After staring at the space where my Forsythia used to be I whizzed off to the shops wherein I bought:


Not one but TWO red dresses.

The first being a gorgeous crimson red swirly sexy affair with spangles hugging the bust, the soft thing being held up with sequinned straps.

The other dress I HAD to have is rude. Knee length cherry red reseau or net...

Tonight we're off to a barbeque...

The Essex Chainsaw Tea Party

They've just left after 4 hours of chopping, cutting, lopping, trimming, raking and picking on me!
Being a decent gal I brushed off the unwarranted remarks regarding my lack of gardening expertise, instead offering up, in the full spirit of neighbourliness tranches of cake and pints of tea for the old men and bottles of pop (for the nipper).

Graham, who is considerably older than he looks and sun baked, wanted money and after much haggling, shrugging of shoulders and supplication to the heavens we agreed on a price. It worked out that I paid for only two hours instead of four. He, he, he, he!

My frontage although a bit odd looking appears much more airier and spacious, on account of Graham taking down an overgrown sad old Forsythia. He also messed with my Rosemary whilst giving advice about big spaces and mulch. "There is a lot to be done" he croaked. His artistry was apparent when suggesting I might uproot my roses and stick them in a tub under the bay window. I felt a little queer when he said that. He was a veritable fountain of information much of which went clear over my head.

At one stage during the trimming he had the audacity to mention the c word. C standing for CEMENT. I would dearly love to pave the blasted garden over but don't have the money. Mr Horsehound perked up when hard core was mentioned.

My back bit he will attend one day next week. I'm so glad he is an understanding gentleman who clearly has a weakness for cheeky skint clients.

For tea tonight I'll be deep frying portions of mustard coated chicken, it will be served with chips
and corn. If I was to have fried bananas with it I would be legally entitled to name this dish MARYLAND CHICKEN. But as no bananas are in the house it is simply MUSTARD COATED CHICKEN:)

The picture above is of me with one of Mr Horsehound's many implements. Being an old fuddy duddy he beseeched me not to play and run with his sharp object. I have to say that grasping such a weapon caused me to channel the spirit of Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley aboard the Nostromo.
"Leave her alone you bitch"....


Now All Aboard The Bungalow For Essex Chicken (we haven't invited John Hurt)

Pinching a five minute break from helping out the boys.

And boys is the right word on account of Graham bringing along his small Health and Safety Officer, young nipper called Jake.
A more handsome little male creature I've yet to see. We shook hands and talked about cake and stuff then out we all went to gawp at the mess!

I'm skiving off as usual while that lot carry out my orders.
But tea, carrot cake and whatever the little'un wants will be served at three.
I love being mum to men.

*Pictures of me and a chainsaw have been taken so watch this space...

More pics coming later after I've had a wash

A Toad not in his Hole...Yesterday's find by the conifers.

Marbled Pudding. Decent enough mid-week pud. Reminds me of the Solar System.

Kevin, Monty's new late night pal. Could be gay.

A Few Notes Before Tea.

We're getting there.

Shifted, uprooted and generally destroyed all manner of weeds and over hanging branches. Great gaps now appear allowing light in.

Discovered in our rockery under masses of conifer branches were two slabs of concrete, obviously dumped there by the men who erected next door's fence. I huffed and walked away...

Also watched as a small brown toad slowly edged his way under the great trees. We marvelled at not only his rough leathery cuteness but his deep brown all seeing eyes, wide and aware.

Found a dead thrush laying by the broken yellow table so, before placing it in the council's food and greenery recycling bin, I brushed its head with my finger.
Its stillness sad but beautiful.

Moved the pot bound tomatoes, carrots and basil to another part of the garden to keep them safe, don't want the gentlemen tomorrow upsetting them with their vroom vroom saws.

I still don't like gardening but I can't help feeling for all living things.

Being cooked tonight:
Toad-in-the-Hole made with Irish pork sausages and onions
Creamy mashed potatoes.
Broad beans.
gravy and mustard.

For pud, pineapple chunks and thick custard.

Yummy Yummy!

Hello:)

Today I will, I must, I have to glove up and make way for Graham the gardener. Although he isn't coming until tomorrow I feel I have to do a little something in return for his offer of giving us a hand.

I don't know how the garden has become such a mess, it's not as if I don't try, after all it was me who laid, with her tiny hands, several bags of gravel and stuff, yet still it looks horrible. Just not green fingered enough I suppose. If one's heart isn't in something then what's the point of doing it. My heart is in the posing of ceramic frogs and butterflies by water butts but that's where it ends. To sum up...I love positioning garden paraphernalia and sowing seeds but then I go away!

To say I'm thoroughly ashamed is an understatement because I'm not lazy, not really, but keeping on top of the turf and in so doing present a garden fit for human habitation, has proved impossible.
Dedication is the key word where gardening is concerned and I lack the 'd' word. I have blasts of activity, but then confine myself to the kitchen where I feel much more at home...Meanwhile the green grows....

Yesterday popped over to have a word with Baz, one of our Nazi neighbours who, unfortunately is married to Mags, who is just unfortunate, anyway told Baz that he can pull down his erect ladders on account of us putting ours up. What a lonely man is is. All he wanted to do was talk about his rugby days. But I suppose being shackled to blousy loud Mags for fifty years inhibits one's tongue...
God...Did they ever make out in the moonlight?

After making a cake I'll don my work gear and make room for Graham and Mr Horsehound's equipment. I wonder who'll handle it best?

*A photo of me with chainsaw will appear on the morrow...


Ta ta! From a weary wobbly woman;)

Just had a thought...
Mr Horsehound is sowing his marrow seed whilst Mrs Horsehound is sewing a hem. They are both SEWING? SOWING?
Which one is it?

Back To Nature

I managed somehow to get the Gardener to work for me for a......slice of carrot cake!
Old I may be but my charms are not diminished.

He, that's the Graham the Gardener, will come round on Friday to see to my rear bits which are reverting to nature:(

Made an awful curry tonight, all sticky it was and not the least bit pleasant, still I'll make up for it tomorrow with a bloody steak:)

MONEY SPENT TODAY ON UNNECESSARY BUT WONDERFUL ITEMS:

£2 for a Blue Glass Dish with Lid. Have spent hours and hours wondering what to fill it with. Soft Toffees I expect.

£3 on a pair of Pretty Polly Hold-Up Stockings in 'SENSATIO'. (Coated with Aloe Vera) Not a lot beats the sublime sensation of tightness in the thigh area. Clamped dear....

£2 for a Lipgloss in 'Minxy Pink'. Big lips made to look even bigger:)

Hold on a mo...The above purchases were absolutely ESSENTIAL on account of me being a Lady!

Now I should go and watch 'SLITHER' with a sticky toffee.