Showing posts from September, 2012

Evidence that Fran has forgotten everything she learned when doing her O'level in Avoiding Impulsive Acts

We sit and think for a LOOONG time before we book a holiday.  Oh no, no rushing into a decision for us.  We are just SO cautious and hesitant about it.... Today's teatime conversation: 6.45  Husband says, 'Oh, that holiday cottage brochure came through.  It's got the same cottage in Tenby that we went to last Easter.' 6.46  I say, flicking through the brochure, 'Yes, here it is.  Oh, I really enjoyed that.  Didn't you?' 6.47  I say, 'I've found it on the Internet.  It's free Easter week 2013.' 6.47 and 30 seconds  Husband says, 'I'll just go and get the bank card.' 6.48  'Right, then, read me the number.' So, it's all booked, and we're going back a third time to see  the dead mice and other Pembrokeshire attractions  which my most longstanding readers will perhaps remember and newer followers may like to find out about. Our last holiday was in Swanage where we stayed in a B & B and discovered th

Reasons why you don't need to go to the shops to buy someone a great present ...

Q.  Hey, Fran.  What are you going to do with your spare time now you're only teaching half the week? A.  Ungh?  What?  What?  *big yawn*  Oh .... sorry.  I was asleep. Q.  I said, What are you going to do with your spare time? A. Er.  *stretch*  Well, you know ... doss about a bit .... eat cake .... watch reruns of Mock the Week .... wander round the shops .... sleep .... Q.  But surely you need to earn extra money, don't you, with only half your salary coming in? A.  Do you KNOW someone who pays people to doss about and eat cake and go shopping?  Do you have their numb ... Q.  No, stupid.  Couldn't you start up a new business? A.  Doing what?  I don't have a business head.  I thought a balance sheet was something they put under tightrope walkers until last week. Q.  Well, what about using your poet-woman skills?  What about ... em .... let me think ... what about writing poems for people's special occasions?  Bespoke poems, specially written. A.

Evidence that Anonymous is destined for a career as a stand-up

Anonymous has been busy out there posting his comedy routines on my blog posts as comments.  Some of the punchlines, cleverly disguised as links to his own websites, are classic.  I need never have any more problems with my pec workouts, my impotency or my need to know how to make a nervous guy like me. For your enjoyment ... Anonymous has left a new comment on your post " Evidence that a week at a health spa doesn't alway... ":  It's a shame you don't have a donate button! I'd definitely donate to this excellent blog! I suppose for now i'll settle  for book-marking and adding your RSS feed to my Google account. I look forward to brand new updates and will  talk about this blog with my Facebook group. Chat soon! my web site :  Pec Workouts!   Anonymous has left a new comment on your post " Reasons why Santa is avoiding Warwickshire this ye... ":  Useful information. Lucky me I discovered your web site unintentionally, and I'm s

Reasons why Santa is avoiding Warwickshire this year

I had this letter from Santa today in reply to one I sent him last week.  I have to say, for someone who's meant to be all jolly and full of good cheer, his tone is a bit sharp.... Dear Fran Thank you for your long letter.  Congratulations on having waited all the way until September to send your Christmas requests.  This is an improvement on previous years.  I particularly remember 2009 when I received your list for that year at dawn on New Year's Day.  I was woken by one of the elves banging on my bedroom door and yelling, 'Wake up!  Wake up!  There's a letter for you and it says on the front in big red letters, 'News about your enormous Lottery win!'  It was a cheap trick to play, especially as, when I leaped out of bed, I put my hip out of joint and didn't recover fully until March (when I received your next letter asking when I was going to reply to the first one.) Still, even though this year's is later than usual, your list is no less ambiti

Evidence that absurdity is in the genes

I have to declare an interest in that I gave birth to her, but Elder Daughter has started a foodie blog called George's Dinner and if further posts are as funny as the first two, it's going to be fabulously entertaining as well as having some yummy get-plump-but-happy-quickly recipes. By the way, I probably ought to mention that George is a giraffe.  As I said, she is my daughter and has the absurdity gene through and through.

Evidence that we don't always have the right words to say at the right time

The Younger Daughter was reminding me about how, when she's just accidentally burned herself and is hopping up and down in the kitchen, my instant response is 'Careful, that's hot!'  Or when she's just tripped up a step, that's the time I choose to say, 'Watch yourself!' That's me.  Eager to be helpful.  Caring Parent of the Year. But it's instinctive, isn't it, to say something completely inadequate in the face of crisis?  It's a strange feature of the way we communicate sympathy.  What about the following situations ... When someone's fallen over and is lying flat on their face, we say: 'Oh, no, are you o kay ?' When someone's just set off down the road to the shops, then lets themselves back in five minutes later, cursing and stomping, we say: 'Did you forget something?' When we come across someone sobbing their hearts out .... ..... we say things like, 'Is something the matter?' To the

Evidence that Fran hasn't yet grasped the reason for going on holidays in beautiful places

I was given a camera for my 50th birthday, and now I've asked a passing three year old to show me how to use it and upload pictures, I can bore you witless with photos from my summer holidays.  If you're looking for pleasant, well-composed, thoughtful pictures of grazing sheep, stunning mountain views or nostalgic steam trains, I can only recommend that you visit other types of blogs.  Apologies if you came here from a nice blog about patchwork or making chocolate chip cookies, but the tone is a bit different here. Not a Grazing Sheep Picture 1 This is Elijah.  He came with us to our first week's holiday in Derbyshire along with his mum and dad.  Here, he is looking straight at me and thinking, 'Grandma, if you take me to another crappy old cotton mill and expect me to be interested and coo and smile in my buggy while you wheel me in and out of preserved factory workshops, I'm going to wee straight in your eye next time you change my nappy.  I don't ca