Let’s talk spam. Not Spam, the hideous pink tinned processed meat which, bizarrely, is much beloved by my Mum, and people who use it to make fritters, people who clearly have no respect for their arterial health. No, I’m talking email spam. I have two email accounts. One never gets spam email. The other gets spam email in varying degrees from one or two a day up to fifteen a day depending, I have discovered, on which companies think it is okay to sell on my details.
These spam emails are mostly to do with 1) alerting me to the terrible things that will happen to my Internet security because my Norton/ MacAfee/ other security system is out of date and needs renewing IMMEDIATELY, or 2) offering me something to benefit my health now I am heading towards 60 years old and CLEARLY falling apart at the seams. For example, one this morning was offering me the knees of a 20 year old. (Another was also offering to help me check the health of my prostate gland - if I could locate it, I might be interested…)
Now, because I never open these spam emails (this makes them stop eventually, a bit like ignoring a bully so they give up and go away) I don’t know the full facts of the offered knees of the 20 year old, but my intrigue was piqued. The knees of a 20 year old what, that’s what I wanted to know. I mean, if they were the knees of a 20 year old cow, for example, they probably wouldn’t be any better than my own knees. Also, I would be scuppered if they were the back knees, wouldn’t I? I’d be turned into some kind of lady faun of the Narnia variety, wouldn’t I? I wouldn’t know if I was coming or going. And trousers - how would they work, with backwards facing knees? Fraught with dilemma, that offer of 20 year old knees, I reckon.
Sometimes I get spam appertaining to my impending funeral costs. Cheerful, eh? Besides, I’ve already given instructions to be wrapped in my favourite blanket, curled up in a round wicker coffin and planted in a hole with a tree on top. Can’t be THAT expensive, surely? People can have a sing and dance if they like, some sandwiches maybe, and cake of course, but I don’t want any po-faced religious faff. My Mum has recently talked to my brother and me about pre-paying for her funeral. We said we thought it an unnecessary waste of her money and that we would stump up the relevant costs as and when they occurred. I asked her why she’d suddenly got a bee in her bonnet about it. She said, ‘Well, this leaflet came through the letterbox and it seemed such good value for money - an opportunity too good to miss.’ There, you see. Ever eagle-eyed for a bargain, even for her own funeral. (Rolling eyes…sighing a bit….)
In my on-going effort to retain youth and beauty for as long as possible by looking after the terrain of my body through healthy eating, I’ve been sprouting seeds…
This photo was taken a couple of days ago and the jars are now both almost full to the top of sprouted seeds. Five days it’s taken for them to grow from a single layer of teeny tiny seeds on the bottom of the jars to full capacity. Absolutely amazing! You soak them in water for 12 hours to start off, then rinse them twice a day thereafter. The green lidded jar contains alfalfa which always makes me think of Lennie in ‘Of Mice and Men’ growing alfalfa to feed to the rabbits in his American Dream, and the blue lidded jar contains mung beans which makes me think of Ming the Merciless from the film ‘Flash Gordon.’
The alfalfa are faffy in that they knit themselves together in a right old tangle, but they taste green, which means ‘pleasant’ in my book and ‘bleaurgh’ in Andy’s. The mung beans are more suitable for stir fries, being less inclined to grip onto each other and more robust in texture. The mung beans need to be sprouted in a dark place otherwise they develop, apparently, a bitter taste. I don’t know if this is true because I sprouted them in a cupboard as directed.
Anyway, they are being transferred into other suitable containers to keep in the fridge for me to eat over the next few days whilst Batch 2 is sprouting. I’ve also got cress growing on some damp kitchen roll on the windowsill. It’s all happening here!
I have no other news to impart aside from I am now a two pairs of dungarees gal. A deep crimson pair has joined the teal pair. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if another pair arrives to keep them company in the next few months. Dark green maybe. Or navy blue.
And his Lordship Malarkey announced an hour ago that he is going to set up the trail cam in the field on the other side of the road, in order to, and I quote, ‘Catch an owl.’
I suggested he might be more successful using a large net. (Ba-boom ching!)
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KJ