A Horsehound Thought: Don't Faff About!

Have to do some tackling today.
First tackle? Getting to slippery grips with garden detritus. There's tons of the non-blooming stuff! Mostly old trees.
Not being one for worrying too much about appearances I've disregarded in a major manner the side garden and left to rot stumps and old branches from killed trees but now it's giving me the pip so action action...
Help though may be at hand in the shape of a big shouldered mate;)

Other tackles include cleaning the kitchen window, bedroom window and windows to my soul (my eyes aren't looking luscious on account of a 4:30 wake up shout) :(
So later on after I've gleamed the kitchen glass I'll wash my eyes out and smooth cooling cucumber in the dark craters under my eye sockets.
Yuk!
Still even great beauties like what I am have their orf days;)

Further tackles include dealing with mum's daily rages. Latest one aimed at the general medical profession... She'll have something to say to say tomorrow she said, when the district nurse turns up AND someone from the surgery. Oh dear. She wants to know why her ears are ringing and why her legs are wobbly.
Listening to her was both painful and funny.There she lies, stricken with just about everything and she's going on about 'rushing' in her ears and her inability to wash her own self.
If ever a woman was more determined to ignore the salient facts regarding her trio of cancers then it's my mummy.



More tackles.... pies and puddings:)

Fluffy Haired Afternoon.
New Garden Bench With Bird Detail.
Boiled Bacon.


My Life.
Today.

But Who Knows About Tomorrow...

Coiffured Barnet A.M.
Used Troughs.
Lentils.

Ain't Life Wonderful?

Blow You

I said and set about plating up a positively luscious tea time treat for Mother whilst the Africa Cup of Nations played out on ITV 4. The Good Lord moving in mysterious ways...

It's funny you know how a bit of something familiar comforts, nay, saves a drooping spirit. A press on the remote and my ears and eyes were treated to colour and noise that only a footie match brings. Bless you mad Africans.

Talking of food and souls I can't possible cook tonight so it's a quick oven-job for Mr H. Probably something with chips. He'll understand, he's very good that way.

Before I go to bed I must not forget to make yet another sugar free jelly, mum getting addicted. Still if they make her feel good then wibble wobble away!
What else, oh yes I've had an awful head today, started at the temple (right) and slowly cruised around till it got settled and held my head in a vice like grip. Would have given and taken anything to shift it, but it's eased up a little, no doubt rivers of sugarless tea helping. Tea, the a universal panacea.
What I really wanted though was a man.

Bought some excellent breaded ham.

Being rustled up for tonight's tea is Chicken Banjo.

Legs. Skinned.
Red onions. Sliced finely.
Some Chicken Stock.
A lot of runny honey.
A glug of Red Wine Vinegar.
6 thinly sliced Garlic cloves.
A five second squeeze of Tomato Puree.
Black pepper.
A miserly amount of salt.
A carefree shower of Tabasco.

Fry legs till browned off. Remove and place in your best casserole dish. Add onions to pan, cook till soft and slithery.
Lay upon legs.

Add the sauce ingredients to pan, making sure to scrape up bits of fallen bird flesh, stir to a roaring boil then pour over legs. (Shut up Digger, I know my syntax sometimes fails me).
Put lid on and oven cook for a while.
Then, after a long time, I'll carefully splatter the cooked bird bits on oval platters and serve with crisp jacket tatties. (A little crunch setting the softness off nicely.)

Other Non-Essential but Interesting New:

Bought a second-hand Damart Cardi today, Royal red embroidered with jet black beads. I'll cross dress as Miss Marple/Rtd. Dominatrix.

I charmed the interviewer with my knowledge of old people's requirements and food poisoning at yesterday's job interview... at yesterday's job interview...

Bought some fab mascara in blackest black;) My eyes have never looked spookier.

Now I must fly..............
More tomorrow plus another Man pic;)

A Late Night With Denzel

I'm still in my nightie!
And not a chance in hell of getting dressed.
Just yet.
You see I had a late night last night.

After I'd served dinner we (she) decided that it'd be good fun to watch 'The Siege' with the "not bad for a black man" Denzel Washington. Yum.
So there we sat, Mother, John and I eating late night chocolate cake watching the FBI take on Ali Waziri et al.
Bless.
Yawn.

Would it be gauche, unclean or even unladylike if I blogged and peeled onions with my hair sticking up?
Would I be deemed un-daughterly if I told Mother that all day viewing of Poirot, Frost, Foyle and Jack Regan is NOT good and that a brisk trip around the weeds is far more beneficial?
Would I be seen as a little madam if I asked Her not to leave busted pill packets by the marmalade and headscarves on the lamp?

There she sits like an elf on a toadstool watching Poirot solve another ghastly murder while I teeter on the office chair unkempt and in need of a good something or other.
Groan.

Just to show that my plans for the perfect matricide are still simmering away nicely I will, after de-cobwebbing my eyeballs, make a fresh pot of tea for Her.

LOL

It's a great day for a drive I said
so with Mother aboard we cruised about...

Firstly to Southend for groceries then back taking the scenic route.
In Sainsbury's she didn't want to push the trolley so I advised her to keep out of the way of serious shoppers and plant her bones on one of the many benches so generously supplied by the grocer.

I shopped on filling the trolley with the don't care attitude of someone who doesn't care. Being loaded was meat, cream, brown sugar, ice cream, lemon curd, cheeses and many more happy foodstuffs. I'd got half way round when I thought I'd better check up on her, make sure she hadn't been carted off or something, no she was still there, little and pale unlike most of the other lady shoppers who looked liked they'd never missed a meal. I asked her if she was ok waiting for me she replied in the affirmative. The daughter shopped on.

My cashier was the very affable Paul, a young man with very badly screwed on legs whose disability doesn't, I'm pleased to say, affect his smutty brain.
We bantered as usual, mostly innuendo, and his big square face reddened with the blood which soars around his crooked frame.
He's a very good looking boy with the tenderest eyes and smoothest skin and as he swiped my loaves I wondered about him and why his legs were the way they were. I've seen him walking through the store and his gait makes for uncomfortable viewing, it's laboured and heavy, his legs split wide and low as he strides, he must be shattered just walking from the canned peaches to the jars of mustard. But soldiers on he does...
He has the wit of one scarred. Biting. Quick and sharp. But as the innuendo flows his mouth sneers and his eyes out stare mine
Respect.

Anyway I handed him some cash and we said our saucy 'see ya's'.

I lifted mama from the bench of bones then gripped her on the escalator and then we drove home.

After some tea and soup she wanted to go out again, this time to Hockley. So with he windows down and our shades on we hit the road.
Of course we bought loads of stuff...
For her it was books and bags, for me a skirt, blouse, woolly.


Back to a demanding Monty, apple flan and Ann Robinson."She's got a new man" mother informed me. "And she's looking well"
And so the innuendo flowed again............

Cooking tonight.
For the ladies: Liver, bacon, onions, mash and some sort of other veg
For Mr H. Ham, mash and some sort of other veg. He's not a liver man.
Pud will probably be a steamed jam pudding and custard.


I like the boys who do,
I like the boys who don't
I like the boys who say they will and then they say they won't...


I can't remember the last bit! LOL!

Eh Up! This morning's hoo hah

As the road narrowed due to 'works' ahead I let in a gigantic all-the-way-from-Yorkshire artic lorry and in thanks the driver stuck his chucky arms out t'winda giving me thumbs up lass....I, of course wishing to be even more hospitable to the Yorkshireman, blew a frilly Southern kiss. He honked:)
Everybody 'appy!

Sainsbury's was chokka. Mostly with older people. And I too am fast approaching being one of THEM...More later...

Stuff bought included bicarbonate of soda, Kale and for a bit of fun... Coca-Cola:( On the way out, by the newspapers, a recipe book for cakes and bakes caught my eye. The price, for a workhouse gal like meself was prohibitive, so for just a few indulgent moments, I flicked the pristine pages and then cried inconsolably as I rode the escalator.

Home to tea and a squabbling House of Commons.

I'll probably make a beef and onion pudding for tonight and have with it steamed kale and mashed spuds. Time to Fess Up...I usually drizzle rivulets of tomato ketchup on puddings.

In my second para I mentioned senior citizens and how I'm evolving into one of THEM...
I approached my white car with trolley. Slowed down, rummaged mumbling for keys. Then realized the car I was attempting to break into wasn't mine:)

Here's your problem love...

In a minute a man called Alan Johnson will be on site to go over my motor.


Didn't take him long to slide from one greasy position to another!

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!

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...:)

The Lady and Chainsaw

Managed to slice through the Chainsaw cable/wire so now am in the throws of sticking it together!
This blasted patch of soil will be the death of me.

I feel like ripping and tearing and heaving from its roots every single growing thing out there. Except the raspberries which I have to say are proving very helpful in jazzing up a bowl of cake and cream:)

But oh the rest of it, the determined weeds, willowy conifers, fat Forsythia, sick roses and the unidentifiable tall green thing in the corner are all getting on my nerves. And my nerves can't take much more stuff heaped upon them.
But being a little trouper, albeit a grouchy one, I'll roll up my sleeves and continue the kill.

To keep me going mentally, I'll make a chicken and veg pie for tea and after all the snipping and chopping and yanking and lopping I'll bake it to a nice crisp.
Sweet won't be a problem, will quickly whizz up a butterscotch sauce and drown in it a couple of ripe bananas.

Then after gluttonizing it's movie time. The prequel to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Recorded whilst in a state of high emotional mentalness and watched in a state of sweaty expectation with a nice cuppa and a man called Mr Horsehound.

After watching the probably dreadful film I'll excavate my teeth with a fearsome tool then probably drop to bed early dreaming of drilling.:)


Goodbye!

More Double Entendres...

* What a day I'm having, gardening, cooking, going up a ladder and then to top it all I asked my neighbour if he'd help me with my blockage on account of him having extensions for his rods.

*Mr H and I talked about holidays this afternoon he suggested, bless him, that we be more adventurous and came up with pot-holing in the Lake District. Trouble is he'd have trouble finding the entrance.

*Of course you know that Mr H. wasn't the first love of my life, the first love was a Bi-Sexual who wanted me to meet him half way.

No Pie For Me

Lovely day with mum and dad.
Chicken in red wine, a sort of dangerous mash and limp fingers of carrots
Toffee mousse. M&S . So divine I licked the lid.
A river of tea.

Then...
Shopping xxx
Bought the most beautiful soft shiny sensuous handbag, made in Espana, leather, chocolate brown, woven handle and absolutely GORGEOUS! I'm so in love.
Then more delicious stuff like Moonflower body cream, crumpets and devil red nail polish.

Just after six I sat swamped and exhausted on the tube then a tall lady sat opposite. Queerly creatively dressed, maxi skirt in lots of blues and golds, white t-shirt ok nothing strange about that, but to top it with a heavy green three quarter length coat was odd...Artistic sort I thought and I love those, so eagerly drank her in. Never seen an afro shaped like a halo though. Made a refreshing change from the funereal garbed bleached blondes which usually assault my eyes. I liked her but she annoyed me with her steak pie.

~Up there is a pic of me on my woody throne taken this very evening after a quick supper of colonial curried sausage....

Tiffin On The Brain

~Wimbledon gone, lost interest in the World Cup, so it's back to a cache of recorded films and Columbos!

~Cooked and cooled a large chicken yesterday having decided a roast was inappropriate in dessert temperatures. Not having much of a salad I quartered two toms, diced some pickled beetroot and yanked from the soil a couple of adolescent spring onions. A good dollop of salad cream was then dropped onto some freshly boiled parsleyed pots and hey ho Luncheon is served. For pud. Ice cream and two plucked raspberries.


~If I eat any more carrot, lemon or chocolate cake I'll keel over so it's back to a stalwart of the English kitchen, rumpsy pumpsy Tiffin. After I've penned this, I'll have a wash and crush some biscuits. As Tiffin is an unbaked goodie I can mix the biks (digestives and rich tea) with golden syrup, raisins, butter, chocolate and chopped Brazils then leave to harden in the dark of the fridge.

~I must must must tackle my belly today. The wobbly beast is blobbing out of control. Little horror. And it's my own fault on account of occasionally forgetting to stick myself to the shag pile and crunch those abs. At heart I'm a fat and lazy gal.

Bye!

:)

Sabbath My Sanctuary

Cold pizza for breakfast:) I jest not. A first, definitely not a last. Bran Flakes too difficult to pour from the box. Toast? Who's got the time?

Weeding to do:( Being over-run by spiteful greenery. Tools out. Shorts and hat on. Several mini-breaks to wonder why I bother. Mother Nature is out of control, poor old dear, what she needs to do is to surf for Father Nature then they can toddle off and leave me to sit astride a plastic chair without a care in the garden.


Posing:) In the mood for flouncing and glossy lippy. If the pics are of an adult nature I won't post here. You DO understand.

Abdo torture yet to come:( Neglect one's tum by all means, but don't weep when you morph into Toby Jug Man:( Silly woman.

Chicken to baste:) Fowl, the most blessed of all Sunday lunches. Empathising with a fellow sentient being, I apologized to the plucked bird saying I have to eat darling and you're the cheapest.

I love Sindays:)

Good Bits/Bad Bits

Bad Bits:
Serena Williams beat the Czech girl in the semi-final but will face a Russian girl in the final. This could be the end of the American's tyrannical run. At last.

Good Bits:
My silver ring, and it is silver on account of its markings, is sitting comfortably on my right hand even though it's so long it reaches my knuckle. Smashing!
Bad Bits: An attempt to collect together my poetry and then sift through it, has failed magnificently:) Can't seem to sit still for longer than ten minutes to sort through the aforementioned work so nothing gets done...Poet my foot.
Good Bits:
Cut and hung the 'new' curtains and they do look good. My scissor work being so accurate that I had enough left over to make a 'pelmet' and with he remnant of the remnant re-covered the bathroom chair. Not bad for £2.

Bad Bits:
Had a to-do with a fly. Chased the blasted beast around the kitchen finally managing to nail it with a scrunched up paper towel. Fly or die numbnuts.
Good Bits:
Baked a new cake. Well actually it isn't quite a cake more of a sweet loaf made with carrots, spices, orange peel, Muscovado sugar and honey. If it turns out ok I'll post a pic, it if explodes, I won't.


Being concocted tonight on account of spending the food money on trivialities:
Spaghetti with off-cuts bacon, mushroom stalks and small limp toms.

I'm a tearaway but life's not all about cooking you know...

Ta ta!

54 and showing no sign of improvement...

I'm just starting to recover from my you know what and so I did what all ladies do when old and alone and with a five pound note...SHOP!

As it was such a fine morning I left Alex on the drive and walked, in a floaty boho skirt and tied- at-the-waist shirt very slowly to the charity shop, wherein I bought:

~1 pink embroidered t-shirt. This is the softest sweetest pink thing I now have in my wardrobe. Will look divine with my pink suede shoes. Must avoid all pasta sauces, especially if I'm in an awful hurry. Sauces, shirts and me don't go together.

~1 glass plant pot holder embellished with ivy. I don't have a plant so it's home to a packet of toffees.

~A pair of wild flowered banana yellow curtains. These will be cut and hung in the bathroom. Cut? Because the they are too long. I'm not very good with a needle and thread so whenever something needs shortening out come the scissors. Saves so much time too. Fraying can be a problem but I can easily overlook it.

~A solid silver ring. Un-adjustable. Tried it on, couldn't get it off. Joan thought I was goofing as I pulled and twisted but I wasn't joking, the ring would not budge. So I bought it. Does look wicked though. It's has a touch of the helmet about it.

~A Rastafarian man. Hatted, bespectacled, dreadlocked and 8 inches.


Now a good strong cup of tea.

Post Match Lethargy

~Oh God I can't face a roast today, will make do with cold chicken, a big mixed up salad and the last few wedges of carrot cake! Some diet eh!


~The leaves on my courgette plants are turning yellow. But toms are perky, likewise lettuces. The Sunflowers are in their infancy am looking forward to standing underneath their golden heads. Ants out in numbers. Kill? Can't.


~The aroma of roasting fowl is driving my toast filled tum barmy!


~Will Fabio call upon oldie David James for next Friday? He must. Can't see him risking our very life on the sweet but clumsy young Green. There are 11 men in a team, can't allow the goalie to shoulder all the blame. A silent Rooney had his wings clipped, can't afford a yellow at such an early stage. They should have annihilated the USA instead they smacked their botties. Lightly. Not good enough boys, no not at all. Algeria should be a push-over, but as with all England's matches there'll be that old familiar feeling...Dread.

~I love chickens in all their forms. Hot, cold, ceramic, alive.

~Abdo trimmer out and waiting. Must get into a regime. But Argos machines are so boring, think a good rollicking dance work out is the answer. Reminds me...Watched bio-pic of Tina Turner. "What's Love Got To Do With It". Absolutely fantastic. What a gal. Angela Bassett played Tina to perfection. Rocking good mover, sexy, a lady with balls. So later on I will glow within the boundaries of my office to some sweet rocking soul. Only way. New dress hanging in the wardrobe is my stick...

~So in a mo I'll engage my media player and bounce around to Boogie Wonderland. Old stuff but hits a dancer's go buttons like nothing else


~Must fly, two small birds bird needs a- turning:)

Ta Ta!

Smiles All Round

By going to my favourite charity shop this morning I avoided weeding, floor washing, serious creative outpourings and skinny Jeremy Kyle. But I also missed 'In Our Time' with Melvyn (I've got the sniffles) Bragg and the knocking up of some Italian style bread...Later dear later...

Instead though I gained two exquisite cardis, one short wool with large buttons in gunmetal grey, the other nutmeg brown wool with a gay ruffle and both having a faintly Parisienne feel. (Wot in Essex?)

And not only that I picked up a creamer and sugar set in Chef Ware blue and white stripes. But what brought a rose hue to my plump cheeks was when St Joan bellowed "Angela is SUCH a funny lady".

I was, at the time, waving my right shoeless foot in the general direction of Mark, a buggyed toddler whose mum was sifting through baba clothes. He, that's heartbreaker Mark, wet more of his biscuit and lit the shop with his saucer eyes, a more cheeky chubby chappy I've yet to meet. He was perfection in stout jeans.

Mum proceeded to get out her phone and show me pictures of Mark's sisters and brothers. "Crikey" I said "that's quite a crowd" Whilst feigning a faint and hanging onto Joan's arm. Mum said something about coping strategies and shovelled the limp damp biscuit into Marks mouth.

By this time Joan, bless her ancient heart, was in hysterics and so was chubby cheeked Mark. Of course being a little theatrical I gave an encore by removing my other shoe and going up and down like a lift with problems.

A glorious time was had by all. But especially me. And as I embarked upon my journey home in my flag bedecked motorI realized the potency of laughter and the health benefits of a good belly laugh or hysterical giggle.
And was there any money in it?

But now the laughter has subsided and work begins...But not before tea and twenty eight minutes of Rising Damp with one of the funniest smartest men ever to grace our screens Mr. Leonard Rossiter.
I watched an episode yesterday and his comic timing was perfect, delivering lines to Alan and Philip with machine gun severity. He was the best.

Cooking tonight:
Bolognaise
The aforementioned Italian Bread
and
Fat Banana Long Boats.

Ta ta!

HIPSTERS

Looks like it's going to be a corker today.

Off to London to see the old dears in scorching heat, will probably be hand fed curry and rice, the old loves still thinking I'm three. But I wouldn't want them any other way. Old people have their uses and I enjoy my time with them but they are sometimes partial to a bit of the gooey gooey and a little of the hanky panky. My old dears however haven't hanky pankyed for donkey's years but they do talk about it.

I'm now thinking of older people and sex and I shouldn't because it conjures up all manner of thoughts, and such thoughts are apt to make me replace my under garments. The thoughts being...

Riding Crops, loose fitting apparel, red porsches, walking sticks, embrocation oil and a leisurely rub down with The Telegraph. I love creasy ones.

When a gentleman reaches say the age of 75, I feel that he should cease to renew his membership of any sexual club because if he does not, it may prove fatal in a death type way. A recurring nightmare I have is one where I and a bowlful of jelly are being slapped about a bit by a man with excessive imagination and only one lung. In the nightmare I beg for him to release me from his arthritic grip. He refuses, instead resuming his maniacal adoration of my bosoms.
I do not want this... All the time.

But elderly men deserve the attention of lady women, and if the lady woman is a decent gal she'll tenderize the old chap with a few slaps and long lingering kisses. If she likes him a lot, she may go the whole hog and do everything.
This might kill them both but being British and highly sexually frustrated it's a risk they're both prepared to take.

So if you today come across an old elderly duffer who's brandishing a crop whilst spinning around in a red jalopy and emoting about breasts do please lend a hand.
It may be his last chance to produce sexual goo in a major way.
Three cheers for old folk..

Hip hip! I need a new one
Hip hip! I'm sweating
Hip hip! I'd like a nice cup of tea now please