Saturday and Sunday

"Who's that bloody idiot dancing in the paella?"

"Jamie Oliver?"

"Tosser."

I don't actually remember what time my family started drinking on Saturday, it was after my parents had arrived, and after my father and i had been sent into town to place everyone's bets for The Grand National. But i seem to remember them all getting rather drunk. Especially my mother.

I got thrown out of the betting shop so had to sit on a bench outside. That was sad, i thought i might possibly look 18. but i don't. also, it was cold.


My view from the bench -

As i already mentioned, my parents came down to "The West" on Saturday. So did other members of my family but they went hunting then stayed elsewhere. I disagree with hunting, i also disagree with buying a shot gun for my 11 year old cousin. But my family are just like that. According to my cousin "There was a rabbit in one of our traps, then Uncle Bob punched it to death." delightful.

Another thing i learnt that week was that my family don't understand vegetarians. I heard my Grandmother tell one of her sisters "Well, Stephanie's a vegetarian, you know." and her sister replied "Oh well, maybe she'll get over it." *sigh*. They also don't understand what it *means* to be vegetarian - "No, i don't want to eat something that's been swimming round in the juice of a dead animal... No, i know it's not ACTUALLY meat but i still don't want to eat it... NO! i don't want a bacon sandwich instead." For Sunday lunch, i ended up eating two mouthfuls of cauliflower cheese then sitting, looking miserable for the rest of the meal.

Sunday was my Grandmother's birthday. She was 73. YAY! Happy Birthday!

As a tribute to her, here are two of my absolute favourite things she says -

1) Somebody else "shall i put the kettle on?"

My grandmother "no, it wouldn't suit you"

2) on seeing a man whose trousers are slightly too short for him either - "ooh, someone's trousers have had and argument with his shoes" OR "well, his trousers have divorced his ankles and married his knees"

Um... that's it.

Unless you want to look at this picture of me?

DO NOT touch the Baby Jesus.

I love my mother, no, really i do.

But she is completely mental.

I probably don't help this though... i *might* do some things specifically to wind her up. Like turning the picture in the hallway upside down everytime i walk past it and writing rude words on the oven door and seeing how long it takes her to notice.

This time of year, it's extra brilliant. My partner in crime (my aunt) and i have several christmassy games we like to play.

Every Christmas day, my mother lays the table for 12 people, making sure that the crackers go - gold, silver, gold, silver, gold and so on. Every time she goes into the kitchen, somebody has to run into the dining room and switch a few of them around. The first 3 or 4 times she is confused, then she gets angry.

Another Christmas dinner game played by my aunt, my little cousin and i, is to get a word, or phrase into the conversation that perhaps should be there - without other people noticing.
Last year, i seem to remember it was "tramp's knob". and i won. it went a bit like this:

grandad: "Mmm, these little sausages are nice, what are they called?"

me: "tramp's knobs?"

grandad: "what?"

*old people look confused*

me: "oh, um... chipolatas?"

grandad: "oh yes, that's right"

*aunt and cousin sit with MOUTHS HANGING OPEN, in surprise and admiration*

BUT. The best thing at Christmas is my mother's absolute favourite thing ever. The Knitivity (yes. the KNITivity)

So often being shouted in my house:

"STEPHANIE, DID YOU KNOCK THE DONKEY OVER?"

or,

"STEPHANIE, WHY ARE THE WISE MEN DOING HANDSTANDS?!"

or (my favourite)

"STEPHANIE, WHERE IS THE BABY JESUS?!!"

ahahahahaha. hahaa. ha.

ha.

Arguments and Other Sad Things.

Grown-ups are strange creatures.

I seriously don't understand them but from what i have seen over these past 13 years, i have learnt this:

1) Grown-ups really like being grumpy.

2) Because they are grown-ups, they must always be right. even when they are very very wrong, they are still right.

3) Because they are always right, they see no reason to listen to anyone else.

4) Grown-ups love arguing.

I hate arguing. I just don't see the point. I never argue, i simply let the other person shout at me for a bit and I don't mind much because usually they have a good reason to be shouting, or, if they haven't got a good reason, at least i know that they're wrong. There is absolutely no point in telling them my point of view because they are so angry that they're not going to listen.

Does that make sense?

But what i really hate is other people arguing. It's sad because when you're not involved, you can see how silly it is. You can see that people are getting upset and upsetting each other over something that so silly that they've probably forgotten what they're actually arguing about.

Still making sense? Do stop me if I'm not.

And what i really really hate is my parents arguing. Especially as i know they've been arguing but they refuse to admit it.

*huff*

I'm the teenager. I'm supposed to be the one screaming and slamming doors.

I told them to stop arguing. Both of them looked at me and said,

"It's not that simple"

I think it is that simple.

I think if they both just say sorry, everything will be fine.

This morning, to stop me seeing that they were arguing, they went to the end of the garden and shouted at each other.

I watched from the window.

They really are silly.

Anyway,

Did you know that today in 1883 was the volcanic eruption of Indonesia's Mount Krakatoa?

That's sad... 36,417 people died.

Chocolate Cake and The Kray Twins

Today, i have been to the gym. Not because I'm a mental middle aged woman desperately trying to not look like a middle aged woman. No, i went to the gym because my mother is a mental middle aged woman desperately trying to not look like a middle aged woman and she's also a little shy. So i said that if it would make her feel better, i would go to the gym with her and make sure none of the bigger mental people pick on her. I did this because i am a wonderful daughter, also so that next time she starts shouting at me for being rude/untidy/forgetful/an awful human being, i can bring up the fact that I've sacrificed much of my precious sitting-in-my-room-being-a-moody-teenager time to go to the gym with her so that she can be a size 10 by Christmas (i have asked Christmas in which year but got a dirty look and no answer).

To prove that I'm definitely not a mental health obsessed person (also to annoy my mother just a little bit), i came home and ate a slice of the most wonderful chocolate cake ever invented. yummy. I enjoyed it even more as my mother sat next to me, glaring at me in a way that clearly said "i hate you". Just as she stood up to go to the kitchen and get herself a slice of cake, my calendar's daily wisdom came in useful once again, i said:

"Winners never quit. Quitters never win."

I'm not really sure what that means but it seemed like a good thing to say. I thought it was a nice, encouraging thing to say, but the response from my mother was "You sound like a fucking life coach." followed by much stomping about and cake-eating.

(I don't think she even appreciated the excellence of the chocolate and Guinness cake as much as she should have - if you don't believe me, ask Kathy. (ohhh! i can do those link things! excting!)

The gym was rather boring. But I showed my wounded arm to a random man who was doing some rowing (not actual rowing with water and stuff - he was using a rowing machine) and kept making weird noises. he looked at it, then said "ooh! that looks nasty." that pleased me, that's the most sympathy i've got since i fell over.

"Today in 1982 - The notorious Kray Twins were allowed out of prison for their mother's funeral."
i watched a documentary about the Kray twins once, i don't remember much about it except they killed a man called Jack The Hat, which is an amazing name - how do you get a nickname like that?!