Carvery

carvery_logoI’m fed up with it.  This is the second time they have been out to a carvery,  in the last three months.  On neither occasion have I been taken along, and you all know full well how much I would enjoy a carvery.  The huge, puffy Yorkshire puds, the tender beef and crisp pork crackling, the thick gravy……. it’s utterly selfish, of course, and completely typical of them.  Oh no, I get farmed out yet again to poor Ebony’s long-suffering family, as I can’t be trusted to stay at home by myself.  Well, Readers, I heard some discussion of yesterday’s carvery meal, and it seems the puddings weren’t “all that”, which serves them right.  There was moaning that a nice sticky toffee pudding, or cheesecake with a proper biscuit base was needed, but sadly lacking.  Good.  Hope the bland yellow unidentifiable custardy type dessert choked them.

So yes, another day at dear, dear Ebony’s house where I had company and love in abundance.  Ebony had relatives round, of the child type, and they all adored me too.  I really wasn’t that fussed about going home, in all honesty, and it was only the slight chance that I might be able to wangle a second dinner that made this bearable.  I didn’t wangle a second dinner, as it happens, as Ebony’s Pack Leader made a point of saying that I’d been fed.  And raided the dishwasher.  And had some ham and chicken.  I made sure my own family knew about this all evening by the variety of smells emitted from my backside.

Well,  I’m sure it was all very nice, seeing the Aussie relatives and Funnygit with his family.  As an added bonus, young J (cast your minds back, Readers;  I started the blog when poor J was having nasty things done to him at somewhere called the Marsden) was out for this lunch  too, with his Pack Leader and family. It all sounds simply lovely, drinking wine in the bar and basking in the sun with coffees. I know for a fact that there was a large grassy area on which I could have been walked, as this is where the younger members of the luncheon party went to play football, but no, of course, it wasn’t ‘dog-friendly.’ I’m not sure it was football-friendly either, but that didn’t stop them.  Or ripped-jeans friendly, come to think of it, but  even that wasn’t a factor.   

In a remarkable show of punctuality, Lad and Young Lad were both ready to leave home at 10.20am, which was only twenty minutes after the official leaving home time of 10am.    This, then, incurred only twenty minutes of shouting bldy hurry up and whatdoyoumean you’re still in the bldyshower  and do you have anybldyidea what the bldymotorway will be like and so on and so forth.   Gingercat and I slept through this as it was very dull.  Lad  had really risen to the occasion of a nice family lunch out, by eschewing his hideous Adidas sliders for some slightly less hideous Nike trainers, which made the designer ripped jeans look almost quite smart.  Not one to be outdone on the brand names front these days, Young Lad was head to toe in Nike Airmax.  Sometimes She sighs wistfully and remembers the days that Lad and Young Lad could be dressed in clothes from Woolworths.  (Yes!  Aren’t we showing our age!  But don’t you miss it, Readers?  You know you do.  Pickamix, garden shears, records and lip gloss all under one roof.)

I digress.  Today they have all been at work/school, so quelle surprise, I’ve been to daycare at dear, dear Pippa’s house.  This was marvellous as I haven’t been there for a week or so, and Pippa and I lay in the sunshine after our walk. Lad had an exam this morning (poxy Biology) and was home at lunchtime, which was rather nice.  He relaxed for “an hour” – he says – on the Xbox, before cracking on with more revision, as tomorrow is CRAP.  The morning’s exam is Maths- The Calculator Paper, which makes life harder not easier as one would expect, as it is all do to with the cosine rule etc.  Stay awake.  Then, after crappy Maths, it’s even crappier History in the afternoon, which is 150 pages of the Cold War.  Lad is on page 23 as we speak.  Oh dear.  Poor Lad.  Lad has even said he might have to miss the lunchtime trip to MacDonalds tomorrow, to stay in school and try to get through the other 127 pages before the exam.

Readers, I fear that Young Lad’s organisational skills have not picked up much from last week.  Last night he was told to check his cricket bag was packed for after-school cricket today.  This morning he was told to check again, and make sure he had his PE kit too.  When they drove near his school this morning, Young Lad asked whether She had put the cricket bag in the car.  No, She hadn’t, he was told calmly and nicely with no edge in the voice at all.  Oh dear, Poor Young Lad.  He had indeed checked that everything was in his cricket bag, and he had indeed packed his PE kit.  Unfortunately he made the schoolboy error of not putting the cricket bag in the car, and walking straight past it when he left the house.  Young Lad wasn’t allowed to participate in Hard Ball Cricket at school tonight, as he didn’t have his protective gear, and had to play soft ball cricket with some other hopeless cases from Year 8 who had also failed to bring the right things.  Maybe this will be a lesson to him, but I very much doubt it.

To be fair, though, he has found the list of ingredients for Food Technology tomorrow, and there was only a minor dash to Sainsbury’s tonight in order to buy butter (have  you seen how expensive butter is these days?!) and golden syrup, as the bit left in the tin in the cupboard was rather crusty and not really fit for purpose.  Though of course, it will be used quite happily here.  Tomorrow’s Food Technology is Ginger Biscuits, and I’m looking forward to these immensely.

Tomorrow She is actually not working, and I might have a decent walk down at the river in the morning.  However, we will have to be careful as there are some, er, now how can I put this in a politically correct way, er, visitors in the field the other side of the river.  These visitors turned up last night in some large white vehicles, towed by rather expensive cars, and they appear to be having a nice camping holiday.  They have lots of dogs .  And some horses.  And to be honest, our drive is in rather a shoddy state of repair so it won’t come as any surprise if one of the visitors knocks the door and asks if we would like them to re-surface it.

So, Readers, I will let you know how Lad gets on with his Crappy day tomorrow, and whether the ginger biscuits were worth the £1.60 for a packet of butter, or whether Flora would have sufficed.

Bye for now,

Russell

Author: boredbeagle

Slightly stocky beagle who lives with a family. This is She, He, Lad and Young Lad. And Gingercat. Generally doesn't get enough attention and so writes this blog to let everyone know what his life is like. You need to start from page one (First Attempt).. Go on, it's worth the effort.

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