Yep, It's definitely Diversity because of the small creature on the left!

I made a mistake this morning. THIS is a picture of Diversity, the earlier one is of Flawless. Many thanks to Excavator for pointing out my mistake.
Anyway...after pottering in the garden with all things earthy and wet, I sat down at my 'new' table wearing a swimsuit and enjoyed a tuna sandwich and glass of beer. The sun thrashed me, it thrashed me I tell you but how I lapped it up. My shoulders are a bit rosey, no doubt about that, and the tip of my nose a bit cherry like, but I feel super duper.

On the menu tonight.
Barbequed Chicken baked in the oven, Cajun wedges cooked likewise, a big fresh green and red salad and a blue bowl of Soured Cream. But no more beer.

Thank you very much, I've had my say.

And The Winner Is

DIVERSITY!
A Group of likeable lads and one little lass who do somersaults and other things all in the name of dance. Thoroughly bewildering to an old disco diva like me but I love to dance so hugey congratties to DIVERSITY!

Intermission

As the finalists in Britain's Got Talent wait for the results to come in, me and Monty scratch our heads...

Diversity were good
Flawless were better.

Shaheen glowed
Susan Boyle, on fire

Shaun Smith smooched
Julian Smith played a clarinet

Stavros Flatley rocked badly but made me laugh (see above pic)
2 Grand too sweet

Aiden jumped
Hollie twittered


Results in an hour, meanwhile I suffer interminable stress!

Glo Goes Almost Commando

What a day to be in the attic!
There's the sun thoroughly at home in his awesome sky and where am I, crawling around his Lordships attic like a lizard on a rock.
I got in such a lather that I removed my shoes and thought about removing a lot more but I then decided, after eating a banana and drinking a lot of water that going commando would be going to far. So I glowed on:(

My lungs, fingers and hair were clogged with dust as I hauled out box upon blasted box of hundred year old junk. What the Master is going to do with it beats me. Still at least I didn't get sunburnt and I did clap eyes on a rather fetching velvet skirt, might ask him if I can have it. Won't fit him now...

Anyway...after giving Somerfield half my wonga I ran to the charity shop where I bought a vase of white flowers, a red 'Persian garden' rug and a thin strapped dress in sage, umber and cream. Total cost £3. 35
Raced along home with the sunroof open and after demolishing a beef spread sandwich I looked in the mirror, I looked radiant.
Being a Housekeeper obviously suits me.

So as I get my breath back and the weekend approaches I'm getting more and more excited about:
Relaxing with chocolate, watching the telly, making Cajun chicken wraps and drinking something called 'Relentless Inferno' which was given to me by my employer's 17 year old daughter:)

Happy Days!

Frolicking Friday:)

There's a lot of stuff in my head!
Bleach:(
Bananas:)
Box rooms:(
Beating off employer with meat tenderiser:)
Rubber gloves:)
Spicy Wedges:)
Sour Cream:) :) :)
Tortilla wraps:)
Sand beige foundation:(
Right knee:(
Left knee:)
Hanging basket:)
Britain's Got Talent:)
Cup Final:)
Local Elections:)
Sunshine:)
Where's me bike?:)

What I Got In London And What A Beauty.

Jingling charm bracelet. Silver coloured solid heart, 25 tiny petals in faux topaz, 1 pearl set in the heart of a daisy and 1 oval diamond surrounded by rope effect silver.

A blood red basque with rubbery suspenders, metallic hooks and elastic straps, the whole caboodle!

A flimsy sunny yellow flowered sleeveless blouse with a delicate white ruffle. Perfect with jeans or floaty skirt.

A green, yellow and brown beaded bracelet. Perfect with the above.

A garlic jar.

All these delights were from the Hospice shop, the Notting Hill Housing Trust shop and the newly opened Rumanian shop. Bit pricey in there but they had a few, interesting, thoroughly London pieces of which I bought one. The basque. I thought £12 for soup mug was a trifle over the top until I saw a pair of Faith shoes going for £25. Ouch! Oh to be in Essex when I have a score to spend...
Still it's always nice seeing a new charity shop and you never know I might just find the most perfect handbag.

Nuked Chicken Tikka for munchies. Raspberry jelly for pud and mugs of good strong tea helped make the day perfect.
The elderlies were on hand to hand out solid advice about money, jobs, prunes and next weeks local elections.
By the way I took a Geranium up for mum. She loved it and dropped enormous hints about hanging baskets and how she hasn't got one...


On the train home I saw the most beautiful creature, he couldn't have been more than 25. His hair was as glossy and black as a ravens wing and fell over his collar like it just had to, wave upon wave flowing around his terrifyingly handsome and slightly flushed face. Sweet generous lips rested slightly apart, slightly open and his quiet solemn brown eyes edged by comb-like lashes. Just perfect.
But he wasn't all over perfect.
His dark blue pinstripe suit was a tad too big, the jacket hanging sloppily from his shoulders, the trousers were crumpled and the belt too low. But his black pointed-toe shoes were polished. Not too high a shine, but enough to show he cared.

And when the train slowed and pulled into the station he got up and stood by me and the door and I wanted to speak to him, I wanted to compliment him, to tell him how striking he was, but I thought he might think I was a mad woman. So I didn't. But I will if I see him again.
What a beauty.

The Sun Is Shining. Poem

The sun is shining.
So I'll wear a cream jacket.
If it rains.
So be it.

That's the attitude.
The only attitude.

My piggy bank is puffed
So I'll spend some
If I'm a fool
So be it.

That's the attitude
The only attitude.

My teeth are good
So I'll flash them
If it gets me stuff
So be it.

That's the attitude
The only attitude

The sun is shining
While clouds muscle in
I'm shit scared
So be it.

That's the attitude.

Busy With The Boys

After a day spent with:
Two tabby cats. Love the skinny one
A grate full of candle wax. Major candle mal function must have occurred yesterday
Cracked fire engines. Kid threw a tantrum I expect.
Soldiers of many colours. On the speakers, in the fruit bowl and on floor.
Gallo wine. Opened then re-sealed. By the oven. By the Rennies.
Crumbling lighthouses. In both bathrooms.
Past its sell by date fish paste. Opened and sitting by squid ink pasta.
Gaviscon medicine
and
Frisbies on all beds.



I came home to:
Ironing. Gotta get a lady in.
Monty dozing. On the bed. On a blouse.
A miserable cheese and pickle sandwich. Wanted steak.
The World At One. Calming and very good
Black tea. Trying to maintain good tum.
Jeremy Kyle. I'm sure he means well. Or am I?
Digestive biscuits. Three because I had a mug of tea instead of a cup
Warped table mats. Left out in yesterday's rain
A half hour nap. Neck to the left. Legs to the right.
Re-arrangement of recipe books. The books seem neglected when behind me instead of to my left!
The Weakest Link. Love Annies put downs.
Pie.
Bliss.

A Winter's Day in May

Teeming with rain. Dull skies. Jeans and jumper. How unlike yesterday. Dry. Clear skies. Straw hat and azure blue t-shirt.
Therefore on the menu today: Beef pie, mash and beans:)
Now I splash my way to work:(

Happy Days But Not If You Like Adam Lambert.

Well!
A weekend to celebrate. Sort of.
Managed to bag myself some 'new' garden furniture for the princely sum of £0. Yep, that's right, got a big table, two chairs and two footstools for zilch!
Thanks Ken for the info.

It was a most delightful day on Sunday I put together my new bits and pieces, ate a rather rushed pork chop and then made a chocolate cake. But then the clouds did gather in the form of American Idol. Oh the finale was a sumptuous affair alright, lots of fun and lots of fantastic warblers, Rod Stewart, Queen Latifah,(?) Lionel Ritchie and Kiss did a turn but then Ryan Seacumber announced the result of who was to be crowned Winner...I shook. I sucked a breath and then he said the two words I didn't wish to hear. KRIS ALLEN! I was stunned. There was Allen standing meekly alongside the painted and ridiculously talented Adam , looking like it was just another day. For heaven's sake man you've just won a huge prize. Do something!
What on earth was he thinking? How was he feeling? That's what I wanted to know.

Do something I shouted. Even Ryan Seeover looked surprised and in the furore I heard the word 'enthusiasm'. I think Mr Seaurchin wanted a mighty explosive reaction from Allen. He didn't get it. He wanted to see some passion. He didn't get that either. And neither did I or the American public. I was very disappointed with the whole to-do.

But...Just before the winner was announced, Adam and Kris sang along with Queen. Bryan May and Roger Taylor sounding completely brilliant and looking very very good. And as they all bounded about to "We are the Champions" I wondered whether in the future Adam might make a record with Queen, because Lambert looked very at home with the Queen boys. Kris on the other hand disappeared into the background looking utterly lost and out of his depth. He is not a star.
Anyway it was a corker of a show and I loved all of it except the last minute.

Been quite warm today. And so after work, where I danced with my employer by the way, I pottered around my garden wearing green gloves and a large hat. Yes, a good weekend and fabulous Bank Holiday Monday.
Now cake...

Before I make a cake and curry I simply MUST have a word.
Dodged out this morning for an orange jelly and lemon flavoured mineral water and whilst out I thought I'd pop in Joan's shop. So glad I did.
Here's what I bought.
Four old heavyish blue and white cups and matching saucers. Got N.H.S. written on the base. £1.20
A tallish tea light holder. Frosted blue shade and silver coloured base. £1.20
A cute jam pot. Honey coloured with flowers. 40p

Now I must wash my 'new' cups and make a nice pot of tea. Then I cook.

Post sardine post

After the dull, bordering on cruel visit to the world of healthy eating, I've dived right back down into the pit of normal eating. (I will have some mackerel though.)
Last night was curry night.
This morning was jammy toast morning.
Tonight is curry night.
It's good to be back.

On Glo's to do list:
Ironing the shirts which have had their arms around the back of my kitchen chair for the past week.

Water plants.
Check up on Oregano seedlings.
Relocate Buddha.
Wipe over Jessamy.
Walk about with a giant resin robin, he so needs to be seen.
Lay with Monty after a mackerel sandwich.

Looking at what I consider to be a fine piece of erotic clothing. Bought needless to say from Joan's shop for 75p. This has to be not only the craziest bit of schmutter ever to grace my curves it also has to be the weirdest. A sage green velvet affair with dangling ribbons.
It's a silly basque.

Make a curry.
Make a cucumber relish.
Make a bloated tum.

Tonight is common night.
So I will, unless called away by friends or employer, spend a cracking evening in the company of Ant, Dec and great British public.
I do so love show offs!

Toodle pip!

Just a Sandwich

Just had a smashed sardine.
Monty came in.
Laid it on top of one scrunched up Iceberg lettuce leaf (expensive I know but I'm working now so...) then placed it upon a slice of Warburton's finest, then topped it with thinly sliced tomato. Then covered it with another slice of utterly buttery buppy.
Monty was interested.
I ate this with a cup of sweet black tea, then to add a bit of glamour, I finished the good girl's snack with a low fat raspberry yogurt.
Monty left me.

Now this sudden dive into the thrilling choppy seas of healthy eating is on account of my small intestines. They've been playing up. I refuse to go into detail but if you've ever seen a football, well that was my belly all this week:( I could have could laid face down upon the floor going boing boing and not got one bit of dust upon my busty chesty. That's how far off the ground I was!.
Anyway after Googling tummys I found out loads of grim stuff about intestines and what happens therein if you're not careful.
And that is why I ate a sardine.
OK?

Sex or Sardines?

It's come to something when the first thing on your mind is oily fish:(

Glo Dons The Rainbow For The Shops

A wave of Fire engine red, splashes of magenta pink, drips of mint green, curls of lazy lilac, wedges of dependable navy blue, a length of delicate cream and a bouquet of sparkly posies.
Wedding outfit?
Weeding outfit?
Nope.
Just regulation housewife attire for a day trip to the shops.

Wood Planes Day

In a deck chair I sat brushing off webs, dust and ants from ancient wood planes. And afterwards as I stroked the aformentioned planes with my Meths soaked cloth, a nut holding squirrel appeared. "Hello matey" I said. She of course remained silent. It was a lady squirrel I've no doubt, because she was as busy as I was. Only she looked better than I did because her silky silver coat wasn't covered in splinters and her hair, immaculate. I on the other hand, although content, looked like a stable hand.
I loved sitting in my bosse's garden doing a good job, but then he popped back and took me out of the garden and as I made us a cup of tea we spoke about work, love and prescriptions.

American Idol

Tonight is the final of American Idol.
My money is on Adam. He is, what show biz is, an exhilarating ride to another galaxy.
I won't be seeing the show until the weekend so will be avoiding all Americans for the next few days and nights!
Love Lambert!

Why Do I? In blocks of five or six

Always want a Chinese take away when the shop is closed?
Often have a bloated stomach?
Lay on the kitchen table with the aforementioned stomach?
Breathe in and out quickly thinking it'll deflate?
Do exercises for twelve seconds?

Super glue seed filled saucers to the windowsill?
Feed small dinosaurs?
Sigh when the said dinosaurs do a poo poo on me washing line?
Save left over food in old ice cream boxes for foxes, then buy special fox food at the pet shop?
Talk to ants as I sweep them up?
Tell God I'm not killing them just re-positioning them. Next door.

Drink lots of teeth staining tea then use whitening toothpaste to rid myself of stains?
Part Monty's hair in order to make him look dapper?
Wish I could take him out shopping/dancing?
Think about pet greyhounds?
Not gamble any more?

Stare at my ankles?
Pinch my cheeks?
Tighten my buttocks?
Pull faces?
Shave my eyebrows?

Watch the news and moan?
Turn the telly off and turn it on again?
Want elections?
Like political punch-ups?
Watch England play footie?

Have a fixation with my/everyone's chin stubble?
Always want it to be Friday?
Resist the urge to eat chocolate mid week?
Not look at recipe books any more?
Like big men?

Ask so many questions?

Afternoon. Poem

The world looked big today as I strode head down along the road
And as the pavements rode up to meet my dusty black shoes
my head fell.

The emptying schools sounded noisier today as I put myself in poetry
And as the pavements took my pounding
my head fell

The scurrying postman rushed by faster as I glanced at a row of Poppies
And as the pavements sucked my legs down
my head fell

Then the world looked smaller as I tended juvenile plants
And as the water splashed the shoe dust away
my head lifted

The radio voiced the Westminster news as I listened to the rumbling kettle
And as the sparrows bounced from one nut to the other
my head lifted

The poem felt like a friend today as my broken nails tapped
And as the words sat down alongside me
my head was up


Angela Norris

Gorbals Mick And The Full House

David Cameron wants a General Election called immediately. And I'm not surprised. This shower currently in government needs to be mopped out of the honourable House.
Mr Martin, the speaker of this beautiful yet tarnished palace got in a terrible flap today, he seemed to have completely forgotten the enormity of his position being only third down the line in order of political importance, hanging behind the Queen and Prime Minister. He's done nothing by not doing enough and has subsequently incurred the wrath of just about everyone. I think he should do the only thing possible and that is go home.

Apparently Mr Gordon Brown was in the House as the unprecendented proceedings uncurled but he quietly left when the punch-ups occured. Typical of the man. Anyway, as M.P. after M.P gently lambasted Mr Martin (we Brits are so civil even when being uncivil) the now quite non-plussed Scot mumbled on uttering weak forgettable words, much to the disbelief of the frenzied back benchers.
And as the session ended I had to stop what I was doing, which was making a chocolate pudding, in order to drink in the comings and goings of various pundits, political commentators and the BBC's James Lansdale's new hair cut. What was he thinking?

Today I learnt that the last Speaker to earn the ire of just about everyone was someone who I can't remember the name of, but he did something bad three hundred years ago, and got booted out. And so three hundred years on we're still being given grief by a misplaced, out of his depth Speaker, who not only does a bad job but has forgotten his station in life.
To serve.
He is a servant.

Mr Cameron, who last week, gave what I consder to be an election winning speech on the whole allowances affair, must be pacing his office and polishing orf his Limo on account of him probably becoming the next Prime Minister. And as I look back over the past couple of years I've decided it was a bleak, bitter day when Gordon Brown started his sulk fest in number ten Downing Street. And Gorbals Mick forgot who he was.
Roll on Election day.

THE QUEEN LETS ORF STEAM

BOTHERATION!
I'M IN A LATHER!
I'M IN A RIGHT TWO AND EIGHT!
I'M TERRIBLY OVERWROUGHT AND BRITTLE!
I'M SPITTING FEATHERS!
I'M HOPPING MAD!
I'M FIT TO BURST!

AND FINALLY...

I'M HAVING A TURN!

Last week I said if Kris Allen got through to the final of American Idol and messed up my weekend I'd forget I was a lady...
He got through.

The Queen is now limp and prone.

Toms, Geraniums and The Gnome Man

After work I zoomed along to the garden centre where I bought two trailing Geraniums for the conical shaped basket that's hanging by my front door. Also bought a couple of girly pink plants for mum.
I like the Four Acres garden centre as it's very nearby, is surrounded by fields and has a dodgy blue caravan in the shell covered car park.
Inside, table upon table was laden with tiny plants most of which were priced at a pound or two, one tall elegant plant which caught my eye was a red Dahlia. I don't know much, in fact I don't know anything really about flowers, but this delicate flower with its profusion of unopened buds reminded me of something one might see in an old masters painting. It was very aristocratic and I was most impressed with it but as I was in homely mood I settled for the Geraniums, and I'm sure they'll make me happy me every time I stand on my doorstep.

So then I came home, put the plants in the conservatory and made a pot of tea. As I squinted at the sunlight I pondered the 17 tomato plants which are leaning on the walls and against the glass. Some of them were given to me yesterday by one of my neighbours, Mike, he has an allotment and spends a great deal of time doing things with trugs, sticks and plastic sheeting. He's a funny little chap, reminds me of a gnome, only he's taller. The other plants are the ones I bought from the fella with the ashtray for a cash register.
I love Essex.
On the menu tonight: Chinese Take-Away.

London v. Essex

As much as I love London I can never wait to get back to Essex.
And that's something I never thought I'd say. Just goes to show how little we really know ourselves.
Anyway, I had a great time with mum and dad, had the customary microwaved curry and I have to say it was awful, I mean truly awful. Mum had surpassed herself in so far as she hadn't even bought the curry from M&S she'd gone downmarket and given me an appalling Findus creation. I silently groaned as the bullet-s of hard rice held up what can only be described as a sludgy mess masquerading as curried beef. I drank my tea quickly...

We toddled orff out shopping and I bought the most fantastic pair of black slingback high heels for only £3. Mum bought a shiny pink bag for £10. We were in handbag and shoe heaven and it only cost £13.
Later as I swaggered around the front room, dad asked if I'd be wearing them home. "Are you mad?" I said "These are not for walking, these are for getting in and out of cars". He didn't like that. He said he'd become worried about me since I've been a Housekeeper/Char Lady/The Woman Who Does . I said "Oh do leave off, I'm earning some Wonga and now I'm spending it". He shut his eyes at me and had another Fairy cake. I've never been able to please that man.
Mum, bless her shrinking heart, re-arranged stuff in her new pink bag and watched the racing from York.

I came home to Monty, a Rock cake, emails, and the making of Chickenberry casserole. My eyes feel heavy, my right leg aches but my mind is full of joy.
Happy days!

Mr Humphrys and bacon
then
London
then
xxl night shirt

Ernest Christopher Dowson 1867-1900

What a gift!
The writing gods continue to amaze me with their generosity. Some time ago I signed up to Poemhunter, and ever since that day they've sent me daily poems. I can take or leave most of them but some are worth getting excited about...

April Love

We have walked in Love's land a little way,
We have learnt his lesson a little while,
And shall we not part at the end of day,
With a sigh, a smile?

A little while in the shine of the sun,
We were twined together, joined lips forgot
How the shadows fall when day is done,
And when Love is not.

We have made no vows - there will none be broke,
Our love was free as the wind on the hill,
There was no word said we need wish unspoke,
We have wrought no ill.

So shall we not part at the end of day,
Who have loved and lingered a little while,
Join lips for the last time, go our way,
With a sigh, a smile.

Ernest Christopher Dowson

Naiive. Splendid and quite beautiful. So I ran to Poemhunter and gobbled him up. A Londoner by birth, a short story writer and alcoholic. There's a link to a book of his letters in my fav sites. This is a rushed post because I'm enthusiastic about Ernest.

The Queen and Her Princes

They all sing well.
Danny, Adam and Kris are the three men hoping for glory on American Idol. See pic.
And after last weeks performances I know who my money's on. Adam. And although I want to run off with Danny and bear his weight and children, I thought Adam's performance was simply mesmerizing, so magical was his rendition of Whole Lotta Love that it catapulted me from an excited English lady to a leg thrashing uber bitch.
Loved it.

Danny, who I would like to see in a birthday suit, sang like he had a golf ball in his mouth, it was earthy, manly and sexy. His scream at the end had my eyes popping and other parts of my anatomy swelling too, so that pleased me no end. Yes, I adore Danny's big vocals.

Kris, sang. He's somehow managed to creep into the final by edging out rocker kid Allison. Kris to me is a wannabee of the first order, he's competent and good looking but lost his balls in the playground. No, not for me thank you darling.

The judges praised first-on-stage Adam, Simon Cowell bestowing on him a great compliment by suggesting that it was 'all over really'. How must Danny and Kris have felt on hearing that?
They liked Danny, but had reservations about his strangulated scream at the end, I have to admit it was odd, but he laughed it off, like a pro.
Allison, sang a Janis Joplin song and I thought did an excellent job. The American people however thought differently. They kicked her out on her ass. For a seventeen year old she was amazingly confident and had a lovable sense of humour. She'll go far. Only hope she doesn't burn out too soon.


So after this weeks show I will be ecstatic, very happy and over the moon, if super camp Adam and guttural Danny make it to the final.
If Kris messes up my weekend, I'll forget I'm a lady.

Post-Work Thoughts

Beans.
American Idol. Post coming tomorrow.
Lip gloss. Fuchsia pink. Tomorrow for the hell of it.
Fairy cakes. Cute. Silly. Some with silver balls.
Early evening sunshine. So unlike my dismal morning. Brit wev at it's most mercurial.
Rosemary bush needs tinkering with.
Eurovision Song Contest on Saturday. Outrageousness fest.
Guiness. Straight. Not mixed with cider Sweetie.
Adam Lambert. A star is born. To brighten our lives.
Face lifts. Proper one. Sellotape doesn't hold.
Danny Gokey. Wish I was locked in a cupboard with him.
Neck rub. Creaked at three. Hard work is ageing me.
Beans.

Pre-Work Thoughts

On this grim Monday morning here is what I'm looking forward to:

Making 18 Fairy cakes this afternoon. Iced and decorated with Jelly sweets.
London on Thursday. Got a bag of bits for the old dears.
England v. Croatia 9/9/09. Time for me to be encased in shorts.

I'm just wondering when I'll be donning my poet's hat. Not today obviously.

Conservative M.P.s are coming in for some stick, apparently one of them had his Wisteria de-clamped from his giant chimney. Courtesy of the British tax payer.
Other things we're paying for:
Mattresses.
Porn videos.
Bath plugs.
What I want to know is if we, the public, are dolling out dosh for this sort of nonsense, what are politicians actually spending their salaries on?

Back to me and my unbelievably dull life
Where are my gloves? The wind is whipping up.
Where can I get a plastic garden chair? It might brighten up later.
When is my body going to do something dirty other than cleaning? All work and no play makes Glo go gaga.

Like A Teddy Bear

Been walking around the garden.

There were a lot of bees fussing about and I liked that. Had a few ideas too. Thought I might move the bins out of the way, push them further along, down almost to the gate, then I can fill the space with plant pots, chairs and a few gnomes. But I'll need to kill some weeds first, don't fancy playing footsie with things that sting me.
The garden is spiritual at 7 in the morning, bit like me. Yes, I feel a project coming on. Creating something, however simple, is what artists have to do. And if playing with ornaments, pots of herbs and plastic chairs satisfies me, then so be it.
All I have to do now is find money and time.

Anyway I bought two things for mum, an ornament in the shape of three salmon pink roses attached to a metal stand and a book on the Rovers Return pub in Coronation Street.
For myself? Two dessert spoons 10p.
On my trek home (walking) couldn't resist picking up another tomato plant. He had seven outside, but I only had a little change, so I filled his ashtray with a bit of silver and a load of coppers:)

On entering the bungalow I noticed quite a bit of dust. And for a Housekeeper that's not good:) But I said "Shove it" and put on Magic radio 105.4.
Good stuff.

Serious about Saturday

No work today. Yipdedoodah!

Am just about to go to that two-bit shop masquerading as a supermarket. Somerfields. Won't bore you with what I'm buying because who the hells interested in lettuces, tomatoes and cucumbers?
And then...
Will I or indeed should I pop in to the charity shop literally around the corner a.k.a. Gloria's Heaven? Yep I will and I should. Because you never know, there might just be waiting for me, the mother of all dresses or the mother of all jugs.
Can't resist.

On the agenda today:
Secondhand lamps being delivered by a friend. After two I expect. What a pal.
The recording of American Idol. ITV2 this afternoon. Scarf tied around my waist to remind me.
Neck exercises. Have done something to it. I'm veering to the right. In more ways than one.
Food. Chicken korma. Will make a few chappatis too. Oh bugger, I am Mango chutneyless:( Absolutely refuse to buy it in Somerfields.

Now slapping on some slap and walking.
I'm out of here.....

Update again

On the menu tonight:
Chicken casserole. My most favourite one. Herby and Winey. Made with chicken breasts.
Talking. About me mostly.
Ice cream. Will have it unadorned.
Looking at ankle. Been bitten by something. Awful red lump has appeared:(
Thinking about American Idol. Checked Adam Lambert on You Tube and saw a demo tape of him. Camp or WHAT? Great performer. Reminiscent of Freddie Mercury and wears just as much make-up. Like him a lot. But also hankering after Danny Gokey. I cannot be pleased!
Where was I? Oh yes something about what I am doing tonight.
After devouring my favourite chicken casserole I expect I'll fall into a dead sleep. Been snuggling down at ridiculously early times, like 9. But my body's needs dictate my actions. So...snoozypops at nineypops it is.

Will no doubt post a piece after seeing American Idol. Only hope I'm not devastated by result type things.

Now breasts.

Ok before I fall on the settee I must log today's charity shop buys:

1. A small white jug with a couple of delicate flowers painted on 30p
2. 4 yellow handled dessert forks 40p
3. A bone china mug for mum 3op
4. 4 long, red, rose scented candles. Gift boxed. £1
5. Big bright yellow vase complete with three tall sprigs of white flowers. £1.20

Now a microwaved sweet and sour chicken. Half price special offer just £1.25. Then paid a taking-diabolical-liberties £1.20, for some icing sugar.
Win some lose some.
All in all I think I won today.

Yippee it's Friday!

Super morning.
Sunny and wind free!
I shall wear a cherry red blouse and blue jeans to work and on the way home pop once again into the charity shop.
Bought a pig yesterday.

The Artist Returns

Just popping in to remind myself that first and foremost I'm an artist.
Lugging domestic equipment around is not my idea of heaven but at the moment I have no choice.
And so as I sit here with Mr Seal playing on my 'puter I've got dirt under my flaked nails and a pain in my neck. On the right side. Legs are ok likewise the rest of my 60 inches. But my neck is giving me the pip.
I shrug. Just.

God how I love listening to Seal. Feel like dancing around the office without my industrial strength tights on.
Hold on...
Aah that's better.

Crikey my legs look like a raspberry ripple ice cream. Bloody weather. Bloody little legs.
I soldier on.

I want to write something, don't know what, but anything will do.
I've been looking back at some of my creative work, notice I say work instead of stuff, I'm not going to belittle what I'm good at. But some of it frightens me on account of I'm wondering where the hell it all came from. I know of course where it all came from...I'm indebted to my countless failures on the emotional front, which I wouldn't have accrued without bouts of childlike joy and sessions of tears.
Thanks guys.

Ok got that out of my system.
Now an egg mayonnaise sandwich and book of verse.

Quickie Before Work

Just heard the weather forecast. Cloudy in the south. What? I've just put on a flouncy old skirt!
Talking of old flouncy things, I'm off out soon. Will get to grips with a dingy cupboard behind the bar, the bar being a small cave like place decked out in gaudy mirrors, wine racks and handbags!
It so needs a tidy up.
So after putting my radio and pinny on I'll get down to it. My God who ever thought a lazy trout like me would be up to her kneecaps in (mini list coming up) wine bottles, ashtrays, remote controls, socks, hairbrushes, vests and batteries. Still I'd rather be on my knees cleaning than sitting here hungry:(

On the menu tonight: No idea. Corned beef probably. Since I've been a working girl my dinners have gone to pot. A bit. Last night's fare was fair enough though. And oh what a gorgeous sumptuous pudding did I make. Lemon curd pud was fab. I had a glass of Stella Artois too, couldn't finish it off of course, way too much for my little tum but it was refreshing and went well with the pork. But I will not be buying any more. Today.

Now buttered bagel and porridge:)

Tiny Jasmine

After a hot road trip to Sainsbury's I had a sausage sandwich and then did something with Jasmine in the garden.
Tiny thing she is but I handled her delicately as I pushed her down into the dirt. Well, into a large tub of compost actually! I feel I have an affinity with small fragile things being one myself so as I gently patted soil around her sides I wondered now far she'd go up me trellis.
This is what happens when I get a fine day at the beginning of May.

On the menu tonight.
Nasi Goreng followed by Lemon curd pudding and ice cream.

Then early to bed on account of:
Age
Fear of saggy bags
Aching neck
Bugger all on the telly
Awfully early start tomorrow

Delights, Nietzsche and a Poem

On Friday I wrote about my charity shop delights.
And here are a couple of pictures...


I love collecting quotes and here's one I found yesterday.
"A subject for a great poet would be God's boredom after the seventh day of creation".
Friedrich Nietzsche


'Pleased with the stars' God said, stretching his almighty frame over His heavenly armchair..
And as He watched the night come
He wondered what next.

I mean, how would he top this fantastic week of work?
He was never going to eclipse the past few immaculate days however hard he tried. His creation of all things beautiful was his piece de resistance, his magnum opus and creating the perfect world is the pinnacle of all artists.
He achieved that.
He might as well stop right now.

And so what next for the Great Man?
Reading?
Wishing He was somewhere else?
Toying with the weather?
Or just lying back feeling chuffed?
After all a week of mountain building, light making, water production, beast bombardment and laying green green grass was a great idea. And like all things magnificent, they impact, stun and then depart.

And so as He slumbered, His hands split and cracked, He dreamt of what could be.
Lions playing footsie with lambs,
Women being good to men,
Children being children until they're not.
Men standing upright.
Caravans, huts, caves resounding to the clash of milk cups instead of beer glasses.
Food on tables, arms open, ovens burning.
Little people with unscarred frilly hearts living amongst tall trees.

But then He had a fitful sleep and saw
Hungry people singing Hallelujahs in towns with no water, no justice
Homeless people with broken backs walking that extra mile.
Writers committing atrocities in the name of art.

God shifted and tutted
Overturned on his cloud and cried
And awoke resigned and bored.

And so he left us in the dark
and our world shook.

I stole a tea spoon.

Poet Laureat

Looks like another gloriass day weather wise!
And it looks set to last to at least Sunday, so I'm off out tonight vestless. Talking of foolhardyness I've put in the garden a scratched stained 1973 coffee table laden with peanuts, in the hope that my pigeons and other feathered babes will feast upon it and in so doing make me very happy. How selfish is that? But so far they've chosen to ignore it. But, as I've noticed before, it takes birds a while to get used to new thingymejigs in their territory, so being blessed with endless patience I'll have to wait...

Talking of patience...
I've waited a good while for good news on the poetry front. And yesterday I had some. My favourite poet Carol Ann Duffy has been made Poet Laureat. This weepingly talented woman should have had the job years ago, but according to rumours, she was denied it on account of her sexual persuasion.
I watched her being interviewed yesterday and I wished I could have had a few private moments with her. I'd have asked her how she feels when the birth pangs of a poem pound in her head and heart. And how it feels when she sees her completed work, her offspring, spread out, not on a bloodied blanket but on a dusty screen.

What I wouldn't give to meet her.

Anyway here's one of her poems, I carry it in my handbag.
To me it is a masterpiece.


"Some days although we cannot pray a prayer utters itself, so a woman will lift her head from the sieve of her hands and stare at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift.
Some nights although we are faithless the truth enters our hearts, that small familiar pain, then a man will stand stock still hearing his youth in the distant Latin chanting of a train. Pray for us.
Grade one piano scales console the lodger looking out across a Midlands town. Then dusk and someone calls a child's name as though they named their loss.

Darkness outside, inside the radios prayer. Rockall, Malin, Dogger, Finistere."

Carol Ann Duffy



So back to my stuff.

Snooker.
Bacon.
Snooker.

Rogan Josh.
Coffee and mint chocs
Late night Snooker.

Check bird's coffee table.

Simple Things

Just before I drip soup down my frontage I must just have a word...

Went to awful Somerfield to by ordinary stuff, when what did I see, only a lad loading a shelf with ASPARAGUS! What the hells going on here I thought to myself. This is grotty Somerfield, where you'd be lucky to find a loaf of bread yet alone queer gear. Oh well...On to the charity shop..
Where I bought a white embroidered throw, a small brown casserole dish with lid, an empty Cadbury's biscuit tin in the shape of a van and THREE BLUE TIN CANNISTERS marked TEA COFFEE SUGAR! It couldn't get better but it did because they were only £1:50.

And then as I drove into my road I spotted something.
A man.
A man with a wooden tray.
He was putting his plants out for sale. So I pulled up alongside him and got out. "40p" he said.
TOMATO plants they were. I bought four. 'Shirley', 'Beefsteak' and two 'Plum'. I put money in his ashtray and roared off.
I want to bottle today so I can uncork it and pour it out on my blacker days.
On the menu today: Soup. And later, chips and ketchup. And later still digestive biscuits and tea. I suffer when alone...

Lovely Day

Lovely day.
Sun out and I'm out.
Only going out for bread though!
But will no doubt pop in Joan's shop to see if there are any a) ceramic birds b) fancy clothes c) pots, bowls or jugs.
Then snooker.
Lovely day.