Monday, 30 November 2009

Is it me?

I stopped off to pick up my daughter (Izzy), from her father's house, and as I entered the living room, was confronted with a bizarre sight against a backdrop of much merriment.

Pic. No. 1 Izzy dressing up

"What on earth is she wearing?" I asked incredulously.

"She is Iz-Qaeda," he replied proudly.

"Oooookaaaayyyy......." I replied slowly, " is it wise dressing a four year old up to look like a member of a fundamentalist terror organisation?" 

"Sure it is," he answered brightly, "it keeps her in touch with current affairs."

"Errrrmmmmm - she is only four.......," I added.

"You can never start them too young," he said proudly. I shook my head in despair, but couldn't deny the fact that Izzy seemed to be having a great time with her fancy dress and toy chainsaw.

What is one to do??! Is it me?

It's weekend! Let's go for something to eat

Eh up! I am being beseiged by bloody northern types. Last weekend I had Sarah from Leeds, and this weekend an old chum from university, Andy 'Poops' Cooper (say his middle name - assigned by me - and his surname quickly) came to visit.

Actually, he is what is termed a 'plastic southerner' (like me) in that he hails from Ilkley, Yorkshire, but lives in Bristol. 'Plastic southerner' is the name northern people give to traitors who have moved down south after finally being worn down by the continual rain, lack of starbucks, and surviving on black pudding and pie sandwiches [oh yes, they really do].
Andy turned up on his motorbike at about 4pm, and slithered his way down the grassy slope in my garden until he reached the garage.

"Hi ug!" I hollered to him as he grappled with his motorbike helmet.

"Alright, how you doing?" he shouted, before realising that he was shouting because he still had his earplugs in.

"Great," I replied, "I thought we might go out for dinner with Izzy, and I've invited Steve too."

And so two things of significance to this blog happened; (1) we set off for Pizza Express Oxford; and (2) whilst a passenger in the back, I rediscovered the 'video' function on my camera...... yippee! So instead of normal photographs, I have got some short videos.

Pic.No. 1 An arty pic of Anne Dickens behind a flower

Vid. No. 1. In order (from right to left) Izzy, Steve, Andy

After a while the conversation turned to speeding fines.

"I have been nabbed 3 times in the last two years," Steve said after hearing that I got a speeding fine yesterday, "that after driving for over twenty years with nothing on my license."

"Maybe you have been driving three times more dangerously in the last two years?" I suggested, tongue in cheek.

Everyone laughed, "yeh, it's nothing to do with generating revenue," Poops added.

"When I send off the paperwork for my fines, I address it to 'The Fleecing Department'," Steve added pragmatically.

Anyway, I am going to save my rant over speeding fines for another time and take you back to Pizza Express where everyone had just finished their meal.

"Let's go!" I said and we stepped outside to find that it had started raining......... heavily.

Vid. No. 2. Rain and the Christmas Decorations outside Pizza Express, Oxford

Vid. No. 3. Rain on High Streeet, Oxford

Cooper and I arrived back at my house, wet and cold because of the gales accompanying the rain.

"'Ere, light the fire will you?" I asked him.

And so Andy made like a boy scout and lit the living room fire, much to the contentment of Naughty George.

Vid.No.4. Naughty George lies down in front of the fire

Then Cooper turned to me, "Can you stop taking pictures of me, I feel as though I am being pursued by the paparazzi."

"They are for my blog," I said, "and you are one of those people where you need to take 100s of photographs to get one good one."

"Just don't put a picture of me in the blog then," replied Cooper.

"That's not very interesting for the readers," I replied, making a video of him camera-dodging.

Vid. No. 5. Andy lobs a cushion at me to try and stop me filming........ it works

Finally, the excitement of the video function wore off, either that or the battery ran out, I can't remember. But for the first time all evening, Cooper was free from the prying eye of the lens!

Saturday, 28 November 2009

Fancy a tipple anyone?

I found this video on a great blog called Brummie Blogs, and it really made me chuckle, so it would be just downright rude not to share it with you..... enjoy!

Video. No. 1. The drunkest man in history

This is just the weirdest

I was reading the BBC new website when I noticed an unusual headline.

Pic. No. 1 CCTV of the sheep in the shopping trolley

What on earth was going through their minds?

Imagine Youth A on a day out to Gravesend, Kent. He's had a few beers and is getting a little excitable with his mate, Youth B, whilst on the way back to the car. They pass a field full of sheep.

Youth A, "'ere, fancy a laff? You wanna nick a sheep innit?"

Youth B, "you know, you is crazy dude, I'm wiv ya like."

Poor defenseless animal is then chased around field before being captured and shoehorned into the back of an pimped up Ford Escort with peeling privacy glass, over-specced exhaust, and ridiculously shiney low profile tyres.

Youth A and Youth B, arrive back in South London after a 22 mile ride, still laughing about their woolly escapades.

"Dude, that was well rude," Youth B laughs.

"What shall we do wiv it now?" Youth A asks, his laughing slowing at the same rate that his realisation increased - he couldn't leave it in the boot forever.

Youth B stops laughing and they both ponder long and hard about the sheep's fate.

"Sorted dude!" Youth B shouts out, "we need to take it where there are other sheep."

"We is in London, there is no sheep," Youth A replied.

"Oh yeh there is, der is sum in Asda," said Youth B.

"But surely them sheep are dead and cling wrapped.......... "Youth A

"Got any better ideas?" asked Youth B, shrugging his shoulders.

And so the poor animal bizarrely ended up, standing in a shopping trolley in an Asda foyer........ thankfully unharmed. They do say the British have a very odd sense of humour.......

Friday, 27 November 2009

Secret Squirrel

To keep myself entertained throughout the long pluvial days, I have started two new business ventures which are, unfortunately, so top secret, that if I told you what they are, I would have to kill you.

In fact, they are so covert, that I have codenamed them 'Secret Squirrel X' and 'Secret Squirrel Y'.

 Pic. No. 1 My new business ventures

Working on projects with codenames has given me an unique insight into why the Army call their missions things like 'Operation Mislay' instead of 'Operation find Osama Bin Laden and his WMD.' It's because codenames are cooler than simply saying what you intend to do, and add more gravitas to the situation.

So, in line with my new surreptitious projects, I have started referring to myself as Agent Dickens, and have taken to carrying a water pistol in my inside pocket. I also do a forward roll everytime I enter my front door...... not quite sure why, but I have seen them do it on CSI Miami.

Pic. No. 2 Agent Dickens, commander of Operation Secret Squirrel 'X' and 'Y'

Anyway, I really need to go and start work.

I have blatantly written this posting because I have got to a hard bit of the project where I need to talk to my lawyer about patents. Coincidentally, I have also suddenly found at least another 1000 'work avoidance' matters that need my urgent attention before I can address the contracts for Secret Squirrel 'X' and 'Y'.

So I am just off to clear the leaves from my front flower bed...........!

Thursday, 26 November 2009

Lunch at mine dahlinks?

After a hard day at the Ashmolean Museum on Saturday (I was dragging around a hungover Sarah, who punctuated our arrival at each new artefact with the comment, "eh up, I can't belive I feel this rough"), I decided that it would be rather nice to have a chilled Sunday at my house with that great British institution thrown in - a roast dinner. And with that in mind, I called Steve and Izzy and asked them to join Sarah and I for lunch.

"Is it free?" Steve asked when he answered the phone. "Yes, as long as you bring some broccoli," I replied.

And so the gathering formed in my kitchen, including Naughty George, who had remained in situ next to the oven for at least an hour before that, in anticipation of the imminent roast chicken.

 Pic. No. 1. Naughty George rooted in position next to the oven. What a git.

"Would you like a hand?" Steve and Sarah asked simultaneously.

"Ummm, yes please," I replied, handing over all the vegetables, could you peel those?"

And with that I learned a valuable lesson about guests. If you feed guests small but regular jobs, they are more than pleased to help, and the net result was that I was left with two meagre tasks: putting the chicken in the oven and making a decent gravy.... boyaaaaakkkasha!

Pic. No. 2. Lunch is served, please take your places

"Lunch is ready!" I shouted, putting the dishes on the table, and listening to the ensuing babble of, "oooh this looks lovely."

"Flavour anyone?" I asked, holding up the salt pot.

"Yes please," everyone exclaimed simultaneously.

Pic. No. 3. Little Izzy. She always eats the vegetables first. I am not sure if this lack of vitamin-aversion is normal amongst youngsters

Pic. No. 4. The great British roast dinner

And so we whiled away the afternoon eating like Romans (except that no-one threw up so that they could fit more food in), and chatting about life in general.

Once done, Sarah stood up and looked at me, "you sit down, you've worked hard on this lunch. Steve and I will wash up."

BACK OF THE NET! I couldn't believe my luck, I had just scored a double whammy.

Unwittingly, I had created a scene full of subterfuge and artifice. I had managed to make putting a chicken in the oven and whipping up a gravy seem like a monumental task, thus relieving myself of any further kitchen chores. [note to self; this is a skill well worth developing].

With lunch over, I said goodbye to everyone, and went to read a book in front of the fire.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009

Bring on the Ashmolean

After spending the weekend in Leeds with Sarah, I decided to reciprocate the favour by telephoning her with the intent of inviting her to Oxford this weekend.

"Oi. You like culture don't you?" I queried when Sarah picked up the phone. "How about you come to Oxford this weekend and we visit the newly refurbished Ashmolean Museum?" [The Ashmolean Museum originally opened in 1643. Interesting fact; that is 3 years before my house was built.]

"Yeh, that sounds good," replied Sarah, "I'll aim to arrive on Friday night."

Sarah duly arrived on Friday night after a hellish journey on the motorway, and had two glasses of wine to chill out. Needless to say, she awoke on Saturday morning with a killer hangover. 

"You are a bloody wuss with bells on," I commented after plying her with aspirin and a light pasta lunch, "do you still want to go to the museum?"

"Yeh," she replied, " I think I will be able to cope now the sickness has gone."

So after a short ten minute journey, a grey-looking Sarah and I arrived at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford city centre.

Pic. No. 1. The front of the Ashmolean Museum

Pic. No. 2. One of the thousands, nay millions of display cases containing ancient pots

After venturing into the first few halls I began to notice a recurring theme.

"Oi, Sarah," I asked, "Have you noticed that virtually the only surviving artefacts from every era in history seem to be plates and pots? They all look the same."

Sarah sighed before replying, "the pots give us an insight into how the ancient people lived."

"Ok," I acquiesced, "but just say, for example, that some of my pots were unearthed in a thousand years time. Would the archeologists be displaying my mug entitled 'world's best mum' in a museum like this?" and on a roll, I added, "and would they name it 'The Ikea period'?"

Despite the validity of my questions, Sarah sighed and ventured off into the next hall, whilst I vowed to try and seek out alternative interests, other than pots.

Pic. No. 3 Serious historians and architects admiring the wonder of the Ashmolean

Then all of a sudden...... BINGO........... I found some artefacts that weren't pots........

Pic. No. 4. A stone lion thing catches a glimpse of Sarah

Pic. No. 4. A stone lady catches a glimpse of Sarah

One thing I learned about ancient civilisations after studying the statues........... most of the antediluvian people didn't have noses, which allows us to draw parallels with modern society, in particular Kerry Katona. 

Pic. No. 5 Some statues doing the 'okey cokey'

Pic. No. 6. An interior view of the Ashmolean Museum with lots of people looking intelligent

A consistent theme in the museum was people 'interpreting' either the art or the architecture. I overheard someone say; "the use of glass not only gives a sense of space but draws you into each exhibition hall." There was me thinking that the glass was there because it was cheaper than bricks.

Pic. No. 7. An ancient pig / cow type thing with something on its nose

Pic. No. 8. An ancient bloke punching the air with no hand

Pic. No. 9. An ancient painting of Oxford in the olden days

Pic. No. 10. Me looking through a hole in a sculpture ..... most definitely not ancient

Then, being a bit of an art lover, I saw something that excited me............ "Sarah, look! Installation art!" I shouted pointing out the sculpture I had just noticed.

Pic. No. 11. Installation Art

Sarah looked at me derisively, "we are in an unused exhibition hall. They are just superfluous fire extinguishers," she said shaking her head.... Oops.

"Shall we go?" asked Sarah wearily, leading me out of the museum.

Pic. No. 12 Anne Dickens in the rain outside of one of the Oxford University colleges

Now I have to point out that Sarah is a bit of a photographer, and whilst on our way back to the car she took several 'arty shots' which I have included for your benefit.

Pic. No. 13. Arty shot of a bike leaning on a wall

Pic. No. 14 Arty shot of a telephone box

Pic. No. 15 Arty shot of a bloke on a bike

Blimey, this has been the worlds longest posting. I have got blisters on the end of my fingers and my CPU is malfunctioning........ time for a reboot. See you later.

Sunday, 22 November 2009

The psychology of desks........I reckon there's something in it

Following three days in Leeds, and after resorting to cruising the streets in order to try and find an unsecured wi-fi signal that I could pick-up, I finally gave in and returned to Sarah's house.

Pic. No. 1. This is where Sarah sits and reads all the time

"What the bloody hell do you do with yourself all day with no internet access?" I asked her incredulously.

"Read books," she replied, not even looking up from the aformentioned article that was lightly clasped in her left hand.

"Oh my god, that's horrible," I replied, my jaw dropping. 

Sarah sighed, and then her eyes widened, "actually, I think I do have internet access........"

"You think you have internet access?" disbelieving that someone could demonstrate ambiguity about something so consquential.

"Yep. I have a computer in my study, and I am fairly sure that it connects to the interweb," she replied, blatantly trying to get rid of me so that she could return her attention to the rainforest-killer in her hand.

But before she could finish her sentence........ I was gone and pushing open the 'study' door. My sights were on the computer. I fired it up and waited with bated breath until that little grey rotating Skype icon with a cross in the middle, suddenly turned into a green tick.

"Yippee! I'm in!" I thought excitedly, sitting down at the desk, and slowly, but surely becoming aware of my surroundings....... "Oh my God! It's mayhem in here!" I muttered to myself in shock. 

Pic. No. 1 Sarah's study with an agglomeration of crap everywhere

After wading through a chaotic pile of paperwork, what appeared to be ancient artifacts, old photographs and folders, I finally found my tools-of-choice; A mouse, a pen and a post-it note. Keeping the mouse close to my chest, lest it should be lost, I scribbled on a post-it note; "It's a bloody crap hole in here," and stuck it to her monitor.

Then it got me thinking......... do people's houses (in particular their desks), demonstrate an individual's personality?

Pic. No. 2. My desk at home

Actually, I think it does, so I want to encourage people to send me photographs of their desks so that I can undertake psychological analysis of them ........... 

I will have a practice with these two desks first:

Sarah's desk: This desk indicates that the owner puts living life above the practicalities of life. Hedonism scores more highly than organisation. Probably prone to daydreaming, this deskowner may keep on top of day to day tasks but fails to be proactive in other elements of life such as putting together effective investment plans. It is also likely that she has a good looking friend. 

Anne's desk: The lack of anything at all on the desk indicates that this person is highly organised, and probably suffering from OCD. The desk owner is likely to be incredibly good looking and a dog lover dog hater, maybe possessing an annoying dog. This person capitalises on her love of communicating with people by making the computer the focus of her desk. 

PLEASE send me pictures of your desk .............I am getting really into this....! and I will try to see if I can guess your personality...

Saturday, 21 November 2009

A day exploring 'Up North'. Blimey it's cold

Whilst in Leeds, I had an unexpected day off, so I decided to make the most of it.

But what is one to do in Leeds with a full day to kill, other than eat kebabs or worry sheep? Despairing at these limited options, I decided to google it.

"What can I do in North Yorkshire other than eat kebabs or worry sheep?" I typed into Google. Unfortunately, the search results came up with; "Not a sheep: Fancy a kebab?", a blog quite clearly written by a nutter. I refined my search a little and "things to do near Leeds" came up trumps. Yep a trip to Haworth it was going to be.Click here to have a sneaky preview.

"Haworth!" I hear you cry, "what is so good about Haworth?"

Why, my little love muffins, Haworth is the home of the quintessential English authoresses, the Bronte sisters.

And so commenceth a picture journey of my trip to Haworth.

Pic. No. 1. A picture of the Leeds streets. There has been a refuse collection strike on for the last nine weeks so there are bins everywhere. Dirty devils.

That actually reminds me of a news article I read lately. Apparently a new species of rat has been found in Papua New Guinea and it is 10ft long. Given that in the UK, statistics show that you are never further than 10ft from a rat, if this species was introduced would we be permanently touching a rat?

Sorry, I digress. Back to the journey to Haworth, because the 'Guardian travel' website promised spectacular scenery.

Pic. No. 2 The Leeds Football club ground ..... hardly spectacular

Pic. No. 3. A mill. Everyone up North either works in a mill or down the pits. But in terms of scenery, we seem to be deteriorating

Then all of a sudden, I took a left turn, disencumbered myself from the city, and coasted into the North Yorkshire countryside. Oh yes, it was starting to look good (apart from the fact that my ears had popped because of the altitude, and the clutch on my car was starting to heat up after all the hill-starts at the Bradford traffic lights).

Pic. No. 4. The left turn that took me into the North Yorkshire countryside

Pic. No. 4. A viaduct spans two hills which are bigger in real life than they look in the picture

Pic. No. 5. The Bronte Parsonage Museum sign

Pic. No. 6. The Parsonage where the Bronte sisters lived and wrote

The parsonage was ace (particularly as the Brontes' are my favourite authors) and after a cultural tour of the building, it became fairly obvious that the sisters weren't lookers, even though they could spin a good yarn, quite simply because no one had wanted to marry them. Plus they had to pretend to be men in order to get their novels published, and to add insult to injury, they all died young, leaving pops on his own. That's the 1840's for you..... and there was me fretting that Dominos Pizza don't deliver to my postcode.

The next leg of my journey took me to the North Yorkshire Moors which is a barren landscape woven into many of the Bronte sisters' novels.

Pic. No. 7. The bleak North Yorkshire moors

After experiencing the moors, it became quite clear that the only organisms able to survive the inhospitable environment are sheep. Not only that, they appeared quite unperturbed about the fact that raging winds were whipping around their spindly legs. Hey sheep..... you have my respect, even though I suspect that your resilience to the conditions is probably related to stupidity.

Vid. No. 1. Even better! a video of the North Yorkshire moors that inspired the Bronte sisters. Listen how to how windy it was.... it would have blown a squirrel off its perch if there were any trees ........or squirrels

Finally, my trip took me to a country park named after the village at its heart - Wycoller. Wycoller boasts the ruins of an old hall which apparently inspired Charlotte Bronte's 'Ferndean Manor' in her novel, Jane Eyre.

Pic. No. 8. Wycoller Hall (in ruins) with a stream winding around it

Pic. No. 9. The Pack Horse Bridge at Wycoller dates back 800 years and originally served the wool weavers who needed to cross the river

Pic.No. 10. Blimey, look at how worn the bridge is. Either the wool weavers were fat, or a lot of them used the bridge

 Finally, my North Yorkshire tour came to an end, but not before I encountered some cows. Now, as you probably remember, I don't have fond memories of cows after my experiences with them in Oxford.

Luckily billy bovine was situated at the other end of a cattle grid which meant that I could capture his menancing stare on cellulite without being charged.

Pic. No. 11. A killer cow frustrated by a cattle grid

I pointed my camera, and shouted, "Woo hoo........ hello cow......... what you gonna do about it?"

Unfortunately, I hadn't noticed a car pull up beside me with a rather posh lady asking, "excuse me, are you lost?"

"Errrmmm, no, just undertaking a geographical study of the area," I replied hastily, pushing my camera into my pocket.

And so endeth my cultural tour of 'Bronte Country'.

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

A night out in Leeds

Shortly after arriving in Leeds, Sarah piped up, "do you fancy going out for something to eat?"

"Yep," I replied, "but I thought you only had pie shops up north?"

"Well actually, the concept of restaurants has started to reach us," she replied drily, "what do you fancy to eat?"

"Indian." I replied, throwing down the gauntlet.

"No problem," she said, and so we set off in the car. After a 10 minute drive we pulled up outside a stylish looking restaurant called the Aagrah.

Pic. No. 1. The Aagrah Restaurant

The restaurant specialised in Kashmiri food, and the menu clearly showed that the chefs weren't afraid to venture beyond the old favourites like Chicken Tikka Masala.

"Blimey," I shouted, waving the menu excitedly, " I could eat everything on here - as long as its got a face."

"Told you that we can do culture up North," Sarah replied.

Pic. No. 2. Sarah in the Aagrah - Nokia 8800 Arte's just don't take good night shots

I settled for a new dish that I hadn't tried before, called Murgh Achar and I the conclusion was - excellent.

Pic. No. 3. Me looking all grainy, yet still managing to carry off a windswept and interesting look

So if you are up North (there are many branches of the Aagrah), do try and visit. The ambiance, food and service are all spot on. I only wish they had restaurants down south!

Monday, 16 November 2009

Losing the plot

Eh up. Well here I am in Leeds, nibbling on a pigeon pie and wearing a flat cap, and I have just realised that I have left all my cables at home so that I can't upload any photographs for you.

Bloody typical.

Pic. No. 1. For the US readers who don't know why I have referenced a 'flat cap' I have included this picture to show you what UK northerners look like

As if that wasn't bad enough, I decided to have a shower before my friend called "our Sarah" [everyone's name is prefixed with 'our' when you are in the north] and I went out for dinner.

I was about to get out of the shower, I realised that I had left the towels in a different room, necessitating an unclad, and sodden dash to the bedroom. It wouldn't be so bad but I did the same thing yesterday at home...... ummmmmm...... I think my mind is in need of a reboot.

Best dash, got things to do...... like figure out why my mobile has stopped working.

Sunday, 15 November 2009

I am being battered by gales now....... unbelievable

There I was, whining about the British weather, and thinking things couldn't get any worse.

With persistent rain forecast, and my only form of protection from the elements being a sun-shade that I bought in Hong Kong [which also kept randomly collapsing, engulfing my head like a venus fly trap].

Vid. No. 1 Things did get worse.......... a lot worse

I awoke on Saturday morning to the sound of the wind whistling around my cottage, and the rain lashing on the windows.

"Bloody brilliant,"  I thought, opening the curtains to find my garden strewn with leaves, branches and the contents of my recycling bin which had been blown over by the gales.

Have you ever watched those Game Shows in which the contestants go into a transparent box and have to try and grab money that is being blown around them?

Well imagine me in my garden undertaking a similar activity, except that my reward was plastic bottles, empty yoghurt pots and carrier bags. It is truly pants living in the UK sometimes.

After securing my righted recycling bin with a number of bricks, I went inside to contemplate my next move. There was only one course of action. Lock all windows and doors and light a fire..... and it was quite a cosy evening.

I am off to Leeds in a minute to visit my chum Sarah, so hopefully my next post will be reporting how grim it is up north!

Saturday, 14 November 2009

Look! I have got a new blog design

So whaddya think? like it or no?

I didn't like the old design one bit, but given that I possess the artistic ability of a pea [oh yeh, this girl is an engineer through and through], I just tolerated it. 

Pic.No.1. The old blog design

My friend was supposed to be visiting this weekend but had to cancel, so with an unexpected empty day in front of me, I looked at the old brown / grey colour scheme and thought, "is that really the best I can come up with?"

After pondering the question for a while, I decided that yes, that was the best I could come up with.

That left me with a bit of a dilemma. What do you do if you are faced with an design challenge, but remain steadfastly talentless in the design department?

After my second ponderation, I decided that there was only one course of action. Yep, I needed to nick someone else's design, and as luck would have it, I remembered reading about nickable blog designs on a blog called Kevin and Amanda.

BINGO! It was the perfect place for the artistically challenged, and after an hour or so of finding out how it all worked, my new blog emerged from its chrysalis like a binary butterfly.

If you like the design and fancy a similar one, I think it is only fair that I include links to the designers:

Allie Brown's Layouts

Butterfly Girls Blog Designs

My Style Backgrounds

But don't visit them if you don't like my template, because they are all based on scrapbooking (which, as I gather, is a weird hobby where you stick bits of crap that you find throughout the day into a book).

P.S. I have a weird gap on the right hand side of my header image, does anyone know how to get rid of it?

Friday, 13 November 2009

Friday 13th - beware of the jinx

Crikey. There I was complaining about about my unlucky Hong Kong umbrella, then after publishing the post, I noticed that the date today is Friday 13th!

So that got me thinking about all the bad things that have happened today, and I feel that I can now present conclusive proof that Friday the 13th is indeed, unlucky:

1. My umbrella kept collapsing and engulfing my head
2. The washing machine got stuck on the rinse cycle
3. The top drawer in my freezer cracked when I tried to open it because it was iced up
4. Naughty George pooed on the living room floor because he didn't want to go out in the rain
5. I forgot to buy Bloo Blocks for my toilet whilst at the supermarket
6. My Firefox browser hung when I tried to download a council tax form
7. My friend Sarah cancelled her vist to see me this weekend because she had forgotten about a christening she was going to on Sunday
8. I got lost in Oxford trying to find the Town Hall
9. Naughty George was sick on one of my rugs after eating food from the compost heap
10. My Sonic-care toothbrush developed an intermittent fault
11. Naughty George killed a pheasant in the back garden
12. The padlock on my shed seized up whilst I was trying to find a spade to bury pheasant
13. Naughty George rolled in cow manure on his walk
14. Naughty George jumped up onto my Laura Ashley armchair covered in cow manure
15. I discovered that normal detergents don't remove cowpat stains from upholstery

I am telling you, Friday 13th is jinxed..... so y'all take care now.

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