So, who wants to help ... to rattle on in the cellar?


#6263

I don’t, azzit 'appens. The grey silk number seems to have vanished. Pfffft.

Soo xx


#6264

I thought that The Rules stated that whatever small article of apparel (or accessory) is wanted, that shall be the one which has located a wormhole to next week and dived down it, to emerge looking smug after th need has passed.

Tell TBTB that you are looking for the red wool muffler instead, and you might manage to fox them.


#6265

Me Bruvver knows people everywhere.

(And they know 'im.)


#6266

Meanwhile, invoke St Anthony

Carinthia.xx


#6267

This made me laugh, Fishers. It’s so true! Never mind; failing a successful invocation of St Anthony, I have a back-up kinda thing which Will Do. A minor irritation has been the mysterious stain on Mr Bee’s white shirt collar. Not lipstick, but the bugga has been thoroughly and ruthlessly vanquished, nonetheless.

Soo xx


#6268

Check their handkerchieves too, Soo

BiL was all set to turn up at his grandsons wedding with kitchen roll in his pocket

I invoked the spirits of his Late Mother & Brother, & located 2, at the last minute.

Carinthia.xx


#6269

Snork!
Although I feel bound to confess that I have only two small packs of Kleenex to distribute. I also have paracetamol, Immodium Instants and Rennies in my teeny-weeny bee-bag. Oh, and the ever present pen and notepad, for which I’m ruthlessly scoffed until they are (inevitably) required. And a couple of safety pins…
Soo xx


#6270

And a tranquilliser-dart gun?


#6271

One of nature’s Girl Guides, then, Bee?

I might have to Shun you


#6272

Fear not, Dere Gus. I wozz chucked out of the Brownies and missed out on the whole Guiding experience.

I have my Sting, Fishers. Neatly stowed.

Soo xx


#6273

G’wan, Soo, say it was for moral turpitude.

[pourity] [pourity]


#6274

I am inexpressibly relieved, dere Soo
Gxx


#6275

Having endured a lengthy ‘phone conversation with Mr Bee’s Bonkers Cousin (who wanted me to sort out her luggage and travel arrangements to the Crem), I have considered the inclusion of a tranquilliser-dart gun - to self-medicate, if needs be. Flippin’ 'eck.
Thanks, Hedgers.
Kwoff.
Soo xx


#6276

One not LC type of casserole happily burbling in the oven

I throw such type of cookware in the oven to heat up as the range heats up

My girdle pans are LC and after 20+ years of oiling the stuff to be cooked before fishing girdle from the hot oven and cooking long enough to not have food stick when trying to turn it I have gorgeous non stick girdles


#6277

There are Remarks wot could be made about that…

Am constructing an Martyr Sauce as I bought very good quality meatballs reduced to £1

I can smell the onions & garlic for the first time in 10 days

Carinthia.xx


#6278

I can hear the cellar’s collective self-restraint groaning from here.

AttaCarinthia!


#6279

Good luck with funerally things tomorrow Soo. Hopefully no-one dives in after the coffin. Dramatic, but uncalled for normally.

I have not LC cast iron, enamel finished pans. The large, low, dish one is dealing with 5 chicken thighs (sorry Joe) as I speak. Tomorrow I’ll add paprika, oil reduced chorizo and lots of beans, with white wine, chicken stock and late on balsamic vinegar.

No onions, no tomato put you’d not know it.

I loves the not LC. But, yes, they’re heavy.


#6280

I restrained my dear Mama from tripping up and precipitating her daughter-in-law into my brother’s open grave. The Ma said afterwards that the woman absolutely dripping black weeds and casting white rose-petals into the grave overcame her, seeing they had been in the middle of a messy divorce when he died.


#6281

Are you sure it is that you can hear groaning, Sparrer dere?
The sound of whalebone subject to co!ossal forces is eerie in the extreme. Ask any mariner.

Only those with a penchant for lingerie will know, mind, and they are silent men, as a rule.


#6282

I think I’ve told tbe story of being an altar boy at a funeral where the newly widowed 30 something was so utterly distaught she decided to jump into the grave after the coffin.

If I’ve not … well, they’re the bare bones. Do ask for the rest.