Metamorphosis!

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!

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!

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

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

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!

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

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?