My father in law has recently been dragged kicking and screaming into the current century, by the tax department. He now owns a computer, and has "access to the interwebs". He had no choice but to buy a computer because - as an accountant - he was required by law to put his clients tax returns in online.
With any normal person, adapting to this new regime might be tricky, but would eventually become second nature. But we're not taking normal people here.
If you knew my father in law you'd know how insane this situation sounds. Suggesting that he'd become familar with it soon enough is enough to induce death by hysteria...
I start so many blog posts in my head, get to about the third paragraph, then forget the entire thing. Which is a real shame, because I am hugely witty in my head. Words flow very easily in my mind in a way that they don't necessarily do if I speak them out loud.In my head I am very eloquent. But really, it's only relevant to an audience of one. If I can entertain myself, then job done! That's probably why when I'm alone I hold conversations with myself and monologue in silly voices.But the trick is not knowing how...
I wouldn't make a good Italian.Oh, in many ways I would - the whole crazy shouting over emotional thing, yep. I have that in spades.Lets just wave goodbye to all my Italian readers as they rush for the door in disgust at my hackneyed cliche.My failing point as an Italian is the whole cappucino thing. I drink about three a day. In fact, I just had one. Which is a slight problem, being that it's currently 10pm.I've been told (by an Itatlian) that the cappucino is a breakfast drink. You don't drink it later in the day. That's when you...
I am sitting here waiting - vigilesque - for my errant husband who is coming home from a boozy boys holiday in Munich tonight.At least, I think he's coming home tonight. I'm sure that's what he said before he left. The trouble is, there is only an hour left of "tonight" and I haven't heard from him.In fact, I haven't heard from him at all since he muttered (in the way a text can mutter) something about his phone dying on Friday afternoon. Radio silence descended after that. One can only presume that he forgot to take a charger. Add...
Last weekend was a special weekend for me, as it quite often is. This has nothing to do with the fact that Sunday was February 14th however. Mr Boxer Shorts and I don't celebrate Valentine's Day.We don't hate it. We just don't do it.I am quite happy for the rest of the world to get all doughy eyed at each other, proclaim undying love and spend huge amounts of money on things that were hastily repackaged in red or pink behind the counter and display massive cards that play tinny versions of "Where do I begin".I'm not your bah humbugger...
I learnt a new phrase the other day, when someone noted that they'd just learnt what a certain acronym meant. I hadn't even noticed it in use before this person mentioned it.The acronym is FML, and apparently the meaning is "Fuck my Life.". I'm sorry mum, there really was no alternative translation for that. It's not like WTF? Which has the gentler version of WTH? which still manages to convey the same spirit.(But do note that I did try and get it into the second paragraph so that you wouldn't have to see a swear word on facebook, so you...
Don't you just love IMDB.com? I do. I know more about what I watch now than I ever did. Because whenever I see someone who looks vaguely familiar, I just leap on IMDB.com (usually on my iphone) and look them up.You know how it goes - you're sitting there watching something and there is a familiar face looking back at you. You just can't put a name to them, but you're sure you've seen them before. So you look them up, and discover that while they are not a major star, they've been an extra in almost every sitcom you've...
Photo credit CmdrGravyOur street is a typical outer London street, in that it's not wide enough for two cars to pass each other, without the potential danger of one of them needing a new paint job after the fact. This leads to the common practise by those of us who live here of waiting at the bottom of the street for a car that is already navigating its way down. And then of course, as the two cars pass at the cross street - a thank you nod from the waitee to the waiter. It's common sense, and it's...
