Impatient or I’m patient?

Today, I thought I’d share some examples of exactly why vampires tend to stick to their isolated castles (or affordable equivalents) tucked away on top of a windswept mountain crag. And why you’ll rarely see us being portrayed as living in a gated community with bake sales every other week.

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I recently spent a couple of nights away from my own version of a castle, and while the most of the time was indeed spent in blissful solitude, other times were… well, not so much. I know I’ve said this before, but I don’t people. I really don’t. I usually get quite impatient to get away from humans. Here’s why…

Example 1 – laying low, staying low

I was having a lovely meal in one of my favourite restaurants (okay, I can like the food, even if I have to endure eating it on site), quietly eating my Yasai Katsu and very much minding my own business, when I could not help but overhear a couple of girls chatting. To be fair, I think everyone in a 3-mile radius could hear them.

One was bragging about being at a ‘bulking out’ stage of her fitness journey and proceeded to order the largest items on the menu due to being hungry ‘like, all the time’.

The food duly came and they tucked in noisily, punctuating the slurping with tales of work-based woe. Miss Universe pipes up again.

Her: “I’m, like, working out so much, I’m like, having to eat 3 or 4 FULL meals a day just to keep going. You know?”

Five minutes later…

Her: “I’m stuffed.”

(Leaves a perfectly good meal practically untouched)

And then, as I’m happily munching on my katsu slices, I become very aware (as is everyone else) of them giving me the full “Look-don’t-look!” routine. Miss Universe weighs in with some more of her social media-worthy wisdom regarding my solo presence…

Her: “Hmm… Well, if I had the confidence, I’d go out by myself more. I mean, if I knew I wasn’t going to get kidnapped…”

Okay…

Thanks for that.

Now, while I was very flattered that she noticed my confidence, I think I was also bizarrely insulted by the intimation that nobody would ever want to kidnap me. 

Plus if anyone did kidnap her, I’d give it one, two hours tops before they bring her back. “How much was the ransom? Well, we’ll double it if you take her back. She’s driving us ‘round the bend.”

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And if that wasn’t enough…

Example 2 – He cuss, she cuss, mucus

The very next day, I went back, hoping to avoid any more observations of being repugnantly un-kidnap-able. This time, however, there was instead a small, free range child running around, banging into everyone’s tables.

Yes, I get it.

The only way to train children how to behave in certain environments is to take them to those environments. But that wasn’t all. Possibly even louder than the two girls the day before, the child’s overindulgent mother then proceeded to chase after her offspring, organic wet wipe in hand, disrupting everyone’s eating more than the kid was. And right by me, almost knocking me off my seat, I hear:

Mum: “Here, let Mummy wipe your nose. It’s all running.”

Kid: “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

By all means, acclimatise your offspring to public, ‘grown-up’ places. But do you have to announce your offspring’s voluminous mucus production quite so loudly while people are just trying to eat their Yaki Soba in peace? Just turn the volume down and de-snot the little rugrat a trifle more discreetly, please!

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Example 3 – avoiding a stink

There is a chain of shops that sell nice smellies by weight. Solid shampoos, conditioners, deodorants and the like. I went into one particular branch to buy some solid deodorant just in case mine ran out. A staff member managed to break away from the fascinating conversation about weekend shenanigans with fellow staff to pounce on me at just the right angle that made it look like she’d been there all along. 

After she tried to hard-sell me a couple of things I didn’t want, I pointed out the product I was after. There was a block the size of half a house brick, plus a ready-wrapped chunk the size of my fist. Both were far too big and I’d probably have needed a loan to pay for it. I explained that I only needed a small piece for travelling. The norm in this chain of shops is to slice products to the customer’s requirements. Or certainly to ask the customer how much they would like to purchase.

I waited…

She replied with a sullen tone of voice that was clearly the vocal equivalent of an eye-roll, “Well, I could cut you off a slice…” I was half-expecting her to follow up with “but I don’t want to.”, because that’s what the face, the tone of voice, and her general body language was screaming at me.

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But no.

She outdid herself. Truly. “…or you could buy the wrapped piece and cut it up yourself!” She finished with such a surprisingly cheery note in her voice that you’d have sworn she’d just solved the world’s biggest problem. And that I was an idiot.

I thanked her, telling that she’d given me something to think about and that I’d be back. 

But what my face, tone of voice, and general body language said was that I had absolutely no intention of going back. 

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But I’ll finish with a cute story…

For once.

This is an example of when I find humans absolutely delightful. This one, in particular, is amazing.

Vampire-y, Vampire-y, quite contrary, how do your veggies grow?

One day, I proudly showed the hubster two new varieties of radish that I’ve started growing this year. I told them that they were called Icicle and French Breakfast. He laughed and said he thought it was cute. 

Well, they were hearty examples of their varieties but I wouldn’t go that far. 

He explained that he thought my naming the vegetables was cute. I then explained that, er, the seed people had actually named them. 

All went quiet. And then he burst out laughing. Thank goodness.

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But in the end…

So there you go. Vampires are an odd lot. Fussy? Probably. Over sensitive? Definitely. You humans can be too much sometimes. But every now and again, a really good one comes along.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever overheard? I’d love to know.

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For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

If only – aka More on Vampire Myths

I realise I’ve spent a while talking about all stuff human but it’s been ages since I’ve said anything much about the world of vampires. Well, I say world, it’s probably more a windy coorner of a long-abandoned Street in a town that’s nobody ever heard in a country where nobody goes.

I talked about stuff like coffins, reflections, biting etc ages ago, back in early 2020. I meant to follow up fairly immediately. Honest. And then the rest of 2020 really kicked in. With hobnail boots. And then I forgot. And four years passed. Because they do.

Carpe Diem

No, I don’t mean “Fish of the Day”. Hahaha! I mean seizing the moment. The trouble is, actual moments feel too small to simply grab. If a vampire decides to ‘seize the day’ (sorry, that’s the proper translation of the phrase), they’d probably end up seizing a whole week. Or month, possibly. It’s like trying to grab a tomato pip out of a bowl of soup. Or that weird little fleck that always seems to end up in your drink and no matter how hard you try, it always manages to duck out of the way.

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Time passing. Yes. think that’s something right there. Ever heard a song called “Enjoy Yourself, It’s Later Than You Think”? So I guess that’s a thing with humans too? Time passing by without realising? I know that it’s a bit of a thing when somebody says they’ll be ‘five minutes’ but they end up taking way, waaaay longer, but that’s not the same, is it? Or is it? I’d be curious to hear your (polite) opinion!

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Quick recap:

Yes to reflections, no to coffins and aargh to sunlight (though no sparkling or turning to dust). A heck no to turning into animals (I wish, though) and a who knows to the immortality thing. If I could turn into any animal though, it’d have to be a dog. Because that’s the only way I could have the last word in a conversation with the furbaby.

Or how about being able to change into a wolf?

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That’d be great if you got caught short needing the loo. I mean, you can go and cock your leg anywhere. Or pop a squat, depending on your plumbing). Nobody’s going to argue with a wolf, are they? Apart from that guy in that film who apparently punches a wolf right before the end credits roll. Except that apparently he doesn’t. Which is the only reason a lot of people went to see the film, I’m told.

But how about bats? I mean, can you imagine how handy it would be to be able to just explode into a cloud of bats whenever you got stuck in a socially stressful situation? Or a really boring conversation? Or both at the same time (it happens to me a lot) Because the ground never does open up and swallow you when you need it to. Just BAT! And you’re out of there.

I feel I’ve been shortchanged a bit on that one too.

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Why do fictional vampires get all the cool gimmicks? Nobody mentions the OCD, the generally odd habits, or the crippling social anxiety. Oh no, it’s all “I-vont-to-trink-your-blood”, or Boof! Bat storm or children of the night driving the neighbours crazy with the ‘sweet music’ they’re making.

All that enforced staying away from everyone gave me (and probably everyone else) a lot of time to think. It was quite useful, actually. For a while, it made it easier to hide. For that past year and a half, I was just another person trying to avoid the world. The only problem was, as soon as the world started opening up again, I had to think of some new excuses/reasons to avoid everyone. Especially as a lot of people starting behaving like it had never happened.

If you have any good ones, I’d love to hear them.

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Still got questions? 

Then just leave them in the comments! I will definitely answer. And it won’t take me 4 years. Honest.

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For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

Self-care is care!

Happy New Year! I hope you’ve all had as good a Christmas/end of year festivities as possible. I know it isn’t always possible, but sending you some vampire-style hugs however well your past few weeks have been.

Have you made any New Year’s resolutions? I sort of did, but I did them back on the 21st of December, aka Yule, which was traditionally the time when such things were done.

You hear so many words, hashtags and phrases that get trotted out round about now. New-Year-New-Me, Gym-Membership-Number, I’m-Never-Getting-That-Drunk-Again… You know the kind of thing.

Add some good to your life – for you.

Because… why do you need to change? Do you need to change? Or are there just things about your life that needs to be tweaked so that they serve you better? Okay, sure, you want to start running/join a gym/take up yoga but why? Is it because you feel they’ll help you ‘fix’ something about you? Or do you really fancy doing them?

There are so many sayings and stories that fit this idea.

“You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

“Self-care isn’t selfish.”

If you have a favourite one, pop it in the comments.

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However…

Okay, so that’s adding the good. How about dealing with all the inevitable poopheads and general poopiness that happens in life? Because, let’s face it, life isn’t insta-perfect, is it? What’s that saying about comparing your rough footage to someone else’s showreel? Especially when your rough footage (aka life) is filmed on some crappy handheld device from the last century, and someone else’s showreel (aka…ok, you get the idea) has had filters and special effects and super slick everything thrown at it.

I’m just trying to be a good potato.

I heard this great story from someone who was helping me to deal with the fallout from some particularly toxic people and the poop-storms they kept creating wherever they went. Anyway, the story goes like this. There’s a potato, and it’s trying to potato as hard as it can. But it’s not outside in warm, perfectly drained soil, with all the warmth, sun and care that it needs to be its best self.

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It’s locked away in a cupboard, in a dark, dingy cellar. Is it able to grow into a strong, healthy plant? Not really. It tries its utmost, though. It pushes out roots and does its hardest to be the best potato it can be. But unless it’s taken out of that cupboard, out of that cellar, and planted outside in better conditions, it can only do so much. It’s just trying to be a good potato.

Poop happens

You have to be okay with someone else being an a-hole. They’ll never change (probably). You’ll just waste the wearing yourself out (definitely) and what’s to be gained?

To give you an example – many years ago when I was a very young vampire, I hated school. I was bullied. Mercilessly. Shocker, I know. When I left, I carried with me all of the hurt and frustration and general internal sludge that accompanies such treatment. I carried it all with me for years. I dreamed about what I would do or say if ever I met any of them again.

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And I did. one morning, I bumped into one particular bully who’d been leader of the ‘popular’ girls back in the day. Did she recognise me? Eventually (I hadn’t aged like she had – so there was an instant point to me – yay). Did she greet me full of remorse and apologies for how badly she’d treated me?

Nope.

She behaved like we’d been bestest friends in school. All the while she was gushing over me, I felt all that rage and resentment going round and round in circles inside of me. Why did I waste all that time carrying those feelings? She had clearly never given me, or her treatment of me two moments of thought. Gahhhh!

So, to close with another old couple of sayings – Be yourself. Everyone else is taken. And… Those who matter, won’t mind, while those that do mind, don’t matter.

Here’s to a wonderful New Year, wherever you are.

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Want to read more of my ramblings? Apparently, these are free if you have something called Kindle Unlimited. Even without, they’re still way cheaper than one of those fancy cups of coffee…

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

Misky Laney Ouse – or Short Rants

Recently ordered a pizza online for the first time since we moved. And of course, for the first time since the hubster went vegan. It’s even got a tracker now that tells you what point your order is at. The app, that is. Not the hubster. I think it goes something like this:

Step 1

your order has been received.

Step 2

staff have now taken your order to the kitchen.

Step 3

staff are saying “****ing vegans!”

EDIT: Shortly after finally getting our pizza, we have since noticed that that particular company no longer delivers to our area. We are apparently ‘out of their delivery zone‘. We live less than a mile away.

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Just seen a pick up truck with the license plate T 400. Maybe thinking – is this actually the terminator crossover with Transformers? Or is it just the transport for one of the early terminators? Well, let’s face it – the first terminator was probably mechanical pencil sharpener with a bad attitude.

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I know most people would shout me down for saying this but… I actually kind of miss Lockdown…? I don’t miss Covid 19, mind you. And yes, I did catch it, despite all my efforts. I caught it right at the end.  I really don’t like the idea of going back out into places filled with people… especially people who – especially now social distancing is a thing of the past – still don’t get the concept of personal space! Thankfully, I never really needed an excuse to get outside in Nature. “I think that I never shall see a poem lovely as a tree” (Joyce Kiilmer)

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Poetry! I do love poetry, but give me the good-old-fashioned stuff like Keats and Milton. A lot of stuff these days… especially in adverts and cards and stuff… I’m talking the stuff that’s all a bit Emperor’s New Clothes. Poetry in that case is the literary equivalent of ‘expressive dance’. Just throw some words/movies randomly at people and call it high art! And the best bit is – these days, you don’t actually have to have much talent! I am not knocking expressive dance or freeform poetry when It’s done properly, just the people who use such things to label their nonsense and try to make it impressive.

I remember attending an ‘Arts Evening’ once. I did feel uncomfortable. Everybody was all like “oh, let me get my singing stones out and we’ll dance around the fire made of walnuts and sing the praises of the great wizard Jangletang.” And I just had to sit there and listen to these interminable flipping poems and chunks of stories about everything from nutmeg fairies to magical knickers, desperately wanting it all to end and then watching them as they congratulated each other on how brilliant they were…

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What really gets your goat? I’d love to know!

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For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

Never smile at a crocodile

…or argue with an idiot. Why? I’ll explain later.

Oh, my word.

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How the dickens are you?

I have missed you. I won’t bore you with the reasons for my absence.

So… yes…

Giving not too much away, I’ll just say that even vampires have the occasional brain-frizz. Anyway, back to what I started talking about. I am so glad I don’t base my entire self-esteem on the incoherent ramblings of some talentless mouth breather. Ouch and sorry-not-sorry to anyone I may have just offended, or to anyone who has so graciously decided to be offended on behalf of someone else.

I never understand the reasoning behind why humans feel the increasing need to be so vitriolic online. How exactly does it improve their lives or increase their status? Is it truly a feeling of jealousy? Or the unintentional highlighting of their own inadequacy?

I looked recently on a website where lots of people had left comments on an item that had recently been posted. 99.9% of them left were very positive or at least attempting to be constructive (bless).

But, as with every tub of ointment, there was bound to be a self-righteous, pontificating fly. As a rule of thumb, the unkindest, snidest comments came from people who had absolutely no other way of creating a visible presence. They had no followers, no content, no likes, no form of the validation they so obviously craved. Or certainly only as many as could be counted on the fingers of one hand – if that hand belonged to a squid.

Apologies to any squid who may be reading this.

Wait…

Huh?

What is the plural of squid, by the way? Is it still squid? Squids?

I can only surmise that their sheer nastiness ( the keyboard warriors, that is, not the squid. I haven’t met any squid recently, but I’m sure they’re lovely) was an attempt at garnering some attention/sympathy/pity or they were trying to gather like-minded people into their circle in much the same way as a ship attracts magnetic sea mines.

Hey, if you can’t be the smartest person in the room, be the nastiest.

“Hell is other people.” Even more so when you’re a vampire!

I’m trying to stay away from those kind of humans.

I know of a few very confusing types. For example, in discussing a plan for an event, one such human agreed readily with all the suggestions, only to later turn around and disagree, and then went as far as to say they had never say anything of the kind, and that anyone who said otherwise was lying!

I also heard of one beleaguered person who, fearing for their own sanity after countless battle cries of ‘you’re imagining it’ and ‘I never said that’, decided to tape a conversation when discussing a deadline for a project. They asked the other person a question about it a few days later, only for the other to claim total ignorance of anything to do with. It went something like this:

A: “But we discussed this only the other day.”

B: “No, we didn’t. I’ve never spoken to you about that.”

A: “We had a meeting to discuss it.”

B: “You must be imagining it. I didn’t even know it was happening.”

They even played back the tape to the other person. They still denied any knowledge, despite hearing their own voice talking about it!

B: “I never said that.”

Excuuuuse me?!

So, you can either spend a shedload of energy trying to keep those people happy, or you can spend the same energy (less, probably) on moving yourself forward.

Spoiler alert – You’ll never make them happy, so save the energy for some thing positive.

I’d love to hear any positive things anyone is doing to keep their feelings safe and well.

So I’m going to finish with a Top Tip…

Never, ever argue with an idiot.

They’ll drag you down to their level then beat you with experience.

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For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

Say Nay To The Nay-sayers

So, spring is finally here! Hurrah! And here I am, ready to be your little bundle of positivity and amiability.

Just kidding.

But it doesn’t hurt to dream, does it?

Dreaming.

Now there’s something that’s been a problem all my life. At night, there’s the getting to sleep and staying asleep long enough for the literal variety. And, during daylight (ugh), there’s the day variety. Oh boy, that got me into trouble as a kid. Always daydreaming. I actually found some of my school reports the other day. There were a few phrases that kept popping up over and over again. It was almost as though each teacher thought they might as well copy what the previous three comments had said. And oh, how those phrases were used by Mother to beat me over the head. Why couldn’t I be more like so-and-so, they always got the year prize.

In fact, the majority of comments on my old reports soon start looking like a big old game of ’fill in the blank’.

Very bright but-

• lazy
• lacks focus
• needs to concentrate
• spends too much time daydreaming
• needs to pay attention in class

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But, in my defence, it wasn’t always because I wasn’t paying attention. For instance, in one Domestic Science lesson (aka ’cookery’, aka ’yes-I-really-am-THAT-old’), we were making soup. I was 11. My pan of onions and carrots was sizzling away nicely on a corner ring. The teacher decided to gather everyone around one of the hobs to show off one pupil’s efforts. Look at Bethan’s soup, everyone. Isn’t it perfect?

The crowd were, well, crowding out my access to the hob I was using. I tried to get the teacher’s attention, to be told that I should be more like Bethan. My pan of onions and carrots was still sizzling away nicely as the teacher continued to extol the virtues of Bethan’s burgeoning masterpiece. On and on she went, while my pan was now burning away nicely on its back corner ring. I tried again to draw attention to what had gone from being a lack off access to a possible need to call the fire brigade. It was only when thick smoke started pouring from my pan that the teacher dragged herself away from filling in the forms to make Bethan a saint and actually decided to deal with the problem in hand. I then got told off for not paying attention and allowing my pan to burn.

But, ensuring the canonisation of Saint Bethan of the Blessed Minestrone, I was allowed to take a couple of ladlefuls of her soup home so I had something to show for the wasted two hours and suspected smoke inhalation. All this accompanied with a frosty ”Not everyone is a natural cook.” from the teacher and sniggers from the other girls (because apparently boys don’t cook). When I got home, I didn’t dare tell Mother what had happened to my own effort, as I knew I would get the usual eardrum bongo solo for wasting food. What I did get, however, was a “It’s a pity you’re not more like Z – they’re a wonderful cook.”

I am actually a wonderful cook.

So there.

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But, for now, everything everywhere is just exhausting. Life is still very wearing. It takes me all day to do what I usually do all day. Doesn’t help that my attention pings around like a ball in a pinball machine.

So why the title? Simply this.

You are you.

You are not someone else.

And that someone else is not you. They cannot and should not try to make you become like them. And if someone tries it, say no. Or at least, act no. Tell someone. Also, do not let anyone compare you unfavourably with anyone else, either. I can’t be anyone else. I mean, the amount of times when I was growing up I heard “Why can’t you be more like X?” or ”You should try to be more like Y”. The irony is that, years/decades down the line, if I had been more like X or Y, I’d either be dead or in prison now.

A cup is a cup, and a plate is a plate.

They are both equal and valid.

We need both.

I’m going to make a sweeping generalisation. Hey, it’s about the only sweeping I’m going to get done today. People tend to work on the principle of ”The world would be a simpler place if everyone was like me.”
Look at when someone misunderstands or gets annoyed/frustrated with someone else. 99% of the time, they’re experiencing those feelings because the perpetrator isn’t behaving or reacting the way that they themselves would. Seriously. Just watch them. Let me know what you find.

There you go. Homework. A*. Top of the class. Have fun with it.

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For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?
Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice…

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

The Sacrificial Chip

Or

The Quirks & OCD Obsessions Of An Everyday Vampire

I know I’ve spoken before about the obsessive-compulsive quirks that make up a large part of the vampire personality, but what exactly do they look like? Traditionally, it’s things like having to pick up every single seed that some careless (or devious) human has either filled your coffin with, or scattered all around your coffin. Or it’s something as socially awkward as needing to be invited in. The first one doesn’t apply to me for obvious reasons (no coffin, plus the welcome advent of really good vacuum cleaners). The second one… Okay, you’ve got me there. I do need to be invited in when I visit someone for the first time. But to me, it’s just common decency. So what are the little quirks of an everyday vampire?

Read on…

Getting dressed – layer by layer. And by this, I mean putting on all my underwear first (plus socks) then top/ T-shirt and whatever I’m wearing on the bottom, usually not a skirt) and finally, top-top layer – either a jumper, cardigan, or hoody. Apparently, this is weird. Apparently, “normal” people put on socks/pants/trousers first then vest/shirt (I’m trying to be gender-generic here). Or the other way around. Not me. I heard somebody saying that they’d been called weird because (like me) they got dressed layer by layer. Really? So, you’re telling me that the normal way is to get all of your top stuff on or all of your bottom stuff on first? Who are these people? What happens if there’s a knock at the door? Do you go down and greet the postman by flashing him because half your bits are hanging out? And if this is the case, which bits do you choose to flash with? And which are you least likely to get arrested for?

Stacking the dishwasher – I know a lot of humans that have a hangup about this one. With me, the focus is on the cutlery. Every dishwasher I’ve ever come across has his cute little basket thing that sits right in the middle of the bottom rack, specifically for cutlery. Sometimes, the basket has a grid allowing you to place individual items, or sometimes it’s just divided into four little sections. For me, I have to have cutlery in a certain way. It drives me spare when I see knives and forks and spoons all jumbled together. This is the proper, correct and only way to do it. All spoons, no matter what size or function, go on the left hand side. Knives and forks (i.e. stabby things) go on the right hand side. Ideally, you want the forks to be grouped together, the knives to be grouped together, and the spoons to be grouped according to size (teaspoon, dessertspoon, tablespoon). Is this a step too far? Let me know in the comments!

The sacrificial chip – this is a long-standing tradition when I’m cooking. When I put chips (fries) in the oven, I always find that no matter how well regulated the oven temperature is, there will always be some that cook quicker than the others. Now, I know that if I leave these little blighters in for the full time (i.e. until all the chips are ready), they will be burnt to a cinder. My solution is quite simple – as soon as these little tiddly chips become ready, I whip them out and eat them on the spot. These are the chips that have selflessly given themselves for the Greater Good. These, ladies and gentlemen, are the sacrificial chips. And they’re blooming tasty too! Try it next time, you will not regret it.

Baked beans on toast – This has to be done in a very particular way – the (cool, but not cold) toast has been (dairy-free) buttered, one slice slightly overlapping the other. Then, and only then, can the beans be poured on top. The idea is that you have this nice dry crispy buttery bit that’s still lurking there once the rest of the toast has gone soggy.

Getting ready to go out – and by this, I don’t mean “Yay, I’m going on a big night out. Party!” No, I mean simply leaving the house. I have a little routine that I have to go through to ensure that I get out of the house in something under half an hour. It’s simply this – keys, cash, communicator. It’s quite straightforward: I check to make sure that I have on me my keys, my purse, and my phone. Of course, recently this phrase has extended by one item to become keys, cash, communicator, cover (cover = facemask, but I wanted to keep it punchy).

Eating a baguette – I just realise that a lot of my OCD relates to food. I think that says more about me than about the food. Anyway, the baguette… The cut has to be on the right hand side. For some reason, I cannot eat the baguette if the cut is on the left hand side. I remember once accidentally starting it on the left hand side and panicking, saying “I’m eating it upside down! It’s the wrong way ’round!” At which, the hubster stared at me in disbelief.

Oh, and cutlery has to match.

And I also have a teaspoon that I deem to be evil and won’t use.

I know humans have routines and habits too. its not exclusively a vampire thing. So, how about you? Do you have any quirks or foibles? Let me know in the comments!

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Want to read more of my ramblings? Apparently, these are free if you have something called Kindle Unlimited. Even without, they’re still way cheaper than one of those fancy cups of coffee…

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

We’re Going To Need A Bigger Bloat

It’s Halloween again. It’s been 7 whole years since I first started sharing my ramblings with you. Well, nobody has asked me to stop, so… I have a little linky gifty for you. Read on…

Funnily enough, it all began with me highlighting the wondrous mind-bogglingness that is the human thought process (I did want to say human stupidity, but someone out there who’s desperately looking to be offended will probably zero in on it and get all precious on me. Seriously, who goes out of their way to cheese off a vampire?

This is where it started… with a post called “As good a day as any” Yes, I know the date says 6 years ago, but I was (slightly) young(er) and foolish(er) (er, no) at the time and decided to reblog the post, not realising that it wouldn’t just repeat the post, it physically moved the whole thing. Lesson learned.

But last year, with everything that was going on, Halloween was pretty much a non-event. This year, people are still tending to do Halloween in their own homes more, so I guess dressing up might not be as much of a thing? Correct me if I’m wrong. Go ahead. I dare you. Just joking. Or am I? Instead, it seemed to have evolved into more of a stay-at-home film fest type of thing (we’re doing an online virtual escape room this year – we found a site containing some absolute corkers! Click here to see for yourself). We also have a large amount of vampire-friendly treats ready to hand out. And if we don’t get to hand them out, we’ll probably end up scoffing the lot ourselves and ending up quite bloaty.

I know what you’re thinking…

What’s with the trick-or-treating shark?

We were looking for some films to watch over the weekend. The hubster came across a list of Halloween movies and asked how could Jaws be a Halloween film? I thought that perhaps the people who’d compiled the list had mixed two iconic horrors up – Halloween and Friday The 13th plus everyone knows the old thing of ‘fish-on-a-Friday’..?

Just wondering…

And don’t get started on the whole “Die-Hard-is-a-Cristmas-film” thing. What do you think? Let me know in the comments!

Back to sharks. Apparently, shark attacks aren’t as big a thing as people think and, according to one Florida site, sharks just nibble people if they’re confused. So, there you go – you humans are not actually on the menu! It doesn’t have any statistics for shark attacks on vampires, but that might have something to do with that gloriously sunny part of the world not being a major holiday destination for vampires on the whole.

Here’s my theory about the nibbling. Perhaps sharks are more like toddlers? Picture the scene. Mummy and Daddy Shark are trying to get fussy Little Shark to eat something. Anything. They’ve tried krill, squid, coral, oysters. Basically, everything going. And then a lightbulb moment. They present the fussy little brat with a nice squishy human. The ultimate (not so) fast food. It even comes with its own dress-up outfits and accessories!

Daddy Shark: “Doesn’t this look yummy, junior?”

Junior: “I don’t like it!”

Mummy Shark (slightly exasperated):“But you haven’t even tried it!”

Junior: “I know I won’t like it.”

Daddy Shark: “Just try a bite.”

Junior: NO.

Mummy Shark: Just one teeny weeny bite?

Junior: “It’s yucky.”

Mummy Shark: Well I’m going to try it. Hmm. Just a teensy nibble. Hmm… yum yum.”

And Junior continues to refuse to eat and starts pestering to go to Seaweed Hut instead…

Gives a whole new perspective on that Baby Shark song…

We live in a little seaside town. No sharks. Amazing beaches with absolutely no danger of being eaten, bitten or even nibbled. Even by me – you know my rule. Although that theory (and my patience) has been tested recently.

You see, it’s school autumn break over here, which means our picturesque (and perfectly safe) little town is once more overrun with tourists. And we’re not talking the ‘pay for everything with a fresh £50 note’ type that I mentioned last time. Not only do they lack basic social awareness (and coming from me, that’s saying something!) they even seem to lack basic life skills. Additional lack of mathematical knowledge seems to be the current trend. Some examples…

The ‘herder’ – having no awareness of space or distance, these are the ones who gather in huge groups in the very middle of the pavement, often taking up the entire pavement. Consequently, everyone else is forced off the pavement, herded into the road and into the path of oncoming traffic.

The ‘can’t-count-to-6’ – The other day, the hubster and I were in the local grocer buying something for lunch. The thing is, here, facemasks are still legally required. Over the border, pretty much anything goes nowadays. Back to normal. Let’s all do exactly what we want. Just much, much louder. Plus many places here still have a set number of people allowed in. In this particular shop, that number is six. As we are having to buy quite a lot of items, both of us had gone in. So there we were, and at the front of the queue were three people, all clearly from the same group but only one of them was doing any shopping. They’d been in there a long time already. In between them and us was another person.

Six.

Another potential customer on their lunch break steps into the shop, does a quick headcount, makes an apologetic exclamation and leaves. This sensible soul is then pushed out of the way by person number four from the group at the front of the queue. They’re asked politely to leave the shop as only six are legally allowed inside. “oh, it’s alright.” They say, grinning inanely, “I’m with them.” And they point to the three people from their group who are all busy videoing the pasties but still can’t seem to decide between buying a single sausage roll or a pizza slice. All three staff numbers take it in turns to explain why they have to leave the shop. Pandemic. Social distancing. The law. Maximum of six in the shop. The stupid grin just grows wider. They stand their ground, nodding. Soon, the other customers start joining in and pleading with this genius to leave. “It’s okay,” they grin, even more inanely, “I’m not buying anything.”

And that’s supposed to make it better?

Anyway, staff members stop short of walking the person out of the store by simply serving the rest of the group as quickly as possible whereupon they all meander out. It turns out that there’s at least another half dozen of them waiting outside on the very narrow pavement which puts the rest of them into category one – the herder.

And, just one more…

The ‘no-idea-of-distance’ – this one really got my goat. I mean, you know how careful (paranoid, even) I am about keeping my distance from people. So, we’re in the queue at the mini-market, standing the statutory distance from the person in front, if not a little further. Obviously, we have no idea what’s going on behind us, but that’s not the issue. Anyway, the person in front turns around and starts yelling at us to move back, that we’re not keeping far enough away from them. We try to point out that we were indeed more than far enough away but they continue screaming at us. I’d love to know how they could tell we were apparently too close when we were standing behind them! So – complete inability to judge distances but special talent: eyes in back of head.

Anyway, they paid for their groceries (after making an inordinate amount of actual physical contact with the person serving them) and eventually trotted out and returned (I’m guessing) to their gingerbread cottage. They were probably in a bad mood because their oven had gone out and they needed to get it ready for the children that might be trotting their way this weekend. You can never tell, can you?

Still, enough of this nonsense. Have a great weekend, everyone. Take the bestest care of yourselves. Let me know in the comments what you’ve got planned. I’d also love to hear from anyone who’s tried out the escape rooms in the above link.

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For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

New season, schmooze season

Ah, autumn. To me, it’s almost like the start of a new year. For me, at least, it’s the start of not just a new season, but a new season of me sharing my dumb thoughts with you. a bit of the old online schmoozing, if you will.

That’s right.

I’m back.

Okay, so perhaps schmooze isn’t the right word but I don’t know what is, so we’ll just have to deal with that. The dictionary defines it as:

“to converse informally : CHAT also  : to chat in a friendly and persuasive manner especially so as to gain favor, business, or connections”

Well, let’s stick with the first part of that, shall we?

Anyway, it’s been a while. Summer here is chronologically over, but nobody has told the weather that. You see, as I’ve said before, September here is usually hotter and or sunnier than the more traditional summer months. As one of our lovely neighbours said the other day, ”The tourists have gone. It’s our turn now!” (In case you’d forgotten, we live in a very cute seaside town)

So how have you been? Did you have a good summer? Did you manage to go anywhere?

We stayed here, trying to keep on top of the capricious moods of the weather (hot/hotter/wet). But it’s been hot. I can say that much. Except for when it wasn’t. Which was rare. And even though we had to stay put this year, my summer absence was spent in the garden, learning several lessons the hard way. Like, for instance – cucumbers are prickly! Why did nobody tell me this?

My biggest problem, however was, as always, trying to sleep. If my feet are too cold, I can’t sleep. If my feet are too hot, I can’t sleep. And there’s no way in hailstones that I’m dangling them out of the covers. And however hot it is, I still have to have a cover over me. I just don’t vibe with the idea of lying there like the last haddock in a fishmonger’s display. But then something weird happens in the early hours. Throughout the day, the only thing hotter than the sun are my hobbit-like little furnace feet.

Then, at about 11.30pm (2.30am summer time) –

Me: Arrgh! I can’t sleep! My feet are too hot!

My feet: Don’t you dare dangle us out. We don’t want to get eaten by the under-the-bed monster!

Me: I have to do something!

My feet: Activate Arctic mode.

Me: Arrgh! I can’t sleep! My feet are too cold!

Oh… yes, I should have said. For anyone new to my ramblings, I have a very low body temperature.

It’s a vampire thing.

So, anyway, yes. The grumpy tourists have all gone home now. Not sure why they were grumpy. Perhaps because this was ’the best they could do’, given the current travel restrictions? Or perhaps their sense of entitlement comes across differently abroad, in another language?

So here’s a few tips for when you holiday at home but still want that ’holiday abroad’ feel…

1) Go into a baker, point at something, shout ‘two’ while holding up a random number of fingers. Pay with a £50 note. Get it back to your hotel/air B&B to discover it’s a meat pie, not an apple pie like you thought. 

2) Wear wildly clashing t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. No matter what the weather. Then complain about the weather.

3) Book a week somewhere that doesn’t have any chain burger bars. Then spend every lunchtime trying to find one of these establishments. Finally find one. Take the entire family in and only start thinking about what you’re having when the harassed staff member tries to take your order. Pay with a £50 note. And for that extra ’Brit abroad’ feel, be sure to change your mind at least three times, up to and including when said staff member hands you your order.

4) Spend the last day buying random useless things to take back.

Which reminds me… This didn’t happen to me (I read most languages, so I tend to know exactly what I’m buying) but to someone who’s related to someone who’s friends with someone I sort of know. They’d gone on holiday to France. Had an amazing time. Did the whole beaches/sightseeing thing, finishing up at one of those enormous hypermarchés, which is basically a small city made of shops. To remind them of the vineyards they’d visited, they decided to stock up on wine. They spent a fortune on a particularly stunning bottle, vowing to share it with their friends on their return. And so, the emails went out. The menu was planned. The evening arrived. Out came the bottle with every bit of ceremony barring an actual fanfare. The cork was popped, glasses filled. Sips were taken in great anticipation.

And spat out in great disgust.

They had assumed that ’aigre’ was the wine growing region that the wine was produced in. This bottle of ’Vin Aigre should have been a delight for the palette.

Not speaking French, they hadn’t realised that ’vin aigre’ or, rather, ’vinaigre’ is actually the French for…

Vinegar.

Yup.

And on that note, I will bid you farewell as I go to the kitchen to cook dinner with random items I pretend I found at the back of the cupboard.

—————————————————————————

For anyone wanting to read all my rants in one place – including all-new exclusive stuff, then click below!

Volume 1 of my diary – why not start at the very beginning?

Volume 2 – more rants, musings and fairly useful advice

Volume 3 – things are afoot! The thot plickens…

Because April May

Oh boy. Sorry about that.

I totally missed April.

The weather was… confusing. Given where we live, my system went into automatic a-wooga waltz shutdown. And by that, I mean it was sunny, and I just wasn’t expecting it. So an early bit of laying low ensued. I will still be disappearing in a couple of months time, so, just saying.

And before I get on to what I wanted to talk about, I just have to tell you this…

Today, I had a case of Town Nous & Country Nous.

On the way back from the beach with the furbaby, a couple of lads headed towards us, trainers and hoodies at full mast. I stepped back the regulation 2 metres/6 feet. Where I used to live, it would have been for safety’s sake. As in personal safety because we lived in a heavily bilingual area. And by that, I mean English and Anglo-Saxon. Mostly Anglo-Saxon, judging by the adult-content blue air that sat like a Victorian smog outside our flat. I recall once getting an R-rated mouthful from one young ‘lady’ simply because I’d had the cheek to shut my own bedroom window.

Imagine the nerve of me!

How rude!

And as if she wanted to make sure that I had actually shut the offending pane & frame, she began throwing things at said window, including pebbles, unwanted chips (fries), and a couple of beer bottles.

Changing the subject (sort of), I was in a shop once when a Probation Officer tore in, asking the assistant for breath mints – the stronger the better, as her client was due in court within the half hour on drinking related charges, and her whole case depended on her client’s not having touched a drop of alcohol in several months.

Which was true.

He’d been drinking it fast, from a bottle. Absolutely no physical contact involved – it wasn’t even touching the sides on the way down. Nerves were to blame. Dutch courage and so on. Breath mints were poo-pooed (though that would definitely have covered the smell of booze, with the added benefit of him then having plenty of space in the holding cell if things went awry). Cheese and onion crisps – the cheaper and nastier, the better – were decided upon. I do wonder how his case went. I genuinely hope things turned out well for him. We all make mistakes. For some people, it’s wearing sandals when rain is forecast, but for other, they can be true life changers.

But anyway, back to these two lads. We stepped out of their way and waited for them to go past, and in the back of my mind, there was at least one brain cell that was in Town Nous mode, expecting a mouthful. Luckily, that one brain cell was outnumbered by a whole continent of others, who then delighted in being proved right. The furbaby wandered over (she’s such a nosy little madam), her tail wagging. They petted her, called her gorgeous and said ‘hi’ to me. So lovely.

Take that, Town Nous!
Victory for the continent of brain cells!

We’ve been living here nearly four years now, so you’d have thought that my brain would have left behind the expectations that I’d learned in my previous home. As a vampire, you learn to be very wary of everything and everyone. But I’m getting there. I do have to keep telling myself you’re not living in that town anymore…

Be the continental brain cell, not the shouty one who blames everything on everything and always expects the worst, so is rarely disappointed.

I love where I live.

But, on to what I really wanted to talk about. Although, now, I guess there isn’t that much to say. I just wanted to talk about the garden. I planted some plants out way too early. The poor cucumbers are shadows of their former selves and will need to be replaced. I was good – honest! I waited for the last frost and everything!

Did you know about the whole ‘last frost‘ thing?

I didn’t. But it’s a thing. After that date, it should be safe to put stuff out. So I did. And I even put fleece over it. Not the type you wear, obviously, but some floaty, gauzy stuff that you’re supposed to put down to keep the seedlings warm and safe from birds.

Huh.

Put fleece down, they said.

It’ll protect your plants from birds, they said.

Nope. I’ll tell you what it does. It distracts the birds from the plants. And what they don’t tell you is that, at the exact same time you’re putting this cobwebby stuff over your plants to protect them, the birds have got their own DIY home renovation project going and they’re gleefully ripping the fleece to shreds to line their nests with. Because it’s that time of year, isn’t it?

And meanwhile, the slugs are sneaking in and having a flipping field day. Literally. I wouldn’t mind, but I’ve yet to see a slug in the garden. They seem to prefer my bathroom. Second only to my bathroom are my dwarf bean plants that are rapidly turning into twigs while my back is turned.

And now I’m wondering…

Are the slugs and birds in it together? Is one lot running interference for the other?

“Tell you what, Fred. Let me get on with demolishing the beans. And while she’s standing there, looking all stupid and sticking more plants in, you fly in and help yourself to that fluffy stuff. We’ll both come out of this winners.”

Let’s just call it a learning curve.

And that title? It’s from one of the worst dad jokes of all time. A proper groaner. And for anyone who needs an explanation, click here. But why, I’m not sure.

“Can February March? Because April May.”

See you next month!