In a loud voice. In a very quiet teashop whilst we were taking a break from veggie picking at the local farm this afternoon.
Suddenly I was aware we had an audience around us. Average age 70.
Grrrrr, darn you "LMFAO". Justin Timberlake. Hot Chocolate. Rod Stewart. Um...Right Said Fred (OK I know I am scraping the barrel now). Kids do hear your songs on the radio you know? They then want to know WHAT you are singing about. What does it all mean? Who is sexy, why are they sexy. WHAT is sexy?
That's all fine, but NOT when we are enjoying a peaceful ploughman's lunch in West Sussex, don't you know.
So while I would have usually sat her down to explain things in more detail (and ending it with "so therefore, Madonna is NOT sexy by showing her ancient nipple..."), I decided it wasn't the time or the place.
So my response went something a bit like: "Well let me see. Ooh look, they sell ice creams over there. Let's have one after lunch and go and pick some broccoli, and chat later".
But then she forgot about it so I didn't bring it up. Oh dear, it's that age now where they will ask loads of things. I wish they didn't have to grow up.
Anyway, yes we've been to a Pick Your Own farm today and it was brilliant. We picked punnets of strawberries, raspberries, broccoli, French beans and carrots. Oh and beetroot. It was the best four hours and the kids loved it. We caught tractor rides all over the fields to reach the different crops. I truly felt like the fresh air was a drug. It's an addictive thing.
|Berry gorgeous (pardon the pun...net)|
|Posing before thoroughly checking over the strawberry plants|
|Oh I am proud to be a Somerset lass. I love all this!|
Fit farmers, tractors, happy kids.
|In your face Waitrose, in your face (these were CHEAP!)|
|Eating more than she was picking it would appear...ahem!|
|Inside the tearoom. Blimmin' lovely.|
|This is his proud face! Apparently...|
|Gisela Graham here there and everywhere|
|Loving the yachts|
|This little lot will make gorgeous breakfasts for the next few days|
|I picked seven broccoli heads (little ones) for a mere £1.60. CRAZY!|
I have to give seven facts about myself. I've done this a few times now and it worries me that I can't think of much. Mind you, I am hormonal and get clumsy and forgetful.
1. Ooh that reminds me of one. I suffer from polycystic ovaries and when I was diagnosed, I was told it could take years to conceive. The sonographer told me off the record to throw caution to the wind and stop using contraception. At that stage, we'd only just got married and weren't planning a family for at least a year but I took her advice. Three months later, following a dirty weekend in Edinburgh, the Princess was conceived. The Husband thought I'd tricked him with the whole "I can't get pregnant easily" thang.
2. Gina G and I once got on like a house on fire. I interviewed her and we hung out and I was convinced we could be mates. She is making a comeback now. Bet she never even thinks about me. Not even a Ooh Ah, Little Bit.
3. I fantasise about being a kitesurfer. No, really. In my sad little mind, I imagine I am one of the best females to take up the extreme sport, I'd ride the waves with all the fit lads, flip my board 70ft in the air and they'd think I was amazing. When the actual truth is, I'd look crap in the wetsuit alone. My guilty pleasure is watching Bondi Rescue everyday. I WISH I could surf/kitesurf/look hot in a wetsuit.
4. I am a chocoholic. When times are desperate and there is no chocolate in the house, I have been known to spoon out the jar of Nutella. It makes me feel a bit Dawn French but I don't care. Ahh! THAT'S why I wouldn't look hot in a wetsuit...
5. I used to work in telesales (part time, after having the Princess) and one day, my boss was being particularly miserable. His attitude wound me up so much, I texted the Husband (we weren't allowed to use mobiles at work) to moan about the boss, saying how horrid and grumpy he was and how much I hated being there that morning......and accidentally sent it to the boss. Talk about awkward.
6. My sister Anna held a party a few years ago called the A List party (we had to dress as anything beginning with A) and I dressed as Avril Lavigne complete with blonde wig. A male friend put a photo of me onto a vile website called Rough or Buff, where men could vote for me, nominating me as Rough or Buff. I was livid.
|Avril Lavigne and Airforce Husband|
And finally. Two Cherry Tree purchases this week. This teabag holder (do they have a proper name?)
|£1 from Scope|
|It goes nicely with me other one|
|In my Top 3 film choices. It's big in my family. We heart it.|
|Surrender Dorothy...my friend was in a band with that name!|
|I could while away the hours|
Slurping tons of tea, dreaming of surfers, da da da da da da...