Hallowe'en

Your Queen of Vampires is off to darkest London and in that great place I'll stalk the bitter streets imagining I'm sucking on throats back home in Transylvania.
And then, when it's dark, I'll fly back to the unsullied countryside to stab a bloodied Steak...

Words Are Good

I love words, they are my best friends so...
Get yourself a giant mug of drink because here's a very long list of words which make me laugh:

Bucket
Extension Lead
Implements
Ball
Dripping
Dumplings
Trumpet
Lounge
Creases
Pickle
Bounder
Exhaust
Pole
Guzzle
Chicken legs
Panda
Jelly
Batteries
Side Entrance
Back Entrance
Hose Pipe
Corker
Plank
Monkey
Jug
Chipolata
Embrocation Oil

And here's a very long list of words I just like:

Wonderful
Balloon
Cherry
Furry
Soppy
Kisses
Wisdom
Joy
Chums
Jokeypoos
Kerfuffle
Darling
Sunshine
Handbags
Pickle
Friendship
Love
Snowflake
Pants
Moonlight
Song
Big Cakes
Winkles
Home
Pigeon
Bundle
Blancmange
Excited
Pussy
Sausage

Ok that's enough, because I've emptied my brain of words now and there aren't none left at all!

Creative Queen

Here I am, all creased, pale, baggy eyed and sipping sweet tea like a plumber.

On Gloria's To Do list today is:

1.Interior Re-Designing:
A thorough going over of the front room. It's not looking as jolly as I want, so it's up into the loft to rummage through large boxes in the vain hope of finding an ornament which isn't chipped in a major way.

2.Cooking:
Curried Beef with Basmati Rice and Naans. Easy and super. Pud is no prob either, Vanilla Ice Cream with the easiest Butterscotch Sauce ever.

3.Mental Needs and Stimulation:
I'll plump for yet another Radio 4 fest.

Monty is making a strange cracking squawking sound on account of two pigeons who are sitting on the fence right by my window. Lovely clever Monty, lovely innocent pigeons...
Got to dash now because before I do all of the above I have to nibble on a chocolate biscuit and guzzle more tea.

It's after 3 a.m. and here I am in my one lamped office and just what's woken me I have no idea, but I thought, rather than watch News 24, I'll sit here with hot coffee and cat because that makes far better sense.
I've already drifted around the house like a ghost in search of a home so there's only one left to do, and that is to write. And I hope I can and I think I will.
Because I think she's in the room, yes, here she is right by me. My God she's tall and lengthy like a great brown tree, her brushed black dress, plain and cavernous, draws me in like an snug warm tent in a wood and as she sets herself down beside me I hide under her folds waiting...

Gloria

My trip to the charity shop was fruitful.
Bought a dark multi-stoned ring for 20p, a small beige and tan lidded pot with 'Pixie Cottage' written on it, a large lidded vegetable dish with a holly design and the piece-de-resistance, a green white and gold 'Burslem' jug, have checked it's value online of course but so far no luck. I love collecting china and so this jug will hang or sit alongside all the others. It's a strange shape, reminds me of a gravy boat that suddenly wanted to be a milk jug.
I'll post a pic as soon as I can. Now here's the funny and heartwarming bit I bought it not only because I'm an avid collector of bric-a-brac but because of the name stamped on its bottom...'Gloria'. I had to have it didn't I?

On the menu tonight Cumberland Sausage Risotto with green beans and hot herb bread. Slowly followed by Chocolate Puddle pudding and cream.

The Queen Eats Porridge

It feels cold this morning so when I pop out a bit later I'll be wearing thermal tights and gloves. I think the balmy spring-like days we enjoyed in early October have gone, and that's ok because it means Christmas is on the way and that's the one holiday I absolutely love. I'm going to resist the urge to waffle on about Christmas because it's way too early for a bauble and tinsel laden post! After all we haven't even had Halloween yet, don't like Halloween night and if I see another plastic skeleton I'll go beserk. Last night as I was laying on the settee looking at my feet I heard my first firework. It roused me from my toe induced stupor and as I tutted I thought Guy Fawkes has lot to answer for. Silly old git.

On Gloria's To-Do list today:
Trekking down to the charity shop for books, subtle clothing and bowls of various sizes
Slapping on some extra wallpaper by the window and over the radiator on account of some peeling
Washing clothes in a bucket listening to Radio 4
Silently opening a tin of tuna in the bathroom

Now thick white porridge and thick brown tights.
Cheerio!

Here quick listen to this...
I re-arranged my employers peach angel, instead of having her lounging behind some Walt Disney DVD's I recklessly sat her between two candles on the master's mantelpiece. Then I made a a cup of tea. No wait it gets better, after plumping up his gigantic cushions I turned them over too so that their patterned bottoms sat side by side on his enormous chocolate coloured settee, he won't notice on account of him being a man. And wait listen to this, although there wasn't a decapitated mouse on the mat like last time, there were some strange items in his upstairs wastepapaper basket, I didn't look too closely you understand, but I think he and his girlfriend did a bit of dressing up the weekend. There was a large cardboard tube, one snagged black stocking, a handful of black hair and two batteries. Horrible.
Now after I did upstairs I did downstairs and that was almost as shocking, not only was there a partly unpacked suitcase in the downstairs bedroom but he'd left a good length of red rubber hospital tubing by the spices in the kitchen, he's had his arm in a sling for a couple of weeks and I suppose that accounts for the rubber. But I have to say I was shocked, it nearly put me off me next cup of tea.
I really can't natter any more because I have my own home to clean and my own baskets to empty.
Cheerio:)

It's Monday and it's early and it's very dark outside.
Monty is grizzling in the towel basket, my nails are painted in ten different colours and there's a pair of wicked shoes on a tea tray. And all because the Queen had a weekend of violent fun, well not really violent, not in the physical sense at least, it's just that I drove along the Eastern Esplanade in order to have a curry and a couple of little drinks. But that was Saturday, Sunday was much more dangerous because on that day we had an early lunch of three pork chops, two carrots and a square of home made bread Pudding. And then I went out again, this time I was out for more than three hours, the venue being a homely pub decked out in Halloween stuff, and in the pub I supped on a glass of J2Lo Orange/Passion Fruit drink and very nice it was too. And so after being deafened by some awful music we skipped to the car which was right by a giant puddle. I leapt across the small lake like a ballerina on Red Bull.
And not a dirty splash was to be found.

On Gloria's To Do list is...
Polishing teddy bears/ dusting peach coloured angels/buffing up a big kettle/climbing into two showers shoeless/re-arranging kiddies cars and lugging Henry up the stairs by his hose/Wondering why I'm doing this. Other peoples housework is such a chore.
Trying to have a nap.
Making a Beef Cobbler/Lemon and Poppy Seed Slab Cake/Mess
Radio Four
Wearing jeans and a creased blouse because I can't find the iron.

Watched The X Factor Sunday lunch time.
My three favs got through to the next round.
Laura was super sweet and as I listened to her I wondered where on earth all that voice came from, from deep down in her soul I expect. She's a good looking girl, not in the pinky giggly girly sense but in a good looking woman way who has eager blood in her veins instead of here-today-gone-tomorrow-syrup.

Austin was shockingly good because I think he's a bit damaged, he wants to win, not only because he loves singing but because there's a mad little man inside who's driving him insane. And like all artists he can't and won't ignore his creative angels.

Rachel was sublime, so sublime that I sweated profusely. She is such an exciting performer that it's a bit disconcerting watching her, there's a joy and untamed wildness about her I absolutely adore and so she's the one singer I'd pay twenty quid to see.

Monday is tapping me on the shoulders so I'd better go.

I still don't know what day it is, I still don't know what time it is, AND now I've found an onion bhaji in my girdle.

What time is it? What day is it? And what's that Prawn doing in my hair?

After Nine Poem. Sexed Up Room

In the stifling air of a sexed up room
the lovers examine each other
he looking at her teethed red throat
she stringing out spunk
they are quite at one

On the cracked up walls in the afternoon room
the bedstead bangs out of key
its thunderous sound a thud thud thud
chucks family frames way off the wall
he the master then delivers with baton erect
swearing words like fuck ride and mother
it's the performance of his career
she the ladylover singing with operatic notes
yells till the fat lady comes

Silent with relief
they smooth out brows
each hair so fantastic, precise
going over their terrains with contented hands
they trace imaginary countries
this is where my froggy lives
and this is how I eat her
and this is where my horsey stands
and this is how I ride him

they laugh very loud so the neighbours can hear
then whack and smack like bongo drums
ample wet bellies and cheeks
but fear not
little bits of remnant sex dry quick in the sexed up room
and looking up at the cobwebbed corner
they examine each other no more.

Dressing Gown Friday

It's Friday and I'm still in my dressing gown.
Oh God I've showered and all that sort of stuff but I'm having a major dress down Friday and I can't be bothered to dress at all.

So what's happening/happened in Gloria's house?
The X Factor is on tomorrow night but I won't be watching it on account of me and the great man going socialising. But I dare say I'll watch it on Sunday. I'm hoping my three favourites go through to the next round. My favourites being: The gorgeous and amazingly gifted Laura, the dangerous and exciting Rachel and the divine and gentle Austin. I adore these three kids, and seeing such a ton of talent in one show makes me feel all kind of warm and soppy inside. We Brits can really churn out some corkers. Way to go babes and boys.

I was up late last night writing a poem at the behest of my Muse, like I've said before my Muse is a fine old girl, in fact so fine is she that I can't imagine life without her. So at a 'very late time last night' (her words, not mine) I sat here in this still untidy office and got some words down in no particular order. I then jostled them around lots, tickling them until they sat nicely and then gently moulded them into little saucy verses. Words are pliable little bundles of letters and it's amazing what these bundles can do. Anyway this poem full of a lady's words rushed straight to my clever head and greedy heart and left me a bit breathless and that was just fine with me. It isn't finished of course, but then again no work of art is ever finished, merely abandoned. Of all the poems I've written this one is fast becoming a favourite, it might even get a gold star for it's playful, suggestive content, I do love to play.

This week I've been in creative heaven, and I'm reaping them rewards big time. Oh yes indeedy. Some of the nubile scanty three liners I've written are just plain wicked and aren't for public consumption at all they're all for me, just for me, to wallow wallow wallow in. Yummy.
If my blessed Muse comes tonight at a later time, and drags me by the hair all along the hall, and then clamps me to my well polished office chair I might just get to a finish on my poem.
On that superior note I'll sign off, I'm going all goosebumpy...

There's nothing stirring except a few lost leaves on the path and an excited Monty jumping from one chair to the other. There's a lot to be said for simple things. I've had enough of the news so into the arms of my Muse I go, I hope the old girl is gentle with me and doesn't feel inclined to whip me into a frenzy with her witterings, but if she sees fit I'll write down whatever she tells me to. After all she's the boss, she's the guv'nor and she's my life jacket.

On a more practical front, I'm still getting to grips with the dangerous room formerly known as 'the bathroom', its patched flaking ceiling and silly dripping radiator are a constant source of annoyance and amusement, but with a bit of care and patience we'll get it back to its former glory!

On Gloria's agenda for today:
Starting another poem, throwing myself around the office to The Isley Brothers, sorting out a terrible cupboard and then doing something with a potato, a spanner and a pair of rubber gloves.

It's clouding over now and I expect some rain will fall, but as long as the roof doesn't start leaking I'll be ok...

After a day of fiddling with the knob on the bathroom radiator, (SO WRONG!), cleaning peeling window sills, (EVEN WRONGER), lugging an ancient coffee table from A to B in the hope of tarting up an sad old front room, (I'M AN OPTIMIST), loading books onto an unsteady bookcase (I'M A TWIT) and then standing stock still in horror as one of my ceramic cats eyes fell out (I BLUBBED LIKE A BABY).
Needless to say, with all this nonsense going on, I had to chuck numerous mugs of sweet tea down me throat and they did me no end of good I have to admit, but what I really need now is a nice sit down with a living breathing two eyed cat called Monty and watch the 7 o'clock news.
But before I enjoy Monty and Jon Snow I have to move one of my ceramic budgies, he's perched on the top of the loo and looking a wee bit vulnerable...

After yesterday's domestic kerfuffles I feel like letting my hair down a little, and I would if I had any!
As young Lisa (38) snipped my hair yesterday she talked non-stop about her recent jaunt to Spain, her horrible step-mum, her two long haired cats and one golden dog, the price of salmon, petrol, bread and Debenhams handbags.
And as she ran her ring bedecked fingers through my hair I thought how nice this all was. Here I was sitting on a wonky kitchen chair being shorn like Shaun the Sheep by a woman who looked like a younger version of Maggie Thatcher and I was quite enjoying it. Lisa is a decent enough sort but like I said yesterday she's got some chav DNA going on, her pink top, white trousers and bucketloads of gold jewellry all married up in a sickly bag-of-sweets kind of way. She stopped occasionally asking me how I wanted my sideburns and fringe and did I want a ducks arse at the back! I answered her by saying in order of asking; Feathered, just a bit off and yes please!.
But being a business woman she was dead keen on earning more money so she suggested that I might look even more lovely with blonde streaks. Er...no thanks Leese I choked, I like being grey. She was not amused, in fact I got the impression she thought I was a bit odd for liking grey hair. But I brushed her narrow mindedness to one side and continued blowing bits of chopped hair off my top lip.
She cut away till I told her to cut no more and after handing over loads of cash, Lisa waddled back to Great Wakering, and I skipped into the bedroom and hugged Monty.

On the Horsehound To Do list today:

Spaghetti Bolognaise, it's still a corker even if it's a bit naff
Making chocolate Fairy Cakes, because sultanas are getting on my nerves
Radio Four fest, a sanctuary for the delicate
Tidying up of office, I can't put it off any longer
Continue reading 'The Great Fire of London' by Peter Ackroyd. I'm on my knees to this man.
Looking in various mirrors and smiling at my new haircut because I think I look like a sophisticated French bird when really I look like an Essex convict.

You're The Boss...

Well would YOU cross him! I wouldn't, I couldn't because after all he's mummy's only baby!

Been up to me eyeballs in domestic nonsense today, got in a bit of a flap over a couple of fancy pillow cases, undercooked half a pound of Brussel sprouts and then managed to scorch a gentlemans boxer shorts.
I'm a poet for God's sake!
Anyway, after doing something vicious with the garden hose I dusted orf all me ceramic birdies they're now perched on the bathroom window sill. Monty's having a ball!
As The Great Man is on the late shift I'll be up to all sorts tonight, sorts like watching the telly, looking into my handbag and walking around the garden at ten p.m.(I often do you know) I'll probably drink too much tea aswell and then wonder why I'm awake half the night.
I watched the final punch-up between Senators Obama and McCain and thought Obama won it hands down. His opponent was a bit creepy in a walking-dead kind of way, I don't like his jaw action. Obama on the other hand was the handsome good guy who'll put the world to rights if only he can get his wiry frame into the Oval office.
McCain was like an angry little yapping dog who was spoiling for a fight, yuk what a horrid man he is. Meanwhile Barack sat ramrod straight smiling as the brickbats flew in his direction, he reminded me of a rather shiny pristine toy soldier..
So to sum up McCain is a bully and Obama is the good quiet boy who does his homework on time. I like him.
I'll be all alone tonight so no dinner for me, I might have to raid Monty's own cupboard if I get a bit peckish. I'm sure he won't mind......:(
Gotta dash. My hairdresser is coming to see to me locks tonight, she's a decent enough sort, a bit on the chav side but a good cutter.

Friday Frolics

A pink rose has sprung up by the front door and I don't know whether to leave it to freeze on the stem or slice it and press it. (see above)

On Saturday evening BBC Parliament is showing this weeks spat between Barack Obama and John McCain. Might be able to watch it, depends if I'm teetering to a car on those killer heels or not!

Got a backlog of films which I've recorded, I have to make an effort to watch some of them. There's nothing like sinking into a settee wearing loose clothing and watching a good movie. I want to do that NOW!

I'm in the mood for making a Bara Brith. It's especially nice toasted and buttered for breakfast.

I need a new hat.

I've been lugging a wretched bookcase about. Can't decide where to put it, it's currently under the window in the sitting room. Monty certainly approves, he's already laid royally on top of it like the little Prince he is.

On the menu for tonight is Chilli Con Carne. I'm ditching the familiar Kidney Beans in favour of Pinto Beans, will also tinker with the spices. I want it to look redder!

I'll be out and about later in my new second-hand boots, they're a tad too big in the toe department, but with plenty of sock they feel ok!

On that dopey note I must say cheerio because I need some porridge and Monty has wrapped his front legs around my ankles and that's a sure sign he wants to play.

Here they are!
Killer heels for the Queen.

Poem and Killer Heels

Bought the most fantastic shoes this morning!
Tan leather, slashed toes, very high heels. Can't wait to wear them, will probably be one night next week. The sun is out and there's something spicy cooking for tonight. Thank God for ordinary things. Talking of ordinary things and God here's a little something I penned.




My tears clung like suffocating oil
all over my glassy green eyes
and as I shouted at God by the crossing
I remembered who I was
I am Angela
poet cook and lay preacher
soothing to the fallen
rousing to the abject
sympathetic to the weak
and empathetic to the crushed
I am all these things and more
A lead to those who want to follow
a mug of love for those who thirst
and a never ending feast for the greedy
But I am not a fool

My heart lies somewhere
I can't remember where
shot down like a bird
it lies bruised like a whore who could take no more
beaten like the unwanted child
But I am not a fool
My skin wet in the creases
is pliable and in good shape
it's top-of-the-milk stuff
but the shocked face is always a pale face
I am Angela
poet cook and lay preacher
a comedic and tender friend
But I am not a fool

As my sad woman's tears hang patiently
waiting for the final push
I say to God in a nice way
Give me something to live for
other than others

Because I am Angela
poet cook and preacher
Because I am not a fool.

What Will YOU Be Doing In April?

England 3 Belarus 1 Fantastic!

We're doing well under Capello's stern leadership. I like him.
Our next match is April next year, April! I can't wait that long. When I heard that we won't be playing another World Cup match for six months I got to wondering...
Will I still be going to charity shops (yes I need to clothe myself and decorate my home)
Will I still be having bouts of self-doubt (probably, unless I gain huge amounts of respect and money)
Will I still be moping around sniffling over boys and stuff (you betcha, because I'm a grizzling old woman stuffed with horrible hormones who should have been put out to pasture years ago)
Will I still be blogging (hope so, it's done me good and verily saved me so I'm not likely to discard my big white life buoy
And will I still be writing poetry (definitely, I love it)
So on that optimistic note I'll shove off.

England v Belarus
7 p.m
BBC Radio 5

England 5 Kazakhstan 1

That's more like it!
After a shaky start Fabio's fellas knocked seven bells out of the plucky yet sometimes annoying Kazakys. And then when King David came on in the dying minutes I broke into song singing 'There'll Always Be An England' and then promptly cried.
On this wonderful night I could see the moon to my left, Fabio's men in front of me and Monty on my lap and as I sucked on Rolo after Rolo I had beautiful visions of a sunny South Africa and a glistening golden cup..

My England, Monty and The Shredded Settee

Everything stops at 4:30 p.m.
England v Kazakhstan.

There'll be no doing of dinner, no blogging and no artistic capers of any kind. I will be sitting on my falling-to-bits-settee with Monty on me lap and waving a little flag. Monty will huff and puff as his bulky fat frame gets shot in to the air any/every time Fabio's boys gets within shooting distance of the Kazakhanstani goal.
Brittania's in a flap already!

London

London day today.
Would have gladly given everything I own for Dad to have been able to breathe. He wasn't very well today and I went into well hidden panic mode. Mum did her best to be nonchalant but she didn't fool me for one minute I knew how she felt and what she was thinking.
I kept my rage and fear under control by talking with him about money, low fat milk, tomorrows football match and sex. He tried to keep up with me but he couldn't so I accepted that he was having a bad day and that things would be better tomorrow.
When me and mum went to the shops we both did what we usually do and that was look at books, dresses and lipsticks, but all our girliness was tinted by worry.

Tomorrow England take on Kazakhstan and the live shows begin on the X Factor.
Thank God for ordinary things.

National Poetry Day

It's National Poetry Day.
When poets whip out their quills
but my quill has been chewed up by me
so I don't have nothing to say.

On the Horsehound agenda today: Removing beard.

Another day comes to an end.
A day of shopping for economical beef, driving whilst keeping one eye on the fuel gauge, cooking soup, eating eight painkillers and the re-arrangement of a trillion dust particles.
But also a day of compliments, secreting away a twenty pound note in a blue floral tin on account of current cash flow worries, the wearing of silvery eye shadow to off-set the blue rings under my eyes, one thin bacon sandwich, six mugs of sweet tea and one small Cox's Apple just after the news oh and a feast of wonderfully brilliant sunshine.
So all in all...quite good
Even though I'm wearing a green hat indoors because there's a draft.

Sit Down John And Watch Barack Do It His Way!

Couldn't sleep last night so at 2 a.m. I was in my jimjams at the stove warming milk in the dark! I then watched Mr McCain and Mr Obama slug it out on BBC News 24! The Presidential candidates walked around answering questions, although McCain shouldn't. His gait was wooden and he looked liked he'd wet his pants. Word of advice for him: Sit down next time. Mr Obama's movements however were graceful and stodgy free, When he popped himself up on a stool I thought he was about to give us a few bars of 'My Way'. The debate was at times, ill mannered and a bit nasty, the nastiness mostly emanating from McCain. From what I saw I'd say Obama won it, again.
So as much as I wanted to see it to the end, I couldn't, Monty jumped on the bed and looked at me as if to say "You look tired Mum, put the milk down, turn the telly off and get some shut eye" So at 3 a.m. I did.

Needless to say I'm pretty pooped this morning but buying milk, sausages and rubber gloves will soon wake me up!

Lay With Me...Poem

Lay with me
till I beg you to stay
And then talk with me
till our library of words silence us
Can you love with me
till I can love me again

Build with me
a home on a hillside
Could you then watch with me
as towering weeds bloom in row upon row by the parsley
Then run in and play with me
in rooms sparkling with dust and toys

Come with me
to the seashore and farmyard
Could you then bend down to collect with me
small shells and new brown laid eggs
And then fly with me
to everywhere abroad and then back home

Pray with me
on the bench by our stove and in the church at the end of our road
Will you then cry with me
under frayed blankets and tumblers of gin
Could you live with me
just because I love you?

It's come to something when I'm writing a post for this blog before I've even had a cup of tea!
I suppose writing must be as normal to me as having bad eyesight and a gap in my front teeth, and you know what, it doesn't matter to me any more whether I get published or not. I have a talent, but maybe I'm not the right person to say that, but I've been told I can write ever since I was a little girl holding a half eaten pencil. I've accepted the fact that I'm happy to blog, email, scribble poems and paragraphs without the need for stardom or even recognition, having an imagination is a great gift and being able to express that imagination in ink is a joy to me.
Today's Love Quote is by one of my favourite poets, Robert Herrick. When I first came across his poem, 'Sweet Disorder' I was immediately smitten. If you click on his name it'll take you to one of my fav websites and you'll be able to read more of Robert's quotes. That sounds funny saying that, 'more of Robert's quotes' it's like he's still alive and writing. I'm sure he'd love it if he knew his poems were not only being read in books but now he's even been mentioned in a blog post by a cook-cum-poet called Gloria!


A SWEET disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly
A winning wave, deserving note
In the tempestuous petticoat
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part.

Robert Herrick 1591-1674

Grab a cuppa now.........

On the Horsehound agenda today:
Tidying up books.
Lugging a bookcase from point A to point B.
Making a a beef pie for tomorrow.
Shopping list the assembling thereof!
Looking forward to England v Kazakstan on Saturday

Time for rest

A day of ups and downs, no wonder I'm having a dizzy spell.
Cooked, chatted, cleaned and created. So being tired and lazy I've opted for a little Haiku tonight.
Listening to Seal.
Fabulous.

Autumn barges in
his great coat hurtling dead leaves
on patient spring bulbs...

Sarah v Joe

I watched Governor Palin and Senator Biden in their first Vice Presidential debate and it looked to me like a Trades Union leader slugging it out the C.E.O.
The Governor was good but she needs to slow down a little, her rapid fire delivery was too much for me, she also appeared to be impatient and cold, despite the permanent smile. The Senator's delivery on the other hand was slow and methodical, he knew when to twinkle and when to go for the kill he also knew how to charm. I particularly liked the way he continually addressed the chairwoman as 'Gwen', a sweet personal touch, which I would imagine tends to work for the Senator.

Mrs Palin however didn't do the sweet and charming thing and her eyes weren't on Gwen but looking into the camera and so directly into the eyes of the American people. A shrewd if slightly cold move on Sarah's part. I loved watching this fabulous piece of political theatre and if I had to say who won the match I'd say the Senator won it. His vast experience at handling people and power shone through, whereas the Governor, although enormously successful and outstanding looked like a regular woman who couldn't believe her luck.

Chilly Chilli Day!

It's chilly but it's October so what do I expect.
Going to have a relaxing weekend, no writing, no shopping, no gardening and no more blogging. There'll be plenty of cooking though, might make a chilli for tonight or a beef curry and probably rustle up a few fruit buns and pop them in the freezer. I dare say I'll whip up some sort of trifle for tomorrow, saves me doing pudding stuff on Sunday morning.
Weekends are cool even when they're chilly!

Badly Writen Post On Account Of A Large Bar Of Cadbury's Fruit And Nut.

I am such a good fine girl!
Tottering orf to the shops this morning, engaging in conversation with a supermarket employee gentlemen (of a certain age) who wanted to help me load my groceries in to my car and then...and then coming home to have a cheese and tomato sandwich with Monty! Could I be any better?

Er...Don't answer that.
Now, enough of this tomfoolery, I have to do things with a French Stick!
On the menu tonight: Tuna Pasta, tomato salad and garlic bread. Very quickly followed by the rapidly decaying remnants of Wednesdays Chocolate Cake. Might whack a dollop of ice cream on the top just to liven it up a bit.
The Vice-Presidential debate is being shown on the BBC Parliament channel on Sunday morning, so I will watch that whilst slobbering over a heavily buttered crumpet.
Can't wait.

I also can't wait to watch The 'X' Factor on Saturday with the slightly creepy judge Simon Cowell and the strangely alluring Irishman judge Mr Walsh. The girl judges are pretty...awful. I only take notice of male members of the panel.
Ho hum what's a girl to do?

The cabinet re-shuffle is quite dull apart from the surprising, nay extraordinary inclusion of the very slippery Peter Mandelson. He is so slimy he would put a giant worm to shame. I wonder if I cut him in half would he still wriggle and become two separate yet identical Mandelsons. Perish the thought.
Sir Ian Blair the now ex-commissioner of the Metropolitan Police has been sacked by my secret lover Mr Boris (I'm smarter than I look) Johnson. He told me over croissants what he was going to do and I said "Just Do it baby..." 'Cos I never liked him!

As you can tell I've had too much chocolate, so now I must bid you farewell and have a shower. Cos I'm all smudged!
Cheery Bye..

After Nine Poem

Impaled on you
my icebound heart melts
letting out ruttish boiling water
we slip'n'slide

till the ordinary day comes
and we must dry up
and go our way.


*ruttish: sensual, wanton, lustful

Dentist
Sticking Up Hair
Big Knees
YUK!

Drips, Lips and Tory Boy

On the Horsehound agenda for today:

Looking at grubby old radiators and wondering when I'll ever find the time to paint them.
Deciding which poem/s to send to competition.
Listening to drips from damaged conservatory roof/leaking bathroom radiator/kitchen tap.
Chocolate cake.
Twirling around in front of mirror holding a sparkling secondhand 50p lilac dress up against me.
Thinking about up and coming dentist appointment:(
Looking for flattering lipstick in make-up box:)
Making 5 pints of Minestrone soup.
Polishing of p.v.c garments
Watching David Cameron give his noteless speech.
De-knotting a knot of hair hanging from Monty's tum.
Tea/Port/Buns.