tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21784689087539407312024-03-13T00:12:37.372+00:00Every Silver Lining....Welcome to my somewhat jaundiced view of life, the universe and everything. A sort of 'My Family and Other Challenges'. If we were a film, it'd be 'Meet the Feckers...'Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.comBlogger206125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-88020483985739691732014-07-10T18:46:00.004+01:002014-07-10T18:50:26.188+01:00Tattoo you<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Funny things, tattoos. I'm not too keen as, what looks sharp and pert on a 22 year old, looks blurry and saggy once that 22 year old has moved on a few decades. And how many people have spent £££ getting them lasered off having decided that "Gary and Lauren foreva" was a really bad idea once Lauren had dumped Gary 3 weeks later?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That said, I do find them quite fascinating. I'm often tempted to ask people exactly <i>why</i> they chose the design they have had indelibly inked onto their skin and - often more pertinent - why they chose the location...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Take, for example, the Tramp Stamp. If you don't know what that is, lookee here. They range from the fairly innocuous...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DWV1dG2RvFE/U77J_dofT2I/AAAAAAAABb0/X9Fx53sH6NE/s1600/Tramp+Stamp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DWV1dG2RvFE/U77J_dofT2I/AAAAAAAABb0/X9Fx53sH6NE/s1600/Tramp+Stamp1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Through the quirky: </span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XfndFRPCH4s/U77J-dlcqPI/AAAAAAAABcQ/NP1JNqNTzlY/s1600/Tramp+Stamp+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XfndFRPCH4s/U77J-dlcqPI/AAAAAAAABcQ/NP1JNqNTzlY/s1600/Tramp+Stamp+4.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To the tasteless:</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vSsJ794xEfo/U77J_x9CwaI/AAAAAAAABcE/NW4-NsQgmt8/s1600/Tramp_stamp2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vSsJ794xEfo/U77J_x9CwaI/AAAAAAAABcE/NW4-NsQgmt8/s1600/Tramp_stamp2.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Landing up at the frankly disgusting:</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zrpSmi1_E1c/U77J-l1Yj1I/AAAAAAAABcI/2P2gLtlm69Q/s1600/Tramp+Stamp+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zrpSmi1_E1c/U77J-l1Yj1I/AAAAAAAABcI/2P2gLtlm69Q/s1600/Tramp+Stamp+5.jpg" height="320" width="190" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm not sure who coined the term 'Tramp Stamp' or why they should be viewed as the mark of a tramp. Anyone help out with that? Interestingly, if you look up the term on Urban Dictionary, it offers the following alternatives:-</span><br />
<a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=tattoo" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">tattoo</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=slut" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">slut</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=whore" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">whore</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=tramp" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">tramp</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ass%20antlers" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">ass antlers</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=skank" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">skank</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=stamp" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">stamp</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ass" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">ass</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ink" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">ink</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=lower%20back%20tattoo" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">lower back tattoo</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=tatoo" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">tatoo</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=tat" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">tat</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ho" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">ho</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=hoe" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">hoe</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=trampstamp" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">trampstamp</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=body%20art" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">body art</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=bullseye" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">bullseye</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=butt" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">butt</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=tramp%20stamps" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">tramp stamps</a><span style="background-color: #f1f2f0; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.142858505249023px;"> </span><a class="tag" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=back" style="background: 0px 0px rgb(78, 124, 160); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 14px; margin: 5px; padding: 10px; text-decoration: none;">back</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tattoos are, of course, much loved by celebrities, including our own <a href="http://www.cherylcole.com/" target="_blank"><b>Cheryl Cole</b></a><b> </b>who spent the cost of a small car on having her arse covered in roses. And let us not forget David Beckham who has practically made himself into a walking art gallery:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xTAxDxorhhE/U77MYdJSn5I/AAAAAAAABcY/yHWi6TTYnt8/s1600/david+beckham+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xTAxDxorhhE/U77MYdJSn5I/AAAAAAAABcY/yHWi6TTYnt8/s1600/david+beckham+3.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I would...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I know I said I didn't like tattoos, but there's always one exception to the rule...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Occasionally, I have been known to take a sneaky photo of a tattoo that really puzzles me. I did that recently whilst standing, bored, on London's overcrowded Euston Station, waiting for a train. This guy was in front of me and I really, really wanted to tap him on the shoulder and say "excuse me. What exactly made you wake up one morning and think 'I know, today I'll get a galleon tattooed on the back of my left leg'?"</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gzknFuTopk0/U77OofdTAfI/AAAAAAAABck/gdNWD7yip5c/s1600/Galleon+Tattoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gzknFuTopk0/U77OofdTAfI/AAAAAAAABck/gdNWD7yip5c/s1600/Galleon+Tattoo.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A colleague tells a great story of when he was in the British Army, stationed in Hong Kong for a while. He and a mate decided to get tattoos when drunk one night. So they stagger off to the local Chinese tattoo parlour. Colleague opted for a pair of angel's wings. His mate, Graham, asked for his name in Chinese characters.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some months later, they were back in Blighty, stationed up north somewhere and badly wanted some chips<b>* </b>one night. Off they go to the Chinese Chippy. The lady behind the counter looks at Graham's tattoo and smirks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Hey!" she says, pointing to the Chinese characters on his arm, "what that say?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"It's my name," said Graham proudly. "It says Graham."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Ohhhhh," replied the lady. "That no say Graham!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>*</b><span style="font-size: x-small;">French fries (for my overseas readers)</span></span></div>
Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-45553321051693794702014-06-24T21:43:00.000+01:002014-06-24T21:43:44.420+01:00Back on the radar<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hello chums! Did you miss me? I wish I could fabricate some wildly exciting reason for my longest ever break from blogging but all I can tell you is that life got in the way and, as is usual for wives and mothers, everything else took precedence. (Whinge over).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So what has been occupying my tiny mind in recent weeks? Sadly not your blogs as I haven't had time to read those either - so apologies to all those people who can usually rely on a comment from me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The first thing that happened was that my (very elderly) mother had a fall and was admitted to hospital in the middle of the night. By the time the medics tracked me down and I had trekked to her local sanatorium, she was sitting up, very chipper, full of antibiotics and IV fluids. When the nice nurse came round to ask if she'd like a drink, how do you think she responded? did she say:-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">a) Thank you dear, I'd love a cup of tea</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">b) A latte would be lovely</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">c) Got any Gin & tonic?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm sure you can work it out for yourselves. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And, when she was finally given a discharge date, how did she react? Did she say:-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">a) Tuesday? Wonderful!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">b) Tuesday? - oh well, I'll miss the lovely hospital food but never mind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">c) Tuesday? Good. Now look here (<i>turning to me</i>) if you don't come and get me out of here on Tuesday I shall lie on the floor and scream and show my knickers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hmmmmm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the midst of all this, son and heir departed for 3 weeks in Brazil, taking in some of the World Cup. It's a hard old life, innit? Here is a pic of him and me at the airport:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-laOB6Xg1idI/U6nbl0ah29I/AAAAAAAABas/-9n_XJqwZjA/s1600/Liam+and+me+airport+Rio+June+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-laOB6Xg1idI/U6nbl0ah29I/AAAAAAAABas/-9n_XJqwZjA/s1600/Liam+and+me+airport+Rio+June+2014.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Not sure what went wrong with the perspective - his feet aren't that big and I'm not that small. Oh, maybe I am...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He hadn't been there 5 minutes when he happened to go up Sugar Loaf Mountain, as one does, and bumped straight into <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coleen_Rooney" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Colleen Rooney</span></a>. <b> </b>That's him in the middle with his arm round Wayne's* missus. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">*For the benefit of my non-Brit readers, Wayne Rooney is a football (soccer) player who plays up front for Manchester United. He is also a sometime film actor who has played the title role in such monumental movie successes as <i>Shrek </i>and <i>Shrek the Balls.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Son is still out there and seems to be having a great time. When he gets back, we have 24 hours with both of them at home before daughter leaves for Thailand and Cambodia. <i>For a month.</i> The Shah and I are hoping to grab a week in Greece later in the summer. Bloody hell. We've gone horribly wrong somewhere.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And finally....last weekend we had the enormous pleasure (not) of moving daughter out of her University accommodation. The way things worked out, she was the last to leave so, of course, we got the brunt of the cleaning. How the hell none of them died of salmonella poisoning during the year, I will never know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Enjoy the photos of the fridge. Hope you're not eating while you view them:</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This was brown slime that actually made me heave....</span></td></tr>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tjVit30t7U4/U6nf65sTqwI/AAAAAAAABbY/SQvLfOsrG9E/s1600/Dirty+uni+fridge+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tjVit30t7U4/U6nf65sTqwI/AAAAAAAABbY/SQvLfOsrG9E/s1600/Dirty+uni+fridge+3.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How appropriate! We have tons of random crap in the house now :(</span></td></tr>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-20329082765370428602014-05-05T22:14:00.000+01:002014-05-05T22:14:18.017+01:00Three things I have learned recently <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Following on from last time's revelations about Paddy the cat's nocturnal mouse-munching activities, he remains shut out of the bedroom at night - something he is clearly not happy with. So, as the rumination of rodents failed to have any impact, he has reverted to emotional manipulation to gain access. As soon as he hears the alarm clock go off in the morning, the whining and scratching at the door begins. I have learned that, if he is ignored for more than a couple of minutes, the supplicating furry arms appear:-</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gCQn6jjmNJQ/U2f7paSPRDI/AAAAAAAABYA/kBllPqKpylE/s1600/Paddypaws+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gCQn6jjmNJQ/U2f7paSPRDI/AAAAAAAABYA/kBllPqKpylE/s1600/Paddypaws+1.jpg" height="286" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Followed by a slightly more insistent gesticulation:-</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9tfZNuuIJB8/U2f7NmcJS_I/AAAAAAAABX0/LA0aUwj2qgY/s1600/Paddypaws+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9tfZNuuIJB8/U2f7NmcJS_I/AAAAAAAABX0/LA0aUwj2qgY/s1600/Paddypaws+2.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And when that doesn't work (mainly because I am laughing and trying to take pictures very early in the morning which is my excuse for the shocking quality) there comes the vaguely threatening two-paws approach:-</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sGiLMVnQRCI/U2f8m3vzSsI/AAAAAAAABYU/XVw9jOphzqk/s1600/Paddypaws+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sGiLMVnQRCI/U2f8m3vzSsI/AAAAAAAABYU/XVw9jOphzqk/s1600/Paddypaws+3.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The second thing I have learned this weekend is this....If you are in a DIY shop and have to dodge out of the way of an injured man using his </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">walking aid to point out the location of the paint to his wife, do not say to your husband "blimey, that bloke nearly hit me in the face with his crutch" because it will make him snort with inappropriate laughter and everyone will stare at you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And the final thing I have learned lately is that, if you discover the lasagne you just used to make a delicious meal for your family is 2 years out of date, say nothing. They all survived the experience and they never read this blog anyway. Right?</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3vYCa5VJ6M4/U2f-fh6HcrI/AAAAAAAABYw/0XTY8sGpR9M/s1600/Lasagne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3vYCa5VJ6M4/U2f-fh6HcrI/AAAAAAAABYw/0XTY8sGpR9M/s1600/Lasagne.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The proof.....sssshhhhh!</span><br />
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-75892948462227158132014-04-20T17:46:00.003+01:002014-04-20T17:46:52.276+01:00Named and shamed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Enuff said...</span></td></tr>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-8896815121206776662014-03-24T22:13:00.000+00:002014-03-24T22:13:24.839+00:00The Seven Ages of Mam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I got to thinking recently (it's an unusual event and one that I thought deserved a post) about the life cycle and the way things change and move on as one generation passes and the next one moves up to take over. I'm not sure what brought out this philosophical streak in me; it might have been all the recent publicity about the centenary of the First World War, it might have been the realisation that my mum is becoming more and more frail as time moves on or it might just have been my children getting arsier and more know-all with every passing day. Perm any one from three.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Somewhere in the midst of all this unaccustomed (and frankly exhausting) mental effort, I recalled Shakespeare's monologue "All the World's a Stage" and this is where the offspring comparisons begin. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How many years is it since my two were tiny - '<i>mewling and puking in the nurse's arms'?</i> Oh boy, I was Queen of my Kingdom (erm, sort of) back in those days. I ruled the roost, I made the rules and I elicited unconditional love from my children. I was the shining sun in their world. Honest.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me and my boy on his 1st birthday. <br />Lawks my hair was a lot redder in those days!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The smiliest baby ever!<br /></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then the years flash by and we meet '</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;"><i>t</i></span><i>he whining schoolboy, with his satchel a</i></span></span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">nd shining morning face, creeping like snail u</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">nwillingly to school.'</span></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uqWYcWUKYto/UzCA0BKaiWI/AAAAAAAABVU/Iv7TRBDK2po/s1600/First+Day+at+School.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uqWYcWUKYto/UzCA0BKaiWI/AAAAAAAABVU/Iv7TRBDK2po/s1600/First+Day+at+School.jpg" height="320" width="202" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Smiling as it was his first day at school.<br />Don't be fooled. He screamed daily for<br />the next three weeks :(<br /></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All of a sudden, you're not quite as omnipotent as you once were. Other people's mums are "fun" and "cool" and "make brilliant cakes" and your crown begins a slow slide...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Moving on, you meet </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">'</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">the lover, s</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">ighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad m</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">ade to his mistress' eyebrow'</span> </i> Oh yes! They discover the opposite sex. Let joy be unconfined! Having navigated the terrible twos you now find you are at </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the mercy of the terrible teens.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> They are heaving with hormones, mortally embarrassed by the fact that you so much as </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">breathe</i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> and imprison themselves in their</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> bedrooms, where they spend time cursing God for giving them the oldest/stupidest/uncoolest/most unreasonable parents in the northern hemisphere and, like it's NOT FAIR - Josh's parents let him stay out till 4am/go clubbing in London even though he's only 14/provide loads of booze for his parties/let girls stay over...WHY ARE YOU SO DUMB?</span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The crown has now slipped to cover your eyes, which is probably just as well as it may prevent you seeing just how little your daughter is wearing when she leaves the house.</span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Grumpy teen</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />At this stage of the game, you are subject to quiet exasperation and mild disinterest. The crown has now descended far enough for the bloody thing to strangle you and you wonder why having children ever, ever seemed like a good idea. When you voice this opinion, your offspring (who thanks to a tsunami of hormones have grown 3 feet taller than you overnight) smile pityingly and pat you on the head as they make for the fridge to eat planned meals one, two and three that you thought would see you through till the weekend.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"> (And now Blogger has thrown the formatting out. I hate it.)</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Then the light at the end of the tunnel (and this time, it's not an oncoming train). They give the impression of turning into grownups and we meet <i>' The soldier...full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard...'</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.006000518798828px; text-align: start;"><i>,</i></span><i> </i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">At this point, one of them has taken the Bard literally</span><i> </i>and sprouted a fine beard. In fact, he was sent home from school to shave more than once. Herself has become very aware of facial hair and spends hours plucking, waxing and generally engaging in massive deforestation efforts. She is also mighty sensitive to the mention of hair, viz this recent conversation:-</span></div>
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Daughter: I can't go out looking like this! (voice rises hysterically - points to top lip).</div>
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Mother: You look fine - honestly!</div>
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Daughter I've got a MOUSTACHE!!!! (Sobs in despair)</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
The situation was not helped one jot by the Shah deciding a little levity was in order and shouting "fuck me, it's Freddie Mercury!" the next time she entered the room.</div>
</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3UmU2HH-IXQ/UzCgLa6TDdI/AAAAAAAABWM/Ir9TyBj-7ow/s1600/Beardy+Boy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3UmU2HH-IXQ/UzCgLa6TDdI/AAAAAAAABWM/Ir9TyBj-7ow/s1600/Beardy+Boy.jpg" height="320" width="148" /></a></div>
<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Beardy Boy </i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xz_PEml6ySU/UzCgH81kRdI/AAAAAAAABWI/x1q82I70qRU/s1600/Freddie+Mercury.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xz_PEml6ySU/UzCgH81kRdI/AAAAAAAABWI/x1q82I70qRU/s1600/Freddie+Mercury.jpg" /></a><i>Not my daughter.</i></span></div>
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So while they are in the prime of life and, these days look like this...</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ss8fhG7a1cM/UzCh_jVG4-I/AAAAAAAABWg/ACD5Z1HYzkE/s1600/IMG_1546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ss8fhG7a1cM/UzCh_jVG4-I/AAAAAAAABWg/ACD5Z1HYzkE/s1600/IMG_1546.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
and this<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SR2nRTJ1JY/UzCiRycwXlI/AAAAAAAABWo/3UZ86AjmVRQ/s1600/Tara+at+Reading+2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SR2nRTJ1JY/UzCiRycwXlI/AAAAAAAABWo/3UZ86AjmVRQ/s1600/Tara+at+Reading+2011.jpg" height="320" width="156" /></a></div>
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The Shah and I find that we are rapidly heading downhill and '<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>I</i></span><i>n fair round belly with good capon lined,' </i>(ahem - which one of us would that be, Shah?) not to mention shifting '</span><i style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px; text-align: start;">Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, w</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px; text-align: start;">ith spectacles on nose and pouch on side; h</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px; text-align: start;">is youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide f</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px; text-align: start;">or his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, t</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px; text-align: start;">urning again toward childish treble, pipes </span></i><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.006000518798828px; text-align: start;"><i>and whistles in his sound.' </i></span></span></div>
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I'll leave you with a quote from my son who gave me a kindly look recently and patted me softly on the shoulder. "The thing is mum," he said smiling, "you're just old and mad."</div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-83931190936571966502014-02-24T20:44:00.000+00:002014-02-24T20:44:11.599+00:00Explicit content - 400 Fannies....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So where was I? Suddenly (and much to my horror) I have realised that it's over a month since I managed to write anything on my poor, dessicated blog. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over the past few weeks l</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ife has been (for no particular reason) like an explosion in a WTF factory (and once again I tip my hat to Auntie Gwen for the loan of her fine rhetoric). Work has been ridiculously busy, the Shah and I have been like ships in the night and the highlight of my evenings has generally been falling asleep at about 9pm. Yay me and my thrilling existence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I was blundering about, vaguely thinking up things to write about when the ideal topic fell into my lap. So to speak. Ahem. I happened to visit a great friend who is always good for a laugh. We met at ante natal classes and our kids grew up together, so we've developed the sort of shorthand you only have with friends you've known for over 20 years (yikes!) This time, the conversation turned to the presents she had been given for her recent birthday. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Before I go any further, I should point out that my mate is a Sexual Health Educator and does a sterling job going into many local schools and running their sex ed programmes for them. So it's safe to say that there is nothing she don't know about every nook and cranny of the human body and no question that she ain't been asked in one of the anonymous question boxes she invites kids to use in her lessons.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I admired the personalised iPhone case with a picture of her dog on it but then she suddenly jumped up and said "I almost forgot to show you this!" With that, she delved into an Amazon box and produced a glossy, grey book entitled....) are you sitting comfortably? (I wish I hadn't said that).....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>THE GREAT WALL OF VAGINA</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No, I'm not joking and, just to prove I'm not joking, here's a photo of it.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KntcUdevPlc/UwudEcGz8HI/AAAAAAAABUE/98rUw0TaCKo/s1600/Great+Wall+of+Vagina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KntcUdevPlc/UwudEcGz8HI/AAAAAAAABUE/98rUw0TaCKo/s1600/Great+Wall+of+Vagina.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The premise of this (extremely strange) book is that an artist invited 400 women of all shapes, sizes and persuasions to come along and have their bits cast in plaster. He made the results into an exhibition. If you feel like taking a look, the link is <a href="http://www.greatwallofvagina.co.uk/home" style="color: red; font-weight: bold;" target="_blank">here</a><b style="color: red;">. </b>As the website claims, "it's not vulgar, it's vulva!"</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.greatwallofvagina.co.uk/sites/default/files/home/quote_front.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Hmmm, no shit, Sherlock.</span><br /><div style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I had a quick flick through and, let me tell you reader, there were some sights to behold. Although I am not an ardent student of the female pudenda, I can say that there are things in that book that look as though they belong in a Ridley Scott film. Alien, probably. Others that resemble those fancy mushrooms you find in high-end supermarkets - all strange gills and weird contours. And as for the piercings.....they brought tears to the eyes.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-96H4xXHOy24/Uwuh5QCZVkI/AAAAAAAABUk/aOnMobgH_zU/s1600/Fanny+Mushroom2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-96H4xXHOy24/Uwuh5QCZVkI/AAAAAAAABUk/aOnMobgH_zU/s1600/Fanny+Mushroom2.jpg" height="199" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g6zQ5TgGcDs/Uwuh5YzKGqI/AAAAAAAABUc/d7Ocil6wMo4/s1600/fanny+mushroom3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g6zQ5TgGcDs/Uwuh5YzKGqI/AAAAAAAABUc/d7Ocil6wMo4/s1600/fanny+mushroom3.jpg" height="181" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Flaps away, girls!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Some of them made me wish I hadn't eaten quite so recently. Others made me wince in wonder when I saw just how many piercings the female anatomy can accommodate. Don't these people clank when they walk? If not, why not? How do they get through airports without setting off all the alarms?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">These and sooooo many more questions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Visit the website - have a browse. I dare you...</span></div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-57667023324334817722014-01-15T18:44:00.000+00:002014-01-15T18:44:32.027+00:00Return to slender...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's the time of year when the air is filled with the tinkling sound of resolutions being broken right left and centre. I am feeling uber-smug at the moment because my decision to have a 'dry' January has so far held out for 15 days. Yay me! The Shah announced that he would join me. Approximately 10 minutes later I heard the distinctive sound of a can being opened and the Shah wandered into the sitting room clutching a tinnie of Fosters. Yes - he had already "forgotten" about it. Hmm.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am going to be well tested at the weekend though, because we will be celebrating a <i>significant </i>birthday for the Shah.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Unfortunately, he is the world's most difficult person to buy for so he has a motley assortment of gifts awaiting him including (drum roll please) a MANKINI! Yes - a lime green one just like <b style="color: red;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0443453/" target="_blank">Borat</a> </b>wore in the eponymous film. And this - for the uninitiated or just plain unaware is what a mankini looks like:-</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wauYkWn_rMI/UtbTVyR5U-I/AAAAAAAABTY/E0spGT_CHgk/s1600/mankini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wauYkWn_rMI/UtbTVyR5U-I/AAAAAAAABTY/E0spGT_CHgk/s320/mankini.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He'll love it. Honest.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Son has written the label on this lovingly chosen gift which reads "Better get down the gym if you're going to carry this off, Dad." Which brings me on to my next New Year's resolution - lose weight. I don't need to shift much but I'd be happier if I were about half a stone lighter (7lbs or just over 3kg for my foreign friends who don't have any truck with this Imperial measurement nonsense). Frankly, I'm hoping the lack of alcohol will sort it out. I mean how crap can life be? No drink and no food? You're having a larf.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The Shah agreed that this would be a good idea and, once again, decided to join me (he has since been away on business and phoned every night from a different restaurant, so I'm not holding my breath).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Anyway, very soon we won't be able to afford food as we've realised we have to get the whole roof of Crap Cottage replaced which, knowing our luck, is going to cost zillions. Just to cheer me up, the Shah produced this recently:-</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1dABVJA1pwY/UtbWyIf_m6I/AAAAAAAABTg/s04BPYZ7__I/s1600/Crap+Cottage+Pie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1dABVJA1pwY/UtbWyIf_m6I/AAAAAAAABTg/s04BPYZ7__I/s320/Crap+Cottage+Pie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I don't know if you can see what he inscribed into the top but yes, it's Crap Cottage Pie!!</span></div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-87950498315954894352014-01-01T16:36:00.001+00:002014-01-01T16:36:43.788+00:00Pussy Riot - Scenes from Christmas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hello chums and a very happy New Year to you all. I hope you've all had a wonderful time over Christmas, clasped to the bosoms of your respective families. I'm afraid that I am once again in need of catharsis and so, I am taking the liberty of sharing some scenes from Christmas at Crap Cottage with you:-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Christmas Eve</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mama’s flat. I have
arrived to collect her so that she can come and spend Christmas with us.
She has had a short power cut due to the massive storms we have been having
here in the UK over the past week.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mama: Well, we had a power cut and I can’t bear
waste. <i>Points to a pile of carrier bags.
I investigate.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Moi: Erm, what’s this
lot?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mama: Just a few bits
from the fridge and the freezer. I can’t
bear waste.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Moi: OMG.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mama: Yes, well...I
can’t bear waste. Did I say?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I investigate
further. The bags contain a mountain of
epicurean delights amongst which I count two lettuce leaves, 5 baby new
potatoes and a pint and a half of milk.
Oh and let’s not forget the quarter bottle of Sainsbury’s medium white
wine. No siree.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Christmas Day</b> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The day passes relatively uneventfully. The only tiny fly in the ointment comes courtesy of mama’s love for our cat. A
love which is reciprocated. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is Paddy:-</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QTa8f-06qBs/UsQ5s5AXRjI/AAAAAAAABS4/H0aPexgyciU/s1600/IMG_0746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QTa8f-06qBs/UsQ5s5AXRjI/AAAAAAAABS4/H0aPexgyciU/s320/IMG_0746.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As you can see, he is a fairly unremarkable (and pretty stupid) ginger and white moggy. Despite his lack of neurons and fairly grumpy nature, he is much adored by us all.</span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mama spends many happy hours <s>mauling</s> stroking the cat and he is very happy with the
attention. However, mama’s failing
memory means that she cannot, for the life of her, remember Paddy's name. Consequently, she refers to him as
‘pussy’ most of the time. This causes my
vile and feral children to snigger wildly and me to cast them evil glances
which they (naturally) ignore.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So we had the usual round of “ooh – look at this lovely
pussy” (smirk from children), “What a pretty pussy!” (mild sniggering from children)
and so on and so on. However, on Christmas
Day it all came to a head. Like this:-</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is the evening. We
have eaten and drunk well and given and received lots of lovely presents. Even Paddy has had a gift – a glittery gold
collar to go with his ginger fur. He is fairly unimpressed by this as he would have much preferred a leg of turkey
but he is sanguine. And here is the evidence:-</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DaBXBE4lvdM/UsRCcSqtnmI/AAAAAAAABTI/_wSZwvGjIe8/s1600/Paddy+Dec+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DaBXBE4lvdM/UsRCcSqtnmI/AAAAAAAABTI/_wSZwvGjIe8/s320/Paddy+Dec+2013.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The whole family is
lolling around in the living room, including Mama who is on cat watch.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Enter Paddy. Mama,
who is stone deaf much of the time can, bizarrely, hear the bell on his collar
from the next street. She tries to attract
his attention.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mama: Pussy! Pussy! (gesticulates wildly. Children snigger loudly).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Paddy knows which side
his Whiskas is buttered and jumps up onto her lap.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mama: Ah! Good boy!
Look – I've got a lovely, sparkly pussy!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I hear strangulated guffawing noises coming from the
children. Son is lying on the floor in
the foetal position sobbing with laughter and attempting to shove a cushion
into his mouth. Daughter is hanging
upside down off the sofa, trying to turn her face away whilst mouthing the word
“vajazzle” at her brother. Even I can’t
hold back the laughter. It falls to the Shah
(uncharacteristically) to behave like a grown up and admire Mama’s lovely,
sparkly pussy in the way she intended.</span></div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-9772489854826326492013-12-23T17:37:00.001+00:002013-12-24T17:56:09.340+00:00Scenes from a family... <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s that
time of year when we are like ships in the night as we all head off to our
various Christmas parties and office outings and collide only in the rush for
the bathroom the following morning, pink eyed and wild haired.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">So has it
been this week and, now that the son also has a proper grown up job and
commutes up to London every day, and daughter is home from Uni and has
basically turned feral, it’s even worse.
Like this:-<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b>Scene 1</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The kitchen
of Crap Cottage. The Shah and I are
battling for access to the milk in the fridge.
The Shah has not got bags under his eyes so much as feckin’ great Louis
Vuitton trunks. He has wisely obeyed the
law which states “He who drinks and snores, sleeps in the spare room”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: So
what time did you get home last night?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shah: Er, (looks shifty) about 1? (<i>This
is known as ‘testing the water’. The Shah
regards questions like this as tricks designed to catch him out. Which they often are.)<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: Hmmmm, where did you go? I’ve forgotten.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shah: A
Lebanese restaurant off Wigmore Street.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: Did you have a good time?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shah: (enthusiastically) Yep, great.
I danced with the belly dancers!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: Oh my God...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shah: And someone grabbed my phone and took
pictures!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: FFS.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qZPMK9e2Wk8/UrhyF87VCBI/AAAAAAAABSo/XCY8V8Vz_-8/s1600/Shah+Bellydancing2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qZPMK9e2Wk8/UrhyF87VCBI/AAAAAAAABSo/XCY8V8Vz_-8/s320/Shah+Bellydancing2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And here, chums, is the photographic evidence of which he spoke. Note the wide-ass grin on the mush of the Shah. Note the woman in the foreground holding her face in horror. Nuff said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b>Scene 2</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Our bedroom
in Crap Cottage. It is early one
morning. The Shah has once again been
out until all hours the night before and once again obeyed the spare room
law. Marital relations are cordial.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: Is son up?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shah: That b’stard!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: Whaat?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shah: He woke me up last night! (<i>Heinous
crime)<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: How?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shah: He texted me at quarter to one in the
morning! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: (tones of disbelief) He
texted you from his bedroom?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shah: (outraged) YES! And then he rang me!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: He rang you?!
What for?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shah: To find out why I wasn’t answering his
text. Fuckrrrrrrr!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: LOL!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b>Scene 3</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It is
morning. Son has been out the night
before. I know he is a big boy now but there
still exists the rule that he has to text if he intends to stay out all night, otherwise
I fret. I’m his mother, it’s my job. Anyway, son’s bedroom is empty at 7am which
disturbs me and leads to the following exchange of texts:-<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Me: Please reply when you get this to let me know
you are okay. Very unimpressed....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Son: Sorry.
Was on the first train home at 5am but fell asleep. Just woke up and now I am in Havant*. I’m having to get the train back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It took him
another two hours and an extra £16 to get home.
Not happy!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Scene 4</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">My mother’s
flat. I am visiting to take her shopping
and out to lunch. Mother is out to lunch
in more ways than one. I wrote earlier
this year about her bad language <a href="http://thecurryqueen.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/is-it-next-year-already.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;"><b>here </b></span></a>and, reader, things have not improved one
jot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I enter the
room. Mama does not see me as she is
absorbed in trying to force her purse into her handbag, and struggling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Mama: Go in!
(struggles) Oh go in! (struggles a bit more) GO. IN.
(gives one final, fruitless shove).
Oh well, fuck you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b>Scene 5</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I am at
work. My phone rings and the display
shows my mother’s number. I pick it up
with great trepidation just as it goes to voice mail. I leave it a couple of minutes and call back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Mama: Oh it’s you!
I just tried to ring you but I got a girl’s voice saying something. Couldn’t tell what the hell she was on about,
so I hung up on her. Silly cow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Moi:</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, that was me, mum – it was my
answerphone.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was my voice you heard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Mama:
(shocked) It didn’t sound a bit like
you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: Oh well, never mind – what can I do for you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Mama: (in tones
of drama) I’ve got no electricity!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: Oh dear – what’s happened?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Mama: The lamp won’t turn on!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: Hmmmmm, Try the light switch on the wall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Mama (sighs
dramatically) Oh okay – wait a
minute. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">She drops the phone on a hard
surface, practically deafening me and I can hear her shuffling across the
room. A distant, muffled voice shouts “fuck!” Eventually, she returns.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Mama: Yes – it’s fine!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: Well I expect it’s just that the bulb in the
lamp has blown.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Mama: Well it’s chosen a bloody funny time to go –
just as I want to use it!<i> </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Moi: Sigh.....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And I
expect there is plenty more to come...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Happy Christmas one and all and thank you for reading my blog over the past year!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">CQ xx</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">* Havant, for the benefit of my foreign readers, is on the south coast of Britain and is over 50 miles from where we live. Haha!</span></div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-46753071641982325682013-12-08T15:57:00.000+00:002013-12-08T15:59:24.761+00:00Jollies in Jaipur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So here we are on the final leg of our journey. By pure chance, we had chosen to see Jaipur last. We arrived following a long drive from Agra, via Mathura and Vrindavan which I wrote about previously, feeling a bit jaded. Our guide was a young guy called Sanjay who spoke the best English of all our guides and had the kind of sarcastic sense of humour that went down a treat with the Shah et moi.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Jaipur is called the pink city because, in 1876 when the Prince of Wales (later King Edward VII) toured India, the King of Jaipur ordered the city to be painted pink as it is the colour of welcome. It is now illegal for the outsides of any building in the old city to be painted any other colour. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We had heard good things about this place before got there - various friends and contacts who had visited and lived there, raved about it and we were not disappointed. We stayed in a small boutique hotel that had been in the owner's family for generations. It was beautifully furnished with antiques and had the most attentive staff, bizarrely attired in military uniforms.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The gates to the old city</span></td></tr>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dESsxyAeuTI/UqSHLobatQI/AAAAAAAABO8/OciF6elTCy8/s1600/IMG_1852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dESsxyAeuTI/UqSHLobatQI/AAAAAAAABO8/OciF6elTCy8/s320/IMG_1852.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is just something about the atmosphere of Jaipur - it was still teeming and busy but somehow just a bit less frenetic than Delhi and less tacky than Agra. The Rajasthani people dress in such vivid colours, the wild pinks and ochres and cyans are a feast for the senses and it seems impossible to feel sad or down in the face of their cheerful disposition despite the inevitable crushing poverty.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On day 2, our guide suggested we visit the Amber Fort. 'Hmmmm' we said as forts are frankly 10 a rupee in India and we felt well and truly fortified after seeing the various offerings in Delhi, Agra etc. But we were persuaded. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The fort is somewhat outside Jaipur and driving towards it, I suddenly noticed this incredible building at the top of a mountain. The walls went on for so long, it looked like the Great Wall of China from afar. There were red blobs moving slowly up towards the mountain top but we were so far away, I couldn't tell what they were. The driver dropped us at the bottom of the mountain and Sanjay said the magic words - "So, how would you like to get up to the top? By car, on foot or by elephant?" No contest! He led us deftly to the head of the queue for elephants (it's amazing how the crowds part for a good guide who knows his way around and is familiar with all the sites you visit). </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The red blobs turned out to be the cloths on the elephants which take punters one way only, up the mountain - not down. You stand on a raised platform - no guard rails - don't be silly - and the elephants approach. They know exactly what to do and they shuffle into position alongside the platform. They each have a seat on their backs and you hop nimbly (ahem) aboard and the </span><i style="font-size: medium;">Mahout</i><span style="font-size: small;"> gives the order to giddy up or the Hindi equivalent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately, Blogger has now taken agin me and won't let me add captions but you can probably tell that the bottom photo is the view from our elephant and the other two are the elephants patiently waiting for their next fare. Our Mahout was fascinated by this weirdo visiting Coconut* and his <i>Gori** </i>wife and spent the entire ride facing us, rather than the direction we were going in, chatting to the Shah in a mixture of dialects. They seemed to understand each other perfectly well and luckily Pinky the elephant knew where to go without guidance, which was just as well really.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The Amber Fort - when we hopped off Pinky at the top - proved to be absolutely gobsmacking. You all have to promise me that, if you ever get to Jaipur, you will make the effort to go there. The Jaipuri Royal family still lives within the fort (the current King is 15 years old) and their palace is the only building in Jaipur which is permitted to be any colour other than pink - it's a beautiful golden yellow colour.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">As ever, the architecture was stunning, with walls inlaid with precious gems, mother of pearl and silver:-</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The photo above shows the palace of the royal family. It's in the wrong place in this post but Blogger is a piece of sh1t and won't let me move it without deleting everything else I've written :(</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The silver vessel above is the height of a man. there are two of them on display and when the King visited England for the coronation of Edward VII, he took both of them with him, filled with holy water from the Ganges, as he refused to drink anything else.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Finally, I have to show you the Palace of the Winds. This extraordinary building is incredibly high but only one room deep. The royal ladies used to sit behind the screened windows and look down on everything going on in the street below.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Next time, we'll make sure we are able to stay in India for Diwali (the Hindu Festival of Light). The city was being decorated as we left and looked stunning with every street and every building festooned with swathes of tinsel that glittered in the daylight sunshine and tiny lights which glowed at night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Below is the house which was across the street from our hotel. Some people just can't help but take things a bit too far!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* Coconut - I refer you to my previous post - a term I use for the Shah because he is brown on the outside and white on the inside.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">** Gori - an Indian slang term for a white woman. A Gora is the male equivalent.</span></div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-18918803101748548152013-11-25T23:32:00.001+00:002013-11-26T09:35:47.024+00:00Agra-vacation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Leaving the flat plains of Delhi behind, we next journeyed towards Agra with the goal (of course!) of visiting the Taj Mahal. We had been warned that the one and only thing worth seeing there was the Taj - or as a friend succinctly put it, "Agra's a bit of a shithole, really". Consequently, we decided not to stay in Agra, but instead to rough it <b><a href="http://www.laxmivilas.com/" target="_blank">here</a> </b>in the gorgeous Laxmi Vilas Palace hotel.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here are some photos just to make you sick. It was cheap as chips too....</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The dining room</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, we don't believe in doing things the easy way and, en route, the Shah decided he wanted to stop at a place called Vrindavan in Uttar Pradesh which is supposed to be the repository of family records as well as being the birthplace of Krishna and thus, very holy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So there we are, bowling along the dusty road towards our destination - actually with no bleedin' idea at all of where we were going - we just trusted the driver with our lives - when said driver pulls into the side of the road. In the middle of nowhere.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There was a little old bloke standing there who just hops into the passenger seat and starts chatting away to the driver in rapid-fire Hindi. Eventually, the driver jerks a thumb at the new guy and says the word "guide". Oh, okay then.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Shortly afterwards we were dropped off and told that the driver would meet us back in the same place a couple of hours later. <i>A couple of hours? </i>Let me tell you, we were well off the beaten track. It was hot, it was humid, it was foetid. And one other thing. While we never had a language problem in India, there was definitely an accent problem. This little old guy closely resembled Popeye and had fewer teeth. Well, actually none. I caught about one word in 20. The Shah did slightly better by virtue of babbling in a mixture of native dialects but jeez, it was hard work. First stop was the </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Govinda Dev Temple just up a side street. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Photo credit - Wikitravel because mine was rubbish.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Built in 1590, it was an impressive sight but the guide told us that the top four storeys had been lopped off it during some unrest centuries previously. To reach it, we walked up a steep hill, the Shah hissing at me to mind where I stepped. Open sewers ran down either side of the street and I am quite serious when I say that I can no longer look a pork chop in the eye having watched the wild pigs snacking</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> on the sewer contents. Yup, really.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Naturally we were asked to remove our shoes before entering. Today, the temple is deserted by all except someone to guard your footwear against the only other residents - hundreds of monkeys. I was wearing new shoes that day and it was an utter joy to wade barefoot, ankle deep in monkey piss, then to put my nice new sabots back on...</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The culprits.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">After this, we were led through winding streets, past many elderly ladies begging piteously (this place is a Mecca for widows apparently) through another temple and out into a garden where, we were told, Krishna had played as a boy. Our guide insisted on leading us all round it, barefoot once again. Suddenly I noticed the Shah snorting with laughter and gesticulating at the bushes. Glancing to my left, I saw a bunch of monkeys shamelessly erm, making little monkeys. Popeye couldn't understand what we found so funny. Eventually, we were led into an audience with a Guru and asked to sit on the floor at his feet while he coughed all over us and ranted on for a bit. Then came the demands for money. 24,000 Rupees please. The Shah laughed hysterically. I think we got away with giving the old scoundrel 1000 Rupees which is round about ten quid. In return, we were given some greasy biscuits which had been "blessed". Right. Thanks for that. We wept with laughter later when we remembered <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanjeev_Bhaskar" target="_blank"><b>Sanjeev Bhaskar's</b></a> Guru in the TV series <b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goodness_Gracious_Me_(BBC)" target="_blank">Goodness Gracious Me</a>. </b>Like this....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So - on to the Taj. this was actually the following day because we had decided to see it at dawn - highly recommended and second only to seeing it at the full moon, apparently. A 4.30a.m. start *groan* meant we were well on the road to Agra by 5a.m. and reached the Taj by 6a.m. when the gates opened.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have no adequate words to describe the eerie, ethereal beauty of the Taj Mahal looming out of the mist in the chill of the early morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This the first sight you get:-</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It really makes you catch your breath</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is the most extraordinary place as long as you can ignore all the fat-bottomed tourists vying for a place on the bench in order to have their "Diana" shot. Quite, quite beautiful and an astonishing piece of architecture and technical wizardry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Unfortunately, I stood in some camel shit on the way out whilst trying to dodge yet another of the ubiquitous monkeys. But there you go. If there's one thing we learned in India, it's that you have to be able to take the rough with the smooth!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last word from the Taj. Whatever you do, do not put your leg in the Wazoo Tank....</span></div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-25087263106417012502013-11-18T21:20:00.001+00:002013-11-18T21:22:43.554+00:00Delhi Belly<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh dear - it is a long time since I put shellac to keyboard, isn't it? Sorry chums - to those of you who may think I've dropped off the face of the planet and those who really don't give a f.... Apologies too to all those blog owners whose writings I normally read and comment on - something else that has been let slide. It's just that, since we got back from India, life has been like an explosion in a WTF factory (credit here to <a href="http://auntiegwensdiary.blogspot.co.uk/">Aunty Gwen</a>, from whom I have nicked this fine phraseology).</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, although we got home a couple of weeks ago, I have only just found time to <strike>bore you with the holiday snaps</strike> enlighten you with tales of our fascinating travels.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It has only taken me approximately 20 years of sustained nagging to get the Shah to agree to go to the land of his forebears. 'Why is that, CQ?' I hear you cry. 'Surely the Shah feels right at home on the sub-continent?' Does he hell as like! (whoops - northern roots showing there). The Shah is, as I like to tell anyone who will listen, a confirmed coconut.<b>* </b>In fact he spent the entire holiday referring to his countrymen as "them". QED.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, enough of him. We decided to eschew his home state of Gujarat and instead do the 'Golden Triangle' which takes in the three most famous areas of India - Delhi, Agra and Jaipur and hold onto your hats chumlets, because you are going to hear about them all. Don't say I didn't warn you!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So - we arrived in Delhi at dead of night. Luckily we had arranged for a driver to meet us and take us to our hotel. Unluckily, we couldn't find him and he couldn't find us. Eventually, a couple of phone calls sorted this out. The next day we had hired a guide and another driver to show us the sights. This was probably a bit of a misjudgement because we were absolutely knackered after a 9 hour flight and only lasted half a day in the heat and humidity before requesting to be taken back to the hotel so we could crash out. We did manage to see some brilliant sights though:-</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The amazing Red Fort 17th C home of Shah Jahan</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This where the Shah used to sit to commune with his subjects</span></td></tr>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sDQfHCHUnio/Uop6j-OQ8mI/AAAAAAAABHs/MJzC8nn_sRQ/s1600/IMG_1587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sDQfHCHUnio/Uop6j-OQ8mI/AAAAAAAABHs/MJzC8nn_sRQ/s320/IMG_1587.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The extraordinary Qutub Minar</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The names Bhond - Jamez Bhond</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I should explain here that the Shah is striking a pose in the manner of a poor man's James Bond as that is what all young Indian men appear to do when having their photo taken. It was quite bizarre. We saw a bunch of them outside the Lotus Temple posing in such a manner that the Shah felt compelled to mutter "fack me, it's Charlie's Angels". Sadly, we weren't quick enough to catch them on camera.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9zenZTtbpgw/Uop6j37x1kI/AAAAAAAABHo/v7ps9y_Vjn8/s1600/IMG_1634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9zenZTtbpgw/Uop6j37x1kI/AAAAAAAABHo/v7ps9y_Vjn8/s320/IMG_1634.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">And here is the Lotus Temple. Dedicated to the Baha'i faith.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_mNklC_r0lQ/Uop-d94bijI/AAAAAAAABI0/XSTIBNriYIw/s1600/IMG_1698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_mNklC_r0lQ/Uop-d94bijI/AAAAAAAABI0/XSTIBNriYIw/s320/IMG_1698.JPG" width="239" /></a>Lodi Gardens</div>
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where even the squirrels are strange...</div>
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Plenty of space yet...Notice that only Dad gets to wear a helmet.</div>
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Every lorry had 'Horn Please' painted on the back in highly colourful style. An instruction all other drivers were only too happy to comply with!</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The traffic (which I wrote about last time) was the worst we had ever encountered. Unbelievably noisy and heavy with no regard for road rules but, oddly no road rage either. Maybe they got it all out of their systems by incessant use of the horn?</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iCn-AHffNdo/UoqA0jrQQHI/AAAAAAAABJg/xH_4rrJHbRU/s1600/IMG_1685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iCn-AHffNdo/UoqA0jrQQHI/AAAAAAAABJg/xH_4rrJHbRU/s320/IMG_1685.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: center;">I think I found the suspicious person.....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> I suggest the 'Soundhy Harad', Shah</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Delhi was great and really interesting but we were keen to move on after three days and head off to see Agra and the Taj Mahal. Well, it would have been rude not to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>*</b>Coconut - a pejorative term I like to use for the Shah (one of many) indicating that he is brown on the outside and white on the inside.</span></div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-27711659464223519412013-10-27T18:39:00.001+00:002013-12-23T17:39:43.748+00:00Driving Delhi-style - everything you need to know<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hello chums and greetings from the Indian sub-continent where the Shah and I are currently on holiday. Now y'all know how much I like to offer the odd public service announcement and today is no exception. Just I case any of you are ever, <strike>stupid</strike>, brave enough to consider driving in Delhi (or in any other city here) what follows will tell you all you need to know:-</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Q: I'm a bit worried about finding my way around. What if I take a wrong turn?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A: No problem at all. Just do a U turn anywhere you like! Anytime you feel like it. Make sure to sound your horn while you do so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Q: But what about oncoming traffic?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A: Don't be a wuss. Just turn straight in front of it and make sure to sound your horn as you do so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Q: But what if I'm on a dual carriageway? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A: Then you have 2 options. Option 1 - drive over the central reservation (NB you may have to make several attempts to get up there, but just keep slamming the car at it - it'll work eventually and constantly sounding your horn will help). Option 2 - just turn round in the road and drive against the oncoming traffic. Simples! Oh, and make sure to sound your horn.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Q: I have to transport quite a lot of people and I only have a moped. What to do?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A: I see you're one of those pansies who thinks a moped is a 2-man transporter? Hahaha! What's your problem? Cram 'em on. 6 is a nice round number but don't forget the fuel tank provides a handy extra seat and 7 is a lucky number, innit?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Q: How many lanes are there on the average Indian road?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A: How many would you like? The concept of "lanes" is deliciously old fashioned and somewhat academic. We find it helpful to drive astride any white lines that the authorities may have misguidedly painted on the road. Keeps us going in the right direction after all! Today I counted 9 vehicles abreast at the traffic lights. I think there were 3 lanes painted on the road but, meh - whatever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Q: Do traffic lights operate the same way in India as in the UK?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A: I'm not sure how the UK uses traffic lights but here in India, they certainly look pretty and help decorate some of the more squalid areas. They also add to the Diwali festivities. I can't think of any other reasons why we have them, tbh. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Q: How heavy is the traffic, on average?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A: That rather depends on how you define 'traffic'. Do you just mean cars or do you include the following, any of which might be in the middle of a busy motorway at any time? Cows, tractors, carts, donkeys, camels, pigs, dogs (numbers of legs vary, so some move faster than others), people, rickshaws, tuk-tuks, lorries, vans, cranes, oxen, deer, cycles or motorbikes?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Q: OMG! You mean all these things could be moving in the road at the same time?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A: Certainly. The only things that are in the middle of the road and don't move are trees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Q: What emergency equipment should I carry in my car?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A: Well, a blow torch and welding equipment would come in handy for most cars...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Q: Jeez - all this has got me worried! Any words of comfort to offer?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A: Yeah - just man up and grow a pair! If a 12 year old can ride a motorbike, so can you! They say you only need 3 things to drive in India - good brakes, a good horn and good luck. And they'd be right!</span></div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-51894847409840875442013-10-21T19:57:00.002+01:002013-10-21T19:59:07.731+01:00In which the Shah emerges victorious<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Shah is a man who has certain strong likes and dislikes in life. He is nothing if not decisive in his opinion of right and wrong. And one of his major bugbears is those people who insist on driving in the middle lane of the motorway when the slow lane is empty. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Returning from the Midlands on Saturday, he came across one such. The Shah is in the slow lane and so he pulls out into the middle and then into the fast lane in order to pass Lord Twattington, sailing along in the middle, and flashes his headlights as he does so. His Lordship becomes enraged at this slight upon his road sense, or lack of. As the Shah pulls back over, Lord Twattington puts his foot down and shoots past, his face contorted with rage, making a series of digital gestures which suggest that the Shah might like to become intimate with himself with a view to reproduction. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Shah is entertained by having inspired such ire and laughs at the good Lord as he accelerates into the distance.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Unfortunately for Lord Twattington, waiting round the bend was a car containing a couple of members of Her Majesty's Constabulary who, having nothing else to do, set off in hot pursuit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As the Shah sailed past a little further down the road, doing a sedate 70mph, he smiled and waved at his Lordship. Sadly, his greeting went unanswered as the good Lord was busy explaining himself to PC Plod at the time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was one of those small victories that just delights the heart and it absolutely made the Shah's day.</span><br />
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-34815375377748064452013-10-14T19:54:00.000+01:002013-10-14T19:54:00.554+01:00The Rover's Return<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No, this is not some <a href="http://www.itv.com/coronationstreet/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Coronation Street</a> themed post featuring the travails of Rita, Gail and the comatose Nick (how can they tell the difference?)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No - the rover I am referring to is the darling daughter who returned home for the weekend no more than 2 weeks after we last said goodbye. Of course, she came home for a party, not to see her aged parents or her (now gainfully employed) brother - don't be daft. Still, it was remarkable the change that a scant fortnight of living away from home had wrought.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the first night, I found her in the kitchen stroking the dishwasher and crooning. Slightly perturbed, I asked what she was up to. "It's just that I miss the dishwasher so much," she replied wistfully. "I never appreciated it until now! And mum, the house is so CLEAN!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Later on, she admitted that I was right about one aspect of domesticity. And that is that there is a distinct difference between cleaning and tidying. I am in the habit of tidying up the night before the cleaners come. The children have always derided me loudly - "Why are you cleaning when the cleaners are coming tomorrow? You're so old/dumb/mad/loony," (perm any one from 4). Fruitlessly, I tried to explain that I want the cleaners to <b>clean</b> not tidy up, but the howls of derision drowned me out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, lo and behold! She is transformed and proudly demonstrated to her brother that this area is untidy, while <i>this</i> is dirty. He looked so interested.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The bit that really made me laugh was her disgust that her flatmates can't tell the difference between a tea towel and a hand towel. "It's revolting!" she cried indignantly. "They dry their dishes on the hand towel and they dry their hands on the tea towel. I had to sit them all down and explain it to them!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I bet she was popular. I don't care. Somewhere along the line, some of my incessant nagging went in and stuck. I can die happy!</span></div>
Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-52980634105637452032013-10-02T18:02:00.001+01:002013-10-02T18:02:39.940+01:00Unification part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some years ago, the alert amongst you will recall that I <span style="color: blue;"><a href="http://thecurryqueen.blogspot.co.uk/2010/10/my-gap-years.html"><b>wrote about the great joy of seeing elder child off to Uni</b></a>.</span> Somehow, three years have flashed past and it is the turn of not-so-tiny daughter to fly the nest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If I thought he was bad at getting himself organised, she was so, so much worse. Her idea of preparation was to a) spend most of the summer either nipping from Festival to Festival or b) island-hopping in Greece or c) spend what little time she stayed at home, out clubbing till 5am. Every night.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">24 hours before leaving, she had still not packed and was asking questions like "Am I getting a student loan?" Me: "you applied for one, didn't you?" Her (disinterested voice) "Dunno. Can't remember."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the day, I sent the Shah out to top up the tyres on the car, seeing has how it was going to be carrying an extra 3cwt of crap several hundred miles. He came back to glumly announce that one of the tyres had a "dimple" in it. Several minutes of stressful shrieking followed, mainly from moi and mainly along the lines of "what the fuck does that mean? Speak English FFS!" What it turned out to mean was that we needed a new tyre pronto but there was no way to get one on a Sunday morning. We had a v-e-r-y s-l-o-w drive to Uni.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Daughter posed nicely for a picture in the car before we left, putting on her best smile for blogging purposes, comme ca:-</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d5WhTJpvRRE/UkxMWkCKBaI/AAAAAAAABC8/PyQwCH3C4NI/s1600/Uni2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d5WhTJpvRRE/UkxMWkCKBaI/AAAAAAAABC8/PyQwCH3C4NI/s320/Uni2.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With Marmite Toast in hand..<br /></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But chums, I have to tell you that this was the reality...</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Abn7uoLZ2h4/UkxMujvHKNI/AAAAAAAABDE/fmV07yM_3DE/s1600/Uni1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Abn7uoLZ2h4/UkxMujvHKNI/AAAAAAAABDE/fmV07yM_3DE/s320/Uni1.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mardy as...<br /></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We got there and hauled all her possessions up to the 5th floor of her Halls of Residence - thank God for lifts. We all queued nicely and patiently while one family (who had brought mum, dad, undergrad daughter, three smaller siblings, two uncles and a Granny) took up all the space and got in everyone's way.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I shared a lift with one dad who said grimly "I reckon I need to do one more trip up there and that's it and we'll BE FREE and we can go and CELEBRATE!!" a feeling echoed by 99% of the parents there, I'll bet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her brother was on holiday in Corfu with his girlfriend at the time and insisted on sending us thoroughly irritating pictures like this:-</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OpnF0_aGSgo/UkxOzG7YbBI/AAAAAAAABDQ/smVUI__Erq4/s1600/Corfu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OpnF0_aGSgo/UkxOzG7YbBI/AAAAAAAABDQ/smVUI__Erq4/s320/Corfu.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Damn his eyes!<br /><br /></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I retaliated with the view from Daughter's new bedroom window in the pouring rain....</span><br /><div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XabVj9Warxw/UkxPeVHvJAI/AAAAAAAABDY/yF6OyvxcfVU/s1600/Bournemouth+view.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XabVj9Warxw/UkxPeVHvJAI/AAAAAAAABDY/yF6OyvxcfVU/s320/Bournemouth+view.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes - a lovely car park and, in the distance, <a href="http://www.asda.com/"><b>ASDA</b></a>, <a href="http://www.halfords.com/"><b>Halfords </b></a>and <b><a href="http://www.mcdonalds.co.uk/ukhome.html">Maccy D's</a>.</b> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We went to CHAVDA to stock her up with food etc. Somehow, we spent £183. God knows how this happened, given that everything there costs an average of 25p. The Shah was very, very unhappy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Still, she seems to have settled in well. The house is much quieter and much, MUCH tidier but also much emptier without her. Her room looked like the traditional tip when we left her and, of course, she has discovered that she's left half her life here "OMG I forgot my straighteners! How soon can you come and visit me?!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Nothing changes!</span></div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-71146770960732001702013-09-14T09:51:00.000+01:002013-09-14T09:57:41.500+01:00More ways to tell you have been married too long<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Recently, I offered you an idiot's guide to assessing your marriage <b style="color: red;"><a href="http://thecurryqueen.blogspot.co.uk/2013/06/how-to-tell-youve-been-married-too-long.html">here</a>. </b>Since writing that, I have suffered excessively in the name of <strike>marriage</strike> research and come up with yet more, incontrovertible proof that I have been married far too long.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Like many people, I am not great in the mornings. I like to haul myself out of bed and shuffle around doing the shower/hair/tea thing solo and in silence. After a hefty dose of caffeine, I may be able to manage a few words, but not before.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Shah, by sorry contrast, is irritatingly cheerful at any ungodly hour. He thinks it's a huge wheeze to stand in front of the mirror, blocking my view whilst I am trying to dry my hair and avoid the Lion King look, pulling faces and leaping about like a loon. It drives me to the borders of insanity and beyond.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He also <i>talks. </i>I don't do talking until I get to work, by which time I might have just about woken up and I certainly don't want to discuss the ins and outs of high finance then or ever, to be honest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Clearly, this perturbs the Shah and, of late, he has gone to ever more extreme lengths to get my attention in the mornings. This week, he re-enacted something he had found on YouTube.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Chums - imagine the full, pouting horror of having this dancing around your bed at 6.30 in the morning:- </span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/sr6lqKGdgXE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>WARNING - THIS IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART OR THE WEAK OF STOMACH!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Kill me now ....</span></div>
Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-51826638287239605612013-09-01T15:41:00.001+01:002013-09-01T15:45:13.439+01:00Texts and Rugs and Cinnamon Rolls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Gosh chums - where has the summer gone? Not having been away (saving ourselves for a big holiday in October) I seem to have had very little R 'n R and a great deal of driving miles and miles and doing things for others and not much for myself. There's been lots going on - we celebrated son's graduation with a very creditable 2:1 and his new job which he will start at the end of this month. My mum turned 90. NINETY! Amazing - especially considering some of her lifestyle choices. Ahem.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have had a birthday (although not a significant one) and daughter has turned feral and has hardly been seen. I wrote about her Ayia Napa activities <a href="http://thecurryqueen.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/sun-sex-and-suspicious-parents.html"><span style="color: blue;"><b>here</b></span></a>, following which she was home for a week before taking off again - back to Greece for a spot of island hopping with her two best friends. Nice to be rich, huh? She got back at midnight the day before her A level results came out. Having heard all about the holiday, we got to sleep at 2am and I was woken by her jumping on my bed at 7.30 shrieking "I got in! I got in!" so, although we had no idea of her grades at that point, we knew that her first choice Uni had pushed the 'yes' button and she is onto her chosen Journalism course. Of course we're thrilled for her. And for ourselves. There's no doubt that we will miss her madly but, to be frank dear reader, if she stayed at home, one of us would die. And anyone else who has lived with a teenage girl will know what I mean by that!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Which leads me on to the topic of this post. Ah yes - a visit to <a href="http://www.ikea.com/gb/en/"><b><span style="color: blue;">Ikea </span></b></a>was deemed necessary to stock her up with requisites for the great departure in a couple of weeks' time. Naturally, she had been out the night before and was a wraith at 10am when I woke her. It took almost 2 hours to get her out of the house, via some "like, really urgent" phone calls to a friend and friend's mother which involved a degree of arse covering on behalf of the friend and which I chose not to ask too closely about.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We live roughly half way between two branches of the Swedish superstore so we had the enviable choice of driving to the shithole that is Wembley or the shithole that is Croydon. Whoop, whoop. Several hours of crawling round motorways, dual carriageways and gyratory systems later, we landed up in the gorgeous environs of Wembley. Famous for its stadium and, er, its stadium.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Naturally, Ikea was mobbed - mainly by stressed-looking women and bored-looking 18 year olds whose answer to every question was the same.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mother: Will you need cups and plates or are they provided?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Teen: Dunno</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mother: Shall we get some of these towels?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Teen: Dunno</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mother: Would you like one of those nice rugs?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Teen: Dunno</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">and on and on and on. My own child seemed to have mastered the art of shopping with one hand whilst texting non stop with the other, pausing only to complain that "there is like NO signal down here".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm certain they pump something into the air in Ikea stores. Why else would I ALWAYS find myself unable to resist about fifty quids' worth of tat? Why do I trot round the Marketplace grabbing fistfuls of paper napkins, yet more glasses, mugs, kitchen knives, plants, and CANDLES, sodding stinking CANDLES that I could well do without? It drives the Shah insane and I can understand why.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yesterday</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, I exited £183 lighter. <i>A hundred and eighty three quid! FFS!</i> And that was spent on what? Well, it was spent on this:-</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EezlHnw0IjU/UiNNqsBqHaI/AAAAAAAABCs/Tn0ez1Cg2JM/s1600/Ikea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EezlHnw0IjU/UiNNqsBqHaI/AAAAAAAABCs/Tn0ez1Cg2JM/s320/Ikea.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Doesn't look like much but doesn't everyone need two sets of fairy lights and a butterfly picture?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the queue to pay, we got chatting to another lady whose daughter crossly accused her mother of not loving her as much as I love my girl on the grounds that I had bought so much more stuff. I glumly suggested that she should take lessons in mother-conning </span><span style="font-size: small;">from my daughter and the pair of them sniggered complicitly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">To add final insult to injury, it seems that Ikea no longer sells packets of cinnamon rolls, beloved of both children for years. It's all the excuse I need not to go back for a very long time....</span></div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-55045734113958153232013-08-05T20:19:00.001+01:002013-08-05T20:24:26.790+01:00Stuff my mum says...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My mum is very elderly now and, although her memory is failing, she is still as sharp as a tack in other respects. Never try and get the better of her where money is concerned!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, one thing that has always mystified her is technology of any sort. Take her to an ATM and she talks herself through the whole experience, including bellowing her PIN number out loud and is then inclined to turn to the crowd patiently queuing behind us to let them know exactly why she has chosen that chain of numbers and why they are so memorable and throwing in information about her current account balance for good measure (true story). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Try and answer a question such as "so what exactly IS the internet?" in words comprehensible to someone who has absolutely no concept of what a computer can do. Equally tricky is "so what is a website?" I tried explaining the internet as a giant encyclopaedia - it was the nearest analogy I could come up with at short notice but it kind of fell down when she asked how you could use an encyclopaedia to do your shopping. (I told you she was sharp).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Along with venerable age and a failing memory comes the disappearance of social filters. She speaks as she finds. Always. Loudly. She has finally accepted that she has to go round the supermarket in a wheelchair. She actually rather likes it because she no longer has to concentrate on wheeling a trolley and staying upright so she can eye up good looking men instead. Really.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Unfortunately, eyeing up is not all she does. She feels the need to comment on abso-bloody-lutely everyone and is relentlessly and unapologetically un-politically correct. Consequently comments like "Phwoar - look at him - what a hunk!" and "Look at the size of her bottom!" are torrential and I have had to affect selective deafness and an innocent face. Once I thought I could get away with an apologetic shrug and silently mouthing "Alzheimer's, poor old thing" at an affronted shopper. After all, I was behind her pushing the wheelchair - she couldn't see or hear me, could she? She turned on me instantly. "I DO BLOODY NOT HAVE BLOODY ALZHEIMER'S" she roared. "CHEEKY COW!" And that was the last time I tried that trick.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Along with the falling away of social filters comes the fruity language. I have written about this before <span style="color: red;"><b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=2178468908753940731#editor/target=post;postID=889095297030242625;onPublishedMenu=template;onClosedMenu=template;postNum=24;src=postname">here</a> </b></span>and, frankly, things haven't improved much. Over lunch today she mused about her home situation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mum: You know I have those carers in every day?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: Yes - why? Is there a problem?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mum: No - they're very nice girls. But every so often I just want to say "Oh just piss off!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She still reads a broadsheet newspaper every day. She maintains an incisive interest in the world around her. Although popular culture confuses her, she is still keen to understand it. Which is probably why she asked me recently "Darling - what exactly is a blow job?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Reader - I told her....</span></div>
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Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-36952526379035765192013-07-22T17:36:00.002+01:002013-07-23T09:10:48.030+01:00Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here in the UK, there is a TV programme that goes by this name. It consists of several pairs of misguided idiot savants who inexplicably think it would be a really good wheeze to secretly follow their teenage son/daughter on a holiday to one of the many terrifying fleshpots of Europe that attract young people, such as Malia, Ayia Napa, Kavos, Zante etc and observe what they get up to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The only thing I can find to say about this is WTF? WHY? Why would you want to watch your precious baby slobbering all over some spotty boy/groping a boozed up slapper? We all know it happens - why torture yourself? Well that's how a sensible parent would think.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We've now survived two rounds of the 'Napa experience and come out the other side, still with two living, breathing children. But only just.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When he was 17, our son did the 'Napa thing. I was terrified but like to think that I hid it quite well. He would probably say different. I made him show me the hotel they were staying in on t'interweb before he went and it looked vaguely ok...but then it would. I pretended I didn't see his eyes rolling every time I mentioned yet another hazard to be aware of. And I made the Shah go out and buy him a gigantic box of condoms. The Shah was vaguely shocked.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Shah: - Do you really think....?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: - Yes I bloody do! Buy millions. He can share them out amongst the others. I'm too young to be a grandmother and I don't want him coming home with the clap.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Shah: *Goes pale* (which is some feat).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some time after son got home, I noticed that an episode of <span style="color: blue;"><b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7LuHNlThZV0">Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents</a> </b></span>was being aired from Ayia Napa, so the Shah and I decided to watch, feeling totally smug that our boy was okay...well, he'd come home in one piece, hadn't he? What's the worst that could have happened?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">OH. DEAR. GOD.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/7LuHNlThZV0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What can I say? Other than click on the link above if you are a parent with a taste for masochism. Never, ever again will I watch something like that while my children are under 35.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This year, it was the turn of the daughter. Even worse. I know we all spout tripe about treating boys and girls exactly the same, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. Fergeddit. They're not and you can't.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And another delight is that other parents are queuing up to tell you tales of drinks being spiked, girls losing their friends and being followed home by swarthy types and worse. My only comfort was that she was going in a group of 8 girls who had been firm friends since meeting at school, aged 11 and I trust them all to look after each other. Ahem.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We had a text on the day they arrived, saying that everything was ok. So far so good. Nothing more for 3 days. Then on Wednesday, the phone rang.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Someone with a croak for a voice:- Hello mum?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: OMG - what's happened?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Croaker: I'm okay, I've just had a little accident.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: (phone in one hand, other hand Googling flights to Cyprus) Erm, what sort of little accident?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Croaker: Well, I fell over because I was running down a hill in heels and my body sort of went faster than my legs. I've skinned my knees really badly and I have to go to hospital. Will I have to pay?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: Gaaaaah! what about your voice?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Croaker: Oh that's fine - I've just been screaming in clubs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: Oh good. (Sarcasm completely lost on child).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By the time they got home the injury tally was as follows (all to different girls I should add!):-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hideously skinned knees x 1</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tonsillitis & Chest infection x 1</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lost voice x 1</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Foot swollen due to drunken boy falling on it x 1</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Broken knuckle due to punching a wall in anger x 1</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tattoo which has to be kept secret from her parents x 1</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Nose piercings x 2 and yes, one of those was MY daughter. FFS.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And here's the proof:-</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CRsy3cJeAuw/Ue1d02v30HI/AAAAAAAABB0/0P98LveHGUQ/s1600/skinned+knees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CRsy3cJeAuw/Ue1d02v30HI/AAAAAAAABB0/0P98LveHGUQ/s320/skinned+knees.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tXHwb9KL3yM/Ue1d3iZ-KII/AAAAAAAABB8/AnoZv_cDTaw/s1600/Napa+injuries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tXHwb9KL3yM/Ue1d3iZ-KII/AAAAAAAABB8/AnoZv_cDTaw/s320/Napa+injuries.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So the moral of the story is....lock up your daughters. It's far, far worse with girls because <i>girls do detail. </i>They will tell you about their injuries and their squabbles in a way that boys never do. Boys adopt a 'what happens in Napa, stays in Napa' attitude and that makes me weep with gratitude!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-78777245293438058592013-07-07T12:20:00.004+01:002013-07-07T12:21:46.630+01:00In which the Shah is confused...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dv_NKpVZ18o/UdlO8aL7LhI/AAAAAAAABBk/Xxxpl-yJUWg/s1600/Come+on+andy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dv_NKpVZ18o/UdlO8aL7LhI/AAAAAAAABBk/Xxxpl-yJUWg/s320/Come+on+andy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Enuff said....</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-12999940901880666372013-07-01T21:01:00.000+01:002013-07-01T21:01:19.653+01:00Captcha that<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Although I have resisted comment moderation for some years, the tidal wave of spam my pathetically unloved little bloggette is receiving has become irritating beyond measure. So you will notice that, nowadays if you are kind enough to leave me a comment, you will received a snotty little message in return which, rather arrogantly, announces that your comment may be visible after blog-owner approval.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, having watched the video I have placed here, I've changed over to using a captcha code for verification. Slightly more fiddly and involving more work on behalf of you, the punter, but watch this and you will see why.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I discovered <a href="http://www.ted.com/"><span style="color: blue;"><b>TED</b></span> </a>talks a while ago and, when we have nothing better to do, the Shah and I are given to perusing Netflix where you can find many short TED films (none longer than around 16 minutes) on hundreds of fascinating topics. This one is delivered with humour and, if you have a quarter of an hour to spare, I recommend you watch it. You'll learn something!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/-Ht4qiDRZE8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally, all I can say is that I am delighted to have thwarted the spammers and I hope they leave me alone from now on (unlikely, but I can dream). At least I can say that the code means that I captcha the arseholes. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Sorry but you didn't think you were going to get away without one appalling pun, did you?!</span></span></div>
Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-85826192390027931702013-06-09T16:50:00.000+01:002013-06-09T17:07:08.148+01:00How to tell you've been married too long<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Quite apart from existing purely for your <strike>pity</strike> entertainment, I have decided that I should be doing more for my faithful readers. Consequently, I offer you here the Every Silver Lining Guide to marriage. How is it for you? How do you rate your other half? Has it all been going on too long?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes chums, just answer a few simple, multiple choice questions and the truth (backed by years of <strike>drinking borne of desperation</strike> solid social research) will be revealed. You'll thank me later. Really.</span><br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When you first got together, you had pet names for each other which made you giggle. How do you speak to each other affectionately today?</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We use the same pet names as all those years ago of course!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He calls me 'baby'</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">'You feckin' goon' just about covers it.</span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You are going out to a swish party. You have lost a few pounds, bought a new dress, done the mani-pedi thing and, overall, you are quite pleased with the way you look. As you come downstairs, how does your spouse greet you?</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">'Darling! You look wonderful - is that a new dress?'</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">'At last! - better get a wriggle on - the taxi's waiting'</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">'Fuck me - I didn't know <a href="https://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=-L4p3X85l1g4AM&tbnid=SncutK5o9y08hM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fblogdorfgoodman.blogspot.com%2F2008%2F12%2Flady-is-tramp-mac-dame-edna-collection.html&ei=fZK0Ud_yIcPH0QXOuYCACw&bvm=bv.47534661,d.d2k&psig=AFQjCNFyDW562C3aTDC113syjQFBq8AySA&ust=1370874844173743"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Dame Edna</span></a> was in town.'</span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You need a haircut and decide to try out a different style. On arrival home, what does your other half say?</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">'Darling! You look wonderful - is that a new hairstyle?'</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Nothing - he doesn't notice.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">'<a href="https://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=qWjMseQVYOHgLM&tbnid=8up7F4YAboxgcM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwallaceandgromit.net%2Fcharacters%2Fwendolene.php&ei=HZK0Uea-NOmp0AXShoHoDA&bvm=bv.47534661,d.d2k&psig=AFQjCNHJqphR8Khtzx1Ba3pu5RBJaXBrYg&ust=1370874774405699"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Wendolene</span></a>! Thanks! I've been trying to remember the name of that woman in <a href="http://www.wallaceandgromit.com/"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Wallace & Gromit</span></a> all day.'</span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You have a rare evening in together - no children, no interruptions. Does he:-</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lay the table with flowers and candles and cook you a special romantic dinner featuring your favourite food?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Suggest you go to the pub and then call in at the curry house for a Vindaloo?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Neck a can of Fosters, slump on the sofa with his hand down his kecks and fall into a deep, snoring slumber, only waking up when you stamp off to bed, saying 'I suppose a shag's out of the question?' in an injured voice.</span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is your birthday. What do you receive?</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Beautiful lingerie, wrapped in delicate lavender-scented tissue and presented in a chic designer box?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A large bouquet of flowers and some John Lewis vouchers?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A shifty look and a feeble excuse. Perm any one from the following</span></li>
<ol><ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Erm, I haven't had time.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I ordered XXX but it hasn't arrived yet.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We don't really do birthdays, do we?</span></li>
</ol>
</ol>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is Valentine's day. What do you receive?</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Your whole bedroom is filled with red roses. There is a bottle of Krug in the fridge and a gift-wrapped Tiffany box left under your pillow.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A bunch of slightly wilted garage flowers and a 'humorous' card.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A pat on the hand and a 'Valentine's isn't really for married people, is it?'</span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You are getting ready to go out. How does your husband behave?</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He runs you a scented bath at the exact temperature you adore and sprinkles rose petals on the surface of the water.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He goes in the shower first and uses most of the hot water.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He strips off and drops all his clothes on the floor. On his way to the shower, he diverts past you, waves his giblets at you and shouts "woo-hoo". Coming out, he drops the wet towel on the bed, waves his giblets at you and shouts "woo-hoo" whilst winking lewdly.</span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You are going to dinner with friends and it is time to leave. You call up the stairs to your husband. How does he reply?</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">'Coming darling - just another dab of aftershave.'</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">'Won't be a sec - have you seen my belt?'</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">'Just a feckin' minute woman - I'm shaving my ears.'</span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You overhear your husband having a whispered conversation with someone unseen. He is crooning, "ooh baby, I love you" and other endearments. Who is he talking to?</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His Mother.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His girlfriend.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The cat.</span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Your husband offers to make you a sandwich for lunch. What sort?</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Organic hand cut Italian ham, organic salad ingredients, organic mayonnaise all on hand-made Artisan bread?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Marmite.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bombay Mix three inches deep, topped with half a pint of tomato ketchup.</span></li>
</ol>
</ol>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Answers:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Mainly 1s - Your husband is Gay.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Mainly 2s - He's quite a normal bloke, really.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Mainly 3s - The Shah has more than one wife.</span></div>
</div>
Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-59097807845054088692013-05-28T16:47:00.001+01:002013-05-28T16:49:57.922+01:00Why you always need your mummy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love my daughter very much but God knows she has been put on this earth to give me white hairs. Viz last Friday. We agree that we will go shopping together the following morning and she insists that we get up and out early (never a problem for me, a world-class insomniac).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>However....</i> there is one tiny fly in the ointment. And that fly would be the 18th birthday of one of her best friends which falls the day before. Obviously they are going out to celebrate but "it's just going to be a quiet night - only three of us - we're going to the <a href="http://www.belowzerolondon.com/"><span style="color: blue;">Ice Bar</span></a>, then out for dinner...it won't be a late one... and I'll stay at Catherine's and pick you up the next morning."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Lovely," say I, whilst chortling inside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Unsurprisingly, Saturday morning arrives right on schedule but daughter does not. Eventually, at around 9.30, I phone her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"<span style="font-size: xx-small;">hello?" </span>says a faint voice. "<span style="font-size: xx-small;">that you mum?" </span>After a brief discussion punctuated by groans (hers) and stifled laughter (mine), she announces she will be home very soon and, true to her word, shortly afterwards she stumbles into the kitchen where she sits like this:-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-flgByoURql0/UaTK1AY1WhI/AAAAAAAABBQ/pY1HqsHXzHE/s1600/badbaby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-flgByoURql0/UaTK1AY1WhI/AAAAAAAABBQ/pY1HqsHXzHE/s320/badbaby.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No idea why it's come out all stretched :-(</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We make it into town, and it's like dragging an old Granny round with me. She "needs" to sit down in every shop and constantly complains about her sore feet, her headache, she feels sick etc etc. Eventually I give up, buy her lunch and then we go home with about half our plans accomplished.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Meanwhile, son has arrived home, fresh from his post-degree celebrations. Well, when I say 'fresh' I actually mean the exact opposite. Whey-faced and grumpy, he is lying on the sofa cuddling the cat. He expresses his displeasure at coming home to an empty house then announces that his hangover is so bad, he has "chunned".*</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This produces squeals of revulsion from his sister who pronounces him "deesq"** and hurriedly leaves the room.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On Sunday morning, the Shah and I leave children asleep and take ourselves off to a garden centre where we pass an hour or so bickering amiably and the Shah spends an uncharacteristic amount of money on plants. (Really there is something wrong with him but that would take up a whole new post and regular readers might suggest a title like "A statement of the bleeding obvious" ahem). </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">About half an hour into our visit, my mobile rings and son's name flashes up on the screen.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Where is everybody?" he asks in a voice with a distinct edge to it. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Ah bless," I reply. "Are you feeling unloved and unwanted? Do you want mummy to come home?" expecting his customary sarky reply.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"YES!" comes the surprising answer.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so it is that I find myself some time later, hugging a 6 foot nearly-21-year-old and promising to love him and look after him and cook endless meals and do his washing, and, and, and. "Good" says a muffled voice into my shoulder.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Which just goes to prove that, no matter how big and grown up you think you are, you always need your mummy.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">*Chunned - the past tense of 'chunder' that well known Australian verb.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">**Deesq - a short form of the word 'disgusting'. A word much too long and onerous to use in its entirety if you are under 25.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178468908753940731.post-23695100896585668672013-05-07T22:52:00.001+01:002013-05-07T22:52:43.735+01:00Talking to Teenagers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We are at home, my daughter and I. It is morning and I am having to wait in for good old British Gas to call round and replace the water cylinder they mis-sold us last year. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We are laughing hysterically at some really silly animal photos that she is showing me on her Instagram feed and I comment that one of her friends is 'soppy' about animals. (Old fashioned word, but it fitted the bill perfectly). The following conversation ensues:-</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: I'm glad I'm not soppy. I'm more....what's the word? That other word...you know ...also begins with 's'....can't think of it....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: Sweet? Sneaky? Silly?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: No, no and no! You know it....it's on the tip of my tongue...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: Safe? Saturated? Scummy? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: No! Be serious - this is driving me mad!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: Seasick? Sizzling? Sebaceous?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: Gaaah!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: Skint? Stupid? Solipsistic?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: NO! Oh wait - I've got it - CYNICAL! Yeah, that's it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: (Attempting to speak despite mouthful of carpet) I'm so glad all that money we spent on your education wasn't wasted......*crawls away weeping gently*</span></div>
Curry Queenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357154781453417176noreply@blogger.com28