What ho chaps!
I find myself awake rather more early than I’d planned on this Sunday morning, which is pretty amazing really, as I am known for my unending and eternal love of sleep. I adore it, and as I’ve probably said in the past (I know I do tend to go on the odd loquacious ramble) that I have been known to sleep in some rather strange places including a bus on the way to a night out in Spain…..Not one of my finer moments I’ll admit!
I tend to do that attractive pose which involves my head being flung right back and my mouth wide open as if I’m doing a terrible and highly embarrassing impression of a gormless trout. What’s more awful is the point when my head dips and I do that thing where you wake yourself up with a jolt, then look around in what I hope was a highly furtive manner to see if anyone has witnessed this beautiful display of female allure! I can usually detect a few smirks here and there!
But, enough about my near-constant state of gorgeously attractive somnolence, and so to today’s title:
Baked beans, green beans, human beans, bean sprouts and coffee beans. Just some of the many different varieties of the humble yet useful and versatile bean. (Ok, I feel as if I’m now randomly trying to do some sort of odd, bean-obsessed advert extolling the virtues of beans, so quick-back on topic please!)
The Parent and I had an encounter with a few beans this week. Strangely, I didn’t count them so won’t be able to give you the exact number of beans we had to contend with, but I think I can safely say it was in the billions….
The Brother recently purchased three Big Bertha bean bags. (Other giant bean-filled bags are available) They arrived on thursday in the biggest boxes imaginable. They took up my lounge to the point where I hadn’t seen The Parent for what seemed like a few weeks, and all she was doing was sitting the other side of the sofa with these hugemongoose boxes in between!
I flung down my long-nosed pliers and informed The Parent that we weren’t waiting for The Brother, and that we would unpack the boxes ourselves. What followed was a lot of pulling, pushing and a few mild curses (on my part; The Parent is much more angelic and serene) but eventually we had finally managed to separate the boxes from their prizes. What was now before us was the evidence of what seems to be a highly cheeky and lazy company:
A giant plastic bag of those nightmare-ish polystyrene beans in all their tiny yet inherently evil glory. And a neatly folded suede bag to put them in. Why they couldn’t have sent them to us ready assembled I do not know….Presumably they would have a reason, but I’ll wager not one sufficiently impressive enough to appease me enough at this point: I knew it was going to be very messy!
Helpfully, the company had provided instructions on how to get a bag of beans the size of an average 16-year-old, through an opening the size of an average hamster. (I always measure things by ‘how many hamsters?’ It’s a very effective system for measuring things, and I still can’t see why it hasn’t caught on….that is until the hamster escapes then I’m left with lots of things that need measuring and no possible way to achieve this!)
Anyway, I digress… The company had very helpfully instructed us to fill the bean bags in the bath. Looking back, this was the best advice we could ever have been given, because halfway through the first one, the pesky beans got carried away and decided to make a determined bid for freedom, and we were left with this:
There were beans everywhere! In our hair, up our noses, on the floor! I even found a few down my bra, these dratted beans were so determined to escape! Now I found myself running around like the proverbial headless chicken looking for something to scoop up said beans. In the end I settled for a sieve from the kitchen which turned out to be surprisingly effective!
If I knew how to tweet, I’m sure my twit at the time would be something along the lines of: ‘Crouching in bath scooping beans with The Parent giggling helplessly beside me!’ Now if that wouldn’t have brought the nice men in white with a straight-jacket running, I don’t know what would!
After having survived the inevitable snow storm that these tiny balls of hell had created, we moved on to beanbag number two. Only a few beans spilled on that one, and by the time we were on to number three, we were feeling rather smug and proud of ourselves: Not a single pesky little bean, hurrah!
So! Now The Parent and I were expert bean bag fillers (we were considering a change in career, we were that impressed at our obvious natural ability!), we continued to read the oh-so-helpful instructions (They should have called them destructions) and next on the agenda was removing all the excess air from each bag. This, we thought, was going to be the easy part! We lounged on the bags dispelling all the air we could find, with the zip open at only about half a hamster. (See? You know you want it to catch on!)
All was going rather well until those persistent little devils suddenly popped out of the hole and scattered themselves around the room! It was a little spurt that had us in absolute stitches, and kept happening as we would try to put them all back again! Actual tears were streaming down our faces as we realised we were facing a loosing battle with the bean bags who looked as though they were breaking wind! Phfrrt!
When we had recovered and stopped rolling around the floor as though we were a couple of giggling nutters (Maybe it was the beans? Maybe they were giving off some odourless fumes and we were a tiny bit high on beanbag, who knows?!) we zipped them all up with a mighty cheer and went to have a well-earned glass of squash. (It was 11am- pink fizz isn’t usually allowed until at least 11.30!)
We used them for this first time last night, and I can safely say they were brilliant and worth the fuss!
I’m sure I’ll be hooooovering up the odd recalcitrant bean for many years to come yet…I spotted one hiding in a plant pot yesterday, and I won’t be surprised if The Brother complains at some point this week, as they’ll probably manage to make their way into his soup!
Fatty Blob Head