Friday, 11 April 2014


How cruel can you get?
She-ra posed me the following dilemma
If you had to choose between Inspector Montalbano versus The Bridge (Martin )I'd be handcuffed to any of them any day.

She then added Salamander hunk, Geradi,  into the mix. 
It could only be one though. My first love, Salvo Montalbano. Italian, loved his food, lives by the sea,swam every day, and solved crime. Perfect. 


Monday, 7 April 2014

Teenage conversations

I have come from work late, again. The soon to be 18!!! year old She-ra is sat on the bottom step chewing the fat with me with a wet towel round her wet hair post shower.

We discuss the revision covered that day. The fact that she NEEDS, not wants, clothes shoes etc for her to wear on her birthday. The fact that she has hijacked my hair appointment.
She stands up " just shaking the wedgie out" Classy bird.

Meanwhile in the other corner the 19 year old He-man tells me that MUM in fact stands for
He has eaten all the bacon in the house. He mainly resides at his girl friend's coming home to scour the cupboards for good stuff to eat, shit shower and shave. Oh and use the wifi


Saturday, 8 March 2014

Work wear

I need clothes for work. I do. I do not enjoy buying clothes for work. I always seem to get it wrong and look like I'm about to meet world leaders. Suits suits me best because you can hide behind them, they require little thought when putting on, but they feel so formal, too formal, not mention more expensive. Always one for a bargain I will scour the rails from Tesco to House of Fraser and even my local charity shops. Benetton used to be my Go To shop when in need of smartish attire my nearest has closed down besides it's lost its appeal. 
Dresses are also good but I feel naked without a jacket. Plus I tend to look at them and think I can make that. Only I can't it's just delusional thinking. 
As for shoes my latest Miss KG acquisition of high suede heels are not as comfortable as I thought in the shop. I think age is creeping up on me again and is secretly guiding me towards a nice comfortable pair of mid heels. I am breaking out in a sweat just thinking about it. 
A style point of reference for me is one  of 2 choices. I love the style of the Dutch women. ( not mention the fact they all seem about 5" taller than me ) So cool and chilled yet sophisticated. Ready for work or to hop on a bike at any time. Or there is my good friend Meldy, ( Imelda Marcos) thus nicknamed for her vast shoe collection. Always immaculately dressed for any occasion and can oft be heard saying " I got this in the Tesco sale " whilst looking like million dollars.
I've never been a lover of Next or M&S but I'm getting desperate and may have to step over their threshold. My stint with a personal shopper last year may have got my groove back in one way but it's paralysed me in others. Plus I have to point out I don't like spending my money on having to look good for work anymore. Saying that as a keen supporter of the relative theory of shopping, it's not how much it is but how often you wear it, I can be persuaded. Scouring the internet last night I flitted from Asos to La Redoute to French Connection like a butterfly in search of the perfect flower. 

Help me good ladies of t'interweb. Where do you shop what's your style? 

Monday, 24 February 2014

Computer says no - the NHS

I had to have a hand scan - see earlier post. Apparently its a "drop in centre" thing at my HOWGE HOWGE hospital. I chose to drop in on a Saturday morning rather than take a whole afternoon off from work.

This Times petition to get the hospitals working 24/7 looks to be paying off I thought as I bimbled in.I was all bright and bushy tailed, always happy to talk to anyone. First there was the receptionist no 1.  By definition someone who should be receiving visitors, preferably in a friendly manner. This one had their back turned to me, was flat in enthusiasm and swift in their direction giving. So much so I had to ask 3 times before I understood what he said. He made you feel like an inconvenience. He also followed me through to the x-ray department and shouted at the team there for not letting him know that they were open today. Nice.

On arrival in emergency x-ray department, even though it wasn't an emergency but it was all that was open that day. The instruction to x-ray my hand I watched my doctor send with  mine very own eyes had not arrived. Not only that despite giving my full name and birth date several times to have it shouted across a busy waiting area so they all knew exactly how old I am, found me not on the computer. It said NO!  I did not exist! The receptionist reminded me Roz from Monsters Inc until I managed to crack a few jokes and get a smile.

Had I just moved to the area?
Had I changed dr?
Had I recently changed my name?No no no no no.
Had I ever been to the hospital before ? Yes several times over the years including last year

However with a bit of detective work the staff eventually found me under my previous married name, changed several years ago. Whilst this supposed bit of Miss Marple was going on I watched 2 elderly men in a state of undress and confusion be dropped off in a wheel chair by a silent porter who shuttled them about like cattle. Left them without speaking to them and shunted a piece of paper in front of the receptionist without saying a word before departing. The old men look frightened and without a shred of dignity. They sat in main corridor bewildered and confused. The place felt dirty and we all felt a little unloved despite the best efforts of the few staff that were on. The fact I could go in on a Saturday had been a boost I thought things were going in the right direction. The way in which people speak to you costs nothing. Changing that could have made such a difference.
What a sorry state of affairs the NHS is in.

Monday, 17 February 2014

Old fingers, night sweats and coarse hair

With a blog title that can only mean one thing. Mother Nature  has come a calling and she has brought me some unwanted gifts.
The old fingers may, according to my GP, be the start of arthritis. Wtf! One hand has swollen itchy sausage fingers. I did not associate that with arthritis. An X-ray is now scheduled to hopeful rule that out. Please god let it be a case of swollen itchy finger. Given my recent cereal box challenge and limber limbs it can't possibly be Arthur Itis.

Oh my lawd can someone turn the heating down! Oh my room is like an ice block you say. Well what's that foul sweaty odour in the middle of the night? Surely the dog is in my room doing silent sleepy farts? No? It's me? 

Coarse hair giving you trouble? It never did me, before now. These days I seem to be on a permanent quest to find the perfect shampoo to turn my greying brunette Brillo pad locks into something more sleek shiny bouncy and youthful.

There is of course the unwanted hair in prominent places but I just can't face admitting to my bearded lady status just yet.

Mother nature can just go ........