Place I Would Like To Visit

Linking up with        

In no particular order:

1. The Galápagos Islands

The abundance of wildlife, can you imagine swimming with giant turtles?

2. Corfu

But I'd also want to be transported back to the 1930’s. To Gerald Durrell’s Corfu. With its gentle, lazy pace of living, when it was a fishing island and before tourism took hold.

3. Rio de Janeiro

During the Mardis Gras, Vibrant colours, loud music, fun feathers and fantasy

4. Singapore

I visited Singapore as a child and I’ve always wanted to go back. It's exotic, fast paced with amazing food and, (if they still exist) back street tailors who will take one look at you and without the need for measurements run you up a Cheongsam in a couple of hours.

 5. Florence

My dream destination and one that I fell in love with the first time I watched Room With a View. A beautiful city teeming with culture and breath taking architecture.

Ode (ious) to O2

I’ve had a on going problem with unwanted balance alerts from O2  (86 in the last 6 days, an average of just over 7 per day sent at all times of the day and night).

I was pleasantly surprised after my earlier rant, to receive this comment from O2:

'Hello Mrs Mac! Sorry to hear you've been receiving low credit reminders at such an unearthly hour. The reminders are reactive, so they'll be sent whenever your phone tries to do something which you'd normally be charged for (even if they're free right now as part of a Bolt on). It sounds to us as though your flashy little touchscreen number is asking the network for information of its own accord - perhaps to check your email, or even update a weather app on your phone's home screen? Anyway, if the lovely Lucy hasn't already managed to get these alerts stopped for you, the good news is that it can be sorted out with a quick call to Customer Service (numbers at http://j.mp/CallCS). We've also got some helpful information about the different ways you can Top-up your number, including our new Auto Top-up service. That's here: http://bit.ly/fa4Hoq Unfortunately, there's little we can do to help get Master Mac out of bed in the mornings. Or resolve problems with fongerz. Sorry about that.'

 informative with a touch of humour, I like it!  I followed their link which took me to virtual Marcus.

Virtual Marcus assured me that this time (my third time of asking) the alerts would indeed be switched off and even if my ‘flash touchscreen phone’ tried to request information from the network it wouldn’t reactivate the alerts.

In the midst of posting a response to their comment to thank them and to let them know that in the past three hours the alerts had indeed stopped  ……. Dah dah da da da!!! And since then, a constant and regular supply of the damned alerts.

And so ………  To the soundtrack of 'The One That I Want' from the film Grease (and yes, I am wearing my skin tight satin trousers)

Looking for a soundtrack for you to play while you sing along I stumbled across this version. It seemed the perfect choice:Publish Post

I’ve got alerts, they’re multiplyin’

And I’m losin’ control

Cause the volume

You’re supplyin’

It’s electrifyin’

You better shape up

Cause I need my phone

And my heart is set on O2

You better shape up

You better understand

That to O2 I’ve been true

Nuthin left

Nuthin left for me to do

You’re the one that I want

The one I want

O, O, OO, s’not funny

You’re the one that I want

The one I want

O, O, OO, s’not funny

The one I need

Oh yes indeed

If  you’re  filled

With perplextion

And you don’t understand

Mediate in my direction

Feel my pain

You better shape up

Cause I need a phone

(yes, I need a phone)

That can keep me satisfied

You better shape up

If you’re gonna prove

(yes, you better prove)

That my faith is satisfied

Am I sure

Well I WAS sure down deep in side

You’re the one that I want

The one I want

O, O, OO, s’not funny

The one I want

O, O, OO, s’not funny

The one I need

Oh yes indeed

Ha ha ha ha, Stayin' Alive

Like to WAP O2!!!

Linking up with  at Boobies Babies & a Blog


I’m getting very frustrated.  As you may know if you've read I'm not the alien, it's an effing android , I’ve recently tried to overcome my technophobia and use my so called ‘smart phone’!

Well, I have a problem, and no, nothing to do with fat fongerz this time.  It’s the bloody message I’ve had oh, I don’t know HOW many times in the last two weeks.  I do know that I’ve had it 12 times in the last 8 hours. The last time being at 4:23am this morning!

It’s a message from O2 helpfully telling me I’m out of credit and directing me to the top-up line.

 Funnily enough, I KNOW IM OUT OF CREDIT!  I know it because when I top up x amount each month I get unlimited texts and x amount of free call time minutes.  So, I put x amount on my phone, O2 takes said x amount and gives me my ‘freebies thus, technically I’m left with no credit but I’m happy.

I am NOT effing happy about being told that I’m out of credit almost every 30 minutes and I have told the nice virtual lady Lucy from the O2 customer services dept. that Id like these helpful messages stopped TWICE now and she’s assured me she has done it as we speak.

I do wonder how I managed before I had a mobile though.  I resisted for a good long while saying Id rather not be contactable every minute of the day, sometimes I LIKE being on my own.  Well, as the children get older and are off and about with their friends it became a bit of a necessity.

It also means that we never have to see or speak to each other.

Master Mac can spend his time on his Play Station in his room and text me ‘what’s for tea’. I can text back ‘nothing until you bring down all my crockery’.  I can text him to turn down his TV/music, whatever, he can text back, ‘can’t hear you, got my headphones on’. The only time I really need to venture into his bedroom is when I’ve lost my voice shouting up the stairs for him to get up in the morning and have to resort to jumping up and down on his bed battering him with a pillow.

Facebook, now that’s another great was to communicate with your children too.  Mine have access to it on the understanding that I am on their friends list.  They don’t like it much and I try (mostly successfully) not to comment on their wall but I’ve heard too much about cyber bullying to be happy about them not having at least a little censoring.

I had a message from Miss Mac the other day.  Now you have to bear in mind that Miss Mac was in the front room and I was in the dining room.  The two rooms have been knocked into to one with French doors between the two, she was literally TWO FEET from me.

“Mother (she said), would you be so kind as to bring me a glass of Cranberry and Raspberry juice, I have just coughed up something yuck and swallowed it again and now my throat BURNS!”

It's small but it's ours

We do talk, of COURSE we do.  Yesterday I enticed them into the garden with the promise of putting the pool up and then I locked the door thus ensuring that they had no option but to converse with me.

We sat there, me asking caring and intelligent questions about school, friends, hopes and dreams. Them grunting occasionally and nodding their heads and tapping their feet.

 It took me a little while to realise that they were both plugged into their mobile phones listening to music!

Well, we shared the same air space for a while and who knows, if it stops raining for long enough, maybe we will all get in the pool tonight. If we don’t talk then at least we might have some fun trying to drown each other.

No Shit Sherlock

 Linking up with Diminishing Lucy

Was my considered response to the text:  "Jet washing parts of the anatomy is NOT recommended!"

this is the BEFORE picture :)

Jet washing the decking well, now that’s fun for the first twenty minutes after that it gets a little tedious but I have to say, it’s now looking totally ...............

I on the other hand looked like crap.  Not only did it take a layer of skin off the one remaining good foot I have but I was also pebble dashed with 10 different kinds of shit.  Why did no one warn me about splash back.

I am not a toy!

Friday afternoon was fairly typical in the Mac household. Bear (he of very little brain) had a new toy.  He played joyfully under the dining table, tossing it in the air, patting it with his paws and generally having a jolly time.

where's my toy???

He wasn’t too happy about having it taken away ..

We thought at first it was dead but then Miss Mac pointed out that although it was lying on it’s back motionless it was still breathing and I would have to DEAL WITH IT!!!!

Arrrgh, I don’t DO dealing with.  As the man of the house I called upon Master Mac to dispatch the poor thing. His answer was something to the effect of ‘ha ha, yeah right Mum’, hmmm, well that’s the polite version anyway.

It was down to me……   Luckily froggy was just playing dead and suddenly flipped over apparently none the worse for his adventures inside Bears mouth. Phew!

This weekend was a chicken sitting weekend, my favourite kind of weekend.  Free range eggs and the first of the Strawberries and Raspberries from Janet’s Garden.

soon!

I fed her cat, the tropical fish, the goldfish, the fish in the pond, watered the garden and the plants in the green house, drenched myself reaching up to water the hanging baskets at the front of the house and pottered down to the bottom end of the garden with half a cabbage and a sense of anticipation to collect my reward.

Sadly, Janet is now down to 2 chickens but both are laying most days.  Sure enough there was Esmeralda, bottom parked in the nesting box.

If I cross my legs I can eat the cabbage first!

Now Esmeralda has a real fondness for cabbage and I swear to god, when she saw me coming, green leaves in hand, she sucked the damn egg back up again and hopped off!

No amount of gentle persuasion, threats or chants of sage and onion stuffing would entice her back on again. That chicken wasn’t laying till she was good and ready and certainly not before brunch.

Lordy Lordy

I got an Awardy!!!

Hmm, I promise NEVER to inflict bad poetry on you again!

I was completely overwhelmed to be given the Liebster award by Fancy.  Me? An award?? From Fancy???

The last thing I won was the most Malteasers transferred from one bowl to another with a straw on the distressed gentlefolks stall at the children’s school fete. The prize was a golden straw, well, technically it was a bit of copper piping but it was a proud moment.

Now this award is for favourite blogs with less than 100 followers so here are my three choices:

Postcard Pam Goes Large

She lives in a chocolate box town on the edge of Rutminster with two teenagers and a small force of nature. Hiding from the wicked witch of mortgages and mobile phones. She finds John Suttleworth and Martin Clunes strangely attractive which puts her firmly in the kindred spirit category.

Lost: One Beast Breast

Erin was diagnosed with breast cancer not once but twice, two unrelated tumours which have led to surgery and chemotherapy.  But this isn’t what defines Erin.  Yes the blog tells her continued story but it’s also the story of those close to her. It’s told with warmth and wit and love. She’s told me stories that by right should have had me in tears but in truth had me laughing out loud. Wow, what a lady!

My Big Nutshell

Gemma is a married mum of three, she loves being involved and being busy.  She kind of reminds me of me although she’s slightly more together and owns more Tupperware. She’s worked at MacDonalds, been fired from Target and used to drive a shitty car called Barry,

Yep, three of my favourites without a doubt.

Snails, Saunas and Waterfalls

So it's Thursday again and that can only mean one thing - it's time to pop over and visit The Lounge.  This week it's being hosted by Rachel at The Very Inappropriate Blog and the topic this week is Travel Tales.

Now I have plenty to say on that matter (and most others if i'm perfectly honest ;).  I did consider telling the story of Maggie's hen week in Symi and why exactly she had a roll of parcel tape in her bag and what Jenny did with it but time is short - I have (as Slapdash Mama would say) too much on my mind and not enough brain to deal with it all so I've dug through the archives and I bring you the story of my honeymoon:

As you may have realised, my family is a ‘little’ accident prone and sadly my children have inherited it from BOTH sides.

Most of my own personal mishaps I blame on Maggie.  Not because it’s necessarily her fault but just because I can.

My Fat Foot

I do this to such an extent that when I posted the photo of My Fat Foot on FB Maggie asked, ‘is it my fault?’  Well, no Maggie, I own that in this instance we were in fact in different counties so it probably wasnt.

It WAS Maggie’s fault I snapped my kneecap though!  Yes, I was a little the worse for wear and YES I was trying to see if I could put my foot on someone’s shoulder (something that should only be done either in a horizontal position or with someone considerably shorter than the person in question!) BUT, it was Maggie’s fault for leaving me and my alter ego unattended.

It wasn’t Maggie’s fault I ended up in A&E with a broken fingernail either  (I lie not!) as it was before I knew her.

I would have blamed Maggie for my black eye had not half the office seen me pick up the phone and smack myself in the face with it.  Bad enough but then, in a state of disorientation I compounded my foolishness by answering it and saying ‘hello, can you help me?’

Mr Mac, now I’ve been thinking about that title ever since lovely, lovely C mistyped his name in a text and referred to him as Lack and I’ve decided that as my ex he should be rechristened, I shall therefore, from now on, be calling him Ex Lax, a singularly appropriate title as all those in the know would agree.

Anyway, Ex Lax is the pass master of the ridiculous accident and in his line of work (tree surgery) he has plenty of scope for making a prat of himself.


Forget to clip in securely?  Yep, you’re going to end up upside down suspended from a foot strop 20 foot up a Scots Pine. Misjudge the weight ratio on the pulling rope you might just take out a green house a Ford Fiesta and a water butt.  Leave the safety lock off your chainsaw, expect to say bye bye to your gonads (little bit of wishful thinking going on there)

His best effort were saved for the home though and the dreaded DIY.  Yes he had all the tools of the trade,    but the best tools in the world do not a workman make.  To be fair (and I always am J) he was a tryer.

He fitted a kitchen with a little help from yours truly, our transvestite plumber (Nikki), the transvestite plumbers standard poodle and our mate Pete and only broke his nose once (his own, not Pete’s).

He put in a bathroom with a little help from yours truly, our transvestite plumber (Nikki), the transvestite plumbers standard poodle and our mate Pete and only over tightened ONE little joint on a pipe, ok, that DID result in the flooding (with hot water) of the entire downstairs but that’s just details.

He did help to put in the central heating with a little help from yours truly, our transvestite plumber (Nikki), the transvestite plumbers standard poodle and only put one little nail through one little pipe when re-laying the floorboards, shame it was in the room above the brand new boiler we’d just had installed in the Kitchen ……..

He did cut to size and put up the wooden blinds I wanted in the bay window and only dropped one piece of wood onto the sill of the new windows we’d just had installed taking a huge chunk out of it.

He did put new doors on the under stairs cupboard, ok, due to some feat of science that I’ve never understood neither door opens to more than a 30 degree angle but then, I doubt I could have done better myself (although the transvestite plumbers dog just might have been able to).

The thing is, he did give it a go and I do have a certain amount of respect for him because of that (not to mention a trashed house hmmmm).

I think my favourite Ex Lax mishap was on our honeymoon.  Some of you may have read the tale of our wedding day in A Right Royal Affair.

The story continued in the Lake District, our chosen destination for a few days of newly wedded bliss.  Ex Lax had chosen the hotel based on the fact that it came with its very own waterfall.  It wasn’t my first choice but I’m a bit of a people pleaser and I’m usually happy enough to go along with what everyone else wants if I don’t have strong objections.

The hotel was, as described on the website, within spitting distance of Derwent Water one of the beautiful lakes.  The description of ‘hotel’ though I had to question. Within a few minutes it was pretty obvious that it was in fact a nursing home for the incontinent! ‘Would you like to take coffee in the lounge madam?’ Sugar, milk, urine soaked chair?

The hotel also boasted that many of its rooms had beautiful views overlooking the lakes.  To that end I had rung to confirm out booking 7 times just so I could drop in the fact that we were on honeymoon and would love a lake view.

We got a view over the flat roof of the kitchen complete with extraction pipe and over to the car park and dustbins! There was a strange metal loop attached to the floor next to the bed which I immediately stubbed my toe on, no idea what it was for, possibly for ease of access to under the floorboards in case they wanted to stow a body.

My initial thought was that it WOULD explain the really rather unpleasant odour in the room.  It wasn’t me, it wasn’t even ex lax. It didn’t turn out to be bodies under the floorboards either.

It DID turn out to be the leaky soil pipe that fed the whole floor and ran through the built in cupboard under the window INSIDE our room!  The amount of shit generated by the whole hotel also produced (as a by product)  huge quantities of heat so the room was boiling hot as well as smelly.

Now Ex Lax had a peculiarity. He liked to see if he could fit into small spaces. Ignoring the heat, the smell of shit and the view of the car park, his eyes lit up at the sight of the whole wall of built in cupboards which included a small shoe cupboard at the bottom.  Carefully he backed into it (and yes, I DO have photographic evidence if I can ever work out how to get photos off the camera and onto the computer).  All would have been ok if the built in cupboard had actually been BUILT IN!!! After spending a little time firmly wedged in the cupboard Ex Lax decided it was time to explore further afield and attempted to slide out, but hmmmm, the whole of the damn unit came with him!  I wasn’t fixed to the sodding wall!!!  I had visions of us travelling the Lake District, him, and his very own home on his back like a bloody MDF crazed snail!

Fortunately with a little pushing and pulling on my part the two were separated.

Ok, we were now 20 minutes into our dream honeymoon and Ex Lax decided to go off and take a look at the waterfall while I unpacked.

10 minutes later there was a knock at the door.  I opened it to be confronted with Ex Lax, his face ashen, blood dripping on the floor from his mangled hand.  He’d only gone and fallen down the fucking waterfall!

He spent the first night of our honeymoon on the sofa with his hand in the ice bucket along with the champagne that neither of us really felt like drinking, sweating like a pig in a shit filled sauna.