That's not a nice thing to ask a menopausal, middle-aged woman, Snooks.
It's akin to stepping out of the shower and being confronted with the words "wobble bottom" written with a child's sponge bath letters emblazoned across the bathroom tiles.
It comes from Royal Naval Ships using voice pipes before phones.
A tube with a whistle at each end was used - to attract attention the whistle would be removed from one end and the user would blow down it. When the whistle at the other end sounded, the receiver would remove that whistle, so a shouted conversation could begin.
It's an old term describing the singularly vocal aspect of the communication, and possibly that people used to blow into the mouth piece to clear bad connections.
Maybe I should look it up myself to find the roots of the slang.
I accept her choice, it's sensible and pragmatic, but I have concerns about her suffering and mood.
It's difficult to navigate, especially as we're both somewhat deaf. Telephone conversations are hard work and not conducive to detail. I have to yell down the blower (and I'm living in a shared house) and as she can't yell, I have to guess at some of what she's saying.
Writing has become difficult for her and we live some distance apart.
I hope she realises I support whatever she chooses in her own best interests.
It's difficult to separate my emotional reaction from the priority of supporting her.
If the person who served me, or it's shared amongst the service staff, I tip well.
The last time I took my granddaughter out, the two youngsters who made a lovely fuss of her and who didn't mind that we couldn't finish a kid's meal between us, we're thrilled to bits with the couple of quid I tipped.
I couldn't help thinking they were a little bit tip deprived. It doesn't take much to make someone's day special, either as a service provider, or customer.
Thankyou once again everyone for you congratulations, good wishes and cards, etc. I've just been clicking on everyone's profiles to see who's posted all these lovely greetings.
My granddaughter and I have made a couple of hospital visits. Everyone's looking like they've been through quite an ordeal and I'm looking forward to them getting home to start their recovery and journey together.
I may have made an error in judgement, however, and I put this down to lack of sleep and the tense nature of the night. I read the weight as 6lb 1.4oz,when in fact it was 6lb 14oz. I'm sorry to say I may have to strip 2Intrigued of her joint first position and prize, but right now I'm too flamin' tired to go through the thread to establish the real winner of the weight category.
Will the real first nappy winner please stand up, please stand up, please stand up...
I've got my granddaughter gently snoring and chattering away in her sleep next to me and I keep trying to listen in, in case she says something prophetic. Unless, my next grandchild is a slice of blue cake, I think the focus of her dreams might be elsewhere.
All the midwives and the consultant (a bloke) screamed like big girls when she came out because she was so long it looked impossible. She's catching up with her mum in height and she's only 7 years old.
This wee fella won't have any tall genes, though. I've taken to calling him Elf already.
jac_the_gripper Forum Posts (5,363)
RE: Get it off your chest!
I had already sent pics to John in private mail, Hex.I can only apologise to his patrons that he'll be putting too much salt in the food all day.