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Magic moments...

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So Rocketman was fantastic. The husband barely batted an eyelid as I broke the news to him that Pets Life 2 would have to wait till the weekend.  I told him as he was negotiating with the poor lady at the ice cream counter as to how much rum 'n' raisin ice cream was required for his smoothie.  Distraction is key on these occasions, ladies.
I think that every emotional base was touched with this film.  There was laughter, tears, shock and disbelief.  Actually, most of this was directed at the costumes, but let's face it, for those of us that were there, the 1970's were an interesting time to say the least.  I remember at the age of nine having a pair of red fake PVC hot pants.  How the Mother could have found this even the slightest bit acceptable is anyone's guess. Matched with knee length white socks and a couple of dubious afros, Miss R and I looked like a couple of Hobbit hookers from the Bronx when we played out on our bikes.  
I actually met the husband in 1979.…

Rocketman...

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There's a lot going on in the Bird's world this week.  Having three dogs (although an absolute joy) is a challenge, especially when walking.  My two, who could break the land speed record if there was a Boneo at the finish line, are having to show a little restraint where the shorter legged lodger is concerned. Lord Sidney is not built for speed (mind you, neither am I so I shouldn't grumble really) and it's a bit of a stop/start walk in the afternoon.  Having said that, it's been a bit hot the last few days, so it's been rather perfect just rambling.  
The pecking order has been firmly established with Lord Sidney resting his fluffy, white head on Reg's favourite pillow.  Meanwhile, Reg has taken a liking to Lord Sidney's tartan bed, and is often to be found languishing there when I get up in the morning.  There is always a guilty look between the two of them when I walk into daughter number two's bedroom (now the dogs' bedroom), almost like the…

The sell-by date...

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Never again will I send son number two to do my food shopping.
Agreed, it was a fairly substantial list, and with all respect to him, he did get everything ticked off, but oh dear, what I have been left with is interesting to say the least.
Here are some of the items I asked for, and what I actually got...
6 x large Cox apples Well he got the number of apples correct (all that expensive schooling paid off then) and they were Cox apples.  But the size.  To be honest, I have been confused all weekend, as they were the same size as the 6 x plums I also had on my list.  There has been some serious fruity to-ing and fro-ing this weekend, I can tell you.
1 x free range organic chicken (as large as possible) Now I know this sounds rather showy, but I don't eat much meat, so I try to eat something which has hopefully had the best life ever before ending up on my plate.  What I actually got was a supermarket special for £3.00.  When questioned, son number two was up in arms at my squandering.  B…

Three...

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We have a house guest for a few days.
Lord Sidney has joined us for several days' R and R while his mum and dad go away for a few days. Now before you start thinking that I have opened up some boarding house for the fallen peers of this glorious isle, Lord Sidney is a most dignified Westie, complete with tartan collar and matching bed.  He's stayed with us before, so my dogs are more than happy to have him stay, as are the husband and I who adore him.  
The husband is always very happy to have Lord Sidney here, as it makes me realise that a third woofer would be too much on a full time basis.  I don't know how people cope with more than two dogs.  While one is pooping, another is sniffing while the third might be attempting a liaison with the poodle down the road.  So having Lord Sidney reminds me of my canine limitation.  Two hands is perfect for two leads.  Between visits, the husband has to remind me many times how tricky three dogs are, but it never stops me from having …

Build me up, buttercup...

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Cast your mind back to when I was incarcerated in the Wobble Box having thrown myself down a bona fide mountain in Wales.  Lying down in the caravan with a makeshift ice-pack on my knee (which had swollen to almost double its normal size and was at risk of blocking the light to the sitting area) I presumed that the old arthritis (curse you, old age) was playing up again.  Having hobbled around for a days, I finally did as the husband told me (a rare occurrence as I always know best) and made an appointment at the local gym where they had a super-duper physio.
I was early, I always am, and I was told to sit and wait.  Fortuitously, the sofa I chose had a fabulous view of the weights section of the gym, and a most pleasant ten minutes was spent watching various chaps throwing their weights around.  I think that had the physio taken my blood pressure after calling me in, I might well have had a higher than usual reading.
But enough of that.  She prodded me.   She bent me. She waved my leg …

The sting...

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There's nothing like a wasp in your bra to focus the mind.
It's hot you see, and yesterday afternoon I decided to pop on one of my summer tops to take full advantage of the glorious weather.  Pulling a particularly pretty blue vest from the wardrobe, I stuck it on and headed out.  There was a bit much on show I admit it, but as I rarely meet anyone on my walks, I wasn't too bothered.
But I need to go back a little.  This top was one I found in a carrier bag at the back of the airing cupboard.  It was stuffed in there with several other items of clothing and one flip flop, and I know for a fact that this bag hadn't made any appearance for at least the last three years.  It was like finding buried treasure, and I pulled out each crumpled piece of clothing delighted to have the equivalent of some new clothes without any money leaving my bank account.
Duly washed and ironed, the clothes then made their way up to my wardrobe where they hung in multicoloured splendour until a d…

Oh what a night...

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Ouch....
I think that just about sums up how I felt this morning.  Actually, from around 11.45 on Friday night if I'm completely honest.
It was a designated Charlie Friday night you see.  An occasion which gets lightly penciled onto my neighbours' calendars so that they don't forget.  An occasion where neighbours bring their own glasses and various odd looking (bottom shelf, no doubt) bottles of gin.  We supply the venue (the Wobble Box), the crucial vibes (Radio 2's Tony Blackburn, rapidly followed by Friday Night is Music Night), the vitals (barbecue this time) and even more gin.  
This is the fourth time we've had a Charlie Friday, and last night was the best one yet.  We actually managed to get thirteen people into our four berth caravan - if the clever bods at The Guinness Book of Records want to get in touch with me, I'm always happy to do a re-run to prove that this is possible.  Mind you, as the night wore on, some of the less hardy ones (Mr M next door wa…