Wot, no cheese???

I have decided that it may be wise for the foreseeable future to proceed through life with a bucket on me head......

Yesterday... ah yesterday, all my troubles seemed here to stayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! What did I do, well I went to go pick up the chooks grub.... fairly simple procedure... got it, paid, hoofed it into the back of me car and trundled home, got it home hoofed it out and noticed the sell by date had come and gawn.... *sigh* soooo hoofed it back into the car, grumbling over price of petrol and unecessary driving and should I, shouldn't I charge them for this? Quite a cross patch, I shall confess....

Hoofed the blasted sack back outta the car, dropped it with a thud at the feet of an assistant and opened me mouth...
"I just bought this and have noticed it has gawn past it's sell by date.... now.. my chooks are havin enough problems laying at the mo, what with broodiness, and malting and.... and ....." on I went, smiling in a tight lipped obviously pissed off manner.... and he said...
"Um.. I don't work here, I'm just waiting to pay....."

And did I shut up? Noooo cos I didn't cos once embarassed I ramble... for days.... weeks have been known.. so off I went..
"Ohhh well since it's not your fault my chooks aren't laying, you can rest easy tonight.... did you know the vitamin content...." and on and on and on....... til he very politely giggled and found me a shop assistant who was about as much use as a..welll... hyperactive squirrel at a medidation conference......and with noooooooooooo knowledge about feeds whatsoever.... still I got me new bag.... chooks will lay or I shall give them a stern finger wagglin and look at them in a cross yet sympathetic manner.......

I aslo got taken out to lunch by me dad! Which was lurlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy... and then he had to go pick up a garden table cos a pheasant had broken their last one.. don't ask... life when I was a nipper was plagued with pheasants bouncing about all over the place... remember once being sat on the um.. loo... and a pheasant crash landing through the window.... waited very patiently for me to er.. finish, then wandered out of the loo and out via the front door... mad as hatters pheasants.....

Anyhoo, we arrvied at the EUUuuuuu cos I hate it, Wyevale, ie gift shop... ad he chose his table, deciding he didn't really want me to make him one outta an old hat, sticky back plastic and tarpaulin... no sense of adventure... price tag for table was £89.. got to check out and scanned it, they charged him £139 pounds...
"Erm.. "he said " the table is advertised for £89, why are you charging me £139?"
"Ah..." said the salesman" that price is just for the table top, this price is for the table top plus legs...."
"So you can buy just a table top??????? What the heck is the point of that?????!!!!!"
After several minutes of polite, forceful, non violent yet determined negotiation.... dad got it for the £89... leaving the salesman in a highly embarassed state, with me laughing too hard to contemplate walking for a wee bit....

Give me strength, tis not me that's barmy tis the world!! Whole place has gawned round the twist!!

£19,000!!!!!!!!!

But...but... I know me ISA and I know it's got precisely £2.57, an old toe nail clipping and a used tooth pick in it... not £19,000!!!!!!

I mean.. nooooooo I can't have... um... OOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooo proverbial penny dropped!!! They must have sent me someone else's statement!!! OOOOooooooo!!! rich bastid.... *sigh*.. pootled off to go tell hubs and he went "OOOOOOooooooooooo!! You gotta write and tell them! Better yet, write and tell the account holder cos he'll be well mifffed..."

I nodded, wisely, feeling the weight of being a responsible citizen, wiping my brow and tutting at the world of banking and data protection, I put pen to paper...

I looked up and asked hubs to get the address off the bank statment for me, and orf he went.. I heard a gasp, a snort, hysterical laughter, then nothing but merry giggling....

"Ohh you daft mare" he cried whilst wiping the tears of laughter from his face
Exscuse me!! I hope you're not referring to me, the responsible citizen as a *dopey mare*????
"Um, so you want the address... ok here you go..it's.

Mr Sample *snort*
Sample Avenue
Sample County
Sample " and promptly fell about the room laffing...

Oh... um.. time for

Well, really... nope it's no good, I can't actually think of an exscuse... bottoms!!!

Mind you, this coming from the man, who took the dawg for a walk, took the lead off, put it round his neck, one end looped through t'other.... and came to the place where you had to put the lead back on... leaned down, clipped the lead onto dawg's collar, who promtly took off , draggin his Lordship along by the neck.... *sigh* now that is stoopid....

Phewwwwwwwwwwwwwww!! Well,, gawd, need a weekend away to get over me weekend away!!!

Arrived at Ma's to find Dad gibbering and cracking under the pressure of keeping her weekend away a secret....then a 30 minute discussion between me and sis as to who should drive and who should navigate.... um.. came to the conclusion that since we both had the mutant gene of not being able to tell our right from our left..... it wouldn't matter anyhoo cos when one of us said right the other would turn left, but that would be ok cos the one who said right would have meant left anyway.........

And having spent daaaaaaaaaays going round in circles..... ok maybe not days maybe minutes or 50!!! we finally found our hotel which was very...really..amazingly...quite green..... shock!! Would have helped if they'd blinkin told us mind you.... couldn't for the life of us work out how the darn lights worked... looked all over the shop, tried anything and everything, fumbling around in the dark...... til the light dawned and we realized that you had to put yer little opening door card thingy, into a slot to have the lights on.... not obvious now, is it!!! Darn good though cos it means that when you leave the room you have to take your card with you or find yourself blubbing to the Concierge... and so lights aren't left on.. clever eh????

Had a groovy afternoon wandering round the market, nicked a design on how to make me own wigwam... project no302... decided probably me and sis punting me Ma about the Cam was not the most sensible ideas, long pole, deep water...hmmmm......crashed for a bit then went out to dinner! And who should I spy, but one of me favs, Rory Mcgarth or however you spell his name, fluffy man, jovial, beard, QI, grumpy ol men, any bells ringing??? Said I'd love an autograph but since he was eating out, thought it was a tad rude to go disturbing him..... pootled off to the ladies, came back to see......my Ma.... sat next to him, blushing and giggling like a school gal.... and worse, him, blushing and giggling back!!!!!!

Sooooooo I went up to her and tried to grab her jacket to pull her away and she saiiidd.

"Ohhh this is Kate!!"
And Rory stood up like a real gent and said hi, where did I come from and I said...
" Um...er..."
Mum filled in and he said
"Oh what are you doing here when you have that fantastic Pub The Bell and Steel Yard!" He knows me little village well!!!
and I said..
"Um..er..."
Mum filled in...*sigh*
he was really nice and so friendly..anway, I got ma back to her seat and we left him be.... I asked her what she'd said to make him giggle and chat so friendly like?
"Well, dear, I just said, hello Rory would you like to make 2 young ladies very happy tonight?"

Give me strength...

I thought I'd best text Ol find out how he was coping with all the kiddies, and I got the reply...
"All safely tucked up, 2 in the sideboard, 4 in the purple shed and 4 in the big shed...." um....er..... penny dropped, he'd just got me text asking bout the chooks......

Spent Sunday wafting round the river, lovely lunch then the nightmarish journey trying to find our way outta Cambridge.... the signs say "All routes..->" well it isn't all routes, is it.. if it was all routes they'd be one road, wouldn't there, and not 10,000 all shooting off all over the place....

Still the M1 wasn't too bad.... and once we realized we were heading towards the North of the country we screeched round and headed back.... stoopid road signs.... stoopid M roads... now I remember why I rarely leave Suffolk...tisn't for the not wanting to, tis cos of the completely crap roads signs and lack of llama filling stations.......