Okay. Has everyone who might be offended gone? Good. Now is the time to break out that emergency Prosecco that I hid away under the bed for just such a moment, fill our glasses, and muse...
A couple of weeks ago, having earned some money that was unspoken for, I ordered some pants. Knicker-pants I mean, not all this trendy American-trouser thing. Pants. Proper big pants, for my requirements in underpart-containment are, oddly, precise. And, because they are precise, these particular pants are quite hard to come by locally. Actually, locally pretty much anything is hard to come by unless it's green veg and cattle feed, but I shall gloss over this. So I ordered on the internet and waited with bated breath and free-hanging underparts for my pants to arrive.
And, reader, when they did I was slightly disappointed. For, instead of the firm fabric and intensely containing elastic, I found a flimsy pant, one where the gusset was already parting company from the rest of the pant, a state of affairs that it takes my regular pants some months to achieve! Yes!
Ahem. Another glass of Prosecco may be called for, although not too large a one, on account of these new, flimsy pants not having the..err...absorbative powers of the old ones...
Which brings me to my second rant of the day. On Thursday I received an e mail from my heating oil supply company telling me they would be delivering that day. Oh, thinks I, that's good, because with oil prices now at a huge low, if things can have a big low thing... maybe I shall ring up later and find out what their unit price currently stands at. Reader, 700 litres of oil usually cost me somewhere in the region of £360, so I was rubbing my hands with glee and awaiting a nice big price cut which would mean that, finally, I was no longer in arrears with said company.
£408. That is all I will say. 55p per litre. When a swift Google reveals the price to be standing at around 39p per litre. Incandescent? I barely needed said heating oil, for my fury heated up not only the house but also several acres of the surrounding area and two small towns that happened to be nearby.
Sorry, but I have to go now and change all my lightbulbs for red ones, then go and stand in my front room in nothing but my big pants. That £408 isn't going to earn itself, you know...
6 comments:
Everything goes up. Except for pants. I could fill the whole of thus comment bit with my moaning about stuff that is supplied in the wrong size/the wrong colour. Sometimes I really think my bid for world domination needs to gt going. You may join me. Once you have your underwear under control
They never mention oil tanks (filling) or septic tanks (emptying) on Escape to the Country, do they? All this in a week when you've been let down by your pants. It's not fair. I hope that next week's a better one. x
I needed a bottle of Proscecco after picturing you in big pants underneath red lightbulbs.
Are you still there, I wonder?
xx
Carol, I shall gladly dominate the world with you. In these pants I could dominate whole galaxies, they should be labelled as the Darth Vader of knickers.
Chris, thank you for the sentiments. I am now emptying my pants and donning the oil tank, since I feel things would be far better organised this way round,
And Lynda...you bet I'm still here! Make me an offer, go on...
Self heating big pants would be a good idea. Hot pants. Oh wait, that's been done already.
I can't comment on pants, but I think standards of bosom scaffolding have gone down. I feel let down. Literally so,at times.
You could always send them on to me, Jane....I collect baggy pants!
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