Thought it might get blowy so donned a woolly and cardi then...
Tootled down to the seaside to listen to people squawking and to watch gulls diving. But before that we shopped :)
No bags today but a tin of Dulux paint in pale blue for the badly painted brown kitchen dresser. Hands up, I did it, great idea at the time but now it's time for a change. Kitchen getting bluer by the day. Especially when a cake doesn't rise...
Shower curtains in pale lighter blue. Current ones alive with fungus or something. Why do plasticised curtain get grimy when its constantly dunked in girly scented bubbles. Anyway, new ones will be erected soon.
Lipstick in Creamy Wine. Great for night time when I morph into a vamp. Pink is angelic but wine is divine. Angelic? Divine? Both words sweet but Wine lippy bites!
Japanese Rice Mix. Great for watching more horror movies in Film 4's spectacular Freight Fest week. Have overdosed on gore recently, absolutely loving The Hills Have Eyes but loathing and feeling cheated by its end. I wanted, as would all peace loving normal folk, for the heroes to walk away scarred but alive...This ending, however was tantamount to torture. Just four people survived (one a babe in arms) and as they hugged in the middle of the desert we we taken up into the hills by the blasted director and were made to look down upon our American heroes through binoculars....They were obviously not alone:(
Tulip bulbs and daffs. Frontage and Back. Not a lot but will give the garden a smattering of colour come spring time.
What else?
Loads of pencils. For shopping lists and kitchen diary. Something organic about a plain simple leaded pencil. Will endeavour to tie a string around it and have it swinging from the curtain track so I can easily jot stuff down in my yellow pad which is by the telly.
Paint brushes. 5 for 99p. Rubbish I know, but will be used for one job and one job only, The painting of the dresser. Might keep one or two back for other brainless ideas:)
Stockings. Black. Very black. Not off black or nearly black, but very black. Grrrrr, Corrrrrr, Mmmmmmm. You get the picture.
Recipe book about what to do with Mince. Like I need any more ideas. But cook books are friendly and mince, I feel, is the friendliest of cheap meats. So into the bag it went.
Oblong Beige Baking Dish. 99p. Gasped silently on sight of it. Imagining apple crumbles and lasagnes bubbling up the sides. And for 99p will leave me plenty of money for apples and mince:)
Can't think of anything more but as soon as I post I'll remember something.
Fab day.
Cooking tonight:
Bolognaise,
Giant cheese scone,
Remainder of scrummy Strawberry Swiss Roll.
Oh that reminds me, I popped into the charity shop before I hit the coast and shops and handed over to Joanie, three coconut fingers and a slice of Swiss Roll, and before she could kiss me violently I swished out the shop saying I had a hot date with a man who was taking me to Poundland...
Her red tear stained face glowed from the window.
I love Joan, I really do.
Goodbye!
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Saturday, 28 August 2010
My power to promote health is amazing!
Mum's marbles are running away and so, for the umpteenth time yesterday, on looking at bacon and haddock she asked what the date was.
I kept saying "It's the 27th".
But still she kept asking. Got a thing about sell-by dates has mum.
As we lingered by the fresh cakes in M&S she stared at a box of custard tarts and asked...
"What date is it?"
"27th" I said LOUDLY.
"These ok?" she laughed sticking a box of custard tarts (use by 28th) in my face.
"YES, they are wonderful and they are not bad and they won't go off at the stroke of midnight, you can keep them for another WHOLE DAY and nothing bad will happen, trust me on this."
On that she cracked up. Tears were streaming down her groovy wrinkles.
"Just drop them in the blasted basket and let's go!
I'm hard with her sometimes, but it's the only way to deal with diabetic crinklies who are obsessed by DATES.
On the way out we went back in to look at wine. "Does it go off?" she asked
She's recovering well....
Later that day...:(
On sitting on her blue square cushion she pondered the date thing.
I don't trust shops any more" Was her tea time quip.
"They are not out to poison you, well not on purpose anyway" Was my quick reply.
Again the tears did roll.
Laughter, they say, is the best medicine, well mum sunk a whole bottle yesterday.
Hope it did her good.
Should have done..
After all, it never goes 'off'...
TA TA! :)
P.S.
As you know Kellogg's don't make cornflakes for anyone else. But McVities DO make Digestive biscuits for other people.
Ok?
Mum's marbles are running away and so, for the umpteenth time yesterday, on looking at bacon and haddock she asked what the date was.
I kept saying "It's the 27th".
But still she kept asking. Got a thing about sell-by dates has mum.
As we lingered by the fresh cakes in M&S she stared at a box of custard tarts and asked...
"What date is it?"
"27th" I said LOUDLY.
"These ok?" she laughed sticking a box of custard tarts (use by 28th) in my face.
"YES, they are wonderful and they are not bad and they won't go off at the stroke of midnight, you can keep them for another WHOLE DAY and nothing bad will happen, trust me on this."
On that she cracked up. Tears were streaming down her groovy wrinkles.
"Just drop them in the blasted basket and let's go!
I'm hard with her sometimes, but it's the only way to deal with diabetic crinklies who are obsessed by DATES.
On the way out we went back in to look at wine. "Does it go off?" she asked
She's recovering well....
Later that day...:(
On sitting on her blue square cushion she pondered the date thing.
I don't trust shops any more" Was her tea time quip.
"They are not out to poison you, well not on purpose anyway" Was my quick reply.
Again the tears did roll.
Laughter, they say, is the best medicine, well mum sunk a whole bottle yesterday.
Hope it did her good.
Should have done..
After all, it never goes 'off'...
TA TA! :)
P.S.
As you know Kellogg's don't make cornflakes for anyone else. But McVities DO make Digestive biscuits for other people.
Ok?
Friday, 27 August 2010
Thursday, 26 August 2010
A Word Before Lights Out
I wrote a poem for one of my followers, the soft-hearted Nof. He liked it and so did I so I shall write more poems about people I know.
Not tonight, not now, but in future.
Watched a chick flick this evening, something I rarely do, it was a made-for-tv movie based on Rosamund Pilcher's novel 'Spring'. Lots of aristocrats getting their garters in a twist over money and sex.
Drop the 'h's and it was EastEnders with chandeliers and horses.
Tally O!.
Tonight, on account of my 'new' figure hugging frock, I ate only six cream crackers...
And a meagre slice of apple pie...
And cup of black tea..
And three soft toffees.
Goodnight!
Not tonight, not now, but in future.
Watched a chick flick this evening, something I rarely do, it was a made-for-tv movie based on Rosamund Pilcher's novel 'Spring'. Lots of aristocrats getting their garters in a twist over money and sex.
Drop the 'h's and it was EastEnders with chandeliers and horses.
Tally O!.
Tonight, on account of my 'new' figure hugging frock, I ate only six cream crackers...
And a meagre slice of apple pie...
And cup of black tea..
And three soft toffees.
Goodnight!
Yesterday was good, shopped and wrote and a had two burgers. Today is kinda cool too.
Went to charity shop had the life hugged out of me by sweet toothed Joan and when i got my breath back I bought a sparkly black dress, black slightly 1930's style shoes complete with diamante buckle and a tiny glass dish ornamented with a golden dragonfly (50p)
Kitsch overload.
Dissolving braincells.
Whatever I like them all.
Joan asked when she'd be getting more of my cake. I was stunned by the woman's bluntness, cheek and downright greed.
"Tuesday" I said and left.
Got a few ladylike jobs to attend to before I settle down with Monty.
They are: Make a Summer Pudding for the old dears, an apple pie for the old dears and scrub the bathroom with my new Ajax. The bottle reminds me of something from the 1950's/60's. That's why I bought it not because I am obsessed with cleaning. In fact excessive cleanliness is next to mentalness in my books. Dirt and mess are the signs of a creative mind e.g. Good Will Hunting, the catastrophic dump he lived in made me grin. Love those exterior decorations Will...
Anyway Ajax will do a turn, albeit a brief one.
Now the food of love...
Went to charity shop had the life hugged out of me by sweet toothed Joan and when i got my breath back I bought a sparkly black dress, black slightly 1930's style shoes complete with diamante buckle and a tiny glass dish ornamented with a golden dragonfly (50p)
Kitsch overload.
Dissolving braincells.
Whatever I like them all.
Joan asked when she'd be getting more of my cake. I was stunned by the woman's bluntness, cheek and downright greed.
"Tuesday" I said and left.
Got a few ladylike jobs to attend to before I settle down with Monty.
They are: Make a Summer Pudding for the old dears, an apple pie for the old dears and scrub the bathroom with my new Ajax. The bottle reminds me of something from the 1950's/60's. That's why I bought it not because I am obsessed with cleaning. In fact excessive cleanliness is next to mentalness in my books. Dirt and mess are the signs of a creative mind e.g. Good Will Hunting, the catastrophic dump he lived in made me grin. Love those exterior decorations Will...
Anyway Ajax will do a turn, albeit a brief one.
Now the food of love...
Wednesday, 25 August 2010
A Moment In The Heart Of A Grandfather
For NOF
My grandson
noised my night
yet through his tempest
and upon his perfect head
I laid my love and hopes
Hopes that I
can lift this child
to heights
way above my station
and guide unhurriedly
and watch with slowing breath
as my son's son
tames the world
My eyes will crust
my gait will slow
but I will see and dance
as the boy in the cradle
then the man in his castle
makes his Grandfather proud.
Angela
My grandson
noised my night
yet through his tempest
and upon his perfect head
I laid my love and hopes
Hopes that I
can lift this child
to heights
way above my station
and guide unhurriedly
and watch with slowing breath
as my son's son
tames the world
My eyes will crust
my gait will slow
but I will see and dance
as the boy in the cradle
then the man in his castle
makes his Grandfather proud.
Angela
Rain has fallen like a bucket being emptied in a temper.
On the drive into town this morning the gardener's outstanding offer stifled my 'Diversion Rage'. Sign upon orange sign littered the grey kerbs, their thick black lettering meaning nothing to me. So being a good patient driver I sort of followed them and finally saw the blessed Sainsbury's sign.
I hate diversions.
But I love Sainsbury's.
Filled up the trolley, chatted to till girl Barb about the year nearing its end, greying hair and gardening... "Aahhh" I said "I have a man who tends my patch". Barb laughed and barcoded me out of the shop.
I like Barb.
I also like my gardener, his enthusiasm for the nail destroying job leaves me wondering if he has a life outside of soil, manure and beds. I was, of course, too polite to ask.
But over wedges of chocolate cake and pints of tea we finally got down to a plan.
His red faced laugh over my indecisions about size and design made me laugh too but eventually I plumped not for any old herb garden, but a monastery style garden. Just what the difference is I don't quite know, but I envisage moonlight romps around the parsley and lunchtime leaps over the basil. Bless Graham's heart he's even offered to give me some 'decking' so as I can amble easily from herb to herb. Oh, and he's not interested in money.
Thinking about it now, just before my tea, I can't ever see me ever dawdling from one bush to the other, but it might inspire me to travel further afield...Maybe learn a thing or two about border control that sort of thing.
And that can't be a bad thing.
As the cook and the hired help frolicked amongst the mess the hired help suggested all sorts of things.
Some of them to do with gardening. Most of his talk was to do with me being bonkers. Took it on the chin I did, as I wedged him some more cake.
But he has a warm generous heart under the sweaty blue shirt and a grimy sense of humour so the cook might just get what she wants.
With gardening firmly in mind I bought a net of daffodil bulbs today.
Spring should pop up golden.
Mr H. is on lates tonight, so I, the cook, is surviving on kids stuff; cheese burgers, fries and the last wedge of choccie cake. It's saturated fat but all homemade saturated fat!
The rain is most comforting.
And good for the garden:)
On the drive into town this morning the gardener's outstanding offer stifled my 'Diversion Rage'. Sign upon orange sign littered the grey kerbs, their thick black lettering meaning nothing to me. So being a good patient driver I sort of followed them and finally saw the blessed Sainsbury's sign.
I hate diversions.
But I love Sainsbury's.
Filled up the trolley, chatted to till girl Barb about the year nearing its end, greying hair and gardening... "Aahhh" I said "I have a man who tends my patch". Barb laughed and barcoded me out of the shop.
I like Barb.
I also like my gardener, his enthusiasm for the nail destroying job leaves me wondering if he has a life outside of soil, manure and beds. I was, of course, too polite to ask.
But over wedges of chocolate cake and pints of tea we finally got down to a plan.
His red faced laugh over my indecisions about size and design made me laugh too but eventually I plumped not for any old herb garden, but a monastery style garden. Just what the difference is I don't quite know, but I envisage moonlight romps around the parsley and lunchtime leaps over the basil. Bless Graham's heart he's even offered to give me some 'decking' so as I can amble easily from herb to herb. Oh, and he's not interested in money.
Thinking about it now, just before my tea, I can't ever see me ever dawdling from one bush to the other, but it might inspire me to travel further afield...Maybe learn a thing or two about border control that sort of thing.
And that can't be a bad thing.
As the cook and the hired help frolicked amongst the mess the hired help suggested all sorts of things.
Some of them to do with gardening. Most of his talk was to do with me being bonkers. Took it on the chin I did, as I wedged him some more cake.
But he has a warm generous heart under the sweaty blue shirt and a grimy sense of humour so the cook might just get what she wants.
With gardening firmly in mind I bought a net of daffodil bulbs today.
Spring should pop up golden.
Mr H. is on lates tonight, so I, the cook, is surviving on kids stuff; cheese burgers, fries and the last wedge of choccie cake. It's saturated fat but all homemade saturated fat!
The rain is most comforting.
And good for the garden:)
Tuesday, 24 August 2010
Yesterday Mr H bought me a dvd player for the kitchen so a little later Mr Washington and Mr Travolta were my bosom buddies as I made a chicken pie.
And as RYDER with a 'Y' shook the city of NEW YORK I diced and sliced a fat chicken leg and as GARBER, who is JUST A CIVIL SERVANT deflected, I mixed up a decent dough.
~I like you Garber, man.
~I'm gonna die today.
~Irish? I thought so.
~You were always gonna be the first.
~We all owe a debt to God.
~I took the bribe.
~You're just like me Garber.
~Don't let this guy into your reality
~This kids going places
~Bit like being in a confessional.
~Regina baby, CONDUCT those people.
~If you don't need it, leave it.
~He was high on cough syrup, ran into the platform, killed a couple of passengers.
~Visualizations a very powerful thing.
~Do you think anyone cares about a philandering asshole like you?
~Muddy Funsters.
I AM NOT AFFECTED BY VIOLENT FILMS IN ANY WAY.
GOT IT!
Sunday, 22 August 2010
Ladies and Gentlemen...
Kevin Is In The Bungalow!This is what occurs when a lady with few inches and a big heart gives in to TERROR!
The moggy above is KEVIN and as you know he has become a frequent visitor to the Bungaloid, on this occasion we think he got a niff of the salmon pasta and wanted his rightful share.
Being stupid, I opened the door and in he popped. Luckily for me Mr H. was on hand with his electric camera apparatus and managed to snap the intruder. You'll be relieved to hear that the In-House Cat otherwise known as Monty was partaking of one of his frequent naps and was unaware of another boy wanting his mum.
After going down on my knees to please Kevin I thought it best to shoo shoo him back streetside.
Anyway that was the other day.
What about today?
Watching "Wrong Turn" a movie about beautiful people taking the wrong turn on a "vacation" in the hillbilly hills. They are all cooking pot fodder for the snaggle-toothed cannibals who are endemic in these regions. Great. I love it.
As for foody woody we won't be consuming lost travellers but feasting on a roasted bird. And if we're not too bloated afterwards, we'll break into the Summer Pudding I made yesterday. If the aforementioned pud doesn't collapse I'll post a pic. Probably later. Depends what I'm up to. Whatever I'm up to will be saintly and sanitised. But not too holy. OK?
Goodbye:)
The moggy above is KEVIN and as you know he has become a frequent visitor to the Bungaloid, on this occasion we think he got a niff of the salmon pasta and wanted his rightful share.
Being stupid, I opened the door and in he popped. Luckily for me Mr H. was on hand with his electric camera apparatus and managed to snap the intruder. You'll be relieved to hear that the In-House Cat otherwise known as Monty was partaking of one of his frequent naps and was unaware of another boy wanting his mum.
After going down on my knees to please Kevin I thought it best to shoo shoo him back streetside.
Anyway that was the other day.
What about today?
Watching "Wrong Turn" a movie about beautiful people taking the wrong turn on a "vacation" in the hillbilly hills. They are all cooking pot fodder for the snaggle-toothed cannibals who are endemic in these regions. Great. I love it.
As for foody woody we won't be consuming lost travellers but feasting on a roasted bird. And if we're not too bloated afterwards, we'll break into the Summer Pudding I made yesterday. If the aforementioned pud doesn't collapse I'll post a pic. Probably later. Depends what I'm up to. Whatever I'm up to will be saintly and sanitised. But not too holy. OK?
Goodbye:)
Thursday, 19 August 2010
Thursdays Are Good
On account of:
Sunny:) ish...Might splash later
Salmon Salad:)
Stunning Frock Pic:) Coming Later...
Tootling down to the sea. Bag o' seeds for Gull infestation. Could be staining. But love is blind.
Puckering up after Pretzel overload. Could be gritty. Could call for mouthwash of 0% alcohol.
So posting done will now head in haste to pebbled beach of retirement...Could cause a shock me being under 60:)
Sunny:) ish...Might splash later
Salmon Salad:)
Stunning Frock Pic:) Coming Later...
Tootling down to the sea. Bag o' seeds for Gull infestation. Could be staining. But love is blind.
Puckering up after Pretzel overload. Could be gritty. Could call for mouthwash of 0% alcohol.
So posting done will now head in haste to pebbled beach of retirement...Could cause a shock me being under 60:)
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
In Retrospectam...
In retrospect I was mad to fall into love
because when I fell in
all you did was stare
and
waving my arms like a dying dancer
I tried to redeem a life
but winning is impossible
when the game from the off
is fixed
because when I fell in
all you did was stare
and
waving my arms like a dying dancer
I tried to redeem a life
but winning is impossible
when the game from the off
is fixed
Coming Up Good
Before tootling into town early this morning I stood in my back garden.
The conifers look better and although there is still a pile of cuttings it isn't looking too bad out there.
Current idea flapping around inside my head is a herb garden.
Can see me now...Tearing off basil leaves and snipping off some thyme and then with the wind in my face, checking on the chervil.
I have a large book about herbs and there are many interesting chapters on their cultivation, care and uses.
Designs are a-plenty too. I rather like the idea of a Monastic style herb garden, one where, if I'm feeling particularly spiritual, I can step lightly around picking leaves. But before that can occur I have to get dirty.
Which means ridding myself of the green debris and digging a space. I know very little about gardening but this is something I want to try. By the way I've saved some of the thicker conifer branches because I feel they might come in useful for later projects...I have of course torn off the green bits leaving just the rather beautiful rugged browny/red wood. Would make a good walking stick for a smaller person.
Other interesting facts about today. Mostly to do with food.
Bought some frozen 'fruits of the forest' for a pie I'm going to make. Will add chopped Bramley apple to paunch it out. Pies are as comforting as a kiss. And kisses, like pies, should be moreish. Heaven is kiss, pie, kiss.
Steak looked good today so the bloody carnivore in me was satisfied. Won't fry today will save for a rainy day, probably next Tuesday.
I felt 18 as I slipped round the aisles in Sainsbury's. Catching sight of myself in the mirrors by the cosmetics, I knew I was middle-aged, and probably falling to bits internally, but I pouted in the mirror and bought another lipstick.
My breasts looked great for a woman of my age also, so I bought some more oil.
Picked up a large red pepper for just 19p in Lidl will make it do for probably three meals, can be done if a sharp knife is used judiciously.
I like Lidl even though the staff are as bland and bleak as the decor. Cheaper but not as cheerful as Sainsbury's where I can get a generous sized bird for less than £3 and talk to Ian about football and rain.
Ian has a terrible limp but soldiers up and down with his broom and dustpan like a typical Englishman. Great skin, watery eyes and married to lady with disabilities.
Toffees and chocolate were bought along with a lettuce and cucumber. Man can't live by green alone, man needs to indulge. And for £1 I can indulge a lot. Mostly at night.
Cooking today:
Creamy Tuna Spaghetti
Hot garlic rolls
Sweetcorn
Syrup pudding and custard
The conifers look better and although there is still a pile of cuttings it isn't looking too bad out there.
Current idea flapping around inside my head is a herb garden.
Can see me now...Tearing off basil leaves and snipping off some thyme and then with the wind in my face, checking on the chervil.
I have a large book about herbs and there are many interesting chapters on their cultivation, care and uses.
Designs are a-plenty too. I rather like the idea of a Monastic style herb garden, one where, if I'm feeling particularly spiritual, I can step lightly around picking leaves. But before that can occur I have to get dirty.
Which means ridding myself of the green debris and digging a space. I know very little about gardening but this is something I want to try. By the way I've saved some of the thicker conifer branches because I feel they might come in useful for later projects...I have of course torn off the green bits leaving just the rather beautiful rugged browny/red wood. Would make a good walking stick for a smaller person.
Other interesting facts about today. Mostly to do with food.
Bought some frozen 'fruits of the forest' for a pie I'm going to make. Will add chopped Bramley apple to paunch it out. Pies are as comforting as a kiss. And kisses, like pies, should be moreish. Heaven is kiss, pie, kiss.
Steak looked good today so the bloody carnivore in me was satisfied. Won't fry today will save for a rainy day, probably next Tuesday.
I felt 18 as I slipped round the aisles in Sainsbury's. Catching sight of myself in the mirrors by the cosmetics, I knew I was middle-aged, and probably falling to bits internally, but I pouted in the mirror and bought another lipstick.
My breasts looked great for a woman of my age also, so I bought some more oil.
Picked up a large red pepper for just 19p in Lidl will make it do for probably three meals, can be done if a sharp knife is used judiciously.
I like Lidl even though the staff are as bland and bleak as the decor. Cheaper but not as cheerful as Sainsbury's where I can get a generous sized bird for less than £3 and talk to Ian about football and rain.
Ian has a terrible limp but soldiers up and down with his broom and dustpan like a typical Englishman. Great skin, watery eyes and married to lady with disabilities.
Toffees and chocolate were bought along with a lettuce and cucumber. Man can't live by green alone, man needs to indulge. And for £1 I can indulge a lot. Mostly at night.
Cooking today:
Creamy Tuna Spaghetti
Hot garlic rolls
Sweetcorn
Syrup pudding and custard
Monday, 16 August 2010
Before The Work Begins...
Just had a smashing steak sandwich now I must leave the blessed sanctuary of my blue and white kitchen and navigate my way through treacherous green mountains of debris to bin some cuttings.
But I want to play!
Just a thought...
Had such a lush day yesterday that miserabling my way through tree off-cuts leaves me looking like this :( :( :(
Me want to play:)
But all play and no work will see Glo go off the rails so...Some severe hard work is a must.
But before the bitter graft, a small indulgence of fancy coconut cakes and tea...:)
But I want to play!
Just a thought...
Had such a lush day yesterday that miserabling my way through tree off-cuts leaves me looking like this :( :( :(
Me want to play:)
But all play and no work will see Glo go off the rails so...Some severe hard work is a must.
But before the bitter graft, a small indulgence of fancy coconut cakes and tea...:)
Burning Love
Muesli for the birds?
Now I know what Love is.
Incinerator for the cuttings?
Now I know what Madness is.
Watered our eyes.
Crackled, spat and blackened the air like a party in hell
Set off a neighbours' smoke alarm.
Will therefore stop.
Will therefore drop a score in my chum's hand...Kindness and generosity are always very appreciated.
Cuttings will now be placed in the recycle bin...Over the next year:(
On the cool agenda today:
Swathing myself in raiment of red for a photo shoot.
Watching the telly.
Roasting of pork chops.
Now I know what Love is.
Incinerator for the cuttings?
Now I know what Madness is.
Watered our eyes.
Crackled, spat and blackened the air like a party in hell
Set off a neighbours' smoke alarm.
Will therefore stop.
Will therefore drop a score in my chum's hand...Kindness and generosity are always very appreciated.
Cuttings will now be placed in the recycle bin...Over the next year:(
On the cool agenda today:
Swathing myself in raiment of red for a photo shoot.
Watching the telly.
Roasting of pork chops.
Saturday, 14 August 2010
Monty, Kevin and I
Last night as the clock struck 11 I knew I wasn't alone...
So being in a state of high excitement I left the world of pc fun and wandered down the hall to find Monty pawing at the door...
The Shadow of Kevin was apparent...
The smudged outline of the lean and noisy puss could clearly be seen through my horrible frosted glass door and my innocent little fat Monty was keen to engage.
But I'm a fussy mummy so I wouldn't and couldn't allow the moggies to mingle.
What I did do however was to haul Monty onto the front room windowsill so he could look out and I could deal with Kevin.
It's funny you know how animals bring out the Mother in me, I'm sure my breasts fill up with full fat milk whenever my heart strings are tugged. But we won't talk about breasts and milk on a Saturday morning.
I knew I had to see him, to touch him, to tap his head and generally be embarrassing. So I unlocked the door...
"Hello matey" I said falling onto my one good knee.
"If you're expecting some boy on boy stuff with my Monty then you're in for a great big let down!"
He didn't smile neither did he laugh instead he purred his way into my good books and took a stroll along the hall...
What a cheek I thought and what joy.
Monty meanwhile was confined to the front room and his windowsill, if he'd met Kev face to face....Could have got nasty. So being Mother Protector I kept the lads well apart.
Then I got tired and told Kev to hop it, "Go back to your own people" I said, and he did, but not before nudging his face into my knuckles.
Friday, 13 August 2010
Two Hours and Twenty Minutes...
I stepped out of my car and whoooosh heaven's doors opened. The rain it dith pour down.
Not needing to worry about my hair I dawdled to the first charity shop, then after buying a large Willow Pattern tea pot and three books I splashed to the next.
On my way I noticed, rather sadly, that two of the oldest shops in Spa road were now empty, their windows whitewashed and their insides ripped out and soulless. 'Tis a very sad day when a butchers shop and greengrocer shop die.
Bought many a chicken and punnet of strawberries therein.
Blasted Somerfields/Co-Op is still there though, clawing in money from locals with their rag bag of 'special offers' and 'bogoffs' people don't want 'offers' they want familiarity and a word with the big man wearing the apron.
After the shock of seeing the vacant shops I went into my second charity shop, which I'm pleased to say showed no sign of packing up.
In there were the usual size 6 shoes, garish toys, awful polyestered paintings and size 16 pink cardis but, balancing very dangerously on a box of blankets, was the most gorgeous bolster type cushion. 'Wow' I mouthed in my mind!
Me like that.
And so it came to pass that after handing over £2:50 to the quaintest prettiest of elderly ladies I left the busy shop to head home.
The rain had almost stopped but just enough was still falling to warrant a good-for-my-heart march back to the car park.
And that's the bit I love best.
Coming home after digging through the boxes and shoving stuff around the shelves in a charity shop.
I love the feeling of satisfaction when, after spending a small amount of money, I feel as if I'd just stumbled over a treasure chest...
Today's Gems:
~Large Willow Pattern Tea Pot
~Victoriana style Bolster type Cushion
~Dr D.G. Hessayon's 'Be Your Own Gardening Expert' 2nd edition marked 2/6
~Good Housekeeping recipe book
~Another gardening book which tells me I can have a good looking garden just by doing twenty minutes a day.
~The Penguin guide to Plain English. 'Express yourself clearly and effectively'.
The rain stopped as I slammed the boot shut...
Not needing to worry about my hair I dawdled to the first charity shop, then after buying a large Willow Pattern tea pot and three books I splashed to the next.
On my way I noticed, rather sadly, that two of the oldest shops in Spa road were now empty, their windows whitewashed and their insides ripped out and soulless. 'Tis a very sad day when a butchers shop and greengrocer shop die.
Bought many a chicken and punnet of strawberries therein.
Blasted Somerfields/Co-Op is still there though, clawing in money from locals with their rag bag of 'special offers' and 'bogoffs' people don't want 'offers' they want familiarity and a word with the big man wearing the apron.
After the shock of seeing the vacant shops I went into my second charity shop, which I'm pleased to say showed no sign of packing up.
In there were the usual size 6 shoes, garish toys, awful polyestered paintings and size 16 pink cardis but, balancing very dangerously on a box of blankets, was the most gorgeous bolster type cushion. 'Wow' I mouthed in my mind!
Me like that.
And so it came to pass that after handing over £2:50 to the quaintest prettiest of elderly ladies I left the busy shop to head home.
The rain had almost stopped but just enough was still falling to warrant a good-for-my-heart march back to the car park.
And that's the bit I love best.
Coming home after digging through the boxes and shoving stuff around the shelves in a charity shop.
I love the feeling of satisfaction when, after spending a small amount of money, I feel as if I'd just stumbled over a treasure chest...
Today's Gems:
~Large Willow Pattern Tea Pot
~Victoriana style Bolster type Cushion
~Dr D.G. Hessayon's 'Be Your Own Gardening Expert' 2nd edition marked 2/6
~Good Housekeeping recipe book
~Another gardening book which tells me I can have a good looking garden just by doing twenty minutes a day.
~The Penguin guide to Plain English. 'Express yourself clearly and effectively'.
The rain stopped as I slammed the boot shut...
One Per Man!
Not much beats Apple Dumplings for taste and laughs!These buxom beauties were made earlier this week and were well applauded when laid upon the table.
Breaking into them was fun and full of aaahhhhhs!!!
The crisp buttery pastry broke like a dream and when it broke soft fluffy apple flesh oozed out. Quite divine.
And although they're definitely moreish you'll be relieved to hear Mr H. was offered only ONE Any more and he'd pop!
No noises of appreciation will be heard around the kitchen table today on account of having no-one to cook for:(
Unless of course Monty yodels with delight when faced with half a tin of tuna...
Thursday, 12 August 2010
Norris A.I. in 2018
Norris A.I. in 2010Becks must be livid but he'll get over it especially if his dream of making a movie with Tom Cruise comes to fruition. Have to do something about the old voice though Becks...Can't have you gelled and toned and thrusting a weapon in someone's face whilst sounding like Helium Man...
So....back to footie, the lads with their green shoots of newness sprouting up, smacked the Hungarians. And what a relief that was. I watched it in bed you know so I could dive under the duvet if things got bad.
The whacking we received in South Africa could be the turning point for the England team, if Don Fabio chooses the right players at the right time and for the right games, the world could see the emergence of a world class team once again.
I went into mystic mode last night and all of a sudden 'saw' us lifting the World Cup in 2018. I don't know why or how this fab vision came about, could have been the chocolate Ovaltine but more than likely it was my tortured inner most desire to see my beloved England WIN SOMETHING.
And then I did the finger thing...
I added up on my fingers how old I'd be in 2018.
62.
Oh, F***
Pensioner in Rochford arrested for 'Breaking The Peace'.
Mrs Norris, 62 of Rochford, was arrested last night after complaints from neighbours about excessive screaming. The spritley swinger who has several alias's including little gem and sex pot, told police she was merely experiencing shock and elation over England's 2-0 win in the World Cup Finals.
After being put in the cells she asked if a burly copper could take care of her, for a price. She was later charged with bribing a member of Her Majesty's Constabulary.
Ta ta!
Wednesday, 11 August 2010
At 5:30 peeked out at damp garden.
A hill of cuttings.
Dew sparkling like shattered mirrors on heavy hanging branches.
A thrush digging.
The bird table slightly damaged, slightly awry.
A golden drenched fence never seen before!
Acres of unseen sky.
Umbrellas of conifer branches dripping with rain, shielding an early sparrow
Flattened grass.
Stomped grass.
Bird bath on the gravel, its water opaque in shades of mouldy deepest green.
A wind chime still.
One raspberry on a bush.
Buddha next to gnome.
East meets west.
England play Hungary tonight in a friendly at Wembley. I expect to hear boos.
Joe Hart will come out in the keeper's jersey but I hope Fabio gives Watford's 22 year old Scott Loach a chance to guard the net.
Bit young, but I along with Fabio Capello, will be thinking about Euro2012.
Cooking tonight:
Braised sausages in cider and mushroom sauce
Mashed potatoes.
Broad beans.
For pud:
Apple dumplings and custard.
Ta ta!
A hill of cuttings.
Dew sparkling like shattered mirrors on heavy hanging branches.
A thrush digging.
The bird table slightly damaged, slightly awry.
A golden drenched fence never seen before!
Acres of unseen sky.
Umbrellas of conifer branches dripping with rain, shielding an early sparrow
Flattened grass.
Stomped grass.
Bird bath on the gravel, its water opaque in shades of mouldy deepest green.
A wind chime still.
One raspberry on a bush.
Buddha next to gnome.
East meets west.
England play Hungary tonight in a friendly at Wembley. I expect to hear boos.
Joe Hart will come out in the keeper's jersey but I hope Fabio gives Watford's 22 year old Scott Loach a chance to guard the net.
Bit young, but I along with Fabio Capello, will be thinking about Euro2012.
Cooking tonight:
Braised sausages in cider and mushroom sauce
Mashed potatoes.
Broad beans.
For pud:
Apple dumplings and custard.
Ta ta!
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
Eve's Neglected Pie...
Since Graham left I've been surfing the intertubes for apple tree information. Found millions of pages on how to plant not only them, but fig trees and pear trees and damson trees too. Or was it medlars? Anyway...
There's a link to tree things in my My Favourite Sites...
And all this because I wanted my conifers lopped...
The Shepherd's Pie is late on account of my reading up on mulch, stakes and the thorough soaking of roots.
I think this might lead to something big and tart like a decent cooker!
:)
There's a link to tree things in my My Favourite Sites...
And all this because I wanted my conifers lopped...
The Shepherd's Pie is late on account of my reading up on mulch, stakes and the thorough soaking of roots.
I think this might lead to something big and tart like a decent cooker!
:)
Graham and Eve
Blasted garden...
But it is looking better thanks to Graham and his ever ready loppers. I will need to buy an incinerator he said to make ash out of the fallen branches which will in turn go under the conifers...Which will then in turn be mixed into the soil to make a richer growing medium for my fruit and veg...WHAT! Just chop the blasted trees!
Blimey I thought as I stepped off the ladders if this is what gardening means then you can shove it. But seriously, he has done a decent job, and for little cost, well little to him maybe, but a fortune to poor old me. He has a property in Cyprus apparently, probably paid for by a host of ladies like me who would rather pull a muscle than pull a weed.
After decimating the trees we discussed my needs and wants...
He will work for four hours but only get paid for two, the deal being I help out as his sidekick. "I don't do carrying" I said. "Ok" he laughed. "You just bin stuff."
We sealed the deal over chocolate cake and tea.
I also bagged the cut price deal by going up his ladder. "First time a client has done that" he said
He talked interminably about his love of gardening how easy it is if you're keen...Planting times and seasons and tools were discussed, I of course know very little, so all I did was oooh and aaahh when he rattled on about his onions.
But credit where credit is due...
He not only trimmed the conifers with precision cutting but overloaded me with his knowledge about shrubs, vegetable gardens and apple trees. He is a keen gardener to say the very least, has had an allotment for a hundred years, that sort of thing, grows enough cabbage to feed a million rabbits and freezes a lot of sweetcorn...But....As soon as he mentioned fruit trees he had my undivided attention. I have a romantic view of fruit trees, apple in particular, I see myself walking barefooted into the garden to pick ample wet fruits, then, as if touched by Eve herself, turn them into plump sweet pies. Yes, definitely want to get my hands on a Bramley.
I also want a pear tree, Graham suggested having it out front, but I want it out back. And out back it will be. He showed me 'designs' he'd drawn, they were more like scribbles, but his heart is in the right place. "The roses could grow here" he pointed and I was lost in the glory and pain of it all....
I told him I wanted a cherry blossom tree on my frontage, he said he'd advise me on that nearer the planting time. Money came up again and I told him I can't spend more a few quid a week so I'd be eternally grateful if he could buy stuff plant stuff and manage my garden for £5 a week.
He looked stunned:)
But first things first, before the glorious planting of roses and herbs and fruits I need to buy an Incinerator.
I would therefore be mightily grateful if someone would buy me one. Lunch/dinner would be your reward and possibly a peck on the cheek.
Cooking tonight:
Shepherd's Pie
Spicy Beans
Chocolate cake and ice cream
But it is looking better thanks to Graham and his ever ready loppers. I will need to buy an incinerator he said to make ash out of the fallen branches which will in turn go under the conifers...Which will then in turn be mixed into the soil to make a richer growing medium for my fruit and veg...WHAT! Just chop the blasted trees!
Blimey I thought as I stepped off the ladders if this is what gardening means then you can shove it. But seriously, he has done a decent job, and for little cost, well little to him maybe, but a fortune to poor old me. He has a property in Cyprus apparently, probably paid for by a host of ladies like me who would rather pull a muscle than pull a weed.
After decimating the trees we discussed my needs and wants...
He will work for four hours but only get paid for two, the deal being I help out as his sidekick. "I don't do carrying" I said. "Ok" he laughed. "You just bin stuff."
We sealed the deal over chocolate cake and tea.
I also bagged the cut price deal by going up his ladder. "First time a client has done that" he said
He talked interminably about his love of gardening how easy it is if you're keen...Planting times and seasons and tools were discussed, I of course know very little, so all I did was oooh and aaahh when he rattled on about his onions.
But credit where credit is due...
He not only trimmed the conifers with precision cutting but overloaded me with his knowledge about shrubs, vegetable gardens and apple trees. He is a keen gardener to say the very least, has had an allotment for a hundred years, that sort of thing, grows enough cabbage to feed a million rabbits and freezes a lot of sweetcorn...But....As soon as he mentioned fruit trees he had my undivided attention. I have a romantic view of fruit trees, apple in particular, I see myself walking barefooted into the garden to pick ample wet fruits, then, as if touched by Eve herself, turn them into plump sweet pies. Yes, definitely want to get my hands on a Bramley.
I also want a pear tree, Graham suggested having it out front, but I want it out back. And out back it will be. He showed me 'designs' he'd drawn, they were more like scribbles, but his heart is in the right place. "The roses could grow here" he pointed and I was lost in the glory and pain of it all....
I told him I wanted a cherry blossom tree on my frontage, he said he'd advise me on that nearer the planting time. Money came up again and I told him I can't spend more a few quid a week so I'd be eternally grateful if he could buy stuff plant stuff and manage my garden for £5 a week.
He looked stunned:)
But first things first, before the glorious planting of roses and herbs and fruits I need to buy an Incinerator.
I would therefore be mightily grateful if someone would buy me one. Lunch/dinner would be your reward and possibly a peck on the cheek.
Cooking tonight:
Shepherd's Pie
Spicy Beans
Chocolate cake and ice cream
The G1 Summit Day One
Whilst Graham the gardener gardens the blogger blogs.
I know my place and it isn't in the field. Gardening is peasant's work.
He has already suggested sausage and mash. He's going to be disappointed. Might stretch to an eggy sandwich but that's about it.
He came with a papers clipped to his clipped board and on these papers were 'designs' for my frontage.
"I don't do designs" I said "I play pot luck with what I've got and what I can afford". He asked if I had Irish blood...
I told him I wanted a cherry blossom tree out front...Then he rattled off costs and seasons and bark and I laughed uproariously.
This should be good fun:(
I know my place and it isn't in the field. Gardening is peasant's work.
He has already suggested sausage and mash. He's going to be disappointed. Might stretch to an eggy sandwich but that's about it.
He came with a papers clipped to his clipped board and on these papers were 'designs' for my frontage.
"I don't do designs" I said "I play pot luck with what I've got and what I can afford". He asked if I had Irish blood...
I told him I wanted a cherry blossom tree out front...Then he rattled off costs and seasons and bark and I laughed uproariously.
This should be good fun:(
Monday, 9 August 2010
It's Freezing!
Just had a call from the old dears, their new freezer has just been delivered. Like a flash I ordered Mother to dash out and buy ice cream. She said she would.
Talking of ice cream I gave in to temptation last night and licked two pecan cornets.
Which reminds me, I make a very luscious mango ice cream, so gorgeous served with coconut pinwheels.
Unfortunately no frozen products are on my agenda today unless you call diving into the freezer to access a ball of frozen dough for today's singular chicken pie worthy of being on an agenda. It's Singular on account of the aforementioned chicken pie being for Mr H only. I'll survive on cucumber.
My weight, by the way, is stable on account of cucumber.
But I'm not a saint and so for breakfast, which is running late by the way, I'll boil an egg or two. I fear not cholesterol.
Which reminds me fear is a dreadful thing.
On my agenda today is basically a load of cooking with a few outside activities to ring the changes. Namely trying to make space for Graham's ladders tomorrow. There is an almighty load of tree cutting (thanks to Mr H.) on the 'patio'. Patio? A few paving stones by the garage. Homeowners have it hard.
No but seriously I will move the deaded branches in the name of Health and Safety;)
But cooking is what I ache to do so after boiling a couple of eggs I'll make a large cake and a small pie.
Will, if time allows, watch a gory movie covered in a blanket. I feel the cold....
Talking of ice cream I gave in to temptation last night and licked two pecan cornets.
Which reminds me, I make a very luscious mango ice cream, so gorgeous served with coconut pinwheels.
Unfortunately no frozen products are on my agenda today unless you call diving into the freezer to access a ball of frozen dough for today's singular chicken pie worthy of being on an agenda. It's Singular on account of the aforementioned chicken pie being for Mr H only. I'll survive on cucumber.
My weight, by the way, is stable on account of cucumber.
But I'm not a saint and so for breakfast, which is running late by the way, I'll boil an egg or two. I fear not cholesterol.
Which reminds me fear is a dreadful thing.
On my agenda today is basically a load of cooking with a few outside activities to ring the changes. Namely trying to make space for Graham's ladders tomorrow. There is an almighty load of tree cutting (thanks to Mr H.) on the 'patio'. Patio? A few paving stones by the garage. Homeowners have it hard.
No but seriously I will move the deaded branches in the name of Health and Safety;)
But cooking is what I ache to do so after boiling a couple of eggs I'll make a large cake and a small pie.
Will, if time allows, watch a gory movie covered in a blanket. I feel the cold....
Sunday, 8 August 2010
Radio 4
As I washed some home grown carrots I listened as former Home Secretary Alan Johnson read part of a Philip Larkin poem.
Then by way of the sound mixer man the voice of Larkin himself joined Johnson at the end of the poem. I know whose voice I preferred.
Apparently Larkin disliked women, not so said his former publisher in Hull, he had many lady friends.
I would have liked to have sat with him as he read aloud "Friday Night at The Royal Station Hotel".
I could have put my two penneth in...Show him where he's going wrong, that sort of thing.
Being cooked today.
Roasted chicken, glazed tiny stumpy carrots, broad beans, roasted potatoes and stuffing. Redcurrant jelly and gravy to accompany.
For pud, a real nursery pud, Queen of Puddings. Served warm.
Then by way of the sound mixer man the voice of Larkin himself joined Johnson at the end of the poem. I know whose voice I preferred.
Apparently Larkin disliked women, not so said his former publisher in Hull, he had many lady friends.
I would have liked to have sat with him as he read aloud "Friday Night at The Royal Station Hotel".
I could have put my two penneth in...Show him where he's going wrong, that sort of thing.
Being cooked today.
Roasted chicken, glazed tiny stumpy carrots, broad beans, roasted potatoes and stuffing. Redcurrant jelly and gravy to accompany.
For pud, a real nursery pud, Queen of Puddings. Served warm.
Saturday, 7 August 2010
Secondhand Glo
Tootled into town and bought two tea cups and two saucers. Flowered, blue and white, very sweet and very reasonably priced. £1
Also picked up an empty picnic hamper in excellent condition I'll use it for storing towels. £1 .What else? Popped into the Co-op for some double cream and half a cucumber. It was chokka blokka and violence nearly broke out by the cold meat section between two trolley pushing grumpy older ladies. If looks could kill!
Being slight and nimble I managed to avoid getting into a scuffle with the grey godzillas by meandering around their loaded trolleys.
I dread to imagine what would happen if there was ever a food shortage...
On the way home I clocked my petrol gauge or whatever it's called and the needle was on RED. Oh no I thought hope I don't run out of juice. I didn't. But when I go to collect Mr Horsehound from the station in a mo I'll dribble in a fivers worth.
Knee Report......A slight improvement, only resemble grapefruits now instead of melons:)
Also picked up an empty picnic hamper in excellent condition I'll use it for storing towels. £1 .What else? Popped into the Co-op for some double cream and half a cucumber. It was chokka blokka and violence nearly broke out by the cold meat section between two trolley pushing grumpy older ladies. If looks could kill!
Being slight and nimble I managed to avoid getting into a scuffle with the grey godzillas by meandering around their loaded trolleys.
I dread to imagine what would happen if there was ever a food shortage...
On the way home I clocked my petrol gauge or whatever it's called and the needle was on RED. Oh no I thought hope I don't run out of juice. I didn't. But when I go to collect Mr Horsehound from the station in a mo I'll dribble in a fivers worth.
Knee Report......A slight improvement, only resemble grapefruits now instead of melons:)
Saturday...All Ings.....
Pottering.
Chattering.
Driving.
Cooking.
Later...
Cajun chicken, grizzled to honeyed brown and tender
A mess of green leaves, with no dressing
Olivioed corn, with a dusting of salt
Warm pittas, split and filled with thin cu and skinned toms
Bowl of soured cream, perfect white and thick
For pud, Pecan Ice cream cornets from Sainsbury's.
Will pop out later just for some fresh wet air. Teemed down last night. Was woken too early by Monty's demands. Namely better positioning on the bed.
Now I go>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Chattering.
Driving.
Cooking.
Later...
Cajun chicken, grizzled to honeyed brown and tender
A mess of green leaves, with no dressing
Olivioed corn, with a dusting of salt
Warm pittas, split and filled with thin cu and skinned toms
Bowl of soured cream, perfect white and thick
For pud, Pecan Ice cream cornets from Sainsbury's.
Will pop out later just for some fresh wet air. Teemed down last night. Was woken too early by Monty's demands. Namely better positioning on the bed.
Now I go>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Friday, 6 August 2010
Room. Poem
In your room without colour
my blood tints the walls
its rich virginal paste
perfectly spread
and in your room without life
my presence necessitates
action
and so with your neck tethered to beams
I dance
swirling down like a shot paradise bird
I land upon your face
Now your room is rainbow
my blood tints the walls
its rich virginal paste
perfectly spread
and in your room without life
my presence necessitates
action
and so with your neck tethered to beams
I dance
swirling down like a shot paradise bird
I land upon your face
Now your room is rainbow
One more post/moan about knees and then I'm off.
Looking at them... they really are a remarkable piece of construction. Not the most elegant of God's creations but they do the job. MOSTLY!
I've guzzled more tabs as per the Doc's orders and then raised them by means of a giant cushion.
I then felt the urge to hit them, so I did. Tapping them with my knuckles. Never turned a hair. Bang, knock, whack and tap and not a flinch. They truly are the Knees From Hades:)
I could do anything to these I thought. I could hit them with a hammer or pencil, I could wrap them in foil, cling film or carrier bag and nothing would bother them.
I am truly blessed.
But it isn't the top bit of knee that's causing the grief it's the bits on the side, the fleshy/jointy bits. Sticking out like rancid potatoes they are, all fleshy, knobulared and quirky and without beauty.... so no-on will grab a look at them tonight.
Not unless of course they are artificially sympathetic and carry some Horses Embrocation Oil...in their pocket
(My gran used that when clamped to her wheelchair) Didn't do her knees any good but she sure done a ton around the kitchen.)
After a couple of minutes of self-harm I finished off the last of the Digestive biscuits and had a shower.
As I said in the earlier post NO Pictures of my Knees will be available for public viewing but if you'd like to make a donation to the Charming Lady Bloggers charity I will be more than happy to send a private pic.
Goodbye!
I've guzzled more tabs as per the Doc's orders and then raised them by means of a giant cushion.
I then felt the urge to hit them, so I did. Tapping them with my knuckles. Never turned a hair. Bang, knock, whack and tap and not a flinch. They truly are the Knees From Hades:)
I could do anything to these I thought. I could hit them with a hammer or pencil, I could wrap them in foil, cling film or carrier bag and nothing would bother them.
I am truly blessed.
But it isn't the top bit of knee that's causing the grief it's the bits on the side, the fleshy/jointy bits. Sticking out like rancid potatoes they are, all fleshy, knobulared and quirky and without beauty.... so no-on will grab a look at them tonight.
Not unless of course they are artificially sympathetic and carry some Horses Embrocation Oil...in their pocket
(My gran used that when clamped to her wheelchair) Didn't do her knees any good but she sure done a ton around the kitchen.)
After a couple of minutes of self-harm I finished off the last of the Digestive biscuits and had a shower.
As I said in the earlier post NO Pictures of my Knees will be available for public viewing but if you'd like to make a donation to the Charming Lady Bloggers charity I will be more than happy to send a private pic.
Goodbye!
No Oral Yet
I made El Doc laugh!
And after he'd gurgled he told me to take six Sulphasalazine tabs instead of four and to return to his private room in ten days if there's no improvement.
And then and only then would he administer something "Orally Steroidal". "It's our last resort" he said with a worryingly weak smile.
"Orally Steroidal?" I repeated
"Yes, Steroidal" he repeated "Orally"
Wot, no joint injection?" I said scared stiffily.
"No! Orally".
"Righty Ho Oral it is" I smiled, lowering my hem back to a decent lady like position.
What a relief I thought as I limped out into the sunlit car park. Dr Castanets obviously considers me some kind of Superwoman who tolerates pain very well. And he would be right of course I am a tolerant woman.
On the way back to the bungalow I needed some NSA fun so dropped in on the old girls in the charity shop by the tanning salon.
Wherein I bought a coffee coloured ceramic chicken.
Thank You!
P.S. I shall be emailing The Sun newspaper after I've had a Mango yoghurt on account of them wanting youngsters (16-21) to send in a little writing in the hope of getting Column inches.
Blast yer eyes Sir.
I wrote to The Sun in 1972 asking for a job and they shoved me off with some stupid advice about getting 'O' levels....
And after he'd gurgled he told me to take six Sulphasalazine tabs instead of four and to return to his private room in ten days if there's no improvement.
And then and only then would he administer something "Orally Steroidal". "It's our last resort" he said with a worryingly weak smile.
"Orally Steroidal?" I repeated
"Yes, Steroidal" he repeated "Orally"
Wot, no joint injection?" I said scared stiffily.
"No! Orally".
"Righty Ho Oral it is" I smiled, lowering my hem back to a decent lady like position.
What a relief I thought as I limped out into the sunlit car park. Dr Castanets obviously considers me some kind of Superwoman who tolerates pain very well. And he would be right of course I am a tolerant woman.
On the way back to the bungalow I needed some NSA fun so dropped in on the old girls in the charity shop by the tanning salon.
Wherein I bought a coffee coloured ceramic chicken.
Thank You!
P.S. I shall be emailing The Sun newspaper after I've had a Mango yoghurt on account of them wanting youngsters (16-21) to send in a little writing in the hope of getting Column inches.
Blast yer eyes Sir.
I wrote to The Sun in 1972 asking for a job and they shoved me off with some stupid advice about getting 'O' levels....
Off to the docs this morning to lift my skirt.
Only hope he doesn't fall for me in a BIG way. Probably will, I tend to have that effect on men with degrees. So, providing he can peel his brown eyes away from my green ones, he should be able to take care of my lumps.
After driving Mr H. to the station I knew that I needed to flash my melon sized caps at a man and the only man available is the foreign gentlemen with letters after his name.
So in a while I'll have a word in his ears about my mighty domes.
Ho hum...:(
When I'm not tutting and staring in the mirror and feeling the heat of this flare-up, I jolly well know that my much-hated knees will deflate, but in the meantime I'm running out of patience.
So the sensible thing to do is to be reassured by the medic man from Espana, that this pain, this tautness and tightness isn't the beginning of something worse.
Drama Queen? Of course but I have every right to worry on account of so far being extremely lucky in having the blasted disease under control. Yet now, for some reason, my joints are giving me a good kick-in. I'm walking, but not effortlessly. As for dancing or anthing else which requires knee action, you're having a laugh...!
(Mr H. bless him, doesn't demand acrobatics of any kind.)
Cooking today:
Cream Crackers, Tea, Mango Yoghurt, Tea, One Apple, Tap Water, Thin Steak. Tea.
And bowlful of milk-soaked sugared-up Chocolatey Squares:)
Knee Update Will Appear Later...:)
After driving Mr H. to the station I knew that I needed to flash my melon sized caps at a man and the only man available is the foreign gentlemen with letters after his name.
So in a while I'll have a word in his ears about my mighty domes.
Ho hum...:(
When I'm not tutting and staring in the mirror and feeling the heat of this flare-up, I jolly well know that my much-hated knees will deflate, but in the meantime I'm running out of patience.
So the sensible thing to do is to be reassured by the medic man from Espana, that this pain, this tautness and tightness isn't the beginning of something worse.
Drama Queen? Of course but I have every right to worry on account of so far being extremely lucky in having the blasted disease under control. Yet now, for some reason, my joints are giving me a good kick-in. I'm walking, but not effortlessly. As for dancing or anthing else which requires knee action, you're having a laugh...!
(Mr H. bless him, doesn't demand acrobatics of any kind.)
Cooking today:
Cream Crackers, Tea, Mango Yoghurt, Tea, One Apple, Tap Water, Thin Steak. Tea.
And bowlful of milk-soaked sugared-up Chocolatey Squares:)
Knee Update Will Appear Later...:)
Thursday, 5 August 2010
Thursday 5th August. 9:15 p.m. A dear diary moment from today and 1973
The cherry pies were ooooohed over, then one was sliced carefully into delicate portions and placed upon dainty tea plates.
Over news about their chests, ankles, David Cameron's ghastly plans for tinkering with social housing, the price of heat pads and other medicinal type things we sipped our hot tea and broke the pie pastry.
After picking out the cardamon seeds from a decent chicken korma I beseeched my knobbled knees to behave then went out on a spending spree...
Although I hardly think roll on eye saviour stuff, a brown slightly sparkly retro top and tin of pineapple rings makes me rash with cash, I considered today's buys simple and essential. So there.
Mumsy however went mental with money, lashing out loads of lucre on H.P. Fruity Sauce, Neutrogena hand cream, fig rolls and elasticised bandage.
Darting in and out of shops reminded me of when mum and I darted in and out of shops in the 1970's. We did them good. We did them proper. Often ditching proper comfortable retail outlets for the stalls in Portobello Road market. Come hail, sun or snow we could always be found rummaging through the filth of the secondhand barrows, dawdling around the little bazaars looking for Indian style jewels and decadent posters. Then on the way home, pop into the bakers by the public lavatories to buy doughnuts for us and an apple turnover for dad. Happy days.
And in a way today was no different and that makes me feel a little queer. Over thirty years have passed and I'm still doing the same things. Shopping with mummy for glorious essential nonsense and eating cakes. Only nowadays I'm a little richer, a little lighter and lot more knobbled...
No pictures of my knees will appear on this blog not unless someone wants to be photographed mummifying them in surgical bandage.
And on that slightly pseudo sexual/odd ball note I'll say goodnight.
Goodnight.
The cherry pies were ooooohed over, then one was sliced carefully into delicate portions and placed upon dainty tea plates.
Over news about their chests, ankles, David Cameron's ghastly plans for tinkering with social housing, the price of heat pads and other medicinal type things we sipped our hot tea and broke the pie pastry.
After picking out the cardamon seeds from a decent chicken korma I beseeched my knobbled knees to behave then went out on a spending spree...
Although I hardly think roll on eye saviour stuff, a brown slightly sparkly retro top and tin of pineapple rings makes me rash with cash, I considered today's buys simple and essential. So there.
Mumsy however went mental with money, lashing out loads of lucre on H.P. Fruity Sauce, Neutrogena hand cream, fig rolls and elasticised bandage.
Darting in and out of shops reminded me of when mum and I darted in and out of shops in the 1970's. We did them good. We did them proper. Often ditching proper comfortable retail outlets for the stalls in Portobello Road market. Come hail, sun or snow we could always be found rummaging through the filth of the secondhand barrows, dawdling around the little bazaars looking for Indian style jewels and decadent posters. Then on the way home, pop into the bakers by the public lavatories to buy doughnuts for us and an apple turnover for dad. Happy days.
And in a way today was no different and that makes me feel a little queer. Over thirty years have passed and I'm still doing the same things. Shopping with mummy for glorious essential nonsense and eating cakes. Only nowadays I'm a little richer, a little lighter and lot more knobbled...
No pictures of my knees will appear on this blog not unless someone wants to be photographed mummifying them in surgical bandage.
And on that slightly pseudo sexual/odd ball note I'll say goodnight.
Goodnight.
Wednesday, 4 August 2010
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
I'm A Twit With An Artistic Streak
Let me tell you why.
Most people with bulbous knees would refrain from hauling furniture from one dusty spot to the other but not me. Yesterday, with joints aflame, I dragged a badly painted bookcase from the hall into the kitchen and all on account of a seagull clock.
The wonderful charity shop find (CLOCK) was very at home on the windowsill but something wasn't quite right. Something about its stark in yer face position rubbed me the very wrong way so, with artistic hat on I dreamt up something new.
I know I thought, I'll put it by the chipped pillar, only thing was I hadn't a thing on which to mount it. That's the clock not the pillar.
After limping around the kitchen looking thisaway and thataway I came up with the brilliant idea of
the hall bookcase.
I love it when my mental lights come on and all manner of crazy ideas inhabit my head and, without a thought about knees, the bookcase was soon in place.
But at a price.
Right in the corner by the 'window with no purpose' and the 'pillar which holds up the ceiling' is Monty's Armchair and he was sprawled upon it like a miserable old man shagged out by downing too much wallop, but I needed to shove the chair a little to the right to get the bookcase in.....Monty's head spun and his likkle eyes took on a bemused what you doing this to me for look. I did it anyway.
Bitch Mum.
And there, after knocking it into position with my hips, stood the empty old bookcase. But it wasn't empty for long.
On it's three shelves were placed all my recipe books, well maybe not ALL, but a good majority, if I were to place ALL my tattered food books on it, there'd have been no room for the SEAGULL CLOCK.
And it does look cute and sweet and ever so slightly Nordic especially as I've also arranged some blue and white objects amongst the books. Blue and white jugs and vases and a broken blue flowered teacup, this teacup is handleless but so in love with it am I that I won't chuck it. Even when something one loves is of no use any more one would need to be a monster to abandon it.
By the way John did his bit by staying in the front parlour...
Today no such extreme physical activities will occur unless one calls making a tray of Tiffin physical activity.
An Everest of ironing will be looked at likewise a Snowdonia of felled branches. But I am not Superwoman and neither is John except maybe when he takes an interest in my lipstick, so today's agenda is of a more cerebral kind. A little gentle home cooking followed by the reading of my comments.
Ta ta!
Monday, 2 August 2010
On The Cards Today
Cooking, general pottering and oiling of knees.
Cooking will be done in a saintly manner with me wearing the pinny of purity.
General pottering will be undertaken slowly and with great style on account of age, knees and theatrical leanings.
Now the Important if Gross one.
Oiling of knees.
These knees are mine and are giving me a lot of grief John. Blown up to Barbaric Melon size due to Arthritic flare-up. Pondering whether or not to limp to Docs for Steroidal Injections but being... 1. a fool 2. lazy and 3. Heroic... I will soldier on.
Let me tell you about Arthritis My Lord Byron. It's a pain.
Legs with bulbous knees clad in stockings look really stupid, like balls of various sizes stuffed in a condom. Hateful. BALLOONS they are.
Arthritis also makes one feel low, almost depressed in fact. Black dogs coming with the territory apparently.
It also makes one realize that one isn't Superwoman or Cat Woman or sometimes, when it's really awful, makes one think one isn't any kind of woman at all. Just a curvy small female piece with imbalances.
But oil is on the cards Nof, so after doing this wonderful post I'll order Mr H. to walk to the chemist to get me drugs and hot pads.
In the meantime Sweetie K. I'll climb into the shower and watch as the suds of Sainsburys cheap soap rivulate over my balloons. (Picture to follow....Yeah you WISH!)
Cooking will be done in a saintly manner with me wearing the pinny of purity.
General pottering will be undertaken slowly and with great style on account of age, knees and theatrical leanings.
Now the Important if Gross one.
Oiling of knees.
These knees are mine and are giving me a lot of grief John. Blown up to Barbaric Melon size due to Arthritic flare-up. Pondering whether or not to limp to Docs for Steroidal Injections but being... 1. a fool 2. lazy and 3. Heroic... I will soldier on.
Let me tell you about Arthritis My Lord Byron. It's a pain.
Legs with bulbous knees clad in stockings look really stupid, like balls of various sizes stuffed in a condom. Hateful. BALLOONS they are.
Arthritis also makes one feel low, almost depressed in fact. Black dogs coming with the territory apparently.
It also makes one realize that one isn't Superwoman or Cat Woman or sometimes, when it's really awful, makes one think one isn't any kind of woman at all. Just a curvy small female piece with imbalances.
But oil is on the cards Nof, so after doing this wonderful post I'll order Mr H. to walk to the chemist to get me drugs and hot pads.
In the meantime Sweetie K. I'll climb into the shower and watch as the suds of Sainsburys cheap soap rivulate over my balloons. (Picture to follow....Yeah you WISH!)
Sunday, 1 August 2010
Now Is The Time...
I resolve to never ever again wear red suede shoes, red silk dress and feather earrings to a barbecue.
I stood out!
Our hosts were understanding when, after a two glasses of White Zinfandel, I boogied wildly under their extraordinary up and down ceiling lights. No damage was done to either the lights or me.
Foodwise they were extraordinarily generous, a veritable feast of chicken (good) spare ribs (charred) steak (excellent) and Japaneses Rice Crackers (my favourite). All presented reasonably well along with a huge selection of salads, breads and dips. Jacket potatoes were of course available too. Garlic cheese, peanuts, salsa and enormous bowl of unwanted green salad. Tasty cuisine and all from Morrison's!
After our initial 'hello's and hi ya's' we mingled in the dark.
But like with all parties everyone ended up in the kitchen, where male host was keeping on top of proceedings by dunking grubby dishes in sink of soapy water. What a man I thought. Ex-Royal Marine and as fit as a greyhound. Mrs Hostess was a fair maiden with puppy eyes and mauve toe nails, she grasped the idea of time travel but will get married in Jamaica.
I soon tired of Perfect Male Hosts housekeeping antics and slid headlong onto the dining area where cool music blasted me from wall to wall. Once I'm up I'm really up, not much concerns me when dancing. I was in the zone being closely watched by Mr H whose cool attitude made me wonder if he'd had too much coke and not enough water. But my concern for him quickly evaporated when Mr Male Host dried his hands, lowered the ceiling light and began Limbo dancing. I exploded. Had to have a go me thought and no sooner had he shuffled so did I.
Lowering my red silked body I balanced precariously. My head hanging back and my arms splayed out I gazed up at the light above and shuffled dirtily.
"And in heels too" Man host quipped.
The dancing went on and the music got louder and the guests, completely dissing the governments Units per day advice, wriggled, sang and exposed themselves by the Summer house.
Very soon, about midnight it was, as Mrs Hostess handed out shots of God knows what, the girls and boys became even more raucous and inhuman, so Mr H and I tendered our resignation and began to leave.
Kisses were planted on cheeks of course, shoulders were squeezed firmly and After Shaves were inhaled then lingering looks of a carnal nature were exchanged and that was tempting, but I am old and my knees were playing up so we bade farewell again and again and again and finally Sat Navved our way through the deep dark green moonlit roads of the Essex countryside.
I loved it.
Cooking today:
Wokking up a Chinese.
I stood out!
Our hosts were understanding when, after a two glasses of White Zinfandel, I boogied wildly under their extraordinary up and down ceiling lights. No damage was done to either the lights or me.
Foodwise they were extraordinarily generous, a veritable feast of chicken (good) spare ribs (charred) steak (excellent) and Japaneses Rice Crackers (my favourite). All presented reasonably well along with a huge selection of salads, breads and dips. Jacket potatoes were of course available too. Garlic cheese, peanuts, salsa and enormous bowl of unwanted green salad. Tasty cuisine and all from Morrison's!
After our initial 'hello's and hi ya's' we mingled in the dark.
But like with all parties everyone ended up in the kitchen, where male host was keeping on top of proceedings by dunking grubby dishes in sink of soapy water. What a man I thought. Ex-Royal Marine and as fit as a greyhound. Mrs Hostess was a fair maiden with puppy eyes and mauve toe nails, she grasped the idea of time travel but will get married in Jamaica.
I soon tired of Perfect Male Hosts housekeeping antics and slid headlong onto the dining area where cool music blasted me from wall to wall. Once I'm up I'm really up, not much concerns me when dancing. I was in the zone being closely watched by Mr H whose cool attitude made me wonder if he'd had too much coke and not enough water. But my concern for him quickly evaporated when Mr Male Host dried his hands, lowered the ceiling light and began Limbo dancing. I exploded. Had to have a go me thought and no sooner had he shuffled so did I.
Lowering my red silked body I balanced precariously. My head hanging back and my arms splayed out I gazed up at the light above and shuffled dirtily.
"And in heels too" Man host quipped.
The dancing went on and the music got louder and the guests, completely dissing the governments Units per day advice, wriggled, sang and exposed themselves by the Summer house.
Very soon, about midnight it was, as Mrs Hostess handed out shots of God knows what, the girls and boys became even more raucous and inhuman, so Mr H and I tendered our resignation and began to leave.
Kisses were planted on cheeks of course, shoulders were squeezed firmly and After Shaves were inhaled then lingering looks of a carnal nature were exchanged and that was tempting, but I am old and my knees were playing up so we bade farewell again and again and again and finally Sat Navved our way through the deep dark green moonlit roads of the Essex countryside.
I loved it.
Cooking today:
Wokking up a Chinese.
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