Playing Today

Needs lunch

Roddick's Lunch

Bhagdatis Can't wait for lunch

My lunch

The Roddick/Ferrer match could see killer sparks electrifying the middle classes on Centre. Roddick being like a hyper-ferret, Ferrer, a rat on acid.

After them comes Murray and Bhagdatis. A game to bring out the beastlet in me...
I've always had a hate/hate relationship with the Scot but recently, due to emotional earthquakes I'm rooting for him. My head and heart clearly mushed.
And to my readers who loathe him I can only apologise for this sickening turnaround. Sorry Dig.

Away from the courts I'm cooking and caring.
Love All.

Another lovely day ahead.................

Mum just had her tea, me too.

Wildly overgrown shrubs dancing to the wind's tune.
Sunlight on the mirror.

My Day.

Packed with love.

Sharing a giant pork pie with mum.
A chicken risotto with Reg.
A joke with the shop girls.
Bird ornament banter with Paul the delivery man. (the polyresin, suitable for exterior use, noisy Blue Tit being a birthday gift from my friend, Knuckle Head.
Deep and meaningful looks with mum, and although brief, spoke unutterable truths.
Caring and sharing with Mr H. as he helped with the housework. My burdens are his burdens. Especially the bins.
Feeling as if my life is just about to kick orf.
Wide Avenues to run along, dark and bright streets to wander and new roads to set foot on...

Today has been good.


Thank you to all my mates.

Knuckle Head. Ex-Copper. Chatterbox extraordinaire. Lidl shopper.
The Two Terrys. One very old and currently in Crete. The other, middling age and incognito. Undercover. Mostly in The Golden Lion.
Mr and Mrs Nof. Wise and thoughtful. And persistent readers.
The Two Jeannies. One in Essex, the other in Michigan. Women of a certain age. Bearing characteristics of gals way past 40. Ginger beer and loved up.
GG. Writer. Fellow blogger. Lady. Likes my writing.
Digger. Writer. Mancunian. Drinker and wit.
Disasterfilm blogspot bloke, writer and former NHS worker who has chickens and aunts. A fabulous wordsmith. Who said I was as mad as a box of frogs.

It's fab how we all bounce around in our own little glass balls, sometimes smacking up against each other.......... with profound or daft words.

Or, if we really know each other, a hug or two.

Goodnight All from a very sleepy, extremely naughty and very lucky old blogger.

Update

....What a great morning we had....

Stuff.
Including mags, bags and boots!

Then pill-pick up from Mr Saraghingighis pharmacy.
"How lovely you look today" said Mr S.
"It's my birthday" I beamed rather embarrassingly
"And can mum have another packet of you know what"
"20, 60 or 100? he whispered over the cough sweets
"Oh 20" I answered " It's only been two days...."

Then into the Co-Op for papers, potatoes and high roughage cereals:(


My stuff:
Handbag of huge proportions. Brown, squashy, shiny. I think I'm in love.
Lace up high heeled boots. For Autumn and beyond...
Poetry by Ted Hughes.

Mum's stuff:
Murder books.
Good Housekeeping.
Hot sausage roll.


Then home.
Drinking tea then a ratatattat on door.
Delivery of Flowers...

So a good morning.
Texts. Calls. Emails. Localised shopping. Chats with bearded man in car park and caring ladies in charity shops.
Mum loving the sun.
My back not hurting any more due to Reg's Wheelchair Hoister Invention.


And............. Andy Murray second out on Centre Court.
28th June looking super duper:)

It's my birthday day

X

££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££

X

Pink sparkly cards. Red humorous cards. White expensive cards. Daft cards. Soppy cards. Cash loaded cards:)

X

Pink Frock

X

Wishes. Best. Lots of. Lovely lovely lovely.

X

Hot Squeeze

XXX

Txts. Home and abroad.

X

Sweet demands for a wheelchair ride. Eh? On me birthday? Ok. But no sausage roll crumbs in me car.

X

Making me own Birthday cake!

:)

LOVE IN ABUNDANCE.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gorgeously sultry day.
I'm all bare arms and ankles!

Did the usual shop dash, mum buying some more books and me getting a pair of decent shoes for Mr H.
For myself? A red and white floral sleeveless frock with patch pocket. It isn't a maxi so my knees will be showing.

All was going ok till mum started crying by the paperbacks.
I felt helpless as her head dipped and my heart punched, what could I do except put my arms around her shoulders.
"I'm thinking about the baby" she sobbed (baby being a term of affection she had for dad).
I was powerless and that's the problem with dealing with grief, however extensive your vocabulary when you need words they just don't come.

Then we popped into the new Sainsburys where we loaded up another basket with doughnuts, chicken and Hovis wholemeal.
As I parked up mum by the papers, I had a laugh with the girl manning the till.
"£19:15" she said Essexly
"Oooh, the year I was born" I piped up doing a mock crotchety bend over.
The wee thin red haired thing doubled up.
It feels so good putting on a brave face...



Tennis and sausage roll now:)

Um.......after doing the hospital/blood run we popped to shops:)
Books, knickknacks, doughnuts. Bra.

Can't keep the old sweetie pinned down, and believe me I've tried. But that's why I like mum so much, she doesn't know or understand the meaning of the word 'Can't'.
Dying... She still flashes ten pound notes.


Must fly, have millions of things to do before Mr. Murray comes on............And I won't miss him.
And another thing....All this concern for Mummy which is consuming every waking moment and gashing through my terrified heart like a blade must be turning my head soft because....
I want Murray to win.


:)