Quote (s) of the Week!
I would love to be party to so much witty banter that I had enough material to warrant a regular “Quote of the Week” slot on the Misssives. But it not being the 19th Century where people entertained themselves by telling stories of amusing japes a la Oscar Wilde, I fear I could struggle. And anyway it would only make my students compete to get quoted as the ice cream and dog conversation boys already seem to have gone up a gear since reading the blog devoted to their banter.
So I will try to do a quote of the week, but it might not be weekly. So don’t try and sue me if it ends up being a bit irregular. Also a further disclaimer; they might not be quotes, or witty one liners but overheard conversations etc.
So actually the Phrase “Quote of the Week” might end up being a bit of a misnomer. But the title of “Stuff What I Have Heard” seems a little weak.
Ok, so have I destroyed your enthusiasm enough? Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you….
QUOTE OF THE WEEK
This week I am spoilt for choice as two gentlemen had cause to make me laugh. One intentionally, one not. First the intentional:
Intentional Quote of the Week
In the Swimming pool B is extolling the virtues of Dundee’s swimming park.
“The flumes are ace. There’s this really steep one, where the exit is halfway up a wall. It’s ace; it’s like being shat out!”
That made me laugh. Especially since for years I denied the existence of the past tense of “shit”(v.). It just seems too silly a word. I had to be shown it in a dictionary before I would relent.
Quote of the Week’s Unintentional Quote.
I am in the car with a work colleague and we’re talking about the elections and politics and stuff like we know what we’re talking about and he says,
“Ahhhh, what’s the name of that guy?”
Me: “What guy?”
Him: “That politician, you know…why can’t I remember his name? The…the orange one”
Me: “Oh, Ian Paisley”
Him: “No! no! Ha! Ha! Sheridan. Tommy Sheridan! HA!”
More quote(s) or the week next week, or month or whenever I remember….
Your leisure is my pleasure
They breed them young. Just like Hitler with his Hitler Youth, they are young impressionable beasts, lured by the power giving properties of a whistle and total authoritaa over all you survey. Their unquestioning adoption and the fierce enforcement of ridiculously draconian rules is part of the code they live by. They are the swimming pool attendants that ruined our son’s birthday.
Actually they are the swimming pool attendants that ruin every trip anyone in the UK has to any swimming pool ever. They are bred in pods and then released into leisure centres fully formed.
Remember that old sign that had what you can’t do in a swimming pool. (Look above, I found it on tinternet! God Bless Google Images)
- No petting: Everyone’s favourite. What is petting? No-one really knew. Except your older friend who would give you some explanation that confused you more.
Is it kissing? Is it touching stuff underneath trunks/bathing suit? Is it full on intercourse (not easy in chlorinated water- may necessitate trip to doctors afterwards) Anyway, picture of middle aged chest wig bearing man chatting up busty blonde bimbo beside pool would put anyone off whatever petting was anyway. If that’s petting I want none of it. Source of much conversation as a pool going pre-pubescent.
- No bombing- Aww, why not. Bombing is fun!
- No ducking- tell that to the teenage lads that use that as a courting technique.
- No acrobatics- are you kidding, I’m barely managing to keep afloat, never mind do twirly stuff.
- No running- you may actually enjoy yourself
- No smoking- but surely that’s why middle aged woman swim with their heads held firmly above water. So as not to extinguish their lit fags.
- No shouting. So if drowning and trying to attract attention of potential lifesavers, do it quietly, eh?
- No pushing. What? This was the fathers’ preferred method of getting their kid to learn to swim.
“Just chuck him in the deep end. He’ll soon learn. Worked for me and my father before me” .
“Didn’t your father have an irrational fear of water and eventually drown in the one meter deep duck pond?”
“Just get in the pool, son” *PUSH*
9. No toilet. Hands up who has never peed in the pool! Thought so.
When our new school was built there was much excitement. Over the fact that we now had a swimming pool. There was a rumour that if you peed in the pool a red-ring would form around you, identifying you to the swimming pool attendant.
My mate Deborah asked our PE teacher in all seriousness. “Miss. If that red ring appears, and you swim away, does it follow you?”
10. No food. After taking the superb fat busting cardio-vascular exercise of swimming our café will redress the balance by offering a range of high fat, high carbohydrate, processed and deep fried food, with no healthy alternatives available despite this being a fitness centre.
Well, now in the 21st Century the rules would be the following:
- No unapproved swimming aids (only those bought at our shop will be permitted)
- No cameras- swimming pools are a well known primary source of child pornography. Fact.
- No single men wearing raincoats in the spectators’ area. See above.
- No un-authorised fun of any kind. Those wanting to have fun will have to apply in writing at least 30 days in advance.
- No diving or showing off of any water based skills in any way. Even on a diving board. Diving boards will be closed anyway as councillors have deemed them too dangerous. But we’ll not remove them, just to annoy you.
- No swimming except in roped off lanes which necessitate an elaborate queuing and ticketing system
- No spontaneous fun of any kind. This may cause a breach of ridiculous Health and Safety rules
- No laughing. Smiling will only be tolerated in certain areas.
- No untamed pubic hair.
- No opposite sex “petting” however same sex petting is overlooked as the council has an equal opportunities policy.
Still, a day at the swimming pool has it advantages. One single trip will revive your marriage/partnership no end. Simply look around at the other naked male specimens and you will quickly find your chosen partner more attractive than you ever have.* I am assured by my husband that this also works for men.
Happy bathing and remember: NO ENJOYING YOURSELF!
* Only applies in Scotland. Do NOT try in Italy.
Attack of the Basking Swedes
We had a day off today- what I mean by that is we put the tuc-tuc back and hung around the bungalow and pool. After touring the island yesterday I realize that we’ve actually chosen the nicest place on the island to stay.
Certainly the beach is superclean, the sea is clear and it’s relatively quiet. I can’t believe how lovely that picture of the beach looked in yesterday’s blog. The beach really was dirty. There were plastic bottles everywhere, as well as some broken glass ones. Not really what you’d expect. It depresses me that people can’t pick up their rubbish and stick it in a bin.
Mind you, we were responsible for a teeny bit of littering yesterday. Eve was TOLD to hold on tight to her crisps whilst sitting in the tuc-tuc (Eve always likes to have a snack handy). She’s hosing into a family pack of crisps and at full tuc tuc speed (a terrifying 20 mph) she lets go of the bag, which (still mostly full) hits the motorcyclist in the chest behind us. Poor guy, what a fright he got. Being Thai, of course, he doesn’t think to go completely radge and start fisticuffs with anyone…he slows down to check he can’t help us by retrieving whatever it was that hit him in the chest at full velocity. John hasn’t quite mastered the emergency stop and can do nothing but wave apologetically. Eve starts howling; after all she is now snackless and bereft….
We christen our tuc tuc Matilda, as it goes well with the Flying Martinis. And she does us proud getting us all the way from North tip to South of the Island.
I tell you, being in Thailand makes Western women feel massive. All the Thai ladies and sub size zero, no clothes in Thai shops will fit even a size ten western woman, and to add insult to injury, sometimes I have to get out of the tuc-tuc as my weight is stopping it from moving over a bump or as yesterday, from stopping the whole thing sinking into sand. I get pretty good at nipping out, pushing the thing up a hill and then hopping back on as John accelerates.
The photo of John and the kids in the tuc tuc was taken on one of these occasions. Feeling the thing sinking into the sand, I hop out, but embarrassed by the admission that my 9 stones is too much for Matilda to take, I pretend to the people behind us that I was getting off anyway, to take photos….
You might be surprised that I have time to blog whilst on my hols but I tend to do it at around midday, when it is just too hot to go out. We all have a break around now. The kids go and watch a DVD and John starts cocktail hour. However, in this resort the pool is still pretty crowded. Well not the pool, but the loungers anyway. No it’s not the Germans as Stan Boardman would have it, but this place is 90% occupied by Swedes.
I don’t get why a race of blondies can be impervious to UV rays. I have never seen people basking in the full glare of the midday sun like this lot. They are all dark brown and seem to be lying there from well before we surface in the morning til about 3pm. I am, today, delighted that I have managed to procure one remaining sun lounger as they are always occupied by blond tanned Swedes. I can’t believe it. I’m not even on it now- I’ve germanically put my towel down like a dog marking her territory and will leave it there the whole day. I’m nothing if diplomatic.
I can only stand sitting in the sun for ten mins at a time, I have along way to go til I can reach Swedish National Basking Standards. I want to know the skin cancer rates in Sweden- someone find out for me now! It’s not fair.
By the way, the Misssymartin Misssives has a guest blog from none other than Jack Martin later on. I believe he’s going to tell you all about his night out at the Thai Boxing Championships last night. Not to be missed!
