I Must be Dreaming

Great excitement!  Not sure if I've mentioned this before but Daniel Craig recently moved to East Yorkshire, near Beverley (BIG house!).  Anyway, he's been seen shopping in Beverley.  I think I would go all wibbly wobbly if I was standing in a queue beside him.  I'd have to say in my Scottish accent "I musht be dreaming!"

Hercules also lives in our area (Mark Addy), although I've never seen him in the flesh.

Anyway, Heathcliffe is just lighting the fire so I'm off to put the kettle on and dream about accidentally on purpose bumping into Daniel Craig in Cooplands' bakery.

Doris, the Diving Duck

We have a collection of ducks on our pond.  We have our two rescue ducks, who haven't got names yet because I still don't know if they are male or female.  How do you tell? We also have an assortment of very tame wild ducks.

I wanted to tell you about Doris.  She is a female wild duck and is much smaller than the rest.  At first she kept herself to herself and was a bit too shy to come close to get the food (apart from the fact that the other naughty ducks pecked her when she came close).  She is now getting used to feeding time at the pond and I was amazed the other day to see her actually diving in and swimming under the water to get the corn.  She is the only one that dives and swims under water so she is very special and clever.  

Please excuse the quality of the photos. It was freezing cold yesterday and I just took them very quickly.

Messieurs-dames, I give you Doris, the Amazing Diving Duck.   




That's Doris in the middle between the drake and the other duck's bottom.

 

 

 

Our own two tame ducks are the white and black ones

 







 

 

To Hoard or not to Hoard? That is the Question.

Chez Printemps, we have a hoarding problem in the name of Roberto, my hoarding husband.  He just will not throw anything out.  Take, for example, his wardrobe.  It is completely stuffed to the gunnels.  He has far more clothes than I do.  On closer inspection you will find piles of 1980s shirts which he says he still loves and will fit into when he has been on a diet.  I even found a knitted Starsky jacket (remember Starsky & Hutch?) that his mother, the late great Beatrice Printemps, knitted for him in the late '70s.  Actually, I quite like the Starsky jacket and have been wearing it myself on cold days. 

I know it's nice to keep certain things because they hold happy memories and I'm not a totally heartless de-clutter queen but honestly, the stuff Roberto keeps! In a shed we have that used to be my sewing room, there are boxes and bags of the late great Beatrice Printemps'  things.  Just ordinary things like boxes of blankets, sheets (multi-coloured flowery '70s sheets, that is), kitchen stuff.  Roberto just won't part with it.  He says it will all come in useful some day.  I think, 'yes, useful for someone else.'  I admit, and I'll give him that, I did find her old hairdryer in there when mine broke the other week and yes, I grudgingly admit that it has come in handy...but what the fluff can you do nowadays with a mink coat?

There is a '70s flowery lampshade that the late Beatrice tried to offload onto me on numerous occasions because she couldn't bear to throw it out.  Margot Leadbetter from the Good Life would have been proud to own it

So, I have decided mes amis that, starting with the offensive '70s lamp (see photo below), Operation De-clutter will commence in 10...9...8..

 

 

 

Happy de-cluttering/hoarding! A la prochaine.

 

 

 

On TV Adverts

Settled down to watch TV one evening, cup of tea and shortbread biscuit at the ready.  An advert came on for one of those Ped-Egg machine thingies that seems to suck up all the dry skin on your feet.  I was just taking the first bite of my shortbread when the person who was using the Ped-Egg seemed to be hoovering up a huge (and I mean HUGE) piece of skin off her foot. It looked utterly disgusting.  Needless to say, shortbread biscuit was not so appealing after seeing that.

 

...and another thing.  Sorry mes amis have got charity fatigue again.  Charity adverts seem to be playing non-stop at the moment.  I do understand that they have to get donations but apart from anything else, the actual airtime must cost around £100,000 each time the advert is on TV. The particular advert that has caught my attention is the one for Water Aid in Africa somewhere.  You see a young baby sitting in a puddle and putting his cup into it and drinking the water, while the narrator is saying something like "John has to drink contaminated water every day, even though it could kill him".  If that baby really is sitting there drinking contaminated water and they are sitting watching and filming him doing it....WHY AREN'T THEY STOPPING HIM?????  Is it me? 

 

As for the DFS sale that was supposed to end on 5th January 2014....it's on AGAIN!  It never ends.  There is also an advert for Harvey's furniture which annoys me greatly.  It is stressing the fact that you can get all the furniture for your home on credit over 4 years, encouraging young people (it's always young people in the ads) to get into debt. 

 

Have you heard about Wonga advertising loans on children's TV channels?  People are now complaining that their kids are telling them to get a Wonga loan to buy the latest Xbox, or whatever.  Effing unbelievable, n'est-ce-pas?

Right, rant over.  Squeak soon.

 

 BREAKING NEWS.....BREAKING NEWS.....Roy and Agnes have got engaged.  They are both still married to previous partners, but hey ho!

 

 

 

Michael Buble Overload

Well, I never thought I'd say this but I think I've overdone it with Michael Buble.  As much as I adore him, I've had enough of his Christmas CD.  In fact I'm just about Bubled out. He's been singing non-stop since 1st December so I've packed him away in the CD cabinet for another year. 

I could have sworn I had three boxes of mince pies in my cupboard that I hid in case of unexpected visitors during the festive season, but when I looked the other day, there was just an empty space where the mince pies used to be. There must be a big (huge) mouse in my house.

I'm not sure if I've told you about our ducks.  We have two "rescue" ducks of our own that a friend of ours brought to our pond - a black one and a white one (please don't ask me what brand they are as I haven't got a Scooby Doo).  Some numpty had them at the back of a terraced house and wasn't treating them properly and they were a bit scrawny and straggly when they arrived chez nous.  I fed them every day with special duckling food and chatted to them and although they were quite scared and shy to start with, after a week they came running towards me, squawking and squeaking, when I came to feed them.  I'm happy to say they are now fatter and happier and are are now playing nicely with the wild ducks on our pond. My Auntie Violet always asks about them and on Christmas Day she asked me if I had fed them anything special for Christmas.  I wondered if she meant stuffing balls and tiny sausages. 

"Eh...just some extra bread, Auntie Violet". 

"Oh, is that all?" she said.  "I thought you would have given them a wee treat." 

What the fluff do you give a duck for a "wee treat"? 


Bonne Annee 2014!

Easter Eggs at Christmas in the UK

I happened to pop into our local petrol station this morning, only to discover that they are selling Cadbury’s Creme Eggs already. I told the young girl behind the counter that it’s only 21st December and Jesus hasn’t been born yet but she just looked at me with her dead eyes as if I had asked her to detach her smartphone from her brain. Elle n’avait pas compris, mes amis!

So now that it’s nearly Christmas I have Michael Buble’s Christmas CD playing on repeat non-stop in the Printemps household and also in the car when I go out. Roberto hasn’t said anything but I can tell it’s beginning to get on his nerves a little bit, especially when I sing along at the top of my voice and ask him to dance round the kitchen like the Strictly professionals (speaking of which, it's the Strictly Come Dancing final tonight - yay!). 

We had a Christmas card from Roy and his new love. He’s not yet divorced from the long-suffering Wilma but he has already moved in with his new lady friend, Agnes and is planning a big proposal after Christmas, mad fool that he is. I’ve arranged to see Wilma sometime over Christmas to get her side of the story, so I will keep you all posted. 

My turkey is in the freezer and the stuffing balls are done so put another log on that fire, Heathcliffe and let’s have a cup of tea.

A la prochaine, chers amis.

 

Feliz Navidad.

　

　

　

　

　

　

Roy and his Never-Ending Mid-Life Crisis

It's been a while since I updated you on our friend Roy's never-ending mid-life crisis.  I take it that you are still interested, mes amis?

 

Well, to cut a long story short, after several (did I say disastrous?) blind dates through desperado.com, hundreds of miles driven around the country, one date whose 12 year old spoiled daughter decided that he wasn't "the one" and several hundred pounds less in his moth-eaten wallet, our boy Roy has finally found love.  The lady in question lives in Scotland and apparently this 'new town' where she lives is the best thing since sliced bread - "a lovely place to live", says Roy.  I think he lives in Pixie Land myself.  I won't mention the name of the town but if you've seen the film Gregory's Girl, then you've got it. 

 

Roy, who never spend a penny on his long suffering soon-to-be-ex-wife, Wilma, has been spending £50 a week sending flowers up to his new love.  Might I just mention that Roy is still living in the same house as Wilma and the divorce lawyers have not even had the chance to have a handbags at dawn session yet. 

 

In the meantime, another older lady that he apparently wooed when he was feeling a bit desperate has been sending him texts telling him that she loves him and misses him. Problem is that Roy is friendly with her man, PJ, and do you know what he did?  He phoned PJ, and asked him to tell Beryl to stop sending him texts.  I think Roy is a bit of a dimwit sometimes.  Beryl could still turn out to be a bit of a bunny boiler. 

 

So anyway, back to Scotland.  Roy is spending a lot of time up there with his new love. Says the weather is fantastic and it's a grand place to live.  He said this on the same day my sister phoned me from Glasgow and told me that they had horizontal rain and gale force winds.  He is also talking marriage already, although as mentioned above, his divorce is still pending.  All his friends think he is "bloody noots" (that's how they say nuts in Yorkshire).

 

More later, mes amis.