fudge

Saturday, 30 April 2011

Don't go masticating me Marigolds!

Twice a month my day starts with the realisation that another child free day stretches ahead of me

I am in the fortunate position of being separated which means that once a fortnight I have almost two whole days to be just me (I'll leave you to decide which bit of that is the fortunate bit!).

I'm not Mum, I'm not cook, I'm not teacher, I'm not referee, agony aunt or best friend.

I'm just me.

For several months I had no idea who 'just me' was. I wandered around in a daze counting the hours until my house was once again filled with noise and arguments the omnipresent TV in the background.

I didn't know what I was supposed to do!

I carried on setting the breakfast table for 3 and shouting up the stairs that they were missing the best part of the day by still being in bed only to be met with silence and a feeling of emptiness.

Then slowly, the old me started to make it's presence felt, like little bubbles of indigestion or the first flutterings of a tiny foetus deep inside, barely noticeable and so easily ignored or missed, but never the less STILL alive!

I thought I'd swallowed that person whole and digested her many years ago.

So, on these child free days, I follow my daily ritual of taking a cup of tea out into the garden if it's fine. I sit on the arbour in the early morning haze with the promise of yet another beautiful day ahead of me.

I drink in the early morning sounds of my immediate world waking up and, nearby, something MUNCHING my plants! I don't know what or who this muncher is, I can hear them but despite crawling around on all fours trying to follow the sounds I cant FIND them.

my beach hut shed
I'm pretty sure it's not slugs, they don't have teeth do they?

Well, I'm a live and let live kind of person and the marigolds, although apparent irresistible to something were given to me by a friend who had some spare and they aren't really my plant of choice.

IF however, it starts on my lavender we may well have all out chemical warfare!

morning dew
My garden is tiny but I love it.   I fill it full of pots in the summer, a riot of different colours and smells.


 I am not and never will be what you might call a wallpaper and co-coordinating border kind of person. I'm more a shabby chic with the emphasis on shabby. I yearn for stripped oak floors, unbleached muslin curtains, sofas covered in striped ticking.



I yearn for you

Kirsty clone? I think NOT!


For a while for Christ sakes I longed to be Kirsty Allsopp!!! (sans the big arse, dreadful fashion sense and annoying manner of course).





And so I spend these child free days 'creating' things.

other peoples rubbish is my treasure




obviously I just thought it was an interesting piece of driftwood!
I paint my garden chairs a variety of colours to suit my mood. I scour the local charity shops for hidden treasures. I go to the beach and pick up driftwood and shells.


You should be!
I decorate my children's bedrooms (without their knowledge or consent). I LOVE the sky blue and fluffy clouds in Master Macs room. A love he sadly doesn't share at the age of 13 and has mostly covered it with posters of wrestlers and parental advisory notices.

Glitter Arty
I also loved the hot pink of my daughters bedroom, (no, it's not womb like and claustrophobic, it's cosy!) It's soon to be turquoise (this time at her suggestion).

I may never have the house of my dreams as my dreams are always changing but equally, I'll never drown in beige.

Thursday, 28 April 2011

A Right Royal Affair

All this talk of weddings, I guess it makes us all think of our own special day, I know it has me.

Obviously in my case it turned out to be slightly farcical in many ways but then, had everything gone smoothly no doubt many of the guests would have thought that they were either at the wrong wedding or felt slightly cheated.

Id chosen the end of May for several reasons. One because it was in May that we first met, two because hopefully the weather would be kind to us and three, because it was a Bank Holiday and so would hopefully take some of the pressure off those having to travel knowing that they had an extra day to recover.

Other than not getting married in Church (this was Mr Mac 2nd time round) I had exactly the day that I had chosen.

A small wedding, just 40 odd guests, those people closest to me with a few exceptions of people living abroad that couldn't make it.

My day started at 4:15 am with my very elderly cat Billy crapping all over the brand new, pale honey coloured carpet Id had laid in the front room! Billy bless him was nearly 21 at the time but although his eyesight wasn't what it used to be and his teeth made a funny kind of grinding sound as he ate, there was nothing wrong with his aim!

Liquid shit from one end of the (loop piled) carpet to the other and a generous splash up the skirting and wall for good measure.



if only!


Suddenly the breakfast I'd planned lost some of it's appeal.

The wedding was set for 11:30, the registry office just a few minutes away so the car was due at 11:15.

11:15 came and went but I was calm, the brides supposed to be a little late isn't she?

Apparently NOT at a registry office! By 25 past frantic phone calls were being made, if I didn't get there within the next 10 minutes the wedding was OFF!!!

WHERE THE BLOODY HELL WAS MY CAR????

The car had been booked the previous night by a hen party, not only had the 'hen' chucked up all over the back seat but the driver, not a happy bunny, had decided he couldn't face cleaning puke up at 2:30 in the morning and had left it there for someone to find the next day!

I had a choice, arrive in a slightly damp car smelling of regurgitated WKD and kebabs or, take the alternative they would provide free of charge.

JUST SEND ME A BLOODY CAR!!! Was my considered response. So they did!

I arrived, in style, in a Minibus!



The guest, all still gathered outside were treated to the edifying spectacle of me, dress hitched up to my knees, shoes in hand, belting down the path, holding desperately onto one of my stockings because the suspender had come undone!

But I was there, all was well.

Mr Mac is a big Bon Jovie fan (Oh, how I love to share THAT with you all!) and had chosen the music that I was to walk down the' aisle' to, a slow ballad called 'You had me from Hello'. Unfortunately, rather than burn the track on to a separate disk he had brought the CD in and forgotten to specify which track!

I stood there, in my beautiful dress, holding my bouquet of roses and lilly of the valley, drinking in the joy of the occasion and proceeded to boogied down the aisle to the crashing cords of Undivided!!!



Just one more thing I though then that's my three, I'll be home and dry (cat shit doesn't count when you have an elderly cat it's a way of life).

Id assumed that when I dropped my flowers outside to the shocked gasps of the guests (VERY unlucky apparently!) that we were done, everything would now be plain sailing.

Well, sailing wasn't too far from the truth to be honest.

We had possible the most extraordinary combination of weather events I've EVER known in on day!

It alternated between brilliant sunshine, wasn't it lucky said Mr Mac when we looked through the photos later, all the photos make it look like a beautiful day. Ummm, not so LUCKY really, every time the sun appeared we rallied the troops and rushed outside for a few snaps (I don't care if you're food goes cold, get your arse out there was my mantra that day!)

The wedding breakfast was eaten mainly to the accompanying sound of hailstones the size of golf balls drumming on the roof.

The speeches were all but drowned out by the most spectacular thunder and lightening I've EVER witnessed and we all arrived at the evening reception like drowned rats due to the monsoon that hit Somerset like the end of the world was nigh!

It was indeed, the most perfect of days.

Monday, 25 April 2011

A Tight Squeeze (part one)

This week it's all about power at The Lounge, I was a bit stuck to know what to write about really but I haven't linked up for a while so I wanted to find something.

I did a search on my posts to see what would come up if I typed in power and I was surprised just how many posts it found.

I guess this post is about seizing back the power so here it is:




you  CANNOT make these sexy!

After my post 'Women's Best Kept Secret' I had several comments extolling the benefits of control pants.

















As I was writing from the perspective of someone who had never actually worn the things but had gained all her knowledge from Bridget Jones, I decided that maybe it was time I actually put my money where my muffin top is and gave them a go!




Ouch!

First of all I discovered how wrong I was in my assumption that control pants were simply control pants. I whizzed into Marks and Sparks expecting to grab a pair, my only choice being whether to choose black or natural tan. I was slightly nonplussed however to be confronted with a veritable plethora of styles, shapes and sizes.





Aargh!!!

There's the thong (I thought we were holding it in, not letting it all hang out!), a hideous looking thing, like cheese wire attached to a huge stretchy cummerbund. I'm not letting THAT anywhere near my nether regions, Id be scared of being sawn in half!


The high waisted pants, a bit like ordinary 'big' pants with an oversized waistband.


The ones that look a little like tights that have been sawn off at the knees and come right up to your boobs.


Then there were the added extras. Did I want powermesh? For some reason this just reminded me of the pressure washer and my enthusiasm last year in blasting anything and everything in the garden including half the rendering off the garden wall.


I could have a bodysuit with padding, boneing,  under-wire, detachable straps and suspenders, well, quite frankly, I have something very similar already in black silk and lace which I'm pretty sure (in the moment of passion) would detract from any errant rolls of flesh anyway.


Some of them solved the question of 'how the bloody hell do you go to the loo' by being CROTCHLESS!! Is it only me that thinks that just renders the whole point of knickers well ........  pointless?


Other have either hooks and eyes or popper fastenings at the crotch to allow easy access and flow.


You wont catch me out with THAT one!!!


I remember my clubbing days when the 'body' was in fashion. Yes it gave you a sleek outline and no, you didn't have to worry about it becoming untucked. But try going to the loo in one when you're pissed ? Forget it!!


Scrabbling round trying to undo poppers when I could barely stand unaided. Giggling like a maniac while I peered at my crotch trying to focus on itsy, bitsy hooks and eyes and eventually grabbing the material with both hands an ripping the damn thing off in desperation with an accompanying TA DA, the sound of little bits of metal ricocheting off the cubical walls before my poor over loaded bladder gave up the unequal struggle and I pee'd myself.


Many's the time I've chuckled to myself as some poor girl (having failed to lock the door properly) has come head first at a gallop out of a cubicle, jeans round her ankles, clutching her dignity and landed face down on the floor.


I did eventually narrow my choices down and so, £26.99 lighter I left clutching my carrier bag and scuttled home before I could either bumped into someone I knew who could enquire about my purchase or (horror of horrors) give in to my latent tenancy to Coprolalia and stand in the middle of the store waving my big knicks over my head shouting fuck, fuck, SHAAAAG leaving everyone in no doubt that I thought I might just be on to a winner wearing these.

Sunday, 3 April 2011

The things people say

This week The Lounge is being hosted by RoboMum and its all about the Bbq - this one almost beat me as I dont bbq- EVER!


I find this post though where it gets a mention ;-)

As I've mentioned before, I am a lover of words and quotes, they don't have to be by famous people (Although Groucho Marks IS a personal favourite).  I find the people around me provide enjoyment with the things they say.

My children are a priceless example, 'your bottoms to big for those pants',  Hmmm, I hadn't even asked 'does my bum look big in this'!!! (although I DID  have to concede she was right).


sweetie pickers should!

'I'm not entirely sure where my placenta is', an example from one of my dearest friends ( no, she wasn't pregnant at the time).

 Also, from the same friend, 'I'll pay you in a minute taxi driver, I'm just mowing the grass' (hmmm, no C, you're blowing your nose).

 'Help, I'm driving round to your house now, get the scissors out, I've got the bloody hairbrush STUCK in my hair' (C again). 

'I'm sitting in the dark empathising with Esmerelda' (C's blind, bald hamster)  I did feel I had to point out that being blind it was possible that Esmerelda wasn't getting the full benefit of her empathy.

 'Of course I wouldn't have driven off had I realised Id just reversed over my own cat' (again, C).

 'I'm at the casualty department with the toilet cistern' (yep, C strikes again).

Just in case you thought C had the monopoly on madness, I do have other friends ;-). 

I  'lost' M once (well, more than once to be perfectly honest) in an underground car park in the early hours of a Saturday morning, she just VANISHED. Having had a vodka or two and not wishing to draw attention to myself I wondered around the rows of cars hissing 'M, where the bloody hell are you?' for a while and smiling inanely at passers by.

 Eventually a voice behind me said 'is this what your looking for?' and 'can you move her, I'd really like to go home', hmmm, feeling a little worse for wear and very tired she had decided to take a 'nap' on the floor of the car park. 

The other time I 'lost' her was when on leaving a kebab shop (again in the early hours)  I saw her disappearing up the road in the back of a white van.  I suppose on refection I should have been worried but at the time it didn't seem too out of the ordinary. 

She turned up at my house two hours later with a litre of semi skimmed, I didn't ask for details.  M and I have history and some day I may inflict it on you.



Possibly my favourite quote comes from Rowland who asked, 'the invitation says to bring something with you, do you think boil in the bag cod would be ok?'



 (HUGE grin)  'Perfect Rowland, the BBQ starts at 6!'  Rowland doesn't have a girlfriend but Im sure, somewhere out there, there is someone for him

Friday, 1 April 2011

Today in my garden

I found a rather large pair of MS control pants, Im thinking, they're not mine!

My dilemma was, what to do with them?

Should I flip them over the fence and pass them down the line or, should I conduct a house to house enquiry???

My dog, who is very sensitive and wary of all things nylon solved the dilemma for me by peeing on them.

We both sat and looked at the offending garment for a while and eventually I decided they must be disposed of.

Not overly keen on handling voluminous undergarments at the best of times I carefully picked them up with the bbq tongs. Just to tease Gus (the dog) a little, I waved them about a bit (if only Id remembered he had peed on them BEFORE doing that!) and disposed of them in the bin.

Now I am faced with a new dilemma, Should I replace the bbq tongs now that Ive told you all or, shall I just wave aside the sausages in the summer and pretend to be on a diet??



Linking up with Robomum over at The Lounge