Evidence that one can write quite a lot about things one hasn't done
I'm very aware that I haven't written a blog post for ages. Or checked anyone else's blogs. I am getting seriously blog-rubbish.
Other things I haven't done this week.
1. I haven't managed to set up our new landline phone. We have a new one, but all we've done is plugged it in and answered it a few times. This appears to be the limit of our skills with it. I did have a look at the manual last weekend to see if I could work out how to set up the answerphone, put in some automatic numbers and adjust the settings on it. But then I realised I could more easily learn complex medical terminology about obscure parts of the body in an ancient Peruvian language. This weekend I have been avoiding the phone, giving it a wide berth when I walk past it, like I do people on the street who are dribbling and making unggghhh noises and rolling their eyes at me.
I hate new technology, but I hate the manuals more. I need one of these to cope ......
2. I haven't started reading a new novel yet. This is a source of great trouble to me, that I am finding little time to read. I haven't managed to read a whole book since the summer holidays. Yesterday, though, I got cross about all this, and deliberately picked up a book of short stories about Christmas which someone gave me last year, thinking I ought to be able to put time aside for at least one. I laid a large tablecloth over my pile of marking, and sat on the sofa by the fire. In the end, I read one story by Dickens and one by Gogol. Gogol I've never read before, but it was a cracking yarn with devils and witches and drunks in Russian provinces who get trapped in sacks. Not only was it a cracking yarn, but I love saying the name 'Gogol'. Gogol, Gogol, Gogol. You should try it yourself. It's fun. If you keep repeating it, you sound as though you're doing that clicky thing with your throat that some Africans can do, and you come over all ethnic.
3. I haven't done the sewing I was meant to do: mending two pairs of my trousers and one pair of my husband's. While these items sit in the Leaning Tower of Mending in the bedroom, my husband and I are seriously wardrobe-challenged. But I hate sewing and always moan about it. I remember once I was sewing a button on when the Younger Daughter came in with a friend from school and said, 'Oh, look at you, Mum, trying to look all domesticated just because I bring a friend home.' This was grossly unfair, but it does show you how seldom I ever got round to the sewing. My skills are very limited. I got thrown out of sewing class at school because I tried to make a pair of flares, sewed them up the wrong way and ended up with jodhpurs. I am currently wearing a pair of black trousers whose hems I took up in 1994 but did it with grey cotton rather than black. It couldn't be more obvious, because I am to delicate stitching what The King of Tonga is to ballet. Every time I wear them I vow that, next time they need washing, I will re-do the hems with black cotton before ironing them. And I never do. This is called sew-crastination.
Other things I haven't done this week.
1. I haven't managed to set up our new landline phone. We have a new one, but all we've done is plugged it in and answered it a few times. This appears to be the limit of our skills with it. I did have a look at the manual last weekend to see if I could work out how to set up the answerphone, put in some automatic numbers and adjust the settings on it. But then I realised I could more easily learn complex medical terminology about obscure parts of the body in an ancient Peruvian language. This weekend I have been avoiding the phone, giving it a wide berth when I walk past it, like I do people on the street who are dribbling and making unggghhh noises and rolling their eyes at me.
I hate new technology, but I hate the manuals more. I need one of these to cope ......
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2. I haven't started reading a new novel yet. This is a source of great trouble to me, that I am finding little time to read. I haven't managed to read a whole book since the summer holidays. Yesterday, though, I got cross about all this, and deliberately picked up a book of short stories about Christmas which someone gave me last year, thinking I ought to be able to put time aside for at least one. I laid a large tablecloth over my pile of marking, and sat on the sofa by the fire. In the end, I read one story by Dickens and one by Gogol. Gogol I've never read before, but it was a cracking yarn with devils and witches and drunks in Russian provinces who get trapped in sacks. Not only was it a cracking yarn, but I love saying the name 'Gogol'. Gogol, Gogol, Gogol. You should try it yourself. It's fun. If you keep repeating it, you sound as though you're doing that clicky thing with your throat that some Africans can do, and you come over all ethnic.
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| Fran enjoyed Gogol's story, but when she looked up a picture of him on Google, wasn't so impressed by his haircut. |
3. I haven't done the sewing I was meant to do: mending two pairs of my trousers and one pair of my husband's. While these items sit in the Leaning Tower of Mending in the bedroom, my husband and I are seriously wardrobe-challenged. But I hate sewing and always moan about it. I remember once I was sewing a button on when the Younger Daughter came in with a friend from school and said, 'Oh, look at you, Mum, trying to look all domesticated just because I bring a friend home.' This was grossly unfair, but it does show you how seldom I ever got round to the sewing. My skills are very limited. I got thrown out of sewing class at school because I tried to make a pair of flares, sewed them up the wrong way and ended up with jodhpurs. I am currently wearing a pair of black trousers whose hems I took up in 1994 but did it with grey cotton rather than black. It couldn't be more obvious, because I am to delicate stitching what The King of Tonga is to ballet. Every time I wear them I vow that, next time they need washing, I will re-do the hems with black cotton before ironing them. And I never do. This is called sew-crastination.
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| Fran wondered whether sewing made everyone slim and elegant like this and was seriously considering an evening course. However, having a head shaped like a cottage loaf seemed less appealing, as did having one foot with thin toes and one foot with thick ones. |
I find hiding the marking under the coffee table helps me to read a decent book.
ReplyDeleteAs to sewing: my son still has very obvious white stitches but I work on the assumption he attracts mud like a magnet and will not see the white under the brown. Husband is learning to tie a tie over the missing top button; no day is lost without a new skill learned, I say.
I have just read this and realised it sounds like I sewed my son, rather than producing him in the normal way. I meant I turned up his grey school trousers with white thread. Although we have elements of Frankenstein about our family at times.
ReplyDeleteNumber 9 has also found itself with new inhabitants this week in the landline telephone world and Dad too has also put off actually setting the things up. Mind you, we have taken great pleasure in hearing the new upbeat ringtone replacing the old montone one and rushing the pick one of them up to greet a computer generated call before the answerphone kicks in after only four rings. We've never had an answerphone before. In a weird way, it's very exciting.
ReplyDeleteFor heaven's sale, READ!!! My daughter in law has a plaque (which I gave her) that says, "HOUSEWORK MAKES YOU UGLY". You could probably replace the word "housework" with "sewing", you beautiful thing, you.
ReplyDeleteDid I really say that??
ReplyDeleteI was a mean little child, wasn't I XD
Never, never, never sew. That way madness lies. Unless you are my (good in every sense) friend who is making a silk dressing-gown for her husband for Christmas. I would find it easier to knit myself an iPad.
ReplyDeleteWhat is mending? I asked Mrs. Chatterbox what it was and she gave me a cryptic response about the olden days. Same response she gave when I asked about ironing.
ReplyDeleteI have one of those piles of mending also. Clothing lives there until, years later, I decide the item is hopelessly outdated and I send it to Goodwill. I think I'm doing my bit to fhelp the economy by buying new instead of fixing old!
ReplyDeleteI had that same 'stress reduction kit' on a wall in my office...opposite a rather savage cartoon which had the caption, "Don't be a sheep!"
ReplyDeleteSew-crastination had me in stitches.
Not doing all this stuff is fine provided you have been enjoying yourself instead. If you haven't then you have serious life issues.
ReplyDeleteThis time of the semester is madcrazybusy so have no guilt! We should start a Sewcrastination support group. Once my daughter brought me a Beanie Baby with a small hole in the seam and I told her to just put it in the sewing basket. She burst into tears. I told her it was just a small hole and that it would be fine. She tearfully said, "I know that. But it will just lay there FOREVER and EVER!"
ReplyDeleteBut you're doing Very Important Work - keeping me laughing! And what's wrong with stitching in a contrasting colour? Just call it fashion.
ReplyDeleteThe Leaning Tower of Mending, actually we have a collection of little leaning towers. When he gets desperate enough he takes his bits to the sewing-lady round the corner. He also knows about FOREVER and EVER!
ReplyDeleteEh up - don't have a downer on yourself about a lack of regular posting. Blogging should be fun and not a chore ... which determines the frequency of blogs. Huzzar! If you posted once a month, that is still regular.
ReplyDeleteI laughed my head off at your leaning tower of mending, but even more so when you tried to sew flares and ended up with jodphurs. You daft bint!
No it's not worth sending the trouser to me: I'm afraid even those of us who do know how to do mending, (practised at boarding school for two hours every Saturday morning) still have a leaning tower, because it isn't remotely exciting sewing!
ReplyDeleteAaah, I can help here. From one slob to another... Take a black felt tip pen and colour over the grey cotton. Et voila, black cotton.
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome.
Fran, Fran - I can help you re the instruction manuals. They're not for English teachers. We're too fine and delicate and sensitive for such tomes. You just hand them to your husband - or if he's an English teacher too, to one of your offspring. And they work it all out for you. Done.
ReplyDeleteThe mending - can't help you there. Retire?
Buy new trousers and read on the bus to and from the shops. I got in trouble in sewing class when I stood up and found that I'd sewn my sewing to my school tunic. Hey ho...
ReplyDeleteI want a knitted iPad!
ReplyDeleteAnd Gogol's hair looks ridiculously shiny and healthy, doesn't it?
How about Ugg boots, then? hehehe! Enjoyed your wise crack on Fridge Soup, and would love to send you, and everyone else, an appreciative snowflake for your efforts! All I need to do so, is a snail mail address, please? ♥
ReplyDeleteOne of the women at work uses staples to turn up her trousers. Only takes a minute. Oh, and different colour stitching is right on trend. I've seen it in in the kind of shops where nothing fits me.
ReplyDelete