I have teamed up again with the talented Sandra (or Daffy as I like to call her), from Wild Daffodil to bring you another bit of silliness this Saturday. Sandra is incredibly artistic and creative, and I just love the images she has created out of shells, stones and flowers.
One of the nicest things about Sandra’s blog is that you never know what she is going to get up to next, from beach art to knitted wigs, and mandalas to making spirals in her garden.
Yesterday you met Penelope Pompom who was suffering as a result of the menopause. Today after chilling out at the beach with her friends and family she is a little more chilled… Why not check our #SillySaturday post about Shelma and Maggie some of our Shelby friends!
Today being Friday 13th will mean that the superstitious among us will feel a little uneasy as it is supposed to be very unlucky, particularly in western culture. It is taken so seriously that some people will refuse to get married, travel (particularly by air) or even go to work. Although it has not been proven that Friday 13th is worse than any other day, the fact that it is a ‘double-whammy’ due to both Friday and the number 13 being seen as unlucky some people just want to hide themselves away and not take any chances.
Perhaps they might feel better if a bird pooped on them or their car! After all, this is supposed to bring good luck. It’s even better if you could get a flock of birds to poop on you all at once. Apparently the more poo, the more riches you will receive. Mind you, it takes forever to get off the car and is dreadful on the paint work. Getting poo on your person is not very pleasant either, especially if it lands on your head and drips down your face!
Now if you had an umbrella, you might have been spared the poo in the hair thing, but under no circumstances should you open it indoors. If you do that, then you are asking for bad luck, or storms to ‘rain’ down on you. Nobody wants that. Personally, I would be more concerned with having someone’s eye out if I opened my brolly indoors, knowing how clumsy I am.
Speaking of which, what about seven years bad luck for breaking a mirror, That’s a bit harsh isn’t it?! It’s those Romans who are to blame for scaremongering on this one. Apparently, it has something to do with a mirror reflecting your soul so if you break it your soul will be damaged hence the bad luck. It was also believed that the soul only renewed itself every seven years. Practically speaking maybe you should be more worried about all that sharp glass scattered about that could give you a nasty cut!
Similarly, walking under a ladder might get you brained with a pot of paint, or a bucket! However, that is not the original reason the superstition arose. Oh no, it was because the ladder points (on a double ladder) forms a trinity, as does a single ladder leaned up against a wall. Christians believed that if you walked through this trinity then you were in cahoots with the Devil, and might even be a witch!
Talking of the devil, what do you do when you knock over the salt? I pick some of it up and chuck it over my left shoulder, supposedly in order to throw it in the eye of the devil who may be lurking there and therefore ward off his malevolent intentions. There are several explanations as to how this originated, but the most common belief is that Judas Iscariot knocked over the salt at the last supper, which was depicted in Leonardo da Vinci’s famous painting.
Having a black cat, normally a witch’s favoured pet, walk past. Here in Britain, and in Japan, it is considered good luck to have a black cat cross your path whereas in other countries is it considered bad luck, take your pick!
For those of us that have men in our lives, we accept that they may not be perfect but according to the Bookmakers William Hill there are fifty skills that your man should have in order to qualify as a ‘real man.’ Apparently, they questioned 2000 people in order to discover what qualities it takes to accomplish this,
The list includes things like being able to tie a tie, knowing how to wire a plug, being able to change a light bulb, as well as know when your anniversary is, and how to do the laundry.
I have decided to make my own little list of what qualities I think a ‘real man’ should have, which are in no particular order:
Not being ashamed to cry. I don’t mean just when their team loses an important match, I mean actually showing a bit of emotion when something has affected them deeply. Having said that, I don’t want him bawling his head off at the slightest thing!
Enjoy shopping. A real man will not be at all fazed whilst accompanying you on a shopping trip, and that includes browsing at lingerie! It is so annoying when you go to ask your partner’s opinion on a racy little number, only to find that he has legged it!
Be a good cook. Although I do like to cook at times, it is great that Mr Grump loves cooking and is so good at it too!
Have a decent sense of humour. Because I like to laugh at things and enjoy making fun of silly situations, it is important to me to have someone to laugh with. I don’t want to be with someone who is precious about me taking the mickey out of them!
Not having an aversion to housework. Being able to push a vacuum around is a huge plus in my book. It is one of those jobs that I hate doing! For some reason, I have never known a man who is good at dusting and polishing, but if he is handy with a vacuum then that’ll do!
Enjoy driving. Although I drive myself, I am not that keen on it, so a man must be able to drive, and drive well! It is pretty off-putting if a man is crunching the gears or taking about 20 attempts to parallel park when he is behind the wheel.
Be well-groomed. Now a real man knows how to be well-presented. I like him to be smartly dressed in ironed clothes, smelling nice and have clean nails! I don’t however, want him to take longer getting ready than I do, hog the mirror, nick my beauty products, or borrow my straighteners (if he has hair of course).
Be good at DIY. I like a man who is handy to have around. You never know when you need a shelf putting up, a room to be decorated or someone to fix something that I have broken.This is a very important quality in my book.
Know when to make himself scarce! This one is pretty important as well. I don’t just mean when you are having a ‘girly’ night in and don’t want the old man around. I mean that he knows to get out of your way when you are in a mood (especially if he is the one that has wound you up)!
Not being a selfish lover. I won’t go into too much detail here but a real man knows how to please his partner, not just himself!
Are there any that I have missed out, what qualities do you think a real man has?
You may remember some time ago I wrote about my mum’s attitude that ‘A little bit of dirt never killed anybody’. This was in regards to her cavalier disregard for sell-by dates.kitchen cleanliness and other such pleasantries!
To add to this, I remember only having a bath once a week (on a Sunday night fresh for school on Monday), and it was either in with my younger sister, or somebody else’s second-hand water! We didn’t think anything of it really at that time, as we still washed, just didn’t bathe!
Of course, becoming teenagers was a whole new ballgame. We were never out of the bathroom! Mum would be vexed that we would only wear our clothes once and then chuck them in the wash. Apart from underwear, she was convinced that our clothes still had another day or two left in them before they got dirty enough to warrant washing.
She thought we were crazy washing our hair every day as well, telling us that it ‘would wash all the goodness out of it’. We still did it anyway, and got through a job lot of shampoo and conditioner along the way.
According to a survey of 2021 women commissioned by Flint + Flint (A skin care company) four out of five women still don’t bother to shower every day, and in fact one-third will go for three days without washing at all. Phewwwww, I bet things get a bit whiffy around the nethers. How gross!
Like most women I know, I bathe every day, and many times more often than that. I would never dream of going to work without first bathing, which is one of the reasons I get up so early. In my opinion, it is not just about personal pride, but consideration for others as well. I have to get pretty close to my patients, and I am sure they would not want to be a couple of inches from an unwashed armpit – or worse!
By the same token,when I worked in a hospital, we would wash our patients every day, for their self-respect and dignity as well as the obvious infection control measures. Most of us actually feel better when we are clean, with washed hair and fresh clothes.
I am not averse to a bit of dirt either. Kids like to play in the mud and get filthy, as it is so much fun. I think if we obsessively clean everything to within an inch of its life, then we run the risk of not building up any resistance, and catching everything going! It is about balance and common sense.
Are we too clean or should we leave it 3 days between washes?
Don’t you just hate the type of women that always, without fail, manage to look perfect; from shiny, healthy, beautifully styled hair to their pedicured toenails! Unfortunately, I am not, and never will be one of those women, preferring to be awkward instead – but how I envy them!
Take how I dress for work, for example; aside from the very unflattering uniform, (which by the way, is the shade of grey that is achieved by putting a white and black item in the same wash on a high temperature; it looks dirty before I have even started). I never bother to wear any makeup (it would be pointless as I get soooo hot on the ward) and I usually put my hair up in a clip, so there is no styling involved. If I did make an effort to wear make-up and have some stylish up-do (which iI would have to get someone else to do anyway…I’m rubbish with hair), then it would all be ruined within the first hour of me being there!
As I mentioned, I get boiling and, after a while of running around, the sweat is dripping down my face, which is bad enough (and embarrassing) without imagining what the result would look like if I had carefully made up my face. Not only would I have ghastly streaks down my face from rivulets of sweat spoiling the foundation, but no doubt, the mascara would run, causing hideous black, spidery smudges mingling with streaky foundation! ( I am there to try to help the patients feel better, not scare them into an early grave)!
Talking of work, I used to have a colleague called Jenny who was one of these perfect women. We used to work in the Operations department of a busy travel brochure company, so could mostly wear what we wanted to work. On this particular day, she and I both turned up in identical outfits! We had on hot pink 3/4 trousers, a black top and black mules.
Neither one of us knew the other was going to wear the said outfit, and that was only the start of my humiliation! Jenny is tall, willowy and blonde, and she looked fantastic. I am blonde, but that is where the similarity ends, as I am also short and chunky! Needless to say, everyone commented on our outfits, and my other friend made it worse by calling us Bim and Bo (put it together and you get…the picture)!
Jenny and I became good friends, and used to go to the gym together during our lunch hour (why do I set myself up to fail)?! The day I remember vividly (branded in my brain as one of THE worst embarrassing moments) started when both of us were on adjacent treadmills… We built up the speed until we were running. Just before ten minutes were up, I was gloating over the fact that Jenny had slowed down and I had managed to keep up the pace! Well, we all know what pride comes before, and sure enough, I lost concentration and my footing.
I was flailing, desperately trying to stay upright..but no…BANG. I fell on the treadmill which was still going, and it resented my falling on it. So it spitefully chucked me right off and landed with a thud in a heap at the foot of one of the other exercise machines!
I sat there winded and rather red in the face, and my leg hurt and then, Oh no…here comes Mr Hunky Gym Instructor Guy. Great, I look like a right bloody fool. He comes over solicitously, helps me up and leads me off to the changing room to minister to my wounds, which I reluctantly showed him, ( I was dying of shame showing him my tree trunk legs, which were bruised and scraped)! No real damage was done so manfully (or womanfully) I decided to go back out there and workout on one of the machines.
Image courtesy of Pixabay
I chose the one where you could sit down, and use the weights to bring your arms backwards and forward( you can tell I am no Gym bunny as I don’t know the names of any of the machines). Anyway, there was a bloke that was working out opposite me who was giving me a bit of a funny look. I assumed he had seen my little ‘accident’ and carried on. He still kept glancing my way, and I knew it wasn’t a lustful look (God knows, if it was he must have been desperate)! I looked down and to my utter mortification, noticed that the underwire from my bra, had somehow broken free and was poking out of my top! That was it, time to go and never return!
Jenny, of course, looked as elegant and fresh when she had finished her workout as she had before she had started!!!
Rhyme and No Reason! 
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