Friday, 10 July 2015

Other people

A woman on a mobility scooter is asked by a man standing at a cat charity display if she'd like to donate, she shouts out "I don't like cats, I'm a dog person" - I like her honesty, bellowing across the shopping precinct. 

As I walk out of an entry near to work I pass three people talking, I don't notice what one of the men looks like but it strikes me that the man and woman standing next to each other are dressed like Wayne & Waynetta Slob. The only words I catch, during a quiet part of the podcast I'm listening to, come from Wayne "...stopped speaking to me because I've fucked off to go and get some sex, I mean we've all done it in the past..." 

Monday, 22 June 2015

A quarter of a century

Today is my brother's birthday, he is 25, a frankly horrifying thought, since in my head is eternally 8. It is also no panty day (who the fuck says panty? I feel sick typing that), or at least according to Twitter it is and this has amused me no end. You see, one of my lasting memories of my brother is of him at a youngish age, skipping round the garden while my friend and I sat in the sun drinking wine that we'd bought solely because it was called Fat Bastard. He was topless, it was hot, soon his shorts were off and then before we knew it his pants were off and he was whirling them round his head shouting "full monty" at the top of his voice. We were in part hysterical and in part shocked. I'll admit this is weird behaviour for anyone but the blame for this incident lays squarely at the feet of our Dad. 

I have a feeling I'm repeating myself here but I can't be sure so I'll tell the story anyway and you can skip it if you're still reading... 

Anyway, in his part time Dad was the concert secretary at a local social club, a role he would take very seriously, because he liked to perform for people. One year they organised a Mother's Day show where as a treat for the women, the men all performed various skits, songs and the like. One of the pieces they did, which may or may not be a treat depending on your definition of the word, was a Full Monty routine, yep, like the film of the same name, him and a bunch of other older men danced to You Can Leave Your Hat On, removed their jackets and shirts, ripped off their velcroed trousers and finally, throwing a pair of spare pants they cunningly hidden in their hats into the crowd they pretended to have done the full monty. Someone filmed the whole show, there's a copy of it somewhere and that is where my brother got his inspiration for his impromptu garden performance from. It's a wonder social services didn't call round. 

And this is why it seems fitting that his birthday should coincide with such an auspicious day.

(Incidentally, it's also made it so that I can't appreciate Magic Mike like a fair proportion of the population can) 

Thursday, 19 February 2015


I'm sure I've posted about this before, about how my birthday rarely ever goes to plan. Sometimes it's my own fault, I'm not the most gracious of gift receivers to put it mildly. Sometimes things just happen and it doesn't work out quite as I might've hoped. Like the year my Nan died and I went with my eldest sister to look at her body then to order some flowers for the funeral. 

Anyway, one thing I always make sure of is that I'm off work on the day itself and quite often, as Mr T's birthday is 4 days later, we'll book somewhere to go for the days in between. It's been a few years since we did this but this year we decided we'd take ourselves and the dog off somewhere for a few nights. Last week I was geared up to book it, this week I put it off because I couldn't find somewhere that was quite right. Then I remembered that holidays aren't always all they're cracked up to be. You have to come home from them, for a start. You have to go back to what you've left behind and sometimes the concept of that is so filled with dread you may as well not go away in the first place. 

I talked myself out of that stupid mindset last night and booked somewhere. We leave tomorrow, on my birthday, and return on Monday, the day before Ian's birthday. Well. we would do if the website I booked it through hadn't just left a voicemail cancelling it.  

I'm disappointed but I'm not devastated, I'm used to things not working out on my birthday and it's saved over £200 so I suppose all is not lost really. I could've missed that call and found out once we arrived. 

Maybe we'll have a day out tomorrow instead of a holiday. Maybe we'll let everyone think we've gone away so we don't have to do any visiting or have any visitors round. Maybe this isn't as disappointing as I thought it was. 

Wednesday, 28 January 2015

So far this week

It's only Wednesday and thanks to one of the bridges I need to drive over being closed, I've been late every single day. I'm never going to win employee of the month, am I? 

The bulb in the kitchen blew on Monday night, I only remembered that on Tuesday morning when I tried to put my make up on in there and had to sit in the half light of a not quite yet risen sun. I could well have left the house bearing a striking resemblance to Aunt Sally. 

Along with possibly looking like I'd be shot with the make up gun I realised all too late that I was wearing a skirt with a tendency to ride up while walking. When I say I realised this too late, I mean I realised it while walking past a building site. 

I haven't fared much better today, clothes wise. I'm wearing a skater skirt on the windiest day we've had in ages. When I left the house this morning to take the dog for a walk it was still dark but it was dry. Or at least it was dry till about 10 minutes in to the walk when the rain came by the bucket load. My waterproof coat that I bought specifically for dog walking is not as waterproof as I had hoped it was and despite turning back when it was clear it wasn't just a shower I was soaked. Oh and I'm wearing some patent t-bar flat shoes that make me look like an 8 year old going to a birthday party, not helped by the raccoon print woolly tights I have paired them with. It's quite a look. 

Lastly, and the worst thing, I thought I'd found a grey hair. Improbable since my hair is liberally coated in dye but you know, stranger things have happened. It's ok though, it's not a grey hair, it's a white one. A white hair belonging to my dog, in my own hair. I joke about how sometimes I look like I've been sleeping in a dog's bed because I never look in the mirror once I'm dressed so could be wearing any old jumble of clothes and I guess it's been on my cardigan and then somehow ended up on the ends of my hair but jesus fucking christ. 

Two days left of this week, it's bound to improve, right?

Friday, 23 January 2015


At 4.44am my alarm was going off, I couldn't get back to sleep. Naturally, I scanned Twitter and Instagram, there wasn't much going on. I ended up listening to a farming programme on radio 4, what with that and the Archers I feel like I am almost a fully qualified dairy farmer. You know, apart from never having got close to a cow, nor do I want to. I guess this is as likely a career as the mechanic I was going to be last week. 

Presumably bored by the farming chat I fell asleep and somewhat typically woke up later than I'd planned to. The dog crying was what forced me out of bed, my alarm being put on snooze repeatedly was bothering him. He's doing a lot of crying at the moment, he has a sore leg. He is not crying about his sore leg hurting him, he is crying because he's not allowed to go for a walk at the moment. Yesterday morning he led me down the hall, waited for me to open the baby gate and then stood, looking up at his lead and harness. As if to demonstrate how little his leg is hurting him he then proceeded to bounce back and forth between me and his lead. He does not know how to rest. I despair.

Today was pay day, the best day of the month, except I am not buying myself anything this month, I have birthday presents and a new phone to fund, and hopefully a weekend away somewhere. I am definitely not buying anything, well, except for that dress that fell into my basket when I went to M&S at lunch time. Don't judge me, it's not an obviously M&S dress, honestly. 

Earlier this week my step mum sent me a text asking if I still had a book she lent to me. I do, I actually came across it a few weeks ago and thought how I ought to return it her and then in my usual fashion I put it down and forgot all about it. Much like I did when she first passed it to me because, now three years on, I still haven't read it. For the last three or four nights I've carried it between the bedroom and the front room intending to read it. I've not got round to it yet. It is 23.15, I am returning it tomorrow. I'm never going to read it in time. If she gives me a test on it I am royally fucked. I've skimmed over some Amazon reviews, but I think my only option is going to be claiming it's so long since I read it I've forgotten what happened. 

Thursday, 15 January 2015


Over a month later (it's probably more like 6 weeks since I've had this in my drafts for an age) and I am back with a new resolve to post more. I'm not, well, I am back but I'm not resolving to post more, not enough happens to warrant monthly posting let alone weekly. 

Since the last time... 

- We celebrated it being 15 years since we got together by spending the night at a Days Inn hotel on the M1, it was truly romantic. As was the 4 hours of standing up at a gig. Oh and the bed that was so soft it felt like I imagine a water bed does. We really know how to celebrate. 

- I finished my xmas shopping on xmas eve, of course. I am a fuckwit. This year I've started to transfer money into another account to save up for xmas, it will be nothing short of a miracle if I'm still doing this on March pay day.

- We spent xmas day as we have done every year - bar one - of the time we've been living together. We stayed in the house, just the two of us, doing very little except cooking xmas dinner (me) and washing up (Mr T). That's not strictly true, this year I had to get dressed and put my slap on so we could walk the dog but that's about as active as we got, if you don't include a furious game of Dutch Blitz with the neighbours. 

- The work xmas shut down would usually see me do nothing more active than get up and make a drink but having a dog has ruined that, I've actually had to go outside daily to walk him. Also, one day I even went to the gym. I didn't exercise, oh no, I had to go to sort out my downgraded membership. Months ago they wrote to say they were introducing different pricing levels, I didn't bother reading the letter properly and discovered quite by chance that my membership now only allowed me to go before 5pm - not so useful when you have a job. Of course, I couldn't read the letter again to see whether I should've done something before they downgraded me because, hilariously, the dog had eaten the letter. 

- Oh, big news, I've become a mechanic since I last posted. My car has been telling me for ages I have a faulty side lamp, my lights are working so I've been ignoring this. Over xmas Mr T noticed a number plate was out, gave the car a thump and it came back on and the warning disappeared. Since then whenever the car has shouted at me, I've given the boot lid a smack and the lights have come back on, I can give up my day job and concentrate on my new career now, surely?

- I've also been to a wedding. My little sister has got married and now it feels weird calling a married woman my little sister but that's what she is so that's what she will continue to be called. 

Not much has happened has it? I'm off to look for a holiday, so I have something to post about (dog walks and the dog pissing in someone else's house, no doubt)*

*NB I am looking for a holiday anyway, it is not a pathetic attempt to have something to write about, honestly. We have to test the dog and see if he can be trusted on a holiday before we take him away as token Holiday Dog with a group of our best friends 

Friday, 5 December 2014

Nothing of any interest to anybody

1. Last time I was here, just over a week ago I had barely bought anything from my xmas present list, I feel like I've done nothing but haemorrhage money ever since then, but the good news is I've got a lot of that list ticked off. There's a fair bit not ticked off but I need to stop while I have some money in my bank account. I'll be one of those people desperately buying shite on xmas eve, wishing they were dead. I find myself in the same position every year, despite having plans to put some money aside each month or at least good intentions to start buying presents earlier than November. I am a fucking idiot but next year will be different. (It won't).

2. On Wednesday, after a fraught journey to work that started with an unexpectedly iced up windscreen - in December, imagine that - temporary traffic lights and stalling, a man hanging out of the window of the transit he was driving wolf whistled at me. All before 9am. I'm under no illusion that he is a discerning chap who only whistles at seriously hot women, he whistles at everything, I am sure. That, or he really liked my tights with zips printed up the back of them.

3. While I've been writing this I've had a text asking if I want to go to a panto. I really really don't but I hate saying no to people. I have yet to reply. How am I going to get out of this? I didn't say no, I am going to regret this.

4. In less than a fortnight's time we're going to London for Ginger Wildheart's birthday bash, we got the tickets ages ago and yet we are still to bother looking for somewhere to stay. I was going to sort it but, you know, I have been busy buying xmas presents - and presents for myself which is exactly why I am so skint. Edit. I've now booked somewhere to stay, somewhere in a services on the M1. Something strange has happened with the booking and we may or may not have a room for that date, there is a possibility it's booked for 12 May - 12 June next year. Who do they think I am, Alan Partridge? Still, it's a bargain because it's only £29 for the whole month so perhaps I'll go anyway. 

5. It wouldn't be a blog post without a story about the dog would it? Good job I have one then... Mr T was kicking a tennis ball around on the beach for him one morning this week when another dog and its owner joined them. Albert has a tendency to be a little bit of a prick when he's off his lead, trying to be dominant but this particular morning he played really well with the other dog, running round at full speed. At some point the other dog stopped to pee on a rotting fish, Albert copied him. Unfortunately Albert didn't pee on the fish, no he cocked his leg on the other dog. The utter shame of it. Apparently the other owner was fine, he laughed it off, glad that his dog hadn't rolled in the fish. It comes to something when you're relieved your dog has another dog's piss on it. I'm just glad it wasn't me walking him, I'd have died of embarrassment.