The Saga Of Renting A Carpet Cleaner

Meg planning to place her next bowel movement

With Chris still away,it is the ideal time for a spot of industrial strength carpet cleaning.

Now I have decided not to use my knackered and fading carpet cleaner and opted this morning for one of those industrial strength jobbies that like the proverbial popular prostitute could probably suck an orange through a garden hose.

Three dogs, one cat and a pure academic all mean just one thing in one tiny cottage, and it is..a grubby and foul smelling carpet..and so...once in a blue moon, I have to bring in the big guns

 Now....Have you ever tried to rent a carpet cleaner nowadays?

It is not as easy as you think.

First of all you need ID

And not just a selection of credit cards , a nurse security pass or blockbuster video card I can tell you!

No... I had to produce my driving licence AND in lieu of something else with my address on it... MY PASSPORT!

YES my passport! So I schlepped all the way home, picked up my passport and schlepped all the way back to the thin lipped lady behind the counter.

'Right' she said after detailing my certificates ' you need to leave a 25 £ deposit'

I gave her my debit card

'cash' she sighed

I was beginning to get just a little fraught

'I have no cash..I'm like the Queen' I said helplessly

Thin lips pointed to a supermarket  a few hundred yards away and didn't break a smile

' They have a cash point'

And so off I went to get the money ( and a secret scotch egg)

When I returned there was MORE form filling to do

I had to buy their own brand of cleaning fluid ( of course) then I had to sign for this and that before thin lips asked me what my car registration was

' what the hell do you want my car registration number for?' 

Yes I was ready to throttle her

But she was not going to be bullied by my Tom Stephenson tactics and said simply

' I don't make the rules'

feeling a little rebel-ish I made up a registration number, just to be a little anarchic 

And finally the carpet cleaner was mine.....

The world's gone mad

I Told You I Don't DO Mornings!

Night Shift and arsehole chemical burns

Don't mix

I went to bed early and have enjoyed a good eight hours sleep.

I am not, however, doing anything until I have had my first cup of coffee

( thanks to sean  for the walking dead app)

Will blog again if and when anything 'living' happens

Done It Again

I have done it again.

I have bleached the toilet

forgot about it and in a moment of shall we say, 'contemplation'

I have burnt my arse cheeks in what only can be described as a perfectly oval chemical burn.

And they let me look after critically ill patients!

Acorn Antiques Macaroons

With a direct reference to my previous post

And with apologies for too many videos

Enjoy the following

And keep with it

I have never heard the phrase
"Shut the fuck up."
Get so many laughs

Wherever You Are

Lazy post today

Chris is away, I am working tonight

And it's bleeding cold

A bog standard Saturday me thinks
I have been somewhat impulsive however because after giving the dogs a two mile walk
I have just brewed myself a cup of tea, donned my Mrs Hopkins' homemade slippers and
have just eaten a whole box of coconut macaroons,
One after another

Live life in the fast lane
That's what I say

No Charge

Posted for Tom Stephenson

No Offence to anyone who likes This kind of song

But if I ever

 start buying the downloads

Please make it quick

And shoot me in the head

Another Belated Apology

Sometimes the reading of a little golden nugget of a blog post will spark a long distant memory of one's own. This is the joy of having such an eclectic library at the end of your fingertips.

This morning Cro's  Meanderings (http://magnonsmeanderings.blogspot.com/  ) told a rather bittersweet story which outlined a tiny moment in time when he suddenly matured as a young man.

And this rather gentle post reminded me of a painful growing up moment of my own from when I was a boy of around eight

When I was little, it was acceptable that housewives like my mother had a little help at home .My grandmother called up three times a week during the holidays and she would cook, clean , iron the clothes and provide a steady humorous environment for her bored grandchildren and her naturally anxious daughter.

When my sister and I was having lunch with my mother and grandmother one day, something rather funny struck me about this ' arrangement' and feeling rather pompous I chirped up at the table

" when Gran comes here she always gets all of her dinners for free"

I didn't get a reaction to what I thought was a clever comment so like a little smart arse I repeated myself several times , that was until my mother very quietly said

"That's not a very nice thing to say"

By that time, like most little boys with questionable social skills, I had already dug the hole and jumped into it, so as I was incessantly chipping "why? Why?" I was suddenly stopped by my twin sister who was looking at my grandmother.

I followed her gaze and was suddenly quietend when I saw a quiet hurt on my grandmother's face. She said nothing, but with her eyes never leaving her plate she silently and carefully ate her lunch with care and precision..

I think I learnt more about life in that one second than I ever had done in all of my eight years on this planet.

To this day, some forty two years later, I still remember my regret and shame at this silly little remark as if it only happened yesterday.

The quiet dignity of my grandmothers behaviour  and  the sad shame and uncharacteristic calmness shown by my mother at that dinner table will always be with me.

According to Diane...........

Humn on reflection?

It's only a quick blog today I have been extra busy and have not even had my usual ' breakfast blog moment' with a cup of milicarno as yet : the wind has demolished the duck house during the morning, which gave the hysterical runners something else to get their slimlined knickers in a twist about and

I have spent most of the morning repairing it, then had to go down to Prestatyn to walk my sister's dog before walking my own in between preparing supper and retrieving Camilla from the riding stables field yet again.

The gale force wind has unsettled her, even though her dreadful crash landing of yesterday has not quite put her off from spreading her wings, so to speak. I wouldn't mind as much if she had the sense to fly back home.... But she's a classy Canadian gal ( like so many are) and prefers to be carried back home, wrapped in an old woollen overcoat.

Anyhow I have 2 minutes or so before I go out to meet my sister in law, so just have enough time to thank Diane over at HEART SHAPED for her kind, " I think you actually look like Russell Crowe from Les Misérables" comment from yesterday's blog. It did tickle me somewhat.......even though his face nowadays does have the look of a couple of fat birds wrestling under a duvet

(Listen I'll the take the compliment in the spirit it was given)

It also got me to thinking just who do others 'here' resemble from the world of celebrity ? Now I know I have mused a little about this before..as we have already debated that Tom Stephenson is the spit of John Hurt with a hangover...but who do YOU think you look like?

I would be interested to know

Anyhow, I am already late...I have not had time to even wash my face, so disguising the awful windswept hairstyle with a hat and covering up the spilled coffee stains down my front with the same coat I wrapped camilla in.... I am off out

god I'm a classy date

RUSS CROWE eat your aussie heart out