Humor

100 Things to Do Instead of Watching The Great British Bake Off

My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Baking, Humor, Humour , ,

Unless you’re a Mexican flamingo whose had its head stuck in a pile of sand for the past few weeks, you’ll be very much aware that The Great British Bake Off (alias GBBO, hereafter ‘Bake Off’) has triumphantly returned to television screens up and down the land.

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This delightful cookery-based competition has been gracing UK television sets for seven years now but in truth it feels like judges Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood have always been part of our lives.

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In fact a few weeks ago I came to the conclusion that Mary and Paul were born as they are now. Mary was never an infant, moody teenager or rebellious 20-something, she has always been the endearing grandmother partial to a gin and tonic (or two).

Paul has always been the uncle who you know loves you, yet at the same time you feel you have to earn that right to be loved. He’s also the uncle who is banned from Tesco’s bakery aisle due to excessive poking of goods.

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Now those of you of a nervous disposition may want to leave the room when I say this, but there are those out there who (and I say this with a deep calming breath), there are those who do not like Bake Off.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. 1..2…3…4…5. Ok, I think I’m good.

I don’t know whether to feel angry or sorry for these persons. This is a minority group who has never experienced the elevation of a Paul Hollywood handshake or the despair of watching a baker’s gingerbread house fall apart at the very last second. Bake Off can make you experience every single emotion in the space of 58 minutes and all through the medium of cake. On paper it sounds like this is impossible to achieve, like I’m over inflating this show’s abilities like a puffed up pastry. But I’m not. Until you watch this show and give it your full attention you’re never really going to get it.

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Something I am prepared to accept is that due to the Bake Off effect there is very little else on TV between 8 and 9pm on Wednesday night if you’re not tuning into the show. This is something I can help out with. Like a trusted and highly professional councillor I will leave people to discover the joys of Bake Off for themselves. In the meantime, here is a list of things you can do to pass away the hour whilst Bake Off is on. Just pick a number between 1 and 100 and hey presto! You have something to do instead of watching soggy bottoms and plump buns. (To be honest if that sentence doesn’t convince you to watch Bake Off nothing will. Moving on…)

100 Things to do Instead of Watching Bake Off:

 1.       Watch Bake Off

2.       Ok, ok, watching Bake Off isn’t an option. Other things to do…

3.       Draw a picture

4.       Look up the weather for the next few days

5.       Read up on the news because lets be painfully honest, the world has bigger problems then the rise on their sour bread dough

6.       Watch cat videos on YouTube

7.       End up in ‘that part’ of YouTube

8.       Look out the window and people watch (judge them for not being as productive as oneself)

9.       (Realise these people are actually being productive in taking exercise.) Go for a walk

10.   Go onto a buying channel and make a reckless impulse buy (buy that rotisserie cleaner, it’s what life is missing)

11.   Do an IQ test

12.   Go food shopping

13.   Get back and discover an essential item has been forgotten, go back to the shop again

14.   Watch catch up TV

15.   Call Mum

16.   Buy an intellectual book. (War and Peace? Pfft, easy!)

17.   Read the online synopsis and reviews of said book (e.g. War and Peace) and realise it’s actually a hard read. Buy the TV adaptation

18.   Read a magazine instead

19.   Binge on wine and chocolate

20.   Cry that a) Bake off is leaving the BBC and b) that Mel and Sue are not going to present it

21.   Text an old friend and arrange to meet up

22.   Tinder

23.   Convince yourself you’ll be single forever

24.   Download a cool new app to replace time spent on Tinder

25.   Learn a new dance, because you’re Beyoncé

26.   Join a local club

27.   Learn a language

28.   Enrol on an evening course

29.   Blog

30.   (If above is not possible, start a blog)

31.   Go through photos online and clear out anything that you wouldn’t want an employer to see

32.   Create a LinkedIn profile

33.   Update the CV

34.   Write a book

35.   Job hunt

36.   Work on that essay/dissertation/homework/report

37.   Buy a new music album

38.   Paint nails

39.   Watch make up tutorials online

40.   Have a shower

41.   Research summer holidays

42.   One word: Christmas

43.   Make a proper dinner for once

44.   Call up the landlord to chase him over the broken freezer, again

45.   Book tickets to the music gig/festival/event you’ve been forgetting about

46.   Call British Gas to discuss recent energy bill

47.   Be put on hold

48.   Still on hold

49.   Seriously?

50.   Complain to British Gas about being on hold and end up forgetting what the call was about in the first place

51.   Have an existential crisis

52.   Scream into a pillow

53.   Hit the gym

54.   Do the washing

55.   Iron the clothes that live in ‘the pile’

56.   Start budgeting finances

57.   Watch a film

58.   Watch a David Attenborough documentary and convince yourself you know everything about nature

59.   Look up deadly animals around the world

60.   Shave and/or wax

61.   Wrap and write Birthday presents and cards to those distant relatives you don’t really care that much about

62.   Read up on local events/exhibitions happening in the area

63.   Go onto meetup.com and join a social group

64.   Watch Homes Under the Hammer

65.   Look up local house prices and tell yourself you’ll be renting forever

66.   Look up the cost of raising a family and kid yourself you want to be childless forever

67.   Check online banking

68.   Acknowledge spending money on petty items has to stop

69.   Buy a samurai sword

70.   Eat pie

71.   Make plans for the weekend

72.   Look up what films are out at the moment

73.   Play FIFA/Call of Duty

74.   Go for a run

75.   Tidy the house

76.   Clean the bathroom

77.   Watch another program on a different channel

78.   Play Bake Off drinking games (with/without friends, depending what sort of day it is)

79.   After a few shots, find oneself uncomfortably attracted to Paul and/or Mary

80.   Stalk Facebook friends

81.   Do a Facebook ‘cull’ clearing out all the friends that haven’t been seen in decades

82.   Send a well-crafted Tweet to a favourite celebrity

83.   Log onto work emails. After all, what could possibly have come in since 5pm?

84.   Spend entire evening dealing with work emails

85.   Plan a big event

86.   Go to the pub

87.   Walk and wash the dog

88.   Wash the car

89.   Create an awesome music playlist

90.   Sleep

91.   Look up ways to volunteer locally

92.   Rescan the Freeview

93.   Learn ‘the offside rule’

94.   Learn the difference between eyeliner (liquid and pencil), eye shadow and mascara

95.   Have a cup of tea

96.   Do that thing that has been ignored/put off for too long

97.   Make a paper plane

98.   Learn the periodic table

99.   Actually bake something

100. Count down the minutes until it’s all over

And before you ask, no, of course I didn’t put this definitive list together whilst watching Bake Off. Thanks to the WordPress Gods I was able to write this days ago and get it scheduled in to be published during Bake Off. This post goes live at a time slot when I knew anti-Bake Off sentiment would be at it’s peak and therefore a good time for you to read it.

Did you think I was crazy or something?

Follow ‘Grimgrad’ on Instagram for Your Chance to Win*

My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humor, Humour

Can I just get something out of the way first? Whenever someone says ‘follow me’ I have to listen to this song:

(If I don’t it’ll only bug me for the rest of the day.)

As the title suggests, I have taken the plunge and joined the world of Instagram. When it came to entering the selfie-laden, filter-obsessive world of Instagram I have to admit I was a bit apprehensive. I didn’t want to become a mindless food critic, taking snaps of my amazing quinoa bean salad, and I certainly didn’t want to become Kim Kardashian (a possibility which was/is very likely to happen):

(In case you’re wondering, I’m the one on the right.)

I also knew I’d have to start to combat my difficultly in pronouncing the app’s name correctly. The ‘a’ sound in Instagram sounds so harsh, I naturally want to call it ‘InstARgrARm’ not ‘InstAHgrAm’. Classic case of Alice vs 6.9999… billion people. It’s an ongoing battle and truth be told the only way I can get over posh girl syndrome is to tell myself that if I start calling it ‘InstARgram’ then I’m going to have to start softening all A sounds, in which case I’d become ARlice. I don’t think I can bring myself to that, at least not until I own a Polo club.

These fears overcome, I’ve created my own Insta account, username grimgrad.

Because I wanted to stand out from the crowd on this photo sharing platform I’ve decided to apply my classic blogging banter style to my profile. Turns out it’s actually an easy enough thing to do. Anyone who knows me understands that, since starting a blog, I will literally photo anything of mild amusement. It will 99% of the time make no sense to anyone else, but to me it’s a potential image to use on an upcoming blog post. The only problem with doing this is that more often than not I’m left with reams of random photos on my phone. Photos which for whatever reason didn’t quite make it to the blog, however are a bit too random for me to just throw out there for my friends to see on Facebook. (I don’t think I could deal with the rejection of a ‘no like’ photo, it would be too much to handle.)

In short, there’s now a brand new outlet if you want a quick dose of grimgrad and MHAM goodness. Follow grimgrad on Instagram today and you could be viewing wonderfully witty photos like these:

 

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No reduced white bread in shop. I guess I’ll be going without fibre this week.

 

 

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Wow, just what I always needed in my life!
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This corner of my bedroom is a scarily accurate portrayal of my life right now
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In other news, Swindon council deny claims that budget cuts have impacted on local signage.
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When bae decides he wants to watch you sleep instead of doing the respectable thing and buggering off. #daddylongleggs

 

I think you’ll agree it’s worth a cheeky follow.

*Competition rules – by following Alice’s Instagram feed you are entering yourself in for the chance to win one of three prizes: 1. Swindon/English air, delivered by air mail. 2. a daddy long legs. Alice will throw it out the window and yell “GO AWAY! GO AND PESTER MR J SMITH” (Alice claims no responsibility if said insect is eaten/gets lost/gets crushed by an impatient Alice whilst in transit). 3. the chance to go on a no-expense paid holiday to Kenya, courtesy of your own wallet.

All entrants will receive Alice E. Bennett’s semi-dying gratification.

Any questions can be addressed to the dead Daddy Long Legs on my wall.

Good luck.

Caves, Cannons and Geriatric Broadband: South Devon 2016

My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Holiday, Humor, Humour , ,

Some of you guys might be getting a little fed up of Alice posting “about me holidays”. Well, with the help of Simon Pegg, I’ve only got one thing to say to you people:

Haters gonna hate.

In true white, middle class style I’ve just got back from a break spent at the family’s holiday cottage (South Devon). The little village of Stoke Gabriel on the River Dart has, for many years, been a destination for the Bennett clan. It’s a location close to my heart, a little chocolate box of a village with plenty of charm and boats.

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It’s pretty nice, huh? Well, as someone that’s been holidaying there for cracking on fifteen years I can certainly vouch that Stoke Gabriel is a village that keeps giving year after year.

Before we could reach our holiday cottage though we had to make a stop off in the local, equally pretty, town of Totnes. Not that Totnes isn’t a nice place to go:

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Totnes

In fact it prides itself on being a very welcoming place:

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They even were very supportive and welcoming of national coffee shop chain Costa Coffee.

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So much that Costa went “you guys are so nice that we just can’t build our coffee shop in your town, you guys use it for a charity shop instead.”)

It’s a nice enough place but it was just that, due to our desire to not spend Saturday parked up on the M5 near Bristol, we’d left the Cotswolds early enough to arrive in Totnes at 8:45am, six hours too early to get into the cottage. Morning spent doing the traditional Bennett activities of “Spotting The New Shops And Working Out If They’ll Last the Year”, losing Papa Bennett to the cheese stand in the farmers’ market, and Mumma Bennett going to Totnes Castle (owned by English Heritage). Not to visit the Norman castle, but purely to raid the English Heritage gift shop of raspberry curd.

Here is a helpful diagram to explain:

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(Not to scale)

Top Paint/design skills there.

Once we’d spent a sufficient amount of time and money on cheese, jam and pies (courtesy of Morrisons’ reduced aisle and the effects on Papa Bennett), we headed back to the cottage to unpack and unwind. Well, three of us unpacked. I took to throwing India’s clothes across the room in a political statement-come-demonstration in a bid to force her to put her socks and swimsuit in a less in-you-face location.

Sunday we went to Kents Cavern, an extensive series of underground caves and tunnels. Much to my surprise, despite the poor lighting my new iPhone (I have an iPhone now, don’t you know?) took half decent pics. img_0199

However, don’t be fooled, the caves were dark at points and even had spooky faces in the walls.

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Because India studies Human Geography she didn’t know what to make of it all. She felt very lost and confused in the cave systems.

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“India! Don’t go down there!”

At the end of the caves there was an exhibition, including a reconstruction of human settlers using the caves for protection. I didn’t really understand what the curators were trying to portray – all of my hungover mornings with friends look like this?

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Bacon, mindless staring into the abyss, a random baby showing up, what’s new there?

I found this guy very relatable:

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Following on from the beauty of the caves, we progressed onto another natural feature: the tourist gift shop.

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(David Tennant would have been very happy.)

Outside, India found a new outfit and posed for an attractive series of photos.

Another day we went to the up and coming town of Brixham:

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As long as you’re not OCD on your hygiene it has a great sweet shop:

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And if you’re not OCD on quality, there’s many shops stocking a wide range of products:

On the holiday there was also a family outing to the county capital of Exeter city. During our day out we went on a delightful free tour of the city which took us from the city centre right down to the historic quayside. Whilst we learnt a great deal of many facts and history about the city, highlights for me were posing with this cannon:

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And this ferry sign:

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Who said I wasn’t easy to please?

Speaking of education, I also got chance to visit a delightful little zoo in the village of Shaldon and learn all about a range of small animals, notably of the primate variety.

 

I even learnt a new language:

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“Ah! So that’s why I’m still single! I need to up m seductive face…”

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“…and learn how to get other females off my man whilst keeping his attention.”

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“Sorted!”

Shaldon also had some other charming features, such as the local custom of leaving labels on beverage fruits…

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…A large mermaid (one which puts my housemate to shame)…

…and a very large passive-aggressive sign targeted at dog fouling:

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It truly is a very wonderful place.

Of course it wouldn’t be a Devonshire holiday without a few technical issues and scraps in the cottage, the main one of this holiday being the internet. The broadband, for whatever reason, decided to be rather temperamental for most of the week. At the lowest point we had two laptops and my mobile phone all desperately trying to look up website information, with no one having any success whatsoever. Amongst the shouting “I’M TRYING TO LOG ONTO THE SITE!” and “try turning it off and on again” and even the classic “oh just give it here! You’re doing it wrong! Huh, it’s not working” I was sat in the middle just laughing. “Great family holiday this is, I come for some relaxation and get lumbered with a geriatric broadband connection! Get the leaflet drawer out, we’d have found out about the Red Coat guides half an hour ago if we’d gone there first.” Inadvertently the broadband issue turned into a family competition every time it went down. Never has Googling cinema times of Jason Bourne been so exciting!

Overall, aided hugely by good (well, half-decent) weather we all had a great time once again in Devon. Now that it’s SEPTEMBER…

(Sorry, not sorry)

…it’s all a go-go on Autumn/Halloween/Christmas. The day we got back from Devon the weather changed instantly. Seems God wants to start buying his tinsel early this year.

But if you think that’s miserable enough, just take a look at this pointlessly long sign for sale in a gift shop n Totnes:

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How did that make you feel Mr. Seagull?

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Home is Where the Prosecco is: A Simple Guide to the Cotswolds

My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Cotswolds, Humor, Humour

This week I found myself in the unusual position of having to take annual leave simply because I worked nine months solid without any time off and now its caught up on me. Having made no big plans and no partner to do anything with (#ForeverAlone), I’ve spent the last few days going about some of the local towns and villages in the area. The plan; soak up the history, cream cakes and tourist sweat the region has to offer.

To back track a little, I was born and bred in the county of Gloucestershire, near the little market town of Chipping Campden.

Although a small minority may dispute my background, I’ve always very firmly stated my origins as being North Cotswold through and through. One of the many problems with Cotswolds is that it’s not an area defined by fixed boarders and fences. One person’s Cotswold is another’s Vale of Evesham. For example, the most recent controversy in my home village is the upcoming development of an airfield in neighbouring Warwickshire. Everybody with an ounce of common sense knows Warwickshire isn’t a Cotswold county, Cala Homes can ruddy well do one on that front.

Anyway, back to the point, because I have been on annual leave I’ve had the unique chance to go around some of the places I don’t normally see. Don’t get me wrong, Swindon, a town located in the heart of the Cotswolds, does have some unique shopping delights…

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…But it’s never quite been embraced as fully ‘Cotswoldian’. To counter balance, this week I have been visiting the towns of Chipping Campden (obviously), Cirencester, Painswick, Stroud and Bourton-on-the-Water. A mixture of the famous and under the radar. So here it is, a (very) simplistic guide to the sights of my home region.

A (Very) Simple Guide to the Cotswolds by Alice E. Bennett

The first, most important thing you need to know about the Cotwolds is that it’s habitants operate like a well oiled machine. Not necessarily a technological machine, we’re still a bit behind in that department.

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No, it’s more a traditional machine. A machine oiled with prosecco, gallons and gallons of prosecco.

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To be honest, before prosecco was a thing our family unit was in deep crisis.

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That said, the average Cotswold resident isn’t too picky, just know that any alcohol of reputable quality is embraced. So long as it’s not Gordon’s and located on the top shelf.

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If you do decide to rub us up the wrong way (e.g. playing your music at 9:15pm, voicing your love of the Labour party at a Church fete, ignoring our carefully placed signs…)

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…we will tend to express our frustration in one of three ways. The first, adopted by the minority youth culture, is to be witty by trying to make it a joke or pun-tastic:

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The second approach adopts some of the attributes of an open letter, however because we do things old school we treat an open letter in the most literal of senses. It’s quite common to have locals tack up posters in the middle of village squares:

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The final method we’ll voice anger is by taking our complaints to the local press. God have mercy on your soul if that happens. To prompt such an action, you really have to do something utterly criminal.

What the Cotswold towns and villages lack for in subtly they most certainly make up for in shopping. As we will tell you, our shops outclass yours 10-1, including our charity shops.

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People actually get excited about the mere thought of browsing through our used crockery and underwear, that’s how superior our stuff is.

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Bask in the used glow.

Our shops also boast some of the best opening times in the country and are run by the fittest and most able of patrons.

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With window fittings so majestic you’d think they were lifted from Oxford Street itself.

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Our shop names may make no sense, but the way we say and present them will ensure you walk away feeling like the stupid one in this relationship. That and an overpriced t-shirt.

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(The same rule can also be applied to house signs. Sign material comes at a price around here.)

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Speaking of clothing, we are the fashion trail blazers of the world. Move over Pairs, get out of here London, if you want to know what is going to be ‘in’ this season you need look no further than Stroud’s High Street. Two words: ‘Butterfly Boob’.

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Two more: ‘Gym Cats’ (alias ‘Crotch Cats’), perfect for Rio 2016.

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Urm…’Sombrero Dad’?

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‘And This’:

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If clothing isn’t your bag (or hat or scarf), then our shops do stock the most delightful alternatives including piles of biscuits which are, frustratingly, not piles of biscuits and witty sayings which aren’t witty. Because as any Cotswold home owner knows, any coffee morning or house visit isn’t complete until you’ve made you guests feel suitably inferior to yourself.

And what kind of animal are you if you leave without buying something for your cat?

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If you find yourself in a sticky situation or engaged in conversation, use these buzz phrases to steer yourself into safe waters:

  1. “Where is the nearest Waitrose?”
  2. “Too many immigrants in this country if you ask me”
  3. “I was just talking to my wife Florentina about that”
  4. “Isn’t the weather ghastly today?”
  5. “In my opinion if it’s not Tory, it’s not for-me”
  6. “It’s mainstream shops like Pry-mark that are driving the price of good quality chinos into the ground. It’s an utter disgrace”

And there you have it. Follow all of the tips and advice above you’ll be right on your way to being just about tolerated by the Cotswold community. When you come to depart our happy region we only ask you to remember one thing:

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We wouldn’t want you taking our middle class mannerisms with you now, would we?

Pammy the Plant and the Weekly Commute

My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humor, Humour

(Warning: The following content contains images of cut and wilting hedge flowers. This post is not advised if you object to such imagery.)

At the moment I’m in a bit of a flux state. I’m at that age where I’m still trying to find myself, but in a way which doesn’t involve taking hallucinogenic products. I tried inhaling incense once and it messed me right up.

As avid readers will have seen, I recently had a shot of coming up with new products the world needs. All of these were just concepts at this stage of course, I need the backing before I make the prototypes. I have sent letters off to Trump, Sugar and Madonna. Fingers crossed I’ll hear back soon. After this post I thought “well, if I’m such a creative spirit perhaps I should try a bit of writing?” Children’s books seemed like a good starting point (I mean, how hard can it be to write a good quality children’s story?) The world wide web also says you should write something you can relate to. So, based on the two I have come up with a highly readable AND relatable story for children. Enjoy.

 

Pammy the Plant and the Weekly Commute

by Alice E. Bennett

 

(Story based on real-life events)

It was Friday afternoon and Pammy was starting to wrap up her work for the day. It had been a long week in her department and she had spent much of it rushed off her vase.

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Pammy’s job involves her answering the phones and working at a computer. There’s a stuff load more to it than that, but you darling angels really would not begin to comprehend what Pammy goes through every day so we’ll leave it at answering phones and emails

Pammy was looking forward to a weekend with Papa Plant and Mummy Plant. Mummy Plant always stuffs her full of water and Papa Plant always asks her how ‘The Facebook’ works. At 4pm Pammy was very perky indeed.

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When the big hand was on six and the little hand on four, it meant it was half past four and Pammy could go home. “Yippee!” exclaimed Pammy.

Off Pammy went with her stylish spotty case. The sun was shining and she was in a good mood. She picked up her tickets from the man at the station and hopped onto the platform.

“In two hours I’ll be home, with all the water and plant food I could wish for. How exciting!” Pammy thought as she sat patiently on the platform.

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The first train arrived right on time. This was a train going to London. London is the capital city of England, so sometimes the trains can be very busy. Pammy had to be very careful she didn’t bump into a grumpy man or make conversation with the merry Welsh rugby fans. Pammy remembered Mummy Plant’s advice, “talking to strangers is not sensible,” Mummy Plant would say, “they’re often weirdos.”

The journey was fairly quick and after 15 minutes Pammy got off the train at a station called Didcot Parkway. It’s an uninspiring station. An uninspiring station indeed.

The next train arrived at twenty minutes past five. It was eight minutes early! Pammy got on the empty train and decided that she’d utilise the time and lack of people there to judge her actions.

At first she wasn’t too happy with the mess the other passengers had left.

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“Silly passengers!” She tutted, “leaving their shizz around when they could have just put it in the bin!” Pammy judged the passengers for their actions but admittedly didn’t pick up the rubbish herself. She was just too busy having fun. She played peek-a-boo:

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She then ate some of her yoghurt:

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And read her book:

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Pammy didn’t get too far into her fun when the train started moving. The train left Didcot at twenty eight minutes past five and would take Pammy to Oxford. Oxford is a very old and popular English city full of culture, pigeons and a dire housing shortage. Can you say dire housing shortage children?

But before she got to the delightful Oxford, Pammy made sure she took in the pretty scenery on her shuttle train.

…And the impressive stations…

“What wonderful scenery.” Pammy said to the Train Manager who came to check her ticket. The Train Manager laughed, “good one!” he yelled as he walked past. Pammy was glad her positive spirit was making others happy.

When the big hand was on nine and the little hand was between five and six the time was 5:45. That was the time Pammy got off the shuttle train at Oxford. It was also when everything went to pot.

Pammy hopped over to the departure board to look for the train which was going to Hereford. Can you spot the Hereford train on the picture below?

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That right, it’s the third one from the bottom.

Pammy looked at the board and groaned.

“Oh no! The train is delayed! What on Earth could have caused this?”

Luckily a robotic announcer was on hand to provide an explanation. Apparently a train had broken down in a place called Slough which meant the train line was blocked. “Nothing good happens in Slough” one business man moaned. “Yeah, it’s a massive poop hole. I wouldn’t want my children near there” said another. There were some very shouty people there too. Poor Pammy, all she wanted to do was get home, but the unhappy passengers only seemed to make the delay worse. At 6:55pm Pammy was meant to be almost home, but instead she was sat at Oxford trying to avoid bud contact with other passengers who kept staring at her leaves.

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Poor, poor, Pammy.

Pammy was not a happy plant at all. But then out of nowhere she heard a friendly voice.”Pammy? Is that you?” The voice said.

Pammy looked up and lit up right away. It was Paul the Palm!

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Pammy had not seen Paul since they were young saplings, so she was rather pleased to see him. Luckily they had got on well when they were young and had no ‘beef’ against each other. They chatted and chatted until the train arrived and throughout the journey. During this time Pammy wanted to look cool in front of Paul so didn’t take any pictures.

Paul got off at the station before Pammy, giving Pammy ten minutes to waddle her case down several coaches before arriving at Honeybourne Station at five to eight. She had been delayed by 50 minutes and was very tired from all the travelling.

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Papa Plant and Mummy Plant though were happy to see her, they stuffed Pammy full of food and gave her a glass of fizzy apple juice to make her feel better. It worked. Soon enough Pammy was back to her happy self. She’d had quite a commute! While Papa Plant went upstairs to snooze, Mummy Plant gave Pammy a cup of hot herbal plant juice and they sat down to talk about their week.

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Pammy is a lucky plant indeed.

FIN.

 

A Picture Paints a Thousand Commutes

My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humor, Humour , ,

As my well known saying goes “a picture paints a thousand commutes” and nothing sums this up more than this photo taken at Oxford train station on Friday 3rd June 2016 at around 18:20.

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This installation has multiple meanings depending on how one interprets it.

  • A representation of the modern commuter, striving for the finish line, yet being held back by means beyond their control. When they are released from their binding they hit the floor, little reward for the delay.
  • Western struggles.
  • The ruddy economy (I blame the immigrants/Donald Trump – delete as appropriate).
  • The perfect man/woman. You have a hankering for salt and vinegar one week, the next you are more a cheese and onion kinda person. The moment that happens you end up with two packets of salt and vinegar, the flavour you don’t want two of. (Psst I’m talking about relationships)
  • The government taking control and telling you “you ain’t eating no crisps tonight fatty”. The Big Brother state is already upon us my friends.
  • How come the vending machine contains only McCoys crisps and how come they’re only salt and vinegar flavour? This image represents the crispism and oppression on crisp brands placed on us by society.
  • It’s the work of Jesus. (The religious interpretation).
  • I’m sorry, how much is a Twix? £1.00?! Err no thanks. (The Alice Bennett interpretation).
  • For Christ’s sake, it’s just a packet of crisps stuck in a vending machine.

 

I should be working in a high end art gallery. My top-notch ability to spin and waffle are being completely underused in my current position. If you want to own this image it can be yours for only £10,000,000 (open to negotiation, also selling dodgy print copies of said image printed on cheap paper for £100 + postage).

Useful Useless Inventions the World Needs

My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humor, Humour ,

My knowledge of technology and gadgetry can be summed up in the following ten second dialogue:

“Hey, Alice, what phone operating system are you on? Are you team Android or team Apple?”

“Team Windows”

“…”

Now, anyone who knows me will know that I was born middle aged. I watch Have I Got News For You, am partial to a bit of Paxman and Mary Beard and I get excited when the BBC air a show catered towards the intellectual market (dramatization of Shakespeare staring Hugh Bonneville? Don’t mind if I do!) Based on this it will also come as no surprise to hear that, outside of mobiles and basic computing, technology has never sat well with me. I mean why does everything need to keep changing? Why do I need an app to tell me how to sleep better? Why do I need a wristband to tell me to work out more? And why do I need an egg timer to tell me how long to oil an egg?! Ain’t nobody telling me how to cook ma eggs! To be honest if it wasn’t for bake sales I’d question what the purpose of a fan heated oven was.

That said, despite all this I feel there are a number of gadget-needing problems that the boffins of this world have yet to fully exploit. Sure, they may not sell in the millions and I agree they might not be entirely useful, but they’re plenty of ‘things’ which desperately need inventing to solve many a modern dilemma. Also, to be quite frank, there’s a literal pile of gadgets we’ve bought Papa Bennett over the years which have never been used. Christmas and Birthday presents lain to waste. No one questions their usefullness as they sit gathering dust in the crockery cupboards.

Therefore, people of the world, I give you Alice E. Bennett’s list of inventions that should exist. FYI – if any of these get made into successful gadgets I’m demanding royalties and/or equity in the business (I’ve watched Dragon’s Den, I know my stuff).

An invention that reminds you of that drawer at home already crammed full of plastic bags BEFORE you get to the till point at Tesco’s

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An app which identifies select times where a cut out of Nigel Farage is required to ensure you and the television corporations are remaining EU neutral. For example, before Eurovision the app would notify you to position Nigel near to the TV monitor and close to alcohol.

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A flag which you can attach to a camera which waves as a warning that the pose you are currently striking resembles that of an awkward British tourist

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(Points if you can spot the author in that group of friendly European tourists on holiday in Oxford)

A chip installed into every phone which automatically tasers the user if the phone thinks it is about to be used to photo friends in a club environment

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It’s hangover blackmail and therefore should be made illegal.

Something to solve this. The world needs an invention to remind people not to drink the blue liquids in the bathroom. It’s a problem faced by me and many toddlers on a daily basis.

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A series of pompous guidebooks which don’t direct you to the prettiest, most popular, paintings or monuments, but the ugliest

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(You’ll find the above in the d’Orsay Gallery in Paris)

In the same guidebooks I would expect there to be a line or two that tells you to sit down, read the information and look engaged with the waffle you’re reading

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A filter that stops you looking demonic in photos

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Oh, and finally, a calendar to notify you know of those days when you might want to make yourself scarce…

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Those are my initial thoughts on useful useless inventions the world needs right now. A lot of time was put into thinking of these revolutionary proposals, but I’m sure I may stumble on some brilliant ideas in the future. If that’s the case I may add to this post or do a completely new one. But as a starter for ten I’d say there’s some pretty good ideas to be working on there. If Papa Bennett can use a bread maker twice, stick it in a cupboard for 20 years and call it a useful gadget then I see no reason why any of the above can’t fill up a stocking and clog up space in homes nationwide as well. I’ll be a millionaire in no time. Watch me.