Crop tops and dish cloths

Following on from my Tena Lady incident I felt duty bound to share with you, dear reader, some of my other 'mishaps' from days gone by.

Cast your minds back to the 80's when day-glo orange leg warmers and leotards with pixie boots were all the rage (no, just me then!). I was training in hotel management and working in the kitchens of a very swanky hotel. I, with a regularity that Quartz would be proud of, would set fire to my chef's hat, tea towel, apron, etc etc - you sense the theme and became quite practiced at evacuating the hotel whilst awaiting the fire engine. I always rather liked a man in uniform - handy really.

This particular day I was at home, cooking, wearing a very fetching peach crop top and cut off denim shorts (nice look) and leaning over mums 4 ring electric cooker to check if the beans were done (there really was no end to my culinary talents!) set myself on fire. I say me, it was actually my top.

With the practiced speed of a seasoned pro I swept into action and yelled "fire fire fire". Mum came running and yelled "water".....at this point a normal, sensible person would go to the kitchen sink but not I - I have a greater mind than many can possibly imagine. I grabbed the damp blue jay cloth sitting on the worktop and dabbed at the flames now licking up my crop top (making it very much more cropped than originally designed) whilst uttering such classics as "ooo ooo" and "hot hot". With mutterings of "idiot" mum ran to the kitchen sink, grabbed the washing up bowl and flung the contents at me. I, seeing saucepans, plates, cutlery etc hurtling through the air ducked and turned to see my dad getting hit in the face with everything as he'd run to my rescue. Eventually the flames ran out of crop top to burn and I was left with slightly singed eyebrows, my dad recovered from his soaking and mum invested in a fire extinguisher!.