Exotic

Hadrian

“I’m not exotic,” said a forlorn little voice.

“Exotic or erotic?”

“Exotic.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m 92.8% British, 4.1% Finnish and 3.1% Italian.”

Paul had finally received the results of his DNA test.  He had hoped to track down his unknown grandfather (his mother was adopted) whom he had believed was a Canadian solider.  He was rather disappointed to discover he is British without any trace of Canadian blood.

Italian is quite exotic. But with only 3.1% it probably dates back to when the Romans invaded Britain.  Maybe he’s related to Hadrian.

A Load of Rubbish

Yesterday morning Paul and I donned hats, boots and gloves and joined a few other community minded volunteers to collect litter in the town centre.  It was all part of the Great British Spring Clean.

After about an hour, with rain clouds looming, an aching back and a disintegrated litter picker stick I’d had enough.  But in that single hour we had all filled over a dozen black bags with rubbish.  Most of the rubbish was discarded drinks cans, bottles and fast food cartons.  

It was nice to join like minded people and do something positive for the local environment, just a shame that there is so much litter about in the first place.
 

Why Did I Buy That?

Have you ever bought something you’ve instantly regretted?  I bought a brass pear when we were in TK Maxx on Friday.  No, I don’t know why I did either.  It's very big and very shiny.

Paul by-passed the designer jeans and bought an electric pepper mill.  Yesterday he bought the six (yes, six!) batteries required for it to function and we finally got to play with it over dinner last night.  At the press of a button the mill not only grinds the pepper but shines a light over your meal as well.  Such fun!

the tin of beans adds a touch of class

Blue Jean Blues

Paul's old Wrangler jeans

I decided Paul needed a makeover.  His uniform of blue jeans, polo shirt and navy sweatshirt was looking jaded.  I dragged him kicking and screaming and into the local Burton Menswear shop.  There was only one pair of jeans in his size.  He refused to try them on, he didn’t like the orange stitching.
 
Failing to get him anywhere near the shops I sent away for some ‘trendy’ clothes from Marks & Spencers.  The shirts and jumper were fine, the jeans were a disaster.  They had the weirdest cut ever, resulting in a deep fold half way down the leg.

Today we drove to Chippenham in a bid to find some nice, new jeans.  Chippenham has a limited selection of shops but we didn’t feel like trekking into Bath.  First stop TK Maxx.  Hundreds of designer jeans – Tommy Hilfiger, Versace, Vivienne Westwood, Ralph Lauren, etc.  All with rips, faded denim, even paint splatters.  Paul said if he wanted jeans like that he had some in the garage he could wear.  Next stop – er – Next.  Again, row upon row of jeans in skinny, super skinny, slim, extra slim, loose – anything but regular.  I persuaded Paul to try on a pair of loose and a pair of slim.  The loose ones were rather baggy but the slim ones looked very sexy.  

“They are too tight around my knees, they don’t feel right.” 
I wasn’t going to argue, they would only gather dust in the wardrobe.

We had to call in at Sainsburys to get some keys cut.  Paul came out of the shop triumphantly bearing two pairs of jeans, one regular pair and one boot cut.  The denim is a bit faded but at least they’re not ripped.  He tried them on when we got home.  His old, original Wrangler jeans still look better.

Sainsbury's straight cut

Sainsbury's boot cut

"I will never, ever wear my cuffs folded back like this..."

I tried.

Basking in Reflected Glory

Buddy reading his Australian Vegan Magazine

Being a parent brings both tears and joy.  You share their disappointments and their achievements.  Some theorists say that parents are sometimes inclined to transfer their own unfulfilled ambitions onto their child but in my case I think it’s a lot simpler than that.  If my girls are happy then I’m happy too and I just get a kick out of their successes, big or small.

This morning I am sharing Sarah’s delight in becoming a published author – she has had an article printed in the Australian Vegan Magazine (The Truth About Milk) and has been invited to be a regular contributor.  She was asked to write the piece after the magazine editor saw one of her blog posts.  Needless to say she is far better with words than me.

I was equally delighted to hear that Kat has now mastered the art of skating backwards and is fast becoming a competent member of the Ice Hockey Team.

My only achievements this week have been successfully cooking crispy, caramelised onions and having a conversation with Mr Irish.