Going up…

…up and away. I am off to San Fransisco tomorrow, and I am getting excited. Well I was getting excited until I read the article about the man who claims the world is ending on Saturday. Lucky I’m not a nervous flyer, else I would be in a bit of trouble. Seriously though, the guy’s timing is way off, the start of my holiday and the start of a two-week UK heat wave, unless that’s  met office speak for fire and brimstone? If the world doesn’t end I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. It’s holiday time!

Drawing a blank

I went to my best mates house on Tuesday for dinner. Our conversation went a bit like this:

Me: I have to tell you something…

Her: Sorry, what were you saying?

Me: Oh, I can’t remember.

Her: Don’t worry I forgot what I was going to tell you too!

Me: Sorry, what did you say?

Her: Blank (drinking wine)

Me: Blank (eating crisps)

Her: So, what were we talking about before we forgot?

Me: I forget (wine)

Her: Me too (crisps)

Her: Blank (wine and crisps)

Me: Blank (wine and crisps)

It was like two goldfish having supper. Neither could remember anything the other one said two minutes before. I do remember that the wine and crisps were very good though.

“You have something in between your teeth.”

It’s always embarrassing telling someone they have something stuck in their teeth. You get embarrassed for pointing it out, they get self-conscious, and there is always that awkward lull after you tell them, where you sort of sheepishly smile and pretend not to notice them hacking into their teeth to remove the offending object as swiftly as possible. I had no choice but to have this conversation with a friend at the weekend because she had what seemed to be an entire lamb wedged between her two front teeth. No sheepish smile from me on this occasion.

Hands-free Kit

A Muslim lady I saw on my walk home made good work of a headscarf to fashion her own hands-free kit. Ingenious.

N party

My friend Nicky had an N party at the weekend. Yet another fancy dress. I managed to pull together a costume in a matter of hours thanks to pound land, a charity shop, and a bit of imagination. A ninety-nine year old Nana. Why do I do it to myself? I could have gone all chic, maybe Natalie Portman, in a ball gown clutching an Oscar. Oh no, if you are going to do it you have to do it properly. I have to say my ensemble came together nicely and I actually scared myself looking in the mirror. As a result of saturday night’s party I am taking up 2 new past times. Botox and knitting.

(Nicky sorry for coming to your party and just sitting and knitting!)

Squeeze

We had a family dinner on Saturday. We also had a family debate. It all started when we were talking about my sister and how she once squeezed a bottle of tippex so hard that it exploded in her face. The debate was not about how that could happen, or even doubting that a Barton could do such a ridiculous thing, it was about the fact that my Mum used the word squoze. She said my sister once squoze the bottle of tippex so hard that it exploded in her face. This grammatical mishap then dominated the rest of the evening’s conversation between frantic googling by all parties, to work out whether or not squoze is in fact a word. Squeezed or squoze, that is the question.

A mistake with the Mafia

A few weeks ago I had dinner with a friend. We got a great table outside at an authentic Italian restaurant in town. When we sat down we realised that the waitress had not cleared away a half-finished glass of Chianti from the previous diners. We ordered a bottle of red, and set about people watching. I was not disappointed when two old Italian men sat down next to us. Clearly mafia (I am still obsessed with all things spy related). When the waitress came past my friend told her that the Chianti did not belong to us. She laughed, broke into a barrage of italian and started joking with our Italian neighbours. She must have thought a fellow waitress had put the mafia man’s white wine on our table by mistake. She then picked up the  back-washed wine and gave it to mafioso number one. Well I could barely contain myself, especially when over the next 15 mins he proceeded to drink every last drop of someone else’s wine.

Cat burglar

My housemate’s bicycle was stolen from our back garden. Our back garden backs onto about three other houses and is fenced off, so we can’t figure out a. how they got in and b. how they got out with a bike. The only two culprits I can see are Humbug and Fez (our neighbour’s cats), who spend all their time chasing each other from garden to garden and over fences (obviously looking for loot). I think they must get bored at night and try spice things up.

Code Rouge

My parents are learning french. I speak a bit of french from my days as an au pair, so I was quite amused listening to them practice at the weekend. My dad has found a set of free resources from America, used by their embassies (or so they say). From what I heard it may be the CIA instead. It was just strange combination of words that I can only assume are used to arrange a secret rendezvous or drop off’ – phrases like “the silver fox has flown the coop” or in my parent’s case: “I am the big frog in a red bathing suit crossing the road.” My parents up-coming french trip should be entertaining.

Fish food

Does anyone else think that this fish pedicure thing is gross? The shopping center near my house has a set of tanks, and I still feel weird when I see people plunging their smelly shopping weary feet into the same tank as twenty other shoppers, full of fish fat on the dead foot skin of Wandsworth’s finest. YUK. I just hope the fish suppliers check their stock carefully… all you need is one misplaced piranha and it’s a completely different kind of pedicure.