The Day Mr Him went without Trousers

Last week Mr Him had a visitor.  I had gone out to do practical things and walked into the house to find Mr Him in the kitchen entertaining a female guest with stories  whilst making himself and the guest a cuppa.  

Now Mr Him does have a certain attire sense.  He is known to favour the fruit salad look in the summer months.  In fact so much that he made sure the whole family joined the fruit bowl by doing a mass tie dye the year before last. Raspberry and peach were his colour flavours of choice that year.  This was fine in Madeira on holiday but not Sussex England.  

One of his clothing ventures, a t shirt, has a live ticker that could pick up the latest share prices if he was wireless I'm sure.   The shirt is battery operated and can be programmed to say whatever he wants it to say, gawd help me.  The Apple watch has nothing on Mr Him's ensembles. When going abroad this fashion phenomena likes to meet immigration with a cheery warning programmed into his shirt in their native tongue advising that he's arrived. As you can imagine border forces find this useful if only to alert the fashion police and, in fact, the complete fashion industry. 

Naughty flashes across his chest

Another t-shirt he favours is truely multidimensional. Anyone interacting with him is conveniently handed 3d glasses to enjoy his company to full affect.

However, I digress.  The day in question I arrived home to find his guest politely joining in his joviality. The poor lady really didn't know where to look for this was the day Mr Him went without trousers. 

I don't think this particular style experiment works and the sooner he moves on in his fashion choice the better I say. 

Did I mention the guest was a teacher visiting our youngest who is on study leave.  My youngest's family certainly made an impression. I won't print her reaction.  

How a Flight Booking can go Really wrong

Dear Reader, this week I had a belly rolling guffaw, ladylike giggle at my friend Tom Lay's latest flight booking.  I have typed the letter he received for your enjoyment.

Dear Mr Lay

Thank you for contacting us regarding the unusual error on your booking. We understand that the second passenger’s name is in fact ‘Thomas Lay’ and not ‘Thomas Laying in bed’ and that this mistake is due to the auto-correct function on the mobile phone you used to make the booking.

We have put a note on your booking giving the correct passenger name. Please print a copy of this email for your journey.

Yours 

Pictures of Wakehurst, just Pictures

I know its unlike me but today I am showing you just pictures.  As promised here are winter scenes of Wakehurst and the Millennium Seed Bank.  That is all. No waffle, no stories of Mr Him, who it has to be said has suffer a lot of stick from me on this blog, recently.  

The Camera is a small Samsung for holiday snaps. Nothing fancy.

Mr Him's Rhythmic Rumblings

Following Anna and Friends Adventures in a Seed Bank Mr Him and I decided to show our friends Brighton.  Now the best laid plans can go awry,  and they did. We intended to be in Brighton for 11 am to guzzle cocktails after a ten minute meander and then pour our friends onto a train home.   First though a train to Brighton. Easy, you would think, yes? No.

At the station  we found trains that weren't to be.  The engineers had pulled up the track. In both directions. Kindly the engineers had provided buses.  So we climbed to the top deck and accepted we'd be later than expected in Brighton, but hey let's treat this as an excursion and enjoy the views.   

From the top deck through the suburbs I saw views.  Views that were not designed for double decker buses! This is why town buses are coaches and should stay that way. 

After a gentle roll past farms and rural winter muddiness there was an almighty explosion right under Mr Him followed by a rhythmic rumble.  I glared  at him and swore under my breath about the Indian restaurant and the apparent further retribution that had come my way (see I shouldn't be let out in public. )  Now Queen Victoria once said that "the people here (Brighton) are very indiscreet and troublesome". As far as I was concerned that did not give Mr Him carte blanche to have a gross rumbling on the way there!

The rhythmic rumbling continued and the driver pulled into Hassocks station,  got off the bus and phoned for reinforcements with glances in Mr Him's direction. Our friends decided it would be best if we sneaked away so down we climbed and crawled into a taxi with instructions to drive around the other side of the bus.  

Twenty minutes later we were safely in Brighton and as we passed our local palace (yes, it may look like something from Delhi but this really is a palace in Brighton.  King George IV so loved India he wanted a home of such style)  I reminded Mr  Him that here was the best place to have his rhythmic rumbling  and to be indiscreet and troublesome before we get to things more exciting. 

We then headed for a  meander through Brighton's equivalent of Carnaby street.  

The men spotted  a retro leather jacket stall, and the rhythmic rumbling was no more. Mr Him was no longer indiscreet and troublesome. He was absorbed in retro leather. 

I spotted retro dresses 

and we all spotted very current cakes. 

It was time for a meditation on cocktails and beer along with burritos.  

Then for a stroll to the sea and piers.  

There were no more rhythmic rumblings that day, but then our bus back did not explode a tyre.

Our Handy Local Seed Bank in the Event of Apocalypse

Last weekend we had visitors.  Friends from elsewhere in Britain ventured south.  As one does  I put together an itinerary of the best of experiences.  This included a journey by train that never was and a bus explosion in the countryside, but that's the next blog. 

To start the weekend I arranged a walk on the wild side.  Dressing appropriately in a leopard print oversized jumper and sheepskin boots I, with Mr Him's help, took our friends on an Adventure in our Local seed Bank.  

This bank is handily ten minutes drive from us so if we need seeds from Ittoqqortoormiit anytime it's as local as sainsburys, although we'd have trouble getting them out of the cryotank. Conversely the seed bank is too close for me to take Mr Him's threats to put me in cryopreservation lightly. 

This site is part of the famous Kew Gardens and stores live seeds from around the world to preserve plant species in the event of an apocalypse. The seed bank is set in the grounds of Wakehurst Place. I can see the sense as its unlikely a global apocalypse will start in Ardingly, Sussex, England.  

We explored scenery such as the natural outcrops of Totem Poles (which our friends tell us don't grow in the Midlands)

Then the real 'trip' started.  Now, dear reader, do you remember Mr Him's wizardry in the kitchen?

Unbeknown to our friends I brought along a small bottle of this potion to liven things up. We all had a guzzle  from this Drink Me bottle.  Shame I didn't tell our friend to get off the climbing pole before he supped said concoction.  

Meanwhile down below I take a rest against mushrooms that I'm convinced are quite magical waiting for him to climb down, which took a while I can tell you.

Mind you you should have seen how he fast he slithered once these came along

After such Anna Adventures in a Seed Bank how to end the day? Why change my spots into casual leopard finery 

and go for an adventure in our local Indian restaurant (see I shoudn't be let out in public.)  You''ll be pleased to note dear reader, that this time I behaved in an exemplary manner and will be allowed to return. 

Putting Mr Him to the Test

Dear reader, you will remember (if you read tower-of-london-and-kansas-barbecues ) that Mr Him went to  London and had the audacity to stay in a hotel and send me home after dinner. Well this week I was at a conference and, to my delight, held at that very same venue. I would be able to test Mr Him's employer's theory that  it's not possible to return home after a day working in this location. What luck.

The hotel in question is next to Tower Bridge and backing on to St Katherine's Dock.  On day one, I worked and found time to tour the docks and having done so return home. 

There had to be one didn't there, Starbucks

The following day I worked  a full day, took in some views of Tower Bridge, and returned home. 

On the third evening, I stretched the test.  After work and what's more after dark, I joined fellow delegates for a delicate evening of champagne guzzling and mini burger scoffing at a wine bar across the river. 

After said guzzling and scoffing I was still able to make my way home with a meander through a London nightscape.

On the fourth day I told Mr Him of my adventures and conclusions.  I now need to write up my experiment with results, statistics and the controls  for him to give his employer when he's asked to stay again.