Caffeine intake today: 3 coffees and 3 Redbush teas. I’m beginning to wonder if my numerous spots and the amount of caffeine I drink are related, so the Redbush teas are to counteract the coffee – in my head that’s sound maths.
T’is strange times is it not? Through the recent political upheavals and moments marked in British history I have found my head spinning, preoccupied with thoughts so big and mindboggling my brain has felt close to exploding. This has without doubt influenced some events and conversations in recent weeks, but as for other things that have happened, well they’ve just happened. When one of these odd and sometimes ball-achingly annoying things ‘just happened’ all I have wanted to do it swear, but despite occasional wee slips of the tongue I do try my best not to swear in front of my children. So in an effort to prevent their little ears being perforated by my blue language I have found an alternative soft expletive that works for me: Shiver me timbers! It’s great, I get the same satisfaction of saying “Shit” without actually saying it. I know it’s weird but it’s better than swearing in front of my 2 year old and 5 year old and lately I have said “Shiver me timbers” a lot! The whole Brexit thing leaves us with an uncertain future in this country and I am worried, however on a smaller scale but just as important, life has to go on, my kids still need feeding and loving and it was whilst I was addressing the former of these two that I started the ball(ache) rolling for the first of many slightly odd things to have happened recently…
By the way, this post is completely and totally cathartic, there really isn’t a point to it other than to tell you about my fuckwitisms (new word) I’ve achieved this week. I feel a bit less fuckwitty (another new word) after I’ve written it all down and published it on the internet… hmm, having just reread that statement, maybe I need help?
Whilst lost in deep thought about the future of our country, what it’ll be like for my kids to grow up in the UK and whether I should start a petition to bring back Spitting Image, I paid no attention to the amount of milk I poured into my Yorkshire Pudding batter mix (Brexit politics and Yorkshire Batter mix. I apologise now, this is just how the patterns of my life swing. I don’t mean to belittle either.) so I ended up with a massive bowl of really milky runny gloop. I couldn’t bring myself to pour it down the sink, instead I adjusted the mix and ended up with an even massiver (third new word of the blog, I’m on fire!) bowl of batter. I cooked the lot with the intention of freezing some. Out of the 36 Yorkshire Puds I made we had a total of 0 left. Shiver me timbers! Yes, we ate 36 Yorkshire puddings between us, as well as the roast chicken dinner. As a result my new nick name given to me by one of the village sisterhood is “Chobber”. I quite like it.
Edi smeared chocolate spread on the curtains weeks ago and I’ve been meaning to wash them but didn’t get around to it until recently. But being a novice in the material department I didn’t realise that it would shrink in the wash. The even bigger hitch is these are cheap readymade curtains that have the lining sewn to the patterned material, the pattern is a different material to the lining, so I now have three inches of lining hanging below the patterned fronts. In short the patterned stuff shrank and the lining didn’t. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry after Dan hung them back up and we noticed the error… Shiver me Timbers! said I reaching for a bottle of red. It looks really, really crap and it’s really, really annoying, I want to smack myself every time I walk into our lounge and see the curtains.
For the first time in my life this week I have seen a ‘pooh butterfly’. You know how kids paint butterflies by folding a piece of paper in half, painting one side and then folding it back over to create an reflective splodge on the other side and when unfolded the paint looks something like something that resembles a butterfly? Well, three days ago Ben, because his life is too difficult and tiring for him to muster up the energy to do it himself, called me into the bathroom after having had a pooh to wipe his bottom (I’m learning to pick my battles). He bent over and behold! I saw my first pooh butterfly spread across his gorgeous little bum cheeks. Shiver me timbers!
Finally, and thankfully totally unrelated to pooh butterflies, last night I dream cheated on my husband with a British celebrity! Shiver me timbers! It was so real that I can’t even bring myself to tell you who the person was whom I made-out with in my dream, I even feel a little flustered just writing about it. Normally I tell Dan these things and we laugh about it, but I haven’t this time because it felt so real that I think I may have actually done it! Perhaps the celeb’s dream and my dream somehow connected in dream world and we really did dream cheat on our partners? Although I can understand why I would want to snog him, I’m not too sure old Chobbers here is totally up his street, so perhaps the dream was only one way after all. That’s not self-deprecation, it’s fairly factual. It’s ok, I can take it. The celebrity in question is in my opinion very attractive, nevertheless I’m pleased to say we only got a bit hot and steamy in the dream, we didn’t actually do the deed of smexshual mintercourse (said out of the corner of my mouth quietly). I also had lemon jelly all over my face when I first met him in dream land but the jelly magically disappeared after he walked me home from a dream drinking night out and that’s when the dream cheating happened. Sorry Dan!
But I guess dream cheating is all nonsense, just like real life sometimes. I do love Dan, I hope he doesn’t leave me for his celebrity dream lady because who else would put up me and my faux swearing?
Be kind to one another my Mostly Bewildered buddies.
Bea (Chobber) x