HackerWhat I found charming and slightly creepy was the Lords use of the word 'Mr' when addressing lefty Whitey. Sitting alongside the Lord was former leader of UKIP, Mr Nigel Farage, a man more fitted for selling suits. There was another chap at the table but just as he started to speak about the banning of Burkhas in public buildings the BBC's chief political correspondent Laura Keunnesburg (?) broke in.
I was miffed by that. I'm not in love with UKIP but I'm very interested in their manifesto and for the BBC to cut to Laura when a sensitive subject is about to be aired is, to me, very annoying.
So I left the arena.
And am sitting here with partially broken glasses screwing up my nose in order to keep my very expensive specs on!
And women with lines on their faces can't afford to make any more lines by the stupid screwing up of noses. All this screwing has been brought about by the nose pads disintegrating as I wiped the lenses just after 9 this morning.
I immediately ransacked the bungalow looking for replacements, of course, finding none.. So as the metal thingys leave elephantine indentations on the sides of my nose I'm planning to barge through the doors of Specsavers tomorrow demanding a re-fit.
What else?
Oh my hair looks chirpy. It's funny how very short hair makes one feel younger. Which leads me on to what else makes one feel younger...
Being a cheeky blogger.
Being petite.
Not looking at the Saga website. Over 50 I may be, but I don't want to be associated with stairlifts, standing on a ship looking out to sea with a bloke who promises a better tomorrow, Vagisil, sex advice, portable toilets, caravan holidays, osteoporosis, the making of wills, dentures, over 50's dating, creams for female dryness and sodding grandchildren.
Not going on cruises.
Being erect.
Wearing ankle socks.
Not looking to the future.
Thinking I can use a chain saw wearing slippers.
Staring at a slight cut on my thumb for hours.
Sulking.
Being happy with a new pen.
Not being afraid to go grey.
Non-communication with people who have perfect lawns.
Occasional spots.
Falling in love, say, every three months.
Being inquisitive.
Stopping in wonder at the sound of birdsong and gazing high up at the tree trying to figure out what make of bird can sing so beautifully. Chaffinch it was....
Loving Hacker.
Having a gap in my front teeth.
