Crumptales: Hammer Cottage of Horror

The weekend in Shropshire was a source of inspiration for the old blog. Here is the third and final installment...

We stayed in a quaint little cottage which was on the Walcot Hall estate. It is called the Dipping Shed on account of the fact that they once dunked woolly beings in chemicals to keep them tick and flea free. It is suitably cottage like - just want us Londoners need from our weekends away.

However there was something very strange about this place...

Here is the cottage...
Here is the lovely view...
However, the interior was like the set of a b-movie horror film...

Then it got a whole lot worse...

Crumptales: Taking flight

I have lost count of the number of flights that I taken in my life. For the last ten years I have spent loads of time on planes travelling all over the place for work – I have been to some amazing places as a result.

I was actually quite late to taking flight. The first time I went on a plane I was about ten on a family holiday to Greece (up until then we had always been on holiday to France in the car – three children in the back of a BMW – you can imagine the bickering that went on. Poor Mum and Dad!)

There are two great stories from that first flight...

STORY ONE: My sister Elaine (about nine years old at the time) and I boarded the flight with huge excitement and settled into our seats. We were fascinated by all the magazines, safety information card and I remember wanting to keep the sick bag as a memento. As the plane was at the start of the runway about to take off, Elaine turns to me and said really loudly “I thought airhostesses were meant to be pretty”.

A second later there was a loud cough from behind us. We both turn to look through the gap between the seats to see an airhostess in the jump seat glaring back at us! We then look at Mum who is across the aisle and giving us the famous death stare. Oh Lordy.

As if that wasn’t enough...

STORY TWO: Involves just little ten year old me. Half way through the flight I need to go to the loo. I had been watching everyone intently during the flight to try and work out the queuing protocol. So I had this sussed and I asked Mum for permission and she said “off you go then”. I waited for my turn in line.

On entering the cubicle I was totally fascinated by all the little compartments for the tissues, loo roll, bin etc. I even had a squirt of the hand cream. While settling down on the loo seat I spied this long red cord, that looked like a bathroom light pull. I was looking at it thinking “I wonder what that does?” So as any curious self-respecting ten year old sat on the loo would do I gave the cord a good hard yank. Disappointingly nothing happened for at least 15 seconds, but then all hell broke loose.

There was a pounding hand on the toilet door and cries of “are you OK in there?” I was frozen solid unable to move or speak. About five seconds later the door was flung open and there stood before me was none other than the ‘ugly’ airhostess, with about five passengers standing behind her all trying to get a view of the ‘emergency’ taking place. I still couldn’t speak at this point and the airhostess kindly closed the door with a sneer on her face.

I think I stayed in the loo for only a minute or so more – it felt like hours though. I finally plucked up the courage and exited the cubicle (having had another squirt of hand cream for good measure). It was the walk of shame back to my seat – everyone was looking at me and sniggering – I was so mortified. Elaine thought that the whole thing was hilarious and spent the rest of the flight carping at me – making that tuneful “wah, wah, wah, warrrrrrhhhh!” noise.

Anyway, I wasn’t put off flying and as a university student I actually worked at Gatwick airport during my ‘holidays’ as a passenger service agent or a PSA as were known (EVERYTHING to do with airports has a three letter acronym). So while flying is not always as eventful as that first flight, I do find the whole thing interesting having experienced airports from both sides of the fence.

This post has made me remember loads of hilarious working at the airport stories. I’m gonna write these up in the future. My prompts for these future posts are:

• Stage fright / first plane boarding announcement
• Two Americans / four tickets
• Waving in a flight
• The sweaty lady / foundation issue
• Italians / boarding by seat row number (or not!)
• The Adams Family goes on holiday to Bulgaria
• The Rastafarian and the hat
• Friend / carbon copy tickets / rude word / dismissal
• Old Indian lady / her patient six hour wait
• Family on the wrong coach with the England cricket team

PS: The ugly airhostess actually wasn’t that ugly – she just had really bad pink, blue AND orange eye shadow caked on her lids
PPS: Let’s not discuss my carbon footprint on the flying front – that would be too terrifying to consider

Crumptales: Seeing your names in lights, OK, raspberries...

It’s my birthday today. I have had two consecutive weekends of birthday fun. So today, the day that 36 years ago I arrived in the world, I am having a fun night in with Chad. We have had a ‘Chad Special’ meal (yummy chicken with gorgonzola and Parma ham) and we are watching Desperate Housewives as I type. Heaven.

Yesterday we had gang fun at Charlotte and Brendon’s. I got to feed my godson, who is having solid food shovelled into his mouth for two weeks now. It was brilliant fun. He was spitting out the veg (carrot and broccoli) but has miraculously learnt how to swallow the sweet apple and pear option – sweet tooth (well gums) – good boy. Anyway the little angel was put to bed and the grown-ups drank bear / wine and had a lovely Thai take-out. Fun, fun, fun.

The highlight of the evening was (apart from hanging out with my best friends) my birthday cake. Charlotte made it, it was delicious, and most importantly it had my name spelt out in raspberries – how fabulous. Thanks Charlotte.

The cake itself nearly included essence of lottiedigits. Not heard of it? Well let me explain. The Lotts was making the cake and was using a tea towel over the bowl to prevent the cake mix being splashed out by the electric whisk. The towel then got caught in the whisk and pulled it into the metal blades followed by the Lott’s hand which ended up mangled in with the whisk. After a bit of screaming good old Bren ran in the kitchen and hit the eject button to release the whiskie bits, towel and fingers.

Thank goodness that the cake mix was fine – otherwise Lotts would have been most annoyed.

Tripping the light, not so, fantastic

Last Easter weekend I reported the glue incident in relation to my DIYing. There was a further incident that weekend that involved me nearly electrocuting myself!

I have one of those handy gadgets to detect if there in any electrical wires behind a wall. I spent six hours last Saturday putting up this nifty metal sheeting on the kitchen wall. It was a real fiddle but I managed it (although during the last half an hour the fiddle factor went through the roof – as did my blood pressure). Before commencing this I ran this gadget (not sure what the proper name for it is) over the wall where I was working to check for metal and wires. There was a wire so I avoided drilling there. Simple hey!

Anyway I was packing up my tool boxes feeling very pleased with myself and then we decided to put up this magnetic knife strip on the wall. I totally forgot to do the gadget check. Chad was holding the hoover as I drilled through the tiles. Hole one no issue, hole two was a whole other story. As the drill went in there was a MASSIVE flash of light from the hole and all the lights at the back of the house went out. Chad and I just stared at each other for a few seconds in total shock. I had drilled straight through a wire. I was SO depressed for hours after this incident – I hate it when I am a muppet.

Anyway we spent most of this week walking around in the dark, but our electrician, Nico, came yesterday and fixed it all. He told us that the new consumer electrical unit that we had put in a month or so ago (as part of doing up the bathroom and kitchen) had saved my life!!! The old 1960’s one that we had in before wouldn’t have tripped so quickly and your truly might have been a gonna. How scary is that.

I live to tell the tale – result. Anyone need some DIY doing!!!

Multi-tasking hell

Just had a total XY moment while popping out to get my lunch.

I was mid purchase at the till in Prêt when a friend called. Instead of saying “can I call you back in two minutes” I carried on talking.

While still talking on the mobile I proceed to a newsagent to buy a magazine. I then get my hand stuck in the bag with my sandwich in, drop my wallet and swipe my glasses off my face which arc across the shop and have a cushioned landing in a box of Walkers crisps.

I then tell my friend that I need to hang up and I will call her back as I skulk out of the shop with three customers and the shopkeeper all smirking at me.

I am living proof that men, while apparently doing multiple things at once are in fact kidding themselves. Dangerous thing my lunch run!