10.30pm - prepare for eight blissful hours in the arms of Morpheus.
10.55pm: woken by dog barking its head off. Go downstairs. Try to relax dog with kindly words. Return to bed.
11pm: dog starts barking again, if anything more frantic and desperate than before. Go downstairs. See if dog wants wee. Dog barks shrilly outside. Fear lynching from neighbours. Grab dog and haul indoors. Put dog to bed in very firm tones.
11.10pm - 11.59: listen to husband's signature Nocturnal Symphony with variations. Consider homicide, or moving into spare bed.
12.01: move into spare bed. Sleep fitfully. Too cold. Keep lying on knot of dressing gown cord.
6.39am: face of spouse swims into view. He appears to be dressed. Find out his car won't start and he needs to be at Market Harborough station for 07.10 train.
7.20am Arrive home, call RAC. Shower. Unload dishwasher. Break dip bowl. Sweep up shards before dog eats them.
9.00: RAC man says will have to take car to Dealership. Have only driven car once before, but no option. 18 miles in torrential rain with every f***ing cattle grid underwater.
9.50: Counsel RAC man over layabout brother in law.
10.10: Return home to overexcited and full-of-beans dog. Wonder if it is too early for a nap, or gin.
12.40: Demented squawking is overheard. Swallow flying around bedroom. Have a bit of a thing about birds.
12.42: Attempts to rescue swallow (while maintaining stance of hostage in bank robbery) result in it getting stuck in the sash window.
12.45: Traipse around village looking for someone to help. Can't find anyone suitable.
12.55: Gird loins, think logically, free bird. Run screaming from room feeling like Tippi Hedren.
1.10: Swallow still hasn't found open window. Curse same. Ring father for sympathy.
2.00: Bedroom seems quiet, if a bit soiled. Do some work and await next disaster.
Tuesday 28 May 2013
Friday 17 May 2013
How to... Get body confident for summer
How to... Get body confident for summer
I have a fetish about old women's magazines. (I mean that the magazines are old, not the women.) I've just bought a job lot of 1973/4 Family Circles from eBay and it really stands out how weight loss was a major concern by then, whereas the only concession to dieting in my 1967 edition was a 4-page spread entitled “Summer’s here - it’s time for cottage cheese!”
From tapeworm pills to now, diets have always been as whimsical as fashion. The 1970s, if my trusty periodicals are to be believed, were all about meal replacement. A particularly dodgy-looking product called Bisks were heavily advertised (although perhaps not that bad, looking at their recipe section: kidney stroganoff, anyone?)
The 80s were all about fibre, before people realised that All-bran is less tasty than the box it comes in. In the 90s you couldn't turn on daytime TV without Rosemary Conley prancing about in a leotard, extolling the virtues of complex carbohydrates. Dr Atkins changed all that in 2003 with his high-protein, zero-carb regime, and overnight farm animals began to look a bit worried.
Currently, the 5:2 diet is all the rage. The idea is that you eat normally for 5 days a week then <500 calories on the other two. I can see the logic, but as I'm nicknamed The Incredible Sulk because of how bad-tempered I get when hungry, it’s probably not for me lest I lose my husband along with the extra poundage.
Gregg Wallace, the shouty barrow-boy from Masterchef, is currently being paid £££ to advertise Weightwatchers. Of course he is really on the heartbreak diet, considerably more effective than spending two hours a day calculating points to see if you can afford a sneaky Jaffa cake after tea.
~ remember that nobody but you cares, or even particularly notices, how much you weigh. (Well, your spouse might, but they swore “for better for worse” so tough.)
~ use optical illusion to your advantage. If you only have your photo taken next to big round things, like bulls or hay bales, you will look comparatively thinner. Why not keep a deflated beach ball in your handbag just in case?
~ buy clothes one size bigger and cut the labels out. Then go and have a biscuit.
I have a fetish about old women's magazines. (I mean that the magazines are old, not the women.) I've just bought a job lot of 1973/4 Family Circles from eBay and it really stands out how weight loss was a major concern by then, whereas the only concession to dieting in my 1967 edition was a 4-page spread entitled “Summer’s here - it’s time for cottage cheese!”
From tapeworm pills to now, diets have always been as whimsical as fashion. The 1970s, if my trusty periodicals are to be believed, were all about meal replacement. A particularly dodgy-looking product called Bisks were heavily advertised (although perhaps not that bad, looking at their recipe section: kidney stroganoff, anyone?)
The 80s were all about fibre, before people realised that All-bran is less tasty than the box it comes in. In the 90s you couldn't turn on daytime TV without Rosemary Conley prancing about in a leotard, extolling the virtues of complex carbohydrates. Dr Atkins changed all that in 2003 with his high-protein, zero-carb regime, and overnight farm animals began to look a bit worried.
Currently, the 5:2 diet is all the rage. The idea is that you eat normally for 5 days a week then <500 calories on the other two. I can see the logic, but as I'm nicknamed The Incredible Sulk because of how bad-tempered I get when hungry, it’s probably not for me lest I lose my husband along with the extra poundage.
Gregg Wallace, the shouty barrow-boy from Masterchef, is currently being paid £££ to advertise Weightwatchers. Of course he is really on the heartbreak diet, considerably more effective than spending two hours a day calculating points to see if you can afford a sneaky Jaffa cake after tea.
~ remember that nobody but you cares, or even particularly notices, how much you weigh. (Well, your spouse might, but they swore “for better for worse” so tough.)
~ use optical illusion to your advantage. If you only have your photo taken next to big round things, like bulls or hay bales, you will look comparatively thinner. Why not keep a deflated beach ball in your handbag just in case?
~ buy clothes one size bigger and cut the labels out. Then go and have a biscuit.
Saturday 11 May 2013
How not to do customer service
Supercilious Woman in a Sash, Peterborough branch: you will never know how close you came to the mother of all tongue-lashings this morning.
Friday 10 May 2013
Happy birthday Chronicle
We have just come home from a very lovely celebration in honour of the Kibworth Chronicle's 35th anniversary, where I was very pleased to learn that I have at least one reader, and ate my own body weight in spring rolls.
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