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Showing posts from April, 2018

Loser...

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There are some things that are certain in life.  My father would say that 'dying and paying tax' would be his two dead (excuse the pun) certs.  I like to add another one.  The England football team will never win a penalty shoot out against Germany.
Yesterday I added a temporary one.  
I will not be winning the money at Binland Diet Club this week.
But why should this be, I hear you ask.  Why must it be a Walk of Shame rather then a Walk of Claim later on this morning?
Well, ladies, I'll tell you why.  My weekend has been one of alcohol, birthday cake, waffles and bacon, lemon posset, chips, doorstep bread, more alcohol and sausages.  This was because there was a massive party on Friday, hangover on Saturday (see waffles and bacon), with Sunday starting well with a six mile walk with the husband, but ending with a delicious three course Sunday lunch/dinner.  (What do you call a 3.30pm lunch anyway?  Lunner? Dinch?)
The late lunch was with daughter number two and Jolly Sock Man,…

Best friend...

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Well, ladies.  I survived my best friend's 50th birthday party, and a sleepover with Miss R and Woody.  Fetch me a gin and tonic as a reward...
Friday was a bit of a whirlwind after leaving Binland, as Mrs S who had previously told me that she had no use for me and any help I could proffer, changed her mind around 2.37pm.  By 2.51pm, she had me lugging an old sofa out to the garage, and carrying in box after box of alcohol back into the house.  Booze in, the question then turned to lighting.  Did she have enough fairy lights to create the right ambiance?  This would be the one which emits a soft light, thus reducing the odds of someone taking a look at my Sharpei face and offering me the use of their steam iron for the weekend. 
After some switching on and off, the decision was made that there weren't enough, so I raced back to my house to scavenge through my Christmas lights to find some battery operated ones.  On the way out, I grabbed hold of the large fairy light heart I hav…

Sleepless nights...

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I may have overdone it this week.  Taking the dogs out for their afternoon walk yesterday, I just about managed a forty minute stroll around the block.  I put this down to a couple of bad nights' sleep this week.  It's not that I've had too little (no late nights on school nights....rule number one) merely that I have been enjoying some rather odd dreams which have meant that my sleep has been very broken.
Unfortunately, none of these dreams involved Tom Hardy, a family bar of Dairy Milk and a pot of tea, but I suppose you can't have it all.  No, my dreams this week have been rather similar and have involved wild animals.
On Monday night, I was attacked by a three feet long wild squirrel.  It had clamped its nasty yellow teeth onto my little finger, and at the time of waking, I was hitting it over the head with one of the dogs' Dentistix (there's never anything useful available in dreams.  Where was my hammer when I needed it?)  So that was Monday.  On Wednesday …

Watch 'n' learn...

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It was back to school for the Bird yesterday.  A three hour training session at Binland, telling us all about the new computer system which will be heading our way soon. Now, I don't know about you, but as I get older, I seem to become more and more a creature of habit, comfortable in the things I know and wary of those I don't.  
I am very au fait with our current system.  It has taken me almost three years to get there, but get there I have, but now there's a new kid on the block.  A kid with a strange name (no idea how that was thought up) who for the next three years will probably make my life rather tricky.  I have a saying at home, which I use when the kids start saying things like, 'Didn't you know your phone could do that?'  It goes something along the lines of 'knowing what I need to know', my theory being that if I don't need it, then I don't want to learn about it.  
The husband and I stopped at videos for quite some time, being terrifi…

Do you want to know a secret...

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Coronation Street....bear with me....what on earth is going on with it?
I said to the husband last night, after watching David Platt gaze painfully into thin air for the twenty seventh time over the last few weeks, 'Since when did a soap become a bloody cliffhanger?'  I don't know about you ladies, but a secret stays champed behind my teeth for about as long as it takes to finish a ham sandwich, so how David Platt has managed to keep schtum about his own series of unfortunate events is anyone's guess.  I said to the husband, rather huffily if I'm honest, that the whole story line will probably peak around Christmas.  
There's a good chance I may expire before the truth finally comes out (if my BMI is anything to go by) so I'm thinking of ditching Corrie until Christmas Eve and doing something else (like having a life).  The trouble is that the husband is a big fan.  He hails from the North and looks at Corrie as the life he may have had if he hadn't been …

Wave bye bye...

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The husband returned to work yesterday.  My house is festooned with virtual bunting, and I have been quietly going about my business putting everything back to where I like it.  In fact, I've gone the extra mile and changed some other things round.  Let's see how he likes it when he opens his office door and finds I've converted it to a Prosecco fridge.  That'll teach him to mess with my semi skimmed...
Another two pounds of ugly fat disappeared this week, which set me thinking.  My BMI?  What would that be now?  Having stumbled across various pages including one offering me flights to Oslo and others flogging gym membership, diet club membership etc etc, I finally went with the voice of reason and accessed the NHS site.
It all looked rather incongruous, and I did really well with the sex/date of birth information, and then it went onto my height and weight.  The word 'metric' initially put the fear of God up me,  (do you know how tall you are in centimetres?) bu…

She's the boss...

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What a lovely weekend.  Isn't it amazing the difference a little bit of sunshine can make to an otherwise ordinary couple of days.
After the debacle of the fridge this week, the husband decided that Saturday would be the perfect day to pressure wash the patio.  Now I have done this for the last three years, completely breaking the 'blue job' rule, so I was quite impressed when the husband said that this year, he would be doing it himself.  This is all very well, but when the husband pressure washes the patio, a complete clean of the whole ground floor of the house is required.  His aim is not too precise you see, and after seven hours of cleaning the patio, he then moved on to the house which by now resembled something which Cruella de Vil would have designed.
Naturally, having pressure washed the walls, the windows now all need cleaning, which I'm sure will fall into pink job territory.  Oh whoop-de-doo...
Of course, once you start doing outside 'end of winter' j…

No milk today...

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The husband is in trouble again.
The last two weeks have been a warning as to what I can expect when he finally hangs up his mole grips for good.  It all started last Monday, when he informed me as I walked in from Binland, that he had 'organised the fridge'.
Although this rankled, I managed a tight smile, and asked him what he'd done. Turned out he'd made an executive decision about the milk in the fridge, as he wasn't happy with having a couple of cartons on the go with a couple to spare.  He had looked at the use by dates, and decided that the newer cartons should be frozen.
All well and good (although I hate drinking milk which has been frozen, preferring the 'just out of a cow' kind of white stuff).
So let's fast forward to Friday.  I decided to have cereal for my breakfast.  This is a rare occurrence for me, as I always have fresh fruit, but I had no bananas, and can't entertain a fruit salad without one, so an alternative had to be found.
I settle…

Hot stuff...

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Phew.....
I have been looking forward to my afternoon in the deckchair all week, and yesterday, I finally made it.  A quick walk for the boys (they hate this heat, preferring the snow. I put this down to the fact that as a breed, they hale from Germany ) and it was bikini on (yes, I know I'm 54 and a half, but I was alone, and therefore no apologies were required), sun cream applied to all the bits I could reach and I stretched out on the perfectly positioned deckchair, and let out a big sigh.  A snooze was planned for half an hour or so, and I started drifting off as the happy birdies sang around me.
My peace lasted approximately four minutes.  The dogs, completely incapable of being parted from my side for longer than a nanosecond, had slid under my deckchair.  A small fight was ensuing underneath as each of them fought for position in the 14" square of available space.  After some calm pleading ('Will you two pack it in before I completely lose my temper!') which the…

Three times a lady...

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Oh ladies.  Yesterday was a bad day on the knicker front with two changes before leaving for work.
It's my own fault really.  I'd put my clothes out the night before, favouring a new blue skirt and cream top for work.  Partnered with big drawers to avoid a VPL (husbands, ask your wives what this means) I was prepared for the following morning.  I like to be prepared.  Let's be honest, at our age the fewer shocks we get the better for everyone.
The trouble was, when I looked at the lovely weather, I decided that I would wear my blue ankle grazer trousers with the cream top.  I'd already put the larger than an undiscovered planet knickers on, so just pulled the trousers on.  But horror of horrors.  These trousers are quite low cut, and there was a good 4" expanse of knicker hanging over the waistband.  I looked like I should be 'in da hood' calling everyone 'bruv', so the trousers came off and the voluminous drawers swapped for a smaller pair.
I then to…

Heatwave...

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So ladies.  Are you ready?
Deckchair cushion brushed free of spiders and any other winter lodgers Deckchair placed in optimum position Legs shaved (this after hacking back with machete to trim down winter growth necessary to keep hypothermia at bay) Sun cream located (at back of bathroom cupboard with other items I'd rather not discuss) Sun cream checked - still smells slightly coconut like, therefore fine. Shorts brought out of long time hiding Shorts don't fit, so buy more (See yesterday's ramblings) Flip flops found - one slightly chewed by the Tasmanian Devil I share this house with
So yes.  I am ready for the threatened mini heatwave as the week marches on.  I always think that getting your legs out for the first time each year is something which needs to be done alone.  You need to get your legs past the colour of curdled milk (more Stilton in my case with the added benefits of of a Spaghetti Junction of veins) before revealing them to an unsuspecting public.  In my case, it&…

Don't speak...

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Now I have recovered from fighting for the Free World on Saturday night (well, the part of it which dyes its roots, wears varifocals and likes a sensible shoe) I have had to admit to the children what I was doing.  Reactions varied from 'Oh.  Dear.  God', to, 'Mumpty, you're a legend'.  (My personal favourite).  Will I do it again?  Well of course I will, just as soon as the corns on my left foot have subsided and I can walk to the car without wincing.  
The husband is still loitering around the house waiting for his next job to start.  It's a bit like an actor, turning down the advert work because it's beneath him.  The husband hasn't got to the stage where he's saying to Mrs Clutterbuck down the road, 'A blocked sink Mrs C?  But darling, I am an artiste', but should he, then there will be hell to pay....
As he was around yesterday, and only having to put up with the usual verbal castigation from his eternally patient bookkeeper, Mrs B-T, he …

Let me take you dancing...

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'Do you have any ID?'
The question any kid trying to get into a nightclub hates to be asked.  Entrance in is totally dependent on whether the ID is acceptable/genuine and God help you if it belongs to someone else who bears more than a passing resemblance to you, but who is five years older.
But we were four ladies aged between 42 and 58 waiting in a queue of students, trying to get into a rather seedy club in Oxford, with the sole purpose of shaking our booty for a couple of hours as a finale to Mrs B's birthday celebrations.  You would have picked up that there were only four of us still standing at this point.  The other ladies had all bailed around midnight but we four were hardcore, and not prepared to end the night so early.  So back to the question.
'Do you have any ID?'
'Really?' I asked.  'At our advanced age?'
'Yes, I need ID from all of you', said the doorman.  Actually, the 'man' part of his description is misleading, as I hav…

Get the party started...

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So.  Grand National Day.  Did you win?  As I write, I have a joint bet with all the Bird family which covers 72% of the horses on the start line, so a win of some description is on the cards. If there is little response from me tomorrow morning, I will probably be found in a 6* hotel being fanned by oiled slaves who will be feeding me peeled grapes (maybe not the grapes actually) while I decide which super yacht I am going to buy.  Alternatively, I might be trying to work out how to split £3.42 between the six of us.  Time will tell.
I'm having to write this blog on Saturday afternoon, because I have yet another Big Night Out planned.  My lovely neighbour and friend, Mrs R (she with the fancy waffle maker) reached her half century a couple of weeks ago, and tonight we are heading into the City of Dreaming Spires for cocktails, posh dinner and frenetic dancing.  There are ten beautiful ladies of indeterminate age (other than the birthday girl, who will probably be festooned with bad…

Having my baby...

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Oh, who doesn't love a migraine....but thank you for all your lovely comments yesterday. It meant a lot knowing that someone was thinking about me out there as I cursed every thing I could think of for several hours.
I'd like to be able to blame it on some night of alcoholic debauchery, or a Camembert orgy, or even on burying my head in all the Easter eggs which Tesco are selling at 50p, ripping them free of the purple foil with my teeth in a Cadbury frenzy.  But it was none of these. It was merely a 'you're a middle aged woman in the middle of the menopause, thinking you can hide behind those fancy HRT patches.  You can run, but you can't hide from me, lady...'
I'd actually put it down to the 2lb bag of grapes which I ate on Wednesday.  I'm British, and as you know, we all prefer to be able to blame ourselves when something goes wrong, rather than letting an outside influence take all the credit.
The grapes had brought on their own problems though, meanin…

Walking in the rain...

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I am so fed up with the rain.  I'm not saying that we've had a lot in the Home Counties, but there have been the odd dog walks when I expected to be passed by Noah, cheerfully calling out to me as he glided by, 'Room for one more, Missus!'
Anyone who has dogs will know that going out is not a choice.  Well I suppose it is a choice, if the decision is between walking in the rain or having your leg chewed off by an over exuberant schnauzer.  My two furballs hate the rain, but they hate not going out in it even more (crazy canine logic) so every morning before work this week, I've had to bundle myself up and drag them around a wet field for an hour, muttering under my breath that I have just about 'had enough'.  
I think I mentioned this last week, but my wellies have sprung a leak, and I've decided to write to Hunter and have a good old fashioned British moan at them.  I was just about to order a new pair on Monday, when it crossed my mind that this would b…

Swanee...

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I know I'm getting old, and I know I might just forget the teeniest thing every now and again, but on Monday I surpassed myself on the 'I'd Forgotten That Happened' front.
It was the appointment for the dogs' booster jabs at the vet's you see, and it wasn't until I walked (dragged) them in through the door and into the waiting room, that I remembered I had sworn to never bring them together again.  When you have just one dog, it's relatively east to keep them under control.  One arm has them pinned to your leg, while the other is force feeding them biscuits in an attempt to divert their attention away from the harlot of a Golden Retriever who is giving them the eye in the opposite corner of the room.
So Percy and I had muddled along quite nicely at the vet's until Reg came along.  Even then, because he was a pup, we could control him quite easily.  And then it all went paws up last year when I had the reminder email from the vet saying that both dogs…

She's a rainbow...

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On Sunday afternoon, there were at least two other people I know doing the same thing as me.  This wasn't recovering from a overindulgence of red wine from the night before (followed up by several almond liqueurs as no else liked it, and it seemed rude to leave it) as I probably know a lot more than two people who were doing that on Sunday.  No, this was something far more practical.
On Thursday night, I had done what I always do before crawling under the duvet for the night.  Clothes, underwear and shoes all neatly laid out for the next morning at Binland to avoid any unnecessary 'pre-work flapping' as the Mother would call it. Slipping on the skirt on Friday, you can imagine my surprise when there was a good two inches of waistband which was surplus to requirements.  This meant that I had a couple of options.  Either I changed my planned wardrobe for that morning, or I kept the skirt on, walking like John Wayne for the rest of the day in an attempt to stop it slipping pas…

Falling in love...

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Yesterday, the husband decided to take me on a long walk.  You'll remember how last week I got hopelessly lost, and had to turn back with the two furballs rather than run the risk of ending up in another timezone.  The husband, who on occasion has been known to pedal his way around the countryside pretending to be some weekend warrior, assured me that he knew the loop I should have taken, and that he would show me the way.
We had a great walk, and the route has been put down into my 'good walk' brain file - especially as there were loads of 'footpath' signs reducing the chances of me getting lost.
But a mile from home, we had to cross a field full of sheep and lambs, and as the husband helped me and the boys over the stile, he suddenly said, 'You're not going to like this'.  Looking towards where he was pointing, there were two scraps of wool lying in the field.  One was obviously dead, but the other was still alive, although unable to get up.  The husban…

How much more...

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Now that the Easter Eggs are a distant memory, marked only by a spot on my chin and a bin full of purple foil, I thought I'd update you as to how it's all going at the Binland Diet Club.  It's been three months since we started, so it seems as good a time as any.
I have now lost just over a stone, and am fast approaching dangerous territory.  When I started, I was 13 something, and by Monday there's a good chance I might be 11 something which is a bit of an achievement I suppose (says the woman who could eat an M&S triple pack of Walnut Whips given the chance).  
So what's the dangerous territory, I hear you all ask.  Well, at this point in a diet, you have to ask yourself which part of you needs to look better.  
Your face or your backside?
You either choose to keep a bit of padding around the old rump, thus softening the face a little, or you fight for a backside all pert and tight, and end up with a face like Dot Cotton (not a good look at 91 let alone 55).  So …