Our holiday apartment in the summer had a plug in air freshener with a scent which was horribly overpowering and we switched it off straight away as it caused my youngest’s eyes to water. I was worried it would trigger his asthma.
I am allergic to orris root, which use4d to be widely used as a basis for cosmetic scents. When I was in my twenties there was an elderly woman at our church who liked me very much, and used to spend a lot of time talking to me. I liked her too, but her cosmetics were loaded with orris root. My sinuses were very unhappy after I had talked to her.
In those days stores put their cosmetic departments just inside the entrance doors. I would stand outside, take a deep breath and hold it until the cosmetic counters were well behind me.
I once worked with a lady who smoked and used a loud, sickly perfume.
I used to try and breathe through my mouth when she was anywhere near, as the combined scents made me feel ill.
We once had a regular ambulance patient, nicknamed (by us) *Fag-Ash Lil*. Her bungalow reeked of cheap scent and cigarette smoke - she wasn't allowed to smoke on board the ambulance, of course, but the reek came with her...it had a kind of half-life of its own, like the smell of Foul Ol' Ron in Discworld.
For all that, she was a lovely person, with a wicked Cockney sense of humour.
I bought a bottle of Giorgio once, as I actually rather liked it. My then boss, unfortunately, didn't, and wouldn't let me wear it to work. She even cited notices she said were to be found in restaurants and shops in America outlawing it.
I remember another colleague rocking up drenched in Youth Dew, which triggered such a filthy headache it didn't even go away once I'd got home.
I was particularly pissed off, because I had to miss what would have been a very enjoyable evening with friends at a favourite restaurant.
One thing I liked about shelter in place was I could enjoy my Arpege around the house that I no longer wore in public as so many have bad reactions to perfume.
Current irritation is the inability of supermarkets to stock unsweetened non-dairy milks. I do realise that dairy milk is slightly sweet and of course no-one is going to notice the sweetening, are they? Except pea milk sweetened with grape juice makes inedible cheese sauce, as I found trying to make cauliflower cheese* for lunch. I'm obviously in a very small minority trying to cook with these milks from the way the unsweetened versions are labelled as the different version, and how difficult unsweetened non-dairy milk is to find.
* Well aged cheese, matured for over two years, loses most of whatever my daughter is allergic to. And gluten free sauce is possible using cornflour instead of a roux.
Except pea milk sweetened with grape juice makes inedible cheese sauce, as I found trying to make cauliflower cheese* for lunch. I'm obviously in a very small minority trying to cook with these milks from the way the unsweetened versions are labelled as the different version, and how difficult unsweetened non-dairy milk is to find.
* Well aged cheese, matured for over two years, loses most of whatever my daughter is allergic to. And gluten free sauce is possible using cornflour instead of a roux.
For a white sauce you could just use water instead of milk or a plant-based "milk".
I could, but one of the reasons I use these plant based milks is to provide the protein, vitamin D, magnesiun, calcium and iodine that come as part of the package.
Except pea milk sweetened with grape juice makes inedible cheese sauce, as I found trying to make cauliflower cheese* for lunch. I'm obviously in a very small minority trying to cook with these milks from the way the unsweetened versions are labelled as the different version, and how difficult unsweetened non-dairy milk is to find.
* Well aged cheese, matured for over two years, loses most of whatever my daughter is allergic to. And gluten free sauce is possible using cornflour instead of a roux.
For a white sauce you could just use water instead of milk or a plant-based "milk".
So THAT'S what they served me in hospital.
(Lasagne, allegedly. Each layer was about 1 mm thick, it had never been near a dairy product in its life, and it had been reheated in one of those steam oven things. Oh and it contained no salt. It possibly qualifies as the worst meal of my life. The other candidates for that distinction were also served by the same hospital.)
Sounds like the chicken pasta with white sauce they served me after my son was born. I have doubts about the chicken, the pasta may have been wet cardboard, and as for the white sauce, Elmer's glue makes a handy comparison.
The new voice-mail system at my pharmacy. With the old system I just punched in the number of the prescription I wanted to refill; now I have to speak it. I spoke 688... and the voice replied, 088. I said "no 688, the voice repeated 088. This happened five times and then they switched me to a live human being. The words 'six' and 'zero' do not have a single sound in common. How could a system be so bad?
Dear delivery person, when I requested that you deliver my heavy box to my front door, and you deliver it instead to my back porch right in front of my screen door that opens out, I can not open the screen door to get my package.
Sounds like the chicken pasta with white sauce they served me after my son was born. I have doubts about the chicken, the pasta may have been wet cardboard, and as for the white sauce, Elmer's glue makes a handy comparison.
Our office canteen (long gone; these are things of the past now outside hospitals) once had a "roast vegetable pizza" on the menu. That sounded OK, ordered it.
I got a nasty cheese and tomato pizza, the sort you can pick for about 50p in the local Co-op, with about half a tin of chopped mixed vegetables poured over the top.
It was not very pleasant.
I felt like asking "do you cook like this at home? Do you find your family frequently requests takeaways?"
Given the stuff here (warning - Bookface link and rabbit hole you could spend hours down) it's entirely possible they do: https://www.facebook.com/slimminghurled/
My satnav. The one with the drums, or possibly two male cats. Yesterday afternoon, on our way back from south London, there was a lot of traffic. Apart from directing me down roads to make right turns into unbroken queues, where people had been queuing for ages, and so were not predisposed to let people in, it twice directed me down cul-de-sacs. In one case, it ended with a no-entry sign and a trades access drive. In the other. a round turning area by the gate to a private events venue. (According to its blurb (I've been checking where we were this morning) that was in the heart of Kent. It wasn't. It was in Chiselhurst. (This is a bit like saying Oakland is in the heart of California. Chiselhurst was once on the edge of Kent but is now in Greater London.))
I used my internal navigation once I hit a road I recognised.
I would have called Hermes to Hell this week, but they were stupid enough to ask me to complete a customer satisfaction form.
I ordered some fabric (to make jumpers for my daughter for Christmas) last week, and having been keeping an eye on its progress. So Saturday morning, before heading out on a longer walk, I stopped and before leaving to see if it was likely to arrive. This was 10am. The site was opaque to say the least - the package had arrived at their depot, but was not out on delivery. I assumed the package had arrived too late for delivery on the morning runs and went out.
At 11am, now 3 miles away cross country, I received an email informing me that the parcel was to arrive between 11:11am and 12:11pm. I swore because there was no way I was getting back for 11:11am. Followed by a second email at 11:36 saying that there had been no-one in and the delivery had failed. The delivery would be attempted again on the next working day. Cue watching the tracking site carefully.
Same trick on Monday, nothing until an email sent at 11:37am, that actually arrived after the parcel, which was about to disappear again as we flew down the stairs to get it.
I like the fabric from that particular supplier, but if they are now using Hermes, not DPD as they used to, I am no longer buying from them.
I think a great deal depends on the person who does ‘the last mile’ of the delivery. Our Hermes lady is lovely. Friendly, intelligent and reliable. She’s also, I think, a retained firefighter.
Our lovely Hermes lady has just retired but her replacement is good, though not so Covid-safe. He chats at the door whereas she would drop off, wait till you opened the door then smile and wave.
Latest problems have been with Fedx
In other news, curses be upon technology when it does not work. I do voluntary work from-home-over -the -phone -via -computer and today it simply would not accept the number I was dialling. Now I am behind with my task and having just had a late lunch I need to get it written up. It is going to be a late appeal anyway, though could have been in time if the client could submit it online, but I can’t blame him for his reluctance.
L******f diocese newsletter is pushing parishes to buy “giving devices” for church attenders to give their collection.
It seems that the Anglican Church is being run more and more like a business 😟😡😢
L******f diocese newsletter is pushing parishes to buy “giving devices” for church attenders to give their collection.
It seems that the Anglican Church is being run more and more like a business 😟😡😢
Yes, although how many peeps carry *cash* (remember that?) about with them these days?
It does seem a bit commercial, I agree, but not everyone is able or willing to give via Standing Order/Direct Debit, even though such things make the Treasurer's job that bit easier.
TICTH OCD, anxiety, roommate problems (son), parental problems (mine) and the fact that my husband can't be bothered to make my request a priority in his life, in spite of the fact that I am legally blind till my glasses come in and cannot do it on my own. Also his complete inability to say "good job!" when I inform him I am creating the bilingual lectionary sheets for the next 14 months. Just stares at me with his mouth open, like a sea lion. Bah.
This year, if my husband comes home all jolly from his last day of work before Christmas, tells me that he is in the mood to start writing the Christmas cards and is surprised to be told that the last posting date was two days earlier and that I have single-handedly written, addressed and posted eighty cards prior to the last posting date I will not be responsible for my actions.
How can it come as a surprise every single fucking year that the last posting date is not the evening of 23 Dec?
The salt in the wound is his disappointment in having "missed out" on the joy that is writing cards.
It's not even as though I don't chat to him about the progress of the card writing as it happens, but my passing remarks don't get past his "trivia filter."
We usually set an evening aside, but then he has an urgent e-mail to respond to, or a report to write, so card writing is re-diarised for a few days hence. Rinse, repeat. It isn't till he finishes work for the holidays that he can focus on Christmas, but by that time it's too late.
It isn't that he never does any, it's frustration that he thinks Christmas organisation can start at 4pm on 23 Dec, because that's when "Christmas planning" reaches the top of his "to-do" list.
Yesterday, I told him that I need his undivided attention for 90 minutes today to discuss Christmas. It's diarised for 4-5.30 this afternoon.
Comes a time when spouse has to be sacked from the whole Xmas card thingy, unless Other Spouse decides that enough is enough, cancel cards, go electronic for messages and send parcels/ cards to Them as are close family/ friends.
It isn't that he never does any, it's frustration that he thinks Christmas organisation can start at 4pm on 23 Dec, because that's when "Christmas planning" reaches the top of his "to-do" list.
I’m confused. Are you saying that Christmas organisation doesn’t start at 4pm on 23ed Dec?
How about you just junk the whole thing? Just do the bits you find personally gratifying - for me that would be a bottle of fizz and a small but exquisite dinner (scallops probably).
I am sure if I should die first, my husband would never call his children, buy a gift, or plan a meal. Yet he enjoys when friends and family call him. He enjoys his gifts and eating a holiday meal. I like doing these things, so it is not a problem but do wonder about his response if I was not here.
My dad went through his whole life ( or at least the 50 years of it that I shared with him) starting his Christmas preparations on the 24th. That was when the tree was found, brought inside and decorated. He'd take himself off to the village shop to get a box of chocolates for my mum and that was it. Those were his two festive responsibilities and he did them just in time! Fortunately mum loved Christmas preparations and was an excellent cook so all was well. I never asked her what she felt about it - I wish I had now!
David was always (necessarily) so busy with the musical and liturgical side of Christmas that things like decorating and gift-wrapping were exclusively my domain.
However, he did produce the Christmas cards - sometimes with the music of a carol he'd written for the choir, with the words in an olde-worlde typeface - and he always wrote the letter that went with them, for which I was grateful, as he was better at it than I was. I did the writing and signing of the cards, and produced the address labels, so it really was a joint effort.
I have never really understood scallops, but then I have never really understood the attractions of lobster or oysters either.
Flash fried and placed on a round of black pudding with a curl of crispy bacon. It'll be my contribution to the Bah Humbug dinner that we have with friends on 25th December.
We used to order Christmas cards at half term when we were teaching, but now that we are retired, that doesn't happen. Pre- Covid, I bought charity cards at a city centre church, but not last year of course and I haven't been into the city for about 3 months, so they are still not bought. I always write mine and Mr Puzzler writes his. Separately. That’s fine until it comes to joint friends. I wish he would agree to sit down together and decide who does what, then do it, but he does his writing in his study, so that doesn’t work.
I must say I like not having to entertain at Christmas, but I am hoping to be invited to join my family at some point, if it feels safe to do so, though we have generally avoided teenage grandchildren since Covid.
I hate buying presents( and rarely want those I receive). The grandchildren just want money. I haven't a clue what to get for their parents.
So I don’t much like Christmas preparations, except for carol singing and decorating the tree. Nothing will be done until after our December birthdays though.
The whole of Christmas falls on me bar the preaching and arranging of services (Mr. Lamb does those). Which is why we have next to no Christmas--no cards, no cooking, no non-church events. I have insisted on a tree and on decorating it, with the goal of having LL with at least some non-Scrooge-ish memories of his childhood, and of course I get him presents; but Mr. Lamb is forever "Why don't we just skip it this year," which enrages me.
Look, it's not cards in particular, as if they were magic or something; but it's when the whole burden of the season (or most of it) falls on one partner, and the other one is like "Oh, let's just skip everything"--only to be amazed and unhappy and "but I don't understand" years later when the offspring have much warmer relationships with the one who actually did all the work of connecting the family to the larger universe, socially and culturally--do you see what I mean?
Now, if there are no children in the picture to be affected, it's do as you like.
Why yes, I have just had a fight with Mr. Lamb. How'd you guess?
I have never really understood scallops, but then I have never really understood the attractions of lobster or oysters either.
Yes I have tried the British lobster and oyster and have found them to be pretty ordinary. Now the Sydney rock oyster and the Southern spiny lobster ( actually a crayfish) are wonderful especially cold lobster with home made mayo on a hot Antipodean Xmas Day
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In those days stores put their cosmetic departments just inside the entrance doors. I would stand outside, take a deep breath and hold it until the cosmetic counters were well behind me.
I used to try and breathe through my mouth when she was anywhere near, as the combined scents made me feel ill.
For all that, she was a lovely person, with a wicked Cockney sense of humour.
I remember another colleague rocking up drenched in Youth Dew, which triggered such a filthy headache it didn't even go away once I'd got home.
I was particularly pissed off, because I had to miss what would have been a very enjoyable evening with friends at a favourite restaurant.
* Well aged cheese, matured for over two years, loses most of whatever my daughter is allergic to. And gluten free sauce is possible using cornflour instead of a roux.
For a white sauce you could just use water instead of milk or a plant-based "milk".
So THAT'S what they served me in hospital.
(Lasagne, allegedly. Each layer was about 1 mm thick, it had never been near a dairy product in its life, and it had been reheated in one of those steam oven things. Oh and it contained no salt. It possibly qualifies as the worst meal of my life. The other candidates for that distinction were also served by the same hospital.)
Our office canteen (long gone; these are things of the past now outside hospitals) once had a "roast vegetable pizza" on the menu. That sounded OK, ordered it.
I got a nasty cheese and tomato pizza, the sort you can pick for about 50p in the local Co-op, with about half a tin of chopped mixed vegetables poured over the top.
It was not very pleasant.
I felt like asking "do you cook like this at home? Do you find your family frequently requests takeaways?"
Given the stuff here (warning - Bookface link and rabbit hole you could spend hours down) it's entirely possible they do: https://www.facebook.com/slimminghurled/
I used my internal navigation once I hit a road I recognised.
I ordered some fabric (to make jumpers for my daughter for Christmas) last week, and having been keeping an eye on its progress. So Saturday morning, before heading out on a longer walk, I stopped and before leaving to see if it was likely to arrive. This was 10am. The site was opaque to say the least - the package had arrived at their depot, but was not out on delivery. I assumed the package had arrived too late for delivery on the morning runs and went out.
At 11am, now 3 miles away cross country, I received an email informing me that the parcel was to arrive between 11:11am and 12:11pm. I swore because there was no way I was getting back for 11:11am. Followed by a second email at 11:36 saying that there had been no-one in and the delivery had failed. The delivery would be attempted again on the next working day. Cue watching the tracking site carefully.
Same trick on Monday, nothing until an email sent at 11:37am, that actually arrived after the parcel, which was about to disappear again as we flew down the stairs to get it.
I like the fabric from that particular supplier, but if they are now using Hermes, not DPD as they used to, I am no longer buying from them.
I think, though, that the Hermes and DPD business models are completely different.
Latest problems have been with Fedx
It seems that the Anglican Church is being run more and more like a business 😟😡😢
Yes, although how many peeps carry *cash* (remember that?) about with them these days?
It does seem a bit commercial, I agree, but not everyone is able or willing to give via Standing Order/Direct Debit, even though such things make the Treasurer's job that bit easier.
This year, if my husband comes home all jolly from his last day of work before Christmas, tells me that he is in the mood to start writing the Christmas cards and is surprised to be told that the last posting date was two days earlier and that I have single-handedly written, addressed and posted eighty cards prior to the last posting date I will not be responsible for my actions.
How can it come as a surprise every single fucking year that the last posting date is not the evening of 23 Dec?
The salt in the wound is his disappointment in having "missed out" on the joy that is writing cards.
It's not even as though I don't chat to him about the progress of the card writing as it happens, but my passing remarks don't get past his "trivia filter."
It isn't that he never does any, it's frustration that he thinks Christmas organisation can start at 4pm on 23 Dec, because that's when "Christmas planning" reaches the top of his "to-do" list.
Yesterday, I told him that I need his undivided attention for 90 minutes today to discuss Christmas. It's diarised for 4-5.30 this afternoon.
Comes a time when spouse has to be sacked from the whole Xmas card thingy, unless Other Spouse decides that enough is enough, cancel cards, go electronic for messages and send parcels/ cards to Them as are close family/ friends.
Grateful that amiable spouse which is in Van Diemen’sLand has never given a flying f***so up to yrs truly
I’m confused. Are you saying that Christmas organisation doesn’t start at 4pm on 23ed Dec?
Nothing wrong with a minimalist Christmas.
However, he did produce the Christmas cards - sometimes with the music of a carol he'd written for the choir, with the words in an olde-worlde typeface - and he always wrote the letter that went with them, for which I was grateful, as he was better at it than I was. I did the writing and signing of the cards, and produced the address labels, so it really was a joint effort.
Flash fried and placed on a round of black pudding with a curl of crispy bacon. It'll be my contribution to the Bah Humbug dinner that we have with friends on 25th December.
I must say I like not having to entertain at Christmas, but I am hoping to be invited to join my family at some point, if it feels safe to do so, though we have generally avoided teenage grandchildren since Covid.
I hate buying presents( and rarely want those I receive). The grandchildren just want money. I haven't a clue what to get for their parents.
So I don’t much like Christmas preparations, except for carol singing and decorating the tree. Nothing will be done until after our December birthdays though.
Now, if there are no children in the picture to be affected, it's do as you like.
Why yes, I have just had a fight with Mr. Lamb. How'd you guess?
Yes I have tried the British lobster and oyster and have found them to be pretty ordinary. Now the Sydney rock oyster and the Southern spiny lobster ( actually a crayfish) are wonderful especially cold lobster with home made mayo on a hot Antipodean Xmas Day