General Annoyances

Here are a few of the little things that, on their own aren't that big a deal but, when taken together, and on a daily basis, are like a dripping tap that can send you mad:

1. Preparing things in advance
She always has a cup ready at the side of the kettle with a teabag and sugar in it ready for when she wants a cuppa. Presumably she thinks this is supposed to save time when she wants to brew up. However, given that she will come into the kitchen to boil the kettle, and whilst it is boiling, she will get the next cup ready to leave at the side of the kettle for her next cuppa, how is it saving time? Equally, there will come a day when she will shuffle off this mortal coil and she is not going to be around to benefit from the cup she prepared in advance. She's actually created more effort for herself in the long run!

She always eats at about 5pm each day. However, she prepares her food at about 2.30pm each day - even down to buttering some bread to have with her food.

Before she lived with us, she used to cook the Sunday roast on Thursday so that she knew that it was one less thing she had to do on Sunday.

If she knows that a taxi is coming for her at say 7.00pm, she will put her bags in the hallway at about 6.00pm, then she will open the front door at about 6.15pm and will have her coat on at about 6.30pm. By about 6.45pm she will be looking out of the window and complaining that her taxi hasn't arrived!

2. Stalking
She is obsessed with wanting to know where we are going and when we will be back. If we're out somewhere and she doesn't know where, she will phone around trying to find us. In any other situation this would be considered as stalking and could form the basis for a restraining order!

3. Impatience
She can't bear waiting for something. For example, she might ask me to lift a heavy suitcase down from the top of her wardrobe and I tell her that I'm busy but that I'll do it when I'm finished. It takes no longer than a few minutes for impatience to take hold and she will then struggle to do it herself. When I go into her room to get the thing down, she makes a point of sitting there panting breathlessy with her hand over the region of her heart to make me realise that my tardiness has probably led to her early demise.

4. Aversion to silence
She can't abide it if nobody is saying something. She will start some inane rambling story just to fill in. If I give her a lift into town and have the car radio on listening to music, she feels the need to talk over it and tell me about Bessie's brother's milkman's niece who went to Blackpool for the day and fell over grazing her knee slightly and then came home on the charabanc, which took five minutes longer than usual to get there and then………..

You get the picture? - completely pointless story about someone that neither she nor I know personally, and five minutes of my life I'll never get back.

More to follow when the red mist has subsided...

Fire in the Hole!

I was given a huge whole trout this week by my Dad. I go through the unpleasant task of gutting it, removing the head, filleting it etc when M-I-L comes along and lays claim to the tail end of one of the fillets (because she likes "a nice piece of lightly steamed fresh fish").

Anyway, instead of steaming it she decided to stick it on a plate, cover it with cling film, and microwave it. With her up to the minute, in-depth knowledge of how these new fangled appliances work she decided that it needed about 15 minutes on full power.

Ten minutes in, the smoke signals began to send out the warning message that all was not well. The fish was, to put it mildly, well done; having the appearance, and consistency, of a charcoal briquette.

The cling film which was supposed to aid in the process of turning the raw trout into "a nice piece of lightly steamed fresh fish" had melted and was now bonding at a molecular level with the plate due to the intense heat generated by the vapourising fish oil.

Her response? Shock and awe maybe? Distress perhaps? No, she just nicked the tail end of the other fillet and set out to cook it on a much less ambitious timer setting.

I am still trying to chisel the last of the cling film and burnt fish from the plate!

The mystery of the malfunctioning phone

Ever since the days of Alexander Graham Bell, the telephone has had the ability to confuse people - especially the elderly. M-I-L is no exception.

She reported to me that her phone wasn't working properly. When she held it one way up it worked OK, but the other way up it was very quiet. There must be something loose inside that moved when the phone was turned over.

Far from having to take the phone apart to search for the loose connection, the answer was blindingly obvious to even the casual observer. Her observation that the phone worked when held one way up boiled down to holding it to the one ear or the other. She has a hearing aid for one ear which she rarely wears. The phone being "a bit quiet" only happened when she held it to her deaf ear.

Give me strength...

Starter for Ten

OK, let me give you an example of the things I have to put up with.

First off, I know that some things I put here will be in-jokes, and you probably had to be there, but bear with me. This blog is for my benefit, not yours!

Anyway, we invited friends round for dinner; a themed dinner based on Phoenix Nights and the work of Peter Kay (both big fans so we found it all hilarious). Little touches around the house that only Phoenix Nights saddos would have appreciated (like an "Out of Order" notice on the phone, a vase to drink out of, and the living room renamed as "The Pennine Suite")

After explaining for about the fourth time why we have put signs up etc, M-I-L gets it into her head that our guest is Peter Kay. Despite being told several times, she still doesn't get it. She looks over at the phone and says "Is the phone not working then?"

"It's a joke" we tell her. "Well it was working earlier" she says - clearly oblivious to the meaning of "Joke".

She wanders off, clearly bemused.

Lavender Hell - Why?

Lavender Hell

Old people eh?

If they’re not phoning up the BBC duty officer to complain that there was a bit of flesh / swearing / violence on telly, they're out in public in their slippers, smelling of wee and wearing lavender scented perfume.

Some people are fortunate enough to be able to observe them from a distance, safe in the knowledge that they can go back to their homes, bolt the door, and keep the grey-haired coffin-dodgers at bay.

Not so for others like myself. Read all about it at http://www.lavenderhell.co.uk - (get your hand in your pocket and make a donation if you feel really generous).

Life has a great sense of humour in that it allows you to think that you are finally getting somewhere and that the future looks rosy, then it hangs a piss and lavender smelling albatross about your neck (with apologies to the Rime of the Ancient Mariner for that metaphor - http://www.eriding.net/amoore/poetry/mariner.htm).

What I am hoping to achieve here is some form of therapeutic release by sharing the latest news of "M-I-L" (Mother-in-Law) with anyone who cares to read it.

And so it begins...