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Thursday, 27 October 2011


I finished a long term restoration on a chaise-lounge which we keep in the bedroom.

It normally sits at the bottom of our bed, and is used to sit on when putting on socks etc.  It's quite an old piece, which had a split cane base and sides, but the base disintegrated some years months ago, and I finally finished the entire job last weekend, and restored it to its original position.

Everything was fine, until my beloved began to put things on it. 

Stuffed animals; tigers, cats, dogs (poodles) and 3 versions of that crab from Little Mermaid, called seemingly Sebastian. 
Hello Sebastian, you pseudo-paedophilic crustacean

I never understood why women have to stuff every surface with kitsch and doodads.

Blokes don't need such fripperies, but ladies, regardless of how much dust the bloody things seem to attract, seem to like their dolls.

And it's the dolls that are giving me the heebie-jeebies.

There are two quite large dolls with porcelain heads that my beloved has propped up on the end of the chaise-lounge.  They are quite big dolls, their heads just visible over the bed end.  You can just see the eyes.


If I'm reading a book, I can feel the eyes burning through the text.

If I'm listening to some music or an audio book, I cannot concentrate, because they're listening as well.

If I even consider making mad, passionate love to my beloved, I have to stop as I feel the eyes burning into my arse (or worse)

And the eyes move. 

They follow me around the room.  I have to leave the room to get changed in the corridor.  It's just too embarrassing.

Speaking of dolls, and just to get my mind away from their essential creepiness, I remember from my teenage years, the advent of the baby-doll nightdress.


I especially remember a girl at my school, who on our formal dance, on our last day at school, wore a baby-doll nightdress/dress trimmed with some sort of white fur.  Her name was Patty (Laura) Ashley, and every boy (and quite a few girls) lusted greatly after her.

It's the only type of doll I even remotely like.

And speaking of Patty, my beloved has just finished making about 2 kg of Chicken Liver Paté; made with Cream, Brandy, Crabbie's Green Ginger Wine, Red wine, Onion, Garlic and of course Chicken Livers.  The only Paté she makes better, is Smoked Mackerel Paté, and as we can't get Smoked Mackerel here in NZ, I'll probably never taste it again.  It's a shame, it was absolutely superb, with just a trace of Bay Leaf, Onion and Horseradish and quite a lot of Cream and Pepper. Absolutely magnificent on hot (well) buttered toast, and a glass of a reasonable Bordeaux, which takes me through a particularly tortuous memory path to Patum Peperium (The Gentleman's Relish).

A curious mixture of Anchovies, Butter and Spices which is absolutely f*cking tremendous on hot (well)  buttered toast.  You can occasionally get this stuff from Kirkaldy and Staines in Wellington (and many, many delicatessens in the UK)  Don't be afraid, it doesn't really taste of Anchovies.  It just tastes tremendously savoury.


  1. Morning TSB. I remember that, when I was at primary school (a Catholic school), the bloody pictures of saints used to watch me all day. Bloody martyrs!

  2. Is it feasible for me to post you some smoked mackerel. Somehow? vacuum packed or something?


  3. Richard [of RBB]: Being looked at all day by those Saints must have been a bit weird. Kind of like being stared at by Ringo at staff brief.

    AliX: Thanks for the kind offer Ali, but I think our biosecurity might object. They certainly went balistic when I tried to bring in a Haggis. They reacted like it was something disgusting or a human sacrifice or similar

  4. Whilst house hunting last year (thank God that's over now), we visited a house lived in by the old lady owner and her lodger. Initial weirdness was the fact they had not gone out for open home, but were sat quietly in the corner watching our every move. Then I noticed the dolls. Everywhere. In every room. All dressed like something out of Gone with the Wind. Porcelain dolls staring unblinkingly at us in every direction. The final straw was the one by the front door. Wearing an eyepatch. Like a pirate version of Scarlett O'Hara. I completely lost it, and had to run for the car. Never did buy that house.

  5. What's wrong with dolls then? They give children hours of pleasure and make for soothing company on the darkest nights. See:

  6. Shackleford Hurtmore: Well done. The dollswere probably the petrified remains of the previous prospective buyers.. If you hadn't run, you might have a nice eyepatch yourself, and be perched on top of piano.

    TC: You bastard, and you expect me to sleep after having seen them? They're absolutely horrific. They're even worse than 10DK and 10LB combined (otherwise known as the Legions of Hell)

  7. Gidday - Just arrived back from Aussie. Back to Wellington coldness. Absoloutley delighted we won to RWC but what a nail biting game! As for dolls well - I remember a friend getting a blow up doll for his 21st. That was an interesting party.

  8. well speaking as someone who doesn't even like an occasional cushion scattered across the bed......what's the point if you just fling them to the floor??.......I can't imagine a life without smoked mackerel....I can also be caught eating anchovies from the jar!!!

  9. Pate - Yum!
    Gentlemens Relish - Yum!
    Hot Buttered Toast - Yum!
    Baby Dolls - double Yum!

    Stuffed toys etc - YUK!
    Mental images of your naked arse - Yuk!

    Enough to make any doll close its eyes I suspect!

  10. Baby doll nightdresses! Weren't they absolutely lovely? The way they... er, well, anyway...

    Chaise longues are not supposed to be cluttered with loads of girly crap. They were built so that women in easily-removed slinky dresses could recline langorously on them whilst sipping a creme de menthe.

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  12. I'm chewin' the carrot on all this.

  13. VG: Welcome back to godzone, yep we won. I know absolutely nothing about blow-up dolls. What are they used for?

    YaH: Completely agree, but my beloved objects if I move anything. Anchovies smeared on hot buttered toast...yum.

    Alistair: Don't be nasty. Are you saying that seeing me in a baby doll nightie would be off-putting?

    looby: I couldn't agree more. A combination of a well-champaigned young girl in a baby-doll nightie reclining langorously on a chaise-longue does something for my libido. (PS Creme-de-menthe???? have you actually tried that stuff. Even Bailey's is better.)


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