An hour after penning last night's poem Mum fainted. Time Midnight.

And as she lay grey in the hall I knew I had to act.

So jump forward 45 minutes and a big Paramedic kneeling checking mum's everything. On the mobile he went 'asking' for an ambulance.
Asking?
Yes. Asking. Apparently a computer is fed information which determines the level of urgency. When the big man told us this I worried about my mum and the country and the NHS.

He was gentle, quiet and very capable, and Mr H and I felt safe in his hands.
Mum knew very little.

And so as he spoke into his phone I reassured mum that all this nonsense was for the best.

3 hours later an ambulance arrived.
Obviously the computer thinking that turning from pink to grey and enduring shocking arm pain didn't warrant sirens. So on the carpet she stayed

The two ambulance men one old, one young checked mum over talking ever so slightly down to her, which by the way, angered me but I suppose they have their way and meant well. So I let it be and bit my tongue. Then into the ambulance we went. It was chilly black and damp and all I wanted to do was to call a stop to the proceedings and go back inside. But sense prevailed and we tootled off.

As we travelled the senior paramedic told of his 2000 + call outs in 24 hours.
Stumped toes, heart attacks and drunks. Stumped toes? Yes he said.
As mum lay wrapped like a Russian doll.
Idiots.

She was wheeled in to a busy but not overly noisy A & E and there we waited and waited. Finally seeing a Doctor 3 hours later.

No need to go on with this is there?
Tests. Keeping her in. Question after bloody question. And the same ones hours later only this time by a nurse.
Mum being the war horse she is told us to go. So after 8 hours of fumbling about on carpets and ugly hard chairs Mr H and I finally got home.

Bed and toast at 9:30 am never looking so fine.

Visited this afternoon, she looked glassy probably weapon grade painkillers and no food so I chased after Staff Nurse Godfrey introducing myself and making him very aware of my concerns. He was calm and looked a little surprised at my eloquence.
We parted sweetly with smiles on both sides.

So back home to beef sandwiches, cat love and a recorded programme about the Space Shuttle.
Sounded pretty good to me...

:)

Affection

I love the warmth of genuine affection
affection which needs no prompting
that unfurls
uncurls
in the soft hues of this late Christmas night

This night, ribboned with tales of childhood love
we're tied together,
my mother and I
ignited by excited needy tongues
I scatter blue veined talk into the ear of my dear one

and into mine, dropped fragment by fragment,
fractured sentences
love of all sorts being the subject

Words are many though, shot out like bullets
their aim, the heart

And riddled like spent lovers we fall on bloodless Christmas cushions
dreaming of the men we love...


Angela x

Kauto STAR

• Races: 40
• 1st: 23
• 2nd: 7
• 3rd: 4
• Unplaced: 6

And he won the King George VI AGAIN today. A record Fifth Win for the much loved horse. I am blubbing as I type.

But.

Happy for him and his trainer but as sick as an old Mother 'cos I allowed my emotions to get the better of me.

Bugger.

Taking of Mother she has been a real worry today, had me and Mr H. in a dilemma of huge proportions as the three of us huddled together over the bathroom sink I begged her gently to let me 'get help'. She said no.

So we carried her, nearly knocking pictures off me hall wall, into the front room, where she dozed like a gin soaked old biddy.

Might as well have drunk the evil buttermilk I thought, being a tea- totaller hasn't aided her innards any.

Bugger.

On a lighter note.

With a blanket over me legs I watched two episodes of The Professionals whilst turning the pages of a Baking Book whilst putting on Crimson lipstick whilst texting whilst drinking lukewarm tea whilst checking Mother's breathing patterns whilst wondering about small handbag friendly notebooks whilst my tum knocked.

So............. Bravo Kauto and Hello Leftover Beef:)

The Horse Tipped Me Over

Kauto Star

Long Run

BBC website. A photo of Kauto Star, one of dad's favourite race horses. And as I looked I cried and cried. Soppy mare.
That's me, of course, not the horse. Kauto is a Gelding.

All this time it's taken for the flood gates to open and what brought it about? A super horse. And a super dad.
Bugger.

11 year old Kauto is running this afternoon in the King George VI at Kempton against another of Dad's fav's, Long Run. Both swelling his coffers. Therefore mine too....:)

A royal battle till the last fence I expect and one which dad AND mum would have built their day around if, of course, they were still an item.

I asked mum if she'd like a bet (Corals only down the road) she said No.
I thought I'd stroll along and have a tickle but decided I'd rather gallop away from hurt by watching cop shows.

Highlight of the Jump season... and what am I doing watching Bodie's arse.
Bugger.

Nothing new on my back and only pennies in my sack

to sleepland I long to go.

Goodnight All.

2 Yorkshire Tea Breads
1 Victoria Sponge
8 Fluffy Dumplings
3 Mum scents
1 Yellow trifle
70 Dolly Mixtures
1 Phone call
3 Text messages
6 Legitimate Drugs
1 Chicken Casserole
and a Sony Telly in a pear tree:)


And on that joyous note I must make haste.

There'll be no more... until all the food is gone:)

Have a Wonderful time!

GLORIA!

YIPPEE!

I'm fluffed and chuffed because I'll soon be opening all my presents. (2)

I'm also feeling whizzo on account of watching Rocky V last night. What a fabtastic film that was. (not)
Old Rocky knocking every kind of bell out of young gun Tommy Gunn. Didn't like his hair anyway. Stinker. But the film aided my drooping spirits.. so bless you Sly.
And while I watched, mum swallowed a few Dolly Mixtures.
And Mr H. overdid it on the M & M's. His only pleasure.

And then BED. I hid under covers imagining I was tucked in a snow bound hut somewhere North of London. And a spitting fire warmed my small toes.And a man of unusually high height and breadth boomed over me waving a cat o' nine tails asking if I wanted to play...
Then...Monty jumped me, pressing so hard on my booboos I thought they'd explode. No silicone splash though. LOL! Just a few dents.
But bless his heart I suppose he just needed reassurance after all he's finding the 'extra' person in the bungalow a little difficult to deal with. So for comfort, he mugs his mum:)

Today, after I've packed Her safely in the settee, (don't want the old bonebag diving headlong into the coffee table) I'll grab a quick breakfast and do the one thing that pleasures me baby....Cooking!
Prob. make some pukka Irish Soda Bread, Apricot trifle for tomorrow and a few spicy fruity buns. Then prepare tonight's tea. For Mr H and I a Nasi Gorenge and for Mother...I don't know, probably a little chickeny thing.

So m'dears now I must fly. Have a whole lotta loving to do:)

By the way Mr H has just left the bungalow, he's off to town to buy stuff..Present no; 3 perhaps...

A Long Day

Mum couldn't make it to the docs this afternoon so I phoned the surgery...

And after a long friendly chat with the receptionist I finally bagged a chat with her Manager. Then I got what I wanted. A visit by a district nurse.

The nurse then came and did her business whilst talking to mum about weight and energy and bones and London, and after Nurse Sue left I ate three Hobnobs. I was in the mood for anything.
I am desperate.

So tonight I will drink a fusion of Ginger Wine and Cream Soda whilst nattering with Mr H. over thick succulent slices of best boiled gammon. (By the way I put the entire leek in) Then, if it's not too disgustingly late, I might watch Rocky, I II III IV or V. No matter.
The nurse by the way said I was to feed Mother little and often, even full fat food, that won't be a problem tonight I told her, because tonight's pud is a creamy heart stoppingly rich Rice Pudding. Probably add some jam too. If Mother's heart did stop accidentally I'd stop too. Probably forever. Or at least for a week.

Oh I've re-arranged the furniture, and while shoving the settee with mum upon it, I had to laugh.
Here was I...............5ft and 8st, pushing a lump of furniture about without a care for my own back area.

Looks better I have to say, the two armchairs are now side by side, very cosy, but no chance of a major cuddle, especially now Mother is in the room. Which reminds me I simply MUST get a newish t.v for the bedroom, current one has had it. Would be good, if after tucking Mum in, I could sneak to bed and watch something or other. Probably other.

Ho hum Christmas Eve soon and more tending of the elderly, more texting and yet more cooking...And for the last two I Thank God.

I don't like bringing God into my posts but sometimes I can't help it. He kind of pops up/in usually when I'm spent and bloging mercilessly about how harsh life can sometimes be. But if He would grant me two wishes on His Son's Birthday they would be these:

1. Disown all people who are cruel to animals. Especially cats.
and
2. Give me strength.

And on that terrifyingly sombre note I must say Fare thee well.
My gammon needs poking

:)

Night

Ok we survived it.

I must say though in Mother's defence, she really doesn't cause much DISRUPTION. I mean searching for fresh bedding at all hours, scooping her up from the bathroom floor a hundred times a day, and keeping the Kitchen Towel industry going is hardly anything to moan about. IS IT?

Mother dear....She's a feisty old egg. Who, although, past her sell by date, is still floating....(Cooks will get this)

But Today is another glorious day.
One which will be filled with the looking at of bad foot by nursie and the cooking of a nice Bacon Joint:)

Talking of feet and bacon I would like to take this opportunity to say...

I love all my readers.


Singling out...

Nof and Mrs Nof. Mrs Nof, needleworker supreme and the sender of bags and hats. Nof the giver of fine lunches. Next one overdue mate.

The Manc. Penner of extraordinary mail. Some of which make my blood simmer.

The Man from the Met. AKA Blue. Owner of the best pair of Lallies in London. Love him to the point of exhaustion even though he don't listen to my records.

Mr Horsehound. Owner of the finest Confessional in all Christendom. His ears are my sanctuary.

My Sister-in Law. The divine Ms W. A joy. A luvvie. A youthful woman now residing near me.

Sweetie. Retired Constable. Santa all year round. A fine UPRIGHT gentleman.

The Duchess. A Lady in a far away kingdom, now with her dainty mitts around the neck of her Prince Charming. Way to go girl.

Terry. AKA er..... Terry. An old old friend, who doesn't age like the rest of us. A Follower whose comments leave me smiling/wondering... Thanks for your continued support and Fish. x

Jerry. A hardworking grandad man across the Pond who loves of all things British...Mostly telly:(

Moonbeam man. Librarian type who cooks with trimmed eyebrows. Mrs Moonbeam who offered her ears. What a gal.

And others...
Like John Grey. Chicken loving blogger bogged down in Wales or somewhere.
And family type people.

To all these extraordinary people I send, by First Class Mail, my ordinary Love. :)

X

Post Box

Shouldn't have left her.
Mum hugging footstool on my return.
But are we glum mum? No, let's have another cup of tea and watch Britain's Best Dish!

The Italian will win it:)

The beginning of the end or a new begoinnig. Drink but no toast.

Bumpy night.
Cat lumped on my left leg, which was turned towards the main wardrobe.
Numb.
Cat booted.
Then sleep for a bit.
Mr H. up in the dark fiddling to find his long johns.
Methinking " oh please do it quick"
Not likely.

Then winks but not forty.
Awake in an empty bed only to hear Mother coughing.
Blow this.
Up.
A positive stuffy atmos. in the drawing room, so opened windows. Cat interested. If you wanna go walkabout then go, but don't come crying to me when your arse gets damp.
He stay in.

A little later after a dangerously hot shower...
Mother no eat Weetabix. Therefore me get the pip. Grr. So I moaned out with another blasted Mother list and went to the Co-Op, which I hate.

And now, as my tummy screams for fat and stuff, Mother is drinking Ginger Wine in her lurid pink dressing gown.
Me no eat yet.

In the Co-Op I bought, along with alcohol papers and Dolly Mixtures, a long Leek.
It pleased me so much. The very thought of using it tomorrow for Braised Country Bacon makes my simple life worthwhile.

Chatting on the phone while holding a fish slice..

And with Mother doing her impersonation of a drunk.
'Tis the drugs.

Anyway as I whispered filth into the mouthpiece, (it's alright I know the man well) someone rang me bell.
"Hold it hun" I said to Man Friend "Someone's pressing me bell"
"OK Babee but get rid quick"

Eon man in red anorak wanting to get to me meter so his masters can send out, just after Christmas, a jollyless bill.

"You'll need to climb upon me chair" I said holding the fish slice like a wand.
"It's up there, and mind the webs"
Bless his heart there he was, one hand on his thin torch, the other holding a machine with buttons.
He checked and read then checked and re-read then stepped down and thanked me profusely for the use of chair. (Ash)

"Thank you again" said meter man and tripped on the rugged doormat.
He seemed a little flustered, think it might have heard my Man Friend breathing raspily.

Back to my phone call only this time with fish slice between knees.
And then, just as I was giggling (God I hate giggling women) Mother shouted nicely for some more lemonade.
"Hold it, will you?" I answered "I'm busy here"

The conversation went on and on and like a fool I leant against the wall dropping things and feeling things and generally getting in a lather.
But like all excellent things it had to end and so it did. Fantastically.

The fish slice is now clean and dry.

Talking of fish I found a fish finger on the floor of my spare room, must have escaped when I was cracking through the ice on the freezer.

Being held up tonight on account of Mr H's late homecoming is a splendid Cottage Pie.
I loathe keeping a good dinner waiting, it kind of kills the passion. Food is love and love is passion.
And passion should be served Hot.

Not lukewarm, specially on a Wednesday.

No Fancies Today

Today is all about lugging.

But before that I just had to watch Jeremy Kyle's Kindness.
In his show he enriched the lives of people who'd been through the ringer or had made a difference in their community.
Tosh prog?
To many yes.
But it left me feeling healthier.
Kyle can be a bit of a cock sometimes with his polyester hair and faux tough guy act but I suppose today was a tad different.
With the help of an army of colleagues...He made a brave little hairless girl smile, broadened the grin of a brain damaged teenage boy, brought to the viewers attention the work of a former teacher who now helps out NEETS. Lads and lasses not in education employment or training. So congrats to Kyle and his team.

The stage was red with decoration andhad a huge big telly showing a log burning fire, sacks of gifts lay round about and stagehands wore ubiquitous santa caps. I could deal with all this fluff after the hellish day yesterday.
A tinsely ritzy polished performance from Jez was just what the Doctor ordered.
So thanks Jez, cock boy:)

Now to work on lugging...

:)

No Beef For Mother, Not With Her Foot

Just returned from GP's.

Mother has a bad foot caused by a scald. It isn't healing very quickly so the doc and nurse jumped into action.
We will be back on Friday to change the dressing.
We will also be back next Wednesday to see the doc about a few other things, then, it's off to the hospital for a scan. Not of her limbs but of her chest and abdomen, the whole bit in the middle.



The poor lamb is now resting in her fawn coat surrounded by a bulging bag of drugs, my night out has been cancelled. It would have been great to chat over coffee or wine but I can't leave her to her own devices. Not yet:)

I like night time, especially when I gaze up at stars like a child being told about moonmen. I too am agog. I like night time too because I'm a poet.
But I'm not little but I am a poet.
So maybe, after some corned beef, I'll write about the magnificence of living.

Large Meat

I simply had to have it.
So into the trolley it went.
Going to take an age to roast.


Mother Update:

She's getting on my nerves.
Wrong size porridge bowl.
First "No lunch"...then "Where's my lunch?"
Bucket in drawing room for feet.


Meanwhile here I am phoning the surgery so that Madam can get her multiple fixes of ointments, lotions, potions, tablets, powders and pills.

I may try to get OUT tonight, not for long, just a change of scenery on account of me feeling a bit below stairs...

Being poisoned tonight:)
Corned Beef, sliced finely in order to make sure there's enough for sandwiches tomorrow which will be accompanied by wavy chips. Probably 1 ish.
Mashed tatties. Nobs of butter. Too fed up to care about cholesterol.
Peas, nuked. Then sugared and salted.
English mustard, a soupcon.

*

Old Queen of Puddings. A nursery dessert favoured by older people who feel let down by Tiramisu.

A Quick Word...

Carrot.
Large.
Uncut.

Today has seen me faffing all over the place, not for my benefit of course, but for Mother's. Jildy, the man at the Post Office, has kinda given me my own parking space, so often am I in his establishment. Bless him.
We mostly josh about stamps and weights only today he didn't make me laugh...I had to send a postal order by Special Delivery or whatever its called, anyway Jildy said it'd cost over £5! WHAT I bellowed but handed over the cash, it was an Order from Mother so I couldn't disobey. Money to burn she has. Bugger.
And there's me hanging around in charity shops all day...

So off I drove to get more stuff.
The flippetty gibbet in the chemist hadn't heard of 4711 scent so after explaining to her that it was a famous scent from long ago I left yellow hair to her pricing gun...

Then papers...

Then charity shop:) Where I bought a red puffa anorak and three padded hangers.
"You alright?" said Jill
It startles me when people say that because I think I must look A...W....F...U....L
But I grinned like an idiot saying "Yes I'm thank s Jill and thank you for the free toffee"
At Christmas time they always have an open tin for customers/friends to dip into.
Christian charity is fine but no thank you I won't be able to make any services at the Baptist church...

It was raining pussies and hounds on my departure so I strolled to the car just to get wet. To feel something from above. To wake me!

Then home to phone calls a plenty. Not anything to do with me you understand, all to do with Mother's library card, drugs, eyes and diabetes.
I love having her here...

But she does show affection and appreciation by wanting me to drink tea with her. All the time.
I will be old one day and probably in a worse state, (been hitting the champers a lot) and I dare say I'll be cheered by the presence of a great person (probably some burly Lithuanian male nurse) and I'll hang onto his coat because I'm lonely...:(

Cooking tonight:

Roast Chicken
Whole braised carrots (they look so good lengthy)
Peas
Roast potatoes
Stuffing
Gravy

*
Rice pudding and jam.

Now TEA and a little company
:)

What a Woman

Just before I say my bedtime prayers I must have a word.
And that word is Champagne.
Mother had a glass!
What a gal!



More wonderful stuff tomorrow:)

Just made a dozen Devonshire Scones.
Yesterday made a Yorkshire Tea Bread and Austrian Coffee Cake.
I say come one come all.
The world is my worktop.

All these goodies are for a little party I'm having this afternoon, nothing soothes me like having friends round for tea.
I won't however be serving cute cucumber sandwiches.
If my guest requires savouries he's come to the wrong do.


:)

Gas and Raisins

A wee bit chilly willy outside so I'm staying warm inside with the help of my oven.
I haven't gone so far down the road as to not to be able to ignite my gas fire but I feel the warmth from my oven as it bakes bread and other seasonal goodies will do my crotchety joints good

Standing this morning as I so often do with my hip bones pressed against the tables edge, I flipped through a cake book deciding, with the help of the season and all that, to knock out a tea bread or two.
I also had another idea, and that was to make some smaller ones for my neighbours, especially them opposite who dropped through my letterbox the most lovely card. A plump robin perched on a skinny twig. My heart leapt. So for Jo, Steve and Adam a Bara Brith is on its way.

Talking of generosity I asked Mr Horsehound why I make a fuss over people at Yuletide, he said it's on account of my nature and that I can't help it. He's right of course, I can't stem the flow of love which gallops from my body and if I could I'd send baked goods all around the country.
One to Manchester especially, and others to other places aswell.
One teeny weeny thing concerns me as regards food parcels and that's mould.
I could never forgive myself if a package got lost then turned up damp and furry with green stuff growing.
Talking of food parcels I was sent a large packet of Smoked Salmon this luxury fish will be used judiciously on account of it being luxurious and not often in my trolley.

So today, I'm baking and creating and will serve for tea Nasi Goreng, totally un-Christmassy but so yum. Mum will have a slim sandwich.

Talking of which.
Last night was wretched, but she wants a haircut so it's not all gloom:)
Now I must change handbags...

:)

Yes You

Oh God
yes you
Hiding Your face
behind
everything
it's about time
you
yes you
got shot
of Commandments
and
broke your back in the real world
like us

God, my heart
aches

Playing with the sticky stuff

Comfort food for tonight is..................

Bolog. Added fat grated carrot. Go with the flow that's what I always say. Don't procrastinate over small issues or big carrots. Felt better afterwards.
Spag cooked al dente. Want to return to making my own. Will make some and hang it to dry on a coat hanger.
Ched cheese. Parmesan costs the Earth so will stay Home with the ever faithful Cheddar. By the way bought a strong one.
Irish soda rolls warm from the oven. Will slam them in the very moment I get the call from Mr H. He late again. Grrr. Every time I have an evening planned he's late. No midnight whispers in his shell like tonight. Another grrrr.
Mustn't grumble must plug on regardless.

Talking of grumbling and murder Mother asked me, wait for it.... she asked me, just after 5, to evict Monty from the kitchen armchair.
Matricidal thoughts as I eased the poor lamb orf His chair.

....
And for pud I've messed about with a steamed pudding. Into the pudding basin I've dropped some strawberry jam then, just for mischief and art's sake I scattered in like confetti quite a lot of desiccated coconut.
And because I'm feeling like life is wonderful in patches, I'm serving it with hot strawberry blancmange. Firm blancmange is so 1960's. Hot thick and oozing is the way for me.

These small fun activities are keeping me fit in both mind and body.

(.) (.)
^
U

.....Before my day really hots up I must just have a word.
That word being.
THIGHS.

Late last night my Mother ate one.

:)

Tool of Relaxation

A nice lady

A pair of dressmakers scissors were my first major buy of today, followed by groceries, black male socks and tartan style gift wrap.

Sainsbury's was chokka so I took my time but as I drifted along the pasta aisle my heart went funny, a bit bubbly...Oh no I thought as I hung onto the trolley I'm getting the vapours mustn't pass out on account of my wearing of laddered tights.
So...I took deep slow breaths whilst shutting my eyes. Must have looked queer but I couldn't have cared less.
After a couple of minutes my heart got back to normal, although quite what normal is I've forgotten, anyway, I trundled on...

These frequent wobbles are becoming more er frequent so I've decide to chill out at the weekend, limiting my activities to a quiet perusal around a couple of charity shops. Local.
Cooking will be minimal, nothing too fancy or time consuming, by doing this I will take care of my emotional innards.

Relaxing takes many forms for me, sometimes I read or watch a film but usually re-arranging soft furnishings is more beneficial so after this I'll cut up some old blue and white curtains and hang them in the kitchen:)
Then oat biscuits and tea:)
Mother is in the kitchen saying very little:)

After the re-tart of the kitchen and the nibbling of oaty bikkies I'll start on tonight's tea:
Chicken casserole and dumplings.
Really looking forward to diving into that. For pud, lemon and lime jelly with green grapes and ice cream.


Now I must fly, I have scissors to play with:)

I was going to post about old age depression, coughs and scalded feet but hell that's no way to treat an audience so I'll post something good!

Presents.
I got one.
Today.
This afternoon in fact.
I promised NOT to open it, not even to gently ease off a bit o' wrapping paper to see what's therein. So...the LARGE gift is propped up against the fake coals on my electric fire:)

Keeping with the Christmas theme...I also received two smaller but still very important items through the letterbox.
Cards. Big and smaller. Light and heavy.
One from a notorious aunt south of the river the other from my bff across the Pond.

And as I held/clutched them for dear life I visualized them both, the people that is, my notorious aunt is now quite old, and is, by the contents of her letters to me, still the feisty red lipped madam she was in days gone by. Although now she cares for a sick old husband 23/7 and passes the other hour by doing cross stitch. (My dad, by the way, liked Ivy best...)

My bff, someone whom I've yet to meet, is blonde and ballsy and cuts up rough when faced with do or die situations. I like her very much. One day she keeps telling me, we will enjoy English tea together on my 'porch'. Bless her brave heart, I don't have the bottle to tell her my 'porch' isn't really a 'porch' just a faded red doorstep holding a faded old plant pot.
But I would LOVE to meet her despite our communication failures.



Right I've had my say, now I must tend Mother's catalogue of ailments and tend my Toad:)

Nothing But Christmas On My Mind

The mantelpiece is looking perfectly pretty.

Hanging Wooden stars fringed with golden glitter, cards squashed together on account of a blue Father Christmas, his soft clothed legs hanging over the mantelpiece. No room for his sack. Two Tiffany style lamps edging perilously close to destruction, expecting annihilation soon, Mother's murder books the soon to be culprits. Families, homicide and Christmas going together like pudding and brandy butter.

Two Victorian style kids (about 10) in bonnets and capes stand trapped in a love gaze waiting for someone to lift them up and twist their underskirt mechanics in order to set them skating on their tiny wonderland rink.

Another jolly card, showing a miserable cat wearing silly baubles. I imagine the puss thinking.."When this silly woman has finished I'm going out and aint coming back till New Years Eve, LOL"

And the showpiece, a centrepiece of Yuletide joy, a dark ivy green 18 inch long thing with holes for three candles. Hanging from its centre, a fairy-tale red plastic apple and to the left another apple. The best thing about this decoration is its no-messing about hugeness.
But that hasn't stopped me adding.............

What else?
A couple of rogue pills, not mine, mine are smaller and whiter, a hairgrip, not mine, my hair too short to grab hold of, a list of television channels written BOLD, not for me, me don't do much telly any more and finally
a card with snowy olde church theme, for me.

I will, given the chance, lovingly flick through a recipe book looking for a simple festive Fruit Cake recipe. I think I may have one or two:)


Being cooked tonight:

Toad-in-the-Hole with onions and sage
Mashed pots with butter
some kind of veg, probably colly,probably steamed
a little jug 0'gravy

*

Queen of Puddings with Strawberry Jam:)


Now I must FLY>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
x

Oh what a day

Some days are best forgotten...Today is one.

Not that it got the better of me or anything ordinary like that, it just drained every drop of life out of me.
But it's coming to an end now and I am ready for bed, how long I sleep is not important, what is important is that in a little while I'll be out of this chemical/form filled/wheelchaired world. And my mind will be free to roam. Probably to palaces and shacks. Whatever. They are all home to me.


Mum had a big appointment today, and with her usual amazing fortitude went through the ghastly procedure without so much as a delicate murmur.

Tests will be done again but she was allowed out into the cold night air with nothing but letters for her GP. When she was wheeled out through the hospital doors I was so pleased to see her that immediately my own health felt better. (I fainted this morning) So over the moon was I that I chatted on and on to the taxi driver about football and rugby and swimming pools... mum and John being their usual quiet selves just enjoyed the Christmas fairy lights which brighten the roadsides of Rochford.

At the moment she is on the settee frail and pale and drinking Lucozade, she's been through a terrible dark tunnel today lined with tubes, needles, greyness and uncertainty but she's in my living room now sitting small and proud wrapped in clothes too big but looking every inch a Madam, and her palace, her home from home, is bedecked with twinkling fairy lights of red and blue and white.

What a tough little fairy:)

This post has taken an hour to write...

The Very Thought Of....

...making a Gingerbread is making me Happy. Rich damp and dark, with treacle and, for added vavavoom, an icing made with ginger jam.

...taking mum to the hospital tomorrow is chilling me a little. A big test. So no sustenance for her today or tomorrow. I'll make it up to her soon by filling her with non-healthy food as prescribed this morning by her London G.P. Pastries, butter, full cream milk and other life enhancing fat producing foodstuffs. Sounds good to a fat lover like me:)

...reading yet another 50p cookbook (tea time recipes in flip top book) comforts me like the wearing of old socks.

...seeing friends helps the heart like nothing else. Even hearing voices jingles my bells. So the thought of eye to eye shivers me timbers somewhat. Can't wait matey!

...compiling a Christmas grocery list, chestnut puree and cider being tops. Beef for the Big Day, decent sized so lots of leftovers for sandwiches by the fire. Smoked salmon offcuts for my Salmon Puffs and a big fat Red Cabbage spiced and laden with fruit and sugar to go with a small Pork shoulder joint. Smashing hot even tastier cold. That's both the pork and cabbage!

...deciding where to put my 25p Cockerel and Chicken cushion covers, probably kitchen. They are cotton embroidered with luscious fat birds in warm Autumnal greens and browns. American I think.

...a BBC talent show being aired in the new year, warblers will have their day in front of. amongst others, the Legendary Tom Jones. I hope the Welsh belter is kind and doesn't don the Hat of Hate. So tired of tv vitriol.

...Sticking my plastic wreath on the front door gives unto me a feeling of Joy.

...writing Christmas cards lifts me from the pit of worry and rockets me to a bright snowy place where a Robin sits aloft a spade dug deep into the earth....

...Christmas shuffles the blues away:)

Bed bed I cry
for on it soon I will lie
and in its soft dents
dream of money ill spent...

Bed bed I sigh
for in it I will cry
for friends far away
to whom I must say

Goodnight sweethearts...

Positively glowing with adrenalin am I.

Pillbox, plug and haddock being major buys of the day.

And as I strolled through the crowds on this beautiful sunlit day I had not a care in the world.

Mum was safely propped indoors armed with remote control and drug bag. No need to rush thought I.

And so I dawdled along the Southend High Street knocking into gals in tiger print tops, men in white anoraks and Ladies in XXL viscose trousers. And I loved them all.

And then as we entered Poundland I remembered last Christmas and how cold and stressed I was then, Dad was on my case then you remember, and I promised myself there and then by the shampoo that whatever happens on Tuesday and thereafter I'm going to wear tinsel in me trilby!
Blow You!

Big sigh.

Tonight we'll see who wins the X Factor, but if I'm honest, I'm not really fussed. Kind of lost interest since Johnny left. Which reminds me I had to pop into a mini-Sainsburys on my way home and my cash was taken by Mark, the campest cashier EVAH! Loved him and he me on account of my "OOOH aren't I the lucky one?" as he dropped into my hand a penny. "Just for you dahling" he said.
What joy it is to spend a couple of minutes with a fun person.

That reminds me I bought a mock silver ring with a bumble bee welded on.

Mum's being a pain again by lying about hunger, she had me spitting feathers after refusing beans on toast, she will wait she said for some poached haddock.
Aren't old people horrible?


Want Marcus or Amelia to win X Factor...I think I was gabbling on about that earlier....
Isn't middle age a bastard?

My earlier post was lazy.
Few words on account of a mind too soggy to form proper sentences.

I've had a stinker of a day. Tried to get mum to agree to going to hospital after a collapse, but the fighting old bird said NO.
Her demeanour today has been a fusion of WTF/Sadness/Fear.
If, what I've seen today, continues in to this evening and tomorrow morning I will disobey her. For once.

Being cooked tonight.

Lovely fluffy Cod Burgers
Homemade Soda Rolls
Chips
Sweetcorn
*
Eve's Pudding and Custard.

Avon lady. Hurry up. I need starry amethyst glitter on my eyelids.

Lady in Co-Op. You were so friendly. Uplifting. Big thank you. Reduced cucumber sticker not getting you down.

Soda bread rolls. To make. Can't wait. Bread making, the ultimate tranquillizer.

Secondhand recipe book (50p) all Christmas food around the globe. Something thick I can dive into. And wallow in. Possible new found friend. I like thick friends.

Cod Burgers. Baked Fish cakes on top of little Gem lettuce crowned with low fat mayo, shredded cu and paper thin sliced tomato. Buttered Soda rolls to hold the lot.

Snooker. Hoo Hah over Mark Allen's comments still causing a stir. He's right. Barry Hearne. Big Beast and quite common. If he tinkers with the World Championship, I fear a massive walk-out...Not really:) Change is inevitable, even in snooker but to mess wid it has upset my tummy and view on things. Is nothing sacred?
Doughnut (s). Bought yesterday. Could be stale. But will risk it.
Tea. Endless sloshes of the blooming stuff. Tea is my alcohol.

Tiny brown click top purse (30p) embossed with a lady and gentleman. Deutsche looking. Mini holdall for munny.

Now I must go back into The Room. Where Mother slopes and which the cat avoids:(

Cheerio!

TRUMP V. ROBERTSON. NOW. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!

I'm as high as a kite.
What has brought this on I have no idea.
Or maybe a little bit of an idea.
Love. In all its forms.

Is it Buddhists who say that to lose 'self' is the finest thing of all.
Well I've kind of lost my 'self'.
Holding up Mother has taken away most of my self-interest, and that can't be bad. NO longer is my every day all about me, what I wear or eat or who I text. Putting mum up has dismissed life as I knew it.


There's tremendous freedom in being encased in others.
I'm free to lose me.
And that's no bad thing.

This post is all about me ;)
Some things never change...

The Snooker Championship is on!
And a Hoorah for that!

Just been watching Dominic Dale playing the impossibly named Judd Trump. I love Dale but his hairstyle ages him, say about 40 years, meanwhile Uber cool Trump looks exactly what he is...a kid!
I can't begin to say how glad I am that there's an old pal in my drawing room, always loved watching it and rooting for someone or other...Nothing quite soothes like something familiar.

Ronnie O'Sullivan knocked out Davis yesterday, I knew that because I caught bits of it in between doing my nursing duities. More on that later...Back in the 8o's Davis was my main man, always cool under pressure and always pleasant to watch unlike O'Sullivan who, to me, is the worst kind of 'sportsman' tetchy and precious and sometimes downright rude.
Never gracious in defeat and under the tuf nut bravado, a bit of a mummy's boy.
No, O'Sullivan is not on my 'must watch' list.

Talking of must watch lists...
After a long chat with mum's GP we both decided that it's best she stays here with me until her legs get better.
His choices for her were blunt. She either becomes a part-time Essex girl or gets hospitalized. Going home is not an option.
Legs too weak, brain ok, likelihood of a fall high. So with us she stays.
I've already got her on my GP's books where today she had some blood tests , now I/we wait...Her Gp will talk with my GP and decide on course of action. Surely the Queen couldn't be better cared for. Half the bloody country is rooting for her now she has to do her bit and abide my my rules.
And do everything the medics say. Otherwise she'll be in for a very black Christmas:)

I have a million things still to do today, one of them being the rearranging of furniture, always a joy...
I have a mad desire for space and air and light and leg room.
Other mad desires are:
In no particular order:

Ink pen.
Gyrations on the dance floor.
Gyrations on any floor.

Now I must shift the sofa whilst packing up mother on a chair whilst watching snooker whilst thinking about meatballs whilst thinking about Sweeties...


:) :) :)

Night Time Trip

Tonight's covering sky is no different to any other sky
'cept, this blackblue air keeps me from shooting, powering myself into outer heaven
that
warm endless marshmallow slumberville where humans without wings
flatter Angels with their charm
where immortals hobnob with flying spirits
and where tribes of fiery folk sip water from blessed palms
I would, if I could, surrender to this palace of knowledge
this home of the laughing dead
But I am here foot solid on earth
looking through dusty blinds up to the sky.

Come and join the Party

Update from this mornings post...

Talking in advert breaks isn't exactly the way to make plans for life.
But we discussed and came quietly to a half-cocked agreement.
She'd do the sensible thing and open her mouth to her GP and I would continue to fume:)
Not really fume. Just get slightly warm over her recent unwillingness to make a legitimate fuss over health issues.
Got to speak up Mother. If you don't bother, who will?
So tomorrow we will go back to London to do blood tests and chat informally with doc about pencil thin legs and vomit.

My beef casserole is coming along nicely.

And so, with fingers crossed that Mr H. gets home at a decent time (arrived last night an hour late) I'll cheerily natter whilst serving beef soaked dumplings and grape jelly:)

A quick after thought...Jeremy Clarkson is not my cup of tea. His juvenile antics leave me wishing he'd feel the force of poverty or better still, a run in with a decent bout of depression.

Cheerio.

Dairy of a Carer
Day 985...



Last night. Late.
Sandwiched between settee and coffee table.
The little lady lay.
Skeletal.
But arms of son-in-law and hands of child
soon have mama propped.

A decent little poetical effort and so soon after chat about night-time spectres...

My cough, by the way, kept everyone awake:)

After making myself some water based porridge I gave mum a big bowl of fat milked cornflakes, which, I have to say, aren't a patch on any other cereal. Lack guts, muscle I think. Ok for snacking on, maybe while watching an afternoon movie or playing footsie with a man. At any rate cornflakes suck.

I will, as the day 'progresses', feel more human and humane, she can't help feeling the way she does nor can she do much about it so I and maybe others will prop and medicate till her legs have bones again.


Now I must fly:)

I Love Cooking...

And nothing pleases me more than being trapped in a kitchen, any kitchen, touching and making food.
Tonight's offering to Mr H. and Mother is Chilli Con Carne, rice and tortilla chips. I've had to scale down the chilli on account of her Majesty, don't want to add tummy trouble to her mile long list of ailments. The dark red chilli will be rich and packed with chunks of green pepper, slithers of onion and fat ruby red kidney beans. Have also included a sprinkling of paprika which adds a touch of sunset orange to the pot. Canned tomatoes dashed with tomato puree add even more exotic colour and, to beef it all up two Oxo cubes and plenty of black pepper.

I am not pure.

I don't baulk at the idea of using stock cubes, ketchups or shop bought chutneys to make my dishes better but there are things I won't use. Cook-In Sauces.
Whenever I see someone, usually a lady, in Sainsbury's, browsing through Sauce shelves I want to tell her not to do it.
Better to rustle up your own barbecue sauce dear by mixing together ketchup, vinegar, sugar, pepper, garlic, sauteed onions, water, mustard and a few other things...............(Who's got the time?)

Anyway.
An excellent sausage sauce can be made by swishing together honey and ketchup. Why bother with Mr Homepride? And you need a can opener or be willing to break a nail or something on a blasted ring-pull.
If one has a half decent storecupboard one can dispense with expensive salty syrupy dangerous goo.
I digress.
Tonight's excellent Mexican STYLE dinner/tea will be a little late because I've been nattering to mum, actually I've been bending her ear violently in response to her needing many hands to hold her together/upright.
"Never get ill, never get old" She said

So after dealing with her fears and pyjamas I allowed some private time out just for me. And during this exquisite brief sojourn I promised myself some things.

1. Not to jump ahead, to 2012. To stay in the Now.
2. To lighten my hair, a touch, a ray of sunlight over the steel greyness of impending middle age.
3. To widen my horizons, as necessary as home cooked grub and as exciting as life itself.
4. To freak out occasionally, losing it is good for the soul.
5. To be silent, silence gives grace to a woman, never been much of a talker anyway.

All this to-do recently with mum has given me the pip. She's a star whose twinkle has been dulled by loss, loss of her loved one and loss of body fat.
A once shapely vital woman has seen her immaculate stuffing and pretty manicured nails fall to bits. And on seeing this I've become not only a bit more mental but a lot more in love with life.

Life never fails to shock!

:)

Today's Special

Beef Casserole chock full with sliced carrot, diced potato, onion wedges and nipped swede... then after a few hours topped with eight small dumplings. I've added some dried thyme, Worcestershire sauce, bay leaf and plenty of black pepper. Salt kept to a minimum on account of using two oxo cubes. Taste and check along the way you might find you need to add a little extra. Each his own.

For sweet...Eastern Rice Pudding.
This is exotic warm and spicy. Add a little cinnamon, ground cloves, light brown sugar and creamed coconut to the rice and milk then top with shavings of butter and bake as normal. I didn't have any creamed coconut this morning so I improvised by dropping in some dessicated coconut. Haven't used the dried stuff before but I think it should turn out alright.

Also being made today is a Banana Loaf. Mary Berry recipe using simple storecupboard ingredients and two over ripe nanas lounging at the bottom of the fruit bowl.
This is smashing!

A quick word about last night's X Factor.

Dull.

Be interested to see who gets the boot. Girl group Little Muffins exchanged woeful stories about overweightedness and becoming strong through experience. Joy boy Marcus cruised, dotty Irish girl Janet forgot her lyrics. This child has no place in the world of entertainment. Meanwhile Misha has. She rocked. But despite that and her new found tears I still don't dig her.

This year is turning out to be interesting.


No need to waffle on about family upheavals, you all know about that.




But there is something I must waffle about and that is the fact that I am now the stunned owner of a real Fox Fur Coat.


Mr Horsehound and I took a stroll to Hockley and the charity shops therein...


In 'Friends of Lions' I saw a cream faux fur jacket. I tried it on and it looked fab sweetie and as I swung it about the manageress nosed in asking whether I'd be interested in the real thing. This real thing she said couldn't be sold but a donation of £10 would do nicely.


Quick look to Mr Horsehound.


I said "Yes, love to".


She then disappeared for a few moments, presently popping up with a knee length coat.
It was Divine.
Dark brown with delicate variegations.


I grabbed it and slipped away to the changing room...


Upon donning it I instantly knew it was "just right". All I had to do was stump up the necessary...


Mr H. prised open his wallet and I retrieved a brown one with her Maj blinking in the unaccustomed light.


I handed over the cash to the little elderly volunteer manning the till and thought she was about to collapse so excited was she at the sale of something glamorous. Beats bowls and blouses.


So out Mr H and I went, me feeling like a femme fatal and Mr H. feeling poorer. We dived into the nearest shop doorway where I flung off me old coat and shimmied into the little red beast...


Pic to come.....

I've been away but now I'm back!

And looking forward to the weekend so much.... IT'S UNREAL MAN!

But first I must engage in a wee bit o' tittle tattle...

As mum and I fell through/out of the eye hospital's heavy doors I saw in the misty damp distance a black cab. Me say YES so......with my coat flung about and Mother with her one good eye I waved like a Star on the Red Carpet hoping Crazy Cabbie man would take pity on us, pull over and stop in the NO STOP area.

He did and what a character he was.

Before asking what particular road we required, he told me I looked exhausted and there and then, in a sort of no stop zone, poured, from HIS polystyrene cup into another polystyrene cup, a good 6 inches of steamingly hot coffee. I was stunned. But then...blessed and thanked him and, with a new found faith in mankind, shoved Mother onto the seat whilst holding onto the warm white cup of goodness.

I could easily love this MAN.

Anyway he shot off at a rate engaging in non-typical conversation which went something like this...
(Make allowances for roughly remembered conversation this is due to temporary memory loss and not enough carbohydrates.

St Cabman " You alright back there?"

Bewildered shattered me "Yes and thanks for the sustenance"

Giggle giggle.

"St Cabman "You from round these parts?
"You what?"
"Not a London gel are ya?"
"Hold it right there sunshine, I am a London gel born and bred. Mate."

Laughs sweetly whilst gliding around a cyclist.


"So where you bin today then?"
(Flipping cheek these cab drivers have, but one such as this is worth sharing a jest or three with...)

"I have been south of the river and am now the other side of the river with a one-eyed Mother who needs to get home Pronto. Dear."

"AAHHHHHH! You're funny" The Saint said
"You got a boyfriend?"

Well....that made gooey eyed mum laugh. Miracle.

"I love all men especially cheeky chappies like what you are"
Another gutsy very loud laugh....from the grey haired driver.

By this time we were crawling past Paddington Station and likkle emotionally drained moi was on her last legs and mum, bless her scarred and battered one eyed head, was heaving with various pains and afflictions. And it's at times like these that I want to love love love, even bawdy taxi men. Just a particular trait of mine...when life is scaring the hell out of one I do take on the garb of romantic/wisewoman/jester. Anyway I digress. Back to the yarn...

He continued. Driving and Talking...

"So where you from now then?"

"Essex"

OMG I shouldn't have uttered the E word on account of it bringing out in him every Blonde Essex Girl joke.

I interjected loudly...
"I AM NOT AN ESSEX GEL, WELL NOT REALLY. I HAVE RUBY RED LONDON BLOOD FIGHTING TO GET ROUND MY FURRED UP ARTERIES, SO STOP IT YEAH WITH THE WHITE STILETTOS JOKES. You are an angel though" I said misting up the glass which divided him and I.

BUT.

It was when we arrived at our destination that St. Cabman (Bill) became an Angel...
As he knew I'd be travelling back to Sarfend later that afternoon he offered to pick me up after I'd done me mum's shopping and drive me to Liverpool St station... on account of my wit.
But the best thing, the very best thing was that he slashed the fare by half:)
I nearly choked with emotional utterances about generosity and how East London boys like him made me proud to be English. (He resides in Docklands. Rented accom.)
And so after dealing with my sweet but definite 'no thank you darling' he helped with the bags.

And had the last word.

"Don't cost anything to be cheery" he said and then couldn't get back in his cab on account of locking the driver's door...:)
But with an optimistic valiant wave he jumped in the other side and flew away like the Angel he was.

Bless you Bill x

I am in a positive mood tonight, on account of Bill and all other Male Saints I know so will indulge in tea and a film with a Supernatural bent.

Cheerio:)

Thursday wrote Mrs Horsehound...

Home.
Sweet.


Mum was ready by the time I'd arrived (9 a.m.) so after a quick cuppa we bussed our way to the docs.

After an hour or so we were on our way back..by foot. And her choosing to walk instead of getting a cab or bus made my morning.

She'd been pulled and tinkered with at the surgery but it didn't stop her dawdling around Waitrose picking up meat a little later on... I was so pleased. She is far from excellent health but an interest in food is always a good sign.

Back indoors we chattered away like a couple of parrots till it was time for me to leave...

I left and it was chilly outside so I wrapped myself in a large brown scarf and sat motionless on the tube...
I'd be fibbing if I said I wasn't shattered by the to-ings and fro-ings and comings and goings so I let myself chill on the busy tube train, nothing to read just my hands on my lap clutching my brown patent leather handbag.
Aaah lovely....

And then I woke!
As the woman on the Tannoy told all that we were now at WHITECHAPEL.
WHITECHAPEL? What was I doing at WHITECHAPEL. I'd drifted off to bloody sleep and missed Liverpool Street station by two stops. Soppy Fool.
I leapt from my seat, jumped off, scrambled around platform 1 ran up steps ran down steps like a whippet on acid and then on platform 2 waited...and waited... Funny how enforced waiting leads to deep and meaningful thinking.
I was away, away with demonic fairies ,and as they played and toyed with me, and as they filled my head with their sentimental gushings and warnings I simply told myself "TGIF. Soon." I have a day of freedom tomorrow and a mixed bag of jollities for the weekend..... so I waited for the Hammersmith and City line train and let the November wind rough my cheeks.

I got home and immediately fed Monty. I then, for my mind's sake, took comfort in District 13 Ultimatum. Fantastic. Damien saves the dispossessed once again. Utter nonsense, but isn't all fantasy?

Even though I'm wearing a large full blue Pashmina I'm still going to make dinner. A big bowl of meaty Ravioli with a tomato and Mascarpone sauce and to dunk....garlic bread. For freshness a salad of tomatoes and cabbage leaves dressed in olive oil and lemon juice.

Pudding will be a blue and white bowl of mellow Cornish ice cream.

What sweet way to end a post:)

I'm sure Today's Wednesday

I'm losing track of space and time.
Been in London a lot too.
Oh and my monitor went bonkers...hence no posts!

So aswell as being screenless, I've been propping up dear Mother, doing all the things a good daughter should, things like dealing with docs, officials, cash flow, Waitrose and feet. But in all this time I haven't forgotten about my blog. How I'd have loved to spew out vitriol as I listened to mum's upstairs neighbours screaming their greasy heads off as I tried to sleep and how I'd love to have penned a few words over the impossibly inept council officers who wouldn't know sense if it came and smashed their faces in. But I couldn't. I couldn't let anything out and so as my arms ached my heart did too.
Staying at mums has been a jolly sick mix of late nights/early morns and non-stop tea making. It's enough to make me dive into a bottle.
Talking of which, I was so zonked last night after a mad cap day with mama that I poured into my moon time milky drink a slow pour of brandy. I think it did the trick because I overslept this morning!

This afternoon after returning from Sainsbury's I fell asleep again, this time in full clothes with Monty on my tum. Didn't matter. Nothing really does.
All that really matters is good health.

So with my gamine haircut, slimmed down tum and sturdy bitch queen boots I'm off to London again tomorrow this time very early...Mum has to have her stitches removed and I'll be grabbing a few minutes with her doc to chat about a dozen or so things.

But then it's Friday:)
And so off with the bovver boots and on with the cutesy kitten heels.
I'm going to damn well partay!

Cooking tonight: Nasi Goreng. Chocolate Cake. Brandy flavoured Ovaltine.

Thoughts

Looks like a wonderful day weatherwise...
Wonder if I could convince the little Lovely to come with me and Mr H. to the pub!

My hair is wild so am eagerly awaiting Lisa with her scissors.

Remembrance service looks like it will be bathed in Autumn sunshine. The music, the crowds, the old warriors and families of old warriors marching...all life affirming....

And on that upbeat note I say far thee well.

Late Night Musings

~I was pleased to see Amelia back on the X Factor, I liked this girl from the start. And because of the rubbish surrounding Frankie ,the cute pink haired singer was centre stage once again. Might give bully girl Misha something to think about.

~I've been listening to classical music and unlike pop music, it relaxed me. Soul music though makes love to me like nothing else. I suppose I like the pain.

~War Heroes. Every year I wear a paper poppy. And this year one particular soldier is on my mind. He was killed in Afghanistan early in the year, and in one of his letters home he said he liked doing his bit for 'Aunt Betty'. I wondered what Her Majesty thought on hearing that...

~I've always thought I have a steel rod for a spine instead of a common or garden boney length, but sometimes I think God had a laugh when putting me together, He, being the consummate magician stuck inside me a cord of knotted silk. Very beautiful but very tender. Apt to tears and fraying especially when knocked about a bit.

~To be or not to be that is the question, whether tis nobler in the head to be consumed by the cushion of depression or, to take a stand against brutality and, by sticking two fingers up, remain sane. Upright.

~I have a giant chicken defrosting and will roast the poor unfortunate tomorrow. My schedule for tomorrow has changed so therefore I won't be hanging around here all day.

~There's a pink frozen rose in the garden, it's hanging its head, its once rounded pretty face shrivelled and scorched by frost...and being a sensitive person I can't bear to think of it suffering, in pain or distress. Do flowers feel? If so I wish it would die.
Overnight.

~Goodnight all:)

Saturday's Don't Come Any Better Than This

Prove me wrong Frank

Oh My Lord...Me at 16...Tizer and a crush on Tom the greengrocer

England v. Spain. ITV. 4:45 p.m. I'm sure I'll keel over one day at the sound of our national anthem and the sight of our brave boys all lined up ready for action. Armada and Drake and all that. Racist? Moi? Si. But only in the football arena.
Spaghetti with Pukka Bolognaise sauce. Garlic rolls. And a Becks beer. 1. Small.
And a Frankie Cocozza free X Factor. Bleating about drugs and girls has booted the kid out.. Rock Star? In your big head dear.

I'm fizzing with excitement and it's not even midday.

Clothes are laying about willy nilly, unwashed dishes are mountainous and the birds are demanding feeding...But all I can think about is my England and what a major-cock up Capello has made as regards the John Terry thing.
Saddling Lacklustre Lampard with the Captaincy is like putting me in charge of the World Bank:) I'd have a go but at the end of the day John, I'd fail and we'd all be broke.

So after penning this I'll whizz around getting things in order:
Food for today
Food for tomorrow
and
General Pottering

The drain needs doing.

Come On England:)
X

Listening to Andrew Motion on Radio 4. Laurels and Donkeys.
Poems about Remembrance Day.
Stopped me in my tracks.
Seems I still have a heart.



This morning Mum and me went shopping, well I shopped while she sat on a stool by the door. The ladies were very sweet and understanding. None of them mentioning her bruised head. After a rest she sorted through the shelves finding for herself, eight books, all crime.
I found a big carpet style bag, perfect for weekends away. I also bought a book of Pasta Sauce recipes.
Also bagged was one gloriously camp/retro gift for a friend, it's brand new, so I must like my friend very much!

I have to sign off now, because I'm having a cook-in, bit late in the day to bang pots and pans and cut and slice and layer and flavour but if I skip the tea I should be done quite soon.

Being braised tonight is a simple beef casserole with humpy bumpy dumplings and, to lighten the late night supper, a very bright cherry pie. Red before bed, if you like!

In a pickle in a woolly

Liam

Liver

Thank you John, for your words...

Ok here's how to aid an older lady to full fitness...Load her with Liver. More on that later...

The miniature warrior has been an angel today not because she was born that way but because she has obeyed.
Firstly by staying put when I roared off to the shops and secondly by imparting unto me pearls of wisdom. Made me wonder what she got up to when I was a baby.
Anyway the tottery thing lipsticked up, read her papers and ate better than ever. Happy daughter...
First to be cut up was a 1p.m. plate of pie and mash, slowly followed by a strawberry yoghurt. Tea was plentiful likewise diet cola.
A little later in the day I had an appointment, so warily left her Majesty with the remote control and the fire on...I can't keep worrying over whether or not she'll set fire to houses, she's old, not daft.
So off I skipped...

Then for tea I made one of her favs, Liver and Bacon, the lamb's liver was cooked perfectly and topping it was a rasher of crisp bacon and crowning the buttery mash a small mound of tawny onions. Peas and gravy accompanied. She woofed the lot. As I'll be having a major cook-in tomorrow I thought it best NOT to over do the dessert so handed her a miniature swiss roll wrapped in a paper towel.

She looked happy and relaxed as she nibbled gently, watching Liam Neeson smash the Albanian gang of kidnappers.
I, on the other hand, had real people to be heavy handed with.

Today's weather has been a November kind of weather... rough winds, early morning fog, only highlight being the colour of fallen leaves... I continually quoted Keats...But....I bet he wasn't being blown rough-shod around a Southend car park when singing about seasons of mellow fruitfulness.
Bugger. Poet.

Autumn always sees me in a pickle.
Crisp white blouses or sexless thick ribbed woollies?
Gives me a headache it does.

Anyway that's enough about ME. This post is about Mother and how well she's recovering from her massive head injury. She continues to amaze with her never-say-die attitude and her lust for offal.

:)

Aaaah what is this life is full of care we have no time to stand and stare.
Stand and stare?
What I wouldn't give to be able just to stand, let alone stare.

...On Monday morning mum phoned, she had fallen over and cut her head. Oh dear. So I talked her through what to do and what not to do, meanwhile Mr H and I phoned 999 as we made haste to London in a taxi...

We arrived at her place to find a mess, blood and no mum.
So back into the taxi to St Mary's.

On arrival we found the tough little bird bandaged and hungry and chomping to be released.

But our wonderful NHS had other ideas.

Had you been drinking they asked...It's the first thing they think of when someone falls. PFO is the medical term. You work it out. NO she hadn't been imbibing just tripped on the loose carpet, which is now history!
Why are you wobbly? Er...old age, diabetes, stick thin legs
Are you on any medication? He, he, he, what I don't swallow aint worth taking.

After exhaustive tests they found her to be anaemic with one of her kidney's not quite up to scratch. Her treasure chest of prescription drugs caused ripples of laughs, mainly down to me of course...How I love to make jokes when I'm scared witless.
Her cornucopia of meds weren't quite cutting the mustard so changes have been made, hopefully we'll see a little improvement.



So.... they stitched her head, gave her a bed and discharged her last night...She is now back in the community.

A sweet and sour friend of mine drove us all the way home to Essex where little mum is now propped up with murder tv and baked beans..

It just gets better and better :(

What this pocket rocket wants/needs/craves is Champagne, steak and kissing.
Maybe if I had stitches........................:)

Craig

Last night's Chilli was fabulouso.
Wish I could say the same for the Doh! Factor.
Little Bully Misha dared to copy Tina in an attempt to win friends. Her rendition of Proud Mary, which is one of my all-time favourites, had me growling...Only one Diva can blast that one out.... The faker even attempted a not-so-much slap look. Her wig was a giant bubble of black froth which sat uneasily on her bonce.
I wish I could like the girl because she does have star quality but since finding out she's catty and a bully I've had it in for her. Endured my share of bullying at school and once a bully always a B.

Johnny Robinson's performance was not his strongest but I still think he'll go through to next week. Likewise The Risk.
Also loved Craig Colton. A big boy with voice to match. Cheeky and with enough charm to win votes. And that's what counts. I bet he was a beautiful baby...
The Devil performed again in the form of Ms Brucknell. Said it before and will say it again...there is something of the underworld about her. Her eyes and brows are just too blazingly evil to even glance at.
A fake with mastery- of -the- world on her to-do list.
Who else did I suffer?
The girl group. Who are, according to the judges, just ordinary gels like what I am. They even live in ordinary places like you do, places like Essex and up North and places in between. One of them has a size issue.
Boring.

I will watch the result show tonight despite my protestations......Because I love show biz..even in it's sickliest form:)

Being cooked today..
Roast Chicken veggies and Yorkshire pudlets
There'll be no dessert though...

I need to rest the inner walls of my tummy after last night's Strawberry Mouse...A more wickedly decandent afters I don't believe I've had. Pure fat and sugar..everything a growing girl needs and this girl will grow if she carries on like this:)
No seriously though, the Mousse was so light and beautiful it could have been brought down from on high...Plump, full and with a rosy hue and serving it with crunchy oat biscuits was inspired...
I'm aching to make more.

Other cooking to do soon...Minestrone soup (so thick I can stand a wooden spoon up in it) said my dad. I know Minestrone should be thin but I don't do thin.
I like thick. In everything. Bread. Cake wedges. Biscuits. Dumplings and people.

And on that incendiary note I'll say fare thee well...:)