Not the Royal Wedding Anniversary

 On my way back from Indescribable's (I was there for Babyzilla's birthday on Sunday), Inexcuseable sent me a text saying that we were nearly out of milk. I also remembered that the dishwasher still needed de-nymphing and so I popped to the supermarket near Sandringham to get the milk and de-nymphing solution.

Inexcuseable's husband getting accosted by nymphos as he fishes
an errant teaspoon out of the dishwasher's filter.

 Remind me never to stop there again.

 When I entered the store, there was a contingent of old ladies blocking the fruit & veg aisle, so I nipped down the hairnets & dogfood aisle reasoning that it'd be clear as the old ladies were already engaged. And I was right. Almost.
 A balding old man with unfortunately large ears stood in the centre of the aisle seemingly weighing up two cans of pet food. As I neared him, I could see that he was actually trying to decide between flavours of Mrs. Majesty queen food. In one hand was Ossifrage & Hummingbird flavour, and in the other, the new (I could tell it was new by the bright yellow "New!" star on it) Otter & Flamingo flavour.
 After shoving past him, I made my way to the toiletries aisle as I had a feeling I was nearly out of shaving gel. Unfortunately, they only had womens shaving foam, so I bought a small can, turning the label so I couldn't see Helen McDermott's suspender elastic staring back at me from the basket.

Helen McDermott in her early career as a model/strumpet

 Later, I got held up behind the old coot from the hairnets & dogfood aisle as he led his cocktail sausages from the checkout to the exit.

Fresh Battenberg Brand sausage meat

 To make matters worse, on the way out the carpark was annoyingly thronged with peasants milling around aimlessly.

Where in blazes did one park the blasted carriage?

 Oh, and I forgot the milk!

Easter egg

 We are never getting eggs from the "farm" up the road again!

 Inexcuseable came back from her walk earlier with a box of half-a-dozen eggs. There's a house up the road where one can buy fresh eggs that come from the multitudes of chickens that scratch around up there. I think she's trying to be more "country".
 Anyway, she plopped them on the side and promptly went outside to get the washing in. I, meanwhile, had just finished de-nymphing the dishwasher (a story for another time) when I heard a rustling from the eggbox. Edging cautiously up to it, I reached out and flipped the lid open. Five of the six pale brown mottled eggs were sitting in their little pulped-paper nests not moving at all. The sixth was jumping around like a child on a tartrazine high. It was all very Ghostbusters!
 As I debated what to do, the egg cracked open sending tiny pieces of eggshell flying across the kitchen and revealed a coiled up something inside. I leaned in closer, squinting, wishing I had my reading glasses to hand. 
 Suddenly, the thing sprung out, launching itself at my face! It was a basilisk!
 I leapt back and flailed at the writhing creature with a teatowel (the only thing immediately to hand), attempting to keep it at bay and it's deathly gaze off me. By pure chance I accidently dropped the cloth, which landed over the monstrous little serpent. Quickly scooping it up, I elbowed the waste-disposal unit switch on and shook out the teatowel over the sink. I smiled in grim satisfaction as the basilisk fell into the grinding metal teeth and was smushed to smithereens!

 While I leaned back against the fridge catching my breath, Inexcuseable walked back in with her washing, completely oblivious as to my narrow escape. She looked over at the noisily churning sink then switched her sights on me before sweeping out of the room. Over her shoulder she said:
 "Next time, remember to run the water when you use the waste disposal unit."

Something under the bed is drooling

 Ug. So tired. 

 I didn't sleep very well last night having been woken from dreams of things I can no longer remember by several large thumps and bangs, followed by the bed shaking. I thought it was another earthquake.

 I was wrong. It was much more serious.

 There was a monster under the bed.

It's eyes... Like gimlets!
(Artist's impression. The actual monster may vary)

 The bloody thing was eating breakfast! So, not only did I have to deal with the chomping of massive jaws and crunching of bones, but also the rivers of drool seeping into my carpet.

 As I staggered out of bed leaving the monster to its meal, I tried not to think about the devastation that was sure to await me downstairs. I mean: can you imagine the carnage caused by a sizeable monster dragging a kid through a cat-flap, and the state of our pots & pans cupboard as it rummaged for one big enough to fry a rather overweight child? 

 Le sigh.



And, yes, now that I'm up, I'll get on with those final articles from wwwWOW!