But before I tuck into this post here's a brief meandering from the task at hand with a delightfully macabre lunchtime exchange that took place the other day ...
Little A: ''Mummy I'm wiping blood from the baked beans."
Me (looking worried): "What? Oh that's just tomato sauce sweetheart."
Little A: "No, it's blood."
Nice. It seems my gentille daughter is an aspiring vampire.
Anyway with this award I am now about to burden you with '7 secret things' about myself and then tag a truck load of other bloggers to do the same. So here they be...
1. I have a tattoo on the top left of my shoulder. It's of Pegasus that Ancient Greek mythological horse with wings. The wings had nothing to do with Red Bull, that ghastly acidic stomach knotting drink, but apparently from the divine magic of the gods. I was 21 at the time and had just finished my degree. So what did I do to celebrate? I gallivanted off to the drizzly sea side 'picture postcard' Lancashire town of Morecambe where they do serve very fine fish and chips and got me what now resembles an indelible ink smudge in a dodgy tattoo parlour. Father was not impressed.
2. I once accidentally poo'ed in a bidet. Not particularly proud of this one. Picture the scene. Its the annual family holiday. We've just arrived at our hotel room and I'm desperate for the lavatory. I rush into the bathroom and without paying detailed attention to the rooms apparatus sit down on what feels like a toilet rim. I then 'off load my personal baggage'. Feeling relieved I then freeze in horror as I turn to view the actual toilet to my right and it dawns upon me with the speed of a five mile wide meteor impacting the earth that I have in fact poo'ed in the bidet. Mortified. Embarrassed. This doesn't begin to describe how I felt as a then very self conscious teenager. Needless to say my two younger brothers found the whole incident hilarious. Little
3. I have turned my hand to amateur dramatics very, very badly. Stand out characters I have portrayed include Mike TV from Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, my American accent was very dubious, and the resurrected one himself, Jesus, in a Sunday School performance of the Easter Story. Pardon the pun but I crucified my rendition of the one who artfully turns water into wine. To this day I have no idea why my parents packed me off to Sunday School. They weren't even remotely religious. Maybe it was a 70's thing. Or maybe they just wanted *quality* mummy daddy time. I shudder at the thought. Quick, deflect my mind with something else ... coal, lettuce, a cheeseboard but not THAT, not my parents doing the 'ole fandango ........ eeewww.
4. I am cunning as a crafty fox and the mouse in the Gruffalo. During the heady early days of my relationship with Younger Dad I slyly tricked him into believing that giant dinosaur hamsters once roamed the earth. He bought it hook line and sinker. Bless him. He was so loved up and misty eyed that he was rendered defenceless against my wily tales. He was not amused when I fessed up. Now whenever he is hit upon by a viral bout of gullibility I always remind him much to his continued annoyance of the 'dinosaur hamster'.
5. I am the worst kind of vegetarian. I am not a 'vegetarian's vegetarian'. I started out with noble aspiring ambitions to be one upon entering Uni as a veggie diet was a resoundingly cheaper one. Nothing to do with the ethics of slaughtering poor defenceless fluffy things then. In true Yorkshire style I cared mare about the pound in my pocket. I still ate fish though so that did not really qualify me as a vegetarian. I then fell off the wagon in glorious fashion during my mid twenties determinedly working my way back up the food chain. Bacon, turkey parmigiana and coronation chicken - yum - were to blame. I now fail miserably in meeting my five a day!
6. I am awful ney atrocious at mathematics - I scored an Unclassified in my maths O'level. Thank god I had a CSE to back that up with. Managed to scrape a grade one. My late Grandma outclassed me during the numbers conundrum on Countdown.
7. I was a 'solo' break dancer. I didn't have a 'crew' or a piece of lino for public displays of moon walking and back spinning or a shell suit for that matter. No I break danced very, very badly in my back garden. Probably a good thing the garden hedge shielded me from the shocked eyes of passers by. It proved a good cloaking device. Still I did win not one but two dancing competitions on a family holiday in Tunisia aged 13; it was the 'robotics' that gave me the edge.
So come on you lot show me yours ......
Up Yours Gina Ford
Flossing The Cat
Older Single Mum