Who would have thought that purchasing a new bath mat could be so complicated, and that it would lead to me trawling through online dictionaries, wasting hours of time, when I could have been soaking in a…er… hot bath. It all started at Boots.com [the UK department store, which sells lotions and potions and all things smelly… talking of smelly, Mr Beastie has briefly resurfaced] whereupon I entered the words ‘bath’ and ‘mat’ in the search box.
Please see exhibit A – click to make big.
‘Did you mean to search for Bath Mat? Showing results for ‘max”, replied Boots.com. BUT I DID SEARCH FOR BATH MAT, I howled at the screen. I looked at the search box carefully. I scrutinised it, perhaps I’d typed in ‘enormous maximus’ by mistake as I am wont to do. It seems that Boots were not used to me enquiring about anything so prosaic as a bath mat. Why was I not indulging myself with cosmetics and tooth whitener as I usually do? Boots obviously thought it knew me better.
Please see exhibit B – click to make big.
I then had a brain wave, perhaps ‘bath mat’ is all one word… et voilà…. I found the virtual bathmat aisle. So I thought: fair enough, now I know that bathmat is one word…. but of course I had to check AND ALL THE DICTIONARIES DISAGREE. *WordPress doesn’t seem to like it; my Apple dictionary says NO. My Collins Gem dictionary has no trace of ‘bathmat’. Google seems confused. I am none the wiser…. but does it really matter?
Who cares how it’s spelt, all that matters is that I don’t slip in the bath and bruise my buttocks whilst taking a shower. I CARE. I BLOODY CARE. WHO AM I KIDDING TO SAY THAT I DON’T???????????? I WANT A DEFINITIVE ANSWER AND I WANT IT NOW. AND IF BATHMAT IS TWO WORDS I CAN WRITE TO BOOTS AND TELL THEM THEY ARE WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WHAT RIGHT HAVE THEY GOT TO BASTARDISE THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE FOR THE SAKE OF THEIR NONSENSICAL STUPID FRUSTRATING STUPID DAFT BUGGERING ALGORITHMS?????
…and breathe. Life has been a tad stressful lately. I will now log off and feed the dog.
*To be fair, WordPress doesn’t seem keen on ‘Bastardise’ and ‘Buggering’ either, so it doesn’t know everything.
Before I continue with all things bottled I have a question: Who did you expect to be when you grew up? As a child I took it as read that I would grow up to be a sophisticated middle-aged woman who would travel the world wearing top of the range frocks from House of Fraser and make polite conversation, late into the night, with the occasional French gentleman. I believed my future would look something akin to this……
If this was not to be then I at least expected dinner party invitations for every night of the week so that I could stuff my face with After Eight mints whilst wearing the aforementioned top of the range frock, although perhaps something more slutty from Debenhams or British Home Stores [RIP]……
In a nutshell I expected a glittering, glamorous future, full of fancy frocks, and worthy enough to merit a pithy voiceover. When the transition from eating fish finger sandwiches from a tray on my lap in front of the telly to being an internationally adored lady of leisure with an inexhaustible expense account would happen I didn’t know, but happen it would. Only it didn’t. I am still waiting.
The problem is that the future I imagined is impossible because this future is very much set in the past. I was set up for disappointment the moment these adverts hit my TV screen. Did anyone ever live like this? In any case, the dinner parties I have attended have had more in common with this…
No fancy frocks, just best jeans and a paper napkin to protect a nice top from gravy staining. Sigh. Obviously I was a gullible child when I was suckered by these adverts, although in fairness, I was more taken with the lifestyles promoted than the actual products; we always had After Eights at Christmas and we were allowed to eat them for breakfast whilst wearing pyjamas.
Anyhow, before I get on with my bottle project let us return to my question: Who, or how, did you expect to be when you grew up? I am not expecting anyone to be as shallow as me, hopefully you all aspired to greater things than living life in an advertisement for After Eight.
“Whatever happened with the messages in bottles? I am new to this blog – so the answer may be posted somewhere – but I’m not sure what direction to go to find it.” Asked Jean, several posts ago.
As I read the question on my screen a single tear rolled down my cheek from my left eye. My right eye is somewhat lazy, not so prone to gratuitous displays of emotion and thus remained dry. I often think about the bottles and wonder if I should dust them down, discover what they were all about and follow the direction they were taking me. Even Charmaine is now burning with curiosity after she stumbled over them in a blog post way back in 2015. Thankfully her stumbling didn’t cause any breakages. No cuts. No grazes. No electrocutions.
Perhaps it is time to publish some explanatory notes? Perhaps now that everyone has lost interest, now that everyone is fevered with the evils of politics and buffered by the occasional hurricane, perhaps now it is time to examine the bottles in more detail?
Anyhow, it is something to ponder on…something to face.
Er…. well, I missed a day, but we are all friends here. My days are longer than other people’s and sometimes they can stretch to as long as a week. Obviously the word ‘Daily’ is subjective…. and perhaps I should substitute it with a more realistic word, such as ‘Frequent’?
Anyhow, moving swiftly on, I had something very exciting planned for today that would have had EVERYBODY sitting on the edge of their seats and hanging on my every word, BUT, that idea has gone tits up now. I will save it for another day. My email account stopped me in my tracks.
I deactivated my Twitter account in 2013, but ever since I have been receiving messages from Twitter in Japanese, I simply mark them as spam – I thought they were from some sort of scammer trying to get me to click on a dodgy link, so I’d mark them as spam and then delete. How sensible of me. Today I took a closer look at one of these Twitter emails and, investigated further…. okay, so the upshot is that someone in Japan has been using my email address for their Twitter account for the past 4 years. Sigh. I’ve now managed to change the password on this account and I am now the proud owner of a Japanese Twitter account… I have logged out of it, which was tricky because I can’t read Japanese and even the ‘translate’ button was difficult to find; I am not sure what would’ve happened if I’d fiddled in the settings. The thing is I’d like to deactivate it, but I feel like I’d be walking into somebody else’s house if I log in again…. which just goes to show the sort of soppy date I really am! I’d also really, really like to know how this happened…. did someone, back in 2013, hack my email account??? Questions, questions… surely Twitter would have sent me a confirmation email… in Japanese??? I would have deleted that.
If anyone would like further details, then… er… please email me. In English.
As promised for this Monday morning I bring you a picture of some cows….
I am not brilliant at photography, and, to be honest, due to the way the light was hitting the screen on my phone I had absolutely no idea how this picture was going to come out, all I could see was black, so I aimed the camera in the general direction of the cows and hoped for the best. Agreed, it may be a little blurry but this is because I had Sid tugging on the end of a lead causing me to wobble and the freshly used poo bag to bounce against my thigh – oh the glamour!
Anyhow, to prove that the cows are in the picture I have a cropped image for your perusal.
For your interest, my house is behind the tree on the left.
Tomorrow: Incontinence Pads – Who Should Pay??? A nitty-gritty exposure on the horrors of being a resident in a British nursing home.
I have decided that in the interests of my ever diminishing blogging tribe that I will blog on a daily basis. Yes, get up off the floor, you read that right. Yes, Ms Scarlet, the blogger who turns up once every three months, waves her knickers in the air, types three lines of nothingness then buggers off into the sunset, is committing to being a daily blogger.
Why? Because I think it was/is the regular bloggers who kept us all going…. bloggers such as The Mistress. I am not saying that I will write anything interesting…. there might be a picture of a cow one day, some udders the next…. maybe a steaming cow pat now and then…. but it will be a blog where there is always something – however silly and irrelevant. Anyhow this is my plan.
I will leave you to ponder this earth shattering, faintly terrifying news and leave you with a tune…. a tune that always makes me think of Mr Coppens.
Empire of the Sun 'We are the People' from Josh Logue on Vimeo.