To spread or not to spread? That is the question. In my case “not”. Butter that is…… in case you’re wondering. I can’t bear the stuff or spread of any type. I suffer from Butter Phobia! It started many years ago at the age of two. Both my sister and I revolted against Mum’s insistence of spreading butter on soldiers and neither of us have eaten it since. Apart from some unfortunate incidents which I don’t like to recall as it’s the stuff of nightmares (for me anyway).
I can’t bear the taste, the texture or the smell. My children tease me by putting their fingers into the tub and gobbling it down whilst I’m reaching for the sick bowl. I heave every time I make a sandwich for them and have to get the spread out from where it lurks in the fridge. I stand at least a foot away from the counter, my arms outstretched before me, trying not to breathe in! If I so much as get a bit on my bare fingers then I go into lock down mode. Hospital scrub room comes to mind! If we go to a restaurant as a family, inevitably they will choose dough balls served with a pot of garlic butter. I then have to deal with their greasy little fingers as well as trying not to puke as they guzzle down golden globules of it.
When a recipe says butter – I tend to substitute olive oil. You can do a lot with oil! Unless of course it’s a cake and then I bravely soldier on!
I have such a phobia that if I make myself an egg mayonnaise sandwich I will double check that the bread has no butter on it! It’s just that mayo looks so much like the yellow stuff and I like to be on the safe side even if I’m the one whose made the damn sandwich in the first place.
Last time I ate butter was on a drunken night out 30 years ago. Someone made some cheese on toast and used butter on the bread. I was too drunk to notice and at that time of the evening I would have eaten anything.
I can just about manage garlic bread but I like it quite well done – that is burnt to a crisp! If it’s a baguette I will only eat the end bit. Had a shock the other day, bought some garlic bread from Marks & Sparks; wished I’d gone to Tesco for their economy range……………
To Spread or Not to Spread? That is the question.
I remember as a young child, my Dad had a book called “How to Live with a Neurotic Wife”. Some of you may recall it especially if you grew up in the 70’s. I loved flicking through it and thought it hilarious at the time although now you won’t see it gracing the shelves of Waterstones as it is certainly not PC. There was a series of them as we also had “How to Live with a Neurotic Dog”.
I am a bit of a neurotic and I am sure my family would agree. I have Continue reading
Have you heard of Hygge? It is fabulous. It is the Danish concept of contentment and comfort. I am now a convert. I’ve bought the book and everything! I am now avidly crocheting lots of blankets and throws to give my 1950’s built house that feeling of warmth and cosiness in my quest to replicate Denmark in Buckinghamshire!
It seems to me a great opportunity to slob around in the evenings in my jim-jams and woolly socks, scoffing the remains of the chocolate trifle and glugging back lots of wine. I’m not quite winceyette in the bedroom but it is heading that way!
The other day my Hygge Continue reading
At the age of 47 I took up a new interest…………horse-riding. Since September of last year, Lydia has been having lessons. I’ve really enjoyed taking her and the ladies at the stable are lovely. In fact I was enjoying it so much I was determined to give it a go. I had some lessons 25 years ago, but never got on well. This time was going to be different.
In my imagination I see myself competently taking my pony over the jumps, long hair blowing in the wind (mine not the pony’s) as I canter across a sandy beach, bottom pert, thighs toned. Then reality kicks in. Continue reading
Back in December an elderly neighbour gave us a ring. He had some old dolls that belonged to his late wife and did the children want them? Well, you can’t really say no can you. Diligently I took Lydia round to see Uncle Clive. There on the kitchen table were a number of dolls laid out……. all of them large. “Take what you want” said Uncle Clive. Lydia’s eyes lit up at this. I staggered back over the garden wall laden down with what seemed a tonne of dollies. Tiny Tears and Baby Annabell they are not. One of them is at least 18 inches tall. Lydia’s name for her is ”Daisy”. My name for her is “Chucky”.
Chucky’s first night with her new family was spent in the car. I’m sorry but I don’t do dolls, never have done. Cuddly, fluffy toys are more my thing. My imagination was running riot and as Chucky was making me feel uncomfortable she had to go! Steve put her in the car, strapped her in (clunk, click every trip!) and then double locked the car (to be on the safe side!). She looked Continue reading
Being a member of the NAS can have a lot of benefits. One of which are the trips they arrange for families with autistic children. On one occasion we were able to go to the London Science Museum. It was an early start but, the Museum were running their “Early Bird” session which meant for 2 hours in the morning the museum was open just to those families who were attending as part of a Special Needs group. Fantastic – it means no queuing!
At the beginning of December, we went to Legoland. Samuel has wanted to go for ages and we have never taken him because queuing would always be a problem. Lydia went there earlier in the summer as part of a school trip which did not go down well with Junior as you can imagine. Anyway, the first Sunday in December was a day for families with special needs which was great. No queuing!
I was very happy being in charge of the camera and taking videos as I hate rides of any sort. Therefore, I am not quite sure why I followed my family (like a little lemming) onto the Swing Boat. I was most concerned Continue reading
Recently we had a farewell lunch to say goodbye to a much loved boss. As you can imagine with lots of women around the table the conversation quickly deteriorated. “50 Shades” has got nothing on a group of women out for lunch. Anyway, I can’t quite remember how we got onto the subject but I did share with my work colleagues that for me one of the best bits about being pregnant was being able to wear big Knickers. The choice that you are faced with in the knicker department when pregnant are either ones that go over your bump or those that go under your bump. I opted for over the bump! Not only snug, but secure and safe too! In fact you can easily tuck your vest in to keep your back warm! In fact it was an underwear style I liked so much I decided to stick with it. So it is goodbye Agent Provocateur and hello Damart. Now where did I put that catalogue………
My days of wearing a thong are long gone! I’m a full coverage girl now!