International Pancake Dissapointment Day

I hate Pancake Day. It’s the one day of the year, you spend thinking you’re the absolute boss of culinary perfection, then 15 seconds later, you realise you’re even more of an idiot than you were last year. 

Most years, it’s the flip that catches me out; too much wrist, not enough flip, not enough wrist, too much flip, etc. This year however, I experienced a different sort of desert-based disappointment...

As the pancake descended, I saw, mid-flip, that the top of the pancake was moving slightly, with the creeping jiggle of under-cooked pancake. I began to cry out in desperation, when it made friends with the pan once again, and it’s par-backed innards hurtled out like the organs of exploding cattle, hitting the kitchen cabinets, the ceiling, and inevitably, my face.

Pancakes 17 : 0 Me

Grow Up? Maybe tomorrow...

I've gotten to the point recently, when you can rest assured, I’ll log onto facebook in the morning and there'll be a hand full of statuses about last night's drunken antics and this morning's hangover. To be honest, I’d rather miss out on all of that, and just carry on watching teenage ninja mutant turtles in my pillow fort until I run out of colouring crayons. 

I mean, I’ll rock my socks out every couple of weeks, but every weekend? Friday through to Sunday?! Surely your insides would start to resemble a Smurf bludgeoned to death by a morbidly obese teletubby with a meat cleaver. Or a wooden mallet...

The finer details aside, I don't think it's for me. I mean, the occasional intoxicated party, followed by waking up to a hundred graphic frapes and finding someone's covered your living room wall with cut-outs of explicit magazines, that's fine. But every week? I'll stick with my colouring book for now thanks.

I'm Just A Guy Trying To Knit...

So yeah, I'm one of those weird people under the age of 50, that genuinely enjoys knitting. I don't quite understand why myself, but I'd probably put it down to having way too much spare time...

It was brought to my attention this morning, however, that I actually hold my breath for a really really really long time while I'm knitting, sometimes going for minutes without making any more than the odd gasp for oxygen.

My mother has told me that I either give up knitting, or go see a doctor. Then again, my dad keeps saying that, but that's just because I started knitting...

Unnappreciated Genius

At the moment there are builders making us a new kitchen, as ours is about 20 years old now, it could do with a make-over.

So as the builders are busying about, cutting up this, drilling out that, and other manly-man thing, I have the rest of the day off school. My dad shouted me to go and make them some tea and coffee, so off I went.

I came back later with a pot of tea, some coffee, and a plate of biscuits. Arranged in the shape of a Union Jack, from pink cakes, jammie dodgers, and friuty biscuits. This artistic display of edible brilliance was not greeted with a warm welcome though and they quickly rearranged them into a more messy affair, destroying the perfectly placed sponge and dodger wonder.

Needless to say I won't be wasting my talents on them any longer. I'll stick to giving the interior designers food. They admire my skills.

Just Order Some God Damn Tea.

Long time, no blog, eh? Well I'm back for round two! It's now the second year of an Average Teengaer, and there's plenty to talk about.


This month, for example, I've started a new job. I'm now a waiter in a little 1940's themed tea room, a job I enjoy enormously. Some of the people we get in the shop are just pure gold.

Yesterday we had an old Ldy and her even-more aged husband, who obviously both had difficulty hearing, as their conversations were rather loud and they could still hardly understand what each other were saying.

At one point they were talking, or rather shouting, this:

Wife: "Dave"
Husband: "Gay!"
Wife: "Dave?!"
Husband: "Gay!!"
Wife: "Dave?!?!"
Husband" NO! GAY!!"
Wife: "Oh, for a minute there I thought you were saying Dave"
Husband: "Dave?"
Wife: "Gay?!"
Husband: "Dave?!?"

Thank god I gave them scones quickly. Anything to stop them shouting across the shop...