Sunday, 20 April 2014

Favourite place

Taras theme this week is A favourite place. It took me about 5 seconds to think of where this could be

Its the home of the original egg rolling hill. The place for many family walks. The refreshing start to the New Year obligatory walk with friends. It's where the kids learnt to ride their bikes. Where the dog leaps effortlessly up 6' high walls. It's where I come to be close to mum. Its a marvelous view.
Sticky Fingers Photo Gallery

Saturday, 19 April 2014

The Fart Test

Love me, love my farts, and those of my family even the dog.  I know to some the act of farting is impolite, height of rudeness and not something to be rejoiced. Not in our family. They are a source of constant humour. For all ages. Septuagenarians down to winkies. Even the dog can do a comedy fart. Which is why it is important that a date, the current man friend, can celebrate all that is gaseous with the rest of us.

Hot date of  some time was anti fart. ( read this earlier blog  for my love of all things farty and his opposition) This meant no more of the morning salutation that sounded something to Colonel Hathi from the Jungle Book. It meant uncomfortable wriggling and jiggling to let one out, silently. I have to say that when that particular relationship was over there was a particular joyous moment when I did my first morning fart. Trumpety trump!

My family can recount tales of the best/worst fart moments from the annals ( geddit?) of time. My girlfriends laugh at the prospect of being an old woman letting slip. Or not so old. Toilet humour abounds with all that I know.  No more will I hide my farting like guilty secret when in fact it is a guilty pleasure. Although having come out of the unisex Everybody toilets at Everyman cinema last night having accidentally let slip to face a (handsome) man grinning ear to ear waiting to use said cubicle I felt a little blush rising in my cheeks.

So back to dating. Should I hold back and wait a little longer to flush out my dates stance on farting? Not least it should detect a good sense of humour. Which is why on date 3 I think I need to flush out his stance on farting. This could be a make or break (wind ) moment. made worse by the fact that we are probably going to go for a curry! And suddenly this song pops into my head.

I can feel it coming in the air tonight. Hold on!

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.