While You Were Out…

You lucky lot! Today you are getting a real treat…. this is a guest post written by Ron from the marvellous blog called; “If I had a blog“. Enjoy, and don’t forget to drop by Ron’s blog to say hello!

Well, Anne is away on holidays this week and she asked me to leave a guest post on her blog. I was very flattered and accepted. Anne gave me the keys to let myself in…I KNOW…right? It surprised the heck out of me too?!? She gave me the keys and didn’t even do a background check on me…silly girl! Honestly…it’s a little like asking the patients to run the asylum…but she asked.

So here I am. You know, I’ve been following Anne for some time now, and I’ve never seen her blog from this side. There’s a lot of stuff back here. It’s neat and organized mind you…but maybe I’ll dust while I’m here.

Along with having access to post Anne asked me if I would keep an eye on Naughty George for her as well (in a cyber-babysitting sort of way). Well apparently Naughty George doesn’t do well with separation anxiety and as I write this he is online ordering a large amount of dog toys from what appears to be a very expensive online pet supply site. I can’t believe Anne gave him access to her credit cards…oh well, she won’t be able to return any of it because by the time she gets back NG will have chewed everything…Anne can sort it out later. “George…go with the red diamond laced collar…it goes with your eyes.” Oops…sorry.


I have a proclivity for practical jokes…and this is a perfect opportunity…but first I will give you examples.

I was a partner in a small ad agency years ago and at a time when we were very busy, one of the partners decided to go on holiday. He deserved the time off no doubt, but the timing was [stressful]. In his absence we (the other 3 partners) filled his office from floor to ceiling with Styrofoam packing peanuts and put a “For Lease” on the door. The reaction was obvious. The next time he went on vacation we were in the middle of renovating our offices and upon his return he found that we had his office repainted, all of the furniture updated and it was in pristine condition for his inspection. Seeing that everything was in place, clean, fresh and new…he became suspicious. He asked, “Okay it looks great, but what did you do?” He checked drawers and doors. He checked to be sure that the handset had not been super-glued to the phone, and the chair to be sure it didn’t fall apart when he sat down. Again and nervously he asked, “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

Knowing he was a mild germaphobe, we replied, “Well, we each took turns licking our fingers and touching EVERYTHING in the office!” We hadn’t really done that, but he spent the rest of the afternoon with disinfectant scrubbing his office.

To that end…I invite you all to the party. Let’s cut loose and have fun in Anne’s absence. I’m not sure that I can approve moderated comments, but leave them anyway. Have fun and tell Anne about all of the wild things you did on her blog while she was away. We have hidden things, rearranged things and otherwise wreaked havoc in the name of freedom (lack of supervision) and we will slyly welcome her back seemingly innocent of the scorched path we have left behind. I will try to have things cleaned up before she gets back…but we’ll see.

I’m reasonably sure Anne is going to change the locks when she gets back :)

Shhhhh!

I’m just saying


Posted by Ron Reed from “If I had a Blog“

The Gallery: Sunday 29th August

A great idea from Tara at Sticky Fingers for The Gallery this week – a snapshot of one day of summer – Sunday 29th August; and a way of marking the start of the amazing journey that Sian, Josie and Eva are taking for #Blogladesh with Save the Children.

We spent this Sunday with family, hubby joining us late afternoon after getting a few zzz’s in following a night shift.

The typical British weather held out just long enough to barbecue the food; and we gathered round the ‘big table’ for a feast.

Including new favourite, corn on the cob.

So this is my snap shot of one day of summer – Sunday 29th August.  Remember to check out the other entries over at Sticky Fingers when the linky goes up on Wednesday!

I’m not a Badger

“Why the bloody hell did I agree to that?” I asked myself, following it up with a self-flagellating bonk on my head with a serving spoon as punishment (I was in the kitchen and had been trying to swat a persistent wasp with the spoon before I turned it on myself). 

“Agree to what?” I hear you cry (inquisitively).

“To go camping, that’s what.”

Yep, you read right. C.A.M.P.I.N.G……… Me. Lady M. Proponent of all things luxurious and all things stuffed with duck down.

I had been duped into partaking in a pastime that I had previously denounced as barbaric: Akin to bear baiting, dog fighting, and sympathising with investment bankers.   

I had been duped into camping. So instead of sleeping in my comfortable bed, having long hot showers, and knocking up leisurely lunches on my ample cooker, I was faced with the prospect of sleeping on a plank in a semi-waterproof nylon room, and trying to scrape together a meal using a single miniature gas-burning stove. Why would I want to do that?! I didn’t want to do that, but as I say, I was duped.

It gets worse; there wasn’t going to be room service or a Concierge in the tent. And that is before I start on the lack of electricity or internet connection. Let’s look at how Stone Age men lived and then compare it with camping – see what I mean? – there’s not much in it. Well except for the clothes. Looking on the bright side, at least I’ll be wearing jeans and boots rather than a loincloth fashioned from pelt (although I wasn’t 100% sure that’ll be the case).

For god’s sake, I’m a human being! I have my needs and my rights! If I was supposed to grub around living off the land, I would have been born a Badger.

So how did I get myself into this scrape? It was totally my daughter’s fault. No actually, thinking about it, it was Izzy’s Dad’s fault. He had decided to take Izzy camping to help keep her entertained during the school holidays. So far so good. But then, during one of his regular coffee visits to my house, he got some devilment in him and said to Izzy; “shall we ask your Mummy if she wants to come camping?”

What a git. As soon as the words had fallen out of his mouth, I started frantically sawing the side of my hand across my throat …… “Noooooooo!” I  mouthed at him behind Izzy’s back. But it was too late. Izzy had picked up the baton and was running with it.

Not only was she running with it, but she was jumping up and down and clapping with happiness. To turn down a five year old who was so excited to have you camp with her, would have been like killing a kitten. So I hugged Izzy and said; “Ok darling, I would love to go camping with you,” whilst silently mouthing “you bastard,” to Steve who was laughing in the background.

So, tomorrow I will be driving to a campsite in Swanage for a “camping holiday” (that’s got to be an oxymoron).  I’m not sure how long I’ll be away, but the good news is that I have got two amazing Guest Bloggers lined up to keep you entertained……. please put your hands together for …………………..

Ron Reed from “If I had a Blog” (who will be writing tomorrow)

Brahm from “Alfred Lives Here” (who will be writing on Wednesday)

Enjoy! And see you when I get back.

Monday Review: Foodies Festival

Well if your husband has to work on his birthday, there’s no point sitting at home with a party popper is there?!

So on Saturday Food Genie and I went to the Foodies Festival in South Parks Oxford.  We’re both really into all things food; I have my mum to thank for that, she brought us up on great home cooking and that coupled with holidays abroad have introduced us to every flavour under the sun – well almost, we did discover a few new ones this weekend.

And we were of course accompanied by the bear, who has a palette for pretty much anything and everything.  I should add now that he spent the entire day shouting ‘more cheese please’ after sampling the 18, 24 and 30 day aged (or month was it?) parmesan.

When we first arrived it looked quite small and many of the stalls were still setting up, but it quickly got busy and we got swept up into the hype of trying various sauces, sweets and treats.

Our favourite discovery of the day was black garlic.  It’s fermented over 40 days and the cloves within the bulb are pure black.  The garlic tastes sweet, sticky and slightly mushroomy.  Apparently you can eat as much as you like and won’t be breathing garlic breath on people.

We hadn’t realised when we arrived that we were supposed to pick up tickets to the shows we wanted to see.  We managed to squeeze in to the cupcake making session with Holly who declared that she’d put on three stone in a year since changing career from a governnment statistician to a cupcake maker.  Guess who enjoyed a huge cupcake smothered in icing?  Amazingly he wasn’t hyper afterwards.

We had paella for lunch which was nice; not the best but received little attention compared to the pink Cava we had with it at the press tent.

We continued our shopping after lunch, the bear still demanding more cheese.  We collected chorizo, cheeses and some other bits and pieces.

We also watched the filming of Monster Munchies hosted by Matt Dawson (who kindly autographed Food Genie’s program), as two teams went head to head with their giant trifles (the pretty but smaller one won).

Sure he’s had his ears pinned back…

The only thing I would have done away with was NPower asking who my gas and electricity was supplied by…a little random!  Oh and the wasps – couldn’t get near the baclava!

All in all a great day, with full bellies and plenty of new ingredients added to the store cupboard.

The Foodies Festival tickets were kindly sent to us as press tickets..  We stick to the bloggers with integrity code to only promote products that we truly, truly love.

Stuffed, eventually

Restaurant review: The Rose Revived, Newbridge, Witney, OX29 7QD

The in-laws came down from Worcestershire today, so we toddled down to the Rose Revived for lunch.

The Rose Revived is a country pub/restaurant with accommodation. Part of the Old English Inns chain, the pub is located about halfway between Witney and Abingdon, on the banks of the river Thames.

The location is an idyllic spot for a visit; surrounded by rural countryside on the northern bank of the gently-flowing river, this must be a lovely place to sit and sip and take in the scenery on a warm evening.

But we were there, on Bank Holiday Monday, for lunch.

Our table was booked for 1.15pm and we walked in at… 1.15pm.

There were long queues at the left- and right-hand bar, but we chose wisely and were served drinks quicker than the folk in the other line.

Unfortunately, as we ordered our drinks, we were told that there was a waiting time of one hour for main-course meals.

Gulp!

I’m not sure we really considered walking out. We had, after all, booked to eat at the Rose Revived; it wasn’t as if we were opportunist drop-in punters, we wanted to be there.

By 1.25pm we had ordered (2x Lamb Shank, 1x well done Sirloin Steak, 1x Cumberland Sausage and Mash and 1x Peppered Mushroom suet pudding and mashed potato) and sat back to sip our drinks and while away an hour with conversation.

Sadly, 2.25pm came and went.

So did 3pm.

One hour and 40 minutes after ordering, our meal arrived.

At this point it’s worth noting a couple of points

• Many customers around us were loudly complaining about the amount of time it was taking to have food delivered
• Some customers negotiated a refund of their meal costs, and walked out
• The serving staff were doing their best to deal with people who become increasingly unhappy, and they were managing very well in the face of adversity

When it eventually arrived, four out of the five diners were more than happy with their food. Unfortunately, the ‘well done’ Sirloin Steak was far from being ‘well done’, as you can plainly see:

The diner who had ordered the steak declined to return the dish, in view of the hour and 40 minutes it had taken to have his meal delivered in the first place. Begrudgingly and grumblingly he put up with it.

The other four diners in our party had no such problems; plates were quickly cleared of main courses and side-orders.

There were no issues with our desserts; they were ordered, very quickly delivered and, almost as quickly dispatched.

It has to be said that the quality of all desserts and four out of five of the main courses was exemplary.

But one main course was clearly unsatisfactory, and it was not returned because of the extraordinary length of time it took to be delivered in the first place.

There is something fundamentally wrong with a kitchen when the waiting time for a main course is almost an hour and three-quarters from the time of ordering.

The Rose Revived is in a lovely spot, it’s a pleasing, well-tended, clean and comfortable venue; the serving-staff are pleasant and work hard under difficult circumstances.

But the management of the Inn need to ask themselves this one, simple question: at what point does it become acceptable to keep customers waiting over 1-1/2 hours for their main course?

Based on today’s experience, despite the gorgeous location and despite the cheerful, helpful serving staff, I am unable to advise anyone to visit the Rose Revived for a meal. In fact, based on one hour and forty minutes waiting time and a steak that was distinctly under-cooked, I can only advise people to give the Rose Revived a miss.

A weekend planned – and unplanned

Yesterday, while I was driving back to the yard from Highclere Horse Trials, I had one of those ‘I’m going to fall asleep any minute now’ moments. I think it was the combination of not enough sleep last week and being out all day at Highclere. So I took a breather and tried to snap out of it but the tiredness only receded, it didn’t vanish. I diverted home, deciding that I was too tired to ride. I haven’t seen enough of the horses this week, it wasn’t an easy choice, but it was the sensible one.

Neighbours can be weird things. Last night ours were setting off fireworks – very loud ‘whooshing’ rockets. They sounded like teenagers – the neighbours, not the rockets. I’m beginning to wonder if the house is occupied by a bunch of students. I’ve tried to work out what they could be up to, setting off rockets, but can’t come up with any sensible answers. Apart from the fact that they’re selfish twats who don’t care about disturbing the peace and quiet that other people might be enjoying.

Daughter sent me an email yesterday afternoon; she asked if any schools near where I live specialise in drama and acting. She’s always been keen on following acting as a career. Evidently the schools in Spain don’t tick the right boxes any longer and she is now setting her sights further afield. I feel sorry for the rest of the world.

Daughter

Sophie’s laptop is throwing out WiFi connectivity drops. Yesterday evening I planned that I would go to Maplin to pick up a new PCI WiFi card on Sunday afternoon, and then go up to the yard to ride. And then we went to bed and eventually slept.

Insomnia landed at 1.20am. My throat was incredibly dry and I felt dehydrated; I’d love to know what I was up to for the first five hours of sleep. I went downstairs, drank two pints of water, did a little internetting for a couple of hours and went back to bed.

Waking at 9.15am feels just a little bit… sinful. 9.15 is so late to be waking up! I made us breakfast in bed, then I showered, shaved, teethed and then… went back to bed. We read, we did stuff, we fell asleep and I woke up at 2pm. So much for my going in to Maplin and riding plans! I tottered downstairs and started on some overdue webdesign and email stuff. About an hour later those same pesky neighbours started letting off fireworks again – another clutch of loudly ‘whooshing’ rockets. I hate people, sometimes. Soph tottered downstairs and we agreed that people are generally thoughtless twunts, and if they really needed to let off rockets they should do so in the privacy of their own home. And then I realised I was hungry, so second breakfast was had.

Beans on toast x4 and a cheese & onion roll

During the early morning awakenings I had an idea for a video promo for the podcast. I’ve started jotting down the ideas in a kind of ‘shooting script’ sort of way.  There are six scenes to be filmed, here are the first five:

1. Shot of inside of empty pub
2. Shot of inside of empty restaurant
3. Shot of inside of empty library
4. Shot of inside of empty car park
5. Shot of inside of empty church

Ideally, I wanted a shot of an empty street scene for shot 5, but I’m not sure that’s achievable.

Advertising people talk shit. There was just an advert on the television that included the words, ‘Timotei searches the world for precious natural ingredients…’ – which, presumably, extends to ‘Timotei are going to rape the planet for, rip these precious natural ingredients out of their natural environment and cram these precious natural ingredients in to their distinctly average hair products’.  Because why else would Timotei include precisely that wordage in their advert? Really, is there any other conclusion to be reached? So here’s a message: Hey people, don’t buy Timotei products, they’re environmental rapists. Or perhaps no-one actually listens to the distinctly mediocre advertising wordage that is rammed down our televisions these days. Except me, obv. But if no-one listens, why are Timotei paying their advertising agency squillions of $s?

It’s easy from the ground

Eventing is one of those sports that just looks easy. But not only is there more to it than one might think, there is a kind of social camaraderie to the sport. I toddled down the A34 to Highclere Castle today to watch Owen compete Hayley’s horse Twiglet, and Sam compete on Mobile (pron: Mo-billy). And to do other things as well that may have included food. *cough*

But I remembered my cameras this time. And, what’s more, I also remembered to use them!

So here’s my day at Highclere Horse Trials in pictures. But first, the most important meal of the entire morning…

Start the day the right way

At Highclere I quickly found the crew:

Mobile and his helper, Kath

Barbara. Whose name isn't really Barbara. It's a long story

Sam, Mobile's owner/rider

Owen, Twiglet and his owner, Hayley

Hayley seems to be scratching her bum here

While the equestrians toddled up to the dressage, I went to explore the main arena which, at Highclere, includes a number of strange and wonderful attractions not previously seen at a Horse Trials, including…

Never seen these at a Horse Trials before!

They look like fun!

Can't help wondering how the horses are supposed to climb that

Would love to see a horse on this, too!

A little light refreshment, part-way around

Perhaps a cold drink?

And something hot to eat?

More choices?

An old mate, last seen 15 years ago!

Charlie the Coffee Man, making my cheese & tomato toasties

A proud mum

Nature is not human hearted

At last, the rain this week eventually let up long enough for Izzy and I to undertake some outdoor activities. That’s because television is evil right? And children who watch too much of it are bound to have a penchant for mugging grannies and sniffing glue when they grow up. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen my superglue for a while…..

I had decided that the theme for our activities was going be nature, because I wanted Izzy to see some wildlife outside their normal context of roadkill. And with this in mind, we headed off to the Sutton Courtenay Nature Reserve – a place that had been advertising children’s activities for the summer holidays.

“Izzy,” I said in the car, “we are going to experience nature in its natural habitat.”

“What’s habitat?” Izzy asked.

“It’s like the outdoor house that animals live in,” I replied inadequately, turning up the radio in the car to avert further questions.

It worked and Izzy started singing along to Razorlights, ‘America’ which, in truth, is wholly inappropriate for a five year old.  

Once we arrived at the Nature Reserve, I marched up to the Reserve’s reception desk and said: “We would like to sample some of your nature and your finest children’s activities as well please.”

“No problem,” smiled the lady behind the desk (nature nuts are always ‘nice’, it’s from all that lovin’ animals), “that’ll be £2.50 please.”

Blimey, nature had gone up since last time I experienced it. That’ll be inflation then.

“So what’s first then?” I asked Mrs Nice once she had prised the money out of my cold, clenched fists.

“Pond dipping,” she said, “over at the pond.” Unsurprisingly.

“What’s that bloody hell’s pond dipping?” I asked.

“One of our helpers will explain once you are there,” she replied.

It took five minutes to walk to the pond, and I have to say, Izzy was pretty excited by the time we got there. We headed towards the helper, and I said, “we’d like to do some pond dipping please.”

“No problem,” she smiled (also terribly nice), “get one of those nets over there and dip it gently into the pond, decanting what you catch into one of these white trays,” she said, thrusting one into my hand.

“So basically it’s just fishing?” I asked her.

The horrified expression on her face told me that it wasn’t. “No,” she said, “we are looking for all manner of wildlife.” These nature types are very defensive of their wildlife techniques [note to reader: if you are at a nature reserve and see a spider, don't shout "UGH there's a spider! Kill it!" because they don't like that either].

So there we were, balancing precariously on a muddy pond bank and going in for the ‘catch’. The helper was watching us, and after dipping our net into the pond three times she shouted to us; “that’ll be enough now.”

Izzy and I scrambled back up the bank and poured the contents of our net into the white tray.

“Oh how exciting!” exclaimed the helper, “this is best variety of wildlife we have had all day.”

Izzy and I peered into the white tray; “You are obviously seeing something that I’m not” I said, “I can only see green sludgy stuff.”

“There!” she pointed; “you’ve two fish, a water beetle and some mosquito larvae.”

Call me a cynic, but it wasn’t the haul I was expecting. In fact, I was coming to the conclusion that nature was a bit crap.

“We can have those fish for dinner,” I said to Izzy, pointing at them and laughing my head off.

Izzy guffawed heartily in return, but Helper looked shocked beyond belief; “Oh no, you must put them back,” she said seriously.

“Erm, it was a joke,” I pointed out to Helper; “the fish they are no more than half an inch long, and even though I could do with going on a diet, that fish would be taking things to extremes.”

“Oh sorry, of course,” Helper laughed laughed nervously.

“Anyway, we’ve done pond dipping,” I said. “What’s next on the agenda?”

Helper looked totally relieved: “A bug hunt,” she said thrusting a piece of paper into my hands. It was a list of ten different bugs.

“What do we do with this then?” I asked

“There are pictures of these bugs hidden throughout the nature reserve, and you have to find them and tick them off the list,” she replied.

“Cool,” I said to Izzy, “you understand what you are supposed to do?”

“Yeh of course,” she replied indignantly like she had done a bug hunt every day of her life.

“Ok good. Now you are going to be Dora, and you are responsible for finding the bugs, and my name is Diego and I am responsible for writing the bugs’ names onto our list.” I said. Can you see the natural leader in me coming out? Yep, I felt the need to delegate even to a five year old. I shudder to think of the results of my Inkblot test.

Izzy, as always, threw herself into the task with gusto and rushed around with me lumbering and sweating glowing behind her. For hours we ran around meadows, squeezed behind bushes, climbed trees, scaled fences and explored dens in pursuit of those bloody bug pictures. 

So, fast-forward a while. The sun was starting to set, and Izzy had found nine out of the ten bugs. We had spent the last hour trying to track down the elusive ’snail’ but he wasn’t to be found anywhere. As I saw it, we had two choices: 1. Set-up base camp and continue our search in the morning; or 2. Abandon our search for the damned snail and head home.

Despite Izzy insisting that she would like to live in the Nature Reserve until she had found the snail (she was soooo proud of herself for finding the other bugs), I decided against it. I mean, it would be downright weird for me and a five year old to sleep under a bush in a Nature Reserve because we hadn’t found a picture of a snail. Especially all those people walking past us and pointing. I dread to think what Social Services would make of me trying to explain that one.

So we headed home, and to my great suprise, Izzy gabbled all the way home about what a good time she had had. Blimey, five year olds are really easily amused! How cool is that? She said that ‘fishing’ (her words not mine) was great fun, and that she ‘loved’ the bug hunt. Jeez, I am such a good parent – I didn’t see that coming.

Me, on the other hand, woke up at 2am that night sweating about not finding the snail. Seriously, I had a dream and I was manically running around only to be met with dead ends, and empty places. And I had been frantically digging my pillow. That’s not right is it?

Next installment of ‘back to nature’ coming soon……. in the meantime, has anyone else got any summer holiday tales?

Ah, now I understand why the Daily Mail hates the BBC

I didn’t realise that Daily Mail staff had to pay a massive premium on their television licence fee just, presumably, for being Daily Mail employees:

click the image for the big picture

Serves them right, really.

Surprised by what you really want? Cut and paste your perfect life

I read a really interesting article in the September issue of Red magazine called Cut and Paste your Perfect Life.

The article is inspired by Martha Beck, Oprah’s guru.  She says that a mood board will ‘catalyse something beyond your mind’s capacity to calculate or imagine’. Sounds a bit pink and fluffy, but always worth a go.

So, basically the idea is that if you go through a magazine and pull out images of the perfect life; the life you think you’ll want, you’ll end up with something similar to me, which was:

- An advert for a trashy women’s novel; probably owing to my desire to write, as me, full-time.

- A LOT of glitzy high-heeled shoes.

- Celebrities sitting at dressing room tables, surrounded by lights, makeup and glamour.

- Exotic holidays; beaches, beds adorned with tropical fruits and flowers, crystal clear waters and a friendly dolphin or two.

- Bronzed and bikini clad bodies; slender, effortless and sublime.

- Legs as long as long can be.

- Fast cars; in my case a red BMW (strange because I hate red cars, and I’m not particularly keen on BMW’s).

- Stunning dresses, pale, puffy and chiffony – as well as very expensive.

So if I take this to be my perfect life, it suggests that I want luxurious holidays, fast cars, an amazing body, a book deal and basically, yes the celebrity lifestyle…and a pet dolphin.

Do this yourself, and do this next step too.

Go through the magazine again and don’t purposefully pick out images that appeal.  Just pull out things that appeal for no good reason.  Don’t give it any thought just do it.  Choose slogans as well as images.  Beck says that the images we pick initially constitute culture’s idea of a good life.

So second time round I have picked a slightly odd collection of images including:

- A Milka advert depicting cows wearing beaks and wings.

- An image of a mother holding a baby in her arm and a mobile phone to her ear.

- A simple silver necklace with the letter ‘F’ in the middle.

- A woman with her mother.

- A happy lady carrying apples in her upturned dress.

- A courgette filled dinner

- A child getting messy cooking

- A old-fashioned Fairy Liquid advert

- A funny fat farmer type man

- A messy bed and some gaudy rugs

- Nicky Hambleton-Jones in her signature glasses

- An eccentric lady with a huge dress and headwear

- A sewing machine

- A fab ice lolly

- A child reading

So what does that tell me?  I haven’t finished dissecting it yet, I might sleep on it.

But much like the author of the Red article (Viv Groskop), I think I just want to have more fun.

I’m pretty sure that the images of eccentric and individual ladies are about me being confident to just be myself and show off my own style (something I never did as a child, or teen, or even young adult).  The image of the woman with her mum definitely signifies how strongly I value time with my mum -  as well as other female family members.  I think I’d do well to spend more time listening to them than talking about myself.

The ‘F’ on the necklace stands for friend (ok is this getting a little hippy-dippy?!), but I recently told a friend (drunk at the time yes) how much she means to me, and very much meant it.

I think it comes down to time.  A lavish lifestyle seems appealing to us all, but actually more than anything I think I’d just like the time to sew, not juggle baby and phone call, cook more with my son, build dens, roll around on a big rug and just tickle and laugh together.

And I’d love to know who the jolly fat farmer is and what he means too….

Off to see if there are any Fab ice lollies in the freezer, or even a Tangle Twister.