Today I drove back from my Mum's in Cheshire again. I left a little late as we took the asbo dog for a walk to my Nans and on the way the lovely pup decided it would be a good idea to roll in doggy doo... So we had to go back to my Mums to wash it off. On the way back it transpired that the dog's unusual taste in rolling material was actually my fault. This was because I was holding the lead ( one of those stretchy ones ) and that I had not noticed that the delightful hound had decided to rub its new twenty pound collar in poop. In my defence, at the exact moment this happened I was warding off two angry swans who had taken offence at the afore mentioned canine when it tried to eat bread that had been left for them. Naturally I was left to clean the dog and it's collar.... I used the hose.... I was about to put it up to full fire fighting blast when my Mum rushed out crying 'I hope the water is not too cold... Poor baby.' It sooned turned out that the 'poor baby' in question was actually the hound from hell and not me who was merely up to his armpits in dog poo and soaked from head to toe as the dog shook the freezing water from its body....
We then left for my Nans and after a nice cup of tea I left for home and Mum left to go and collect my Sister and her friends as they were all off wedding dress hunting.... In my head that plays out like a scene fom the movie 'Bridesmaids'... One can only hope....
On the way I stopped off at the service station for a Starbucks. Unfortunately, the service station I stopped at is a regular stop off point for Shearings Coaches. This is a company that specialises in coach holidays in the UK that are usually frequented by the over 70's. I have nothing against that, but at the risk of sounding like Jeremy Clarkson, anything that keeps the elderly from driving down the middle lane of the motorway at 45mph is fine with me.
However, I entered the Starbucks to find a queue of old dears in front of me. They were all ordering tea but were unsure what size cup to have... The poor staff were dealing with constant questions such as, 'Why didn't they just have 'small, medium or large' instead of all this fancy sounding stuff. We're they eating in or taking away? ' They all decided to have their tea 'in' and so the queue began to move. I was nearly at the front when the holiday representative popped their cheery head around the door and said, "Five minutes till we're back on our merry way, ladies and gentlemen!" Suddenly there was a major panic and I was surrounded by old people demanding paper cups so they could take their tea with them. This would have been an easy exercise had the Starbucks Barista not asked the question, "And what size cup do you need?" I rested my head on the glass cake cabinet as everyone decided if their required paper cup was a 'tall, grande or venti' size....
The commotion subsided and I got to the front I ordered a skinny latte and, as I had foregone the fat in my milk, a cake..... Sorry I meant a muffin. Surely a muffin is a cake. Naming it a muffin only enables us to have cake for breakfast and pretend its healthy.... They even had a skinny muffin.... Who ever heard of such a thing? A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet and a cake is still a cake no matter what you call it!! Now I really do sound like Jeremy Clarkson.
Anyhow I had just sat down with my latte and my cake when I saw the next Shearings coach pull in. I ran as fast as I could to get a take out cup and got back on the motorway, which was far less stressful....
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