“Don’t you wish your girlfriend was as great as mine; don't ya!”

OH MY GOD! Can you believe it? I am the luckiest person in the world! I have recently started a new job working with adults with learning disabilities. As part of this job I have to write regular reports where I have to note the time of when the report was written. Unfortunately up until this point I have not had a watch. Now I could have gone to Argos or the market and picked up any old watch, but that would SO not be me. Obviously any watch I have has to say something about me or be a bit different.

I have always wanted to have a rainbow watch, that was analogue, no leather strap and showed numbers. This has been like the holy grail, i.e. impossible. I have searched the Internet, ebay, regular shops and catalogues but to no avail. I even looked abroad and still did not find anything to my liking. I feared the rest of my life would be a watchless existent, or one where I would be displaying a rather dull wrist.

Well well well, my girlfriend is a genius. The sneaky minx managed to find the perfect watch and bought it for me for Christmas. She must have sold her soul to the devil or something for this information, but she did it. She had to order it all the way from America! WOW. It arrived this morning, but she was excited to give me the gift I received it as soon as I walked through the door from this mornings training. I know it was supposed to be for Xmas, but how could you let something this wonderful go unworn for another 2 months; surely that would be illegal if not immoral. So please feast your eyes on this rainbow loveliness:


So as the Pussy Cat Dolls say “don’t you wish your girlfriend was as great as mine; don't ya!”. Well something like that.

49p – Bargain

While I was perusing my local Tescos for the weekly supply of nectarines and toilet paper, I noticed that all the Halloween stuff was out in full force. Is it really so late in the year? Well apparently so. Although I shall be refraining from trick or treat on the basis that it’s awful and that I’m 31, I still wanted to indulge in some of the plastic trickery you can get for under a £1.

Much to my disappointment there was no fake blood or witches fingers available. What is happening in the world? However I did manage to buy the ‘mrs’ some black lipstick and glow in the nail polish. How good they are is yet to be tested. For myself I got some skull nails. Most of them were a bit small as they are meant for a childs hand, but for 49p I was not going to forgo this opportunity. You can pay up to £10 for a decent set of false stick on nails in Boots, but look at all this ‘quality’ for such a small price.

I am going to ignore the fact that they fell off within 30 minutes, and when I went to scratch my ear, I left one inside! oops

A stab at a social life!

In an effort to increase our social life, the ‘mrs’ heard on the radio there was going to be a murder mystery play at a local church. The audience would be in teams, and try and guess the murder over a ploughman’s dinner. All this fun for only £4 each, so we decided to go. We had invited a couple of friends so we could be a super sloothy team of 4, but unfortunately when we got there we received a text to say they had been locked out of their house and couldn’t come.

We sat in the car for ages outside this church wondering what to do. Was it going to be filled with white middle class bible goers who might get a bit of a shock when we walk in with our rainbow bags and hats? After much deliberation we decided to go in; after all just think of the experiences you could miss if you don’t be brave and jump in. Leaving the car we made our way cautiously to the door of the church. The door was closed. Should we knock? Should be just barge in leading to the silence as everyone turns round? We opened the door tentatively and was greeted by a very smiley vicar man; rather camp with a bright red nose. It wouldn’t be right for me to assume he had been a bit too liberal with the communal wine!

We were asked what name had we booked under. Booked? I rang up for some information but didn’t know I had actually booked. The vicar man then said ‘ah Kate isn’t it’? He was either psychic or we were the only ones there who were not part of the established church going clientele. We were shown to our table which had a sticker on it with my name on; ah how sweet. On the table we had scrap pieces of paper to make notes throughout the play, and a guess sheet to lay down our ideas on who the evil murderer was. Then the vicar stood up and starting talking about how this was a novel way to celebrate Harvest Festival. What? This was Harvest Festival?? What happened to just donating a tin of peas at the back of the cupboard. Oh no, we were trapped. The doors had been shut. Still we were here now, so we should make the best of it and enjoy the live theatre.

The play started. It had obviously been a quick production because all the actors where reading from scripts. The acoustics in the church meant the words were pretty inaudible. I had no idea what was going on, and didn’t even realise when someone had been murdered! I tried, I really did, but I just ended up using the scrap paper to pass notes to the ‘mrs’ like when you were in class at school. It’s amazing how much you want to giggle and release gas when you are not allowed to. In short the play was awful, but they were trying hard bless em’. My favourite character was the oldest member of the cast who kept forgetting where she was supposed to be and jumped every time one of the prop people let off a noise, like a car horn. Bless!

During this long hour, while getting a numb bum, we were thinking about ways we could leave without being too suspicious. Soon there would be a break for a ploughmans so maybe we could slip out then. But what excuse could we give? Well we could pretend that our friends were still stuck as the locksmith had failed to materialise. That sounded plausible. At the break we were handed a paper plate with a role, two blocks of cheese, a cherry tomato and some lettuce. It was time for our escape, but not before I had eaten the bread. Hey this evening had cost me £9 with the tickets and the obligatory raffle tickets, so I was going to eat my bread.


After this the ‘mrs’ made a telephone call to her friend to see how she was getting on, making sure the table next to us heard the words “do you need rescuing?”. The reality was the locksmith had arrived and they were inside, but mrs nosey britches next door didn’t need to know that. Gathering our stuff we made our way out. Just as we got to the door we were accosted by the vicar man, to whom we regaled the story of the friends left out in the cold. We thanked him for a lovely evening and were given a booklet about the church, with an invitation to not be a stranger. We then took our chance and escaped. We had lied to a vicar. Shall we be going to hell? I don’t believe in hell so I am going to say no, after all he’s just a man in a frock. So it would be like lying to a drag queen surely?

After this we made our way to our friends house for some diet coke and chats. So after all it was an interesting social evening, that we can laugh about.

The Picture Speak for Itself

Here is a picture of my most recent purchase. Rainbow welly boots. What more can I say, than fabulous!

Who knew B&Q could be so funky!

Christmas Has Escaped!

Oh dear; it’s happened. This morning I saw my first Christmas products in the shop to buy; chocolate santas and Christmas puddings. Why is it that as soon as there is a ‘ber’ at the end of the month and the first leave turns slightly brown, every shop seems to become festooned with gordy cardboard adverts with printed holly.

I am not being ‘bah humbug’ or anything, but don’t you get tired of the swimming costumes and t-shirts suddenly being replaced with crackers and tinsel. Come on people, it’s September. I don’t want to see anything until at least after Bonfire Night. No matter how much you try and suppress Christmas until you absolutely have to, it always seems to escape far too early. I support we have the joys of 3 months of Christmas adverts to drive me crazy. As we get closer to the season of giving, I almost crave normal adverts with no jingle bells or fake snow. Come back shake’n’vac, all is forgiven!

What I fail to understand is when there are edible Christmas products in the shops with the words ‘perfect for Xmas day’, such as mince pies, displaying a use by date is in ovember. Personally I like mince pies, and don’t see why they can’t be available all year round, but surely this is false advertising.

I am not anti-Christmas; I'm just anti-Christmas RIGHT NOW!

Okay rant over!

Is The Whole Nation Lazy Cooks? - RANT

Don’t get me wrong, I am certainly not one for pouring over pots and pans for hours; in fact if I can do everything in the one pan in 20 minutes, I will. I was in Lidl this morning when the guy in front of me was buying some microwave rice in a foil packet. The man at the checkout was really interested, stating that he would have to get some. His reasons were:

1. I can’t be bothered to wait for the 15 minutes for the rice to boil.
2. The curry I make takes 20 minutes and I don’t want to wait an extra 15 for the rice.
3. Saves using a pan

Okay I have some issues. Firstly pasta and rice are one of the cheapest ingredients around and I think it’s just criminal to spend at least 10 times the price on a 2 minute product. Secondly why does this young man have to wait an ‘extra’ 15 minutes on top of the curry. Now here’s a bright idea. I know it will seem a bit radical, but how about cooking the rice and the curry at the SAME time. I know my ideas are just out there!

I will subscribe to the fact that he might not be able to cook two things at once if he only had a hot plate, but on the basis that he wants to buy microwave rice, I conclude that he does at least have a microwave. In this case he can make ‘jug rice’, which is a personal favourite of mine. Take a large pyrex jug, or even a large bowl, throw some rice in, cover with boiling water and pop in the microwave for high 12-15 minutes. Drain and then use the same bowl to eat out of. Less washing up and the bowl will already be hot keeping the food warm. The same can be done with pasta.

Now I know some may shout at me saying how quick it is if you are really hungry, but surely anyone can wait 12 minutes. My suggestion is that if you come in REALLY hungry, pop some rice or pasta in the microwave, then take off your shoes, hang up your coat, have a wee, go through the junk mail and pet the cat. By the time you have done all this you will hear ‘ping’ and dinner is served!

As a nation I think we are becoming lazier and lazier. We shall be breeding a generation of people who thinks the only way to have lasagne is to buy it ready made, don’t know that chips come from potatoes and that milk comes, not from cows, but Tesco! A few years ago I was at the checkout in Asda buying a huge 5kg bag of pasta, when the checkout lady (who was estimated to be about 25) said “oh I’ve heard of pasta is it nice?”. She then asked me how to cook it and what you have it with. How can you have got to 25 and not eaten pasta? I applaud the fact that she was interested in trying new things, but come on people put down the home fries!

Ooops - Clumsy Me!

I am without a shadow of a doubt a clums moo. This is a great skill built up over many years due to intense training. Today was another me classic, where I managed to break the ‘mrs’ phone charger by sucking it up the Dyson and ripping it in two. The strange electrical smell was rather interesting. I do feel sorry for the ‘mrs’ having the live with me. I have broken glasses, two dishes, two toilet seats (okay one, which I broke twice) and a radiator. Not bad going.

Not only am I clumsy but I am electrical. Seriously I am. I can blow light bulbs just by turning on the light. I don’t mean coincidence, I mean repeatedly. I was always frightened working in an office because I got electrical shocks from photocopiers, door handles, chair legs, filing cabinets and other people. I tried various experience with different kinds of shoes, floor surfaces and clothes but to no avail. I always close the car door with a sleeve over my hand, with my foot or by pushing the glass, in response to some bad electrically experiences. Don’t even get me started on shopping centres. I swear those escalators act as some of huge Van der Graff generator that discharges itself on me, when I reach the metal railings at the top. In addition people scare me. People should learn to stay away as it often results with being shocked when handed something. Maybe it’s just my magnetic personality – boom boom!

It was suggested once that I could have some dyspraxic tendencies especially as it ties in with the need for social justice. I looked up the symptoms, one of which was difficulty in communicating verbally, so I thought this was definitely not me. If there was a metal for talking I was be a gold medal winner. Nothing deep and meaningful you understand!

I just have to reside to the fact that I am a person that must always have household insurance and a good broom to hand!

Ready, Steady, 'Chinglish'?

The ‘mrs’ and I have been doing a bit of a ‘ready steady cook’ thing recently. We have to buy an ingredient we have never cooked with and make something, ideally edible. I went first with stuffed aubergines. Yes I know it seems odd that after 31 years on the planet I have never cooked one, well I hadn’t. The recipe (well I wasn’t going free style quite yet) said to boil the vegetables for 10 minutes. How can you boil them? It’s like trying to boil 2 buoys! In the end the underside which got boiled stayed a lovely purple and was tender, while the top went brown and tough. I triedkeeping them under the boiling water with a less than successful scaffolding made out of spatulas, chop sticks and bowls (best not ask). Despite this the meal was a triumphant success and appreciated by all!

Next was the ‘mrs’ turn. She had to do battle with a butternut squash. Un-chartered territory indeed. The meal of choice was a vegetable curry. I wasn’t involved in the preparation so I can not report on the most appropriate cooking method. Anyway the curry was really nice and the big chucks of orange squash were uber nice; much nice than suede which it reminded me of.

Last night was my turn. A few weeks ago I had gone into the local tiny Chinese supermarket and had picked up some packets of bean curd. I love the bean curd I get at the Chinese takeaways and have always wanted to know how they did it. One of hard things about being a vegetarian is finding something for dinner you can have a good chew on. What also attracted me to the products was the ingredients; bean curd – that’s it! Unlike quorn and other veggie alternative there is a list of ingredients as long as your arm. This has one ingredient.


So my challenge last night was to do a 5 spice stir fry. I prepared all the ingredients such as onions, mushrooms, fine green beans, 3 colours of peppers and pok choi, all in separate bowl in a Blue Peter stylee. Following the strange instructions written in Chinglish (the word used for Chinese badly translated into English), I boiled the bean curd (packet in the middle) for only 3 minutes. After draining I added it to my stir fry that was coming along nicely (I’m sure the burnt bits on the bottom of the wok just add to the flavour). It was another success although I think I should have added them earlier to absorb some of the flavour or maybe marinated the bits first. Oh well I look forward to more trial and error.

As a side note, why not google images of Chinglish, they are very funny. This is a good one.

It’s the ‘mrs’ turn next to cook something different. Any suggested unusual vegetarian ingredients would be welcome!

It's called art, lovey!

The greatest invention ever to grace the face of this planet – SOAP CRAYONS! I can tell by your sudden intake of breath you are as excited as I was. What a fantastic invention. Living on the cutting edge of technology as I do, this flat has had the crayons for some time, but I feel I can be selfish no more, and spread the joy to the world!

So what are soap crayons? Unless your IQ is below 10 you have probably worked out that they are crayons made of soap! So what are they for? Oh just so many things.

1. You can draw on yourself making pretend tattoos
2. Write profound and thought provoking messages on the bathroom wall
3. Wash with them
4. Create works of art as great as the Sistine chapel
5. Improvise home made tiles
6. Play noughts and crosses or handman with other toilet users
7. Let your child go mad with self expression
8. …or just draw silly pictures!

Please bear in mind that who ever visit this flat has to by LAW contribute to this ever growing piece of conceptual and organic art!


I insist that in order to fulfil your own artistic destiny you must all rush out and buy your own Crayola soap crayons. Go NOW. Don’t even both to stop and have a wash. GOOOOO!

The Freedom to Whiz

At Brighton Pride last week the ‘mrs’ and I bought a device called the ‘Whiz Freedom’. What is this I hear you cry? Have you ever been to festivals and have to queue forever to use the ladies loos while the men just pop in and out of the urinals? Have you ever been caught out desperate for a wee in a car and have had nowhere to stop? Have you ever been camping and wished you could just pee in the bushes than trudging your way to the toilet block? Well I have! Hence the purchase of the Whiz Freedom.

As you can see it’s a rubber device which goes over the lady bits and enables one to direct ones pee. If you want to pee in a bush you can (although toilets are always preferable). At pride they had women’s urinals which were virtually empty and used such technology. We have had a bit of a practise with pretty good results. Now you men have had a lifetime to perfect the art of a good pee, fine tuning the direct, angle and force so more practise will be needed. Generally we have been very successful during our practises, except the time I forgot to actually pull my pyjamas bottoms down and actually widdled inside my trousers. Oh well, we live and learn.

So no more crouching exposing ones bottom to the air, and no more splash back on your shoes! I know it seems rather odd, but is a really good idea. The website is: http://www.whizproducts.co.uk/en/product_shop.aspx

Check out the ‘gift sets’! I assume people would actually give this as a gift!!!

Look at me with a social life!

I had a really good weekend. My friend Daniel came down on Friday who I haven’t seen for many years. Apart from some grey hair he hadn’t really changes, although he did I say I looked ‘weathered’ – ta ever so darling! Despite having not seen each other for so many years, it was weird and didn’t feel strained at all.

Happily Brighton Pride and my birthday coincided on the same day which gave me an excuse for a bit of a party. In the morning I was greeted to some wonderful gifts from the ‘mrs’. I love homemade gifts and cards the most as it has shown some thought. My sister made me a cake, and the mrs made me a card and a photographic montage of our life together which is proudly sitting on the mantelpiece. I also got some rainbow candles and rainbow stationary which was fab.

We spent the day meeting up with friends, hers and mine, and watching the parade. Our favourite section was the ‘Dorothys’ (men and women) from the Wizard of Oz, all dancing down the road in unison, looking very well rehearsed. Despite seeking out areas of shade we all rather caught the sun. I didn’t get burned but the ‘mrs’ really suffered resulting in peeling skin and blistered; ouch! She has now been recommended not to go back to work this week and avoid the sun at all costs. She still looks lovely covered in Vaseline! If you know her, check out her new pictures on facebook of her new ‘lion’ face!

After this we battled our way round the stalls and through the park. It seemed much busier than last year. After some chips, trips to the toilet and some purchases we left about 6pm as we were all feeling a bit burned. Us lobsters then headed straight for Tesco for some after sun, pizza and cheesecake.

On Sunday, Daniel the ‘mrs’ and myself met up with Spudgy and ‘the lodger’ for a late Sunday dinner followed by a tour of Spudgys’ new house. They have the cutest cat who’s only 10 weeks old. The smallest thing in the world. As cute as it was I am not a cat person. They have claws and you never know where they are. I couldn’t cope with the loss of it disappearing one day and never coming back.

Daniel went back to London yesterday after making some beautiful art with me, and has invited us to come and stay at some point and sample the luxury of his blow up mattress.


It’s so exciting to now have a place to go in London. Can’t wait to see his flat now his all grown up with a mortgage and stuff; strange boy!

Settling In

Well I am proud to say that I had a productive weekend. The ‘mrs’ and I finally have a lounge that we can call ours. It was not easy trying to fit the accumulated possessions of two pre and post 30 year old women into a one bedroom flat. However using our combined efforts and my love of labelling we have finally managed to fit everything into place and got rid of 4 bin bags of stuff in the process.

It all fits on one condition. Neither of us are EVER allowed to buy anything else. No gifts, so treats, no purchases of anytime unless they can be consumed! Although I say it all fits, I haven’t even thought about all the DVD’s and videos that still reside in the old house; bum! Oh well the dream was nice.

Nothing else to report, except that it’s going to be Brighton Pride THIS Saturday which should be very enjoyable. I love the parade; it’s my favourite bit. It's not that I get all political; I just love the colours and seeing people just be themselves, or a slight camped up version of themselves. It's FAB. This is a picture from last year.

Two men in pink pants and sailors hats riding a tribute float to Barbara Windsor. Does one need anything more in life? Answers on a postcard.

Bye Bye Johnny!

So as mentioned before I have moved all my stuff into the flat. We had a very successful re-arranging sessions and things are where they should be. Unless I become superman, they will NOT be moved again. This weekend has been put aside for sorting everything out; trying to merge our possessions. Instead of my place for CD’s and her place for CD’s we are going have a place for CD’s. I am not stupid, and will be putting a small sticker on the back of all of mine, to avoid future arguments if we ever get ‘divorced’. This is not being cynical. It’s being practical. It worked a treat after I got divorced for real! So currently I am living in a bit of a mess until the weekend. I have moved all my stuff into a corner and covered it in a sheet so I can pretend it’s not there. I really want to put it away, but it has to be ‘our’ decision and not mine; boo hoo!

With so much stuff I have been quite ruthless in what I really need and have sold a few bits. I am sorry to say that I had to say goodbye to Johnny my anatomical skeleton which I managed to sell at the ‘mrs’ place of work for £80. I couldn't justify using him just as an expensive wig stand! I think the buyer had a friend or child studying sports science or something. I have also sold an ECDL course book for £20. One hundred pounds for 2 things I wasn’t using. Considering I did have 36p in my account, this has come somewhat as a boost! I have written the cheques in the ‘mrs’ name as I feel so bad she’s been buying the food for the last couple of weeks which is my job.

So this week I have been really busy. I have been to two training courses to help with my new voluntary job as a mentor working with young people at the risk of offending. I have completed the training, had the interview and now attending additional training, which is always useful. The first day was about personal safety, i.e. how to keep yourself face when working alone. The second day was about challenging homophobia, especially as it seems very much the fashion amongst young people that everything is ‘gay’, to mean bad. For example “your mobile is SO gay”, or “I hate maths, it’s so gay”. Although the comments are not always directed at anyone who is gay, but it’s using the term in a derogatory manner. Such a shame, as the word used to mean being happy, such as in the 1934 film ‘The Gay Divorcee’ with Fred Astaire.

Anyway this is just a short blog to say goodbye to Johnny. You served me well and you will be missed.

The 'Mrs' prefers Magic boy

So peeps, what have I been up to these days? I have been in the process of moving the rest of my stuff to the flat. How can I have accumulated so much stuff when I am so ruthless about what I keep. But I suppose one 70 litre suitcase just filled with photo albums is probably excessive. Photos and record keeping of my life has always been important. My great nan once said to me that when you get older the only thing you’ll have left in your memories. When I get to the age she was I want to have a record of my memories, just in case I forget.

Anyway I have finally moved the last of my stuff up to the flat and now have the unenviable task of trying to figure out where everything goes. I do have a few items which are not ‘run-of-the-mill’ and not so easy to store. How many people do you know with a cycle trainer and a life size 5ft 6 skeleton in their possession. Maybe it should have been something I mentioned to the ‘mrs’ before we got together. Ah well, I’m hoping love really is blind!

I couldn't have moved all my stuff without the ever faultering and always gratefully received help from my dad. Not only come to drop off some furniture but also did some manly things to the car involving tools and swarfega! GRRRRRRRR Quite a few people stopped to ask what was going with someone blow torching in the middle of the street; but hey it's a great way of finding out who's in the community! THANK YOU DAD!

Aside from that things have been pootling along fine. We are still going to ballroom classes and tripping the light fantastic. We need much work on the pivot turn which we can try and do in the flat without annoying the old bat downstairs. I was disappointed to find out that there would be no ballroom dancing at my sisters wedding in September. Who can we show off to?

Today I am mostly being ignored as SOMEONE, mentioning no names, has the new Harry Potter book. Yes we were there at Tescos just before midnight hovering around the book stand waiting for the boxes to be opened. I was surprised how many people were there. The air was filled with anticipation, like waiting for a big movie star or something! I have never read the Harry Potter books myself and have fallen asleep through at least 2 of the films. However what I will say, is it’s so refreshing to see the public being excited about books, rather than celebrity this that and the other. Best of all children really wanting to engage with reading. What ever you think of the Potter series, you can’t deny it’s benefits.

She’s been in the loo now for 20 minutes, supposedly just going for a wee!

But I want to eat it NOW!!

Okay I said I was going to try and be positive, but I think I am overdue for a rant. The chosen topic for today is fruit. Why can’t I go into a supermarket, buy a punnet of plums and eat them. Why do I have to leave them in the sunshine for a few days or even a week. So you don’t complain they tell you in advance with a ‘ripen at home ‘sticker.

I appreciate that fruit is picked in some country a million miles away while it is still green and containing no natural sugar, packed into steel containers, sprayed with some sort of gas (ether in the case of bananas) to produce a ripe colour (but not flavour), then packaged and stuck on our shelves. This fruit is hard and tasteless. I would like to buy the local produce in the supermarkets but it’s hard to find and generally much more expensive. Mad that fruit 10 miles down the road is more expensive than a million miles away!

I should look more for farmers markets. But let’s be honest here we all creatures of convenience and like to get most of their stuff from one place. If I want quality I should make the effort. I am pasting this link of farmers markets in east sussex for myself as a reminder. http://www.eastsussex.gov.uk/leisureandtourism/foodanddrink/farmersmarkets/farmersmarkets.htm

If you know of any good ones, let me know!

Lighting and rain and hail; oh my!

Well last night was exciting. I can’t remember the last time I saw hail in July. About 8pm the sky came over really dark and then the rains came. After managing to close the windows, and noticing the rain still coming in all over the kitchen floor I did contemplate building an ark. Okay it didn’t help that I wanted to open the window to see if I could catch some hail. I did achieve this aim, and watched the small blob of ice melt on the cooker still residually warm from the bolognaise cooked earlier.

For the next 30 minutes I was treated to torrential rain interspersed by sheet lightening, time and time again. BANG BANG BANG. We turned off all the lights so we could reap the full benefits of this free light show. See, I don’t need a PS2 for entertainment! I suppose it's global warming working it's magic!

Pain you Pay For!!

Dear readers, this evening I shall be embarking on a well over due visit to the dentist. Every time I go to the dentist I always have to have something done. I floss and brush 2-3 times a day, but still the axe always falls on my neck. Last time I went I had to have a small filling on the side of a tooth because I had slightly lowered the gum line because of BRUSHING TOO MUCH. Make up your mind!

Anyway due to some sensitivity I have been feeling lately (and I don’t mean crying over animal hospital which is always traumatic) I feel I shall have to ensure yet another filling. Don’t you hate it when they give you an injection and say “you’ll just feel a slight scratch”; yes like a slight scratch from an jack hammer. They should all be done for perjury.

The ‘mrs’ is going too because she hasn’t been for years. Despite this and reaching the ripe old age of 29 she has a total of 0 fillings, not even one hiding at the back. Life is so unfair. I have so much metal in my mouth it’s a wonder I don’t stick to the fridge!

I shall report back later with the outcome.

UPDATE: Yeah, I didn’t have to have a filling for the first time in my life; neither did the ‘mrs’ but she has a charmed life in the dental region. The dentist did comment that “I brush very well”; ooo a compliment. I would like a signed dental certificate with this statement on. I know not a talking point at dinner parties but a reason to be proud. The ‘mrs’ had a quick clean and polish which caused some pain and resulted in a temporary grump.

Right I’m off to clean my teach as I am so good at it!

A Fortnight of Firsts

Well it’s been a while since I have blogged, and obviously the nation is waiting in baited breath to see what mind blowing adventures I have getting up to. Well nothing that will change civilisation as we know it, but there have been a few firsts; good and bad:

Cinema: The ‘mrs’ and I went on our first outing to the cinema to watch Shrek 3. We saw it on the preview weekend on a Saturday afternoon, so you can imagine how many small people were there. Despite wanting this to be a positive blog, I am going to have a rant here. As part of the Shrek promotion every child received a pair of FREE shrek ears with their ticket. When I asked if I could have a pair I was told “NO” because they only came with a child ticket. NOW HANG ON A MINUTE! I paid nearly twice the price for my adult ticket so by rights those ears should be mine. Don’t assume that just because I am an adult I wouldn’t want to have some fun with a pair of green felt ears. I did think about mugging a small child but then thought better of it. After the film had finished I waited until everyone had left the auditorium, but unfortunately no careless child had left any behind; just a frightful gunky mess of popcorn and spilt drinks! I feel discriminated against for the movie industry amusing I was a mature adult – the cheek!

Massage: As part of a ‘buy one get one half price’ promotion at the salon, the ‘mrs’ treated me to an Indian head massage. I had never had a massage before and was a bit anxious on what they would do. However an Indian head massage didn’t sound that invasive. Anyway I arrived and went into a room the size of the CBBC broom cupboard (those of you over 25 will know what I mean), and was greeted to candles, pan pipe music (like you hear in hippy shops) and the smell of lavender oil. I took off my t-shirt and wrapped myself in a towel and placed my feet onto a rolled up towel on the floor. I was then subjected to 45 minutes of pressing, squidging, pummelling and rubbing on my head, neck, shoulders, upper back, hands and arms (a bit odd for a head massage!). It was a bit awkward when the CD stopped and she had to change it with oil covered hands. I kept thinking “poor sod, I bet she’s listened to this 400 times today already”!. I left feeling all sleepy and quite relaxed and ready for an afternoon of doing nothing at all!

Chinese meal: As part of the spontaneous ‘let’s pamper me day’, after the massage I was treated to a sit down meal as a Chinese restaurant. Technically this was not our first sit down Chinese together, but last time we had a meal as a foursome with two friends, so I am calling this ‘our’ first Chinese meal on a technicality (ooo I could be a lawyer). The restaurant had a special lunch time menu, which was beyond appalling for vegetarians. After telling the waitress that it wasn’t really suitable and we should go somewhere else, she suddenly gave us the full menu and said we could choose anything and she would count it under the lunchtime special. Ha ha, the power of the vegetarian – I wonder if I should get a cape and sword! After scoffing satay mushrooms, black bean tofu with noodles and battered pineapple we returned to the flat cursing ourselves for not bringing the car and having to walk up the hill.

Books: Now reading a book is not a first for me, but it is a first in many years. I am not a big reader, choosing the lazy option of a film every time, allowing the story to be fed to me with no effort on my part. Being an unemployed bum at the moment and having some moments where I need to kill time, the ‘mrs’ introduced to me to the idea of books. After the initial shaking in my boots, she persuaded me to read ‘The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time’ by Mark Haddon. It is sold as a mystery book, but really it is a wonderful insight into the mind of the 15 year old Autistic boy who is telling the story. Having spent a few years with Autistic young people, much of it made me smile in recognition. It is a very good book, with good font size and line spacing, which I think is often just as important as the content! I am now reading ‘Does my Bum Look Big in This’, which is the diary of a 30 something and her thoughts about dating and views on her own body and self esteem. If this is a true reflection on how women think….god help us all! I think this paranoid women is boarding on schizophrenia! Still an interesting read even just as a social insight. Nearly 2 books in a week; this is SO not like me!

Hotel: The ‘mrs’ and I had our first night away together than didn’t involve staying with relatives, friends or sleeping under canvass! She had a conference to attend some distance away warranting a night away in a Travel Lodge (o.k. not really a hotel). Not one to throw the away the opportunity for some free shower caps (good for dying ones hair) I decided to tag along. Not much to report really, except there was no free shower caps – BUM! The ‘mrs’ wasn’t happy with the standard of the room and rated it 2/10 in customer feedback. The bed was over soft, the room was dusty and being on the ground floor we couldn’t open the window. Still it does go down as a first!

Missed Opportunities: Due to other commitments and forgetting we both managed to miss our ballroom dancing class. There is often repetition from the week before, and although we were learning some new moves I reckon that because we are so bloody good (couch cough) we should be able to catch up easily. Secondly we forgot to put out the bins and so we have 2 weeks works of rubbish and recycling stacking up. Ooops we shouldn’t have prioritised sleeping over putting out the rubbish! Sorry forgetting these, is another first!

Pancakes: Although this might be scraping the bottom of the barrel saying it was the first time the ‘mrs’ and I had pancakes together, but I feel there was real significance. She was adamant she not going to cook the pancakes as all attempts in the past had resulted in a battery splodge in the middle of the pan. With some encouragement and tips on the best way to wiggle the flippy thing (I think it’s called a spatula, but answers on a postcard please), we had success. She cooked 7 pancakes all of which were perfect, so BIG gold stars for her. Does that mean from now on I can sit on the sofa watching morning television waiting to be served? Mmmm possibly not!

Let's see what happens next week!

The Perfect Mug is Biscuit Width

How many of us have gone to pursue that great British tradition of biscuit dunking, only to find that the mug is not wide enough for the average digestive? This results in some selective breaking up of the tea time morsel OR having to be satisfied with an initial 2cm dip.


I LOVE MY MUG. My Asda purchase is not only great in terms of colour and price, but is the perfect width for a digestive. One can dip, dip and dip again revelling in the smug feeling that there are others in the world with narrow mugs.

HA HA HA

And the winner is…..BUDGET TOOTHPASTE!!

For years and years and maybe a few more years, I had always been put off by the idea of shops own budget toothpaste, thinking that the product was less likely to contain these magic ingredients always splashed over the adverts for Colgate and Aquafresh! However I have recently discovered that most of these ‘posh’ and very expensive toothpastes are not actually approved by the British Dental Health Foundation . This is the leading UK-based independent oral health charity and aims to help people improve their oral health (ooo go them).

Anyway it was highlighted (thanks ‘mrs’) that there are some toothpastes out there which are approved; denoted by this logo.

One of these approved products is Tescos own. They do a huge range of own brand toothpastes most of which are approved (worth double checking the back). The best thing for me, is this toothpaste is literally a quarter of the price of well known brands like Colgate. So GO budget GO! Good for me, my teeth and my wallet.

Sorry if this sounds like an advert, but thought I would share this news with the world. Happy brushing!

1....2.....cha cha cha

So what have myself and the ‘mrs’ been getting up to these days to improve our social life? Have we been adorning fluorescent jackets and raving it up with our glow sticks? Close, but no cigar. As the title of the entry might have suggested we have been tripping the light fantastic with ‘ballroom for beginners’.

So far we have had 3 lessons (only an hour each) and are slowly coming to grips with the ‘cha cha cha’, the ‘rhythm foxtrot’ and the ‘quick step’. It is a small group, as the women who runs it (I think she’s Dutch, but the ‘mrs’ thinks somewhere in Europe), didn’t want to advertise her sessions because she is normally so over subscribed. Without sounding like a big bag of boastfulness, out of the 12 participants, I do honestly think we are the best. Well the best going in a straight line. We haven’t quite mastered the art of going round corners, resulting in much pulling and shoving trying to avoid dancing out the door! We do enjoy ourselves and like to have a bit of fun, being over expressive with our hand gestures (NOT RUDE ONE). Our ‘jazz hands’ are a point of amusement for the older participants. It would be nice to live on the ground floor, so we could practise without the wrath of the neighbour underneath complaining about the ‘elephants’ upstairs!

We are getting to grips with turns, shuffles, promenades and the lock step. Next week we shall be exploring the world of the pivot turn; talk about living on the edge.

Being two females, one of use has to take on the mans role, which is me. As you can tell this picture is not us. She looks like she has a broken back; more a picture of murder I think. Anyway being 'the man', means that for one hour a week I am in charge. I can lead and can tell her what to do (oooo I hope she doesn’t read this). Despite only being an hour, it’s is proving to be quite good exercise, and a little bit sweaty around the hairline. The hardest part is that the class starts at 9pm; just the time when you want to snuggle down in nice post-dinner fullness adorning a nice set of pyjamas. But when you are young ravers like us, you expect to be out late once in a while!

So here I am signing off.....cha cha cha

The Big Day!

Yesterday was the ‘mrs’ 29th birthday, and I feel a good time was had by all. After all, all the right ingredients were there:

* balloons in various colours and sizes
* streamers
* party hats
* those noisy things you blow
* a homemade cake

Fortunately for me (and not for her) she had to go to work in the morning, which gave me ample opportunity to make a cake. Now I am a cake novice. I have many many skills in cake consumption; especially those of the walnut layered and carrot variety, but making is a no no. Earlier in the week I had consulted the Queen i.e. Delia online, for some spiritual guidance. According to many, making a sponge is a complicated affair, with bits to add here, then cream, then bits to add there, all beautifully timed using the wisdom of Tibetan monks. Being the impatient sort, and lucky for me, the owner of a £6.99 electric whisk, I decided to follow the gurus idea of the ‘all in one’ (http://www.deliaonline.com/cookery-school/how-to/how-to-make-all-in-one-sponge,13,AR.html). Now any recipe that advises you to bung all the ingredients in a bowl and just go ‘whzzzzzzzz’ with the electric whisk is the one for me.

After mixing the ingredients and getting 40% of the mixture up the walls, I carefully spooned this sweet smelling concoction into 2 recently purchased sandwich cake tins (lined using pre-historic GCSE cookery skills). Into the oven it went for 30 minutes while I paced nervously up and down the flat, like an expectant father. After this time had elapsed, I ran to the kitchen to view my creation. Oh the smell was amazing. I could have gobbled it up there and then and pretended I hadn’t got round to making a cake. But in my effort to be a good girlfriend, I left well alone.

After cooling, filling with posh black cherry jam and smothering with BLUE butter icing (again recipe from the BBC), I was ready for the sprinkles! Now some will tell you sprinkles are just sprinkles, but NO, there are many subtle varieties. Originally I was going to use hundreds and thousands; a ‘mrs’ favourite. But during recent scientific exploration it has been discovered that the slightly cylindrical ‘sugar strands’, are much more the order of the day. Not wanting to do things by a halves I gleefully dumped an entire pot over the waiting butter icing. These sprinkles will stick to anything; food, fingers, socks, work tops, walls, floors, clothes and anything else in a 5m radial vicinity. After crunching my way round the kitchen the creation was finally finished.

When she returned from the work, we conducted the traditional societal ceremony of lighting the candles, singing of the song and the applause at the end. In a bid to be amusing, I had used re-lighting candles, that always seemed so magical as a child. As an adult you are less concerned with the magic, and more worried about the massive clouds of smoke created each time you blow and whether the smoke alarm will be activated. Oh I am SO getting old!

After lunch and a quick unscheduled snooze on the sofa, we went down town (feel free to sing at this point), for the 4.30 appointment with a massage therapist which I had a bought as one of my gifts i.e. ‘the experience’ gift. During the procedure, I sat in the waiting area thumbing through copies of ‘hair and beauty’, wondering how ANYONE could expect to live up to the ideology that is being sold. By the time I had finished an article on ‘your acrylic nails and you’ (a nomination for the Pulitzer no doubt), she had finished and looked very relaxed and a bit oily.

Not wishing to go back to the flat quite yet, and fall into the trap of crap food and telly, we decided to take full advantage of living by the sea and have a wonder down for a sit on the beach. After 15 minutes or so of appreciating the view and thinking how lucky we were, we decided to brave the wind and laughter of the drunk homeless people behind us, and go for a paddle. We removed our shoes and socks, rolled up our jeans and proceeded with caution and Indiana Jones style bravery. After a good 40 minutes of running in, running out, laughing and the odd squeal, we made our way back to the car trying to ignore the wet jeans, wet tops and wet pants, but revelling in the weird looks we were receiving.

After squelching our way back to the flat, we showered to remove the ‘sea bugs’ (if you have ever looked at a drop of sea water under the microscope you’ll know what I mean), and settled down for a birthday dinner of fresh pizza and strawberry cheesecake, topped off with some crap Big Brother Telly.

The evening was rounded off by downloading the pictures from day, laughing at getting soaked and dozing off on the sofa. To bed we went after what was a really fun day! I shall make it a point not to wait for special occasions to do silly things. People of the world unite in their silliness!

It is Better to Give than Receive

Now, now; not like that! I love birthdays! But only other peoples, choosing to dislike my own and generally portray a grumpy old women. I get so excited and often spend a long time thinking about the best gift and the provision of treats, even if the end result does not match the contemplation period.

In my opinion birthdays, and even Christmas, should never be about money. It should never be about setting out to spend as much as they did on you. What is the point in that? It’s so calculating and materialistic. I knew someone at school who would never give any gifts at Xmas, until she had received presents, thus giving time to look up the value in the Argos catalogue – that is just SO wrong on many different levels.

Birthdays are always difficult if you have been out of touch with someone for a long time. Although you may still care about them, you lose touch as to what really makes them happy, or you plain forget the event! I have been guilty of that. :( In such cases you often get what I call ‘lazy’ gifts. Lazy gifts include:

* Box of chocolates
* Alcohol
* Scented candles
* Gift voucher (THE WORST)
* Pretty stationary (although do people write anymore?)

Now some may ask why I didn’t include socks in this list? Well for me, a pair of bright and well chosen socks is always a pleasure and a fantastic addition to the sock drawer. It’s not that any of the above items are ‘bad’ gifts, but they are ‘I don’t know what to get you, or I haven’t had time’ gifts; unless of course you have a genuine passion for candles and WH Smiths vouchers!

However when it comes to someone you know well, love and really care about, birthdays are a whole different ball game. In this case birthdays are all about effort and not financial outlay. Although I am hardly a creative person, I do like to make presents that is specific to that person. For example for my best friends birthday earlier in the year I (along with help from my Dad) spent many hours decorating some crockery with images of our time together on our last holiday. The drawing was decidedly dodgy, but I feel it’s childlike quality provided amusement if nothing else.

Aside from personal creativeness, ‘experience’ gifts are always good, such as a tank driving day or 4x4 driving lessons; although hugely expensive and only for ultra special occasions. Whether going on an adventure or making a homemade present, both serve the purpose of creating a memory. At the end of the day, you are more likely to remember and cherish the brightly coloured pasta necklace or the picnic in the park 10 years later, than receiving the latest ‘Greatest bump n grind mega hits’. Something with a bit of thought is more preferable to the ‘panic’ buy in Tescos on the way home from work on the day; yes you know who you are!

Don’t get me wrong, I am NOT bothered about my own birthday and couldn’t care sixpence about gifts. I just feel if someone really cares then surely we all deserve 5 minutes of thought. I am quite happy with a cup of tea in bed, a kiss and a drawing for the fridge! I would like to say that I always put in effort for every birthday, but I can't. But I am trying to get better!

I hope after reading this the ‘mrs’ doesn’t feel pressurised! It’s her birthday tomorrow, and I really hope she likes her gifts and ‘experience’. I can’t say any more as she will probably read this before then; so ssshhhhhh!!!

Green Thumbs

Well well well, looks like I finally entered the world of horticulture. Living in a first floor flat with a concrete balcony does make stretching the green thumbs rather difficult. However I have discovered that even if you do not invite nature into your life, it manages to fight it’s way in.

Let me introduce you to, Oscar, my new best friend.

As you can see Oscar is, in my botany experience, a plant. It has leaves, a true root system and looks a nice colour of green in the right light. So now I have a social life, with Oscar and I being the balcony crew….yo yo yo!! The ‘mrs’ is of course the ring leader as she spends more time on the balcony.

I will let you all know how my gang life is progressing on da’ balcony. Secret hand shakes to you all!

Save Yourselves!!

Is it possible for a common herb to take over the world? My thoughts this tea break is that this indeed could be a reasonable hypothesis. So what is the evidence for this bold and slightly hysterical statement? THIS:

Now although it might not look much to you dear readers, but this jungle of mint was bought as a tiny potted herb from Tesco only 5 days ago. Since then it has demanded daily watering, daily rotation away from the sun for even growth and my constant attention. In just those 5 days it has grown from a finger high herb to the size of my whole hand span. At this rate by next year I think it would have conquered the South East, by the end of 2008 the UK (although some parts of Scotland may be too cold) and in 2009 its tendrils will soon be penetrating Europe.

So hear is my plea; either RUN and save yourselves or make sure mint sauce is a condiment served with EVERY meal. Left unchecked, who knows what this green monster could do. You have been warned. Audrey II eat your heart out!

I'm A Widow - WAAAA!

That is a football widow! According the wikepedia (a source of much time wasting), a football widow is “is a term for those who have a relationship with a sports fan”; this is me!

Being a supportive and loving partner I have tried to enter into the spirit by watching my first game a few weeks ago. I did everything I was supposed to. I had a bungey sofa, some alcohol, pizza and chocolate. I had practised some phrases given to me by friends and the ‘mrs’, such as “Chelsea, you cheating bastards”, “oi ref. are you blind”, “ooo that was off-side” and “how can you justify your salary”. I tried to make appropriate “oo” and “ah” noises when the ball was near the net thing, despite not knowing which colour I was supposed to be rooting for. Despite all my efforts and revision, the most positive thing I can say about that football match was how lovely the lawns man had kept the pitch.

What I really don’t understand about football is there is so much of the bloody stuff. I settled down a few weeks ago to the FA cup final. “Cool”, I thought, the final, so no more football. But wouldn’t you know it, the following week was the Champions League final; another final! Yet again this evening there is even more of the stuff on the telly with a ‘friendly’ between England and Brazil. What does that actually mean? Does it mean they all swap phone numbers and share a bowl of jelly and ice cream at half time?

On that matter where are the oranges at half time? I suppose these overpaid high flyers now have high tech oranges made by Microsoft!

Now I am not complaining that she has a love of football, after all I have some hobbies that she doesn’t share; such as covering my food with Canderel. In the words of Belinda Carlisle; “oo heaven is a place on Earth”. As a side point, can you believe she is going to be 50 next year; fancy that!

Anyway I don’t begrudge her interest in football, as I know that if it came down to it I would take priority…..HA, IN YA FACE BECKHAM! O.k. well maybe not Beckham as she thinks he’s such a pretty boy, and has expressed a desire to have him as a house ornament along with Justin Timberlake. We could empty out their skulls, drill holes in their heads and have human condiments – cool!

So please, when you’re sitting enjoying your football, pies and larger, spare a thought of us widows out there!

The Joy of Socks

Yes you heard me right; the joy of SOCKS. I do believe I have readers with their minds permanently in the gutter. Any-hoo I just wanted to spread the word, of the joy that socks can bring into your life.

When I am Queen (you never know, stranger things have happened), I shall ban all white, black and grey socks. Socks are fantastic. They allow you to be secretly flamboyant and daring without anyone suspecting. You may be sitting all suited and booted in a board meeting talking about next years projection figures (yawn-a-rama), but underneath your over polished shoes, your feet can be leading the way in secret defiance of establishment.

Now I appreciate that there are some circumstances where one might think boring socks is not just appropriate, but mandatory, such as sport or hiking socks. But even in the aforementioned activities, exciting socks can be found. I myself have a striped pair of rainbow hiking socks. They are not common and hard to find but well worth the effort.

Most of my socks are technically over the knee socks, but due to having podgy legs, they have been demoted to under the knee socks. The only ankle socks in my possession are luminous one, very reminiscent of the days of early 90’s acid house fashion. My sock collection is not exclusive to what is seen below, as it has very much expanded since this was taken, especially since the ‘mrs’ found even more socks in Poundland. So you see, leading the way in a secret rebellion doesn’t have to be expensive.

Having every pair unique also has HUGE advantages when trying to match up socks after the wash. See, I’m not just a pretty foot.

The rebellion starts here!

World Nutmeg Shortage - surely!

A world shortage of nutmeg can be the only explanation for this pitiful excuse for a custard tart. Now the package says it contain nutmeg, and the product shows some dark dusting on the surface, but I am not convinced. These dark circles of deception taste as much of nutmeg as chewing on the end of a biro. I think the manufacturers of said after dinner treats, employ oompa loompas to spray brown ink onto each tart under a web of lies and deceit.

This as bad as the budget pizzas which contain 3 strands of white anaemic cheese. I suppose you get what you pay for. Although I love the budget pizzas all soggy in the microwave covered in beans or spaghetti hoops, also known as scoops. Ah that is really living.

At the end of the day nutmeg or no nutmeg they all go down the same way; into my tummy…..mmmmm!

Happiness is having a Hot Mate

Although I will concede that the ‘mrs’ is indeed totty with a nice ‘piece of arse’, what I am referring to is my gift of the century. Forget jewels, flowers, chocolates and a trip on the Orient Express, my women knows how to make me happy. A JML Hot Mate!

This £3.99 wonder is so fantastic. I am a huge fan of gadgets but find that after the initial fiddle (now now people), all they do is create a platform for dust to gather. However this now takes pride of place on top of the microwave.

Having the current employment status of a ‘bum’, I often spend the afternoon trying to create something edible (ish) for the evening. This means I can plate up the dinner, have all the washing up done and everything can be all neat and tidy before the ‘mrs’ comes home. Plus I find sauces taste better when they have been sitting for a few hours. Unfortunately when heating up the dinner, I can only microwave one plate at a time, which due to the asbestos quality of my food, can make heating two meals a very time consuming affair. In addition, in order to eat together someone has to wait for the other one to be ready, while their dinner is getting cold. Hardly an ideal situation.

But now, THANKS to those lovely people at JML (fab gadgets at cheap prices), I can now microwave 2 meals at once. Life doesn’t get much better than this! Feel free to check out the advert on the JML website http://www.jmldirect.com/product.php?cid=5&pid=251 and spread the joy!

I am not a materialistic person, but THANK YOU for my present. X

Should one have a yellow toilet?

I am currently sitting at the computer eating ice cream while the ‘mrs’ is getting an early night. I don’t feel guilty as it’s a flavour she doesn’t like. Not wanting to end the day with such a negative whingey blog, I have decided to end on a more philosophical note. Having consulted with my online friend, Barry, as to what I should blog about, it was suggested that “are toilets really yellow” was an appropriate subject. For me this seems rather odd; of course toilets can be yellow if you buy a yellow toilet! And so ends that discussion.

However it lead me to consider the question “should you have a yellow toilet”? Traditionally bathroom furniture is white, as this gives the impression of cleanliness. A lemon yellow colour scheme is often popular in bathrooms, making the space light and creating a feeling of space. However I feel this zesty’ness should only be created with curtains, towels, the odd interspersed tile, the obligatory bath and toilet rug and maybe a novelty soap; or if need be a yellow toothbrush. In my opinion yellow bathrooms suits are just wrong. Apologise to all of you out there you have been afflicted with such décor; my thoughts are with you. On the other hand, very useful in hiding any pee stains down the toilet bowel; if you have ever lived with a man you will know what I mean.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not one to shy away from bold colours; quite the contrary. I am particularly partial to the fantastic range of Perspex toilet seats one can get these days; having sported a gold and silver glitter throne of my own in my time. If you are afflicted with a yellow suite can I suggest some customisation using stickers or just spray painting “this is not yellow, really” around the room.

As always the choice is yours.

Oh bum, I ended on another rant. POO PANTS!

Putting the patients first? B*ll*cks!

Due to NHS targets that all patients have to be seen by a doctor within 24 hours of making the appointment, you CAN’T make appointments in advance. Gone are the days where you could ring, and although unable to see someone today, you can make appointment for 2 or 3 days time. Very useful, if not urgent, like a blood pressure check up or an in growing toe nail.

NOW you have to ring on the day (although the chances of getting through are on a par of winning the lottery), or be on the doorstep at 8am waiting in line with the other desperadoes psyching yourself up for the 8:30am dash to reception when the doors open. If you have a job or have to get the kids ready for school, you may not have the luxury of loitering on the doorsteps of a doctors office. Please can someone tell me how this is putting the patients needs first?

However there are NHS walk in centres, which offer an early morning to late service, usually 7 days a week. What a fantastic idea! All I have to do is jump in my car and drive the 40 odd miles to the nearest one. I know I sound like I am having a big rant; well that's because I am!

So next time you wake up late because you’ve been up all night feeling like death, fear not, you can see a doctor TOMORROW. God bless NHS targets.

Rant over

My life is NOT over!

Ha Boo – Sucks to you! Mr Masterfoods thought he could get away with it, if it weren’t for us pesky kids! According to the BBC news pages “Mars has abandoned plans to use animal products in its chocolate, and has apologised to "upset" vegetarians.”

Now call me an old cynic, but I think the “feelings” of vegetarians were not really at the core of this decision change. Possibly the 6,000 complaints received, the petition from 40 MP’s, the bad publicity and the prospect of loosing oodles of cash may have had something to do with it. Oooo my cynicism chip is working overtime!

Regardless of the motives, I must not lose site of the positive outcome. So I must now open my mouth and await the lorry loads of snickers! YUM YUM YUM!

Mood: Joyful

I’m a squirty girl in a squirty world!

For those of you thinking this is an explicit blog about rude things; then SHAME ON YOU. What I am referring to the delight that is over processed squirty cream. The ‘mrs’ and I have just had a glorious evening with a blackcurrent cheesecake and squirty cream (please take your minds out of the gutter).

Now I am not a snob, and was perfectly delighted with the best Spar had to offer. Unfortunately I am not in a financial position to indulge in the ‘real deal’ i.e. anchor squirty cream. This product is tooooo nice; to the extent that we used up over half a can on one cheesecake. But like many other people, when I apply the squirty yummyness, I like what ever I am eating to completely disappear under a mound of white foamy calories. Mmmmmm.

Now how many of you have eaten squirty cream straight out of the canister? I would say the numbers run into millions, even not admitted to. I can personally vouch for the amazing velocity of said cream. I was once caught with my head in the fridge unsuccessfully trying to conceal the cream within my cheeks, but performing my best hamster impression. As a joke I was slapped around the chops in a “you’ve been tango’d” stylee – I was stunned how far squirty cream can project up a wall!
There are a variety of things that can be done with squirty cream to while away those winter evenings. Here are but a few, but please feel free to add some more:

* Create interesting facial features; moustache, beard and comedy eyebrows
* Blind evil people if attacked in the street
* Write a letter on a VERY large piece of paper
* Create sculptures, such as snow men
* When it’s near the end of the can re-create a snow storm
* Make a comedy head on someone’s beer
* Decorate a Christmas tree during the festive season
* Mark out your own parking bay outside your house
* Emergency fire extinguisher

Go and explore this world of culinary science!

The Joy of Camping

Now to some, the idea of sitting inside a piece of canvas during a gale on the edge of the north sea may not appeal to everyone……although to be honest at 4am when I am unable to sleep having had half the tent collapse resulting upon being rained on from inside, I was not very enthusiastic. Having ones tent pitched right on the seas edge in John O’Groats in a gale, knowing that the only thing holding it down is your ample bottom, was probably not very wise. However life is an adventure! So why all this out-doorsey stuff then?

With the ‘mrs’ having a week off work, and me being a temporary unemployed bum, we decided to take this opportunity for a bit of travelling. Liking a bit of spontaneity I suggested driving to the top of the country and beyond; as you do. So with tent, sleeping bag, gas cooker, and blow up mattress in tow, off we go for our camping adventure.

Generally I LOVE camping. I love sitting outside on my camping chair, sipping tea from my camping mug, made on the camping stove, resting on the camping table and just sitting and observing the wonders of nature. However when ‘nature’ consists of gale force winds and rain, coupled with running out of gas (only managing 2 cups of tea and some super noodles), it sort of looses it’s charm. Still a good time was had by all I feel, and the novelty of sleeping fully clothed adorning woolly hats (£1 from Woolworths; woo hoo) is not an experience to be missed!

In all seriousness, I had oodles of fun, and generated many amusing stories for dinner parties. Note to self: I must get some friends to have or be invited to dinner parties!

Ukraine was robbed

Why do I keep doing this to myself – watching the Eurovision Song Contest! I love the cheese, the camp, the terrible music, the costumes, the embarrassing commentary, oh just everything. BUT the voting is just a waste of time, and leaves me at the end of the evening so disillusioned. I can not think of a better reason to opt out of Europe completely!

For those hardened Eurovision fans who were keeping a score sheet, did ANYONE have Serbia as the winner? My score sheet and that of the ‘mrs’ CLEARLY states that the Ukraine should have won. How can a silver wearing Christopher Biggins look-a-like transvestite doing German dance music NOT win. Do people have no taste?

I felt the UK was treated very unfairly. It scored fairly high with me. It was catchy, camp with cheesy costumes and dance routines. I bet if some ex Russian state from the back of beyond entered it, it would have wiped the floor with the competition. If we are hated so much why do we bother? O.K. Ireland did rubbish too; but come on, they were ultra PANTS.

Many years ago the voting was changed from a panel vote to a public one, so it wouldn’t be as political….it’s now WORSE than ever! All the eastern countries voting for each other with the western countries not even getting a look in. With so many countries competing maybe there should be an eastern and a western eurovision song contest?

I am not bitter that the UK lost; they didn’t deserve to win. But COME ON, how can anyone sit back and think this to be fair.

O.K. rant over…………grrrrrrrrrrrr!!

My life is over!

O.K. this might seem a tad over dramatic, but when you hear the terrible news you will understand my pain. MARS HAVE STARTED TO USE ANIMAL PRODUCTS IN THEIR CHOCOLATE!


As a devote vegetarian of nearly 15 years, the idea that the evil powers-that-be are going to deny me the indulgent joy of a snickers, maltesers, bounty, minstrels is just too much for one person to cope with. Why did this happen?

Apparently the sources used by Masterfood have changed and so will now be using whey powder used from non vegetarian cheese production as a bulking agent. In order to produce cheese, a coagulant is added which separates the milk solids (curds) from the liquid (whey). The coagulant commonly used is rennet, which is an enzyme extracted from the lining of a calf’s (yea baby moos) stomach……niiiiiiiiiiiiice!

In this day-and-age where 9% of the population are vegetarian, and many people avoid animal products for personal reasons and various faiths, it makes NO economical sense to ‘de-vegetarianise’ a product. I delight when a product which by rights need not have animal derived products in (such as crisps and ice cream), becomes vegetarian, such as polos and Doritos to name a few, but I rarely have seen a product revert back!

Apparently anything with a best before 1st October 2007 will still be veggie, so if anyone wants to buy me a gift, I will have 5,000 snickers and a HUGE freezer please! Sweety companies already deny me skips crisps, ferrero rocher and refresher sweets; when will the assault stop? Did I do something really evil in a previous life that I am being punished for?

I must leave now, before I am blinded by the tears of my pain. *sniff*

Bungey – lead by example

Not content to wait until the bank holiday weekend, I have gone ahead and indulged in the art of bungey all today. I was up late last night just chatting and laughing with the ‘mrs’; until 2am! Now for anyone who knows me, they know I am no party animal, so a 2pm bed time is the equivalent to some serious raving – I felt so young (despite the truth on the birth certificate).

Anyway despite the late night, I was wide awake at 8am, but yet not ready to embrace the day. Leaving the ‘mrs’ in bed, I proceeded to the lounge sofa in my pyjamas and settled down under my magic blanket and watched not 1, not 2 but 3 episodes of an American series called ‘Bones’. The premise is a bit cheesy; “A cynical and lonely forensic anthropologist and a cocky FBI agent partner up to solve long-ago murders” and some of the science is questionable, but good entertainment all the same. After much consumption of crap (Pringles, ice cream and chocolate) ably assisted by the ‘mrs’, I discovered a triple marathon of….Bones! HURRAH!!! I am taking bungey to the extreme (I like to live life on the edge).

It’s 4.30pm and I have still not prized myself out of my pyjamas, but I have a feeling that my bungey experience has not yet concluded, especially as I have ‘homemade’ tacos (well they came in a yellow box) to consume and there's a Doris Day film on at 4:50 that I have never seen (a fact which I thought was an impossibility) .

So what have I learned today to enrich myself or the world? Apart from learning that doing nothing all day is incredibly tiring, I have learned some quality relationship advice. BEFORE moving in with the girlfriend or boyfriend, check their status with regards to Sky plus!

The pursuit for the perfect ‘Bungey’

I have spent a lifetime in search of the perfect bungey. Unlike what many of you might think, in ‘my world’ bungey IS NOT the art of throwing oneself off a cliff tied to some knicker elastic. Bungey is not a thing, a place, or an action…..it’s a feeling. After a lifetime of using this word, I have recently come to the conclusion, that at some point in my life, I made it up. Out of those surveyed about ‘bungey’, 0% shared my meaning.

Let me explain the joy that is bungey.

Have you ever woken up in the morning in your own time (no alarms or other disturbances), happy in the knowledge that you have nothing to get up for? Take this feeling and couple it with being super comfortable in your bed, regardless as to what position you lie in. Now grab the top of the duvet and cuddle into it. This idea of feeling enveloped by comfort, relaxation and no stress is the essence of being bungey; as demonstrated below:

Being bungey is not isolated to the bedroom. A typical ‘bungey day’ may involve staying in your pyjamas, lying on the sofa cuddled up to a loved one, watching DVD’s under a blanket with a box of maltesers close at hand. No stress, no responsibility, extreme comfort (usually provided by something tactile like a blanket, duvet, dressing gown or over sized jumper) and relaxation.

Now do not use the word ‘relaxation’ interchangeably with bungey (it is against the law). You could be sitting by a river, fishing and feeling perfectly relaxed and at peace BUT YOU ARE NOT BUNGEY. However if you were lying down on the bank under a blanket listening to the water, this has bungey potential.

With another glorious bank holiday looming before us, I demand you put your best foot forward and practise the art of bungey. For some, this may take practise. For me it has taken years of slobbery to become a black belt master in bungey; so don’t be down if you don’t achieve full bungey status straight away.

Good luck on your quest

Calling all fellow crap magnets!

“So what is a crap magnet?”, I hear you cry. Is it that I attract all the bad things in life? Is it that emotionally I put up with a lot of negativity? Is it that I succumb to bad karma? Actually none of the above. I am a genuinely a magnet for little bits of crap.

I am forever finding foreign matter about my person, especially my face, probably due to the twice daily application of moisturiser acting like fly paper. Aside from the constant awareness of walking out of the house looking like I have been dipped in hundreds and thousands, I have come to regard the discovery of random and unusual specs of crap to be an adventure. Not on the same scale as Indiana Jones, but I feel his excitement is on a par with mine.

So what sort of things have I found during this life long adventure:

* Bits of flaky skin (well who doesn’t)
* Random bogey or two
* Feathers
* Fluff
* Dust (human created and those generated from sanding)
* Paint (including primer, undercoat, gloss, emulsion)
* Sand
* Stones
* Woodlouse
* Food
* Bits of leaf
* Grass
* Straw
* Biro / pen marks
* Unexplained cuts and bruises (although technically already attached, is still an exciting discovery)
* A dead caterpillar once found in my underwear after a day of super speed go kart racing through fields.

So how does one cope with being such a magnet? My best advice is to, like me, have a partner who is happy to pick from you like a monkey mother (as long as they don’t eat what they find). Alternatively keep a small mirror in your pocket handy, otherwise you might misinterpret looks you get in the street as ‘cor I fancy them’ as opposed to ‘look at the feather on their noggin’!

I would be happy to hear from any other crap collectors!

*Happy picking*

Is it really homemade?

While I ponder over another brew, beautifully house in my 'I hate diets' mug, while the rainbow one is waiting to be washed, I enjoy my Bart Simpson strawberry (allegedly) ice lolly. During this time I consider the notion of 'what is homemade'?

I, like many other people in the country am not a good cook; a fact confirmed by the look of dread on my best friend face when invited round for dinner. I am however, a good compiler; you know, some veg here, a jar of sauce there and a bit of pasta.....but a cook, I am not. This afternoon I have been in the kitchen trying to make a 'homemade' lasagne, however due to the heat in the kitchen and my laziness, I decided to opt for jars; 1 of budget bolognese sauce, 1 of of white sauce and 1 of cheese sauce. Aside from cooking a bit of veg, and grating some cheese, everything else was made by Asda! Could I really consider this homemade, when all I did was compile?

If I put a part baked roll in the oven, I would not have audacity to call the warm rounded blobs of heaven, homemade. So what is the definition.

I read somewhere (o.k. that’s a lie, it was probably on the television), that a restaurant only has to add one ingredient to call the food homemade. This could be as little as adding salt to a tin of soup. Surely this is fraud?!?!

If anyone has any knowledge on the subject I would love to be informed.

Yet again, I shall leave you to ponder