Ladybird World Mother

Oh, dear. My life has reached depths I hadn't thought possible.
Was cleaning out my Horlicks Jar. Oh, COME ON, we ALL clean out our Horlicks Jar.
Don't we?
Oh.
Bollocks.
Anyway.
Discovered that jar was jam packed with extremely Hard Horlicks. Rock springs to mind. Had a little think about EITHER doing the sensible thing like chucking jar away and buying a new jar, OR breaking up said Rocks of Horlicks into small manageable pieces and putting said pieces into the Magimix, making them into powder,and carefully transporting said powder back into newly cleaned jar.
Well.
I did the clearly Thick Arse thing. With the Magimix.
Armed myself with a 16 lb hammer, a chisel and a screw driver.
Why?
Why not??
And brought them into the kitchen where I placed them carefully on the kitchen table.
Instruments were then used to kick the arse out of the Rock'ard Horlicks, chipping bits of Horlicks off the main block of Horlicks, causing shrapnel to ricochet around the room, war zone style.

<---- Rock of Horlicks









After several minutes of this, there were enough smaller chunks that I could take OUT of the jar and place INTO the Magimix.
Still with me?
Lovely!
Now. I'm not sure if you have ever put chunks of Horlicks into a Magimix before... No? Really? How odd...
But it's rather Noisy.
I actually couldn't hear myself speak.
Because I had a go at speaking just to see if I COULD hear myself.
And decidedly couldn't. Tried shouting REALLY loudly to see if I could hear that.
Nope.
The poor Magimix leapt about like a mad thing, whizzing away at the Horlicks, and I had to stay nearby in case the thing fell off the counter.
At this point there was a knock on the door.
You will understand that I didn't HEAR the knock at the door owing to Said Noise.
So all the person at the door could hear was the sound of a Magimix killing something, and me shouting to see if I could hear myself.
At this point, a third person arrived at the door, in hot pursuit of the former person. They had a little natter at my door, not really liking to interrupt such proceedings when all at once.... QUIET.
Which is when I heard the door bell for the first time.
Trotted off to answer it, and there were two friends, looking somewhat Expectantly Puzzled, if ever there was such a combination.
Come in, come in! I cried. I'm....
And I stopped.
Because Breaking up Horlicks with hammers and chisels might not appeal to everyone.
Indeed, they might just think that I have lost my marbles and have arrived in Happy Farm for Nutters.
Bollocks to it, I thought. And showed them my work.
OK, so it DID look a little messy.
Showers of Horlicks littered every surface. I'd used rather a lot of containers as I kept having to keep the Powdered Horlicks from the Rock Horlicks. It was, quite frankly, a Fiasco.
Needless to say my friends fell about laughing and almost had to hold each other up in mirth.
I kept my end up by laughing heartily too.
Although somewhat Tightly. We don't, after all, like our Efforts to Economise mocked, do we now?
However, I did have a jar of Horlicks that was definitely powder, and I was looking forward to a nice cup of the bloody stuff later, by the fire.
(I thought it might be a good service in the community... to offer to smash up Horlicks for people and charge a small fee.)
There is, however, an 'However....' to the story.
When looking at my jar of Horlicks with some smugness later on that day, on opening the jar to have a good look at the powder (did I tell you I was getting a life for Christmas??) I was somewhat disgruntled to see that the Horlicks had ALREADY STARTED TO HARDEN.
Bastard.
It seems that Horlicks have a brilliant Unique Selling Point.
The bloody stuff only stays powder like till you open the jar.
It then becomes so rock-like that you buy a new one.
Infinitum.
But oh! Not me!
I have my mate the 16lb hammer.
And I will continue to rip the shit out of the Horlicks as and when necessary.
I tell you, there's no flies on me.
Just an awful lot of Horlicks dust.
So attractive.