Like most men I have a list, enter the supermarket store, grab a trolley, zip around the store. Trolley filled in ten minutes. Another ten minutes wait and checkout. Then back to the car and off down the road. Twenty minutes max. But not this day !!
Different store. Grabbed a trolley. Wow, no customers in the store. Fantastic. My trolley was filled in a matter of minutes until I came to a whole row of Cereals. There must have been a hundred varieties and I only wanted a box of normal cornflakes. I searched and searched; honey flavoured chocolate alphabet boxes to GM soya sunflower muesli bags but NO normal cornflakes !! I turned the corner at the end of the row and there they were. Piles of normal cornflakes. I had to make a decision, for the sign said, buy two get one free. I decided one packet was enough for me. I then bee lined for checkout. Woman coming in from the right. I moved faster and just got to the empty checkout before the lady. I noticed that she only had seven or so items in her basket. Being a gentleman (thanks) I waved her through. Her big blue eyes…..No !!
Big mistake !! The totally bored checkout girl, in a world of her own, carried on filing her bright red nails. Name tag said Day Dreamer I think. The store was filling up with customers and a second checkout was just about to open. Shall I go for that one, I thought. No, this woman won’t be long. How wrong could I be. She emptied her seven or so items on the conveyor belt. “Do you happen to have our store card, ma’m” squeaked Day. ” Just a minute” the woman replied, emptying her shoulder bag onto the conveyor belt. Filofax with sticky notes poking out, a thousand cosmetics, tissues, cuddly toy and her purse, from which she produced the Rip-u-off store card. “Oh dear….I forgot” and she ran off into the rows of products. The queue was building up behind me and the other checkout was moving customers through.
A few minutes later she returned panting (women do that) placing a tube of clown flouride is good for you toothpaste onto the belt. “So sorry” her blue eyes said. Day put her nail file back down and beeped three of the items through. “Excuse me,” rummaging through her bag, “I’ve got a coupon for that” the out of breath woman said. Rifling through 150+ coupons, she smiled, producing a coupon. ” Sorry miss we don’t take that coupon in our store.”. Beeping through the next two items, Day stopped. “May to checkout one. May to checkout one” squeaked Day into a microphone. The trolley loaded queue was really lengthening behind me. A couple of minutes later May Workoneday arrived at the checkout and disappeared back into the now bustling store. By now the ice cream I had bought was beginning to drip onto the floor.
May eventually returned and Day beeped through the final items. “Cash or credit card ?”. “Credit card”. Rummaging through her bag again the woman produced a stack of cards. “Oh. Where is it?” Ah!! Scanning the card, Day placed the metal keyboard box in front of the woman. “Pin number please ma’m”. Again the woman plunged into her bag producing her filofax the size of a church bible. Pin keyed in, bag loaded, the lady left the store. At last, I thought, here we go. ” Hello Day……” ” Sorry sir, this checkout is now closed”, smiled Day as she disappeared into the crowd of customers, who on hearing what she said, fought their way to the other checkout. I was left alone (all say ohhh!) looking at a queue of 15 trolleys filled to the brim at checkout two.
So, ladies, if I am standing behind you at checkout, my trolley full, you having seven items in your basket, please WAVE ME THROUGH !!!
I really do not mind using a washing machine and hanging out the clothes to dry. It’s only when the use of the washing machine can become a war of the wash. I had a washing machine who’s controls, buttons, dials were never touched for 8 years and worked perfectly, until we had visitors who used the machine. After they left, there was a metallic rattle. I looked inside with a torch and saw nothing unusual. Next two washes, quiet. Ah ! The problem has cleared itself. The following wash the machine sounded as if I lived in a shipyard. The screeching was awful. So, bravely, my head re-entered the drum. I had pretty much decided to get my tool box and open the back, when in the very top edge of the drum I saw a rusty tiny piece of metal. I pulled at it and out came a long curved metal heavy wire. Yes, ladies, the wire was used in a bra to stop you going south. So, if you are coming south to visit, please don’t use my washing machine.
I am now in an apartment with a machine with no instructions. I think I am reasonably intelligent (thanks) and know my way around washing machines, but this one almost beat me. Clothes in, powder drawer open. Pouring the powder into the middle container I was very careful as the box said “Razzle Dazzle Powder. Warning. Please wear sunglasses when removing your whites, colours and blacks from your washing machine because ALL your clothes will be so brilliantly white they will blind you”. Now for the ” Ocean on the mountain” blue conditioner into the right hand container. Controls !! No problem, number 9 at 30 degrees. After checking the clothes in the drum to ensure Sonic, my black cat was not curled up in there. Well, he’s black and I don’t want to find him in half an hour, blindingly white, now do I??. I pushed the ON button.
I sat down. Two seconds later the machine started spinning. Once stopped, I opened the powder drawer and the blue “Ocean on the mountain with crushed pine tree cones” had GONE !! But the powder was piled as I left it. Adding some more “Ocean on the mountain with crushed pine tree cones and flowers of the Scottish moors” blue conditioner, I pressed ON at number 6. Got it now, so I thought. Ten minutes later, SPIN CYCLE !! Oh no!! Same again ! So I emptied the remainder of “Ocean on the mountain with crushed pine tree cones and flowers of the Scottish moors bathed in sun drenched lemons” blue conditioner into it’s tray. I’ll get it right this time and I did. Number 3 !!
So the moral of this tale is, if you HAVE washday blues, you’ll have to go out and buy some more !!
I have not been a blogger for long, just a few days. And over that time I have visited many blogs via Recent Posts. The emails I received in Outlook were few and interesting. I thought this to be rather funny as I knew I was following many of you and that I should be reading your chit-chat and new posts, but nothing. Late Saturday night I found Edit on Blogs I Like which I hadn’t noticed before. I opened Edit and found 71 blogs, all showing Never. So I spent the next half hour clicking Receive by Email /Instantly. Then I went to bed.
Big mistake !!!
Another beautiful sunny morning. A quiet Sunday. The cool breeze wafted in through open doors. The cats curled up, asleep in their baskets. A little housework done. Showered, dressed with a steaming cup of coffee, I sat down and opened my Outlook. Then all hell broke loose !!
My notifier went mad. chime big ben . My Inbox went crazy. 50….100….150 and finally stopped at 197. I sat there in shock. Mouth wide open, my wide hazel eyes (thanks) just stared at the screen for 5 minutes. The cats were staring at me as if to say,”For goodness sake, shut up, we are TRYING to get some sleep !!”
I follow 51 of you now. It’s not because I dislike your blogs, it is just that YOU TALK TOO MUCH !!
It is now a beautiful, quiet Monday morning in Spain. I will open Outlook now………..ooooohhh !!!
I always feel that men and women are pretty much the same, just the packaging is different. But sometimes I have to admit that when the Tomb Raider Laura Croft in women emerges, woe betide anyone who stands in her way. And, generally, that’s me !! For example:-
Recently I was at a party with about twenty guests. Nothing special. A get together of us foreigners living in the Spanish village. The women were at one end chatting and catching up with the latest gossip. And the men full of playful banter at the other end of the table. Then I met Laura Croft.
She came up to me. I had never seen her before, but her large blue eyes spoke to me, saying ” I have been watching you and I notice your hands are shaking”. I explained my situation and, as if talking to a cute kitten or puppy, I added, ” I have been watching you and I notice how blue your eyes are.” Her eyes closed to slits, teeth clenched she drew her pistols and fired “I resent that !” Slightly wounded, I was stunned. Now being a stupid male I didn’t let go and so I ventured, explored deeper into the jungle of her mind and cheerfully said, “Well, I think you are very pretty”. Wrong!! As if to pounce and strangle me she drew her shotgun and fired both barrels, ” I really DO resent that !!”. Shoot, what DID I say, I thought. I should have done something sensible like jumping off a cliff. But, no, with one more try I spluttered, ” You are gorgeous, you know”. Wrong again ! This is when she brought in the Pacific Fleet, the 7th Cavalry and the whole nuclear arsenal of the world. She declared World War Three upon me, ” You wouldn’t say that if I was a male !”. Totally perplexed, bewildered and confused, I resigned and weakly said, ” Okay, I surrender. What should I have said to you?”.
“That I am intelligent !!”
I am really truly sorry for writing that last post. It is not me and it is total garbage. Something attacked me last night in a spiritual sense and I had this urge to write that rubbish about cooking. It is not my style of writing. I know what is funny and that wasn’t. It was disgusting. I am going to leave it posted for a while in case you want to comment.
I am going through a change in my life. I have reached a crossroads. Yesterday evening I was in contact with a very brave and ill lady and I went completely over the top, so far over the top that I believe any relationship we may have had is shattered by the chasm I created. I was advised to wait a while and see what happens. Then I came under attack. That attacker has now been destroyed. I only realised it a few minutes after that post was published.
Should I delete it or leave it. I decided to leave it as an example to myself of how not to write, of how not to be such an idiot in letting myself be attacked in such a way. So to myself and to you dear readers I apologise. I am truly sorry. And to the lady, what can I say, please enjoy your life and pray for me.
Cooking for the single man the Bluefish way. Goverment health warning: ladies, if you p** your pants with laughter, please leave this post now, or read it with your eyes closed. The following scenario could be in a house near you. You have been warned !!
“Hi Jack. Your door was open so I thought I come round to see if you are okay. I just saw your wife running down your front yard, screaming, and I saw her grab the first man who could walk and went off with him. Got married a week ago! didn’t go too well then. Oh, you’re hungry. Can’t cook ?? No need to turn the football off. Wow, you watched 4 games today already. Yes please, put the Playboy down and do up your trousers.
Now, where’s your kitchen? Don’t know?? It looks like the bathroom but has loads of cupboards. Come on, Jack, up you get. Yes, you can bring your beer. Now, let’s have a look in your fridge. Um !! Got a lot of beer cans in here, in fact there is no room for anything else. Ah! an egg! Now, where’s the frying pan as I think I will show you how to fry an egg, on toast perhaps? No, we don’t need that saucepan Jack. The favourite one that you boil your dirty motorcycle chain in ! No, we don’t need……a here it is. The frying pan’s main purpose, Jack, IS for cooking! I understand that your wife hit you over the head with it, but it is for cooking. Ah, good there’s a spatula in this drawer. What ! It’s the replacement your wife bought as you used the original to pick up your dog’s pooh in the backyard ! Jack, how could you !!
We need some oil, Jack. Have a look through the cupboards and see if there is any sunflower oil. Olive oil? Butter? No? Where ARE you going? Okay, for demonstration purposes I suppose this will have to do. You kept this can of engine oil in a safe place, in your wife’s knickers drawer??
No toast then. You put a tube of glue in the toaster to soften it. It caught fire. You threw it out of the window where it hit the dog, which you have not seen since. Yes, it must be pretty lonely with no wife and no dog.
Right !! That’s the frying pan hot enough. Bang the egg on the side of the pan. That’s it, it’s cracked. Put your fingers in the crack and split the egg open and pour it into the pan. Easy. No, don’t worry about the yellow part smoking on the hob, or the shell in the pan. No, don’t eat…….I’ve got to go now Jack. Bye”
I could have run down the front yard, screaming, and gone off with the first woman I met, but I have to go round and see John who is sewing a button on his shirt with a staple gun.
Initially I would love to thank all my visitors who came here for a fleeting moment. This is my second attempt at building a website. The first in 1996, but gave up as I didn’t have a Science degree in head banging. I thought about it for ages but disliked the word “blog”. Eventually I thought I would have a go. This blog has only been up and running for 10 days, 1311 pages visited from you guys/gals in 26 different countries. Wow !! AND I have 34 followers…..I am really overwhelmed. I hope you are following me because you like my writing, not because you think I need a haircut and you are after me with a pair of scissors !!
I am following most of you because you have interesting things to say on so many subjects and my meagre attempt at photography is trampled on by the excellence of your posts. I have bypassed many blogs that say things like “OMG I have not had sex for 10 minutes. The universe hates me !” (I haven’t had it for 20 years. What’s her problem ?) or ” My brain is not working today” or “my shoes don’t fit I JUST HAVE to go shopping”. I only click on LIKE if I do like. So if my face is on your site, to me, you ARE awesome. Well done.
The Carpenters: We’ve Only Just Begun Please play this beautiful love song as you read my letter.
Where are you my love, my dream ? Are you walking on this world or in realms above looking for me ? We may have passed each other not knowing that our love has just gently touched, not realising our connection. We may have never met yet. You may be on distant shores staring out of your window looking for me. Tears rolling down your cheeks, pining for your love. I feel the same way. I feel lost without you. An emptiness which only you can fill. Where are you my love ?
Maybe you are in realms above waiting for me. When we meet, we smile, knowing that from now on we will walk hand in hand throughout eternity. Hand in hand through fields of flowers dancing in the breeeze of love. We will sit picnicking under the rainbow of the waterfall listening to the blue birds singing such sweeetness. Hand in hand into our past, present and future. I miss you even though I have not met you.
Where are you my love ?
Well, it’s only 147 days until Christmas. It’s so unfair as it’s only 143 days to the End of the World. I have a decision to make. Have a wild 143 day party (you are all invited), run around in circles screaming, hide under the stairs with my 2 cats with a million bottles of water and cans of bake beans (don’t fancy that option) or blog till I drop.
I have worked out that I am the antichrist because my birthday is on the 15th December and this year I am 66. And 6 days later is the end of the world. So, I suppose, everything is my fault. I take full responsibility. But that can’t be so. For on most products you buy in the shops is a barcode with 2 longer thin lines at the beginning, middle and end. Look above a number 6. Two thin lines. Shopping is bad for you !! You learn a lot on my blogs.
So there you have it. I’m okay. Whew !! So maybe I will have to have a wild party where everyone runs around in circles and play postman’s knock under the stairs. Too much for me. I think I’ll just go and feed the cats and watch the world end with a cool glass of beer with a splash of squeezed lime.
I can hear the keys on the keyboards tapping by OAP’s who were teenagers in the 1960’s. “Got to read this !!”. The 1960’s, the time when indecisive Hippies mused “Ommmmmm” all day while dancing in muddy fields with flowers in their hair. For the name given to women in those days was “Birds”. Forget it, gentlemen, you won’t be interested in this…..go back to the Women’s Volley Ball on the Olympics !! ( aside: maybe the title of this post IS a New Age cure for my condition? I’ll take my 10% now as I thought of it !!)
In fact, this is for the mystics, omen decypherers, psychic analyists of “what was that all about !”
I slept soundly on the first night in this rented temporary apartment. My two cats curled up fast asleep on top of the bed, cuddling in and warming my legs. Dawn broke. We did not hear the cockerels crowing or the baker’s car horn on his morning delivery through the village. We missed the sun’s awakening as the curtain of darkness gave way to the band of light moving gradually down the mountainside. In a drowsy moment I felt my cats sitting on my thigh. I opened my eyes and, there they were, looking up, heads moving from side to side. For flying around the ceiling light was a House Martin (like a swallow), black swept back wings with a white tummy and red face. Round and round. Then it sped out of the open french doors into the morning sunlight of Spain. The bird made my cats’ day. They never stop meowing about it !
This has happened three times over the 6 weeks I have been here. Maybe I can have a lay in one day !!
Another first day strange occurrence was when I arrived here in the village. A diamond formation of 4 fighter jets flew over the house so low, fast and loud. It never happened again.
Can you tell me what all this means, or shall I just enjoy the memories of the three birds in my bedroom.
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