The Bluestocking Womens Pub in an Adventure with Pirates!

[Magpiecomplex]

New thread. You know the deal - women's pub, men to the Staunch Ally next door.

Some of us are currently on the trail of an international seed smuggling ring, just for background information.

They've had lots of time to practise their cheerleader pyramids, they should be better at it - over-excitement because it's the World Cup, perhaps?

Shame. I was thinking it might be nice to try growing but given that I have managed to kill mint in my garden before, it's probably not a good idea.

I’ve never been able to grow mint for some reason.

Brilliant @MyrtleLion Sooooooooooo much better than that other tournament which I am avoiding relatively successfully. As are many spectators it seems.

I've never been able to get rid of it so now I have it corralled and keep an eye out for furtive spreading. Same with some of my raspberries.

I didn't think it was possible to kill mint! 😳

Bar gerbils, it's an iced coffee kind of day, with just enough ice to keep it cold, in a tall glass with a straw, please!

Stayed home this morning to take advantage of the nice weather, since it's also not too warm. So three loads of laundry, a bit of weeding, and finally got around to dusting and vacuuming the living room, cleaned the windows sills and all. Lots of windows in this house! The living room is just one of the rooms that I never use, so I never clean in there.

(and rescued three spiders!)

I wanted to do more weeding, etc., but the pollen count must be ridiculously high today, because I can't be out there for more than a few minutes before I start coughing and my eyes start streaming. Had to come back in. My usual one-a-day pills aren't handling it very well.

Loving the gerbils and their excitement, however misplaced! I am very easily avoiding the actual World Cup.

I used to like Earl Grey tea, but the only tea I drink now is peppermint, to settle my stomach.

I hope no one is planning on using the craft rooms soon. The gerbils' enthusiasm for Scotland as a team has translated into Gabardine learning how to make kilts.

I have my raspberries in large pots, and they do pretty well, as do the wild strawberries, which someone has been stripping overnight. I mean, the whole plant! Somebody obviously loves strawberries.

Yikes! Well, it's too warm to be quilting anyway. I look forward to seeing the finished products!

Yummy-looking scones, Pasta! Maybe when the gerbils have finished taking over the whole of the Bluestocking, we could have a scone-making session (and then eat them all!)

ps. is it "scon" or "scone?". Everyone in Wales I've ever known says "scon" so that's how I've always pronounced it. It irks me something fierce when Americans say "scone."

I say scone rhymes with gone and one.

Lemon shortbread, scones and peanut cookies ready to be put out. Party starts in 20 minutes.

Oops, photo didn't attach. I'm using my grandmother's plates and her tablecloths as well.

Scone rhymes with cone. Not gone.

I think the pronunciation of “scone” depends on who’s eating it, or possibly who made it. The things I eat (rarely, 😢) are sc-owns.

Bluestocking people disagree very politely.

I say the scones look wonderful, but gone doesn’t rhyme with one.

Your scones might. Mine rhyme with gone.

I figure whoever makes them gets to name them.

With you, Maggers.

Incidentally, the collapsing gerbil pyramid on the previous page includes one who has two sets of back legs...

Maybe offering them all a cream tea would buy us some peace and quiet... those scones look amazing.

Oops I seem to have started something! (for goodness sake, don't ask the gerbils)

Wish me luck...

Good luck, Pasta. You’re very well prepared, it will be a grand afternoon.

Good luck, Pasta! They're going to love your food, so I hope you can relax now and enjoy the party.

I don’t mind Earl Grey tea as long as it’s weak, but I can’t abide iced coffee, however hot the day. And scone rhymes with stone, as in the poem by John Betjeman:

How To Get On In Society

Phone for the fish knives, Norman
As cook is a little unnerved;
You kiddies have crumpled the serviettes
And I must have things daintily served.

Are the requisites all in the toilet?
The frills round the cutlets can wait
Till the girl has replenished the cruets
And switched on the logs in the grate.

It's ever so close in the lounge dear,
But the vestibule's comfy for tea
And Howard is riding on horseback
So do come and take some with me

Now here is a fork for your pastries
And do use the couch for your feet;
I know that I wanted to ask you-
Is trifle sufficient for sweet?

Milk and then just as it comes dear?
I'm afraid the preserve's full of stones;
Beg pardon, I'm soiling the doileys
With afternoon tea-cakes and scones.

Except he was mocking middle class pretentiousness. Everything in the poem is using the wrong words and pronunciations…

Well, indeed. And it doesn't take many unpleasant encounters to create indelible caution. I tend to avoid people in general when out walking if it's possible to do so, but that being said I've had many happy encounters with bird watchers, ramblers and other dog walkers.

Bird watchers and dog walkers are usually ready for a chat, but ramblers tend to eye me cautiously, especially if I ask, 'Are you lost?' as they sometimes obviously are, GPS not withstanding: Who is this mad woman with two huge dogs and a mud-coloured coat and a baseball cap with a pheasant on the front?

Once I've given them directions and B&B (who are not huge at all, just lively but well-mannered) haven't torn them limb from limb, they look a bit more confident and trundle off in their red and magenta and turquoise jackets, meaning that I can follow their progress for quite a distance, but if they glance back, I've disappeared.