Another day, another Britney-ism. She really does just sum up “life” through the medium of song. We should never forget that.
Anyway, what I have gone and done is re-entered the world of the tax-paying, employed masses. Yes, sometime in the near future I will be oiling the wheels of the corporate machine once more. What all this means is that certain things will have to be put on hold, namely:
My career as the nation’s next Nigella. Just as my lemon drizzle muffins were set to take the world by storm.
My “relaxed” daytime attire. Goodbye to going to the shops at lunchtime in an “I heart Guam” T-shirt and Robinson Crusoe-style cut-off trousers. (Sainsbury’s checkout man: “What is Goo-am?”)
My rise to (near) the top of the Celebdaq charts. Does anyone still play this? I must have missed the boat first time round but have become a bit addicted recently. Also provides a very sound reason for buying trashy magazines and reading gossip sites.
The clock’s ticking…I’m off to get some Diamond White.
In recent weeks I have regressed somewhat. About 50 years in fact. I seem to have taken on the guise of a 50s housewife. I create baked goods! I make my own soup! My latest creation is lemon drizzle muffins. Yum! And before that, pea and mint soup. Mmm.
Just goes to show, anyone can cook – as long as you can read a recipe. Thank goodness I learned to read! Thanks teachers and parents!
If I carry on like this though I might turn into one of the devotees of The Brocante Home blog whose readers have “a scrummy house, too much laundry and a child (or two) attached to your ankles”. Here’s a typical extract:
Chop up some old vintage scraps of embroidery and string together some bunting to hang along your washing line. It’s there. You might as well make it pretty. Oh and while we are on the subject keep an eye out for 50’s floral plastic covered hangers to leave swinging on your washing line for drying shirts and blouses without those bothersome peg imprints.
Informative! Inspirational! And – at long last! – a solution to the problem of vintage embroidery scraps clutter.
Oh – and if you want to know what a dolly peg lady is and how to make one, it’s number four on this list. (Surely by number 21 you’d be spouting nonsense like some kind of deranged stencil-the-driveway Martha Stewart…?)
As well as mad people, a recent daytime discovery of mine has been the joys of radio, particularly Radio 4. It never fails to surprise, veering between the mainstream and the just plain odd. The other day I caught a 20-minute interview with a lady in Wales who, using seaweed, weaves special covers to keep bales of hay dry. Of course, there isn’t much demand for her unique skill these days (since the roof was invented?) but she is paid to keep it going. Who was the person at the BBC who heard about this and thought it would make great radio? Possibly the same person who commissioned all the geology programmes – minute descriptions of the colour, shape and texture of bits of rock is surely not ideal radio matter. Still, it’s the random bits of weirdness that make it great.
At the other end of the spectrum is Pandora Internet Radio. You just type in a song or artist you particularly like, or are in the mood for, and it streams other similar songs. Type in Celine Dion and you’ve created your very own Radio Celine. You can then rate the individual songs it throws up to further refine future selections to your own taste. I just created Radio Barbra Streisand as a joke but am clicking the thumbs up icon on all the songs. This is a little frightening – back to geology.
Two Daytime Crazies overhead in conversation in a chemist this morning:
“Congratulations! So when’s the baby due?”
“This year or next?”
I think a whole different breed of people roam the streets during normal working hours. Let’s call them Daytime Crazies (DC).
These people must shut themselves firmly behind closed doors when the other half of the population emerge from their workplaces after the 9 to 5 stint so that never the twain shall meet. I, however, have crossed over…
Outisde my opticians last week, a boozed-up DC was barking “Happy New Year!” at passers-by and insisted on opening and closing the door for all visitors to Dolland & Aitchison. Hmm. Then in Tesco this morning, a lady DC marched up to me, pointed at my basket and demanded, “Where did you get the heggs?” For a second I thought she must be some kind of undercover store detective who had rumbled me. “Sorry, the what?” I asked, panicking. “The heggs!” she replied, thrusting her hand into my basket and grabbing a box of eggs. “Oh, up there on the left.” Daytime Crazy is all around it seems.
Clearly, if I want to survive in public during the day I am going to have to get my crazy on. So I shoplifted a six-pack of White Lightning. Delicious.