My Family and Other Animals

The End

2010-01-29T16:28:00.002Z

Dear anyone who reads this.

Thanks for reading over the last couple of years, however I won't be writing any more blogs (at least not here).

It has been fun and anyone who wants to keep in touch can still do so through Facebook.

A whole new chapter of my life has emerged and I think a whole new blog will emerge too! Maybe.

Thanks.

Jayne

Update Part One.

2009-11-13T02:38:00.002Z

Anyway. I thought it may be polite to give an update before I start blogging my usual rubbish.

I'll fill you in gently. I met someone (human) and got engaged!! Although to be fair if you see me on Facebook, then this is not new news. Sorry about that. If you want new news, then I have just emptied the dishwasher and I had to put one spoon back because it still had mashed potato on it. Here is a photo of when I had just got engaged, I don't have a pic of the spoon:

Now, I know what you are thinking. He is a bit young for me and incest is frowned upon by society in most places. Well, don't worry, I got engaged to a grown up (human AND alive) I actually 'dated' a man like a real grown up and managed to convince him that I'm normal. Not only that, it all happened in Paris (the engagement, not the dating). 'Paris' is the name of our local shop that sells cheap booze and packets of crisps for ten pence.

Here we all are. I'm having to wear a hoodie with Paris emblazoned accross it, just in case I forgot my whereabouts. Very easy to do when a big Eiffel Tower is staring down at you.

It was all a huge suprise. We've now been together for about 14 months, 12 days and 6hours. I mean you know.. roughly speaking.

So there we go.

I plan to blog more reguarly, although I said that last time too.

Plus I lied. I doubt there will be an update part two. I did go to New York though. It was awesome. I will have to share that experience soon. Especially the part where my feet swelled up on the plane to 45 times their normal size. I still managed to stay engaged though despite the horrific 'ankle to foot' view. It looked like I'd had a foot transplant from someone who weighed 25 stone.

Bit dusty!!

2009-11-11T17:03:00.002Z

It says here, that I have not blogged for six months. It's been a hell of a six months, so if you wouldn't mind helping me get the cobwebs down and flicking a duster round the place so I can get started then it would be a help....

Not THAT duster.... get your own!!

Spanish Cripples!

2009-05-03T12:39:00.005+01:00

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Ok, so I don't have swine flu.

I was in the vets the other day though because Minnie selfishly snapped a leg ligament in March at the cost of over two thousand pounds. I wish she would check the cost of vets fees before she decides to injure herself in such a manner, but that's dogs for you. Selfish little gits.

I wouldn't mind, but I 'allowed' her to have the chance to get better and let her have an operation so she could walk properly. This consisted of having a metal plate and screws in her leg, (that in my skilled veterinary opinion looked a bit haphazard in the X Ray). I reckon I could have done the procedure myself for under a tenner.

We got her home and she spent the rest of the day throwing up at my feet and looking sorry for herself. Not even a waggy tail or a licky thank you or any sort of enthusiasm. Next time I'll have to weigh up the cost of having an ungrateful animal that throws up all over the carpet against a humane death. (the dogs, not mine).

Anyway, to celebrate the dog not being crippled for life I went to Spain. Not on my own. That would look a bit sad and lonely. Eating a meal for one on the beach as Pedro the waiter tries to cheer me up my showing me his chorizo when serving me a selection of tapas. 'You lika Pedro's speziallll sauuussage?'. Not sure how to spell a Spanish accent. I think in this instance, Pedro had German parentage on his father's side.

To sum up:

I'm a lazy uncaring blogger who has a crippled dog but who cares? I have a great tan!!!!

Been forced to edit: Yes, I have a boyfriend. He is amazing. Over and out.

Cheese sandwhich making!

2009-03-04T18:22:00.004Z

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Making a cheese sandwich is fairly straightforward.

You need cheese.

And bread.

Oh.

I have no cheese and the bread is frozen.

Making a cheese sandwich is easy when you have cheese and the bread isn't frozen, because then you can actually make a non frozen cheese sandwich, with cheese.

Right, so defrost the bread. If you are stuck for time, then pour hot water over the bread or something. If the bread isn't frozen, then stop pouring hot water over it because that is just silly.

Now either cut or grate the mouldy bits off the cheese... yeah that's right.. don't worry about the hard bits where it wasn't wrapped properly from the last time you used it. We're in a bloody recession, we can't afford to be choosy!!

So now we have some grated cheese with the mouldy bits picked off and either bread or soggy offerings. Butter the bread/soggy offerings. Put the cheese on and add a top layer of bread/soggy offerings. Bingo!! A cheese sandwich.

If you don't like cheese, then why have you been reading? Use ham or something, but don't grate the ham because that is also silly. You'll end up with ground up minced mess that looks like innards of a rat. No one wants to eat the innards of a dead rat. Unless you are foreign... er... maybe. You know - one of those weird types. You dog and rat innard eating bastards!!

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See my comment on previous post !!!!!!

2009-02-19T00:03:00.001Z

A Bunchman Post...

2009-01-27T23:17:00.002Z

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As Jayne's PC is currently f*cked...
I thought I'd better inform everyone of the terrible and tragic news that Jayne is absolutely fine. I know this will come as a shock. I'm sure Jayne herself would want you all to carry on as normal.
The family have requested no flowers or donations at this time.

Everything is broken

2008-11-08T17:05:00.003Z

I am here. I haven't given up blogging. However, my PC has given up working and I now have no PC, so I'm round my parents using theirs today. I'm hoping to get it fixed soon but it depends on how big the problem is. Don't give up reading here though, it's all just a temporary blip.

My leg and hip and pelvis still aches since the accident and I blame not being able to do much exercise for me having to have IVs again. Boo!!!!

My car was indeed written off beyond repair and I'm now the proud owner (if not a little nervously) of a new car.

Wonderful things are also happening.

Can't say what though because you know, it's not always good to write everything about yourself.

Oh, and I can't access my outlook express at all (obviously) so I can't reply to any emails and I can't read new ones. I'm not ignoring anyone if they have mailed me.

Hope everyone is well and behaving themselves especially you and you... and you... and SFL and HNFTR and FLPOTYY and GTHJP.

I'm off to shoot up!!

Happy Saturday!

Ooooops!!

2008-10-24T14:24:00.004+01:00

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Now I know I said that I wouldn't be blogging as much however I didn't mean to blog so little. Or something.

Funny thing happened, I had a car accident last week and my car is possibly written off. Oooops!! I'm fine though and I can walk without limping as much today. I still don't reckon I could hula hoop though. I don't think my pelvis would could take much more stress. Moody bugger that it is.

Luckily, it happened outside my parents house, so it gave them something to focus on rather than dwell on the fact they are retired and a bit bored. I like to leave people's houses in style.

The best quote of the day was after my Mum told the ambulance folk that she would follow the ambulance in her car. As I was lifted into the ambulance, I whispered to the paramedic ' If she's following in her car, then she'll be bloody ages. She drives really slowly.' The paramedic laughed. My Mum was less pleased with my claims. I also swore at a policeman.

The other driver (the fella who ploughed into me) was fine by the way, in case you were wondering. The dog is fine (she was in back of car) and luckily and thank god, Adam was at school at the time.

Happy weekend!! (extra hour in bed on Sunday morning, oh what bliss)!!!

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I'm 35 and TV Mirrors!!

2008-10-10T02:38:00.006+01:00

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Yesterday my friend who we will call 'LB' for no other reason other than it sounds fun, told me that you can buy televisions that are disguised as mirrors. Apparently they 'provide the practical qualities of a stylish mirror when off, with the benefits of a high-resolution LCD television when on.'

Which begs the question.. WHY?

LB said it would be handy because a burglar wouldn't want to pinch a mirror.

What if though, the burglar was really vain? He or indeed she may see a lovely looking mirror on the wall and think 'Wow, a good old mirror, I'll 'ave that.' (burglars probably don't pronounce their Hs) They steal the practical mirror, get it home and find themselves watching Doctor Who and thinking they are hallucinating.

I have a better idea.

Why not disguise a TV as a value can of Tesco baked beans? Or even better a TV disguised as a grey pair of Y fronts with huge brown skid marks and pee stains? What burglar would want to steal an old pair of Y fronts?

Plus I'm 35 today. Wheee!!

I won't possibly be blogging quite as regular (although I may get back into it) and I've had a few lovely mails of concern due to my absence of blogging. I'm not about to croak it or something which is the most popular choice of concern. I am currently well (sort of) and my life is currently beautiful. Not that it wasn't before. I am also contactable through Facebook as Jayne Atherton (not my real name as it happens) in the London network. Not that I even live in London either. I won't accept people unless they leave a message stating how they 'know' me and I won't accept people who say they want to maim or kill me. This is for personal safety reasons.

Happy weekend all!!! I'm off out tonight for a fancy meal. No doubt I'll blog about it when the alcohol as left my system. So, a few weeks then. I made myself laugh just there. It wasn't even funny. Jeez.....

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Happy Birthday Adam !!

2008-10-01T23:06:00.005+01:00

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Yes I know!! I have been lacking in posts and commenting on blogs. First of all, apologies to anyone who has mailed me over the last few weeks. I will be getting back to you shortly. Since the live radio appearance, I've been innundated to appear on all sorts of things... like er.... and ummm..... er.... well you know... just stuff.
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However, Adam is 11 today and it has been a great evening.
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Happy Wednesday to all!! If I was drunk then I would say I love everyone, but I'm not drunk so I won't.
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Oh wait.....
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Hic!!
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I love you all.
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This was 5.45 am. Yes. 5.45am. It was dark and cold. And cold and dark. And early. Did I mention it was 5.45am? Feel free to browse through my dressing table items.

Great advert for the Wii. (other games consoles are available)

Great advert from me to NOT be awake at 5.45am.

Me, Adam and a huge red ball. Or something.

Don't know what was happening here. I'd had valium.

The valium had taken effect, except I'd accidentally given it to the kid on the left. Shit.

This is now one of my favourite pics of Adam.

Shortly after, my hair caught alight and now I'm bald with bad scarring. Whooops!

To be fair, we weren't really blowing. Just pretending to for the sake of a photo. Why? Why did we do that? I'll never get that time back now.

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Why I love The Onion

2008-09-12T21:17:00.002+01:00

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This made me laugh too much.

In the last of the sponsor walk run stuff, here I present our live rubbish radio interview. Please remember that we had about one second notice before we did it. Plus the presenter somehow thought we were in the section for women hoping to do the race in 35 minutes or less. Ha!! I think she probably got sacked the next day. Oh, and also the slideshow isn't 12 minutes long, I just forgot to put a stopper on it. It's about 3 or 4 minutes.

Happy weekend!!

Happy Birthday Lamont!!!!!

2008-09-10T20:27:00.002+01:00

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Yes, it is our favourite Lamont's birthday today! I have collected tributes in his honour even though he isn't dead. Not yet at least. Except I didn't have time to collect tributes in between me dressing as a schoolgirl and erecting trouser tents.

Here are my own personal words of birthday fondness:

Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing. Thanks for all the joy they're bringing.

No wait, Lamont doesn't write music. Bugger. Wait, got it...

It's close to midnight and something evils lurking in the dark. Under the moonlight you see a sight that almost stops your heart.

No Jayne, don't be rude. Just because Lamont is old(er) doesn't mean to say he is an evil lurker. He was cleared of that a few years ago and all charges were dropped. Apart from the current case that is pending, Try again and think more carefully.

Watching the people get lairy is not very pretty I tell thee.

No, NO NO. Lamont isn't lairy. That birthday party was ended when I Ain't No Oprah fell over in his switch flops and ripped his capri pants. The pink ones. Think woman think!

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

Whoa there! Don't be silly. It's his birthday, not a vomit inducing convention. I don't have enough paper bags here and my containers are full of trouser tent juice.

So, I suggest we all sing happy birthday whilst wearing blond wigs and pretending we are out of breath and randomly touch our breasts. If you are a bloke then play with your balls or something, but no more juice because it gets everywhere and I don't want to saturate the blog with sticky residue.

Women's Adidas Challenge 2008. In pictures. More words to follow!

2008-09-07T19:40:00.021+01:00

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Today was the 5K Adidas Women's Challenge walk in Hyde Park, London. We walked for the Cystic Fibrosis Research Trust. Thank you to all who donated money. We passed our target of £500. We now have over £700 in sponsorship!!

We had an absolute blast. We laughed and laughed all the way round the course. We even did a very quick (and I mean quick) live radio interview which I will post later in the week. We suddenly go accosted by a radio presenter and to be fair, we were useless. Apart from Lisa who spoke like a pro. The rest of us just giggled a lot as we took turns to speak.

It isn't often that all the 'girls' get together like this at the same time and so it was extra special. We dressed as St Trinian's schoolgirls whilst Liz took care of our million kids while we walked.
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From left to right, Lisa, Me, Sonja, Hayley.

Andrew and Myself

Me, Sue, Lorraine
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Sonja and the star of the show - Liz!!
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The crowds

Finished!!
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Playtime!!

Schoolgirls together!!

Tired
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Going home

.Nearly home!!

The Revenge of the Kids

2008-09-02T15:41:00.007+01:00

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At last. I finally completed the new video. I may only apologise for our behaviour. The 'upload' quality has come out a bit pants for some reason and it is annoying me. I may upload it again with Youtube. It is meant to be DVD quality.

As usual, the speakers must be turned up!!

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Small update

2008-08-26T21:33:00.005+01:00

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Please excuse my lack of comments on other blogs or updates. Life just got very busy and I have so much to blog and not enough time. This includes a new movie that I'm still putting together that stars new people and an update on one of the best concerts I have ever been to. I'd phone it in, but I have no idea what that really means, so instead I'll be horrid:

'Author of '100 Things to Do Before You Die' is killed in fall - and he only managed to achieve half his list

Ha haha hahahaaaaaaa. Oh, the irony..... or something.

Below is a pre concert pic from yesterday (Monday). I look pained. My heart was giving out. Too. Excited.

Below is just after the concert. I look like I've spent 3 hours in the gym without a break. Everyone else still looks glam.
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Below, after the concert again.

Inflation

2008-08-13T23:40:00.000+01:00

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Another one I made earlier. Click to enlarge.

P.S. Off the IVs now!! Or off all fours now. Or whatever.
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Olympic Plans !

2008-08-11T14:46:00.001+01:00

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Here is one I made earlier. Click to enlarge.

Happy Monday!

Not your age.

2008-08-10T16:47:00.001+01:00

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Some people have a tendency to lie about their age, in order to make us think they are younger than their apparent craggy years.

Some people display old photographs of themselves on dating sites to lure people in.

However, in my friendly local newspaper some people are blatantly trying to fool the public into thinking that the photo's sent in with their birthday announcements are a good representation of how they currently appear. I took the liberty of scanning in the birthday announcement page of the local paper to show you.

There is no way that Denise (below) is looking like that at 50. Granted, she looks like one of those girls who started her periods at nine years old and had six children by the age of twenty one. She must think we are stupid though to believe that the photo is recent.

Nicole's family below, expects us to believe that Nicole looks like that at 21. However, this could well be the case. I think she must be one of those little fellas. I mean seriously, why would a kid be holding a pretend degree and looking all smug in a university frock?

Also it says: 'Wishing you the happiest possible day'. It must mean this poor girl has a lot of problems and so she can only have a happy day as long as she takes all her medication. They may as well have said 'Have the happiest possible day despite your terrible problems. And don't blow out the candles. It makes us all want to vomit with all that spittle. Especially Arthur.'

Now in the next photo, this woman really is 30, so we can let her off. No kid would look so precocious and wise. I'm not convinced that any kid would wear a blouse like that either. Too much blusher though. Remember, less is more.

Look at Blair. Awwwwww. Blair 'The Animal'. This isn't so much that they are lying to us and we have to believe he looks like that now. They just aren't allowed to show a recent photo because he is wanted by the police. In five different countries. Look at his face. He can't manage a smile there because he hasn't stolen enough cars to order for that day and some peado photographer is taking too long taking the photo with his hands down his trousers.

The one here, is just stupid. Hannah's family went too far. No WAY is she 21 in that pic. I reckon she grew up really ugly and so that this photo is all they can bear to show.

Here we must spare a thought for poor Paul. Not even a picture. Not even a full advert. Look at all that spare space in the box. His family couldn't even be arsed to name themselves. 'Love from the family', translates 'God, you are a burden to us and we can't really be bothered to place an advert or put proper names to it. Just be thankful we gave birth to you at all. In fact we didn't. You were adopted. xxxx.'

Happy weekend !!

Fat bastards

2008-08-04T20:17:00.006+01:00

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Click to enlarge my spoof article. Original article here.
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All good here and still on IVs (moan moan).

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Let's get it on....

2008-07-26T01:00:00.002+01:00

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I have no internet access this week and so this is a scheduled post!! Whee. I hope it works.

So anyway. When I was a kid, going to the hairdressers was a simple experience. It was always Barbara with the massive straw hair and too much make up who cut your tresses and she was a friend of your Nan or something. Your hair wouldn't get washed, but Barbara would soak you through with one of those fine mist sprays that most people use for watering plants. Your fringe would get cut so short that it looked as if you were simple and if you drooled from the side of your mouth then it would not look out of place.

I got my hair cut last week as it happens. Not by Barbara of course. She must be dead by now. I went to a fancy salon opposite Tesco. What a change from those days gone by.

I wanted a cut and blow dry. They called it a cut and finish. I told them style I wanted. They called it a customer consultation. I wanted conditioner. They called it deep nourishing hair moisturiser. Its a pity that when I asked for a glass of water I didn't get a glass of champagne. The twots.

However, the hair wash was something else. I call it a hair wash. They called it a relaxing, hair cleansing experience.

I sat down in front of the wash basin and the bloke (my hairdresser) said he would turn on the chair massager. Before I knew it I had leather balls pushing into my lower back and arse, kneading me like dough. It felt good. Then it went to my shoulders. I had been tense. This chair was brilliant. In out, push, throb. In out, push throb. My god. How amazing. Mmmm. More. In, out, push throb.

Then as I was being caressed by imitation leather covered mechanics, the stereo system played: 'Let's get it on' by Marvin Gaye. Wow!

'Let's get it onnnnnnn'. In, out, push throb.

'I'm asking you baby to get it on with me'. In, out, push throb.

Oh good god. Then, this bloke starts massaging my head because a head massage is all part of the service when they nourish your hair with hair moisturising semen or whatever it was.

'Let's get it onnnnnnn' - In out, push throb, rub, rub, rub.

I lay with my head back as it was being massaged (I'm a sucker for massage) and I realised that a row of women were going through the same experience. All of us had gowns covering us. You could only see our shoes. All of us had our hands hidden underneath the gowns. All of had 'Let's get it onnnnn' - In out, push throb, rub, rub, rub.

Then I wondered. I wondered how many women were tempted to have a quick fiddle with themselves under the gowns as they had the lavish experience of a hair wash. A bit of masturbation between rinses does not hurt anyone. I definitely think the old woman at the end was having a quick grope of herself. She probably discovered feelings she thought had dried up years ago. And all because of a hair wash. 'Let's get it onnnnn' - In out, push throb, rub, rub, rub. Twitch, shudder, aieeeeee, oooh ahhhhhhh.

I'm going again soon.

Have a pic of a red bug.

Innocence

2008-07-23T20:34:00.000+01:00

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The other week I was taking a lovely and very pleasant walk round the meadow. The sky was as blue as the ocean (a nice blue ocean, not one of those grey ones) and it was warm. It was warm, sunny and beautiful. It was very beautiful. And warm.

Some children were playing football on the field. All playing in the beautiful warm sunshine. Their laughter carried over with the light breeze that gently caressed my face. Children's laughter is beautiful yes? They were calling to each other, in playful tones. Friendships were bonding and these innocent childhood memories would last forever. I caught a whisper of their sweet, sweet innocent words that were carried by the warm breeze as they played football. I heard:

'Just kick the ball you TWAT !'

Beautiful. Simply beautiful.

Please have a pic of a street near where I used to live. The shop called Doodles is an art shop and I went there to get all my school and art supplies throughout the years. I love that shop.

Rotting

2008-07-20T22:47:00.006+01:00

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I'm not dead, dying or rotting like a corpse. I'm not even maggotty. I don't even think I smell too bad.

So basically, I knew things were a bit iffy when I phoned up the Bunchman and 'lung noise' replaced my voice with a sort of growling sound. This amused Bunchman no end. He helpfully shouted out to his Mum who was there:

'Mum, if you have anything black to wear in your wardrobe, then you had better dust it off.'

Basically, Adam had a cold then I got it and felt okay until my lungs decided to act like total wankers. My lung function went way down and I lost all the lovely weight I had managed to put on by going to the gym. (losing weight is bad in this instance) I ended up with my chest sounding like a collection of ill animals. I can't remember me sounding quite so bad before. I'm asleep more than I'm awake and I have a couple of weeks of IVs (intraveanous antibiotics) to sort out the wankery lungs. Phew! The other anti death medication was obviously a faulty batch.

Adam posted for me last time, because I don't have a laptop and couldn't be arsed to sit at my desk. Thank you for replying to him. I'm trying to encourage him to write more and so the comments spur him on a bit.

Meanwhile, Adam has done another cartoon of how it may look if Lamont beat me at Scrabble. It is for Sparkle because it was her idea.
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Adam here !!

2008-07-15T19:47:00.005+01:00

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Hello this is Adam. This week my mum is not very well. I've been ordered to tell people that she can't be bothered play Scrabulous but I think she was losing anyway. I have been helping and have been eating ice cream & chocolate but don't tell mum! I might pinch her flake dessert next.

Mum always puts pictures at the end of her posts, but I'm not always allowed to read them. But I made the cartoon that is underneath. I did it on the paint section on my Mum's PC. Mum thought it was really cool. She wants me to draw some more.

Joke I Like

2008-07-11T16:03:00.005+01:00

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(Firstly, I finally managed to reply to the comments on my last post. I'm a bit late because I was late)

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Now for the joke I read yesterday:

A man visits his doctor because he is always feeling tired and is worried about it.

"I'm afraid that I am going to have to ask you to stop masturbating', says the doctor.

"Oh no, why is that?' asks the worried patient.

"Well, I am trying to examine you" replied the Doctor, "And it is really putting me off".

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This is an Aston Martin that was used in a James Bond film.
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Fridge Fun

2008-07-07T16:51:00.006+01:00

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I had to join in with Lois and Dinosaur Casserole and kindly show you the contents of my fridge. It either that or show you the contents of my stomach, but I opted for fridge instead. Although in real terms, it will all soon become the contents of my stomach, apart from the creme caramel on the top shelf, because I don't like them. That belongs to Adam.

The top shelf has flake dessert, which I may eat later. I have a tin of pineapple from 1986 at the back on the right. I'll give that to my parents next time they come round for dinner. There is also some dairylea cheese dunkers there. Everyone knows that you give those to your kids when you can't be arsed to make them a proper lunch. There is also butter and cheese.

The middle shelf has medication on the left. This keeps me from dying. Keeping it in the fridge doesn't stop me from dying, that would just be stupid. I don't have a magical fridge, I don't want you all thinking it has ideas of grandeur. Next to the anti death medication box (everyone should have one) there is a bowl of leftover home grown, Pygmy hand reared chicken with wild rice grown in Mauritius with a sweet sauce from the tropics that has been specially flown in. Under that is some lamb and chicken. Next to that is a jar of mango chutney. I count that as one of my five a day. Behind that I have strawberry syrup and apple vodka- all obviously classed as one of my five a day. There are carrots too, but the grapes escaped into my fruit smoothie yesterday evening.

The bottom shelf is where I become bored of arranging the fridge. It is all shoved in. Lemon juice, salad dressing, the contents of a cows udder and bacon and tomato and a cucmber under all the rubble.

The fridge door contains more cow udder juice, more anti death rubbish and lager. The lager is for my Dad. He makes me buy it him just because he is renovating my garden. All he did was lay a patio, build a wall, make a base for a shed and dig a few tree's out. He is 60 years old on Thursday so will probably expect a present as well. I'm going to buy him a spade and tell him to get a move on..... (er... for the sake of my life.. I'm joking dad.. see... you can't kill me, I have anti death medication boxes stashed away).

I also have garlic and cream in the door. I love garlic. I love cream.

For Sparkle: Flake dessert is a milk chocloate dessert with milk choclate 'flake' pieces. Flake is a very crumbly chocolate. Gets everywhere. Annoying.

Less is More

2008-07-02T21:29:00.002+01:00

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There is an actual group of folk who campaign against climate change. I'm thinking of becoming a member because I hate the rain and would like more sun and heat.

Anyway, the group advocates a scheme that is trying to get people to make one less car journey a week. This will obviously save the planet. Thank goodness that someone thought this up because otherwise we'd all be doomed.

So I decided to do my bit for the environment. I made one less car journey this week. I didn't drive the five miles to the gym. I walked to the pub instead.

We're all saved!

The Great Escape - Video

2008-06-25T20:07:00.003+01:00

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There have been some funny goings on around here. When we go out, the toys try to escape. The gits.

Speakers on please.

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Normal Service....

2008-06-23T22:07:00.003+01:00

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... will resume shortly.
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Spot the Difference

2008-06-16T16:08:00.003+01:00

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I thought it time we had some brain teasers on this blog. Something to get your brain working. Brush off the cobwebs after the weekend.

You have to spot the two differences between these two old pics. It may take a while, so sit back and make notes if you have to. Click to enlarge.

*Note to Weymouth One* - my impression of Sonja (see pic) from Eastenders is now better than yours...)
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Gordon's Petrol

2008-06-13T19:21:00.000+01:00

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A news article from today, revealing the truth about petrol and Gordon Brown. Click to enlarge. Etc.
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Notes

2008-06-07T20:22:00.000+01:00

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Dear Slugs and Snails,

Please stop eating my plants.

Love

Jayne

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Dear Iron,

Please do not break half way through me ironing. It is inconvenient.

Love

Jayne

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Dear Mum,

Please don't lend me a working iron. It means I have to finish the ironing. It is inconvenient.

Love

Jayne

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Dear Dogs on the other side of my garden

Please stop barking at 7.30 am. In fact stop barking all day. It is inconvenient.

Love

Jayne.

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Dear Jayne,

Please refrain from dropping your phone in flood water and then wonder why the speaker won't work. It is inconvenient.

Love

Jayne

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Dear Scrabble Player,

Please stop getting four Bingo's in one game it violates me and it is inconvenient.

Love

Jayne

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Have a pic of a Futurama cake I once made.

The Dog's Newspaper

2008-06-05T18:25:00.001+01:00

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I can't believe it. I was cleaning out Minnie's bedding and I found a stack of her newspapers under her cushion. Take a read of this. Click to enlarge.

(Spot the mistake. I made an error and it was too late to change it. Bah)!

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Nice and Puerile

2008-06-02T17:06:00.005+01:00

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When Bunchman rings me up, we have in depth and extremely intelligent conversations.

Last night for example we decided to list some television programmes and films but substitute one of the words in each title for the word 'poo'. Like I say, we are grown up. Last week we chose the word cock.

Sex and the Poo

Indianna Jones and the Crystal Poo

Buffy the Poo Slayer

Britain's got Poo

Ugly Poo or Poo Betty

Desperate Poos or Poo Housewives

Pushing Poos or Poo Daisies

Have I got Poo For You

Run Fat Poo Run

Over Her Dead Poo

The Poo After Tomorrow

Live and Let Poo

The Iron Poo or The Poo Man

Doctor Poo

Etc.

Now, the following don't work quite as well:

The Poos - The Simpsons

Poos - Friends

Poos - Jaws

Maybe think up your own.

The End.

Have a pic of the view I had when eating lunch last week. Click to enlarge.

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Guest Post from Minnie (the dog)

2008-05-28T22:09:00.001+01:00

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:: Woof woof::

Hey people. Sit. I said SIT. Heheeee. See, how do you like being told what to do?
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So anyway, after making my debut comment on Jac's blog and then reading Seb's post (he is a genius dog) I begged Jayne my owner (yeah right, I'm in charge but she likes to think she owns me) to allow me to post. She's been all busy lately and neglecting her blog. What is it with these things? She sits here and giggles to herself all the time. It is a pain when I'm trying to lick my arse. It puts me off my stride.
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Anyway, strange things have been going on around here. Adam came home from school last week doing this funny walk. He looked really stupid and I barked with the hilarity. Then, he kept saying 'Ouch my leg hurts.' After all the whining Adam was doing - (and believe me, I whine a lot so I'm no stranger to it), Jayne bundled Adam in the car and they didn't come back for four hours!
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Well, I was so excited to see them when they came back, that a little bit of wee came out. Jayne did not really share my doggy enthusiasm She doesn't appreciate me. I don't wee in excitement for anyone else! I got sent outside and it was raining, so I sploshed about in the mud before I ran back through the house. I know she likes that because then she says: 'Oh great, I haven't got anything else better to do than clean up after you.' She uses a different tone of voice when she says that, so I know she is happy with me.
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Then I noticed that Adam had these two extra legs made of metal that he held in his hands and he swung himself about on them to get about. Freaky!
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Jayne kept calling them crotches, but I sniffed them and they didn't smell anything like crotches. I should know, I've sniffed a few in my time and they can be quite meaty and pungent. Especially the blokes. Then I realised that Jayne called the strange metal legs 'crutches'. Her diction really needs more work.
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Well, I thought all that was odd, but on Saturday they went out and when they came back, Adam was sat in a chair with wheels! Yes, you heard me bark that correctly - wheels, on a chair! It is nearly as odd as the box they sit and stare at in the corner. It has sound coming out of it. Sometimes I hear and see a dog in the box. I always quickly run round the back of it to catch the bloody dog that gets stuck in there, but I never see it. Jayne just laughs and tells me to lie down. For someone who claims to like dogs, she can be quite cruel at times.
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The chair on wheels thing is fun. When I am out on my walks and Adam is being wheeled about, I get to jump around in front of the wheels and generally get in the way. Jayne says that my paws will get mangled. I don't know what that means, but it sounds like so much fun.
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Adam thinks it is funny to continuously put the brakes on the chair so Jayne can't push it anymore. It is hilarious. It makes me want to jump around the chair a bit more and drop my ball under its wheels. It creates havoc and I've never had so much fun. Except last time, Jayne got fed up with Adam putting on the brakes and guess what she did? She walked off, left Adam in the chair and shouted 'Run Forrest run' at the top of her voice. And there were people about. She laughed for ages. All the way home in fact.
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Now all Adam does is hog the sofa with his leg up. It really isn't fair because there isn't much room for me now and so I have to sit with my bum end towards Adam and hope I fart in his face.
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I'm off, I need to get on the sofa before Adam does.

::Woof woof::

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Flowery

2008-05-26T22:16:00.002+01:00

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I'm not dead.

Have a pic of a flower. Or something.

Fighting Fit

2008-05-21T22:00:00.004+01:00

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So most of you already know that I have lung problems and stuff, blah blah blah. .. bbbbb
Now, as a result of this, my lung function is pants. It isn't the worst it could be for someone with my health issues and for my age, but it isn't good either. If you take a huge breath in or out (stick with it, I'm not very technical) then I can only do half of that. On a bad day, less. The dog barks at me if I walk too slow and my Mother hits me when I cough.
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So, I asked my nice physio lady at the hospital to refer me to a gym because I am desperate to maintain the lung function I have left. I'm not ready for the knackers yard just yet! I even have my own trainer (hark at me) and it is like playing grown ups.

I'm there with all the super fit people and I am chugging along on whatever machine I'm using. Tonight I was crawling on the treadmill. It digitally asked me if I wanted an incline but I think the machine was a bit basic because it did not have a 'downhill' setting. The guy next to me was running on his machine for over thirty minutes. He had the audacity not to be puffed out aftwerwards. Show off.

I also used the rowing machine. Some joker had set it to the hardest setting so when I sat on it and tried to pull myself forward, my seat nearly whizzed across the room with all the effort.

Then to make it worse, I was using the lickle ickle dumbells to stretch my chest muscles and the bloke next to me used the biggest weights he could lay his hands on. He had muscles the size of my whole head in just his arms. There I was lifting these minsicule weights whilst breathing in and out as if I was concentrating on pulling a truck on a rope and there is Mr Super Guy dragging the equivalent of an elephant across the room with his little finger.

...

Now although I haven't had the balls to get pics of me in the gym, you can get the idea from my house instead. Also it goes to show that by wearing 'sporty' clothes, you can fool anyone. Winner!
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I like to start off with weights. Look how easy I find it...
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Yes, it's really easy.....

The dog rushes to my aid....

Then she walks off! The cow.

Then I move on to the exercise bike. I was told to make sure I am as comfortable as possible on each machine. I think I did well in heeding that advice.
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I like to finish my work out with a little nap. That isn't infrastructure (wine) with me. No, don't be silly. It is err.. ummm.. special lung medicine. Yes, that's it. All pharmacists including Booooooots sell it over here.

P.S. My bed isn't small. It is the angle of the picture. You know, because otherwise I'd look like one of those spinsters who sleep in single beds. I don't even own a cat and I don't even frequent bars on my own. And I don't eat meals for one out of trays. I shave my legs all the way to the top even when I'm not going out. Spinster types tend to shave their legs specifically when they go out on the pull and even then it is just to the knees. The top half still looks woolly.

Brazil !! EDITED WITH NEW PIC

2008-05-15T22:24:00.010+01:00

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It is that time of year. The sun is out, the sky is blue.

However.

Along with that, we have to remember that our bodies are still used to winter. Maybe we are a little pasty, a little sluggish, a little hairy.

So, with that in mind, I decided to opt for a full Brazilian wax so I can safely wear my bikini without having to constantly tuck in stray hairs or check for those wiry one poking through the front.

Yaritza my beautician was very good, although to be honest she could have done with a trim herself. Those white salon uniforms don't hide many sins and most of the hair poking out appeared to come from her chest.

I was there for two hours. Two hours!

I asked Yaritza to keep the short and curlies in a bag for me, so I can weave them into a either a jumper, a scarf or some warm socks for next winter:

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I really should trim more regularly.
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I offered to make Yaritza a jump suit and a bedspread out of her nipple hair when she shaves it off. I'll be very busy!

Wait. Have a closer look at that pic. I zoomed in on it for you. It seems that I had a whole menagarie living in there. I'm amazed I wasn't itchy:

Human/Dog speak

2008-05-12T22:46:00.003+01:00

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I haven't posted for over a week, but contrary to popular belief, I'm not dead. I just couldn't be arsed. Stuff and stuff happened. Then some more stuff, then a bit more stuff.

I got a new gadget from Woolworths over the weekend. It allows you to interpret what your dog is thinking. It was only a fiver and I learned a lot. Have a list of what I say to the dog and what she says back:

Me (in the morning): 'Do you want to go outside? Do you? Come on, go outside.'

Minnie: No I don't, you freak. You say the same thing every morning. I've just woken up and you expect me to go and wee on wet grass? I will just sit and look at you as if you have suggested doggie euthanasia. I want a chewy stick. I don't even like them but I'll have it anyway

Me 'Do you want a chewy stick? Minnie want a chewy, come one, come on...'

Minnie: I just said I wanted a chewy stick you fool. Just give it to me, then I can roll about on it.

Me: 'Eughh, what's that smell? Yuk, euuugh'

Minnie: Oh like you never fart. It's those chewy sticks you insist on giving me, it's like eating cardboard but it's either that or you get in a mood. Now let me out. I need a wee. I'll just stand at the door to let you know.

Me: 'NO, I just let you out. Stop messing about. Go and lie down'

Minnie: Eh? What? You can't win round here. You'll be telling me next to stop dragging my arse along the floor.

Me: 'Aaaaargh, stop dragging your arse along the floor. OUTSIDE NOW !!'

Minnie: Whoa there, I just asked to go out and you said no. Get a grip. Can we go for a walk now? I'll just whine all morning until you take me out. That should do it. Plus that black Labrador likes to sniff my arse. I like it! It helps the worms get out.

Me: 'Stop whining, I don't know why you get so excited over the same walk every day. '

Minnie: Says the woman who sits there typing drivel most days. You are just jealous because you can't lick your own arse. Don't deny it, I see you looking at me when I do it. Unless you are eating. Then you seem to try and turn away. I try to be good by getting my tongue right in the crevices and yet you still tell me off.

Me: ' Minnie !! Dinner. Din dins. Your din dins is ready.'

Minnie: Oh there she goes. Din dins? I may only be 6 but that makes me 42 and a whole lot wiser. I'll just sniff it. Then walk away. Then go back to it. Then walk away until I get the good stuff.

Me: 'No, no leftovers, you didn't eat your dinner. Just have this bit of chicken then. Aww, is that nice? Good doggy. '

Minnie: Heheheeeee. I have this 'look appealing' thing down to a tee. Now I had chicken and I get to eat my dinner. Now I get to play with my squeaky toy throughout the whole of your favourite TV programme !!

Fork

2008-05-02T00:11:00.003+01:00

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I always feel a bit sorry for forks. They have a tough job. They get the worse deal ever. Poor things. Those poor pronged pieces of cutlery.
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Lets us look at the evidence.Take a knife for example they have an important job. They are the king of cutlery. They cut up our food. They make large steaks and turn them into manageable juicy chunks, unless you like them well done. I don't personally but each to their own.
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If you are David Rantz, you will particularly like knives because when kids lick them, they accidentally cut open their mouths and they probably bleed to death.
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Forks though. Where do I begin? There they are sitting around and then they get hauled up and shoved into a mouth. A big hungry gob. A cavernous hole. Gorging on food and dripping saliva everywhere. Dripping dirty germ ridden saliva all over the pristine prongs. The forks in cafes or restaurants get the worse deal, because they see all manner of mouths at all times of the day.
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Sometimes a fork has to plunge into a mouth that has just been full of... er.. what you might call in polite terms 'willy juice'. The fork doesn't even get a choice. It doesn't even get to choose which willy the juice has come from unlike the lucky person who just involved themselves in that activity.
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Forks may have to enter the mouth of someone who has just vomited after finding a squirrel eye in their meat pie. They decided just to eat their chips instead. It's all carroty and a bit rancid smelling. The knife just looks on all smugly.
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Forks have to enter the mouth of Gordon who can't be bothered to clean his teeth after 10 cups of coffee and a quick oral fumble with Brenda behind the counter at Boots. Not only that, he has a coldsore and those poor prongs caught the scab on the corner of his mouth. It wasn't pleasant. God knows what kind of germ ridden concoction is erupting in his mouth. The left hand prong saw a pube nestling in Gordon's molar. It didn't even look like one of Brenda's, so goodness knows what Gordon had been doing to himself. To add insult injury, the fork only gets a quick rinse under the tap because Gordon's hot water system broke down a few months back.
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What sort of life is that for a fork?
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Even their cousins, the fondue fork, gets shoved into hot cheesy liquid that has bits of saliva droppings from all the people round the table at the wife swap party. Saliva engulfed genitalia crustaceans are flying about everywhere, attaching themselves to fork prongs, back into the cheesy liquid, back into the mouth, back into the liquid. Mouth/dip/mouth/dip.

Furthermore, It's the only meal where you end up with more sauce than you started off with, except it has now gone a bit lumpy. You could get pregnant off that cheese sauce because there is so much extra liquid in it. Or else Gordon will get a nice dose of oestrogen because Bill had a good old mouthful of Maureen nestling in his teeth. Mouth/dip/mouth/dip. The men develop breasts and the women develop extended clitoris's. All because of the humble fork that has no choice but to share everyone's hormonal imbalances.
..
Next time you have fondue think of this.
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Next time you use a fork in a cafe, think of this.
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Every time you eat, think of this.
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Have a pic of two pigs.
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News and Swim Rules

2008-04-27T19:43:00.002+01:00

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Firstly, it has been a weekend of Great News. Jac is a fellow blogger who has been waiting to get a transplant for er... well quite a long time.

On other news, today I went swimming. The swimming pool I go to though has so many new rules and regulations. They are all to fit in with EU guidelines. It took me ages to read it and I wasn't sure if I had any of the correct requirements. I made a note of them:

Each public swim session requires the following:

There must be at least one Dad shouting loudly at his kids to swim properly. Losing of temper is a must.
There must be at least one kid who throws up. In the pool.
There must be a fat kid in the pool.
The fat kid must splash a lot. And wobble. And take out at least 3 adults when he jumps in.
Fat kid must wear a see through white t shirt.
There must be at least one super fit swimmer who does continuous lengths as you faddle about trying to do a width.
There must be at least one kid screaming because it hates the water
There must be at least one adult screaming because they hate the water
There must be at least one old person who swims really slowly down the lane as you try to do a width.
There must be one really hairy man.
There must be one really hairy woman.
At least one adult or child must blow snot into the water
There must be one adult or child who accidentally swallows the expelled snot. It must not be consumed by the person who expelled it
There must be at least one annoyingly large family/group of kids who take over half the pool.
There must be at least one man whose swim shorts show half his arse as he climbs out of the pool
At any one time, one person must wee in the showers.

Have a pic of something. I was cold and drinking tea.

Still not Part Two of Dr Who.

2008-04-21T19:58:00.006+01:00

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Last week I took Adam to a farm with his friend and the Bunchman. It was a different farm to last time, but the smell was the same.

Anyway, I went to the toilet to try and add to the overall ambient smell and overheard a little girl talking to her Mum. I have taken the liberty of typing in italics what the Mother was really thinking.

Girl : 'Mummy, where is daddy?'

Mother: 'Daddy is at home.'
The lazy git would not come for a family day out because we had an argument. I wish I was drinking gin.

Girl: 'When can we see him?'

Mother: 'We will see him when we get home, now let's go and see the pigs. Again.'
When do you think we will see him? He won't magically appear. Now let's go and see the pigs. Again. I wish I was drinking gin.

Girl: 'What is Daddy doing at home?'

Mother: 'He will be on the computer, now wash your hands'.
I expect he is at home surfing the net for porn and wanking. He will be washing his hands now to get rid of the evidence. And the walls hopefully. He never aims straight. No wonder I can never wear contact lenses. The optician kept thinking I had gluey eye infection. That reminds me, you must wash your hands. I wish I was drinking gin.

The End.

Have a pic of some more lambs. They look so elegant. They are the height of elegance. Or something. Elegance eh? It even sounds elegant.

Still not Part Two

2008-04-17T17:02:00.005+01:00

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Firstly, I am still combing the archives (various bags) for a pic as my Dad dressed as the Incredible Hulk. I'll keep looking.

Meanwhile, today I had a routine appointment at the hospital.

Part of the appointment involved a scan on my stomach innards. When I got to the clinic area, Lisa the nurse said that I must be hungry as I'd been fasting in preparation for the scan. I made the following noise:

'Mmmphgrulfyee.'

Oh God.

Adam looked at me and his eyes grew wide. Seeing the look on my face, he smirked. He smirked a lot.

He knew.

He knew I'd messed up.

He knew that maybe it wasn't the right time to mention the fact I'd eaten 3 weetabix, had a cup of tea (milky, one sugar) at home and eaten a packet of polo mints during my drive to Oxford.

So, I did the only grown up thing.

I kept quiet.

I decided that if the mass of weetabix, tea (milky, one sugar) and polo mints showed up on the scan then I would have to insist it was a lethal tumour, the sort that contains crunchy bits enveloped in brown liquid (milky, one sugar).

Luckily the sonographer didn't mention the weetabix, tea (milky, one sugar) or the polo mints and the scan went well.

Weirdly though, half way through my scan the doctor told the attending nurse that he was suddenly craving a cup of tea despite the fact he prefers coffee. The nurse asked how he wanted it. 'Er, milky one sugar please', he said. Except he didn't, but the thought made me giggle as I lay there being scanned.

Have a pic of some freaks and a Dalek.

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This isn't Part Two

2008-04-16T20:42:00.003+01:00

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I'm still working on Part Two of the Doctor Who blog. It will be a video. It is school holidays and I have to be all parenty and things so it may be ready next week instead.

So anyway.

I was ten years old on and because of this, I had a birthday on the day I turned 10 which was more than just coincidence. Also, I had a party. My Mum must have had a memory lapse since my 5th birthday party which was at home and forgotten about all the stresses involved. At that party, two people wet themselves and one person did a poo without even going to the toilet. The children weren't much better.

However, everything was going well. My Mum adorned the living room walls with posters of Duran Duran, Limahl and Wham. My friends thought it was pretty cool that we had posters on the walls downstairs. Maybe they thought they were always there. They never saw my Dad having a fit about the blu-tack peeling the wallpaper from the walls. However, for now at least the posters hid the last of the hideous 70s wallpaper. I wore my red pixie boots and loads of girls wore their best ra ra skirts.

My Mum did a buffet and we danced to poptastic hits, tried to look generally cool and discussed how gross we thought kissing boys would be. We had a lot to learn.....

I'd go as far to say that it was all going well.

Until......

Until that moment.

My Dad.

He wondered downstairs and could have been mistaken for a mental patient who had got confused over what sort of party he was going to.

He flung open the door shouting:

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH."

Why?

My dad had dressed as the Incredible Hulk.

Not just dressed like him... I'm not talking about the kind mannered David Banner who eventually succumbed the the bad cancer....

He had also painted himself. Green.

In summary, my Dad stormed my party dressed and painted as the Incredible Hulk.

Not only that...

He had painted himself with the last of my green paint from my Take Hart, Tony Hart Art set.

How was I supposed to paint my lilac trees now?

How was I going to explain why my Dad was wearing a pair of ripped shorts and had painted his body green?

Hang on a minute, I need to sit in a darkened room awhile.

Have a pic of me doing my work with the orphans. I found this one wandering around, so I told her how to make a ball with a lump of poo.
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Our Week... Part One

2008-04-12T20:49:00.025+01:00

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You won't know that I even went anywhere, but I'm back. I went on a jaunt for a few days. (click on pics to enlarge)

Yes, I went away and spent my time with some dodgy characters :
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No, don't be silly. That is Adam and myself. I said that I spent my time with some dodgy characters:
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Now just stop it. Stop being silly, that is of course Andy and myself. Give me a second....

NO !! He isn't dodgy either. He saves our planet from destruction. I spent my time with some really weird people:

I know... what a freaky looking guy! I met him when Adam and myself stayed overnight at a hotel somewhere. The doorman was a bit weird though:
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I should probably have left at that point, but it was getting late and I was tired. The receptionist was obviously in between plastic surgery procedures, but I didn't stare. I was good. I just took a photo instead. A close up one. Without even asking. Weirdo's don't mind being photographed, they just like the attention:
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I got a bit freaked out, so I made Adam check us in. Adam looked a bit nervous, but I told him to get a grip:
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After that, we went straight to dinner because I was starving and Adam had only eaten 5 minutes previously so was obviously desperate for food. However, to be perfectly honest I didn't think much of the table centrepieces:
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And the food wasn't much better:

Well, I decided to complain to the hotel manager. He was just in his office and he was less than communicative:

I think he was having trouble with his computer because he kept shouting 'DELETE, DELETE.' I tried telling him that you couldn't tell a computer to delete, you had to press the button on the keypad. He looked a bit angry and strode towards us.

I told him to sort himself out, escort us to our room and stop being so silly. I was tired by now and the entrails had not really filled me up. The manager did escort us to our room eventually, but he was really rude and stamped his feet all the way there. You could tell that he hated his job.

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Our room looked a bit small and pokey from the outside, it was one of those modern pods that are popular with people who think it is funky to sleep in a cupboard:
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However, we were really lucky because the pod was really large on the inside! I wasn't so keen on the decor though. I prefer creams and muted colours myself, but you can't have it all:
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Andy picked us up the next day and nearly got us into more trouble when on the way to our room he fraternised with a chambermaid!!
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Unfortunately, the hotel manager was stamping around and still muttering about deleting stuff. He caught Andy mid fraternise. Well, I tell you.. all hell broke loose! The manager ended up calling in the area manager to have a word with us all:
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Luckily, the area manger saw the funny side and allowed us to pose for a pic with him to show us that there were no hard feelings. As soon as our backs were turned though, the bastard turned nasty and tried to laser us to death!
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Andy shouted for help and one of the other guests came to our aid:

It was great of him to help us. He was one of those short fellas. He looked lovely in his little tuxedo outfit. I patted him on the head to show that I know how to treat people who are all dwarfy. God though, to be honest being a little short fella was the least of his worries. His skin was very red. I expect he was embarrassed at being shorter than me.

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When we were about to check out, we met this woman in the foyer. I think she had also been put off by all the entrail food because she looked a bit green and very fed up:

She had terrible wind and insisted on farting all the time. Apart from that she was ok. Well, apart from that and the fact she kept trying to kill us! Blimey eh?! Luckily we didn't realise until I got home and downloaded our pics. Look at this !!!
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Luckily Andy distracted her with the flash (of the camera, not his privates) and she ran off. She left a horrendous stench though.

One thing about the hotel, were the beautiful angel statues in the garden. They were gorgeous, smiley and serene. They were amazing carved stone. What a beautiful aspect to the landscaping. I got a pic of one of them with Adam and Andy:

Some other guests tried to tell me that in a certain light, the stone Angel's looked evil and frightfully nasty. For goodness sake! How can a beautiful, simple, garden statue look frightening?

So, to show you, I got a close up photo of one of the smiley Angels to prove everyone wrong:

Oh wait.....

Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Arghhhhhhh !!!!!!!!

Look at that !!!

Where the hell had I been?

Oh yes.

Here:
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It was an exhibition.

Phew!

It wasn't real.

Was it?

To be continued......

Art

2008-04-09T19:32:00.003+01:00

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When I were a lass (ie a kid), there was a TV show called Take Hart which was a children's programme about art and crafts. Tony Hart was the presenter and the artist, hence the witty title of Take Hart.

I enjoyed Take Hart, I learned how to draw all sorts of things and to interpret my imagination through the medium of glitter and wax crayons. I was especially adept at painting lilac trees. So adept, that it was all I painted at one point. For about 12 months. I also discovered the joy of gluing feathers to inanimate objects and sticking googly eyes on everything, thus making things look endearing. Sort of.

One year, I was overjoyed to learn of a new art set that was for children. It was a Tony Hart, Take Hart art set. I was so excited and I put it down on my Christmas list as my most wanted present. It looked great on the telly. I'd get paints, crayons, glitter and feathers that I could stick all over everything to my hearts content.

My Mother however informed me that the product actually only contained a painting brush and a pencil. I felt suspicious. I was yet to learn about false advertising in the consumer industry, but I was quite convinced the Tony Hart art set was as good as the box indicated. My Mother insisted it was just a lot of money for a paintbrush and a pencil.

Can you imagine my excitement on Christmas morning? I was filled with anticipation to see whether I'd get the art set.

My Mum handed me a huge box on Christmas morning and kindly said 'Ooooh look, open this one first'. I was so, so excited.

I ripped off the paper and a plain brown cardboard box was revealed. It had writing on one side. It said 'TONY HART'S ART SET'. The box was not as bright and colourful as the one I had seen in the shops, but still.. it didn't matter, I expected the real box to be inside. Then inside my head, I realised that the writing looked suspiciously 'homemade'. It looked like it had been written in my own felt tip pens.

I opened the box.

Out fell a really small paintbrush.

And a pencil.

I inspected the box for further goods.

Nothing.

'Oh look' said my Mum a bit too jovially. 'I told you it was just a paintbrush and a pencil in that art set, oh well never mind.'

I looked at my Mum. I thought back to the Marmite incident. The taste of dead people in my mouth still haunted me. It was then that I knew, I knew she had done this. On Christmas Day. I politely, but scathingly said 'Ok, where is the real one, I know you did this'. I was only about 8 or 9, but I suddenly spoke with the wisdom of a person far beyond my years.

I did get the real art set on that day and it was fab. Then I lived happily ever after. Until my Dad did the Incredible Hulk thing at one of my parties that is.

Have a a pic of the fountain that is next to Boooooots.

Careers

2008-04-04T17:54:00.008+01:00

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Sometimes, people like to take a different direction in life. Maybe they decide to take an evening class. For Gordon, taking an evening class in flower arranging was a simple distraction to his job that consisted of encouraging guinea pigs to mate in a laboratory. All day. He placed his little finger on small rodents where no man should. He had to be delicate, so arranging delicate stems in a display of flowers was an extension of his capabilities. Except flowers don't bite off your finger if you stick it in the wrong place.

Sometimes people change jobs in a complete career change. Sometimes this is not always appropriate. The obvious example of this is that I would not be keen on someone operating on me who used to be a butcher. Or, Gordon wouldn't be very good as a sex therapist. He would just tell his clients to jump on each other until one of them squealed. He'd advise the men that if their wives were feeling frisky then they would signify this by making purring noises whilst adopting the 'Lordosis posture'. You see, it would not be appropriate.

Yesterday I was walking past Boots the chemist (I didn't even go in, I live on the edge) and just before I walked past the chemist that claims to sell babies and children (see pic below) there was a man in a little booth. He was obviously trying to sell 'stuff '. He was shouting out. He was shouting out like a market trader. Market traders usually shout things out like: 'Fresh apples, 10 pence a pound, get yer lovely apples..' and 'Ere you are my darlin' I 'ave 'ere a luvverly stolen carpet cleaner, it cost me £345,0000 but because I like the look of you, then you can have it for a fiver'. Then the folk think they are getting a bargain. It is clever psychology.

However.

The man in the little booth was shouting out: 'Terminally ill children, terminally ill children'. Over and over again.

I wasn't sure if he was trying to sell terminally ill children or if he was asking for some because he felt lonely in his little booth. I nearly shouted out 'How much?' but it just didn't seem right. Then I considered that I have enough problems of my own and I hadn't been to the cashpoint so I couldn't really afford one.

In summary, I think it was a bad idea to allow an ex market trader to try and sell children. As it turned out he was selling tickets to help try and cure them. He would have been better advised to shout: 'Terminally ill children, come and cure your terminally children, 10 pence a child, wheeeeeeeee.'

Or something.

P.S. Just in case it should happen and he wins the lottery, then please leave your David Rant'z compliments. I'll delete the best and pass them off as my own.

Decisions in Life

2008-04-01T18:19:00.003+01:00

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Don't you find that daily decision making becomes more and more difficult? Pressure every day to do the right thing increases and it can get very intense at times.

Imagine my frustration this morning when I couldn't decide what to do. I needed to trust myself to make this decision on my own. I didn't want to let people down. Time was running out and I had to really hurry and make a snap decsion.

In the end, I decided to be different. When I got dressed, I put my socks on first rather than my bra and knickers. Usually it is bra, knickers then trousers, top and socks. Sometimes knickers, bra, top, trousers and socks. Today though I put on my socks first. It isn't really a good look so I may have to rethink tomorrow's strategy.

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Children's Rights

2008-03-26T21:22:00.014Z

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Another week has flown by. I'm having a few days of feeling, aieeee, bleeeegh and wooooooojoookayeyeyeyeeeee. Apologies for lack of comments on other blogs.
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Meanwhile, Adam brought home a lovely little letter about child rights. Yep, I rolled my eyes towards the heavens too.
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I read through the Declaration of the Rights of the Child (it is a plain language version, whatever that means). I was still rolling my eyes at the time so it made reading tricky. However, as I skimmed a few of the rights that my child apparently has, it was then I realised how many of these things I have achieved as a Mother who nurtures her only offspring to a high standard.
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I will demonstrate these achievements through the medium of photo's and a video clip if Google decides to work. The highlighted word in each chosen 'rule' will correspond to the picture, thus depicting the area of achievement. Or something. Who knows? It has been a hell of a week.
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You have the special right to grow up and develop physically.... in a healthy normal way... and with dignity

Dignity.....

Look at that er... dignity....

You have a right to special care and protection.. and to good food, housing and medical services.
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Candy floss is as good as any food ... IT IS !!

You have the right to special care if handicapped in any way....

I made him looked handicapped... Great !!!

You have the right to have an equal chance to develop yourself and to learn to be responsible and useful....

Taking traffic cones is very responsible. It enables motorists to drive through tricky spots....

Er... ummm.... Useful advice from an 8 year old..... (least he was then) Er... 'scuse me. I'll just be off. Maybe. At least he used his posh voice.

You have the right to be protected against cruel acts or exploitation.....

As if I would ever exploit my child. Oh wait.......

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You should be taught peace understanding, tolerance and friendship among all people...

Oh. Bugger. I failed. Sheeesh.

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For Cake (and everyone really)

2008-03-19T17:52:00.004Z

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Click on it to read !
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Bang !! And spoof !

2008-03-18T22:16:00.005Z

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As much as I have grudges against fragrances for the home, I also have issues with Cillit bang and the adverts for it. Firstly a fictional character called Barry Scott who is meant to be making us want to buy this stuff booms out of your TV so loudly that the windows rattle and any animals within earshot roll over in submission:

'Hi, I'm Barry Scott, Cillit Bang will even erase the disgusting rancid smell of putrid sheets after a torrid affair with your neighbour whilst your wife is out shopping for cardigans. BANG AND THE DIRT IS GONE.'

Get lost Barry. I prefer to use bleach and Cif. Or something. Maybe Flash liquid depending on how frisky I feel. I like the option. I don't want to use one product to clean everything. It is boring.

Look at the pic below though. I know it is a bit small, but honestly. That toilet is brown! Whose toilet gets that brown? The baths in the adverts usually have thick black scum in them. How dirty do the folk at Cillit Bang think we all are?

'What stain are you trying to clean? I'll tell you Barry, I'm trying to clean off the normal stuff, not 25 years of dirt and poo from up my walls.

Cillit Bang currently claims that you only need to buy their one all purpose product to clean everything from poopy stains, cum stains and the saliva off children's toys. Hopefully not with the same cloth.

So I mailed them to ask a question.

I cunningly posed as Dorothy, who is an elderly woman whose husband stays in bed all day playing dominoes. Here is what I asked:

Dear Barry Scott,

Is it safe to use your cillit bang product on my false teeth? You say it cleans anything. My teeth get stained due to all the coffee I drink and my husband gets confused if I soak them in my denture cleaner. He mistakes it for water and the solution gives him the runs.

Many thanks

Dorothy.

They actually replied with the following:

Thank you for your email regarding Cillit Bang. We strongly advise that you DO NOT use any of the Cillit Bang range to remove stains from your Dentures. We do produce Steradent which would be suitable for this purpose ensuring that you read directions for suitability.

Kind regardsCillit Bang

To summarise, they have lied about their product. It does not clean everything.

Have a spoof paper. Click on it to read it.

Spoof Daily Mail (from today)

2008-03-15T23:45:00.003Z

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Today's online newspaper was a bit unusual with all the headline snippets that I may or may not have tampered with. You have to click on it to enlarge - in order to read it properly.
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(If you aren't mentioned in this then be careful, because you will be in the next one).

Fragrant Homes

2008-03-14T13:50:00.008Z

Making your home smell fragrant is big business. However, all the scented products are costly and so I have compiled a list for you on which products are available on the market, what they are designed to achieve and my own helpful alternative money saving tips. Also I have given the true thoughts behind companies who sell these products

Ambi Pure Plug in Air Freshener: Ambi pure is the first freshener with 3 fragrances that you will notice again and again and again.

Alternative: Clean your house.

Seller thoughts: Your house must be really smelly to need 3 fresheners in one.
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Febreze Fabric Refresher: This is great at taking care of persistent odours found in fabrics.

Alternative: Clean your clothes/fabrics.

Seller thoughts: Have you not heard of soap and water? What is wrong with you... and have a wash whilst you are at it.

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Airwick Freshmatic Automatic Spray: This product delivers regular and continuous bursts of fragrance throughout the day. You can set it to spray at either 9, 18 or 36 minute intervals keeping your house smelling nice.

Alternative: Clean your house.

Seller thoughts: This is the height of laziness, so now you can't even be bothered to spray a bit of room freshener about and so we have to invent automatic sprays. Not only that, what are the hell are you doing in there to need perfume blasting out of a contraption every 9 minutes? It beggars belief. We hope you feel ashamed when you try and inconspicuously buy one of these things, pretending it is because you like your house to be lovely and fragrant when in fact it stinks and you need to cover up the stench somehow. Freaks.

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Scented Candles: Designed to release subtle fragrance.

Alternative: Open your windows, let some fresh air in. It is cheaper. And clean your house.

Seller thoughts. Open your windows, you fresh air hating weirdo's. Scented candles only cause fires for the berks who put them near curtains and let them burn your whole life down. If you are using candles to create a romantic atmosphere then you are a fool. If you need to create a romantic atmosphere through the medium of candles then your love life must be in trouble. It isn't candles you need, it is a shave or a wax. And a wash. No wonder you need to try and create a romantic atmosphere, your home stinks. You have febrezed your bedding and got chemical scents blasting in your face every 9 minutes. They are creating havoc with your hormones and you have facial hair never seen before on a woman and a poor excuse of a willy for man. Thank goodness our sister company makes razors and viagra. Cunning eh? We kill two birds with one stone. Still, at least we are making money on all this stuff. Who is laughing now? Eh? EH?

The End.

Have a pic of Legoland. I went there once.

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New Addition !!!!

2008-03-11T18:48:00.003Z

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Wow, a whole week since I last blogged.

Well I have a new addition to the family!

I picked up our new furry addition on Friday afternoon. It was carefully bundled up so it could sit on the back of the car and travel safely home. We have no name for it as yet.

When we got home, our new addition was happy to be under the kitchen table near the radiator where it was nice and warm. Our addition curled up a bit and would not settle down at first but after a few days, things settled down and it is now happy to lie without being so nervously curled up. Plus, it is great because the new addition keeps my feet warm when I sit at the kitchen table. Minnie has taken well to it and loves to lie with her head on the new addition and you can tell that she is happy with the new arrangement in the house.

Our new addition isn't allowed upstairs at night though because of the dirt it often picks up. Yesterday, our new addition was so dirty that I had to vacuum all the muck off. Sounds a bit dramatic and scary, but it didn't mind. However I couldn't get all the muck off and with it being so new, I wasn't allowed to give our new addition a good old wash. I can't say I was pleased and so then I had to take our new addition outside and beat it with a stick and shake it until the dirt dropped off.

The new rug was a great purchase though.

Have a pic to remind us that sometimes it can be summer.

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Bunchman Gaffe

2008-03-04T20:04:00.006Z

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At last!! I have a post that does not involve me embarrassing myself or that includes any of my mishaps. Nonetheless, it is worthy of a post because it involves my friend the Bunchman.

So, the other day Bunchman goes to clinic for a routine check up. He had some new body parts installed a few years ago. No, he didn't become a woman. He had new heart and lungs fitted, and he always bleats on about it. New lungs this, new heart that. I don't get what all the fuss is about over such a small medical procedure.

Anyway, Bunchman notices that his usual nurse has a plaster (band aid) on her chin. Bunchman thinks he is funny and attempts to make jokes. Far too often in my opinion and I should know because I have to listen to them. Every day. Luckily, I have perfected the art of false laughter.

So yes, the nurse with plaster on her chin. Bunchman jovially says to the nurse 'Oh, cut yourself shaving did you? .... Hahhaaaa giggle giggle giggle'.

'No' said the nurse. 'It is skin cancer.'

Whooops. I'm glad it wasn't me (who made the 'joke' about shaving I mean, but also I'm glad I don't have skin cancer). The nurse was fine though and took it well. Luckily she realised he wasn't being a total arse.

The moral of the story? Don't make jokes about facial plasters because they could be hiding cancer.

The End.
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Will you marry me?

2008-02-29T16:11:00.006Z

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We all know that today is the day that women can traditionally propose to their loved ones, as long as it is to their boyfriend and not their parents or something because that would just be weird.

Today though, I watched possibly the most cringe worthy proposal of all time which was on live breakfast television just after the news as I was making toast.

Picture the scene. Dave* is at work at some sort of engineering factory and he has no idea that his girlfriend Beverley is there - all nervous and fidgety waiting to pop the question. The presenter is whispering down the microphone that Dave has no idea she is there and then the camera goes to Beverley who is wearing her best frock and wringing her hands in emotional anticipation. She is almost in tears at the thought of asking the all important question. Lovely music is playing with violins in a mini quartet.

The presenter whispers to camera 'I'll go off now and hide and when Dave walks in, Beverley will appear and really surprise him in asking him to marry her. It will be emotional. I can't wait.' The presenter does a little walking/ skip thing to hide behind the corner. The viewer is left watching in anticipation. Now usually, after the news I would then just put on Terry Wogan on Radio 2, but being a vague romantic at heart I had to watch the outcome.

In strides little Dave, quite a short rounded chap with a face like a bulldog crossed with a chimp. I was hoping he would absently scratch his balls on live TV. He didn't, but what happened was almost as good as that. Dave is squatting down looking at the machine that has been purposely 'broken' so that he had to be called down to the factory floor to mend it. I assume the camera was hidden, but you could see some of the colleague's eyes darting towards the camera and thanking god it wasn't them in this situation.

Then, as Dave is fiddling with the machine, Beverley appears, still clutching her hands as if to signify clutching onto what little dignity she will have left. Dave looked up surprised, but not in a good way.. the sort of way that says 'Christ, what are you doing here, this is my territory.' What he said was 'What you doing 'ere.?' Beverley smiled a little nervously: "Dave, we have been together for 7 years and you mean the world to me. I'm here today to say... will you marry me?'

I counted and watched. I counted because there was at least a 3 or 4 second silence, which on live TV is quite a lot. Plus to be honest my toast was about to burn. Dave glumly said 'Yeah, go on then' as if he had just been asked if he would like another cup of tea. Then he just stood there looking at Beverley who was by now crying with the er... 'romance' of it all. The presenter skips back in and says: 'Oh brilliant he said yes, what a great outcome! Beverley how do you feel? You are very emotional' . A pool of water is practically forming around Bev's feet because she is crying so much. Dave is just stood looking at his feet. Beverley gushes that she can't believe it and she is so happy.

The presenter asks Dave how he feels. Dave said in a glum voice: 'Er.. she is a bugger really'. The presenter's face changes, because Dave said 'Bugger' on live TV. 'Oooh', he said ' I'm sure no one minds a bit of swearing in this situation, ha.. what a lovely proposal that was. So, Dave when will the big day be?' Dave ponders and said 'I don't bloody know yet'. The presenter said 'Oooh, hhheeaiii you really are surprised aren't you. I hope the noise of the viewers crunching their cornflakes means they missed what you just said... erm.. you both look er.. ahhh.. very happy.' What the presenter was thinking was 'Oh god, he swore twice and I have to bloody well apologise for it and this is a disaster'.

Beverley shuffled over to Dave to hug him and practically collapsed on him with emotion. She was bigger than Dave and so it looked like a bear hugging a child. Dave gave a half hearted hug with one arm hanging down by his side and an embarrassed arm draped around her neck. Then they stepped back from each other.. well Dave did. The presenter reminded Beverley that she had a ring to give to Dave. Bev produced a manly silver ring and showed it to Dave. 'Dave' she said 'this ring is for you to prove that we are now engaged.' What she meant was to prove to her Mother she was engaged after years of torment and heartache. Dave just looked at the ring. He didn't move.

The presenter jollied things up a bit: 'Well, wasn't that beautiful? Dave and Beverley now have a lot of planning to do (ie, argue in the toilets when the cameras stop rolling) and we will leave the happy couple in the throes of happiness.' Dave and Bev are just stood there. Bev still crying, Dave looking a bit cheesed off. I think Bev's tears had changed from tears of happiness to tears of 'what the hell have I done'.

Back to the studio the presenters had clearly been laughing. A lot. The woman presenter stuttered: 'Well, if Dave hasn't put you off asking your loved one to marry you, then good luck for today.' Then she tried not to laugh again. I hope Beverley didn't see that bit when she got home to pack. I hope she doesn't have to see any what happened today. She'll only want to kill herself if she does.

* Names have been changed for no reason at all
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The End.

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Earthquake ! !

2008-02-27T20:07:00.007Z

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Apparently there was an 'earthquake' last night (a few tremors). I slept through it even though I'm a light sleeper.

Some of the comments that people made on the online editions of the papers made me giggle to myself. These are all genuine and taken from todays online versions of the Daily Mail and The Sun.

Very scary, my bed shook which woke me up... I thought someone had crawled under there! Took me at least a minute to pluck up the courage to look underneath it... I'm 26! Haven't felt that unease since I was 8 years old!- Dave, London

So Dave is saying that he assumed someone had crawled under the bed and has not felt that uneasy since he was 8 years old. Which begs the question: What happened when he was 8 years old? I think he'd better ask his 'Uncle' Bert for confirmation.

I woke up around 1am as my wardrobe doors (which are mirrored), were shaking like mad. I did not suspect an earthquake, but I was petrified to say the least. It wasn't until I woke up and saw it on the news that I realised what it was. Steve- Oxford

Why was it so important for Steve to tell us that his wardrobe doors are mirrored? I think it is because he wanted to subconsciously let people know that he likes looking at himself when he has sex.

On a lighter note I thought it was my guts as I had just broke wind at the same time as the quake and being an elderly chap I didn't realise what was happening it was quite distressing. (no name)

I'm assuming that someone wrote this as a joke. Please. Please let it have been a joke.

It woke me up but only because of the rumbling noise, thankfully I live in a strong house so didn't notice any shaking, not even the bed I was in.- Scarlett O'Hara, Pontefract.

What do you class as a strong house? Maybe she used to live in paper houses or is an extended family member of the three little pigs. Does this person have a special 'strong house' league table? You can imagine the estate agent trying to clinch the sale: "Yes, Mrs O' Hara, your house will not be gone with the wind like last time because the house you are about to purchase is classed as number one on the league table of strong houses." She must have got her bed from a similar league of strong beds. We all need to look into this. For our own safety.

My husband and I were fast asleep when we got woken up by the bed shaking. I jumped out of bed and went to see if the kids had got up and if they were okay. It was very scary, I won't forget this. - Bibi, Bradford

You can tell that she is the dramatic sort just from her name. She probably has to get the kids sent home from school early to break the news to them that she broke the casserole dish: "We'll never forget the casseroles that this dish gave us. Come closer children. We will never forget this... SOB... this casserole dish...broken... shattered...SOB... just like my dreams for the future when I fell pregnant five times in five bastard years. Now we must have a group hug and then we will have have a quiet evening to reflect on what happened today." (ie, nothing).

I felt the earthquake here in Widnes, my floorboards were rippling like waves in an ocean.- Lorainne Mould, Widnes, UK

If her floorboards were rippling like waves in the ocean she has either very obviously never seen the ocean, or has trouble identifying the differences between liquids and solids, or else her house had structural problems that were present a long time before this earthquake.

I assumed I'd imagined it. Very embarrassed when I saw the headlines this morning.- Karen, Midlands England

This makes no sense. How can you be embarrassed about it? Unless she rang all her mates to tell them she think she imagined an earthquake and when her friends confirmed that there had indeed been tremors then Karen went into a rage and said: " I damn well imagined it I tell you, you lying heathen whores. I know you have all grouped together to make me believe it is true when I know I imagined it. I hope you all rot in hell!" Then in the morning, she puts on GMTV and the headlines are about the 'earthquake'. Karen thought: "Whoops, silly me, heee. I'd best ring back all the friends I called heathen whores.... hee hee how embarrassing".

Just the planet getting its own back. Start treating Mother Earth properly and maybe it wont happen again.- Mike, Motcombe Dorset

Yes, if only I'd have shut the fridge door whilst I was choosing what flavour yogurt to have rather than stare absently into the fridge as I made up my mind between strawberry and cherry, then this would never have happened. Even though nothing really happened in the first place.

This next one is possibly my favourite:

About 1am in bed last night I felt my throat pop uncomfortably and I thought I was going to vomit so I sat up in the dark. It sounded and felt as if something heavy shuffled across my bedroom floor and I thought my dog had got in through an open door... the floor thumped lightly in places like a dog padding about but the door was shut so I shot out of bed and ran like a mad lady to the room next door shouting 'we've got a ghost'! Paul was asleep unaware and I looked in his mirror at my tongue to see if I was looking ill... I had some strange things but my GP was never going to believe this. I thought I had a seizure. After a few minutes talk with Paul who had heard or felt nothing I went back to my room afraid to put the light out for about half an hour. My head was still swimming and I could hear very distant growling like an old dog in its sleep. Having had an ear and balance problem last few days I thought it was an extreme manifestation of vertigo and put my head down again.- Yvonne

I also hope this was made up. I really do. However, assuming it was real then I fear for the world. Let us get this straight- Yvonne's throat popped and she wanted to vomit. It sounds like Paul had previously sneaked into her room to try and to satisfy himself as she slept. She sleeps with her mouth open and so he fancied his chances. Because she woke up, Paul was the one who quickly shuffled across the floor to the next room and got back into bed and then pretended to be asleep because he didn't want this woman ranting at him about a ghost being in the house. Again. He convinced her nothing had happened to shut her up. Paul finds his Mother hard work at the best of times. The subsequent 'growling' was Paul finishing of what he started. Bless his cotton socks.

The end.

Pets

2008-02-26T13:10:00.009Z

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Last night I went out for dinner and drank too much. I couldn't sleep as a result and it got me thinking.

How is it that animals like dogs and cats, manage to escape the protocol of what is considered socially acceptable?

If you have a dog or a cat or even if you don't, then you know that these animals are like furry lodgers who in time integrate themselves into your way of living and become a loved member of the family.

However let's make up a person who is a lodger but yet has also managed to integrate (or ingratiate) himself to become like a family member. His name is Gordon, he is a 45 year old moccasin slipper wearer from Croydon. His last girlfriend was Debs who worked at Boots (the chemist) on the condom advisory counter.

Ok, so we we will have Poochie the dog, Tiddles the cat, Gertie the hamster and Gordon the 45 year old moccasin wearer from Croydon. Then we will look at what animals can get away with as opposed to what Gordon could get away with:

Example 1:

Poochie: He watches you and waits for you to start eating dinner before deciding to lick his arse clean with a great intensity. With the job done and triumphant, he pads over and tries to lick your hand.

Reaction: You say: 'Euugh'. and try to ignore it (but secretly wish you could do that) and keep your hands up on the table to avoid a bum lick/hand lick situation.

Gordon: He watches you and waits for you to start eating dinner before deciding to lick his arse clean with a great intensity. With the job done and triumphant, Gordon walks over and tries and lick your hand.

Reaction: You ask Gordon to leave the house and never come back.

Example 2:

Tiddles: Steps into the kitchen all smug looking and deposits the corpse of a mouse on the kitchen floor.

Reaction: You scream, shoo Tiddles out and dispose of the dead mouse and then give Tiddles a more appropriate meal.

Gordon: Steps into the kitchen all smug looking and deposits the corpse of a person on the kitchen floor.

Reaction: You scream loudly and call the police. Your house gets sealed off due to a murder investigation. You ask Gordon to leave the house and never come back.

Example 3:

Poochie: Whilst you are out walking, Poochie decides to sniff another dog's bottom, gets excited and engages in frantic dog humping. In front of all the children. At the park.

Reaction: You tell the children who are all pointing that the doggies are play fighting. You try to dismount your dog without getting too involved (you don't want dog juice on your hands), then go home quickly and give your dog an appropriate meal.

Gordon: Whilst you are out walking, Gordon decides to sniff another person's bottom, gets excited and engages in frantic humping. In front of all the children. At the park.

Reaction: You explain to the children that you are beginning to suspect that Gordon has 'issues'. Then you call the police. You ask Gordon to leave the house and never come back.

Example 4:

Poochie: Sits under the table at meal times, and places his head on your lap whilst trying to look innocent and adorable in the hope of receiving tit bits.

Reaction: You sneak Poochie some food and then tell him to get down in a stern voice so Poochie won't think you are a total pushover (even though you are).

Gordon: Sits under the table at meal times, and places his head on your lap whilst trying to look innocent and adorable in the hope of receiving tit bits.

Reaction: You tell Gordon to sit back at the table like everyone else and didn't you ask him to leave the house ages ago? For the love of God, he is 45. Why is he behaving like this? You ask Gordon to leave the house and never come back. Again.

Example 5:

Gertie (that hamster): Plays in her plastic see through ball and runs all round the living room in it. As she does so, she does lots of poos and it all tumbles around with her. Run, plop, run, plop. Run plop, rattle, run, plop, rattle.

Reaction: You laugh lovingly at Gertie as she runs round with her poo in her plastic ball. You aren't keen when the pellets of poo escape out of the air holes, but generally, you feel smug that your hamster is getting such good exercise. Plus, it looks quite fun.

Gordon: Brings home a massive plastic ball . He climbs into it and rolls all round your living room. Naked. As he does so, he excretes lots of poo and it all tumbles around with him. Run, plop, run, plop.

Reaction: The smell is disgusting, your living room is carnage and splats of poo have escaped through the air holes of Gordon's huge plastic ball. It will take weeks to clean this lot up and how the hell will you explain this to the insurance company? You ask Gordon to leave and never come back. And get an injunction out on him.

So you see.... pets get away with far too much and yet we insist we love them and we carry on as normal as they continue to push the acceptable social boundaries. Why? Why? WHY?
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Fudge and Parks

2008-02-20T20:37:00.026Z

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Another picture/post affair here. Yesterday was a fabulous day. We made fudge in the morning and went to Stockgrove Country Park in the afternoon.

Click on the pics to enlarge - especially the duck ones.

Adam and myself made fudge. Spot the product placement here.

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It looked like baby poo at this stage but yet smelled like vanilla. If baby poo really could smell like vanilla it would be marvelous. It would make a tasty, filling yet cheap dessert as well.
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I think Adam ate most of the mixture before I put it in the dish. He now as third degree burns of the mouth, the silly billy.
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Then after that we went for a walk with Bunchman. The bloody show off jogged ahead whilst I turned blue after only one minute into the walk. He laughed. I hit him. We don't see each other very much because we can't be arsed and we secretly hate each other.

I wore a hat because it was freezing. Bunchman wore one to cover his male pattern baldness. He's old, at least 38.

I told Adam to run with his eyes shut. The dog ran with him and Bunchman and myself tried to hide but we were rubbish and giggled too much.
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We look like a couple of old codgers here. I kept falling over because the floor was lumpy.
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Adam still running with his eyes shut. He ran into a few trees but the bruising should go down in a week or two.
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We found this little hut in the woods. It was great! I told Adam he could stay there for a bit. Until he is sixteen. He'd be ok. I mean loads of people walk this way and so Adam could just scrounge for tit bits from them. It would be a learning curve for him.

Despite my offer for him to stay there, Adam tried to run after me and so I broke his ankles.

Most of the lake was frozen. The dog tried to walk on it so I had to tell her off....

....Minnie argued that if it was good enough for the ducks, it was good enough for her. So I relented and she walked on the ice, it cracked, she fell in and I haven't seen her since. Ooops. Silly Minnie!!

I spotted this Mandarin Drake a bit further up the river. I was so excited, but it was busy cleaning its backside and I couldn't get a decent shot. So I used my initiative. I had a quick think. What would Bill Oddie do? I did my best Mandarin Drake noise - it went like this "Quack, quack, quaaaacckkk." Maybe it sounded like I was being sick, but it worked, because it looked up.....

Bunchman was amused by my efforts as I crouched down on my knees in the freezing cold shouting "Quack, quack.."

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My impression must have been realistic because then I got this shot too. I really am at one with nature, it is amazing. Maybe I can get myself on TV and I'll be world famous.

It wasn't this dark really, the sun was just too low to capture the correct colour.

On the way home. It really was this dark. No fish and chips for dinner this time, or lamb but we did have lovely succulent mandarin duck with a cheeky piquant sauce.

Lambing

2008-02-19T20:42:00.015Z

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I have a lot of posting to do this week.
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After a few months of not being too well it - was last week when I finally noticed a difference in how I felt. Then I realised I've been feeling pants since November. Sometimes you don't realise how bad you have felt until you improve a bit. However, last week I managed to accomplish more than one task a day without feeling like a zombie for the rest of the day. I finally came off the IVs and started 12 -18 months of oral antibiotic treatment instead.
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Back in the real world however, it is half term here and I've had a lot of catching up to do. It is great having Adam at home this week.
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Yesterday we went lambing with Sonja and our children. We saw three lambs being born. Adam was entranced. The rest of the blog is words and pictures. We had a brilliant day today as well, but I'll have to post about that tomorrow. Or the day after. Click on the pics for better detail.
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This lamb had just popped out. The ewe licked it all over... I'm glad we don't have to lick new born babies all over after birth.

. It had just stood up here for the first time. It made me realise how lazy human babies are, because they don't walk for over a year.

The lamb was looking for milk but had obviously got it wrong....

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The ewe must quickly explain the facts of life to her newly born offspring. She has to work quickly... she basically said: " You are born, you eat, you get killed." The lamb took it well. However half way through the facts of life conversation, the ewe plopped out another lamb. The older lamb is now in counselling.

Making the lamb fatter.... I was smiling at the thought of roast spuds and mint sauce.

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We fed orphan lambs to speed up the 'fattening up' process. I didn't tell Adam he was contributing to their demise.

The farmer was in the wings with a machete.

I told Mackenzie about why she was really feeding the lambs. How we laughed. She fed the lamb the other bottles of milk in the bucket next to her... She loves roast lamb. The little monkey!!

Just running along before they got hit by the tractor. Funnily enough they are all now in traction...

Loved the view here. The two shadows on the right are Adam and myself. The shadow on the left is Sonja holding the carcasses of the two large lambs she slaughtered. It was certainly an interactive day !!

Going home. You can't see in the pic, but we could smell fish and chips. In the car. We had purchased them on the way home.

P.S.

No animals were hurt in the making of this blog. No lambs were killed. No roast lamb was consumed. No human's are really in traction after being hit by tractors or any other form of farm machinery.

Bad Fairy Film for Bob

2008-02-15T21:08:00.008Z

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No blog for a week and then two come along at once.

This is for Bob who is indeed dead. I had to ask my other neighbours (who dress in chemical suits) what had happened to him. Minnie is distressed because she always got a treat from Bob of the biscuit variety.

Here is the fairy. That bad fairy who gambles and plays cards. This was filmed in the summer. After that she went to Vegas and she hasn't been seen since. I'm glad because she was uncouth and had the voice of a foghorn.
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You need sound on etc.

Cats and Dogs

2008-02-15T19:35:00.003Z

Cat Looking in....

Dog looking out.

The End.

Whoops !!

2008-02-08T15:37:00.000Z

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How do I manage it? Every time. I always say the wrong thing.

Dog walk. Meadow. Fellow dog walker. Conversation. Yesterday.

Rita the observer: ' Hello there, your dog is full of energy isn't she? She likes her ball doesn't she? She likes to run fast doesn't she? She likes to get muddy doesn't she?

My thoughts: Whoa there, too many questions.

Me: 'Yes, tell me about it, even though you already did.'

Rita: - pointing to her dog 'That isn't my dog.'

My thoughts: Right ok, so she steals dogs, walks them then points out they are stolen. The FBI will never crack the case. She looks pretty innocent for a thief. It goes to show that wearing a blue coat and having matching coloured hair doesn't prove innocence.

Me: 'Ahh, oh I see. Whose is it then?'

Rita the thief: 'It's my friend's dog, I'm just walking it every day for her. You know, to lose weight and shift those extra pounds. Walking is good for that, for shifting those pounds.'

Rita pulls a puffy face to demonstrate weight issues.

Me: 'Ah, good plan. Walking is great exercise for losing weight isn't it. Did you over indulge over Christmas? Too many mince pies and all that eh? Or too much egg nog?

Rita the indulger: ' I meant the dog. The dog needs to lose weight. Not me.'

My thoughts: Please let the ground open and swallow me whole. I may has well have patted her on the stomach and called her fatty.

Me: 'Errr, arrrr, yessssssss. Mmmm, I thought it odd... you look slim. Very slim. I can hardly see you if you turn sideways - apart from that little paunch you've got going on.'

Insert my manic laughter that was designed to compensate for the awkward situation.

Rita the observer: 'Yes, your dog likes to get wet doesn't she?' She politely smiles.

Me: 'Yes, she does. Well I must go and eat seeing as it is lunchtime. You must be needing lunch too. You know, because you don't need to diet. So you can eat plenty lunch. '

The End.

Have my favourite pic of Oscar. Click to enlarge.

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Gywneth's Bow Job. (Edited)

2008-02-07T15:32:00.001Z

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See this picture of Gwyneth Paltrow:

Click on pic to appreciate the dress 'quality'.

What was Gwyneth Paltrow thinking, wearing an old dress with a grease stain? And that horrendous bow. I may or may not have doctored the bow, but it was nearly that big anyway. Then she wore what I can best describe as bandage shoes to complete the look.

The Daily Mail today reported: 'All tied up - Gwyneth Paltrow bounces back with dazzling red carpet appearance'. I prefer my own headline (see title of the post). At least her pic makes me feel better about wearing my wellies and mud spattered coat when I walk the dog.

Dazzling? Gwynnie should take a leaf out of my book. See below. She would have looked better in my teddy bear pyjamas and a good old face mask, even if my forehead is nearly as big as the bow.

Best NOT to click to enlarge. You'll be swamped with forehead.

I'm just off to eat an apple. Urgh no... I mean the fruit, not her child. I'll have chocolate or something now I think about it. Don't want Gwynnie getting the wrong idea about how I treat children.

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Animal Loving Nation

2008-02-02T16:01:00.000Z

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'We' are a nation of animal lovers. For instance in this country at least, we don't eat dogs (only on special occasions), we don't strangle cats unless they have pooed in the flowers and we generally don't drown puppies and kittens whilst they are tied in sacks. We at least give them a bit of comfort and use pillow cases, sometimes the ones made from Egyptian cotton.

My next little tale of heaven proves this point. I think you will agree that it is such a sweet story.

Yesterday, I accidentally watched Jeremy Vile. I've not been feeling well so I can be excused watching rubbish on the box for half an hour whilst I come to my senses in the morning. For you guys over the pond, Jeremy Kyle (hence Vile) is a vile, horrible, condescending version of Montel Williams, except he has the charm of a smelly corpse. He smugly thinks he is sorting out the lives of the unfortunates in society. Them wot don't speak proper.

There is a criteria to be on the show:

1. You must have little or no dress sense.

2. You must have at least two mising teeth - at the front if possible.

3. The teeth must all be dark brown. They get checked for suitability by a brown colour chart that they place aginst your teeth before being accepted on to the show. It goes from light bown to darkest brown/black.

4. You must speak sentences including the words: piss off you whore, shit, fuck off, and the most popular - 'I sleep with my Dad because it makes me feel special'. Although to be fair that is usually the title of the show.

So, now you are in the picture, we can go on to the lovely, heavenly tale about how I know we are a true nation of animal lovers.

So on to the show came 'Daz'. Daz was on the show because his Mother was fed up of how he treated her. It was a sorry state of affairs. Jeremy read out the list of Daz's misdemeanours. He read them in a fairly normal voice with a hint of malice to show his diapproval of what Daz had done and the audience responded fairly gently I thought. It went like this:

Jeremy: 'Daz, first of all you hit your Mother over the head with a baseball bat...'

Audience: 'Oooooh 'eck'.'

Jeremy: 'Then you knocked out your Mother's teeth with the baseball bat...'

Audience: ' Ahhhhhhhhh grrrrrrrrrrr'.

Jeremy: 'Then Sir, you stamped on the teeth and threw them into her face and called her a toothless haggy hag hag.'

Audience: ' Pffffffffffft .... yeeeeeeee.'

Jeremy: 'Then you broke all her ribs, and she was in hospital for two weeks and you never visited OR said sorry. Whilst she was in hospital you sold her house, kept the money and got a new pair of trainers with it.'

Audience: ' Grugh, gahhhhhhhhhhh'.

Then Jeremy became agitated. Bad music played. The sort of bad music that tells of badness beyond bad. Jeremy was angry. The broken ribs, teeth and baseball hitting was pretty bad but the next bit really riled him...

Jeremy: (trying not to vomit and shouting loudly) 'And then.... THEN... (urghhh, he gulps back vomit) and then ..... you stabbed HER DOG. IN THE LEG !!' (Jezza vomits down his grey 'Next' suit).

Audience: 'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH....... kill him, urghhhhh Aiieeeeeeeeee HE MUST DIE. We can accept the Mother beating but hurting a dog is a step too far, you dog stabbing bastard. Die Die Die.'

This is true.

Parts may have been dramatised for blogual purposes.

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Bewyl and Bob

2008-01-27T20:10:00.000Z

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So, there are a couple who live a few houses down from me. Let's call them Beryl and Bob. Beryl and Bob are lovely. Beryl keeps an eye on everyone in the street and Bob thinks my dog is great. What more could you want in a neighbour apart from David Tennant?

Beryl has a slight speech impediment which means that she pronounces some of her 'Ds' as 'Bs' and pronounces her some of her 'Ls' as 'Ws'. Some of her other pronunciations area little sketchy too. Are we cwear on that, because if not I'll give you a second to mull it over. This is a true story, because I don't think that I could make this up.

I haven't really seen Bob about lately, with his comb over blowing gently in the breeze, but I assumed it was because I had not been out much myself due to feeling pants from the effects of the intravenous drug treatment.
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So on Saturday I saw Beryl in the street. I asked Beryl how Bob was:

" You don't know do you." she cunningly observed. I looked on shaking my head slowly, beginning to wonder if I should have asked. Beryl continued:

"Bobs bwied."

"Oh my God", I helpfully interjected. Beryl looked quite rewaxed... ummm I mean relaxed:

" He's bwied because of a gwaucoma."

Then she laughed a little laugh as if to convince herself it was fine to laugh.

Meanwhile I felt a bit confused. Had Bob died? Died of the eye condition glaucoma? Can you die of glaucoma? I wasn't even sure if she said glaucoma now and it felt rude to ask. Maybe she meant coma. Maybe she said Bob had died of a coma. Then Beryl scared me when her voice became sinister:

" But he is still in the house, oh yesssss, we still keep him there. He's with us really. I don't sweep well just now so I feel tired but I often watch Besperate Housewives or play Bominoes on the computer or wisten to the radio. I wove to wisten to the wove songs Anyway, don't worry about me, I'm fine and I'll wet you get on. Bwyeeeee."

Good God! Now I wasn't sure if Bob was dead.... but maybe she meant blind? Maybe Bob was blind and that is why he is still in the house. He is housebound and being cared for. You can go blind from glaucoma. However, if he had died and he was still with her, did this mean that she had Bob propped up on a chair in the kitchen?

If he was blind then of course he was still 'with us'. Why did she have to say it like that? Did she mean he was with us in spirit? It would have helped if she hadn't said: 'He is still with us' in a voice that sounded possessed with the devil.

Oh help!! Beryl tottered off down the road, got into her car and drove off. Had she left blind Bob at home or was Bob just dead?

I could hardly knock on her door later in the day:

"Hey there Beryl, a funny thing happened earlier - I don't know what you said. Can you clarify as to whether Bob is blind or actually dead? Did you say coma or glaucoma? It would be best if you write it down, you know the whole B and D thing gets a bit confusing."

I still don't know if Bob is blind or has died.

I still don't know if it was a coma or glaucoma.

Maybe he got glaucoma, fell into a coma, went blind and then died.
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Jeez what a way to go.
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How the hell can I find out? Do I wait until she goes out again and then knock on the door? If I hear a lot of clattering then I know Bob is clumsily making his way to the door through a tunnel of blindness. However, if I peer through the letterbox and see a pair of legs sticking out from a chair at a unique twisted angle, then I know there is a body.

I'll keep you posted....

Have a picture of where got my first Saturday job when I was 15. It was called something else then and had a different facade. It is still a hairdressers though. I think I worked there for about a year and then I got a different Saturday job.

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Killer Conversation

2008-01-21T11:36:00.000Z

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Do you ever have a conversation where you say one thing, but you are really thinking another? I had this with my delivery man who I now know on a first name basis. He delivers my intravenous injection medicine every two to three days. I'd prefer books, wine or even knitting wool being to be delivered every few days to be honest, but you can't have it all eh? It's been quite a few weeks and so you feel you should exchange pleasantries with the drivers as they unpack giant size cool boxes of intravenous bleach.

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Malcolm: "Hello, here is your new 'consignment' ha ha hee hee, do you have plenty fridge space? Shall I put it in your fridge for you?"
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Me: "Oh ha yes, a new consignment, oh very funny, heheheheee. I'm fine unpacking it myself thanks".
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My thoughts: Oh very f*cking funny, just give me the stuff and there is no way you are stamping through my house and looking at the mouldy cheese in my fridge.
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Malcolm: " How long you on this stuff for? You must have to have quite a lot, least it keeps you busy hahahahehehehe" . --*He winks*
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Me: " Yes, it fills my time hee hee. Keeps me out of trouble. Ha ha. Still, it could be worse. Only another few weeks to go, on top of what I just did. Whoops, least I'll be fighting fit right?." . *Polite smile*.
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My thoughts: Oh for the love of God, stop asking stupid question. Give me the stuff, take your over sized packaging and go. ---*I mentally slap him*.
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Malcolm: "The last two weeks has flown by haven't they? Least it's going quickly. "
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Me: "Oh right, kind of."
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My thoughts: No it hasn't gone quickly. If one more person says that to me (and there have been at least 12) I will cut off their genitalia. With a rusty knife. And let the dog chew on it. So it is maimed beyond repair. The dog won't even spit it out so it can be salvaged. It will go through her gut and can be retrieved as it comes out the other end. With bare hands.
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Malcolm: " Your new delivery will be on Saturday, it will probably be me again, or Frank, or maybe Geoff if he has got over his hernia operation."
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Me: " I hope it isn't you."
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My Thoughts: Whoops, I said that out loud.
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Me: "Er, I hope it isn't you so you get a day off. Yes that's right. A day off on a Saturday would be good."
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My thoughts: Please be off on Saturday and send someone who can't communicate. Let the little fella's who can't speak have a crack at the job. Don't be selfish.
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Malcolm: "It will be me on the Tuesday though, no rest for the wicked. Hahahhaaa.."
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My thoughts: You said it.
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Me: "Brilliant."
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My thoughts: I hope he took that as sarcasm. Otherwise he'll think I'm pleased to see him. And he's old. At least 40. ** ---- *I start to close the door*
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Malcolm: "Yes, you get in, it's cold out here. Bye."
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My thoughts: That is exactly what I was doing..
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** Just kidding.
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Have a pic of my cute dog after I massacred her last week. Really cute. Cutest ever..

Pantomime Time !!

2008-01-13T18:12:00.000Z

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Yesterday we went to pantomime. It starred Bradley Walsh and he was really excellent. Everyone was excellent. Hope you like the pics with a couple of small video clips too. Click on the pics to enlarge.
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Boo, hiss, He's behind you. Etc. (I shouted out more than Adam did. I'm allowed though. I'm only 34 after all).
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Pantomime Time !!

2008-01-13T17:56:00.000Z

Marmite

2008-01-10T15:05:00.000Z

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When I was about nine, we got a free sample of Marmite through the door. It was exciting, I mean I'd seen and heard about Marmite but had never tasted it. Imagine getting free food through the door! A free sample of food. I was most pleased. I have always liked free samples of anything. I like the dinky packaging involved with not quite enough product to do anything with. Maybe you get enough shampoo to lather up an eyebrow or enough conditioner that is adequate for a bald man with a bad wisp of a comb over. However the sample of Marmite was quite substantial.

So, I came home from school the next day and after dinner I asked if I could taste it. My Mum said I could. Oh wow!! I could try the free sample of Marmite and I asked my Mum if it was nice. Her words were:

'Yes, it is delicious, you'll really like it'.

Then she said:

'If you like, dip your finger in it and you can have what is left. It's yummy. Make sure you get plenty. Get a big finger full'

So I scooped loads on to my finger and ate it. Straight from the pack.

There was a small silence.

All my Mum heard was:

'Euuughhhh, yuk..... erghhhhhhh ... it's HORRIBLE'.

I had a big mouthful of Marmite, it was horrid. Yuk. I thought I was going to barf (heee to Lois for reminding me of that word).

My Mum laughed at my reaction. She laughed a lot. It was then I realised that she knew, I wouldn't like it. Yet she advised me to get a big mouthful of the stuff.

And you wonder why I'm ever so slightly warped myself.

Of course, if you like Marmite you won't understand my reaction. However, the dentist story is the best. I'll save that for another time. I've spent a week on IVs so far and they make me feel like a nauseous bag of baby sick that - has carrots, marmite and raisins in it. Three weeks left. Oh, ooh and pantomime on Saturday! Can't wait. 'Oh yes I can... oh no I can't...' etc. (I'll take a bucket with me. Just in case).

Have some pics. (P,S in case you don't realise my humour, my Mum is also great).

My Mum and myself

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At Blackpool beach having eaten candy floss. I still love that stuff.
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At a beach in Wales. Look at the bloke in the background sat down. His shorts are just that bit too skimpy. No wonder I was smiling so much, I'd just turned round and got an eyeful.

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Puppies and Things

2008-01-04T19:30:00.000Z

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First of all I should direct you all to here about Sparkle and her new dog. It is quite possibly the cutest puppy ever. Apart from mine, but along side that is the story behind it.

Apart from that - after having innards that have been playing up over the past few months, I have somehow landed myself four weeks of IVs (intravenous antibiotics - I can administer them at home). So at least I now have a real excuse to be untidy. And eat rubbish. And be untidy. Although in real terms, I'm quite untidy anyway. Plus I can spend more time on the phone than I already do. Winner!

I asked the doctor if I'd be able to play guitar whilst on the treatment and she said: 'Yes'. Amazing really because I couldn't play guitar before. (yes, and old joke sorry).

So my Mother. She does not escape her expose. My Dad already had his here . You can choose comment wise between the marmite story, the truth behind spaghetti, the dentist debacle or the sweets phone call. If you have nothing better to do that is. I'm off to attatch Advocaat to my intravenous line. Or whisky. Or both.

I'll leave you with a toy visit to the Tardis.

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Cooking a Dog.

2008-01-03T00:37:00.000Z

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So with all that cooking of over sized turkeys and pigs, my parent's oven door fell off. It suddenly came loose and fell off. Even my Dad could not fix it and he can repair anything at any given time. This includes cars, lawn mowers and broken toilets - all whilst performing simple brain surgery. Adam calls my Dad 'The Fixer'.

So once he had got up before he had gone to bed and fixed something else and landscaped the garden by 7am, my Dad ordered a new oven. Online. In a sale. Easy enough. Simple enough. Easy and simple enough. They said he would get an email to advise a delivery date/time slot of the new oven. Delivery should be in a couple of weeks.

The mail said (and this is true):

"Dear Mr Doitall

Thank you for ordering our wonderful cooking product. Your custom is important to us. We endeavour to meet every customers needs and we are pleased to tell you that your new cooking product will be delivered on:

25th December 2008. Delivery time will be between 8am - 6pm.

If this is inconvenient please contact customer support.

Yours sincerely

Cookers and Cookers PLC. "

Wow! A twelve month wait for a cooker. Christmas this year will be interesting. I'm not letting them use my oven in the meantime. I only cleaned it the other day. They will have to cook their pork chops in the toaster and cook pasta on the barbeque.

No doubt my dad will fashion something up with a bit of wiring connected to their imitation coal fire and the dog. The dog will have to run on a running machine or something. The faster the dog runs, the quicker the potatoes roast:

"Run boy run, we don't care how knackered you are, keep running, we're hungry."

When the dog collapses, my parents will reflect that at least they got a decent meal, even if the steak was a bit rare for their liking.

Last year my Dad somehow connected the greenhouse heating to the house and it kept tripping the switch. Everything in the house kept turning off and on. It was like a scene in that that film with Tom Hanks 'The Money Pit.' My Mum thought the house was going to blow up and made my Dad come home from work to dismantle it all (the wiring, not the house).

Have a pic of my conservatory roof. Except it isn't.

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2007 in Words and Captions.

2007-12-31T16:53:00.000Z

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Thought I'd look back at 2007 with a collection of pics from my PC. Although to be fair, I got the idea from Cake. Thank you Cake. I saved you some wine.

It has been a funny old year. Can't decide if I'm glad it is over or not. However it has ended on a nice note.

Click the pics to enlarge.
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January is always Sonja's birthday. It is funny how that never changes. We all get together and bend over around Sonja to make her feel old and important.

In February it snowed a lot. Which explains the snowball Adam is making. I hadn't had an accident with icing sugar.

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March saw my first daffodil in the garden, so I was kind and yanked it from the earth so it could slowly die on my windowsill.
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In April, Adam and my self went on an unplanned night time jaunt on this wheel which gave us a good view of the city. My balance was pretty poor still. Adam laughed when I nearly fell out of the carriage. So I left him there and collected him a week later.

May: The dog was actually sniffing my hand. I wasn't trying to grab the ball whilst trying to look posh or anything.

June: WEMBLEY !! Need I say more? Best. Concert. Ever. Fact!

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July: Adam.

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August: Adam before the river swept him away.....
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September: Three amigo's !! One of this years highlights. We were on our way to Tesco Express to get some milk and a newspaper. We take walking to the shops very seriously.
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October: Bunchman and myself. Oooh. His lovely cousin was in the last ever episode of 'Extras' alongside David Tennant. The excitement was too much for me to bear. When I say 'excitement' I mean 'pure jealousy'. What? What? What ??!!!!!

November: It was really warm that day. I'd like to live there. It is a random house by the lake where I walk the dog.

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December: A dead turkey covered in dead pig.

Happy New Year

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Sales !!!!

2007-12-29T17:55:00.000Z

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I love the sales don't you? I'll always love the sales. Nothing will change my mind on that. A good old bargain. Slashed prices. Great eh?
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On Friday I browsed round the shops. There were so many bargains. I found a pair of great jeans for a fiver, but they only had a size 20, so I got them anyway in case I put weight on. A bargain is a bargain right? Then I found a great top but again they did not have my size so I got a size zero in case I become terminally ill next year. Or anorexic. Or both.
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There were some amazing price cuts. Loads of shoes that no one would previously buy were all in a sale. Bargain! I got a few pairs in a size three even though I'm a five. If I'm ever involved in a freak toe severing incident they will come in handy. I always like to be practical but yet remain optimistic in life.
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Best of all, was when I saw that all the toys I had got Adam for Christmas were now slashed to a mere half price! Yes! Half price!
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Brilliant or what?
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Wow!
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Amazing!
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All the toys I'd paid full price for were now half price.
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Oh wait......
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Stupid sodding sales.
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I hate sales.

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A Christmas Tale (sort of) ..... Part Two

2007-12-28T20:43:00.000Z

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The two soldiers made the very long journey to their place of refuge (the parents) on Christmas Eve, where they would now at least be able to endure some sort of Christmas. The dog was worried about reaching her destination. There were rumours of better dog treats and two walks a day. Maybe even a squeaky toy or two. How could dogs be treated in such a way?
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Through the fog and frost they travelled, avoiding the many dangers on the way with only a covering of thin metal (a ford fiesta car) to protect them from the harsh elements that battered them. They soldiered forth as darkness swiftly fell.
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The soldiers reached their destination, the place they would be forced to call 'home' for the next few days. It wasn't much but they would have to make do as best they could. There were only warm beds, three hot meals a day, a selection of alcohol and a huge Christmas dinner to look forward to. A cross they had to bear. The oldest soldier would have to drink snowballs and wine just to show solidarity amongst her people. She could not defy orders or stand alone. She must remain loyal to her regiment. A sacrifice she must make. Not to mention an array of brightly coloured presents to open on Christmas morning... When would the pain end? They comforted themselves with the thought that it is what Jesus would have wanted.
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Christmas Day dawned bright and early. The Captain (my Dad) was up with the lark and had built and extension, caught a turkey, killed the turkey and plucked a turkey, trained the dogs to ballroom dance and cooked Christmas lunch all by 7am. The captain was one of the eldest in the refuge. It is a well known fact that elderly people must get up before they go to bed so they can have the obligatory 'old person afternoon nap' that comes as a law when you get old.
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The normal soldiers got up when you are meant to. In the daylight. Like normal people do. Presents were opened. The poor youngest soldier (Adam) received many gifts and had to bear the pain of getting Doctor Who toys, a scooter and a guitar. Man will never know how he coped, too young for such atrocities.

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Photographs were taken to depict their day, you can see the desperate look in their eyes as they have to face a delicious meal of turkey, bread sauce, roast potatoes, chipolatas wrapped in bacon, sprouts, carrots, roast parsnips, fancy wine and a pudding.
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The refuge was so cold that the comrades were forced to to set fire to the pudding. Those flames saved their lives and it meant that they were able to have a sing song round a Christmas pudding camp fire.

Favourite uplifting Christmas songs were sang and strummed, such as 'If you leave me now' by Chicago, 'Suicide' is painless - The MASH theme tune and 'Old Shep' by Elvis Presley to name but a few.

Our female soldier (me) fell asleep and missed the Doctor Who Christmas special and was forced to watch it the next day instead. She was forced to look into David Tennants eyes. Any drool that escaped from her lips at this time, was purely coincidental.

They returned home a few days later. Full of food, and Christmas spirit (brandy). They would have to it all again next year. Hooray ... erm I mean.... more hardship.... yes terrible hardship.

The End

A Christmas Tale (sort of)..... Part One

2007-12-23T12:24:00.000Z

very well done.
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With only a few days before Christmas, the furthest thing from the mind of the two soldiers was shopping and presents. Christmas was only a distant memory for them. Would they live to see another? It could only be a sad thought, a painful memory of days gone by. It would be another relentless day of dangerous battle. Troops would fall.

The two soldiers had no time to have their Weetabix. The full fat milk stood unopened in the fridge, the sugar was granulated and lonely. The soldiers had no time to eat. No time to dress. They would fight in their pyjamas. An array of Dr Who motifs and disturbing checked pyjama bottoms would terrify anyone or anything that dared to venture within a twenty five mile radius. Even the dog they kept for company had reservations about the dress sense around her. She could not understand the gaudy prints at a time when fierce battle was on the agenda. The dog was the only voice of reason which did not bode well for anyone. She licked her bottom in anticipation of the war that was about to begin.

The soldiers fought valiantly. They hastily built makeshift defence systems out of materials that were close to hand (cushions) with loopholes (gaps in the cushions) to spy the enemy without being seen. They had trained for a whole two minutes on the art of infiltration tactics. The bottom line was this: They had to fight each other. One against the other. Etc.

The dog had to referee. This was a huge responsibility for one who barked so much. All she wanted to do was chase cats, bark at squirrels and get a sneaky lick of a cooked oven roasted turkey... the thought of it made her drool. She wanted to roll about in wrapping paper and run off with a a roast potato. She wanted to make everyone feel sick at meal times by dragging her arse across the floor thus forcing everyone to remember that she needed worming. She wanted to roll in some manure. Instead she was caught up in missiles (paper balls).

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The first soldier was valiant as he launched missiles at the enemy.. he ran forward risking life and limb. He left his carefully built defence system to attack the enemy (his Mum).
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The result? It was not pretty... the second soldier (me) fell in a flurry of missiles (many paper balls). The checked pyjamas hid the pain... hid the bruising that paper can cause (no, really, it can).
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How would this soldier ever cook a Christmas dinner now? There would only be one thing she could do. To be brave and go to another house to receive Christmas dinner (the parents) and have someone else cook for her (her Dad).
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She must sacrifice her own cooking skills and allow- yes 'allow' someone to wait on her. Her bravery was overwhelming. The dog quickly checked for signs of life... she was concerned because it was nearly her own dinner time and she couldn't open her own cans of dog food. It was a worrying time. A deeply worrying time. She had not been this concerned since the incident involving a lost can opener - in the days before ring pull cans. Worrying times indeed. That was true hardship.
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With battle finished, the soldiers had no time to rest. It was then on to an afternoon of orienteering (spelt correctly because I checked). When I say 'orienteering' (still spelt correctly) it was orienteering without the running, the rough terrain and a compass. This brave soldier (Adam) did not need a compass. He was however blindfolded (had a hat over his face) and was guided by the power of speech from the brave soldier that had fallen (me). Despite being bruised and hurt, and hurt and bruised, the injured soldier used her skills to guide the short soldier round the dangerous field (the meadow).

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He avoided cold rivers, dogs and prams and was successfully navigated left and right and straight ahead round the whole course. It took ages. It was freezing cold and the short soldier insisted on doing this round the whole meadow. The whole meadow.... in the freezing cold... the cold, cold winter cold. Did I say it took ages? Did I mention how boring it got for the soldier who had to direct? Did I mention how she just wished the short soldier would walk a bit quicker so they could get home in time for Coronation Street, cup of tea and a mince pie from Marks & Spencers ? Did I mention how.... oh you get the idea.
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Only time would tell if they would recover in time for Christmas day.
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To be continued.......
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Repeat a Post Day !!

2007-12-18T08:43:00.000Z

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So, Adam gave me the plague last week, I have lost my right black boot, I found my lost camera in the utensil drawer, I got up at 5.30am today and worst of all - I had a total disaster.... I was without - repeat without the intraweb for three days. Yes, three days. Anything could have happened.
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Have a repeat Christmas video blog. It is capital old boy, capital.
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*Jayne swigs from a whisky bottle*

Merry Christmas

Also, in the words of Cake... (whose birthday was last week - Happy Birthday again)

INFRASTRUCTURE !! (woo hoo)

*Jayne swigs from infrastructure bottle*

Merry Chrishtmus, Cerry Mistmush, Sherry Shishmus. Etc.

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And now for the video.. *Hic*
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999

2007-12-11T20:58:00.000Z

it alreday.

I meant to do the exposé on my Mum, but then Adam came down with the the plague and my lungs have decided not to be nice to me.

Then the following happened yesterday.

It was in the morning and I was about to head for a shower, when there was a BANG BANG BANG on my front door. It was a bit aggressive sounding and I wondered if the postman was getting a bit over excited delivering the Christmas mail. The frosted glass, revealed that it was my neighbour. The couple next door are both in their 80s and very lovely people. I'll call them Mary and Fred.

Mary was at my door with her coat on and two rollers in her hair. She spoke:

'Can you come quickly, Fred has collapsed on the floor and I don't know what to do.'

My brain quickly calculated that Mary had put on her coat to travel the long distance from next door and had tied her shoes . Based on this observation, I calculated I should be okay to pull on a pair of jeans. As I did this, Mary spoke again saying the last word in a loud whisper as though she was giving me some neighbourly gossip:

'I think he's DIED.'

What?! Oh my God. My mind was racing as I grabbed my keys. I was about to go and see a dead person. I've only ever seen one dead body and that was laid out properly. Then there was the time I found a dead fledgling in my garden. I had to pick it up with a small spade. I screamed when it's limp body fell off the spade as I dropped it. It scared the life out of me.

How would I deal with a body in a house? I hoped that I would not have to shovel Fred up, so maybe I wouldn't need to scream.

Adam was ill in bed and so heard the commotion downstairs. He called down to see where I was going. I shouted back: 'It's okay, it's nothing. I just have to pop next door - we think Fred is dead!' This reassured Adam as I left him on his own. The dog thought she was about to go for a walk as I shoved my shoes on. She tried to come with me. The last thing I needed was her trying to gnaw on a body - so I left her behind.

I went into Mary and Fred's kitchen and I saw Fred sprawled on the floor. I peered at Fred whilst calling the ambulance and realised he wasn't dead because he was was breathing. I called to Mary who was a bit frantic: 'Fred isn't dead!' Then Fred peered up at me and I told him to lay still and explained that I was getting help. I explained to the operator about Fred's collapse and that Fred wasn't dead but blinking up at me.

I was asked by the ambulance operator not to take my eye off Fred, hide away any pets, give a list of medication and greet the ambulance. Talk about multi-tasking. So, I held Fred's hand and wrote down a list of the tablets I take before realising they wanted a list of Fred's medication - not mine. Then I had to run to the front door every few minutes to look for the ambulance and quickly run back to check Fred wasn't dead.

Mary went to her room to change her trousers and take out the rollers in case she needed to go to the hospital. I had no bra on, but I didn't think it was the right time to go and get changed and I hoped Fred didn't have a keen eye.

I asked Fred if he was comfortable sprawled the floor:

'Aye' he said rather jovially I thought. 'Aye Jayne. I fell asleep at the table and fell off my chair and on to the floor and I didn't notice.'

Then I laughed. He laughed. Mary laughed. 'Ya daft old bugger' she said. I helpfully interjected with: 'She thought you were dead Fred'.

Hold it.

I'd just called an ambulance for someone who had slipped to the floor having fallen asleep. I told Fred. He laughed more. His shoulders shook with laughing so much. I laughed a bit more. I couldn't help thinking that it would be handy if he had a heart attack from laughing because then it wouldn't all look so ridiculous when the ambulance arrived. 'Can you try and keep still Fred ' I told him ' I was told to keep you still and anyway - we thought you were dead.'

The ambulance people arrived and they admitted that Fred looked good for a dead person and that they would have wanted to check him over anyway. Fred was given a clean bill of health.

Phew.

Below, my Christmas tree.

My Dad.....

2007-12-05T17:35:00.000Z

The next few blogs will be an exposé on my parents. It may help you understand the person I am today. It is harsh. It is unrelenting.

My parents say I was bossy as a little girl. What would they know? I'd say 'well organised' - not bossy. Bandying about words like 'bossy' to describe a six year old is not kind. Cruel maybe.

So, I was six. I had a 'Post Office' set, that I loved to play with. It consisted of a shop frame that resembled a post office counter, money, dog licenses, colour TV licenses, tickets, money, documents and best of all... the best thing in the world... an ink stamper. Not just any old in stamper, but a Post Office ink stamper. It allowed me to be an efficient six year old and stamp everything like they did in a real post office.

I decided that the women in the real post offices who stamped everything did not need to stamp everything. They just did it to convey their efficiency.. . INK STAMP, INK STAMP. They would press the stamper on the ink pad and stamp the documents in a very quick and authoritative manner.

I could do it quicker than they could: INK STAMP, INK STAMP: 'Next please.' I was good. I was full of superior thoughts.

I digress. I made my Dad join in my post office game. I told him to buy some things, and I gave him a pretend money allowance. I told (asked) him what to do. I told (asked) him where to stand and I told (asked) him what to say. I was busy and I had things to stamp. All my Mother could hear was:

'Daddy, stand over there and when I say come in, you have to come in. Daddy, here is some money and you have to buy a licence. Daddy, you must give me all your money and I give you a ticket. Daddy, I have to stamp everything. Daddy, don't be silly - you can't stamp, only I can stamp. Daddy, hurry up.'

See, I was organised - not bossy. Very well organised.

My Dad got a bored of being organised. He wandered off for a minute. He came back.

My Mother heard the following:

'Daddy, hurry up and come back................ AAAAARGHHHHHHHHHH. MUUUUUMYYYYYYYYYYYYYY !!'

Guess what he did?

My Dad robbed my post office. He took the money. He took the licenses. Worst of all, he took the stamper. The ink and post office stamper. Gone. Stolen. Stolen by my own Dad.

'Mummmyyyyyy,' I shouted as I grassed him up: 'Dad robbed my post office and he wore a pair of your tights over his head'.

Yes. He even wore a pair of tights over his head for full effect.

What sort of parent does that??????

Hee heeeee heeeee.

P.S. Just in case anyone is unaware of my style of humour - my Dad is great.

My Dad and myself. (I was ill, hence why I look like the most haggard six week old on earth.. hehe)

I had curly hair. How?

I had light colured hair as a small kid. How???

I wear a lot of black. How????

Next time, an exposé on my Mother.

E.T. Phone Home.....

2007-12-03T16:18:00.000Z

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The film E.T. the Extra Terrestrial (just in case you thought there were any other E.T. films) was maybe one of my favourites as a child. It helped me think how cute it would be if a weird little being came down from space and had a glowing finger and could ride bikes mid air in the light of a full moon. How much fun would that be?

How cute was the E.T. thing? It waddled around and it was cute and lovely, and lovely and cute. Also funny. An alien that waddles about is just really funny. Isn't it?

No.

It is not cute any more. In fact my illusions were cruelly shattered. I found out that in some part E.T. was portrayed by a little boy with no legs in an alien costume. A boy with no legs. A little boy with no legs. A little boy with no legs acted out some of the E.T. scenes.

I'm not saying that they got a boy with legs and maimed him especially for the part, because they didn't. They chose a boy who already had no legs, which was handy (not leggy). Imagine though. Imagine broaching the subject with the parents of the kid with no legs:

"Excuse me Sir/Madam, would it be okay if we used your disabled child to act out the hilarious waddle of an alien life form for a film... and by the way he won't get any decent credit for it and will be forever referred to as 'the little boy with no legs'. "

The child was asked to demonstrate several walks (shuffles though really, because he had no bloody legs) and they used the funniest. Charming!

"Hey little kid with no legs, shuffle about a bit and we'll laugh at you. We will use the shuffle that makes us laugh the most in the film. And you get to wear an unflattering brown plastic outfit. Sound cool? Here is a bag of sweets for your trouble.. now run along....erm... ummmm... I mean carry on as you normally do... heee heee heeeeee."

The child who played the part was interviewed on television (he is grown up now) and although it did not mention if his legs grew back, he did say that the funniest bit for him was the scene where E.T. got drunk because he got the most laughs for that bit and he knew it would play out well on the big screen. I bet the director's/producer's would have laughed anyway. The big meanies.

So, E.T. is ruined for me. I laughed at the drunk E.T. scene and for all those times I laughed, for all the years I have seen that film and giggled and pointed, I was laughing at a disabled ten year old child with no legs. If you laughed at the drunk E.T. scene, then you too were laughing at a ten year old disabled boy with no legs.

Heee. Heee.

I'll leave you with a pic of books in a book shop.
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Queen (not the rock band).

2007-11-29T10:26:00.000Z

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Adam is seeing the Queen as I type. Him and half a billion kids. She (Old Queenie) is in town to officially open the new football stadium that isn't finished.

Now, in order for Adam to be allowed to go, the school sent out forms that I had to sign for security reasons. Also we had a letter about what the kids can and cannot take with them into the stadium.

First of all were the questions. I had to tick the usual box stating whether my child was male or female. They asked if he had any medical needs - I guess that they single out the disabled kids so they can meet the Queen for a little treat or else hide them, so the Queen wouldn't be offended at the drool. It asked if any members of the family belonged to a Shia militant group. The options were: YES, NO, DON'T KNOW. I wasn't sure so I had to tick 'don't know' for that one.

Then they asked if we had purchased a gallon of perfume and manure in the past six weeks or stolen chemicals from school. I ticked NO. I did buy some top soil and scented candles the other week, but not on the same day. I don't think they count as explosive building materials.

Then we had a letter about what the kids can take with them. They weren't allowed any school bags or usual lunch boxes and had to put lunch in a named carrier bag. I gave him a Tesco one, but crossed out Tesco and wrote Harvey Nichols over the top. I don't want Queenie thinking I'm a cheapskate.

They also aren't allowed umbrellas, mobile phones, cameras and radio controlled timing devices. It was a very thorough list. No mention of weapons though, so I allowed Adam to take in a jousting stick, just in case the security got a bit lairy at him hiding a listening device in his ham sandwich.

Also, just in case Adam gets to personally shake hands with Queenie, I gave him a pair of pink marigolds to put on beforehand. You don't know where her hands have been and if one of the Corgi's did a poo on the royal carpet this morning, Queenie may have cleared it up and forgotten to wash her hands in the rush of having to get the bus to Milton Keynes.

I'll leave you with a pic of the shopping centre.

Ballet.

2007-11-26T21:40:00.000Z

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I was about eight or nine when my Mum took me to participate in a ballet class. She was possibly hoping that I could become a graceful girly girl, but to be fair I've never been a girly girl.

Let us take a look at the evidence. There are only two pieces of evidence, but my Mother often mentions them, so it seems like more.

Evidence 1.

I once, (once) played 'executions' with my dolls. I maybe lined them up and er... maybe I pretended to shoot them. This was in the day when every kid had toy pistols and brandished them about without causing panic and being sent to the care of the social services.

Evidence 2.

My Mum once caught be burying my 'best' expensive doll in the garden. When she asked me what an earth I was doing, ( in what I thought was a rather outraged manner) I happily told her that it was okay because I was just playing 'funerals'. I got told off. Mum's can be so fussy.

So, the ballet class.... I went to see if I would like it enough for it to become a regular thing.

So, the ballet class..... It was meant to be really good and exciting. I would be elegant and graceful. Other parents would gasp and be overcome with emotion upon seeing my amateur but yet stunning performance. They would weep that their own children so were so useless at pirouettes.

Things did not quite go to plan. This is according to my Mother though. My information is only as reliable as the source.

When I got there, there were kids of of four performing perfect fouetté en tournant's. There were little girls floating in the air as they leaped accross the room and even unborn babies were doing chaînés tournes. I knew I would be fine. Even at the age of eight/nine, I knew I fitted in. This was my calling, I was 'at home' as I wore my towelling tracksuit and put my butchered Sindy doll to sit with my Mum.

The teacher asked the girls to run gracefully across the room and back again. Quite a few times. Rather more than was necessary in my opinion, but she knew best. All the girls leaped and ran gracefully, barely touching the floor.. you could almost see magic dust and hear a faint sound of pretty twinkling bells.

However.

The only thing I managed to achieve, was the sense of sawdust and the sound of me puffing and panting because I was trying to keep up. As all the other girls gracefully leaped, I only managed to actually run. As if I were in a race. Back and forth, back and forth. STOMP STOMP STOMP. All the 'show off' girls were already leaping back down the room before I had reached the top. I turned round at the end only to be faced with all the girls coming back again. My Mum said I looked a bit stricken and my running became slower, as if I was finishing a 26 mile marathon. Someone tried to give me a foil cape, but I was too busy trying to keep up.

We were also meant to have our arms poised gracefully above our heads as we leaped back and forth, back and forth. With our hands gracefully poised as if lightly and delicately brushing the air away with our fingertips. My Mother said (again- only her opinion) that I had my arm up in front of me as if I was putting my hand up to go to the toilet or doing an impression of an elephant's trunk up in the air. Not even an elegant elephant.

She never took me again.

After that experience I never asked to go again.

I'll leave you with something far more fun involving possible tequila.

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Money Money Money

2007-11-20T16:13:00.000Z

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A while ago I did a post here about my school work. I was either going to do a new school work post, discuss my disastrous ballet lesson when I was nine or post my fairy video, but my Mum said I gurn in it too much and I think she is embarrassed to have a daughter who is 34 and is prepared to show herself up by posting a 'bad fairy' video.

So, for now have the school work one.

Anyway, I was ten. We had to write about whether or not we thought money was the root of all evil. I had obviously thought it through and my serious, well thought out, in depth conclusion perfectlty ties in with my main argument. See what you think. ..... My comments are as ever are in bold brackets:

Money is the root of all evil because it makes some people very unhappy, financially. Some people can't afford a house and if they take boarding houses, (where to?) or they become lodgers they might not be able to pay their rent especially if they have been made redundant. And it may drive people to live rough. Or children may have to go to the social services because their mothers or fathers can't find work and they have to dump them, so they can get a better life. (Not sure if I meant that the parents could get a better life, or the children)

And it could also drive people to steal if they can't get money. Money makes people greedy and they just want more and more, as if they can't get enough of it. (wow, money addiction) And when they become unhappy they lose all their friends. Money is often wasted and could go to better things such as buying Ethiopians food. (See, all along is was that simple... Bob Geldof obviously read my school books when I wasn't looking and stole my ideas)

(Wait for my conclusion......)

Money is not the root of all evil because how would we live without it.

(What!!! I change my mind quickly there. I've just got myself more and more worked up about how I think having no money is terrible: people living rough, kids being dumped and having too much causes money addiction, unhappiness and loss of friends. It is a sorry state of affairs. Then I just say: 'Nah, we all need it though.' Maybe I got bored).

The End

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First Snow of Winter!!

2007-11-18T21:53:00.000Z

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Brrr... the title says it all.

It is best to try and keep warm.... and not open the doors and windows and let in all the cold air, just so you can take a photo.

Blinding!

2007-11-16T13:40:00.000Z

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I was at home the other evening, minding my own business and making dinner. There was a knock on the door.

I opened the door to what can at best be described as a girl/woman of your nightmares. She was youngish, dressed in a red tabbard and looked a bit excitable. How did she look excitable? I'll tell you. Because when I opened the door, she jumped up and down on the spot as if she had known me, lost me and then found me again after many years.

'Hellooooooo' she said excitedly as she bounced up and down. 'How are you?' Even as a woman myself, I couldn't help but notice her ample chest bouncing about in front of me. I felt a bit jealous to be honest. I wondered if she was a breast implant door to door sales person. I hoped not because I was trying to cook dinner and the thought of a quick breast implant operation wasn't too convenient at that moment. I didn't want to leak breast tissue into the bolognaise sauce. She spoke:

' I'm just here to tell you that I've been in your street and I rounded up the neighbours and they are all getting in on the act '.

Firstly, I never even knew that it was my street and secondly, I couldn't even see a single rounded up neighbour. I was half expecting to see a line of confused old people all waiting for their breast implants. Or else a load of old folk wearing party hats and doing the conga. Nothing. The girl/woman thing saw my confusion and possibly sensed that she was losing me as an appreciative audience. So, she went for the obvious choice of killer question:

'Do you know anyone who is blind?'

I thought for a second. I did actually, but they were dead. Not dead because they were blind, but just dead in general. It was a fellow blind neighbour whose guide dog I used to look after. I didn't need to tell her that, so instead I mentioned the time I got sand in my eye and I had to squint a bit to see and so I understood the predicament of blind people. I didn't want to appear uncommunicative, because then otherwise I may not get a decent breast implant. I didn't want to be lopsided.

Also, I wasn't sure what being blind had to do with breasts implants. Maybe some people had gone blind after a breast implant. They would go for a run afterwards and forget to wear a bra. That would explain why she had been jumping around, She was showing me the dangers of breast implants. Those poor blind, large chested people.

Then she carried on:

'Great! I bet you can imagine that being blind is pretty horrible, and so I've got all your neighbours in on the act and I'm asking you all to give some money each month to give to the blind people. I'm not selling anything, all you have to do is take this form and fill in your bank details..'

Yes. Of course. I wondered where the breast implants came into it, but I was getting a bit suspicuous by now. I doubted that any of my neighbour's had signed over their bank details to give to an unnamed blind charity. (It wasn't an official charity, just in case you think I'm mean) Also, her choice of wording troubled me. Stepping in dog poo is horrible. The dog being sick under the bed is horrible. Finding a spider on your pillow is horrible. Describing being blind as generically 'horrible'? I wonder if you ask a blind person what it is like to be blind, I wonder if they would say:

'Oh you know, it is pretty horrible. I often compare it to stepping in dog poo, but at least I'm blind so I don't notice.'

I declined the offer of handing over my bank details and she bounced again and said 'No worries, thanks, byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.' If she was a real charity person, she would have grimaced and you'd see in her eyes that she wished you actually had some terrible illness (for being so mean). Which I do already, so I'm safe. Heeeee.

I shamelessly copied Jacs pic taking skills and I got this pic of the squirrel on my fence pinching the nuts meant for the birds. Minnie was going mad at the window. I think she wanted to eat it.

David Cameron's Unusual Pledge

2007-11-12T19:12:00.000Z

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See this:
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I have my internet provider page as my home page. My eyes were drawn to the first headline. I'm no political expert, but even I know that David Cameron should possibly consider revising his political strategy. Maybe he would be better giving babies kisses and driving round with a loud speaker on his car, rather than vowing to rape in a tough way. The pervert.
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I also noticed that an hour after I saw this, the headline had been rewritten. Thank goodness for 'print screen' on the computer.

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School Holiday/Home Holiday

2007-11-05T18:19:00.000Z

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Adam has gone away for five days on a school trip.

Yesterday he declared that he would in fact not be going and when I suggested that it was meant to be an adventure holiday involving fun (yes, god forbid), he informed me that it would in fact be a week of misery for him.

Now at this point of my tale you would be forgiven in thinking that I forced him to go. That I was to banish him to a dark forest. A forest so dark and cold and uninviting that even the likes of Harry Potter have not yet encountered such a dank, dismal, soul destroying place. So I shall correct you. Adam begged to go and I had to give up gin to pay for it.

So anyway, this morning there were tears, upsetting tantrums, a lot begging to not go and some embarrassing screaming and wailing as the coach pulled away. Adam was fine though. I really should learn to keep my emotions in check.

Some Mother's were in tears as they said goodbye to their children. It was moving watching the Mum's light up their cigarettes for comfort and blow smoke out of their nostrils as they waved. I didn't cry but I did nearly drop my bottle of wine as I waved Adam off. Someone got huffy when I got out the party poppers. Fussy bastards.

So, I have a week to myself. I don't know who will have the best time, me or Adam? (I will miss him though).

Have a pic of my local garage (gas station).

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