Freya The Slayer

It is official. The adorable Freya and I have finally bonded... over a recently deceased slug.

I should explain.It happened during our weekend camping trip to North Yorkshire. I offered to take a turn at walking Freya for a toilet break. There I was, happily walking her down the lane when she spotted something and went charging off to have a sniff. This was not at all alarming ... until I realised that the "something" she was off to look at was a slug. I was even more alarmed to discover Freya attempting to chew and swallow the slug.

I decided that swallowing slugs was something that was just not going to happen on my watch. So, I attempted to chase Freya around, which initially did not go well. I must have looked a little deranged in my sweat pants, hoody and Mr B's trainers, holding Freya's lead in one hand (which was still attached to Freya) and chasing her around. She was clearly looking at me thinking "what is this loon trying to do?" and that running around in circles was a really fun game.

Eventually, I caught up with her. Sat on the floor and tried my very hardest to get her to drop it (by shouting "drop it" a lot). Then I realised there was only one thing to do: I was going to have to retrieve the slug. So I attempted to open her mouth to remove it, only for Freya to swallow it at the key moment. I was distraught.

The only positive thing to come out of the situation was that Freya became my new best friend for a while... and decided to turn me into her personal bean bag.

Mr B : Chicken Man

Whilst away on our "spring break" last weekend, we stayed in a caravan which had a lovely view out over some fields. In the field directly next to our caravan were two horses, some kind of rabbit / cat cross breed (we never actually managed to work out what breed of creature it really was) and a lot of chickens. I say a "lot" of chickens because I don't know what the technical term is for a group of chickens, and I am far too lazy (and uninterested) to bother googling it.

On our last morning at the caravan, whilst the rest of us were coming to terms with morning and getting ready for breakfast, Mr B decided to go out and torment the chickens. This consisted of him flapping his arms around and making chicken noises whilst running towards the chickens. He is a very strange man. We all thought he was bonkers. Clearly, the chickens did not agree. They all came running towards him, without exception and at great speed, causing much amusement for the rest of us.

It was quite an amusing moment, captured most brilliantly in the words of LB: "Mr B ... chicken man ... known to his friends as Mr Ken Tucky". And she managed that before breakfast. You have to award extra points for such a fantastic sense of humour at such an unsociable time of the day!!

Office Etiquette : A Guide For Those Who Have Forgotten Their Manners

A couple of things happened today which really boiled my blood. They were not particularly significant incidents, but they were incredibly rude. This led me to thinking about all the other rude things that happen at work, and the way in which people should behave but don't. Without further ado, I present to you my guide to behaving appropriately in an office environment.

1. If I am holding a door open, you can be fairly sure that I intend to walk through it at some point in the immediate future. Therefore, if I am holding it open to allow you to pass through first, you should not stand in the doorway having a conversation and preventing me from getting through the door. I am not invisible. I know that you can see me standing there. It is not part of my job description to hold the door all day for your personal convenience.

2. Do not (under any circumstances) approach me whilst I am eating my dinner, lean over what I am eating, sniff what I am eating and then screw your nose up in disgust. If I am eating it, I obviously like it. Moreover, unless you are invited to sniff my food, this is an invasion of my personal space and you should avoid invading my personal space on pain of death.

3. If I ask you a question and you respond with a snappy "WHAT?", then I am fully entitled to be annoyed at you. You should not then continue as if you have not just attempted to decapitate me. It makes you look forgetful.

4. When the phone is ringing, it should be answered, and you should take your turn at answering the phone if you want me to continue liking you and not have daydreams about wrapping the phone cord around your neck.

5. The same applies to the door bell. If it is ringing, someone is standing there expecting to be let in. The bell does not ring itself.

6. On the subject of phones, if I am ringing your extension this generally means that I wish to speak with you. I do not have a fettish for pressing random numbers on the phone. Therefore, if you are sitting at your desk and not otherwise engaged when I call you, you should answer the phone.

7. On answering your phone you should say "hello" or at the very least "yes?" You should not remain silent. Your silence is not very conducive to holding a conversation.

8. Unless you are a part of my team, or a personal friend, do not come into my room whinging about your problems, whether they are work related or personal. You may be fooled by my cheery disposition, but I do not care.

9. If there is anyway that I can help with a work problem, then ask. Do not stand in the background whining on about it like some kind of damsel in distress expecting to rescued. I may look like a superhero, but I am not one.

10. When I go to the bathroom, I am generally intending to use the facilities. Do not follow me to the bathroom to discuss work. Wait for a more appropriate moment.

Spring Break

You thought this post was going to be about something exciting, didn't you? You were wrong. Well, not entirely wrong : I find it very exciting, I suspect you will not, however I could not pass on the opportunity to share my excitement with the world.

Tomorrow I am going on an impromptu weekend break to North Yorkshire!! Wooooooop. I can barely contain my excitement, although my left-over work headache is certainly helping to take the edge off it.

Our lovely, lovely friend CA rang Mr B at lunch yesterday to enquire as to our weekend plans. We didn't have any. CA then informed Mr B that they had booked an impromptu break at a caravan in Pickering and asked if we wanted to join them. We said.... HELL YES. We go tomorrow. I am very excited.

I will, therefore, be taking another break from blogging to spend a few days in the middle of nowhere with my lovely hubby and lovely friends. I'm telling you this, so you do not panic at my absence and assume the worst. I'm reasonably confident that all the people I know and care about are safe and sound.

Dear Pigeons

I noticed that a substantial number of you have taken up residence in the trees opposite my house. I would like you to know that this is not appreciated.

I have noticed you staring into my living room window during the evenings, when I am trying to watch the television in peace. It looks creepy, especially when there are hundreds of you doing the same thing.

I also do not like it when you poop down the side of my house and on my driveway. It does not look pretty.

Mostly, I do not appreciate you being my 3am alarm clock. You see, as a human, I have the presence of mind to set my own alarm clock. It goes off at 6.45am. This is three hours and forty-five minutes later than when you start chirping. I don't understand why you have to start chirping at 3am. There is nothing to see at 3am. The sun isn't even starting to shine.

If you could arrange to pack it in so that I could get some sleep, that would be fantastic!

Mucheos Appreciado,

Mrs B x

Supersize Vs Superskinny

I am about to reveal a rather disturbing fact (or two) about myself. If you are not prepared for scary revelations, might I suggest you look away now.

I am petrified by the television series "Supersize Vs Superskinny". I'm not even kidding. In case you haven't seen it, the doctor steals a really really huge person off the street and puts them in a house with another stolen person, who is so skinny you can barely see them. This in itself is quite scary.

He then makes them switch diets for a week. This week, for example, the supersize person ate nothing for breakfast, about ten pasties for dinner, a tonne of spaghetti with thirty meatballs for tea, followed by a huge bag of crisps and a packet of biscuits as an evening snack. Now, I love my food, and I admit to being able to eat quite a lot of it, but this diet takes the biscuit (no pun intended). The thought of attempting to fit that amount of food into my body on one day scares the living daylights out of me. Never mind eating that amount every day of my life. I don't know how they do it. If it wasn't so dangerous, I'd say they deserved a medal.

The superskinny person had a piece of toast for breakfast, a dry pitta bread for dinner and then something really tiny like a small jacket potato with a piece of cauliflower cheese for tea. It scares me that there are people in the world with diets like this. Especially when they think these diets are healthy. I don't know how they manage to function adequately on that little food : I don't think I could even make it through to lunch on that.

I can't watch the programme without reaching for food. Any food will do, just as long as I can eat. I suspect that this makes me a very bad person.

When I was at university (because I had a brain once you see), I did a huge essay on literature about eating disorders. It was not pretty. As research, I had to read at least fifteen books written about young adults with eating disorders. I couldn't read without having something to snack on. I put on at least a stone in weight whilst reading these books. It's as though something in my head told me that if I ate, the superskinny people would put on a little weight. Clearly this wasn't the case. I was getting fatter and they, according to the literature, were getting thinner. Something was going horribly wrong. The interesting thing about it all is that these superskinny people were also being forced to eat a supersize diet to make them "better". So, in order to stop yourself fading away, you have to eat enough food in one day to feed an entire village. That makes sense (or not).

I've decided it all comes down to chips and mars bars: the supersize people need to stop eating them, the superskinny people need to start. Simple.

In Awe Of The Human Body

I am totally in awe of the human body. I have decided it is an amazing thing. No, I have not suffered any kind of trauma to the head, I have merely had a revelation.

A few days ago, I cut my finger with a pair of scissors. I appreciate that this makes me sound a little crazy, so I am going to elaborate. I was actually attempting to cut the scraggly ends off my hair, with a pair of scissors. They were not particularly sharp scissors, and therefore, probably not really up to the job of cutting my hair properly. However, as I explained to Mr B, I had just got my hair into the correct position for trimming, only to realise that the only scissors within reach were paper scissors. I decided to have a go at cutting anyway. I managed to cut through my hair, and also through a chunk of my finger.

The scissors met my finger, removed a chunk and there was a lot of blood. Hardly any pain, but a lot of blood. I am yet to decide whether the lack of pain is a good thing, or whether it may be hiding something more sinister. Today I noticed that the crevice in my finger had started to heal around the edges. That was at about 5.30pm. It is now 10.30pm and the crevice is almost entirely healed. 



So in precisely five hours, the human body has managed to turn a crevice into a little scab. I told you the human body was awesome, didn't I?

* Disclaimer: Please do not try this at home. It is not a good idea. It hurts and it makes a mess. *