Words on my mind. too biz for explanashuns.

Footie.
Tonight.
Us and Holland.
At Wembley. Where I grew up. Blahblah. Where I lived in a spaceship from race 2 to race 8. Kids eh?

Pearcey. Psycho. Blond. Getting on a bit. Brother of man of questionable views.
Keeping silent over Top Job.
Clever.

"The Special One"
Back in Blighty.
For why?
House hunting and all.
Mmmmm There's a Foreigner in the mix what am I gonna do?

My hair looking so spectacular in Sainsbury's a man said something.

Feeling fresh and fruity.... a big bottle of lemon scented floor cleaner awaits usage. It's the daffs wot made me buy it.

More on the domestic front...
On account of the ageing process (not mine) have to ditch braising steak in favour of hard boiled eggs.
Me no want to get old:(

So. Later on. Tonight.
Pearcey to take the strain.
England team with its managerial nightmare fiasco debacle thing will step out onto Holy Ground to play little Holland. I don't think I can take anymore...
And talking of strainers, a quaint little silver one holding within its jaws 2 tsps. of very loose tea, made just about the most perfect cuppa I've ever wallopped.
Thanks Sweetie.

Now I do stuff with only one thing on my mind...

The National Anthem Being Played At Wembley.
God, I can't wait.
:)

Spring continues to tease.

Had a quick tidy up in garden, boxes thrown away, watering of veg, refilling bird feeders that sort of thing. And as I stopped by dad's ashes a ladybird sat on his head. Loved that. Feeling in no way idiotic or sentimental I had a few words...Told him all was ok with mum, her foot bandage now deposited in the bin and her legs glossed by lots of E45. I don't know who was most happy, him or me. Me probably after all I'm on the front line.

Anyway after all that I did some washing, strenuous work on account of being machineless, but like a 1930's London housewife I tossed some sheets in hot water then swung them on the line to dry. A beautiful drying day by the way.

Mum popped out to see it suggesting I take it to the laundry...Ashingdon don't do laundrys dear I said, everyone and his uncle has a washing machine, it's only dinosaurettes like me who applaud the Victorian way of doing things.
Nutter.

So a natter with mum in the kitchen over tea and homemade bread and diabetic jam (not bad) She rarely comes up with anything life enhancing or amusing but as old invalids go she's not a bad thing to have in-house.

As the birds sang we exchanged menu ideas for the rest of this week and beyond..... Yes of course we did...I informed her that I buy I cook and she agreed. End of. One thing I will not do is be told what to do with chops. Any chops. So for today it's pork, lamb later in the week.

Lots of things to look forward to:

Good film this afternoon. Based on true case. The Staircase Murders.


Sainsbury's tomorrow. Must take a handbag to give to my favourite cashier, Veronica, she's a bag lady too!
and
England v. Holland.
I'm smiling just thinking about it :)
Food info in tomorrow's post!

Cheerio!

WE'VE DONE IT! WE'RE IN THE FINAL!

But only to keep the Dutch and Spaniards apart...And him up there will do that...Oooohhhh!

What I wouldn't give to be the World Cup Ball. To be grasped, if only briefly, by Englishman Howard 'Resistance is Futile' Webb...(Not that I'd put up much of a fight)

I'll be supporting...(oooohhh) the Edam chewers. The future's bright, the future's Orange.

Glo is melting already...

Roll On Kick-Off!

Here We Are!

Glo, Roy and the Snail of Pleasure

Isn't Roy a love?
Behind those bad ass glasses are the eyes of a lurve machine. It's funny you know how, even when afflicted by eyes that don't work, a man, be he black or white, dying or youth, can still kill with a wink.
And when ladies reach their 'lined' time, their final time, there's nothing more cheering or rousing than a bloke, be he upright or not, offering a gal a rheumy wink at the right time, John;)

I said yesterday that the ring had a helmet feel about it, on closer study though I think it is more snailish! And so enamoured was I with it yesterday that I fell asleep in the bed of marriage with it firmly fit upon my finger. On waking very early this morn I was startled by something smooth, and, in the half light of 5 a.m. was invigorated, nay vitalized, by the throbbing tightness of the shiny trinket. And because of it's glorious shine and saintly simplicity I won't get this sweet shell wet.

Today is not just about black men and rubber gloves it's about Ghana and Uruguay. So after flying around the bungalow wearing a pinny I'll grill a fish finger and get settled.

Ta Ta!

Mondays Are Good

Especially after an exhausting weekend of footie and scrunchies, which reminds me I must, after writing this, grab my ankles in a desperate manner. Could look horrible, especially if I lay in the hall in front of the mirror wearing an of the shoulder number.
What a silly way to start the week!
Benefits will be obvious though...

At11ish ITV4 will be teasing us with a warm-up prog about the first match...Holland v. Denmark Why has bacon come to mind? Anyway straight after the little appetiser over to ITV1 for the main meal.

Talking of main meals, sometime around 1ish I'll fortify myself with a couple of cream crackers and a pint of water. Not a believer in overdoing lunch, tends to zonk me out all afternoon and I can't be zonked when Japan bow down to the mental Macaroons. This is a game I've been looking forward to and I'm not sure why. Could be that I see small and meticulous Japan getting bounced all over the field by the all dancing, all jiggling Cameroon.
Ought to be a corker!

During the match I'll try to keep my mind off of singular pies.......

All football and no dusters makes for a disreputable gaff so at half time I'll move the dust from one surface to another and scribble down a list of groceries. By the way I've lugged my favourite old pine table back into the front room but oh dear did I need to cover it. It is a very old coffee table and has the scars to prove it, so out with sense and in with a lovely lace tablecloth. Sweet and Victorianesque but it does shift around about, especially when Monty skates...Especially when my legs are on it.

Where was I?
Nope. No idea.

I very much doubt I'll have time to sort through poems today (competition calls) because all this football is taking me far away and this evening, as I dish up a very small one-man pie, no pie for me thank you John, Italy will face Paraguay, shouldn't that be the other way around? At any rate this should be another split lip busted brain affair:)

Now I really must leave the intertubes and get prostrate:)




Ta ta!