’ at the beginning of a sentence. Tee hee!).
Lunch tomorrow!!!