This title will not make any puns on 'light' or 'fire'; definitely not...
Yes, I know it's been a long time since I last updated. If life got any busier for me at the moment, I suspect I'd spin off the planet and go whirling into space. Certain things happened today that amused me though, and it never does any harm for you to read such things because it reminds you all that however insane your life is, mine is probably redefining the word...
For a bit of background, I should probably mention that, since I was too busy and hobgoblin-ridden yesterday to go out or away anywhere (*grinds teeth*) I thought I'd make a nice roast dinner for lunch today as I was at home on a Sunday morning; and the boys went to see their Grandma this morning with their Dad, who brought them back for dinner before he left for Cambridgeshire in the afternoon. (If I didn't tell you any of that, me setting fire to the kitchen or Phill's logic would have made no sense. Hang on...)
Anyway. The first thing that amused me of note today was the whole setting fire to the kitchen thing. Well, not so much the fire bit, as everyone's reactions. I'd gone off to fetch some frozen peas, leaving other veggies merrily boiling away on the top of the cooker, and as I'd just got the potatoes and parsnips out to have a look at I'd left the teacloth I'd used to hold the roasting tin on top of the cooker too.
Unfortunately, I'd left it a little *too* near the other veggies.
Now, the thing is, aren't people supposed to panic when there's a fire, run round shouting 'fire!' and getting buckets of water and stuff?
Hm, thought so. So, I stood there for a minute or so, clutching my bag of frozen peas, calmly thinking 'oh dear, my teacloth is going up in flames'. I briefly thought about turning off the gas, then thought that the veggies would stop boiling, and I was sure I could do something about it without burning the whole kitchen down. So, I grabbed the big saucepan lid, and put that on top of the flames to try and extinguish them. That was just after Phill and the boys had burst back into the house. Did they panic and run round shouting 'fire' etc..?
Um, no.
Phill walked through the kitchen. LAUGHING. And pointing at the leaping flames. James looked, then went off to play Sly Raccoon as if this was an everyday occurrence. Davy? 'Oh, cool! Can I watch?' he said. So, yes, the saucepan lid. When I realised that the flames had not in fact been extinguished by my valiant efforts but were still coming out from under the lid, I got another teacloth, ran it under the tap, and attempted to put that over some of the flames. Then I got the jug I was just about to make gravy in and poured some water over everything, at which point Phill came back through the kitchen and said 'Don't do that!' but I pointed out this was not a chip pan fire and the flames and acrid smoke were in fact subsiding a bit, and he conceded. By the time I had got another teacloth to remove the pan lid and then thrown the smouldering mess out into the garden, everyone's interest had completely subsided. I should be grateful for small mercies really; the time I set my stomach alight, I don't think anyone even *noticed*...
Luckily, I did recently buy some new teacloths. Phill had wondered why and I pointed out that the current ones were horrible, holey and probably used by Mrs. Noah. He still was a bit reluctant to stop using them and throw them out. He now probably thinks I did it deliberately...
Later, I asked Phill if he would do something before he left, as while my back is mostly recovered from slipped discy stuff these days it still has trouble in certain circumstances. Like changing lightbulbs. So I asked if he'd put a new bulb in the upstairs hall, as it's been gone about a week now. 'No, I can't', he replied. 'You see, I'm concerned about our carbon footprint, so the fewer light bulbs that are in the better.' Sensing that I was about to beat him about the head with a burnt wet teacloth, possibly from the fact that I was indicating that my bullshit detector was flashing and hooting, he reiterated his concern. 'But that's RUBBISH,' I said. 'You're the worst person ever for leaving lights on; I am often running round the house in the mornings turning off all the lights you've left on!'
'Ah, yes', he said, thinking on his feet. 'But some of those are energy saving lightbulbs, are they not?'
'Well yes,' I said. 'What's that got to do with it?'
'Well it just proves how concerned I am!'
I looked at him.
'They can't save energy unless they're turned on, can they?!'
He went quite quickly after that...
I'm sure there are other funny tales to be told, but I am very tired again now and it's hobgoblins to school then work early tomorrow. Another time...
For a bit of background, I should probably mention that, since I was too busy and hobgoblin-ridden yesterday to go out or away anywhere (*grinds teeth*) I thought I'd make a nice roast dinner for lunch today as I was at home on a Sunday morning; and the boys went to see their Grandma this morning with their Dad, who brought them back for dinner before he left for Cambridgeshire in the afternoon. (If I didn't tell you any of that, me setting fire to the kitchen or Phill's logic would have made no sense. Hang on...)
Anyway. The first thing that amused me of note today was the whole setting fire to the kitchen thing. Well, not so much the fire bit, as everyone's reactions. I'd gone off to fetch some frozen peas, leaving other veggies merrily boiling away on the top of the cooker, and as I'd just got the potatoes and parsnips out to have a look at I'd left the teacloth I'd used to hold the roasting tin on top of the cooker too.
Unfortunately, I'd left it a little *too* near the other veggies.
Now, the thing is, aren't people supposed to panic when there's a fire, run round shouting 'fire!' and getting buckets of water and stuff?
Hm, thought so. So, I stood there for a minute or so, clutching my bag of frozen peas, calmly thinking 'oh dear, my teacloth is going up in flames'. I briefly thought about turning off the gas, then thought that the veggies would stop boiling, and I was sure I could do something about it without burning the whole kitchen down. So, I grabbed the big saucepan lid, and put that on top of the flames to try and extinguish them. That was just after Phill and the boys had burst back into the house. Did they panic and run round shouting 'fire' etc..?
Um, no.
Phill walked through the kitchen. LAUGHING. And pointing at the leaping flames. James looked, then went off to play Sly Raccoon as if this was an everyday occurrence. Davy? 'Oh, cool! Can I watch?' he said. So, yes, the saucepan lid. When I realised that the flames had not in fact been extinguished by my valiant efforts but were still coming out from under the lid, I got another teacloth, ran it under the tap, and attempted to put that over some of the flames. Then I got the jug I was just about to make gravy in and poured some water over everything, at which point Phill came back through the kitchen and said 'Don't do that!' but I pointed out this was not a chip pan fire and the flames and acrid smoke were in fact subsiding a bit, and he conceded. By the time I had got another teacloth to remove the pan lid and then thrown the smouldering mess out into the garden, everyone's interest had completely subsided. I should be grateful for small mercies really; the time I set my stomach alight, I don't think anyone even *noticed*...
Luckily, I did recently buy some new teacloths. Phill had wondered why and I pointed out that the current ones were horrible, holey and probably used by Mrs. Noah. He still was a bit reluctant to stop using them and throw them out. He now probably thinks I did it deliberately...
Later, I asked Phill if he would do something before he left, as while my back is mostly recovered from slipped discy stuff these days it still has trouble in certain circumstances. Like changing lightbulbs. So I asked if he'd put a new bulb in the upstairs hall, as it's been gone about a week now. 'No, I can't', he replied. 'You see, I'm concerned about our carbon footprint, so the fewer light bulbs that are in the better.' Sensing that I was about to beat him about the head with a burnt wet teacloth, possibly from the fact that I was indicating that my bullshit detector was flashing and hooting, he reiterated his concern. 'But that's RUBBISH,' I said. 'You're the worst person ever for leaving lights on; I am often running round the house in the mornings turning off all the lights you've left on!'
'Ah, yes', he said, thinking on his feet. 'But some of those are energy saving lightbulbs, are they not?'
'Well yes,' I said. 'What's that got to do with it?'
'Well it just proves how concerned I am!'
I looked at him.
'They can't save energy unless they're turned on, can they?!'
He went quite quickly after that...
I'm sure there are other funny tales to be told, but I am very tired again now and it's hobgoblins to school then work early tomorrow. Another time...