Hats

I like hats.  To be precise, I like the idea of hats.  There's something about a hat (depending on style of course) that makes you feel a little bit higher class than you would be otherwise.

Unfortunately, I don't suit hats.  With the possible exception of my leather outback hat that is (I don't have a picture of this to hand so below is a picture courtesy of http://shop.earthcirclecreations.com/

My hat looks like this one.

I was in the local supermarket the other day and found myself in the clothing department - looking for gloves as mine had gone walkabout - and I came across some hats.  Well, I'd just been to watch Kingsman: The Secret Service, featuring Colin Firth looking very cool in a dapper English gentleman sort of way, so my ambition to wear a hat - to be precise, an £6 trilby hat - was awakened.

Hmm.  Not quite the stylistic English gentleman that I was going for.

I tried this hat in different sizes, but no matter which one I went for, they all looked rubbish.  In desperation I tried on all of their range of hats, in the hopes that one might suit.

I felt like some kind of rapper.  And what is that pattern on the underside of the hat - snakeskin?  I think it had a felt underside, because rappers want comfy hats.

A Union Jack beanie hat.  No words are necessary.

I think the last one is actually the best one, and I am actually toying with going back and buying one. 

Yes, a flatcap.  Yorkshire through and through.

If you like the look of any of these hats, get over to the George website!

Shopping on Black Friday

Friday morning I was out getting a few bits and pieces - we wanted a new kettle and iron, some household staples (aka milk and yoghurt - although I don't actually have any staples in the house) plus a couple of things for my other half who was helping at a Christmas fair in the afternoon.

Now, Black Friday is a phenomenon popular in the USA, being on the day after Thanksgiving, but as we don't as a rule celebrate Thanksgiving in the UK I didn't really think about it.

Well, I went to Asda (large UK supermarket, owned by Walmart) for some of the things on my list, which is normally open 24 hours a day, and was very excited to see people queueing to get in.  Without any prompting I happily joined the end of the queue - about sixtieth, I worked out - to get in.  I think there is some about British people and queueing, when we're not under any immediate time pressures to be anywhere else, we do like a good queue.  There's any number of great things about a queue:

• It's a social situation where we're allowed to communicate with strangers (about queue-related topics) - whilst we normally steer well clear of any kind of social contact with those folk that we are yet to be formally introduced, the novelty of an unexpected queue can stir us into discussion;
• We can assess just how far back we are in the queue, and try to estimate how long it will take us to get to the front;
• You can squint at the sky (grey) and extract a hand from its protective pocket / glove to see if the sky is releasing rain - if so, you are free to frown, and;
• You can telephone friends and family members to complain about the queue (as the fellow behind me in the queue seemed to manage to do for about 15 minutes straight, over 3 or 4 separate telephone conversations)

You also get to tweet and Facebook about the queue in question:

I feel rather guilty about this because I didn't actually have a value breakfast, I was just making a joke, but I didn't want to disappoint Beth - sorry Beth. This was possibly the first time I pretended that I did have a fried breakfast rather than pretending that I haven't. 

We even had two Police Community Support Officers turn up to backup the security guard on duty, who appeared to be held up by an older gentleman who was certainly talking to him for the full twenty minutes that I was queueing, and quite possibly longer.

In the end I didn't actually buy anything from the Black Friday offers, but I still got to queue up and it was fun (but don't tell anyone I admitted to that!)

Did you go shopping on Black Friday?  Let me know in the comments.

Safety signs - too many or not enough?

You know those really stupid safety signs?

Like this one:

Of course grapes on the floor can be tripped on.  You're in the fruit and veg section of a supermarket, check where you're walking!

I think I need more of them.

I just took a big sip of a hot chocolate and spat it down my t-shirt because it was too hot.

The clue's in the title Mike :)

The worst thing is not long ago I completed a certificate in health and safety!

Today however, I found a new, even better warning.

On a tube of Asda Antiseptic First Aid cream - you put it on small cuts and spots - the warnings on the pack include "Avoid contact with eyes, middle ear, brain"... whoa, hold on a second. Brain?!?  Who damages their skull and decides to treat it with some antiseptic cream?!?

The warning further explains that you should avoid contact with the brain "if using [the cream] in a surgical procedure".  Now I like Asda, I often shop there - it's near to my house, things are generally inexpensive, I find it a good place to do a lot of my shopping.  But I do think that I'd be worried if, when in hospital for an operation, the consultant came to me and said "Right then Mr Raven, the procedure shall go as follows - we'll give you a general anaesthetic to put you out, then we'll take a saw to cut away your skull, we'll then lightly cover your brain with Asda Antiseptic First Aid cream, replace the skull and sow you up before you wake up again. Any questions?"

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Warning: May Contain Spoons

We've been working on my son's speaking recently, as he's a little behind on talking.  He has come on very well and is making lots of noises, but we're trying to get him over the next hurdle from noises to words.

This generally involves an alphabet, and a lot of encouraging and smiling. Saying "Yes, that's a b!" a lot, you can imagine it.

To be fair, he can do some letters quite well.  S is a strong point for him.  Words with "it" as well, he can usually enunciate the "it" part, certainly so it is understandable.

So when his nana had him for a little while the other day, and had a little accident - nothing too severe, nothing to worry about - she, without thinking, emitted a word that can only be described as foul language.

A word which includes an S, and an "it" bit as well.

And our son can now say it.  Thanks! :)

One other thing to mention...

I was in Asda, getting various random bits of household gubbins and food – no alcohol, which to be honest is unusual for me as despite the fact that I can't hold my drink, I do like to keep a little in the house.

I go to the checkout, unload my trolley, and mosey on down to the far end to bag my purchases and to prepare myself for parting with my hard-earned money.

About two-thirds of the way through, the checkout girl stops.

“Have you got ID for this?” she asks. I'm not too surprised as I used to get ID'd quite a bit and although it's less common now, it does occur. I always say the most accurate way to check if someone is underage is to ask them, and then if they burst into a beaming smile, you can be sure that they're overage.

I fish around for my driving license, my brain slowly catching up with me as I show the girl my license.  I haven't bought any alcohol today.

“What am I being ID'd for, anyway?”

“You've bought some cutlery, sir.”

I've bought some cutlery. Was it a meat cleaver? A smaller, but concealable knife? A serrated bread knife, perhaps?

No.

I've bought a spoon.

A ******* spoon!

What am I going to do with a spoon? Gouge out someone's eyeballs? Sneak into an egg and spoon race and beat all the kids? Bop my servant in the middle of the forehead, Basil Fawlty-style?

If I hijack a plane with a spoon, I deserve to keep the plane.