Ever had one of those days?
You know those days, when you have just a few things planned and it just snowballs to a million different things that you need to do, or that require your attention?
Well, I am having one of those today. Which, to be fair, is mildly better to the pants day I had yesterday...pants, pants, pants...
...nuff said, I think.
So back to today.
Since returning from work I have done all the usual things that I needed to do...cook dinner for hobbits, prepare lunch for one hobbit tomorrow who is going on a school trip, washing up, washing the clothes, folding the washing...blah blah blah...my life is truly exciting, did I mention?
I also have had some paperwork to do for tomorrow, so have had two iPad's open and was intermittently dipping in to them, to ensure my clients are up to date...and no, not clients as in a little black book.
I called a friend, twice....I have had a big burly man turn up at my door with my car, valeted and returned, paperwork to sign...I have to say that was my biggest blow, the thought that I now have to return the lovely gadget filled rental car...
And finally...Sky ringing me. Testing the telephone line. Really? Now? I have unscrewed little boxes, plugged telephones into different boxes just to see what this fault on my line actually is. Anyone who has ever had a conversation with me on my landline will testify that my line is pants...
The lovely James from Sky was very helpful and apologised for all of the inconvenience, but these tests were necessary to ensure that I didn't get a big bill from the BT man who is coming on Saturday. However he did have me doing all manner of things to test this line, and at one point I did mention to him that I was rapidly going off him and after our brief relationship had started so well!!!
Nevertheless I do now have the movie package for the inconvenience. So, finally I can get back to my paperwork, but quite frankly I have lost my enthusiasm...after spending an evening with so much going on it felt like I was in the middle of Grand Central Station, I might just eat my way through a packet of Jaffa Cakes and watch a film instead....hmmmm....full moon, half moon, crescent...gone.
Thursday, 28 February 2013
Wednesday, 27 February 2013
Up and running...
Ok...the new blog is up and running...
It is in early stages of preparation, but hey, I am fairly sure that you have enough on here to read without reducing yourself to a double dose of me on another blog...
Not sure where I am going with it yet, so will let it develop naturally...and if you want to find it, I am fairly sure it won't take you long.
Laters :-)
It is in early stages of preparation, but hey, I am fairly sure that you have enough on here to read without reducing yourself to a double dose of me on another blog...
Not sure where I am going with it yet, so will let it develop naturally...and if you want to find it, I am fairly sure it won't take you long.
Laters :-)
Blending in...
One of my all time favourites quotes is from a film called The Blues Brothers...you may know it...
"It's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses...hit it!"
Well this evening, in my car it went something along the lines of, "it's fourteen miles to the concert, we've got half a tank of diesel, a pack of chewing gum, it's dark...and we're wearing tena lady...hit it."
Not quite as cool as wearing a black trilby and dark sunglasses, but we were gonna be needing those tena lady's by the end of the evening...alas we aren't getting any younger.
We have just spent the last couple of hours moshing in the pit to Example. Poor J really didn't know what to make of it all, as the crowd surged when he came on.
"Why are those boys taking their shirts off?" She exclaimed.
"For our entertainment." Said Pootle, "just enjoy."
It was like a heavy drug filled night in Ibiza, but a sober one in cold Brighton...however, nevertheless we have bounced like the rest of the kids, and moshed when moshing was required. We have worked off several hundred calories, and we all limped back to the car at the end of the night.
The best bit of the night, was a young lad trying to impress a few young girlies by chatting to J, and them hoisting her up on his shoulders so she could see Example in all his glory.
"Not quite sure why they thought it would impress the girls," J said happily, she has never been on anyone's shoulders at a concert so it was a bit of a life moment.
However, her excitement didn't last long when one of the girls turned round and said, "they thought you were our mothers."
Oh god...really? Did she have to say that?
It really did feel like we'd been thrown back to our younger teenage years, and Pootle swore that she saw the police swoop in on a drug deal happening in the corridor.
"God, they are only young...maybe it wasnt drugs...maybe they were sharing a bag of minstrels?" She suggested.
Yeah, I can see it now...'hey you, sniff...yeah er, got any minstrels? Yeah, you know the stuff...melts in your mouth but not in your hand...'
What the hell, we have given it our best shot and kept up with the crowd...we didn't even flinch when the beer throwing contest got us covered.
Example was truly excellent; and if going to see him means I have to stand out in a crowd as a member of SAGA...what the hell, you only live once.
"It's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses...hit it!"
Well this evening, in my car it went something along the lines of, "it's fourteen miles to the concert, we've got half a tank of diesel, a pack of chewing gum, it's dark...and we're wearing tena lady...hit it."
Not quite as cool as wearing a black trilby and dark sunglasses, but we were gonna be needing those tena lady's by the end of the evening...alas we aren't getting any younger.
We have just spent the last couple of hours moshing in the pit to Example. Poor J really didn't know what to make of it all, as the crowd surged when he came on.
"Why are those boys taking their shirts off?" She exclaimed.
"For our entertainment." Said Pootle, "just enjoy."
It was like a heavy drug filled night in Ibiza, but a sober one in cold Brighton...however, nevertheless we have bounced like the rest of the kids, and moshed when moshing was required. We have worked off several hundred calories, and we all limped back to the car at the end of the night.
The best bit of the night, was a young lad trying to impress a few young girlies by chatting to J, and them hoisting her up on his shoulders so she could see Example in all his glory.
"Not quite sure why they thought it would impress the girls," J said happily, she has never been on anyone's shoulders at a concert so it was a bit of a life moment.
However, her excitement didn't last long when one of the girls turned round and said, "they thought you were our mothers."
Oh god...really? Did she have to say that?
It really did feel like we'd been thrown back to our younger teenage years, and Pootle swore that she saw the police swoop in on a drug deal happening in the corridor.
"God, they are only young...maybe it wasnt drugs...maybe they were sharing a bag of minstrels?" She suggested.
Yeah, I can see it now...'hey you, sniff...yeah er, got any minstrels? Yeah, you know the stuff...melts in your mouth but not in your hand...'
What the hell, we have given it our best shot and kept up with the crowd...we didn't even flinch when the beer throwing contest got us covered.
Example was truly excellent; and if going to see him means I have to stand out in a crowd as a member of SAGA...what the hell, you only live once.
Tuesday, 26 February 2013
Forrest Gump...
My friend H is very wise.
I have known her just under three years and I have always respected and valued her opinion.
Alas I don't get much of a chance these days to see her, but we keep in touch as much as we can and today she and I caught up during my lunchbreak over coffee and panini's.
She has a gorgeous baby who is now nearly eight months old, and looks the spitting image of her mummy.
H has been through a lot in her years, hence the reason I respect her opinion. She is the one who told me to filter through advice as people will always give you the advice that is pertinent to them and their life experiences, and consequently it may not always be the right advice for you at the time.
However, today she told me something that her dad told her and it has always stuck in her head.
She said,"you know there is never just one person for another person. There is no such thing as a soulmate, there are choices."
I was glad to hear this to be honest, because all this recent talk about about soulmates was beginning to get on my nerves quite frankly. (Sorry to the man in Peru and Pootle! :-D)
H went onto say that she is with her partner and future husband for a reason, it is her choice to be with him and that makes her feel quite empowered. However, she knows that there are other choices out there for her...should she choose to look.
"Take for example that menu of Panini's," she said pointing to the blackboard, "one week you might fancy a bit of tuna, but on another occasion coronation chicken might be more your thing...until you try lots of panini's you won't know which one is your favourite and more suited to your taste."
"The things is, there are multiple choices out there...one coronation chicken may taste great, while another has extra chicken and tastes better."
"So your advice is, eat lots of Panini's and get fat?" I ask.
She laughs, "you can just nibble if you prefer...but in essence yes, try all of the Panini's, then you can make a choice of which one is your favourite."
Anyone else feeling hungry at this point?
So I look at the board and see that yes, there are a lot of choices out there. I may not be hungry at the moment, after all one has just had a big lunch, but knowing that I could choose a Panini with an alternative filling when I am feeling peckish is good to know.
So after all this time, life isn't like a box of chocolates...it is a selection of Italian bread with alternative fillings.
Doesn't really sound like something Forrest Gump would say, now does it?
I have known her just under three years and I have always respected and valued her opinion.
Alas I don't get much of a chance these days to see her, but we keep in touch as much as we can and today she and I caught up during my lunchbreak over coffee and panini's.
She has a gorgeous baby who is now nearly eight months old, and looks the spitting image of her mummy.
H has been through a lot in her years, hence the reason I respect her opinion. She is the one who told me to filter through advice as people will always give you the advice that is pertinent to them and their life experiences, and consequently it may not always be the right advice for you at the time.
However, today she told me something that her dad told her and it has always stuck in her head.
She said,"you know there is never just one person for another person. There is no such thing as a soulmate, there are choices."
I was glad to hear this to be honest, because all this recent talk about about soulmates was beginning to get on my nerves quite frankly. (Sorry to the man in Peru and Pootle! :-D)
H went onto say that she is with her partner and future husband for a reason, it is her choice to be with him and that makes her feel quite empowered. However, she knows that there are other choices out there for her...should she choose to look.
"Take for example that menu of Panini's," she said pointing to the blackboard, "one week you might fancy a bit of tuna, but on another occasion coronation chicken might be more your thing...until you try lots of panini's you won't know which one is your favourite and more suited to your taste."
"The things is, there are multiple choices out there...one coronation chicken may taste great, while another has extra chicken and tastes better."
"So your advice is, eat lots of Panini's and get fat?" I ask.
She laughs, "you can just nibble if you prefer...but in essence yes, try all of the Panini's, then you can make a choice of which one is your favourite."
Anyone else feeling hungry at this point?
So I look at the board and see that yes, there are a lot of choices out there. I may not be hungry at the moment, after all one has just had a big lunch, but knowing that I could choose a Panini with an alternative filling when I am feeling peckish is good to know.
So after all this time, life isn't like a box of chocolates...it is a selection of Italian bread with alternative fillings.
Doesn't really sound like something Forrest Gump would say, now does it?
Monday, 25 February 2013
On the right track...
Open your mouth, engage brain and talk...easy, huh?
Hmm..apparently not for some. Some people find it remarkably easy to talk about their feelings and general day to day chit chat, whilst others find it incredibly hard to open up about anything. Especially their inner most thoughts.
This is what makes us different. This is why we are attracted to some people but not others; some men like a confident woman, whilst others are scared of an independent female who knows her own mind and is happy to be inquisitive.
This is at times a good thing. We can't all be the same, and the world would be a boring place if we were...we would all never shut up, and sometimes just being peaceful is the way to go.
However, when the lack of communication becomes an issue in any friendship or relationship it can have devastating consequences.
For me, communication is very important in my life. If I do something to upset one of my friends I would rather they spoke to me about it. It won't make me dislike them, and there may be occasions when I disagree with them...but at least they felt they could trust the solid basis of our friendship to tell me that I pissed them off.
In this world where we have communication at the click of a button, it is easy to see how we rely on email, text message, what's app, viber or Facebook to talk to friends and people we care about. These things make our lives more convenient. However, it transpires that there is also a danger of using these to actually have a relationship rather than using this as an extension of face to face, or voice to voice communication.
My father says that the reason relationships work is communication. He talks about anything and everything with his wife. He respects and values her opinion, he wants to shoot the breeze with her from what's needed in the food cupboard, to local politics and just life.
Friends of mine talk about how their partners want to know who they are, and the only way you can ever learn that is talking about the past, the present and your thoughts about the future. Your dreams become their dreams too...how could they not be if they want to support you? Sharing your life with someone you love, and who loves you back is one of the most amazing things in the world; we are so lucky that we have the ability to do that.
So, dear god please, leave the email for work and complaint letters; leave the texting for general messaging and reminding someone to pick up milk on the way home...and keep communication alive, by taking the time to tell someone face to face your thoughts, good or bad. Yes it may be difficult, it may hurt, but actually it could also help them make sense of what you are trying to say.
As a blogger I love the written word, but people will always read into my blogs as implying one thing while others another. Someone asked me recently if every blog was about me...good god no...that suggests that I have fifteen men on the go, have tried every sex toy in the manual and support the conservatives. (Wild accusations always rile me!)
Which is why messaging and emails are so difficult when talking about your emotions. Someone else will always read it in a different way to which you intended. A very good friend of mine learnt that lesson this week...and I dedicate my blog to her and her significant other tonight. I know you guys are on the right track....keep talking.
XXX
Hmm..apparently not for some. Some people find it remarkably easy to talk about their feelings and general day to day chit chat, whilst others find it incredibly hard to open up about anything. Especially their inner most thoughts.
This is what makes us different. This is why we are attracted to some people but not others; some men like a confident woman, whilst others are scared of an independent female who knows her own mind and is happy to be inquisitive.
This is at times a good thing. We can't all be the same, and the world would be a boring place if we were...we would all never shut up, and sometimes just being peaceful is the way to go.
However, when the lack of communication becomes an issue in any friendship or relationship it can have devastating consequences.
For me, communication is very important in my life. If I do something to upset one of my friends I would rather they spoke to me about it. It won't make me dislike them, and there may be occasions when I disagree with them...but at least they felt they could trust the solid basis of our friendship to tell me that I pissed them off.
In this world where we have communication at the click of a button, it is easy to see how we rely on email, text message, what's app, viber or Facebook to talk to friends and people we care about. These things make our lives more convenient. However, it transpires that there is also a danger of using these to actually have a relationship rather than using this as an extension of face to face, or voice to voice communication.
My father says that the reason relationships work is communication. He talks about anything and everything with his wife. He respects and values her opinion, he wants to shoot the breeze with her from what's needed in the food cupboard, to local politics and just life.
Friends of mine talk about how their partners want to know who they are, and the only way you can ever learn that is talking about the past, the present and your thoughts about the future. Your dreams become their dreams too...how could they not be if they want to support you? Sharing your life with someone you love, and who loves you back is one of the most amazing things in the world; we are so lucky that we have the ability to do that.
So, dear god please, leave the email for work and complaint letters; leave the texting for general messaging and reminding someone to pick up milk on the way home...and keep communication alive, by taking the time to tell someone face to face your thoughts, good or bad. Yes it may be difficult, it may hurt, but actually it could also help them make sense of what you are trying to say.
As a blogger I love the written word, but people will always read into my blogs as implying one thing while others another. Someone asked me recently if every blog was about me...good god no...that suggests that I have fifteen men on the go, have tried every sex toy in the manual and support the conservatives. (Wild accusations always rile me!)
Which is why messaging and emails are so difficult when talking about your emotions. Someone else will always read it in a different way to which you intended. A very good friend of mine learnt that lesson this week...and I dedicate my blog to her and her significant other tonight. I know you guys are on the right track....keep talking.
XXX
Gadgets...
I can't be the only 'girl' who loves gadgets?
I am not talking about sexual, buy in the back of a magazine gadgets...but technological gadgets. There is something about pushing buttons, getting a wicked sound, seeing a screen that opens up to six different options that excites me...hmm, maybe I do get the wrong sort of kick out of them?
My car has been taken off to the garage today to have a new wing and bumper after my accident a couple of weeks ago. The hobbits were uber excited to see it being rolled onto a ramp, tied down and taken off for repairs. Clearly a boy thing...
As for me, my excitement came with the hire car rolling up. Oh yes...now as sad as I am, I have to confess it is a family car, however inside it does stuff that I could play with all day on.
GPS, Bluetooth, remote control, automatic handbrake, blah blah blah...I have informed the hobbits that the remote control is for over eighteens only, which Spider-Man is absolutely gutted about. Ha ha ha! My little computer screen even gives me Google as an option...hmmm...do you think I could get some YouTube videos on it? Will check that out later.
The computer tells me that three seat belts are clicked in at the back and tells me what is happening to the car as I drive it...it is just a shame it doesn't tell me that three little hobbits are behaving nicely and that Daniel Craig needs picking up on the way home...but hey, one can't get have everything.
I even got a little thrill discovering that I could use my memory stick to play music or films in it and that it had a sixth gear, (sheesh I really should get out more), and the push button starter key nearly sent me over the edge!!!
This car is the dogs bollox...in fact they are also hanging from the rear view mirror!!!
So night is falling, bed time is closer for the hobbits...however I don't want to leave my new toy of gadgets. Even though it is cold out here, I want to stay and play...however according to my SatNav, Daniel does indeed need a lift so I might get a chance to check out the automatic reclining seats too!!!
I am not talking about sexual, buy in the back of a magazine gadgets...but technological gadgets. There is something about pushing buttons, getting a wicked sound, seeing a screen that opens up to six different options that excites me...hmm, maybe I do get the wrong sort of kick out of them?
My car has been taken off to the garage today to have a new wing and bumper after my accident a couple of weeks ago. The hobbits were uber excited to see it being rolled onto a ramp, tied down and taken off for repairs. Clearly a boy thing...
As for me, my excitement came with the hire car rolling up. Oh yes...now as sad as I am, I have to confess it is a family car, however inside it does stuff that I could play with all day on.
GPS, Bluetooth, remote control, automatic handbrake, blah blah blah...I have informed the hobbits that the remote control is for over eighteens only, which Spider-Man is absolutely gutted about. Ha ha ha! My little computer screen even gives me Google as an option...hmmm...do you think I could get some YouTube videos on it? Will check that out later.
The computer tells me that three seat belts are clicked in at the back and tells me what is happening to the car as I drive it...it is just a shame it doesn't tell me that three little hobbits are behaving nicely and that Daniel Craig needs picking up on the way home...but hey, one can't get have everything.
I even got a little thrill discovering that I could use my memory stick to play music or films in it and that it had a sixth gear, (sheesh I really should get out more), and the push button starter key nearly sent me over the edge!!!
This car is the dogs bollox...in fact they are also hanging from the rear view mirror!!!
So night is falling, bed time is closer for the hobbits...however I don't want to leave my new toy of gadgets. Even though it is cold out here, I want to stay and play...however according to my SatNav, Daniel does indeed need a lift so I might get a chance to check out the automatic reclining seats too!!!
Sunday, 24 February 2013
Checking the list...
With the realisation that we are coming to the end of February next week, it has hit home that I only have three and a half months to complete the things on my list that I set myself just under a year ago.
My god where has it gone?
I know that my final blog will be from New York and I already know what that blog will contain to a degree. It will be a recap of what I have learnt, achieved and done in the year...good and bad. However, there are still over 100 sleeps to go so anything could happen within that time.
During a conversation with Pootle this morning I have run down a quick check list of things that I have done, and things I haven't. Some things were never on my initial list, but happened anyway...proof if it were ever needed, that life never happens the way you think it will.
So with the list in my mind, I have set myself onto my next task.
To learn to drive a tractor.
I have no idea why I have a burning desire to learn to drive one, but there is something about driving a great big cab with monster wheels that has to be empowering.
"T can drive a tractor," says Pootle to me over coffee, "he could teach you."
"Really? Wow, would you ask him?"
She nods, "absolutely, however, we kind of need a tractor for you to actually practice on."
"Yes," I concur, "it's no good making one out of a big box - it really wouldn't have the same impact."
I have visions of my first lesson being with a cardboard steering wheel, cardboard gear stick and Pootle at the side making big tractor noises...no, we need the real thing.
"Well," she says, "where T has his lock up it is on a farm, he gets on well with the Farmer there who has a huge Massey Ferguson Tractor. I am sure we could ask him."
Ok, things are taking shape...we have checked the licence, and I don't need anything else besides my driving licence in order to drive one off road.
So the next things are the tattoo...the cowboy hat...off roading...making amendments to the CV...but the last achievement I think I will keep to myself for just now, as life is never predictable or straightforward and for many different reasons some things should remain a secret....for the time being.
So keep an eye out on the roads; the tractor holding you up in traffic in the summer might just be me...
My god where has it gone?
I know that my final blog will be from New York and I already know what that blog will contain to a degree. It will be a recap of what I have learnt, achieved and done in the year...good and bad. However, there are still over 100 sleeps to go so anything could happen within that time.
During a conversation with Pootle this morning I have run down a quick check list of things that I have done, and things I haven't. Some things were never on my initial list, but happened anyway...proof if it were ever needed, that life never happens the way you think it will.
So with the list in my mind, I have set myself onto my next task.
To learn to drive a tractor.
I have no idea why I have a burning desire to learn to drive one, but there is something about driving a great big cab with monster wheels that has to be empowering.
"T can drive a tractor," says Pootle to me over coffee, "he could teach you."
"Really? Wow, would you ask him?"
She nods, "absolutely, however, we kind of need a tractor for you to actually practice on."
"Yes," I concur, "it's no good making one out of a big box - it really wouldn't have the same impact."
I have visions of my first lesson being with a cardboard steering wheel, cardboard gear stick and Pootle at the side making big tractor noises...no, we need the real thing.
"Well," she says, "where T has his lock up it is on a farm, he gets on well with the Farmer there who has a huge Massey Ferguson Tractor. I am sure we could ask him."
Ok, things are taking shape...we have checked the licence, and I don't need anything else besides my driving licence in order to drive one off road.
So the next things are the tattoo...the cowboy hat...off roading...making amendments to the CV...but the last achievement I think I will keep to myself for just now, as life is never predictable or straightforward and for many different reasons some things should remain a secret....for the time being.
So keep an eye out on the roads; the tractor holding you up in traffic in the summer might just be me...
Saturday, 23 February 2013
Guess the blogger...
So, this is the blog of the unknown........
How does one start? What does one start to blog.... Who knows but this could be fun!!
Well I believe in the one, the only, the true soul mate for all of us...I know previous blogs have focused on people we hope we will meet in future time...a person we will hope bond with in a future time and space....this is true, however there is an element of bullshit in this holistic want of love and sexual desire....
I ask you to look deep inside your soul...what do you want?...what is your desire?..what is your true intention in your future goals?....this person will make their self known to you, they will unknowingly be there surrounding you in love that was probably there all long and you we're too blind to see it, this person will be your light, your day and the last thing you think of at night...
Be positive about every aspect of life and being, because....do you know what, its there, it's there for the taking, exploring, discovering, evolving, enjoying...it's called life baby..take it by the balls!!...
And if in doubt....well there is none.....do what you feel is right and embrace it with all you've got!,
Love, light and mega love!
Peace..x
How does one start? What does one start to blog.... Who knows but this could be fun!!
Well I believe in the one, the only, the true soul mate for all of us...I know previous blogs have focused on people we hope we will meet in future time...a person we will hope bond with in a future time and space....this is true, however there is an element of bullshit in this holistic want of love and sexual desire....
I ask you to look deep inside your soul...what do you want?...what is your desire?..what is your true intention in your future goals?....this person will make their self known to you, they will unknowingly be there surrounding you in love that was probably there all long and you we're too blind to see it, this person will be your light, your day and the last thing you think of at night...
Be positive about every aspect of life and being, because....do you know what, its there, it's there for the taking, exploring, discovering, evolving, enjoying...it's called life baby..take it by the balls!!...
And if in doubt....well there is none.....do what you feel is right and embrace it with all you've got!,
Love, light and mega love!
Peace..x
Reincarnation....
Once again let me set the scene....
Two women, a little bit tipsy, The Waterboys playing and a bowl of nuts on the table...
"You know, when I come back," says my friend "I wanna come back as a black backing singer."
"Really? Why?"
"Because it would be so cool man...to be a black backing singer, singing with Joe Cocker...what a promotion in the afterlife." She drinks more wine.
"I am not sure who I would come back as...Britney Spears maybe?"
"Nahhhh, your roots would never cope."
"Hmm...true that...so who?"
My friend thinks about this for some time and then finally stands up and in her drunken stupor wanders across the kitchen..."you will return as a lock keeper." She says grandly.
"What?" I look at her horrified.
She starts mimicking a lock keeper opening the gate, letting the water in and closing the gate again..."you will look like...you know, him, him with earring." she looks at me desperately.
"Not, David Essex?"
"That's it! David Essex!!!" She says triumphantly.
"Thanks!!! You get a black backing singer, and I get the guy from Jesus Christ Superstar!" I throw a roasted peanut at her, which she promptly throws back and it hits me on the cheek... "Ow!"
"Make the most of that nut," she says "it's the only one you are gonna get for a while!"
Harsh words.
We then spend the next twenty minutes fraping a friends son Facebook page, with comments like 'I wear my Batman pants on special occasions' and other equally childish things...and now we are simultaneous blogging. I may just have a guest blogger this evening....so take it away....fellow drinker and beloved friend.
See you in the next life...if you and Joe Cocker ever take a canal boat for a trip.
Don't you just love impromptu drinking sessions?
Two women, a little bit tipsy, The Waterboys playing and a bowl of nuts on the table...
"You know, when I come back," says my friend "I wanna come back as a black backing singer."
"Really? Why?"
"Because it would be so cool man...to be a black backing singer, singing with Joe Cocker...what a promotion in the afterlife." She drinks more wine.
"I am not sure who I would come back as...Britney Spears maybe?"
"Nahhhh, your roots would never cope."
"Hmm...true that...so who?"
My friend thinks about this for some time and then finally stands up and in her drunken stupor wanders across the kitchen..."you will return as a lock keeper." She says grandly.
"What?" I look at her horrified.
She starts mimicking a lock keeper opening the gate, letting the water in and closing the gate again..."you will look like...you know, him, him with earring." she looks at me desperately.
"Not, David Essex?"
"That's it! David Essex!!!" She says triumphantly.
"Thanks!!! You get a black backing singer, and I get the guy from Jesus Christ Superstar!" I throw a roasted peanut at her, which she promptly throws back and it hits me on the cheek... "Ow!"
"Make the most of that nut," she says "it's the only one you are gonna get for a while!"
Harsh words.
We then spend the next twenty minutes fraping a friends son Facebook page, with comments like 'I wear my Batman pants on special occasions' and other equally childish things...and now we are simultaneous blogging. I may just have a guest blogger this evening....so take it away....fellow drinker and beloved friend.
See you in the next life...if you and Joe Cocker ever take a canal boat for a trip.
Don't you just love impromptu drinking sessions?
Poker face...
Superman has challenged me several times today to a game of Snap.
It started at 7 this morning, and we have just had several more rounds at just gone 6pm. I am beginning to feel all a bit snapped out to be honest; and I am a little unsure why he wants to play all the time...because I always beat him.... I am one of those mothers!!!
He is a bit of a cheat as well. He will produce the card slowly so that he gets a good chance to see what it is before laying it on the table. His face gives it away every time...he hasn't quite learnt the art of having a good poker face. (Although he certainly knows how to belt out Lady Gaga's version.)
His innocence in the game is interesting to observe. He knows the rules, he knows what he needs to do to win but hasn't quite got the hang of having a straight face in order to carry off his cheating.
At what point does that change? At what point do we as adults start using our poker faces so that others think we are devoid of emotion or feelings?
Some people find it easier than others. I confess I am terrible at it, whether it is love or hate, funny or unfunny I am no good at hiding my true feelings. However, in the last couple of days I have seen others try (and some fail) to do this, in order to protect themselves. Mainly because they don't want to upset someone else; that they have a fear that their true feelings may not be what someone else wants to hear...or alternatively is too much for someone to hear.
However as children we do not have that fear. Children deal with rejection and love equally, and subjectively. It doesn't cloud their judgement of who they are...it is what it is. No sooner that one child has been told that their friend is not their best friend anymore, than they forgive them and are sharing a bag of haribos by the swing.
We shouldn't have to hide behind a poker face. We are who we are; we feel what we feel and we shouldn't have to deny this or ignore this. We are not making a mistake if we stay true to what we believe and feel.
Even during my year of being forty there have been times when I have thought back and considered that maybe what I did was a mistake, or perhaps that I should have developed my poker face with more aplomb...however, then I wouldn't be who I am...with all my faults.
However, there are occasions where one's poker face is the best course of action. I am about to sit down with the hobbits and cuddle up with a film and some popcorn. All great actually, however it is a film with Jim Carrey in it...who I can't stand. But I will poker face it out just for a snuggle with my superheroes.
It started at 7 this morning, and we have just had several more rounds at just gone 6pm. I am beginning to feel all a bit snapped out to be honest; and I am a little unsure why he wants to play all the time...because I always beat him.... I am one of those mothers!!!
He is a bit of a cheat as well. He will produce the card slowly so that he gets a good chance to see what it is before laying it on the table. His face gives it away every time...he hasn't quite learnt the art of having a good poker face. (Although he certainly knows how to belt out Lady Gaga's version.)
His innocence in the game is interesting to observe. He knows the rules, he knows what he needs to do to win but hasn't quite got the hang of having a straight face in order to carry off his cheating.
At what point does that change? At what point do we as adults start using our poker faces so that others think we are devoid of emotion or feelings?
Some people find it easier than others. I confess I am terrible at it, whether it is love or hate, funny or unfunny I am no good at hiding my true feelings. However, in the last couple of days I have seen others try (and some fail) to do this, in order to protect themselves. Mainly because they don't want to upset someone else; that they have a fear that their true feelings may not be what someone else wants to hear...or alternatively is too much for someone to hear.
However as children we do not have that fear. Children deal with rejection and love equally, and subjectively. It doesn't cloud their judgement of who they are...it is what it is. No sooner that one child has been told that their friend is not their best friend anymore, than they forgive them and are sharing a bag of haribos by the swing.
We shouldn't have to hide behind a poker face. We are who we are; we feel what we feel and we shouldn't have to deny this or ignore this. We are not making a mistake if we stay true to what we believe and feel.
Even during my year of being forty there have been times when I have thought back and considered that maybe what I did was a mistake, or perhaps that I should have developed my poker face with more aplomb...however, then I wouldn't be who I am...with all my faults.
However, there are occasions where one's poker face is the best course of action. I am about to sit down with the hobbits and cuddle up with a film and some popcorn. All great actually, however it is a film with Jim Carrey in it...who I can't stand. But I will poker face it out just for a snuggle with my superheroes.
Friday, 22 February 2013
One for the ladies...
These US Military guys took the mickey out of a group of Cheerleaders who did a dance routine to 'Call Me Maybe...'
I came across it by chance...honest guv...but heck, thought it was worth sharing with the ladies...and some men, so to hell with being judged... Call Me Shallow!
Call Me Maybe
I came across it by chance...honest guv...but heck, thought it was worth sharing with the ladies...and some men, so to hell with being judged... Call Me Shallow!
Call Me Maybe
The man from Peru...
Pootle sits opposite me drinking coffee and wearing her woolly hat.
"The trouble is," she says, "how do you ever know?"
We are discussing the issue of opening up to someone new.
"I have seen friends who hold back and let the man do the chasing and then when they finally say...actually 'yes, I love you too', the man then backs off and says I don't want you now. They have had their chase, enjoyed the fun and then dump you." She continues, "next time I am wearing my heart on my sleeve and being honest from the beginning. Then if they don't like it, that should get rid of them fairly early on."
"Hmmm, I am not so sure about that method. It didn't exactly work for me, did it?" I suggest, with a touch of irony.
"So what do you do? How do you know if this person is the right one? You put your heart and soul into building something and then get hurt."
To be fair although this conversation doesn't sound lighthearted, it actually is. Pootle and I often shoot the breeze with conversations like this, and I don't know what I will do when she pootles off to Australia in a week.
"There has to be someone for everyone, surely?" She suggests. "Timing and location are all that are needed...there has to be someone out there for you and me...just waiting."
However, that suggests to me that your life plan is already mapped out. That you are destined to meet Mr or Miss Right at some point; however, what higher power has already shaped your life? I can change my life plan at any given point surely? Pack up and leave? Stay where I am? Nothing can stop me from taking a new direction.
"So timing is important, right place, right environment?" I ask. "A bit like the perfect conception...right conditions?"
"Yes," she agrees. "The right egg with the right sperm, and bingo the conception of a new relationship happens."
She looks at me meaningfully, "I bet there is someone out there for us, waiting, and they will enter our lives when we least expect it."
"Like a soulmate?" I add, "however, that suggests there is only one?"
"Maybe." She shrugs, "maybe the man for you is in Peru."
"Peru?" I raise my eyebrows at her, "well that's no bloody good, I am not going to Peru."
"Yes, he is in Peru, knitting you a wedding dress made of Lama hair, in his mud hut and making a stew out of camel intestines."
"I hate to say it, but that sounds more like your soulmate than mine. I was kind of banking on mine owning a hotel in Rome. I don't want the man from Peru."
My soulmate has to have running water surely? I think.
I give this some thought. Surely there are always choices? Just because one person made or makes you feel good, doesn't mean that someone else won't make you feel even better? As my dad would say, 'you need to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince'. However, we could spend too much time looking for that thunderbolt that we miss the man from Peru.
Maybe the simplest answer is the best one. We are unable to change the past, or guess our future...so just live in the now. What will be, will be and none of us can predict what may happen next.
Now...how much is a ticket to Peru?
"The trouble is," she says, "how do you ever know?"
We are discussing the issue of opening up to someone new.
"I have seen friends who hold back and let the man do the chasing and then when they finally say...actually 'yes, I love you too', the man then backs off and says I don't want you now. They have had their chase, enjoyed the fun and then dump you." She continues, "next time I am wearing my heart on my sleeve and being honest from the beginning. Then if they don't like it, that should get rid of them fairly early on."
"Hmmm, I am not so sure about that method. It didn't exactly work for me, did it?" I suggest, with a touch of irony.
"So what do you do? How do you know if this person is the right one? You put your heart and soul into building something and then get hurt."
To be fair although this conversation doesn't sound lighthearted, it actually is. Pootle and I often shoot the breeze with conversations like this, and I don't know what I will do when she pootles off to Australia in a week.
"There has to be someone for everyone, surely?" She suggests. "Timing and location are all that are needed...there has to be someone out there for you and me...just waiting."
However, that suggests to me that your life plan is already mapped out. That you are destined to meet Mr or Miss Right at some point; however, what higher power has already shaped your life? I can change my life plan at any given point surely? Pack up and leave? Stay where I am? Nothing can stop me from taking a new direction.
"So timing is important, right place, right environment?" I ask. "A bit like the perfect conception...right conditions?"
"Yes," she agrees. "The right egg with the right sperm, and bingo the conception of a new relationship happens."
She looks at me meaningfully, "I bet there is someone out there for us, waiting, and they will enter our lives when we least expect it."
"Like a soulmate?" I add, "however, that suggests there is only one?"
"Maybe." She shrugs, "maybe the man for you is in Peru."
"Peru?" I raise my eyebrows at her, "well that's no bloody good, I am not going to Peru."
"Yes, he is in Peru, knitting you a wedding dress made of Lama hair, in his mud hut and making a stew out of camel intestines."
"I hate to say it, but that sounds more like your soulmate than mine. I was kind of banking on mine owning a hotel in Rome. I don't want the man from Peru."
My soulmate has to have running water surely? I think.
I give this some thought. Surely there are always choices? Just because one person made or makes you feel good, doesn't mean that someone else won't make you feel even better? As my dad would say, 'you need to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince'. However, we could spend too much time looking for that thunderbolt that we miss the man from Peru.
Maybe the simplest answer is the best one. We are unable to change the past, or guess our future...so just live in the now. What will be, will be and none of us can predict what may happen next.
Now...how much is a ticket to Peru?
Australian Adam...
Early this evening something happened in our little close.
It was an evening just like any other. You could hear commuters driving home; young children were making the most of the lighter evenings and were playing on their bikes outside. There was a chill in the air and a little flutter of snow...but you wouldn't have guessed that tonight would have been different from any other.
I was sitting in my kitchen staring at a computer while a friend made some coffee. The heating and the radio was on. All was normal...and almost serene.
The calm before the storm you could say.
As I sip the coffee made by my friend and we start gossiping, my mobile telephone vibrates a message. 'Men in my house. Get here now!'
Abandoning the house like the Mary Celeste my friend and I wander over to Pootles house to check out her guests. To be fair, I actually know two out of three of them, and know them quite well...however it is the third one that we want to meet.
Australian Adam. He has become a bit of a phenonmenon. He has become synonymous with moving on and meeting someone new. My friend M mentioned to me that we all need to meet Australian Adam in order to start the process of chatting to someone new.
In the future, women will talk about moving on in that way, "oh yes Sally, yes she is going out again...she is in her Australian Adam phase."
It did look a little like a scene from Desperate Housewifes as we entered Pootle's house, or a very threatening and dodgy looking moment from Charlie's Angels. I am sure I saw a fleeting terrified look on Australian Adam's face. Poor man.
He was tall, with a whisper of a beard and kind eyes. He was perfect; for Pootle.
My friend and I approved. "I can see it now," she said, "building your fire in the outback, sharing a tinny together...fire flickering in the reflection of your eyes."
I agreed, "Yes, definitely. Playing the digeridoo."
"Or on his?" Says my friend with a raised eyebrow.
Pootle likes. Pootle approves...he is a bit of eye candy for her and a little bit of flirting never did anyone any harm, and is always good for the soul.
"There is only one problem," says my friend after they have gone.
Pootle and I look at her, really?
She nods, "yes, did you mean to leave your underwear on the radiator?"
Pootle's hand goes straight to her mouth in shock while I nearly fall off the kitchen work top laughing. "Oh my god!!! I am mortified."
"Oh I don't know...they're not that bad." I suggest.
"Not that bad? My time of the month knickers are on there!" She bemoans. "Do you think he saw them?"
My friend nods, "it would have been hard not to. He warmed his hands up on the radiator."
Pootle is crestfallen. "Oh god, I am never gonna meet a man am I?" She says despondent.
Who knows? Let's hope that Australian Adam is into underwear in a big way...cos there was plenty of choice lying there.
It was an evening just like any other. You could hear commuters driving home; young children were making the most of the lighter evenings and were playing on their bikes outside. There was a chill in the air and a little flutter of snow...but you wouldn't have guessed that tonight would have been different from any other.
I was sitting in my kitchen staring at a computer while a friend made some coffee. The heating and the radio was on. All was normal...and almost serene.
The calm before the storm you could say.
As I sip the coffee made by my friend and we start gossiping, my mobile telephone vibrates a message. 'Men in my house. Get here now!'
Abandoning the house like the Mary Celeste my friend and I wander over to Pootles house to check out her guests. To be fair, I actually know two out of three of them, and know them quite well...however it is the third one that we want to meet.
Australian Adam. He has become a bit of a phenonmenon. He has become synonymous with moving on and meeting someone new. My friend M mentioned to me that we all need to meet Australian Adam in order to start the process of chatting to someone new.
In the future, women will talk about moving on in that way, "oh yes Sally, yes she is going out again...she is in her Australian Adam phase."
It did look a little like a scene from Desperate Housewifes as we entered Pootle's house, or a very threatening and dodgy looking moment from Charlie's Angels. I am sure I saw a fleeting terrified look on Australian Adam's face. Poor man.
He was tall, with a whisper of a beard and kind eyes. He was perfect; for Pootle.
My friend and I approved. "I can see it now," she said, "building your fire in the outback, sharing a tinny together...fire flickering in the reflection of your eyes."
I agreed, "Yes, definitely. Playing the digeridoo."
"Or on his?" Says my friend with a raised eyebrow.
Pootle likes. Pootle approves...he is a bit of eye candy for her and a little bit of flirting never did anyone any harm, and is always good for the soul.
"There is only one problem," says my friend after they have gone.
Pootle and I look at her, really?
She nods, "yes, did you mean to leave your underwear on the radiator?"
Pootle's hand goes straight to her mouth in shock while I nearly fall off the kitchen work top laughing. "Oh my god!!! I am mortified."
"Oh I don't know...they're not that bad." I suggest.
"Not that bad? My time of the month knickers are on there!" She bemoans. "Do you think he saw them?"
My friend nods, "it would have been hard not to. He warmed his hands up on the radiator."
Pootle is crestfallen. "Oh god, I am never gonna meet a man am I?" She says despondent.
Who knows? Let's hope that Australian Adam is into underwear in a big way...cos there was plenty of choice lying there.
Thursday, 21 February 2013
Kitten heels...
"Kitten ears? Are you bloody mad?" says my friend while nearly choking on her wine.
"Why not?"
"Because that just suggests a fetish with animals, that isn't sexy!" She almost spits out her disgust.
"I beg to difer." I mention quietly.
Three heads turn to look at me, "Oh?" Says Pootle
We are discussing the virtues of role play, and ahem...dressing up. It appears that it is not every one's cup of tea.
"Do you not think, that it would be nice once in a while to pretend to be someone else?" I suggest, "you know, not just being a naughty maid - however that would be nice too - but meeting your partner in a bar, with a wig, dressed up in an air hostess outfit?"
My friend shakes her head, "no, that is just wrong."
Pootle agrees with me, "you know I worked as an air hostess, and when we finished at the end of the flight and we walked into the bar in our uniform, the men would just stare."
Our other friend agrees as well, "oh god yeah, a uniform on a woman is just as sexy as a uniform on a man."
So we Google some outfits to share, however my friend is not having any of it... "If I walked in with a naughty maid outfit with a feather duster, he would just laugh at me."
"I wouldn't be so sure," I say smiling, "it is about game playing...master and the maid."
Pootle nods. "doesn't a man in a uniform interest you? Copper? Fireman? "
"Oh god no!" She says in horror.
"Really? Just for one night? Something different?"
"Nope, does nothing for me."
The rest of us just look at each other...what do they say about one out of four cats?
They prefer kitten heels...
"Why not?"
"Because that just suggests a fetish with animals, that isn't sexy!" She almost spits out her disgust.
"I beg to difer." I mention quietly.
Three heads turn to look at me, "Oh?" Says Pootle
We are discussing the virtues of role play, and ahem...dressing up. It appears that it is not every one's cup of tea.
"Do you not think, that it would be nice once in a while to pretend to be someone else?" I suggest, "you know, not just being a naughty maid - however that would be nice too - but meeting your partner in a bar, with a wig, dressed up in an air hostess outfit?"
My friend shakes her head, "no, that is just wrong."
Pootle agrees with me, "you know I worked as an air hostess, and when we finished at the end of the flight and we walked into the bar in our uniform, the men would just stare."
Our other friend agrees as well, "oh god yeah, a uniform on a woman is just as sexy as a uniform on a man."
So we Google some outfits to share, however my friend is not having any of it... "If I walked in with a naughty maid outfit with a feather duster, he would just laugh at me."
"I wouldn't be so sure," I say smiling, "it is about game playing...master and the maid."
Pootle nods. "doesn't a man in a uniform interest you? Copper? Fireman? "
"Oh god no!" She says in horror.
"Really? Just for one night? Something different?"
"Nope, does nothing for me."
The rest of us just look at each other...what do they say about one out of four cats?
They prefer kitten heels...
Wednesday, 20 February 2013
Life isn't a dress rehearsal...
An excited work colleague rang me last week.
After genuinely actually talking about work, she then informed me of her news.
"I have got a date...tonight." You could hear in her voice how excited she was. She then proceeded to tell me her details, how they met, what he looked like and where they were meeting.
Nothing so strange in this you would think, however this is her first date in fifteen years. Yes, you read me right...fifteen years. You can't help but be pleased for her too eh?
This lady is kind, warm and giving...how is it that she has not had a date in all this time? She is not unapproachable and she is attractive. It doesn't make sense and I told her this.
"I have had offers," she said. "But I never took them up. I refused to allow anyone else in my life and closed myself off." She continued, "Whilst for a while it was the right thing to do, it became a habit that I couldn't shake off."
This makes sense to me. There is the fear of being rejected again and again, the fear of what if it doesn't work - again, that you naturally start to close off from that type of pain; because as everyone knows, it is one of the most painful experiences that you can have.
We talk about this for a while longer, then she offers me some advice, "Don't close your heart down sweetheart. Life isn't a dress rehearsal you know...you only get one chance at it. Don't make the mistake that I did and waste time thinking that you can't - just do it."
You will be pleased to hear that she sent me a message today - 'date successful, meeting up again on Friday'. I am beyond pleased for her, she is finally experiencing what she has missed out on for so long.
My year of being forty had such expectations and high hopes, and there was a chapter within my year that I was hoping would be far longer than it turned out to be. However, I have been told categorically that the chapter of that book has been closed. That I have to return the whole book back to the library and that by holding onto it I would be in danger of paying some heavy fine.
I would probably keep extending the loan on my book for quite some time, but you know how these librarians can be...they can get very stroppy if you hang onto something that is not yours for too long.
So, at some point I need to heed her word and re-open my heart. To remember that life is not a dress rehearsal and start a new chapter....and at some point I will.
However in the meantime, I will spend some time getting my stage debut costume ready...as it really does need to be special.
After genuinely actually talking about work, she then informed me of her news.
"I have got a date...tonight." You could hear in her voice how excited she was. She then proceeded to tell me her details, how they met, what he looked like and where they were meeting.
Nothing so strange in this you would think, however this is her first date in fifteen years. Yes, you read me right...fifteen years. You can't help but be pleased for her too eh?
This lady is kind, warm and giving...how is it that she has not had a date in all this time? She is not unapproachable and she is attractive. It doesn't make sense and I told her this.
"I have had offers," she said. "But I never took them up. I refused to allow anyone else in my life and closed myself off." She continued, "Whilst for a while it was the right thing to do, it became a habit that I couldn't shake off."
This makes sense to me. There is the fear of being rejected again and again, the fear of what if it doesn't work - again, that you naturally start to close off from that type of pain; because as everyone knows, it is one of the most painful experiences that you can have.
We talk about this for a while longer, then she offers me some advice, "Don't close your heart down sweetheart. Life isn't a dress rehearsal you know...you only get one chance at it. Don't make the mistake that I did and waste time thinking that you can't - just do it."
You will be pleased to hear that she sent me a message today - 'date successful, meeting up again on Friday'. I am beyond pleased for her, she is finally experiencing what she has missed out on for so long.
My year of being forty had such expectations and high hopes, and there was a chapter within my year that I was hoping would be far longer than it turned out to be. However, I have been told categorically that the chapter of that book has been closed. That I have to return the whole book back to the library and that by holding onto it I would be in danger of paying some heavy fine.
I would probably keep extending the loan on my book for quite some time, but you know how these librarians can be...they can get very stroppy if you hang onto something that is not yours for too long. So, at some point I need to heed her word and re-open my heart. To remember that life is not a dress rehearsal and start a new chapter....and at some point I will.
However in the meantime, I will spend some time getting my stage debut costume ready...as it really does need to be special.
Seeing the elephant....
My friend S has done it. She has been very brave, but she has finally said goodbye to the two men in her life.
Regular readers will know that she has struggled with one who is great in one way, but can not commit...and another who is just nice, but really doesn't blow her away like the other one does. I admire her because she is being so strong, but she has told them both today that she can't carry on like this anymore.
She cares deeply, but S has given more than she was able to, to two very different men and now she is exhausted - emotionally and mentally. I have to say, I really don't think I would have had the stamina...but she doesn't have three young hobbits!
Four women have sat round my table this evening like a dodgy version of Loose Women, (thank god none of us look like Janet Street-Porter), complete with coffee, tea and a bowl of chocolate.
"That's it," S says, "no more men. I can't do it anymore."
"You can still do men, just not relationships." Suggests J.
"Nope, if I need something, I can buy it." She says defiantly.
"Is it expensive?" I ask, "I may need it myself in the future."
"Apparently, about a thousand pound an hour." Says Pootle, however I am not sure how she knows this.
"Jesus! Really? I think I will stick with the portal of power then." I acknowledge grudgingly.
"Good money in it though." Pootle has mentioned this to me before.
"Could you really do that through?" I ask honestly, "I mean you wouldn't have a choice, would you? You could get some fat wheezy guy who hasn't washed for a week." I shudder.
Pootle looks at me from under her woolly hat, "yes, if I had no money and my life depended on it, I would do it."
"I know," says J, with a slap of her hand on the table. "We need a business plan. As I am the only one around this table in a relationship it makes sense for me to be the Madame." She continues, "I will look after you, make sure you go to the clinic regularly, and give you a good starter kit."
"What, keep us in lube?" Says Pootle.
"Absolutely, I will look after my girls."
"Oh can we have a town house?" Asks Pootle, "with a grand entrance? Where you sit there greeting the potential customers with your fur coat and glasses?"
Pootle really has given this too much thought, however J agrees.
"Don't forget the elephants outside." I say, and three of them look at me as if I am mad.
It is S who asks...."elephants?"
I nod, and as usual pop onto google..."the elephant is synonymous with brothels and prostitution, it is called seeing the elephant when you know...you see a man in his glory."
"How do you know this?" J and S ask simultaneously.
"There was a huge prostitute house in Spain, where I used to live....they had stone elephants outside."
J nods in acceptance.
"Well, if we are doing this, we need a business plan. Don't go giving us rubbish J."
She looks at us, " well, it all depends on how you all perform. I will be giving out feedback forms...."
This reduces us to laughter, "OMG... Rate from unsatisfactory to excellent...."
She nods. I think this may be potentially the hardest job I could ever do. She would be a tough Madame, and the fact that she is already referring to us as her girls...I think it may be a job I won't be applying for.
Regular readers will know that she has struggled with one who is great in one way, but can not commit...and another who is just nice, but really doesn't blow her away like the other one does. I admire her because she is being so strong, but she has told them both today that she can't carry on like this anymore.
She cares deeply, but S has given more than she was able to, to two very different men and now she is exhausted - emotionally and mentally. I have to say, I really don't think I would have had the stamina...but she doesn't have three young hobbits!
Four women have sat round my table this evening like a dodgy version of Loose Women, (thank god none of us look like Janet Street-Porter), complete with coffee, tea and a bowl of chocolate.
"That's it," S says, "no more men. I can't do it anymore."
"You can still do men, just not relationships." Suggests J.
"Nope, if I need something, I can buy it." She says defiantly.
"Is it expensive?" I ask, "I may need it myself in the future."
"Apparently, about a thousand pound an hour." Says Pootle, however I am not sure how she knows this.
"Jesus! Really? I think I will stick with the portal of power then." I acknowledge grudgingly.
"Good money in it though." Pootle has mentioned this to me before.
"Could you really do that through?" I ask honestly, "I mean you wouldn't have a choice, would you? You could get some fat wheezy guy who hasn't washed for a week." I shudder.
Pootle looks at me from under her woolly hat, "yes, if I had no money and my life depended on it, I would do it."
"I know," says J, with a slap of her hand on the table. "We need a business plan. As I am the only one around this table in a relationship it makes sense for me to be the Madame." She continues, "I will look after you, make sure you go to the clinic regularly, and give you a good starter kit."
"What, keep us in lube?" Says Pootle.
"Absolutely, I will look after my girls."
"Oh can we have a town house?" Asks Pootle, "with a grand entrance? Where you sit there greeting the potential customers with your fur coat and glasses?"
Pootle really has given this too much thought, however J agrees.
"Don't forget the elephants outside." I say, and three of them look at me as if I am mad.
It is S who asks...."elephants?"
I nod, and as usual pop onto google..."the elephant is synonymous with brothels and prostitution, it is called seeing the elephant when you know...you see a man in his glory."
"How do you know this?" J and S ask simultaneously.
"There was a huge prostitute house in Spain, where I used to live....they had stone elephants outside."
J nods in acceptance.
"Well, if we are doing this, we need a business plan. Don't go giving us rubbish J."
She looks at us, " well, it all depends on how you all perform. I will be giving out feedback forms...."
This reduces us to laughter, "OMG... Rate from unsatisfactory to excellent...."
She nods. I think this may be potentially the hardest job I could ever do. She would be a tough Madame, and the fact that she is already referring to us as her girls...I think it may be a job I won't be applying for.
Tuesday, 19 February 2013
Alright with the world...
The sun is shining this morning and spring is on her way I can feel it.
It felt really good opening the curtains this morning to see the big yellow thing in the sky trying hard to show us what she can do.
The greatest news arrived by an email this morning...the skirt that I wanted is back in stock. So I threw caution to the wind and ordered it...woohoo!
All is once again alright with the world...by the power of the sun and some retail therapy. Get in!
It felt really good opening the curtains this morning to see the big yellow thing in the sky trying hard to show us what she can do.
The greatest news arrived by an email this morning...the skirt that I wanted is back in stock. So I threw caution to the wind and ordered it...woohoo!
All is once again alright with the world...by the power of the sun and some retail therapy. Get in!
Monday, 18 February 2013
Pimp her ride...
Pootle has a new friend. She is intending to take this new friend with her for her weekend away at a festival.
I feel that I should be a little jealous, or certainly a little envious that Pootle would rather take her friend with her than me. This friend has also been invited to Pootle's allotment on far more occasions than I have.
What was my crime?
Well, I am not plastic, fluorescent pink and I don't have wheels attached to me unfortunately, which this new friend does.
Welcome to the family, Wilma the Wheelbarrow. Pootle is ecstatic about her new friend, she is very versatile and can help carry the load.
At the festival in a few weeks time, she will be loving adorned and pimped out with ribbons, sparkly things etc so that she can really get into the spirit of the festival weekend, and she will be used to carry sleeping boys back from the music stage to the tent...all snuggled up in Wilma with blankets.
Only Pootle would have a bright pink wheelbarrow called Wilma...and I love her for it.
I feel that I should be a little jealous, or certainly a little envious that Pootle would rather take her friend with her than me. This friend has also been invited to Pootle's allotment on far more occasions than I have.
What was my crime?
Well, I am not plastic, fluorescent pink and I don't have wheels attached to me unfortunately, which this new friend does.
Welcome to the family, Wilma the Wheelbarrow. Pootle is ecstatic about her new friend, she is very versatile and can help carry the load.
At the festival in a few weeks time, she will be loving adorned and pimped out with ribbons, sparkly things etc so that she can really get into the spirit of the festival weekend, and she will be used to carry sleeping boys back from the music stage to the tent...all snuggled up in Wilma with blankets.
Only Pootle would have a bright pink wheelbarrow called Wilma...and I love her for it.
Sunday, 17 February 2013
Motivational friends...
"I need some motivation" says my slightly hungover friend this morning over a cup of tea.
"Ok, I can do that...wassup?" I say plonking myself at her table.
She then proceeds to tell me, that like many other men and women she wants to lose weight. She wants to feel good in her skin again and buy a nice summer dress that she can feel amazing in.
So we sit and discuss how we can plan her diet, what things she likes, what she feels she can achieve...in order to make her feel like she has a plan of action. We then start looking at old photos...and I even show her an old one of me from about eighteen months ago so that she can see the difference.
"I did take some photos of me in my underwear," she tells me, "so that I could motivate myself."
"Great, where are they?"
"In my telephone."
"Cool, ok, what you can do is send them to your email address, print them off and put them with your meal planner so that when you see them you can feel motivated at what you want to do." I am excited for her, "then add in a dress that you want to buy for the summer so that you can see a positive with it."
She likes this idea and passes me her telephone so that I can send the photos to her email for her, of which I proceed to do.
I send it...two photos of her standing in front of her mirror, with barely there underwear and a full bosom.
However...the email doesn't arrive....a dreadful feeling comes over me....
"How do you spell your surname again?" I ask, feeling a little trepidation. "With, or without an 'e'?"
"Without." She says passing me a cup of tea.
"Oh crap." I say and look at her guiltily.
"Oh god, what have you done?"
"Well, put it this way...don't be surprised if your photos start doing the round on the Internet."
She looks at me horrified, "No!!!!"
"I think...I may...have sent it to the wrong person." And then I do have the decency to look bad, just before we both burst out laughing. "Thankfully, you couldn't see your face."
"Well, that will be my motivation then...then if anyone sees it and then sees me all skinny, they will know it can't be me!"
"There you go then...I told you I could motivate you. I just didn't think I would do it in quite a public way!"
A few moments later the email comes back as undeliverable...thank god, so we resend it to the right email address and she goes to print it. It comes out as a tiny picture.
"I need to make it bigger," she says.
"Really?" I ask her.
"Yeah, you're right...I may not have enough ink!" She says laughing.
As she prints them off from her laptop, Spider-Man comes in and sees them, "oh, my eyes!" He exclaims and rushes off to tell his brothers.
I get the feeling that the hobbits and I should never attempt to be motivational speakers in any form...
"Ok, I can do that...wassup?" I say plonking myself at her table.
She then proceeds to tell me, that like many other men and women she wants to lose weight. She wants to feel good in her skin again and buy a nice summer dress that she can feel amazing in.
So we sit and discuss how we can plan her diet, what things she likes, what she feels she can achieve...in order to make her feel like she has a plan of action. We then start looking at old photos...and I even show her an old one of me from about eighteen months ago so that she can see the difference.
"I did take some photos of me in my underwear," she tells me, "so that I could motivate myself."
"Great, where are they?"
"In my telephone."
"Cool, ok, what you can do is send them to your email address, print them off and put them with your meal planner so that when you see them you can feel motivated at what you want to do." I am excited for her, "then add in a dress that you want to buy for the summer so that you can see a positive with it."
She likes this idea and passes me her telephone so that I can send the photos to her email for her, of which I proceed to do.
I send it...two photos of her standing in front of her mirror, with barely there underwear and a full bosom.
However...the email doesn't arrive....a dreadful feeling comes over me....
"How do you spell your surname again?" I ask, feeling a little trepidation. "With, or without an 'e'?"
"Without." She says passing me a cup of tea.
"Oh crap." I say and look at her guiltily.
"Oh god, what have you done?"
"Well, put it this way...don't be surprised if your photos start doing the round on the Internet."
She looks at me horrified, "No!!!!"
"I think...I may...have sent it to the wrong person." And then I do have the decency to look bad, just before we both burst out laughing. "Thankfully, you couldn't see your face."
"Well, that will be my motivation then...then if anyone sees it and then sees me all skinny, they will know it can't be me!"
"There you go then...I told you I could motivate you. I just didn't think I would do it in quite a public way!"
A few moments later the email comes back as undeliverable...thank god, so we resend it to the right email address and she goes to print it. It comes out as a tiny picture.
"I need to make it bigger," she says.
"Really?" I ask her.
"Yeah, you're right...I may not have enough ink!" She says laughing.
As she prints them off from her laptop, Spider-Man comes in and sees them, "oh, my eyes!" He exclaims and rushes off to tell his brothers.
I get the feeling that the hobbits and I should never attempt to be motivational speakers in any form...
Saturday, 16 February 2013
Romance is not for cynics...
I have clearly been exposed to too much death, murder and general genocide type films lately as this evening I watched Les Miserable for the first time and barely shed a tear, whilst J sat next to me sobbing her heart out and wiping her nose on her sleeve.
"You are quite a hard cow really," she said to me as the credits rolled, "so I am impressed that you cried at that one point."
Compliment? Hmm...
Even less complimentary was the mockery I received having asked half way through the film, "oh is this set in the French Revolution then?"
You can't blame me for my ignorance, the young lad in the film did sound like he had a cockney accent and as J herself remarked they all spoke remarkably good English.
She is happy though. She has finally got to see the film version, after much ado about setting it up for her...problems with memory sticks, problems with disc burning, issues with sound but eventually after about an hour we got to see it.
J loves a good romantic film, and I confess I also like a good bit of lurve in a film on the odd occassion but perhaps I was feeling just a tad cynical this evening and consequently didn't quite feel it.
However Spider-Man joined us at one point and was quite enjoying it before I carried him up to bed virtually asleep in my arms...anything that isn't just about shooting people and he enjoys is a bonus.
Although thinking about it, I think the barricades scene was the bit he enjoyed the most, so that explains his interest...while I just watched it for Hugh Jackman and J enjoyed the love...so all were appeased in some way.
"You are quite a hard cow really," she said to me as the credits rolled, "so I am impressed that you cried at that one point."
Compliment? Hmm...
Even less complimentary was the mockery I received having asked half way through the film, "oh is this set in the French Revolution then?"
You can't blame me for my ignorance, the young lad in the film did sound like he had a cockney accent and as J herself remarked they all spoke remarkably good English.
She is happy though. She has finally got to see the film version, after much ado about setting it up for her...problems with memory sticks, problems with disc burning, issues with sound but eventually after about an hour we got to see it.
J loves a good romantic film, and I confess I also like a good bit of lurve in a film on the odd occassion but perhaps I was feeling just a tad cynical this evening and consequently didn't quite feel it.
However Spider-Man joined us at one point and was quite enjoying it before I carried him up to bed virtually asleep in my arms...anything that isn't just about shooting people and he enjoys is a bonus.
Although thinking about it, I think the barricades scene was the bit he enjoyed the most, so that explains his interest...while I just watched it for Hugh Jackman and J enjoyed the love...so all were appeased in some way.
Midlife crisis...
Considering selling my car and buying a Beetle...
Dad? Lady London? Anyone sensible and rational?
I have looked at prices for a second hand one and it wouldn't cost me anymore...we no longer need the people carrier I own, and I am totally and utterly in love with VW Beetles and have wanted one since....oooo, I was about this high......
Is this a midlife crisis I am having or just embracing the new life? Answers on a tiny postage stamp to...
Dad? Lady London? Anyone sensible and rational?
I have looked at prices for a second hand one and it wouldn't cost me anymore...we no longer need the people carrier I own, and I am totally and utterly in love with VW Beetles and have wanted one since....oooo, I was about this high......
Is this a midlife crisis I am having or just embracing the new life? Answers on a tiny postage stamp to...
Topside of beef...
Good morning world!!!
T'is the weekend and it started all last night with an inpromptu evening out watching other people get drunk...last minute nights out are always the best aren't they?
With hobbits safely ensconced in the bosom of A the babysitter, (well not literally, they were in bed while he played on Facebook probably); a good friend and I pottered off to a local bar rather than staring at four walls again.
Friday night must be the night to go out as the bar was packed by the time we arrived, timing is clearly important as well...go out too early and there isn't a soul in sight, go out at 10pm and the city is pumping...well, local town buzzing but you get my meaning.
It was a great evening out, catching up with old faces and new...and dare I say it, a little bit of self esteem boosting which is always good for the soul.
I have to say that perhaps the best bit of the evening, was my lovely friend J setting herself up for a full roast dinner to cook for her lovely fella, by texting him the following;
"I am going to make you, topside of beef, roast potatoes, honey glazed carrots and seasonal vegetables complete with seasonal fruit for dessert..." Clearly it is all about the seasonals...
She has panicked this morning, wondering why she even suggested such a thing and cookery on a such a grand scale for her...Until I reminded her that she was reading it off the menu board in the bar that we were in...the daft things you do when full of Jaegerbombs....thank god we weren't in an Italian bar!!
T'is the weekend and it started all last night with an inpromptu evening out watching other people get drunk...last minute nights out are always the best aren't they?
With hobbits safely ensconced in the bosom of A the babysitter, (well not literally, they were in bed while he played on Facebook probably); a good friend and I pottered off to a local bar rather than staring at four walls again.
Friday night must be the night to go out as the bar was packed by the time we arrived, timing is clearly important as well...go out too early and there isn't a soul in sight, go out at 10pm and the city is pumping...well, local town buzzing but you get my meaning.
It was a great evening out, catching up with old faces and new...and dare I say it, a little bit of self esteem boosting which is always good for the soul.
I have to say that perhaps the best bit of the evening, was my lovely friend J setting herself up for a full roast dinner to cook for her lovely fella, by texting him the following;
"I am going to make you, topside of beef, roast potatoes, honey glazed carrots and seasonal vegetables complete with seasonal fruit for dessert..." Clearly it is all about the seasonals...
She has panicked this morning, wondering why she even suggested such a thing and cookery on a such a grand scale for her...Until I reminded her that she was reading it off the menu board in the bar that we were in...the daft things you do when full of Jaegerbombs....thank god we weren't in an Italian bar!!
Friday, 15 February 2013
Apologies...and a recap...
My sincere apologies for not blogging for a wee while...other things have taken priority this past week, and god what a week it has been!!!
Would you like a recap? No? Well, you are gonna get one anyway...so read at your leisure or not at all, your choice...
Work...a hell of a lot of it, but it looks like I have caught up with most of it...that's all you need to know really, just busy, busy, busy.
The challenge set by me by my friend for her lovers Valentines Gift...done...tick. However, I am beginning to feel like Anneka Rice with the things that she sets me. I can now tell you that I had to get an engraving done, on something very teeny weeny (as the hobbits would say), and I managed it at the twelfth hour!
Having been to pretty much every engraver I could think of over the past week, I was finally recommended one locally where I rushed to during my lunch break on Wednesday. The shop was closed. Not great... he was my last option, however I managed to get the shop owners attention, and dear god love him he opened up for me even though Wednesday was his half day.
Explaining my dilemma I eventually told him where this little medallion was likely to go...and how urgent it was.
"Don't be embarrassed," he said with a smile, "you would be surprised at what I have engraved." Then bless him, he did it for me there and then for three pounds and a kiss on each cheek! My friend was absolutely over the moon, and apparently her lover took it all in good humour...phew!
I am hoping she won't set me anymore challenges for the moment...however God knows what Easter will bring me!!!!
Thursday...aah, the day I confess I was dreading. Nevertheless, it wasn't as bad as I anticipated. I was greeted with three Valentine cards (one that said Happy Vanilla Day) and a Valentines picture that was more akin to The Valentines Massacre, with lots of people shooting each other complete with blood spurting...hmmm...it is after all the thought that counts. However I was invited out for a meal in the evening...which was very nice indeed....so got through it in one piece. *wipes sweat off brow*
Someone also hit my car....yes, then had a nice little rant at me when I told her how much damage had been done. Hmm...I thought I was supposed to be the one annoyed? So lots of insurance phone calls...keeping me occupied.
Erm...what else can I tell you? Aha...my friend has tested the vibrating cock ring....which is perhaps more deserving of a full blog rather than just a paragraph...so more to come...if you pardon the pun.
A weekend of dancing is just around the corner, as all work and no play makes for a very dull wondering woman...it is also an excellent cure for distracting oneself when distraction is what is required.
Hoping next week will be mildly quieter and a little less fraught and busy, but I think that's unlikely...
Would you like a recap? No? Well, you are gonna get one anyway...so read at your leisure or not at all, your choice...
Work...a hell of a lot of it, but it looks like I have caught up with most of it...that's all you need to know really, just busy, busy, busy.
The challenge set by me by my friend for her lovers Valentines Gift...done...tick. However, I am beginning to feel like Anneka Rice with the things that she sets me. I can now tell you that I had to get an engraving done, on something very teeny weeny (as the hobbits would say), and I managed it at the twelfth hour!
Having been to pretty much every engraver I could think of over the past week, I was finally recommended one locally where I rushed to during my lunch break on Wednesday. The shop was closed. Not great... he was my last option, however I managed to get the shop owners attention, and dear god love him he opened up for me even though Wednesday was his half day.
Explaining my dilemma I eventually told him where this little medallion was likely to go...and how urgent it was.
"Don't be embarrassed," he said with a smile, "you would be surprised at what I have engraved." Then bless him, he did it for me there and then for three pounds and a kiss on each cheek! My friend was absolutely over the moon, and apparently her lover took it all in good humour...phew!
I am hoping she won't set me anymore challenges for the moment...however God knows what Easter will bring me!!!!
Thursday...aah, the day I confess I was dreading. Nevertheless, it wasn't as bad as I anticipated. I was greeted with three Valentine cards (one that said Happy Vanilla Day) and a Valentines picture that was more akin to The Valentines Massacre, with lots of people shooting each other complete with blood spurting...hmmm...it is after all the thought that counts. However I was invited out for a meal in the evening...which was very nice indeed....so got through it in one piece. *wipes sweat off brow*
Someone also hit my car....yes, then had a nice little rant at me when I told her how much damage had been done. Hmm...I thought I was supposed to be the one annoyed? So lots of insurance phone calls...keeping me occupied.
Erm...what else can I tell you? Aha...my friend has tested the vibrating cock ring....which is perhaps more deserving of a full blog rather than just a paragraph...so more to come...if you pardon the pun.
A weekend of dancing is just around the corner, as all work and no play makes for a very dull wondering woman...it is also an excellent cure for distracting oneself when distraction is what is required.
Hoping next week will be mildly quieter and a little less fraught and busy, but I think that's unlikely...
Sunday, 10 February 2013
Predictive...
I have had the pleasure of the local food shop today.
Thankfully Pootle took charge of the hobbits for me while I shopped, which helps keep the bill down a tad.
Rushing around throwing things in my trolley like a mad woman in supermarket sweep (can you tell I hate food shopping?) I bumped into one of the guys from Bike Smart who nagged me a little about not having been to see them.
"God all that work you did, come on girl come and see us...at least for a cup of coffee."
"I know, I know...don't nag, you only want me for my biscuits."
"True that," he said with a smile.
"So, got your card then?" I said to him pointing at his valentines card in his hand.
He looked at it and shrugged, "well, I thought I'd better."
"What else are you getting her?"
"Nothing," he says.
"Nothing? Come on man, what's the matter with you?"
"I bought her a house...what more does she want?" He says laughing.
"Ok, fair play...a house is quite a big present."
"What about you?" He asks, "what have you bought?"
I laughed, "I have bought myself a blow up man and some Nutella."
"I get it," he said. "Sorry."
I shrug, "the trouble is Pootle has already bagged the front of him, so looks like I am left with the arse."
He laughs and suggest that that Pootle and I at least swap over at half time and we say our goodbyes.
As I finish my shopping I text Pootle to ask how how she likes her coffee. I should at least know this information and I thought it would be nice to get us both a nice coffee from Starbucks.
However, it is lucky that I check my phone before pressing send as rather that coffee being the predicted text, it comes up with cock. How do you like your cock?
Now I know Pootle would have probably replied, with a pulse....however what does it say about my telephone, or me for that matter, that rather than predict coffee it predicted cock?
Let's hope it's a sign of good things to come...
Thankfully Pootle took charge of the hobbits for me while I shopped, which helps keep the bill down a tad.
Rushing around throwing things in my trolley like a mad woman in supermarket sweep (can you tell I hate food shopping?) I bumped into one of the guys from Bike Smart who nagged me a little about not having been to see them.
"God all that work you did, come on girl come and see us...at least for a cup of coffee."
"I know, I know...don't nag, you only want me for my biscuits."
"True that," he said with a smile.
"So, got your card then?" I said to him pointing at his valentines card in his hand.
He looked at it and shrugged, "well, I thought I'd better."
"What else are you getting her?"
"Nothing," he says.
"Nothing? Come on man, what's the matter with you?"
"I bought her a house...what more does she want?" He says laughing.
"Ok, fair play...a house is quite a big present."
"What about you?" He asks, "what have you bought?"
I laughed, "I have bought myself a blow up man and some Nutella."
"I get it," he said. "Sorry."
I shrug, "the trouble is Pootle has already bagged the front of him, so looks like I am left with the arse."
He laughs and suggest that that Pootle and I at least swap over at half time and we say our goodbyes.
As I finish my shopping I text Pootle to ask how how she likes her coffee. I should at least know this information and I thought it would be nice to get us both a nice coffee from Starbucks.
However, it is lucky that I check my phone before pressing send as rather that coffee being the predicted text, it comes up with cock. How do you like your cock?
Now I know Pootle would have probably replied, with a pulse....however what does it say about my telephone, or me for that matter, that rather than predict coffee it predicted cock?
Let's hope it's a sign of good things to come...
Kevin vs Richard...
After a very indulgent bath last night and a homemade curry for one, (the hobbits don't eat it) I settled myself down for the romance in my life.
Ok, it was only on the TV but a girl has to get her kicks from somewhere, eh?
The Bodyguard was on last night, so I subjected myself to Kevin Costner, (Kev to his friends) playing the protective, caring hero. There he was, taking control of her safety, adding that little bit of romance and unspoken sexual tension, while Whitney Houston plays the dynamic superstar who is reluctant to have anyone look after her...the right amount of romantic escapism.
Pootle turned up about 11pm after her night out for a cup of tea, with tales of her evening out and quickly joined me on the adjoining sofa to watch Kev demonstrate his manly skills.
"Oh The Bodyguard, I love this film." She states, "not one for Kevin Costner normally, but in this film he is such the hero that you can't help but fancy him."
"I know," I say in agreement and we both watch him playing with his gun, shouting orders, punching other people who just simply irritate him and saving a little boy from being blown up in a boat.
Heavenly.
Even when he takes a bullet for Whitney and lies there wounded, possibly dying and Whitney is being pulled away from cradling him in her arms, we know the words. She shrugs them all off and in a pained voice shouts, "He's my Bodyguard!" Which Pootle and I both shout at the screen...we feel it with you Whitney, we understand your pain.
Finally the goodbye scene, where the heroine stops the plane and and runs into his arms...oh it is all I can do to stop myself from reaching for the tub of ice cream that I found in the bottom of the freezer.
"Go to him Whitney," shouts Pootle.
"Yes, stop the plane and show him you love him." I concur, and Whitney and Kevin end up in a passionate embrace.
Needless to say we rewind it a couple of times.
"You know, the more I look at this, the more disappointed I am. That is a terrible kiss," I say, ever the critic.
Pootle grimaces, "you know it is, I never noticed that before..."
We watch it again, in fact it is an epic fail of a kiss. The whole film is leading up to this moment and the pair of them are looking like they have had their faces pushed into something nasty.
What a let down.
Don't think I will be watching that again...give me An Officer and a Gentleman any day...Richard Gere in his very sexy naval uniform, dealing with his emotional anguish and the final scene of him returning for the woman he loves...his officers hat gets me every time.
Hmm...I think I know what I am watching tonight. Will get more ice cream in preparation.
Ok, it was only on the TV but a girl has to get her kicks from somewhere, eh?
The Bodyguard was on last night, so I subjected myself to Kevin Costner, (Kev to his friends) playing the protective, caring hero. There he was, taking control of her safety, adding that little bit of romance and unspoken sexual tension, while Whitney Houston plays the dynamic superstar who is reluctant to have anyone look after her...the right amount of romantic escapism.
Pootle turned up about 11pm after her night out for a cup of tea, with tales of her evening out and quickly joined me on the adjoining sofa to watch Kev demonstrate his manly skills.
"Oh The Bodyguard, I love this film." She states, "not one for Kevin Costner normally, but in this film he is such the hero that you can't help but fancy him."
"I know," I say in agreement and we both watch him playing with his gun, shouting orders, punching other people who just simply irritate him and saving a little boy from being blown up in a boat.
Heavenly.
Even when he takes a bullet for Whitney and lies there wounded, possibly dying and Whitney is being pulled away from cradling him in her arms, we know the words. She shrugs them all off and in a pained voice shouts, "He's my Bodyguard!" Which Pootle and I both shout at the screen...we feel it with you Whitney, we understand your pain.
Finally the goodbye scene, where the heroine stops the plane and and runs into his arms...oh it is all I can do to stop myself from reaching for the tub of ice cream that I found in the bottom of the freezer.
"Go to him Whitney," shouts Pootle.
"Yes, stop the plane and show him you love him." I concur, and Whitney and Kevin end up in a passionate embrace.
Needless to say we rewind it a couple of times.
"You know, the more I look at this, the more disappointed I am. That is a terrible kiss," I say, ever the critic.
Pootle grimaces, "you know it is, I never noticed that before..."
We watch it again, in fact it is an epic fail of a kiss. The whole film is leading up to this moment and the pair of them are looking like they have had their faces pushed into something nasty.
What a let down.
Don't think I will be watching that again...give me An Officer and a Gentleman any day...Richard Gere in his very sexy naval uniform, dealing with his emotional anguish and the final scene of him returning for the woman he loves...his officers hat gets me every time.
Hmm...I think I know what I am watching tonight. Will get more ice cream in preparation.
Saturday, 9 February 2013
That's Love...
Welcome everyone to my new game show and the Saturday edition of..."That's Love!...the new relationship game show..."
*Big round of live audience applause here* "with your host, Bob 'make or break' Smith."
"The game show where making the wrong decision can give you heart ache; an indecision, a week without sleep and the right decision an evening, or longer, with the man/woman of your dreams....are you ready to play?"
The atmosphere tenses in the studio while Bob produces his question cards.
"Ok ladies and gentleman, round one...the category is the third date and this is for contestant number one..." Pausing for effect Bob continues, "you and your new love interest have been on a couple of dates already; all has been going well but you have been finding it difficult to get them to actually take an interest in your life."
"Do you a) spend another evening listening to them discuss their life, work and previous conquests before they met you, or b) hijack the conversation and force them to listen to you talk about what your dreams are?"
Nervous contestant number one is reluctant to answer...
"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to push you here...clock is ticking..." Says Bob with a smile.
"Erm, oh god...errr....b...hijack the conversation!" They say without conviction...it is a tough call.
"Oh I am sorry contestant number one, that is the wrong answer...it is actually undisclosed answer c...dump them and move on... if they haven't bothered to ask about you and your dreams by date three they are not the person for you. You are out of the game."
Bob looks sadly at the audience, "Bad luck to contestant number one, but that's love eh? So, contestant number two your category is about the ex... *chorus of boo's from the live audience* this is your question..."
Contestant number two bites their nails furiously like they are about to be fed to the lions, which in effect they are.
"Your new current love interest talks about their ex all the time...whilst you have no issue with it at all, there comes a point when you really would rather talk about watching paint dry than hearing about how wonderful he was...so do you a) say nothing at all to keep the peace and hope that one day your new girlfriend will realise how inadequate this is making you feel, or b) mention this politely over a post coital cuppa that whilst you understand her need to keep their relationship amicable that she doesn't have to share every detail with you?"
"That's easy, b." says contestant number two confidently.
Bob grimaces, "oh I am sorry that is wrong, your partner has just thrown their tea over you and left with the chocolate digestives. The correct answer is c) hire a hitman to dispose of the ex while you share champagne and strawberries by a log fire."
Contestant number two is taken off by studio staff weeping into his sleeve.
"Oh, what a shame, but as we know everyone....That's Love!" the whole audience laughs.
"So to the final contestant, will you fair any better? The last category is about your sex life...there are two men in your life, one won't commit but makes you feel amazing in every way including...the bedroom, whilst the other one will commit and is 'nice', but absolutely terrible in the sack....what do you do?"
"Ok, Bob, I think I will play my That's Love joker card here..." Says contestant number three.
"Good call," says Bob, taking the 2ft joker card off the wall...."well number three, you played your joker card, and it says here don't make any decision, and see both of them until someone with the whole package comes along...well done, contestant number three you win!!!"
Massive round of applause as contestant number three is given his reward...a plastic breakable heart with a key in it.
"Thank you ladies and gents....tune in next week for another edition of....That's Love!!! The game show, where in reality..no one really wins...g'nite" *insert cheesy smile*
*Big round of live audience applause here* "with your host, Bob 'make or break' Smith."
"The game show where making the wrong decision can give you heart ache; an indecision, a week without sleep and the right decision an evening, or longer, with the man/woman of your dreams....are you ready to play?"
The atmosphere tenses in the studio while Bob produces his question cards.
"Ok ladies and gentleman, round one...the category is the third date and this is for contestant number one..." Pausing for effect Bob continues, "you and your new love interest have been on a couple of dates already; all has been going well but you have been finding it difficult to get them to actually take an interest in your life."
"Do you a) spend another evening listening to them discuss their life, work and previous conquests before they met you, or b) hijack the conversation and force them to listen to you talk about what your dreams are?"
Nervous contestant number one is reluctant to answer...
"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to push you here...clock is ticking..." Says Bob with a smile.
"Erm, oh god...errr....b...hijack the conversation!" They say without conviction...it is a tough call.
"Oh I am sorry contestant number one, that is the wrong answer...it is actually undisclosed answer c...dump them and move on... if they haven't bothered to ask about you and your dreams by date three they are not the person for you. You are out of the game."
Bob looks sadly at the audience, "Bad luck to contestant number one, but that's love eh? So, contestant number two your category is about the ex... *chorus of boo's from the live audience* this is your question..."
Contestant number two bites their nails furiously like they are about to be fed to the lions, which in effect they are.
"Your new current love interest talks about their ex all the time...whilst you have no issue with it at all, there comes a point when you really would rather talk about watching paint dry than hearing about how wonderful he was...so do you a) say nothing at all to keep the peace and hope that one day your new girlfriend will realise how inadequate this is making you feel, or b) mention this politely over a post coital cuppa that whilst you understand her need to keep their relationship amicable that she doesn't have to share every detail with you?"
"That's easy, b." says contestant number two confidently.
Bob grimaces, "oh I am sorry that is wrong, your partner has just thrown their tea over you and left with the chocolate digestives. The correct answer is c) hire a hitman to dispose of the ex while you share champagne and strawberries by a log fire."
Contestant number two is taken off by studio staff weeping into his sleeve.
"Oh, what a shame, but as we know everyone....That's Love!" the whole audience laughs.
"So to the final contestant, will you fair any better? The last category is about your sex life...there are two men in your life, one won't commit but makes you feel amazing in every way including...the bedroom, whilst the other one will commit and is 'nice', but absolutely terrible in the sack....what do you do?"
"Ok, Bob, I think I will play my That's Love joker card here..." Says contestant number three.
"Good call," says Bob, taking the 2ft joker card off the wall...."well number three, you played your joker card, and it says here don't make any decision, and see both of them until someone with the whole package comes along...well done, contestant number three you win!!!"
Massive round of applause as contestant number three is given his reward...a plastic breakable heart with a key in it.
"Thank you ladies and gents....tune in next week for another edition of....That's Love!!! The game show, where in reality..no one really wins...g'nite" *insert cheesy smile*
Sleep over...
I woke up this morning with a woman in my bed.
Sounds like a good night huh...? Or at least the start of something good...
You'll probably be slightly disappointed to hear that it was simply Pootle, although I'm not....anything else might have been a bit weird.
Pootle had a little nights respite last night and pottered off to enjoy herself, leaving me in charge of extra hobbits. It made sense for them to sleep over and whilst they are quite comfortable about being in our home, Pootle does have one mini hobbit who may have been upset in the night so it made sense for the pair of us to snuggle up too.
Needless to say they all behaved themselves impeccably, were all in bed and fast asleep by 7.30 and didn't ask me for sweets; popcorn or a film once...hmmmm.
To be fair they did actually behave themselves quite well. Having five little, energy filled boys is no easy task and Pootle herself has reciprocated the favour. By 9pm, however it really was time to go to sleep and after much cajoling and encouragement we still weren't getting anywhere.
So I sat at the top of the stairs and read them Danny, Champion of the World until they fell asleep; either through sheer exhaustion or the boredom of listening to my voice for half an hour.
Pootle rolled in a little bit tipsy a few hours later having had a very nice night out, and after chatting about her evening we decided it made more sense for her to stay the night just in case the mini hobbit woke up upset...and there was no way she was sleeping on the sofa.
So I had my own sleep over.
It was quite nice actually, the pair of us lying in the dark (in our pyjamas I promise, don't get carried away) chatting about anything. The only slightly alarming thing was Pootle letting off the most horrendous fart about fifteen minutes in...made us giggle for about just as long though. She is a classy bird.
So this morning, with the pair of us having slept like logs, there was something quite comforting about having her there. We drank tea in bed with five hobbits cuddling us watching the news, and then worked together to get them up, dressed, breakfasted and ready.
Just how a family should be.
Pootle and I have pretty much decided that if the pair of us do end up alone with cats as our only company, that we will buy a house and live out our days together; which sounds like a pretty damn fine back up plan to me.
I think separate rooms and beds might be in order though...there are only so many of her farts I can handle.
Sounds like a good night huh...? Or at least the start of something good...
You'll probably be slightly disappointed to hear that it was simply Pootle, although I'm not....anything else might have been a bit weird.
Pootle had a little nights respite last night and pottered off to enjoy herself, leaving me in charge of extra hobbits. It made sense for them to sleep over and whilst they are quite comfortable about being in our home, Pootle does have one mini hobbit who may have been upset in the night so it made sense for the pair of us to snuggle up too.
Needless to say they all behaved themselves impeccably, were all in bed and fast asleep by 7.30 and didn't ask me for sweets; popcorn or a film once...hmmmm.
To be fair they did actually behave themselves quite well. Having five little, energy filled boys is no easy task and Pootle herself has reciprocated the favour. By 9pm, however it really was time to go to sleep and after much cajoling and encouragement we still weren't getting anywhere.
So I sat at the top of the stairs and read them Danny, Champion of the World until they fell asleep; either through sheer exhaustion or the boredom of listening to my voice for half an hour.
Pootle rolled in a little bit tipsy a few hours later having had a very nice night out, and after chatting about her evening we decided it made more sense for her to stay the night just in case the mini hobbit woke up upset...and there was no way she was sleeping on the sofa.
So I had my own sleep over.
It was quite nice actually, the pair of us lying in the dark (in our pyjamas I promise, don't get carried away) chatting about anything. The only slightly alarming thing was Pootle letting off the most horrendous fart about fifteen minutes in...made us giggle for about just as long though. She is a classy bird.
So this morning, with the pair of us having slept like logs, there was something quite comforting about having her there. We drank tea in bed with five hobbits cuddling us watching the news, and then worked together to get them up, dressed, breakfasted and ready.
Just how a family should be.
Pootle and I have pretty much decided that if the pair of us do end up alone with cats as our only company, that we will buy a house and live out our days together; which sounds like a pretty damn fine back up plan to me.
I think separate rooms and beds might be in order though...there are only so many of her farts I can handle.
Friday, 8 February 2013
Philosophical...
I have spent most of my lunch break today trying to do a favour for a friend.
Valentines Day is just around the corner and she has an item that requires some further attention.
Last week she produced said item on the table and explained to me in specific detail what was required further...
"On that?" I ask unbelievably.
She nods, "do you think it can be done?"
I shrug, "no idea, but you can try."
"No, I can't," she explains "I am too embarrassed...that is where you come in."
I look at her suspiciously over my cup of tea, raised eyebrows forming slowly. "Me?"
She just smiles at me.
"Oh god, give it here then." I say reluctantly and she passes me the box. "You owe me."
Thankfully as part of my job, I know a lot of local employers who may be able to help with this specific task. I can not, I'm afraid, currently give you the full details of what is required, but what I can tell you though is that this item is quite small and the attention required to it is quite specific.
So I potter off to the first port of call, item in hand. There is a man in town who normally knows about this sort of thing.
"Nice to see you again," he says cheerfully.
I explain my dilemma and thankfully he doesn't request me to leave his shop but does explain that he can't help on this occasion and suggests an alternative of which I try.
I then meet a nice young lad of about eighteen and he smiles at me as I enter the next shop, where I produce said item and I explain my dilemma. "Hmmm," he says...."it is quite small, I am not sure if it will fit." But nevertheless he tries. After some fiddling around he comes to the conclusion that his equipment is too big for the job in hand, (no pun intended) and sadly I have to leave without having fulfilled my obligation.
"You can always try somewhere else," he calls after me, "they may have different sizing on the machine that will fit that." I thank him (but not my friend for giving me such a task) and leave with a new thinking cap on.
Ok, I do have some time to search around a bit more...thankfully the impending day is still a week away.
I also have to purchase a birthday card so I nip into the local card shop, only to be greeted with splashes of red and great big heart balloons. Grumpily I ask for where the birthday cards are, and the young man behind the till tells me down to the left behind the bloody great big I Love You teddy bear...I am tempted to kick it as I walk past, but it isn't really the bears fault.
"I hate Valentines too," he says when I get back to the till.
"I don't hate it, to be fair, just not really in the mood this year." I explain as I pass him my money.
"I am in love with a girl in my class at college," he tells me (though I am not sure why), "she is lovely, but she has a boyfriend."
"Oh, well send her a card anyway," I suggest. "No reason why you can't try, she may secretly feel the same way about you."
"Maybe," he says wistfully, "but he has a plane and he takes her flying."
I look at him as he passes me my change. "Yeah, you're right. You're stuffed. You can't compete with a plane or a pilot for that matter. Move on or get your licence."
He nods in agreement sadly and I leave him with his thoughts, hopefully not suicidal ones.
So I just have one question to ask....do you think I am taking my new philosophical attitude too far?
Valentines Day is just around the corner and she has an item that requires some further attention.
Last week she produced said item on the table and explained to me in specific detail what was required further...
"On that?" I ask unbelievably.
She nods, "do you think it can be done?"
I shrug, "no idea, but you can try."
"No, I can't," she explains "I am too embarrassed...that is where you come in."
I look at her suspiciously over my cup of tea, raised eyebrows forming slowly. "Me?"
She just smiles at me.
"Oh god, give it here then." I say reluctantly and she passes me the box. "You owe me."
Thankfully as part of my job, I know a lot of local employers who may be able to help with this specific task. I can not, I'm afraid, currently give you the full details of what is required, but what I can tell you though is that this item is quite small and the attention required to it is quite specific.
So I potter off to the first port of call, item in hand. There is a man in town who normally knows about this sort of thing.
"Nice to see you again," he says cheerfully.
I explain my dilemma and thankfully he doesn't request me to leave his shop but does explain that he can't help on this occasion and suggests an alternative of which I try.
I then meet a nice young lad of about eighteen and he smiles at me as I enter the next shop, where I produce said item and I explain my dilemma. "Hmmm," he says...."it is quite small, I am not sure if it will fit." But nevertheless he tries. After some fiddling around he comes to the conclusion that his equipment is too big for the job in hand, (no pun intended) and sadly I have to leave without having fulfilled my obligation.
"You can always try somewhere else," he calls after me, "they may have different sizing on the machine that will fit that." I thank him (but not my friend for giving me such a task) and leave with a new thinking cap on.
Ok, I do have some time to search around a bit more...thankfully the impending day is still a week away.
I also have to purchase a birthday card so I nip into the local card shop, only to be greeted with splashes of red and great big heart balloons. Grumpily I ask for where the birthday cards are, and the young man behind the till tells me down to the left behind the bloody great big I Love You teddy bear...I am tempted to kick it as I walk past, but it isn't really the bears fault.
"I hate Valentines too," he says when I get back to the till.
"I don't hate it, to be fair, just not really in the mood this year." I explain as I pass him my money.
"I am in love with a girl in my class at college," he tells me (though I am not sure why), "she is lovely, but she has a boyfriend."
"Oh, well send her a card anyway," I suggest. "No reason why you can't try, she may secretly feel the same way about you."
"Maybe," he says wistfully, "but he has a plane and he takes her flying."
I look at him as he passes me my change. "Yeah, you're right. You're stuffed. You can't compete with a plane or a pilot for that matter. Move on or get your licence."
He nods in agreement sadly and I leave him with his thoughts, hopefully not suicidal ones.
So I just have one question to ask....do you think I am taking my new philosophical attitude too far?
Thursday, 7 February 2013
Operation Spice...
A late night chat with a few girls tonight has turned into something a little bit honest.
Sitting around my dining room table this evening were four women, who all enjoy sex.
"Don't get me wrong," says one of the girls..."I absolutely love sex with him, but I would like to...you know..." She trails off.
"Spice it up you mean?" We suggest.
She considers this for a moment, "yes. I want to do it somewhere else other than the bedroom."
The rest of us look at her surprised, that thus far the bedroom has pretty much been the only place that they have had sex.
"Don't you ever do it in the kitchen?" Says another.
"Nope." She looks glum.
"The car?"
"Once."
"The shower? Out in the open? On the stairs? On the dining room table? Hanging off the wardrobe?" We throw a few ideas at her and she shakes her head...then pauses, "I am liking the idea of outside though."
"Ok, so we have something to work on here..." suggests one of my friends, "when you see him next, pick him up and ask him to take you over the bonnet of your car."
"OMG...I can't ask him that?" She looks horrified.
"Why not? Take control girl...message him now and say, I need you to f**k me on the way home from the conservative club next week."
"F**k!!!!??? I can't say that...he'd think I'd lost the plot."
"No...ask him, seriously...there is something very horny about being asked to be f**ked, for both parties." My friend concurs.
"You need to build it up babe...work on him beforehand, send some dirty messages, add the excitement, add the spice...let him take you from behind up against the bins and throw caution to the wind."
"I once did it in a graveyard," says one of the girls round my table tonight wistfully, however none of us know how to respond to this so just look at her briefly bemused.
"Where can I go outside then?" My friend asks with an innocent look on her face, "The public toilets?"
All of us exclaim No so loudly we nearly wake up the hobbits, "you are not George Bloody Michael!!!"
"Where then?"
"Somewhere discreet....somewhere quiet...don't drink, insist on driving and take him somewhere where you can have your wicked way."
"If I don't drink, he'll know I am up to something." She says.
"Then tell him...tell him you have new underwear on, and you want him to go down on you under the night stars..."
She ponders for a bit...how can she execute her plan? She adores this guy and actually there is nothing wrong at all with their sex life, however she is just looking for that odd occasion when something different happens.
That there is some extra spice to what they are doing...rather than just making love under a duvet.
Sitting around my dining room table this evening were four women, who all enjoy sex.
"Don't get me wrong," says one of the girls..."I absolutely love sex with him, but I would like to...you know..." She trails off.
"Spice it up you mean?" We suggest.
She considers this for a moment, "yes. I want to do it somewhere else other than the bedroom."
The rest of us look at her surprised, that thus far the bedroom has pretty much been the only place that they have had sex.
"Don't you ever do it in the kitchen?" Says another.
"Nope." She looks glum.
"The car?"
"Once."
"The shower? Out in the open? On the stairs? On the dining room table? Hanging off the wardrobe?" We throw a few ideas at her and she shakes her head...then pauses, "I am liking the idea of outside though."
"Ok, so we have something to work on here..." suggests one of my friends, "when you see him next, pick him up and ask him to take you over the bonnet of your car."
"OMG...I can't ask him that?" She looks horrified.
"Why not? Take control girl...message him now and say, I need you to f**k me on the way home from the conservative club next week."
"F**k!!!!??? I can't say that...he'd think I'd lost the plot."
"No...ask him, seriously...there is something very horny about being asked to be f**ked, for both parties." My friend concurs.
"You need to build it up babe...work on him beforehand, send some dirty messages, add the excitement, add the spice...let him take you from behind up against the bins and throw caution to the wind."
"I once did it in a graveyard," says one of the girls round my table tonight wistfully, however none of us know how to respond to this so just look at her briefly bemused.
"Where can I go outside then?" My friend asks with an innocent look on her face, "The public toilets?"
All of us exclaim No so loudly we nearly wake up the hobbits, "you are not George Bloody Michael!!!"
"Where then?"
"Somewhere discreet....somewhere quiet...don't drink, insist on driving and take him somewhere where you can have your wicked way."
"If I don't drink, he'll know I am up to something." She says.
"Then tell him...tell him you have new underwear on, and you want him to go down on you under the night stars..."
She ponders for a bit...how can she execute her plan? She adores this guy and actually there is nothing wrong at all with their sex life, however she is just looking for that odd occasion when something different happens.
That there is some extra spice to what they are doing...rather than just making love under a duvet.
Hot chocolate with soya milk...
Pootle told me a story last night about a good friend of hers.
This friend had gone away for a week helping her sister recuperate after an operation. She had a real week of it, helping out with the house, looking after the children and at the end of it she travelled back on the train exhausted, but pleased she had done a great thing.
What is lovely about this story is not what she had done, but what was awaiting her at the station as the train pulled in. There was her husband, pleased to see her...holding a hot chocolate with soya milk just the way she likes it.
Pootle and I both sit there saying ahhhh in harmony.
"That is what I want," she said.
I nodded, "yes, a man who doesn't need to be told your favourite things, he just knows. A man who doesn't need to be reminded of what you need..."
"...he just knows." She finishes.
Until Pootle told me about her friend and her husband I never thought such a man existed, but this couple have many stories of where they both respect and think about each other. If he sees she needs contact lenses he gets them for her, there is no need to leave him a note to pick up the dry cleaning...he just does it, and she the same for him.
See where this is going? Perhaps not...
The point of anyone knowing exactly how I take my coffee from Costa or the like would be a representation of what I mean to them, and alas Pootle and I concur that it is unlikely that anyone knows exactly what to order for us.
"We need to encourage that person into our lives," Pootle states.
"Ideally, more than one babe...we don't want to share." I suggest.
"True...ok, we need to have a little fun here."
"Will this type of fun mean you getting your cleansing kit and feather out?"
She smiles at me, "with Jasmine baby!"
So we get to work with candles and salt....Pootle and her feather, burning something in my kitchen that actually smells quite nice...encouraging some positive vibes about the men who know exactly how we take our coffee from Starbucks...should they ever want to surprise us.
"Write what you are looking for...what do you want to invite into your life." Pootle says passing me a piece of paper.
"No arseholes."
"No, no arseholes."
I sit and think about this, "although he will indeed need an arsehole, cos we don't want him to be in pain."
"God, yes...maybe don't write that...we will end up with someone who we need to take to hospital all the time for manual evacuation!"
So we get to work...and write either a list, or a message to the universe. It is quite therapeutic actually and when we are done we stand in our circle (like a pair of old witches), Pootle says a few words and we set fire to our lists.
We nearly smoke the kitchen out...but it is done. The list is out there....and who knows, maybe there will be someone one day waiting for us with that specific cup of coffee and a hug that says I missed you like their life depended on it.
This friend had gone away for a week helping her sister recuperate after an operation. She had a real week of it, helping out with the house, looking after the children and at the end of it she travelled back on the train exhausted, but pleased she had done a great thing.
What is lovely about this story is not what she had done, but what was awaiting her at the station as the train pulled in. There was her husband, pleased to see her...holding a hot chocolate with soya milk just the way she likes it.
Pootle and I both sit there saying ahhhh in harmony.
"That is what I want," she said.
I nodded, "yes, a man who doesn't need to be told your favourite things, he just knows. A man who doesn't need to be reminded of what you need..."
"...he just knows." She finishes.
Until Pootle told me about her friend and her husband I never thought such a man existed, but this couple have many stories of where they both respect and think about each other. If he sees she needs contact lenses he gets them for her, there is no need to leave him a note to pick up the dry cleaning...he just does it, and she the same for him.
See where this is going? Perhaps not...
The point of anyone knowing exactly how I take my coffee from Costa or the like would be a representation of what I mean to them, and alas Pootle and I concur that it is unlikely that anyone knows exactly what to order for us.
"We need to encourage that person into our lives," Pootle states.
"Ideally, more than one babe...we don't want to share." I suggest.
"True...ok, we need to have a little fun here."
"Will this type of fun mean you getting your cleansing kit and feather out?"
She smiles at me, "with Jasmine baby!"
So we get to work with candles and salt....Pootle and her feather, burning something in my kitchen that actually smells quite nice...encouraging some positive vibes about the men who know exactly how we take our coffee from Starbucks...should they ever want to surprise us.
"Write what you are looking for...what do you want to invite into your life." Pootle says passing me a piece of paper.
"No arseholes."
"No, no arseholes."
I sit and think about this, "although he will indeed need an arsehole, cos we don't want him to be in pain."
"God, yes...maybe don't write that...we will end up with someone who we need to take to hospital all the time for manual evacuation!"
So we get to work...and write either a list, or a message to the universe. It is quite therapeutic actually and when we are done we stand in our circle (like a pair of old witches), Pootle says a few words and we set fire to our lists.
We nearly smoke the kitchen out...but it is done. The list is out there....and who knows, maybe there will be someone one day waiting for us with that specific cup of coffee and a hug that says I missed you like their life depended on it.
Wednesday, 6 February 2013
What comes next...
"So what happens at the end of the year of being forty?" Asked L last night whilst eating marmite on toast, "what are you going to do next?"
This is not the first time someone has asked me this. The reason I ever started to blog was the inspiration of Lady London last year whilst celebrating my birthday.
I have always written...even as a child. One of my first stories was about The Moon Mootions which Lady London remembers fondly, (I should dig you out a copy one day) and one about Kuthbert, a small colourful dragon of which I even did accompanying pictures to. My father was the inspiration for that one as he always had colourful, amazing books full of dragons and dragon artwork.
Lady London knows me well...too well in fact. She knows that one of my biggest dreams is to write something worthy, something that someone will enjoy; however when I write, my biggest dream is overtaken by my biggest fear; That what I write is so far from worthy that I am ashamed to let anyone read it. Yes, ashamed and embarrassed.
I start with great intentions and really feel that I have something that would make a good book, story or poem (I gave my first boyfriend a poem and I remember being very proud of what I had written...perhaps the only time.)
There are so many excellent authors out there and it is very hard to come up with an original idea. I have only once ever written an actual story long enough to even be considered as a novel, and finished it. Recuperating from appendicitis gave me the time to actually just sit in front of the computer and type....but I wont share it with you...it is pants, truly.
So it was Lady London who suggested the blog. "Just get it out there," she said "and see what feedback you get. This way, you write an observation about you, about life...anything and make it daily."
We discussed this at length over pasta and later on over champagne (it was a great birthday) and came to the conclusion that it would be about my year, after having had such a major change and how I would move on.
Hence the year of being forty...
The trouble is, as L observed, the year of being forty will cease to exist at midnight on the 15th June...so what comes next?
The year of being forty plus one? The year of being forty one? Observations of a single mum aged forty and a bit?
Or simply...nothing? It has been an interesting experience trying to write an entry on a daily basis, and sometimes I haven't managed that. I am aware that sometimes I have nothing to share or observe and what I write feels stilted, disjointed and when reading it back it feels forced. Sometimes there has been no blog at all due to many different reasons.
However, on the whole I have had good feedback and I have been writing something separately for a while now. So maybe it is time to focus on that, rather than the pressure of blogging every day...but L isn't happy with my answer.
He feels that I should still blog, when and if I have an observation on life, however this time make it completely anonymous so that I can be truly honest. He feels that there have been occasions where I have held back and not given away all my true feelings, good and bad, all of my thoughts for fear of recriminations or exposing myself completely.
With just four months to go I need to give this some serious thought...without realising it, the blog has become me, it has become something that I do and it may be very hard to give it up.
This is not the first time someone has asked me this. The reason I ever started to blog was the inspiration of Lady London last year whilst celebrating my birthday.
I have always written...even as a child. One of my first stories was about The Moon Mootions which Lady London remembers fondly, (I should dig you out a copy one day) and one about Kuthbert, a small colourful dragon of which I even did accompanying pictures to. My father was the inspiration for that one as he always had colourful, amazing books full of dragons and dragon artwork.
Lady London knows me well...too well in fact. She knows that one of my biggest dreams is to write something worthy, something that someone will enjoy; however when I write, my biggest dream is overtaken by my biggest fear; That what I write is so far from worthy that I am ashamed to let anyone read it. Yes, ashamed and embarrassed.
I start with great intentions and really feel that I have something that would make a good book, story or poem (I gave my first boyfriend a poem and I remember being very proud of what I had written...perhaps the only time.)
There are so many excellent authors out there and it is very hard to come up with an original idea. I have only once ever written an actual story long enough to even be considered as a novel, and finished it. Recuperating from appendicitis gave me the time to actually just sit in front of the computer and type....but I wont share it with you...it is pants, truly.
So it was Lady London who suggested the blog. "Just get it out there," she said "and see what feedback you get. This way, you write an observation about you, about life...anything and make it daily."
We discussed this at length over pasta and later on over champagne (it was a great birthday) and came to the conclusion that it would be about my year, after having had such a major change and how I would move on.
Hence the year of being forty...
The trouble is, as L observed, the year of being forty will cease to exist at midnight on the 15th June...so what comes next?
The year of being forty plus one? The year of being forty one? Observations of a single mum aged forty and a bit?
Or simply...nothing? It has been an interesting experience trying to write an entry on a daily basis, and sometimes I haven't managed that. I am aware that sometimes I have nothing to share or observe and what I write feels stilted, disjointed and when reading it back it feels forced. Sometimes there has been no blog at all due to many different reasons.
However, on the whole I have had good feedback and I have been writing something separately for a while now. So maybe it is time to focus on that, rather than the pressure of blogging every day...but L isn't happy with my answer.
He feels that I should still blog, when and if I have an observation on life, however this time make it completely anonymous so that I can be truly honest. He feels that there have been occasions where I have held back and not given away all my true feelings, good and bad, all of my thoughts for fear of recriminations or exposing myself completely.
With just four months to go I need to give this some serious thought...without realising it, the blog has become me, it has become something that I do and it may be very hard to give it up.
Awesome...
If you are reading this now...and are anywhere near me, then go and look at the night sky tonight.
It is as clear as a bell and the stars tonight are absolutely amazing.
You can see Taurus, Perseus and Orion among many others and they are awesome.
I have sat here in the garden even though there is a definite chill in the air, with a cup of tea in one hand just looking...and feeling very peaceful.
It is as clear as a bell and the stars tonight are absolutely amazing.
You can see Taurus, Perseus and Orion among many others and they are awesome.
I have sat here in the garden even though there is a definite chill in the air, with a cup of tea in one hand just looking...and feeling very peaceful.
Tuesday, 5 February 2013
Assumptions...
I picked up an old friend from the station this evening.
I have to say it did look rather dodgy even for our standards...there was nowhere for me to park so I swung the car through the tunnel and pulled over quickly while he jumped in, shouting "drive, drive, drive!!"
This wouldn't look suspicious normally but he does stand out in a crowd a bit, and with wooly hat pulled down and black dark coat it did look like we were pulling off some kind of bank heist and I was driving the getaway car.
So a good start to the evening, eh?
He has been very supportive the last few days and I want to thank him for that. Today he came down to see me and the boys much to their delight, as it meant someone else could play the Wii with them rather than boring old mummy.
He, Pootle and I have spent some time discussing the world, relationships and amongst many other things the art of assumptions.
The three of us are quite sociable people. We like to chat to everyone and anyone...almost everyone has a story to tell. However, it doesn't mean that we are looking out for the next notch on our bed post.
"I actually always miss the signals if someone does fancy me," says L sipping coffee at the dining room table, "I actually spent one evening getting signals from one woman desperate to snog me, and missed every one of them until my best mate almost shouted it in my face!"
"It is the assumption that just because you may be talking to a member of the opposite sex in a friendly way, that therefore you must fancy them that always gets me," I mention, "why can't women be friends with men?"
L agrees, he has many female friends, and some of them have been stunners and he has only seen them as a sister type relationship...much like our relationship, (not that I am suggesting that I am a stunner here you know!)
I have some good male and female friends. They all serve a purpose in my life and hopefully I do in theirs too. I get good advice from males as equally as I do females, and surely that type of friendship should be encouraged rather than the assumption you just want to get in the sack with them?
In the climate of being single (two out of three of us are), it is really hard to just simply talk, be, and try things out. Thankfully gone are the younger days when you felt almost obligated to fancy someone back if they found you attractive. Now we are more confident about our decisions...but please don't assume that just because I talk to a man, who is perhaps attractive that I fancy him.
You know what people say about the word assume...it makes an ass out of you and me...
I have to say it did look rather dodgy even for our standards...there was nowhere for me to park so I swung the car through the tunnel and pulled over quickly while he jumped in, shouting "drive, drive, drive!!"
This wouldn't look suspicious normally but he does stand out in a crowd a bit, and with wooly hat pulled down and black dark coat it did look like we were pulling off some kind of bank heist and I was driving the getaway car.
So a good start to the evening, eh?
He has been very supportive the last few days and I want to thank him for that. Today he came down to see me and the boys much to their delight, as it meant someone else could play the Wii with them rather than boring old mummy.
He, Pootle and I have spent some time discussing the world, relationships and amongst many other things the art of assumptions.
The three of us are quite sociable people. We like to chat to everyone and anyone...almost everyone has a story to tell. However, it doesn't mean that we are looking out for the next notch on our bed post.
"I actually always miss the signals if someone does fancy me," says L sipping coffee at the dining room table, "I actually spent one evening getting signals from one woman desperate to snog me, and missed every one of them until my best mate almost shouted it in my face!"
"It is the assumption that just because you may be talking to a member of the opposite sex in a friendly way, that therefore you must fancy them that always gets me," I mention, "why can't women be friends with men?"
L agrees, he has many female friends, and some of them have been stunners and he has only seen them as a sister type relationship...much like our relationship, (not that I am suggesting that I am a stunner here you know!)
I have some good male and female friends. They all serve a purpose in my life and hopefully I do in theirs too. I get good advice from males as equally as I do females, and surely that type of friendship should be encouraged rather than the assumption you just want to get in the sack with them?
In the climate of being single (two out of three of us are), it is really hard to just simply talk, be, and try things out. Thankfully gone are the younger days when you felt almost obligated to fancy someone back if they found you attractive. Now we are more confident about our decisions...but please don't assume that just because I talk to a man, who is perhaps attractive that I fancy him.
You know what people say about the word assume...it makes an ass out of you and me...
Monday, 4 February 2013
Operation rescue tooth...
"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find Superman's first tooth." I have advised Pootle this evening.
"No, problem," she said nochalanatly, before truly realising where the tooth could be lying.
Superman, as you may or may not be aware, has had a woggly tooth for a wee while now...he came bounding in this morning, excitedly informing me that his tooth had finally broken free of its bounds and he now had a hole.
Exciting stuff in hobbit world.
"But I don't know where it is mummy!" He said, mildly disappointed.
"Don't worry it is probably in your bed," I say trying to consol a six year old who is worried that the tooth fairy won't come tonight.
So off I potter to search the bed clothes, the pillow, the duvet and under the bed. At one point I thought I had found it, but discovered alas it was only a tiny bit of popcorn left over from movie night the other night...note to self to Hoover under the bed later.
The only conclusion I can come to...is that he has swallowed it in the night.
So the tooth is now in Superman's tummy, awaiting to be expelled.
Hmmm...gone forever? Well, Pootle has taken up the challenge, she says, and she will indeed search the toilet for the first tooth of Superman...cos I can assure you, no matter how much I love my hobbits, there are some things you just don't do.
However Pootle is brave, fearless and a student nurse, so she can handle poo. However we are concerned that Superman may go for a poo whilst at school...
"You'll have to ask a teacher to put it in a bag" we suggest to him.
"Oh yes," he says excitedly, set for the challenge of operation rescue tooth.
"If you don't have a bag, and you have finished your lunch you could pop it in there?" Pootle suggests...
OMG!!!! Really???
I advise Superman that this really isn't necessary and in fact the tooth fairy will know...she will still visit and she will leave the relevant pennies under the pillow...cos she is clever like that.
A much nicer story than having to tell Pootle's grandchildren in years to come that she once searched through my sons poo, don't you think?
"No, problem," she said nochalanatly, before truly realising where the tooth could be lying.
Superman, as you may or may not be aware, has had a woggly tooth for a wee while now...he came bounding in this morning, excitedly informing me that his tooth had finally broken free of its bounds and he now had a hole.
Exciting stuff in hobbit world.
"But I don't know where it is mummy!" He said, mildly disappointed.
"Don't worry it is probably in your bed," I say trying to consol a six year old who is worried that the tooth fairy won't come tonight.
So off I potter to search the bed clothes, the pillow, the duvet and under the bed. At one point I thought I had found it, but discovered alas it was only a tiny bit of popcorn left over from movie night the other night...note to self to Hoover under the bed later.
The only conclusion I can come to...is that he has swallowed it in the night.
So the tooth is now in Superman's tummy, awaiting to be expelled.
Hmmm...gone forever? Well, Pootle has taken up the challenge, she says, and she will indeed search the toilet for the first tooth of Superman...cos I can assure you, no matter how much I love my hobbits, there are some things you just don't do.
However Pootle is brave, fearless and a student nurse, so she can handle poo. However we are concerned that Superman may go for a poo whilst at school...
"You'll have to ask a teacher to put it in a bag" we suggest to him.
"Oh yes," he says excitedly, set for the challenge of operation rescue tooth.
"If you don't have a bag, and you have finished your lunch you could pop it in there?" Pootle suggests...
OMG!!!! Really???
I advise Superman that this really isn't necessary and in fact the tooth fairy will know...she will still visit and she will leave the relevant pennies under the pillow...cos she is clever like that.
A much nicer story than having to tell Pootle's grandchildren in years to come that she once searched through my sons poo, don't you think?
Sunday, 3 February 2013
One more thing...
I went to the local supermarket today and I have just one thing to say to the lady who stood in the queue in front of me.
Just because they sell denim hot pants in a size 24, doesn't mean you should purchase them...or indeed wear them.
Sorry.
Just because they sell denim hot pants in a size 24, doesn't mean you should purchase them...or indeed wear them.
Sorry.
All in the name of research...
Yesterday was not a good day.
In fact it was a terrible day, interspersed with some light relief thanks to my hobbits.
Last week I let go of something that was very important to me, and yesterday it hit me like a sledgehammer...with full emotional force.
The emptiness is still there today, and will remain there for quite some time to come. The ache of what you feel doesn't just simply go away and won't for a very long time; it would be very easy to try and call it back...to be there in the warmth, the kindness and just continue to love it.
I miss it more than I can ever try to explain.
My mobile telephone is achingly silent, and last night I put it on charge realising that it had almost a full battery still, where before I have almost always had to charge it again during the day...
I am hoping that it is true that if you let something go that you love, that it will one day return to you, if indeed it is yours to love.
Therefore today I really needed a better day and consequently I have spent a very therapeutic day in the company of Pootle.
What started as a quick cup of tea at her house at ten this morning, escalated in us spending the day together; putting the world to rights; making monumental decisions (her not me); playing football in the park (the boys not us) and we are now finishing it off making pancakes...
To be honest I think a day like today was just what we both needed. Some good company, some laughter (always lots of laughter with Pootle), a little bit of wistfulness and a little bit of extra wishful thinking. She is excellent company and hopefully between us we kept both of our spirits high and hopeful.
Alas she missed Friday nights little gathering as she was unwell, so naturally I filled her in on the delights of what occurred and what purchases were made...
"Allegedly," I inform her with just a whisper, just in case anyone is listening to us in the park, "there are amazing things that can be done with a thong and a set of stairs..."
"Really?" She asks intrigued, "tell me more."
"Got a thong?" I ask leaning in closer, on a conspiratorial secret that every single, indeed every woman should be made aware of.
"Yep, check" she confirms.
"Ok, you need to put it on backwards then run up and down the stairs three times."
"Then what? I'll be all puffed out." She said.
"Hopefully, you'll be feeling more than that." I say with a smile.
She looked at me, "really?"
I nod, "apparently."
"Wow, I know what I am doing tonight then."
Again I nod in agreement, "yep, I wonder how early I can get the kids to bed?"
"After all," she said, "it would be rude not to try."
"All in the name of research of course, as someone said to me recently." I confirm.
And at least if I text Pootle the results of the research, my phone will get used...
Saturday, 2 February 2013
Siri...
The hobbits and I have been trying to amuse ourselves today, essentially trying to keep busy...rather than resorting to me doing the housework or moping...as moping is so last year...
We have made a banana cake, at the bequest of Superman. That kept us busy for at least twenty minutes, however it took me about half an hour of clearing up mashed banana and stray flour off the kitchen work top...so much for less cleaning!!!
We have put together a Skylanders puzzle and had at least half an hours entertainment with Siri, the talking assistant on the iPad that you can ask any question of.
We have asked it some sensible questions...such as;
Why did the Titanic sink?
Where is New York? Or...
How tall was T-Rex? And the like...but, if anyone knows me or indeed my hobbits it then deteriorated to...
Why does Batman have a cape?
What are farts?
Why does so and so have a runny nose? Of which it then searched the web for and produced a page on why dog's have runny noses, much to their hilarity.
They were equally amused when Siri misheard their question and came back with a non-sensical question...giggling to themselves.
My question to Siri in jest was why am I so perfect? A natural question to ask of course...of which it simply replied, "I don't know. Frankly I have wondered that myself."
Nice to know that Siri is curious too...
...but tonight, we are going to order pizza, watch a film and snuggle up on the sofa. Seems like a good cure for moping to me.
We have made a banana cake, at the bequest of Superman. That kept us busy for at least twenty minutes, however it took me about half an hour of clearing up mashed banana and stray flour off the kitchen work top...so much for less cleaning!!!
We have put together a Skylanders puzzle and had at least half an hours entertainment with Siri, the talking assistant on the iPad that you can ask any question of.
We have asked it some sensible questions...such as;
Why did the Titanic sink?
Where is New York? Or...
How tall was T-Rex? And the like...but, if anyone knows me or indeed my hobbits it then deteriorated to...
Why does Batman have a cape?
What are farts?
Why does so and so have a runny nose? Of which it then searched the web for and produced a page on why dog's have runny noses, much to their hilarity.
They were equally amused when Siri misheard their question and came back with a non-sensical question...giggling to themselves.
My question to Siri in jest was why am I so perfect? A natural question to ask of course...of which it simply replied, "I don't know. Frankly I have wondered that myself."
Nice to know that Siri is curious too...
...but tonight, we are going to order pizza, watch a film and snuggle up on the sofa. Seems like a good cure for moping to me.
Friday, 1 February 2013
Four vibrators and a cock ring...
Thank you to the lovely S for a wonderful evening...
New toys have been purchased... (J, I really need to know the outcome there)...new underwear has been paid for, so I can wander round at home on my own feeling good...the hobbits have checked out the colour and they approve, so I can trust them surely?
S is a wonderful party host and we thoroughly enjoy her company, lots of lovely things to buy...but not enough money to buy them.
I feel like I have tried very bra and every item on the rail, but it was the captains 'come fly with me' outfit that the girls loved...
We are a little bit tipsy, and a little bit giggly...and some of us are a little bit horny...thankfully not all of us or there could have been some serious girl on girl action.
So for just once a photo....of wondering woman...just for fun!
G'nite xx
New toys have been purchased... (J, I really need to know the outcome there)...new underwear has been paid for, so I can wander round at home on my own feeling good...the hobbits have checked out the colour and they approve, so I can trust them surely?
S is a wonderful party host and we thoroughly enjoy her company, lots of lovely things to buy...but not enough money to buy them.
I feel like I have tried very bra and every item on the rail, but it was the captains 'come fly with me' outfit that the girls loved...
We are a little bit tipsy, and a little bit giggly...and some of us are a little bit horny...thankfully not all of us or there could have been some serious girl on girl action.
So for just once a photo....of wondering woman...just for fun!
G'nite xx
Here we go again...
Ok it's Friday night and the girls are here...well, some of them at least.
Pootle, as B is now named, is not up to it and is sitting at home with her wooly hat on as I write...but some other contenders for the evening entertainment are here at least.
Tonight, for one night only...well at least until I book another one...we have an evening of underwear and delights being shown to us.
I booked this a few weeks ago, when strangely underwear was on my mind...yes really. However, whatever makes you feel good I say embrace it.
So without further ado, we have a lovely woman coming round to show us a new catalogue of underwear, nightwear, thongs, suspenders....and toys. Hey, I at least need a new toy in this current climate!!!
So bring on the wine and the nibbles...and good god, let there be laughter!!!
Pootle, as B is now named, is not up to it and is sitting at home with her wooly hat on as I write...but some other contenders for the evening entertainment are here at least.
Tonight, for one night only...well at least until I book another one...we have an evening of underwear and delights being shown to us.
I booked this a few weeks ago, when strangely underwear was on my mind...yes really. However, whatever makes you feel good I say embrace it.
So without further ado, we have a lovely woman coming round to show us a new catalogue of underwear, nightwear, thongs, suspenders....and toys. Hey, I at least need a new toy in this current climate!!!
So bring on the wine and the nibbles...and good god, let there be laughter!!!
Oblivious...
According to the conversation in the office this morning you get extra sexy points for being foreign.
Listening to a conversation held between three work colleagues, there is a suggestion from them that if a young lady speaks English but in a foreign accent then this gains them far more sexy points, than simply being English and gorgeous.
"Does simply being able to speak another language help?" I ask
"Only, if you can actually speak English in the accent of the other language." Says A confusingly.
"So it would do nothing for you if I speak in Spanish to you?"
He looks at me, "nope."
"Ok, that makes it clear...so only English in a foreign accent hits the button?"
He nods..."I would have to find the woman attractive anyway, but they get extra sexy points for being foreign."
"I have to say," interjects my other colleague, "I quite fancy Scandinavians...they always sound sexy."
"Really?" I ask bemused.
"Oh god yes, and they are very fit and clean."
I shrug, "well, I am neither Spanish nor Scandinavian, so I am bit stuffed really."
"Oh please," says my colleague in a tone, "you get enough attention anyway."
I am genuinely taken aback by this..."what?"
"The guy in the car park this morning was totally checking you out...looking over his shoulder at you and looking back at your car."
"Oh, come on, he was probably just checking out my dodgy car parking...you can't assume that just because a male looks at you then they are checking you out...either that or he was sniggering at my hat!"
He puts down his coffee, "women never notice anything." He states. "The guy this morning was definitely checking you out, and he was walking to the building next door so was probably a doctor..."
Now it is always quite motivating to think that someone may have checked me out, however fleeting...however, let's be honest, he probably was in reality looking at where my car was parked because it wasn't in a legitimate bay. So was probably more irritated with me than attracted to me.
However, is it true that women don't really notice these things? I am always quite flattered and surprised if someone does indeed check me out, and no, I don't always notice it because we don't assume that members of the opposite sex would necessarily immediately find us attractive. That would be quite big headed now wouldn't it?
So how come my colleague was so insistent when I tried to suggest otherwise? Is it because men see these things better than women, or do they just recognise their own actions?
Nevertheless, on a week where I have been feeling less than appealing, it was nice of my colleague to suggest otherwise and give me a mini boost.
Listening to a conversation held between three work colleagues, there is a suggestion from them that if a young lady speaks English but in a foreign accent then this gains them far more sexy points, than simply being English and gorgeous.
"Does simply being able to speak another language help?" I ask
"Only, if you can actually speak English in the accent of the other language." Says A confusingly.
"So it would do nothing for you if I speak in Spanish to you?"
He looks at me, "nope."
"Ok, that makes it clear...so only English in a foreign accent hits the button?"
He nods..."I would have to find the woman attractive anyway, but they get extra sexy points for being foreign."
"I have to say," interjects my other colleague, "I quite fancy Scandinavians...they always sound sexy."
"Really?" I ask bemused.
"Oh god yes, and they are very fit and clean."
I shrug, "well, I am neither Spanish nor Scandinavian, so I am bit stuffed really."
"Oh please," says my colleague in a tone, "you get enough attention anyway."
I am genuinely taken aback by this..."what?"
"The guy in the car park this morning was totally checking you out...looking over his shoulder at you and looking back at your car."
"Oh, come on, he was probably just checking out my dodgy car parking...you can't assume that just because a male looks at you then they are checking you out...either that or he was sniggering at my hat!"
He puts down his coffee, "women never notice anything." He states. "The guy this morning was definitely checking you out, and he was walking to the building next door so was probably a doctor..."
Now it is always quite motivating to think that someone may have checked me out, however fleeting...however, let's be honest, he probably was in reality looking at where my car was parked because it wasn't in a legitimate bay. So was probably more irritated with me than attracted to me.
However, is it true that women don't really notice these things? I am always quite flattered and surprised if someone does indeed check me out, and no, I don't always notice it because we don't assume that members of the opposite sex would necessarily immediately find us attractive. That would be quite big headed now wouldn't it?
So how come my colleague was so insistent when I tried to suggest otherwise? Is it because men see these things better than women, or do they just recognise their own actions?
Nevertheless, on a week where I have been feeling less than appealing, it was nice of my colleague to suggest otherwise and give me a mini boost.
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