Hash Brown Rehash

A full English breakfast with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, and half a tomato (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

 

 

I’ve been absent for a month because things changed fast around here.  When I get a spare five minutes, I’ll tell you about it (and reply to your comments).  In the meantime, here’s a post that first appeared in 2012.

 

Saturday.  The scene: dinner time in the Bud House.

Spud:  What’s for dinner?

Tilly:  Bacon eggs pork sausages beans tomatoes leftover potato croquettes I found in the bottom of the freezer from when the kids were here in August because I’ve run out of hash browns and bread to soak it all up.

Spud:  Bacon?  But we had gammon yesterday.  Why are we having what is effectively the same meat again?

Tilly [Not bothering to put up a fight she knows she’ll lose]:  Fine.  What do you want instead?

Spud:  Sandwiches.  Got any ham?

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Sunday.  The scene: dinner time in the Bud House.

Spud:  What’s for dinner?

Tilly:  Bacon eggs sausage beans tomatoes leftover potato croquettes I found in the bottom of the freezer from when the kids were here in August because I’ve run out of hash browns and bread to soak it all up.

Spud:  Do I have to have bacon?  I had ham yesterday and gammon the day before.

Tilly: [Previous bracketed comment refers]:  Fine.  No bacon.  Just the pork sausages?

Spud:  Great!

Dog’s Life

Read Tinman’s brilliant take on the stupidity of dog owners.

Worth Doing Badly

She was dozing happily in the sun when she heard the sounds, the sounds that she had heard so often before. The yelp of terror, the whirring of a rope uncoiling, the thump of someone hitting dry earth, and the echoing clank of the same someone being hit on the head by a tin bucket.

Timmy had fallen down the well again.

Lassie sighed, climbed to her paws, and set off to let somebody know.

Other dogs didn’t have to put up with this crap, she told herself. Timmy and his four owners spent each summer holiday in search of dark catacombs, hidden treasure, and high teas. Snoopy spent most of his life asleep on top his kennel. The Hound of the Baskervilles (or Snuffles, as all they knew him) got to terrorise the entire Devonshire moors with his huge footprints, flame-red eyes and blood-freezing late-night yowl.

Lassie, however, got to be…

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Talking of being green…here’s a great post with simple tips to make your life easier and re-use your toilet roll tubes.

 

TwistedSifter

 

Life hacks are little ways to make our lives easier. These low-budget tips and trick can help you organize and de-clutter space; prolong and preserve your products; or teach you something (e.g., tie a full Windsor) that you simply did not know before.

Most of these came from a great post on tumblr. There is also a great subreddit ‘r/lifehacks‘ with some fantastic tips as well.

 

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20. Separate egg yolks like a boss

 

 

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If you like to laugh, then you’re going to love this true story…

Sarsm's Blog

Reini’s evening started something like this:

His one and only son called him at work and announced, “There’s been an accident… In the kitchen… With the mixing machine… And Mum…”

I should probably admit to you, at this point, that we have recently been playing rather a lot of Cluedo.

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I’ve just risen out of a calming bath (despite at least two children being in the room at any one time, babbling) and looking down at my naked body I can see a few tell-tale signs of the week gone by.

For instance, my lower right leg champions five, yes five, bruises. All attained crawling through tunnels and up and down ladders at Sensapolis (I am still completing my challenges ) on Sunday. There are probably a fair few lumps and bumps on my head too because if I wasn’t bashing my right leg then I was beating my…

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I promised Tinman that, if we were all still here when the deadline passed, I’d reblog this post.

Please do yourself a favour and read it – it explains everything.

Worth Doing Badly

It began with a boy band.

Cojonez, the teen sensations who made Mayan maidens swoon with their renditions of other people’s ballads, and especially with their song about human sacrifices being tossed into the volcano (“Flying Without Wings”) wanted to “give something back to their fans”, in other words find some sort of merchandise that said fans would pay a lot of money for.

They went to see young local artist Hotwotlbotl and got him to do a calendar for the coming year, 250 BC, with a picture of one of them on each page. By March they had all sold out, so they asked him to start on 249 BC (no, I don’t know either). Then, well aware that the popularity of boy bands can be fleeting they got him to do the next five years as well.

They had woken a sleeping dragon. Hotwotlbotl had been the kind…

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It’s that Tinman again, doing for Shakespeare and Harry Potter what no man has done before.

 

 

Worth Doing Badly

This week’s Daily Post Writing Challenge is “Stylish Imitation”, so here is the world’s most famous playwright telling the world’s most famous story…
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Alarums, fanfares and trumpets. Enter Harry, Hermione and Ron.

Harry: When shall we three meet again?

Hermione: Next term at Hogwarts.

Harry: Oh, true. (they exit home for the holidays)

Enter He Who Must Not Be Named.

Voldemort (oops, sorry): Fast fare thy failure, Potter, with thy stupid scar
I’ll kill thee fore you can say, er “Nascar”.

Ghost of Nearly Headless Nick enters.

Voldemort: Sodeth off, thou twerp. (Nick exits, pursued by his career).

First Day of New Term. Enter Harry, Hermione and Ron.

Hermione: Grave news. (Holds up skull). Dobby is not to be.

Harry: Alas, poor Dobby. I knew him well.

Hermione: Not well.

Harry: I can see that.

Hermione: No, the word “well”…

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Another funny man in the blogosphere: meet Al, the Cvillean (that’s his spelling, not mine).

The Cvillean

I used to think I was just plain ole Al. Turns out, according to the Gallup and Rasmussen political polls, that I’m a member of the over 65, caucasian, southern state, swing state, male, retiree, likely voter, white-collar, ex-military, home owner, middle class, heterosexual, married, voting bloc. Not only that, we’re one of the most influential voting blocs out there. Who knew?  From Labor Day until the first week of November, every four years, the way I intend to vote makes me one of the most important people in the country. After that, it’s back to being good ole Al, and the only important thing the government wants to know about me is where they need to mail my tax forms.

In spite of all the myriad polls and predictions, this is the voting bloc that will probably decide it:

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A lovely, lovely story.

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This was posted back in 2010 but it has only just come to my attention.
If you don’t laugh out loud, there’s no hope for you.

Worth Doing Badly

Every now and then I use this blog to drag up some incident from the past that I’m not very proud of, then declare my shame to the entire world.

I think this process is known as exorcising one’s demons. In my case it feels more like exercising them, in that it lets them out into the sunlight, gives them a brisk workout and then sends them back, invigorated, into the dark recesses of my mind, from whence they can creep out into my dreams and whisper “boo”.

Anyway, yesterday’s post about Tinson1 sleeping through the night has re-awakened memories of one such dark event. To prepare you for the awfulness that is to follow, let me tell you that this post is called Bad Dad simply because there isn’t room for the real title, which should be The Night I Punched My Baby Son In The Face.

Here goes…(sigh)…

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