Or in my case, just plain weird! Some time ago now, lovely Tara over at Sticky Fingers tagged me. She had multiple tags (lucky lady!) and so being the renegade that she is, decided to make up her own rules. Seeing as I am easily lead astray, I too will now blatantly flout the rules and do my own thing!
We were on a seven's theme but I'm beginning to wonder if there are actually seven strange things you don't already know about me; I guess that's the danger of baring all via the wonder web on a regular basis!
So here's a few random bits....
I hate, hate, hate sellotape on my fingernails; for me this could easily pass as a form of torture! If I worked for MI5 (which I don't by the way), you'd have no trouble getting state secrets out of me if you applied a little of the demon stuff on my nails and threatened to rip it off!
I nearly drowned when I was seven. Thinking back, I do wonder what on earth possessed MM to let me play in the river when a) she can't swim and b) she was heavily pregnant with my brother! But it was the seventies so I guess they had a bit of a hippy attitude to child safety in those days. Anyhoo, I fell down a large hole and went under several times, watching all kinds of crap (and I do mean crap), floating around under the water with me. If I shut my eyes I can still picture it and hear the roar of the water, alternated with the sight of MM screaming hysterically on the river bank as I resurfaced - brrgghh. Some older kid pulled me out and I got a bag of marbles for not crying!
Back on the torture theme, I hate buttering toast or the feel and sound of an emery board on my nails - it gives me goosebumps and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. For me it is the equivalent of fingernails scraping down a blackboard or whatever the politically correct version of one of those is called these days. Both of these facts are quite annoying as I love eating toast and getting a manicure, though obviously not at the same time.
Aubergines, I have decided, are fruits of the devil - hideous purple objects that quite frankly remind me of an internal organ. So moussaka can prove to be a bit of a gamble for me. I quite like it and if the freakish things are chopped up within an inch of their miserable lives then that's fine. But if I lift that top layer and come face to face with a huge slice of squidgy yuk-ness then you wont see me for dust. And don't even get me started on ratatouille!
I was nearly born prematurely in a Cliff Richard concert. That would explain a few things I guess!
Tea has to be made the soft Southern way for me. Milk in first, with tea bag and only then can you pour in the water but make sure it's whipped out before it gets a chance to mingle too much. Other Half calls it builder's tea. I prefer to call it high maintenance.
I periodically do this thing where I think I must fold my ear over on its itself when I'm asleep and eventually wake up in absolute agony cos I've cut all the circulation off. OMG it hurts when the feeling comes back and I end up writhing about in agony, biting the duvet so as to keep from screaming out loud! My ears are a perfectly normal size but I do have a big head (apparently) so I'm guessing that the sheer weight of it must be the problem! If this happens to anyone else, please tell me so I don't feel alone in my freakishness!
Will you look at that... I have seven! But I think I'll stop there for fear of frightening you off for good!