Just a thought..

Toby: part Dog, part Lion

2007-09-30T09:19:00.000Z

I have a new, true love.

He's Jack Russell shaped and has grey-blue eyes.

To see him gamboling through the woods and losing his mind over a stick, you might be forgiven for thinking this is just your common or garden variety pooch.

But you'd be wrong.

For this little chap has hidden depths and reserves of courage that can only be found in the hearts of lions!

I came across Toby almost a month ago, whilst doing a run to the local dump.

He'd clearly been outdoors for a long time (and on closer inspection, I suspect his whole life might have been spent that way) but worse still, he'd obviously been involved in some kind of accident. At the time, it appeared he'd dislocated his rear left leg.

The location of the site is quite rural, with lots of woods and fields around it, and to get up there you have to take a windy lane. It's certainly an area where those of a mind might take a dog lamping for rabbits and the like.......

Anyway, he had no collar or name tag, was absolutely running alive with fleas and the pooh they so kindly leave throughout the fur, and he clearly hadn't had food or water for some time.

Still, I met with those beautiful eyes, and I fell arse-over-tit-in-love!

I took him to a local animal hospital, marvelling at how this terrified, exhausted little chap was allowing me to handle him, all without a snarl or an ounce of aggression.
In fact, he manouvered himself, despite the fact he must have been in terrible pain, so that he could cuddle up under my arm as I drove.

The vet looked him over and said he desperately needed rehydrating, and I told them that if he was not microchipped and nobody would claim him, that I wanted to take responsibility for paying for his care.

He was immediately de-fleaed, whisked away and put on a drip, and x-rays were taken the next day.

As it turned out, he had terrible breaks and fractures in both legs, with the left side pelvis actually broken away from the spine. Imagine, covered in fleas and no back legs to scratch with. It really must have been torturous, and I don't like to dwell for too long on what he must have been through.
The vet said an orthopaedic surgeon would need to look at the x-rays and that an operation to pin bits back together might be necessary. This, to the tune of around £2,500.............either that, or he'd probably have to be put down.

'Gutted' is the word that best describes my next set of emotions.

I just thought it was so bloody unfair that such a fate might be his; a little guy who'd already had it pretty rough (or should that be ruff.....?)
Fortunately my other half has a heart made of gold when it comes to such things, and along with lovely friends, well-meaning folk who were rooting for him, and other family members who all offered help with money, we opted to have the surgeon look at him to see what might be done. (For the record, a woman who was at the dump at the time I came across the dog, donated £10 to the cause. For that small, yet incredibly generous act, I hope she is blessed onehundredfold.)

Unlike the utter bastards who abandoned him. I hope misery befalls them at every turn.

There was a wait of a few days for the surgeon to take a look at the x-rays, and in the meantime the dog was hooked up to morphine for his pain. We considered naming him Pete Doggerty, as he seemed rather partial.

Anyway, the nice man had a look-see and said that he felt the breaks might fuse themselves together provided the dog was confined to cage rest! He saw no point in going in and operating, and as it had earlier transpired that Toby also has a heart murmur, it would have been risky.

I was made as happy as I've ever felt, right in that instant. Woohoo!!

I was allowed to collect him from the vet after 8 days, having hung on to a handful of change out of £600 (I know I will never be a morphine addict.....that shit costs, man!)

To my ever expanding joy and delight, this former no-mark-junkie-stinkpot-rat-dog is coming on a treat.

His pelvis has indeed fused back together, if a tad lopsidedly. He bounces along, positively dazzling with his bright, shiny, soft coat.
If I'd let him, he'd chase balls and sticks and walk for ages. But we all have to be patient for a couple of weeks more. He's moved on from the total cage rest and having to be carried in and out, but we keep the walks calm and short for now.
He's gentle and quiet, and infact has not once so much as barked. He pricks up his ears and wags for England and is just about the cutest, most sociable, dare I say, polite little dog I have ever come across.

I am always blown away by animals who have suffered because of humans , and yet their capacity for love and loyalty and gratitude stays with them.
It really is a very pure thing, and I consider that we are the ones who have been given a gift, in the form of this brave and utterly charming mutt.

I hope we have the pleasure of his company for a very long time.

Think of the Devil....

2007-05-04T19:05:00.000Z

I was pottering about this morning getting ready for work, when an old friend came into my mind.

Having moved home in September, and having not seen her since she ripped me off for twenty quid to fund the beginnings of an all consuming, two year fling with Messrs. Crack and Heroin, the thought went through my mind that I might hear from her apart from the fact that she no longer has my number.

Lo and behold! The house phone rings, and I hear familliar tones.

We fell into the old patterns of chat, like there hasn't been any of the neglect and prostitution and thieving in the time she's been in hell.

And I've no doubt in my mind that is precisely where she's been in these two years since the Friday sessions stopped and she stopped choosing life.
We used to dance in her kitchen to Moloko and Macy Gray and Fat Boy Slim, and sing our heads off, until we were nicely breathless and very drunk.

Anyway, that all changed and she has since lived a life unthinkable.

But like I asked her, "What the fuck did you expect?"
There was always an element of playing the movies in her head. It brightened up an otherwise mundane, utterly wasted life. I guess she fancied herself as Uma Thurman.

Anyway, she has been getting treatment, funded by her parents, and as far as she's saying, she's back and back for good.

It makes me happy to hope so at least.

She's been a friend for a very long time, and I have missed her and her children.

I must tell her one day how angry I've been that she left me unable to help her.

I've seen other acquaintances, friends and a past love lost to this shit and I hope I shall continue reporting that she isn't another of them.

Tit in a trance

2007-04-11T17:15:00.000Z

I have a little Blue Tit and his mate, doing a frenzied, pointless little dance outside my living room window.

They are both bouncing up and down against the glass, in an attempt to perch on the horizontal trimmings of the window.

The problem is that they are sealed inside the two pieces of glass and Mr Tit and his pretty wife, have spent the day pogo-ing up and down, little beaks smacking the pane.

He looks rather puffed out now and more than a little cheesed off. Or pehaps that look is confusion.........

I shall try and get a photo of them in action.

Charmed?

I'll say.

Fine.

2007-04-06T22:38:00.000Z

This is a rather childish, yet mildly amusing quiz for you to take.

I was fined £175.00 and some pence.

http://www.robmanuel.com/areyouafilthybastard/

Happy Birthday to.....

2007-03-18T01:50:00.000Z

Me!

37, and ok with counting.

As my lovely Mum always remarks....'Ageing beats the alternative'

The Village People

2007-03-10T17:47:00.000Z

No, I'm not talking about the handle-bar moustachioed biker and his gang........

I'm talking about the people I work with.
(Think biggest independant furniture retailer in the UK and you'll get me!)

I've been in the job for four and a half months now, and it's good news all round.

Surrounded by some of the best individuals I have ever come across in my working life, who have been more than generous in welcoming me and accepting me with open arems for who I am, this is where I know I'll be for the forseeable future.
I had a such a nightmare with work in the year or so before this came along, and I somehow feel it was all meant to be. I have ended up in a place that feels right.
The pace is fast and demanding, the workload massive, but I find myself absolutely loving it.

As if the shine on all this was not dazzling enough, I was approached by the head of HR last week, sounding me out about a promotion.

I am really pleased that I have been seen as having potential, and I will give the idea due consideration when and if it becomes a firm thing, but it would mean that I'd have to leave my current base and move up the road to Head Office.

The idea of not working with the colleagues I have now leaves me very much in two minds, but the whole company employs some really good people as far as I can see and I think it'll be fun getting to know as many of them as I can.
I also think it's time I took a break from dumbing down my own potential with fears and frets, and started going along with the advice and opportunities offered by those that recognise and acknowledge it.

Whatever happens, I will be forever in the debt of Billy, Tom, Lady P and the other good folks at Slough.

They've made getting paid a bonus.

Christ on a bike!

2007-03-09T20:44:00.000Z

Nightmarish.

That has been my experience of switching over to the new Blogger.

Just spent half an hour on the phone with one of my learned brothers, and hey presto!

There is much to report from my little life, and for a minute there, I thought I'd never get access again.

I've removed cookies, cleared my cache, upgraded my Javascript...blah, blah, technical blah.

Remote assistance rocks!

Anyway, I shall take the time over the next week or so, to update my horribly neglected Blog and to catch up on this part of my life, in general.

Please continue to watch this space.

Gulp.....

2007-01-22T17:34:00.000Z

I've just watched my newly qualified, newly insured Son go off driving in his car for the first time.............

It was ok while he was pretending at driving, with his trusty instructor beside him. But this means I shall spend most evenings for the next few weeks, in a suppressed panic until he walks back in the door, all safe and sound.

It'll pass, as all the feelings associated with his new and dangerous experiences have, but in the meantime I'd like to ask that if God reads blogs, would He be good enough just to keep an eye out.......?

Much obliged.

Fairy nuff

2007-01-19T18:53:00.000Z

Someone said a most unusual and oddly lifting thing to me today.

I work with a very calm, very level woman who just so happens to be a member of a spiritual church.
Now I mention her calm, level nature first, because I cannot stress enough just how unkooky this lovely lady is.
She has been a manager within top organisations. She has run businesses in her own right. She tackles everything with a logical, methodical mind. And above all, nothing fazes her.

I have no definite beliefs, no God that I know is there, no sure sense that there is a puropse or a meaning to my life from a spiritual point of view.
I look for evidence, facts, logic, and yet like most people I guess I still live in hope of a spiritual meaning to it all. I suspect this is the truth for many, many people.

Anyway, back to my story........

She started by asking me if I have a love of fairies..............I have to say at this point, she had a look on her face that I took as not being sure if it was the right thing to do, like she thought I might think her as mad as a brush. It really is not her usual approach in any area of how we work together, be it business discussions or personal chats, and I could see she was somewhat apprehensive. She owes me nothing, and yet I felt a leap of faith.

I replied that I am indeed often drawn to pictures of fairies and the like (because they are usually delicate and intricate and beautifully illustrated, often with nature as a backdrop) but that I had no sense of belief in them or their ilk.

"Why?", I asked.

" Because do you know what I see when I look at you Katey?", she asked.

" I see little fairy type things, little lights dancing around above your head. They're there all the time. And you know, they love being with you. It's like they're feeding off your.................energy, your aura....... They're your little guides."

Coming from the person who said this, I find myself not wishing to dismiss her, despite the fact that my logic wants to do exactly that.
This is all completely aside from the fact that I cannot believe that something so charming and lovely in it's concept could be attributed to me.
I am so lifted by the fact that even if this is something in her own mind, she would offer such a description of what she sees when she looks at me. It has really touched me and I keep casting my eyes just above my head and having a little smile to myself.

I cannot help but get something lovely from it.

I'm always looking for the tangible and it is odd that I should feel this is something I will bear in mind as I go about my daily business.

I'll hold no grand stock in it, but I'll remind myself in times of ocassional personal crisis and frequent self doubt, that there is someone who sees something different.

Nice.

Eighteen

2007-01-18T17:46:00.000Z

It's my darling Son's 18th birthday today.

He's all set for a jolly with his mate in Amsterdam, but this is him before thoughts of debauchery and sin were uppermost in his mind........when a day at the zoo and a burger were all that was needed to raise a smile........oh how the years change a man!

I love this photo for many reasons, not least the fact that it shows his crazy cowslick before his head was big enough to accomodate it, and it also just about shows his double tooth (front right as you look at the photo)
It was most unusual, in that it was completely one and the same tooth as what should have been the small tooth next to it. It just had a small line going up it that marked it out as being two teeth. The dentist loved it, as he'd only ever seen it on his own young son.
When it/they fell out, the adult teeth came through individually and so the special tooth was no more.

The cowslick still remains, and the barber can now manage it more effectively, and the boy himself is still the same sweet natured soul he always was.

Do I love him? Yeah, just alot.

My Sissy

2007-01-12T23:43:00.000Z

I was somewhat surprised to be part of a chat with Gav (on his rather marvellous message board) when I happened to mention my sister, and he expressed surprise that I had one!

I'm certain that I have made mention of one of my dearest people in all the world, before the telling of the 'mourning of the hamsters' tale.

But anyhow, I'm doing it now, by way of small tribute to my darling sister Sam.

She is a truly wonderful woman, who has built an ever growing family on excellent disciplines and open hearts.

I love her very much.

More importantly, I like her immensely.

She is funny and honest, kind and helpful above and beyond the call of duty, with a creative, lateral mind, that I can only wonder at.

I also have 2 brothers, one of which, I mentioned in my first or second blog entry (what goes on with him now is a whole other blog entry in itself! It involves my gorgeous ex-neighbour from last years Christams offerings......)
My other brother has yet to get a mention, but I shall pay homage to them both as I go.

Anyway, I think it's important that these things get a mention for the records, and in my sister's case, I shall close in wishing her health, wealth, and continued happiness, and sending up prayers that no other pet induced grief shall ever again darken her door.

Job done.

2007-01-11T17:54:00.000Z

I am just about as pleased as I can be today.

The Boy passed his driving test this afternoon and I am thrilled!

I can see his whole life taking a much more exciting turn now, and while all of this is a huge indicator that it truly is time to let go, I couldn't be more happy for him.

He really is a lovely young man, and I swell with the only real pride I have ever known, every time he makes a new mark on the world.

Some bugger stole his moped just before Christmas, so he has been somewhat stuck at home for the last 3 weeks. We really are a bit isolated where we are, and with the outrageous cost of insurance for 17 year olds, he is waiting until he turns 18 next week, before we get the car insured. This all means that he has a car and a driving license, but still can't go anywhere! I cannot pretend I would have been so patient at his age, and possibly not even at my age!

Anyway, I am going to break my resolve not to drink alcohol on school nights, and drink a toast to his success.

I think we all agree, it'd be rude not to.

Cheers!

Lots. And often.

2006-12-28T15:28:00.000Z

This has been my diet regime for the last week or so.

I do not appear to be able to stop grazing on the culinary delights of the season. Not a whole hour has passed that has not had some kind of foodstuff consumed within it.

Favourite little munch this year has been cold roasted beef and parsnips, with just a light smattering of horseradish sauce.
I don't advise you try this seemingly innocent yet strangely intriguing snack, because it is indeed seriously moreish, and has, I imagine, the same level of addiction danger as crack cocaine.

Just say No.

If even one more light and crumbly sesame cracker, with creamy cream cheese and spicy tomato relish atop it passes these lips, I surely deserve to lose the ability to swallow!

Hot sausage roll anyone? Mince pie and cream with that? Or perhaps I can tempt you with my nuts?

Don't see anything you like here? Well go looky-see in the fridge, where I'm sure you'll find something you fancy in amongst the dips, various smoked fish, the cheeses, the puddings, the pastries, cold cuts and vast array of jarred, pickled items that we have.........AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!

I'm eating an After Eight as I write, knowing that one is never enough, and finding myself with my mind on a hunk of pork pie.......

Tis the season....

2006-12-24T16:41:00.000Z

I just wanted to post a bit of seasonal love and and a heap of best regards to my fellow Bloggers.

To Gav, Mags, Augustus, LPJ, Span, Lucy, and all who sail by here from time to time.

I intend to get my blogging head back on in 2007, so apologies in advance for my ramblings yet to come.

Apologies in retrospect for ramblings already past, but that's another matter.

Hope everyone gets the chance to enjoy a little peace and love over Christmas.

I shall raise a glass for each of you.

ATFP stands for.........

2006-11-10T19:44:00.000Z

Atypical Facial Pain.

And it's a syndrome.

And I'm to be tested for it.

For 5 years I have had a pretty much continuous, kind of itchy ache, in my bottom front teeth.
This has, at times, been really unpleasant, but it's like all things like this in that you get used to constants.

When it first began I was treated for gum disease to the tune of £600.00. It did nothing to alleviate the pain whatsoever, and this lead to a referral to my local hospital.
The diagnosis then, was that my mind was playing tricks on me, in as much as there was no reason for there to be pain and that the mind can fire off signals of pain for no good reason.
I was prescribed a kind of anti-depressant which blocks this kind of signal, and for 3 months it really helped.

Then it was slowly creeping back and has been with me since.

I can deal with pain, but it really pisses me off when I have no other problems with them. I have only one filling and a crown. That's it. Never had a tooth removed either.

Recently I went to a new dentist to have the crown replaced and explained this situation to her and she referred me to the dental institute at Guy's Hospital, which I attended on wednesday.

The consultant was thorough and sympathetic and disagrees that this is my brain making false signals, but that it could be this most rare and more often than not misdiagnosed condition known as Atypical Facial Pain Syndrome. He has only seen 2 cases of it in his career so far. (See, Mags, something was bound to be going on behind the scenes of my happy smugness!!)

I've given a link for anyone who wants a read up from the folks that know more than me.

http://www.londonpainconsultants.com/articles/2006/10/22/atypical_facial_pain/

http://www.jaws1.co.uk/other_types_of_facial_pain.htm

I'm really glad that there will be some proper tests done now, and once I've been scanned and probed and questioned I'll know at last. It could be 3 months until I am seen but compared to the length of time I've lived with it, I'll cope.

Anyway the upshot of all this is that I really bloody hate dentists and want everyone to know how brave I have been.

The Best Sound in the Universe...

2006-11-04T20:03:00.000Z

Is this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5P6UU6m3cqk

Something to warm you all the way down to your marrow.

I think they call it 'lucking in'

2006-11-02T23:26:00.000Z

Well it just gets better.

I have been heartened and truly moved by the sheer generosity of one of my sets of new neighbours.

People think it is so rare, to the point of extinction these days, that folks will put themselves way out for you for no other reason than you need their help, but my wonderful neighbour has busted that theory.

They have friends that were discarding a beautiful, solid wood kitchen, no doubt in favour of some ply-formed nonsense, but I digress.
My neighbour, quick as a flash and having seen the state of our current living standards, asked me if I would like to have the kitchen. The friends wanted nothing for it, and even after years of use, it is still plain to see that buying quality pays.
Anyway, we took a drive down to Selsey and picked it up, and to my delight, my lovely neighbour has fitted it all in.
All this, done without a cross word or a moments stress on his part. Pissed walls and stubborn mortar did not phase this man for a second, and if that were not enough, the kitchen looks lovely. Just work surfaces and a change of door handles to go.

I did a little detective work while he hammered and drilled away (whistling some military band ditty the whole time) and established that him and his truly lovely wife enjoy a good old comedy at the theatre, so as some means of a thank you, I have got them some gift certificates for a dinner show at The Mill, Sonning. It seems piss-poor in light of what having a decent kitchen means to this household, but what do you get the folks who have all they need in life, plus each other?

I am wondering what I did to deserve all this, but I shan't question it too much in case I burst the bubble it came in.

And I think to myself...........

2006-10-30T20:11:00.000Z

I was rather taken with this charming look at our planet and it's people.

Just a little food for thought............

http://www.miniature-earth.com/

The Prettiest Little Can of Worms in all of Buckinghamshire

2006-10-19T19:40:00.000Z

That's one way to describe this soon-to-be-charming house.

To look at it, you'd think it was the little house on the prairie, but step inside, look closer...........

It is in fact, a money-grabbing, rotten little pear. The cutest, potential filled rotten little pear, but a rotten little pear nonetheless.

This poor house has been horribly neglected for so long, that there is nothing but horror after horror with alot of it. Nothing that can't be sorted without a lot of time and a heap of cash, but oh my days! Every job you do reveals another five that must be done before the job can be completed.

The move went as well as these things do, and there has been non-stop activity since. The first ten days was cleaning. So much crust and grease. A million dog hairs just everywhere; up the walls and under the floors and in the drains and matted around the damn shower head. Indeed, I have knitted several jumpers from it. One for each of you. I am still finding them in abundance, so if you catch a thread, no matter.
Truly, truly disgusting. And the odour was quite something to behold and then to shift. Thank the sweet Lord for Cif, soda crystals, rubber gloves and friends. Not necessarily in that order.

Anyhow, it's all mine now, and it's getting cosier and more like home as each day goes by. The association have done a few things that are their responsibility, so we'll get there if it kills us.

The location is still amazing me, and we have seen so many proper native species of creature that I thought were gone, I can hardly believe it. There are funky spiders and snails with proper squirly yellow and brown shells. We've had toads and little lizards in the garden and an owl hooting to it's baby. There are muntjac deer in the woods, and finches, herons, bats, rabbits and wildlife everywhere.
The cows that roam in there are coca-cola coloured, and they come right up to the fence and lick your hands.

So, for now I shall grab a glass of something cold and have a sit down in my newly appointed living room, and have a little chuckle to myself about my rather splendid fortune.

Tee hee...............

Treacle Bread!

2006-09-11T19:22:00.000Z

Don that pinny, flour the surfaces, for here's the recipe, as promised to Mags, that I was given for Treacle Bread.

You will need:

1 x 7g satchet of dried yeast (don't worry, you will not leave the kitchen with any kind of irritating infection ladies!)
750g of strong white flour (none of your wimpy, weak, white flour. Get a backbone! You're an ingredient!)
Pinch of salt (you can get this at most good salt outlets)
1 tbsp of olive oil (not to be confused with Popeye's goyl)
4 tbsps of black treacle (mmmm....black treacle....)
3/4pt of warm water or enough to make dough (do the elbow test if unsure, and think like a Thames water Executive)

Your method:

Mix together yeast, flour and salt and rub in the olive oil (into the mixture you pervs! Span, David, Scummy)

Make a well in the centre and add treacle. Gradually add water dissolving treacle and mix to form a dough.

Knead for several minutes, place into a large loaf tin, cover with cling film and leave to prove in a warm draught free place until double the size (approx. 45 mins)

Bake at gas mark 7 (220 degrees centigrade) for about 30-40 mins until golden brown.

Lovely with butter.

Enjoy naked with friends, or alone.

Get it down ya!

Road trippin'

2006-09-05T13:21:00.000Z

In the lead up to my impending move (next Friday!) we decided to grab abit of R & R to round off the summer.

We started off for Cumbria, heading for Ambleside near Lake Windermere, where we found the prettiest little hidey holes and scenery this side of the border. Sheep everywhere, grazing in little dry-walled mountain valleys; low mist one minute, clear blue skies the next. Lots of twisty turns through gorgeous towns and villages, with old stone cottages dotted about the lanes.

The lake itself is huge and alive, with people and animals all making the most of it. We drove all around it...nice.

Ambleside itself is a small but busy town, where we ate some delicious, simple food in a place called The Priest's Hole, which served the most gorgeous bread. So lovely was this offering, that I was compelled to ask what kind of bread it was, and the answer was Treacle bread. Shit, shock, horror! That wasn't the answer I'd expected!
They give you a little recipe card for it with your after dinner sweetie, so I shall be inflicting my version of it on the troops at home, soon. I hope I can do it justice, because it really does deserve it's world famous status. The service was absolutely fantastic and the wine just that bit too moreish!

The second night, we ate the most expensive yet mediocre Chinese food ever experienced by this humble gob. I can say no more than that about it. Suffice to say, they won't be included in 'Katey's Guide to Some Good Eatin' in Ambleside'!! No siree.

We drove down to a stretch of Morecombe Bay, overlooking it from a place called Barrow in Furness, and I have to say, it is an eerie, misleading, beautiful phenomenon and I'd urge anyone to have a look from that side of it.

All in all, I'd recommend it as a great way to spend some very peaceful time with someone you enjoy, or indeed the whole family. The Cumbrian people themselves were really friendly and welcoming (we stayed in a pub called the Churchill Hotel) which really added to the overall appeal of one of the nicest parts of this country that I've now visited.

So after this rather pleasant little jolly around a fair chunk of the area, we headed for the Highlands of bonny Scotland, with our end destination being a marvellous hotel and seafood restaurant called The Pierhouse, down on the shores of Loch Linnhe, in Port Appin.

It was a breathtaking journey, taking in the gigantic body that is Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park, Rannoch Moor, and the Glen Coe range, amongst other glories.
While the Lakes are as pretty as a picture, the Highlands and the Lochs are tear-jerking. Seriously wild looking, with waterfalls and kestrels and ancient scars all over the heather filled landscape.

We went up Ben Nevis on one of our missions, in the cable car, which did my cast iron constitution no favours at all! We watched some crazy young turks fling themselves down it on mountain bikes. Respect! It is something I'd give a go to, but I think I'd look a bit of a tit on my ladies pink £50 pretend machine. It has a saddle that sorts the wheat from the chaff, and not in a good way. My wheat and my chaff have taken a hammering on the flattest of tarmac......anyway that's probably not something anyone needs to imagine and as ever, I digress.

There is a lovely sweeping view from the cafeteria that is located almost at the summit of Wee Ben, and to my total amazement, there was a Polish girl serving me!!! They get everywhere those determined folks! I thought it rude to enquire how the hell she'd landed such a job......

Imagine the ad:

'Conscientious person wanted to run tea room in Scotland, UK. Must know what a panini is and have a head for heights. Must be prepared to scale the regions highest mountain each morning'

Quite bizarre. And still the blessed girl was cheery and smiling.

In our hotel restaurant we were treated to the most delicious salmon (both smoked and fillet) that has ever passed my grateful lips, and I had lobster for the first time. I do not intend for it to be the last. Let it be known.
I also had a big fat share of lovely oysters, langoustines, mussels, and to my disgust, herring. Another first, although I guarantee, a last. Too grey and 'not quite dead yet' looking, like the greasy palour of a man about to have a heart attack. This, married with the flavour of really quite fishy pickled fish. No thanks, if it's all the same.

Marvellous poached eggs, or scrambled with smoked salmon or kippers, or a lovely traditional Scottish breakfast to start the day, made the whole eating part of this adventure just divine.

The location (and I would suggest you make it your business to go there) will speak for itself.

And so, we have returned to the official go-ahead with the move and things are more busy than I could have imagined.

It's great to have a big fat clear out, and a car boot sale is not out of the question. This time next week I expect I'll have fobbed my tat onto some unsuspecting buyer......

Apologies in advance if I am absent from your blogs, my cherished virtual buddies, but hopefully I can get all my work cracked out and then I'll get a chance to visit.

And on that note, I apologise for my self-absorption, but cannot stop the flow at this point in my existence.

Just when you thought you were in it for the duration, life goes and gets all interesting........

This summer......

2006-08-19T00:27:00.000Z

......I have felt very much alive....

...... I have slept....

...... I have found my own little secret path to being happier....

...... I have had some odd little health nasties....

......I have seen something akin to a massive, fuck-off black cat running at full pelt across the hills in Sonning

...... I have realised that just because someone is special to you does not mean they are especially special....

...... I have been drunk as a lord....

...... I have pondered for hours....

......I have been in the same room as a real life Sloth....

...... I have had manna from Heaven....

...... I have felt older....

......I have been full of self doubt....

......I have laughed like a drain....

......I have had amazing sex....

......I have signed on the dole for the first time in my life....

......I have had cause to be grateful....

......I have been absorbed with music....

......I have realised that I will never be an accomplished guitar player....

......I have read 'I Claudius'....

......I have taken someone's breath away....

......I have written a short story....

The Right to Buy. Or not.

2006-07-31T20:05:00.000Z

Here's a rub on the plans....

If I accept the new tenancy, I lose my right to buy.

The guy who currently has the house, has no such right, and to take it on I must accept that I can never own it.

What say you trusty folks?

Do I sit tight and let this opportunity go by, in the hopes that I might get in the position of being able to buy my way out of here, maybe, one day?

Or do I give up this right and just go with the new surroundings and accept that I very probably will never own property?

Papers can be signed tomorrow if I choose............................

I hate dilemmas.

Storms and tea-cups

2006-07-26T22:22:00.000Z

I am just enjoying the privilege of watching a pretty spectacular, but largely silent lightning storm.

The thunder is rumbling now, but the silent light show that came for a good 30 minutes before it, has been stunning! It continues to be so now that it is going for it, and is in fact getting better as the minutes pass!
For those of you in Berkshire (Gav, Augustus) I expect you've seen it already, or it's on it's way!
It's raining hard now, the wind is whipping up, and it's got that lovely smell that makes you want to go out walking in it.

I have made a point of enjoying the view these last couple of weeks, as there are changes going on that might just mean it's not my view for very much longer.

I always seem to put the kiss of death on things when I post them on here, but there is a very real possibility that I might move.

There are few places that I would give up my view for; I've seen picture postcard views of rainbows, full moons, storms, stars and best of all, Mars ( I can see the factory in Slough in the distance from here, but I'm talking about the planet, when it was visible to the naked eye a couple of years back!)

But an opportunity is there to exchange to a house about 6 miles away, that is located in THE single most amazing location I can imagine a person in my situation, living.

I don't really want to wax lyrical about all the details, but believe me, this is a tiny bit special.

I'm happy enough here, and I have always felt safe. But when I look into the future, I can see what level of contentment living here will bring; I'm living it already. I am as happy as I can be here.
I have no way of knowing what a living environment more fitting to what I have in my head will bring. That all sounds very grand, but it's very simple things.

First and foremost, I've wanted a garden for a long time. This new little house has a garden, and much more. It has cows over the fence. It has the woods. It has peace.

Then there's the changing face of the place where I live.

They are mostly good souls, and I have been blessed with past and current neighbours. The problem is, they are all having more babies, moving on. There's always this tide of new folks, they stay for 2, 3, maybe 4 years and then gone.
There are lots of single men being given the one bedroom accomodations recently too, and I have no objection to that at all. But more often than not, they are transitional in one way or another. You never know who you're going to get, and even those who you live well with, the famillies who are peaceable, respectful and worthy of being given a decent place to live, seem to get moved on to pastures new when their families grow.
All the older people who used to be here are either dying, or are never seen by anyone other than the home help anymore, or have been moved to warden controlled places, bungalows, or old folks homes.

I've been a permanent resident here for 16 years, and this is the first real opportunity that has ever come up to move on myself.

Aside from all this, I like the idea of the change.

Like I've said, I know the limitations that living here puts on my sense of contentment, and it would be good to shake off the cobwebs of indifference and procrastination. Change is good, and when all pointers suggest it's a good thing, I think I'd like to see what happens.

I shall post more as the plan comes together or falls flat on it's face!

Those Chili Peppers are Reeeeeed Hot!

2006-07-14T18:24:00.000Z

I shall be seeing the Red Hot Chili Peppers tomorrow night, and am so glad there is finally only one more sleep!

This'll be the third time I'll have seen them now; once in Paris, once in Amsterdam, and tomorrow, London. I only have New York and Munich to go, and I'll have 'pop music'!!!

I decided months ago to make a proper old time of it, so we are going into London in the morning for a wander about Harrods food hall and then for a picnic in Hyde Park. The weather forecast is giving the ultimate in green lights, with a forecast 28 degrees, clear skies and a nice breeze.

We're booked into a rather splendid hotel on Buckingham Palace Road, and will no doubt make the most of the facilities before going off to Earl's Court for the gig, where we shall meet a couple of others that we know and love.

Now, if there is better way to spend a saturday, I'd like to hear about it.

The company will be great, the band are the most energetic thing I have ever seen with my own 2 eyes, and I'm sure will make me marvel again at the spectacle, and later, I can flounch about in fat, fluffy robes, smelling like a tart's handbag from all the Penhaligon goodies I've been dousing myself in!

Have I died or something?

More Tea Tree Vicar?

2006-07-10T22:37:00.000Z

This is a fairly random post, but I have not yet imparted my opinion of Tea Tree.

No family home should actually be without this marvellous thing.

A good quality tea tree cream is what you need in your medicine box, for bites, cuts, stings, thrush (not the oral kind....ahem) cold sores, itchy stuff and all manner of physical discomforts.

For all of you that have young children, make no mistake when say that you will be, or please feel free to confirm that you have been, subject to the common Nit/Head louse infestation that plagues schools.

The single most effective and non-recurrence generating way to deal with the problem, ie not using things that help to breed immune beasties, is to use ordinary shampoo and conditioner, with just a few drops of good quality tea tree oil and a few of lavender oil in each 'serving', and just comb the gasping pests out with a nit comb. It is remarkable in it's instant effectiveness, and it also leaves a protection on the hair that wards anymore of the little darlings off.

The finest product I have found so far, for both tea tree cream and the quality of the oils can be found at justuk.net

Everything they sell is top notch and well worth the cost.

Just a little something for anyone who might be interested.

I'm allergic to work

2006-07-10T20:36:00.000Z

Not just in the sense that my life feels like it could be so much better spent, than working for a bigoted, antiquated, clique-ridden set-up, but quite literally allergic to the place itself.

In the six months that I have worked on the farm, I have had a constant sore throat, a snotty nose, a chest that rattles like a lobster cage and a head stuffed with fluff.

Not once (derrrrrrr!) has it occurred to me that I am constantly sitting in a layer of hay, straw, shavings and feed dust.

With just a few days away from the place, I can feel it all clearing.

I should have realised that all was not well. I'm not a sickly kid, and generally get 2 colds a year (summer and winter varieties) that NEVER result in my chest and throat feeling like they have a cluster of oysters residing in them.

This is good news to actually identify this thing, but not so good for the CV or the equilibrum.

Six months doesn't look good, and I hate the whole load of poo that comes with leaving a job, letting people down, explaining to new employers......it really is a bit rubbish.

But I really have to also consider the fact that I'm really not happy to imagine myself in such a backwater shithole for the rest of my days, where email and accounting packages are considered devils work! Feels too much like getting left behind.

So, here we go again.

I've already applied somewhere else and if all else fails, will just keep on until I can find something that isn't going to give me asthma, ulcers or severe depression!

I'm sure someone once mentioned that I was a "princess", and I'm just wondering when the whole princessing deal will start and I can just flounce around in fine fabrics, sipping expensive, chilled beverages. And we can put all this silly talk of 'work' to one side..............

Gomez - The Mutts Nuts!

2006-06-13T01:09:00.000Z

What a bloody excellent night I've just had!

Saw my favourite band of all, the marvellous Gomez, at Shepherd's Bush, and oh it so hard to go to bed now!

Seriously hot night for it, but hey, you just give yourself over to the sweat, and it all makes for good clean fun.
No-one should ever leave a place as gorgeous as they went in. That suggests a crap night out.

This is the second time I've seen them, and I'd do it again I tell's ya!

For the unfamilliar, I'd recommend their second album, 'Liquid Skin'. It's all you need to get you started.

If you are ever lucky enough to be handed the opportunity to see a Gomez gig, especially by way of a free spare ticket (as I bestowed on one of the good folks of Shepherd's Bush this evening) I urge you to accept with gratitude, perhaps even showing a little bit of love to your generous benefactor, safe in the knowledge that you will have your little socks blown off and be unable to sleep for the experience!

"Come back.....I've given up fags and drugs now, baby..........."

Get 'em out for the girls!

2006-05-19T22:43:00.000Z

Tomorrow night, at about this hour, my marvellous friend Amanda will be at the start of her 26.2 mile 'Moonwalk'.

In aid of Breast cancer, she will walk the streets of London in her jazzy bra, come wind, rain, sleet, or freakish snow storm, all the night long.

She reckons it'll take around 9 hours.

I have already marvelled at her commitment to the training, which she has done alone, with basically only herself as motivator.

She throws herself at all her goals in this way, and I admire her immensely for it.

So, for any of you good folks who might be out in London in the wee hours of tomorrow night/sunday morning, show some love for the ladies with half their clothes missing.

It's for a very good cause.

And if you see a voluptuous, curly haired blonde with a dazzling smile and an air of sheer determination about her, tell her I said she rocks!

Big Man Syndrome

2006-05-17T21:36:00.000Z

I had the most interesting conversation with my Son the other day.

At 5ft 7ins, and with no genes that say he'll suddenly grow to a strapping 6ft 19 before his short remaining growing time is done, he could hardly be described as tall.

Over the weekend, I happened across him and his mate, Mark, measuring themselves, after reading about the reach, height, weight, etc. of two boxers who were due to have it out that same evening.

After taking down each other's measurements we found that Mark currently stands at an ever increasing 6ft 4ins. He has no genes that he knows of that dictate this either, but I digress......

This makes Marky Boy a full 9 inches taller than my boy, and this prompted Charlie to express a very interesting thing, in my opinion, about self perception.............

He was utterly stunned that Mark was this much taller than him, and said that the shock stemmed from the fact that he has never seen himself as smaller than his life long mate.

He then went on to say, that on giving it some thought, he sees people that he compares himself to every day; on the train, in pubs, in the queue, whatever, and never feels short, or even shorter.

We are surely all familliar with the concept of 'Short Man Syndrome', and I am not immune to being convinced, that as a parent, I have not done enough to ensure that my child sees himself and others as individual, and that he can disregard all the media hyped cliches as just that.

This throw-away, time-filler conversation has made me see that there can so clearly be such a thing as 'Big Man Syndrome' and my Son (Mine! Can you believe it?!!) personifies it.

When I've had time to think about it, I see that this is not just in his attitude to himself, but also to others.

I am pleased as Punch by this quiet, complicated young man's insight, and can barely believe he is partly my own work.

It's given me a sense of peace and he cannot know how relaxed he has made me feel in those simple statements.

A quiet word

2006-04-28T23:20:00.000Z

After such a terrible, fearsome end, I'd like to post a little word for Mary-Anne Leneghan.

The fuller horror of her death has been told now that her murderers have been brought to 'justice'.

Beyond belief. Beyond reason.

Beyond forgiveness?

I think so.

Poor Baby.

Just sixteen.

May she rest in peace, and her friend that survived go on to live long and prosper.

Taxi for Mr Formby!

2006-04-24T21:12:00.000Z

The Ukelele.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=1352016870638076087

A marvellous little instrument in the right hands.

Miss It, Miss Out

2006-04-12T23:23:00.000Z

If you do not act upon this advice, well frankly, I cannot be held responsible for the fact that your life will be that bit shabbier for not doing so.

If you do, well I know that you will see what I mean....

For a wonderful, thought-provoking, yet never mind-bending read, I absolutely urge you to read 'The Five people you meet in Heaven'.

Please don't be put off by the title.

It preaches nothing, and it's author, Mitch Albom, acknowledges right from the start, that it is his wishful thinking. It's a story.

But it's more sour at times, than sour. Yet sweeter than sweet in such a well balanced way.

A bit like the traditional chinese fayre!

I digress, as always.

It just has a depth that must surely appeal to us all on some level or another, yet a simplicity that even a young 'un could deal with.

Five scenarios; One of them made me cry.

And I don't mean just well up and shed a quiet tear. Oh no. Blubbing. Let me know if any part of it gets you all snotty and puffy-faced.

My other MIMO (see the above title for those in need of a hand...!), is Ani Difranco.

The girl is a Class 1 musician, a veritable poet and an entrepreneur.

A 'Righteous Babe' indeed!

My brother introduced me to this marvel, and if anyone chooses to give her a go, tell me who she reminds you of...I have 3 good ladies in mind at this time. And yet all the while she is as unique as a unique thing.

I recommend you take in a dose of 'Untouchable Face', '32 Flavours', 'Asking too Much', and most definitely the live versions of 'Fire Door', which is just sublimely mixed in with 'Amazing Grace' , 'Not a Pretty Girl' , and 'Anticipate' .

There are so many other studio recordings that shine out, but that'll do you for starters.

I hope with all my atoms, that at least one person gets it.

Believe this if you can.

2006-03-31T21:30:00.000Z

I am not kidding when I tell this tale.

It is the truth, and I swear it to be so.

I have noticed, in the last ten days or so, that whenever I blow my nose, there are tiny blue flecks in my snot.

(Please stick with it, Dear Reader. It doesn't stay so gross, but it is quite marvellous I think.)

I have been a little baffled by it, but kind of thought it might be dust from the office or flecks in the tissue (I only buy white tissue so I was being a bit dense even thinking that!).

Anyway, this morning, with the full-blown cold thing going on, I blew a mighty nose full, out.

More bluey-green flecks than ever! Bigger this time! More substantial as some kind of examinable item.

Most baffling.

Later in the day when refreshing an eyeliner I have worn without incident for some time now that is in a similar colour, it occurred to me that this teal colour that I have been finding in my snot, exactly matches the colour of the new eyeliner I bought about 10 days ago from Avon!

This new eyeliner causes a bit of a reaction in my eyes, in that about 45 mins after I have applied it, my eyes feel like they have a film over them, I cannot see clearly and they run a bit. It clears after about 5 minutes, with a little bit of vigorous ball rubbing! Consequently I have only used it 3 times, hoping it'd be ok.

Anyhoo, I think it's enetered my nasal passages! Is this physically possible???

I have written to Avon just to give them a bit of a laugh, but I swear to God, this is happening.

I am going to do some experiments with this over the weekend with the assistance of my friend Betty. No rabbits will be harmed.

She has come up with the ingenious plan of seeing if the flecks spread on a piece of tissue in the same way eyeliner would.

Nice weekend we're gonna have eh?!

A true mate.

So this is different....

2006-03-30T19:31:00.000Z

The virus now has full residency.

There are the usual delightful, full-on symptoms: snot, red-eye, aches where I don't believe I actually had limbs to start with.

But there is this new and bizarre symptom, that I'm really quite enjoying because it's so fucking weird!!

Believe this or not, but I have a senstion like I can feel my blood!

With every exhalation of breath, I have the oddest sensation of feeling the blood rushing in my arms. Not at all like the usual creeps up the spine jobby that accompanies these things.

No sirree! This is quite the most original thing I've experienced since getting septic Tonsilitis as a kid, and hallucinating! John Denver singing Annie's Song features in this, but that is another story entirely.

Most queer.

Stings like a Bee-tch!

2006-03-29T21:30:00.000Z

I have the sorest throat.

It's one of those that sting your nose and makes you feel like you have swallowed a tasty mixture of sand, phlegm, razors, cling film and fire.

For the last week there have also been waves of nausea, snotty, sneezy moments, a head as woolly as Lambsy, and just a general feeling of unwellness.

And now I have a throat that feels like I have a thyroid problem, only yuckier.

Viruses are not my friends.

In the main, we have an understanding; I don't want to fight them, they stay away from me.

It works .

We'll have no trouble here...........

But this is a new Crew. They don't know the rules.

They've never even heard of Cricket, and are making like French students, rioting in my mucus membranes, and the bit that moves when I swallow.

But the weird bit is, I don't feel as ill as I feel????? Does that make sense????

By this, I mean that the way I feel, which is really not good at all, coupled with the pain in my throat, should mean that I am being kept isolated in some manner of oxygen bubble, with relatives weeping at the door and apologising for making me the emotional wreck I am today.

But I'm not actually doen in by this or incapable of going to work. What's that about?

They're definitely not from round here.........

News and stuff

2006-03-22T22:15:00.000Z

I've been taking a break from most activities online, this being one of them.

I've been so busy with the new job, with very little opportunity to visit the boards. When I do, Christ on a bike, I'm glad that I'm not so wrapped up in them! Unbearable to see it is!

The mods have got all nazi, the posters that appear with one name and then another, are just as dull as ditchwater, and I'm glad to report that the good folks I want to speak to when I get home, are going to homes and lives of their own. I was even modded yesterday, for having the gall to mention that I thought a deviant thread was fun and that poo should go out to the mods. Modded! For that childish shite?? Oh I fully expect to be chastised and told in no uncertain terms that I am not to be so silly on a board full of such highbrow content and opinion, but modded? Bollocks to them, frankly.

So, Kassia-Kat it is.

I've been working with some Polish lads, and Kassia (it's pronounced Kasha) is Polish for Kate.

The job is going very well as it happens, and I have to say that I am about as happy as a person can be in your average working position. All good.
The boss is a demanding little bugger, but nothing I can't handle, and the challenge of doing everything from scratch, by hand (no computer, VAT books and basically working with quills and lamp light! Ten Guineas a week and not a ha'penny more!) is good for the old grey matter now that I'm another year older.

It was my birthday over the weekend, and it is fair to say that it really was one of the best of my adult life.

No great parties or fuss, but I had dinner with a friend, got drunk a couple of times over the course of the weekend, got tons of cards and texts and gifts and had beautiful moments. It really does not get much better than that.

I even got the chance to see Viki the Hairdresser, so who would I be to complain about getting closer to 40 thanI am to 30, eh? If a girl can get her 'do done on her birthday, she'd be a demanding little minx to expect more.
But more I got! Mainly in the form of love, love, love - family, friends, and loved ones from all the nooks and crannies of my life. It was great.

There was time spent with G, which has been happening alot recently, and while there will always be the cynic in me, I think there's something there that I need to stick with.

He's special. He brings......................much.

He's living with N, and for the moment, that suits me ok. It's all about enjoying the time and the company at the moment, and there are some truly interesting slants he's had to give on things, that I want to hear and explore.
The domestic arrangements give the sense of freedom, whilst still being anchored. Perhaps it's selfish and misguided, but I'm certainly happier this way.

I'm skint. That's been a massive change.

Not too fussed, and again, I've enjoyed the challenge, in this case, of living like a church mouse. Not sure how long that novelty will last, but I didn't know I could live so well with so little! Jeez, I've never been anything close to well-off, but this is really living tight! My mothers 'good living for cheap' skills are coming into their own!!

Charlie is still doing well, and as I write, I'm waiting for him to return from a Chelsea match (1-0 against Newcastle) that he went to on his own! He got the chance of a very cheap ticket, and no matter what, he was going! He's just been on the phone bemoaning the trains.

He's been learning to drive, and has been told that he has a natural ability. I believe this is actually something in the blood. From both sides, he comes from entire families of first-time passers. Pressure's on eh?!?!

I'm getting stuck into the A level, in as much as I'm reading! I think it's best to read with an uncritical eye and then do the exercise set. I'm about to finish 'Spies' and will get to writing and re-reading when I've finished the book.

The other thing that I'm looking into is learning to play the guitar. I have to do it before I die, so now is as good a time as any.

And that's about it.

Hope it's not been too boring for you.

It's just life as I know it.

Amelie Delagrange

2006-03-02T22:39:00.000Z

I am pleased to read that someone is at last going to stand trial for the brutal murder of this beautiful young girl.

I'm just a bit surprised to read who they've charged, but I'll explain further in a bit.

Other charges have also been brought against Levi Bellfield, for the attempted murders and abduction of other young women in the area around Twickenham.

On one occasion, the attacker revved his engine, drove straight at one of these young women and then reversed over her. She was very lucky to survive, as were others.

But not so for the lovely, fresh-faced English student, Amelie, who was attacked with something like a hammer, and died from her injuries. She was 22 years old.

My family live around the area where a seemingly separate hammer attack took place, in Hampton.

Hanworth (where my sister lives) is just up the road, and Levi originally came from Hanworth.

In fact, she went to school with him, and knew him as a neighbour for many years. His family still live just across the road.

He even came up for a cuppa a few times over the years, and got on well with my brother-in-law.

She last saw him 2 years ago.

He was always a skinny little fella as a teenager, who bounced on his toes when he walked. My sister tells me he grew to be about 6 ft 2 and is a big stocky bloke.

I was a bit younger than him and always found his slightly aggressive nature off-putting. I never wanted to get to know him. My sister always thought he was a sweetheart.

Whatever, it is truly incredible to think that he could be capable of these terrible crimes, but the police dug up his garden a long time ago, and I doubt that this case would be coming to court after 18 months, without some pretty solid evidence.

If he is innocent, then I hope this is found to be so.

If he's guilty, I thank God for the skills of the British police and hope the system deals with it as it should.

Her parents and loved ones deserve to see proper justice done.

Fun Lovin Friday

2006-02-28T21:03:00.000Z

The week is just going too slowly!

I'm seeing the Fun Lovin' Criminals on Friday night at Shepherds Bush, and I can't wait!

This is the first of many gigs of the year, and if it goes anything like the first of last year, I expect I'll have a properly excellent time.

The company will be that of one of my favourites, it'll be Friday (best day of the week), and come hell, high-water, death, disease and bloody pestilence, I'M GOING!!!

Let the ten plagues come; I will still be found in the company of Huey (or is it Hughie) and his mates, in Shepherds Bush.

Now I may have put some class of death-wish on the proceedings by even writing this, so don't tell anyone ok?

Not real...........SURELY???

2006-02-21T21:46:00.000Z

I was sent this picture, and it is supposedly a very nasty beast that runs around the Iraq desert at night.

It bites, apparently.

Now I am fully aware of all the goings on with photos, and how they can be enhanced and messed with, and downright invented, so I want your wordly opinions on this bad boy.

I should say, and you may well observe yourself, this is two of them. One appears to be lunching on the other....which is nice.

Everybody needs good neighbours

2006-02-16T23:20:00.000Z

And I have been truly blessed with two of mine, in the form of Lyndsey and her amazing daughter, Shannon.

They move out tomorrow, after nearly 6 years of sharing a little bit of daily life.

I am really happy for Lyndsey, as she has been sharing a meticulously kept one bedroom flat with Shannon, and the time has come where she could benefit from some kind of life of her own.

She's a great mum, who has worked hard and taken the blows of life on the chin, with optimism and fortitude, and I have a pile of respect with her name on it.

As for Shannon, she is a dynamic, unique, marvellous spirit, and it has been my pleasure entirely to see this little girls bonny face light up when she sees me.
She is tireless in her posting of little cards and sweets and home made gifts through the door, often with a ton of still-wet glue and glitter!

Lyndsey has seen my son grow from boy to young man, and Shannon was my neighbour before she was even born; I've seen her toddling along, and now to school, so it really feels like the end of an era.

I was so happy to have them here at Christmas time too, and Shannon's energy and joy at all things, really was wonderful to be around.

I shall miss them both, very much.

I am happy to report that they will not be far away, but of course, it cannot possibly be the same as it's been.

Who else will give me such silly pleasure, as they did this evening, by knocking on the door and finding a giggling little girl, wrapped up like a gift, in newspaper?!

I wish them love and luck.

Hours of fun!

2006-02-13T22:27:00.000Z

I don't know whether to be repulsed or amused by this mucky little monkey!

I'd say he looks bored, wouldn't you?

Hush my mouth!

2006-02-08T22:34:00.000Z

As seems to be a trend in my life of late (with boring regularity, as it happens) my plans have been royally scuppered!

I am not going to Egypt in March now, and I am just a wee bit sick.

I have to be totally fair though, and say that H has to come home before I am booked to go there.

Her parents have both been ill and are older folks, and I think there are some other issues, but we'll talk about those when we meet up. I think she's lonely and a bit lost.

I'm a bit worried about her, and cannot actually call her and check that she is ok.

Buggeration!

Tired but happy

2006-02-06T20:21:00.000Z

I am knackered!

Every limb aches, my finger ends are bruised and my knees are red raw.

No, I did not spend the weekend at an S & M club, I was decorating the bathroom.

Started saturday morning, finished last night.

I've done a pretty good job all round, but my main reason for being just about as pleased as Punch himself, is that I also laid the flooring on my own.

It's not a big space, but it's got some weird arsed ideas about what constitutes a straight wall, has some corners that a mouse would struggle to manouvre in holding anything longer than a grain of rice, and a floor so uneven, it can usually only be found in the 'House of Fun' !

Believe me, this is the only time the word 'fun' could ever appear in text regarding this subject.

I feel Six is here with me, in spirit, as I bathe my blistered hands and try to bring comfort to these crying bones!

Spot the Kayfer

2006-02-03T20:27:00.000Z

This picture was taken in the summer of 1975, when the whole class of girls were bridesmaids for our lovely teacher.

As you can see, we were all dressed identically, and the grown-up ladies at the back, are her sister and best friend.

The boys in our class didn't get all the finery, but we were all treated to a Punch & Judy show, and we had crisps, and there were gifts for us all after the wedding!

I kept the posie I was carrying, for years and years, but they were only paper and it fell horribly apart in the end. I can still name most of the people in the photo, and am in vague touch with one of them

She was a wonderful teacher as I recall, very kind and really pretty, with long, lustrous dark hair.

She became Mrs Pater, but I can no longer remember her maiden name. Her first name is Ann.

She actually taught all of my mum's children, except my sister, and came to one of my brother's weddings many, many years later.

Anyway, I am the one who is standing at her right elbow (as you look at the picture) but had to be at the front of the procession that walked her down the aisle, because I was the shortest!

Yes , yes......only the girls at the front are kneeling!

Kayfer's 3 Wish List

2006-02-01T23:21:00.000Z

Wish 1. A nice The Girlie, for The Boy.

He recently said he feels it's time he pursued a girlfriend, but also said that he cannot actually be bothered......it's not the getting one he can't be arsed with, it's the keeping them - too high maintenance.

Well I hope that he comes across a girl soon, who does not get on his tits, who can understand his calm and seemingly aloof soul and see that still waters run deep, who doesn't get excited when it's not all going her way.
A girl who's calm and collected and tries hard to do the right thing, and is also young enough, but smart enough, not to need too much from it at this stage in life.

A bit like him really.

Repeat the above x 2, and that's me done.

Walk like an Egyptian

2006-01-31T21:18:00.000Z

I'm going to Egypt in March.

I am so excited, I just can't cope, to be honest!

My friend has bought an apartment that is metres from the bank of the Nile, and overlooks the Valley of the Kings.

She says it is like stepping back in time, with naked babies and chickens running in the street, and the meat man who hoofs a carcus up on a stand, hacks off bits for his customers, and when it's gone, it's gone.
She says the local women have been so friendly and open, and she can get a smoke off the fishermen! Her neighbour is an Englishman, and to make sure he'd be as helpful as she might need him to be, she took him all the means to brew his own Guiness! Of course, he is suitably thrilled and cannot do enough for the girl.

She's only had 2 Scorpions in the kitchen thus far (ONLY 2!), but she is now well enough prepared and kitted-out, to make short shrift of any newcomers! Christ, I hope she's telling me the truth about that bit!!!

She's an amazing girl is our H.

She was basically left abandoned after 15 years of marriage and a seemingly idyllic life set up in France with her husband.

No shirker or wimp, she upped and left France, and went off to the Isle of Mull, all alone, and did a live-in job at a hotel.

After bumming about abit for a while and coming to terms with her lot, she went to Egypt with her parents for a holiday, and fell in love with the place. She's to'd and fro'd for the last year and ended up buying the apartment.

The rest is history, and she is now living there for as many months of the year as she can cope with the heat. She only went at the beginning of January, and I cannot wait to get out there and share some of her life for week.

Now that it's all booked, I'm going to be day dreaming rather alot, that's for sure!

Pass the smelling salts!

2006-01-25T22:51:00.000Z

I am in utter shock...........................

I have just gone through getting half a dozen quotes for insurance for The Boy, so that he can make use of the car that he has now owned for 9 months, and has waited so patiently to drive.

I cannot believe the figures that are flashing up before my eyes.

Thus far, I have prices ranging from £1,779.000 to £3,542.00!! I mean they throw in a courtesy car for this last astronomical sum of money, but I'd want the lad chauffeured around with a back seat full of bee-hutches for that kind of dosh!

This is no fancy car we are talking about here; it's an 8 year old, 1000cc Polo. Tidy, but no modifications, no fat wheels or window shaking exhausts.

In fact, up until I got the Smart, it was his mum's car!!

While I realise that there has to be some kind of balance applied for the group of drivers that we are told cause the most problems, there are quite literally tens of thousands of young men out there, who simply want to get from A to B in the same manner the rest of us do.

I really think it is an unnecessary discrimination, that apparently does not work as any kind of detterrent to those who would speed around the streets like fucking maniacs, as they are still the ones apparently causing the problems.
I see many young men in the sixth form, going to the local boys school in their cars, and it seems to me that they are doing ok with the whole responsibility of it all.

Surely the kind of person you are should play it's part in this matter.

I think it's highly telling and very relevant if a young man is working or still studying at school, or is unemployed and not in education, if he is part of clubs or sports teams, whether he has a criminal record or not.

We're all given statistics to dwell on about what makes a person more likely to be a good citizen and what doesn't, so why can this not apply to the simple process of learning to drive?

I'm not saying it should be simple to get a no claims bonus; that should be hard earned. But it's ridiculous and really very unfair to put up this exclusion before a chap gets to even try to prove himself.

Ok. Plan B.

This time 17 years ago....

2006-01-17T21:58:00.000Z

I was in a considerable amount of pain.

My baby was already 14 days late, I'd been in labour for 31 hours and there seemed to be nothing going on but the ever increasing, ever intensifying contractions. Nothing shifting. No baby imminently arriving.

It would be another 18 hours until Charlie made his rather unfussy entrance into the world; a total of 15 days late, and taking 48 hours and 58 minutes of that overtime to be born!

All went swimmingly, but my God, we were both knackered!

He then went on to sleep for the next 10 hours, when the nurses insisted I wake him up to try and get food down him.

I just sat and stared.

He will be 17 tomorrow and I still find myself just wanting to look at him. To take in that face I've known so long and so well, but that changes almost daily, and I guess always has done.

He still likes to take his time and slack when he can, but he is turning out to be a pretty decent fella, with a well-formed world view and a good attitude.

I hope he has the happiest of days.

Great big pile of shit!

2006-01-17T00:00:00.000Z

There is something deeply pleasing to look outside of my office window and see the huge, steaming manure pile just across the way.

The complete science of it, simply blows me away.

The biology; the process of feed=shit=fertiliser=growth=life.

The chemistry; the way the gases build and the steaming gets heavier as the week passes.

The physics; seeing the amount there is to be collected and the way the grabber lifts bucket loads, the drifting atoms, the spreading without effort.

I love it.

Just the simple fact that it is an eco-system in itself, makes me feel humble.

Part-man, part cat.

2006-01-16T23:36:00.000Z

Damn right he's pissed off!

No nads, but for sure a boy.

A look in his eye that says, 'I dare you to mention the matching gloves and booties.'

And my truly heart felt sympathies.

Who did this to the poor fellow?

I want to confirm here and now, that this is not my shaved pussy, and that I have never owned a cat.

I might have wanted to do this to one when I was 6, but this was an adults doing for sure!

I bet he's been beaten up.

Cyclopse the Cat and other Urban Myths

2006-01-16T21:01:00.000Z

There is a great site www.snopes.com that sorts the wheat from the chaff, in matters of the True vs False images that fly around the superinterwebhighway.

Take a sneaky-peeky at the heart-rending little fellow that this blog is named after, and settle once and for all, questions of authenticity that may (or more likely not) have troubled your sleep, surrounding the likes of such urban myths as the unbelievably unlucky chap who has been branded a complete twat for scratching his nose with a power tool, when in fact, a stray bullet nearly shot his face off!

It's all there, from Disney to Horror (for some, this is the same category) just waiting to be proven or dispelled.

You can find the strangely gorgeous, yet tragically unfortunate Cyclopse, in the Photo Gallery, under 'various animals'.

Go on. Have a look.

Bounce me round the house!

2006-01-13T19:42:00.000Z

The latest (and possibly the greatest) thing to come out of America, surely?

The BodyBouncer is simply de rigeur in matters of pleasure aids for adults, and I wonder if, like me, you'll wish you'd thought of it first!

I'd like some opinions on this one, my people.........

www.bodybouncer.com

Manna from heaven? Part 2

2006-01-09T21:23:00.000Z

I've been offered the job at the farm today!

I had a second interview with the seemingly likeable chap that is now my boss, and his wife, and there was just something about the questions they asked, and the answers I felt comfortable enough to give the honest answers to, that made me hope they'd offer me the job after the weekend!

The main moment that stands out, is when we'd had a business type chat for a while, and then he said, 'so is there anything about the situation that you're not sure about so far? and I want you to be honest...'

So I was honest.

Diplomatic, but honest.

I told him and his wife that I was not happy with the state of the office, not the furnishings and trimmings, but the layer of dirt over everything (!) and the look they gave each other was like a weight lifting immediately off my mind, and the solution they came up with was more than I would have hoped for.

The fact is, the woman who has run the office for 8 years is the horsey type who does not mind all the dust and shite you can throw her way.

My new boss and his wife however, as completely horsey as they are, are not like that, and their house is beautiful and immaculate.

They both said that they were really happy that I'd brought it up, and that they want to to completely refurbish the office when 'you....ahem...the new person....joins'!!! LOL! Great little moment of clarity and relief.

They'd had a huge response to their ad and had seen many people, and the call to confirm that I had the job was one of the warmest and exciting I've ever had!

I'm used to getting the jobs I go for, but I will remember the words of the offer for a long time to come!

Maybe it will seem abit big-headed or arrogant sounding to quote it, but I am so chuffed,and it is not intended in any way to sound as such. It's just that the way things turned out with the last job, have been less than cool really. I take my responsibility on the chin, and after the way I just got effectively sacked, I think it must be proven that I'm not unemployable!!

' We'd love it if you'd come and work with us.......I feel it's really important that I have the right person working with me.'

How warm d'ya want it???!!!

There's no grand terms, no pension or health care scheme, no profit share.

But there's horses, and the lovely countryside I live just 10 zippy Smart car minutes from, Argentinian Polo players, dogs, responsibility and expectation placed on my hard won skills, sheep, instant honesty, a welcome, the smell of leather, inclusion in plans, a family run business, with loyal employees, and just to make me feel even more ok with all that, a decent wage.

I'll let you know if this is not a good thing.

Manna from heaven?

2006-01-03T19:45:00.000Z

The oddest thing has happened today.

I had to return to work after the long Christmas break, and had had a few realisations that I really am not at all happy in the new job.

I worked out over Christmas, what it is I found to be strange about the people I work with, and it's that there has been zero interest in me or my life outside of the job; no questions about my marital status, what my son does, family, nothing.

Now I have no need to be the centre of attention, and in fact, I quite like it when I am allowed to blend in and just get on with it.

But I have never come across such a disinterested bunch.

Nice enough, don't get me wrong, but just not truly personable. They are very into each other, with the shortest served time there being 4 years, and there really is no room for anyone else.

Anyway, I was really depressed for the last few days of the holiday, just dreading having to go back to this sterile environment - I can honestly say, I have rarely disliked a job so much. it wasn't only the cliqueiness of the people, it was also the content of the job - in a word, DULL. I'd been activley searching on the net most of the week, and planned that as soon as something less oppressive and rigid came along, I'd be gone.

I hate to let people down though, and after training me and all that, I would have felt bad.

I went in this morning with a heavy heart, knowing that this was to be my life 5 days a week for the foreseeable.

I did a couple of hours work, and then my boss asked to see me, along with the General Manager.

We sat down, and he confirmed everything I'd been feeling from the people I'd been working with, by saying that he did not feel I fitted in because I am 'too friendly'.

There was also some talk about me having been heard to swear at the Christmas party (which I have zero recognition of, but it turns out was just a very throw away comment to a colleague who was not the least offended, overheard by someone else who 'reported' it!) and that this could be sackable!
I accept this in some ways, but wonder how it holds up in comparison to the story that is legendary in the company, about the young fellow that has worked there for 4 years, who actually puked all over a table of drinks that the boss was sitting at, at one of the Christmas party's.
But the relevance of all that my social indiscretion entails is a bit of a mystery when all is said and done, and I'm fairly confident that this was thrown in the mix as a way of not making it seem like an unfair situation.....which as it turns out, I don't think it is!
I have been allowed to leave right away but can still expect to be paid for the next month, with a reference as to how 'helpful, hard-working and intelligent' I am, and I could not be happier!

I have been so uptight as to how I was going to get out of this sooner rather than later, and really felt I'd have to give it at least a year for the sake of fairness and the old CV.

The relief is just immense.

I already have an interview lined up for tomorrow morning, for a PA position at a very local Equestrian centre.

I'll only panic when and if it's time to panic, but as it stands, I am really happy with the way it's turned out so far!

I knew my big gob was going to do me good one of these days, and really, if being too friendly is what makes me not fit in with those Stepford style robots, that'll do for me.

Sentiments not catered for at Clintons

2006-01-02T22:02:00.000Z

With the new year come lots of January birthdays, and they are all birthdays of some of my nearest and dearest.

In fact, it begins on 30th December, and then there is at least one birthday every week it seems, until about May!

There is such an array of cards to choose from, and it is guaranteed, even if the buying is left until the very last minute, you can get hold of an appropriate card for births, deaths, marriages, good luck, congratulations, 18th, 21st, Mothers day or Valentine.

But what of the other sentiments that simply must be conveyed?

'Left blank for your own message'?? Not good enough!

There remains a huge gap in the market, and I hope that these little pointers might inspire some of you to at least get your art and craft materials out, and make a card that really says it like it is.

My tire was thumping,I thought it was flat
When I looked at the tyre...I noticed your cat.
Sorry!

Heard your wife left you,
How upset you must be.
But don't fret about it
She moved in with me.

Looking back over the years that we've been together, I can't help but wonder..."What the hell was I thinking?"

Congratulations on your wedding day!
Too bad no one likes your husband.

How could two people as beautiful as you have such an ugly baby?

I've always wanted to have someone to hold, someone to love.
After meeting you, I've changed my mind.

I must admit, you brought Religion into my life.
I never believed in Hell until I met you.

As the days go by, I think of how lucky I am...That you're not here to ruin it for me.

Congratulations on your promotion.
Before you go...Would you like to take this knife out of my back?
You'll probably need it again.

Happy Birthday, Uncle Dad!

Happy birthday!
You look great for your age.
Almost Lifelike!

When we were together, you always said you'd die for me.
Now that we've broken up, I think it's time you kept your promise.

We have been friends for a very long time ..let's say we stop?

I'm so miserable without you, it's almost like you're here.

Congratulations on your new bundle of joy.
Did you ever find out who the father was?

Your friends and I wanted to do something special for your birthday...So we're having you put to sleep.

So your daughter's lap-dancing and it spoiled your day.
Look on the bright side....it's really good pay.

Snippets and insights

2006-01-02T21:26:00.000Z

I love the power of words, but I especially love simple words of wisdom.

Sometimes, a phrase or poem can change a persons life. It can inspire them to follow happiness, dignity, even misery I suppose!

I've yet to find my phrase or poem, the one that a person lives by no matter what, or passes on because it feels like it is their own to give away.

But there is a nice little poem, penned by Audrey Hepburn, that was read some years later at her funeral.

These were her beauty tips:

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his/her fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.
People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone.
Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you will find one at the end of each of your arms.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands; one for helping yourself, and the other for helping others

I know little about Ms. Hepburn, but I shall now read her biography and discover whether or not she lived by this philosophy.

There is also a wonderful prayer, written by an anonymous 14th, or more likely, 17th century Nun (two different schools of thought I've found) that I just love;

Lord,

Thou knowest better than I do myself, that I am growing older and will some day be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from the craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs.
Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy. With my great store of wisdom it seems a pity not to use it all, but Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips from aches and pains. They are increasing, and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others’ pains, but help me to endure them with patience.
I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a sureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a saint – some are hard to live with – but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.
Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And give me, Lord, the grace to tell them so.
Amen.

I think it's so insightful, human and humble. And more than a little bit amusing!

Unlike the little prayer my mate said she always recited before bed, which was 'If I die before I wake up, I pray the Lord don't smudge my make-up'.

Not the same thing at all.

Every woman knows, it's a cardinal sin to leave make-up on overnight, so there's just no saving her!!

Up in Suze's Room

2005-12-30T16:26:00.000Z

Just watching/listening to the Paul Weller, Live in Hyde Park DVD that I was given for Christmas.

He is currently singing about the virtues of Suze and what it means to be up in her room...

It is stunning!

Oh to be Suze!

They follow this with a blinding rendition of 'Can you heal us Holy man?' that is just too amazing for words. And so on....

I was lucky enough to see him about 3 years ago, but sadly it was in the nasty confines of Wembley Arena, not on a fabulous English summer afternoon in Hyde Park! Oh well, you cannot have it all!

Anyway, if you like him, the DVD is worth having; jam-packed (no play on words intended)visually great, musically flawless.

I love surround sound!

The Merkin - a brief history and the modern slant

2005-12-29T01:27:00.000Z

The merkin, as it was originally known, or pubic wig, made its debut in 1450.

It was used as a device to cover "the filthy running sores of syphilis. A disease which erodes the palate... In some cases the lips, nose or eyes are eaten away, or on others, the whole of the sexual organs”.

Nice.

Merkin were frequently connected with prostitutes.

The women worked while infected, most of them being single mothers with no other form of income.
Despite the horror of infection and the merkin's connections with it, and presumably the utter hell of getting a glimpse under one, amusing little anecdotes have appeared in various works of literature, and one such reference reads;

“This put a strange whim in his head - which was to get the hairy circle of her merkin... this he dried well and combed out, and then returned to the Cardinal, telling him he had brought St. Peter's beard”.

And let's face it, it's just a bloody good word!

Fortunately, the merkin is no longer needed for its original function, and the idea of the thing itself has been displaced in time, to be re-born into a different era as the pubic wig.

And one might be forgiven for thinking that a box-fresh (pardon the pun) merkin would not be available to the modern lady, or indeed, gent.

Well replace that frown with a smile, for Merkinworld.com have the muff fluff you've been longing for, with not an oozing pustule in sight!

Now used by showgirls, clubbers, drag queens, the elderly, and PJ Harvey(!) a standard design 'funky monkey' from Merkinworld and designer Rick Stonell, will cost you around £150.
But to bring back the luxurious bush of yesteryear, with a modern twist, really does have an incalculable value to the wearer I'm sure!

So why say it with flowers, when you can flash your fanny?

For the man who wants his bunny dipped in honey, you can make like Hugh Hefner with this playful 'Playboy' design

And who could fail to be cheered when they return home after a hard day, by this happy face?!

No chance of mishaps and slip ups, with this clearly illustrated target!

Not so sure the same can be said for this rather suspicious looking 'Eight Ball' design....know what I mean????

I mean, is it just me, or does this one just look too......'A merkin for back-door lurkin'???...........

........Anyway, the message tonight is, don't hide your light under your own bushel....buy a Merkin made from human (Ewww!) or yak belly (Ewww!) hair, get someone to rip all your pubes out, and glue one on!

Do it! It's fun!

This time of night and the genes that dictate the love of it

2005-12-28T23:32:00.000Z

I really love this time of night.

Alone or in company, there is something about the approach to midnight, and the first couple of hours after it, that feel absolutely right to me.

This is when my mind is most relaxed, when I am most me.

I surely was not born to go along with the 9 to 5.30 routine with that truth coursing through my veins, eh?

No, I am an owl, not a lark. Scientific fact. Or so I'm told.

I have my mum to thank (or curse) for it. And possibly my insomniac father, but we'll go with the positives on this ocassion!

She has always been a night owl, and I cannot remember a time when I have not been assured she is awake at at least 2.00am.
In fact, she has to have some nasty illness to not be up and at 'em while others sleep.

Even when we were kids, with school to be prepared for, and her sometimes working 3 jobs at once, she still could not settle in her bed before then.

So it really is no surprise that I like the peace of this time of night (as I sit here, there is very little noise, even with Christmas still in our midst and most people not having to think about work tomorrow).

But I also like this time of night at party's and get-togethers; get-togethers like New Years Eve, when people are still lively at this time and there is all to play for, all to be enjoyed.

For me, it really is a 3 hour window for the peak of human enjoyment VS adverse effects of alcohol intake/middle age/footwear choice/company, so I personally relish every second!

I hate having to watch the clock, and the best bit about time off from the normal routine, is that I don't have to!!! Other than to count in 2006 and knock out a hearty chorus of 'Auld Lang Syne' of course!

So here I am, enjoying my favourite time of night...and I'm getting text messages from beloved friends, my choice of music is right on the money, I have ice to garnish my favourite drink, just so, and the lights from the tree are lending a nice air to everything.

Mmmm........staying up without a thought for setting the alarm....

Gift list

2005-12-27T23:08:00.000Z

Like most folks, I think, I tend to forget the gifts that I am bought for Christmas, so I have decided that I will use this to make a list of the lovely stuff I have been given in the last few days.

Wine book (Malcolm Gluck Superplonk 2006)
Jewellery (mmm.....weird and wonderful little jewellery pieces; 2 necklaces, a bracelet, 2 rings, all lovely)
Perfume (DKNY)
Bath smellies (Body Shop, Badeas)
Glass art (cannot be explained, but I love it. A large window ornament made from stone and glass that is just 'andsome!)
DVD's (The Mighty Boosh, Series 1 and Paul Weller Live)
Gorillaz CD
Handbag
Chocolates (tons of the buggers)
Wine (not nearly enough of the stuff)
Framed pictures
£20
Socks (2 pairs, grass scented)
Books (Much Ado About Nothing & The Little Book of Pot)

Didn't I do well?

Nice to see ya.......to see ya....nice.

Only 363 days until Christmas!

2005-12-27T20:20:00.000Z

It's basically over.

Boo hoo!

As usual, it all went just a little to fast for me.

Christmas day was spent in the usual way - a leisurely breakfast (just me and Charlie this year) then a bit of present opening. He was chuffed with the Multi-media player, and has been fiddling around with it ever since. I'm happy with it too, as it really is a nice little piece of kit.
There is nothing that pleases me more than making that boy of mine happy, and at almost 17, it's sometimes more of a challenge than I ever thought!
We were lucky enough to have the company of my neighbour and her delightful daughter Shannon, for dinner on Christmas Day, so I opted to leave the booze alone and let the neighbour get a bit trashed instead, which she duly did! She's a really good person and a great mum, who doesn't let her guard down for a moment usually. I told her that her baby girl was in good hands, and she was able to relax and enjoy the day.
Having a little person around made it a really silly, fun day, with real excitement around present opening and lots of little games and giggles. She really is a remarkable little girl, and her sweetness and bright mind helped make a good day, great.

Dinner was a success as far as everyone that ate it was concerned, and as I was cooking my first turkey (usually have goose or duck) I was a bit worried that we'd end up with a dried up sparrow-like thing on the table! It's fair to say though, that my parsnips were something to behold! Even my neighbour, who hates the things, could barely believe what she was eating. They were all caramelised and gorgeous, and if I can have them like that every time, I'll have them 3 times a day!

Boxing Day was a REALLY lazy affair this year. I did absolutely nothing, with G (which was nice) all day long. I didn't even get in the bath until sometime in the evening! But oh how enjoyable it was, just munching our way through the fridge contents, watching some DVD's, smoking a spliff or two, or three, and basically playing the part of holiday-maker, to the full.

Today was spent with my family; son, sister, brothers, mum, neices, nephews, respective partners and an aunt. Very much up my Strasse! I love being with them all. It's just one long round of affectionate ribbing, stories of the past that are re-hashed as if it were religion, a mad scramble for the cold-meat selection and a heated debate to round things nicely! I love it. And there are the 2 really little members of the family, that just make it that bit more special.

A few poor sinners have been ill over the festive period, including my mate, my neice, my ex and my great-nephew, with ills ranging from puking heartily, to tonsilitis and kidney infections.
If I am able to avoid the lergy for the whole time, I will be a thankful bunny.

But in the meantime, I shall have a wee drink tonight.

At last! I can relax now it's all getiing back to normal!

Cheers all x

Shout going out to Ammo!

2005-12-24T10:24:00.000Z

I would like to dedicate this entry, and tell you some things about a person I have never met, but admire very much.

A person who grows before my eyes, but in written news and ideas, not in the flesh.

A person who is often inspirational to me, and who I hope I can help to inspire.

His name is Ammon Mururu and he is my email friend from Kenya.

It's very odd how Ammo and I got to writing reguarly; he was simply an overseas customer who bought the study material from the company I worked for, to complete his exams in the CIPS (Chartered Institute of Purchasing & Supply) diploma course.
He was so pleased with the level of service and assistance that I'd given him, and wrote to thank me.
Within a couple of to and fro mails, we were just telling each other little snippets about our respective lives, and it has grown from there.

He is quite young, 25 now I think, and he comes from a family of 4 children; Ammon is the eldest, then his sister, who studies law. She is tall and beautiful, so models part-time too. Then there is another sister, who is studying for her O Levels, and who Ammon says is " brown and swollen than us but abit shorter", but she does not give a shit what others think of her. The youngest is another boy, who is a good liar apparently!

He was raised amongst the Masaai in a mining town called Magadi, though he is not Masaai. His father has worked for the same company for 30 years.
He tells me all about the Masaai customs and traditions, some not so savoury in his opinion! Girls as young as 13 married to boys of 17, drinking cow blood, that kind of thing.

He tells me about the staple foods of his community, and some of the stews he describes, sound delicious! Lots of vegetables, beef and pulses.

He once said that he would love to come to England to do his masters degree, though he is scared of the cold! He also said that he thinks his favourite places here are Salford, Liverpool Sheffield and Cheshire! I told him he'd probably appreciate the beauty of Devon, or the Lake District more!

There was a fantastic mail between us once, where we were discussing traditions, and I told him of a few of the more obscure summertime shenanigans that go on in English villages, making mention of the Wheel of Cheese rolling race, that goes on somewhere on this nutty little island.

He wrote back with such enthusiasm for the idea, and his words were just so sweet, that I need to quote them here:

"Its long since i ever read such a lovely mail,thanks katey.Your culture really sounds interesting, especially on cheese day for sure i would like to roll that big cheese down a hill and run after it."

This still brings a grin to my face, and touches my heart.

The mental image of this young man from Kenya, hurtling down a hill after a wheel of cheese, is just funny beyond words for me!

Anyway, he tells me that he was a little bit of a bad boy when he was younger, fighting mainly, but looks back and feels he was on a bad path. Now he has dreams of owning his own ranch in the countryside of Kenya, with livestock and maybe a small airstrip, of having a wife and some children. I'm sure such an ambitious man will be able to take his time and choose the right girl.

He believes in God, but comes from such a thankful, humble, hopeful place with his faith, that he makes me feel just that little bit closer to my own.

He is troubled by the terrible situations that go on in Kenya, like girls still being held back and suppressed, uneducated and married off. Mass abortion as a result of mass prostitution, and AIDS of course. The lorry drivers come through, already infected, and so the problem grows.

He tells me of the huge problems of unemployment amongst highly educated people. He knows of people who have degrees but work as barber's because there is no work that fits their skills, though the Kenyan government have encouraged their people to get this education. He says it is frustrating, and I can only imagine.

There was a time when I did not hear from him for quite a while, and then I got an email that said the local Internet Cafe had been smashed up so he'd had no access to a computer...That was a little eye-opener.

We have shared many personal stories, about family and the past, our relationships with the people around us, and I have really enjoyed giving him the personal encouragement he has badly needed over the last few months.

He did not pass the final exam, and has had to study for another six months to re-sit it in the November just gone. The results don't come until March, and I am really excited for him.

On top of all that study, he decided he needed a life to fall back on, in the event that he just cannot complete the Diploma.

He has launched his own business some months ago, selling domestic products (brushes, cleaning stuff, tools, luxury goods etc.) and has been up at 4.30am every day, crams in some study until about 6.00, and then goes off to run his business, until 8.00 o'clock each night. More study when he gets home, and a few problems (as with any fledgling business) along the way.

He says he has learnt much and knows a bit more about what makes good business sense and what does not. He is making money.

He has had to sacrifice Christmas with his family to take advantage of the good seasonal sales, but like I told him, there will be Christmas times to come for him, where he can relax with them, knowing that his empire is running itself!

I shall let you know if he passed that exam.......

So, in the words of my oddly special friend Ammo, Asante Sana (thankyou) for allowing me to tell you a bit about him, and Kwaheri! (Bye!) until next you visit.

Things I've forgotten...

2005-12-23T20:04:00.000Z

So far I have remembered the following things I have forgotten:

The massive tin of chocolates
Nuts in their shells

If there is anything else, I'll let you know!

Part 2.

Double cream

How long is this list going to get?

Part 3.

Electricity!! I had 47p on my key meter! Thank God for CostCutters and the nice Muslim chap that stays open until 10.00pm, or we would have had cheese for lunch on Christmas day!

All done!

2005-12-23T17:10:00.000Z

That's it!

I've got Christmas!

The lights are on, the wine rack is nicely stocked and there is something hearty and delicious in the oven for our dinner!

No more work (other than the tons of things that having Christmas entails) until 3rd January!

Time to have a bit of reflection over the year, to be with Charlie in more than 10 minute snippets, to eat, drink, and basically be as merry as possible.

I spent a bundle of money in the supermarket, requiring four trips to and from the car (I live 6 floors up, and thank the sweet lord for giving man the ability to make lifts!) ably assisted by my son.

Whatever is forgotten, stays forgotten - I have made a solemn vow to myself, that I will not be seen near a shop until at least Tuesday, when I might need bread and milk and proper food!

So I think it probably just remains for me to wish all you good, good people, the happiest of Christmases.

Whatever you're doing, whoever you might, or might not, be doing it with, I hope you feel love and peace over the next few days, even if it's just for the briefest moment, in the smallest way imagineable.

Let's see what 2006 has in store!

I wish only the best for us all.

I don't know where he gets it from....

2005-12-20T20:45:00.000Z

I went to Ibiza for the first time when I was 31, just 4 years ago.

I was with my beloved, and we were having the most relaxed and fun holiday we'd ever had together, just taking it easy, eating well and seeing the best the place has to offer (which is considerable if you care to look past the likes of Sky One exposes!)

A few friends were flying out a few days after us, so we decided to hold down the full-on clubbing bit until they got there.

In the meantime, we chilled and walked and enjoyed the sun and each other, for 3 blissful days.

On the third night, we had a lovely late meal in a bay restaurant and shared a bottle of bubbly. Very nice too, and it was all we needed before deciding to go back to our room and relax up.

On our way back, we came across a scantily-clad young lady (about 17), a bit worse for wear and crying. She'd had a row with her boyfriend and he'd gone off, and all her friends were expecting them in a club about half a mile away, and she was scraed to walk alone.............so we said we were happy to walk her there and make sure she met with her friends; no problem at all.

Good deed done, girlie considerably more cheerful than when we came across her, we were happy responsible adults, at one with whole scene.

Almost back to the apartment, I spot a gorgeous little bar that is lit up, and so inviting, stretching out on a little island that goes from the beach out to the sea.

Hundreds of little fish swim around the underwater light, in the clear, warm water that is all over the Balearics.

Anyway, I suggest we go and have 'a little nightcap', and we go off down to this little bar.

The barman is the smiliest man you ever saw, and there is a hearty german resident already having around about his 10th nightcap.

Anyway, I suggest to my beloved that it might be a good idea to finish with some Tequilla!

This smiley barman thinks it might be a good idea to pour us double tequillas!

They slip down no problem, and we go for round 2.........

About 5 minutes after round 1 was working it's magic, round 2 of the double whammy's, was heading for out pea-sized brains.

Yet still no real affect it seemed. You know how it is.

Ten minutes later, we shout up the final double shots and call it a night.

NOW we're feeling it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have no recollection of actually leaving that bar, even now.

Anyway, we are weaving and swaying and laughing our heads off at the sudden state we find ourselves in, and all the while, my head was giving marvellous advice to my knees, shouting 'Lock damn you! Lock!'

But they would not.

They were of rubber!

Like a baby deer I was!

I have no recollection of how my beloved was making this journey, but I do know that at the point when we were just 150 yards from home, arm in arm and creased up with laughter, we lost footing.

We reeled, as if we were skating backwards, in a fluid movement.....

CRASH!!!! Straight thorough a massive pane of glass, into the ground level dining room of a hotel!!

It was 2.00am I am thankful to report, or I would have been face down in someone's Gaspacho!!

Suffice to say, we were very lucky that we had our heads still attached and just the forty stitches between us.

For the next 4 days, we could not swim or shower properly or sunbathe.

How to trash a holiday in three easy double Tequillas!

On the night we were leaving Ibiza, we were taking one last stroll through a street market.

A Spanish Hippy tapped me on one of the shoulders where some of my stitches were clearly visible.....

He asks, 'Moto accident?'

I say 'No, tequilla!'

He says 'Mucho Tequilla?'

I say, 'Si. MUCHO Tequilla!'

He waggles a stump that used to be his little finger and says 'Ahhh, mucho Vodka!'.

God knows what his full story was, but I felt so much better; I had all my digits, my head, my limbs...all good!

Got a couple of scars from the experience, but it all adds character doesn't it?!

The Best Laid Plans.......................

2005-12-18T03:19:00.000Z

It was all going so well..............

And then I get a call... phone rang at 19.20..... My gorgeous, but alcohol seasoned Nephew trying to keep my gorgeous, and absolutely alcohol unseasoned Son from hurting himself, and others....a 16 year old boy that chooses not to drink usually, because he knows he can't cope physically with the effects of alcohol, but moreover, chooses not to drink because he does not like the way it makes people behave.

But just for one night, at his first works Christmas party, he chooses to follow his adult peers, and go with the status quo....To near disaterous consequences, frankly!!! Not for me though, really, when all is absolutely said and done; Been there. Done that. But my boy has paid for his choice.

I was just about to leave for the Fat Boy gig, and said Nephew calls in a right state, saying he can't control C, they've been thrown out of a pub and he's trying to start a fight with the world and his brother! He won't listen to a word of reason, nobody will help my Nephew by calling the Police, when he's begging them to!

Apparently a girl in the pub had accused him of pinching her bum (which I truly cannot see being the case, even with alcohol under his skin) and he denied it as strongly as he could. She wouldn't have it, and was shouting at him and other blokes were getting involved. He got seriously stressed, and the rest continues............

I'm in Windsor, they're in Richmond. Terrific!

So I jump in the car, telling my Nephew just to keep sight of him and to try not to do anything daft, but he'd had plenty to drink himself, and really didn't feel in control.

In the end, he pinned C to the ground and dialled the Police himself.

When they got there, they arrested C for drunk and disorderly.

I was over at Twickenham Police station within 40 minutes, and by the time I got there, he was KO'd in a cell, sleeping off what turns out to be just a few beers, but also tequilla I think, judging by the smell of him the next day. God I hate that shit, and for damn good reason, but that is another blog entirely!

Anyway, I sat there for 2 and half hours, waiting for a doctor to look at him and decide if he was fit to take his caution and 'Ticket' - a new scheme that gives a ticket instead of a court appearance, that costs £80.

The upshot is, he was far from fit, still staggering around and just needing to lie down and sleep so I had to leave him there all night, and go back first thing Saturday morning, without even having glimpsed my son. Not nice.

He woke up in the morning, with no clue where he was or why he was there. Could not, and still cannot, remember a thing.

He's so sorry, and really resolute that he was right; drinking is not for him.

It is a first for us both, and I am over the disappointment about not making the gig in the end.

I was absolutely shitting my pants on the drive over to Richmond to get him, and it's a mother's lot in life to forget anger, and just let relief work it's magic.

I'm really proud of my Nephew. He was really upset that he'd had to have C arrested, but he knows it was the best thing to do now.

So, I shall resolve never to be so bloody smug about my plans ever again!! That'll learn me!

Good moods

2005-12-15T23:29:00.000Z

I'm in one tonight.

The best of moods in fact.

I have such a divine next few days, that I can barely believe it's not yet Christmas!!

Tomorrow, I have no work. Neither does Charlie. Just a Christmas meal to attend at 2.00pm so all good for us both.

I need to go into the town of wonderful Windsor (always a pleasure, never a chore) and buy a few last items, then get my 'do' done with Viki, the immensely skilled hairdresser that I make laugh so much, she nearly pisses her knickers!

Then the evening holds entertainment supplied by the 'evergreen' Fat Boy Slim, at the evergreen venue that is Brixton Academy.

And I'm going with someone I have the finest time with.

Then Saturday night sees me sporting a delicious 1920's style dress with all the trimmings, with all my new work colleagues, at an all expenses paid bash, just 10 minutes in a cab from my home!!!

Sunday is reserved for walking and munching, probably with the same beautiful soul I share tomorrow night with, and then no work Monday!!!

As good as it gets?

Probably.

P.S. I also got asked out on the way home by a half decent seeming fella...it'll come to nothing, as I won't even think of pursuing, but it's nice nonetheless, and an added boost to my happiest vibe!

Amir Khan.....what a little blinder!

2005-12-12T20:53:00.000Z

Did anyone see Amir do his thing the other night?

Man! That boy can box!

I am spellbound!

Amir Khan is 19 years old, and is stunning to watch.

He performed so beautifully on saturday night, fighting a guy called, I think, Thomas(?) Thorpe, and it was simply 'job done.He's a very likeable young man too.

I am a bit of a fan of boxing oddly enough, as I'm a peace loving soul. I can argue and rant with the very best of them, but violence? No thanks.

Many years ago though, I saw a video of the fight between Marvin Hagler & Sugar Ray Leonard, and I have been ever so slightly hooked, ever since.

It was simply the most skillful and proper boxing match I have ever seen.

Sugar Ray was poetry in motion, with the onus being on BOXING, not smashing the other guy to the canvas in an all-singing, all-dancing KO.

He weaved and wound his way through the game in a way I have never seen, with a skill and knowledge of the true essence of boxing that just does not exist now. I urge you to watch it. You will see what I mean.

You only have to have watched a bit of the following fight on saturday night, between Danny Williams and Audley Harrison; the crowd were actually baying for a tear-up, a knock out or nothing, and seem to have no appreciation for the art.

Since Mike Tyson's day, the boxing crowds of televised fights seem to have changed. There has been mass crowd fighting over recent years, after the fight is finished.

It's about laying stinging blows, but more about dodging them, and that fight with Sugar Ray and Haglar was perfection in that sense.

I have been waiting to see that again ever since, but no joy to date.

But young Amir was bloody brilliant, and got full respect from the other man. He's only had 4 professional fights to date, and has won them all. He's humble and open, and I'm going to enjoy catching this young man growing through his career.

As for 'Thorpey' who so graciously took his defeat on saturday night, he obviously didn't know what it was actually like to take a full smack from young Amir.....he does now.

Are we there yet?

2005-12-08T21:44:00.000Z

I'm finding myself wishing my time away, far too often.

For 5 days out of seven, I am looking towards being at another day in my life.

I'm not saying that I don't get any value and treasures from these days that pass and get called 'the working week', because I wouldn't want to do nothing all day, but it just feels like such a waste sometimes! Know what I mean?

I interact well, I enjoy being useful and busy, and take pride in being consciencious.

But there are so many other ways that I could happily spend my life doing all of those things, that I find myself wishing my time away, to the hours that will be mine and I can relax.

I have often wondered what I'd do if I didn't have to work (say, if I won the lottery or something) and I like to think I'd volunteer my time.
Having said that, I remember talking to a friend about this once and saying that I think that's what I'd do, and she said 'Bollocks to that mate! I'd pay someone to do my good deeds!'

So I still wonder...........

Working full-time, the hours I get to really chill and catch up with myself are less and less, because there is so much needs doing that I have no time to do in the week;

shopping in one go instead of fresh every day, and battling the crowds of others having to do the same,

the washing that gets neglected in favour of wearing something that's already hanging and ironed,

changing the beds, so you can time it for at least one lay-in in crisp, new sheets,

fitting in a social life, when all you want to do is put on jim-jams and big socks, smoke a joint or have a drink, and eat things you shouldn't.

And those weekends, holidays, or just precious moments doing what you want to do instead of what you have to do, fly by so fast. Is that something to do with Relativity? I think I read that in Bill Bryson's 'Brief History...'

I believe there is a universal truth here. I believe that people do not need to watch clocks, or even know what one is, to feel the pull of freedom when they are being held by chores and duty. They just know they could be doing something much more up their street! It's the ones with clocks though, that probably suffer the condition the worst, because they can see time in a counted sense. Us clock-watchers.

Anyway, Long Live Leisure!

Thank God it's Friday tomorrow!

Oops, there I go again!

Gavin Corder...Genius

2005-12-06T23:04:00.000Z

I have links to my best online, Blog people.

I have bloomin' links!!

I pay homage (I say this with a French accent; Om-arge) to my late-night IT Mentor, Gavin Corder.

Pray, a moments silence......

Lest I forget...Part 3

2005-12-06T21:36:00.000Z

Just a little thing I remembered that my sweet boy used to say....

Whenever he was playing at being a soldier or a policeman or something, he would pretend to have a walkie-talkie.

Instead of saying 'Roger, over and out' he'd say 'Roger, in and out'!!!

And then he'd make an 'interference' noise to close.

Bless the little chap.

I never corrected him because it made me have a little giggle to myself!

Wine - Sup of the Gods.

2005-12-06T20:23:00.000Z

I am really enjoying wine.

Not any old plonk, but just nice, inexpensive, quality wine.

I'm not drinking it to get hammered; not like I can with the old Brandy juice and cola-cola!

No, wine drinking is a rather more civilised affair, and I want to be more bold with my choices so that I can know just a couple of my onions! I don't want to impress anyone else, I want to know for myself.

I'm a bit stuck on a REALLY delicious Vouvray (the creamiest wine, with the loveliest after-taste ever), and have been for a couple of weeks, and before that, a bit of a saucy Gavi (more citrus flavours, but still, I love it)

When I go out to eat, I love to see a really nice wine list, and the best I've seen of recent times, was in a brilliant Tapas bar in Windsor, called La Tasca. I believe this means 'The Pub' in Spanish.

Anyway....

I had a bottle of Marques de Vizhoja (hope I've remembered that right!), which was great with the seafood and aubergines I was eating there the other evening.

All of these wines are whites though, and I want to get in to some more reds, but so far, it's a one-horse race.

I was introduced to a Burgundy (Nuit St. Georges) a while ago, but there have been no others that have been really drinkable for me.

Too much oak, too watery, too full, too dry....Aaargghhh!

I call upon Bloggers with more experience in this game.

Recommend it to me, I'll try it, and let you know. How's that for a deal?

So, who's first for a suggestion...Span?

Or one of you other drunken bums?!!!!

Here comes the bride...!!!

2005-12-06T19:40:00.000Z

I'm loving the idea of gay marriages!

Forget the 'issues' for just a second, and just imagine what a fun and funky affair some of the ceremonies are going to be! Especially the boys who love to go so far overboard!

Lots of fluff and fancy feathers, all in hot pink, sporting killer heels and shedding buckets of tears!

A cliche perhaps, and I apologise to all, but it is a mental picture I'm enjoying! Wonderful!

My best friend's Mum has lived as a couple with her female partner for around 15 years now, and I believe they had a humanist ceremony some years ago. My friend found it a moving, if slightly bizarre experience and was rightfully happy that her Mum was happy. Now it will become the norm. I'm glad, and I hope they'll take the opportunity to legalise it now.

There is nothing I like more than a nice wedding. It warms the cockles of my heart to see two people who love each other, making a public commitment to share their lives.

And of course, I wish any couple, whether it be bride and groom, bride and bride, or groom and groom who might happen across this blog before their own big day, all the luck in the world.

But I really wanted to say that I think it's way after-time that the law is recognising the rights of same-sex couples, and I can see absolutely no reason why they should be denied the whole spectacle of a ceremony to top that.

Be it a quiet affair, or screamed from the rooftops, marriage is a truly great thing for those that feel to do it, and I'm only sorry that I have no friends that are planning on it anytime soon, gay or otherwise!

Having said that, I know Elton and David won't have forgotten me, and that my invite is winging it's way here as I write.

He only lives up the road, so it's a bit odd that I haven't had it yet...

No matter, I'm sure George and Kenny will remind him.

Oh! I'll need a hat, shoes, matching bag.....................................

STR33TER 1

2005-12-03T00:38:00.000Z

That is the number plate on his wheelchair.

Streeter1; my nephew.

Not by blood, but by time and investment, I feel.
G's blood, but I've known this boy since he was 3 years old.

He's 15 now, and as anyone from the Boards who knows me is aware, he was knocked down by a car a little over a year ago, and has been paralysed from just below the neck, ever since.

If I could put him into words, I would.

But I can't.

It has just been simply breath-taking and humbling and heart-breaking.

But still he smiles like pure sunshine, he's back to lapping up the education he was enjoying, he's still so quick to laugh like a drain at the silliest things, and has the sweetest network of mates that a young man could wish for!

And he has them running round a treat, apparently!

Him and his best mate go out all day long, and his lovely mum worried in the beginning about his wee bottle filling and 'stuff'.
It turns out that his mate was taking care of business; emptying it and making sure tablets were taken when they should be etc.

Heart-warming to say the least.
From a 14 year old boy.
A mate.
A friend.

The terrible accident that happened at the end of last summer, has been a real education.

Mostly for the man himself, of course.

But for his mum (D), dad (M), his sister (R), his Granmother (P) and of course his Uncle G.

But for those of us, his mates, his mum's partner, me, girls that were just about feeling to feel him (there is still no shortage still waiting to do so, to be fair!), neighbours, teachers......we've all had to adjust to the reality.
I really don't compare this to the adjustments of his immediate kin.
But I'm close enough to love him and to see the obstacles as they really are.

So, I dedicate this blog post to the remarkable young fellow that is STR33ER1.

He's the Don.

A mention for Morisette

2005-11-30T23:44:00.000Z

I've been re-listening to the wonderful sound of Alanis recently.

I'm no expert; I only have 2 albums of hers. But the quality of the thinking, the emotion and experience behind the work, leaves me in such admiration.

Of course, one of these albums is 'Jagged Little Pill', and having sold somewhere like 30million copies, it's safe to say it's not beyond anyone's attention.

I personally think it's a Masterpiece, but these things are a matter of taste, and often timing.

Lyrically, it's strong, true and universal, regardless of the very seriously personal perspective it was written from.

In it's musical arrangement, it is flawless. The bass, the drums, the percussion, her voice.
Enough rock to rock, enough roll to roll.

I also have 'Under Rug Swept'.

The favourite song on this album is called 'Flinch'. It is really quite something...

It's not in the same league as 'Jagged Little Pill', but it could not possibly be. After all, there is no favourite I can tell you of on that because it a seamless wonder.

But the whole thing is worthy of attention nonetheless, in my humble opinion.

She celebrated the 10th anniversary of 'Jagged Little Pill' very recently, and released an accoustic version of the album.

It is very good. Really well done.

But as I listen to her belt out the original as I post this, there really is nothing quite like it.

Cars from the 70's

2005-11-30T22:53:00.000Z

Me and my most excellent friend were talking this evening about cars that our parents owned when we were growing up in the 70's.

The list of lost names and consequently I suppose, companies that produced these beauties and beasts, was long, hilarious and kind of sad.

Regardless of which country or manufacturer they came from ( and neither of us are expert in this way, by any stretch), we quickly came up with names like the Sunbeam Rapier, Morris Minor, Wolseley Mini (this was not a name as such I don't think, but my Mum had this weird little mini van type thing!), Hillman Imp and Avenger, Austin Maxi, early Ford Escort's.

And then there were the more glamourous ones younger uncles had, like Mustang's and Stag's, and all other manner of manly sounding business.

It cannot be denied, that as much as cars are apparently safer, and definitely plusher, they just don't sound so goddam sexy!

I love my little car; functional, first and foremost, fun in it's own little nippy way, and kind of cute to look at, it's called a SMART. Good on the ear and the 'rep' for these modern, functional times. But sexy? I guess sexy and smart, but not HOT sounding! Not like 'Rapier'. No siree!

The love of my mum's life drove a Sunbeam Rapier, and she still feels it fitted his bill! Sexy sounding cars, for normal men. Men with famillies. Lovely jubbly!

Focus? Passat?Mondeo? Golf!!??? P-lease!!

And what about the little disaster's from way back when a luxury was 'go faster' stripes and/or gloves?

The Hillman Imp!

Engine at the back and smaller than my SMART!

We were travelling in one, with said love of Mum's life, and the car over-heated (Circa 1974/5?).

He being a big hero, God rest him, decided to take the cap off the radiator, and was instantly sprayed with boiling hot water! He had the presence of mind to turn his back on the spray, but still got a backful of blisters for his troubles. And all with 3 children crushed into the tiny space in the back of the thing! No seat-belts! No need! This was the 70's. We were invincible.

Anyway, he died at aged 27 from Leukaemia, before they'd had a chance to build a real life. I think he'd of been a good sort to have around.

But I digress...

He had a sexy assed car for most of their time together!

These cars were probably a load of pooh, in and on every level, except where it mattered most; to give a sassy little boost to the fellows driving them and the girlies that place their memories and growths and experiences on the passenger seat of them!

The boosted engines and kits the boys have these days are just too planned and desperate.

You got what you got back then.

And it worked. It fitted.

It was worthy of talking about tonight with my buddy.

Spider!!...Oh Man!

2005-11-29T23:25:00.000Z

I'm not scared of spiders, per se.

I should be. My mum is terrified of the things, and splats them or sucks them up the hoover to a fluffy turbo demise.

I'm happy to capture the slightly larger types and put them outside, or leave them to their own little wonderous world of web weaving if they are small and wispy.

But this story begins about a week ago, when I got up at 6.00am to see Charlie off.

I decided to just stay up, get some housework done, cup of tea, you know the kind of thing, before getting in the bath and ready for work.

I came in to the living room, and caught sight of the darkest spider I have ever seen, and certainly the biggest one in this flat. Thick legs, and a sizeable body. Usually, living 6 floors up, we just get the wispy bathroom type spiders, and they are all good. I can deal with them.

But this was a serious spider, and it was so high up on the wall, that it was too close to the ceiling for me to catch with the old 'glass/piece of paper' trick that I normally employ for such matters. And I would have had to be balancing on the arm of the couch. Unfair advantage to Spidey.

Oh Lord! What a quandary!

If I go too near, it will run (and this is the bit about spiders I do not like) and then I'll be all cold-sweaty and freaked out!

So, I opt to go back to bed, bugger the housework, don't really fancy tea!

I shut the bedroom door and hope he'll just take the DVD player and nobody will get hurt!

I get up an hour later, and Spidey is gone.........................DVD and the family silver still present and correct.

I convince myself that he actually left via an exit and is not holed up, ready to spring out on me at any given moment, and I go about my business for the next week or so.........

And then this morning, just as I am about to get into the bath, there he is, on the spare loo roll basket!

All dark and fat legged! Ooooooohhhhh!!!!

Ok, so I'm a rational woman, and I try and coax the little (oh lord) fella onto the floor.

He's not happy, not a relaxed spider (haven't met one yet!) and makes a dash for it, across the floor. Where my bare feet are! And my bath towels await!

I was so relieved that he ran in another direction, under the toiletries holder.

And when I pick this up to reveal his new whereabouts, the light makes him curl up into a dead form!

It was quite fantastic really, in that he looked all dry and properly shrivelled, like spiders do when they are!

So I dash to the kitchen, freezing and naked, but determined to rid my life of this problem in a humane way, and grab a glass and paper.

I find Spidey still curled up, looking a tad frozen and naked himself, and I pop the glass over him.

The second I do that, he springs to life! Oh Lordy!!!!!!

I slip the paper underneath, trapping a bloody thick leg in the process (sorry Spidey, if you're reading this from Spider Hospital) leave it on the floor to don some class of clothing, and return to scoop the whole thing up, to empty it over the balcony.

When I get this thing to eye level though, Jesus H. Christ on a bike! It's front fang looking parts were clearly visible! It was really a serious spider.

And it was pissed right off in the glass/paper prison I had it in. All grabby legs and searching for an escape route. Urrrggghhh!

So as I said, I am not scared of spiders, per se, but that bad boy had me shivering and convulsing for a good five minutes after I watched him float 6 floors down onto the grass.

I wish him well, but would really like it if he never came back.

Snobs and their snobbery

2005-11-25T22:29:00.000Z

I am so pissed off. I have come home in a really foul mood.

That fact alone is bugging me, because it is small-minded shite that has caused it.

Anonymous, small-minded shite at that!

There was a thread on the message boards today, entitled 'Did anything good ever come from a council estate?'.

The poser of this question (hmmm...somehow that word fits) a 'middle-class' female, informs us later in the thread, of her own parents reliance on council housing when they arrived on this fair island, and says that it was only a stepping stone and that her parents worked hard to get more.

So far, you may not think this too much of an issue. I'm ok with that. I salute success and hard work. They strike me as good folks on that principle alone.

But, when you consider the stated fact that her own beginnings were in essence, a hit and miss affair, against the originally implied blanket condemnation of council estates and their inhabitants, are you not left stunned by the audacity of this person? By the sheer small-minded snobbery of it?

Let me pick it apart for you, Dear Reader, and tell it as I see it. Maybe you won't think I'm too far off the mark with this train of thought.

Firstly, the use of language in the original thread is really nothing short of bigotry; 'scum', 'strange speak', attacks on dress codes and values.

(Go to bbc.co.uk/fivelive to have a gander at the full and unabridged version. I hasten to add, that there is a post from her, apologising. It's hard to really get any truth from that apology when you have some experience of past posts from this person, and the same pattern of 'goad and apologise'. I digress...)

And all from what she perceives as the preferred and superior place to be.

A place her parents hard work put her in. Not her own!

It doesn't occur to people like this, that just because their own values are not necessarily shared, that there could possibly be any real and true values at work in a different dynamic!

Implying that social housing automatically means the people within it fall into one social group, (ie those who play no useful part in society), is just plain bastard wrong!

Just one small fact to note; the people who live in council accomodation usually work the longest hours for the least money, get one holiday a year if they're lucky, do the crappiest jobs. And all while raising famillies as best they can, and trying to have something akin to a decent life.

Just because the averagre Joe manages to somehow continue with the grind for about 50 years, and is happy just to be looked after by a loyal Mrs Average Joe, does not mean there are not deep and meaningful forces at work. Just because conversation is peppered with expletives, does not mean nothing meaningful is being said. Just because a person's role in society might earn them less money or status, does not mean they are less of a person.

It really makes me angry that this thread came from someone who's parents were possibly only able to make her upbringing a 'middle class' one, because there is such a thing as council housing. How fortunate she is, that her parents had a head-start and were the ones who worked hard to give her a different life. It's made it so she can sit in high-horse judgement without having to experience (her loss in many ways) the struggles and joys of a life-weary household.

What if a the bread-winner had died? Or buggered off? Or been a drunk? Or disabled? Or just not bright or confident enough to aim for more? Different life and destiny, at a stroke!

My own mother brought four children up in a council house, and though she worked so hard, every day, at times holding down three crap jobs, there was no way that she could have afforded a mortgage on her council home. She was unskilled and low-paid, and was trying hard to be all the parent we needed.

For my own part, I needed to be housed when my son's father and I broke up, and while it may not suit the agenda of chattering snobs, that's how it happened.; we were together in a house he'd bought, I moved out with a small baby, and needed a place to live.

I have never taken my housing for granted, have always worked to pay my way, have always taught my son to have pride and respect for where he lives. Just like 99% of my neighbours.

I could have, and probably should have, bought this lovely flat that I am lucky enough to live in.

But over the years, I chose to work part-time, because I wanted to be Charlie's mum. To be able to go to sports day, and cook good, fresh food, and be home when he was.

I didn't give a shit for bricks and mortar.

And do you know why?

Because it would not have made me aspire to more!

I have carried the very real values that my mum instilled in all of her children, I've picked a few more of my own along the way and instilled them all, in turn, in my own child.

I have a work ethic so strong, that I have never been unemployed, unless I've somehow had enough money to chill for a bit.
My son has the same sense coursing through his every working day.

We are part of a wonderful family, who are all raisng great kids as it happens, mostly in... guess what????

Council homes!

That's right! Serial offenders!

But those of us who have not bought property, still not one of us does not work, does not love, does not respect, is not aware, socially and politically.

And I can say that with my hand on my heart.

Just like 99% of my neighbours.

So, to summarise - Snobbery is like racism; based on fear, first and foremost. But also skin-deep assumptions, ignorance and unfathomable stupidity.

There, that's better.

Friday's

2005-11-24T22:08:00.000Z

I love Friday's.

There is just a vibe about this day of the week that makes the majority of the population feel alive.

On Thursday night, even though you know you still have to get up and deal with another day of the grind, you are in anticipation.

Something just feels right with the world, and the difference to a Sunday night for example, is so remarkable in my own life, that I'm sure I could be set into a Psychologists social group just based on that data alone.

I like Sunday's. I like to get prepared. I like the chill of a Sunday before the preparation. I like the pace of a pleasant Sunday.

But I like the buzz of a Thursday night/ Friday, so much better!

The real beauty of it is, that you don't even need to have any kind of social calendar, or even a life in fact, to feel this vibe!

But you do need a job I reckon. For a sense of closure each week, of achievement and earned rest.
Even if it's being at home sorting that side of life, you need to feel the weekend will be a time for a change of pace and that you've had a role to fill in the working week.

And it all begins with a Friday.

If there was a vote on whether I think shops should be open on a Sunday (ie Tesco and the like) I'd vote No.

By the same token, if there was a vote which asked 'Should friday afternoon be spent in the pub with colleagues and strangers?' I'd vote Yes.

A mother's pain!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2005-11-24T21:09:00.000Z

The weather forecast says it will be minus 10 in the wind tomorrow morning at 6.00 am.

My boy leaves the house at 6.10am. And gets on a 'ped.

What do we think the wind-chill factor will be in minus 10 in the stand-still wind, but at 40mph?

My heart is breaking!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I will offer to get up at 5.50am and take him to the station, but I can guarantee that he will turn me down flat.

Job done, I guess, and it makes me proud.

But, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My very own Man o'meter!

2005-11-23T23:59:00.000Z

How great is this???

I've got animation! I've got animation!

And all thanks to my goodly friend, Gavin Corder. He made this especially for me, to show to you, and I shall get to the nub of why in a bit.

(And do you know Spanish, I never had to swear at him once! Not once!)

In fact, it was a most pleasant exchange of information, for which I am trying to convey my heartfelt appreciation, in this here blog.

So, it is with regret (to the nub!), but with a certain degree of permission from the good fellow himself, and a certain degree of empathy for the sentiment of the probably better woman it came from, that I now tell you what Mrs Gavin Corder has to say about her feelings towards the males in our midst.

She says, and I quote, "Men are dim, like lava lamps - nice to look at but not so bright!"

They can also be a bit 'blobby' too, in many ways, so I'm going to go with it.

For the sisterhood.

My friend Reidy

2005-11-19T13:00:00.000Z

Poor Reidy.

She's having a nightmare.

She's been diagnosed with Lupus, a really nasty form of arthritis that is caused and made worse by stress, that also attacks the vital organs over time- lungs, heart, liver.

It causes terrible stiffness in every joint, where she cannot stand up, and sometimes there is the awful symptom known as 'trigger finger'. She cannot unbend one or two fingers on her hand, and if she tries, agony ensues. She has had to have injections for this, bewteen the webs of her fingers. She tells me this is the most hideous pain she has ever known.

She is such a beautiful girl is our Jane - tall and blonde, with fine procleain skin and features.

She is a good person too, full of fun and frolicks.

A good cook, a great housekeeper, a hard worker and mum, and a loving friend.

There is no cure for this condition, and as far as I know, it is progressive. The less stress in your life, the better, but I think it still has an accumulative and ultimately devastating affect on the body.

She has been diagnosed for a year now, and due to a stormy, stressful realtionship (which she has now ended), it is showing in her blood more than ever.

Her doctor has threatened to commit her if she does not follow the programme that has now been set, not because she is mentally disturbed, but because she needs to be absolutely stress free for a spell.

We had a nice little talk last night, and I hope she will take me up on the offer of all the help I can give.

I'm best as a listening ear and a giver of love and support, and I am always happy to be a source of fun and relaxation for her. It's been prescribed by the doctor that we must go out and laugh lots!

So we are going out to a little club in Ascot tonight, just to hear some live music and drink copious amounts of brandy!

The dangers of masturbation

2005-11-19T11:49:00.000Z

Well they are considerable aren't they?

Firstly, you are of course running the risk of loss of eyesight. Medical fact!

You could of course do it just until you need glasses, but you will probably be hooked on thrapping away in dark corners by that stage, so total blindness is almost guaranteed to follow.

Then there's the terrible scenario where you might be caught, red-'handed' (pun intended).

Oh the shame, the terrible shame! Just imagine this for yourself for a moment, and ask yourself if it's worth it.

Blind, and without dignity, your life will unravel before your milky eyes!

And then, of course, there are the outward signs of self-abuse, that no amount of layering can conceal.

People will point and laugh, your family and friends will abandon you.

The medical profession is making marvellous advances in the fields of sight restoration, and counselling might right the wrongs of being caught in the act, but there is no known cure for 'Tosser's Torso'.

Men, know YOUR limits!

Getting what you're given vs Getting what you give

2005-11-17T21:59:00.000Z

My thought for the day;

Am I expecting too much, or not enough?

It's really hard to tell at the moment.

On some levels, I don't see any good reason why I should think life owes me more than I've had, than I could have.

Then something kicks in that tells me to bloody well demand it!

I seem to keep coming across people that profess so much, or offer nothing beyond what is good for them.

They call themselves friends. They say I am their love.

And I take them at face value.

Not blindly; I believe in actions.

But I suspend my emotional needs, until long after I've noticed empty words and gestures.

From friends. From lovers.

Note to self: Stop doing that!

I hope to God I'm not kidding myself with the idea that I'm capable of changing this ridiculous side of my nature, and equally, I hope that in doing so, it doesn't turn me into a cynical old bitch.

Sod this.

I'm going to bed.

Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds...

2005-11-16T22:38:00.000Z

At the Royal Albert Hall, 18th April 2006.

Don't mind if I do.

So I am.

Just when we thought there were no tickets, unless we wanted to do it at the soul-less warehouse that is Wembley Arena, my good friend and gig-buddy, persuades me to search some more, and lo! tickets to be had on an obscure site.

Ten minutes later, we've spent £100 each.

And very happy I am too.

Never been to the Royal Albert Hall, and I guess this is as epic a thing as I can experience first time around, so money well spent, in my yet to be humbled opinion(!)

I went to the opera about the same time last year, and must say, I expected more from the Royal Opera House, in terms of architecture and opulence. Maybe that's the peasant in me thinking I know how the other half live!

Anyway, chuffed about this unexpected turn of planned events, and I shall report back as to levels of value for money, in April!

My new job

2005-11-14T21:51:00.000Z

I'm feeling a bit blown away this evening.

I started the new job today, in what seems like a really great place to work; the bosses are friendly and involved with every member of staff, the package is fantastic, staff turnover is basically zero (2 people left the job in 10 years), and I'm already booked to go to the Christmas Party, which is a 1920's theme, with gambling and champagne and jazz - absolutely everything paid for, including my taxi. Very nice too.

It's full-time, which is the first time I've felt in a position to work full hours, but one drawback is that I'll have to stop shopping fresh each day, in favour of having to do a whole heap of shopping over the weekend. Not sure how I feel about that, but I'll see how I go.

The first day went well anyway, and I think I did enough 'getting it' to show I got it!

Not sure why I'm feeling abit strange, but I'm guessing it's because I'm feeling a little bit adrift.

Too much change at once I suppose; 0-60 in 0.3 seconds.

Girls are filthy!

2005-11-13T18:45:00.000Z

We are.

Really.

We can out-do the fellas in filth, all day long.

I spent yestrday evening with 12 or so of my ilk, and we are wrong 'uns!

All innocent, no men, but pure filth coming from our usually demure lips.

Not only filth, but believe me men when I tell you, your wife's 3 best mates, at least, know all there is to know about certain bedroom business.

It's one of the double standards most girls will more than happily subscribe to; the divulging of 'information'. (This means you do not have the same right to divulge in the same manner to bestest chums. You'll die if you do, naturally, for we are laydees!)
We include ourselves in what information we give, and our friend's are fully aware of what quirky little minxes we can be, and in fact, this is the main body of the conversation really; what we think/do/feel about sex with our men.

Now at this stage I should point out that this is not restricted to utter filth, nor does the content have to be full-on and graphic. The 'divulger' (is this a word?) will stay in-keeping with their personality (prim, bawdy, clinical) when sharing the goods/dishing the dirt, and the activity itself knows no barriers of language or class. The knub of the matter amounts to the same;

We share 'information'!!

I'm sure it's a female genetic trait, as suggested on the boards the other day on the subject of women and their moaning, that it's a way in which we tap one another's resources for comparison and possible improvement in our own lives.

There are rules to all of this of course, in that we do not demonstrate the face you pull, or tell them of the way you recite the entire contents of the Magna Carta in the throes of passion.

That would be bad form indeed, and these are not the details we seek.

No, it's the more impersonal personal details that are shared, and for the sake of all my sister's, I shall not tell the men who will read this what kind of thing you can expect to be common knowledge about you!

It is not meant to harm or humiliate, (though it has to be said, that most of the conversation is accompanied by peels of raucous laughter, in my experience!) and is largely forgotten a minute later, and I can only think of one ocassion where a friend was being just a tad too revealing about her beloved for decency's sake. And she was duly told as much and continued no further.

It's just another way in which females bond and cope. Sharing and speaking are our two greatest needs.

Females say more. To each other, and much to your probable annoyance, you.

About you, in fact, at Ann Summers parties and wine-sodden get-togethers.

Ken Crabshaw's Brunch-time Bad-boys

2005-11-12T01:40:00.000Z

This is a recipe given to me by my comrade Ken.

As promised, and I quote;

"Get some large, flat mushrooms. Peel and de-stalk. Brush the top with a little olive oil and pop them under a hot grill for a couple of minutes. Take them out, flip over and fill with a grated cheese, chopped tomato, (pre-cooked chopped bacon for the non-veggies), chopped green pepper and garlic mixture, then back under the grill for 5 minutes."

I've tried it, but because my mum doesn't like garlic, I put in some chopped, fresh parsley instead.

She liked it.

I liked it.

Ken likes it.

Maybe you wil too.

Electrics and me

2005-11-11T21:29:00.000Z

Oops!

Had an electrical mis-hap this evening.

A bit of a big one, though not enough of a one to adjust my hair do!

(Nobody was hurt in the production of this mis-hap, though it has to be said that this fact remains nothing short of a miracle.)

So, I needed to get a new dimmer switch for Charlie's room, and decided I'd have a go at fixing it up myself. No problem. Put wires in the new one, in the same pattern as they are in the old one. I'm my mother's daughter, I can do this shit.

Only it didn't work.

You boy's may scoff and say 'Women, know your limits!', but I followed all the instructions, and even had the good sense to turn off the mains power.

But for some reason, no joy.

'Sod it', I thought.

My nephew is training to be an electrician, so I thought I'd leave it and get him over to do the honours. I reasoned, that for safety's sake, it was best that I defer to the superior male brain....ahem!

Anywho, I decided that the best course of action was to just put the old light cover back in place, but without actually connecting the wires; Chadwell could do without a light in his room for one night. And I'd ensured that wires were not touching.

But touching isn't the problem.

Surge BETWEEN wires is though....

My mis-hap began when I forgot to tell him of my tinkerings and he came home and went to switch his bedroom light on....................... BANG!! Loud. Very.

No physical harm done I am so grateful to report, but every light, appliance , heater and cooking facility went out.

Nothing.

Nada.

Nil.

I go to the fuse box (as all modern ladies in the know would) and flick various switches that say 'on' and 'off', but..........

Nothing.

Nada.

Nil.

Bollocks! I've blown something.

Something that probably matters in light of the fact that I have no lights, heat, cooking facilities, and probably worse from a cautionary perspective, no smoke alarm!

So I call out an Emergency Electrics Bastard (at £40 call-out plus £40 per hour or part thereof, I can call him that with impunity. Same with Emergency Washing Machine Bastards and Emergency Squirrels in the Roof Bastards and their ilk), and get told he will be here within 4 hours.

Great. Four is better than twenty-four.

The God's are smiling, in that they send me the EEB in 45 minutes, and he gives me a look that clearly says 'Women, know your limits!', and sets about the task in hand.

Flicks the same switches I have, and turns on lights and everything......

Nothing.

Nada.

Nil.

More expert faffings, and it turns out that I have blown the MAIN fuse to my flat.

Not the main fuse in the domestic box, but the MAIN fuse that feeds this flat, in a block of 48!

Thankfully it is on a board that feeds each individual flat into each domestic fuse box (known in circles as the 'riser'), otherwise I would have blown the whole block on this side!!!!! And possibly beyond.

The Queen has the Chinese matey to tea tonight and the castle is lit up beautifully (I can see it from my window) - it could have got ugly! Political even. Like we need it!

The upshot of the whole drama is that the EEB has fitted a temporary 30 amp fuse in place of the one I blew, and will return tomorrow (£40 per hour or part there bastard of, if you don't mind) and fit the 60 amp or so bugger that I need to run my empire.

Electricity is not my friend.

Rainbows and other works of art

2005-11-11T19:13:00.000Z

I love to see a rainbow, and I am so fortunate where I live in that if the conditions are right for one, I am guaranteed to see it.

And not just see it.

They arch over the field outside my window, sometimes in double. They are so clear and long-lasting, seemingly close enough to pass your hand through.

The splendour of them leaves little wonder in my mind that people looked upon them at times in history and believed them to be a sign from Heaven.

They are other-wordly and when you consider the span, the actual real size of the arch and the distance it can be seen from, the beauty of a rainbow, they are certainly a gift of Nature.

Nature means to dazzle us.

She's a real choreographer and magician, and a rainbow is just her finest folly. One of her pointless, but breath-taking objects de art.

This is one I took a picture of from the balcony one rainy afternoon in October this year.

This was taken just using my rubbish little digital camera, but I think it has picked up the light contrasts, above and below the arch, beautifully.

But if you want to see something the skies have to offer that is, in my opinion, beyond words, check out www.jornolsen.com and click on the 'Mammatus' gallery icon.

I mean, these are CLOUD'S for God's sake!

You will not believe your eyes.

Enjoy!

This is me!

2005-11-10T12:05:00.000Z

Ok, so for anyone who might be interested, this is what I look like.

I look a bit moody really, but in reality, I'm very quick to smile.
This is one of those rare moments where I wasn't. Typical!

Anyway, it's the most recent one I have and at least you get the basics.

I'd like to point out, that I do not have the shoulders of a German shotputter in real life!

So, this is me!

A Level of education I can work with

2005-11-09T10:36:00.000Z

I can start my first A Level!

In fact, it's my first real exam ever taken! How's that for ambitious?!

I've done courses at college and stuff, but I have never studied for a qualification in my life. I left school before the exams were due to start when I was 16, and I kick myself!

I have a pretty good command of English, and I was going to do the GCSE first, but friends have convinced me just to go the whole hog and do the full A Level English Literature (AS/A2).
I'll do a GCSE in Maths, and maybe Sociology after I finish this mammoth task, and then see if I want to take those up to A Level perhaps.

The ultimate aim would be to get on to a 4 year degree course for Speech and Language Therapy, but I think you need at 3-5 A's! At least I can apply and will have shown willing. It's years away, but it's a long-term goal that this may bring me closer to.

I am so excited about this part of my life.

I'm nervous too.

But you can only give these things a go can't you?

It's going to take anything up to 3 years to complete it, but I reckon I can do it in two if I behave and knuckle down.

It's a really interesting study list and I'm looking forward to reading the Shakespeare, and worried about reading the Shakespeare, in equal measure!

My list of texts are:

The Handmaid's Tale
The Taming of the Shrew (always wanted to read this, because of Kate!)
Dr. Faustus (a play, I'm told. I have never heard of it! I guess that makes me a Philistine!)
'Safe as Houses' collection
Othello
Songs of Innocence and of Experience - Poems in pairs
A Clockwork Orange
Riddley Walker

There is also a part that covers literature in War. It doesn't state whether it's Wilfred Owens or not, but it usually is isn't it?

So, I need to get my little tushy to the bookstore and buy some stuff.

The sooner I get started, the sooner I can be completely smug!

This is implying that I will have reason to be, and actually pass, which I will work extremely hard to do, but I really would be happy with an average grade. I'm quite pleased with myself that I'm even attempting it, so anything over my terribly negative expectations, will be fine with me!

Women! - Know your limits!

2005-11-07T23:03:00.000Z

I absolutely cannot believe this article from the 'House Keeping Monthly - Good Wife's Guide', 13th May 1955.

It is supreme in it's banality, yet effortlessly weaving itself into the fabric of the time. Religion-like in it's mantra. It's bloody genius and madness in one! So many things are of course.

I am a very happy lady when I'm taking care of a home, and a man for that matter, and happiest operating in a family environment; I like to cook and know that the members of my household can rely on the things that good food, made with love provides.

But can you imagine feeling you have to live under this 15 point plan for marital, and female, success?

(No pasting and copying was used in the production of this blog! )
And I quote (please feel free to read aloud in the voice of Katie Boyle):

"Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favourite dish) is a part of the warm welcome needed.

Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.

Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives.

Gather up schoolbooks, toys, paper, etc. and then run a dustcloth over the tables.

Over the cooler months of the year, you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering to his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisafaction.

Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash all the children's hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimise all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.

Be happy to see him.

Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.

Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.

Your goal: Try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order, and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit. Don't greet him with complaints and problems.

Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.

Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low soothing and pleasant voice.

Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgement or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him."

Well shiver my timbers, and write me out a prescription for the new, popular, middle-class housewives choice!

Fantastic stuff, I think you will agree.

That's just gorgeous if you ask me.

Shits and Gig-gles

2005-11-07T21:01:00.000Z

I love being at a live gig. there is nothing quite like it; venues big and small.

I've had a fantastic year in that department. A fantastic few years actually.

There's been Paul Weller and Red Hot Chili Peppers and I Am Kloot, Damien Rice and Gomez, amongst others that I cannot remember, but still have the ticket stubs for!

This year alone I've seen Kasabian in Brighton best gig by far. Coldplay Crystal Palace, dullest gig so far, Kings of Leon,Hammersmith, Doves at Somerset House, which is the best venue ever, and Faithless in Princes Street in Edinburgh. Right at the foot of the castle. Magic! Even got to hear a little bit of Franz Ferdinand warming up the day after!

I still have another Doves gig lined up in Reading! Oh joy! And that is with my best ever gig buddy, Amanda. Oh she does make me laugh!

I'm looking forward to getting out there with a lighter heart and a more peaceful mind.

And this is just the beginning. There are so many others I really want to see too, and I shall be keeping my little peepers open for tickets.

On my hit list for 2006 are The Kaiser Chiefs, Faithless again, Bloc Party, Gomez again, if they ever come home, and I wouldn't mind keeping an eye on Kate Bush either. But there is little chance of her coming out to play, so perhaps I shall have to forego and see someone EPIC like Stevie Wonder (oh I wish!) or K.T Tunstall would be good. If Alanis Morrisette comes to these parts, I'd see her too.

So it's all good on the music and gigs front as far as I'm concerned, and with a new vim and vigour, I shall pursue this soul-food past-time.

Damn! I'd go to the opening of an envelope right now!

Take that, you fucker!

2005-11-06T20:50:00.000Z

Breaking up is SO very hard to do

2005-11-06T20:30:00.000Z

It's not been an easy 4 months.

I've made some tough, truly non-returnable decisions in my time, but this has been my Nemesis.

One man, twelve years.

It's a very long time, and it's been mostly happy. Lots of very good times. Probably the best of my life really.

It's just not been able to meet certain needs, that's all. Neither of us has grown through it as I feel we should have. And only one of us insists they are content.

The other one is me.

What do you do when the truest, most honest man you are ever likely to meet, just isn't enough of a challenge? What if he's happy to never question your motives and stand points, but follow your shots in the dark? How do you end that relationship, without having to give up the parts of someone that you love with all your heart? It's having to lose a friend. That is the hardest part of all.

It's taken 4 months to finalise all of this, after I asked him to move out in the summer. Four months we've been hanging in limbo. I just had to put a stop to that.

I don't know if there was any real hope of sorting things out when I agreed back then to still stay effectively together but live apart, but I wanted there to be. I would never had asked him to go if I'd felt we really had any alternatives, and it hadn't been my plan to stay together. I was ending it back then. I thought for a while though, that he had really absorbed what I was saying and would act on it this time.

He didn't, sadly.

I'd seen no actions to demonstrate what he said he'd taken on board, so recently, for the first time in our relationship, I actually asked him to make a promise that he would take steps to help me move things forward, by finding a more sensible place to live. A decent base, where he could experience what it is to have to run his own life, but moreover, somewhere to be comfortable and to call home.
I worry so much about him being in the room he is staying in, where there are no cooking facilities, there's no washing machine, a crumby bathroom and the noisiest neighbours on earth.

He promised, but he has done nothing about it. That was a little over 2 months ago.

This has been the story of my life with him - me always waiting for the bare minimum of action. Always having to be the one to raise uncomfortable issues, suggest the solutions, go through the whole process of making myself heard and understood, just to have zero response.

He has been devoted on so many levels for all these years, and I have no doubt that he loves me very, very much. But I have told him, and I think I'm right in this, that he needs to look inside his heart and ask himself why he has always chosen to do nothing in the face of my concerns. I mean, nothing I have ever asked of him is beyond his capability.

I've got fairly simple needs when it comes right down to it.

One clear example, is that I've asked several times (over many years I hasten to add) that he take more of an active role in the running of the household, in that every single bill has always come out of my account. He has no clue whatsoever how much rent we pay, what the council tax is, the water bill, when they need paying etc. No clue. And I'm tired of being the one to always have to give my brain over to the logistics of it all. Sometimes it would have been nice to be the one just handing over my share and not having to think about it again. Not to be the one queueing in the bank paying the money in. Not to be the one juggling absolutely everything. And I do mean everything.

Insert any scenario you like in here, and apply the above to it.

If it's getting sorted, it's getting sorted by me.
If it's getting covered and dealt with, it's getting covered and dealt with by me.
If it's getting fretted over, it's getting fretted over by me.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'll be your Juggler for this evening! And for all day, every day.

So often I have sat and told myself that I should stop whinging and just be glad that I have a man who loves me, that I can trust, who is sweet and generous and kind.

And I've tried so hard to let this be enough. I've tried 12, committed years hard!

Something is just missing.

Maybe it's missing in me, and all this 'something' will remain an unidentified brain-frying object!

I thought I might feel a sense of relief that at least a decision has been made, but I don't.

I just feel a bit shell-shocked and numb.

I'm dreading the bit where I start to miss him, but I'm trying not to dwell on that too much at the moment. It's one of those 'cross that bridge..' things I guess.

I'm going to try and take something positive from every day, try and untangle the mess in my head, one thing at a time.

I've got great friends, brilliant family, insightful acquaintances, and I hope they'll all let me tap into their resources through all of this. Maybe that way, they'll help me find some new ones of my own.

Sleep has been my friend over the last couple of days. Mother Nature knew what she was doing when she wrote out that prescription. There's only so much thinking a person can do in a day.

I hope he is ok. I love him very much, and it has been unbelievably painful to have to tell him it's over. It's so hard to hear someone say they can't be happy if they are not with you. It's such a big responsibility to carry.

Time will tell I guess, and no amount of pondering and waxing about it is going to change the outcome.

I wonder if we ever really have a whole heart again after people walk off with a piece of it in their pocket?

Beautiful, bountiful Brighton

2005-11-03T23:01:00.000Z

I was just sitting here having a little think, and I find myself in Brighton.

Brighton, Sussex, England.

I love the place.

There is so much of me in Brighton, that it is almost frightening to think that I am not a resident.

The last time I was there, in July this year, the sun beat down and the sea answered back in kind, reflecting every beam. It made me forget my troubles and enjoy the moment. It always does. Me and my heart lived it large those 3 days and nights, and it will be forever printed on my memory. Recalled for all time, with much, much love.

Just a couple of months before that, I kicked off my gigging year with my gigging buddy and confidante, to see Kasabian.

Shit, we had a ball that night. No alcohol, no smoking. Just pure vibes. One of the best nights out ever, and certainly the best this year.

There have been day trips and dancing, fish to see and eat, dinners in lane ensconsed hidey-holes, and moments of pleasure beyond measure. I love the place.

And then there is a sunny day in July 2002.

Me and 249,999 others on the beach and in every corner and crevice of Brighton.

I give you, Fat Boy Slim and his gang.

If you weren't there, you were probably very, very sensible when all things are considered by those of us that were. On the other hand.........

It was heaven.
It was hell.
It was shit (quite literally, if you ever care to ask me to elaborate. Be advised, this story contains real, strangers shit!).
It was amazing.
It was spiritual.
It was fucking mental!

We'd planned it for weeks and a little bunch of us were all booked up for a couple of nights, with the focus being the Fat Boy freebie on the beach.

The year before, when he did the first one, there were 40,000 souls on that slopey, stony, ankle-mullering stretch, but 6 times that number rolled up the year after.

And let me tell you lovely people, 250,000 is an immense crowd.

I mean, seriously.

You look back at it, and it UNDULATES like a living, single being. Shivers, even now

I saw some wonderous sights that day and night - a man of about 65-70, atop a lamp-post, with his legs wrapped tight for his own security, shouting 'COME ON!' at the top of his old lungs with every tune.

A couple, roughly the same age as him, chuffing away on a beautiful glass hash pipe, him holding the thing so sweetly to her lips as he lit it for her and kept it steady in this rolling, writhing crowd of lunatics.
They looked so very much at home, in that crowd and with each other.

A young boy of about 12 or 13, quite literally POPPED, like he'd just been born, out of the denser crowd, into the area I stood in at the end of the night, holding the hand of his mate. They were without parents, but held on to each other until they were free of the crush, one declaring to the other as they emerged, 'FUCKIN 'ELL!' , sporting grins the width of the beach!

I will not forget that day as long as I live.

I won't forget the friends I spent it with.

There are few places that would have been tenacious enough to take on the challenge (maybe Edinburgh) , but there is nowhere in Britain, like Brighton, Sussex, England.

You can fire my ashes from a rocket over that stretch of British coast. Off the pier no less.

We can then all rest assured, I'll be quite, quite happy.

New boots and panties

2005-11-02T19:26:00.000Z

There are two items on the shopping list:

New boots and panties.

Two of God's gifts to his favourite species, and the man she chooses to share them with. Nay, bestow them upon!

So let's begin with the boots and work our way up, so to speak.

Mmmm, new boots.

Oh how thrilling it is to get them home and have a little parade about!

Pointy toed, laced up, knee-high, kitten heeled, ankle-lengthed.

Leather, suede, canvas, fur.

Take your pick.

My current favourites are a Faith pair. Nice rouched detail on the front, tight to the leg, pointy toes and a wicked spike heel. They make me strut!

So to the panties.

Forget diamonds girls, it's your knickers that are your real best friends.

What nice underwear can do for a girl really cannot, and more importantly, should not, be underestimated.

They don't have to be Agent Provocateur (though all donations gratefully received!) but the sense of self confidence simply knowing you have nice naughties on brings, is very real.

No self-respecting lady would undress in front of her new lover with her off-grey Apple Catchers and a black bra as her tools of seduction! No Siree! She'd be sporting her sweetest skimpy's, and any woman who reserves the wearing of good undies for a man, is cheating herself horribly.

If a girl cannot see herself as the first person to please in the underwear department, there is something wrong.

And I believe that it follows on from the underwear, to the other items you subsequently put on.

So, for any of the girls out there that are feeling a bit jaded and unsexy, take a look at your pants. What do they say about you? How do they make you feel when you put them on in the morning? Or at night for that matter.

And for you boys, don't allow your pretty woman to become baggy and grey. Encourage nice bra and pants for your girl everyday, not just when you fancy a little outfit with a giggle gap.

Let there be lace!

Old fashioned love songs

2005-11-01T08:37:00.000Z

I was watching the X Factor at the weekend, and there is a chap called Andy who sang Nat King Cole's 'Unforgettable'. It has to be said, he did a bloody good job of it.

I was listening to the lyrics and the arrangement, and it got me thinking about all the songs of this era and others of the same nature from various times throughout popular music history.

Songs like this are timeless and universally classic. They raise such emotion and meaning, so long after they were the 'in' thing. There are few, if any, true modern classics.

So, I sat and considered the old CD collection, and the music that my beautiful mum encouraged us all to listen to as kids, and I realised that it is the undeniable but understated passion of the words, the subtlety and allusion, rather than the out and out sexual intention or heartfelt declarations, that make these songs so special.

Consider;

Unforgettable
That´s what you are,
Unforgettable
Tho´ near or far.
Like a song of love that clings to me,
How the thought of you does things to me.
Never before
Has someone been more...

Unforgettable
In every way,
And forever more
That´s how you´ll stay.
That´s why, darling, it´s incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am
Unforgettable, too.

Beautiful.

Just blowing on the wind in it's content, but yet so full of weight and depth and meaning. Timeless and all encompassing. For anyone and everyone who has ever been in love, no matter age or background.

The kind of song you can put on the stereo and invite your lover to dance with you to.

An old fashioned song, for something that will never be out of fashion - Pure and simple Love.