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!!