Saturday 30 April 2011

My Month in Numbers 2011: April

Hi, hi, hi.

Recovered from the wedding yet? Still extracting Union Jack bunting from your shrubbery?

Well, I might not have racked up a figure as impressive as an audience of 2 billion wedding watchers this month but, for what it's worth, here's my April 2011 ... in numbers.

I'm going to start with the annoying ones and work my way to happy. OK? OK.

2 [or '7 years bad luck' if you're superstitious - which I'm not] = 2 is the number of times this mirror has somehow leapt from our wall in recent years, the 2nd time finally marking the end of its useful life as a decorative item. I mean ... this would be stretching even the 'shabby chic' look to its limits:  
It's been hanging on two heavy duty rings and nothing has ever worked loose ... it just seems to decide to leave the wall on a whim. A very loud whim, striking a radiator several times on the way down!

2 = the number of times I was asked for ID when buying wine.
18 = the age you legally have to be to buy wine.
25 = the age you now have to look to be sold alcohol without ID in both places I was asked.
As I don't [yet] carry my driver's licence around the first time this happened this month, the cashier refused to sell me the wine - my debit card, work pass AND FACE clearly weren't enough to convince her I was a grown adult.

Instead after she and another staff member had both gawped at my face - while  I was at the head of a long queue - scrutinising me to see if they believed I was 25 or not, I abandoned all my shopping and walked out.

Except you don't have to BE 25 to buy wine!!!! You have to be 18!!! And I know I have good genes ... but I certainly don't look half * my age.

[For more confusion about how old I am, please see March's Month in Numbers post, where it was me getting it wrong!].

Right before I walked out one of The Age Scrutinisers suggested [and you may indeed be thinking this too] that I should be flattered. 

Except in this situation I was not flattered. I was tired and frustrated and humiliated.

And if you want to know exactly how annoyed I was and just how much I had to leave the shop before I started arguing my case, making it worse for myself ... then let me tell you ...

... there was cheesecake in that carrier bag I left behind on that counter.

Cheesecake.
Yes. I. Was. THAT. Upset!
As I don't have a photo of me in my fury [off of which you could have run electrical equipment] please accept this photo of a narky kitten ... it's wearing much the same expression:
Moving on ....
3 = the number of - in my opinion 'girly' - crafting items I've unexpectedly taken to this month.

First I voluntarily bought a Martha Stewart butterfly punch ... then I used the words 'so cute' in relation to a scalloped heart die ... then I made bunting:

After those 3 ominous turns of events I feel it's only fair to forewarn you that if I suddenly blog about making a mini-book of cake recipes ... you might want to be on the alert for an impending apocalypse. 

I'm just saying ...
40 = the number of patchwork squares we were called upon to help a friend mix and match at our monthly crafty get-together:

With phrases such as: 'Red polka dots with blue flowers on the right' and 'Pink stripey to green bottom corner' being shouted across the room it was if we'd discovered a new - fabric version - of Twister!

23.6 square metres =  the amount of stripey carpet we now have gracing our hallway and stairs:

I like stripes. I wear alot of them. And now so does my floor.
One day I'll lay down on it and see if James can spot me ...

0 = the number of pages read in the book I've been going on about for the last 2 months. Because ...

275 = the number of pages I rattled through in a week to read all of this:

Tina Fey's autobiography is the funniest thing I've read since the last David Sedaris book.

I had to be careful while reading it in the garden so the neighbours didn't think I'd gone insane or was having trouble breathing. It's a cliche to say but, honestly, it's laugh-out-loud funny.  I can't recommend it highly enough.
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Well, those are my April statistics, how about yours?

There's no need for a full-blown post like mine if you just want to share the odd significant number [and they can be as odd or significant as you like!].

As usual I'll edit this post to add in a link to yours if you let me know you've written one, or posted a photo ... or however you choose to document your month.  So far:
  • Claireliz has joined in, scrapbooking a page of April statistics, on her blog 'The Crafty Alchemist' here.
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So, fare thee well April ... with your fairytale weddings and your supermarket-booze horror stories ...
And bring it on May.
Me and my driving licence are ready for you.

Julie x 

7 comments:

  1. Fab post Julie, I agree, it's not flattering when you asked for ID, just blinkin annoying.
    C
    xx

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  2. Having been a "checkout chick" I can see the other side. I used to have to ask people for ID if I thought they were under 21. 25 is a little excessive, though. The checkout operator gets a £1000 fine or prison if they get it wrong and sell to underage people. It frequently led me to underestimate people, as I'd then get a criminal record...

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  3. A supermarket refused to sell me wine because I had my son with me and he's not over 18! I agree it's ridiculous.Love the kitty photo!

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  4. What an amusing and well-written post! I love hearing about your adventures. And the snarky kitten is just great!

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  5. yes, think i've had the same look as the snarky kitten when I've been asked for id. i can see why they have to be careful but seriously, i know i don't look that young anymore. so it's hard to be flattered when i just want a glass of wine, so I know how you feel. And I love cheescake too, so I can doubly appreciate the stress! x

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  6. I love the idea of a month in numbers - very witty post to go with it too.
    The other day I went shopping with my 21 year old son along to help. I was packing the bags, he was un-loading the trolley and put 3 bottles of wine on the conveyor belt. The checkout guy (under 18 as he had to get authorisation) asked my son if he had ID - I said "I'm paying!" but was told that as my son had placed the wine on the belt it was him that needed to be authorised!!! Must remember not to take my 15 year old to help or I won't be able to buy any booze.

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  7. What an amusing and well-written post! I love hearing about your adventures. And the snarky kitten is just great!

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