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Posts archive for: November, 2008
  • Eccentric Owner or Wierd Viewer?

    Went to see another house yesterday. It was formerly owned by a couple who had just emigrated to New Zealand, we were told by the Estate agent who showed us round. We had been forewarned that it needed a bit of work doing on it, (he wasn't joking! - it needed completely gutting and starting from scratch) but we hadn't been warned about the eccentricity of its previous owners:!:

    When we walked through the door we were faced with a big notice telling us to take our shoes off so as not to spoil the floor and carpets. Understandable, except....the hall and kitchen floor was really grotty broken tiling, and the carpets (staircase and a couple of the bedrooms) were about 50 years old and were threadbare, wet and had mould growing on them!8| Needless to say we kept our shoes on!

    In the bathroom was another notice taped to the toilet which said "DO NOT use this toilet. It is NOT for public use." Another bedroom had a window onto the upstairs landing. What on earth was that all about :?:

    Under the kitchen there was a cellar, with a huge muddy puddle in the middle, and black plastic material of some kind tacked all over the ceiling. The garden looked promising - neatly mown grass leading to......... OMG ........A Bomb Shelter! (housing two rusty tin baths, and some even rustier oxy acetylene gas containers)

    I think I must be really weird! I really enjoyed looking round this house :D Somehow I don't think we'll be buying it though. :!::!:

  • Mwumbul Jwumbul

    Twoofs awl fwixed. I'm fwurrsty and jyusst twyd to dwink some tea bwut I dwibbled it awl down my cwleen jwumper. Gwonna pwlay compwuta games tonight....Susie

  • It didn't even rain!

    Went Christmas shopping this morning, and managed to get nearly all the presents. Only got four more to get! WOW!

    Then when I got back the dentist called to offer me a cancellation slot for tomorrow. I'm not usually too keen on dentists but my poor poor tongue is overjoyed.

    Now that's what I call a good day!

  • Tongue Tattered and Torn

    Saturday I decided to have a stir fry. Was really enjoying it when suddenly I CRUNCHED on something, and it wasn't the bean sprouts! Spat out the foreign object & examined it. It turned out to be a filling. No aching tooth, so I investigated with my tongue, and Ow! Not my tooth - no - that didn't hurt at all, but I cut my tongue on the sharp edge of what was left of the tooth. Couldn't enjoy the rest of my dinner because I kept tasting blood!

    Since then I haven't been able to stop myself poking my tongue into the cavity all the time. I'm like a little kid! I tell myself to 'Leave It Alone!!, but it's compulsive, I just can't stop doing it. I'm beginning to think I must be a self harmer.

    Phoned the dentist this morning, and they can't fit me in till mid December. My poor tongue's gonna be in shreds by then!

  • Life in the sixties

    The sixties were a wonderful time for music and fashions. We had the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Cliff Richard, Elvis, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Bob Dylan, Dusty Springfield, Cilla Black, Tom Jones and Tina Turner, to name but a few.

    Early 60's fashion was Teddy Boys with their skin tight trousers, winkle-picker shoes, Brylcreemed hair slicked back into what was known as a 'DA' (Duck's Arse) and leather jackets. The girls had full skirts with lots of net petticoats underneath. We used to starch them with a sugar water solution to get them really stiff so they stuck out more. When you sat down on the bus you had to put your hands on your lap to stop them springing up to your chest. Stiletto heels were the preferred footwear worn with stockings and a suspender belt. The jive was the dance of the day, and stocking tops and knickers were frequently glimpsed as we twirled around at the local disco. Us girls also wore skin tight jeans, and I mean SKIN tight! New jeans were shrunk to fit by putting them on and then sitting in a really hot bath for as long as you could manage. No lycra in those days. It was quite common to have to lie down and suck everything in so as to get your jeans done up! Our hair was back-combed into a 'Beehive' and we wore masses of mascara and eye shadow. At school we had to wear a really old fashioned uniform, but we modernised it by rolling over the waistband of our skirts to make them as short as we dared. If a teacher thought our skirt was too short we were made to kneel on the floor, and unroll it till it touched the floor.

    The jive became old fashioned and new dances came over from America like the Twist, the Mashed Potato, the Madison and the Hitchhiker. They were demonstrated by expert dancers on Ready Steady Go, a pop music programme which was on Fridays and essential viewing for our age group. They had live performances by the groups of the day like the Beach Boys, the Swinging Blue Jeans and the Searchers.

    Later 60's fashion for lads was bell-bottom jeans, worn with Cuban heeled boots. Mods and Rockers arrived, Mods rode motor scooters and wore Levi stay-pressed trousers and smart Italian suits with thin knitted ties. The Who were their favourite band. Rod Stewart was a mod and was called 'Rod The Mod' in his early days. The Rockers rode motor bikes, and dressed in leather jackets and jeans and had long greasy hair, and used to fight the Mods on Bank holidays, at Brighton and other holiday resorts. They liked Jerry Lee Lewis and Gene Vincent. Mini-skirts and tights made an appearance for girls, but they weren't thick tights like the youngsters wear with short skirts nowadays. You couldn't bend down to pick something up, you had to squat down to preserve some degree of modesty. Maxi-dresses and Maxi-coats became very fashionable as well. Platform shoes were also around, and it was all too easy to really hurt yourself by turning your ankle while wearing them.

    On a personal front life was not too rosy. At just turned 17 I was thrown out of the house by my aunt after finally rebelling against a repressed and unhappy childhood, by daring to date a boy, and stay out later than 9 o'clock. Left to fend for myself I ended up getting pregnant, and marrying the father, who turned out to be a wife-beater and a gambler. I was just turned 18 when my daughter was born, and then had two more children, both boys, before finally managing to get the courage to leave him. I then took up with another chap who fathered my fourth child, another boy, before going off with another woman. Still, at least I had my health, and although my sanity was seriously threatened I managed to survive, and here I still am to tell the tale.

  • Hubby's got itchy feet again!

    Every few years or so he wants to move. He always comes up with what sounds like a very logical reason. This time it's because he reckons that we can get a bigger house without needing to lay out any extra money, and at the same time we could be more centrally situated to where the various members of our family currently reside. Only trouble is I'm not entirely sure I want to move again.

    1 - I'm quite happy where I am.
    2 - A bigger house means more housework.
    3 - I don't fancy all that packing and unpacking.
    4 - Every time we move friends keep in touch for a bit, then can't be bothered after a while, and we end up just getting an Xmas card together with a yearly update on their lives.

    True it all settles down after a bit, and you make new friends, but it's all so much effort, and the older I get the less I feel inclined to make that effort.

    So, what to do about those itchy feet of his, that is the question! Athlete's foot powder doesn't work, so at the moment I'm just playing along, going to see houses with him, and so far he/we haven't found anything suitable. Situation might change any time, but I guess I'll cross that hurdle if and when it happens. Who knows, I might even fall in love with somewhere and actually want to sell up and move. Time will tell.

  • SundayMonday

    Just had a nice "Sunday Roast" for dinner. Yes, I know it's Monday, but yesterday I meant to get a joint out of the freezer, but I forgot until it was too late to get it thawed out in time. Hubby was all disappointed when I confessed my misdeed, so I promised him we'd have it today instead which cheered him up, and I got out a nice pork joint and put it in the fridge to defrost slowly overnight. Cooked it tonight and the crackling was really crispy, and the roast spuds and roast parsnips were done to a turn, and we opened a bottle of wine, and now I'm really full up, and I've got a tummy like a just fed puppy dog, and I'm a bit squiffy, and I've only had one cigarette today, so that wasn't too bad (I had 3 yesterday).

    All in all not a bad day!

  • Relapsed ex-smoker needs help

    I used to be a heavy smoker but I quit about 3 years ago. Recently though I relapsed a bit during a really bad bout of depression. Had a couple while crying my eyes out, and felt a bit better, so l didn't beat myself up about my little fall from grace. I reasoned that if it helped me through a bad spell it was probably OK to have the occasional one when I was feeling very low, so that's what I did for the next few weeks.

    I'm not depressed now, but I do seem to have fallen even more by the wayside. I'm now smoking two or three most days, and I find myself justifying this with saying 'A little bit of what you fancy does you good.' I know that's a pretty weak excuse, and I know I'm in serious danger of slipping further and further down the rocky road to being a smoker again, or am I already one? I don't want to be a smoker. I know it's anti-social, and makes my breath and clothes smell, and is bad for my health, etc. etc. but Oh it does feel so good, and I don't really care if I die younger than I would have done otherwise - it's a pretty awful world we live in anyway.

    I know I must get a grip on myself and refuse to give in to the cravings, and I will try. I will. I will. But it's ooooh sooooh hard!

  • Level Crossings the new killers?

    Why on earth is there now a TV ad re. the dangers of level crossings?!!

    Does someone think that now we've been bullied into giving up drinking, smoking & fast food, we're now all so depressed that we will all go to the nearest level crossing and play chicken with the trains. I haven't even got a level crossing near me. I suspect not many people have. Only see the very occasional one if I go for a very long drive in the country.

    Mind you it is pretty depressing when you let yourself think about it. Practically everything we enjoy is now taboo. If you don't die of cancer or liver disease you'll get MRSA. If you enjoy your food & sweeties you'll become "clinically obese" (Why can't we just say FAT anyway, its a perfectly good word) And as if all that's not enough we're now told we are in the throes of a Credit Crunch!

    Damn it!!! Are level crossings marked on sat navs I wonder? I need one! I need one!

  • Green grumble

    I do my best to recycle, but it's not that easy to find outlets for everything you think should be recyclable. Take clothes for instance. Fine if they're nearly new condition, any charity shop is glad to receive them, but what about the worn out ones? Your common sense tells you they could be re-used for all manner of things. Rag paper, patchwork quilt or cushion covers, rag rugs, stuffing for soft toys, and so on. But where is there a rag collection point? Nowhere! That's where!

    Way way back in the mists of time there used to be 'Rag and Bone' merchants (remember Steptoe & Son? I used to enjoy that programme, 'bout time it was given a re-run.) You could give them near enough anything that could still be used in some way shape or form. Everyone talks about recycling as though its something new that we should all be doing..... TWAT!! I've been doing it all my life, but when I was just a slip of a lass it was so much easier than it is now. Your local rag & bone man collected it all from your door, none of this load it into the car and take some to this place, and some to that using up petrol while you distribute it, thus polluting the environment at huge expense to yourself, plus all the time wasted that could have been spent more usefully/enjoyably.

    And what about plastic bottle tops. We have to take them off and put them in the general waste. WHY? They,re plastic aren't they? A different sort of plastic? What the hell for? Why don't the manufacturers make them from the same plastic as the bottles?

    I could go on and on, but I can feel my blood pressure rising, so I'm going to go and make myself a nice cup of tea, and watch a bit of telly while I catch up on the ironing.

  • Getting Old.

    A few minutes ago I put the kettle on because I fancied a cup of tea, then went into the conservatory, where hubby was sitting reading the Sunday papers. I said "Wanna cup of coffee?" (he doesn't like tea). He said "Yes please", so I went back to the kitchen to make it. Got my mug off the draining board, had a little think, went back to the conservatory, said "Did you say Yes or No?". Not the first time I've forgotten something so quickly - I guess we've all done it now and then - wandered into the wrong room at work, and looked a real prat when the occupant looks up expectantly and you have to admit 'sorry, didn't mean to come in here', or you go upstairs to get something, then can't remember what you were going to get, so you visit the loo and force yourself to spend a penny just so you haven't had a completely wasted trip upstairs, then the second you reach the bottom of the stairs again you remember what you went up for in the first place. Happens more frequently as you get older. Makes it hard to have a conversation though cause you forget common words sometimes. Have to say things like "My thingy's broke, you know, that thing you put the wotsit in. It's like a record, but small and shiny. No, the wotsit is, not the thingy.

    Yesterday we(me and hubby) went to see his mum. It takes us a couple of hours to drive there, so we only go every three or four weeks. The sun came out on the way there and the autumn colours were absolutely magnificent. When we got back I googled 'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness' which was the only line I could remember. Got the whole poem, and printed it out. Think I might print out a few more poems and make them into a My Favourite Poems file.

    Anyway, hubby's mum is nearly 91, and getting a bit frail and crooked, but she still lives in her own house and cooks her own bit of dinner. She says she wants to stay there till she dies, so we (the family) are all trying to make this possible for her. Her other son and his wife live in the same town, so they visit every week, and clean the house and do her shopping and washing for her. We do any odd-job repairs, and organise things like getting her favourite chair re-upholstered when the seat starts to sag. She loves a bit of cake, but she's allergic to eggs, so I usually bake an egg-free cake for her before we go to see her. We're going to get her an Over-Chair Table because she said she was having trouble reading the newspaper, cause her arms ached after holding it up for a few minutes. This table's on casters, so she'll be able to pull it towards her after she's sat down, and it tilts, so she'll be able to put the paper down. but still be able to read it without having to bend forward, which makes her back and neck hurt. She loves to have a moan about things. This visit it was her debit card - They've sent her a new one apparently, and they've changed it! "It looks different, so it might not work the same." "There was nothing wrong with the old one." "I don't know why they have to keep messing about with things" We just listen and smile and sympathise. At least it made a change from the trials and tribulations of incontinence pads.

  • Pre- school memories

    Hello there. I will start my blog by telling you about my earlier years.

    I was brought up by my aunt (mother's sister) and uncle from the age of almost two. I was aware that I was not an orphan, but I wasn't sure during my younger years why I didn't live with my parents. I was also aware that I had a brother, and remember that my mother brought him round to visit when I was about three. A while after this I remember my aunt taking me on what seemed like a very long journey, and we arrived at this house where there was a man and woman, and some children, and my aunt was talking to the man, while I was sitting on the floor nearby playing with some toy which was lying there. For some reason I only remember one sentence spoken by the adults that day, and it was spoken by the man. He said "I'll take the boy, but not the girl." That was the last time I ever saw my father.

    My aunt and uncle had an old dog who slept in a basket under the kitchen table. I loved that dog, and in the mornings before auntie and uncle were awake I used to get in her basket with her. She felt so lovely and warm, and it tickled when she licked my ears. One morning I went downstairs and she wasn't there, and I tried to go into the living room to see if she was in there, but the door wouldn't open. When auntie came downstairs I said "Where's Bessie?", and auntie said "She's dead." I think that's when I first had an inkling that life was a bitch.

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