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Showing posts from September, 2017

Last Christmas...

It was back to Aldi yesterday afternoon, with a very successful trolley load transferred from their shelves to mine.  Now here's a thing.  Last week's shopping came to £49.  This week's was £61.  Now as we know, everything is relative, and as far as Aldi was concerned this seemed quite a lot.  Of course, when I compared it to what it would have cost at Tesco, it was still cheap.  I kept reminding myself of this on the way home.
One of the reasons it was a little more expensive than last week, was that this week alcohol made an appearance.  I'd bought a bottle of fizz to take round to my best friend Mrs S as she was hosting a Bit of a Do last night.  But still....£61....
So at Binland, the conversations have started as to what we are going to do for our Christmas party this year.  You've probably guessed by now that I love to dance (to anything and everything) and as the suggestions flew around (these ranged from indoor mini golf to pizza) I interrupted every suggesti…

Should've known better...

I had to go back to the blooming doctor's yesterday again. This is something I really look forward to for the following reasons:
1. Half an hour to eventually get through to the automated answering machine. 2. Having established that I need an appointment, I am put on hold. 3. Every now and again, a lady's voice tells me 'that the surgery is experiencing unusually high levels of traffic (this is the case whatever time you call so holds no credence whatsoever). 4. Same lady comes on to tell me 'your call is important to us'.  Yeah right.... 5. Get through to the receptionist who I picture in jack boots with swastikas on her drawers. 6. Ask for appointment (I try to be helpful by saying I don't care who I see and I don't care what time). 7. Appointment allocated after deep sighs and huffing 8. Receptionist then asks what's wrong with me... 9. One of these days I am going to say that I have self diagnosed myself with Bubonic Plague having looked up my symptoms on c…

Hello stranger...

Well the cake went down a storm.  However, if I had a pound for every person who came up to me and said that the 'stomach should be bigger', or 'you've missed his bald spot off', or 'where are the wrinkles?' I would have been at least a tenner up when I left Binland yesterday.  
When I did eventually leave, no one had touched the cake.  I have a horrible feeling that I'm going to go into work this morning and find it on my desk with a view to it being shared out amongst all the staff.  I'm not saying it's big, but we could still be eating that at Christmas.  Perhaps I'll peel off the too thin/too hirsute/too cherubic figure and replace it with a snowman as we get nearer the festive season..
It was a lovely retirement party though, and the fact that almost a hundred ne'er do wells had tipped up for a free burger and a cup of tea was proof of how highly he is thought of.  I would imagine that when I leave Binland, it'll be a bag of crisp…

A big hunk o' love...

I've had to stop thinking about those American footballers' trousers.  It's playing havoc with my blood pressure, and I have enough with the menopausal sweating without going looking for trouble in that department.
Yesterday was a good day for me.  I have come to accept that for me, a good day involves achieving great things at Binland, doing a couple of wifely jobs at home and the sun making a rare appearance. All three came in yesterday, with a couple of happy customers, the washing machine put on (I have almost forgotten how this works, I use it so infrequently now) and the bins taken out (this counts as a Blue Job, so the husband got it in the ear a tiny bit last night).  Add to that a beautiful sunny walk with the two fuzzballs in the woods, and hey presto....a perfect day as Lou Reed might say.
I had another job to do yesterday.  This harked back to LBB (Life Before Binland) when I used to bake cakes for a living.  Part of this was making personalised cakes for friends…

All fall down...

For the last eight years or so, I have been dropping hints to the husband as to how much I would like to go to an NFL match.  For those of you who are rapidly thinking of various variations of NFL (Not Flipping Likely, Not For Ladies etc) this is the American version of rugby, and involves helmets, padding and tighty whitey trousers which leave little to the imagination.  It's a bit like Swan Lake on steroids without the orchestra and I can't even begin to tell you how excited I was when he presented me with two tickets for my Christmas present.  
So it was off to Wembley we headed on Sunday.  We had various offspring lined up for dog walking duties, and had originally planned to leave home at 11.00.  However, the husband, sensing an opportunity, suggested a quick breakfast at a local cafe before we left for the match.
Now.  A quick breakfast for me usually involves a slice of toast and a cup of tea, but not the husband.  His 'quick breakfast' is a three course event, st…

Jealousy...

The Mother is getting a dog.  I'm not quite sure how Percy and Reg are going to deal with this invasion into the family, and I'm sure that they will see her, for a girl she is, as competition in the walking, stroking and sleepover stakes.
Up till now, they have had a monopoly on dog biscuits, sleeping on the bed, cuddles and treats, and I think that within ten minutes of being introduced to her, they will be planning how to get rid of her.  I know that I say 'they', but I think we all know that I am really only speaking about Reg.  Percy does everything on his terms, so a new kid on the block probably won't phase him too much and he'll simply ignore her if it suits.  Mind you, looking at the picture of the new dog at Saturday Breakfast yesterday, it looks like she has a bit of ginger in her, and if you remember, Percy is rather partial to the odd redhead (I think his name was Albert).  So Percy may just fall head over heels and start wearing his bow tie again, t…

Money, money, money...

When you get to my age (7.5 in dog years - sounds much better) there not many things which can raise your eyebrows to where they once sat.  
Now that son number two is at uni, I find myself once again falling into penniless mum territory, with a lot of my hard earned cash heading north to be spent on cheap alcohol and takeaways.  So things have had to change, and one of the potential areas where savings could be made was my grocery shopping.  Now as you know, I have always been an internet shopper with Tesco being my supermarket of choice - this has been the case for the best part of twenty years, and I like to think that their continued success is partly down to the heavily packed virtual shopping trolleys which trundle across my mouse mat on a weekly basis.
My best friend, Mrs S, suggested that I come to Aldi with her and see what savings could be made to my weekly food bill.  Now this put the fear of God into me.  You see, I'm not very good when things are where they shouldn'…

Boys to men...

Son number two seems to be settling into his new life Oop North quite well and I'm hoping that this time he might stay longer than until he runs out of socks.  Like his siblings who have gone before him, he is leading the life of an owl.  Sleeping all day and carousing all night, with the time between spent eating strange combinations of whatever food can be foraged around the flat he shares with two unfortunate females.  I wonder if they have realised his penchant for the Dairy Milk yet and have resorted to concealing it in more inventive places.  If the others are anything to go by. leaving it the box of Bold washing tablets would be safe, or the dirty washing box at a push.
Anyway, he's been gone nearly a week, and I'm getting used to the fact that apart from the odd chewed bit of kindling or stair carpet, the house looks the same when I come home after work each day.  Good old Reg, he's not a bad stand in for son number two and they have quite a lot in common.
Firstl…

Bang, bang...

Before I embark on today's meagre offering, can I just thank all of you lovely readers for your kind wishes, get well soons, advice, empathy and emojis of green people vomiting, which I have only managed to look at fully in the last twenty four hours.  It meant a lot to know that you were all thinking of me as various parts of my anatomy were stuck down the loo...
So you'll all be pleased to know that I woke up yesterday feeling completely back to normal.  No pain, no Larry Grayson mincing and wincing, no ten metre dashes across the landing, everything seemed better.  
But the real indicator that I was on the mend was that before I left for work yesterday morning, I had managed to do the cleaning upstairs, hang out the washing, empty the dishwasher, prepare my lunch and walk the dogs.  This is me all over.  Run before you can walk and all that.  Doing all of this meant that by the time I got to Binland at 9.00, I was ready for a power nap.  I did consider penciling in a false se…

Sick like me...

I have spent the last 53 years thinking that I wouldn't like sushi.  I'm not too sure what made me make this decision, possibly the fact that the rice is overcooked and stodgy, the fish is raw, and it just looks weird.  Perhaps that's why.
Anyway, while we were away in Ibiza a few weeks ago, I tried it for the first time, and decided that it was actually passable fare for a light lunch.  Yes, the rice was stodgy and the fish was raw, but slap it round a cooked prawn and a bit of cream cheese and it seemed to work.
So as you know, last weekend son number two took himself off to university without me in tow, and the husband was away somewhere in Wales hurtling down a mountain on two wheels, which left yours truly on her own on Saturday night.  I'd been for my normal Saturday breakfast with the family, and walking back to my car via the supermarket, I chanced upon their 'sale' section.  There was a small pack of sushi there, and I thought to myself how decadent it w…

Leaving...

Well he's gone.
I watched him pull out of the drive at 7.00 yesterday morning, his head tilted at an obscure angle courtesy of the full length mirror he insisted on buying, and headed back upstairs...
...with two dusters, some multi-purpose cleaner, the hoover and a couple of bin bags.  
Opening his bedroom door slowly, I prepared myself for the worst, but was pleasantly surprised (this is an understatement of the biggest kind, and it was only Reg licking my face which brought me back to consciousness.  So what shocked me?  Well, firstly there were no empty glasses on his bedside table. These are not limited to this poor oversubscribed piece of furniture, but tend to also find their way onto the window sill, his desk, and his hair drying area (don't ask).  But there was not a single glass or bottle to be seen.
Having got over this initial shock, the second followed quickly behind.  I could actually see the carpet.  For the last eleven years, I have known that there was carpet ther…

Time is on my side...

Well, as Sarah Brightman would say, it's 'Time to Say Goodbye' as son number two heads up to Leeds to start his degree.  I don't know why this makes me feel a little bit weepy, after all, I've done it four times already (this is the second attempt for son number two), but somehow, it just doesn't get any easier.
Cramming all his possessions (and a lot of mine it would seem) into his car yesterday, he hit me with the bombshell that he didn't need me to come up to Leeds with him, when he goes later today as a)there was nothing to go in my car and b) it would be a waste of time and money. 
This was my response...
'But I have to come with you.  I need to hang all your clothes up, sort your bed out, make sure you have photos of us dotted around the room and generally just make sure that you're settled in'
A good argument for an eight hour round trip I felt.  But apparently not.
'These are exactly the reasons why you don't need to come up', sai…

It wasn't me...

If I thought that Tuesday's harrumphing could get any worse, I didn't bank on the husband filling his petrol motorbike with diesel yesterday morning.  When he finally came in yesterday afternoon, having waited for over an hour while The Petrol Doctor (yes, there is such a job) did his thing. Apparently, the bike (less than two months old, and on its way back from its first service) had several parts removed and laid out reverently on the floor while the Doctor did his job.  What happened to siphoning it out?  A quick mouthful of diesel never did anyone any harm, did it?
So it was a very sheepish husband who walked through the front door yesterday lunchtime.  Now he hates it when he's made a mistake, and will often go to great lengths to ensure that the blame is neatly shifted to someone else.  
In this instance, it was BP...
'Who's ever heard of BP Ultimate Diesel for goodness' sake?' he said.  'It's very thoughtless of them to give it the same same na…

The birds...

Do you ever watch a film or read a book, and wonder what you would do if you found yourself in the same situation? This is the kind of nonsense which runs through my brain when walking the fuzzballs in the morning, and yesterday, it was The Birds (the Daphne du Maurier book version) which was causing me some distress.  There were a lot of crows milling around in the field, and after much reflection, I decided that the large airing cupboard in daughter number two's bedroom would probably be where I would hide.  
Why this room?  Well those naughty old birdies would have to get through a couple of doors to get to me, the last one being quite sturdy, and there is a lot of stuff I could use to protect myself if they managed to peck their way through.
Having forgotten all about this as the day went on, I came home yesterday afternoon and started phase two of 'Getting Your Child Ready For University'.  This involved going into the aforementioned airing cupboard and looking for a co…

When I'm 64...

The husband spent most of last night harrumphing around the house muttering various expletives under his breath.
And the reason for this?
Well.  He had mail yesterday, and he has the most annoying habit of opening it and walking at the same time.  This usually means that I spend most of the evening thrusting various missives under his nose and asking him, 'Did you want this?  Or, 'Does this need paying?' or 'That should have gone next door'.
Like most of us I suppose, he likes to leave anything which looks vaguely interesting (not a bill or circular) till the end, and it was with an excited look that he picked up the A5 white envelope.  'Wonder what this is?'  he said.  Why do people always say this...
I am always tempted to say to him, 'Let's guess shall we!' and not let him open it till his frustration peaks, but I think the suspense would kill him.
'Open it, and you'll find out', I said, adopting the position of Voice Of Reason for the…

Pretty girl...

I've just about come back to 2017 with a rather unsavoury bump.  My hair will take a little longer to recover from the vicious back combing and ozone layer destroying amounts of hairspray, buy hey, beauty always has a price...
It's really shocking how much effort those WW2 gals went to to look beautiful for their returning heroes.  Puts my wash with a wet flannel and shaved legs to shame.  To be honest, I'll be surprised if the husband ever comes home again after seeing the scarlet lipped vixens on show at Revival.  
Perhaps I'll surprise him one night.  I can just imagine him putting the key in the door to be greeted by yours truly, draped over the stair fully made up and looking like an extra from Pearl Harbour.  I reckon he'd back out the door slowly, muttering something about being at the wrong address and I'd never see him again.  Such is the level of shabbiness which greets him most evenings...
I've never really been one for 'girl clothes' (this …

Flashback....

I was born too late.  It's a well known fact in my family that if I could turn time back, I would set myself very soundly around 1942.  I love the music, the dancing, the fashions and just the whole thing about that time.  I blame this solely on my Nanny Joyce who lived through the war in Portsmouth, as she filled my head with stories from an early age.
So when I got the chance to go to the Goodwood Revival this weekend just gone, I almost had my manager's hand off when he waved a couple of weekend passes under my nose. Of course, there was a small matter of Binland work to be done while I was there, but surely this wouldn't impact on my enjoyment?
But where were the dearly beloved and I to sleep?  Well, the idea of a tent was bandied around, but a good friend lent us their wobbly box for the weekend.  (A caravan called a Golden Osprey, which son number two rechristened The Golden Pikey, once he saw the husband tow it into the drive).  
And so it was that we headed down to Ch…

Hairspray queen...

So after several attempts involving hair grips, spray, a strange looking sponge sausage and what felt like seven thumbs and three fingers, I have finally given up on trying to coax my hair into a 1940's style Victory Roll.  But because I like to throw myself into everything with complete gusto, yesterday, after a frantic trawl across the internet, I bought a wig.
Now there is a risk that I may have panic-purchased.  For a start it's brunette, and beneath the grey and the highlights, I am marginally fairer, so unless I manage to get my own hair all hidden, I run the chance of looking like I have a small badger on my head. Secondly, it's only arriving today, and no doubt would have been vacuum-packed flat for several years till some numpty (me) bought it.  So the curl at the front might not even look as good as the one that I managed yesterday.  Anyway, I shan't worry too much because it comes with a headscarf, and as we all know, these can cover a multitude of sins and f…