Saturday, 8 October 2011

Robbie Rotten.....

You know when you really have a fantastic social life when your choice for a Friday night is a Donkey Derby at the Scout Hut or an alleged Robbie Williams Tribute night at the Doo Club. (Pigeon Club for those of you not familiar with Scots dialect.)  I did something I never usually do - I went to both. The Donkey Derby,  because I felt guilty about not supporting the Scouts and it was actually a good night. The kids had a whale of a time and H was in raptures as the only prizes being given out were sweeties.

As a result of my conscience I ended up arriving at the Robbie thing an hour and a half after it started to be met by an orange entity warbling 'Angels'. Robbie Williams! Aye maybe if I was blind and he was a hundred yards away with a bag over his head. Good grief. I actually couldn't watch, but as usual I couldn't not either. He was a guy of about fifty trying to pass himself off as Robbie. If Robbie Williams had witnessed him he would have called Trading Standards.  It was grim to say the least. He had died his hair jet black and styled in what he thought was a Robbie quiff,  but actually was more Robbie Rotten from Lazy Town. Add that to the most naff stage outfits ever and the result was cringe worthy. I sat silently praying that he wouldn't do 'Rock DJ' and strip off to his lion print kecks. To further add insult to injury, they didn't stock the only alcoholic beverage that I drink so I sat there nursing a cola and watching a leggy dame dancing about in a play suit that was just about decent if she didn't bend over. She did - to pick up Robbie Rotten's tambourine. The guys in the room must have thought that worth the six quid ticket price alone.  I sat praying for an opportune moment to sneak out as it was too loud to hold a decent conversation. I must be getting old.......

Finally took myself off just before midnight and fell into bed a millisecond after I arrived home. As I dropped off I reflected on the evening and realised that I had actually enjoyed the Scouts' thing best.......oh dear...

Monday, 3 October 2011

Close Encounters of the Sluggy Kind....

S was at a trade fair in the NEC Birmingham all last week. He phoned every night to let us know how he was. Hilarious moment on Thursday when he told us that he and his work colleagues had been refused entry into a bar in Birmingham city centre because they were 'too old'.

Strangely enough every time he goes away we seem to be attacked by a kitchen invasion of slugs. The past few days I have spied their snotty little trails across my back door mat and have known we have the little sods infiltrating our four walls yet again. Ever since I witnessed Ron Weasley boaking them into a bucket in a Harry Potter film my phobia has increased. Last time one was sticking to a can of beans when I lifted it out the cupboard - cue more screaming than a viewing of the Exorcist. My heart fell into my Crocs when I realised they were back. S is away again tonight and as I waltzed into the kitchen  I spied one basking on the door mat. They don't go anywhere else. Just that mat. Or at least I hope they don't go anywhere else. I realised to my glee that I could lift the mat and chuck it out the back door. No slug contact what so ever.  That was until I saw it's big brother sliding under the washing machine. A brown stripy one as well. I so hate them,  they scare the s**t out of me even more than the black ones do. Brown Stripy obviously felt the thundering vibrations of me crossing the floor and decided to get a jog on and made a slide for refuge under the washing machine. I have never seen a slug move so fast! It drew it's tail in leaving me wanting to boak. They are obviously slithering in from under the sink. I decided desperate measures were needed and in an effort to keep the kitchen a human domain grabbed the salt pot and laid a trail round the front of the washing machine. Now I am terrified to go downstairs tomorrow in case I find the kitchen littered with slug remains which I am going to have to dispose of.........