Mother's Day

Met up with Mum today as it's Mother's Day, so we could have some lunch.
I'm still sporting a great cough/sore throat/croaky voice/cold combo and feel a lot like crap, so I entertained Mum with my Kermit/walrus impressions.

So we get our lunch, I had a super quorn cobbler, I've never had quorn cooked like that and it was really lovely. Vegetarian food is so hit and miss, frequently painfully unimaginative so it's nice to be surprised!
There used to be this incredible little day cafe in the Lincolnshire town of Louth, I used to get excited about going there because the menu was so incredible for vegetarians.  Actually the whole menu was incredible. 
Then the last time I went it had been sold to new owners and the vegetarian menu was all but gone, just the standard single option.
I almost wept. I'm still sad about it!

Anyway....Mum & I get to the till and all Mums are being given a free cupcake! 
How lovely!
"Are you both Mums?" asks the lady at the till.
We indicate that Mum is the only Mum.
"I'm only Mum to a cat" I tell her.
She chuckles.
I'm mildly affronted that it doesn't actually count.

Pizza Time

So I've wanted a pizza oven in my garden for so very long.
In 2012 my niece and I built a clay oven.
As we completed the dome I squealed that we should give it a face, and thus the cat pizza oven was built:

Unfortunately all did not go well for kitty, rain made her sad and there was a collapse before a single pizza was cooked.  Lesson learned, she had not been fired adequately.
So in 2013, the mission was again to build a pizza oven, the clay was made ready and the dome created, but this time no kitty!
No, for smoke & flames shall spill forth from the mouth of the pizza oven, so it clearly had to be a dragon:

Pretty damn cool eh?  We were beyond thrilled with it!

I even named it, Colin Falstaff.
And better than that - look at it in action. Look at him eating pizza!

 Look at my pizza, look at my damn delicious pizza before I stuffed it all in my face.

Colin Falstaff worked like a dream, he cooked up the pizzas to perfection.
But this is not a story with a happy ending.
Colin Falstaff did not survive the winter.
So now there has to be a mission for 2014, the pursuit of a pizza oven that lasts.  
I suggested using bricks to make a dome, my niece pointed out we don't know how to do bricklaying, which indeed could prove to be an obstacle.
There must be a way!

Cats & Ducks

Thursday last week, I made my way down to Bristol to watch The Cat Empire. Always superb live and great high energy fun.
With the exception of missing one junction - which I will continue to blame on poor road signs - I made it without a problem, even driving into the city centre and finding my destination without a wrong turn. Without sat nav. Not half bad!
Met up with Siobhan and Aaron and we went for a pizza dinner, trying out the one of the new Leggera pizzas. God, just the word pizza makes me hungry.
Afterwards we headed to the venue and made our way in, taking up my traditional spot towards the front.
The support came on and were pretty good.
I told Siobhan that Felix in the Cat Empire was beautiful. She asked whether he was really beautiful, or just my idea of beautiful.
I think she might be trying to infer that I have occasionally unusual taste in men.
I assured her he really was very beautiful.
The band took to the stage, I pointed at the stage and said "That's Felix".
"Oh my God, that's like a real life Patrick Dempsey" she said, then turned to Aaron and continued "I'm sorry, but I might have to leave you".
Look how beautiful he is:

That man was standing just feet from me and I was able to contain myself. That's self control I tell you.
And for your viewing pleasure, here they are live, doing one of my favourite songs, in fact the chorus is my ringtone on my phone.
Oh, and check out the dude in black on the trumpet. That's Harry. I wouldn't be turning him down either! Plus that Harry, he can really scat.

A little bit of the lovely Harry (I'm generous today eh?):


So, after they came on stage the crowd got a little, well crowded, a lot of pushing and shoving commenced. After a song or two Aaron decided to bow out and during the next song, Siobhan and I nearly ended up getting pushed over. I grabbed her wrist and despite her declarations that she was fine I insisted it wasn't safe and we made an exit. Or rather I shoved a number of people and trampled on a lot of feet. We headed upwards and watched the gig from tv screens and where I was free to dance like a dervish, as is my wont.
Despite the crush at the front I had a splendid time.
When they did The Chariot (the first video) it went to an instrumental in the middle before suddenly morphing into Billie Jean, which was awesome. None of the band sang the verses but as it moved into the chorus the whole crowd started singing. I sorely missed someone doing a moonwalk but it was just brilliant, as they morphed back into The Chariot, Felix said they felt he deserved a tribute and it was an excellent one.

Post gig we headed back to Siobhan & Aaron's place where I kipped for the night, before heading home at lunchtime.
I again missed the damn junction, for the exact same road, but this time, brilliantly, I managed to not only miss the junction but then get caught up in the tailback following a small pile-up. And thus welcomed an extra couple of hours on to my journey.

Finally made it home in time for tea and started preparations for the picnic I'd arranged for Saturday. Only a small affair, but as it was the annual Dunston Duck Races I thought it would be a laugh for some of my mates to come over and bet on a duck or two.
So, at 11pm on Friday night, I was busy whipping up a couple of batches of cupcakes. I'll be uploading the recipe for the cupcakes with mascarpone & fruit on my cookery blog soon and you must try them, find any excuse you can, they were just so very, very good.

Saturday rolled around and it was picnic time, I took a sack trolley and made my way up to the green, laid out blankets and started to feast. To begin with it wash just Rachael and I as it was also a massive airshow just down the road and traffic was rather heaving. I suspect we looked quite funny with this enormous amount of food and just the pair of us, bit by bit other folks showed up. The kids ran up and down the beck, slowly getting wetter and wetter, but it was so warm that they seemed to dry almost as quickly. There's something about kids just jumping around in water, free fun and they make seemingly endless games out of it!

A little while later the races commenced. I bet on races 4 and 5.
Below is my duck, number 43. It's safe to say that this little grouping of ducks is towards the rear. I was in no danger of winning.

These would be the ducks making it under the finish line. Mine was still feasting on weeds or stuck behind an obstacle. Quite frankly number 43 let me down.
Truth be told, my bet on number 7 didn't go any better either. Ah well, it's a good job I'm not a gambler.

I managed to get a wonderful circular spot of sunburn on my back, having not thought through the keyhole part of my top very well. I just can't reach there with suncream!

Everyone but Rachael made their way home after the racing had finished. Rachael and I headed to my garden where we reopened the picnic leftovers. There was more feasting. I had made fresh lemonade and some elderflower cordial but Mifford wasn't allowed any, so as not to be outdone, she found her own sweet nectar:
Got to love a bit of watering can water, although that might only apply if you are a cat, or Mifford.
Once the sun started to cool, we headed in and watched Transporter 3, which I enjoyed. I know it's not a good movie, but I do like the Transporter movies, they make me laugh and the violence is just so wonderfully choreographed!

A final couple of notes. I totally ran over the big toe on my left foot with the sack trolley, I cannot tell you how that smarted. I did well not to curse in a number of different languages.
So, on Sunday my big toe was clearly swollen and I therefore decided that the ideal way to proceed would be to stub my little toe and hard. So hard it went a purple/black shade and I wondered for some time if I'd actually broken it.
It's a talent.

That's all for now folks, I have to go pick tea from the garden.
Oooh, it's raining and the sun is out, I also have to go see the rainbow.
I'm easily excited, me.

A Lot To Say

I'm feeling in an organised sort of mood today so I'm putting my thoughts out there in an organised manner. Tomorrow I'll be back to flitting, hell it might be this afternoon. I'm an unpredictable sort.

So:

1. Mum and Tim are in New Zealand. They're vacationing. And they're blogging it here. Just to make sure you feel the envy. Although, the sun is shining and the sky is blue here. It's just that if you were to try flip-flops you'd risk frostbite. Damn it.
2. I'm going to a ceilidh tonight. I've never been or seen a ceilidh where there hasn't also been an injury. To date the injured person has not been me, which in itself is a minor miracle, so I'm wondering if my time has come.
3. I went in a chatroom last week, for the first time in years and years. I'm regularly complaining about the world of txtspk, I do loathe it so, but anyway, so there I am in the chatroom, receiving a few private messages. To be honest, over the course of the evening I probably had about 30 guys contact me to say hello. No wait, with just a couple of exceptions they contacted me to say ASL. Some of them didn't bother to say hello. Just straight in there with the Age/Sex/Location. Personally I'd have thought that the 'Lady' part of the moniker I was using would have given the middle part of that set of questions away. But it seems not. I pointed out that I thought it was generally considered bad manners to ask a lady her age, to which one responded that he had to check I wasn't underage. Which is a fair point, but it doesn't really excuse it, unless he also believes that each and every person on the planet tells the truth all the time. Hmm, I think not. Seriously though, what's up with that? No small talk? No, Hi, how are you, have you had a good day? Do they approach people in the real world and say "How old are you, are you really a chick and where do you live?" No, they would get short shrift. (I just looked up shrift and it wasn't a definition I expected). There's something about the 'virtual world' that makes people feel they can be less polite, that it's ok to just say "Hi, what are you wearing?" It's weird, because real world or virtual world, I'm not telling someone I don't know the colour of my underwear. I guess I'm just old-fashioned.
4. Or not. I did go and get another tattoo after all. I am having difficulties obtaining a photograph. I used an assistant last night and his photographic abilities sucked. I have been outskilled in the blurry photo ability. On the upside, I do love my tattoo, which is a bonus really as it's never going away!
5. I have a question about smelly people. Why do they always stand so close to you? I like my personal space, I do, I hate it when you're in a queue and they're almost pressed against you, but when they also smell bad it's just dreadful. The other day I stood in a local shop waiting to be served and a lady joined the queue behind me, almost immediately I smelt her and took a step forward, slightly turning to place my basket between her and I, to better protect my poor nose. This didn't help, I assumed the usual posture, free hand moved to just below the nose as you pretend to stroke/play with your lip and try not to breathe. I glanced behind me and saw that the lady behind the smelly one had assumed an identical posture. The people being served were taking a while, I toyed with the idea of leaving the queue, feigning having forgotten something, but maybe I'd be served any second, did I have time to stand again at the end of a queue of increasing length?
   The thing is, the smell is so often of unwashed clothes and unwashed body. It's not a smell of exercise just completed, it's a smell that has accumulated for days and I hesitate to say weeks, and it saddens me. Do they know? Do they care? I think most of us would be horrified to discover that people around us thought we smelt bad.
6. One more thing about people. The TV channel Living have been screening the original CSI, beginning from Season One every night of the week, it's not on till late evening so I prefer to record it. As a result when I sit down to grab some lunch or just chill out for half an hour and turn on the TV, it is set to Living, daytime Living shows a lot of Jerry Springer and Maury. I want to know, is any of it real? It is all fictional? Because honestly, some of those stories, they just don't compute. One chick: "Hi Maury, I'm here for the third time to test three more men, because I'm sure one of them HAS to be the father of my child." On this occasion, it was taking her tried total to 7. Seven men that could potentially be the father of her child. I mean, she's been wrong four times already, what if she's wrong three more times, exactly how high a number can she even achieve? It gives me the fear. I need soothing and reassuring they're all actors.
7. I think I have an addiction to store loyalty cards. No really. My friend Harriet, my niece Chloe and I compare how many Dividend Points we have on our Co-Op cards. When I got my letter from the Co-Op telling me what I'd earned and how much of a bonus they were going to give me, I was genuinely excited. It has become like a competition. Harriet sent me a text to tell me she'd broken the £15 mark and was irrationally excited. I'm just pence away from hitting £30. I'm a terrible saver, but these points, which are, in essence, free money, well I take pride in them. I can't bring myself to spend them. I must hoard them, see how high I can make that figure. When the offers come out I'm there, getting my 5X points on local produce or fair trade, just so I can see how much more I've accumulated. Yesterday I got an email, telling me about my Nectar card - which I use in Sainsburys - saying I could sign up for more points, just spend £5 on fruit & veg and 100 extra points would be mine. There was also a link to show me what I could spend my points on. Now I have a Nectar card obsession, I have to choose what I can save for! I have gone beyond sad, to lands undiscovered. I'd say I needed to get a life, but I actually quite like the one I have. Even with its loyalty card addiction.
8. This weekend is one of Lincoln's Free Weekends. It's a brilliant idea, you can visit the tourist attractions and get free entry. So, I'm heading to Doddington Hall with Rachael. Despite it being almost on my doorstep and driving past it regularly, I've never visited the actual hall. I was even there this week at the farm shop & cafe with Harriet.
   She and I went to have lunch there, when we arrived it was a bit pricey so we weren't sure if we should stay, both of us being short of cash, but we thought we'd brave it. I ordered a Jerusalem artichoke risotto and was told it was gone but I could have mushroom risotto instead. As the only veggie option on the menu I couldn't argue. Harriet had a burger and when they came both meals were lovely, but we both felt overpriced. Our table was near the till which meant we could be surrounded by customers at times, so it wasn't a private dining situation. We're both cake fiends so we opted for dessert which was beautifully presented. We went to pay, Harriet handed over her card and I handed her half of the bill in cash. As we left Harriet swept ahead of me, I'd been intending to meander through the farm shop and have a browse but Harriet seemed to be in a hurry. She turned back to me and hurried me a little. We got to the car and she explained. I hadn't realised but we'd thought the meals were overpriced, then they undercharged us, so she'd been in a hurry to make a swift exit. Are we terrible? Sometimes I like to believe Karma bites you in the ass and sometimes it smiles on you.