Defrosting The Freezer - My Way

 

I think I've just used up one of my lives. I was defrosting the freezer - it was desperate - and was taking an eternity. So I got out my hairdryer that I've not used in a decade or more to speed things up ... as you do.

Things were going well and I put it on a shelf in there so I could swap knees whilst sponging out water, peas, loose prawns and berries, when the damn thing launched itself off the shelf straight into my bowl of water ... and it carried on blowing - er - water.

As it all happened so fast my first reaction was to reach down to grab it. It was then that I thought "don't be a such a twat". And switched it off at the plug which sparked satisfyingly at me.

I took my bowl of soapy water with the hairdryer still in to the husband/electrician and told him what I'd done.

Now did he say ... "I'm glad you're alive and didn't try to touch it"? ... did he arsehole? He just said ... "that's cost you a bob or two hasn't it".

I'll show him ... my hairdryer has taken up residence on the radiator until it dries ... what's betting it'll be working again by the next time I do this job...

Update

Guess what? ... I was right, three days of drying on the radiator and it works just fine...

Slow Cooked Pork For Easter

Note to self ... next time one of us decides to slow cook an enormous joint of pork overnight, do it before the whisky takes effect ... none of this was helped by the fact that I'd - wantonly - abandoned my specs and went about my domestic goddessing in a myopic blur.

I chopped an onion and lobbed it in, scattered herbs willy nilly - no idea which ones, they were greenish - glugged in a can of Guinness. Lovely, went and sat down to resume drinking whisky.

Hmmmm, methinks, there's something missing. Went back in the kitchen, chopped up some celery and chucked it in with a couple noggins of ginger - dunno why, but it was there ... went back to my whisky.

Hmmmm, still something missing. Aha, garlic, a whole bulb will do, I can't see to peel it. Oh, while I'm here I'll chuck some scrumped apple slices in that I froze last year. Bugger, they're solid I'll have to whack em to get em loose ... Ooh, a nice big chunk of frozen apple slices ... I think ... could be roast cabbage or chestnuts, I dunno, still can't find my specs.

Back to my whisky. Hmmmm, I'm sure there's still something missing ... oh chuffin Nora ... I only forgot the pork...

Thankfully I managed to remember it before I went to bed so at least I didn't have to get up in the night.

Which reminds me - now I'm finally in bed - the government has just stolen a precious hour off me - my phone went straight from 00.59 to 02.00, a disgusting state of affairs - with that damn British summer time they insist we have ... I won't get it back now until October...

Not Quite British

Last night Mr Grumpy regaled me with tales of his adventures whilst he was in Skegness yesterday. We got to the last bit and he told me about RUNNING - he's nearly 76 - to the bus stop and waving frantically to the bus driver.

Apparently this behaviour was because no one was waiting at the bus stop ... the driver did stop and he was clearly amused.

I was appalled, doesn't he realise how totally un-British this behaviour is? I mean, yes ... if there's only one bus a fortnight and you've got your snow shoes under one arm, an unamused cat under the other, a mosquito net shoved down your vest and a canoe strapped to your back ... plus enough supplies in a dozen shopping bags to get you through those next two weeks. Then by all means ... an apologetic little wave to the bus driver might, just might, be in order.

But we're talking about Skeggy here, with at least one bus every 5 minutes ... and he was carrying nothing more taxing than a pack of new biros for writing his bets.

Which makes me wonder ... 'What nationality is he? because it's definitely not British'.

Several times last year we tootled off to Mablethorpe, I know I've possibly mentioned it to friends what I'm up to ... but I'd hate anyone to miss out on how riveting my life is. But he mentions it THERE what we're doing ... like when we were in a charity shop, I'm browsing the book shelf - for him, I use a kindle - and I can hear him announcing that we're in Mablethorpe because the Skegness Lidl is 'but a pile of rubble' as they're about to rebuild it bigger. It's about this time that I can feel the tops of my ears going red.

Next stop, the pet shop for our badger and bird supplies and the conversation goes ... "We usually go to your shop in Skegness but they're rebuilding Lidl, is it your daughter who works in the pet shop there?" ... by now I'm several aisles away pretending I don't know him ... I do this a lot.

Lidl itself ... I'm shopping, he's chatting. Two aisles away I can hear him ... "Will you be going back to the Skeggy Lidl when it re-opens?". He's obviously cornered a member of staff he recognises as they were sent to different stores. I turn the corner and see him, he's found new victims to tell them 'What we're doing here'.

He sees me coming and announces ... "Here's my wife, I was just telling..." too late they've made their escape.

In the early days I used to think that everyone he was chatting to was someone he actually knew. I'd turn up from whatever shop I'd been in and they'd make a hasty retreat. I took this to mean they liked him and thought I was horrible, so I started to practice smiling ... this was not easy for me, I'm not a smily person ... remember, I am British.

It took me several months of wearing a rictus grin whenever I went out, to realise people just thought I was as big a barmpot as he his. Bless him...