Mean Moody Middle-aged Mom

Fashion Show!

2009-07-29T17:30:00.049+01:00

For various reasons, some of which you are aware and some of which you are not, it has been a very worrying year for me so far. I considered dragging you all down with me, by going into detail about everything which has gone/is going wrong but, on reflection, I decided that none of you deserved that, so I have chosen to share one of the (rare) highlights of my year, instead!

I was more than thrilled, a few weeks ago, when one of my friends asked if I would like to go with her and her family to a fashion show, which would be part of Graduate Fashion Week at Earl's Court. I jumped at the chance and then spent an exciting, but, ultimately disappointing, few days looking round the shops for something unusual to wear. In the end, I decided against wearing something wild, opting instead to blend in, by wearing black trousers, a black, short-sleeved satin jacket, a bright pink top and a bit of jewellery. When we arrived at the show, I was relieved to discover that I had made the right decision. The majority of the people there were young fashion students, mostly dressed in dark colours, perhaps with the odd accessory to brighten things up here and there. In fact, they were almost wearing a uniform. As 2 of the oldest people there, my friend and I would have looked as if we had been having a midlife crisis, if we had turned up in something attention seeking. We did get a few funny looks, but I think that may have been something to do with my tiara ..........

I loved the show! It was amazing! Each graduate had produced 6 - 8 garments and a lot of the clothes were wild, some were outrageous and the majority of them were exciting! The first 3 garments, in the photos below, were amongst my favourites, particularly when I discovered that the young Italian graduate had designed and even printed her own fabric. If you can spare the time to click on the photos you will see how wonderful the fabric was.

Here are a few men's outfits

and a few women's:

These garments were amongst the most outrageous:

As far as I could gather, the flowery fabric used for the 3 garments directly above, must have been stretchy. It even fitted over the models' shoes and precariously high heels! I think I would have had a panic attack if I'd had that fabric all over my face. It seems that, as a fashion model, you have to be game for almost anything!

The whole show was more than I could have wished for. It is true to say that the designs were 'out of this world', but fashion is a competitive business and I suppose that young designers have to get themselves noticed. I was very impressed with the amount of skill which must have been necessary to put such unique creations together and to make the fabrics behave in such challenging ways! If I were young and daring again, I would happily wear any of the 3 outfits, designed by the Italian student. I also liked the cream 2 piece, with the cropped top and strangely shaped skirt.

What about you? How do you fancy the all in one grey jumpsuit, incorporating the orange knickers and orange stripes around the legs, or how would you feel about showing off your black stockings and suspenders by wearing no skirt and a short black jacket?

Showing My Pants

2009-05-19T13:53:00.010+01:00

Whilst shopping with my parents and aunt, in their local supermarket last week, I bought half a dozen pairs of pants, paying for them at the till in the clothing section, instead of putting them on the conveyor belt with my food shopping, where they would have been on display for all to see.

After we'd all come through the checkout and paid for our other shopping, I walked through the first set of exit doors, with my relations, but the alarm went off, which resulted in the young security man quickly appearing behind us, to ask if anyone had bought any clothing. I replied that I had, automatically holding open my carrier, so that he could see what was inside. My aunt and father pretended that they didn't know me from Adam, whilst my mother instantly leapt to me defence. 'She's paid for them' my mother said, quickly.

The young lad, who couldn't have been above 20 years of age, replied 'Yes, I can see that, it's just that I don't want anyone to go home with security tags on their clothes.' He shrank back somewhat, when he saw that I had a bag full of undergarments, so I delved into the carrier and pulled out the receipt. He thanked me and initialled the receipt, explaining that the shop assistant must have forgotten to scan one of the bar codes.

'I'm upset, now,' I said solemnly, to my aunt and parents, 'because the young security chap's seen my pants!' We regarded each other for a split second, before we all roared with laughter, then, once my aunt had donned her rainhat, she took advantage of the rain slowing down a little and set off for the bus stop. I stood, with my parents, just inside the second set of exit doors, for a few minutes longer, as my mother insisted that my father should put on his raincoat and his cap, before we left the store. When we stepped outside, we could see that my aunt hadn't yet reached the bus stop, because she had stopped to talk to one of the other security men, whom she knew.

'I'm just saying how you had to show your knickers, before you could get out of the supermarket', she called, giggling, as we approached.

The security man threw back his head, guffawed loudly and shouted to me 'Yeah, show me your knickers!'

I was very close to doing as I was told, for a split second, but stopped myself just in time. After all, I didn't want this complete stranger imagining what I was wearing under my jeans the next time I was with my aunt and bumped into him! Feeling slightly embarrassed, I joined in with the laughter, ignoring the security man's second command for a peek at my newly purchased undergarments.

'She's not going to show me!' he said to my aunt, in a disappointed fashion, then, as he turned to go back into the store, he startled me considerably, by shouting to me 'I'll see your knickers, next time, then!'

Several bemused shoppers stared after me, as I hurried away, with my parents, my aunt and a bit of a red face!

I occaionally feel that I've wandered into some sort of parallel universe, when I shop in this supermarket. A lot of the staff are really friendly, but there is one young male shelf filler, aged about 18, who chats to my mother and aunt and likes to kiss the female customers on the cheek, whenever he gets the chance. He is, otherwise, very pleasant, but reminds me very much of the character PC Goody in the The Thin Blue Line, if anyone remembers the tv programme. He has, so far, managed to plant a smacker on my cheek, on 2 occasions. The first time I was unaware of his little habit, so he caught me by surprise and the second time I wasn't fast enough in getting out of his way!

Am I alone in finding the behaviour of some of the staff, in this store, a bit bewildering? Perhaps I'm just a bit of a prude and not much fun, but I can't imagine anything like this ever happening to me in the supermarket where I usually shop!

Would you have shown the second security man your new knickers? How would you feel if the young male shelf fillers at your local supermarket started stealing a kiss? Would your feelings depend upon how good looking they were? Do you feel that this sort of thing would enhance your shopping experience?

What Men Mean

2009-05-13T21:04:00.010+01:00

Firstly, I would like to apologise for my absence. I have a lot of family problems at the moment - more than those I mentioned a couple of posts ago, unfortunately. I have been too preoccupied to comment and too distracted to put a post together, so I hope you will excuse me. Anyway........

There just had to be a follow up to 'Shock Poll Reveals What Women Mean' didn't there? Women are not alone in saying one thing, when they may mean another. Men can often be guilty of the same sort of thing. I've compiled a list of the most common things a man might say, in bold, along with what he might mean in italics. This post is tongue-in-cheek. Please don't take it too seriously. I won't be held responsible for any divorce proceedings instigated as a result of reading this post. ;0)

Before Marriage:

Would you like to go for a drink after work? I think you're really hot and I want to have sex with you, as soon as you'll agree to it.

Do you want to stay at my place this weekend? Do you want to bonk me stupid this weekend?

Shall we go on holiday together this year? Do you want to bonk me stupid for a fortnight?

Will you marry me? Will you have regular sex with me, until I get fed up of you and find someone younger?

After marriage:

Is your headache better darling? Are you well enough to have sex, yet?

Do you want any help in the kitchen? If I help in the kitchen, can we have sex later?

Let's have a cuddle. Let's have sex.

Of course I'm listening. I haven't been listening.

No I'm not lost. I'm lost.

You're wrong. It's essential that I'm right, so you must be wrong.

I can do it. I can't do it, but I would rather not do it than let you show/tell me how to do it.

All the men at work fancy Lisa. All the men at work fancy Lisa, including me.

I could give up drinking if I wanted to. I can't get through the day without alcohol.

It's far too hot in this room. Aren't you hot? It's too hot in this room. If you're not hot, there's something wrong with you. There couldn't possibly be anything wrong with me.

I've cut the grass. It's spring and I've cut the grass, so that's my bit of gardening done until the autumn, when I'll cut it once more. If you think it needs cutting in between, you'll have to do it yourself.

I haven't got time to finish this job in the house today. I'll do the rest next week. I'm never going to finish this job. If you want it finished, you'll have to do it, or get someone in.

Do you think that this DIY job looks OK? I know that this DIY job looks awful, but will you let me off the hook, because I can't be bothered to do it any better?

Yes, that dress looks great! That dress doesn't look too good on you, but I hate shopping and I want to get home in time to watch the rugby on tv.

There's nothing wrong with a man hiring a Harley Davidson at the age of 58, when he hasn't been on a motorbike for 33 years. Help! I'm having a midlife crisis.

Have you seen my car keys/screwdriver/mobile/wallet/brain? You've tidied away my car keys/screwdriver/mobile/wallet/brain. It's lost forever, my life is in ruins and it's all your fault.

I would like to point out that this information has been gathered from other women's experiences, or from my own experiences in previous (failed!) relationships. My own dearest darling husband is, of course, guilty of none of the above. Well, maybe just the odd one here and there .........

Anything you'd like to add from your own observations?

The Ideal Home

2009-04-16T16:46:00.013+01:00

It's been 23 years since my husband and I last moved house, but when my eldest son left home, last summer, it suddenly occurred to me that we were entering a different phase in our lives and it was possible that, in a very short time, we could once more be enjoying the dubious pleasures of house hunting.

We haven't made a habit of moving house since our marriage in 1976 and, when we were looking for our first property, we didn't have many requirements. We were both living and working in the Midlands, before we married, so our choice was limited to something we could afford and which was within reasonable travelling distance of our places of work. We finally found an old bungalow, which needed a fair amount of modernisation, but we lived there happily enough, until my husband was promoted 4 years later, when we were obliged to move a bit further south.

We were a little more discerning, when we were searching for our second property. It was difficult to find the sort of house we wanted, however, at a price we could afford, because we were moving into a more expensive area. On this occasion, we were again looking for an older, detached property, but with 3 bedrooms and a decent sized garden, in a village location, preferably with fields beyond. After endless searching, we eventually bought a neglected Baptist manse, which met most of our needs, but required a lot of repair work, before we could move in. Our mortgage payments doubled in size, as a result of buying the property and we spent a lot of money on renovations during the 6 years that we lived there. Our 2 eldest sons were born during the first 5 years that we spent in the house, but, by the time Middle son was 12 months old, I had set my sights on moving to a nearby country town. I had tired of village life, feeling that the whole family would benefit greatly from the wider range of activities and facilities available in a small town.

This time we were looking for a more modern detached family home, with as much space as we could afford. We were aiming for 3 receptions, fitted kitchen, cloakroom, one en suite bedroom, 3 further bedrooms, a family bathroom, double garage and a front and rear garden. When we finally managed to buy the house we had set our hearts on, we stayed put and, for the last 23 years, our home has truly been ideal. I shall be sad to leave the house where we have raised our family and made so many memories, but it will be too large for us, once the rest of our family has moved out, rendering the running and maintenance costs disproportionate for just 2 people.

Our requirements for our next ideal home, will be vastly different from the last. We don't yet feel ready to consider a complex for the over 55s, with House Manager, communal gardens, on site laundry, security door entry system and emergency call facility. We will, however, almost definitely be seeking out either a 2 bedroomed bungalow, or a house boasting a ready fitted Stannah stair lift and a downstairs toilet. A walk in shower room will be an absolute necessity, as will extra large windows to the front of the house, so that I can keep an eye on local goings on from behind my nets. A courtyard style garden, no bigger than a postage stamp, will also be high on our list of priorities, plus a garage big enough to house 2 mobility scooters, or one mobility scooter, with sidecar. Does anyone manufacture those? That's a missed business opportunity, isn't it?

The position of the house will be much more important this time. Views from the front of the property will hopefully include a pedestrian crossing, a couple of bus stops and a double decker bus at regular intervals of no less than 10 minutes, in each direction. Views to the rear should include the local Health Centre and hospital, which needs to be no more than 2 streets away. The house should be within easy reach of an extensive range of amenities such as the Co-op, Boots, Specsavers, the post office, the library, an NHS dentist (OK, now you know that I'm winding you up!), a hearing aid centre, a shampoo and set, a hostelry and the Crematorium.

We won't be considering any property, which stands at the top of a hill, at this juncture of our lives, as we feel that it would be too problematical. Whilst we feel sure that the trip down to the Cock and Bull, on our mobility scooters, would be a speedy delight, the return journey, after one snowball too many, could be meandering and tedious in the extreme, particularly if we roll down the other side of the hill, before I've managed to retrieve the front door key, from the bottom of my capacious shopper, and insert it, carefully, into the lock.

Finally, there is just one more requirement for our next ideal home, which I haven't yet mentioned. It simply must be within easy tottering distance of a cash machine, due to the fact that I am seriously looking forward to spending my children's inheritance.

A Difficult Choice

2009-04-04T20:56:00.011+01:00

Doc didn't c me bt saw nurse insted, they already given me usual injection 4 bloodclots - 1 that have been havin al wk, but he asked em giv me notha 1 much stronga! So just had that, gdnite mum + sleep wel, love Middle Son X.

I deciphered my 23 year old son's text speak with a frown instead of my usual wry smile. It was 10.30, on a Saturday evening, in the third week of March and I was concerned about my middle son, who had been admitted to the trauma unit of the local hospital almost a week ago. I wondered what the stronger injection could be. Perhaps one of the hospital doctors had finally taken the initiative to administer some treatment for the suspected blood clot in my son's right calf, instead of waiting for the results of an ultrasound scan, which wouldn't take place until Monday. There was no doubt that my middle son's pain had worsened since the scan had been requested on Friday morning, so it would surely have been a logical step to take.

Half an hour later, I lay in bed on my back, my novel discarded on the bedside table, staring at a 3 stranded cobweb, which had formed between the ceiling and the light shade. I mulled over the events of the past few weeks, not yet ready to turn out the light and settle down to sleep. 4 weeks previously, my 84 year old father had been admitted into hospital, at short notice, to have his right hip replaced. I had travelled up to my parents' house, in the Midlands, the day before he was admitted, so that I could look after my mother whilst my father was away. She was unable to manage alone due to her failing sight and occasional confusion.

After the operation, my father had suffered from low blood pressure and his wound had been slow to heal, so he had spent 3 weeks in hospital altogether. The Saturday before my father's discharge, my husband had travelled up to my parents' house to stay the night and at 6.40 am on the Sunday morning, our peaceful sleep had suddenly been disturbed by a telephone call from our middle son, to let us know that he was in A & E, awaiting an x-ray, because of a suspected broken leg. By mid afternoon, one of the hospital doctors had decided that Middle Son needed to have an operation the following day and would have to stay in hospital for at least a week. Shortly after hearing the news, my husband had left for the hospital, whilst I had remained with my mother, so my only contact with my son, over the next few days, had been by text.

My father had been discharged from hospital the next day and, after a kind offer from Student Son to take over my duties at my parents' house for a few days, I had finally been able to visit my middle son on the Wednesday after his admission into hospital. In fact, after visiting my son and seeing his x-ray, I had felt much worse. I had realised that my family hadn't fully disclosed the extent of the damage to my middle son's leg and it had occurred to me, for the first time, that he might not regain full use of it. I had become even more upset the following evening, when my son had found himself inexplicably suffering increasing and unbearable pain in his broken leg.

I returned to the present once more, my gaze falling upon my bag, packed and ready by the side of the bed, in case I needed to stay with my parents for a further week, after our Mother's Day visit, the next day. I hoped that it wouldn't be necessary, but I needed to assess the situation, once we arrived and to check with my student son, to see how well my parents had coped whilst he had been staying with them. I sighed, reaching out for my book, once more, succeeding, this time, in concentrating upon the plot long enough for my eyelids to grow heavy with sleep.

Mother's Day was a rather odd occasion, in the circumstances. I saw none of my sons in the morning. My eldest son and his girlfriend had visited the previous day, as my husband and I were anticipating a hectic Mother's Day visiting our relatives in different parts of the country. We intended to have lunch with my mother-in-law and my husband's family, in Staffordshire and then an evening meal with my parents in the West Midlands. My husband rang the hospital before we set off to enquire about Middle Son's condition and the Sister confirmed that the stronger injections being administered to him were clot busting injections, so we felt relieved that some action was finally being taken to try and deal with the problem in his calf.

We spent a couple of hours with my husband's family and then continued to my parents' house, as planned. My father was feeling very relieved to be without pain for the first time in 2 1/2 years. His wound had almost healed and he had managed a visit to the local supermarket without any major problem. Student Son reported that he felt that my mother and father were managing well and would be able to cope by themselves. When I told my parents that I was willing to stay another week, if they needed me, I could see that my mother would have preferred me to stay, although she stipulated that I should return home, so that I could be near to my middle son.

After a hurried meal, with my parents, I helped to load Student Son's belongings into the car with a heavy heart. I had decided to return home, but it had been a very difficult decision to make. I knew that my mother had become used to having me around and that she would miss my company and support. When everything was packed away in the car, we said our goodbyes, the slamming of the car doors confirming the finality of my decision. When we reached the main road, I leaned out of the window and caught one last glimpse of my parents framed in their front doorway, illuminated by the light behind them. I raised my hand as we headed off into the night, weeping silently under cover of the darkness, because of the decision I'd had to make.

A Foolproof Guide To Repelling Girls

2009-02-19T18:56:00.019Z

Warning To All Bloggers: Keep a bucket handy, whilst reading this post.

It's fair to say that I kissed a few frogs, in my teenage years, before meeting my prince, in my early 20s. During the extensive search for my other half, I learnt a few things about the male sex and their habits and it recently occurred to me that I could draw up a modern day list, for my 3 sons, which could help them to avoid a few of the common pitfalls, in their own search for true love. I thought that my advice might be better heeded, if I used the title above and presented it as below:

If you arrange to go out with a girl, do it well in advance and don't shower any later than 7 days before you're due to meet up.

If you cleaned your teeth after breakfast, don't clean them again, prior to meeting up with a girl in the evening, as this could neutralise the effects of the raw onion salad with garlic mayo, which you ate for lunch.

Whenever you go out with a girl, don't bother changing the clean clothes you put on 2 weeks' ago. They should be just rank enough for her to notice.

Always make sure that you pick something, if you're in the company of a girl, such as your nose, ears, teeth or scabs. In fact - pick everything. It's best.

Never go to the gents, if you have itchy unmentionables, whilst you are out with a girl. Instead, produce your gentleman's ball scratcher, (pictured above) with a flourish and proceed to push it down the front of your trousers, with unnecessary enthusiasm, accompanied by an ecstatic expression.

When in the pub with a girl, ensure that you overindulge to the extent that you

a) barf all over the bar, when ordering the next round or
b) pick a fight with the only chap in the pub who's built like a brick s**thouse or
c) forget which girl you came in with and go home with someone else.

It is possible to repel your girlfriend early on in your relationship, by showing her your collection of scabs, toe nail clippings, railway magazines, bus tickets, and Kit Kat wrappers.

If you're having a night in, with your girlfriend and she attempts to speak to you, only drag your eyes away from the Xbox for a nanosecond, because those aliens can tell when you're not concentrating, you know.

Mention 'putting out' as often as possible, when in conversation with your girlfriend. All girls need to know that characters like those appearing in American Pie and Superbad, were not fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, was not purely coincidental.

Always blow your nose with enthusiasm. Try to sound as if you're in danger of dispelling your brains out of your ears. Open up your man-sized tissue, afterwards, and carefully examine any debris. There's always a chance that you'll discover something you thought was lost forever.

Eat as much crap as possible, whenever you're with your girlfriend. Try donner kebabs, or chips with cheese and curry sauce. If that fails, dip anything and everything in Hellmann's mayo.

If you burp, whilst in the presence of your girlfriend, never excuse yourself, politely. In fact, make sure that you furnish her with far too much information by screwing up your face and following up with 'Ugh! That was a sick burp!'

Never break off a kiss, just because you feel the need to burp. You may need to think about that one, for a second or 2.

Never mince outside, or to the gents, if you feel the need to let one go, whilst with your girlfriend. Instead, raise one leg and one arse cheek, emit a loud trumpeting sound, laugh like a maniac and say something similar to 'Ah! Can you smell that?', or 'Aw, that was a wet one!' or 'Ugh, I think I've followed through!'

Follow these guidelines to the letter, if you want to live with mommy and daddy forever and ever and ever........

What Are Your Earliest Memories?

2009-02-16T16:36:00.007Z

My earliest memory is of waking in my cot, in the middle of the night and seeing snakes crawling all over the covers. I seem to remember that my sleep was disturbed more than once, in this way. Whenever I was ill, as a child, I often became delirious, if I had a high temperature, so I think that, I either saw snakes every time I suffered from delirium, or as a result of a recurring nightmare. Apparently, I slept in a cot until I was about 2 years old, so it isn't necessarily such an early memory as you might think!

My next memory is of sitting up in my pram, looking out, as my mother pushed me to the shops. Again, it isn't a particularly early memory, because I remember my mother telling me, on the day concerned, that it was raining much too hard for me to go into town in my pushchair, so I would have to go in my old pram. I was too big for the pram, of course, so I had to sit up, with the hood raised, because of the rain. Once again, I think that I was about 2 years old.

My next memories date back to when I started school, aged 4. I can vaguely remember my first day at school, feeling sick with anxiety when my mother went home, leaving me in the company of several other rising 5s, in a strange, but bright classroom, furnished with infant-sized desks and chairs. I was an only child and had had very little contact with other children, except for my cousins. I didn't take to school at all, at first and had to be dragged there, crying, a couple of times, during those first few days.

After a short while, I accepted the fact that I had to go to school and didn't mind quite as much. I particularly enjoyed learning to read and learning how to do simple sums. I always looked forward to Wednesdays, because Wednesday afternoons were known as 'choosing' afternoons and we were allowed to play with whatever toys we wished.

Another thing I enjoyed at school was learning how to use money. I don't know whether it was anything to do with the fact that the Bournville factory was situated just a few miles away from us, but we played shops with a wonderful selection of dummy Cadburys chocolate bars, which I found totally fascinating.

I made a few friends, spending most of my playtimes with the same group of girls, whose full names I can still recall, but I chose not to join in on the occasions when they played kiss chase with the boys, or went down to the end of the playground furthest away from the classrooms, so that they could play showing their knickers to the boys. I didn't start playing those sort of games until I was much older.

I did have a boyfriend, though, in those early days. We would walk in the playground, holding hands, at playtimes and we told our parents that we intended to marry each other, when we were older. The gentleman in question recently moved into a house very close to my mother, in the Midlands, with his wife and daughter, but I haven't seen him for a number of years. I sometimes wonder whether he remembers our plans from over 50 years ago!

During my last year, at infant school, when I was 7 years old, my class was taught by the headmistress. She was a dreadful woman - a proverbial spinster - tall, thin, bony and miserable, always dressed in black, wearing flat shoes and thick black stockings. When we painted pictures, she would run round, looking over our shoulders and shrieking 'More water! More water!' if the sky was too blue, or 'More blue! More blue!' if the sky was too pale.

During this last year, we were taught how to knit, if we didn't know already and then spent hours knitting dishcloths, with some sort of yarn, which closely resembled string. I have a vague idea that the boys went off to do something different, whilst the girls did this, but I'm not sure. It was very humiliating, when any one of us dropped a stitch, because we had to take our knitting to the headmistress, at the front of the class, who would generally unravel almost all of our hard work, down to the last 3 or 4 rows. She would then put the stitches back on the needles and thrust our depleted masterpiece back into our disappointed little hands, in a very disapproving and unsympathetic manner.

When we had PE (Physical Education), we had to strip down to our navy blue knickers and the headmistress would take the lesson in the playground, at the front of the school. I have no recollection of the boys' attire, at this time, but, the playground must have been a paedophiles' paradise, on those days, because the school was situated on a busy road, with plenty of traffic and people passing by.

After 3 years of attending infant school, I moved on to junior school, which was further to walk, being a 20 minute journey away from home, as opposed to 10. A few of the children, from my class, went with me to the same school, but the majority of them, I never saw again.

My old infant school was knocked down, many years ago and the whole area has since been totally rebuilt, leaving me unable to point to any place, in particular and say 'That is where my old school stood' because even the road it stood upon no longer exists. I can see the school in my mind's eye, as if it were yesterday. I tend to picture it, with my class standing in the playground in front, having a PE lesson, wearing nothing but our navy blue knickers!

How about you? What are your earliest memories?

St Valentine's Day Preparations

2009-02-12T21:16:00.025Z

The more I thought about auntie gwen's post of 7th February, the more I began to feel that, quite often, the only way a girl can ensure that she gets what she wants on St Valentine's day is to organise everything herself!

I've already bought my dress! What do you think?

I don't want to give anyone the wrong idea, of course, so I'd better own up to the fact that I'm not a natural blonde!

Here is a picture of the style of boots I've bought to wear with my new dress. They've arrived just in time for the next fall of snow, I think. They'll certainly keep my legs warm and toasty!

I've ordered a special Valentine's meal to be delivered, on Saturday, just in case we have time to eat.

I've bought some bubbly,

but I wasn't sure whether that would be enough, so I bought a couple of bottles of wine, too.

I'm having a beautiful bouquet of red roses delivered

and a teensy weensy box of delicious chocolates

and I think that's me just about set up!

Oops! Just a minute. I forgot that I'd ordered one more essential item.

It's amazing what you can get on the internet, these days, isn't it? There's only one drawback, though. He's not self-inflatable!

How about you? Got any plans?

A Little Treat

2009-02-10T15:39:00.011Z

I fancied a brisk walk into town and back, yesterday morning, but, unfortunately, it was pouring with rain. I didn't feel like walking in such miserable weather, so I decided, instead, to spoil myself with a long, luxurious bath, as opposed to my usual shower. I thought that I would do the housework first, whilst in my night clothes, rather than afterwards, so I didn't start preparing for my little treat until about 10.30am.

I began to collect together various products to pamper myself, as well as mixing up some olive oil and honey, so that I could moisturise my neck and face, whilst I soaked in the bath and relaxed. I lined up some 'decadently creamy, foaming bath soak', 'intensive, conditioning body lotion' and 'softening foot cream with shea butter' on the bathroom shelf, then went downstairs to make myself a Cappuccino. As soon as it was ready, I took it up to the bathroom, along with a Choco Leibniz, my digital radio and a new paperback.

After undressing, I stepped into the warm, foamy water and lowered myself into the bath, but just as my eager bum cheeks hit the surface of the water, the doorbell rang. I felt slightly irritated, but, assuming that it was the postman, even though I wasn' t expecting anything, I leapt out of the bath, threw on my dressing gown and raced downstairs to open the door. The postman thrust a fairly large parcel, addressed to my son, into my wet hands, followed by a pen, as he needed a signature. I ignored the rather meaningful, but disgusted glance he shot in my direction, as he realised that I was still wearing my night clothes at 11 in the morning, whilst he had been hard at work since 6. He turned abruptly, after retrieving his pen, dashing back towards his van, as if to convince me that his life was filled with a purpose, which mine evidently lacked. On my return to the bathroom, I smiled and lowered myself back into the bath, wincing slightly as my ample posterior bypassed the, by now, rather cool bath suds, to sink, once more, into the all-embracing warmth of the sweet-smelling water.

I brushed the honey and olive oil onto my face and neck, before reaching out for the chocolate biscuit, allowing my mouth to water, just a little, as I anticipated the smooth chocolate touching my excited tongue. The chocolate and crumbs combined into a delightful mixture, as I ate, but, regrettably and all too swiftly, the Choco Leibniz was gone. I reached for my coffee, then, just as I closed my eyes to savour the delicious, incomparable taste of the frothy Cappuccino, the telephone rang. I felt quite irritated, tensing for a moment, before deciding that the caller would have to leave a message, if it was anything of importance.

After draining my Cappuccino, I picked up my book with the intention of settling down to enjoy a good half an hour's read, but something caught my eye, before my glance fell upon the page. Hmm..... From my sitting position, I could see that the skirting board needed a coat of paint, as did the door. I'd forgotten that I hadn't had time to finish painting the woodwork in the bathroom, before I tidied everything away, when we had visitors at New Year. I felt very irritated.

I tried to return to my book, just as something else caught my eye. In the light from the window, catching the shower fitting and the wall tiles, I could see some limescale, which needed to be removed and some mildew, on the grouting. I began to feel exceedingly irritated. Averting my eyes, I attempted to focus, again, on the first page of my book, but I couldn't relax. My eyes darted from side to side, as I glanced around the room. From this particular angle, I could see the pedestal supporting the sink and the waste pipe behind. Both needed wiping. The floor tiles would have benefited from a good vacuuming, too. By this time, I was feeling exceptionally irritated.

I finished the rest of my bath, in record time, towelled myself dry, applied body lotion, foot lotion, dressed and immediately set about blitzing the bathroom, with a potentially explosive mixture of Limelight, Viakal and Dettol mould remover. I raced downstairs and back up again with the heavy, cumbersome vacuum cleaner in tow, then vacuumed the bathroom, followed by the other rooms, whilst I was up there, then finished with the stairs.

After putting the vacuum away, I stood in the hall, for a few seconds, to catch my breath. Phew! I was so hot and sticky, after expending so much energy, that I really needed a shower..........

Bloggers Make The Bestest Friends!

2009-02-06T14:39:00.016Z

Aims published a post, on the 4th February, which referred to an article, about blogging, entitled Dangers Online. I read the article and found it quite interesting, if rather too much of a generalisation. I couldn't help but feel a certain sense of horror at the suggestion running throughout, however, that it would be better for all bloggers to return to face-to-face conversation, rather than continuing to interact through the medium of blogging. What an idea! I can hardly bear to consider it! Online friendships are infinitely preferable, in my opinion, for the following reasons:

My cyber friends never stare in disapproving disbelief, if I hit the bottle before the sun's over the yardarm and start slurring my comments.

They don't point and laugh cruelly, when I'm blogging and miss my mouth, whilst knocking back the Gordon's, or when the mayo oozes out of my lunchtime sandwich and trickles down my chin.

They don't appear to mind, in the least, if I tuck my paper napkin in the neck of my jumper, slurp my soup, or wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, whilst commenting on their posts.

They're not in the least bit bovvered when I realise that I probably can find room for a hot chocolate with whipped cream, after just downing a 12 inch pizza, all to myself, followed by a sticky toffee pudding.

They never blink an eye, if I giggle, whilst quoffing a bottle of bin end bargain, spraying droplets of gnat's pee and saliva all over my immediate surroundings, when I'm reading their posts.

My bloggy friends allow me the absolute freedom to scratch whatever I want, as frequently as I wish.

I can be anyone I want be, when I'm in their company - but don't panic, bloggy friends. Fortunately, I've never wanted to be anyone other than myself. No, really.

They never make me feel guilty, if I'm still blogging in my Dora The Explorer PJs, when they call in to comment, at lunchtime.

I don't have to get up off my lazy arse to make them a cup of coffee, if they do call by, or offer to share my last chocolate Hobnob.

It doesn't matter if they pay me a surprise visit when I'm waxing my legs, or soaking my feet.

They never count the cobwebs, or criticise the decor.

I don't have to drive, walk, or even get out of my cosy bed to interact with my bloggy friends.

They don't wince, or whip out their sunglasses, when I wear the hideous orange top I bought from Primark in the sale.

They never stare in shock horror, when I tell them I buy some of my clothes from Primark.

They never ask me to lend them a tenner till payday.

They never interrupt me, or shout me down, when I'm in the middle of a post.

They never ask me a question, then hi-jack the conversation again, before I've made my point.

I can moderate all of their comments.

Their eyes never glaze over, when I start to get boring.

They never laugh, when I forget the point of my story.

Now, why did I start relating all of this? Hold on. It'll come to me, in a minute........ You're not laughing, are you?

Do You Have Dry Winter Skin?

2009-02-03T13:40:00.007Z

Well, I hope you're not suffering as much as the lady on the right, but I do bear a vague resemblance to her, at the moment, every time I venture out into the icy weather! Fortunately, unlike the brazen lady in the portrait, I always wear a coat, when going out, in winter, so only my face is affected.

I had no problem with my skin, until I was 13 years old. Quite suddenly, I developed spots and plenty of them. I worked my way through many products, before I finally realised that my skin was sensitive, as well as prone to spots. Any medical treatment for spots was generally too harsh for my skin and I was in my late teens, before my Doctor was finally able to prescribe something, which actually helped my condition.

After a lot of trial and error, I found some skin care products which suited me, but a couple of years later, the range was discontinued and I was forced to go through the whole frustrating process, of finding some suitable alternatives all over again. This pattern has been repeated throughout my life and it has caused a lot of expense at times.

My skin improved gradually, until my late twenties, when I became pregnant. Once more, I developed a lot of unsightly spots, but, after switching to Elizabeth Arden products, the condition of my skin improved considerably. Fortunately, many years passed by, before part of the range I used was discontinued and then, after floundering for a while, I found that I could use some of the Boots No 7 range, instead. I'm rarely sure exactly what causes my skin to react, of course, but, for anyone who seems to suffer in a similar way, I have compiled a list, below, of the products I can use, which seem to suit my sensitive skin:

Cleanser - Boots No 7 Soft & Soothed Gentle Cleanser, normal/dry skin.

Moisturiser - Elizabeth Arden Daily Moisture. (It's great but it costs more than I want to pay, even when I buy it from Superdrug.)

Moisturiser for cold weather - Elizabeth Arden Visible Difference Refining Moisture Cream Complex. (Even more expensive, but good.)

Foundation, face powder, eyeshadow, mascara and lipstick - Boots No 7. (I couldn't wear the mascara or lipstick every day, however and the lipstick does make my lips a bit dry!)

Lip balm - Vaseline Petroleum Jelly.

Deodorant - Vaseline Intensive Care (not the one with aloe vera) and Sanex dermo sensitive.

Shower Cream- Sanex dermo sensitive lactoserum for sensitive skin. (Not the others in the range.)

Hand and body lotion - Vaseline Intensive Care. (Not the one with aloe vera.)

Mouthwash - Dentyl.

I've suffered so many reactions to different cosmetics, in the past, that, for the last few years, I have sometimes turned to natural treatments instead. I've tried out various treatments recommended in magazine articles, or books and a few of these, which have proved effective for me are detailed below:

A tablespoon of honey, mixed with 2 of olive oil has proved a lovely moisturiser for
my neck. I brush it on with a soft brush, leave it for anything from 10 to 30 minutes, then rinse off with warm water. I have also used it on my decollete and face. I have never left it on my face for longer than 10 minutes, however and always avoid the delicate area under my eyes. I also find that the mixture is wonderful for dry hands, when massaged in and left for 10 minutes. This treatment shouldn't be used more than once a week.

A mixture of honey and yogurt makes a good face mask for my skin. I use half a carton of plain unsweetened yogurt and mix in 2 teaspoons of honey. I leave it on for 5 minutes, then rinse off with cold water.

I sometimes use a banana face mask for sore, dry, winter skin, which nothing else will soothe. The mask consists of a mashed banana mixed up with a teaspoon of honey and a little cream. I apply it to my face and leave it for about 10 minutes, before rinsing off with warm water.

An avocado mashed with a banana and 1 tablespoon of thick cream has proved an effective dry skin relief, on occasions, for my lower legs. I usually leave it on for about 10 minutes.

If you fancy trying any of the treatments mentioned above, for yourself, don't forget to bear in mind that my skin is mature, as well as sensitive. It would probably be best if you don't test out any of them the day before going out somewhere special, just in case they don't work for you. I know what it's like to wake up covered in spots on the day you're supposed to be going to a wedding or some other big event. I'm sure I hardly need to mention, either, that these treatments can be a little messy and are best applied in the bathroom! Don't forget to let anyone else in the house know, that you don't want to be disturbed for at least half an hour!

Do you have sensitive skin? Have you discovered a product range, which suits you? The products I currently use are bound to be discontinued eventually, so I would be grateful of any suggestions of others I could try, particularly if they are cheap! Do you have any favourite 'beauty' tips, you would like to share?

Note to Grumpy Old Ken: I do apologise for publishing such a girlie post, but it covers a subject, which is very close to my heart, particularly in winter. Please let me know how you get on with the banana mask!

Revisiting An Age-old Problem

2009-01-30T18:00:00.013Z

Put cotton in your ears and pebbles in your shoes

Pull on rubber gloves

Smear Vaseline on your glasses

And there you have it; instant old age

Quote from Malcolm Cowley

I'm currently revisiting a problem I only thought I had about 12 months ago when a friend told me that she had bought concessionary tickets for our imminent theatre visit. It turned out that she was winding me up, but I did get a bit worried about the whole thing, because I was 6 years short of 60 at the time and some people had said that I didn't look my true age. (No, they didn't mean I looked 74! Cheeky! Or did they? Hmm...)

Well, this time she's gone and accidentally done it. She was distracted whilst booking the tickets over the telephone and now, I suppose I have a choice. Pick up my ticket from my friend and ring the theatre to explain the mistake, or hope that no one asks me for proof of my age, when I finally present my ticket at the theatre.

I'm considering putting cotton in my ears and pebbles in my shoes, to make myself appear older, for my theatre visit, but my dilemma has also led to me thinking about a few other things, this week, that can generally emphasize the more mature woman's age, or make her look older. So far, I've come up with the following:

1. Listening to Mario Lanza or Russ Conway on her MP3.

2. A toy boy.

3. Clubbing with her daughter.

4. Sending her pocket-sized packet of Rennie soft chews flying across the dance floor, whilst rummaging in her handbag for her embroidered handkerchief.

5. Possessing an embroidered handkerchief.

6. Exposing decollete and cleavage, which would benefit from frequent basting with half a pound of goose fat.

7. A fat face, or fat knees, arising from displacement, caused by prolonged use of her vice-like, but super-slimming bodysuit.

8. Breathing in, but not out.

9. HRT patches accidentally transferred to her face.

10. Matt black hair on the over 65s.

11. A dark tan on wrinkled skin.

12. Lurid make up only usually seen on the ugly sisters during the panto season.

13. False talons varnished bright red.

14. A belly bar or an eyebrow ring.

15. Wearing so much bling-bling that the manager of the local H Samuel stands eagerly on the doorstep of his establishment, whenever she is in the high street.

16. Earrings better suited to hanging from high, drawing room ceilings, rather than ears, combined with large specs.

17. A leotard.

18. Skinny fit clothes designed for supermodels on a diet of cocaine and crumbs.

19. A headscarf.

20. A little scarf, worn under her coat, to keep her neck cosy.

Now, just a minute. Mario Lanza, Rennies, handkerchief, matt black hair, dry skin, lurid make up, bling-bling, headscarf, little scarf. Yay! I'm nearly there! The only thing I'm short of is a toy boy! Any offers?

Silence can be deafening, you know. ;0(

I'm sure that none of you 'more mature' lady bloggers are guilty of any of the above, but feel free to fess up, if you are. There's no one else to hear. I'll admit to listening to Mario Lanza and loving my cosy little neck scarves. Oh, and then there's the belly bar of course and a few of the other things.......

Does anyone want to give me any advice about my dilemma? What would you do? Cough up the extra money or take no notice? How would you choose to look older?

Shock Poll Reveals What Women Mean!

2009-01-26T17:14:00.012Z

An exclusive poll, conducted by Mean Moody Middle-aged Mom, based on telephone interviews with a remarkably small number of female adults, recently uncovered some shocking facts. Apparently, a tiny minority of women don't necessarily say what they mean in certain situations, when conversing with their partners! A teensy weensy number of the women polled even admitted to neglecting to mention niggling little details, which they considered unimportant and less than one woman openly admitted to the odd white lie!

The reasons behind this sort of behaviour varied considerably, in accordance with the woman's mood, the poll revealed, but included such things as a desire to appear virtuous, or to help her husband become more considerate, a reluctance to upset her partner, or a wish to avoid conflict. Below, in bold, are a few examples, gleaned from the poll, of the sort of things women might say, in some situations, which could have hidden meaning and a few light hearted suggestions of what they could mean in italics.

Going Out:

I'm nearly ready! I'm nowhere near ready.

I'm not ready yet. It's obvious that I'm not ready, yet, because I'm still drying my hair. Sitting in the car, on the drive, with the engine running won't make my hair dry any faster.

Would you check the doors and windows, before we go out, please? If you're sitting twiddling your thumbs and I'm obviously not yet ready to go out, why don't YOU check the doors and windows, instead of leaving it to me.

Shopping:

I'm just going into Accessorize to buy a pretty scarf for your sister, for her birthday. I'm just going into Accessorize to buy a pretty scarf for your sister, for her birthday and 2 for myself, whilst I'm there.

Don't buy that for me, for my birthday. It's far too expensive. I'll be absolutely thrilled if you buy that for me, for my birthday, in spite of the fact that it's so expensive.

I like both outfits. I can't decide which to have. Could we fast for a week, so that I could buy both of these outfits?

At Home:

Would you mash the potatoes, please? Don't stand doing nothing, in the kitchen, whilst I am running around like a blue arsed fly, trying to do 3 things at the same time.

Would you take the garden rubbish to the tip, please? It's supposed to be your responsibility to take the rubbish to the tip. It's been sitting there for about 4 weeks and it's starting to smell. You can see it and you can smell it as well as I can, so why do I have to nag, before you will do something about it?

It's OK, thanks, I can plug the lawnmower in. It's supposed to be your responsibility to cut the grass, whilst I look after the rest of the garden. If I decide that I ought to cut the grass, because you've not done it for 3 weeks, don't plug the lawnmower in for me. It's infuriating. If you do it again, I shall make you swallow the plug.

Can I have a glass of wine, now, please? When I said, half an hour ago, that I didn't want any wine, I didn't mean that you could instantly knock back the whole bottle, without pausing for breath.

No, I'm not blogging again. I'm just checking my emails. I was blogging, until you interrupted me. Now, I'm checking my emails.

Unavoidable Conflict:

There's nothing wrong. There's something wrong. I can't discuss it with you, yet, because I'm still simmering, but, believe me, I will discuss it, when I come to the boil.

I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry I said that out loud.

It's OK. I know you didn't mean it, when you said that I was an ugly old cow. I'm having a headache, later, so don't bother suggesting any hanky panky. I haven't decided how long it will last, yet.

I forgive you. I'll remember what you did and bring it up in every argument, from now until dementia sets in.

Extra Marital:

Why are you so late home from work all the time? Are you having an affair?

No, I don't mind in the least if you go to watch the match, on Saturday and spend all day Sunday playing golf. I'm having an affair.

Mean Moody Middle-aged Mom would be interested in hearing from anyone, who has had first hand experience of such unscrupulous women. Perhaps your sister, or best friend suffers from such tendencies. Please leave a comment. Mean Mom would like to know.

Male readers please note: In no event will Mean Moody Middle-aged Mom be liable for any arguments or injuries arising, or divorce proceedings instigated, either directly or indirectly as a result of belief in the content of this post.

Memory Lane

2009-01-22T15:06:00.020Z

I was listening to Brian Matthews, last weekend, when he suddenly played Catch A Falling Star, by Perry Como. I hadn't heard this song for many years and I was immediately transported back in time, to the living room of my parents' terraced house, in the Midlands, where I was brought up. My gaze was directed downwards. I was wearing my favourite dark blue trousers, hand made by my mother, on her old Singer sewing machine and pulling a plastic tipper truck along behind me. I recalled a time of safety and security, a time of open fires, outside toilets, linoleum and ice on the inside the windows in winter.

After a little research on the internet, I discovered that my flashback most probably went back to 1958, when I was just 5 years old. I found some interesting websites, whilst carrying out my detective work and came across some other songs, which also brought back vivid memories.

My parents bought me my first Dansette record player a few years later. We crowded around it, in the living room, on the day my father brought it home. By then, I must have been 9, because the first 45 I ever played was Lovesick Blues, by Frank Ifield and, apparently, it was a hit in 1962. In the following months, amongst others I added to my collection, were Venus In Blue Jeans, by Mark Wynter, Return To Sender, by Elvis Presley and The Night Had A Thousand Eyes by Bobby Vee. (If you have a few seconds to spare, the Bobby Vee video is quite comical!) By the time I bought Return To Sender, however, I had been banished to the draughty 'front' room to listen to my favourite pop singers.

By 1964, Liverpool had become the capital of popular music and I enjoyed the Mersey Sound as much as anyone. The Beatles' songs have been played so often, that, on the whole, they don't evoke many memories of the 1960s, for me. Other songs do, though, such as Anyone Who Had A Heart and You're My world, by Cilla Black. Whenever I hear these songs, I immediately recall my bedroom, in the same terraced house, back in 1964. The wallpaper has been completely obliterated by posters extracted from Fabulous, one of my favourite 60s magazines, but there is some evidence that my childhood hasn't been totally left behind, as my Tressy doll sits on the shelf, by the side of my bed, wearing clothes I have designed and hand sewn for her.

Many songs released in 1966/67 bring back bitter/sweet memories. Songs such as You Can't Hurry Love, by the Supremes, Reach Out I'll Be There, by the Four Tops, Hi Ho Silver Lining by Jeff Beck and Whiter Shade Of Pale by Procul Harum. I was 13/14 years old. It was a time of moods, tears, crossing boundaries and arguments with my father. A time of secrecy, first discos, first kisses, first dates and first cigarettes.

A lot of my recollections of 1968 are to do with traditional seaside holidays and day trips, with my best friend and our families. Songs such as This Guy's In Love With You, by Herb Alpert and Do It Again by the Beach Boys remind me of sun, sand, bikinis, transistor radios, knickerbocker glories and formica topped cafe tables. 1968 was a year of Dusty Springfield eyes, the ever shorter skirt, fun fairs, roller coasters, missed curfews and first real relationships.

My best friend and I often went out with our first boyfriends in a foursome. I can still recall the surprise I felt when she confessed that she felt Young Girl, by Gary Puckett and the Union Gap had been written especially for her. Contrary to the lyrics, however, she wasn't intending to run away from her situation. I couldn't believe that she was contemplating having sex, with her boyfriend, at fifteen, but she was and she did. I must have been a late developer.

My first relationship lasted 18 months. My friend married her first boyfriend, against her parents' wishes, at the age of 19 and had her first baby at the age of 21. I lost touch with her, at the age of 18, when we both left school, but I caught up with her news, a few years later, when I had a chance meeting with her next door neighbour. I sometimes wonder whether my friend is, now, a proud grandmother.

There are many other songs, from the years I have mentioned and subsequent years, which evoke strong memories, for me, but none as piercing as those I have just described. They were special years and special times, which have remained vivid in my memory, partly due to the popular music of the period.

Are there any songs, which cause waves of nostalgia to wash over you? Are you old enough to remember any of the songs I have mentioned? Do they bring back any memories for you?

A Foolproof Guide To Blogging!

2009-01-15T18:19:00.008Z

1. Don't start a blog, if your only reason for doing so is that you're hoping for a book deal. Generally, statistics show that there is less likelihood of this occurring than a cold day in hell.

2. If you are a miserable old bat, or a dirty old git and you want to interact with young, attractive members of the opposite sex on your blog, find a photo of someone sexy, young and desirable and put it in your profile. When swapping comments or emails with young, attractive bloggers of the opposite sex, bear in mind that they may have pulled a similar stunt.

3. When publishing your first ever post, don't assume that the world is waiting, with bated breath, to comment. If you want to interact, you first of all have to let people know that you exist.

4. If you have a secret blog, don't open your big mouth, whilst chatting to your nosey friends and say something along the lines of 'I wrote a post about that, on my blog, the other day.' The ensuing silence may be deafening and those you looked upon as friends, may spend the next 3 weeks, singlemindedly scouring blogland, in a quest to uncover your most intimate thoughts and desires.

5. Those who are aware of your blog, are more than likely to view your fellow bloggers as imaginary friends. Never mention them, or their exploits, in conversation. It's comparable to a schizophrenic mentioning the voices in his head and it will provoke a similar reaction.

6. Don't make your posts long and complicated. Very few bloggers want to read a tome. If they do, they will go to the library and borrow something penned by a real writer, such as Les Miserables (unabridged), War and Peace, or Lord of the Rings. At last, I think I know where I'm going wrong.

7. Don't publish anything that you would feel uncomfortable with dirty old Tom, dirty old Dick, or dirty old Harry viewing. Unfortunately, they have access to Blogland, too.

8. If you're not bothered about dirty old Tom, Dick or Harry, and you are desperate for a disproportionate amount of anonymous hits on your site, write something smutty, with plenty of appropriate labels.

9. Try not to weep inconsolably when you publish a new post and you don't have any comments within the first 10 minutes. Unlike you, other bloggers may have a life.

10. Try not to be a blog tart. If you comment indiscriminately on 100 sites, within 5 minutes, in an attempt to drastically increase your comment count, you have a much higher chance of accidentally encountering the Superbitch From Hell, or the Devil's Spawn. Discriminate!

11. Don't waste time pouring over Site Meter, wondering why one of your favourite bloggers visited without leaving a comment. She may have been abruptly dragged away by a family member to conjure up some sort of nourishment, or she may have been coaxed away by the gardener, to the potting shed, for a little afternoon delight. A male blogger could have been dragged off by his other half to do a little grouting, or could have fallen from his chair, when he received a surprise proposition from Kelly Brook - in his dreams, naturally.

12. Switch off your monitor, if any of your offspring are spying on your blog, over your shoulder. Even your finest post will sound remarkably lame, when read out with pompous attitude, by one of your mischievous munchkins.

13. When choosing between looking after house and garden and blogging, choose blogging until the neighbours gang up and complain to the council.

14. Never blog unless you should be doing something much more important. The resulting pangs of guilt can only be described as exquisite.

15. If you are short of blogging time, buy a laptop, so that you can multi task. You can then brown your mince with one hand, whilst typing with the other, or watch The One Show with your left eye, whilst reading posts with your right.

16. If you blog naked, never let on. Some people are surprisingly put off by the thought of this.

17. When blogging naked, at least wear your glasses. Tipping mistekes can be very annoying for the weader. I wish someone had warned me about this.

18. Don't risk posting or commenting, if you're too drunk to maintain an upright position on your blogging chair. You could suffer serious repercussions next day, when offended bloggers wreak their revenge.

19. Don't sleep until you've blogged. Sleep is easier to catch up with.

20. Last, but not least, get your priorities right! If you are really determined to be a top blogger, never let real life interfere with regular blogging!

I Can Do Positive Spin, Too (Part 2)

2009-01-12T21:23:00.008Z

Thanks for your comments on my previous post. I do feel, however, that at least one of you might have commiserated with me, about the lack of a paper hat in my Christmas cracker. It was quite a traumatic experience and I think that I may need counselling in order to come to terms with it.

Anyway, on with the rest of the story:

We spent the time, between Christmas Day and New Year's Eve, looking forward to my husband's family coming to stay and share in our New Year celebrations.

Husband was at work on the 29th and 30th December, so he wasn't around much to help with the preparations. My usually helpful student son became suddenly rebellious and refused to give me any extra help, even though I was still suffering from the after effects of flu.

I had to work hard in the house, for 3 full days, so that our visitors wouldn't run the risk of strangulation by cobwebs, or sustain a compound fracture as a result of tripping over piles of stuff, littering the hall and landing. I developed eczema between my fingers and a throbbing whitlow on my left thumb, which proved difficult to keep covered with a plaster.

Our visitors were arriving in time for lunch on 31 December, so Husband and I sprang out of bed that morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, heading for the shops at an early hour, so that we could stock up on the necessary provisions to feed 10 people over a 3 day stay.

Husband and I dragged ourselves out of bed and were late leaving for the shops, on the day that our visitors were arriving, as we realised that our tom cat had sprayed somewhere in the newly cleaned dining room and we couldn't find out exactly where.

We returned home, with everything we needed, plus some little extras, arriving in plenty of time to prepare a delicious lunch for our visitors.

Husband's family arrived before we got back (although student son was at home) and we realised much later, that we had forgotten to buy crackers, fireworks and eggs for cooked breakfasts.

Husband and brother-in-law cooked us a wonderful barbecue in the evening and we toasted in the New Year, using our new, expensive, lead crystal wine glasses, one of the many Christmas presents showered upon us by my sister-in-law.

The barbecue wasn't ready until 10.30pm, by which time we were all self digesting. It wasn't necessary for any of us to toast in the New Year out of mugs, like last year, when Husband and I forgot to buy new wine glasses. My glass only contained water, because anything else was still making me cough incessantly.

We celebrated into the early hours, before we all retired to bed to catch up with our sleep.

I was up until 4am, clearing away and washing up the stuff that wouldn't fit into the dishwasher.

Husband and I had no problem waking early enough to cook a substantial breakfast for our guests on New Year's Day.

We crawled downstairs, half awake, mid morning, to start cooking breakfast. I poured oil into the frying pan, ready to fry the eggs, which my sister-in-law had managed to obtain from the local Esso garage. I was annoyed to discover that a small piece of ham had strayed into my pan, the second I turned my back. This was very puzzling, as I wasn't cooking ham and I couldn't imagine where it had come from. Husband, who enjoys the benefits of contact lenses, finally managed to explain, between bouts of uncontrollable laughter, that it was the plaster which had fallen off my left thumb.

After breakfast, everyone set off for a healthy walk and lots of fresh air, leaving my mother-in-law and I to relax and watch Mamma Mia, undisturbed, on DVD. We then met up, later, at my son's new house, which our visitors had not yet seen, for another delicious family meal.

We were all supposed to meet up at my son's house, after the walk, so that my husband's family could have a look around and then return to our house, for our evening meal. (We ate breakfast so late, that it turned into brunch, so lunch became unnecessary.) The walk took such a long time, however, that, in order to avoid a very late evening meal, I had to load up all of the food, plus extra crockery, into the car, so that I could cook and prepare everything at my son's house. Trying to prepare a buffet, which included some hot food, in my son's small kitchen was quite challenging. I was short of space, plates and help. My son's girlfriend, a wonderful girl, did her best to help, but it was still incredibly hard work.

After tea, the men decided to light the wood burning stove in my son's living room. (The central heating wasn't enough for them, apparently) The atmosphere became so dry, that I couldn't stop coughing and had to sit in the dining room.

The next day husband and I cooked a tasty brunch for our guests, before bidding them a fond farewell, in the middle of the afternoon. We were all in total agreement that a jolly good time had been had by all!

Husband and I had to get up incredibly early, as we had booked an appointment, a few days before, to take our 3 cats to the vet for their boosters, assuming that our visitors would be leaving after tea, on New Year's Day, as usual. By the time we had paid for 2 months' flea treatment, as well as their injections, the total bill came to £190.00.

I really did enjoy spending time with my husband's family over New Year, but it was still an immense relief to collapse on the sofa, with a nice cup of tea, when they had finally left for home. Oddly enough, a few minutes after their departure, when Husband bounced into the living room, in a very lively manner, suggesting that we should go for a nice country walk, I was already fast asleep and snoring. Yes, OK, I may even have been dribbling - just a little.

I Can Do Positive Spin, Too!

2009-01-10T11:24:00.003Z

Part One

Those of you who read my post of 17 December, will already know that I get slightly peed off, every year, when I receive a round robin from an acquaintance on whom the sun always shines - according to her, anyway. I have never sent her a round robin, in return, but I'm beginning to feel tempted. I feel that I could probably start my December 2009 round robin, to my acquaintance, with a blow by blow account of my personal, festive experiences in late 2008/early 2009, which would run along similar lines to the missive below. As my true blogging friends, you will, of course, be privvy to the truth, or extra details, which I would not choose to share with her, in italics, as well as to the positive spin, in bold.

December 2009

Dear Wilhelmina, Walter and Winifred

Thanks so much for your numerous missives over the past few years. It seemed about time for me to return the compliment, so here is a lengthy and tedious summary of our experiences over the past 12 months or so, beginning with December 2008.

We began our annual festive spend, in the middle of December, by refurbishing the family bathroom to a high standard, so that our invited guests could enjoy the use of our superior facilities, over the New Year period.

We were expecting my husband's family to stay with us, over New Year, as usual, so I was forced into finding someone, quickly, with the necessary expertise, to carry out much needed repairs to our family bathroom, after a fairly disastrous installation by * & * (diy chain, rhyming with 'Me & You'). I won't bore you with the painful details, but it had something to do with a dodgy fitter on contract, a repeatedly broken seal around the shower tray, a supposedly 'independent' inspector and investigating body, who decided against us and a near nervous breakdown (MINE!).

After paying out £360, a few days before Christmas, to have the damaged bathroom walls repaired and re-tiled etc, we discovered that the shower cartridge needed replacing, due to lack of regular use, which added another £112 to the total bill.

A week before Christmas, I went out with more friends than you did, Wilhelmina, to the most renowned and expensive restaurant in our affluent locality, where we enjoyed our usual Christmas feast.

A week before Christmas, I went out to the local pub, with some of my friends, for our usual Christmas lunch. I had no paper hat in my cracker and the friend sitting opposite me, coughed and shivered throughout lunch, even though it was hotter than the caverns of hell, in the pub. 2 days later, I was suffering in the same way. I'm pretty sure that it was flu, because it knocked me off my feet and, 3 weeks later, I'm still feeling the effects.

I am constantly amazed by the increasing amount of Christmas cards, we receive each year. There were so many this year, that I grew tired of trying to find places to put them.

I was so ill in the days leading up to Christmas, that I didn't have the energy to put up this year's Christmas cards.

Student son put up the Christmas tree and lights in the house, as he does every year. He likes to make a contribution and is helpful and thoughtful, by nature.

Student son knows that I wouldn't put up the tree until Christmas Eve, so he puts it up earlier, himself. He sellotapes Christmas lights around all of the windows, every year, leaving me to get rid of the sticky patches left behind, when the lights are taken down.

I enjoyed a deliberately late, last minute expedition to the shops on Christmas Eve, so that I could admire the colourful Christmas lights, illuminating the velvety darkness in our small country town and so that I could treat the whole family to some extra little luxuries for the Christmas period.

I forced myself to crawl to the shops, just before they closed, on Christmas Eve, whilst I was still feeling ill, as I was in desperate need of several essential food items.

I was so busy dashing around, in the days just before Christmas, that I shed 4 lbs, which, strictly speaking, I couldn't really afford to lose!

I couldn't eat when I was ill, so I lost 4 lbs. I put it back on again, as soon as I was feeling better.

We had lots to fit in, on Christmas day. We leapt out of bed, early, opened our mountain of presents, went to eldest sons for lunch, drove to pick up my aunt, in the Midlands, late afternoon and arrived at my parents' house in time for tea. It was a tremendously busy, but fun-filled day.

I was over the worst of my illness and no longer contagious, by Christmas day, so we were able to fit in everything we had planned, even though I would have preferred to spend the time in bed. I spent the whole day coughing and couldn't finish my Christmas lunch. I had to drink water instead of port, because of my cough.

The luxury crackers we splashed out on and took over to my son's house to pull before Christmas lunch, were very much appreciated and very well received.

My husband bought some luxury crackers from Asda and everyone complained that they were crap.

My 3 sons were exceptionally thrilled with the rhythm sticks we bought them for one of their surprise presents, this year.

We could only afford one surprise present for our sons, this year. Unfortunately, I had no idea that my middle son had bought a more sophisticated version of the same sort of thing, for his elder and younger brothers, which resulted in elder brother being a bit incredulous and grumpy. (He's only 25. He hasn't yet learned how to cope with crap Christmas presents in a diplomatic fashion.)

I received some wonderful Christmas presents, including a beautiful, hardback, glossy book about dollshouses and miniatures, some lovely soaps, expensive perfume, a very large box of chocolates and some luxury shower cream.

I did have some lovely presents, but I never eat chocolates, due to my past dental problems and any shower lotion, other than Sanex, brings me out in a rash. I've hidden the chocolates in the bedroom, hoping that middle son will forget he bought them for me, but he keeps asking if I've opened them yet. I've put the shower gel with the other 3 bottles that my husband has bought me in the past, which I am also unable to use, because I haven't yet found the words to remind him that I can only use one particular brand.

OK. I'm leaving it there, for today, because I can hear some of you snoring. Part 2 is ready to publish, but you obviously need a little rest. You're not dribbling, on my blog, are you? You know that I have a thing about that! Don't forget to come back when you can face part 2!

To be continued.........

Realistic Resolutions

2009-01-05T11:11:00.007Z

Working Mum reminded me, in her post of Thursday 1 January, that it is the time for New Year's resolutions. I've made a few, broken a few and, generally, lost interest in a few over the years. I suspect that a lot of you have done the same.

I hate to feel a failure and we all know how important it is to feel good about ourselves, so I have drawn up a list of realistic New Year's resolutions, from which you can choose to follow as many, or as few, as you like. I feel that they are definitely doable. I hope that you feel the same way.

Fitness:

1. Sign up for 12 months' membership to the gym and attend twice.

2. Search out and buy one of the new fitness dvds, which are coming on to the market at the moment. This will take some perseverance, as there aren't many about. Store your copy on the little shelf, under the tv and never take it out of the cellophane wrapper. You don't need to watch it, or do the exercises - possessing it is sufficient.

3. Walk to work/to the shops/to school with the children, every day. Do this only until the first day that it rains, or until the first day that you are running late, whichever is the sooner. If, amazingly, neither of these things occur within the first week of January, do it until you get fed up.

Weight Loss:

1. Join a club, such as WeightWatchers. Attend 3 times, or until you put on weight, as opposed to losing it, whichever is the sooner.

2. Follow a strict diet for 2 weeks and lose half a stone. Return to your normal diet for less than a week and put on a stone.

Eating More Healthily:

1. Eat lots of fresh fruit and salad, unless the weather is cold, in which case you should wait until July, when it might turn a bit warmer. There's nothing worse than trying to push down lettuce leaves and cherry tomatoes, when it's snowing outside.

2. Instead of snacking on biscuits and cakes, cut up raw carrots and celery into matchstick sized pieces and store them in plastic bags in the fridge, ready for when hunger strikes. Do this on 2 occasions only, or until you are weeping from chopping boredom, then revert to biscuits and cakes. They are much better for your mental health.

3. Cut out chocolate completely, but only after you have finished up your Christmas chocs, of course. When you have finished up your Christmas chocs, give up chocolate, unless the day ends in a 'y'.

4. Prepare more homemade meals, with fresh ingredients, until you have a busy, tiring day and then revert to anything you can pick up from the 'chilled' counter, which cooks on a baking tray, in 25 minutes.

Smoking:

1. Give it up totally, unless you are having a cup of coffee, or downing something alcoholic, or feeling a bit stressed out.

Alcohol:

1. Give it up totally, until you have a bad day and need to wind down, or until someone suggests that you go to the pub for a drink.

Saving Money:

1. Spend less, but not until the January sales are over, of course. When the sales are over, put money to one side, but only until you see a pair of must-have shoes, or a new frock that you know will be a perfect fit.

Well, I think that's about it, then. I feel that I've covered the most popular subjects concerning New Year's resolutions. I hope you've found 2 or 3, that you think will be suitable for you and that you feel you have a chance of sticking to.

I've chosen my resolutions for this year and I will keep them, this time, I know, because, not only are they realistic, they are also known only to me and this has to be the true secret of success, doesn't it?

Round Robins And Positive Spin

2008-12-17T16:47:00.009Z

I generally receive only one round robin at Christmas time, now. I met the woman who sends it to me, on just a few occasions, and thought her quite pleasant. I was surprised when she began sending me round robins, after she moved abroad, with her husband and daughter. I was taken aback to discover how much of a snob she seemed to be and to realise how crucial it was to her, to convince a mere acquaintance, that she was enjoying an idyllic existence, since leaving Great Britain behind her.

This woman has never once admitted to being homesick, missing friends and relations, or to missing anything about Great Britain, since she left this country. I suspect that she considers modesty to be the eighth deadly sin, as her bragging has often taken my breath away. Apparently, her husband is a high earner, who seems to be promoted every year and she has a 'model' daughter. They are a family of high achievers. She achieves, where others fail. She never fails. They have lots of money and lots of holidays. They have lots of friends and only good things happen to her. She must be the mother of all positive spin.

Normally, my husband and I glance through her round robins, have a bit of a joke about them and toss them to one side, but, this time, I had a rather wicked thought. I was feeling a bit short of ideas for my blog and I realised that the round robin might provide some good material for a post. I have amused myself greatly by speculating about the true meaning, which could lie behind some of the boastful content and positive spin, contained in the round robin I received a few days ago. The boasting is rather low key, this year, compared to others, but I have listed some excerpts from it, in bold, below. Possible interpretations are in italics.

Hi - it's that time of year again, time for our annual missive - I can no longer be bothered to insert your names in my round robin, because, ultimately, it's all about me. I so look forward to this time of year, because it's very important to me to convince you, in my round robin, that my husband and I have far more money than you and I need you to know how much we enjoy finding different ways of spending it.

2008 has been a fairly quiet year for us - I'm fairly sure that we've spent more money on holidays this year, than you've earned.

My husband, Walter, has been promoted and is now Head of Internal Communication for ****** (all 66,000 + people) so he is spending time settling into his new role - My husband now has a different job, within his company and is earning more money, because he is in possession of some compromising photos of the CEO. Walter has upset so many clients that he is no longer allowed to communicate with anyone outside the company. He hasn't yet worked out what his new role entails.

We enjoyed having our daughter, Winifred, back with us, from university, last Christmas - After starting university in October 2007, our daughter had no desire to see us until Christmas and she only came then, because she didn't receive a better invitation.

In the week before Christmas, we travelled to **** with a group of friends (25 of us) - Winifred and I to ski, and Walter to walk. We enjoyed blue skies and sunshine the whole time. Winifred and I remained unscathed, but Walter hurt his knee whilst walking and it took him several weeks to recover - We can afford an expensive winter holiday, as well as paying for Christmas presents etc. I've counted my friends and I'm hoping that I have more than you. Walter didn't want to go skiing, but gave in to my demands, so that I could keep up with my friends and boast about it in my round robin. It never rains in my world. Nothing dreadful ever happens to me, or my daughter. We are lucky. My husband is unlucky, so he hurt his knee. It serves him right because he didn't want to go skiing and he didn't join in.

Winifred has been studying hard, but enjoying her time at university, whilst achieving good academic results. - Winifred is taking a degree in Snakes and Ladders and only has one lecture a fortnight.

The first year has seen a lot partying. She had a good time during her first year's stay in halls, as there was always something going on -Winifred drank a lot and slept around during her first year in halls.

This academic year, she has moved into a house with 7 other girls - I was impressed when I found out that my daughter had 7 friends. When she told me that they were girls, I believed her.

Once again, Winifred took advantage of her sailing skills, and got a summer job teaching sailing, spending the summer vacation in *****. This time she worked for a smaller company. She seemed to have a thoroughly enjoyable time - particularly when there weren't many guests and she could make use of the hotel facilities - My daughter can sail. I think that this will impress you, because I'm fairly certain that you don't even know anyone who can sail. She's not very good, so the company she worked for last year would not employ her again. The company she worked for this year didn't have many bookings and it was going under.

Unfortunately, this meant that we only saw her for a few days at the beginning of the summer, as we didn't manage to get out to ***** to see her, because it was the high season and all of the flights were full - Winifred was determined not to spend much time with us, during the summer. She got the sack from her summer job, but didn't tell us. She knew that we wouldn't be able to get a flight to ***** to visit her, during the high season and by the time we were trying to book, she was already partying in Majorca, with one of the Greek waiters.

In April, Walter and I had a late celebration of our 30th wedding anniversary, (the actual date was October 07) when we jetted off to ******. We had a wonderful relaxing time in the hotel, where nothing was too much trouble for the lovely staff, who all lived locally - My husband was trying to avoid spending too much money on our anniversary celebrations, but I refused to let the subject drop, until he took me somewhere exotic, so that I could boast about it in my next round robin. We took advantage of the local peasants, working in the hotel, who waited on us hand and foot, with gritted teeth and a forced smile, in the hope of receiving a big tip.

Given the heat, we spent much of the day lazing in the pool - It was too hot. There wasn't much to see or do.

The most memorable experience for me was being in the water with a pink dolphin - I was so bored that I got pissed and began to see pink dolphins.

I had to visit a shopping mall and, of course, chose the largest in ****** - Fortunately, I couldn't find much else to do, but shop. I had so much money to spend, that it would have been a waste of time going to a small shopping mall.

The standard of living was quite low. We visited a typical house, in the area and it was like stepping back in time about 50 years. I must say that I was glad to get back to our luxury hotel - I don't like to mix with poor people and I certainly don't like to visit their houses. In fact, I don't know why I did visit a poor person's house and neither does anyone else. It was such a relief to return to the real world and remember that I have lots of money.

Winifred will be heading our way in the middle of December, with a friend. She is then hoping that we will be going to ****, skiing again, before Christmas - Winifred can't bear the thought of being alone with us for Christmas.

In the 10 years we have been here, we have seen many changes. When we arrived, there were no such things as 'ready meals'. Now there is a fair selection of convenience foods - nothing like the UK, but certainly enough to make life easier! Many of the supermarkets are now open until 8pm, instead of closing at 5pm. I wonder what the next few years will bring and whether we will be here to see it - I found it impossible to manage without convenience food, when we first moved here. The opening times for the shops were totally inconvenient, for the first few years, but I never mentioned, previously, that I found some aspects of life difficult here, because it was essential to convince you poor people living in GB, that my life was perfect in every way. My husband may lose his job, in the next round of redundancies and we may have to return to the country of our birth, which we have mercilessly poured scorn upon, for the last few years.

Merry Christmas and a Prosperous and Happy 2009 - Try to have a good Christmas, and New Year, in spite of the fact that you have hardly any money and live in a country, which is on the verge of bankcruptcy.

I do hope that this woman doesn't blog! I'm not sure that she would appreciate my sense of humour! If you are the author of this round robin, however, please don't take it personally. It's just a joke - really, it is and don't be put off sending me your usual round robin next year, will you? I so look forward to it and, anyway, what will I blog about at this time of year, if you don't?

Christmas Ramblings

2008-12-12T13:39:00.010Z

I managed to write my Christmas cards yesterday. I can't send one to you lot, of course, but, if I could, I would send this one:

It's a lovely card, isn't it? I bought my cards from Oxfam again, this year. There were 3 different views in the boxes I bought. I have used up the one type, entirely, but the other one looked like this:

Anyway, I've written my cards, so that's another tick on my Christmas list. Only another 2 million things to do before Christmas, then. Nearly there!

Every year, when Christmas looms, I am reminded of the things I intended to do during the current year, or of the things I started, but which remain unfinished. I habitually whip myself into a frenzy, during the month of December, trying to finish off everything I've started during the previous months, as well as doing all of the usual Christmassy things, like buying presents, writing cards and putting up decorations.

I won't bore you by going into details of all of the things I need to get done, before Christmas. I'm sure that you each have you own interminable lists, and have no desire to hear about mine.

The Christmas day arrangements are worrying me, a little, this year. For the last few years, I have had Christmas dinner prepared for my immediate family, by 1 pm. By 3.30 pm, everything has been cleared away, the dishwasher has been loaded and we have been on the way up to the Midlands, to pick up my aunt and then have tea with my parents. It has tended to be a busy, but organised day.

This year, my son and his girlfriend have invited the 4 of us (my husband, my other 2 sons and me) to have Christmas dinner at their house, along with son's girlfriend's mother and brother. This is great, but it does mean that I won't have any control over the time everything will be ready! I have asked them, politely, whether they would mind preparing dinner early and they don't mind, but I can see that there is potential for things to go wrong. I am determined to bite my tongue, if they do!

I am an only child, so I like to see my parents on Christmas day. I don't like to think of them being alone at Christmas and they are in their 80s, so I don't know how many more Christmases we have left to spend together. I have been more than happy, over the past few years, to put in the extra effort needed, so that I can be with my parents on Christmas day, but I do feel a little guilty about asking my son and his girlfriend to do the same thing. I know that I won't be able to relax properly this year, until we are leaving my son's house on Christmas day, to travel up to the Midlands. My parents won't mind if we are a little late, but my aunt gets more and more difficult, as she get older and I know that she will get 'arsey' if she has to sit around waiting. She now lives by herself, however, so I don't want her to be alone on Christmas day, either.

It makes me look back, somewhat nostalgically, to less complicated times, when my children were young and my parents used to travel down from the Midlands to stay with us for a week or so, over the Christmas period. They were the best Christmases of my whole life, I think and we were all particularly sad, when my parents were no longer able to cope with the journey, even when we picked them up in the car.

I hope that you all have simple, relaxing plans for the Christmas period. If you are in the fortunate position of having a young family and hale and hearty parents, remember not to take these special Christmas times for granted. They are all too short and things will change before you know it.

I must go into town, now, to post my cards and buy something for tea. If I wait a little longer, the queue at the post office will probably reach my side gate, so that I can join it and shuffle the usual 10 minute walk into the High Street, whilst whingeing and complaining about the Christmas rush etc. I like to keep up the old British traditions, so I think that I may well do that. If I'm lucky I might find a 'nice, young man' to chat to whilst I am shuffling. Fingers crossed!

Publishing My Book

2008-12-06T19:19:00.013Z

Firstly, I would just like to apologise for my absence from the blogging world for the past few days. The truth is that I was obliged to concentrate on putting the finishing touches to my second book, so that it would be published in time for Christmas. Move over Wife In The North!

My first book was published in September of this year. I worked on it, in my spare time and it took me about a fortnight to put together. It was published within 3 days and I was very pleased with it. My second book took 4 solid days of work and I submitted it yesterday for publication.

Do you know what I'm talking about yet? In case you haven't guessed, I'm referring to 'photo books'. I'm sure that you must have heard of them, but I hadn't until middle son's girlfriend brought one, which she had put together, to show to me a few months ago.

In case you don't know what a photo book is, it is a book, which you can create on your computer, using downloaded software and your own digital photos. On completion, you submit it to the appropriate website for publication. Most of the companies involved in photo processing seem to offer photo books, such as Bonusprint, Colorama and Photobox. Usually, the idea is, that you download the necessary software from your preferred site onto your computer, but, in my case, this proved an impossible task, even though I tried several different companies. Eventually, I settled on the Truprint site, because I could create the whole book on their site, without downloading anything.

My first photo book was made up from digital photos, mostly taken on our 'staycation', this summer. It included the enhanced photos, which appeared in my post dated 31st October 2008, with my poppy photo (right) displayed in a cut out area, in a black linen, hardback cover. It had 10 pages, which amounted to 20 sides filled up with photos, photos and captions, or text.

My second book is a photographic record of the lives of our 3 sons, from birth through to the present day. I have added some funny captions, here and there, plus a foreword, which brings a tear to my eye every time I read it! I've ordered 6 copies, this time, one for each of our 3 sons, one for my mother and mother-in-law and one for my husband and myself.

The photo books on the Truprint site range from £2.99 to £39.99. There is a good choice of backgrounds and photo layouts for each page. If I had wanted to, I could have displayed up to 9 photos per page. If I had needed them, I could have added an extra 65 pages (130 sides), although this would, naturally, have added to the price of the book.

I put the first book together using digital photos from my camera, but, for the second, I mostly had to scan in the photos and save them as JPEGs, because they had been taken with a film camera. I suspect that the quality will not be as good, using the scanned photos, but I will have to wait and see.

I think that the possibilities for creating photo books might be endless. They represent a wonderful opportunity for passing on memories and thoughts to future generations, are much easier to store than photos and less likely to be lost. I have been unable to find anything on the Truprint site to state that photos must be included as part of your book, so it appears that it would be possible to have a book made up of text only.

Would you like to see your short story in print? Perhaps you could.

Would you like to publish a personal cookery book, using your own recipes and photos? You could give a copy to a friend, as a gift.

Would you like to tell your life story, in your own words, using your own photos? Now, you have the opportunity.

I made up a short story, for my 3 lads, when they were young. They were my 3 main characters, in a fictional adventure, based upon a visit to the Bekonscott Model Village, in Beaconsfield, where we all spent many a happy hour, when they were youngsters. Putting my short story into print could well be my next project.

Now, how about you? Had you already heard of photo books? Have you created any? What did yours commemorate?

I would just like to add a note to suggest that you 'shop around' and do your own research online, if you decide that you would like to create a photo book, as a result of this post. I only have personal experience of the Truprint site, as it was the only company I could find, at the time, which would allow me to put my book together on their site.

PS Do you think I deserve some commission from Truprint? ;0)

Mean Mom's Christmas List

2008-11-29T14:47:00.013Z

Warning - adult content!

Dear Santa

I'm not too late, am I? I haven't had a minute to blow my nose, over the last few days, but I suddenly remembered that I hadn't finished off my Christmas list. There are so many vital things missing from my life. I know, however, that the following items will make my happiness complete:

1. A small bottle of Fresh Drop Smell Stop can get rid of nasty smells after a visit to the smallest room in the house, apparently. My passion for late night curries would cease to be a problem, if I had a bottle of this in my possession. In fact, 5 bottles would be ideal, in case the other members of my family have forgotten to add it to their list.

2. A Black Cat Tea Towel Holder sounds like a great idea. At last, a handy place to keep my tea towel! If only my own 3 cats would keep still for a minute, it wouldn't be necessary for me to add this to my list, of course.

3. If I am lucky enough to receive the above, there is no doubt that I will also need an endless supply of QeeZee sick bags. Bags to barf in. What could be more useful? Far more convenient that the bucket I usually carry around.

4. The next item to add to my list has to be a pack of Marked Player Cards. Ideal for my late night poker sessions with my Godfather and his Family. What is that lump in my bed?

5. Next is a Pink Hip Flask. Such an improvement on the bottle I usually carry around to swig from. I only have one reservation. It won't hold much. Perhaps I could have more than one?

6. A packet of Jelly Willies would be a tremendous treat, I think. I know it's a bit of a cheeky request, so I'm afraid to say much about these, but I would just like to mention the fact that it is also possible to buy a box of chocolate ones, in case you think I deserve more than one treat, for my exemplary behaviour throughout the year.

7. Moving swiftly on to the Smoking Mitts. I don't smoke, but I'm thinking of taking it up, so that I can sport these stylish mitts, outside my local on a Saturday night.

8. The next item is a Spare Pair. At last! Has someone been reading my blog? A dream come true for many a menopausal woman!

9. Next, a Piss Off I'm Busy sign. Don't you get fed up of beating around the bush, sometimes? Say what you mean. No one will be offended - really!

10. A Builders Bottom Calendar would be wonderful, Santa. I never see enough of them. This calendar would give me the opportunity of having a new one on display every month. Wonder if there's anyone I know? Hmm........

11. Next request is the stylish Frog Hat. I certainly wouldn't limit its use to the bathroom. It would be wonderful rain apparel, I feel.

12. Last, but not least, on my list is the Glow in the Dark Tumbler.

The problem with half empty bottles, I find, is that they often roll under the bed, when I reach out for them in the early hours. It's such a waste, if I've forgotten to screw the lid back on the vodka, before slipping into a drunken stupor, the night before. A glow in the dark tumbler would be a godsend for such a situation.

That's about it, then, Santa. I do hope that I haven't given you the wrong impression. I've been very good throughout the year, with only an occasional lapse. I definitely deserve lots of presents. Don't forget to call on Christmas Eve, will you? I'll leave out your mince pie and a glass of winter warmer, plus your usual pack of 20 Silk Cut.

Now, about that money I owe you from the last poker game, could I just leave you a little on account? The credit crunch has left me a bit short.......

Lots of Love

Mean Materialistic Mom

A Challenging Meme

2008-11-26T00:28:00.011Z

I finally decided to try the meme which requires only a single word answer to each question. I last saw it at suburbia's place. It must be the toughest I have ever attempted! Could anything be more challenging, for a woman? OK, if by any chance there is a man visiting my site, don't be tempted to reply to that one - not if you're looking forward to your Christmas dinner, anyway.

I needed at least 3 words to reply to these questions and some required a whole paragraph, if not a whole post. Anyway, here is my attempt:

1. Where is your cell phone? Safe

2. Your significant other? Grumpy

3. Your hair? Superfluous

4. Your mother? Paragliding

5. Your father? Driving

6. Your favourite thing? Preparation H

7. Your dream last night? Wild

8. Your favourite drink? Bovril

9. Your dream/goal? Sweet

10. The room you're in? Padded

11. Your fear? Dribbling

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Shrewsbury

13. Where were you last night? Dunno

14. What you're not? 'bovvered'

15. Muffins? Please

16. One of your wish list items? Comments

17. Where you grew up? Haven't

18. The last thing you did? Dribbled (damn!)

19. What are you wearing? Smile

20. Your TV? Dusty

21. Your pet? Cats

22. Your computer? Infuriating

23. Your life? Frustrating

24. Your mood? Dangerous

25. Missing someone? Sons

26. Your car? Old

27. Something you're not wearing? Handcuffs

28. Favourite store? Post Office

29. Your summer? BRIEF

30. Your favourite colour? Fuchsia

31. When is the last time you laughed? January

32. Last time you cried? Just

OK, I did cheat a bit, but not as much as I wanted to!

A Cheery Post

2008-11-23T11:13:00.025Z

I would like to dedicate this post to swearing mother who has devoted so much of her time to cheering up her fellow bloggers, I thought that, for once, I would like to return the favour.

I'm feeling a bit down, at the moment and I can't help but notice that some of you are feeling the same way. It's probably something to do with dark nights and Christmas preparations, that some of us simply don't have the stomach for, at the moment. So the question is 'How to cheer up?'

We all know about the basic things that we're supposed to do, like follow a healthy diet, exercise regularly and that sort of thing, but here's a few others you might not have thought of:

1. Think of a few things to be thankful for, such as the fact that:

You didn't wake up a few days ago to discover that you were the new President Elect. How scary would that have been on a scale of 1-10?
your daughter hasn't published a book about her childhood, called 'Ugly', accusing you of child abuse
you're not one of the judges who've been so cruelly critical of John Sergeant, on Strictly. Boo! Hiss!

2. Watch some out-takes on tv. How can watching others falling over, or messing up not be amusing? Laughing at the misfortunes of others must surely be the favourite British pastime!

3. Go into Clinton Cards and peruse the On-The-Ceiling cards. Here's a couple of my favourites:

4. Ask a friend to tell you a few old jokes. Oh, that would be me, then. You all know that I have a silly sense of humour, so I'm not apologising for finding these short jokes amusing, no matter how often I hear them. They are attributed to Tommy Cooper, I think.

A jump lead walks into a bar. The barman says, 'I'll serve you, but don't start anything.'

Sometimes I drink my whisky neat. Other times, I take my tie off and leave my shirt out.

So I said to the taxi driver, 'King Arthur's Close.'
He said, 'Don't worry, we'll lose him at the next lights.'

And the back of his anorak was leaping up and down, and people were chucking money at him. I said 'Do you earn a living doing that?'
He said, 'Yes, this is my livelihood.'

A man takes his rottweiler to the vet. 'My dog's cross-eyed. Is there anything you can do for him?'
'Well,' says the vet, 'let's have a look at him.' So he picks up the dog, examines his eyes, then checks his teeth. Finally, he says, 'I'm going to have to put him down.'
'What? Because he's cross-eyed?'
'No, because he's really heavy.'

So, I'm getting into my car and this bloke says to me, 'Can you give me a lift?'
I said, 'Sure. You look great. The world's your oyster. Go for it.'

Here's a joke that's been related to me more than once. I never let on that I've heard it before, because it always makes me smile.

Sharon is visiting Tracey, for a chat, when there is a knock at the front door and a bouquet of flowers is delivered from Tracey's husband. 'Oh, crap!' says Tracey. 'That's me flat on my back, with my legs apart for the next few days, then!'
'Why?' asks Sharon, looking startled. 'Haven't you got a vase?'

Lastly, if you've ever kept a cat or dog, or both, you might like to check out the first 2 links below. If you can't be bothered with those, you might like to check out the third:

1. Rules for cats

2. why dogs are better pets than cats

3.real answers given on various chat and quiz shows

There's some other funny stuff there, (triffle.org) too, if you have a few minutes to spare.

There it is, then. I know it's all corny stuff, but I hope that it's helped to cheer everyone up a bit. Well, you didn't expect anything sophisticated from me, did you?

Seasons Greetings!

2008-11-18T22:32:00.018Z

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose........ Oh, there you are! Why not turn on your speakers so that you can listen to my Christmas songs? Did I hear someone groaning on my blog?

Has anyone wished you a 'Merry Christmas', yet? Can I be the first, then?

I love Christmas, especially when it starts in September. I get so excited that I have to wear my Tenna pants day and night. Only 36 shopping days to Christmas, you know!

Have you written your Christmas cards, yet, or wrapped your presents, bought your Christmas candles, put up your Christmas tree and iced your Christmas cake? Have you slipped off the roof, yet, whilst putting up your illuminated santa and sleigh? It's worth a couple of days in hospital, though, isn't it, when you see the delight on the children's faces?

I buy my Christmas cards in the January sales and some of my Christmas presents, too. I've always got some of my presents wrapped and all of my cards written by the end of January. Have I ever mentioned that I have a Btech in one-upmanship? Anything you can start, I can start earlier.

The limit on my husband's credit card is so high, this year, that I can hardly believe my luck. I bought the remainder of my Christmas presents last month and I'm so pleased, because the post office didn't have to send a special van to deliver the Barclaycard statement, this time. It was only 999 pages long and I think we actually might manage to pay it off by September next year. That'll be a whole month earlier than this year!

I have to confess that I do have a few little gripes concerning Christmas, however:

1. I wish the Christmas stuff would appear earlier in the shops. September just isn't early enough. Perhaps it could appear in February, next year. You can never have too much of a good thing, in my opinion.

2. I haven't had a Christmas card, yet, this year! Mine had all been delivered by the end of August. Come on, everybody! What are you all doing? It is the middle of November!

3. I never get enough of those Christmas catalogues, do you? Could someone send me a few more? Preferably the same ones that I already have, but with a different cover. I can still open the front door, so I know that I don't have anywhere near enough, so far.

4. I never get enough round robins either. I always look forward to hearing about how well near strangers are doing, since they emigrated to paradise, where it rains gold coins and you can safely walk in the streets after dark. It fair warms the cockles of my heart to learn that mere acquaintances have been 'lucky enough' to finally move into the small mansion of their dreams and that their darling offspring have achieved straight 'A's in subjects that they weren't even studying. Could we perhaps have round robins at Easter, as well as Christmas? I think that I could probably just about cope with the extra joy that this would bring.

5. Finally, I'm quite disturbed to see that there are nowhere near enough tins of chocolate biscuits and Christmas sweets in the shops. I fear that there simply won't be enough to go round and that some of us will still have teeth without fillings at the end of January.

You'll be pleased to know that I've looked through all of the Christmas catalogues and compiled an enormous list of things I can no longer live without. The most important ones are:

1. A Star Wars bobble head

2. some tattoo sleeves

3. a pets' arse sharpener

4. a Darth Vader suit for my newborn

5. a drooly bib

Whichever present you decide on, could you please wrap it in expensive Christmas wrapping paper, with lots of sellotape, as those Christmas gift bags are a bit of a cop out, aren't they, really?

Anyway, must be off. Can't hang around talking to you lot forever. I'm just off to Somerfield to take advantage of their BOGOF offer on port. Two bottles for £9.99! That's one for each hand by my reckoning. I aim to save them for Christmas day and, by the time the Queen's speech comes on, I should have slipped silently under the table, with a bit of luck. I suppose that I'll probably be discovered on Boxing day, when everyone's looking for somebody to make the turkey sandwiches and hand round the pickled onions.

Now, as soon as I get back from the supermarket, I'm going to stuff the turkey and put the sprouts on. Did I mention that I've got a Btech in one-upmanship? Oh, I already did, did I?

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Santa - if you're reading this, is there any chance of having a Pocket Surfer 2 for Christmas? I (really, really do) Want One Of Those!

Christmas lovers, please don't take offence at the above. It's all tongue in cheek. I do enjoy (most aspects of) Christmas - no really!

The Shirt With The Hole

2008-11-17T12:46:00.010Z

'What can we get you for your birthday, then, dad?' enquired eldest son, as we enjoyed an early, celebratory meal in a nearby pub' restaurant.

'Just a card,' replied my husband. 'I know that you haven't got much spare cash, at the moment and I don't want you to waste your money on me.'

'We will get you something, though,' said eldest son's girlfriend, 'so you might as well tell us what you'd like.'

I took advantage of the short pause in the conversation and said to my eldest son, with a wicked smile, 'Your father needs a polo shirt, without a hole in it.' My husband tutted and looked visibly annoyed for a few seconds. I wasn't surprised at my sons' subsequent reactions, as the men in my family have a habit of sticking together.

'Oh, don't tell me! Has dad been going out looking less than perfect?' said my eldest son with mock exaggeration.

'Oh, no!' joined in youngest son. 'Has dad been going out with holes in his clothes? Shock, horror!'

They laughed and I laughed, but I continued with mock haughtiness, as soon as they had quietened down, 'I never go out with holes in my clothes. I have standards. I expect the same from your father!' We all laughed once more and the conversation moved on.

I don't mind them teasing me, but there is no basis for it, because I've never been in the habit of telling my husband what to wear. In the 32 years since our marriage, in spite of having to bite my lip, on several occasions, I've only criticised the clothes that my husband has decided to wear on 2 recent occasions.

My husband has never taken much interest in clothes, but he has always found short sleeved polo shirts particularly comfortable to wear and has been an avid collector since about 1976. They are his most favoured garment. He buys new ones, but he never throws an old one away. He will wear the same polo shirt to go out, as he wore a couple of weeks before, to cut the hedge and dig the garden. Joseph's amazing old technicolour dreamcoat could have been inspired by the myriad of colours in his collection and, if I laid them end to end, they would probably go twice around the earth's circumference. 2 of them have been the proud recipients of a telegram from the Queen.

It doesn't matter if they are faded, shrunken and stiff from age, or misshapen, they remain as beautiful to him, as the day he first set eyes on them. I sometimes wonder whether it is the same soft focus vision, which has stopped him swapping me for a younger model. I may give my own optician the boot and start visiting his.

A few months ago, my husband and I were going out for the day and I noticed that the polo shirt he was wearing had a small hole in it. When I pointed it out, he looked irritated, but went off to change it. The next time he did the same thing, I didn't say anything, as we were only going to the shops, but, after that occasion, I stopped ironing his very old polo shirts, in the hope that it would persuade him to keep them for working around the house.

The next time I noticed him donning one of his old, creased polo shirts, I pointed out that I was no longer ironing those particular shirts, because they were too scruffy and I suggested that he should buy a couple of new ones to keep solely for going out. After the conversation in the pub' a couple of nights ago, I'm relieved to say that he has finally taken the hint and we are going polo shirt shopping at the weekend! Yay! We know how to live!

I don't care how much I am teased about my attitude, I won't be changing my opinion. I don't have many clothes, these days and I am often to be found in jeans, but my clothes are always ironed, clean and respectable. I wear old clothes around the house and for gardening etc, but I keep some decent clothes for going out. I never look scruffy, when I go out with my husband and I expect the same standards from him.

What about you? What's your opinion? Do you think that I've made too much fuss about a hole in a shirt? Would you object if your husband wanted to go out with holes in his clothes, where it wasn't fashionable to have them? Do you try to look smart, when going out, or do you not think it's so important, nowadays?

The Legacy

2008-11-15T10:25:00.011Z

This post is continued from the last, published on 12 November 2008.

The rumpus continued. From the grandson there was a bit of 'Don't you push my sister!' From the youngest daughter there was a lot of 'I'm not having a door slammed in my face!' From the eldest daughter, there was a little of 'Don't you tell me how to bring up my children!' Both sisters were rude to each other. The youngest was rude to my aunt. The youngest sister shouted that she was going home. My husband turned to me, smirked and remarked that no one could go anywhere until he had moved his car. A few minutes' silence ensued, then my youngest cousin came into the living room and sweetly asked my husband whether he would mind moving his car. It was a change of tone worthy of a Bafta.

As soon as my cousin had left, we comforted my aunt, in the kitchen, whilst we made some tea. (Woohoo, a cup of tea, at last!) My other cousin and her 2 children eventually joined us, in the living room, for a few sandwiches and snacks and we all tried to recover from the stresses and strains of the day. It was a day of tragedy and of comedy. In the end, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, we had to laugh.

Apparently, my younger cousin had reproached her niece and nephew, as she blamed them for the fact that her sister was returning home, to the Midlands, earlier than my younger cousin had hoped. She had pushed her niece, who had slammed the bedroom door in her face and the whole thing had escalated from there.

The oldest sister and her family had travelled down, from the Midlands, on the previous Tuesday morning and were intending to leave on the Saturday, mainly because the teenage children had engagements that they didn't want to miss. My younger cousin was annoyed because, for the first few days after her father's death, she had been left to support her mother and deal with the funeral arrangements alone. Paradoxically, it seemed that she was also suffering some pangs of jealousy, since the arrival of other members of the family, because her mother was no longer solely reliant on her.

The younger sister lived close by, was in the throes of a divorce and had a 5 year old daughter, who was 'a bit of a handful', by all accounts. I had a certain amount of empathy for my younger cousin. My aunt is unable to drive, so when my uncle had become too ill to drive himself to and from the hospital (a 50 mile round trip), the responsibility had fallen on my cousin. My aunt hadn't even been able to shop without her help, because the nearest supermarket was a few miles away.

My older cousin resented the fact that her parents had been persuaded by her sister to leave the Midlands. She felt abandoned and that her sister had deliberately sought to isolate and exclude her. I had more empathy with my older cousin, because I felt that her younger sister had been manipulative and controlling. The younger sister had moved from the Midlands, to the seaside, a few years ago, after getting a temporary job. She had eventually married a local man and had a child. When her marriage had broken down, she had persuaded my aunt and uncle to move to a house close to her.

As my aunt looked back on her own life, a disturbing pattern began to emerge. Her mother (my maternal grandmother) had died after giving birth to her. My grandfather had remarried, but his new wife had refused to take on all 3 of his children. She accepted the 2 older children, (my mother and my other aunt) but the aunt relating the story was handed over, as a baby, to be brought up by a maiden aunt.

My aunt explained how she was often hit so hard in the face, by her aunt, that her nose bled. She was dragged around the house by her hair and hit across the back of her legs with a walking stick. On a few occasions, my late uncle had been physically abusive, during the first couple of years of their marriage and mentally abusive up until the end of his life. He was jealous and possessive. She wasn't allowed to have regular contact with friends and relations after her marriage and sometimes, she wasn't even allowed to speak to anyone on the telephone.

When they moved to the seaside, my uncle chose a house, in a small town, with no proper bus service. Once again, my aunt was isolated and under his control. From the limited contact I had had with the family, and from the remarks I had heard during the argument, after the funeral, I suspected that my aunt's youngest daughter had inherited my uncle's possessive and controlling nature. There seemed to be every possibility that she was stepping into his shoes.

My uncle purposely left no will. He kept my aunt in ignorance about his financial affairs and the running of the house. He bragged that he wasn't short of money, even though the family assured him that they had no interest in it, because it didn't seem to have made him a happy man. They loved him, in spite of his faults. It seems that he may have been prone to exaggeration, in some respects, however. It appears that he may not have left a great deal of money, but he may have left some other sort of legacy, instead.

My aunt understands the potential dangers of the situation in which she now finds herself. She wants a relationship with her youngest daughter, but she doesn't want, or need, another tyrant in her life. She intends to move to a smaller house, in a more suitable area, as soon as the market improves. I suggested that she should make enquiries about joining some sort of local club, or voluntary group, so that she would have an opportunity of making some friends and wouldn't then be totally reliant on her daughter for company.

To a certain extent, my aunt is finally free to make some sort of life for herself. I can only hope that, after so many years of bullying and isolation, that she has the courage to take advantage of the opportunities presented to her.

After The Funeral

2008-11-12T17:16:00.006Z

After my late uncle's funeral service and interment, my husband and I drove to my aunt's house. It was a journey of just a few minutes, by car, so we had hardly any chance to recover from the effects of the chill wind, which had been blowing forcefully across the churchyard. In the near distance, we glimpsed the sea sparkling in the autumn sunshine, as we turned into the cul de sac, where my aunt now lived.

There were 2 cars already parked on the drive, presumably belonging to my aunt's 2 daughters, so we parked behind them, on the road. My aunt opened the front door, leading the way into the living room, as she expressed her gratitude to us for taking the time and trouble to attend her late husband's funeral.

My aunt and uncle had moved to this small seaside town a few months ago, after a lot of persuasion from their youngest daughter, who had wanted them to live closer to her. My uncle had been 77 years old, at the the time of the move and suffered a heart attack 2 weeks before they were due to leave. Shortly after they moved, he had discovered that he was suffering from cancer and they had since bitterly regretted leaving the home, which had been theirs, ever since they had first been married.

We walked into the living room, but almost as soon as we sat on the sofa, we heard the sounds of some sort of disturbance coming from the direction of the hall. There was some scuffling, a few shrieks and the sound of a door slamming. I realised that there was some sort of altercation taking place between my late uncle's 2 daughters and the eldest daughter's 2 teenage children, a girl aged 19 and a boy aged 16. My aunt hurried out in to the hall to see what was happening.

We began to feel rather awkward, uncomfortable and embarrassed. We wondered whether we should leave, but I didn't want to abandon my aunt. We decided to wait a while, but not to interfere, unless it was absolutely necessary.

I sighed, as I considered the gigantic effort we had made to get to the funeral. My husband had arranged a day's holiday for the day of the funeral, rescheduled his doctor's appointment and asked his young female assistant to set up and take charge of his stand, at an exhibition, which was taking place in London. Last Thursday, the day before the funeral, after our evening meal, we had packed a few things and set off for a Travel Lodge in Devon. After a journey of 3 1/2 hours on a dark, windy, rainy night, we finally arrived at midnight, having lost our way on only one occasion.

The following morning, we had risen early, munched through our 'breakfast in a bag' and driven for another 1 1/2 hours to arrive at the church at 10.35 am. We were the only members of the family, who had been willing and able to cope with the length of the journey, so we had sat alone for 25 minutes, until my aunt arrived with her 2 daughters and 2 grandchildren at 11 am. We had struggled valiantly with 2 hymns, neither of which were familiar and supported the family at the graveside, as the coffin was lowered into the grave. After a short rest at my aunt's house, we had a journey of at least 5 hours to look forward to, as were driving to my parents house, in the Midlands, to spend the night. My husband had another exhibition to attend, in Birmingham, on the Saturday morning.

The shouting and swearing from the hall cut into my thoughts as it became louder and more intense. We wondered, vaguely, whether there would be any chance of getting a cup of tea, before we had to leave.............

To be continued

Tagged Again!

2008-11-03T22:17:00.017Z

Suburbia, you've very kindly given me an award, but tagged me again! You know that these things bring out the worst in me and that I can't resist them. Do you think that maybe I've got multiple personality disorder?

This one has a '7's theme:

7 Things I plan to do before I die:

Finish my ironing

Pluck that stray hair out of my chin

Have another brazilian

Have sex with Russell Brand and make sure I give him my grandfather's home telephone number

Moon my next door neighbour

Get drunk and have sex on the beach in Dubai

My pelvic floor exercises

7 Things I do now:

Blog when I should be ironing

Wear a very large hat to distract attention from the stray hair on my chin

Shampoo, condition, apply a little mousse, followed by a blow dry and a bit of hair lacquer to keep everything tidy down there

Have sex with anyone who professes to love me for my mind

Moon my next door neighbour as soon as he turns his back

Have sex on the beach in Brighton. It 's so cold that there's nobody around to bother

Carry a spare pair, in case of little accidents

7 Things I can't do:

Sit like this. It hurts my left knee, lately

Stand up after sitting like this, these days

Turn on the tap, after middle son has turned it off

Play the piano

Read without my glasses and a good light

Limbo without something dragging on the floor

Get my size 8 jeans past my ankles

7 things that attract me in the opposite sex:

A beard

A reluctance to discard anything because it might come in useful in 10 years' time and save us 20p

Total lack of enthusiasm for diy

The desire to spend thousands on a holiday, when the house is falling apart

Ability to love me even when I'm in the menopause

Loving my sons as much as I do

Sharing my silly sense of humour

Well, that was unbelievably lucky, then! Fortunately, I found my perfect match!

7 things I say most often:

Middle son, can you turn up your music? My brain isn't vibrating against the sides of my skull, yet

Can you use more towels? I haven't got enough for 5 full loads, yet

I've had to write you a message on a piece of paper today, instead of scrawling one, with my finger, on the top of the dining room table, because I've dusted

I know where I've put that

I'm just going for a 5 mile run, before I do my pelvic floor exercises

I wish that my tummy would stick out a bit. It's so flat

Will you make more mess in the house? There's nowhere near enough

7 Celebrities that I admire

Well, I don't exactly admire them, but I do admire their ability to convince certain people that they should be rewarded for not a lot, or for just being obnoxious, arrogant, or irritating

Russell Brand

Jonathan Ross

Jade Goody

Jeremy Clarkson

Jodie Marsh

Liz Hurley

Tara Palmer Tomkinson

7 Favourite foods

Burnt toast

Burnt sausage

Lumpy gravy

Lumpy custard

Meat overcooked

Soggy veg

Soggy pastry

Luckily I can whip up all of the above in no time at all!

7 Bloggers who need to do this:

Well, I don't really mind who does it - anyone can, who fancies it, but I'd like to pass on the award to the following:

If any of the above would like to do the tag, I will be over to read it, of course!

Abracadabra!

2008-10-31T21:53:00.030Z

Do you take good photos? You do, don't you? I've seen them on your blogs, so I know that it's true. Well, I'll let you into another of my little secrets. I take crap photos, but the sad truth is, that I didn't realise it until my husband bought me a digital photo frame for my birthday, back in June.

I was quite excited when I opened my birthday present. It was the best toy I'd received in ages. My delight soon turned to disappointment, however, as I began searching through my memory cards for some decent photos. There were a few good ones, mostly from when my husband had borrowed the camera, but, there was no doubt about it, most of mine were crap.

I resigned myself to the situation, sorted out the best ones and put them on a memory card, which I then inserted into my digital frame. Within a few days, I was bored with looking at the same mediocre photos.

Eventually, my husband decided to have a few days off work. We couldn't afford to go away on holiday, but we went out for day trips, here and there. Wherever we travelled, I took my digital camera, ignoring my husband's snorts of laughter, whilst I attempted to take some average photos to display in my frame. I constantly struggled with my fashionably large handbag, camera case, specs and, very occasionally, with my sunglasses. Sometimes, I forgot to put on my specs, or take off the lens cap. On one occasion, I left my specs at home. At other times, I dithered over framing a good shot, but then found out that I didn't have a memory card in the camera. I balanced precariously on stiles to get a good view of the countryside, or waited endlessly, for a gap in the crowds, so that I could capture a scene in the middle of the city. By the time my husband returned to work, I felt that I had some better photos to display in my photo frame. Once I had them on show, however, I was disappointed once more, as I suddenly realised that most of the skies were overcast and some of them were spoiled by unwanted objects.

It wasn't possible to wait for some good weather and return to all of these places, to have another attempt, so I decided to take a better look at the photo application, which had accompanied my digital camera. I had only ever used it, previously, for a few basic tasks. It wasn't Adobe Photoshop, unfortunately, but with the help of the magic wand select tool and the cloning tool, I was able to improve some of the photos to display in my digital frame. They wouldn't stand close examination, of course, but it's not as if I'm entering them into any competitions, so I don't see that it matters.

Here are a few before and after photos, which I am quite pleased with. Some were taken last year and others quite recently.

The photo below left was taken last year in a village not far from where we live. I have enhanced the colours, so that they show up better on my photo frame and cloned the sky from another photo.

The photo below left was taken just outside the village of Fotheringay, Northamptonshire. Again, I enhanced the colours slightly and cloned the sky from another photo.

The photo below left was taken from the University Parks in Oxford and it is of Keble College Chapel. It was difficult to change the sky in this one and I had about 4 attempts. I had to completely remove the tree on the left and clone it back in again. To get rid of the over exposed spot, on the right, to the side of the tree, I cloned in a few extra leaves, as you can see.

The photos above and below are of Hertford College bridge, in Oxford. I had wanted to see this particular bridge for quite a long time, so we decided to have a day trip into Oxford. The bridge is very popular with sightseers and I waited for 20 minutes, or more, so that I could take a shot of it without people. Unfortunately, it wasn't a brilliant day and the buildings behind needed transporting to a more suitable site! The cloning out of the bicycle, leaning against the railings, in the photo below left, was particularly tricky.

I've been a dreadful cheat, and, obviously the Bridge of Sighs photo isn't a true depiction of the scene, but I am quite pleased, now, with a lot of the photos on display in my digital frame. I only found out recently that I didn't have the quality on my digital camera set to 'fine', so I am hoping that the next lot of photos I take will be an improvement on the last.

Now, how about you? Do you ever enhance your photos, or do you find it unnecessary? Come on, you know you want to tell me!

magic wand select tool - allows you to select an area of your photo based on colour similarity. It is then possible to apply various effects to change that particular selection, only.

cloning tool - duplicates one part of your photo to another part of a photo.

How To See Dead People

2008-10-26T16:48:00.024Z

I have to confess that I went to Gunther von Hagens' 'BODY WORLDS and The Mirror of Time' exhibition at the O2, in Greenwich, last Friday and was totally fascinated by it! I also visited his first exhibition when it was on show in Brick Lane in 2000. I went with my husband and we took student son and middle son with us. After all of the hype, I can remember that they were almost disappointed when there were no gory or scary exhibits!

This time, we were accompanied only by student son, and, as he is studying to be a nurse, it seemed like an opportunity that shouldn't be missed. It is a shame, in my opinion, that von Hagens' exhibitions are sensationalised so much, although the man himself seems to encourage this attitude, to some extent! He is a bit of a showman, but he has to pay his bills, like anyone else, I suppose! Unfortunately, though, some photographers seem to go out of their way, to capture the exhibits in the most unnatural light possible and I have been startled by some of the photographs I have seen, even though I have not been startled by any of the exhibits in situ. It's surprising the effect that a little colour enhancement and a dark background can have on a subject.

I've found that the 'bodies' on show appear as if they have been manufactured from plastic, once they have undergone the process of plastination. Anyone viewing, in the hope of seeing blood and gore, or of being frightened stupid, will be disappointed. The only thing I found slightly scary was the smoker's blackened lung! What a relief that I only smoked for a short while, in my misguided youth and never became addicted to it.

Perhaps you are already moving on to the next post, because you feel that the Body Worlds exhibitions are unethical, or perhaps you object for religious reasons. I feel I should point out, that the individuals appearing in this exhibition gave permission for their bodies to be used, in this way, for educational purposes, but, naturally, I can only speak for myself, when I say that I find them informative and interesting, without being humiliating, or disrespectful. For anyone studying anatomy, for any reason, a visit to one of the Body Worlds exhibitions would be invaluable. In my experience, they are not viewed by ghouls, or by youngsters looking for kicks, (as long as you leave our 2 out of the equation, when they went to the first exhibition, that is!) they are visited by people who are simply interested in understanding their own bodies, or other peoples.

The only part of this exhibition, which I found very sad, was the room where there are several foetuses on display, at various stages of development. I lost a baby myself, and had to go through the labour, when I was 6 months pregnant, even though I knew that the baby was dead, so this section stirred a few memories, for me. It would have been a simple matter to avoid this part of the exhibition, however, if I had found it too upsetting. Anyone thinking of visiting the exhibition, with young children, should also be made aware of the fact that all genitals are on display. Personally, I feel sure that many an innocent young woman could be saved from a fearful shock, on her wedding night, by a timely visit to a Body Worlds exhibition!

Speaking for myself, I don't find the whole body plastinates of much interest. I am much more fascinated by the body parts in glass cases, the healthy and diseased organs, the transparent body slices and the interesting facts accompanying most of the displays. The current exhibition focuses on health, wellbeing and the ageing process, so there is some interesting information and advice about following a healthy lifestyle, with the consequences of failing to do so being plain to see.

During this visit, I learned a lot, but 3 of the things that really caught my attention were:

we begin to lose our hearing from the age of 18
taking our size into consideration, we should only live for 25 years (eg a dormouse only lives a few months, whereas an elephant can live up to 80 years) and
it is possible to die from constipation (!)

I am careful not to fall into vast expanses of water, and never climb to the top of high buildings, in case I fall off, but dying from constipation is a danger I had never even considered! Fortunately, I suffer from panic attacks if I am more than 6 feet away from a box of Bran Flakes or Weetabix, so it would be truly amazing if I ever died from constipation, but there you are - you've been warned!

Another thing I was interested to read about was, that the part of the brain controlling judgement and risk taking doesn't develop until adulthood. It reminded me of one of my mother's favourite sayings. 'You can't put an old head on young shoulders!' As the mother of 3 sons aged 25, 23 and 19, I feel that this particular saying should be engraved upon my heart.

At the end of the exhibition, there were leaflets available, which gave you the opportunity to donate your own body, after your death, to be used for educational purposes, in future exhibitions. I considered the idea, but rejected it, when I realised that, although I would not object to anyone examining my insides, after my death, I couldn't bear the thought of anyone seeing me without my clothes!

The (Imaginary) Diary Of A White Van Man And Woman

2008-10-21T22:53:00.010+01:00

What a busy and profitable few days we have enjoyed with our white van! On Monday, we travelled up to London with a delivery. We dropped a load of rotting compost on the doorstep of number 10 at maggie may's request. We left no accompanying card, but I'm sure that the occupant got the message, even if he didn't know exactly who sent it!

The next day, after dressing up as police officers, we set up our own speed camera, in a lay-by, at suburbia's suggestion and imposed 'on the spot' fines. What a lucrative business that turned out to be! Unfortunately, the real police caught up with us and forced us to hand over all of our 'easy money'. They explained that, up until the introduction of speed cameras, the length and occurrence of their Christmas party had been dependent upon the availability of an empty cell in the local police station. The ever increasing amounts of money generated by the speed cameras, however, meant that, last year, they had all enjoyed a long weekend partying in Mallorca and, this year, they had their fingers crossed for a week in an exclusive hotel in the Maldives.

On Wednesday, at irene's suggestion, we decided to rob a bank. With hindsight, we realised that we should have chosen a British one, rather than an Icelandic one, but our Financial Advisor has suggested that we should hold on to the sack loads of IOUs we succeeded in stealing, as he feels that we have an excellent chance of them becoming legal tender, within the next few days.

The next day, I teamed up with robin for a bit of kidnapping. We managed to grab George Clooney and Johnny Depp, with every intention of demanding a king's ransom for their safe return. After a little consideration, however, we decided to keep them and 'to hell with the ransom!' It's my turn for George next week.

On Friday, I parked on the side of the road, at the suggestion of auntiegwen and commandeered the back of the van, in order to dabble in the profession, which is widely accepted as the oldest known to mankind. I do hope that you didn't get caught up in the ensuing traffic jam, caused by men with white sticks, or guide dogs, crossing the dual carriageway in a rather willy-nilly fashion. You'll be relieved to know that no one was seriously hurt and, in fact, a jolly good time was had by all.

On Saturday, we picked up some radiators from the side of working mum's house and sold them for scrap. She was a little annoyed that the deed preceded the invitation, but it's my belief that she'll see the funny side of it any day now. Working mum has shown great commitment to the cause for energy conservation, by discarding her radiators and we would strongly advise you all to follow her example. We will gladly relieve you of the scrap metal and you will have the satisfaction of feeling virtuous, if rather chilly, for the duration of the winter months.

On Sunday, at merry weather's suggestion, we loaded up the van with a tent and provisions and headed off for a well-earned short break. We decided to go to France, at the invitation of farming-frenchstyle, in the expectation of picking up some useful tips from her other half, who is also a white van driver. Our hopes of travelling alone were dashed, however, when some of our neighbours heard that we were crossing the Channel. We were inundated with requests from British Citizens, begging us to help them escape from a life of unemployment and poverty. We squeezed in as many Brits as our van would hold and headed off for Shangri-La.

By the time we met up with farming-frenchstyle, we had dropped off our cargo and were almost totally exhausted from counting our ill-gotten Euros. We were somewhat surprised to learn from farming-frenchstyle and her husband, that a white van could be used for legitimate money-making ventures and, as a result of our enlightenment, we vowed that our criminal activities would cease once we had returned to England.

It was impossible to resist liz's suggestion of picking up a few ill-informed 'illegals' on the way home, though. They hadn't seen a newspaper for 3 weeks and couldn't understand why we were requesting payment in gold jewellery, (in need of repair, or not) when the streets of London were paved with gold. English folklore and the British pantomime still have a lot to answer for.

We stopped only to stock up with booze and fags, to sell on the black market, before wending our weary way back across the Channel. On our return, we decided to remove temptation from our lives and we gave back the company van. All of our illegal activities have now ceased, but we feel that we've been enormously fortunate in finding respectable jobs in the city.

Anyone want to buy any stocks and shares? Come on, now, there couldn't be a better time to buy! From here, the only way is up, isn't it?

With apologies to the majority of white van drivers who use their vehicles for legitimate purposes and whose reputations suffer, because of a minority who indulge in criminal activity.

Note for the confused: This post has been constructed around some of the comments from the previous one.

Metamorphosis!

2008-10-10T17:47:00.013+01:00

Last weekend my husband borrowed the company van. We had a busy time planned, which included some furniture moving. Eldest son was picking up student son from university, on Friday evening and taking him to his house for the night. The following day student son was accompanying us on our furniture moving mission.

On Saturday morning, my husband and I began by dismantling student son's cabin bed, with incorporated desk area, as we needed to transport it up north, to my sister-in-law's house, so that my husband's 8 year old nephew could make use of it. After lunch, on Saturday, we loaded the bed onto the large, white van, before driving over to eldest son's house to pick up student son. I couldn't ever remember travelling in a large van before. I rather liked being able to see over the hedgerows, as we drove along. We slowly began to experience a change in outlook on life, from our elevated position and vaguely became aware of subtle changes in our attitudes and behaviour. My husband became rather bold at roundabouts, began to tailgate all car drivers adhering to the speed limit, and suddenly developed a new and startling affinity with other large van drivers. By the time we screeched to a halt in front of eldest son's house, he was driving with all the steely determination of a DHL delivery driver, intending to have his feet up on his own coffee table, by 1pm on Christmas Eve and addressing me in a rather colloquial fashion as 'mate'.

Whilst I leapt from the van the second it came to a standstill, my husband slammed the van doors loudly to alert the neighbours to his presence, so that they all dashed to their front windows, in pathetic, but eager anticipation of a surprise delivery. I charged up to eldest son's front door, rang the doorbell twice, banged on the front door repeatedly and shouted through the letterbox, in a rather coarse manner. By the time student son had opened the front door, I had already pushed a card through, which said that we would call again, whenever it was inconvenient and as soon as the fancy took us. We drove off at breakneck speed and were on the outskirts of the village, before student son managed to catch up with us and fling himself, breathlessly, onto the vacant passenger seat beside me. We grinned apologetically, explaining that he had been so slow in opening the door, we thought that they had all gone out.

When we arrived at my sister-in-law's house, we dropped off the bed, and student son, and then drove a mile or so, to my mother-in-law's home, in order to dismantle and collect the double bed she was giving to us and the bookcase she was passing on to eldest son. We then hoisted my mother-in-law up into the front of the van and returned to my sister-in-law's house for a family meal.

On our arrival, we discovered that the food wasn't quite ready, so my husband and son borrowed a ladder and quickly visited a few householders in the next road. They kindly explained to the house owners, that they had noticed a few of their roof tiles had slipped out of place, charging extortionate amounts of money for climbing up onto the roof and doing little more than admiring the view. Meanwhile, I walked into the town centre, pressed some unsuspecting late Saturday afternoon shoppers into buying a few bundles of lucky heather and pestered a few of my sister-in-law's neighbours to buy some clothes pegs, on my return journey.

We enjoyed a very pleasant meal at my sister-in-law's house, before setting off for home in the late evening. We were relieved to fall into bed, a few hours later, after putting up the newly acquired double bed in eldest son's old room, recently commandeered by student son.

The next day, we had all been invited to lunch by eldest son and his girlfriend. Buoyed up by the success of yesterday's shenanigans, we decided to get there early, to give ourselves some time to spend on more money-making ventures. This time, we all donned oversized jackets, with reflective bands and knocked on several people's doors, in the neighbourhood, explaining that we had some left over tarmac, after doing some work nearby and ultimately succeeded in charging several vulnerable people an over-inflated amount, for tarmacking their drives in a cowboy-like fashion.

At the end of the day, we counted up the money we had earned and were overjoyed to discover that we had managed to collect enough together to buy 6 lamb cutlets, from Waitrose, for the following day's main meal. What a treat! Fortunately, I already had a few old potatoes, which weren't too green and didn't have too many shoots, and a few floppy carrots hanging around in the bottom of the 'fridge, so we didn't need to splash out on any extras.

We were so pleased with the results of our enterprises that we decided to keep the van for an extra couple of weeks. Next weekend, we plan to sell a few DVDs at a nearby Sunday market. You might like to come along, if you're interested in buying any poor quality DVDs, with accompanying soundtracks of background whispering and the crackling of popcorn being trodden underfoot.

I have inserted an advert in the local newspaper, similar to the one below:

WOMAN AND MAN WITH VAN REQUIRE GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT.

ANYTHING CONSIDERED.

Mob No: ***********

If you have any suggestions for money-making schemes we could engage in, whilst we still have the use of our anonymous van, I would be glad to hear about them.

Is there a job we could do for you? Our prices are very unreasonable!

Yay! I've Found Another Silly Meme!

2008-10-03T21:02:00.007+01:00

I found this meme at suburbia's place, today. OK. It wasn't silly until I got hold of it.

What are your initials? MM. This is pips,* so far.

What is your favorite thing to wear? Something that fits. If you're female, you'll know what I mean.

Last thing you ate? My hat for dinner, followed by my words for dessert.

Name one thing that scares you: Feeling very sad, having no comments on my blog, confined spaces, bungee jumping, whitewater rafting, my inability to count up to one.

I say Shotgun, you say: Oh, thanks, Gordon. That'll save me the expense of buying one. After you, however. I never dreamt that it would come to this, did you? Oh, you did? Why didn't you and your lot do something about it, then? Oh! That's him well splattered, then! OK, now it's my turn. How do you work this thing, again?

Who was the last person in your bed? My husband will be in big trouble, if it was anyone other than me.

What were you doing at 7:00am? Mumbling a lot, whilst trying to find the snooze button on my alarm clock, without opening my eyes.

Last person you hugged? Apart from my husband, the person who said that I only looked 54 years old, even though I am actually 55.

Does anyone want to date you? There's one of those religious fanatics, who go around knocking on people's doors, who really fancies me, I think. He's always ringing my bell (if you'll pardon the expression) and conducting a deep and meaningful conversation with me, on the doorstep. I think I might ask him in, next time.

When was your last encounter with the police? They'll have to catch me first. That police helicopter doesn't stand a chance. I know this area like the back of my hand.

Have you ever driven without a license? No, but some other drivers have been known to question this in a most aggressive and unreasonable manner.

The last place you went out to dinner? One of those upmarket pubs, with young waiters and waitresses, where the dining tables now outnumber the drinking tables. You know the sort I mean.

Do you like your name? Not much. I don't meet anyone under 50 with the same Christian name as me, these days. Sob!

What time of day is it? It's OK. The sun is definitely over the yardarm.

Who/What made you angry today? The man at the foreign call centre, who wouldn't transfer any money from my savings account, even though I have always transferred by telephone request, over the past 10 years or so, without a problem.

Do you want anyone? Well, certainly not that man at the foreign call centre.

Do you like birds? Not those overweight wood pigeons, who sit on our tv aerial and splash the patio, in a reckless manner, with copious amounts of bird poo. Anyone got another shotgun?

Favorite holiday? One we can afford. We couldn't afford one this year.

Do you download music? No, I listen to radio 2.

Do you care if your socks are dirty? What? It's difficult enough trying to find a matching pair! Do they have to be clean as well?

Opinion of Chinese symbol tattoos? Tattoos are awful. My son has left and right tattooed on his arms, in Chinese. He'll be sorry!

What are you doing tonight? Later tonight I will be doing the things I ought to be doing now, instead of doing this.

Do you like to cuddle? Yes, but not strangers - not unless they are very good looking and male, anyway.

Do you love anyone? I do.

Whose bed did you sleep in last night? No one offered me a choice, strangely enough, so I slept in my own bed.

Have you ever bungee jumped? You can't be serious! (My eldest son has.)

Have you ever gone whitewater rafting? Certainly not! Have you been reading my memes?

Has anyone 10 years older than you ever hit on you? There was that distinguished, elderly gentleman, the last time I went to the theatre with my friend. He pretended that I was sitting in his seat, but I knew what he was really after.

How many pets do you have? 3. That's 3 too many, in my opinion!

Have you met a real redneck? I don't think so. I don't know, though. There was that elderly gentleman in the theatre. He became very red in the face, when I told him to feck off. I think that his neck was quite red, too, now that you mention it.

How is the weather right now? The sun did come out today, but it's gone now. I missed it, because I was writing this.

What are you listening to right now? The voices.

What was the last movie you watched? Mamma Mia! Yay! Mamma Mia, here I go again. My my, how can I resist you? Mamma Mia, does it show again? My my, just how much I've missed you. Oh, sorry! Are you still here?

Do you wear contacts? No. Do you think that I might be able to find my way home, if I did? I'm fed up of lying in this alleyway.

Where was the last place you went besides your house? You mean apart from the alleyway? Waitrose. It's my second home, but I'm feeling the pinch, at the moment, so I'm considering moving into the Co-0p.

What are you wearing? Just my odd socks.

What's one thing you've learned this year? That people habitually spend more money than they have coming in. Especially sons who share my surname.

What do you usually order from Starbucks? Tea. You know that I only drink tea. Are you new to my blog?

Ever had someone sing to you? A pub' full of people in the Black Country once sang Happy Birthday to me. Fortunately, it was my birthday, so that was lucky.

Have you ever fired a gun? Not a real one, but never say never.

Are you missing someone? If you've ever read my blog, you will know that I miss my young family, now that they are grown up. Some things I just can't joke about.

Favourite tv show? The News on any channel. It's great when it's over, at the moment. How much more of this can we take?

What do you have an obsession with? Strange smells.

Has anyone ever said you looked like a celeb? Yes, I'm the spitting image of that Waynetta Slob, who used to be on the Harry Enfield show, apparently. I never saw it, unfortunately. Was she very glamorous?

Who would you like to see right now? That man from the foreign call centre. I want to knock his block off for causing me so much stress. (That's a funny expression, isn't it? 'Knock his block off'. I wonder where that originated?)

Ever had a near death experience? No, but I wouldn't mind arranging one for that man at the foreign call centre.

Are you afraid of falling in love? No. Falling out of it is much more scary.

Have you ever been caught doing something you weren't supposed to? Yes, my mother once caught me dressing up in the nurse's outfit, which had been hidden away and was intended as a Christmas present. It was last October. I'd forgotten that she was visiting. (Oh, for heaven's sake! The first sentence was true. It happened when I was about 6 years old. The rest was a joke. OK?)

Has anyone you were really close to passed away recently? Please don't tempt fate.

Our Lady Peace or Nickelback? Pass. I'm foreign, you know.

What's something that really bugs you? I'm surprised that you need to ask. Foreign fecking call centres.

Do you like Michael Jackson? Does he work for a foreign call centre, currently? Probably not, then.

Taco Bell or Burger King? One advantage of having grown up children, is that I don't have to eat at BK any more. I've never eaten at Taco Bell, so the answer is neither, I'm afraid.

Next time you will kiss someone? I might go for that religious fanatic, when he calls next Wednesday. What do you think?

Favorite baseball team? None.

Ever call a 1-900 phone number? No. I'm still foreign, you know. Is it something to do with sex lines? I'm thinking about starting one.

Nipple or Nose rings? A nose ring is better. It's easier for people to lead me around by.

What's the longest time you've gone without sleep? My eldest son was born in 1983 and I don't think I slept until my youngest son was 7. That would be 13 years, then, I suppose.

Last time you went bowling? About 1995, I think. I didn't do very well. I seem to remember feeling very tired.

Where is the weirdest place you have slept? I suppose that it was Birmingham Town Hall in about 1970. I slept through a live David Bowie concert.

Who was your last phone call? I don't know, but he was very out of breath. My money's on the religious fanatic.

What does your last received text message say? We would like you to come to our wedding, in the evening on .... Time, date, place and names follow, but I don't know these people. It's next Saturday. I'm at a loose end that evening, though, so I think I'll probably go, anyway.

What's the closest orange object to you? My nose. I'm feeling a bit 'out of sorts'
today.

* Pips - For all of you non-Brits, it means 'easy'!

Thanks for publishing that meme, yesterday, suburbia and throwing it open to one and all. I hate to miss an opportunity to be silly. It's a great release.

Lecture Failure!

2008-10-02T22:51:00.004+01:00

Continued from Friday 26th September........

I realised that my son must have been hooked up to an ECG machine, which explained the stickers all over his chest and that the sticking plaster was covering the site where some of his blood had been taken. I felt quite bewildered and all I could manage to say was 'Why?'

Apparently, student son and his friends had been in a club, but had gone outside for a while, because 2 of them wanted a cigarette. They were not allowed to take their drinks with them, and had to leave them on one of the tables inside the club. When they returned, my son picked up his drink, finished it and collapsed. One of his friends called an ambulance and accompanied him to the hospital, whilst his other friends followed in a taxi.

Student son came round, as he was being put into the ambulance by the paramedics. One of them asked for the telephone number of anyone he wanted notified of his hospital admission, but student son was able to think clearly enough to decide that he didn't want his parents at the hospital, so he gave them his own mobile number. (This explained why we had not been contacted, then!) The hospital monitored him throughout the night and discharged him the following morning, when they were satisfied that he was alright.

After I'd recovered a little from the impact of these revelations, we discussed the possible reasons for student son's collapse. He and his friends felt that his drink had been spiked. I couldn't help but wonder whether he had simply drunk more than his body could cope with, as he is very slim and probably of less than average height. The hospital was unable to offer any explanation for student son's collapse.

My husband and I gave my son a(nother) lecture about the dangers of alcohol abuse, and leaving his drink unattended, before he returned to university that evening. My son doesn't often have the opportunity to go out, because he is kept busy with lectures and placements, but I suspect that on a lot of the occasions he goes drinking, he has too much. Most of the places catering for students offer cheap alcohol. The club my son and his friends had been in, on the fateful evening, was 'students only' and had been selling beer for a £1 per pint. I knew that my student son was intending to go to a party the following Friday evening, so I reminded him a couple of times, over the telephone, during the next week, that he needed to cut down his alcohol intake at the party.

My husband and I were late going to bed, on the night of the party and were watching the end of a film on tv, at 12.30am, when my middle son came into the room, saying that he had just had a conversation with student son, on his mobile 'phone. Middle son had kept student son talking, as he walked home from the pub', where the party had been held. He had realised that student son was a bit 'the worse for wear', so he felt that he should keep him talking until he was safely inside his student house. After a few minutes of talking, middle son remarked that it was taking student son a long time to get back to the house. 'Yes, I know' said student son. 'It's taking ages.'

'Why is it taking so long?' asked middle son, who needed to go to sleep, as he was working the next day.

'Cos I can't walk in a straight line!' said student son.

I smiled weakly, through my despair. That was another lecture that had fallen on deaf ears, then.

Sleepless In A Country Town

2008-09-26T21:56:00.009+01:00

We picked up student son from university, last Friday, as he wanted to come home for the weekend. I was overcome with joy when I realised that he was bringing 3 weeks' washing with him. Hurrah! Lots of dark clothes to accompany my dark socks in the washing machine and make up a load. I wouldn't have to wear my odd socks, for a while, then. Hmmm.....

The following evening, student son had arranged to go out with some of his friends. They were travelling by 'bus into the nearest city, a journey of about 13 miles, to visit a couple of clubs. When I went to bed that night, my son still hadn't returned from his evening out, but I wasn't too worried, as he had told me that he and his friends expected to be too late to catch the last 'bus, so intended to return by taxi.

I couldn't sleep, because I had already fallen asleep on the settee downstairs, during the evening, so I read, until I felt tired. Every time I tried to lie down and sleep, however, I found that I couldn't settle and I didn't finally sleep until my third attempt. After a couple of hours, I woke up and went into student son's bedroom to check his bed, but it was still empty. It was 3 am and I began to conjure up pictures of student son lying alone, in the gutter, in some dark side street. He had spent the night away from home, without letting me know, on 2 other occasions and each time, he had stayed with the same friend. I reassured myself that, once again, he would be staying at his friend's house.

About 2 hours later, I woke again and checked student son's bed. He was still missing. I checked the 'phones for messages or texts, but found nothing. By this time, I imagined that student son had probably been run over, whilst lying alone, in the gutter, in the same dark side street. Alternatively, I imagined him telling me the next day, that I had been silly for worrying about him, when he had only been at his friend's house.

At 7 am, I woke again, realised that student son still hadn't come home and imagined him being rescued from the gutter, in the dark side street, by 2 paramedics and then being rushed to Accident and Emergency, in an ambulance, with the siren wailing. I told myself not to be silly. My 3 sons had each worried me on the odd occasion, by staying out late, or not coming home at all. Each time, I had been concerned in case something had happened to them, but my fears had always proved unfounded.

At 8 am, I texted student son, asked him where he was and told him that his eldest brother was coming to lunch, with his girlfriend, so that they could see him before he went back to university. At 10 am, I texted again and asked if he was okay. I knew that if he had been admitted into hospital, I would have been contacted by now, so I was beginning to feel annoyed about being ignored by him.

I was in the bathroom at about 10.30 am, when I heard the front door open and then I heard student son's voice. I sighed with relief, realising that he must have been at his friend's house, after all, and he had obviously just walked home from there.

I went out onto the landing, leaning over the rail, at the top of the stairs, just in time to see my son taking off his t-shirt. I was puzzled by the fact that he had several round stickers on his chest and a sticking plaster in the crook of his right elbow. He glanced up at me, suddenly, and said 'Guess who spent the night in A and E, then?'

Odd Socks

2008-09-15T13:20:00.006+01:00

As I search through my sock drawer, I realise that I will have to wear odd socks, today. I bought 10 pairs, a few months ago, from Boots on a 2 for 1 offer. I bought them to wear with my jeans, to replace my old, black ones, which were beginning to wear thin. The new ones were all dark colours, but distinctly different. Some were black with grey toes and heels, some were grey, with a black pattern, some were black with a grey pattern. Even my husband would have noticed, if I'd mixed them up with his dark, plain man socks. Somehow, 2 of my distinctive socks have gone missing and today, I will have to wear a black one with a grey toe and heel and a grey one with a black pattern. I've been able to manage without wearing my odd socks, up until now, but my youngest son has gone back to university again, and without his dark clothes, I don't have enough dark washing to make up a load. I haven't got used to the idea, yet.

It's a sad time of year for a lot of mothers, whose sons or daughters are going off to university, leaving a gap behind them, which, somehow, can never be filled. It is my youngest son's second year at university, but I am finding his absence harder to deal with this year. My eldest son moved out 3 weeks ago and my middle son, as well as working 7 days a week, is now spending most of his time at his new girlfriend's house.

I always assumed that my 3 sons would leave home one at a time, over a period of a few years, as there is a gap of 6 years between the eldest and youngest, but, instead, they have gone over a period of a few weeks. Middle son and youngest son haven't moved out totally, of course, but it certainly feels that way, at the moment.

My husband and I helped my eldest son and his girlfriend to move into their rented house, which is about 30 minutes' travelling distance away from us, but we've heard very little from them since. They came over when we had a barbecue, a couple of weeks ago and we've taken some of eldest son's belongings over on a couple of occasions, but that's all that we've seen of them, so far. Eldest son became less and less comunicative when he reached adolescence, about 12 years ago, so, in recent years, I began to realise that, when he did finally move out, it was unlikely that he would bother too much about keeping in touch.

Suddenly, we have 3 spare bedrooms and the house, which was once full to overflowing with people and voices, is now mainly empty and still. When darkness falls, only a solitary room is illuminated in a house which once exploded with light, on the skyline.

I pull on my odd socks, go downstairs to the kitchen and switch on the radio. I turn the volume up a little louder than it needs to be, whilst I half fill the washing machine with dark clothing. I must go to Boots, later, to buy some more socks.

Sprung!

2008-08-12T21:27:00.010+01:00

I'm free, at last, and it's all thanks to you lot!

On hearing of my plight, as detailed in my last post, debra in france felt so sorry for me, that she kindly decided to instigate a rescue mission, as I languished helplessly in the Tower. It began with jules sending me a cake, containing a saw and a tiara. The cake was extremely tasty and I felt that the tiara was most becoming, having been designed by wakeupandsmellthecoffee, and spelling out the words 'Queen of Bloggers' in sparkling diamonds, or was it diamante?

Last night, after several weeks of working with the saw, I finally succeeded in sawing through the bars of my cell. I donned my tiara, so that, at first glance, I would appear rather regal and slipped past the guards, whilst they were busy sharing out the money, which rose had collected from you lot, in the vain hope that I would be granted bail. I quickly headed for the library, where dusty spider had assured me I would find a means of escape. Following her instructions, closely, I quickly located the book she mentioned by Buster Gut. Sure enough, as I twisted the book around, a secret door revealed itself and I found myself in a dark, dank tunnel. Feeling my way through the tunnel, whilst brushing spiders from my hair, I recalled dusty spider's warning, and narrowly avoided a couple of booby traps.

On emerging into the grounds, I bashed the first guard over the head, with my royal handbag, as suggested by suburbia, and headed for the gates. I soon spotted a second guard, but he was cunningly distracted by fire byrd (formerly known as bollinger byrd) falling over a couple of the royal corgis, whilst I ran behind him. I was able to slip past a third guard, as working mum presented him with a petition for my release.

The mother of this lot, having taken up her position knitting, under the pretence of awaiting my execution, strolled up to a fourth guard and used her powers of persuasion (honed by many years of living with the father of this lot) to talk him into allowing me to pass. A further 2 guards grabbed me, as I sped past them, but they were quickly frightened off by scrappy sue's shouts of 'Unhand her, you officious guards!' I finally ran through the gates just as my knight in shining armour, sent by aims, galloped into view.

A small pantomime followed as I tried to mount the horse. They're rather large, close to, aren't they? I'd never ridden a horse, before, of course. The only one I ever came across in the heart of the west midlands, where I spent the first 3 decades of my life, was the one who pulled the milkman's cart. Anyway, back to the plot!

Eventually, the knight in shining armour clambered down from his lofty position and gave me a bit of a 'bunk up'. This was a bit of a thrill, after my long, lonely weeks of incarceration. After a jolly exciting ride (tee hee!), I finally spotted my loyal and faithful friend, dusty spider, waiting for me, on the river, in her boat. She waved and beckoned me to hurry, but, suddenly, the knight lost control of his horse, who reared up, throwing me to the ground. The horse galloped away, with the knight clinging to his neck, as I lay, too exhausted and weak to move.

I became dimly aware of a figure, by the side of me, helping me to my feet. To my relief, I saw that it was robin. Her dogged determination had finally paid off. After several weeks of trying, she had at last succeeded, in obtaining a passport, booking a flight and finding a sitter for her children, so that she could help out with my rescue! Robin supported me, as I limped the last few yards to the boat. I stumbled aboard, as dusty spider started the engine and, with a quick wave to robin, we were finally heading for home. As dusty expertly steered the boat down the river, she explained to me that softinthehead had sent her apologies, because, in spite of a valiant effort, she had been unable to arrive in time to help with my rescue. I frowned, in a rather puzzled fashion, as I stared into the distance and spotted my knight in shining armour, riding into the sunset. He had resumed control of his horse and he appeared to have gained a female passenger, who was clinging to him rather too tightly, I thought. She reminded me of someone. Hmmm...

In no time at all, I was home and safe. A mother's place is in the wrong had led you all in prayers for my safe-keeping. They had been answered. I had kept my head and what's more, I was home in time to decorate the hall, stairs and landing before the winter set in. Hurrah!!

Since my return, I've been dabbling on Ebay, as suggested by suburbia. Anybody want to buy a tiara? It's got real diamonds - honest!

Any strangers visiting my site, should read the previous post and the comments associated with it, if they would like to gain a little insight into why and how the above post was constructed. I should warn them that the reason why, may still prove rather puzzling, however!

Awards At The Palace

2008-07-09T15:48:00.016+01:00

CENTRAL CHANCERY OF
THE ORDERS OF BLOGGERHOOD
Mean Mom's Palace, London SW1

9 July 2008

Queen Mean Mom is graciously pleased to signify her intention of conferring several honours of Bloggerhood upon her Favourite Bloggers. See list in sidebar for eligibility.

Welcome to the Palace! The Duke sends his apologies for his absence, but, as you can see from the Palace window, he has other other, rather pressing, matters to attend to, due to the Palace gardener being laid off with his lumbago!

The following awards have come into my possession, over the last few months:

The first (from left to right) was presented to me by the mother of this lot, the second by maggie may, the third and fourth by jules and the last one by liz and suburbia.

It gives me great pleasure, today, to bestow the awards on you, my favourite bloggers. Please accept any of the awards, which you do not already have, with my thanks for your services to the world of blogging.

The final award originated from Crystall at Memoirs of a Mommy, who has requested that anyone receiving the award should link it to this post on her site. I would be grateful if you could oblige.

I do so hope that you have all enjoyed your visit to the Palace, but I'm afraid that I will have to hurry you along, now, (before I'm discovered and arrested for impersonating a member of the Royal Family) as I have to walk the royal corgis, before peeling the royal potatoes for tea. Please do not forget to curtsey, or bow, as appropriate, before leaving quietly, via my private stairway, to avoid photographers. (Please leave quietly, by the fire escape, to avoid attracting attention to yourselves.)

Oh, no! There seems to be some sort of disturbance at the Palace gates and I hear footsteps thundering up the royal staircase!

Who are you? Unhand me! I am so not impersonating the Queen! Take your hands off my royal person and mind my tiara! I shall lose my deposit on that, if I don't get it back to the shop in one piece, by tomorrow! You're taking me where?

Who said 'Off with her head!'? Nobody's been beheaded in this country since 1747! (Never let it be said that my site isn't informative.)

What's up with you lot? The slightest mention of beheading and I can't see your backsides for dust. Where are you all going? Oh, you have to be on the front row, to get good photos on your mobiles? Oh, okay, then. See you there!

Could this be the end, for Mean Mom?

The Empty Nest

2008-06-28T18:32:00.027+01:00

The traffic was heavy and fast-moving along the busy road, as we slowed to turn into the arboretum. The gravel crunched beneath the tyres, as we drove through the tall, black, wrought iron, double gates into a contrasting world of peace and tranquility. It had been several years since we had last visited the arboretum and the large, stately cedar, situated close to the entrance was a forgotten, but welcome sight.

We parked the car and then headed in the direction of the old cedar tree, looking forward to the first sightings of peacocks and bluebells. I watched our 3 young sons, running ahead, chasing each other around the cedar's ample trunk. The peacocks' calls echoed all around us, as we walked towards the bluebell dell, and the boys continued to run in front, laughing and calling to one another. They bent down low, to run in and out of the accommodating, natural dens, formed by numerous, spreading, glossy-leaved rhododendrons. They hid behind large, reddish-brown, velvety trunks of giant sequoia and jumped out, in eager anticipation, whilst we were still nowhere near.

Eventually, in a grassy, sunny clearing, we came across a peacock, displaying its bejewelled tail, and even our young, excited sons stopped short, in awe of the exotic bird, slowly turning and shaking its glorious feathers. When we reached the magical, bluebell dell they were, once again, brought to a halt, by the enchanting sea of brilliant blue, which lay before them, still and undisturbed, bathed in dappled shade. We sat, for a few short minutes, on a nearby bench, whilst our 3 young boys ran to and fro, along the path in front of us, marvelling at their inexhaustible supplies of energy. Slowly, we walked back towards the large cedar, with the boys still running in front, stopping only occasionally, to pick up the odd fir cone from the ground.

In the car, once more, as we neared the wrought iron gates, I opened the window, to gaze past the large cedar. In the distance, I caught glimpses of our 3 young sons, still chasing each other around the tall, imposing trees. Their laughter was drowned by the mournful cries of the peacocks, cries which rose above the tallest branches, to escape into the clear, blue, vacant skies. I glanced into the empty back seat of the car, as we approached the busy main road, and I knew, in my heart, that my young family was lost to me, forever.

Apology

2008-06-25T15:47:00.003+01:00

Sorry about my absence from the blogging world, once more. I have a chest infection and I'm feeling very sorry for myself. I tend to be either coughing or sleeping, at the moment, but sometimes I am doing both! I will return!

A Dark Secret

2008-06-16T23:04:00.026+01:00

Have I attracted your attention?

Firstly, I would just like to apologise for my absence from the blogging world over the past few days. I've been forced into practising my word processing skills, so that I can apply for a job, which I need, but don't want. It's a hard life, sometimes, isn't it?

I was tagged by maggie may a few weeks ago. I had to have a think about it, as I found it a really difficult one to try and make into an interesting post. The requirement was to relate 6 things that you may not have known about me, but the things you don't know about me become fewer and fewer! Anyway, here goes:

1. I'm a miniaturist. For anyone who is not sure what that means, (and nowadays, when the word is used, it doesn't often refer to an artist who paints very small paintings) a miniaturist is interested in making and/or collecting items in a smaller scale. In my case, I mainly like to make, as opposed to collect, and I favour one twelfth scale. Miniatures are generally displayed in a cabinet, dolls' house, room box or vignette.

Many miniaturists tend to keep quiet about their interest, as it can still be regarded as mildly eccentric, by some, but it is a growing hobby and its popularity, amongst women, in the UK, is reputed to be second only to gardening! There are shops throughout the country, numerous internet sites, a large section on Ebay and fairs every weekend, in many different locations, where dolls' houses and miniatures are available.

Queen Mary's Dolls' House, on display at Windsor Castle, is probably the most famous dolls' house of all and, no doubt you have all heard of it and perhaps even seen it. You may be interested to know that the White House has been faithfully reproduced in miniature, over a period of 32 years and that the Royal Pavilion, in Brighton has also been treated in a similiar way.

2. I have a one twelfth scale dolls' house, which contains many miniatures I made myself.

3. My dolls' house has been featured in 2 magazines.

4. I made the vignette pictured below for my mother:

(Clicking on the pictures should enlarge them.)

The vignette is reminiscent of the living room, in the house where I grew up, which my parents moved from, only a few years ago. We were a working class family, so there was never much money to spare. We didn't have anything fancy and none of the furnishings were stylish, but it was a cosy, comfortable home, and we lived there very happily. Most of my mother's interests are represented in the vignette. She liked to sew and made most of my clothes, when I was a child. We always visited my grandparents on a Sunday afternoon and it wasn't unusual for her to make me an item of clothing, on a Sunday morning, to wear the same afternoon. This would often result in us going out later than intended and my father would get very frustrated with waiting around, as I'm sure you can imagine!

I can remember coming home from school, on many occasions, to find the living room covered in paper patterns and fabric, whilst my mother worked away industriously, on her old Singer sewing machine. She also enjoyed knitting and crochet and, when I was younger, putting together a jigsaw puzzle was often a family activity. I was fascinated by my mother's button tin, as a child, and this is also represented in the vignette. My parents both have a weakness for biscuits and a mug of tea must always be accompanied by the same, so this explains the presence of the tea and biscuits, on the table.

For many years, my mother and one of my aunties visited the local market, on a Wednesday afternoon, and returned with many 'bargains'. They would bring home an assortment of cheap items, which they wouldn't have wanted at their full price, but which became irresistible at a knock down price. They were teased mercilessly about their little outings, but they very much enjoyed themselves and the outings continued until my auntie's death. The 'Bargains' carrier is a reminder of those happy occasions.

I cut out the display from balsa board and a piece of green velvet represents the carpet. I scanned a piece of one twelfth scale wallpaper into the computer and printed out the picture onto a piece of fabric, which I then used to cover the back of the display. The picture on the 'wall' is one of our family photographs, which I reduced to an appropriate size, on the scanner, and then framed with one twelfth scale picture framing. Getting a miniature picture frame square, is always a nightmare, for me, as I invariably manage to cut one side a millimetre too long, or too short!

I made the chair and table from scratch, from my own patterns, but the spindles, for the table legs, were bought ready made. The pouffe is made from a piece of balsa wood, covered with a thin layer of foam and then fabric. I prised the sewing machine from a very cheap miniature of a treadle sewing machine and then inserted it into a piece of wood, to give an impression of my mother's favourite old Singer sewing machine. I made the work bag from my own pattern and then worked the knitting, in thread, on pins produced especially for miniature knitting. When the knitting was the desired length, I transferred it to dressmaker's pins, which make realistic one twelfth scale knitting pins. I also worked the crochet with thread, using a very fine hook. The crochet hook, displayed on top of the crochet was fashioned by me from Fimo clay.

I made the skirt pattern pieces on a desktop publishing program and then printed them out onto tissue paper, which first had to be sellotaped onto a piece of ordinary paper, before it could go through the printer. I also made the biscuit wrapper, the carrier bag, the jigsaw box and the tape measure on my desktop publishing program. I found the tiger picture, the envelope for the skirt pattern, (on the table) the knitting patterns and the crochet pattern on the internet, reduced them to one twelfth scale and printed them out. I used a fine pen to outline the pieces of jigsaw on the tiger picture. I bought a copy of each of my mother's favourite magazines, scanned them into my computer, reduced them to the appropriate size and then printed them out. The mug, biscuits and buttons were fashioned, by me, from Fimo clay and then painted with acrylic paint, followed by a coat of varnish. The mug is filled with scenic water, (a firm, rubbery, jelly-like substance, which is one part resin and re-meltable) which is coloured with acrylic paint. The scissors, button tin and the items inside the carrier bag were bought ready made.

5. I made a second vignette, pictured below, for a friend of mine. She enjoys knitting, cross stitch, baking cakes, buying and reading books, and card making. Each of her hobbies is represented in the vignette. The display is made in the same way as I described, before. I made the armchair from balsa wood, cardboard, thin foam and fabric, from my own pattern. I copied the table from a picture in an Argos catalogue. The knitting basket is made from tapestry canvas, shaped over a mould. The cushion is filled with salt, so that it can be realistically indented! I cross stitched the sampler on the 'wall' and framed it, once again, with great difficulty! I made the cake, small plate, cup and saucer from Fimo clay. The magazine covers and book covers were scanned into the computer and reduced to the appropriate size.

The small book, lying on the floor, was one which belonged to my friend and was lent to me. The larger card standing up, on the table, is a paper copy, which I scanned into the computer and reduced to size, from a full sized card, which my friend cross stitched for me. The Craft Creations magazine, lying on the table, is a card making magazine. A page of card making 'scraps' and a card 'blank' lie on top of the magazine. I made the carrier on my desktop publishing program. The glasses, fork, scissors, table legs and paper plate, on which the cake stands, were all bought items. The most difficult things to reproduce for this vignette were the embroidery silks. I have fairly small hands and fingers, but even my fingers were too large to wrap the paper labels around the embroidery silks!

6. Some of my miniatures, but not those pictured here, have been on display at 2 local dolls' house fairs.

There we are then! I hope you don't feel that you've found out things about me, which you would never have wished to know! My dark secret is that I am a miniaturist and it's something which some miniaturists would only ever admit to other known enthusiasts! There doesn't seem to be any in-between, as far as miniatures are concerned. People are either fascinated by them, or think they are 'naff' and pointless, so I've taken a chance with this post, and I can only hope that you've found it interesting and not too naff or pointless!

Party Report

2008-06-10T21:23:00.026+01:00

I had a fantastic time at my virtual birthday party, on Saturday! I hope that the rest of you enjoyed it, too! I confess that having the party was a bit of a last minute decision, which I made on the evening before my birthday. I realised that it was far too late to post an open invitation on my blog, so I decided to call in at the site of each person, who had commented on my blog, during the past month, as it seemed likely that they would be most interested in coming along, and leave an invitation. I only tend to post once a week, so I felt that this would be an achievable task.

I was halfway through my hurried preparations, however, when my student son rang to ask if we would be able to pick him up from the railway station, as he wanted to come home for the weekend. He was unable to get a direct train to the station closest to us, due to the late hour, so, 'to cut a long story short', the resulting journey, to a city we hadn't visited for years, took 3 hours out of my busy schedule!

I scheduled my party blog to publish at 6am on 7th June, but I was incredibly irritated, when I found out, a while later, that the post hadn't published, at all, and, in spite of my best efforts, I couldn't persuade it to do so. I didn't discover that it had finally published itself, until I published a second post, so I deleted the first one, in disgust! I don't understand what went wrong. The computer clock showed the correct time and agreed with the settings time in my blog. I set the publishing time correctly in my post. A third time setting must have controlled the situation from somewhere.

Another irritating thing I found, as usual, was that my spacing had disappeared, between paragraphs, after inserting the pictures. The spacing always appears perfectly in edit mode, but as soon as I publish the post, the spacing disappears. No amount of re-editing makes any difference. The final annoying thing was that, when I published the first 3 comments, mob's comment disappeared into cyberspace. I assume that this was because it had been attached to the first blog, which I had deleted! Anyway, enough moaning!

All other aspects of my birthday were great. I had lovely cards, telephone calls, presents and some very welcome cash. I went out for a very enjoyable meal, with my family, in the evening and, as those of you who were able to attend, already know, my virtual birthday party was an extremely lively event.

Frog brought along some wonderful food and delightful party bags, which she sells on her own website, incidentally. She drank far too much shandy, however, partly due to her uncontrollable excitement and partly due to some encouragement from milla, which resulted in a nasty attack of hiccoughs. Maggie may sent everyone sprawling, in her eagerness to reach the party food, but presented me with the cutest rat-in-a-box, for my birthday! The rat has made itself at home in my second best hat and, no doubt, we will soon be hearing the patter of tiny feet.

Blogthatmama beat off all defenders and managed to eat the whole of the pineapple from the top of the party jelly. I noticed, as she left the party, that she was carrying a hat which looked remarkably similar, to my own best hat. I was very pleased to receive a visit from lehners in france (Debs), but I noticed that she was also wearing a hat when she left, which she hadn't been wearing on her arrival.

Bollinger byrd proved to be a woman after my own heart, who loved to play with boys' toys and boys. I don't know which one of us was least contained, as we waited to play Spin the Bottle! Liz bought me a great birthday present, apparently, but it was so good that she took it home again, along with my prospective gardener, and I haven't caught sight of either of them since. I had no idea that he was a doctor and that she was a nurse, until she mentioned it, of course.

Working mum had a terrible reaction to the spam sandwiches. If she'd been born into a working class family, in the 50s, she would have been much more accomplished in the art of keeping them down, of course. A mother's place is in the wrong sang 'Happy Birthday' very tunefully and turned out to be a 'wow', when it came to jiving. She certainly doesn't need any lessons in putting jelly away, either!

Mob bought me a nice hula hoop and dealt expertly with the rude young lad, who pulled away her chair, as she was about to sit down, whilst we were playing Musical Chairs. We all admired her frilly knickers and we are hoping to buy the same style for ourselves from M&S, or was it Anne Summers? I couldn't help but notice that mob was sporting a new hat, on her departure. It bore a remarkable resemblance to my own. I did hear that there had been some sort of altercation between mob and Debs. It was something to do with a hat and mob getting jelly in her hair. Hmmm...... Wonder what that was all about?

Milla bought me a nice present. It was a remarkably familiar jewellery roll, wrapped in remarkably familiar birthday paper and she simply refused to remind me of the date of her next birthday, oddly enough. Rose tagged along with Liz and I was very pleased to see her, in spite of the din she made with her creaky knees. She had recently enjoyed an un-birthday, which could be a very interesting concept, I thought. After the age of say, 55, we could start subtracting a year, instead of adding one.

Auntiegwen bought me St Trinians DVDs for my birthday, which pleased me immensely, as Joyce Grenfell, an idol of mine, appeared in the original St Trinians films. Nora observed that none of the bloggers had behaved particularly well, during the party, which they didn't, of course, but they were extremely entertaining and certainly made the occasion memorable! Nora suggested frying up spam, in butter, to make it more enjoyable. If only my mother had known about that idea in the 50s.!

Robin brought along a little whine to the party. There was plenty of wine for everyone, but I was forced to run all the way to Tesco Express and back, to buy some ice cream to accompany her cake! I was very pleased when edward decided to come along to my party. He bought me some lovely candles, but, unfortunately, there weren't enough to put on my cake, even though he had found it necessary to hire a trailer to transport them.

I think I can safely say that aims was easily the most excited out of everyone. She was totally confused by Pin the Tail on the Donkey and I still don't know where she found the donkey. I haven't heard of anyone complaining of a missing donkey, around here, so far. I'm still cleaning up bits of cake, which she spread around everywhere, but at least she enjoyed herself. That's the main thing.

I was very relieved, in the end, that grit gave me perfume sludge for my birthday. It was definitely preferable to the funeral wreath, which is her other speciality, apparently. I didn't have to bother clearing away any of the leftover food, as she took most of it with her. She's certainly not backward in coming forward, as my mother often observes of people. Misskris startled me considerably, by turning up several hours early for the party. It's very easy to forget that some bloggers may be in different time zones. I was very pleased that she remembered to call back, however, and bring a birthday hug.

Suburbia arrived a little late and cheerfully polished off the remaining food. She helped me to eat the yummy chocolates which she had bought for ME, but we never found out who had taken her party bag, I'm afraid. Merry weather was too late for any food. She also bought some lovely chocolates with her and we partied, together, until the Hell's Angels turned up. I'm saving the story of what we got up to with the Hell's Angels for another time.

I was very pleased when mignon called in. She indulged in her favourite pastime of chasing the boys, but I'm relieved to say that, on this occasion, she only lost her sunglasses. Debra overdid it with the babychams and I'm still trying to get the stain out of the carpet. She very astutely realised that I must have been an Enid Blyton fan, in my youth, and bought me a set of Mallory Towers books for my birthday. I can't imagine what gave her the impression that I might still be an escapist!

Scrappysue was kind enough to call in and I'm pleased to report that she very much enjoyed herself, along with the party food, games and music. Wakeupandsmellthecoffee was too late for the party this year, unfortunately, but is determined to be in time for the next one. I'll have to make sure that she is. I am relieved to be able to say that frog kindly offered to email virtual party bags to maggie may and suburbia, after theirs mysteriously went missing.

Now.......... The only thing left to discuss seems to be the disappearance of my best hat. Do you remember some years ago, when the odd garden gnome would suddenly go missing from someones front garden and then send postcards to the house owners from all over the world? I have received the following postcards from my hat:

Dear Mean Mom
Having a great time, here in the UK. Enjoying good weather and great food. See you soon.
Love
Hat

Dear Mean Mom
Having a great time, here in France. Saw the Eiffel Tower, today and the weather's great. Eating lots of scrummy jelly.
Love
Hat

Dear Mean Mom
Having a great, relaxing time at this wonderful spa. May be home soon, though, because the money is running out!
Love
Hat

Thanks, once more, to everyone, who came along to my virtual party. I hope that I haven't offended anyone with this post. It certainly wasn't my intention! The commenting, on the party blog, outshone the post, as usual. but I don't mind in the least, being a showcase for your imaginative and inspired remarks. Any strangers calling by, who haven't a clue what's going on here, should see the previous post, the post entitled '1950s Virtual Birthday Party' and READ THE COMMENTS associated with both. I should warn you, however, that you may remain in a confused condition.

Here's to the next party! Please excuse me, now, whilst I go in search of a darkened room! I may be gone for some time!

Thank You Note

2008-06-09T14:06:00.009+01:00

Thanks so much to everyone, who was able to attend my virtual birthday party on Saturday! It was absolutely brilliant and the excitement was palpable! I was amazed by the response and I received some wonderful comments and virtual presents!

To anyone, who was unable to come, for whatever reason, I would just like to say that you were sadly missed and I do hope that you will be able to come along to the next one. Heavens, will there be another one? If there is, I must be better organised and I won't be risking bloggers' post scheduling, again, unless I can work out what went wrong, this time!

To any latecomers - don't be too shy to leave a comment on the party post. The party can continue for a few days, yet. This is the internet, after all!

I am working on the next post, but real life is getting in the way, a little, at the moment. Don't you just hate it, when that happens?

1950s Virtual Birthday Party

2008-06-07T06:48:00.013+01:00

Does anyone remember Joyce Grenfell? If you do, you will realise that this post has been inspired by her, to a certain extent.

Hi, girls and boys! Welcome to my 1950s birthday party! It doesn't matter if you don't have an invitation. Come on in and put your presents on the hall table. Now, I'm sorry, but you can't come in if you haven't brought a present! What? None of you have brought a present? Okay, then, just leave a tenner, in my best hat, on the hall table, as you leave.

It's great to see you girls in your lovely, nylon party frocks and you boys in your short trousers, and shirts and ties. The last time I saw legs like that, they had sparrows attached to them! No, you all look very smart, really. Right, let's sit over here, for a few minutes, whilst we play Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Who's that crying already? You're supposed to be pinning the tail on the picture of the donkey, on the wall, not on one of my favourite bloggers! Well, it's very rude of you to say that you thought she looked like a donkey. What a naughty blogger you are! Now, you can put that away! It's not polite to do that, either!

Right, let's have a game of musical chairs! You know what to do. When the music stops, sit on a chair and the one left without a chair is out.......... Now, who moved that chair, just as my favourite blogger was about to sit on it? Don't cry, dear! I'm sure that nobody saw your frilly knickers, when you fell on the floor. Well, he may have said that he did, but I know that he didn't. He's just teasing. I don't know who you are, young man, but I've told you that it's very rude to do that. Now, put it away!

Okay, let's have a nice quiet game of Sleeping Lions, before tea. Everybody lie down and keep still! Goodness me! What a lot of grunting, groaning and creaking! Is everybody down yet ? First one to fidget is out............... You're very quiet and still! It hadn't occurred to me, before, but it's much easier to keep quiet and still, when you're older, isn't it?

Okay, it's been 10 minutes, now, since anybody moved. WAKE UP! Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to startle you! Yes, alright, you can all have a prize.

Let's have something to eat, now! Follow me to the table and sit down quietly! There are some empty seats at the table. Who's missing? The older bloggers? Oh, here they come! They couldn't get up off the floor, but they've managed to drag themselves along on their arthritic elbows. That's it! Haul yourselves up and collapse on your chairs. Alright, don't forget to grunt, as you sit down! Oh, you didn't! That's good!

Now, we've got jam, salmon and spam sandwiches and cheese straws. Then, there's biscuits, cake, jelly and blancmange. There's Corona and Tizer pop to drink. What about your teeth? Oh, I see. Well, we didn't bother about teeth in the 50s. did we? We either had them filled, or we had them removed.

No fighting over the spam sandwiches, please! DON'T toss the bread to one side, after you've licked off the jam! The cheese straws are for eating, not for treading into the carpet! Young man, I don't want to have to tell you again. Put that away, please!

Will you 2 bloggers stop fighting and jostling my elbow? If I miss my mouth with this jelly, once more, I shall give you both a Chinese burn! Now, who's flicking blancmange up the walls? Okay, that's enough! Young man, I'm tired of telling you! Put that tongue back in your mouth, immediately!

Let's have a game of Pass the Parcel! Where did I put that parcel? Ah, here it is.

Now, girls, what are you up to? The boys don't want to play Kiss Chase! Why have you tied their legs together? Well, I can see that they've got no chance of getting away, but that's not fair, is it? Actually, who's that young, dark, handsome, muscular chap? Okay, untie all of them, except for him. I'm still looking for a gardener!

Whew, I'm exhausted! I can't do Pass the Parcel, until I've had a proper drink. There's some shandy in the kitchen........... Aaargh! Don't trample on me! Whatever is wrong with all of you?

Okay, I can't see much, yet, but I'm coming round, now. HOW DID I GET THAT MUDDY FOOTPRINT IN THE MIDDLE OF MY FACE?

Right, there's just time for a quick game of Hide and Seek, before you have to go home! Oh, you're already hiding, from the look of it..............

Okay, I've been looking for a few minutes, now, but I can't find anybody. Even my prospective gardener has managed to slip away. All I've found, so far, is a pile of empty bottles in the kitchen. Ah, here's a couple of birthday presents I must have missed! That's so nice! Some perfume sludge from grit, a jewellery roll from milla and a French stick, from debra. I can't see any difference between this French stick, and an English stick, to be honest. It looks like one of those that might have been lying around in my front garden! Thanks a lot, ladies! I'll save the perfume for the next time I go to a garden party, at The Palace, I'll keep the jewellery roll at the bottom of my deepest drawer and I'll use the stick to stop my cosmos falling over, in the summer storms.

Right, there's just the hall to check out now. At least I should have plenty of cash, in my hat, on the hall table. Okay, WHERE'S MY BEST HAT?

The Cautious Blogger

2008-06-03T21:43:00.009+01:00

Warning: This post contains some slightly saucy references!

Do I have your attention, by any chance?

I was a careful and cautious blogger when I first set up my site. I was inspired, by Wife in the North, as many of us were, when I read an article about her, in a magazine. I loved essay writing, as a youngster (This explains why most of my posts are so long, then!) and decided that writing again, on a blog, might be rewarding and fun.

I searched through loads of sites, looking for some blogging friends. I found plenty of abandoned sites, a few others which had been filled up with spam, a lot which didn't seem to want visitors, and some, with so many buttons and bells, that I could hardly find the content. Whilst searching for some 'down to earth' bloggers, that I could have a laugh with, it is true to say that I came across quite a few bloggers with their heads firmly stuck up their own arses. I avoided them. It was bad enough, sometimes, being forced to deal with them in the course of my ordinary life, without seeking them out on the Internet!

Eventually, I found a few people through Wife in the North's blogroll and comments. I remained cautious, however. I wanted to try and avoid problems, if possible. I made sure that my comments were monitored, and that no-one had the opportunity to fill up my site with spam. I didn't venture very far, from my little corner.

After an enforced break, of a few months, due to illness and Christmas preparations, I resumed posting and became a little bit braver. I linked to a few more people and commented on a few more sites. You could say that I 'put myself about a little bit more'! The traffic, on my site, increased a little and I began to take some interest in Site Meter, which I had installed, not long after starting my blog. I soon discovered that the searches were the most interesting section of the stats! I was amazed to discover what people searched for on the Internet. I was also amazed, sometimes, that Google, or whatever search engine, threw up my site as being relevant! I could see, however, that the reason why my site appeared on so many questionable searches, was due to the 'middle-aged mom' portion of the title. Who would have thought it? Not me, that's for sure!

I wish, now, that I had kept a record of all of the funny searches, which appeared on my Site Meter, but, unfortunately, I didn't, so I can only share a few of the most recent ones with you. I suppose I should say, at this point, that anyone who has visited my site, due to a questionable search, should not panic. I can't trace you and wouldn't wish to, to be honest! The following searches have been listed on my Site Meter, over the past few weeks:

moms open wide
hot over-aged moms
middle aged hot mommies
middle age women photos rough (My site was on page 2, of that one. I can't be that rough, then.)

The most common search I've found, routinely, has been for 'aged mom', which may not be particularly remarkable, in itself, but I've found it in various languages, which has baffled me, to a certain extent. I've found this particular search on Google in French, Spanish, Japanese, some sort of Arabic language and 2 languages, which I couldn't even recognise. Whenever I see the page for 'aged mom' appear, I try very hard not to look at the description of the first site on the page, even though my eyes are oddly drawn towards it! It's a bit of a shocker and I keep my cursor well away from it, just in case! If you are of a sensitive nature, I don't think you should look, at all, to be honest! If you are curious, search Google for 'aged mom'. It should be a web search, as opposed to a UK search. No clicking on that first site and don't forget to come back! Bad bloggers!

Some other searches have appeared on Site Meter, where I couldn't see my site mentioned, so I can only assume that it was mentioned several pages further on. These have included:

aged big moms
I have a crush on a patient's mother
mommy beach pee blog
middle aged hot and wet
naked, middle-aged females

All I can say, is that I must have had more disappointed visitors than I could ever have anticipated!

I once found my entire blog, translated into French, using Google Translate, I assumed. I only studied French for about 18 months, so I've no idea how close a translation it was. The title was Moody Moyenne D'Age Moyen Maman. Maybe my posts made more sense in French!

I also found a search from blogged.com and bloguzz.com, which turned out to be a Spanish site, with a section of English blogs. Each blog had a rated page and a graph, but it meant nothing to me, because I couldn't understand it! I was slightly disturbed, however, to find that the post featured on my index page was the one entitled My Best Side, which showed a photo' of me, bending over in the garden. Oh, dear! The careful and cautious blogger, who was under the impression that she was, somewhat quietly, blogging away in her little corner, suddenly became aware that pictures of her bottom could well be appearing all over the world. Hmmm .......

It's all my own fault, of course, and I don't really mind sharing my best backside photo' with the rest of the world. After all, it's a comical one, not a pornographic one, and I don't think that anyone would ever recognise me, from that angle! They wouldn't would they?

Anyway, how about you? Do you have Site Meter, or anything similar? Have you found any searches, which made you laugh, or gasp with horror? I would love to know!

Blogless Days

2008-05-27T22:06:00.013+01:00

I'm sorry that I've neglected my blogging duties over the past few days, but not one person has requested an application form for any of the job opportunities, which I advertised in my last post! I can't imagine why not! Most of the vacancies were aimed at women and most of the people visiting my blog, are female, as far as I know. I'm beginning to doubt that any of you are used to working for low pay, or no pay!

Unfortunately, I left it rather late to advertise for help. I have to admit that, over the last few months, my blogging habit has resulted in a backlog of household chores. I've caught the bedclothes trying to make their own way to the laundry basket, on more than one occasion, just recently. The cobwebs, hanging from the ceiling, in our house, have been as thick as jungle vines, but they've come in very handy for swinging over the mountainous piles of ironing, which have taken on lives of their own, lately, continually running around the house in an endless search for the ironing board and iron. The garden has become so overgrown that family members are afraid to venture into it, without taking a precautionary packed lunch and thermos. It became necessary, therefore, for me to start catching up with the backlog of my own chores, over the past few days.

On the first day, I tackled some of the washing, which I had hoped to leave to the laundress. This included my poor, cream jumper, which had been in soak for a fortnight, since I dropped chocolate cake and raspberry coulis down the front of it, whilst visiting a local cafe, with one of my friends. It was an extremely pleasant surprise to find that my favourite jumper hadn't rotted away, but was, once again, stain-free. Hooray for Stergene Handwash! Complimentary goods to the usual address, please.

The next day, I forced myself to act as companion to one of my other friends, as she wished to visit a nearby ornamental garden and plant centre. My clean jeans were still wet, an hour before she was due to arrive, so I had to light the gas fire to dry them off. When the doorbell rang 50 minutes later, I was wearing my damp jeans, but still ironing the creases out of my newly-washed t-shirt. My friend was quite bemused, when I explained why my house was as hot as the devil's kitchen. She was obviously the sort of person who habitually went to bed at 10pm, got up at 6am and had all of her chores done, by the time some of us were still trying to force open our eyes, and find our way to the bathroom, with the vain hope of avoiding a full-length sprawl on the landing, in the process. She couldn't understand how I could be so disorganised!

We set off a mere 15 minutes later than intended, for the gardens and plant centre, where I was compelled to enjoy myself, throughout the whole of the day, admiring the beautiful borders, having lunch in the cafe, enthusing over the handmade items in the craft gallery and buying new additions for my own garden, in the plant centre. It was incredibly hard work and all for no financial reward! I have to confess that I overspent a little, in the plant centre, however!

The following morning, I had to meet some of my friends for coffee and then, whilst doing my own shopping, in the supermarket, a duty I had intended to leave to my newly-appointed cook, I picked up some flowers, for another friend, and walked to her house, to deliver them in person. My husband and I had enjoyed a lovely meal at her house, a few days before, so I wanted to take her some flowers as a thank you. I drank more coffee with my friend, forgetting to visit the loo before leaving her house, so I very much regretted that I hadn't worn my new, stylish, easy to wear, discreet and comfortable tena pants, that day, as I sprinted the last few yards of my journey home!

For the next 4 days, it was necessary for me to work in my own garden, as there had been no interest, whatsoever, in the gardening position I advertised in my last post. At the end of the first, long day of my gardening duties, I noticed that my right knee was quite painful, and after a lot of probing, I eventually removed the half-inch thorn, which had spitefully pierced my flesh at some time during the day. I searched, in vain, for some antiseptic cream to apply to my wound, but I suddenly recalled that my eldest son was away for the night and I realised that he had most probably taken the cream with him, to apply to his newly-tattooed, right, upper arm. DON'T GO THERE! By the next morning, the condition of my knee appeared to have worsened, the area surrounding the site of the puncture, appearing red and hot to the touch. I limped around, nobly, for the next 3 days, continuing with my unpaid gardening duties, regardless of the pain and discomfort!

I couldn't work on any of my embroidery projects over the last week, due to a recurring problem with my eyes, but I was able to catch up with a lot of my cleaning and ironing. The direct result of my busy week, therefore, is that I am 'laid up' on the sofa, suffering, exhausted and whimpering softly. I regret to report that I contracted pneumonia from wearing my damp jeans, at the beginning of the week, which turned into double pneumonia, by the time I had spent 4 days working, stripped to the waist, in the garden, towards the end of the week. I can hardly straighten up, because of my aching muscles and I'm suffering from septicaemia, due to the thorn which pierced my right knee.

Okay, so I may have exaggerated my ailments, just a little, but my frequent suffering has served to convince me that full-time blogging is definitely a safer and, on the whole, a more desirable option, for the mean, moody middle-aged woman, than life in the real world. After all, I've never found it necessary to wear damp clothes, never had to admit to any of my friends that I'm totally disorganised, never overspent, never come so close to sullying my clean undergarments, never suffered aching muscles, exhaustion, or had a thorn go into my knee, due to blogging on my computer. From now on, it's definitely going to be a blogger's life for me!

Job Vacancies

2008-05-18T20:18:00.004+01:00

The following job vacancies have arisen in the Mean Mom household, due to her desire to take up blogging on a full-time basis.

Job Title: Cleaner
Hours: Morning till night
Salary: None
Duties: To include cleaning of all rooms, within a 4 bedroom family residence, paying particular attention to bathroom and toilet areas, where it will be necessary to shovel up short, curly hairs, at regular intervals, throughout the day. Full protective clothing, including face-masks, will be provided during fumigation of younger adults' bedrooms.
Ref: 1cl

Job Title: Cook
Basic Hours: 28 per week, but must also be on call from 7.30pm until 12am, each evening, to cater for latecomers.
Salary: None
Duties: Planning and providing nutritious meals for a family of 4/5 adults, some of whom have a list of allergies, likes and dislikes as long as your arm. Applicants must have experience of slaving over a hot stove for hours on end, only to be informed that the resulting dish resembles a plateful of vomit or diarrhoea.
The successful applicant will also be responsible for washing-up, stock control, ordering provisions and budgeting. Other duties will include running up to the 24 hour Tesco Express, without pausing for breath, when the tomato sauce unexpectedly runs out, in the middle of a fish and chip supper, on a wet Monday evening.
Ref: 1co

Job Title: Laundress
Qualifications: Diploma in miraculous removal of unidentifiable stains down front of personal clothing
Hours: 14 per week
Salary: None
Duties: The successful applicant will bear full responsibility for all of the day to day washing and ironing of personal clothing, and household linen, appertaining to a family of 4/5 adults. Applicants must be willing to make themselves available, every Friday and Saturday night, to wash, dry and iron favourite items of clothing, belonging to any of the younger family members, within a five minute time span, should the need arise.
Ref: 1la

Job Title: Gardener, females and over 30s need not apply
Qualifications: Applicants must be tall, dark, handsome, strong and worth a second glance, when naked from the waist up.
Hours: Endless from June to October
Salary: None
Duties: Mowing of grass, weeding, general maintenance of flower borders and small pond. Framework of shrubs, in the main garden, and mixed hedge, at the side of the residence, must be trimmed, day and night, throughout the growing season, in order to control their height and spread.
Ref: 1ga

Job Title: Embroiderer
Hours: Disproportionate to salary
Duties: Must have vast experience of completing half-finished projects, previously abandoned in desperation, to the highest standards. Successful applicants must not lose heart, during the 12 month waiting period, which sometimes applies before publication of successful projects.
Ref: 1em

Job Title: Counsellor, live-in
Hours: Must be on call day and night
Salary: None
Duties: The successful applicant will be responsible for the mental well-being of 3 young males, aged 19-25 years, associated girlfriends and most recent ex-girlfriends, one middle-aged male, suffering a mid-life crisis and manopause, and a mean, moody, middle-aged, menopausal female.
Ref: 1co

Job Title: Personal middle-aged escort, males need not apply
Hours: Evenings and weekends
Salary: None
Duties: Conversing and watching tv with middle-aged male, also accompanying him on outings varying from cinema visits and cheap meals out, to country walks. Successful applicant must be prepared to provide 'extras', as and when required, but the charging of fees will not be permissible.
Ref: 1pe

Job Title: Companion
Hours: Up to 10 per week
Salary: None
Duties: To include meeting up with a mean, moody, middle-aged mother's friends for coffee, lunches, garden visits, walks and the occasional theatre visit. The successful applicant will be required to answer the telephone, or gossip with friends and family, several times a week, for periods of no less than 30 minutes at a time. Some emailing will be necessary. Applicants must also be willing to travel, in order to spend time with relatives in various parts of the country.
Ref: 1com

Job Title: Personal carer, live-in
Hours: 24 per day
Salary: None
Duties: To carry out non-nursing tasks for a mean, moody, middle-aged mother, who must remain on her typist's chair, due to a blogging compulsion. Tasks will include assistance with eating and drinking, sponging on chair, dressing/undressing, hair care and toileting. The successful applicant will also be responsible for personal shopping. Applicants must have experience of endless tea-making, with loose tea, and will be required to sleep for 8 hours a night on behalf of the client.
Ref: 1pc

Job Title: Painter
Hours: Morning till night, for the occasional week only, anytime from June to September
Salary: None
Duties: Washing-down, sanding, polyfilling and painting various rooms, within a 4 bedroom residence. Applicants must have wide experience of watching influential, property presentation tv programmes, such as House Doctor, and some experience of painting with cream paint. The successful applicant must not find it soul-destroying, when pristine, newly-painted walls are spoiled by mysterious black marks and small chips in the plasterwork, within a few minutes of completion.
Ref: 1pa

Application forms for any of the above vacancies are obtainable from Mean Mom. Closing date for applications is 30/05/08.

Oh, Silly Meme!

2008-05-12T13:28:00.007+01:00

Grit laid down the gauntlet, a few days' ago, when she tagged me with the mother of all memes. I was daunted for at least a few seconds, but then a wicked gleam came into my eye, and suddenly, I found myself hurtling along the path to self-destruction!

1. Do you like blue cheese?
I love Stilton, but I also love to fit into my jeans, so I only eat it at Christmas. I have an iron will and no money to buy jeans in a larger size.

2. Have you ever smoked heroin?
Is the emphasis on smoked here? Well, no, then.

3. Do you own a gun?
Several. My favourite is the sawn-off shotgun, which is a very effective deterrent against Npower doorstep salesmen.

4. What flavor do you add to your drink?
Yorkshire loose tea.

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?
No. I am menopausal. I tell my GP what is wrong with me. I tell him what I want. He types up a prescription, for me, I leave the surgery and he lives to see his wife and family again, at the end of the day.

6. What do you think of hot dogs?
I think that they should have been born with the intelligence to move into the shade.

7. Favorite Christmas movie?
Holiday Inn (1942). The frenzied excitement of getting to sing along with Bing Crosby in the song 'White Christmas', on 2 separate occasions, hardly ever fails to make me wet my pants.

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
Tea, if I polished off all of the vodka the night before.

9. Can you do push ups?
At my age, I can't afford to waste the time necessary to 'get down', in order to be in the appropriate position to 'push up'.

10. Are you thinking about someone else, right now?
Yes, the person who devised this questionnaire, strangely enough.

11. What's your favourite piece of jewelry?
My engagement ring. It has a diamond and 6 sapphires and it didn't come from Argos. It was made by a member of the family, who was, and still is, a bona fide jewellery maker.

12. Favorite hobbies?
Smoking, swearing, drinking, gambling, injecting hard drugs and embroidery.

13. Phrase you use most often?
It was just a joke, honestly, it was!

14. Do you have A.D.D?
Sorry, did you say something? I was just distracted for a moment, there.

15. What's one trait you hate about yourself?
Shyness. It's ridiculous in a woman of my age.

16. Middle name?
I will never divulge my middle name. You can kidnap my hairdresser and hide my hairdryer, but I will never tell. I kept it secret from my lads for 15 years, before they finally tricked my mother into giving the game away.

17. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment:
Now that you've put me on the spot, my mind's gone blank. I can't think of any thoughts.

18. Name 4 things you bought yesterday.
Soda crystals for my drains.
Apple crumble for my tummy.
Hand wash liquid for my delicate clothes.
Wine for my husband.
I'll try not to get them mixed up, this time.

19. Next vacation?
One day, hopefully, when eldest son has moved out, middle son has finished his apprenticeship and student son reverts to being a son. Eldest son went to America, last year, and the younger 2 are off to America, in August. Something doesn't add up, somewhere.

20. Current worry?
In the singular??? Every member of my close family, including my elderly parents.

21. Current hate right now?
Memes.

22. Favorite place to be?
My padded cell. It's so safe, cosy and windowless.

23. How did you bring in the New Year?
The same way as for the last 7 or 8 years. My husband's family joined us for a barbecue, in the evening and we had fireworks at midnight. In fact, this year, we were still cooking in the garden, at midnight and it was warm enough to have the patio doors open!

24. What'd you get for your birthday?
I haven't had a birthday since the year that there were too many birthday candles to fit on the birthday cake.

25. Name 3 people who will complete this.
Pass. I don't know any blogging insomniacs, who need something to help them to 'drop off' in the early hours. If any happen to be reading this, however .............. Oh! Too late! They've all dropped off.

26. Do you own slippers?
No. I don't like my feet to be constantly restricted. I buy cheap beach sandals from Primark, 4 pairs at a time, in the summer, so that I have enough to last me through the winter.

27. What shirt are you wearing?
I always blog topless.

28. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?
I've never tried them, but I suspect I would slip out of bed, every time I tried to turn over. You would be lucky to find any satin sheets, these days, I think. Anyone putting 'satin look' polyester sheets on their bed, wouldn't be intending to do much sleeping on them, I suspect.

29. Can you whistle?
I can, believe it, or not! I have perfected the long, slow wolf whistle and I like to use it, when eyeing up nice young men from behind, in the High Street. When they turn around, they never suspect me, in a million years.

30. Favourite colors?
Black, navy blue, cerise.

31. Would you be a pirate?
No. The bandana would play havoc with my current hairstyle and the breeches aren't very flattering for a woman of my age. The parrot on the shoulder sounds like fun, though.

32. What songs do you sing in the shower?
I know all of the songs, off by heart, from the Joni Mitchell album, 'Blue' and I sing as many of them as possible, whilst in the shower, with the bathroom window open. Don't you wish that you lived next door to me?

33. Favorite girl's name?
Plum. I just love all of these modern girls' name, don't you? Peaches, Apple, Moon Unit, Chastity etc. Will the names still seem suitable, when the females concerned are in their 80s, though? If I'd had a daughter, I might have called her Plum and she could then have changed her name to Prune, as soon as it seemed appropriate. It would also work with the name Grape, which could later become Raisin, but what could you call your daughter, Chastity, when she was obviously no longer chaste?

34. Favourite boy's name?
My 3 sons have my 3 favourite boys' names and one of those is my favourite boy's name.

35. What's in your pocket right now?
The only thing I wear, when blogging, is my glasses. Have I never mentioned that, before? Where are you all going? Don't you want to read the rest, then?

36. Last thing that made you laugh?
Victoria Wood performing at the Royal Albert Hall. I watched it on Sky, very recently. Her stand up routines are inspired, I feel. Not so keen on Dinner Ladies, though.

37. Best bed sheets as a child?
Certainly not those Bri-Nylon ones that my mother loved so much.

38. Worst injury you've ever had?
Grit's reply to this one reminded me that it would have been my episiotomy, when I had my eldest son. It took such a long time for the midwife to prepare to do the stitching, that the feeling had returned to the area concerned, by the time she started. It was 10 times worse than the labour and took almost as long. The nurse held my hand and I almost broke her fingers.

39. Do you love where you live?
I love the house and its position. I would wish for nosier neighbours. Can neighbours ever be too nosy? Never, in my opinion.

40. How many tvs do you have in your house?
Planning a burglary? We have 5.

41. Who is the loudest friend you have?
****. She knows who she is!

42. How many dogs do you have?
None. We wouldn't want to upset our 3 cats, who, incidentally, have the intelligence to move into the shade, when they get too hot lying in the sun.

43. Does someone have a crush on you?
Yes. I've managed to attract the attention of the 95 year old billionaire, with a heart condition, who lives a few doors away. How have I managed to attract his attention? You mind your own business. All I've got to do now, is persuade him to change his will.

44. What is your favorite book?
How To Succeed At Blogging by N. O'Comments. I've read it several times, from cover to cover. It's been an inspiration.

45. What is your favorite candy?
I haven't eaten candy since I was in primary school.

46. Favorite Sports Team?
I suppose the England cricket team, since I discovered Flintoff and Monty Panesar.

47. What song do you want played at your funeral?
Agadoo by Black Lace. The wearing of tasteless shirts and soft leather-look pvc trousers will be optional, but joining in with the dance will be compulsory. No tears, please. I want to look down, or maybe up, if I go to the other place, and see everyone dancing in the aisles.

48. What were you doing at 12am last night?
Blogging - wasn't everyone?

49. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up?
I'd have tom cat's b******s, for waking me, yet again, by scratching up the carpet outside the bedroom door, if the vet hadn't already beaten me to it.

What's happened to number 50, then? What sort of questionnaire has an odd number of questions?

Okay. That's it, then. Have I gone too far, again? Are the blogging police coming to arrest me, or the meme police, or the men in white coats? Not all of them, surely? You're not going to delete my blog, are you? It was just a joke, honestly, it was!