Archive | 14:26

A Bit Of Meli-Melo

22 Nov

I had some trouble with that title; Viv tells me that meli-melo has a similar meaning to English bits ‘n’ bobs, and that would be great, if only I could type it.  So far it has been mile-mole, lime-loem, lemi-mloe and m%&*-m$£”. 

To get it right, I had to read it from my notebook with my eyes while my mouth spelled it out slowly for my typing hand.  I’m going off France.

Not really, of course.  I loved my visit so much, I feel the need to keep talking about it, so I bring you this meli-noma of bots ‘n’ bibs that I couldn’t squeeze into my previous France posts.

Amuse-Bouche

At the restaurant we visited, the waitress brought funny food things before the meal started (the three-course meal; French people do know how to eat).  Jov or Vick told us they were called amuse-bouche, pronounced amoose boosh.  I found them very amoosing.

That got a laugh when I said it to Vock & Jiv.  What’s wrong with you people?

Aran Jumper

Jick & Vov were stuffed full of interesting anecdotes and information.  This one fascinated me: admiring my cardigan, they said that every Aran jumper has a different pattern so that fishermen’s wives can identify their husband’s bodies when they drown and wash ashore weeks later.

It fascinated me so much I didn’t wear it on the way home, in case my plane crashed into the English Channel.  I don’t want my husband to think I was married to Marks & Spencer.

Body Scan

Talking of plane travel, on the way out to France I had one of those full body scans.  The Hub wasn’t selected which surprised me, because he was wearing a sweatshirt and couldn’t be identified by it.

I had to stand with my hands touching my head while the security staff giggled behind a huge screen.  I didn’t worry about the intrusion because I was too busy worrying about the life-size sign which looks like one of those police outlines drawn round the body.  Was it an omen that we would crash into the Channel?  I was wearing my Aran jumper.

Mistletoe And Whine

France seemed to have an awful lot of nests in its bare trees:

Then Vij & Ockv told me that the ‘nests’ were mistletoe, which is not a friendly saliva-exchanging encourager at all, but a parasite that kills trees.  I’m against killing trees in particular and parasites in general and I don’t need mistletoe because I’m married and haven’t kissed since the wedding (no, I must have done it twice; the boys will attest to that), so I found this a little disturbing, especially when I learned that it’s French law to remove mistletoe…we all know the Gallic approach to law, don’t we?  Accept it then ignore it.

Every time I saw a mistletoe-strangled tree after I learned this, I couldn’t help my resentment towards the French shrugging-off of a serious law from erupting into a stern tut.  I might even have tutted out loud once.

The Hub

Some of you might not know that the Hub has severe CFS/ME.  Some of you might not have realised that I took him to France with me (it was the only way I could board a plane and still retain clean underwear).  We were worried that he would find it too much, but he didn’t have to drive, he sat down a lot, slept every afternoon, and went to bed early each night.   He’s tired but doing okay.  I guess a little of what you francey does you good.

 

Ryanair

Never having flown with them, I believed the media hype and expected a terrible flight (that’s a given, given my fear), to be treated like cattle, to be charged for extras I hadn’t banked on, like seat belts, and to have them fixing the plane under us while we taxied out.

Well.  What can I say?  My £9 flight was excellent value for money; I would definitely fly them again; but I still don’t like Micheal O’Leary, especially if he wants to charge me to use the toilet.

 

Cows

Finally, I saw French cows.  I mention this because I made the Hub take a photo especially for my French friend, now residing in the States, Perfecting Motherhood; also known as Every Day I See A Cow:

 

Through a window in Pirou Castle. Amazing to think the same view would have been there for centuries. Just how old ARE those cows?

 

I have at least one more post that is France related, and then I’ll stop banging on about it.  Maybe.

Au revoir!

 

 

And Now For Something Completely Familiar

22 Nov
Craigslist

Image via Wikipedia

Remember Sunday’s post about the romantic young couple who got engaged on the Tube? 

Here’s what happens AFTER the wedding:

A young wife posted an ad on Craigslist:

One husband to the highest bidder

I am selling my 22 year old husband.  He enjoys eating and playing video games all day.  Easy to maintain, just feed and water every 3-5 hours.  You must have internet and space for gaming.  Got tired of waiting so free to good home.  If acceptable replacement is offered will trade.

She was offered a blue bag of Skittles.  I bet she considered it.

Read the full story here

 

 

 

Joke 243

22 Nov

A font joke:

What did the horse say to Bordeaux?

Why the long type face?

%d bloggers like this: