Words from a Bird

It was a big day in my house today.  The 2020/21 winter season wellies have arrived.   Every year, I buy a new pair of 'shortie' wellies which I wear every day to walk the furballs.  To date, I have had red, purple, royal blue and shocking pink, my current colour of choice.  Now I completely appreciate that most people will wear a set of wellies perhaps two or three times a year, so their shelf life is definitely much longer than mine, but my current rubber footwear is taking on water faster than the Titanic, and with a rather dubious puncture in the heel of the right one, there is an embarrassing noise every time I walk.  Try explaining that to my dog walking pals.  'That's my welly making that noise, not me'.  This is the cue for the 'That's right, blame the footwear' look and a subtle raising of the eyebrows. So the new wellies arrived today. When I was small, wellies came in just one colour.  Black.  Likewise, children's' glasses had one styl

And so it came to pass that the first pair of trousers with an elasticated waistband were purchased... In fairness, I bought them from Next rather than oldladytrouserstyles.com so there is an element of style about them, but still.  All I can say is thank goodness for big belt loops as I managed to cover up the incriminating evidence with a suitably wide belt.   As the oldest person(by a couple of decades) in the sales team at Binland, there are the odd occasions when my age is brought to the fore.  Tuesday was a good example. After the expressive Mr Gove (does he use Botox as the top half of his face never moves?) announced that if you could work from home for the next six months then you should, I was speaking to my 'young enough to be one of my kids' boss about staying indoors for six months. 'The trouble is', I said, 'is that if I don't have to make an effort to look passable each day for work, then there is the slim chance I might let myself go'. It was

So that's it.  Summer has officially left the building. I don't know about you, but for the most part, the weather has been the only thing which has kept me going since March.  Beautiful mornings, late sunsets and the chance to wear those shorts which languish at the back of the wardrobe for most of the year. Shorts are a funny old thing though.  I have been wearing the same pair of denim cutoffs for the past four years, and it doesn't matter how tatty they get, they still make me smile if I get a day when they can be worn.  But those days are now over, and last weekend, I spent a whole afternoon swapping over my summer and winter clothes.  At the time, this is always rather exciting, as you are looking at clothes which haven't seen the light of day for six months, and there is an element of novelty.  However, fast forward to tomorrow morning when I have to get dressed for Storm Aiden to go to Binland, I know that when I see all that black and navy in my wardrobe, my mo

In yesterday's meanderings, I touched on the fact that I was being very strict with myself with a 'get on with it' kind of attitude.  In my mind, I see Wilma Whiplash telling me this, dressed in thigh length leathers and carrying a bullwhip.  However, life is cruel, and these days the more precise image would be of Nora Batty in a pair of American Tan support stockings, carrying one of those very useful gadgets which enable you to pick something up from the floor without bending down.  Life can be very cruel sometimes. So today, I am nursing a hangover courtesy of the Italians down the road.  Mrs H is more Italian than a dish of carbonara prepared by Gina D'Campo so any invite to their abode always ends up with the same ending and last night was no different. As you know, the husband was learning how to ride a bike using one wheel with Mr H yesterday (still struggling to work out how this could be useful, but I'll carry on working on this as I believe that there is

I've got into some really bad habits over the past six months... When we plummeted into lockdown in March, all the wonderful things I loved to do were put on hold.  From walking the dogs and writing my blog to getting a haircut and just being anywhere but home.  As we have slowly been released into the wild, it's hit me that I still haven't reclaimed my life back fully from the dreaded virus, and today, I have decided that enough is enough. So I am putting on some make up (this helps with the ravaged face which has not seen the inside of a beauty salon for almost seven months now), I am putting on some rather trendy clothes (if I hear a whiff of the word 'mutton' I shan't be wearing these trousers ever again) and I am off to my home town to meet up with The Mother and Mrs Jangles for a very heavily socially distanced coffee.  They won't mind this too much as they have hearing aids to cope with long distance conversation, but I may have to start carrying roun