My salad dressing days

Chambermaids who aspire to the Turner prize
January 31, 2006, 6:54 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

See now, I’d rather pay £20 less per night and live without the towel sculptures. (Still, they beat Tracey Emin’s unmade bed hands down.)


Warning: contains allusion to sexual activity
January 31, 2006, 12:05 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

OK. I’ve decided that I’m no longer worried about the people* who get here by searching the interweb for photos of ‘defecating women’.

I’m now concerned that someone from Australia arrived here having looked for advice on ‘how to lick out a chick’. [Don’t complain – I told you in the title what you were to expect from this post. Quick! Hit ‘next blog’.]

But what makes me laugh more than the thought of how disappointed this person was to end up here is what MSN suggested they might really being trying to search for.

How or why might one try to lock out a check**?

* including yesterday’s visitor from Baghdad
** assuming that what MSN means is what we in Britain call a ‘cheque’

Guilty pleasures (not the first either)
January 30, 2006, 1:32 pm
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 Posted by Picasa
An hour.

An hour was all it took in TK Maxx and I was walking out the door with not one, but two handbags.

The Other Handbag very much fell into the Notablinkoftheeye category insomuch as it set me back under a tenner.

But this one. Oh, THIS ONE.

In no way, shape or form can I justify the purchase of this one. Other than…

it marks a welcome departure from my dark colour leanings. (Woo hoo, I thought, it’s burnt orange in a sea of browns and blacks. Actually it’s more tangerine.)

it’s simplicity personified (nay, handbagified) in an age of endless and excessive buckles and clips.

I’ve never done a handbag which you have no choice but to loop over your arm or swing at knee level. I usually insist on tuck-it-under-your-armpit-length straps or a sling-it-diagonally-across-your-person-so-as-it-cuts-into-the-crevice-between-your-boobs style.

But alas, I am not Catholic, so there are no rosary beads to rub, Hail Marys to recite or confessions to attend.

So…I have vowed to donate two old handbags to my local Oxfam shop.

Oh, and I might buy a packet of Fairtrade coffee whilst I’m in there.

(I think that pretty much cancels it out.)

The lies parents tell
January 27, 2006, 2:26 pm
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Overheard in a London restaurant earlier this month:

Woman [talking into mobile]: ‘Hi Dad. Yes, I’m just having a drink with a work colleague, so I won’t be home until 8ish. That OK? Great. Yes, put him on…Hi, sweetie! How was your day? Good! Now, listen, Mummy’s train has been delayed so she won’t be home in time to give you your bath, but Grandad will bath you. Is that OK, darling? I’ll come and kiss you goodnight when I get in. Be a good boy for Grandad now, won’t you? Bye!’

UN-trained house sellers
January 26, 2006, 2:03 pm
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There comes a time in everyone’s life when they are forced to interact with that other breed: The Estate Agent.

Only these days, The Husband and I notice, they are going under a different guise: Negotiator.

That’s right.

Yesterday: second in command to Kofi Annan, passing resolutions and chastising China about its human rights record.

Today: selling over-priced arrangements of breeze blocks and plasterboard in a large metropolitan area.

It’s what management gurus call ‘skills transfer’.

Whenever I see James Spader all I can think of is
January 26, 2006, 1:38 pm
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sexual perversion.

Which might be somewhat unfair.

I mean, what if in real life he is a pretty straight sort of a guy?

Oh no. That’s Tony Blair.

Always get muddled up.

[See what happens when you take a break from blogging?]

Later, ‘gators!
January 19, 2006, 1:13 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

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