Friday, 31 July 2009
Sweetness
So after hearing from back-at-work Henry I left upon his table two slices of plump strawberry Swiss Roll and a cup of grapes set in a lime and apple jelly. He likes fruit and sweet things so I combined the two. I like making individual jellies and so Henry's one was made in a blue and white cup with squiggles on, which if studied closely, looks faintly Chinese.
He'll no doubt consume it in seconds because he's a big chap who goes without quality food for great lengths of time. I have tried to explain to him about sugar levels but his eyes mist over and he then cracks a joke about nuns and frustration.
Bless.
I flew around the castle today managing to not only break a Homer Simpson beer glass but doing something to the ball of my right foot. But I had Whoopie for company yet again so the mishaps were bearable. What is it about me and nuns? I think my intense interest in the creatures stems from my being made to go, at the impressionable age of nine, to the convent of the Poor Clares to buy flowers for my nan. Both the flowers and the sisters obviously made an impact.
Bless.
Now I am of course absolutely shattered so some simple home made soup and a small crusty hot roll are needed, later on, for my sparse tea, I expect I'll nuke the Minced Beef casserole I made yesterday. And later on, after the mince, I'll wriggle into yet another 'new' dress. This one is from 'Zara' whoever or whatever that is, but whoever it or she is I'm very excited about wearing it. You'll be glad to hear I will not look nun-like.
Only in my heart am I righteous.
Now my bread roll:)
Bless.
Couldn't find Monty this morning so went to the front door to go and look outside, it was locked. Not from the inside either but from the outside. John had left his keys in the door after he'd locked up earlier this morning. Burglars could have got in. But he must have been extremely tired. And we know why don't we?
He'd arrived home very late last night after enduring
a nice scenic trip around Essex courtesy of ASLEF and the RMT.
Thanks Crowe.
What I want to know is why not a lot is being said on the news, unless I've missed it of course. Hundreds of thousands of people in Suffolk, Kent, andEssex are being thoroughly upset by the inaction of highly paid workers. Even Stansted airport is affected. Yesterday on Radio 4's 'P.M' there was a 'news' item about an elderly man who has died. He was the man who taught Prince Charles about crofting...
I've found Monty.
He's sitting by my kitchen chair waiting for cornflakes.
Now my day can begin.
He'd arrived home very late last night after enduring
a nice scenic trip around Essex courtesy of ASLEF and the RMT.
Thanks Crowe.
What I want to know is why not a lot is being said on the news, unless I've missed it of course. Hundreds of thousands of people in Suffolk, Kent, andEssex are being thoroughly upset by the inaction of highly paid workers. Even Stansted airport is affected. Yesterday on Radio 4's 'P.M' there was a 'news' item about an elderly man who has died. He was the man who taught Prince Charles about crofting...
I've found Monty.
He's sitting by my kitchen chair waiting for cornflakes.
Now my day can begin.
Thursday, 30 July 2009
I Want Bob Crowe To Lose His Job
As my Beef Stew slowly evaporates those laughing rats from ASLEF and the RMT are staging yet another 48 hour strike. They've turned down a decent pay rise of over 2% because they say greedy Managers have milked every penny out of the franchise and are treating the train drivers like dirt. Well Mr Bob Crowe you know all about dirt and greed don't you, you smug self-inflated little pratt.
So as I wait for John to find a way home after working a ten hour shift I pray Mr and Mrs Crowe have a rotten night with burnt dinners, exhaustion and family rows.
And that one day Crowe and his mob get what they deserve.
UPDATE....It is now 8:45 and my stew is almost dead. John is God knows where while former Communist Crowe is tucked up with a pint....Bastard.
So as I wait for John to find a way home after working a ten hour shift I pray Mr and Mrs Crowe have a rotten night with burnt dinners, exhaustion and family rows.
And that one day Crowe and his mob get what they deserve.
UPDATE....It is now 8:45 and my stew is almost dead. John is God knows where while former Communist Crowe is tucked up with a pint....Bastard.
The King's Bucket
Yesterday.
As soon as I heard his bedroom radio I knew the King was in.
At home.
Holding court with a disc jockey from Radio Essex.
What I didn't know was when he was coming down.
So I set about my tasks.
Firstly and most importantly the bird table needed replenishing so I stepped out of the 'lived in' kitchen into the grand much cared for garden feeling quite alright. I glanced at the wildly green arbours, the crazed stone angels and one teetering stone bird whose head is perpetually dipped in the dry bird bath. Yes, the Queen thought, this would be an ok day.
Back inside the mismatched crockery was being attacked by flies so I sped through the washing up in my yellow gloves and thought about the King's lunch. Tuna salad, with a little boiled egg on the side, yes he'll like that.
Then my phone rang.
I let it ring because my head and chest were deep inside the wine glass cupboard, it rang and rang then stopped. Something told me to check it, it was Henry asking if I was there!
So off came the gloves and up the stairs I went stopping midway to call out "I'm coming up Henry, make yourself decent".
"Come in Angela"
He didn't sound right, not at all. The usual wily rascal had been replaced by a whimpering schoolboy.
What I saw when I pushed the door surprised and shocked me. The King was on the edge of the bed in his boxers. His white curly mopped head hanging onto his huge chest and a face so red I thought it was about to explode.
"What's up Henry?"
He pointed to a black bucket.
"I'm sorry darling" he said, his blue eyes shining and standing out brilliantly against the cherry red of his cheeks. He reminded me of a slightly sordid Father Christmas.
"It's ok, I'm not squeamish"
So after I emptied the offending bucket we had a little talk.
He'd had a rough night apparently, woke up at some ungodly hour with all kinds of aches and pains and vomited whilst listening to a phone-in.
"What did you eat last night" I asked whilst carefully looking out for signs of a) fever b) food poisoning and c) dementia
"Mussels"
On that I checked his pulse and took his temperature with a stick-on-the-forehead thermometer. He was slightly warmer than normal but not in any danger, but to make sure, to be safe I asked him if he'd like me to get a doctor. After all I didn't want to end up splashed all over the local paper ......EX-MAYOR FOUND DEAD WITH HOUSEKEEPER.....
"Jesus, no, I'll be alright, just need a kip and you"
I smiled like the superior being I am and wafted to his en-suite for a flannel.
As I stroked the big wet cloth over his face he called me an angel.
"Can you see my wings?" I grinned
"No, I'm looking at your flies, they're coming undone."
With that I knew he was recovering fast.
I made him as comfortable as I could, puffing up his pillows, straightening sagging underpants, leaving lots of water and reminding him where the bucket is.
I then returned to more pleasant jobs like the ironing. And maybe making just a green salad and ditching the fish.
On my agenda today?
At home.
Cooking, cleaning but no buckets.
And definitely Angelic.
As always:)
As soon as I heard his bedroom radio I knew the King was in.
At home.
Holding court with a disc jockey from Radio Essex.
What I didn't know was when he was coming down.
So I set about my tasks.
Firstly and most importantly the bird table needed replenishing so I stepped out of the 'lived in' kitchen into the grand much cared for garden feeling quite alright. I glanced at the wildly green arbours, the crazed stone angels and one teetering stone bird whose head is perpetually dipped in the dry bird bath. Yes, the Queen thought, this would be an ok day.
Back inside the mismatched crockery was being attacked by flies so I sped through the washing up in my yellow gloves and thought about the King's lunch. Tuna salad, with a little boiled egg on the side, yes he'll like that.
Then my phone rang.
I let it ring because my head and chest were deep inside the wine glass cupboard, it rang and rang then stopped. Something told me to check it, it was Henry asking if I was there!
So off came the gloves and up the stairs I went stopping midway to call out "I'm coming up Henry, make yourself decent".
"Come in Angela"
He didn't sound right, not at all. The usual wily rascal had been replaced by a whimpering schoolboy.
What I saw when I pushed the door surprised and shocked me. The King was on the edge of the bed in his boxers. His white curly mopped head hanging onto his huge chest and a face so red I thought it was about to explode.
"What's up Henry?"
He pointed to a black bucket.
"I'm sorry darling" he said, his blue eyes shining and standing out brilliantly against the cherry red of his cheeks. He reminded me of a slightly sordid Father Christmas.
"It's ok, I'm not squeamish"
So after I emptied the offending bucket we had a little talk.
He'd had a rough night apparently, woke up at some ungodly hour with all kinds of aches and pains and vomited whilst listening to a phone-in.
"What did you eat last night" I asked whilst carefully looking out for signs of a) fever b) food poisoning and c) dementia
"Mussels"
On that I checked his pulse and took his temperature with a stick-on-the-forehead thermometer. He was slightly warmer than normal but not in any danger, but to make sure, to be safe I asked him if he'd like me to get a doctor. After all I didn't want to end up splashed all over the local paper ......EX-MAYOR FOUND DEAD WITH HOUSEKEEPER.....
"Jesus, no, I'll be alright, just need a kip and you"
I smiled like the superior being I am and wafted to his en-suite for a flannel.
As I stroked the big wet cloth over his face he called me an angel.
"Can you see my wings?" I grinned
"No, I'm looking at your flies, they're coming undone."
With that I knew he was recovering fast.
I made him as comfortable as I could, puffing up his pillows, straightening sagging underpants, leaving lots of water and reminding him where the bucket is.
I then returned to more pleasant jobs like the ironing. And maybe making just a green salad and ditching the fish.
On my agenda today?
At home.
Cooking, cleaning but no buckets.
And definitely Angelic.
As always:)
Tuesday, 28 July 2009
Last night
Last night on my way to pick up Johnnie I dropped a small peachy trifle into the gargantuan hands of King Henry. 'Thanks m'dear' he whispered.
My spirits crashed.
Not because he was less than appreciative but on account of the state of the kitchen.
I'd left it perfect. But now there were take-away cartons, festering plates with dried-up fried rice, numerous pieces of cutlery, boozy glasses and stinking filled ashtrays. I smiled though as I slumped because
I'd done my bit earlier and if he allows his daughter and boyfriend to treat his home like a dump then that's his business not mine.
So as the aforementioned daughter and boyfriend slopped in the front room I stared into Henry's sad eyes. Here is a man so pumped up on drugs and booze that it's a miracle he knows who he is any more.
I felt for him.
A big bolshie social animal whose idea of humour is continuous innuendo, no wonder we get along so well! The difference between Henry and I is that I know when to stop. As the evening birds flitted on the perfect lawn he suggested I get 'more involved' in church activities. I declined and put his melting butter back in the fridge.
'You're a caring person Angela'.
My raised eyebrows thanked him.
'You'd look better without the beard' I said
'You too'.
I went to pick up Johnnie...
My spirits crashed.
Not because he was less than appreciative but on account of the state of the kitchen.
I'd left it perfect. But now there were take-away cartons, festering plates with dried-up fried rice, numerous pieces of cutlery, boozy glasses and stinking filled ashtrays. I smiled though as I slumped because
I'd done my bit earlier and if he allows his daughter and boyfriend to treat his home like a dump then that's his business not mine.
So as the aforementioned daughter and boyfriend slopped in the front room I stared into Henry's sad eyes. Here is a man so pumped up on drugs and booze that it's a miracle he knows who he is any more.
I felt for him.
A big bolshie social animal whose idea of humour is continuous innuendo, no wonder we get along so well! The difference between Henry and I is that I know when to stop. As the evening birds flitted on the perfect lawn he suggested I get 'more involved' in church activities. I declined and put his melting butter back in the fridge.
'You're a caring person Angela'.
My raised eyebrows thanked him.
'You'd look better without the beard' I said
'You too'.
I went to pick up Johnnie...
Monday, 27 July 2009
Yes Sir I Shifted Your Mattress.
I ran around Henry's like a frantic thing. Running mainly to avoid the flies. Why doesn't he do something about them. It's horrible working in a buggy environment. I did manage to shoo shoo some of them out of the kitchen via the back door but that meant
my hair being thrashed upwards by the whirling in-coming winds. To keep my spirits afloat I boogied with Whoopie Goldberg whilst gently crunching on half a shaved carrot.
Bugger.
His room was ghastly.
The mattress was hanging off the base, bottles of shampoo and shower gel lay under the telly and the big man's shirt was stuffed between the washing basket and bookcase:(
But I'm home now.
Now another giant fish cake. Then I'll lovingly assemble a sweet cherry pie for the old Cockney dears...
Good God Almighty, Henry has just phoned. Did I manage to do something with his failing, shifting, sinking mattress?
HELP.........!
my hair being thrashed upwards by the whirling in-coming winds. To keep my spirits afloat I boogied with Whoopie Goldberg whilst gently crunching on half a shaved carrot.
Bugger.
His room was ghastly.
The mattress was hanging off the base, bottles of shampoo and shower gel lay under the telly and the big man's shirt was stuffed between the washing basket and bookcase:(
But I'm home now.
Now another giant fish cake. Then I'll lovingly assemble a sweet cherry pie for the old Cockney dears...
Good God Almighty, Henry has just phoned. Did I manage to do something with his failing, shifting, sinking mattress?
HELP.........!
Too Many Treats
Monty is rolling around the floor, his fat belly plopping on the faded mat like a several pounds of blackberry jelly.
His mum is balancing on a chair, her fat belly straining in her elegant kimono rather like a giant blancmange struggling to escape from a plastic bag.
So.
Not much I can do for Monty except cut down his tea-time treats but there is something me can do for me. Drive to Argos to buy an 'abdotrim tummy exerciser'.
All this nonsense about exercise and weight is giving me the pip. Last week I bought some electronic bathroom scales. I stood on them once and then shoved them behind my bursting wardrobe:) Ridiculous. Not only am I constantly standing sideways looking in the mirror I'm now wasting money on weight related things. This has to stop.
My bigger better brainier half is also banging on about weight, only his rants are much worse than mine because being the tech genius he is, he insists on talking in kilos. Confusion all round. I weigh 8st 2lbs by the way.
Monty has stopped lolling and has now turned his back on me to stare stupidly at the dusty bookshelves. I love that cat.
I must now get ready for a half-hearted, half-days work.
I love my full-fat afternoons.
Goodblubber.....
Friday, 24 July 2009
Glo's Crown Jewels
Finished deliciously early today so went to the charity shop and what treasures I found.
Firstly a most gorgeous bracelet.
Silver in colour and embedded with square stones in shades of sage and watery green. Secondly a silvery chain necklace with square pendant embedded with stones in....sage, watery, and sea green. I wonder if it was the same person who gave them away. But whoever it was I'm awfully glad they did. Total cost of the jewels? £1:75.
So after whizzing round Henry's and a most enjoyable ten minutes shopping I went home.
Home to a giant fish cake and an interested cat.
As I tell you this the rain is falling viciously and without care for the season. Some summer this is turning out to be, mind you we did have a brief scorchingness in June or was it May. At any rate the sun is being mischievous and my legs are damp so the dazzling biker chick is off to have a lay down.
Firstly a most gorgeous bracelet.
Silver in colour and embedded with square stones in shades of sage and watery green. Secondly a silvery chain necklace with square pendant embedded with stones in....sage, watery, and sea green. I wonder if it was the same person who gave them away. But whoever it was I'm awfully glad they did. Total cost of the jewels? £1:75.
So after whizzing round Henry's and a most enjoyable ten minutes shopping I went home.
Home to a giant fish cake and an interested cat.
As I tell you this the rain is falling viciously and without care for the season. Some summer this is turning out to be, mind you we did have a brief scorchingness in June or was it May. At any rate the sun is being mischievous and my legs are damp so the dazzling biker chick is off to have a lay down.
Thursday, 23 July 2009
Wednesday, 22 July 2009
Now This Bike Thing...
Hello all.
It's not a bad little runner considering it's thirty years old. It has a jaunty plastic bag at the back a tingling screeching bell on the front and lots of creamy coloured lights. I like it. And today as I cycled to Henry's I felt as free as a lost pigeon.
I have to get a padlock or something because otherwise someone might steal it, and the thought of some stinking tea leaf lifting my little cycle gets me in a flap. No, I simply have to spend a fiver on security.
Other mundaness:
My left knee is ghastly again. Come up all knobbly it has and I think it's due to excessive exertion both in the street and in the kitchen. Therefore I've pumped myself full of hard line prescription drugs in the hope of seeing a joint reduction.
Today at Henry's was quite dull. I'm so sick of picking up fag-ends, Chinese take away cartons, crashed out bottles of vino, socks, medical things, bow ties and dead flies. As I wafted Lavender air freshener around I stuck my head out the upstairs window and wished so hard that I was somewhere else.
I've decided to lose myself in a sausage.
It's not a bad little runner considering it's thirty years old. It has a jaunty plastic bag at the back a tingling screeching bell on the front and lots of creamy coloured lights. I like it. And today as I cycled to Henry's I felt as free as a lost pigeon.
I have to get a padlock or something because otherwise someone might steal it, and the thought of some stinking tea leaf lifting my little cycle gets me in a flap. No, I simply have to spend a fiver on security.
Other mundaness:
My left knee is ghastly again. Come up all knobbly it has and I think it's due to excessive exertion both in the street and in the kitchen. Therefore I've pumped myself full of hard line prescription drugs in the hope of seeing a joint reduction.
Today at Henry's was quite dull. I'm so sick of picking up fag-ends, Chinese take away cartons, crashed out bottles of vino, socks, medical things, bow ties and dead flies. As I wafted Lavender air freshener around I stuck my head out the upstairs window and wished so hard that I was somewhere else.
I've decided to lose myself in a sausage.
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
Bike Girl
I'm dodging out later on to pick up my NEWish BICYCLE! But first I must gloss up a chocolate cakey wakey.
Monday, 20 July 2009
Things I'm Looking Forward To...Over The Next Two Days
Licking my Magnum. White one. Slowly like for twenty minutes whilst watching 'Enders
Wearing my 'new' secondhand Levi's. Fits like a glove. A slightly baggy glove.
Drooling over menus for the weekend and beyond. Been so rushed have neglected my one true love.
Making a Chocolate Swirled Ring Cake. Bought a 9inch tin for 50p.
Picking up my 'new' bike tomorrow because I won it on eBay. Ancient but got a bell.
Wearing my 'new' secondhand Levi's. Fits like a glove. A slightly baggy glove.
Drooling over menus for the weekend and beyond. Been so rushed have neglected my one true love.
Making a Chocolate Swirled Ring Cake. Bought a 9inch tin for 50p.
Picking up my 'new' bike tomorrow because I won it on eBay. Ancient but got a bell.
Sunday, 19 July 2009
St Glo Strikes Again
I've just returned from church where I was asked if I'd be interested in ringing their bells.
And being a bit of a comedian I quipped "Don't think so, 'cos I might go through the ceiling"
But as John and I chatted to a large rich man a small vision of tiny me popped into my un-haloed head...It was me hanging onto a big fat rope...
And being a bit of a comedian I quipped "Don't think so, 'cos I might go through the ceiling"
But as John and I chatted to a large rich man a small vision of tiny me popped into my un-haloed head...It was me hanging onto a big fat rope...
Saturday, 18 July 2009
Friday, 17 July 2009
Glo Glams It Up
The ex-Mayor a.k.a Henry has invited me to a dinner/dance tonight and I will therefore spend the next five hours painting my nails. (I've got very shaky hands)
A picture of me in my party frock will be posted later today, the only thing troubling me is I'm not in possession of a small handbag, most of my bags are huge:) So before I get myself dolled, done up and scented to death I'll search for a tiny sparkly bag to go with my tiny sparkly frock...
A picture of me in my party frock will be posted later today, the only thing troubling me is I'm not in possession of a small handbag, most of my bags are huge:) So before I get myself dolled, done up and scented to death I'll search for a tiny sparkly bag to go with my tiny sparkly frock...
Thursday, 16 July 2009
Glo's Cafe Is Open
Being served tonight...
Sweet and Sour Chicken with Peppers, Mushrooms and Carrots
Pancake Rolls with Spicy Sauce
Angie's Special Fried Rice.
****************************
Apple Cake
Vanilla Ice Cream
****************************
Lager Beer
Lemonade
****************************
Proper cutlery not allowed
It's chopsticks or nothing.
Patrons wearing red clothes with dragons on will be well looked after.
Oiks in jeans will be seated by the lavatories.
People caught lifting my teaspoons will be cleavered.
Enjoy your meal...
Let There Be Light. In Sainsbury's.
Simple things really are the best.
I haven't been feeling tip top recently so when I woke at 5 a.m. I decided a trip to Sainsbury's was what I needed.
Before I cruised down to Sainzo though, I popped in the Factory shop and bought six various flavoured fat balls. One is insect flavoured. But that's quite irrelevant.
Anyway as I walked around the great old shoppe I felt invigorated not because I was buying food but because I was out and about in a place I've missed. A simple, slightly out-of-date place, but a joint so welcoming with it's acidic orange carrier bags and cramped corners filled with fabulous low priced tellys, alarmed booze and breaded ham. Yes, I felt at home and invisible and that's what I needed.
Is that sad?
Yes, possibly but it made me think that normal every day activities are great. They're little islands of comfort when your mind is being ravaged by dark and fearsome monsters. For an hour or so I was lost in bogoffs, mad trolley men and reduced stickers.
So as I gracefully walked up and down the aisles, I didn't moan not even when my way was blocked by ladies with meringue hair rabbiting on about Greek holidays...
No, I loved them all.
And as I put the shopping in the boot I didn't want to leave, sad though that seems and maybe even a trifle weird but I wanted to be back in there, with people, with colour and movement. So I went back in there, picked up a basket and bought a few tins.
Being in an awful darkness makes baked beans, brilliant!
I haven't been feeling tip top recently so when I woke at 5 a.m. I decided a trip to Sainsbury's was what I needed.
Before I cruised down to Sainzo though, I popped in the Factory shop and bought six various flavoured fat balls. One is insect flavoured. But that's quite irrelevant.
Anyway as I walked around the great old shoppe I felt invigorated not because I was buying food but because I was out and about in a place I've missed. A simple, slightly out-of-date place, but a joint so welcoming with it's acidic orange carrier bags and cramped corners filled with fabulous low priced tellys, alarmed booze and breaded ham. Yes, I felt at home and invisible and that's what I needed.
Is that sad?
Yes, possibly but it made me think that normal every day activities are great. They're little islands of comfort when your mind is being ravaged by dark and fearsome monsters. For an hour or so I was lost in bogoffs, mad trolley men and reduced stickers.
So as I gracefully walked up and down the aisles, I didn't moan not even when my way was blocked by ladies with meringue hair rabbiting on about Greek holidays...
No, I loved them all.
And as I put the shopping in the boot I didn't want to leave, sad though that seems and maybe even a trifle weird but I wanted to be back in there, with people, with colour and movement. So I went back in there, picked up a basket and bought a few tins.
Being in an awful darkness makes baked beans, brilliant!
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
Melons for Banana Girl
Today I looked like a small banana. Yellow and curved.
The old people loved the apricot trifle. Especially the sugared flowers on top of it.
And I was given a wedge of melon by a small foreign man.
Today I bought:
A red silk handbag. Made in Vietnam and absolutely divine.
A red sequinned make-up bag. Very Indian looking.
A red faux snakeskin purse. Quite small and shiny and that appeals to the kid in me.
A deliciously heavy brown mottled gravy boat. Beautifully made and so can't wait to pour out the Oxo.
A pair of silver shoes. Red Herring from Debenhams originally. Strappy with medium heels and the perfect accompaniment to the blue spangly frock.
All these items are from The Hospice charity shop in Queensway, and this is where I was given the watermelon. The very sweet woman who was working there (much better than the old devil who's usually in charge) wrapped my goodies up with a gentle smile, I liked and appreciate that. Her companion was the melon man, a chirpy chap who looked like an opera singer and who I've not seen before, but he made me smile and quenched my thirst. So bless him.
In Superdrug I was struck by all things blue. So blue eyeshadow, blue eyeliner and blue nail polish were bought. Mum looked on in amazement. She's a pink girl through and through.
Gamboling our way home we spoke about her eyes, her diet and her toes and then amidst the noise from legions of foreigners, I told mum a fantastic sexy secret and she didn't turn a hair. Didn't turn a hair. Instead she said "Whatever you do won't make any difference to me Ang, I'd never turn against ya."
Now I make burgers. With relish...
The old people loved the apricot trifle. Especially the sugared flowers on top of it.
And I was given a wedge of melon by a small foreign man.
Today I bought:
A red silk handbag. Made in Vietnam and absolutely divine.
A red sequinned make-up bag. Very Indian looking.
A red faux snakeskin purse. Quite small and shiny and that appeals to the kid in me.
A deliciously heavy brown mottled gravy boat. Beautifully made and so can't wait to pour out the Oxo.
A pair of silver shoes. Red Herring from Debenhams originally. Strappy with medium heels and the perfect accompaniment to the blue spangly frock.
All these items are from The Hospice charity shop in Queensway, and this is where I was given the watermelon. The very sweet woman who was working there (much better than the old devil who's usually in charge) wrapped my goodies up with a gentle smile, I liked and appreciate that. Her companion was the melon man, a chirpy chap who looked like an opera singer and who I've not seen before, but he made me smile and quenched my thirst. So bless him.
In Superdrug I was struck by all things blue. So blue eyeshadow, blue eyeliner and blue nail polish were bought. Mum looked on in amazement. She's a pink girl through and through.
Gamboling our way home we spoke about her eyes, her diet and her toes and then amidst the noise from legions of foreigners, I told mum a fantastic sexy secret and she didn't turn a hair. Didn't turn a hair. Instead she said "Whatever you do won't make any difference to me Ang, I'd never turn against ya."
Now I make burgers. With relish...
Apricot Post
I've started this post six times and when I read it I'm struck by how poetical it is. It seems I can't write a blog post without the upsy daisy singy sing song which lies deep in the poet's mind.
So from now on I'll write brief, to the point, no nonsense posts...
I'll be wearing a buttery yellow frock today and as I perch on the train seat I'll be very worried about upsetting the apricot trifle.
So from now on I'll write brief, to the point, no nonsense posts...
I'll be wearing a buttery yellow frock today and as I perch on the train seat I'll be very worried about upsetting the apricot trifle.
Monday, 13 July 2009
I flew back down to the castle and hunted down his Majesty's trousers. They were of course where I'd left them, which was hanging limply over the trouser press. I left a swiftly scribbled note telling him about the stains and then shot out into the garden to save some large towels, which were swinging in the wind...Rain clouds were gathering...
After locking up I sped off home.
On arriving home I was so exhausted, that I put my mobile phone in the fridge.
Now this rat thing.
The Princess has said she'd like a pet rat and a place, a home if you like, has already been ear marked. The creature's home will be a dark shelf over the telly. There is absolutely no way on God's fine earth that I'm going to be party to the homing of an animal albeit a creepy one, just above a telly.
I will, without a doubt, feel for the poor thing as it scurries hither and thither in its cage over the the top of hours and hours of brain dead MTV. Don't like rats much but the vermin will go crackers listening to that.
If the plan goes ahead I feel I'll have to say something in defence of the rat.
But I'm hoping that the longing for a rat phase is just that, a phase. Why can't they re-home a puppy like everyone else.
Just had a thought, a very horrible one. With his Majesty out all day and busy most evenings, and the kid at college, starting an apprenticeship in September and chilling with friends...Who's going to clean Mr Ratty's house?
The Housekeeper.........................?
After locking up I sped off home.
On arriving home I was so exhausted, that I put my mobile phone in the fridge.
Now this rat thing.
The Princess has said she'd like a pet rat and a place, a home if you like, has already been ear marked. The creature's home will be a dark shelf over the telly. There is absolutely no way on God's fine earth that I'm going to be party to the homing of an animal albeit a creepy one, just above a telly.
I will, without a doubt, feel for the poor thing as it scurries hither and thither in its cage over the the top of hours and hours of brain dead MTV. Don't like rats much but the vermin will go crackers listening to that.
If the plan goes ahead I feel I'll have to say something in defence of the rat.
But I'm hoping that the longing for a rat phase is just that, a phase. Why can't they re-home a puppy like everyone else.
Just had a thought, a very horrible one. With his Majesty out all day and busy most evenings, and the kid at college, starting an apprenticeship in September and chilling with friends...Who's going to clean Mr Ratty's house?
The Housekeeper.........................?
Baggy Trousers
Red Dragon was my accompaniment today. And as Anthony Hopkins hammed it up I whizzed from one room to the other, wishing, it has to be said, that I was somewhere else. His Highness had left an A grade mess and a note so indecipherable that in the end I gave up. As I pounded my red shoed feet from downstairs to up I seriously questioned my sanity and as I sit here with a cream cracker I'm utterly sure I've forgotten something. But to hell with it.
After freezing some bread, feeding the birds, and a host of other dire tasks I left and went to the shops where I bought a silver fluted cake tin and brown ceramic dish. Heaven. I've just remembered something which is that I can't remember what I've done with his blasted baggy trousers. Gotta dash.................................................................................................................................
By the way his daughter wants a rat.
After freezing some bread, feeding the birds, and a host of other dire tasks I left and went to the shops where I bought a silver fluted cake tin and brown ceramic dish. Heaven. I've just remembered something which is that I can't remember what I've done with his blasted baggy trousers. Gotta dash.................................................................................................................................
By the way his daughter wants a rat.
Sunday, 12 July 2009
Pence or Pounds?
First pic is of my absolute favourite dress of all time.I bought it for 50p in the 'dressing up box' in my local charity shop. It originally came from 'West One' and each and every time I wear it I feel like a real broad. No necklaces, bangles or glitzy handbags are needed to add ooomph to this little number, a smile will suffice.
The second frock is yesterday's steal, being a surprisingly reasonable £9. Mind you paying £9 for something in a charity shop is insanely extravagant for me but I fell in love with it the minute I struggled into it in the shoe-box sized changing room.
It's made of silk with beaded detail at neck and hem and was designed by Edina Ronay who, I have to admit, I've never heard of, but it feels soft against my skin and shimmys in a most delightful way.
Now the question is...
Which one do I wear to next weeks Rayleigh Operatic and Dramatic Society's annual dinner/dance?
I already know...
Cheap or Good? Both
Sweet Chilli dipping sauce from the 99p shop and a designer(Edina Ronay) dress from Debenhams via the Heart Foundation charity shop in Southend, that just about sums me up!
When I get a minute I'll slink into the frock and post a pic.
Today's special in Glo's Bungaloid is:
Roast chicken, cauli, peas, roast tatties followed by steamed lemon curd pudding.
Absolutely must dash, because soon Sky news is showing Big Roger Bolton's interview with Cool President Obama. And I've never been known to miss two miss two heavy hitters in Ghana.
I Looooove my new dress!..................
When I get a minute I'll slink into the frock and post a pic.
Today's special in Glo's Bungaloid is:
Roast chicken, cauli, peas, roast tatties followed by steamed lemon curd pudding.
Absolutely must dash, because soon Sky news is showing Big Roger Bolton's interview with Cool President Obama. And I've never been known to miss two miss two heavy hitters in Ghana.
I Looooove my new dress!..................
Friday, 10 July 2009
Today At Henry's Was Sweet
My two wheels bumped into his four wheels on the drive.
"Dear me, you look like Mary Poppins" he said leaning breathlessly on the door
"Come fly with me along the rooftops then" I quipped
"Gotta got to work darling" he piped up.
Bugger that.
So in I went and was met by silence and a slight tidiness. Daughter obviously away. Good. So I set about my little taskettes. The upstairs windows were flung open and as I scooped up underwear and cigarette ash, I sprayed lemon scented liquid with abandon.
Skipping down stairs I shattered a couple of cobwebs and dropped a shilling in my pocket.
Onto the kitchen.
Seen it in a worse state, so it didn't take long to re-arrange the stuff by the telly, put his odd bits of crockery away and plate him up three slices of homemade Teabread.
After feeding the birds (tuppence a bag) I did a quick reccy of the kids room. No major jobs there just the usual duvet throwing and cushion plumping. Her hairbrushes were scattered here there and everywhere but soon laid down in a calm and orderly fashion.
Then after a banana I went outside.
The dessicated leaves from a hundred years of neglect were beginning to hide his three foot high Lions, so I scooped them up for the recycle man. A quick sweep with a bad broom and all was dandy.
Back inside and I needed some shoot-em up. So I dragged Bruce out of the cupboard and hit the streets of New York...
And as Samuel S Jackson (Good Guy) argued with Brucey I polished his windows and they come up a treat they did.
Ok I'd done enough. Time to head out and get back on my big bike. (Gotta get a shopper one) The ride home was hot and heart thumping because I'm getting on and so is the bike. But back at the Bungaloid I had a tuna sandwich and watched Columbo.
Sweet.
This is, I suppose, is how ordinary people live.
But tonight, what about tonight?
On the cards, a swirling skirt, half bottle of Zinfandel and possibly a Waitrose Pizza. Yes me dears, this is definitely how ordinary people live.
"Dear me, you look like Mary Poppins" he said leaning breathlessly on the door
"Come fly with me along the rooftops then" I quipped
"Gotta got to work darling" he piped up.
Bugger that.
So in I went and was met by silence and a slight tidiness. Daughter obviously away. Good. So I set about my little taskettes. The upstairs windows were flung open and as I scooped up underwear and cigarette ash, I sprayed lemon scented liquid with abandon.
Skipping down stairs I shattered a couple of cobwebs and dropped a shilling in my pocket.
Onto the kitchen.
Seen it in a worse state, so it didn't take long to re-arrange the stuff by the telly, put his odd bits of crockery away and plate him up three slices of homemade Teabread.
After feeding the birds (tuppence a bag) I did a quick reccy of the kids room. No major jobs there just the usual duvet throwing and cushion plumping. Her hairbrushes were scattered here there and everywhere but soon laid down in a calm and orderly fashion.
Then after a banana I went outside.
The dessicated leaves from a hundred years of neglect were beginning to hide his three foot high Lions, so I scooped them up for the recycle man. A quick sweep with a bad broom and all was dandy.
Back inside and I needed some shoot-em up. So I dragged Bruce out of the cupboard and hit the streets of New York...
And as Samuel S Jackson (Good Guy) argued with Brucey I polished his windows and they come up a treat they did.
Ok I'd done enough. Time to head out and get back on my big bike. (Gotta get a shopper one) The ride home was hot and heart thumping because I'm getting on and so is the bike. But back at the Bungaloid I had a tuna sandwich and watched Columbo.
Sweet.
This is, I suppose, is how ordinary people live.
But tonight, what about tonight?
On the cards, a swirling skirt, half bottle of Zinfandel and possibly a Waitrose Pizza. Yes me dears, this is definitely how ordinary people live.
Poem: Crow Song
Sunshine and crow song
dissolve my muddy sleep
their acidic piercings
washing the eyes clear
dissolve my muddy sleep
their acidic piercings
washing the eyes clear
Thursday, 9 July 2009
After a lacklustre day I took myself out of the doldrums by putting on a black and white dress and having a chocolate biscuit, because essentially, I am an optimist.
True, the depressive demons have tried to get the better of me today but I knuckled down, made a cake and casserole and made someone laugh with my outrageous wit.
There's something quite refreshing and uplifting about the tears of a clown.
P.S. I set the small oven alight by accidentally shoving a roasting pan over the burners when lighting the blasted oven.
True, the depressive demons have tried to get the better of me today but I knuckled down, made a cake and casserole and made someone laugh with my outrageous wit.
There's something quite refreshing and uplifting about the tears of a clown.
P.S. I set the small oven alight by accidentally shoving a roasting pan over the burners when lighting the blasted oven.
Lunch time moan
After moaning my way around Somerfields I visited Joan's Emporium.
Well. I must have been in a very distraught frame of mind on account of the couple of rather disappointing purchases made therein.
1 plain mauve cardigan. Useful I suppose for a sunless late summer day. Useful? I don't do useful. I do funky and retro chic. Useful? Bloody hormones.
8 navy blue ribbed cotton table mats. 8? Planning on throwing a party are we dear? No. Just thought they might look good under my current crop of disparate dinner plates. Hmmmm
They are now squeezed in the dresser drawer under proper white lacy table mats. Menopausal or what?
Home to de-tangle Monty's hair. Ironing. Bake a Yorkshire Teabread. Make a Sausage and Apple casserole for tonight and a Gene Tierney film on Film4 just after 2.
Happy Days!
Well. I must have been in a very distraught frame of mind on account of the couple of rather disappointing purchases made therein.
1 plain mauve cardigan. Useful I suppose for a sunless late summer day. Useful? I don't do useful. I do funky and retro chic. Useful? Bloody hormones.
8 navy blue ribbed cotton table mats. 8? Planning on throwing a party are we dear? No. Just thought they might look good under my current crop of disparate dinner plates. Hmmmm
They are now squeezed in the dresser drawer under proper white lacy table mats. Menopausal or what?
Home to de-tangle Monty's hair. Ironing. Bake a Yorkshire Teabread. Make a Sausage and Apple casserole for tonight and a Gene Tierney film on Film4 just after 2.
Happy Days!
I Spend A Lot Of Time...
Looking under my eyes. Rings enrage me. Sunken black half moons and I'm impossible to be with. Puffiness and the cucumber gets used
Looking at my ear size. Older we get bigger they get. Lobes seem to be swinging more.
Shaving my chin. Plucking is for brave women. Black stubble doesn't sit well with baby pink lipstick. Could work with red though.
Wondering about flab. Fifty-three years of sugar is telling. But sugar is my answer to everything. If excess flesh pops up above waistbands I push it down with a Mars bar.
Pressing cysts. Arthritic fingers have them. I tried bursting mine with a pin. Just hurt. Now my cysts are pure party pieces. Nothing captivates people more than fleshy mounds.
Whitening teeth with Pearl Drops. The shade guide is rubbish. I want my money back. But I suppose dark white is preferable to custard yellow.
Standing very erect against a wall. Terrified of rounded shoulders. Bad posture adds years. Being erect gets one noticed.
Worrying, talking and thinking about sleep. Feel and act like a drunk on less than eight hours. Spend countless waking hours wondering about broken sleeping hours
Inspecting legs. Perfect legs should have three gaps. One at the ankles, one at the knees and one between the thighs. I'm satisfied on all three counts.
Improving my mind. Cleaners should never neglect their inner selves. Books of Quotes make better bed time reading than How-To-Get-Rid-Of-Stains type books. Bugger that.
Worrying about my love life. Kissing should be hot not lukewarm. Cuddles should break ribs. Thrusting should always be imminent.
Looking at my ear size. Older we get bigger they get. Lobes seem to be swinging more.
Shaving my chin. Plucking is for brave women. Black stubble doesn't sit well with baby pink lipstick. Could work with red though.
Wondering about flab. Fifty-three years of sugar is telling. But sugar is my answer to everything. If excess flesh pops up above waistbands I push it down with a Mars bar.
Pressing cysts. Arthritic fingers have them. I tried bursting mine with a pin. Just hurt. Now my cysts are pure party pieces. Nothing captivates people more than fleshy mounds.
Whitening teeth with Pearl Drops. The shade guide is rubbish. I want my money back. But I suppose dark white is preferable to custard yellow.
Standing very erect against a wall. Terrified of rounded shoulders. Bad posture adds years. Being erect gets one noticed.
Worrying, talking and thinking about sleep. Feel and act like a drunk on less than eight hours. Spend countless waking hours wondering about broken sleeping hours
Inspecting legs. Perfect legs should have three gaps. One at the ankles, one at the knees and one between the thighs. I'm satisfied on all three counts.
Improving my mind. Cleaners should never neglect their inner selves. Books of Quotes make better bed time reading than How-To-Get-Rid-Of-Stains type books. Bugger that.
Worrying about my love life. Kissing should be hot not lukewarm. Cuddles should break ribs. Thrusting should always be imminent.
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
On the table tonight:
Nasi Goreng. Cat.
This favourite of mine will be served in one of my favourite bowls, bought of course, in a charity shop. And will be eaten quietly with a glass of water and on-table feline. Yes, Monty has his own place at the table, with his very own mat, paper napkin and vibrant green plate
His vicious furry salivating mouth will chew for seconds on delicate rice and tender veg and then his perfect paw will persuade me to shove more in his direction. And I will of course obey.
He will not have pud because blackcurrants are for fools...Although if I splatter some double cream his way he might decide to join me.
Cats are great aren't they?
Did a stint at Henry's today and and as I slightly scorched a lilac shirt I dreamt about the weekend. Curry, clothes and lemonade and suddenly the smell of burnning polyester didn't seem so bad.
Tuesday, 7 July 2009
Wasps Made Me Do It
Wasn't going to write for a while but...
At Ray's today I was met by a swarm of wasps. Swarm of wasps? Is that right? Or does swarm only refer to bees, anyway I was met by some.
I went into the normally quiet kitchen and heard the familiar nasty threatening sound of , I would say, about fifty or so wasps. Flipping heck I thought, better not make them angry so I left the kitchen and went upstairs, hoping that on my return they'd be gone.
Wrong.
So thinking like the little soldier I am, I donned one of Ray's baseball caps for protection pulling it as far down as possible and then tentatively manoeuvered around them with my J cloth, making sure I didn't get them rattled. Then one of the pussies bundled in via the catflap, it was the smallest one...the angelic one...my favourite.
What'll I do if the cat gets kitty rage and takes on the wasps? What could I do to save the cat? The images which drifted in and out of my head were horrific, so I gently persuaded the tortoiseshell angel to leave by picking him up with one hand and dumping him in the bath. He miaowed of course, like I was the wickedest woman on earth, meanwhile I got to grips in the front room.
All was well.
Then I had to hoover.
The kitchen.
So after reassuring kitty I went into colonial marine mode. I sweetly aimed my nozzle at a bunch of the buggers, only managing to suck up two of the little horrors, but at least I was getting stuff done. They continued flying around the back door, which to my annoyance was locked so I decrumbed the toaster, polished several knobs and fancies and gingerly lifted a laptop from one worktop to another. All the time keeping a rheumy eye on the stingers.
The swarm ignored me.
Then I saw one of them walk into one of Ray's upturned boots! Bugger. I like Ray and all that but not enought to risk getting set upon, so after rapidly doing my bits and pieces I left him a note on dayglo pink paper warning him to beware his boots.
I left early.
At Ray's today I was met by a swarm of wasps. Swarm of wasps? Is that right? Or does swarm only refer to bees, anyway I was met by some.
I went into the normally quiet kitchen and heard the familiar nasty threatening sound of , I would say, about fifty or so wasps. Flipping heck I thought, better not make them angry so I left the kitchen and went upstairs, hoping that on my return they'd be gone.
Wrong.
So thinking like the little soldier I am, I donned one of Ray's baseball caps for protection pulling it as far down as possible and then tentatively manoeuvered around them with my J cloth, making sure I didn't get them rattled. Then one of the pussies bundled in via the catflap, it was the smallest one...the angelic one...my favourite.
What'll I do if the cat gets kitty rage and takes on the wasps? What could I do to save the cat? The images which drifted in and out of my head were horrific, so I gently persuaded the tortoiseshell angel to leave by picking him up with one hand and dumping him in the bath. He miaowed of course, like I was the wickedest woman on earth, meanwhile I got to grips in the front room.
All was well.
Then I had to hoover.
The kitchen.
So after reassuring kitty I went into colonial marine mode. I sweetly aimed my nozzle at a bunch of the buggers, only managing to suck up two of the little horrors, but at least I was getting stuff done. They continued flying around the back door, which to my annoyance was locked so I decrumbed the toaster, polished several knobs and fancies and gingerly lifted a laptop from one worktop to another. All the time keeping a rheumy eye on the stingers.
The swarm ignored me.
Then I saw one of them walk into one of Ray's upturned boots! Bugger. I like Ray and all that but not enought to risk getting set upon, so after rapidly doing my bits and pieces I left him a note on dayglo pink paper warning him to beware his boots.
I left early.
Monday, 6 July 2009
Saved By The Yanks
I'm in a homely womanly mood so after shedding my work clothes I'll don my pinny and make a blackcurrant jelly for tomorrow This won't be any old blackcurrant jelly but a blackcurrant jelly bursting with real blackcurrants ( was given loads yesterday by a neighbour with a bad eye). She's given me so many blackcurrants that this week is going be a very sweet week indeed. Like I said blackcurrant jelbo for tomorrow, and for today, a blackcurrant crumble and depending on how many there are left I''ll make some ice cream for the weekend.
So thank you 'bad eyed annie'.
With all my work stuff I've been neglecting my one true love, cooking. And by jolly jingo it shows. In many ways.
Once upon a time before the days of the duster I'd happily spend the entire day in the kitchen either reading recipe books, writing lists or concocting wonderfully simple food. But since I've been splitting my time by wandering from one house to another I haven't done as much cooking and that means I haven't been relaxed or really very happy.
To me, my kitchen, be it ever so badly arranged and decorated is where I feel happiest and safest. Shove me in there with the telly on, Monty on a chair and the burners dancing and I can be me.
Cruising down the road to earn some dosh is very commendable but it's ripped the soul out of me and it hurts. So when I kick my work shoes off in my grubby cracked conservatory and look out into the mismanaged garden it feels great.
All this heart felt stuff is because today at Henry's was bad.
Not only was I tired beyond belief (was awake at 5) but the place was in a disgusting state after the weekend and so I bit my lips to stop myself from crying and went about my tasks. As I sorted through his endless laundry I needed help so I put a video on in the kitchen. 'Independence Day' it was and as the good guys flew through the air killing those alien bastards they took me with them......
And so, for an hour or so, my mind was in an American sky and not in an old man's underpants.
Now jelbo...
Saturday, 4 July 2009
Friday, 3 July 2009
McBland Makes Glo Proud
Alert.....Alert......Alert....... Here at the Horsehound Bungaloid this afternoon two most remarkable events occurred.
Firstly Ms Gloria Horsehound did something she's never done before and then felt something she's never felt before.
Firstly what she did.
She drank a glass of wine shoeless. Never in the history of mid-afternoon madness has the usually sober housewife done such a thing. Alone. The only time alcohol has ever wetted her lips in the afternoon was on a day out to Leigh-on Sea with a portly gentlemen.
The second stupendous event were the feelings. Feelings for the gangly schoolboyesque Murray. She, that's me, punched the air when the usually loathed Scot, Mr McBland was in spitting distance of knocking out Rodent Man. I found myself, much to my disbelief, collapsing under the weight of the flag, and so great was my love of Great Britain that I felt compelled to cheer for lanky Andy.
Are these two acts a sign of diminishing brain cells or are they the actions of an isolated housewife?
Maybe a little of both...
Firstly Ms Gloria Horsehound did something she's never done before and then felt something she's never felt before.
Firstly what she did.
She drank a glass of wine shoeless. Never in the history of mid-afternoon madness has the usually sober housewife done such a thing. Alone. The only time alcohol has ever wetted her lips in the afternoon was on a day out to Leigh-on Sea with a portly gentlemen.
The second stupendous event were the feelings. Feelings for the gangly schoolboyesque Murray. She, that's me, punched the air when the usually loathed Scot, Mr McBland was in spitting distance of knocking out Rodent Man. I found myself, much to my disbelief, collapsing under the weight of the flag, and so great was my love of Great Britain that I felt compelled to cheer for lanky Andy.
Are these two acts a sign of diminishing brain cells or are they the actions of an isolated housewife?
Maybe a little of both...
Mr R v Miss M
Today on Centre Court, the battle of the Andy's.
Mr Andy 'ratboy' Roddick takes on Miss Andy 'delicate flower' Murray.
I will watch whilst at the same time pondering what to buy with my Hardware shop gift voucher, courtesy of my current employer, the dangerously stupid Henry...
Out now I go on my bike, wearing little underwear.
Mr Andy 'ratboy' Roddick takes on Miss Andy 'delicate flower' Murray.
I will watch whilst at the same time pondering what to buy with my Hardware shop gift voucher, courtesy of my current employer, the dangerously stupid Henry...
Out now I go on my bike, wearing little underwear.
Thursday, 2 July 2009
Bags, birds and other wonderful gifts
The Duchess sent me a large PURPLE handbag and two ceramic CHICKENS. They are birthday presents and ones which will be loved not because they happen to be two of my most favourite things but because she thought of me.
Other presents from other friends were a Bouquet of flowers, a bottle of Elizabeth Taylor's White Diamonds scent and a pretty teddy bear card filled with £.
I like being spoilt!
Thank you to all my friends, you've made me very happy.
Other presents from other friends were a Bouquet of flowers, a bottle of Elizabeth Taylor's White Diamonds scent and a pretty teddy bear card filled with £.
I like being spoilt!
Thank you to all my friends, you've made me very happy.
Wednesday, 1 July 2009
Garden courtesy of McBland
He's done it again. Bugger. The bland man shoved the Spaniel off court with an impressive but strangely unmemorable performance. I couldn't get excited or enthused over the Brit win and that's what's upsetting me most. After all we aren't known for winning. Apart from rowers, cyclists and the occasional runner.
After Murray won I'd like to have made a cup of tea and phoned mum and then blogged about how wonderful it all is, but instead I had a tremendous urge to run away. But there wasn't anywhere to run to. So being a little soldier I took out my frustration, annoyance, terror and depression on my little patch of garden. Ditched the ceramic tits and polished up my old mate Buddha
Looks better. So thanks Andy.
He'll be up against whoever comes out victorious in the Hewitt v. Rodick match. I prefer Hewitt, Rodick reminds me of a rodent.
Anyway, that'll be something for the screamingly upset and thick kneed Gloria to ponder.
Bless you all.
After Murray won I'd like to have made a cup of tea and phoned mum and then blogged about how wonderful it all is, but instead I had a tremendous urge to run away. But there wasn't anywhere to run to. So being a little soldier I took out my frustration, annoyance, terror and depression on my little patch of garden. Ditched the ceramic tits and polished up my old mate Buddha
Looks better. So thanks Andy.
He'll be up against whoever comes out victorious in the Hewitt v. Rodick match. I prefer Hewitt, Rodick reminds me of a rodent.
Anyway, that'll be something for the screamingly upset and thick kneed Gloria to ponder.
Bless you all.
Wimbledon 1 o'clock. It's a date!
Murray is playing Ferrero today in a quarter finals match. I'll rush through my tasks in order to be back home in time to drink in the atmosphere of the great build-up on Centre Court.
This is the type of day which makes me very happy, all the talk before hand, Sue Barker doing her best in the sunshine and then the big hitters coming out to play. Federer is up first on Centre Court, then after he's dismissed Ivo Karlovic, the gangly Scot comes on and boy oh boy will he have his work cut out. His opponent is the awesome Juan Carlos Ferraro. This is going to be a corker.
This is the type of day which makes me very happy, all the talk before hand, Sue Barker doing her best in the sunshine and then the big hitters coming out to play. Federer is up first on Centre Court, then after he's dismissed Ivo Karlovic, the gangly Scot comes on and boy oh boy will he have his work cut out. His opponent is the awesome Juan Carlos Ferraro. This is going to be a corker.
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