Look at my new recipe for coconut flapjacks. I know what you're thinking. You've made me hungry - I must have one.
Okay, so they went wrong. You probably can't tell. I chucked the ingredients into the pan earlier, after shooing the Teens off to school and feeding the dog, then I sat down at the computer and didn't come round until a - what can only be described as life-threatening - smell of burning brought me to my senses and sent me hurtling into the kitchen. Poor Molly-dog was slithering around on her tummy with a damp tea-towel wrapped round her face, telephone in paw as she tried to get through to emergency services. Alright, she wasn't, but you get the picture. (She did give me a disapproving look though.) The smell was so bad it seeped, inexplicably, into my sock drawer upstairs.
Anyway, I charged about, eyes watering, swearing a lot and threw the pan in the sink and stared into it, dismally, realising I didn't have enough ingredients for another batch. I wondered if this was a metaphor for my writing...
It wasn't. Thank God. If it had been, I'd have to seriously think about giving up and going back into full-time office work. Or one of the many other not-really-me-but-I-need-to-earn-a-crust jobs I've had over the years. No, instead I found myself thinking, "It's all their fault. Those blummin' bloggers, with all their witty, pithy, clever, amusing, interesting, informative and downright distracting...well, blogs for want of a better word - posts, maybe. Articles? Commentaries? Columns? Features? Crowd-pullers...step away from the Thesaurus ...
If it wasn't for them I'd be scoffing a tasty treat right now, before moving onto Chapter Five of The Novel, instead of rummaging about in the bin-bag round the side of the house, in my dressing-gown, looking for left-over cake crumbs like a fox with a sweet tooth - my writing life in ruins. Ruins, I tellsya!
Talking of making excuses (which I suspect I am) my son came home from school with an amusing little printout the other day - the best of which was... "Sir, I'm having a problem with my eyes. I can't see myself coming in to school/work any more."
(This is the kind of thing they do at school these days...the Internet has a lot to answer for).
Warning: if you try this, you'll be expelled/sacked
Right - where was I? And who can I blame?
15 comments:
Oh dear, oh dear! Shouldn't laugh, but you do write very amusingly about it - so why not use the disaster as the ingredients for a story.
Umm, yummy, they look absolutely ... interesting. What are those orange bits on top? No, don't tell me.
I think it's a message from up above. Telling you to get on with writing your novel and to stop trying to burn the house down. You are truly destined to be a writer, but not of the Nigella Lawson variety.
BTW, I've put in call to the RSPCA.
Full time office work, Oh PLEASE! STOP think again!
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The flapjacks look like a Tate Modern exhibition, now there's a thought, first prize £20 grand (I think):) TFX.
And as for the writers of "witty, pithy, clever, amusing, interesting, informative and downright distracting" blogs...you ain't so innocent yourself.
M'lud, I present exhibit A: http://karenclarke.blogspot.com/ which blog did duly distract me for eight and a half minutes, yesterday morning - during which time my tea went cold, and I failed to unload the dishwasher. Twelve minutes yesterday lunchtime - during which time I failed to feed my children, who are now starving. And a full eighteen-minutes-and-thirty-five seconds yesterday evening - during which time I failed to feed my husband, who has now left me. Therefore, I hold Karen Clarke responsible for the maintenance of myself and children (and cat, and tropical fish).
I rest my case.
Don't do it! Carry on writing/blogging.
Or else what would I do during my 9-5 job while the boss is at a meeting!
I giggled out loud at this Karen. Then got some inquisitive looks from colleagues ....
Ssshhh ... don't tell them I'm blogging in work-time!
Oh my goodness! (wipes eyes) Amusement value ten out of ten. Sorry about the edibles but hey, you've lightened all our days. And I must tell my two about that printout of your son's - they'll love it
Ew, the mouldy baked beans on the top are a bit suss.
Perhaps you could get a job as a school dinner lady? ;0)
X
The answer, clearly, is to teach Molly-dog to cook! She could then be whipping up tasty treats whilst you get on with writing. It's simple when you think about it!
Everyone's right, Karen. I too laughed out loud about your comments on other 'witty' blogs and that bowl of...blob.
Keep on smiling, it's a tough old world out there x
Tate Modern does sound a good idea! Could earn a fortune!
Thanks for visiting my blog, sorry it has taken me so long to pop by.
Karen this made me smile, it looks exactly like one of my finer experimental cooking efforts. They begin with good intentions, but somehow, I can't maintain my focus for long.
That's cheered me right up! Especially Mollie on the phone!
I'm afraid 'blummin blogin' is the cause of many a burnt offering here too but with my cooking they don't really notice the difference:-)
womagwriter - That's a bloomin' good idea!
maddie - Re: the orangey bits - I thought for a minute I'd inadvertently stumbled across the secret recipe for Crunchie bars. Sadly, on closer inspection, I was proved wrong.
tf - I'm not sure the Tate Modern is ready for a display of such beauty...
leigh - It wasn't my fault m'lud...she made me do it.
annieye - Blogging at work??? Right, where's the phone...
alis - Don't encourage them, for heaven's sake!!
sprial skies - Mouldy baked beans??? That was caramelised sugar, I'll have you know. And it was delicious...(okay, it wasn't).
helenmh - That's a damn fine idea - about time she earned her keep :)
l-plate - That bowl of blob had to be chucked. The bowl was beyond cleaning unfortunately!
casdok - It does have a certain je ne sai quoi...non?
hullaballoo - I need to give up really, before something terrible happens :)
lane - Bloggin's my excuse, but it's starting to wear thin...just as I will if I keep cooking like that. Could be a diet plan??
You make me laugh.
Think I may be gassing myself. Pan of soup boiled over.
I really should not drink and cook.
I'm sorry about your flapjack.
Hahaha! Such a giggle, Karen ... I agree with Leigh, the words 'pot' and 'kettle' spring to mind!
It's a good job my two are teenagers, and can feed themselves. It hasn't taken them long to get into the new swing of things here:
They walk into the kitchen: 'What ya doin? It's tea time!'
'Blog. Gimme five!' (Too engrossed to talk in sentences.)
Much tutting and rolling of eyes. After the third or fourth subtle attempt to rouse me, someone will be hungry enough to start tea!
:o)
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