Watch where you are going!

Today I was sat at the traffic lights on my way home. Two girls were crossing, followed by a guy on a bike. He must have decided to be a bad-ass and cycle around the island to get where he was going quicker. Which would have been fine, but he spent more time looking at the girls than where he was going, and damn near faceplanted when his front wheel hit the island kerb. What a way to increase your street cred. I nearly missed my green light I was laughing so hard.

Tomorrow I need to:

-get chocolate, fountains, dippy bits, plates, skewers, signs and tablecloths organised for the chocolate fountain I am running on Sunday at our village fair.

-get signs and airflow balls organised for the golf game that Mr SC is running on Sunday.

-try to design our wedding invites.

-get some laundry done.

-plant the last of my tomatoes.

-bake some cookies. Mmmm.

Educational

My sister-in-law (as will be) called me this evening. She has just had her introductory day for her training to become a midwife. As well as a lot of biology homework before term starts, she has been told that they will send her a knitting pattern and she should knit up a pair of breasts.

Yes, thats right.

Apparently, they use knitted breasts in order to help new mums learn how to breast-feed. Unfortunately, L cannot knit, so thought I would be the best person for the job. That will go down on the top of the list of weirdest things to knit ever!

The mint with the hole

In the car passing the Nestle factory, and I am inhaling the thick chocolate smell while Mr SC drives. He tells me about the guy he currently works with that used to have a job in the factory. E was there the time that the polo machine jammed and then exploded. There were polos everywhere. I love this idea, like the pocket-watch in Alice in Wonderland that has springs and cogs exploding all over the place. Beautiful.

This evening I left work early to drop my wedding dress in to a lady for alterations. It fits perfectly right down to the soles of my feet, which is where the problems start. The dress carries on, and my legs don't. It was lovely to put it on again though, as I haven't worn it since I bought it. Anyway, thats boring wedding stuff, although I reserve the right to mention it again sooner or later. This is my blog after all.

When I got back, Mr SC had been having a bad day at work and was fighting with his motorbike in order to fit a new cable to it. I decided it was best we get out and chill out, so we went to the pub at the top of the hill and had dinner. Our friends T and K turned up a few minutes later, and we had a good old natter. T has just handed in all his university coursework and is on the hunt for a job. I must remember to ask my Dad if he still has a contact in the recruitment company in London. T is one smart cookie, and really should be snapped up immediately by any smart company.

When we had finished eating, a friend of K's knocked on the pub window and called her outside. K wanders out, and is followed by T. We sit for a minute and chat, before T comes racing back in a few steps ahead of K. There is a bundle in K's arms that looks like a half-full paper sack of potatoes. K sits down with the bundle on her lap, and T pulls away a corner of the bag. A slightly disgruntled chicken pops it's head up, and aims several sharp pecks at T. The landlady admits that she has seen everything now.

K's friend's husband had been given a live chicken by a colleague for him to either keep or eat, whichever he fancied. Husband and wife could not face killing and eating the chicken, so was passing it on to K to add to the small flock they already keep. The origin and sex of the chicken is still unknown, although it was declared by T that it was a bit of a gender bending chicken if it wasn't female. Followed by a discussion on the similarities between chickens and a certain variety of frogs that can spontaneously change sex. 

I love my life.