Sod's Law, 1,376 ... Mrs Jelly, nil

.

Dear Mr Law,

.

Okay, okay, you win.

.

I shall never question your power again in a mocking tone on this blog ...

.

.
.

.

Seriously, Give Me A Break ...

.

Earlier this year I applied for free tickets to be in the audience at the recording of the TV show QI.

.

Much to my amazement, I was sent two tickets.

.

Unfortunately, due to circumstances that went something like this - Mr Jelly couldn't get the time off work and nobody else in my social circle wanted to schlepp up to London and I didn't want to go on my own - we never went.

.

Ah well, "ce la vie", thought I in blissful ignorance.

.

So how far do you think I spewed my drink of tea across the kitchen yesterday when I read this in the Radio Times?

.

.

Can't see what I'm talking about?

.

Have a closer look ....

.

.

How much do you want to bet that he was a guest on the episode I was due to watch, live, in the flesh???

.

So that's Nick Knowles (re-live the misery here) and David Tennant who've avoided witnessing my drooling features this year.

.

Whatever's next?

.

George Clooney getting a job at my local supermarket, only to get fired half an hour before I show up to do my shopping?

.

I can't help thinking Mr Law (aka "Mr Well, that's just bloody typical") has got something to do with all of this ...

.

At least it's given me the opportunity to post some more gratuitous Tennant / Knowles / Clooney photos.

.

If you click on any of the photos below, you will get a bigger image ... just don't lick the screen too much ...

.

.
.

.

.

.
.

My Next Letter Will Be From My Solicitors ...

.

Dear Mr Law

.

(Or can I call you by the nickname I've decided to give you ...

"Mr. well, that's just bloody typical, isn't it?")

.

I note with interest that you do not seem to have taken any notice of my recent letters

.

I know you can't have read them because if you had, the show I have just done for jb*jb at the weekend wouldn't have been the worst show ever in the history of people not turning up at shows ...

.

I should really have suspected things would not go well on Thursday - let's look at the evidence shall we?

.

Thursday : a huge spot appears on my chin meaning that any customers on our stand will be so distracted by it they will be thinking "is she growing another chin on her face?" instead of "what beautiful products, I must spend lots and lots of my hard-earned cash on them"

.

Friday morning : my computer decides to compact all my e-mail folders to save disk-space. Little do I realise that when it says "compact" it actually means "delete", so I had to spend 2 hours restoring all my messages ... all 5,000 of them.

.

Friday afternoon : the bobbin in my sewing machine decides to throw a wobbler because I had the audacity to change from zig-zag stitch to normal stitch once too many times.

.

So thanks for putting the kaibosh on getting things ready for the show which is what I had planned to spend the day doing.

.

Saturday 09:00 am : jelly*bestfriend throws my plans into a spin by ringing to say she might not be able to come to the show with me after all because she is not feeling so great. I'm pleased to say that you couldn't quite thwart those plans because trusty Mr Paracetomol came to the rescue! (Although you did get your own back by making me leave my sat-nav at home)

.

Saturday night ... 11:55 pm : That was a nice touch having those boy racers blasting their music from their cars right outside our hotel window at the same time as doing donuts in the car park.

.

Sunday morning ... 03:00 am : And yes, those girls returning from their hen-night, crying and running down the corridor right outside our bedroom door was a touch of genius on your part.

.

Sunday morning ... 04:00 am : But your best and most triumphant moment was when you made it absolutely pour down with rain causing the overflow pipe outside our hotel window to pour water onto the metallic roof. It really put us both in mind of that water-torture where victims have water dripped onto them to make them confess.

.

Little did we know that the torture was in fact only just beginning ...
.

I blame myself for not realising that all these signs were your way of telling me that the show we had driven 2 hours to and spent 4 hours setting up was going to be the biggest waste of time ever.

.

I should have known that it all meant that there were going to be more exhibitors than there were customers.

.

I could slap myself now when I realise you were planning for me to make only three sales in the whole day..

.

... to three fellow exhibitors.

.

Still.

.

At least the stand looked pretty ...

.

.

.

.

Changing Gear

.
Dear Mr Law
.
Remember me?
.
I wrote you a letter back in July ...
.
Well, I have a few more questions for you:
.
Why is it, whenever I remember to take a glass of water up to bed with me at night, I won't wake up once?
.
However, when I forget ... I will wake up with a raging thirst and have to get up and go downstairs for refreshment?
.
Why is it always me that gets the empty toilet roll?
.

.
Why do I fail to notice that an eyelash / hair has fallen onto my fork full of food until that last second before putting it in my mouth?
.
And while I've got your attention Mr Law, could you please pass on the following letter to your cousin, Walter Thomas Foster:
.
Dear Mr WTF
.
How is it that I drove Mr Jelly's ridiculously fast, smelly, small, low to the ground car twice at the weekend and am now convinced that my reverse gear is up and to the left, when we both know it's down and to the right, where it's been for the past five years.
.

I've nearly driven into the garage door twice now (and a car parked in front of me, but let's keep that between us) because I put my car into first gear thinking it was in reverse.
.

Until next time,

Mrs Jelly
.

.



.

Yawnsville

.

I had occasion to go shopping at the supermarket the other day.

.

I got in my car and drove the 10 minute, uneventful journey.

.

I picked my trolley from the long line of them.

.

I 'ummed' and 'ahhhed' over the apples and bananas.

.

I put what I needed in my trolley and paid for it.

.

I drove home and unpacked it all.

.

.

There.

.

.

Wasn't that the most intensely boring blog-post you've ever read?

.

I bet you were waiting for something *mad* or *crazy* to have happened.

.

I don't know what's going on.

.

My blog used to be a place of fun and silliness.

.

"Oh you're so funny Emma".

"Your blog makes me smile Emma".

"I love visiting your blog Emma".

.

Maybe the pressure to be funny got too much?

.

I still feel funny inside.

.

(Not a "quick, call the doctor" kind of funny you understand).

.

I'm still leaving funny witicisms on other people's blogs.

.

I just have no more funny for my blog.

.

I can't keep boring you with my photographs - that's what flickr's for.

.

I even disassociated my blog from jb*jb so that I could be a bit more personal without worrying that customers might read it and think I was, you know, weird.

.

I don't even have a funny ending for this post.

.

Anyone have any suggestions?

.

.
.

Give Us An "Oooooh"

.
.
.
.
.

.
.

.

.
.
.

My Little Squirt

.

When I was pregnant, there was a whole raft of books, magazines and even telly programmes dedicated to informing me about what to expect at every step of the gestation journey.

.

Then when my baby was born, expert "advice" was freely available at the end of the telephone, at the mother and baby group, at the health-visitor's clinic or even from any stranger that leaned into the pram for a look.

.

As we entered the feeding him solids stage, there was a library's worth of books telling us how to sneak "green" food into his mashed potatoes.

.

(Sadly none of the books went on to explain what to do when he then spent half an hour at the dinner table picking out every sub-atomic particle of green from his mashed-potato causing it to go cold and congeal, giving him the perfect excuse to not eat the sodding mashed-potato either)

.

Then when my toddler started at pre-school, we were given plenty of support on his first days, able to stay out of sight in case he found the whole deal of being left on his own too traumatic (he didn't, barely giving me a backwards glance.)

.

And now my child is seven and it's caught me off-guard.

.

I've been lulled into a false sense of security for the past 7 years.

.

Sleepless nights? Piece of cake.

Teething trauma? Absolute doddle.

Terrible two's? I'd do it again tomorrow.

Toilet training? I'll let you know when it's over ...
.

There's a conspiracy going on somewhere.

.
He has an answer for pretty much everything and is caught between wanting to challenge the world and it's wife, and having nightmares which means he doesn't need his "mum" but needs his mummy and a cuddle.

(Be still my beating heart, he called me mummy again!)

.

Someone told me the other day that being seven is a trial run for being a teenager ... a "mini-puberty" if you will.

.

Great.

.

I'm so glad we're getting a practice run at it.

.

And I take no comfort in the knowldege that the next time he goes through puberty, I will no doubt be in the throes of my own menopausal, hormonal turmoil.

.

Perhaps Mr Jelly should just remove the doors from their hinges now.

.

So I'd like to offer my own advice on what you will need when your own "scrummy-little-munchkin" turns into a seething mass of seven-ness.

.

1) Bleach. And plenty of it. Or maybe this is just because I own a male version of the species?

.
2) Several toilet brushes. (See point 1 above)

.

3) The understanding that even though you have been on this planet for x number of years, you know absolutely nothing. About anything. And anything you do know will be about the most boring stuff ever.

.

4) You will have to learn to look past the rolling-eyes your child will frequently give you. After all, it's only a step away from being called "Oh, Mother"

.

. Boy*Jelly demonstrating the preferred look of your average seven-year old

.

.

5) Try to put a positive spin on the word "whatever". Pretend it is child-speak for "you're great and you're the best role model I could ever have". Because you're going to hear it. A lot.

.

6) Stock up on lots of different types of breakfast cereals. This can sometimes alleviate the agony at breakfast time when your child is asked "what do you want for breakfast?" However, it can also work against you, in as much as your child now has too much choice. (Also see point 7)

.
7) Mornings can be a tricky time of the day and are best dealt with in a brisk manner, lest the indecision of what cereal to have ("but I want toast!") and the sigh-inducing task of putting on school clothes drags on for ages resulting in the child burying their head under the sofa cushion in a fit of pique. On really bad mornings, when you are running especially late for school, it might be worth you joining your child in the cushion-burying activity. However, it's worth having a proper grown-up on standby to take over.

.

8) Accept that you will never be able to watch your favourite telly programme in one sitting again. You might as well accept that any programme/activity you have been looking forward all day to doing in the evening when your child has gone to bed will be interrupted with demands along the lines of "I need to go to the toilet but the big light isn't on" or "my duvet is too hot" or, (and this is my personal favourite) "Can I have a drink of water just the way you make it"

.

There's no point Sky Plus-ing your programme either, because it's the law that any programme you want to watch has to be interrupted.

.

9) Never try to understand the latest craze sweeping the playground. There's no point trying to fathom what Go-Go's or plastic bracelets are for. It makes no sense to anyone over the age of 20 and you'd be better off trying to understand how electricity comes out of the wall.

.

10) And finally ... take no notice of any advice given to you and just muddle along in the best way you can!

.

.

My Little Squirt
.

.

I'm An Exhibitionist!

.

Regular readers to my infrequently updated blog may have noticed my last few posts have been about photography.

.

This is rapidly becoming my new obsession and I'm loving seeing the world as potential photographs.

.

My trusty camera recently gave up the will to photograph, so I'm now the lucky owner of this little (but actually quite heavy) beauty.

.

.

She's done me proud so far producing shots like this:

.

.

Click photo to see larger version (it's worth it)
.

... but I really must get on and learn how to use more of the settings other than "auto".

.

Anyway, I must be doing something fairly right, because one of my images is going to be in a proper photography exhibition here in Bath!

.

I took this photo a couple of months ago:

.

.

It's a huge, etched-glass, round window that is on the back of a building overlooking a huge car-park!

.

Such a shame that it probably goes un-noticed by most visitors.

.

Full window

But not any more now that it's going to be in an exhibition - it will get the exposure it deserves!

.

People will be able buy prints (yes, pay actual money for one of my images!) at the exhibtion.

.

If you'd like to know more about the event click here, or to simply have a look at all the other entries that got picked (and boy, I can't believe I got through!) then have a look here.

.

Too. Many. Sweets.

.

Well that's it over and done with for another year.

.

Now everywhere you look it will be stuff to do with the "C" word.

.

Boy*jelly and me hit the streets last night with the other monsters and vagabonds.

.

He went as a mad magician, and I went as a ghost ...

.

I wish Mr Jelly had waited until I'd put my make-up on before taking a photo of us both.

.

You'll just have to imagine me looking scary...

. .

Snappity Snaps!

.

I'm still not really in a blogging frame of mind ... I am perfectly fine, just not feeling the bloggy "vibe" at the mo ...

.

I whisked Mr Jelly away for a surprise trip to London recently as he has just had his 40th birthday ... old codger that he is!

.

.

Off to Buckingham Palace

(we never made it ... too far to walk!)
.

.

Routemaster bus ... in service!
.
.

London sunset

.

.

.If you want to see more of my photos, head over to my set on flickr

.

.

See you soon

.

.

Blar

This blog is closed until further notice due to lack of interest on the authors' part.

.

Sorry, but I'm feeling completely uninspired and a bit flat.

.

See you all soon (ish)

.

Raise Your Glasses ...

.

Do you remember the other week I picked up my *new* glasses?

.

I wore them religiously for, oooh, at least 3 days.

.

Then I started to leave them on my bedside table in the morning.
.

Then they became the world's most expensive Alice-Band, pushed back on my head keeping the hair out my eyes.

.

Then I got fed up with them constantly pulling my hair out, and Mr Jelly got fed up with me walking up to him with a pair of glasses dangling in my hair expecting him to un-knot the mess, so I started taking them off and putting them down.

.

And that means I lost them.

.

Yep.

.

They're in the house somewhere ...

.

... probably with my proper set of keys that I lost about 3 weeks ago.

.

That means I've got to have a big tidy-up session.

.

Bum.

.
I hate getting old.

.

.

.

(and don't anybody suggest I get one of those spectacle cords that you wear round your neck either!)

.

All Change!

.

.

.

.

.

You found the new place then?

.

I haven't had much of a chance to re-decorate the new blog ... just a new header and a few tweaks to the sidebar.

.

Make sure you add the new blog URL (http://www.mrs-jelly.blogspot.com/) to your blog-reader to ensure you get notified of new posts.

(Or click the link below)

.

Subscribe in a reader

Any links that you may have to me on your own blog (maybe on your sidebar) will also need to be changed from the old address to this one.

.

See you when I've had chance to move in properly!

.

.

The Boy In The Bubbles ...

.

Nothing of blog-worthiness going on here at jelly HQ, so I thought I'd share a photo I took of boy*jelly recently.

.

Yes.

His eyelashes really are that long.

.

.

.

Click to see a larger image.

.
.

More Interesting Than Watching Peas Cooking ...

.

..

We are very fortunate where we live, (above a valley) to get some fantastic sunsets ...
.
.
.

.

I was cooking tea last night and noticed there was a definite pink tinge to the sky ...

.
.
.

.

I managed to get some shots from the front door whilst the peas were bubbling away in the kitchen ...

.
.

. Look at the crows in the very top of the tree on the right
.
We also get hot air balloons flying over as they come up the valley ...
.
.
.
.
If you'd like to see more of my attempts at photography, or to see larger versions of these pictures, please have a browse in my Flickr albums.
.
.

.
.

.
.

.
.

Maybe one day I'll be good enough to do something commercial with my photos, but for now I'm having fun playing with composition and lighting.

.

.

Speccy Four Eyes

.

If you follow my inane and vaccuous tweets on Twitter you'll know that I had an eye test last week.

.

I decided it was time to get them checked because most of our car journeys for the past few months have included the following converstion

(with me in the passenger seat I hasten to add)

.

Me (to Mr Jelly) : "Tell me when you can read the words on that sign?"

Mr Jelly (before I've finished speaking) : "Now"

Me (choosing one further away) : "How about that one?"

Mr Jelly : "Now"

Me : "Oh"

Mr Jelly : "Please tell me you can read the number plate of the car in front?"

Me : "Yes of course I can!"

.

.

And if ever there was anything to read on the telly ...

.

.

Me : "What does that say?"

Mr Jelly : "Oh for Pete's sake, go and get your eyes tested already!"

.(Actually, he didn't use the word "Pete", but this is a family blog)

.

.

So I finally got them tested.

.

I was sitting in the optician's chair when she asked me if I could read a line of illuminated letters whilst donning some fancy frames.

.

"Ummm. I can see that there's some letters there, but I can't read them to you, no"

.

Then she slipped in some lenses.

.

I said "Oooh! I can read them!" and then realised that, actually, that probably wasn't a good sign....

.

I picked up my glasses last Wednesday.

.

.

I don't strictly have to wear them all the time, and I try pretending they don't actually make that much difference, but it's no use, I can't deny how much sharper everything looks when I'm wearing them.

.

.

Upon being told I had to wear glasses, Mr Jelly commented that perhaps they might make me look more intelligent?

.

I told him the only time I look more intelligent is when I stand next to him

(boom, tish)

.

Before revealing them to you, I wanted to perfect my speccy-four-eyes looks :

.

.

.The "Why Mrs Jelly, you're beautiful " look.

.

.

The "Let me just think about that for a moment" look
.

.

The "You're in big trouble now, buster" look

.

.

The "Away with the fairies" look

(although it was supposed to be "Office Slut")

.

.

And the, "Yes, they do make me look more intelligent" look
.
.

Pride and (Maybe A Little Bit of) Prejudice

.

At the beginning of the summer I received an intriguing email from the

The Jane Austen Centre.

..

.

.

Could jellybelly*jellybrain supply their gift shop with 20 shabby-chic buntings and 30 patchwork cushion covers?

.

Cue much fabric-shopping, triangle sewing and patchwork making and me and some of my team turned a big pile of gorgeous fabrics into a big pile of gorgeous bunting and cushion covers (thank you Janine and Jen).

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I delivered them by hand yesterday as the Jane Austen Centre is just down the road in Bath.

.

.

.

.

Did you know that Jane Austen lived in Bath for 5 years, and although she never wrote a jot whilst she was there, it did give her plenty of ideas for future books.

.

I know this, because I went on the tour while I was there.

.

If you ever pay a visit to Bath, I highly recommend dropping in to the centre - it's a few doors away from the actual house that the Austen family initially lived in before having to move to a poorer part of town as their money dwindled.

.

Not only is there a great exhibition where you can see a geniune Regency dress, rescued after it was found in pieces in a carrier bag ...

.

.

.

.

.

... but they have a fab gift-shop selling some gorgeous bunting and patchwork cushion covers - I happen to know they're beautifully made.

.

And of course, I couldn't pass up the opportunity ...

.
.

.

"I'm a laydee don't you know"

.

.

I can't help wondering what Jane herself might make of my penmanship skills on this here blog what I write?

.

She did call one of her heroines Emma after all ....

.