Bub The Slayer

My parents visited yesterday, bringing with them an orchid.

For me.

To nurture.

To lovingly tend.

It’s so pretty.

And delicate.

I’m gonna kill it.

I don’t mean kill it as in pre-meditated murder, but a charge of manslaughter (or should that be plantslaughter?) due to wilful neglect would definitely stand up in court. It would be a fair cop - they would have me bang to rights and I’d go daahhn.

I do not have a good record when it comes to houseplants, and the main reason the plants in the garden survive (and I use the term survive very loosely) is because it rains.

Over the years I’ve had various houseplants, and managed to effortlessly wipe out all of them.

Like Grumpy and Dopey can sense when a visitor doesn’t like cats, plants can sense I’m not good for their physical and mental well-being, and start wilting almost immediately.

I think if there were a charity called, oh I don’t know, something like - Action For Undeserved Cruelty or the Killing of Undefended Plants (AFUCKUP), I’d almost certainly be very near the top of their list of people banned from keeping houseplants.

I eventually recognised I was the one at fault, so to give innocent houseplants a fair crack at life, I gave up keeping them. After all, they didn’t ask to be bought into the world, so why should I keep, albeit unintentionally, annihilating them.

Houseplants all around the country gave a collective sigh of relief, safe in the knowledge I wouldn’t be committing any more acts of planticide (I thought I made that word up, decided to Google it - others have beaten me to it. Gah).

But a few weeks ago, on a whim, I bought a Boston Fern which I have to say, started quaking in its pot when it saw me reaching for it. I lovingly crooned that it would be ok, I’ve changed my ways. Its companions on the shelf in the shop looked at it with much sympathy, but at the same time thanked Hegemone, a Greek Goddess of plants, that it wasn’t them being taken to their doom.

So far, I can report the fern is okay. Having said that, I couldn’t remember the last time I watered it, so I’ve just done it.

It weakly waved its fronds at me to say thanks.

Back to the orchid.

I looked at it, then looked at my mum with much apprehension and pointed out that to leave it here would be giving it a certain death sentence. Between us we decided it was in the orchids best interests to take it back home Down South with her.

The orchid exhaled noisily at its stay of execution.

My parents left, forgetting the orchid.

The orchid wailed.

I looked at it and just knew the people from the mythical AFUCKUP would be getting the court order ready.

So now I have an orchid.

An orchid for heaven’s sake.

A plant with a reputation for being difficult to look after.

It’s got less than no chance of survival with me.

Start praying to Hegemone.

The orchid is.

I can't be arsed.

I Can Live With That

It has been brought to my attention that apparently I am as mad as a bucket of frogs.

It was originally a bag of snakes, but when I objected, due to my fear of snakes being far, far worse than my fear of worms, it quickly got amended to frogs.

My friend was quietly reserving judgement I think, but the comment about not eating spaghetti (because I viewed it as a plate of worms), tipped the scales.

Do I mind being thought of as mad? Nope - better to be thought of as mad rather than boring.

I can live with that.

I’ve also been told by three friends, on separate occasions, that I am a Diva.

This was for something I did (not opera singing), which I’m not prepared to divulge because my parents read this blog (Mum, Dad, don’t worry; all you need to know is that it didn’t involve drugs, sex or rock ‘n’ roll. Oh, or anything illegal, but it earned me BIG respect).

Just so you’re clear about what a Diva is, I looked it up for you. Apart from the female opera singer bit, this is its definition:

The word entered the English language in the late 19th century. It is derived from the Italian noun diva, a female deity. The plural of the word in English is "divas"; in Italian, dive [‘di:ve]. The basic sense of the term is "goddess”. (source: Wikipedia)

Deity?

Goddess?

Oh yes.

I can live with that too.

Mahoosive Prawns

To add a little to my last posting, barbecue novice Poppercake has since declared himself, after his first barbecue consisting of a couple of burgers, to be The Barbecue King. In response I snorted and said, "in which case, that must make me a Barbecue Goddess".

In the course of our conversation, he asked me if prawns can be cooked.

Me: "Oh yes, mahoosive ones can."

P: "Mahoosive? Is that what they're called?"

Me (in an innocent voice): "Have you not heard of them?"

P: "No. Are they nice? Where can you get them?"

Me: "Oh they're gorgeous, they're bigger than tiger prawns, really tasty. Go to the fish counter in one of the supermarkets, Waitrose is probably your best bet, and ask for Mahoosive Prawns from Indonesia. They'll sort you out some, you'll love them."

P: "Cheers."

I expected a return call later, telling me he'd spoken to 'Er Indoors about mahoosive prawns and she'd put him right, but it never happened. Instead, I got a spluttering call a day later. Then 'Er Indoors took over and laughing, told me what happened.

Poppercake went to Waitrose, went to the fish counter and when it was his turn to be served, it apparently went something like this:

Assistant: "Hello, how can I help you?"

P: "Hello there, I'd like some Mahoosive Prawns please."

A: "I'm sorry?"

P: "Do you have any Mahoosive Prawns?"

A: "Er, we have tiger prawns."

P: "No, no, I want Mahoosive Prawns."

A: "Um, well, tiger prawns are quite big."

P (adamantly): "I don't want tiger prawns. I want Mahoosive Prawns, they're from Indonesia. Do you have any?"

A: "No sir, we don't sell Mahoosive Prawns from Indonesia."

P (a little impatiently): But I was told you'd sell them. If you don't sell them, do you know where I can get some?"

A: "Sir, there's no such thing as Mahoosive Prawns. Mahoosive is a way of saying really big. I think someone's been pulling your leg."


I have been promised retribution.