I said, ‘Vanilla, not gorilla.’

It’s National Vanilla Ice Cream Day today. Be careful if you ask for it at your local ice cream emporium because you could end up with a cone of gorilla instead, all furry and pungent with testosterone. 🤢🤮And that is WHY, dear blogging chums, I am not a fan of vanilla ice cream. Can’t be taking unnecessary risks at my age, don’t you know? Much safer with strawberry, or honeycomb, or ginger. I think. 🤔

I am properly fussy about ice cream, now I am officially middle aged. I don’t know if it is because I grow more and more aware of what I eat the older I become, and I make more effort to sustain good health and some semblance of a waist line that I never really had anyway - classic case of bolting horse and open gate there. Excuse me a moment of self indulgent sighing...(menopause, cake, I never knew lettuce was so fattening...)

Anyway, I don’t eat ice cream that often but when I DO I like PROPER ice cream, made from ice + cream + some sort of squished up fruit or other natural substance like honeycomb or ginger. None of this pretend ice cream malarkey which is basically whipped up chemicals and additives with a dollop of sugar to take away the taste. I certainly try to avoid ice cream with ingredients I neither recognise nor can pronounce. Actually, this is becoming a common criteria across all the foods I eat nowadays. I am becoming, for the first time in half a century, a fussy eater. 🙄

It is also Gorgeous Grandma Day! And whilst I never professed to being Gorgeous, I am definitely a Gran! My curly girlies are now 9 and 5 years old, which is like a WHOLE teenager between them. I have no idea how that happened, how time has flown by so fast and they ended up learning to walk, talk, argue the toss. They are gorgeous, funny and clever girls (of course they are...they are my granddaughters!!) and are both doing very well at school and at life in general. They are coming up for a holiday in less than two weeks’ time, sans les parents, so we shall get up to all sorts of malarkey and hoo-ha and no doubt have a jolly good, albeit exhausting time!

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The Frosted Dawn Enigma

The decorators are in at the moment. Stairs and landing. Given my previous history of 'Hoo Ha Occurring on Stairs ' - reference the Trapped Under the Sofa Incident and the Foot Wedged Between Bookcase and Stair Rise Debacle - I thought it wise to pay for professionals to decorate the stairs and landing rather than get myself in a mix with ladder and plank combinations and achieve the Magic Three of staircase accidents. The decorators are a father and son combo who go by the names of Craig and David. This automatically causes me entertainment. 'Came in on a Monday, prepped, filled and undercoated, back on Thursday, first top coating, by Friday finishing touches...' Okay, not as frisky or well-scanned as the original song, but you get where I'm coming from. Anyway, before they started the job Craig asked what colour I wanted for the walls. 'Same colour as the downstairs walls, please,' said I. 'Dulux Frosted Dawn.' And then white for ...

Day 1 - Decisions Are Made Beyond the Author's Control.

‘Well,’ I say, looking at the expectant faces gathered around the huge table in the Great Dining Hall of Much Malarkey Manor, ‘I didn’t think it was going to happen this year, but it is!’ There is a sharp intake of breath as everyone wonders of what I speak. I’ve been muttering about all sorts recently, and I’m not talking liquorice here either. ‘The Much Malarkey Manor Annual and Traditional Christmas Story!’ I say, and wait for the expulsed air of relief to settle before I continue. ‘I thought we had done it all. I thought we had covered every Christmas story there was. I’ve been wracking my brains for a full two months now, trying to come up with something we haven’t done before and then it hit me! We haven’t done a version of one of the Great Christmas Films of Yore!’ ‘Your what?’ says Mrs Slocombe, who is more interested in the selection of pastries I have brought to this breakfast meeting, because that is what one does, isn’t it? Eat pastries at breakfast...

Sun Puddles

A few weeks ago, I met up with a dear friend for a meditation and healing afternoon, both of us being light workers on the spirit pathway. It did me good to re-engage in a bit of focused energy channelling (because I have let my practice slip somewhat) and during the afternoon the words ‘sun puddles’ popped into my head. Now, I know this wasn’t my human brain thinking these words because I have never heard the phrase before; when I arrived home, I looked it up and said to myself, ‘Aaah, you mean sun spots!’ This is a sun puddle... ...there! That thing that Flora is lying on. No, not the sofa - the warm patch of sunshine on the sofa. Here are Flora and Bambino sharing a sun puddle... This proves that no matter how much they scrap with each other and try to denude each other of fur all over my rugs, they secretly share a mutual and fond admiration. I think. And here is Bambino on a sun puddle that has come to rest on my legs... It’s his casual, ‘I’m so cool’ pose. Metaphorically coo...

Oh, My Days!

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