Well?

"Happy New Year".

What's "New" about it? It happens every year.

Free At Last

Wonderful news for 2011!

Fay today found out she has been let off with a caution by Essex Police (aren't they wonderful!!) following her yellow paint/monkey-faux-pas at Colchester Zoo. She has received a lifetime ban from The Zoo though, but we hope to appeal when the dust settles a bit. Needless to say Liz is keeping her head down - as usual when there's trouble about, especially when she usually causes it all.

So, normal sleep patterns have resumed at The Bray Household, and Fay triumphed again in the bedroom games "Guess The Time" event we so cleverly invented.

Last night Fay guessed 23:56 and Ray 00:48 when it was 23:44
Then Fay guessed 02:18 and Ray 01:32 when it was 02:07
Then Fay guessed 04:15 and Ray 06:30 when it was 03:59
Then Fay guessed 05:32 and Ray "Blinking Christmas Morning" when it was 05:29.

Bedroom Games

Fay and Ray have invented a wonderful new game in the bedroom.

Whoever wakes up during the night has to wake the other one and ask them to guess the time. The digital alarm clock (with DAB radio, whatever that is), is always covered with a November 1982 issue of the Reader's Digest as the light from the clock is rather too bright for purpose.

The one who guesses nearest the correct time  is the winner.

Last night Fay guessed 23:11 and Ray 00:24 when it was 00:48
Then Fay guessed 03:15 and Ray 01:56 when it was 02:48
Then Fay guessed 03:15 and Ray 06:24 when it was 03:34
Then Fay guessed 06:21 and Ray 02:36 when it was 06:40.

So last night, Fay was the winner by a country mile.

What hilarious times in the bedroom!

ANOTHER Brush With The Long Arm Of The Law

It's been another terrible week. Fay and Liz decided to go to Ipswich for some so-called Christmas shopping and a little light luncheon in the 'Drum And Monkey' public house.
Needless to say, bad went to worse, as is so often the case when Liz is on the scene, culminating with Fay being discovered trying to climb a fence in Colchester Zoo armed with an aerosol can, intent on  painting our adopted red faced spider monkey, Zombie, yellow.
The so-called security guards called the local police, who took Fay into temporary custody and she now awaits prosecution, convinced that Colchester Police will invoke United States law which states 'You will be arrested if you paint your horse in Vermont.' This is according to something on the Internet that Liz unhelpfully pointed out, along with the equally alarming information that the selling of horse urine in Vermont requires a license.
So once again, the Bray household is rent with Fay's nocturnal shrieks as she wakes, convinced she languishes in a New England gaol, being taunted by a sadistic Puritan warder.
When will this all end?

Yellow

Fay wants to paint EVERYTHING yellow.

Yellow
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Broth Mix 'Mix Up'

Liz gave Fay a tip to make soup go further by adding broth mix = a mixture of seeds, beans, pulses (whatever they are) and dried peas of all things. What with the cuts, global warming and and the proposed Anglican Covenant, Fay thought this would be a good chance to 'do her bit' for World Poverty. As Ray always rings before he leaves work to tell her to get the mugs warm, she took the golden opportunity to ask him to call in to the Local Independent Supermarket (Tesburys) to pick up as much broth mix as they had in stock.

Imagine her disappointment when Ray arrived some time later with three bottles of Benylin Expectorant. He had spent a long time arguing with the Manager, who told him that he was only allowed to sell a maximum of three bottles of cough mix to any individual customer. Despite Ray's shouted assertions that once again Health & Safety had 'gone mad' and appearing ten minutes later wearing sunglasses and talking in a high-pitched Welsh accent to conceal his true identity (like Tom Cruise in that film) he could still only come home with a meagre three bottles.
Suffice to say it was reliable old vegetable Cuppa Soup for tea with no broth mix to help save the planet that night.

Our 'Stats'

Well, would you believe it! There's a so-called 'stats' feature on this blog that allows one to see just how many people have been looking at our blog, who they are, and where they live in the whole wide world.

Since we started in October, there are 4,398 so-called 'hits'. When Ray did a statistical analysis he found out 4,000 of the views have been from the Libyan Secret Police.

We're famous!

TTFN

Fay xxx

A Very Upsetting Week

It has been a Very Upsetting Week. Firstly, Fay discovered that BB King is not Italian.

Then, we employed a small builder, who specialised in small jobs to attend to some tiling in 'The Smallest Room In The House'. Unfortunately, he took the opportunity to tell Fay - in some considerable and unecessary detail - all about his recent vasectomy operation. Fay was extremely upset by these revelations, so much so that she telephoned 999 and insisted the police arrest the verbose builder on a charge of unrequested sexual harrassment. the so-called operater told her there was a) no such offence b) it was not a police emergency and c) she should "calm down and make a cup of tea".

Fay disagreed.

After her tenth call to the 999 service the police did in fact arrive and after what was an unpleasant altercation in the front garden, Fay was arrested and charged with "behaviour likely to cause a breach of the peace".

Naturally, our sleep patterns have been disrupted ever since and the matter has not been helped by an unwelcome contribution from Fay's so-called friend, Liz to the effect that the Government are considering mixed-sex prisons. The upshot is that Fay has gone from being terrified of incarceration in solitary confinement, to having to share a cell with a Hell's Angel called Moose. The shrieks as she wakes from her fitful sleeps have to be heard to be believed.

Is there ANYONE on this Internet of a 'Legal Eagle' disposition who can give Fay some (free) reassurance that she will not be imprisoned on a first offence?

Meanwhile, I have just one piece of advice for Liz, namely, It's not OK to upset Fay Bray on any day, so stay away, OK?

Ray Bray

Shocking Wind

It is a shocking windy day today out Bungay way.
My peg bag was actually blown off the washing line and into our next door neighbour Sergio's garden. Sergio is out til later, so now I can't peg my washing out and I've lost my peg bag and I'm surrounded by wet washing and I'm all behind. It's a terrible situation.
We say it's those wind farms affecting the environment. Ray says there's enough wind without wind farms and do you know, I think he could be right! We should all call for an Immediate Ban on wind farms. Now.
Still, I managed to calm myself down and am having my lunch hour with one of my favourite recipes.
Cuppa Soup.
Here's the recipe:

• I pk (packet) of Cuppa Soup  (chicken, vegetable, chicken & vegetable - whatever you want.)
• Water to taste

This serves one, but if there are two of you, use two pk (packets) of Cuppa Soup. If there are three of you, use three pk (packets) of Cuppa Soup. If there are four of you, use four pk (packets) of Cuppa Soup. If there are five of you, use five pk (packets) of Cuppa Soup. If there are more than five of you, then doing Cuppa Soup would be far too much bother, so I would never bother if there was more than five of you.

Empty Cuppa Soup packet into suitable cup.
Boil water
Pour Boiling Water into cup. Stir well. Sit back and enjoy a delicious Cup a Soup on a windy day!!!

TTFN Fay XXX

Breaky Crisis

At the weekend, we decided to have a "Hi-Tech Breaky" which involved preparing a bowl of delicious porridge in the microwave oven. Unfortunately, Fay was distracted by someone being killed on the radio. When she returned to her task, she continued with our usual breaky preppy - boiled egg (our 'normal' breaky) - forgetting all about the porridge languishing unloved and ignored in the tomb-like microwave oven.
She discovered the bowl today, as Wednesday is the day  the microwave oven is cleaned inside and out.(amongst other things!)
Ray said the porridge smelt like a horror film and it's the last time Fay tries a "Hi-Tech Breaky" whilst listening to a Radio 4 news programme. It's boiled eggs and relentless melodies only from now on.

Meat Crisis

Fay has a Meat Crisis.

Why do we call pig pork?
Why do we call cow beef?
Why do we call sheep mutton?
Why do we call lamb lamb?
Why do we call birds poultry?
Why do we call insides offal?
Why do we call stomach tripe?
Why do we call t*sticles sweetbreads?
Why do we call beefburgers hamburgers?
Why do we call beefburgers with cheese cheeseburgers?
Why do we call sausages sausages?
Why do we call lungs lights?
Why do we call baloons full of boiled congealed blood black pudding?

To help calm herself down, Fay made some delicious squirrel broth. Here's the recipe:

1 squirrel (diced)
some vegetables
2 pints water
salt
pepper

Put the squirrel, vegetables, and water in a saucepan.
Bring to the boil. Simmer for one hour. Add salt and pepper.
There! Delicious squirrel broth for these Autumn nights.
If you keep the eyes in, it will see you all through the week.

You can sometimes find your squirrel behind a radiator. They put babies down there.

My Funny Husband

Did you see that 'post' (whatever that is) the other day on "Homes"?
That was a little joke by Ray. He is my 'Clown Prince' and so funny!!!!

TTFN Fay xxx

At The Pictures

We went to the flicks tonight. Here's a photo of the screen for you to look at.

Homes!

People like us don't live in places like this!

Blogtrotters

Those of you with memories more efficient than a talent show contestant (many of whom cannot remember how to answer questions in a proper manner) will recall we were disturbed to find we had a 'follower' on the blog.

We now have another two. Emma Vince - disturbingly with a male/female name like the last one and Sam Norton - whoever he is - who may possibly be half man/half motorcycle.

Can anybody PLEASE tell us what is going on?

What IS The Point?

I took this lovely photo of the sunrise on an early morning shopping trip to Lowestoft.
"What is the point of a sunrise?" asked Ray, "It's just a sunset in reverse," he said.
I suppose he has a point.

TTFN Fay xxx

The Ex Factor

We think the so-called X-Factor - by all accounts an unfathomably popluar television sensation - is little more than a huge collection of Hysterical Lunatics who would be perfectly at home in an old-fashioned Mental Hospital.

Oooer, A Celebrity in Beccles

Yesterday, Fay found herself in Beccles with her friend, Liz after an exhausting session at the charity shop. To her consternation, she saw a dishevelled young man with regulation baseball cap and scruffy jacket in what appeared to be some distress, unable to talk properly, sitting on the ground at the bus station, surrounded by a small crowd, some of whom were filming him.
Thinking it was one of the so-called homeless causing the fuss, Fay made her way over to give any assistance she could, whether it involved light verbal castigation, or perhaps a well aimed kick. You can only imagine her astonishment when she discovered it was none other than the world famous, dribbling super telly chef and multi-millionaire mock cockney, Jamie Oliver, 'publicising' yet another series of his so-called cookery programmes.
Needless to say, Liz - an incorrigible slave to celebrity - elbowed her way to the front of the scrum and dragged Jamie to his feet, where he had been 'autographing' copies of his latest book and soon had our hero gurning into her portable telephone/digital camera, whilst she adopted the inadvisable 'duck face' she mistakenly assumes is a playfully seductive pose.
Before long, Liz was accompanying the drooling egotist to Beccles Museum where he showed an excited crowd of about eight how to deep fry potato skins and make soup from mushrooms. We in the Bray Household say mushrooms are fungus and athlete's foot is fungus. The place for potato skins is, of course, in the pedal bin. They soon had to leave the Museum as the smoke detectors were making a frightful noise, which interfered with the filming.
Soon an even bigger crowd of about ten had joined Jamie and his 'crew' to laugh and point at people buying fish and chips in 'The Beccles Plaice'.
Liz insisted on buying Fay Jamie's book as an 'Early Christmas Present'. Unfortunately, it has been ruined due to Jamie trying to write his name on it. If he signs his cheques like this, my guess is no-one will get paid.

Our Outing to Cambridge

Here's a picture of Ray in front of the beautiful and historic King's College, Cambridge.
I think its where they go to learn how to be kings.
Ray's giving me instructions on how to use the camera. I only took one photo because I didn't want to waste the film. Ray says there's no film in digital cameras (whatever they are).
Sometimes I think Ray isn't as clever as he thinks he is. Who ever heard of a camera without film!

TTFN Fay xxx

The Nature Of Genius, Infinity And Eternity

"Some clever Dicky said that if you lock in an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters for all eternity you would get the Complete Works Of William Shakespeare.
Fay and Ray say this is wrong wrong wrong.
Firstly, typewriters are now very hard to come by - it's all word processors these days.
Secondly, where would you get a barn big enough for all these monkeys? Certainly not anywhere near Bungay these days what with all the new houses going up, although it is quieter around Mettingham.
Thirdly, monkeys can't type! We have spent many hours observing our adopted Red-Faced Spider Monkey, Zombie in Colchester Zoo, so know what we are talking about when it comes to primate talents. Typing is NOT one of them.

No. What you would get with an infinite number of monkeys in a shed full of typewriters (if you could get them) is monkey cannibalism."

Our Follower

Congratulations to Louise Peter (whoever she is!) on becoming our first 'Follower' (whatever that is!) on this blog. I've locked all the doors and pulled all the curtains until Ray comes home in case she turns up in our front garden. Louise. Peter. She sounds odd. Half man Half woman. We don't have that sort of thing Bungay way.
TTFN Fay xxx

What's so Independent about a Supermarket?

We often use our local independent supermarket for grocery and other needs (but not so-called Jager bombs) but wonder if it is indeed local, independent, super or a market.

Surely a market is a place of trade, where artisans and farmers can ply their wares and trade their goods and/or services! At our local independent supermarket, trade is a one way street. Indeed when Fay set up a table outside our local independent supermarket to sell her home-made chutney she was politely but firmly asked to leave. It would seem that we are only allowed to buy goods in this particular so-called market.

And as far as we can see, there is nothing 'super' about our local independent supermarket. It isn't above any other supermarket - independent or otherwise. It may be above some underground services such as drains, telephone lines and the like, but surely, that doesn't count. It has some flats above it, so really, should be called a domestic submarket.
And 'Independent' - what is 'Independent' about our supermarket? It does not issue its own currency. We don't need a passport to go in it. They speak the same language as us (except the Saturday boy, Dean, who does not use verbs). The premises obey the laws of gravity, thermodynamics, economics and indeed The Law Of The Land (as we all have to - as we keep telling Fay's mother). There is nothing 'Independent' there. Except the 'Independent' newspaper, which we do not take.
And local. Well, we have to drive there, and back again with our bulky purchases.
So really we think our local independent supermarket should be re-classified as a 'Distant Needy Shop'.

The Lord's Day

We were supposed to go out to a friend's 80th birthday party last night but unfortunately couldn't go as Fay had an attack of the screaming abdabs and had to be kept in. Her friend Liz lent her a woman's magazine containing an article on how cocktails are an effective social lubricant and this, coupled with our local 'independent' supermarket having a special offer on so-called 'Jagerbombs', led Fay to get in a bit of muddle.
Before preparing to apply her make up, she drank three of these Jagerbombs (for £10) thinking the harmless melon, cranberry and mocha (whatever that is) flavours would somehow neutralise the effects of the massive amounts of vodka they contain.
Subsequently, she appeared in the lounge in floods of tears, saying that she wanted to stay with her mother for the night. I reminded her that where her mother lives, no-one is allowed in or out after 21:00 hours, which led her to become even more agitated and insist that I was trying to make her eat spiders.
I managed to restrain her - difficult as this was given that she didn't have a stitch on - and not for the first time was grateful for the 'pin-down' techniques I learned while I was doing Youth Work on a Voluntary Basis back in the 80's.
Well, the present situation is that she is now relaxing in the conservatory with the small television I have installed for our viewing pleasure, while I am preparing Sunday luncheon - a delicious Fray Bentos pie. Tasty, nutritious and a delight to prepare (although it goes without saying that the tin ALWAYS needs to have the lid removed completely BEFORE cooking to avoid hideous Health & Safety ramifications. And remember, food must be piping hot before serving). I may make an effort to surround the pie with piped mashed potato, borrowing one of Fay's collection of piping bags to make this possible, even though this raises memories of how our son, Peter, used to refer to piped mashed potato as 'cavity wall insulation' whenever Fay did this as a treat for him and his pals on their late-night supper parties.

Ray B

In The Gents

As he often does, Ray had to make a quick visit to a public convenience while shopping in Norwich this morning. He told me that someone had written "Fat White Children Are The Taliban" on a cubicle door. Ray said he can't stand mindless vandalism and that the comment was not fair. The Taliban can read. If only people thought things through before they write them on lavatory doors said Ray. Sometimes I wish I was a philosopher like him.

TTFN    Fay xxx

Friday

and what busy day I have had. That's me Fay not Ray. Ray has been at work oh he works so hard at Clays does Ray. Anyway I have been busy busy bee today so many jobs I have had to do busy busy that's me. Well first I got Ray his breaky (that's what we like to call breakfast in the Bray household). Ray always has a boiled egg on a Friday , sometimes two but only one today. So I did his breaky and sent him off to work then I was off. I didn't know whether to take a coat or not it looked a bit overcast so I took my beige mac just in case, Then I went and caught the bus into town. I was so busy I first went and volunteered at the charity shop.Its the one for saving wales or something. oh I love it there having a good natter with my good friends Betty and Liz. Then went to the help with the meals on wheels. I always do this on a Friday.After that I nipped to the shops I always like to get a few bits for the weekend just in case one of the triplets pops in for a cuppa. Then home and I started preparing the dinner.As its Friday we have fish of course. I am now having a little break- I've changed of course ready for Ray to come in from work oh I can hear his car now must be off.
Fayxx

Our very First (1st) go on the blogosphere, whatever that is.

Well, we've decided to start a 'blog', whatever that is. We had to choose a 'template', whatever that is. There are lots of styles to choose from, so I chose 'Ethereal' whatever that is. Ray said it sounds like we're on drugs, but of course, we're not. Except my tablets. We hope to let all the cyber-world know about our travels and family and ideas and opinions. There may even be some of my favourite recipes, so watch out Jamie Oliver and that greasy man with glasses and the double-barrelled name in a cottage somewhere.
All our friends can join in with comments and suggestions, but Ray says no hard c0re p0rn, please, whatever that is. Well, bye for now. Fay xxx