what sarah said

You may or may not (let’s be honest, probably not) have noticed that I’ve been rather quiet on here lately. I’d like to put that down to simply not having the time but I think we all know that’d be a lie! I spend far too much time bleating endlessly on twitter to be able to get away with telling such porkies.
No, the sad truth is that everything has been, well, not dull. But all really rather normal and unexciting. I thought you probably wouldn’t be all that interested in reading all about it!

The story is no different today I’m afraid, but I don’t want you to think I’ve abandoned you (and I know you come here because that fancy stats chart that wordpress has now tells me so! And wow, thanks 🙂 I’m genuinely thrilled that folks swing by here as often as they apparently do) so I’ve decided that, when life is currently normal and rather on the mundane side, I’ll tell you a story about something from a while back. 
Let’s hope I can recall enough amusing/ interesting tales to keep you amused! Do let me know if I’m boring you though. Not that I’ll really change anything, mind. It’s still my blog. MINE! *hugs blog possessively* 
Right, now that we’ve established that, on with the tale!

This takes me back to when I was very very small, maybe about 3 or 4. My mother always swore blind I was a cute child. I’ve seen the photos and would argue this but anyway. My big sister was falling into the brit-pop/ grunge/ punk scene that was about to make it big, and she’d discovered a few bands with some naughty words in their lyrics. Obviously this was fine, mother just pretended not to hear it. Whenever I was around, censored versions (bless) of albums were played, which meant that any track with swearing in was skipped. 
This was mostly fine, but being as nosey as I was, it was inevitable that I was going to be overhearing more than was planned. This was largely unknown until one dark day in Tesco.
I was there with my mum, and was sitting on the little barrier that stops trolleys from knocking into the shelves. As my mother tells it, I was sitting there looking as angelic as I could manage. I was very small and had big curly hair and wore lots of pink and was very smiley. I’d seated myself in front of the cakes whilst my mother was browsing the shelves next to me. A little old lady came to look at the display behind and made the mistake of making contact with me. As the elderly lady smiled at me and leant over to investigate the sugary treats, I took a breath and told her “please don’t fuck the cakes”.
Mum says she the little old lady stopped dead in her tracks. Unfortunately mum then make the classic parent mistake of saying “what did you say?” to which I cheerfully repeated my carefully chosen words.
I believe that my sister got a lot of stick for that one. 

NEXT TIME: The day I fell into the toilet on a train. Oooohhhh ‘citing.
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