A blog post entry in which we studiously ignore the football....
I have had a quiet weekend.... that is to say, I spent most of yesterday hiding in my kitchen trying to ignore the local fete and talent contest.... because "insert name of area"'s got talent... is such a misnomer, it really doesn't judging by the sounds coming over the microphone from the local park .... Gretchen agreed and spent a great deal of time barking her disapproval. Normally I have zero tolerance for the dogs barking (they're a breed that historically were watch dogs and meant to give warning of incoming danger, so their bark when they get going can be heard over a mile away... and I live in a residential area with 4 of the things...) but yesterday I kind of let her have free rein, particularly when the third glee-esque type song was sung badly out of tune by a talentless teen!
Today I did war with the supermarket, the laundry and the house before heading to mum's for Sunday lunch... which was lovely... and then I made her watch the Grand Prix.... which just confirmed that I do still have a thing for Finnish racing drivers...
After the F1 had finished, as I was relaxing on her sofa getting on with the 2nd sock of the pair (yep I might actually finish a pair in under a month!) I forced mum to watch Wimbledon (the film not The Tennis - it's a bit of a family joke, when we were kids the TV was never on much except for Wimbledon fortnight... for ages, the TV was actually known as The Tennis) .... halfway through she started asking questions about the types of films I liked etc, and the actress in this one, and what else was she in... to which I reeled off a list of films...then she muttered about my kind of obsession with Emila Fox (plays Nikki Alexander in Silent Witness and was in Merlin as Morganna's sister)...
After a pause, she then sighed dramatically and said "you really do take after your father don't you"
No my immediate reaction was to check my chin for stubble (I have PCOS - it gives me the ability to grow a beard each months - it's not attractive, it's a pain in the flippin neck).... but no it was not this to which she referred. I raised an eyebrow at her and she continued...
"Pretty blondes....., he always asked for a 5 foot 7 inch blond for Christmas.... your no bloody different." she muttered, to which I promptly went darkly red and dropped a couple of stitches.....
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