Today has marked a whole fortnight of kindness for the Yardimci Lads and their ever-faithful-to-the-cause Mum (me). The hubby is STILL holding fast (literally) and allowing nothing to pass the lips between sun-up and sun-down. As today was his day off, we've made it a multi-cultural kind of a day.
Living in a little fishing town in South Devon means we don't tend to have immediate access to the culinary delights of the hubster's home-country of Turkey. As much as I'd like to pop down the shop for a tonne of baklava and a vat of hummus it just ain't happening. So, every now and then we drive an hour or so to Exeter to stock right up.
We've established in other blog posts that I'm an old hippie and therefore - obviously - a vegetarian. So part of this jaunt out is not exactly my favourite thing to do. That part being the bit where the Lads get to drool over a Halal butcher's counter and their Dad asks them to pick anything they like (today Little Lad's pick was an entire leg of lamb which, I'm relieved to say, their Dad drew the line at on account of it not fitting in the oven).
I do, however, enjoy perusing the shelves of spices and olives, tapas and nuts, cheeses and pastries. If there is a nation that knows how to do honey, it is the Turkish, and if you have a sweet tooth, believe me, you now know where to go (I am a particular fan of their hazelnut spread which, when I am in a certain mood, I have been known to eat out of the jar, with a spoon, wearing pyjamas).
So today, whilst I was drifting past the hazelnut spread and pretending with all my might that I hadn't seen it, I noticed a lonely item sitting on a shelf of household goods. I recognised it instantly as an essential weapon against crumbs and fluff in our home and know it to be called a 'GIR GIR'.
Let me paint a picture for you. It is a hand-held plastic block with rotating brushes on its underside. When you hold the plastic end and roll it over a carpet, it takes up all the debris lying around. It is a wonder. And, get this, it is called a 'GIR GIR' because that is the noise it makes as you roll it joyously around on your floor . . . grrrrrrr, grrrrrrrr.
As it is the done thing in Turkey to eat sitting on the floor, this is a must-have for any Turkish household. It means you don't have to get out dear old Henry every time you drop a crumb and / or your children savagely crush Doritos into the floor. It is also an ideal task for any child to get on their knees and attend to, as it is simple and quick and therefore incredibly difficult for them to worm their way out of (I know this to be true).
The reason this jolly device caught my eye today was that our next door neighbour, Margaret, has been mightily impressed by our GIR GIR in the past. She joins us most Saturday evenings to watch something fun on telly, right when the Lads are ranking ridiculously high in their crumb-generating output. Many a time she has witnessed me point at the cupboard under the sink and sternly growl "Grrrr Grrrr".
She must have wondered what the flip was going on at first but now she's a seasoned visitor, she gets how we integrate multiculturalism into our crumb-adorned home.
In short, I bought the thing for her. Strange present, I know, but she has long since abandoned any hope of having normal neighbours and I was positive she would see the positive / highly practical side of this gift.
By the time we got home, Big Lad was most excited about ringing Margaret's doorbell and gripped the GIR GIR tightly in anticipation of her unquestionable appreciation.
Little Lad got in on the action at precisely the right moment to derive the adequate amount of praise and attention (I MUST go over this kindness thing with him again).
But Margaret knew exactly who was the earnest gift-giver here as her hallway carpet got a once-over whether it needed it or not (it didn't).
So tonight, the lovely Margaret is a richer woman. She is adored by the two Lads next door and she need never worry about crumbs again. FACT.
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