Things I will never understand…. resealable stuff

It is Sunday morning and this can only mean one thing.  I will have sat through excruciating Saturday night TV with a family sized packet of Doritos, a bottle of wine and a bag of Malteasers.  These three items have one thing in common.  Have you guessed what it is yet? (I soooo did not write that with a Rolf Harris accent going on in my head) *I did.

All of these items, I have noticed on close inspection, are re-sealable.  This does not compute.  What a completely utterly pointless thing!  Who out there (and I know there are more of you than would care to admit) has ever opened a packet of Doritos (we like to pronounce this Dor-rit-toss, not Dor-reet-toes, because it’s funny) and not finished it on one sitting? For the record, I guarantee you are all now sitting reading this saying Doritos out loud and will never again refer to them as Dor-reet-toes.

Resealable snacks

But I digress.  Once opened never to be resealed.  Just doesn’t happen…ever. Not in our house anyway.  Also the wine situation is beyond funny. Part of me thinks the introduction of screw tops is a genius idea, allowing me to open my favourite tipple anytime anywhere without the need of a cork screw.  On the flip side I have no intention of ever needing to screw the lid back on to keep my wine in tip top condition. Nope, an open bottle is a finished bottle.  So we move on to the Malteasers. These are brandished family packets or sharing packets. If you actually share these out they don’t go very far at all. Trust me. An open packet of Malteasers brings people scrabbling like a pack of beagles to a dropped kibble of food to get a piece of the action.  A resealable tab is not required here!

You could also argue that Pringles are a contradiction in terms. I mean, surely if we are led to believe their irritating slogan “once you pop you just can’t stop,” there should be absolutely no need for the plastic lid?  You are with me on this aren’t you.

What other substances can you think of that have a pointless resealable tab or lid?

Now, someone hand over the snacks!

A Night Off????

I wanted to start this article with something along the lines of, “with summer just around the corner….” But quite frankly I am not convinced, and before you all start mentioning the glorious Bank Holiday weekend, three days of sun and temperatures an Aussie would refer to as a winter climate, does not constitute Summer.  If however you took a look up and down various High Streets at folk frolicking in vest tops and flip flops, and observed the panic buying of burgers and salad items in grocery shops, you could be forgiven that Summer may have well and truly arrived.  Well no, that is the whole point.  Beautiful hot sunny days seem to occur so rarely that we Brits adopt the ‘make the most if it’ attitude because ‘it won’t last!’  So we dust off our barbeques, which have been left uncleaned for nine months, (well ours hasn’t) and invite everyone round for an impromptu barbeque.  Lets face it we can’t really plan these things!


So what of this barbequing nonsense?  There was a time when I used to long for a beautiful day and would relish the thought of the prospect of a night off, as I could instruct the husband that he was on cooking duty…. “Lets have a barbeque!”


A recent Facebook post by a chap called Dave Bell, who I do not know at all but would like to thank, published a list of  ‘BBQ Rules’ and these have been the inspiration for this article.  I say inspiration, but more a nodding in agreement.  He goes on to outline what course of action ensues following the decision to host a barbeque.  I can safely say that I could relate to every single point and totally reflects what happens in our house, and I am sure in some of your homes too.


For instance, when I suggest having a barbeque it goes without saying that I will be the one to invite the guests, adopt a cleaning frenzy scrubbing the house from top to bottom, even though everyone will merely waft straight through and spend the entire evening in the garden.  There is method in my madness;  in this country the reality of being able to sit outside for the entire evening is rare, so a clean and tidy house is a must for when guests inevitably get cold and retreat inside to the warm.  I then go out and buy the food, make the salads, prepare vegetables and think about desserts.  The meat will be marinated the night before, by me, and then placed on a tray along with all the necessary tongs and knives.  I will set the table, arrange the plates and cutlery, offer crisps and snacks or, if feeling exceptionally culinary, bread and baked Camembert and a selection of Italian meats.  Then there is the tray of condiments to organise, whilst remembering to put the new potatoes on to boil so they are done in time to be served with the meat.  Drinks, which are normally the husbands department, revert to my responsibility and that includes the regular provision of cold beer to the chef at his barbeque area. Here he stands with his alpha male pals whilst updating them with his latest Mustang rebuild anecdotes.


Whilst I am hurrying about like a woman possessed and mopping my brow, the husband is obviously preparing the barbeque with the help of his pals.  For us this normally means cleaning off the food remnants from the year before and ferretting about in the shed for the all important lighter fluid.  It is barbeque law that if the heat hasn’t got to the required temperature after fifteen minutes, the lighter fluid is called in.  And of course, it also provides huge entertainment for the men who are all standing around the barbeque with their beer, chuckling like school children.    Occasionally they will move away from the grill area and inspect the building site that was once a pond, which is to be the new home for his pride and joy. Much rubbing of chins and nodding goes on before they retreat back to the grill to flip the meat.

All of a sudden and without warning, the husband takes the meat off the barbeque and announces that the meat is ready and why are the potatoes not cooked yet?


After we have finished, every one congratulates the husband on a fine meal. Meanwhile  I am clearing away plates and piling them up in the kitchen, with the realisation that I may well be up until midnight washing up as the dishwasher is already over loaded.  It is more or less at this time that the husband wanders into the kitchen empty handed and asks how I enjoyed my night off!

If I had the time…..

As I looked over the counter in the kitchen through into the family room, I observed my husband who had not long returned home from work.  Within less than five minutes of walking through the door he was horizontally stretched out on the sofa, head back, shoes kicked off and feet up.  With a beagle on one side and the TV remote on the other, all he needed was a beer and a bag of Doritos to complete the picture.

Woman cleaning round man on couch

Part of me thought, wow that’s nice he can relax so easily after a hard day at work.  The other part of me was staring at him with dagger eyes like something from return of the zombies, as a spleen exploding rage boiled up inside me.  You see there I stood with a to do list so long I could wallpaper the Sistine Chapel with it, whilst he lay there oblivious to my frustrations.  Being the sharing type of course, I couldn’t just let him be, oh no, I had to vent.  “Errr you don’t have time to be sitting down!”  He looked up briefly giving me only a moment’s attention before averting his eyes and re-focusing on the apparently ‘not to be missed’ activities on the television screen.  “How can you possibly sit there all relaxed like there is nothing to do, whilst I am drowning in a sea of ‘things to do’?” “Who is going to sort out the child minding and dog minding for the coming holiday?” I wailed like a banshee for a few minutes before the door slamming started and the “nobody helps me” speech reared it’s ugly head.


Yes, this is a regular occurrence in our house.  My husband relaxes and I fail to see how he has time or more importantly why I do not.  I am fairly certain that my lack of time is mainly of my own making, but this does not really make life easier.  It doesn’t stop me from wanting to start vacuuming whilst he is watching Top Gear, or like last weekend, make him clean the bathroom just as the England Rugby match has just started.  My plans are sometimes scuppered though as he has now installed a TV in the bathroom, so when I asked him to go and clean the bathroom, he went off agreeably without any argument.  I kindly shouted up to him that the rugby had started only to be told he was already watching it. Fair play. I guess as we both achieved what we wanted on this occasion.


However it has got me thinking about how we could both work more affectively and get all the jobs done between us. But more importantly what would I then do with more time on my hands?


  1. Learn how to use my oven.  I have had my oven for almost ten years. It’s one of those range types, with a large oven, a single oven and six-ring hob.  So far I have only used two rings on the hob and the small conventional oven.  I would go as far to say I have no idea how to even turn the main oven on. If you come to my house and need to use the oven, please don’t ask, it only ends in embarrassment…. On my part.
  2. Spend fifteen or twenty minutes perusing greetings cards for friends.  To pick out the perfect card for the perfect person. Not grab the prettiest card from the local Londis shop, which has been written in the car outside their house, before putting it through their letterbox, normally in the evening of their birthday.
  3. Cook a meal from scratch.  I am now on first name terms with the staff at Marks and Spencer and have tried every ready meal known to man.  I have most definitely consumed  horse meat at some point.  This would also encourage me to learn how to use my oven before I end up replacing it with a new one!
  4. Make an appointment to have my gel nails removed professionally rather than picking them off whilst in meetings and removing the top layer of my nail at the same time.  This time saving trick leaves me with terrible looking nails, which then need to be left to recover.  False economy on time there me thinks! Not to mention I have just read about someone who never trusts anyone with bad nails! *Looks down sheepishly*
  5. Read a book.  This is something I only ever do on holiday. My friends are capable of immersing themselves in a novel as chaos ensues around them, whilst they are gripped by the story and it’s characters.  The closest I get to this is glancing at the front cover of the multiple magazines I subscribe to but never read and being gripped by the price!

What would my husband do if he had more time on his hands?  Spend it on the Internet looking for more Mustang parts and accessories.  Now that is a whole other story!


Right, must dash, I have a Facebook account to keep up to date you know, and a lunch date with the girls is calling.