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Showing posts from January, 2018

Blinded by the light...

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Yesterday afternoon and evening were mainly spent turning the air blue with ripe profanities.  I should point out that I was alone, so unless the two woofers have started to understand more than 'walk', 'dinner' and 'stick', there wasn't much chance of offending anyone.  More's the pity.
You'll guess that I am talking about the internet after my throw away comment yesterday afternoon. Living in the countryside, I fully appreciate that my internet speed might be slightly slower than town and city dwellers, but my internet is something else again.
Some months ago, BT got in touch telling me all about their new superfast fibre broadband which was now available in my area.  I have since found out that the fibre optic part fizzles out down the road, with the last mile made up of tin foil and a rubber band as it limps into my modem.  When the husband informed me of this, all I could think of was two bean cans at the end of a length of string.  Come to think…

All the wrong places...

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Oh happy day!
Guess who won the money this week for the biggest weight loss at Binland Diet Club?  Yes, yours truly with a gargantuan 2lb weight reduction.  I am sorry that more people are not involved in this at a pound each every week, but the sheer joy overwhelmed any regrets that our membership is restricted to just seven.
I can't say that I am particularly proud of myself though.  The 2lb reduction this week, when you take into consideration the gains of the first two weeks, has left me with an overall loss of around 6oz over three weeks.  But it's given me a bit of a boost, and I am aiming for even better things next week.
The husband had one of his occasional brave moments yesterday, which only happen when he is fortified with alcohol, or at the end of the phone.  He stated that I was messing with his feng shui.  It took three attempts before I discovered what it was he was actually talking about, but once we had agreed on feng shui rather than fun-shoe and banshee. I aske…

Climb every mountain...

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In an attempt to fill our days with lovely stuff now that the children have left home, I suggested a walk yesterday.  Not just any walk mind you, but one with a map and written directions downloaded from the internet.  This was a six mile hike, culminating with a roast dinner in a pub, after which there would be a mile and a half walk back to the car.
How hard could it be....
Well, what a map doesn't show you is the gradient of the paths we would be walking.  I said to the husband that perhaps telling you this before you embarked on your adventure might have been wise.  This was said as we hauled our sorry carcasses up a hill so steep that all I could see as I looked forward were the husband's mud caked boots.  Talking of mud, I think I was three inches taller after the walk thanks to the claggy mud.
Anyway, we sweated our way up the hill, with the dogs dragging us up like a couple of dwarf huskies. I was very excited to get to the top, as I'd brought my camera, and was keen …

Short people...

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The final part of Friday's day off was a trip to the cinema with the husband.  I had suggested this film having seen the trailer last week when we went to see Darkest Hour, and the husband, ever the one for a quiet life, agreed that he wanted to see it to.
Sitting in the cinema with twelve other people (I should have known), the husband leant over to me and whispered, 'I love everything Meryl Streep does'.  
'Me too', I said, quietly diving into my popcorn.
'I thought we might have seen her by now.  And Tom Hanks', he whispered.
'But they're not in this film', I whispered.  'That's The Post you're thinking about'.
Pause...
'What's this then?  I thought we were coming to the The Post'.  (Whisper slightly raised at this point).
'No', said I.  'This is Downsizing.  The funny film about people being shrunk.  The one with the vodka bottle'.
'Oh.  Well I've been telling everyone all day that I was going to s…

Dreadlock holiday...

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Day off. 
Two words guaranteed to bring a smile to anyone's face.  This was all a bit last minute as Mr W (my young enough to be my son boss, and also known as The Voice of Reason on occasions) had informed me that if I didn't take my holiday, then I'd lose it altogether.  This was said just after I'd had an extra week at home after Christmas thanks to a chest infection, and I did feel rather guilty agreeing to take yet more days off before March.
This guilt lasted approximately four hours, and I quite happily emailed over copious holiday request forms to him that afternoon.  I'm not saying that there were a lot, but I had to stick them into a compressed folder before my laptop would even think about sending them.  So duly approved, the days off were booked.
So what did I get up to on my precious day off?  Well, I took myself of to a large shopping centre and spent a very pleasant morning trying on clothes which didn't fit me.  Eventually, I did what every woman d…

Georgy girl...

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It was back to the dentist again yesterday.  I reckon I spend more time in that chair than I do in my own bed, and yesterday's twenty minute appointment was mainly to prepare me for a £3,000 dentistry bill.  This is for an implant and a crown, and having calculated that this is around 25% of my annual income, I am debating whether soup, a straw and some lip enhancement surgery might not be a cheaper way forward.
I'll be honest with you, yesterday was not a particularly good day.  My work computer decided to do the technology equivalent of towing a caravan on a Bank Holiday Monday, and at one point, to alleviate my frustration, I stuck a post it note on my forehead which said 'Not Responding'.  At least it made Master P and Master J laugh which cheered them up a bit.
It was also raining again yesterday morning, and coupled with Storm Georgina throwing her toys out of the pram, my poor hair took a beating again.  But at least I was prepared this time.  Hood firmly tied und…

Blowing in the wind...

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Sitting at my dressing table yesterday, I was moaning to the husband because I had to walk the dogs before work.  This isn't usually a problem, but the weather (gale force 8 and horizontal rain) was going to play havoc with my hair.  As I am going with the curls at the moment, I have to wash my hair each morning, and wait for the curls to dry before I head out to Binland. Timing is of the essence, because if my hair isn't dry, the weather can have an interesting effect on it.
The husband, who was loitering in the bedroom, was standing behind me and talking to my mirror face.  'I could blow dry it straight for you if that would help'.   Now I have known the husband since he was seventeen, and in all that time, I haven't known him take lessons in anything hair related. 
'How does that work then?' I asked him.
'Well, I went out with a hairdresser once and used to watch her do hair.  I mean, how hard can it be?'  Fixing him with one of my 'go to work y…

Rolling in the deep...

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You know how your day is going to pan out when you realise that you have managed to put on your size 12 daughter's tights instead of your own.  The first part of my morning was spent doing a passable impression of a roller blind, and I eventually got so fed up I tied a knot in the waistband to stop them going anywhere.  
Of course, I should say that this all happened before I left home for Binland, so why I didn't go and rifle through my own drawers for a larger pair is anyone's guess.  Perhaps the thought of whipping off my warm tights and putting a cold pair on put me off the idea, or perhaps that piece of logic simply passed me by...
Exciting times at Binland yesterday though.  A new website is being planned, and yours truly was asked to attend a photo shoot so that my aging mush could be splashed across some page or another.  This was great fun, and for half an hour or so, I felt like a a film star.  For some reason, I had the phrase 'make love to the camera' pl…

Girls on film...

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My best friend, Mrs S, is my cinema buddy of choice.  Over the years, I have made her sit through various films, some of which have left her feeling slightly bemused, bored, infuriated, or possibly even made her question our friendship (The Grand Budapest Hotel was almost a step too far).  So when she asked me whether I'd go and Darkest Hour (Winston Churchill etc) I naturally agreed and we started discussing various evenings which would suit.
Fast forward twenty four hours...
'Can we go and see Darkest Hour?' asked the husband.  Looking up from my dinner, I explained to him that I had already committed to going with Mrs S, and that having him tag along would not be conducive to a GNO (Girls Night Out) and that he would have to go with someone else. Well dear reader, there is no one else, so Mrs S and I reluctantly agreed that he could come along to the cinema with us on Sunday afternoon.  Already, we'd changed things to suit him by going on a Sunday afternoon, so the GN…

Food for thought...

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Last week, over our Family Saturday Breakfast, it was decided that it was time to move on from our venue of choice and try somewhere new.  This was because of two reasons.  Firstly the food is not particularly good and secondly the coffee is even worse,  As I said to everyone last week, trying to accentuate a positive slant on the matter, it really isn't about the food, but more the fact that three generations of family get together once a week and talk bo**ocks for a couple of hours.  We've been doing this for almost thirty years now, so some territory has been covered on the bo**ocks front.
Anyway, we finally all agreed that our venue of choice would be a pub on the High Street.  This venue had been suggested on several occasions over the last five years, and I had been putting up quite a show of resistance after a particularly bad scampi, jacket potato and peas meal (six scampi, twenty four peas and a potato which was related to the Jersey Royal family.  Oh, and no tartare s…

Home cookin'...

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After squatting on the first floor of my house for the past five weeks, son number two is leaving later this morning to head back up north, returning back to that famous seat of learning which is Leeds.
He's been preparing to go back home all week.  He calls it, 'getting his affairs in order', although I call it 'robbing mum blind'.  This is what he has been up to so far...
Hijacked my Tesco internet shop, thus increasing it by 75%. (In cost, rather than quantity thanks to the alcohol content) Eating high carb food to fatten up for the decrease in temperature the further north he goes Growing some facial fur (see above) Offering to take me places in his car in the hope that I might offer to buy him a tank of fuel en route Removing every item of clothing from his room, clean or otherwise so that it will be washed and ironed Wearing his brother's clothes so that his clean ones remain washed and ironed  Getting a haircut (naturally, this is much cheaper in the south...I d…

Fixing a hole...

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I had a bit of a dilemma yesterday.  I was on my way to meet my lovely sister in law Mrs H for our monthly coffee and catch up, when I chanced to look down at my leggings and tunic, just to check that my vast behind (this said in broad pirate accent if you'd be so kind) was suitably covered.
Horrors.... I had a hole in my leggings half way between my knee and my HRT patch, revealing a small island, so white that you'd think I hadn't seen the sun since 1976.  I didn't have time to go go home and change, nor did I have one of those handy sewing kits in my bag which you can nick from upmarket hotels, so I did what any sensible woman would do, and went back to my car to consider my options.
First of all, I tried pulling the leggings further up my leg so that the hole was hidden by my tunic.  All well and good until I realised that my Harvest Festival Knickers (named thus because 'all is safely gathered in') were now bunched up around my Sheepdog Bra ('round '…

The chase...

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There was a shocking revelation at Binland yesterday.  I stumbled across the other members of the Binland Diet Club, discussing what we'd lost in weight overall the last week.  A most impressive twenty two pounds.
'Wow!' I said, 'That's amazing.'
Then Mrs S looked at me over the top of her glasses and raised her eyebrows, and I suddenly felt a rush of guilt wash over me.  On Monday, I did the equivalent of the bloke on The Chase who takes the really low figure of £200 'just to get back to the team', fully knowing that the prize fund was £10,000 before he bottled.  
If they hadn't taken my weight gain into consideration, we (and I don't include me in that) would have lost twenty four pounds.  I'm not saying that I felt really guilty, but it almost put me off the five Quality Street left languishing in the bottom of the tin yesterday afternoon...
Anyway, onward and upward.  I have a beach holiday less than five months away, so need to get a wriggl…

Dead weight...

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There was a lot of activity in my house yesterday before I left for work.  This was mainly because I knew that despite a whole hour and three quarters of dieting this week, the Binland scales would not have good news for me at the weekly weigh in.
As the husband is back to working in London, I was up with him at 5.30 yesterday morning.  I should mention at this point that it would be more than possible for me to get up at 8.00 (especially as son number two is still here and on dog walking duty) but I like to send him on his merry way with a loving kiss and wave from the front door.  This ensures that he is reminded each day just how lucky he is to be married to me.  No harm in reinforcing this on a daily basis I feel.
So, he was out of the way by 6.00 and having showered and got dressed (same outfit as last Monday so that it would be a true reflection of my face filling week) I approached the scales with some trepidation.  Alright, I admit it, if I'd had a loaded revolver, I may hav…

Feed me...

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After Saturday night's curry at Miss R's, followed by a large slice of Colin the Caterpillar, I said to the husband on the way home that I 'must not eat anything tomorrow to balance out all the food I've eaten today'.  
This lasted until Sunday morning, when I woke up feeling like I could eat a scabby donkey.  Throwing a bowl of Special K lookalike cereal down my neck, I remembered my comment from the night before.
'Must not eat anything tomorrow', had be be downgraded, with the new mantra now being:
'Must not eat anything else today'.
I was back to dog walking this weekend after being grounded by the husband for fear I might get ill again, so I had dusted off my Fit-bit and attached it about my person.  Those of you who have been with me for some time will remember the two glorious days back in 2016 when I was leading the Fit-bit Weekly Step Challenge.  This was because I had attached it to one of the dogs, thus achieving enough steps to imply I'd …

Keep on running...

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Aah, Date Night...
Conjures up a lot of images, doesn't it?  Possibly not one of sitting in the smallest cinema ever (five rows of eight seats) nursing a fistful of junk food (nachos for the husband, ice cream for me) watching a film about a megalomaniac and the removal of an ear.  Yes, we went to see the film about John Paul Getty on Friday night.  It was a bit of a last minute decision, and I'm sure that the husband ran the gauntlet through at least three speeding cameras between home and High Wycombe, but it was worth going to see.  
The trip to the cinema was just the first part of the Date Weekend (the husband likes to play big), and as I write this, there is still much more to look forward to.  He has planned lunch at my favourite pub today, which is to be preceded by a damn long walk with the dogs in the woods.  As they are allowed to sit with us in the pub while we eat, the theory is that they will both be so knackered that they won't bark at any other dogs in the re…

Desperado...

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Someone hit my car today. Not a massive 'I didn't see you there' kind of hit, nor was it a 'Oversized Bag Attack', or 'Jealous Lover Key Scrape.  The damage looked like it had been left behind by an eighteen inch hobbit pushing a shopping trolley with a wonky wheel.  If it had been one inch lower, it wouldn't even have touched my car, so to say it's a little frustrating is an understatement.
The good news is that with a bit of T-Cut (not too sure how long that's been in the garage, but an element of assistance with a chopstick had to be applied to get the green gunk to leave the sanctuary of the plastic bottle) and an old duster, I managed to polish most of it out.  I also managed to T-Cut my hair at the same time, which became apparent just as I was leaving for Pilates last night.  Green hair...nice...
Bearing in mind I managed to do this in semi daylight, hunkered down on the gravel with the two fur-balls thinking that sitting on my head would be a …

Through the barricades...

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So as another day of recuperation dawned bright and early yesterday, I suddenly realised that my breathing wasn't akin to an acting extra on Jaws (watched this again at the weekend...just how much shallow breathing is acceptable?)  Perhaps, just perhaps, I was getting better...
As yesterday wore on at Binland, I started to feel like a butterfly, emerging from its chrysalis and unfolding to reveal its full beauty.  OK.  Let's be honest, it was more like the slimy creature coming out of John Hurt's stomach in Alien, but it was a real improvement on the last ten days, that's for sure.
The trouble with feeling better, is that you feel you are now well, which as we all know, couldn't be further from the truth.  A short sojourn into town for vacuum cleaner bags (it's just one long glamour-fest in my shoes) and it was necessary to stop at the cafe for a cup of tea and a piece of fortifying Bakewell Tart.  Suitably revived, I then headed off to the hell which you might k…