Bulk Mail

I am fed up with the amount of spam I am receiving lately.They target the easily led, people who don`t read things properly and the usual Viagra,advertising 40% off for perverts, National Bank, for people who may actually have an account with this bank, then open it in error.

Some recent titles were:-

Sender Subject
P Brimm Wankotsu
Wesley Lockhart ElmoFuckstickExtensive
magda durst Make your T python hu and ha
marra pruitt fashion trends in accessories

Is everybody on the make? Last week I was rushing through town passing a fruit seller barrow boy, he was talking to a customer. The fruit was banked up in columns in a cantilever position. I noticed a woman, touching the tangerines with one hand while holding a finger to her mouth, feining decision making. When the lad looked away, she rolled an orange up her sleeve. When I mentioned this to his fellow assistant she answered in a world weary way " That doesn`t surprise me, he caught a man with a bunch of grapes inside his coat last week." The imagery of this is scary.

At this time of year, the shops are crowded, especially food emporiums. Try to advise my husband that we are only buying all of this stuff to satisfy the advertisers, why do we need it all when the shops are open again so soon? But he loves the whole hyperventilating rush, panic for a trolley, supermarket sweep experience. Again, I turn the corner aisle of one well known shop to witness a man stuffing a packet of pasta up his jumper. When I mention this to husband, he says "He might not have much money." Yeah, that`s why the rest of us have to pay more.

Well, that`s me off the soap box, now to settle down with my nice PAID FOR cup of tea and a slice of cake.

Jewish Jacket Potato

Pal D and I arrive at Art Cafe to the usual friendly greeting "Hi wrinklies." A rather refined lady is sat in the corner of the room on her own, she is looking at the menu. B approaches and she orders a jacket potato.

We admire the new paintings on the cafe` walls, we particularly like the oil paintings of apples. B confides that he had suggested buying one to his partner who said "I`ve already got one old fruit at home, I don`t want one on my walls."

He tells us that he had been to a wedding last Saturday, but had to go straight from work, he said "I smelled like a chip, I nearly asked if anyone had a bun for a chip butty." He turned to the lady in the corner,
B "Oh, I see you haven`t eaten the skin?"
L "No, I never eat the skin."
B "Right then, next time I`ll make you a Jewish jacket potato."

D is talking about her recent trip to Italy where the handbags are designer and very expensive. She was looking at an alligator bag
D "It was gorgeous, alligator, but it looked as if it had been botoxed."
B "I wonder if it was botoxed before or after it was dead"
D "Uh, how horrible"
B "Otherwise it may not have been a snappy bargain"

We laugh, and so does he at his own joke. I don`t know what this lady is thinking, all this talk of skin in one form or another. We resume our chat about boozing and occasions when we have been tipsy to pissed.

I tell D about my hubby`s night out with the fellas from work, they were at the Old George, he didn`t get home until 1.30am. I was watching Billy Elliot on T.V. when he got back. He sat down on the chair, put his glasses on, promptly fell asleep,slid down the chair, the specs lodged sideways over the bridge of his nose, then one of the arms went up his nose, not a pretty sight. I couldn`t resist taking a photo of him. Next day when he looked at it he said "I really did have a skin full."

Call the Fashion Police

D and I are watching Trinny and Susannah dressing the nation. They are working on a new coding system for body types, know your type they advise. So...which type are you....my husband is all ears, they explain that some men have a beer belly or have a broad neck or broad shoulders or man boobs or short legs. D listens to this and comments "Well what category am I... I have all of those?" to which darling son looks at me..I know what is coming "Try fat bastard size" then laughs. Then we are into the baldy jokes and fat jokes. As G and D both work for BT, G says "The lads at work were surprised that you are my Dad, they said you look nothing like the old man...and I said Thank f*** for that."

The girls move up north and visit a slate mine, they need to enter a tunnel to find the men, Trinny is more worried about having to wear a fleece.

Son G goes upstairs, fetches a T shirt which he has recently purchased, and asks me to take it up on my sewing machine. It looks fine for length to me and I tell him so. D puts his two penworth in "It`ll be too short" G sneers back "The day I take fashion advice from you, I`ll shoot myself!"

Botox-ily Bootiful

Have watched a programme on Haute Couture Fashion, Ivana Trump was there. Karl Lagerfeld , like Max Wall in his customary black, cling fit pants and Hobbit huge boots, pony tailed grey hair and botoxed lips. The high collar on his shirt not only hid his wrinkly neck, but it looked as if it was holding his neck up.

We were informed that Lacroix would hire a jet to transport three dresses to New York. Club members are on a continual diet, if they are able to get into a dress that the model wore at the show, they get it for that price, but if it has to be made in a bigger size, they pay the full haute couture whack.

Judith, a middle aged club member flounces in front of the mirror in a very girly, (and I mean strictly for the poker thin, young skin brigade) black and white dress with huge lacy white sleeves, gypsy style. She doesn`t want to wear "Something that half of America is wearing"
She insists that haute couture is a collectable form of art, an investment, people don`t think anything of buying a painting, just as much goes into clothing.Oh, really, then I wonder if this phrase might come in handy when I`m trying to drag my husband into Next or Haute Cu Matalan.

Rusty mechanisms

G is in his room watching Borat for the umpteenth time, his girlfriend is on holiday with relatives. D has read in the newspaper that WD40 can be used on arthritic joints, apparently the Americans have used it for years....so..that makes it ok then!!!! He returns from the local hardware store, places it on the bench and rushes upstairs to wash his dodgy knee. I pick up the tin, it reads For use on metal hinges, stops squeaks, loosens rusted parts and frees sticky mechanisms....I wonder if it will work on his wallet. Son P tries it on a sore finger, after about half an hour "Hell, this UB 40 stinks, and its not making any difference, I`m going to wash it off" The three of them put together wouldn`t make a good un.

D is full of vigour, and suitably loosened, decides to water the plants with the hose. I ask him to leave the hose out as we have had a number of cats peeing in our garden. I switch on the radio and learn that a new satelite navigation toothbrush is on the market for £150. it supposedly directs the brusher to places that need more attention, the presenters have asked folk to make suggestions of other sat nav uses. A young man rings in, what about directions in wiping your arse, they think this is really funny and ask him how old he is, 21. Then a stream of young women with ideas ranging from how to apply eyebrow pencil, nail varnish, for men to detect the toilet seat, aiming into the bowl, not the floor, and many calls for a sat nav to detect the G-spot etc. G and D need one when working in the kitchen "When you burn the toast and scrape it into the sink...please find the sponge...2 feet in front of you, tap to the left... left ahead.....now turn on the tap... and CLEAN UP after your bloody self!!!!

D has returned from the garden and is watching Robbie Coltrane in the Lake District, then Robbie visits Sunderland where he sees an old fella with a listed pigeon cree., then on to the spooky Chillingham Castle where he will stay the night, near the ghost of "The Mad Tormenter, Mr Sage, the torturer, maybe if those Scottish prisoners had a tin of WD40 with them, the pain might not have been so bad?

A Hollow Place

I am eating a piece of cheese and bite into something crunchy, it turns out to be half of a tooth, one of my own. I`m pleased in one sense that some factory worker with a grudge against their employee hasn`t been at work, but fed up by one more sign of decrepitude. An appointment at the dentist is needed.

I am sitting in the dentists chair, complete with plastic bib and dribble, when my mobile sounds from the depths of my handbag. It`s friend D "Where are you?" "Would you believe in the dentists chair." I arrange to meet her at Laboca Art Cafe later. The dentist tells me that this is her first job since qualifying, I am relieved to learn that my treatment doesn`t require an injection, just a patch up. I am still expecting the drill to start whirring at any moment, but she simply applies the cement stuff, does the tooth not need to be surfaced first....no....never mind?

On the way, by bus, I get chatting to an old fella, very stubbly, he`s wearing a thick grey overcoat and a wooly hat, it`s quite warm. He tells me that he had been an inmate of a borstal when he was young and the staff used to put them in stocks, trapped by their hands then beat them. We muse that they would be hauled into the courts nowadays, but he is adamant that it didn`t do him any harm and that some of the kids now need that kind of treatment. He cracks a joke, "When a lived in Newcastle when a was a kid, wi cud arl speak Italian....we used to shout Ma am ear"

As usual D is late, I chat with cafe owner B. He is holding a sale of Lizzie Rowe`s drawings and work on a Sunday soon and there will be food and drinks, this sounds like it could be something to mark in the diary. When I tell him where I`ve been he quips "Oh, so you`ve had your cavity filled.......you mean you`ve had an oral" we laugh, B is looking out of the window and sees D approaching up the ramp, he shouts "Here she comes, the blond tart, Raquel de Spare Part." We laugh again, when she walks in, she looks from one to the other "Have you two been laughing at me?" he answers "She called you Lilo Lil." Bloody liar.

I take the opportunity to give out leaflets to B`s customers for a coming event at East End Library, a talk on the life and work of Jack Common, there are photos of the Heaton area he was brought up in from the early 1900s. I have asked for a half day to go, but still don`t know if that will be possible. I sit back down and make sure that I do not bite the chocolate in case my filling comes out, but this is exactly what it does. So I have to travel back then wait around for a slot.

There are two elderly nuns in the waiting room with an old woman in a wheelchair, another woman with them who is in charge of pushing, they are saying God bless you alot to the assistants and nurses. They have a mini bus outside and they all pile in with the wheelchair. Come and join us, come and join us.... reminds me of an Enid Blyton trip.....I wonder if they have biscuits and lashings and lashings of ginger beer.

Rolling Chicken

I meet friend D for a coffee at our usual place, Laboca Art Cafe, B greets us with one of his polite phrases"Hello slappers" we tell him to hurry up and serve coffee. He is using his lap top, so we look at his photos showing his partner, they were staying with B`s brother in law who is on the rich list. We are mad jealous of the massive swimming pool and fabulous rooms and furniture (Back to the rabbit hutch)

D and I share our mundane information of our week, I tell her that I had intended to plant some forget me nots in my Dad`s urn (Which I keep in the garden) but I can`t remember where I have put them. I tell her about my bus journey. I accompanied a friend of mine, Irene, we sat together, in front of us we observed a harrassed woman, submerged in food carrier bags, she is so flushed she reminds me of a clockwork doll, while behind us is a friend of I`s mother. We chat to mother`s friend, then notice the woman in front is struggling with her bags to the front of the bus. Irene looks down at her own feet and there is a carrier bag there, "Excuse me" she cries, you`ve forgotten one of your bags." she runs to the front and gives the shopper the bag. We watch as the poor woman hauls herself along he path. We continue our three way conversation until it is time for I`s mother`s friend to get off at her stop, she exclaims "Where is my barbeque chicken?" Whoops.

I have to leave early as I have an appointment for a blood test at the doctors, not an experience that I can stomach, as I generally pass out. Strange, that I can suffer injections to my upper arm, leg and even rump, but find it excrutiatingly sick making when subjected to blood taking, it doesn`t even hurt, but the idea of a vein being punctured does my head in. For this debilitation, I blame my mother, when I was around five years old I have a vivid memory of the return of mother dear from her blood test at the doctors. She took great delight in speaking of "The Doctor said that`s a nice juicy vein." And how she passed out onto the floor and was "Brought around." by smelling salts.

D has been to her static caravan in Cumbria at the weekend and began a converstaion with a fellow camper, a born again Christain, who will sing at church about the holy lamb of god, and then eat them with mint sauce. I am not religious, but still feel guilty eating meat, cute pigs, the beautiful brown eyes of cows and cheeky proud chickens, but I don`t delude myself that "God" put them here for us to eat, I feel guilty about eating a fellow creature, but I am honest and enjoy the taste. This woman was telling D that she was in haste to prepare for her candlelit supper, but she preferred to call them gadabout suppers as they were charging from van to van, then laughed at her own "Joke?"

The nurse takes the needle and phial from the sterile packaging, I am aware of this happening while trying to focus on ....cracks in the ceiling, posters, mindless chatter about the weather... anything to take my mind away from the impending doom of the needle. It doesn`t work, and I hear myself saying "I`m going to put my head between my knees now." She knows the drill. I am left in the room while she beetles around the building , then let myself out making sure that I close the door behind me. I then proceed to the hairdressers. Please don`t ask me where I`ve been, or I`ll pass out again at the thought of it!!!! I pick up a Hello magazine to divert my train of thought, Jordan is shown naked, heavily pregnant, pouting and curled around Peter, who is dressed like Sammy Davis Jnr...white shirt, loosened dicky bow tie and black waistcoat.

I leave to catch the bus home and make sure that I don`t put any of my bags on the floor.

"Not waving but Drowning"

At last the boat is removed to Lake Windermere. D and I decide to make a trip there on Monday, as we are both off work. Relying on a map drawn by G we are forced to ferret around asking numerous people, most of which turn out to be visitors like ourselves.

As we have no dinghy, we borrow the little boat Bonito, of which G`s fellow seafarer friend has said that we could borrow when he is not using it. We find it, among others propped up by a bar stool. We roll it down to the secluded jetty, and it slips effortlessly into the water. D gives me the rope, I am to walk along the boarded ramp and tie it to the pole, as I have no idea how to tie a knot which is secure but can easily be shaken loose, I simply hold onto it. D climbs in, then asks me to follow suit, which I do, very aware that I could fall into the drink.

I sit down, water is rushing in apace, and D is using a sawn off milk carton to bale out the water when I notice that the bungs are out (Maybe this is why Gs friend has it on an angle, to let the water drain out when it rains!!!!) D hurriedly replaces them, then bales out the rest of the water. He pulls, and pulls and pulls............. but the outboard motor refuses to kick in, meanwhile we are veering towards some bushes, and have to duck to see what we are doing. I have an uneasy feeling that I don`t trust this person. After using the oar to push himself away from the foliage, D tries again.....I am bored to the point of murder.....He decides to row.

All is calm, until we notice a kind of pleasure cruiser is heading bang in our direction, luckily D knows that "You always go starboard, so that you avoid eachother." However, when it passes there`s a hell of a buffetting going on.

I am relaxed once more as we navigate around Bell Island. D is very red in the face.(G has assured us "You can`t miss it) There are scores upon scores of white boats with blue on, an odd red one. We notice one of them is named "Don`t Panic" I can just imagine the scenario back home "Did you enjoy your trip to the boat?" "Yes." "Did you sleep on the boat?" "No, because we couldn`t bloody well find it!" After much weaving about, we find it.

We have the same old palaver, lining up the little boat alongside (What G likes to call the tender) I jump aboard first and am busily tying the rope to a hook, as I turn, I notice that D is stretched to capacity, feet in the little boat, hands in white knuckle position and eyes like organ stops. I reach for the side and pull him back in. Maybe I should have left him, it may have added 3 inches to his height. When he regains his composure, he throws a carrier bag over the side, it holds sandwiches, pop and crisps. He clambers over and stands on the bag, on my cheese and onion crisps.

I am starting to suspect that everything we are doing is more by good luck than good management. My nerves are shot to hell. D puts the kettle on for a coffee, I am so paranoid by now that I don`t trust him to do that....."What if he hasn`t checked the gas stove properly/ where is the fire extinguisher/ We have to get back around the lake yet" etc I imagine some little man on the shore saying to Petunia "There`s someone waving from a little sailing dingy" D comments that "It would be better if we had someone with us who knew what they were doing." I reply "Yes, instead of two of us who don`t" We laugh, more out of desperation that anything else.

After Much binding in the Marsh, we decide to row back to the harbour and have a look around the shops, maybe have a little lunch. More confidently this time, we unhook the "Tender" and begin our journey back, after some time, D remembers that he hasn`t taken the bungs out of the boat. We go back, I have the job of scrambling aboard. We notice another couple lounging on a much larger boat, I bet they are having a good laugh at us.

After we replace the Bonito back on his bar stool, we walk up a little lane and around the corner towards the harbour. As we sit on the front with our ice cream, we can`t help but notice, rather sheepishly, that our "Secluded" mooring was in full view of everyone. Well, If they`re laughing at us they are leaving someone else alone.
Land lubbers ahoy...but at the same time we are quite proud of ourselves, we have learned quite alot from "Throwing ourselves in at the deep end."

Broadband Hearing Aids

I go to town to meet friend D, we meet at 10.30 at Laboca Art Cafe. I, as usual am on time. B enquires "Where`s Lily Savage?" I reply "Oh, she`ll be late as usual." He asks "Was that your husband you were with last time, I hope he didn`t take offence when I told him to bugger off, I was rushed off my feet." (Of course not, that`s why we come here.)

D arrives with her photos from LA and I have brought mine of Devon. She tells me of one of the guests at her hotel, he loved to tell everyone how much he spends on his big car, house, boat and everything else he possesses. She couldn`t help noticing his massive hearing aids. "He could just about pick up Broadband on them." We agreed that if he had so much money, then he should buy a set of digital hearing aids, then he may pick up Sky TV.

On my way home on the bus, an old dear boards hurriedly to be out of the rain. She is around 70ish and is wearing a very large white mac with a huge hood. It reminds me of the anthrax scare in America. Where is all of this rain coming from, we are reading of flooding in places which are otherwise not bothered by this problem. I expect rain in April, but not in flaming June. If I could get my hands on the little sod in the desert who is performing a rain dance, he would need a hearing aid after I`ve finished boxing his ears.

Gone with the Wind

All of our neighbours are friendly and would do anything for anyone...except one couple, E & G, who have alienated themselves on many occasions with ourselves and others on the block. E likes to sit on the front lawn wearing her yellow flowered print dress which she arranges in a complete circle around herself. She talks on her mobile phone, she enjoys flicking her hair back as she laughs loudly (like an extra from Gone with the Wind) She thinks that she is the most beautiful thing on the planet.

Husband G likes to dye his hair and excercises, he also likes the rest of us to know that he does, by keeping his home gym in the garage and leaving the up and over door open for everyone to see him and his manliness. He likes to sing songs loudly e.g. (Don`t it make your brown eyes blue), while in the kitchen. G also likes neighbours to hear what he has to say on his mobile phone, so he conducts his "high powered" insurance man speak in the garden whenever possible.

They now own a very grand, hollywood style rabbit hutch. They are in their fifties and have no children at home.

Three weeks ago they had dark bumpy style paving stones placed, by contractors, to cover all of their back garden. The workmen were called back after a week of torrential rain. One might assume the work to be faulty, paving stones lifting etc, but no.... E & G have decided that the wrong colour stones have been put down. Methinks that it would take a little less that three weeks to discover this. There are light pink and sandstone arrangements in place now, with some buckets, bags of sand, spades and bollards which have been stacked up against their back door. E was remonstating with the workmen "I am not a happy bunny, and my rabbit has been stressed!"....."If I fall on this path I could sue your boss!!!" I couldn`t help thinking that paving stones are not exactly rabbit friendly, so it`s debateable which will stress the creature more.

E was hosting a girly party at home and could be heard redirecting various women to "Just go around the front." When one of the women stepped into the garden from the kitchen, E could be heard encouraging the rabbit in a squeaky voice "Come on then, say Hello to C" ........C obliges...
"Oooooh aren`t you a lovely colour?"
Well I do declare...........What was I saying about Gone with the Wind?

Do it Yourself

We go to B & Q, D needs some bolts, he asks me to go with him, I agree if he promises that he will seek out the bolts, then leave. When we get there, he star

ts to look at hose attachments, monopolises a young assistant for 15 minutes describing how he wants two connections...blah...blah...blah. When the yo

ung man takes his leave I state that I am bored stiff. D reminds me that he had to trawl around graveyards while on holiday. Up and down the aisles, internal doors, drills, cork mats and various galvanised items later, I begin to hum Olivers Army....and I would rather be anywhere else than here today. Meanwhile, D is just about having an orgasm as we pass the hedge trimmers, alternatively, I would rather be boiled in oil or poked in the eye with a big stick.

The car radio is on as we travel on to town, an item on how Harry will not be allowed to go to war in Iraq. The Muslims say they won`t kill him, just cut off his ears. D comments "They should send Charles then, his ears could do with a bit of a trim."

After a little retail thereapy, we go to Laboca, it`s packed, B is serving and running around like a blue arsed fly. We order cheese toasties, coffee and a diet coke (The coke for D) D drinks his coke off in one, then asks B for another "Bugger off, I`m busy." then he brings the drink immediately, laughing as he does so.

We move on, passing Greys monument, the usual complainers are out in force.... and the Christians, the happy clappers. The Army has a recruitment stand and as they try to entice the disaffected youth of the city, an old dear, around 70ish is busily skittering around in front of the soldiers giving out leaflets Troops out of Iraq Don`t Attack Iran. She glares at the lads while sucking her teeth in a very aggitated fashion, the boys in berets are oblivious, flexing their muscles looking hard.

Coming out of TJ Hughes, one of the bars on the corner of the Bigg Market is packed to the rafters, there`s a football match on widescreen t.v. Four Scottish persons look in on the drinkers, one of them a scrawny looking individual, Mohican peroxide blonde haircut with brown roots, who looks pissed already at 2.00 in the afternoon, shouts out in a broad Scottish twang "That`s a faggots bar." Two Geordies laugh at him nudging eachother, obviously don`t think he`s any challenge. What he will find out if he talks like that in the evening in the Bigg Market, is that even the so called "Faggots" can pack a punch in this town. Life is hard, and I dare say he will have learned his lesson by now. Hold on a minute...till I fetch a leaflet from the army... there`s a nice young Scottish lad who wants to join up!!!!!

Pugwash Ahoy!!!

G has bought a 17ft boat, he has left it to his father to buy the paint, sand the bloody thing and finely tune the 3 outboard motors which came with it. He has also bought a dinghy to get to it when it is moored. He has applied for a mooring place by letter to Lake Windermere (The only time he has lifted a finger to help) So, at the moment, The Ipanema, is standing loftily at the top of our garden perched on a trailer. They continually climb aboard and "test" the motor. Why is it that anything with a switch, handle,pulley or motor, men will click, roar,drag and rev like there`s no tomorrow?

G has conveniently left for Krakow on a Stag party trip, amazingly has not asked me to pack for him... he`d know better. D is annoyed because he has taken our toiletries with him.



D had a day off as he was rostered in for Saturday, he decided to spend time sanding. He put on goggles and a face mask then used the electric sander. After a while, he went into the back street to open the garage door. J and J two sons of T and J were outside, they began laughing at D, he didn`t know why. He came into the house to look in the mirror, he had taken off the mask and goggles and was covered in black paint, he looked like a panda where the mask and goggles had been.



G comes in from work, and I can`t resist humming the tune to Blue Peter "Ha Ha very funny" he says. I find an old book called Pugwash and the New Ship, how apt. I show G and he replies, "That`s a gay book isn`t it?" I had no idea, apparently the crew were called Master Bates and Seaman Staines etc. Well you learn something every day.



D and I have just returned from a holiday in Devon, I, of course was on my family history trail. I had contacted C.P. of the Stokenham History group to see if she could help me to get back one more generation before my visit. She put me in touch with a man in the Midlands, P.L who amazingly has turned out to be a second cousin. Fortunately he has gone back to 1540 with our ancestors, so needless to say I am thrilled. There are three vicars, mariners and thatchers among them, what a mix.



We called to the village where most of my ancestors came from, the people were very friendly, and lots of them mentioned a local eccentric E.W. in his eighties and very knowledgeable of the local area and on who is married to who, and who should have married whoever, plus local history. One of them had seen him just a few days ago, and saw him chopping branches from roadside trees for his fire. All descriptions of him ended with comments such as "He`s a real eccentric" "You`ll have to set aside at least two hours." "He never gets a bus anywhere, he just roams around here." "There`s no harm in him." etc. Just the man, I enquired where he lived, and couldn`t help but notice the wide eyed expressions. "Oh you`ll find it at the top of the hill, but its covered in bushes and creepers."



D parked the car and commented that he would not be calling in, he`d be next door where they were selling plants. I meandered through the rambling bushes towards a huge detached building, very and grey imposing, but it hadn`t been looked after for a long while. I looked into the porch and a collection of work benches and tools lay in there. No reply, I could hear a radio and an upstairs standard lamp was on. Nobody around at the back either, but through the window I could see lots of sepia photos on a fireplace shelf, I wondered who all of those people were. No reply at the back. I looked down to a deeply sloping garden, a fridge lay on its side at the bottom, no doubt had outlived its usefulness and been launched out of the back door. I was really gutted that I didn`t get to meet the old fella, maybe next year, but he`s no spring chicken and neither am I,(more like an old rooster).



Dartmouth and Totnes are worth a visit, but I wasn`t very impressed with Paignton, a bit run down. All of the villages near where we stayed in West Buckland were beautiful, I can see why people retire there, thatched cottages, peace and quiet. Some of the young holidaymakers are keen on T shirts with slogans, I have always secretly admired folk who sport controversial comments on clothing. Favourites such as Another Day Another Diet. Live long enough to be a Problem to your Children. A Woman`s Work is never done So Why Bother. But I totally draw the line to see I caught crabs at Dartmouth. But one absolutely horrific one was worn by a baby of around 8 months of age, it was black in colour with silver print which read The Condom Ripped.



Went to the care home to see father in law, I took him a flask of oxtail soup and some bread and butter, its his favourite. One of the residents did off with a piece of bread, then left it on the table. Staff were trying to get B into the bathroom, she was being prepared for a hospital visit. They finally got her into the bathroom, locked the door, and she began screaming "Let me out.....help" Another resident on the other side was pulling frantically at the door handle shouting "For F*** sake."



I am sitting near the patio door, a pair of blackbirds have made a nest in the Clematis, they are back and forwards carrying worms wrapped around their beaks. That reminds me, haven`t eaten anything yet, I fancy a cheese sandwich. Has this not put you off food I hear you ask, well no, because I work in a nursery and have to sit eating my dinner while the baby room staff talk about nappies, textures and sick. Just thought I`d share that with you.

T.V.

D is annoyed because I have the T.V. controls and am watching customary programme on the Victorians, I am listening to an account of how they employed de-buggers to sort out the problem of infested wooden beds, when they adopt metal ones, the problem ceased, therefore the de-bugger would be jobless. Next I watch A picture of Britain, David Dimbleby speaks of the first travel guide book for the lakes, every traveller made sure that they had a copy when they visited, D sarcastically remarks "In case they needed toilet paper.....I hate these kinds of programmes with a vengeance"

When youngest son P was a kid and interested in making models with clay, he discovered Fimo, made an image of his father holding the TV controls in one hand and a Kit Kat in the other. He also made a model of his brother, G, also in customary pose displaying an offensive gesture. (Photo)

The news is on next Andy and Oliver go for a smoking break 1 hour a day, 5 times a week, the government are considering giving people time off work to kick the habit, why can`t they use their lunch break if they want to smoke......well, can I make a suggestion..I need time off to kick my chocolate habit and I also need therapy for shoe buying. Or how would it work for sex addicts, would they be allowed home for a quick shag. Oh, and while they are at it, therapists could be set up in the pubs

I am enjoying a programme on the Edwardians, there is a section on two men Barr and Stroud, an old sepia photo shows them sitting in deck chairs. They were interested in optical illusions, the person without the T.V. controls quips again "And they are both wearing jam jar bottoms." (large lensed glasses) I give up and hand the controls over to him, Fat Man`s Warning is on, I shuffle through to turn on the computer, check my e mails for Genes or Ancestry messages and wonder if there are still any De-Buggers out there, I have a very large one on my sofa.

Fish Sitting

Brother and sister in law D & A are in Cyprus attending the Greek wedding of friends, they are staying in the same hotel in which the reception is to be held. Husband and I are to feed their fish Orange every day, I wonder why a 7 day fish block won`t do, but they tell me that Orange is prone to depression, he hates his water being changed, afterwards he hides behind a writing slate which D & A position outside the corner of the tank. Bearing in mind that a fish has a memory span of around 2 minutes, one can imagine his thoughts during this traumatic time
"I`m depressed, but I can`t remember why!!!!!!!"

Each night we feed the fish, pick up letters and check the plants. Brother has a timer for the
lights and has also set the T.V. we switch it on, it turns itself off at 11.00 p.m. I notice an A4 sheet of paper on the floor, he has drawn around the controls and there are various arrows and numbers around it, he thinks I`m thick.

The week flies by and we call around to theirs on Saturday, they are making a Greek salad. This, I recognise, when we come back from holiday we resolve to eat healthily, exercise and as we have lived for 1/2 weeks without ornaments, T.V. and with the bare minimum of clothing, more resolutions are set to have a mass clearout, we foist all of our rubbish on charity shops, churches and relatives who "Might need it sometime."

They have brought presents, we are given a bottle of Cyprus brandy which is held inside a woven leather casing and has a shiny wooden stopper... (I have to stop myself from wondering how I can use the bottle when the brandy is finished)...... and an ornament...a cup and saucer which reads Cyprus the Island of Venus.

Back home.....If I move back my knitted Channel 4 monkey free with PG Tips and the two plaster flowers from a friend`s visit to Stoke potteries, the angel from another friend and the Chinese chop from son and daughter in law`s honneymoon, and a Piggin Inebriated.... I can just fit the cup and saucer in.

Decorating

I spend all morning chiselling plastic coated paint from a metal unit in the kitchen, the bits are plinking all over my face, neck and arms. When I`ve finished, it`s another chisel job to get it off my skin. I hoover, then sit down with a coffee, sandwich and two mini crunchies. On T.V. a programme called The 200-year-old house is on. The Victorians never cease to amaze, they create a wallpaper which has arsenic in its makeup (to preserve and anhance the bright colours) which becomes airborne when aggitated. The maid, who ironically is employed to keep the place clean, by using her feather duster, is responsible for putting them all in hospital. Her other tasks are to empty the chamber pots, cook and rake out the fire place, hand washing is not one of their strong points.

Outside, the streets run with manky water, which is a mixture of household waste and human waste which would run under the doors, another maid task to sort out, meanwhile, the lady of the house would be seeing to her embroidery surrounded by ornate hair brush sets and books on how to be a good housewife. No doubt later attending the meeting for votes and rights for women with the Pankhursts of this world, which her maid wouldn`t have time for. Suddenly my little cabinet doesn`t seem so daunting.

Day off

D is off work today, so I have the pleasure of his company! I pick out a sliced loaf from the bread bin and notice that it is Ukranian Rye Bread, it`s like rubber and tastes of soda. Just as I am about to take another chewy bite, I notice that D has left a bottle of Otex on the table, and G has brought a cup from his room which is one stage away from growing penicillin.

D wants to got to Wallsend High Street. A supermarket advertises "Save money, shop here and have more money left for beer." As I haven`t eaten anything for my breakfast, that`s if you don`t count one mouthful....I am quite peckish. I suggest that we try this fish and chip cafe, it advertises a pot of tea and bread and butter. We pick a seat near the window. There are two young mothers on the next table wearing hipster jeans and crop tops, one of the mothers feeds her baby of around 15 months which is sitting in a high chair. "This is the first time she`s had fish, she doesn`t like it much, but she`s eaten all the mushy peas." Then they compare tattoos on the small of their backs.

The fish is beautiful, very juicy with crisp golden batter. D has bought an Evening Chronicle, he reads about Kevin Keegan on the sports page, a history of his time with Newcastle United. I listen to the conversations around me. A passing old fella picks up a diners coat from the floor "Ee pet, your in Waaallsend noo, you want to watch, they`ll pinch your coat while your tryin` to do up the buttons." She thanks him and they laugh. The people are really friendly, one of the mothers smiles at me and one of the staff is continually beetling among the tables, removing used dishes, spraying, wiping clean every surface in sight and asking everyone if they`ve enjoyed their food....which reminds me of my sister in law A`s favourite saying...

"After the game, the King and the Pawns all go back into the same box."

Chocolate Fountain

We visit the Cadbury World. We buy Easter eggs, a postcard showing the Frys Five Boys and a massive bar of Dairy Milk which we can hardly lift (this is for the chocolate fountain, yum) The museum has a shop facia,there are chocolate boxes made of wood, satin, silk with very ornate embellishments, they were used as jewellery boxes afterwards. Lots of photos from earlier times showing how well looked after the workers were, cricket matches, kids clubs, trips etc. clowns, interactive games for kids and adults, computer games, adverts,chocolate making demos, films, model villages and a playground.

Afterwards we drive to 81 Elm Road to look at the house where my grandfather`s brother lived when he was a staff buying clerk for Bourneville. Why am I the only one fascinated by this? They are all mortified when I suggest that we knock on the door.Then we drive off to get ready for S`s birthday bash.

He tells us about his new flat in Manchester,he has a new white leather sofa. The lift got stuck with 14 of them inside, one of them threatened to be sick. They heard a muffled cry, so they all kept quiet... it was coming from the next lift "How many of you are there?" ..."Only me" came the reply. One of the other residents tried to open the door with an ironing board. Meanwhile, someone had contacted the press.... another neighbour came along just as they arrived and simply poked her fingers between the doors and they opened... the press were not amused..."Don`t let them out yet, we haven`t filmed it." I could listen to S all day. We chop up kiwi, tangerines, bananas and cherries, then pig out dipping it into the fountain.

Travelling on Easter Weekend

Travelling by car for the Easter weekend to visit the in-laws in Wolverhampton, in the short space from Newcastle to Carlisle i count 23 dead pheasants at the roadside, poor little birdy souls. Caravans, please get off the road, bikers in leather gear trying to look hard. The car in front sports a Churchill nodding dog, a biker nods his helmet in the same rhythm. An annoying song on the radio, Jessica, Tabitha,.....Sue Annabelle too, or something, change channels. A walker wearing a wooly hat carrying a haversack, "I love to go a wandering, along the mountain slope..." how my mind wanders when bored.

Speed camera sign, and then further along the road, a burnt out camera covered with black liner and gaffa tape. Another pheasant, looking beautiful, dithering on the path, number 24? Electric pylons looking like dutch maids carrying buckets, or Chinese pagodas. There is an almighty stink, I accuse D of farting, it turns out its a cow field.

We watch the bumper to bumper lines of traffic, in the opposite lanes, probably heading for the lake district, and are grateful that we sail through on our side. We imagine the amount of children asking "Are we nearly there yet."

A Scottish Saltire flag is flying in a field, there are sheep with dyed orange and green wool. A Thornton`s van goes past, time for a chocolate stop. A dead fox and a dead crow and various little beige creatures pass, but don`t put me off chocolate.
Hello hello, at a place called Vertigo is playing on the radio as we pull in.

Back on the road, cross hatching trees, D is speeding up, listening to his Tom Tom..."After 800 yards keep right" An animal truck passes with little black noses and furry ears poking through the slats, there is a sign advertising Blackpool Pleasure Beach..... the poor little black noses won`t be going anywhere near as pleasant, wish that I didn`t like the taste of lamb. There is a funny smell, I don`t think it`s the cows this time, but daren`t make any more accusations.

Phrases

I am in the bathroom, examining my laughter lines, I`ve read somewhere that super models use pile cream to shrink creases around the eyes, kind of gives a new meaning to the phrase "You`ve got a face like an arse". (Usually used to describe a grumpy person. Talking of which, G has plugged in his hair cutter and is shaving his head in the bathroom. D walking up the stairs, with a look of pure menace shouts
"Are you making a boiled egg?" G refrains from comment as his mobile has just sounded, (James Bond theme 007) He carries on his conversation in his room. D takes his chance to nip into the bathroom. When G comes back to resume his task, he sees D in the bathroom shaving his face and returns the previous insult. "Are you making a full moon or a half moon?" then laughs.

Feeling very sleepy.....I resent being woken up at 6.30 a.m. on a weekend. D tells me that he can`t sleep in past the usual time that he gets up for work...Fine, but get dressed quietly...don`t bounce on the bed to put on your socks, then bounce again to put on shoes!!! He`s very much a creature of habits. Friend IW tells me that if he woke her at that hour on a day off, he would be stabbed. So he`d better watch out, I may take a leaf from Sharon Stone`s book and keep an ice pick under the bed.

I board the bus to take me into town to meet friends NH and DK. There is a very plump woman holding onto the hand grip above,she`s around 35, she has her hair pulled together on top with a band, it spikes out like pineapple stalks, Pebbles fashion (the baby from the Flintstones) She is wearing a pink sparkly crop top with a very tight, short denim jacket, her jeans are hipster, and she sports a very large coined belt. Her stomachwobbles around at the movement of the bus, and I am fascinated by the tattoo around her belly button, it disappears then resurfaces among the rolls as she sways. She is having a conversation with her mother who is seated.
Mother "Her washer`s bust."
Pebbles "No...what will she do Mam?"
M "She`ll have to get it fixed."
P(With her mouth full of Monster Munch) "That`ll cost her."

In town, I pass Grey`s Monument,(The soapbox area of Newcastle) A group of evangelists are Telling us all how to improve our lives, I`d love to shout "Yeah, if you all get a job we`ll save on our taxes." but i refrain. My memory wanders back to my childhood pal, SD, who introduced me to her local mission hall, we were around eight years old. She explained that they sang a little song;
Will you come to the mission
will you come?
Bring your own cup of tea
and a bun.
S was in training to win a free bible, I was tempted by the "free" part, all she had to do was recite all of the titles of the books of the bible. I began in earnest, and we spent time rabitting to eachother Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges Ruth, 1st,2nd Samuel, 1st,2nd Kings. I got fed up and didn`t get any further, so guess who didn`t get a bible? One of my brother`s favourite sayings is:

If you always do what you`ve always done,
You`ll always get what you`ve always got.

But the failed bible trial has never bothered me, in fact I can still impress folk by my tale of my brush with brainwashing.

And anyway, my favourite is

You can either run with the big dogs,
Or sit on the porch and bark.

I prefer to bark, thanks very much.

We meet for coffee at Art Cafe, NH is looking through the Lady magazine on the singles page, and reads out "Sensual male, seeks sensual female for sensual activities." DK observes "Sounds like dirty old man seeks dirty old woman for sex."
NH has been to M&S to buy a scarf, she has with her two carrier bags from previous shops she had bought from,one from Oil and Vinegar which advertises "Feel the Passion" and the other from Virgin megastore, she puts the scarf down on the cash desk with the bags. The assistant smirks "That`s a bit of a contradiction."
I tell them about my gift of chocolates from my daughter-in-law B.

Y "They were lovely,they were made by Harry Ramsden."
DK "I thought that they only made fish and chips?"
Y "Oh,..yes..I mean Gordon Ramsay."

(And so, another senior moment to add to the ever growing collection.)

Haute Cuisine

D gets out of bed and looks out of the window, singing to himself "All through the winter time, he hid himself away, la la la..." He gets to the bathroom first, then goes downstairs to start the breakfast, I can hear him pulling the pan on the bottom shelf from under the smaller ones, he never takes them out one at a time and so they all fall on the floor. I get up to go to the bathroom.

As we sit down to eat,I notice that my egg yolk is broken and he has an unbroken egg ( So I deduce that I would not be given his last Rollo) D pulls each side of my face and states "I could give you a nip tuck, here and here." Well..that`s done wonders for my self esteem!! G walks in and D pipes up before sonny boy has the chance "Hey, G, when you go for a drive in your new car with the roof down you won`t have to worry about your hair."


I have just caught my husband putting hot cauliflower into polythene bags intended for the freezer. I ask him not to do this as we could all catch typhoid. He quips back "Well there`s no chance of us catching that if it`s left up to you because you never make the dinner." I had cleared everything from the work surfaces, the idea being that we would have more space to cook. Where is he peeling onions....? on a plate on the draining board, positioning himself in front of the dishwasher and halfway over the sink. He mutters that I am in the way when I try to fill the kettle.

Loving son walks through drinking from a bottle of fresh orange and sings to the tune of I`m Just a Love Machine by Girls Aloud :-

I`m just a fat machine,
Eating all that is seen,
Look at my double chin,
There`s no way I`ll be thin.

G goes out and D works in the garden, i set to with the ironing, and because i have left it for so long, the mound looks like the north face of Everest. So, I will be manacled to the ironing board for the rest of the morning. As I look out onto the garden through the patio door, the robin and blackbirds are chirruping. I witness D sit down on one of the green metal chairs from our garden set to repair the strimmer, the leg snaps and he almost hits the ground. I can sense another trip to the tip.

Spooky Goings On

By way of information obtained from another Genes Reunited member C, I have discovered that my husband`s ancestors are buried in the grounds of the 11th century church in Newcastle upon Tyne. On a very cold wet day I decided to cut through the graveyard on my way into town. I glanced left and right at all of the stones on either side of the path, there were Trelawney`s, Griffith`s, Atkinson`s and Ellison`s. Some of the incriptions were delightful!!!!!! He whose form lies mouldering here below (shudder)

I noticed a table top kind of style memorial, but couldn`t quite read the text, so i stepped onto the earth, which was covered in old leaves, as i made my way around the side of it, i fell into a hole. My God, i thought I was heading for the crypt, I scrambeld out, my heart beating like a drum, and had a quick look around, nobody there, If I had made a descent, who would have known, I had visions of toothless skulls glaring at me. I hurried on down the path, determined to hightail it out of there, when I noticed a man walking out of the church in shirtsleeves. I asked him if he knew anything of the history of the church and who was buried there. He said that he had a record which was compiled by one of the past Bishop`s, and invited me into the vestry, I asked if he was the Verger, to which he replied "That`s just a posh name for a caretaker." (I liked him already)

We passed two tramps who were having a kip (Sleep) in the pews. He said "Hoy lads, get up, you`ll have me shot." He explained that there was no harm in them, he made them a cup of tea.
He kindly photocopied 5 pages of burial records and among them were many Young`s which also held dates of birth etc, lots of good information. I admitted that I had lived in Newcastle all my life and was ashamed to say that I had never stepped inside the building, he offered to give me a tour. I found out that the hole I had fallen into was a recently discovered grave of a glass engraver named Ralph Beiby, he had once owned a shop on Amen corner in the town. The grave had been a flat slab kind, and through the years had sunken into the earth. Because it had filled up with old leaves, I was unable to see it.

He explained that the area clear of stones had been a mass burial place for so called witches and wizards "When it`s been raining heavily, bones come to the surface....oh look, a tooth!" (Enough.... guess who was not going to sleep that night?") There poking out of the ground was a very large molar staring at us, further along he pointed out a ball joint standing upright. Inside the church once more we made our way to the front near one of the altar`s, lots of inscriptions were carved into the floor. Apparently, Adam Deathol was buried in a vault just in front of the altar, the words were becoming very worn, so they put a rug over it to protect it. A medium had visited the church and the first thing she said was "There`s someone covered up in here and he doesn`t like it." The vicar had the rug removed. I was also told of the policeman who regularly comes into the church to sit near the altar, he reported that something had grabbed his leg. As we stood there, a string which held messages pinned on with pegs started to whizz around, nobody had opened a door, we moved off.

The caretaker remarked that he could have let me take a look in the tower, but one of the tramps must have took a shit in there, so he couldn`t. By this time, with all the spooky reportings, I think that I would have declined his offer anyway, as it was, it was going to take some time for me to get over my near brush with middle earth.

This very interesting man, full of information, showed me out again, we passed the vicar`s car, must be a fun kind of guy, the registration was REV 1.

When i returned home, i was interested to find out about Beilby, he had apprenticed Thomas Bewick the engraver and also made the glass for Grandfather clocks. I wondered if my husband`s family had dealt with him, they were jewellers in the town and had crafted Grandfather clocks with shepherd and shepherdess scenes. Isn`t it curious, my friend`s daughter`s wedding was held at Close House, where Bewick had once lived. I suppose that the town was so small then that everyone would have passed eachother at some point, now we would be most likely to pass people at a Starbucks, Macdonald`s or Pizza Hut, what would our ancestor`s have thought of that?

Peace at Last (But not for long)

My son G has removed himself to the Lake District to his friend`s boat. There are no unpleasantries,calm and order reign in the house. No Stargate on T.V. ( I don`t know if that is a good thing...my husband is watching Sinbad the Sailor) He needs something to cheer him up, poor soul, my brother has just purchased a new Mini Cooper S and he has offered to take D on a trip down to the tip.

Brother DL and sister in law A have been doing home improvements. They have had new carpets fitted throughout, all the same colour, fabulous. Their old carpet is in very good condition, so we take it home with us. D threatens to fit the carpet himself, i know from his past attempts at "patchwork quilt style fitting" so i warn him not to go there. He takes not a blind bit of notice and I catch him on the stairs pressing it into place. When i tackle him on this he replies "Just to see what it looks like." I warn him that I will never speak to him again if he spoils it, he tells me to "Shut up." We have a full scale arguement, the neighbours will love this, as their sitting room is directly against this wall. I tell him to go ahead, but I will hold him responsible if he makes an arse of it, and that my eye will be drawn to the patches every time i walk over them. Huffily, he pulls his handiwork up and rumples the carpet under his arm. he stuffs it in the corner of the hallway, and proceeds to stomp away "Put it back where you got it from!!!" I bellow, and am gobsmacked that he picks it up and puts it back in the garage. I ring the carpet fitter and he arranges to arrive at 11.00 on Wednesday (wait till he gets a load of our patchy underlay covered in paint splodges)

We call around to my brother`s house, everything is newly painted, smelling fresh and clean, the new carpet and furnishings are fabulous. My brother is working on his laptop, there`s a square net looking thing on there. I ask if it`s going to be a room, he answers "No, it`s a generic plain for my basic android pieces, I`m having them walking down a corridor." (What?") He makes it simple for me by showing me an animated man who is trying to reach for a handle of a door. He explains that he hasn`t got the hand synced up to grasp the handle yet.

We go to Blyth Market to buy a new dog bed and wild bird seeds. D talks all the way there about DL`s new car, wonders where he is with it now, that he`s having leather seats fitted, that it has a sports button which "transforms the car`s performance", that it has Rostyle wheels and new mats on the floor. I am beginning to wish that our car has an ejector seat. At the Market, D buys himself a set of combination spanners and a packet of Brazil nuts to console himself. I buy some yoghurt coated raisins, I suspect that they are loaded with calories, but hey, what the hell, I missed the deadline of Monday for my diet, there`s always next week.

My youngest son P and his wife B are home again this weekend for D`s birthday, they have an apple mac i-pod shuffle for him which is about the size of a stamp. But B has downloaded a page from National Geographic and has customised it to say "A year`s membership of magazines for D`s birthday" can`t wait to see his face when he opens it. That`ll teach him for trying to fit the carpet.

Come back G, all is forgiven!!

Passwords

I have a password for my e mails, for Genes Reunited, for Ancestry.com and now for my Blogger. I can`t cope, I key in the wrong passwords for all of the sites and am receiving new password e mails..... I am reminded ......I should write them down, but if you could see my note pads! Enough is enough, time to spend some time on chucking out,the theory being.. tidy house, tidy mind, but then I have carrier bags strewn all over the floor, one for work, one to transport things to the bathroom,bedroom, crafts cupboard, wherever, one for rubbish, one for things that "we could sell at a car boot sale" one for the garage. Help, I`m a hoarder, I need thereapy.

G arrives in from work to witness his father in customary pose on the sofa with t.v. controls in his hand.
G (Sings to tune of Beatles Nowhere Man)
He`s a real piggy man
Living in his piggy land
Making all his piggy plans
For nobody (Laughs)
D Hi there slap head
G Tubsy Malone
D Yeah, but Tubsy Malone who`s got the t.v. controls

As G always watches Stargate when he gets home, there`s the usual tussle, then D gives in and comes through to the kitchen to "help" me with the meal. He turns up all of the controls, sauces splatter over the neighbouring pans and all over the surface of the oven. it`s a chisel job by the time he`s finished. He makes a cuppa for us, he has filled the spoon with sugar and carried it over to the other end of the bench to put it into the cup, left a snail trail of sugar, which pebble dashes that surface also, later on when he pours a glass of wine, the cork, seal and bottle opener will be left also. Why don`t I just go and sprinkle porridge oats all over the carpet and crack a few eggs in there for good measure.

G is always complaining that D opens his letters, calls him nosy. D answers that he only opens them in case it`s something important that he might need to ring G immediatley (Yeah) There is a parcel on the stool, already opened, but slightly ajar, it has G`s name and address on the top. D circles around it a couple of times, and then , says "I wonder what it is?" I`m tempted to say that I haven`t got xray eyes. Then it`s between him and his wits, he opens it up. It`s empty, apart from a sheet of computer paper which reads "Nosy fat bastard or specky cow or both, stop looking at things that are nothing to do with you!!!!!!!" I object strongly to this.......
I`m not in the least interested in anything in his post.

Found an old book during my chuck out, Janet and John, how middle class they were, and the stories were so boring, I wonder how we ever learned to read at all. The drawings show well scrubbed typically English children with mops of hair, Enid Blyton style. it was printed in 1949.
"I walked and I walked and what did I see?
I saw a little puppy and he saw me.
Little puppy ran. He ran to me.
There was also a green candle in the shape of a bottle with Happy 2000 on the front, where does all this crap come from?

As D monopolises the t.v. controls all night and watches back to back Emmerdale, Coronation Street and The Bill, (My friend Irene renames these programmes Ennemadale,Constipation Street and The Pill) I wait until he falls asleep, then remove them from under his stomach just as he breathes in. I sit down with my well earned Vodka, and there`s a programme on the History channel about Queen Victoria. Apparently, she loved sex, but not the results. She had 8 children, she asked her doctor what could be done. He knew about condoms, but couldn`t tell her, they were made of sheeps bladders, and had to be tied on with a bow (As if the male anatomy wasn`t ridiculous enough) Condoms were only intended to protect the male against venereal disease.

I am really worried now, I have lived in this house for over 30 years, we have always had a sliding patio door, I have just tried to pull it open like a regular door to let the dog out. Maybe when I have this massive chuck out, I may improve my memory, or is this what menopause is all about?

Searching for keys

On my way out to town this morning, looked for my door keys. Not in my handbag, pocket, purse, not in the bedroom, bathroom or on the stairs. checked both the back and front door locks, then looked in all of the afore mentioned places again, bugger I`m going to miss the bus. (Fortunate that there wasn`t a fire) Found them on the kitchen drainer and was late for the bus.

Pensioners at the stop at 9.15 all frightened to get on the next bus because "It`s not 9.30 yet."
I really can`t see the problem, everyone has long since left for work, the bus turns up with about half a dozen people on board, and there`s a queue half a mile long waiting for "The next one" I suppose they don`t want to be labelled as Twirlys (Am I too early) What I really can`t stand is the bus driver who watches obvious 80/90 year olds struggle to board, then insists on the pass being shown, by the poor old sods as they rifle through their pockets. I strike up a conversation with one old fella, he confides that since he aquired his free bus pass he has put all of his busfares in a jar and now has amassed £400. I buy a £2.90 day pass and leave them all behind.

I meet my friend Dorothy for coffee in our usual Laboca Art Cafe, it`s our favourite place, we love the owner, he sometimes insults us for our dithering. I had ordered the coffees and sat back down, we were engrossed in our conversation, then we both sat bolt upright as he shouted at the top of his voice "PROSTITUTE" we stared at him, our eyebrows up in our hairline. "There, got your attention that time, I`ve asked three times if you want milk" Fabulous.


After tea David and I set to painting the stairs, our son is conspicuous by his absence. My husband has taken off his shirt and trousers and is sitting on the sofa in his shorts. Our beloved well mannered son walks through the sitting room on his way upstairs and comments "Who let Jabba the Hutt in here?" then laughs at his own joke. David tells him to piss off.

And another happy day in the Young`s household. My keys will be put on the key holder tonight, and I`m having a long lie in tomorrow.

Another day, another diet

Out for a meal, i ate prawn cocktail, hunters chicken and a creme brulee, what a combination, it did quell some pangs of guilt to notice a side salad on the plate, but then again this was Saturday and i had promised to cut down on Monday. Anyway, my daughter in law Bobbi does a mean breakfast, she part cooks the sausage and bacon, then adds the eggs, mushrooms and tomatoes so that it makes a well held together circle of fabulous fry up. We eat it with toast and a tasty chilli sauce (made by Bobbi`s mother Sonia)

Paul and Bobbi were out with their friends for a birthday party in town, they got back about 3.00, but i was already awake since 2.30. They crept very quietly in, but i still lay there for another half an hour, with no hope of sleep. This is where the compulsive obsessive part comes in. I recently joined both Genes Reunited and Ancestry.com. I have found the subject of geneology like knitting a jumper, I can`t wait to complete the next line, only I don`t knit, but you get the picture.

I once made an attempt at knitting a jumper for my husband when we were engaged to be married, it was dark plum and had more holes than my granny`s lace curtains, and when i reached the neck it stood bolt upright like a fisherman`s smock. He dutifully wore it when we joined his mother for a coffee. She stared at him wearing my creation, and then asked "David, would you like me to borrow the pattern from Yvonne, but I`ll finish the neck off in the way I knit your father`s jumpers." As I smirked at this remark, David turned to me and said "What are you laughing at?" I was forced to lie and muttered something about a comical incident at work.

He`s never changed, still putting his foot in it, but only nowadays, his comments are intentional to wind everyone up like clockwork dolls. My eldest son is still living at home, the pair of them thoroughly enjoy insulting eachother at every opportunity. My husband is, how shall I say, of portly appearance, and my son...is slim, fashion conscious and has a receding hairline, which he remedies by shaving it all off. They have both not yet moved past the age of 12. The conversations go on like this.

G "Morning tubs"
D "Morning baldy"
G (sings) "Tinky Winky,Dave Young, La La, Po"
D (Smooths own hair in a mincing fashion and sings) "Gilette, the best a man can get......why don`t you grow your hair back in?"
G "I will when I find a cure for baldness"

One of them supports Newcastle and the other Arsenal. The rivalry begins when the matches coincide on TV. G used to take the sky card round to a friend`s house to use it on the sport`s channel, but we don`t have that trouble now as he prefers to watch at the pub. Small mercies.
My husband is stamping on the floor, it is 2.00am. spoilsport.

Warning Signs

Being of a certain age myself, i have begun to notice, not only the "top of the stairs" phenonmena creeping in,(Getting to the top and forgetting why I am there) but also the hoarding of too tight clothes, in the hope that i will some day get into them. Last week i attended the wedding of a friend`s daughter, the dress and blouse style suit which i picked out from between a crammed full wardrobe of old tat, was groaning between the buttons. i sewed a plastic popper between each button. As i could only manage to pull the zip of the skirt up halfway, i used the loop which is used to hang the item up with, sewed it to the other side and hoped that i would not have to be taken to hospital that day. Or that i would not become too drunk so that i wouldn`t remember how to cut myself out of it afterwards. At the wedding, the usual slinky young ladies were milling around looking gorgeous,I was tempted to take a photo of one of them, pin it to the fridge door. And so another diet was planned to "Start on Monday." I showed my husband my first attempt at Blogging, after reading it, no mention of praise, or any discussion on my literary adventures, he simply commented "You haven`t got any old tat, only new tat that you haven`t worn."