If It's Not One Thing It's Something Else

I won't be sorry to see the back of January, it's been a stinker. I won't list the rotten things that have happened suffice to say I'm doing everything in my power to keep on top.

According to the weather people we're in for a right smacking from the weather gods, freezing temperatures and even snow is forecast. Well that's just great:( I'm sure my arthritic joints are curling up with joy at the prospect of stiffening up even more! Let me tell you a little secret...As I type this epic post my right hand resembles a beast from the deep, fingers fat, gnarled and hot and my left knee has taken on the appearance of a perfect football ball. Bugger it.

I'm not going out today on account of several things.

1. Am car-less because John is working today and therefore my minty Honda is in the station car-park. And there isn't any way I can shuffle to the shops with my left knee.

2. I'm having a major cook-in. Trying a new recipe for tonight, Sesame Chicken. Will make some sweet and sour veg to go with it and a few pancake rolls. After that I'll make a trifle for tomorrow and a scone pizza for Sunday tea. Talking of scone pizza, I hope both my hands can get a good grip on the rolling pin because it's heavy and a sod of pin. Pure Marble you know!

3. A sausage sandwich for lunch whilst watching 'Football Focus' on BBC1 with the slightly out of place Manish Bhasin. (see pic) Because not only do I like the footie I also admire the way the pundits sit.

On that queer, faintly double entendred note I'll say cheeriio.
Cheerio!

Off to the Smoke today carrying:
A jiggling jelly, a glass bowl for mum's bananas and a bottle of Amami setting lotion for her hair.
I hope to see a much improved old girl and after 'enjoying' a microwaved something I'll be back home.
Which reminds me, my nearest town is Rochford and every Tuesday there's a market in the town square, this market was dreamt up by Sir Guy de Rochefort in 1247 and is one of the oldest in existence. I rather like that. I wonder what Sir Guy would think if he knew an old Queen like me was writing about it. Probably be chuffed and say 'Well done me dear'.

Toodle pip!

Great Green Grapes

I usually take cakes to Mum and Dad, but tomorrow I'm taking a Grape Infested Lime Jelly.

Nuns, Hats and Incompetant Line Managers

Feeling low I tend to lose myself in the past so...

As a follow on from yesterday's post here are pictures of moi taken, I think in 1972 and 1973, I was 16 and 17. The clothes were bought as they are now, from a charity shop. First pic:The jacket was light blue faux velvet, the gloves real black leather, the woollen beret candy pink and the octagonal glasses had olive green lenses. Looked cool in the July, idiotic in December. But I was a fun colourful kid!

The other picture and I'm in a silky smooth silver two piece suit which comprised of a sleeveless calf length dress and a waist length jacket with a nipped in waist. I think it was 50p. I remember wearing this with white sling back sandals and red tights. The hat was deep red and the jumper pale blue angora. Again quite colourful. I remember feeling quite warm also. To accessorize perfectly I always always used huge handbags and these were bought mostly from jumble sales. One bag I had was so huge it was ridiculous, it was black and as stiff as a board and looked like a legless table. But I thought I looked chic as I walked down Talbot Road to buy doughnuts from the little dairy.

I still love large bags, and occasionally use small ones but I do get in an awful flap when I can't find me keys. So I tend to stick with big ones.
I'll write about handbags one day and you won't believe any of it.

I thought I was to be on my own again today but due to yet another major cock-up in John's hastily re-arranged work schedule (don't ask...) I've got to have a hot dinner on the table by eight. So I'll be making storecupboard Spaghetti Carbonnara with garlic bread and sweetcorn, a useful standby when one is at the behest of incompetent line managers.

I also have to pick up my arthritic prescription today otherwise I won't be able to bend over.

Now interior design.
I've redded up the kitchen by the addition of a red checked tablecloth, various red cushions and red flowered coasters. Looks very welcoming, bit like a brothel run by Doris Day. The living room has been freshened up by the elimination of autumnal colours and the addition of a bit of summery white. White floral cushions, white doilies and two seven inch candles. A bit churchy but I like it.

That reminds me, when I was a kid I was frightened by the nuns of The Poor Clares, they seemed very authoritative to a nine year old and always appeared ten feet tall when standing by huge wooden tables selling daffodils in large tin pails. The clip clop of their dull shoes in the cobbled courtyard of their convent was not unlike the clip clop of Miss Poppins shoes.

What is it about me and women in black?

After Nine Poems

I saw you
your face gold and rich and without pain
without a tear
I saw you and I wept

You saw me
my face bleached dry by endless pain
by truth
You saw me and left

***********************************************


When the fantasy child slid down the slide
it was my screams of joy you heard
When the fantasy child drew a flower
it was my smile you saw
And when the fantasy baby bellowed
it was my heart which broke

******************************************************

Martin stood alone in his room
around him his money well spent
his spotless possessions a sign of perfection
he hasn't done badly at all.

When Martin lay in bed
alone but with someone by his side
his fears doubled
like the whiskey drink in his glass

As Martin drove his car to places he must go
his exhaustion told

So later Martin stood alone in his room
around him his money well spent
his homely set up
stifling him
he's hasn't done anything at all.

***************************************************************

Bohemian Raptures

I bought a necklace last Thursday (see above) and it brought back to me feelings I had when I was 17. I didn't dress the way I dress now which is a cross between dear Miss Poppins, Miss Marple and Miss Whiplash. I was a Bohemian back in the 1970's and would always be found in long skirts often velvet or embroidered, lacy blouses done up right to my chin and cowboy boots! My accessories were chunky silvery necklaces, fake topaz bracelets and rosaries often picked up for a few pence on a stall by the convent in Portobello Road. In those days the only person I swung with was Jesus. God knows what the sisters thought.

At any rate I dressed the part of a placid lonesome poet whose wild wavy hair was often held up with chop sticks. But that was a long time ago, but every so often I buy or see something which transports me back to those sublime innocent and peaceful days just like I was transported last Thursday.
And so last Thursday as I arthritised my way along to Somerfields wearing a camel coat and sensible shoes but with my boho necklace tucked inside my handbag I said to myself "Ang be true to yourself and go boho again" so I have.

The picture was taken last Saturday as I was preparing yet another Indian meal, and as I listened to some nonsense on the telly I thoroughly enjoyed the experience of stepping around the kitchen dressed like my Muse. I'm sure she approved.

Not much on the menu today as I'm on my own till midnight!
Will graze erratically on entirely inappropriate stuff. Stuff like Jaffa Cakes, bacon sandwiches and bananas.
Have an idea to do something with the living room bookcases, possibly dropping one of them in the kitchen. Somewhere.

Glue, Wax and Bananas

Here we go...another drizzly grey January morning but...things are looking up.
Mum fried a couple of lamb chops yesterday, dad watched the telly and I stayed in bed till lunch time only venturing from under the covers to make a bacon sandwich.Great!

When mum told me she'd managed to cook something and wash her own hair I felt relieved, the tablets she's taking must be doing some good, and that's good. So when I visit later in the week I hope to see a fresh, better fed, clean haired girl with a pinny on microwaving a chicken korma for her only child!



On the agenda today:

Hide the piece of the car which came off as I got stuck against a pillar on my drive last Thursday. John hasn't spotted it yet so when the time is right I'll super glue it back on. It'll be alright..

Have a banana.

Start writing shopping list which will include super glue.

Change curtains in front room because the current drapes have been attacked by the cat. I bought them from Bid Up t.v five years ago. Well worth the £9 I paid for them.

Look in drawers and gasp. General apparel has become mixed with erotic apparel and I might pull the wrong thing out and accidentally wear it to the wrong place.

Make some fairy cakes with pink icing imagining I'm Mary Poppins. No that's not right. She wouldn't wear a g-string.

Wonder about wax.

Banana

1. Marinate beef in cider for tonight's Scrumpy Beef Casserole. Will not take a sip of the cider though because I never ever drink before I've had me porridge.

2.. Put banana in pocket then go to pet shop for bird seed and fat balls. On coming out of the pet shop resist the urge to cross the road and walk around the playing field. Too many elderly anoraked peole with small incontinent dogs.

3. Carry on walking way down to the charity shop in Marsten Gardens where I'll no doubt be greeted by orange meringued hair Joan. She has a beige caravan and big heart. Eat banana.

4. Then into Somerfield on account of me forgetting breakfast cereals yesterday. Will huff and sigh and blink rapidly as I look at the over priced Bran Flakes. 'Outrageous' I'll mumble on my way to the till cruelly ignoring the Phil the manager's, Friday special offer.

5. Go the long way home so I can say later on today that I've had some exercise in a side street.

6. Home. For legs up and sausage sandwich.

7. Check emails, online food (have my own BBC recipe folder), and look for a very short scary story by Edgar Alan Poe. I had it once now I can't find it. Sounds familiar.

8. Tea and tea bread. Possibly a banana.

9. Marinate chicken, bananas and peppers in orange juice, lemon juice and curry paste. I love to soak things.

10. The Weakest Link with my idol Ms Anne Robinson who's double entendres are nearly as good as mine.

Funny Poem: The Hidden Toast

At five o'clock I found a piece of toast behind the kitchen armchair
its face was shrouded with dust from above and the crust was all beat up

But as I looked down on the dead bit of toast I wondered how it'd got there
maybe a fairy had stolen it away I thought, when I'd gone to answer the phone

Or maybe the cat had clobbered it off the table and hidden it as a plaything.
my money is on the latter.

Liver and Baggy Eyes

Oh am I tired?
Couldn't sleep last night, wasn't the steak and chips I had at 6, it was the after effects of spending the day with two sick people. The doctor said Mum has diabetes and dad was spinning out of control with anxiety. There's no talking to him. He's deaf in many ways. Mum winced as yet more blood was taken, and my hat fell off as I helped her onto the scales.
Yesterday was horrid.

I need to try and concentrate on my poetry but I can't hold a single thought or idea in my head. Sounds like I need a break. Maybe a trip to Hockley might do the trick.

But before that I'll zip along to blessed Sainsburys with the radio on, then very very slowly I'll trawl my way around the great shop. I might even have a chat with the butcher. Mostly about liver.

Pre-Dinner Thoughts

My plans for tomorrow have gone.
Just got a phone call from the old London people. Mum's got to go to the docs tomorrow and wants me there. Don't like this one jot. I've got a feeling it's diabetes. Might drive to London instead of taking the train. Might.

I watched Barack and thought his speech got better the longer it went on. He's a great orator and I'm glad he's on the world's stage. I still find it hard to believe that little old me has witnessed history in the making.

Haven't had a creative thought today and that really worries me. But I suppose my fragrant Muse is waiting in the shadows waiting for her silver moment. Silver moment? I like that...Maybe she's here already. Take me take me take me in your arms and under your skirts, my darling woman.

If I could be anywhere right now I'd be in an Indian restaurant wearing the dress in the photo and too much scent.

Now fantastic humdrum like cooking and the news.

If I could be anywhere today I'd be in Washington.
I'm imagining my little English body jumping in the air straining to get a glimpse of President Obama. I'd woooo! and cheer! and cry! with the rest of them, I'd probably faint too. But what a time and place to faint! At the Inauguration of a President. Much more classier than dropping to your knees by the frozen veg in Sainsburys.
But I'm not in Washington I'm here in windy Blighty so I'll have to watch it on the telly and that's alright with me, mate.

Before I sign off I must tell you about last night's sausage.
It was a dinner fit for a pauper, a King and indeed a President. The sausages were smashing likewise the Yorkshire pudding in fact I think it was the one of the best dinners I've ever cooked. Yet it was so simple. And that makes it even better.
On the menu tonight I lean towards the dark side with Devilled Chicken!

So now I have to do what English women do. Potter about.

General thoughts before dinner

On the menu tonight:
Toad-in-the-Hole, made not with regular sausages but with posh spicy pork sausages and apple.
Jacket potatoes
Beans
For pud the last of yesterdays Trifle.

I have an idea for a short story which may or may not come to fruition. All depends on whether or not I can concentrate. My concentration is all over the place at the moment what with one thing and another but I'm sure I'll come out from this dark hiding place waving my pen and beads around.
Mr Horsehound had to take the car in today for an M.O.T or something and it seems we need new wheels. Real proper wheels that is, not a new car!

I'm looking forward to watching as Barack Obama makes history tomorrow, I never thought I'd see a black man as President, the more I think about it the more incredible it is. I wonder what he and Michelle will do tonight. Will they sit quietly by their fireside pondering the almighty changes which are about to take place or will they drink coffee and play with their children.
A little of both I expect.

A Morning Poem: Perfect Couple

I awoke to the sound of a staggering amount of rain and thought how wild the sea would be
And I awoke to the sound of a heart breaking
and sensibly put the two together.

Idol Sunday

On my agenda for today is watching hours and hours of American Idol. Also on the agenda is the demolishing of a large roasted chicken, won't and can't eat all of it of course because I want some left over for tomorrow. The stuffing accompaniment is good old sage and onion which always goes down well with a calamity of glazed and tinged carrots. Potatoes yes of course, big and brown but not cooked alongside the bird on account of the bird emanating juices and making the aforementioned potatoes go soggy. No the potatoes get a roasting on their own.

For pud, a mandarin trifle in which I've thrown a few sliced green grapes to sassify it, I've gone overboard with the roasted (there's that word again) almonds, nothing looks better than a layer of browned nuts on top of some nice thick cream.
For tea we'll have a chicken sandwich, it'll be an earlyish tea because we've got an earlyish start tomorrow and I don't want to be kept awake by an undigested bird in me stomach.

Like I said earlier I'm watching lots of American Idol later today not only because I love talent shows but because I truly admire Simon Cowell's trousers.

The picture is of me up a ladder some time ago, I was not drunk, just happy. Further pictures of me will be posted on account of my fascination with cameras.

I'm going through all kinds of emotions at the moment because my dad is fighting me on every suggestion I make regarding mum. He has just refused my offer to take mum somewhere anywhere to get a blood test and that has really pissed me off.The social worker turned up this morning minus the forms dad had agreed to sign and then the nurse couldn't find a vein in mums arm so is coming back Tuesday with a more experienced nurse. Yippee! Meanwhile mum continues to slouch away. The conversation I had with dad was not good, if anything happens to mum he won't be seeing much of me.

These are my random thoughts about what's been happening over the last few days.


I walked around Sainsburys today as if I was drugged. At one time I thought I was about to faint so I leant on one of the freezers, it's awful feeling jittery in a public place. And the feelings of sickness and weakness were down to not getting enough sleep or food. And I do self-neglect very well when I'm worried. And I am very worried.

My overnight stay at my parent's flat was harrowing. Mum looked ill and Dad talked and talked till I could barely stand another minute of it. Continuous talking is his way of dealing with fear and stress. It isn't mine. But I was there to give him a break from the housework and shopping. And that is what I did. But his constant flapping about did nothing to ease an already tense and fraught situation. Mum sat still. Her beautiful blue eyes looked larger than usual and her once short silver curled hair was long, straight and greasy. So I took her in the bathroom and washed it.

As I held her head in my soapy hands I wondered what next I could do. Her make-up perhaps, the ironing, buy a pot plant. She didn't say a word as I splashed warm water over her head. It was as if I was baptizing her, she felt very frail in my arms. I was gentle with her but so wanted to exchange a bit of banter about clothes and bags and men. But she said nothing. So I praised her pink tiles and five bottles of shampoo.

After Sonia the very good and kindly Social Worker had left, me Mum and Dad sat in a triangular shape around the room, Mum almost laying flat on the sofa, Dad sitting on the arm of the armchair and me bolt upright at the dining table. We were disjointed and ill at ease, so unlike our usual chaotic get togethers, where there are continuous pots of tea gracing the coffee table, crumby cake plates, right wing and left wing newspapers, over priced ladies magazines everywhere and me and Mum's handbags in the middle of it all.
Yesterday and Tuesday there was a different kind of chaos.

I watched Mum and didn't like what I saw.
Her once lively gait has been replaced by a veering to the right shuffle and her proud well kept home is going to pot. She spoke very little and on the rare occasions she did open her mouth it was to tell Sonia that she didn't need any help thank you. But you do Mum you do, I thought. When I saw Sonia to the front door, she beckoned me out onto the balcony and said very quietly and calmly that 'your parents need help'. 'Yes I know' I said, looking down from the sixth floor onto a busy Gloucester Terrace.
And as I went back inside the fear hit me.
What could I do?
I'm nearly thirty miles away, arthritic and quite without my own money. But I am their daughter and they are tough old birds who brought me up to not only cry over love but to do something about it.

I talked to Dad and sometimes I got the impression he was listening, he's never been the easiest man to talk to. But I said what I needed to say, and he took notice.

So now what?
Mum is having a blood test tomorrow, a nurse is coming in and then there'll be a wait I expect. I only hope it isn't a long wait, because I don't want too much time to think.

I've just made a Sausage and Apple Plait.
Sounds grand doesn't it but it's just sausagemeat, apple and brown pickle all mixed together then wrapped in puff pastry and baked. I like my homely food.

I put a Fat Ball out for the birds, I did think of hanging it on the washing line but then I got sensible. Birds, swinging fat balls and clothes don't go together. So I pierced it to a cup hook which in turn was then pierced to the fence.

Anyway the weekend is coming up soon, and guess what I'm doing? I'm going swimming again, last week's splash about was a hoot...I wore a navy blue and white strapless costume which although looked glamorous and well fitting when dry looked decidedly saucy and malfunctioning when soaked. I managed to swim half a length. Ten times! I had to take it a bit easy on account of me not being in water for a very long time, but I loved it.
That's why I'm going again.

Now to even funnier things.

I'm desperate for:
New handbag, any colour but it must be brown
Curried Chick Pea Cutlets, vegetarian and big and gorgeous with a biryani and naans
Stones Ginger Wine, not a lot just enough to make me shimmer...
Bird Table because I'm running out of fence.
Mint Aero
Nice body cream, preferably purple and erotic, from Superdrug I expect.
Giant cabbage
More black stockings, proper ones, not hold-ups.
Bathroom plug

Bonkers and Bliss

I want to write a poem and play with Monty and bake a cake and talk with my friends. But all those simple wonderful things will have to wait because today I'm off to London again to see Mum and Dad, I'm taking an overnight bag in the hopes that the old codgers will see sense and allow me to stay, at least overnight.

It's shockingly astounding how ordinary things like sending a simple email, making a cuppa and watching the news seem like great heavenly gifts when life turns bonkers. Talking of bonkers...I went swimming last week, first time in ages and when life resumes normal service I'll bore you all to tears with it.

Anyway chums, I'd better get going, got to feed Monty.
Bliss....

Mum is still unwell so dad is phoning the doctor this morning to arrange a home visit. Home visit? Sounds old and degrading. I won't be going anywhere today. Last night I watched the darts and my man Tony O'Shea (see above) who I'd put money on, lost, but he played the game well and didn't give up. I like that, both in darts players and ordinary people.

If I could do anything right now it'd be spending at least fifty pounds on a new handbag, then eating a curry then making love.
On the menu today: Not a lot.

Are You Ready?

The final of the Darts is on soon.
The curtains are drawn, the Port is right by me and Monty is manacled to my ankles. Not taking any nonsense from HIM today.
I won't staple myself to the settee on account of the many leaps I'll be doing whenever my boy does the business. 180!
Am....I....Ready.....?
You bet I am....

Poem 2 Frosted Lake

Why is it I can only write when it's getting late? Maybe my Muse is a night owl and night time is her time. But even though she confuses me I still adore her. I miss my poetry.


Now as I reach for diamond stars in a jet sky
my bent frame remembers.
Your succulent kiss by the frosted lake
and my words about heavy Essex horizons.
The dangerous climb up the path by the boats
and I wondered where it would lead.
Nowhere.

Carrots, Pouffes and Me

Bought a pouffe on Tuesday for mum and dad's feet, so I expect I'll be getting in people's way on the trains today. I'll also be quite fat like a snowman on account of me wearing an off white fur coat. Only hope I don't have a carrot for a nose...

To Do Or Not To Do

It's no good I can't get my brain into gear so rather than write a half baked post, here's my to-do list for today.

Feed birds.
Smashing the ice off the bird bath.

Watching the Darts on BBC2. I like it very much because it's quick and exciting and I also like it when the players walk to the oche with a musical accompaniment. Love that bit. I also have a monetary interest.

Cooking lemony chicken for today and latimer beef for tomorrow.
Baking some fairy cakes.

Looking for a needle because I want to do some cross stitch. A much neglected hobby. I don't do cottages or tigers, just patterns.
Smashing the ice off the bird bath.

Sipping tea whilst rubbing Monty's tum. Then easing Monty's claws out of my tender old skin because he doesn't want me to get up.
Driving to a half empty station quite late tonight wearing a fur coat, thermal vest and yellow socks.
Smashing the ice off the bird bath...

Poem 1 Us

On bright snow I childlishly blow
frozen kisses to my friends
Then
On wooden benches I solemnly sit
slicing out your name
Then
On bent knees I show
my pretty insane love for you
Then
On Tuesday you said 'us'
and I couldn't feel the pavement.


copyright Angela Norris

Bloody Ballerina

I skidded in the car today because the road at 5:30 this morning was like an ice rink. But it was quite thrilling really,all I needed was some Bolero and I'd have got a six from the judges.
I've been in the evil, mind numbing clutches of a particularly bad bout of depression these past few days and so the crisp wake-up call of an early morning drive to the station was just what the doctor ordered.
It's funny isn't it how when you're on your knees, with self destruction in your head, your mind is as clear as water and as sharp as a razor, well it is for me anyway. I'm succinct and my conversations articulate and profound, especially at midnight. I daren't go near alcohol because that only make me cry and although crying is one of life's safety bouys, it's something I can do without.

I did my cleaning job today and as I thrust my mop into every nook and cranny I glided over his wooden floors like a bloody minded beautiful ballerina, and oh how I love to dance.

His candles were looking sad and depleted likewise his booze bottles and as the cats followed me upstairs I sucked in a giant breath of relief. Relief that I had been able to rouse myself to action because previously in years gone by I've given in to the bleakness and remained idle. And that my dears is a very wrong thing to do. I've learnt you see from past experience that action, action, is the only way to beat the very devil that is depression.

My head is still clogged with the remnants of a very poor weekend but my lipstick is on and so is the darts. So as I prepare vegetables to the friendly sound of commentator Tony Green I'll grit my teeth knowing that I'm doing the best for myself...

Secondhand Queenie and The Heavenly Bangers

I see that rail fares are going up again and that is something I really don't need to hear this morning. So to off set the gloom of a miserable January morning I will hide away in the kitchen. Nothing new there then.

Yesterday I made something spectacular.
I baked some Toulouse sausages (baking sausages is much better than frying or grilling, but you must use good quality bangers.) To serve with the sausages I made Sweet Potatoes with a Lime, Chilli and Garlic butter. Fab! Some sweetcorn and a spoonful or three of Red Pepper chutney completed the dinner from heaven. Ooops I nearly forget the almost best bit...Pudding.
For pud I made plenty of Sticky Toffee Cakes.....So after a bowl of Nasi Goreng today I'll get stuck in to more sticky cakes. I may not even use a cake fork.

The picture up there was taken on New Years Eve, everything I'm wearing is secondhand except what you can't see!
And on that outrageous note I'll sign orf.