Comic Relief

Here's a great idea - go over to Troubled Diva and help with the mission to assemble blog stories and publish in a book in just 7 days! The book will be called Shaggy Blog Stories. It's all in a good cause and you'll get some publicity for your site too - a double whammy.

Go on, what are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?

Hubble dubble

Captain Scarlet loves it when I'm on a diet. Our tastes in food aren't compatible at the best of times but when I'm trying to cook low fat meals he turns his nose up at them and I end up cooking him something like egg & chips. He thinks he's died and gone to heaven which has a certain irony given the food he's eating but he has nary a worry about his heart or his waistline. All this from a man who thinks butter, cheese, oil, fat on meat, etc are poison. The awkward git.

Tonight I found myself with several pints of milk lurking in the fridge, normally in that situation I would make myself a macaroni cheese but since Xenical and cheese don't mix I decided to try and make a milk-based low fat sauce instead. I was thinking something along the lines of Alfredo but t'internet kept coming up with recipes containing cream and parmesan cheese so I took things into my own hands.

I should state for the record that I am NOT a cook in any way shape or form. Do not try any of my recipes without written approval from your doctor and always have a large bowl handy. Oh and those purists who sneer at the use of purees and dried herbs can just kiss my curvaceous British arse.

I had some fat-free creme fraiche in the fridge so I thought I would mix that with some milk, bring it to the boil add some garlic puree, black pepper and some dried parsley - boom, Alfredo's your uncle, right?

Wrong. Creme fraiche and milk curdles when brought to a gentle simmer. It was like grey cottage cheese and I promptly dumped it in the sink. I had plenty more milk to play with.

Next, I began on more familiar ground by mixing some cornflour with a little milk until I had a smooth paste and then added the rest of the milk. In my more carefree days I would have made a roux with some butter and plain flour but there's a kidney and a pancreas out there with my name on it and I need to get on the list so I can get to them.

I brought the milk up to the boil to allow the mixture to thicken slightly and then I added about an inch of garlic puree, some salt and black pepper, about a dessertspoon of dried parsely.

I tasted it and it needed something. Flavour I think, but all I had left in my arsenal was some sun-dried tomato puree and a few oddments of herbs.

I added the tomato puree, still missing something. After rooting around in my little used spice rack I happened upon tarragon. Ahhhh my second favourite herb after rosemary, what the heck I'll bung in some of that, I thought. So I added about a dessertspoon of the the tarragon and took a spoonful of the sauce to taste it.

Can I have a drumroll please?!

Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr tish!

Scrumptious!! Just add pasta for a truly unauthentic Italian meal. I'm trying to figure out what to call this little concoction of mine. Any ideas?

Wuthering slights

You know you've Arrived in blogland when you land a £70,000 book deal. It's something that most of us, if we're honest, secretly aspire to. I expect most of us who do aspire to such things didn't expect to be discoverd within the first few months of writing but that's exactly what happened to Wife in The North.

What hasn't crossed our starstruck minds, I am sure, is that we would be parodied for our efforts and successes. Whilst following links from some of Wifey's commenters, I discovered that her writing is being parodied on another blog set up to be almost identical to hers. I confess that I found Strife in The North to be rather amusing and certainly quite clever but it is one of those things that make me go hmmm.

Eat sour grapes much?

Pail Rider

Take a memo Miss Funnyfanny:

Even if you cheat and take your last Xenical at lunchtime, if you decide to have sweet & sour pork balls for supper, even if you are only having it with plain boiled rice, always carry a bucket somewhere on your person. Failure to comply will have dire consequences the following morning.

Yours truly,
The Management

iChoons

There's a first time for everything and it's Drama Queen who finally broke my duck and tagged me. Spanish Goth started it, Shaz jumped on the bandwagon, I pitched a fit at being left out and now the rest, as they say, is history.

This is apparently how it goes.

Take your iPod, you have to switch it to random and list (truthfully) the first ten songs + artists. If you don't have an iPod (like me) you will probably have to use your iMagination instead.

Answers on your blogs please and then you have to TAG another 5 peeps - let the fun begin. And that's an order.

My list (sans iPod) goes as follows:

1. Shine by Take That (playing on Radio 2 during my drive home)
2. Gangsters by Specials AKA (as above - you know you're getting old when they start playing Specials AKA on Radio 2, Terry Wogan was playing some Clash the other morning, but I digress)
3. Night Fever by the Bee Gees (from the album Saturday Night Fever; The Original Soundtrack - on the boom box at home)
4. If I Can't Have You by Yvonne Elliman (SNF-OST)
5. Disco Inferno by The Trammps (SNF -OST ... are we starting to notice a pattern here?)
6. Strict Machine by Goldfrapp from the album Black Cherry
7. Suspect Device by Stiff Little Fingers from the album Inflammable Material
8. Hung Up by Madonna from the album Confessions on a Dancefloor
9. Spirit in the Sky by Norman Greenbaum from a 70's compilation
10. Pretty Fly for a White Guy by the Offspring from an air guitar compilation

Now then, as most of my known blogonauts are already taking part in this, the only others that I've had contact with are Zoe, Sonnjea and the owner of There's Life Jim who I only know as Mr Man's Wife (although I refer to her on my blogroll as as Mrs Woman as believe she at least deserves her own identity). I hope you guys don't mind too much - I need to look like I have some friends out there.

The importance of being Kipling

A handbag (a hyandbag??) is a girl's best friend. I personally favour Kipling bags, they're not to everyone's taste I know, some of them can be downright ugly and I do find the stuffed monkey keyrings somewhat annoying but mostly they suit me and my requirements. They're rugged, roomy and not at all poncey like some designer bags and the fact that mine, black to suit my normal mood, is called Morrisey is a bonus.

I did a quick inventory today and this is what I came up with:

2 pens - you can never find a pen when you need one
1 pencil - in case the pens run out
2 pad of Post It notes - a must. A folded note also doubles as dental floss but those paper cuts are a bitch
1 RAF ID card
1 USAF ID card - see if you can figure that one out
1 mobile phone - which never rings, perhaps I should give the number here 09052 302301. Call me!
1 purse - absolutely crammed with moolah (NOT!)
3 surgical dressings
1 tape measure - in case I need to take any inside leg measurements
1 comb - so I can tidy up before offering the above service
1 lipgloss - ditto
1 perfume atomiser - sigh, ditto, I think it has Prada inside but I've rinsed and refilled it so often with different scents that it's taken on its own unique fragrance, Essence of Pussmuk as my Dad would say.
1 tourniquet - extremely useful object, perhaps I should do a 101-things-you-can-do-with-a-tourniquet post
1 pair of binoculars - handy for when something interesting passes the office window, the last cool sighting was an An-124 in this 'ere livery.
1 pair of ear plugs (see above)
1 USB 1Gb flash drive - floppy is such a bad look
1 Red Dwarf novel - I hate being caught with smeg-all to read when I'm waiting for something or someone
1 small drum of toxic waste - yup, you read that right, toxic waste. You can buy it at Woollies, I'm not sharing mine with anyone

So what's in yours?

Beachcombing

Apologies for the dearth of posts lately, I've been lazy, miserable and uninspired this last week. I started on Xenical, the weight loss wonder drug, last Saturday and have experienced a few problems but I've lost at least a pound so hurrah!

We went to Great Yarmouth today, the Blackpool of the East Anglian coast and had a stroll along the beach. I've mentioned before that I like to pick up stones and shells washed up along the shore, but just lately my interest has been taken by sea glass - tiny chunks of glass worn smooth by the action of the sea. I netted quite a haul today including 2 interesting pieces of safety glass that had the reinforcement wires running through them.

I also came across a couple of pieces of thin, white china. I like to fancy that they came from the Titanic and have been washed all this way by Poseidon and his nereids in order to bring them home. They're slightly off course as they've missed Liverpool completely but I like the thought anyway.

Brave New World

How things change. I just received the rejection notification for the job I applied for a couple of weeks ago - Freelance Features Writer for the local paper - by email. Surprisingly I'm not dejected by it, I'm rather amused ... email hah! I last applied for a different job at the turn of the last century when they send the thanks, but no thanks letters through the post. So quaint!

Shake, rattle 'n' roll

My doctor wonders why I always resist having new drugs added to my collection. He thinks it's because I believe my body is a temple, frankly it's because I lack the kitchen space. I have a whole kitchen drawer given over to storing the blessed things, that's not to mention the drawer next my bed for the nighttime drugs or the salad drawer in the fridge full of stuff that requires refrigeration.


Every morning whilst assembling my assortment of medical miracles I have a scene from The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert go through my head. It's the one where Bernadette and Mitzy are sitting having breakfast at a picnic table in the middle of the Australian outback. Something of a surreal scene anyway but then you see what's in Bernadette's bowl - it's full of pills and she's coyly downing them one by one.

Finally it has happened to me ...

The Red Planet

No-one would have believed in the early years of the 21st century that Martian affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds of space. No-one could have dreamed we were being scrutinized, as someone with a microscope studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water.


Interesting tidbit from BBC news http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/6363243.stm

A wink and a curtsey to H.G. Wells and Jeff Wayne

Driving miss crazy

What is it with motorists today? Are they hungover on cheap pink champagne? Overcome by the fumes of a googoplex of red roses? High on serotonin and feeling invincible after scoffing all those chocolates?

I have had so much bad car karma today it's unbelievable. Maybe that should read good car karma as I'm still here tapping away to tell you about it. I've been cut up on roundabouts, overtaken on bends, had motorized cherry pickers pull out in front of me at the cheek rippling speed of 3 mph and then stop dead leaving me stranded blocking a roundabout.

The dialysis unit is tacked on the back of the main hospital and is accessible down a little side road which forms a T junction with the main access road down the side of the hospital. People park down the entire length of this road which makes it rather narrow - they park there as the main car parks are run by people with wooden legs and patches over their eyes clonking about going "Arrrrgh!" all the time ... but that's the NHS for you you might get free treatment but you're gonna need a private nose job after paying through it for all the parking.

Anyway whenever I come out of the dialysis access road I always pause behind the first parked car on the main road to allow anyone coming up the road to come through. Today there was a Bedford-type van coming up and there definitely wasn't room for both of us to pass so discretion being the better part of valour I let him come up.

He indicated right to come into the little road that I had just left and stopped effectively blocking me in. Never mind a wave of thanks or anything, his mate in the passenger seat started jabbing his finger in the direction of their turn - ug ug ug ug ug ug jab jab jab jab - he evidently thought they didn't have enough room to get through but for smeg's sake they were driving a Bedford van not the frickin' QE2. Duuuuuhhh until you move I can't get out you twat.

Ooooh ripe Anglo Saxon expletives!!

Whole lotta love

I'm rather proud of the fact that my husband doesn't buy into Hallmark Day, I mean Valentine's Day. I'm rather glad that he won't be coming home tonight looking sheepish and clutching a manky bunch of roses from the garage down the road - just because he felt he had to.

He shows his affection for me in other more practical ways throughout the year. Getting up early to defrost my car, for example, when I have to leave the house an hour before he does or warming my gloves on the radiator on a frosty morning mean far more to me than a heart shaped box of chocolates.

Putting my cynicism to one side I wish you all a Happy Valentine's Day - love to all.

A little stiff

Viagra goes on sale over the counter at Boots tomorrow - 50 quid is a little hard er, to swallow.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/6351171.stm

A star is born

For all his newly acquired Dougalphiles out there (and I swore to myself that this wasn't going to be a cat blog) here's the boy and his sister on their first night home.



Getting hairier (the cats that is, not the hired help)



Relaxing on the slave's pillow



Well it does say Cat on the box

Space cadet

Dougal, call sign 'Fluffbomb', sits comfortably on his bed of CJ's unmentionables but no matter how hard he concentrates he just can't make sense of the words in this book.

Food for thought

They look after us really well at the dialysis unit, we're fed and watered regularly throughout the treatment starting with tea & toast for breakfast, tea & biscuits at 10am and then sandwiches just before we leave.

Apparently some of our sandwiches have been disappearing somewhere between the kitchen and the unit, one of the theories postulated is that the porters might be pinching them and selling them (a jokey theory, not an actual accusation I should add for fear of being sued by an angry porter!).

Just imagine, a thriving black market for NHS sandwiches - who'd'a thunk it?

The Laminator

He arrived in a blinding ball of light, naked and beautiful. He turned and saw me open mouthed in astonishment, he strode down the hall towards me giving me the chance to admire him in his birthday suit which was tailored to perfection, hugging his every curve and muscle.

“Come with me if you want to live in a home free of dust mites and fleas burrowing into your carpets” he said

“Oh you’ve come to fit the new floor in the cloakroom?” I gasped

“Affirmative”

He is The Laminator

He was bad to the bone “Er, you might want to put some pants on unless you want your John Connor getting caught in the snap ‘n’ click joints” I said helpfully, half hoping that he would stay just as he was. He thought that over for a moment and said ominously “I’ll be back”.

A few moments later he returned carrying his arsenal of Homebase antiqued oak laminate boards. He looked so dangerous in his leather trousers and his black Ray Bans and dangerous he was as he blundered about in the windowless room whilst wearing sunglasses.

“Stick around” he grinned at me. “Wrong movie" I replied, "but OK I’ll just go and put the kettle on shall I?”

I barricaded myself in the kitchen and hunkered down at the kitchen table with my Cyberdyne laptop and a mug of PG Tips – I wanted to run a virus scan, my Skynet ISP was letting through far too much malicious logic for my liking.

In the next room I could hear a colossal battle going on as The Laminator fought with corners and pedestals and pipes, the rise and fall of the machines’ motors as they clashed with medium density fibreboard.

Eventually there was silence then a dusty figure burst through door, it was done, the Laminator had once more prevailed. He smiled a toothy grin and gave me a thumbs up as he retreated back down the hall “Hasta la vista, baby”

Pistils at dawn

I need to have a word with the man in charge of the weather. What are you thinking? Giving us warm weather in January and now ultra cold conditions?!

While I was out doing my rounds yesterday I spotted a daisy blooming in the grass, the laurels have bundles of new growth pushing up and my pieris has bright red new shoots on it. The temperature here this morning was -6C - all those poor plants lulled into a false sense of spring are going to have their little botanical nuts frozen off.

It's just not cricket.

The pursuit of happiness

As I hinted yesterday, I went back to work this week. I don't know why I bothered really because apart from a couple of hundred emails of the look, raise your eyebrows in disbelief and delete variety, I had nothing to do all day.

You see the Captain, in my absence, is homesteading. For those unfamilar with the term it essentially means that she's trying to takeover. I now have half as much to do as I had before she joined us.

I'm fairly sure she thinks she's doing me a favour but she is not. I had all my programs running smoothly, I knew percisely where every document was, my tracking records were immaculate. Now I'm sharing my tracker with her and my information has holes in it. It's all gone to heck in a handbasket. Blimey I'm talking like her now. I even said at the KFC tonight, "I'll have that to go please" rather than saying "takeaway". Puhlease!!!

I'm very unhappy working on the base, apart from the boredom, the prospects and the diabolical pay I feel quite vulnerable in today's political climate and I've developed a pressing need to put some distance between myself and George Dubbya's band of merrie men

So what to do? It's time for me to spread my wings and follow my dreams. I'm considering applying for another job away from the base, away from the MOD. It would take a minor miracle for me to actually get it but Captain Marvel (who by the way is unhappy with his moniker and henceforth wishes to be referred to as Captain Scarlet) believes in me so it's time I started believing in myself.

Today has been cancelled due to lack of interest

I'm going back to work today. Ugh.