After sorting out mother's many needs and wants I bundled her back into the front room (she'd been too close lounging in the conservatory) I then started a massive clear out of the kitchen.
Into a plastic sack went ornaments, jugs, pictures, bottles and pots. I was, you see, beginning to feel overcome, overwhelmed, suffocated by STUFF. It had to go.

I love collecting, as  you know, but there comes a time, a telling time if you like, when one realizes, in many aspects of life, what one does and doesn't want. This morning was such time. I didn't want big jugs. As I de-cluttered shelves, taking away all but the very best favourites I questioned my health. It hasn't been as incredibly good lately and 'tis true I'm rapidly approaching some kind of middle age so I think the time had come for an Emotions MOT.
Starting orf with getting rid of the superfluous.

So as I dropped bowls and pots and ceramic chickens and sweet cute jam pots into the sack I began to feel rejuvenated.It was as if, with every once must have object I threw away, my world and vision was made clearer.
I think having a very emotional and physically wrecked Mother lurking in the bowels of the bungalow has defo taken its toll not only my back but on every fibre of my being. So much so that I've taken to talking to my invisible dad. I feel murderously protective towards mum, if anyone even looks at her either patronizingly or with impatience my claws extend as does my tongue.

And that is why this morning and afternoon, I swept bric-a-brac orf the shelve in an effort to reclaim some space.

So without a tear dropped I bagged a ton of  trinkets which will, tomorrow, return to the place from whence they come...


Cooking tonight:
Of course

I'm Ready

Almost.


Having a whizzy non-stop day to day.
We'll be heaving Mother into her chair for a saunter around Hockley's Charity Shops this a.m.
And I must not forget Monty's Chicken And Cheese Biscuits. So much going on yesterday I plum forgot. He is my Love.

Cooking? A little. Probably a Banana Cake and Farmhouse Loaf.

Wearing? For daytime? Whatever doesn't need ironing. For tonight? Probably arrestable outfit.


~Today's Supplication~

Remind Me To Take A Breath O Lord.
Ok?

Tuesday Doings

Bought a new bird bath/feeder so I can sit on the bench in full mumsy mode watching sparrows, thrushes, robins and collared doves sup and eat.

Whilst mum and me good self sat in hospital waiting room I glanced at my two new cooking mags, the first mag caught my attention on account on the pie pic on the front. The second by the word 'cake'.

Then to charity shop where, as I checked the bags, two gin soaked, overly made up, ageing female vultures surrounded mum picking up from her lap a 50p framed bird embroidery and 25p red Amaretti tin.
I was there in a shot.
"Ooooh that's nice" sqwarked the blonde fingering the picture
"Yes and this tin is lovely too" cackled the other
"Yes and they're coming home with me" I said showing my teeth.
They huffed and sidled away.
Were there really such people about I wondered who would try to get their claws onto a lady-in-a-wheelchair's trinkets. Obviously so. I could have wrung their flame red necks.

On arriving home mum collapsed in the bathroom again so I put the kettle on. She's asleep now in my care and later on we'll eat and watch a good film.

Being cooked tonight a nice Fisherman's Pie served with steamed Broccoli and for sweet, a Chocolate Puddle Pudding.

I love my mum very much.

By the way I looked stunning today, red lippy, swirling multi-coloured skirt, lemon t-shirt, blue and silver necklace, silvery hair up, only flaws in my otherwise perfect appearance are my swollen feet!
Just don't look down people:)

Euro 2012 It's Putting Puff In Me Pastry!

1 Day To Go...

(For footie fans...there's a link to UEFA in my sidebar)>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

My head and soul, although in tatters over the fact that I'll probably be out of the house when England face France on the 11th, is relishing the prospect of watching heaps of exciting footie.Sometime. Somewhere. Some chance...
Mother allowing!

I intend to bake apple pasties and whoopie pies for the great occasion and all and sundry are kind of invited to chill out with me and the football ....................No funny business just fellow sports lovers hanging out in the drawing room of me bungalow....sharing bacon and trivia........but not after a day like I had yesterday.
Whoa cowboy!

Major talks with nursies of all sorts, information overload, mum being extra talkative with me but saying zilch to others.
I actually had, for the first time since all this hullaballoo began....a headache of nuclear proportions. Started when I nastily extricated myself from mother's bedside and took cover in the relatives room...Boom boom...the hammer inside my head went. Thought my brain was boiling. Half expected to be found by a couple of Domestics spread out on the floor of the little escape room...
Still, I had a ham sandwich so I wasn't that dying.
Lol!


I took a blanketted mum out again for a ride-along, stopping at Smith's for papers and a small nook where two over painted ladeeeeez were selling home made jewellry.
I pushed mum as close to the tables as possible without bringing them down so she could hold and admire the quite lovely trinkets.
She chose a silvery diamonique watch for herself and for me, a faux pearl bracelet.
Mum's watch was a tad too loose on account of her skinny wrists but later on in the evening, my mate Reg soon had that little prob sorted.
What WOULD we do without the kindness and intervention of the able-bodied.

Went to bed VERY late last night, even forgetting to remove my GENUINE pearl necklace. It felt very warm and moist on waking.



Ok so on to today.
Mother.
That's it.
Will/Must try to relax tonight by....
stoking my boiler with ham and rejuvenating my parched brain cells with a massive inhalation of Clint Eastwood.

Now I must fly.........................

X

Just The Good News

Yesterday afternoon took mum for a wicked spin around the hospital grounds in a borrowed wheelchair.
I ran. She held on. It felt good laughing with her.

********************************************

I found a room where patient's relatives can hang out 24/7. I spent some time in there last night drinking coffee, eating custard creams and flicking through the dvd collection. The hospital care not only for the physically sick but for the worriers too. I'll be chilling out in there again today, tonight, and to save costs take a couple of sandwiches and possibly a microwaveable hot pot!

****************************************************

Early this morning....De-tangled some red flowers which were being strangled by a mess of sticky weeds. Couldn't bare the thought of flowers being crippled.
Re-filled feeders, saw two robins, one sparrow.

******************************************************

Two days to the start of Euro2012...

****************************************************

That's about it, now I do stuff:)

Up early which was miraculous considering I didn't do sleepybyes till midnight!

But no room for sulkiness because groceries were needed asap so on with some odd clothes and off to Sainsburys...
Food accumulated then off to the end till to shaven headed Jill.
Natter chatter...Weather, Queen, my Handbag, her earrings, then shoving trolley up escalator to windy wonderful almost empty car park.
Home. But not before speaking with shop walker/broom handler Ian. Hater of football lover of bagpipes. I adore the man but bagpipes....Oh dear. We parted in a blowy fashion, me promising not to hold his bagpipes against him, he mocking my love for Roy Hodgson.

Zoomed orf back to a yelling cat and Niramish making.

After packing cupboards and fridge I dashed orf a *Niramish for tonight's tea, had to make it on account of not being able to make it later. Mother taking up 99% of my time.
She phoned early his morning saying she was cheesed off and would I take her a smoked salmon roll... Yes yes of course, be there later....Now let me pull me tights up and down a bowl of rather disappointing porridge:(

Anyway Niramish made, now must rustle up something for luncheon, probably Eggs Benedict not an official pukka Eggs Benedict because I don't have about my person a couple of Muffins. So slices of Warburtons will have to do.

Then, quick powder of nose, reapplication of Firecracker lippy and off to hospital with salmon in me bag!

Any help either emotional or practical would be most welcome.
Think Hug or Washing Up:)



*Niramish is a vegetable curry. I've added a can of coconut milk and cauliflower, no real rules just drop in what you have. Fresh ginger. Garlic of course. Toms. Carrots. Red onions. Mushrooms. Green beans. Potatoes.
Will serve with garlic & coriander naans and perfectly cooked rice.
:)

At God knows what time......

Likes kisses from a lover
The rain hits on the window
and the pane loves it




I'm re-arranging the front room this morning also braising beef then we're going out.

:)

I'm hankering after a nice lamb's heart.

Many moons ago I was totally involved with them, used them in so many ways. Mostly stuffed. Nowadays I'm lucky if I see a couple lying lifeless on the butcher's slab in Sainsburys.
I know this hunger for offal won't die away so I might pop along to the ancient town of Rochford to see if the butcher therein has any.

Talking of hearts. I'm all.

Baking and cooking and fussing and soothing .............and that's just for the postman who today delivered 12 lavender plants. They were boxed and on the front of the box a heartbreaking note. "Fragile Live Plants Open Immediately"
Big Sigh.
Ripped open the top and there they were 12 plugs, young, in the dark and unaware of their fate.
Which will be............. to be potted on in plastic containers then, after suitable growth occurs, be transplanted into their final resting place. Bless.
Probably by the front door.

By the way I've survived today on: jammy bread, porridge and a bowl of apple cake and evaporated milk. Laziness or Love?


I digress.
Hearts.
To look deep into the still heart of a lamb is a shocking dismal affair, it's not so much the lack of a beat, it's the purple tubes.
Before any stuffing takes place the aforementioned tubes need to be cut out. Snipped if you're squeamish. I have no qualms about either dissecting organs or gutting fish. Animals were made for it:)
And so to the cooking of a major organ.
First wash it well then either make yourself a fine homemade stuffing or buy a box of Paxo.
In my past I've made a stunning onion stuffing but also played it safe by filling the small cavity with some good parsley lemon and thyme via Tesco's.

The current favourite for the heart filler is a mix of cooked rice, bacon, parsley and ubiquitous onion. I will then skewer them with a few cocktail sticks. Don't want the kapok spewing all over into me rich sauce now do I? Which is made of, hold on to your hats.....Condensed tomato soup and redcurrant jelly, seasoning to jolt.
Then when all is secure, bake for a good while till hearts go tender and blood thickens the sauce delightfully.
What to serve with them? Mash. To soak up the juice.

By the way I've never tried Tripe. Hate it visually so not a good start:)



Tonight I'm cooking a more expensive piece of animal flesh.
Rump and chips.
Enough to make my working heart skip a beat. Lol!

By the way what do human hearts have to do with the most powerful of emotions, love. The hearts I've seen, mostly on the telly, are glutinous, rubbery, ugly shiny brick-red affairs which, to my mind at least, have nothing to do with the greatest feeling of all...
You know the feeling, the one....the one which makes your heart Stop!
The one which makes you sing even though you can't.
The one which enlivens then stupefies, emboldens then makes you go all red, makes you courteous, childlike, wild and tame.
Love is surely made alive, not by a sticky but essential organ, but by the Grand Master of the Universe. Our Mind.
It's there, in there, that the intellectual, emotional and spiritual action takes place, the heart just pumps along in perfect harmony.
Am I naiive?

Don't know when I'll do the hearts but it'll be sooner than you think.

By the way I'm in engulfed in a creative rainbow at the mo so watch out for some weird and lovely posts!

Dear Mum

Early part of the day...Blissful.
Latter, not so.

Umpteen tasks to be done meticulously or not at all and all at break-neck speed. Reason being I was stressed beyond belief by Mum's needs. And therefore needed perfection in all I did. Wholewheat rolls turned out well. She had one with slivers of cold bacon. I had one with blackcurrant jam leaning against the sink watching pigeons. I like pressing my hips against the sink, it's the coldness. When out-of-my-tree with fed-upness I feel everything a millionfold. And so it was that when I leant, pressing my hips and tum into the spotless silver sink I wanted sex. Not of the avarian kind you'll be glad to hear. But with a man without face. Just a body would suffice.
Such is the power of the mind that even one as screwed as mine still has the capacity for filth on a major scale. I think death is to blame.

Mother.
Love you darling but your bathroom mishap (non-radiator related) coming just as I settled down to watch Maguire v. Carter was plain shitty. And so badly timed. My heart's jumping dear, can't you see it banging against my chest. I want to do what I did last year namely to eat digestives unencumbered by rubber gloves and lavender floor wash.
I bit my threadbare tongue because she's not to blame. For anything. But being on my feet constantly is taking its toll, matey.
Tea. Orange juice. Usually spilled. Lost tablets. Mad with pain. Annoyed with doctors/David Cameron/God.
"I could kill God for what he's done".

What could I say to that?

£10 on magazines won't bring daddy back.

Mr H was late home tonight on account of going to mum's flat to collect her post.

Now she's cursing the tv licensing people and B.T.

In her failing yet still beautiful blue eyes I see very little except a lostness.
The lostness of wife-hood.
She looked small in the bed and as Maguire and Carter slugged it out (good match) I said to her without trumpets or sarcasm "Give it all to me"
I wasn't referring to the letters.




Night Night:)

Cup of tea by my side and a quick natter before my day truly begins..

Here's one of my favourite pics of all time. Me 28, Chiefy, my first cat, very young.

Last night's Port 'n chicken casserole was yummy, pools of Porty sauce coloured the mash mauvey. Chicken meat falling of the bones and flakes of darkened herbs spread about like deaded insects. LOL!

Today's gastronomic treat will be nothing like yesterday's.
Probably something late with a sausage.

Today, after I've dosed Mother up on drugs and washed her hair and fiddled with her gnarled horrible old feet, I'll settle on the settee with me cooking books fingering them hopefully.
Guests Saturday...

If I can rouse myself I might, later after several cups of tea, plant some more flowers, itching to do me Magnolia Tree, only concern, the weather forecast. Could a sudden snow drop kill the baby tree?
Will definitely put out the last Sweet Pea.
Ooodles of others to put in the ground but they can wait.
By the way my New Compost Bin is filling nicely, can't wait till I can lift the little door and scoopper out my very own rich mix.
That reminds me, I'm quids in on account of not giving in to the latest Avon catalogue.

Now I must glide away. A sink full of dishes await. Just wait till I get my claws on Mr Horsehound, the no good tripehound.

Pheasant

Almshouses

I was in a friend's car when I saw it.
His mickey mouse legs carrying his beautifully curved bod dashed along the grey pavement oblivious to traffic then like the quick braveheart he was darted mad-cap into a perfectly laundered front garden.
"Oh Look" said me
"A Pheasant" said me mate with the air and confidence of someone used to the outdoors.
Giggle. I did. Never seeing one this close up before.
But before I could say 'roast' the cheery kind-of-out-of-place fella had disappeared into a bush and we, that's me and me mate, were doing thirty on our way to the countryside.

It's funny you know, how appreciative I am of little things, of small pleasures, because for the next hour or so I was scanning the side of roads looking for other interesting animals.
Didn't see any living ones:(


I do love cruising the countryside of Essex, especially the north, glorious green undulations with massive trees, medium cows and tiny Inns. So utterly English.
Greystoned churches built ages ago to thatched cottages with names like 'Elizabeth' and 'Yew Tree' stood dotted roundabout like pretty coloured pieces on a fantasy chess board.
How many laughs, tears and tulips had they seen?

Later on I had a full on close up look at a church, don't know its name I was too dumbstruck to find out, but this home of Christianity was so cool it was almost cold. Bitty rock and stones pitted and worn with years of weather and wars stood fine with a perfect sky making a good backdrop. I saw four gargoyles too, standing, which I thought was strange, standing on a tower, their lacklustre interest made for comical viewing.
I imagined...."How long have we been here?" said one "A few lifetimes, I expect" said another and THAT is what fascinates me about old stuff. The amount of life, death and bird droppings they have watched and suffered.
I wouldn't want to be a gargoyle I'd much rather be the pheasant... taking my chances...

I hope he got home safe...

Okey dokey back to reality.

Corned Beef.

:)

Lose Inches With Coughing Man

Attention All Dieters.

Being in bed with a coughing man makes you thin.
Read on...

On Friday night Mr H. kept me awake and for all the wrong reasons... He'd succumbed to Man Flu. Probably picked up on the London Underground.
At any rate his barking loud coughs made for a miserable night and I, as you know, am a great believer in bagging many hours between the covers. Preferably asleep.
But twasn't to be.

So on account of his selfishness and lungs my Saturday shopping trip to Southend was horrible on account of walking around with sunken eyes and in a temper.
Yes I can still get my blood up even when half-dead.

But what has a night of intermittent sleep to do with getting thin?
If you hold on a mo I'll tell ya.
Lack of R.E.M always takes away my appetite and so it was that on Saturday night, after our troll around hardware shops, I didn't want no dinner!
And because I didn't eat neither did Mr H. he, he, he.
My selfishness though didn't extend to Mother who accepted rather reluctantly a Young's boil-in-the-bag cod steak. (Freezered for God knows how long) It was a con. A piece the size of a playing card lost in a pool of yellowy sauce.. cost £1:49. Never ever again dear. You eat what I make and when I make it or you don't eat. Geddit? I was though truly ashamed at sticking a tray of such awful food down on her old lap, after all it wasn't her fault I was so tired I couldn't cook, that was down to Mr H and his phlegm.

But back to me. And early evening Saturday.
I couldn't persuade my stomach to accept any food not even decent offers like a Chinese take away, McDonalds or even KFC. Bugger that on a Sat night.
McD and KFC are shopping lunchtime treats not bloody evening meals.
So we starved.

About 8 I did consider a jammy crispbake but martyrdom won out.



Anyway.............As we watched 'Hush', a movie about some bird being thrown into the back of a white lorry (white van man getting into female trafficking) I saw only the good side of sleeplessness...It takes away hunger:)
'Can only be good' I thought as the hero pulled out 6 inch nails from his palms:) (Some nutty bad girl deciding the only way to STOP him was NOT to kill him but to nail him to he floor. Cool!
'Ok, I'll go supperless' I thought and by so doing wake on Sunday with a super flat tum. I certainly got that. But I also got a headache.

But if you do want to lose a bit o weight, and I know you all need to, go to bed with a man with a big cough:)

UPDATE ON THIS MOST BEAUTIFUL DAY.

ALL GOING WELL ON THE MOTHER FRONT. Nursey quick and pleased therefore me pleased. Although have had to order some more comfy sterile dressings for the coccyx area.

NOW...TEA AND OLIVER STONE'S EPIC SAGA...........JFK.

with tea and bikkies of course.xxx

Oh and I have two Valentine's Day cards on the mantelpiece.

Big Lol:)

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

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.

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...

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!

:)

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:)

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........................:)