Life's Rich Tapestry

Self Promotion

Tomorrow some of my photography will be published in the Western Gazette, I'm just saying, you know, in case you live in one of the areas it covers and might just want to pick up a copy, ahem.

I'm much better. The pneumonia has pretty much cleared thanks to some kick arse antibiotics that turned my stomach inside out, but whatever, it was worth it. I still have pleurisy, the lung pain isn't too painful, just uncomfortable, apparently it can take weeks or months for that to clear so I'm not too worried.

We are forecast for snow this Friday, please God let it snow!

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Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Dear Head Mistress

Please excuse Jilly from blogging for as long as she can milk it. She has pneumonia and pleurisy , the symptoms of which were ignored for a while because she is allergic to doctors and, isn't that lung area discomfort just a pulled muscle that extends across the whole of my back and round to my chest? DOH! In her defense she did not realise this because she eats pain for breakfast 'fool' and occasionally Jaffa cakes, like this morning.

Please find enclosed some local flood photos that Jilly would like to share in the hope that you will forgive her, or send her grapes, or chocolate, or chocolate covered grapes.

Yours faithfully,

The guinea pig.

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Thursday, January 17, 2008

Nowt like a nice cuppa.

Shh. It's 3am and I can't sleep, which is ironic seen as I came to bed at 9pm because I was so. bloody. tired. Gah! Not a snore has passed my lips in 6 hours, much to the relief of the neighbours whose bedroom is directly below mine, which means the stupid/karma balance has been restored.

I've given up fighting and am sat in bed with a cuppa, because I'm British and that's what we do. Shit still going down in Iraq? Put the tinny on, we will all love each other unconditionally by the time it's brewed.

There is still rain, which continues to run down my bathroom wall. I dismantled the extractor fan yesterday and I kid you not, there was enough fluff on those blades to knit a jumper. I was convinced that would fix the leak. Removal of the fluff that is, not knitting a jumper, but no, it still runneth and the carpet still rotteth and if I wasn't waiting to move I would have had it fixed and new flooring put down by now, but I'll be buggered if I'm going to go to all that trouble, because as is the law of sod, a month later I'll have to move out and that would stink, but not as much as the carpet does right now, I have an invisible stenchy wet dog.

I pushed my luck while trying to get to a neighbouring village today. I took the short cut, which in hindsight was ludicrous as it's a stretch of road that's notorious for disappearing underwater, but for some reason and I no not why, I thought I was on Tracey Island and kept imaging my car would miraculously sprout a rudder or maybe take flight if I put my foot down hard enough, rather like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, singing with my ridiculously fake Cockney accent whilst holding a Toot Sweet, the candy you whistles, the whistles you eat.

I found myself sat in the road, (in the car obviously, not actually 'sat' in the road) staring at the place where the road just disappeared into a lake that stretched field after field after field, almost as if I expected the water to part. Apparently I think I'm Moses, but that would be Chris Martin and Gwen's kid, who will have fun at the swimming baths for the rest of his life no doubt. I really would have liked to take photos, but it was, horror of horrors, raining and as much as I love my flickr account, I don't love it enough to make my hair frizzy, again. I wasn't the only dimwit sat in the road with a gormless look on my face, there were 4 of us, in a row, all unable to turn around in such a narrow lane. I shall spare you how I got out of that situation, but just to say it took some time and much heavy handedness on the steering wheel.

I think I should stop now, this appears to have become a rather incoherent drowsy ramble and also, my tea is getting cold.

Goodnight/morning/day
*delete as appropriate cos I don't have a fucking clue.

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Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Noseclip anyone?

The persistant rain is getting old. Local homes have been flooded and the river has burst it's banks travelling over fields as far as the eye can see. Driving anywhere is a major pain in the arse because half the local roads are closed, my car is leaking again making the passenger seat well an indoor pool and the bloody damp makes my hair frizzy. God needs to put his hairdryer on turbo speed.

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Monday, January 14, 2008

Whittards are da bomb.

At the end of last year, I broke three of my four huge latte mugs. I love latte mugs, they hold a whole lot of caffeine goodness, unlike those pathetic regular sized mugs that only hold the amount of coffee it takes to wake up my big toe.

The only thing I wanted for Christmas was a set of latte mugs. I waited with anticipation for two months dreaming of the day when I would only make three coffees before midday instead of spending the morning flicking the kettle switch over and over to only be rewarded with a thimble of goodness. The inconvenience was hard to bear.

On Christmas Eve, knowing that I would be alone the next morning, my parents gave me a few presents to open at home. As soon as I picked them up I knew, it was obvious, one of the parcels contained latte mugs. I placed the present back in the bag and cradled it like a baby, said my goodnight, stepped into the car and promptly dropped them on the driveway. I froze in horror, shit, did anyone see that? Luckily there were no witnesses to the crime, it was time to make a swift get away.

As you've probably guessed, when I opened the parcel the next morning, my what once were gorgeous flowered latte mugs, were now smashed to smithereens and I've spent every day since lying about their existence. Did you like the mugs? They're gorgeous mum, gorgeous. I hope they were big enough? Yes, yes they're prefect, just what I needed, because I know if I tell the truth I will never hear the end of it and neither will the three generations below me in a hundred years time and I already have enough awkward story material to last me a lifetime thank you very much.

Finally, today, I bought some more of those huge vessels of goodness in the sale, £1.50 each, result! Of course they look nothing like the original versions, but that's OK, in six months time they will have forgotten they even bought them for me. But then again, no-one expects any of my breakable possessions to survive more than a few months, it's a widely known fact and a very handy reputation to have, especially with regard to those bloody awful candle holders a neighbour bought me last year. I have roughly six weeks to go before I sneak them down the charity shop and then falsely claim clumsiness.

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Friday, January 11, 2008

Where's Noah when you need him?

I'm incredibly tired, it's been a hell of a busy week and being the procrastinator that I am, it's been a bit of a shock to the system. I was in bed by 9pm last night and considering I'm never anywhere near the land of slumber anytime before midnight on a normal day, that's practically early afternoon to me. I couldn't actually get to sleep of course, but I did enjoy lying in the dark singing at the top of my voice to Lily Allen, well, until my mp3 player ran out of power that is and then I couldn't stop myself from singing "Little Boxes, on a hillside..", which isn't as annoying as it used to be, as now I know all the words and not just the first eight bar.

If you are in the UK you will know about the flash floods the South West had today, it's been a long time since I've seen such torrential rain fall for such an extended period. The main road through our village is flooded, in fact most villages around here have floods, I know this because I had to drive to and from my therapy session this afternoon with my wipers on turbo speed, through what felt like a 20 mile ford and because I am a great big kid, I bloody loved it. My friend was gripping the under seat in sheer terror, whilst I was whooping and hollering in excitement every time we drowned a cyclist. OK, one cyclist, but it's given me a thirst for more. Mmmmm, wet Lycra.

I also got stuck, in the rain, in the middle of the street. The wheelchair can be rather like a stubborn dog when the fancy takes it, it seemed to lie down and refuse to move. Just like a pissed off mutt, no amount of dragging on a lead was going to make any difference. I was rescued eventually and let me tell you, there was no white horse in sight, the movies lie.

I'm determined to have a whole day in the house tomorrow catching up on domestic crap, unless I get a phone call from my friend who had a baby 10 days ago, in which case I will drop everything to satisfy my continuously yearning ovaries, because baby drool rules. Squeeee!

Have a decent weekend my mon petite fleur's.

I had a blanket embroidered with the baby's name.

It' so gorgeously soft that I had to gift wrap it right away for fear of waking up in the morning to find myself snuggled up whilst sucking on the silky edges.

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Thursday, January 10, 2008

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Apparently they did it up against a tumble dryer.

Oh lordy McDoddle. I'm a little scared right now. The rain it is beating and the wind it is howling and my lights they are flickering and all I can think about is that bloody tree outside my bedroom window that will one day come down upon my 80's style duvet and crush me to death. And that's where I'll leave the subject, because some things can really be overdone and I've blogged about the killer tree, roughly, oooooh, three times before?

Would you believe it, Finicky Pants the cleaner spent a whole hour here with out mentioning an illegal immigrant, pregnant teenagers, or those with mental health problems whom should just pull their socks up by josh. I think it's the first week in 4 years the woman hasn't ranted about something and jolly nice it was too. She did however talk non-stop about possibly having found her long lost Aunt on 'GenesrUs', which is nice and all, but I think after a few weeks of, 'I hope she's got a sense of humour, what if she's a miserable cow?, do you think she'll be thinner than me? I wonder if I look like her?', I may be clawing at her apron in desperation to hear if Vicki who works down the laundrette is really pregnant again, or is she just up to her old tricks of trying to trap another gormless unemployed male?

I really do hope it is her Aunt she has found, I wouldn't want her to be disappointed and finding a close relative after 45 years must be a wonderful experience, but if she comes back here next week spouting on about how judgemental and narrow minded her new Aunt is, I'll be sure to choke on my freshly brewed cup of irony.

SPLHCB - Found at the back of a draw, dusty and torn, just like McCartney himself.

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Monday, January 07, 2008

Funky Chicken

There's a programme on TV on Friday night that I want the whole of Britain to watch, it's Jamie Oliver's truthful and inside look at chicken farm conditions. I'm trying really hard to stop myself from printing out little slips of paper..

"Friday night, Channel 4, 9pm, know the facts before making the choice"

and going out after dark to post them through as many letter boxes as I can manage.

Don't tell me people wouldn't look in their TV guides if they got that note through the door. Most probably wouldn't watch, but some would and even those that didn't would still be intrigued enough to find out what the programme was about, which is better than nothing.

When I saw the advert for the show I got so over excited it was ridiculous, I wanted to run up to all my friends that forever roll their eyes at me and shout, "see, see! I told you!", but I didn't, because I know they would just roll their eyes some more before biting into their chicken nugget, but the person that has the least patience with my 'animal rights' ways, is my brother.

Last night I opened a browser window to email him to make him aware of the programme, but then I closed it, because that would be playing with fire. P@ul takes every opportunity to start a heated discussion about 'my crusade', his first argument being, as a policeman, he has seen some horrible things and it's the humans that should be taken more care of, not brainless creatures that have no real level of emotion. I can see his way of thinking, but I can't feel it, it's just that well, for me, animals are as important as humans and on some days far better bloody company.

I like our mud slinging matches, full of sarcasm and laughter, it's always in good fun, (OK, OK, he thinks it's in good fun, I make out it's in good fun, but inside I'm determined I won't let him get the better of me, because he is wrong and I am right and I refuse to hear otherwise, la la la la I can't heeeear you!). Besides, I play a little game in my head, 'how many minutes', which is basically a guessing game of how much time will pass before he pulls his ever trusty mightiest sword from the bag..

"You're just a Tofu eating, sandal wearing, dread lock sporting, non deodorant using, weird green peace lesbian".

Which has no grounds of course, I've never eaten tofu.

He's also wrong about me having a 'crusade', I've never tried to lecture anyone, I just think it's important that everyone should be in the position to make an 'informed' choice, so do me favour my lovelies, FUCKING WATCH IT AND IF YOU CONTINUE TO EAT CHEAP CHICKEN THEN YOU ARE NO BETTER THAN MURDERERS....Hahahaha...OK.... not really..... just joking.......... kinda

*Ahem* Um bye then.

*Edit - Please sign http://www.chickenout.tv/index.html
Thank you for the link Thursday my lovely.

"When you fall and you can't find your way, push your hand towards the sky".

'Push your head towards the air' - Editors.

One my current favourite bands.

God, I'm really becoming an angsty teenager lately. It's not fair!

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Friday, January 04, 2008

Age 4: Attempt to murder your younger sibling

A hilarious book I received for Christmas. Simply turn to your current age to find out what you should be doing for that year of your life.

Apparently I should be having an early midlife crisis. I can't decide between a cocaine addiction or nipple piercing, any other suggestions would be helpful.

Have a cracking weekend and remember, everybody is somebody else's weirdo.

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Thursday, January 03, 2008

They should change the month name to Snotuary

Today has been taken up by three activities, a) much like two thirds of the population, blowing nose and heavy mouth breathing, b) talking in every pitch and volume to get my voice to sound anything other than that of a pubescent boys mating call, c) plucking up the courage to guess how to use the new steam cleaner which arrived minus it's instruction booklet without causing third degree burns to myself and possibly my neighbours. I did come up with an ingenious plan though, one which I may be forced to carry out tomorrow. Simply stick the steamer nozzle as far up a nostril as possible then switch onto Super Snot Evaporation Mode. Of course if I had the bloody instructions I wouldn't have to guess which symbol on the dial that represents, but it seems I have no other option than to play 'pin the tail on the donkey' with the settings, brace myself and hope I don't blow my nose clean off, which would be a great shame as I happen to think it's my best feature.

This link is stolen from 'Diary of a London cokehead' because it entertained me for a full ten minutes. You do have to provide your own enlarged pupil trance like voguing though, which proved no problem after a couple of false starts, I guess those long nights of losing yourself in a random warehouse or field never leave you completely. Happy trippin'.

Beads

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Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Recycled Pubescent Gibes

If my soup where served in a restaurant it would be become the customers firm favourite, according to my brother. My brother doesn't often say nice things to me, brothers being brothers and all, so not only was I astounded by the compliment, but may have got ideas above my station when goog1ing Gordon Ramsey's La Noisette menu.

"Pan seared diver scallop, cauliflower purée and ruby grapefruit Grenobloise"

"I could do that, posh food just sounds posh, I mean that's basically just a fried winkle, liquidized cauliflower and grapefruit segments on a Rich Tea, how hard can that be?!"

"It's all in the presentation"

"Don't let them fool you, all you need is minuscule cube size portions placed next to a question mark shaped dollop of treacle, a tea towel slung meaningfully over the shoulder, concentrated wiping of already clean plate rims and a spatula periodically pelted in the general direction of a junior chef accompanied by an angry sentence containing the words 'fuck', 'fucked' or fucking'.

"You would struggle with the minuscule portions"

"Fuck off"

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