Number 9

Today, I had a phone call from someone with an amazingly strong Indian accent, asking if my house number was the number it is.
I answered…. that it depended who was asking.
I was informed they were from the ‘Telegram Office’. Can’t say I have ever heard of them.
She said something really, really fast.
I chose to go, ‘Proper Pompey’.

The lady told me she was after my neighbour at number 9.
Had I ever heard of Clare G? Did I know if she resided at the address?
When I had last seen her?
Did I know where she had a gone?
Uuuuuhm….. Nope.
Did I know the people in number 9, as there was post for them.
Mmmmm…… Nope.
Being a good Pompey girl, I wouldn’t ‘grass’ green foliage on the Common if I was stood on it!

I went to tell my neighbours at No9 what was occurring, that I hadn’t grassed them up because it wasn’t the ‘Pompey way’…
You may be criminals….. But you are OUR CRIMINALS!
The neighbours were very pleased and would contact the said Clare.
“You get anymore trouble from these cunts babe, Let us know.
We‘ll end it”.
Then, as a kind of afterthought, ‘What’s your name’?
I told them.
‘Are you So and So from Such and Such?’
Mmmmm… Yes I am.
‘Is your Dad, What’s His Name?’
Yes.
‘Fucking Hell! Come in, Come in!… Tea? Coffee? Booze? Anything you want! I’m phoning my Dad to tell him who is sat here!
He loves your Old Man!
Somehow, I’m ‘trading’ on my Dad’s reputation as a bit of a rogue and a monster of the one punch knock out.
Then one of the mates piped up,
“Alright Miss?, You taught my brother, sisters, cousin and my Mum reckons she went to school with you”.
It turned out he was right on all counts and I had punched his uncle so hard his jaw still clicked when he ate and his Mother couldn’t wait to show me her scars I had caused.
I am now ‘well in’ at No9 Aliens Rd if I want to explore my Pikey heritage!

I’ve had a haircut.
Thank fuck!
It was getting a bit out of hand. I now have a substantial amount of grey!
I can no longer have my hair cut along the nearest thoroughfare to me, which hosts a multitude of shearing establishments.
There have been some violent incidents involving my Barnet and the use of “Ooooops!” as an acceptable adjective while being the ‘stylist’ wrangling my hair!
I think not.

What I really object to is the time it takes for Her to cut my hair.
£22 it costs me.
£22!
I think I should get a minute for every pound.
Make up shit, I don’t care!
My haircut involves clippers set on a Grade 5. Eight minutes…. Tops!.. For what is basically a strim!
Offer me tea, coffee, juice, light hand relief.
I want my Shekel’s worth.

The Hound And The Pragmatist

This is Blue.
Jess retired. This boy was rescued.
While she was racing she lived in nice kennels, she wasn’t mistreated, she just finished racing.
Like Jess, Blue is an Irish hound but didn’t come from reputable kennels like she did.
At the time of his rescue he was on the way to Spain for vivisection.
His body is a network of scars and injuries.
The tops of his ears are missing, what’s left of them have the scars from teeth.
The same around his neck and across his face.
He has had broken ribs which have been left untreated. They have mended on their own and poke out at awkward angles.
He has a big ‘Puncture’ scar on his belly which looks like a bullet hole.

He is huge and strong compared to the girl but is so gentle and loving.
All he wants are lots of cuddles and grooming.
It’s weird dealing with a male dog though.
I can sit and mindlessly stroke Jess without fear of ‘Reproductive’ contact.
Not so with Blue!
I’m not sure who was more surprised or horrified.

This amused me no end!
Do it truthfully first then go back and tell lies. It’s great!
When answering truthfully, I have a Pragmatic Relationship Style.
I am ‘relatively agreeable’. That got my grin on!
This one made me laugh out loud,
I am ‘as conscientious as the average person’!
I love that.
Neither, the song or film I chose was in the top picks of ‘My Style’.
I did score very highly on the passion scale thing though!

Be Right Back

I don’t know about the rest of you but this would proper put me off my responses.
It might even put me off my bit of wafer.
Luckily there was someone to take a photo for his son, who would have loved to have been there for the demise.

Although, I feel a PC backlash in this story, I don’t care, it made me laugh my arse off!

I’m off to Wiltshire for a few days.
Jess has a new brother called Blue.
I can’t wait to meet him.
Bloggage should resume Wednesday.

Music And Stories

I have found a flaw in itunes.
Well, it’s a flaw to me.
When I buy anything I don’t need a little window popping up asking me if I’m sure I want to purchase the tune.
I need a little box that pops up and says,
“Check your ‘library’ you stoned dick! Are you sure you haven’t got this?”
Far more fucking useful to me!

I watched this tonight.
An amazingly talented young man.
Foetus’s can now be tested for CF at an early stage.
There is no test for any kind of genius, musical, or otherwise.
What choice would you make?
Some things we are better off not knowing.
‘Those whom the gods love die young’.
Apparently.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more surreal, I found out that the 3 Little Pigs story could be offensive to Muslims.
They are aren’t the only people not to partake of the Swine.
Next it will be the Three Billy Goats Gruff that get it.
Not respecting the homeless or something.
There are some fearsome, troll like, creatures living under some of the bridges in Pompey!

This has been my tune of the day!

A Thing Of Beauty

I know there are far more beautiful sights in the world but at the moment, this'll do for me!

How gorgeous is that?

It is on a par with one from Munich a few years ago.

That one read,

England 5 Germany 1

I’m thinking that this has more to do with their address than ‘Facebook Fame’.
Not a lot goes on in South Wales at the best of times.

I Love The Smell Of Pope In The Morning...... Victory

As if to prove that old, ‘just when you think you’ve seen it all’ thing, the internet sends me this.
To make matters worse, it’s not even a joke.
“…Aristocratic, Old World Cologne with surprising freshness…”
Let me translate.
“…Arrogant Nazi, Right Wing Bigot with unsurprising fanaticism…”
I have sent off for my free sample as I’d be interested to know what that smells like.

Schnee.. Engage sports filter..

My Beloved Spurs are in to the final of the Carling Cup!
Not the greatest of cup competitions but they got there by spanking Arsenal like a ginger step-child.
That alone makes it just fucking beautiful.
5-1 on the night, 6-2 on aggregate.
I managed to share the last minute, the last goal and the sound of White Hart Lane going fecking ape-shit with Crisp-e.
You’ve got to love mobile phones just for that.
It was an emotional moment!
I couldn’t actually sit and watch the match.
Fear of the Jinx.
Whenever I watch them play Arsenal they lose.
If I don’t they win.
QED.

I am ONE happy Pixie!

Or I was.. Heath Ledger is dead.
Jeez..
What a waste.

Getting Involved

On my way back from buying some smokes this afternoon, a bloke riding a bicycle had an epileptic fit right in front of me in the middle of the road.
ATM’s words from my childhood came back with startling clarity.
“DO NOT get involved. Keep walking. If someone drops dead in front of you, step over them. DO NOT get involved.”

The lady in the car behind him stopped and luckily was a nurse.
This all happened about 30 metres from a busy four way junction with traffic lights.
I let the nurse do her stuff with the break dancing patient and got on with directing traffic.
He was out of it for a good ten minutes but when he came round, fuck me did he come round!

He came up off the ground like Roberto Duran coming out for the final round!
“Get the fuck off me! Fuck off! Leave me alone and get a fucking life! You fucking bastards” and other kind words of gratitude.
The nurse lady said she thought he might do that.
Apparently, some react violently after a fit.
Eventually the police and ambulance turned up.
As one of the Policemen approached I caught hold of him and said,
“Watch yourself mate, he’s proper fucking punchy!”
He grimaced and said,
“Oh Fuck! Thanks for that Babe and great job with the traffic! Want a job?”

We stood together and had a smoke while his young, keen, colleague was trying to deal with the man, who was now swinging his bike around like an Artistic Gymnast.
I asked if his partner was new, he rolled his eyes to heaven and nodded.
I wished him luck and disappeared before they wanted details.
DO NOT get involved.

If any of this came ashore here, it wouldn’t be there long enough to photograph!
When I was a kid a coal lorry shed its load in a residential street.
By the time the driver got back from the phone box (no mobiles then!) the road was clean and there wasn’t a soul or piece of coal in sight.
Good old Pompey!

Sunday Special

Mass was amusing this morning as the PA system gave up the ghost totally.
The priest announced this before starting and a few of us moved towards the front.
One lady loudly informed everyone that she couldn’t hear him when he did have the thing on and was staying where she was.
Then there were the ‘I always sit here’ crowd and that lot wouldn’t move for Jesus Christ himself.
So, the responses took on a ‘Round’ quality with the bunch at the back being a few seconds behind the rest of us.
We used to deliberately do that at school, start the hymns half a verse late.
Drives people mental.

I know this is from ‘The News Of The Screws’ but it’s an absolute cracker and has repeated on me all day!
Just so you get the idea this is 24mm -------------- (Roughly)
Needle Dick does spring to mind!
I can’t imagine that the edges of, whatever orifice he was utilising, were particularly user friendly.
Not having been made for that particular purpose and all that.
You’ve also got to wonder as to the wording of the warning for it.
“Display purposes only. Dress it up. Do not fuck it; she’s not that kind of doll”?
But to complain about it and want your money back?
That is special! Very special!

Sick

Today, I have mostly being trying to hang on to the contents of my stomach.
I have mostly been unsuccessful.
It got to the point where I was drinking water just so that I would have something to bring up.

I had a phone call from a friend at Mayhem telling me all about the illegal stuff that is going on there.
Falsifying coursework, falsifying data, falsifying predicted grades.
All done because of threats from the Headteacher.
They told me of someone who refused to bump up the predicted grades; they were screamed and shouted at, so the Head (or one of his Arse Kissing leadership team) did it.
There are now at least 3 people I have lost all respect for and will probably never talk to again.
They have no excuse and it makes me sick to my stomach.

I told the person to ‘blow the whistle’ but they are too afraid to and say no one would back them up for the same reason, fear.
They just want to get out of the place.
Another teacher sacrificed to the man’s unbelievable arrogance.

Wrong

I will issue this warning to all the nonces out there only once.
All of you have got to my blog by typing in ‘Young Grils/Girls Fucking’ or anything along those lines; I have reported you and your IP address to CEOP.
I especially hope they manage to get all of you from those good, g-d-fearing countries like Iran, Turkey, UAE and Saudi Arabia.
I have absolutely no problem with your government hanging or cutting bits off you AT ALL.
Fucking filth that you are.

I don’t know what it is about this that makes me feels so uncomfortable, but it does.
I’m up for any research that could lead to a cure for some of the more hideous diseases and conditions that blight us.
Somehow, this just strikes me as wrong.

Even more wrong is this.
36 veteran servicemen have been offered 3 million quid between them for the all the experiments carried out on them by the government at Porton Down.
They were given such nastiness as Sarin and told it was a cold remedy.
Then there is this slapper.
5 Million!
A woman who has had her lips swelled to the size of rubber dinghies by Christ knows what.
They were so bad they practically rendered her unemployable.
A woman who has had her husband arrested for hitting her and her sister.
Yeah, of course she fell out of bed.
Appalling woman. Appalling pay out.

Gas, Hate, Film And Drugs

British Gas sent their bloke to do the annual check up of the boiler and all that stuff.
From the noises that he made when he spoke I thought he’d had a Tracheotomy, he made sounds like the suction thing at the dentist.
It turned out he was a severe stutterer and this noise was part of getting the words out.
Most disconcerting.

Now, if this had been a ‘Christian’ worker refusing to sell the Koran do you think they would still be employed by Marks and Sparks?
Of course they fucking wouldn’t.
It’s this kind of shit that makes people angry, militant and anti Islamic.
It’s pissed me off and I consider myself relatively liberal.
I have some fantastic Muslim mates and they all say incidents like this embarrass them.
Every one of them considers themselves British first and Muslim second.
Except one, who considers himself a Portsmouth FC fan second and Muslim third!
Curious how this ‘Devout’ Muslim woman doesn’t mind having her wages paid by a company founded, and run, by Jews.
Fucking idiot.

This afternoon I watched Curse Of The Golden Flower.
Not since the first time I ever saw Fantasia have I been awestruck by colours in a film.
I love Chow Yun Fat and absolutely adore Martial Arts films.
This wasn’t so much about the fighting but about the ‘Politics’ of the Imperial family.
There are also a lot of bouncing boobies going on and as you all know, I’m a sucker for boobies.
Every pun intended!
All in all it wasn’t a great film.
The military choreography was amazing.
It’s no wonder that the Chinese government have ‘hired’ Yimou Zhang to stage the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympics.

There have been 14 police raids on cannabis dealers in the last four days.
So, the drought is back.
For the FIRST time ever I was offered something ‘harder’ and for the FIRST time ever, I considered going for it.
But didn’t.
The obvious choice would be to cane the alcohol that’s in the house but taking into account my genetic predisposition for Alcoholism, I don’t want to.
Certain booze makes me violent, cannabis doesn’t.
Cannabis doesn’t lead to harder drugs, the fecking LACK of it does.
The lack is due to the Police, SO dope doesn’t lead to hard drugs, the fucking Police do!

My Beloved Spurs are through to the next round of the FA Cup.
They beat Reading 1 nil!

A Dead Run

I am so very bored with all the Diana inquest bollocks.
Who gives a flying fuck in all honesty?
I’ve had a gutful.
Whatever the outcome she is still going to be dead.
I don’t know why the just don’t give Mr Fayed what he wants, a British passport.
Every other Tomasz, Ricardo and Hasnat can have one.
Let him have it and perhaps he’ll shut up.
Don’t even get me started on Paul Burrell; he’s made a fucking good living off of her name these last ten years.
Pointless prick.
Even more of a piss off is that we are paying for this.

I feel sorry for Oscar Pistorius.
Banned from the Olympics because having no legs gives him an unfair advantage when running.
Unfair advantage? He’s got no fucking legs!
An unfair advantage is a system full of performance enhancing drugs and steroids.

Oz And The Bro

How fucking annoying is it when you are half way through watching something and some knob comes in and wants to know what’s happening.
Or they sit for a bit, then start to ask questions because they haven’t seen it from the beginning?
Fuck Off!
Watch it from the beginning or shut the hell up.
Yesterday, the first three seasons of Oz arrived from Amazon and I watched the first one in a single sitting.
Today the Oz marathon continues and I started the second series.
Maybe it’s just me or the DVD’s have been ‘cut’ but I seem to remember it being way more brutal and violent.

The Big little brother came round this evening.
He brought D the ex dealer with him, the one who smells of wet dog, damp and patchouli oil.
He hasn’t changed.
Still talks complete bollocks.
Which was a shame because the brother and I were getting quite deep.
D kept interrupting and the Brother and I didn’t get the chance to talk about what we wanted.
I told him that, in science terms, I think of him as my ‘control experiment’.
All the times I did something and ATM whacked me and screamed in my face, “You are just like your fucking Father!”
All the times I was made to feel shit for behaviour blamed on someone I didn’t even know!
It’s weird now, seeing it in my brother, with whom I only share a Mother.
Does this mean ATM keeps marrying the same kind of man?
Not at all!
The Brother’s Father is a really nice guy.
So, how do the Brother and I share Traits that have always been attributed to my Dad?

Like I don’t know!

The Last Action Hero

Wednesday evening, during the meal with Sassy, she spoke about Edmund Hillary and funeral eulogies.
Look what she did?
She only went and killed a world hero! A man who is almost a god in Nepal.
I’m coming up with a list of people who piss me off, for discussion next time we are together.
The two of us could do some damage.
I managed to kill Steve Urwin a year or two ago.
It seems that our powers are limited to Antipodean types at the moment, but given some practise…. Who knows!
I’ve been trying NOT to think about Rolf Harris and concentrating on Peter Andre instead.

I don’t know how many years of therapy this one would take, but my money is on a hell of a lot.
I can’t get my head around just how disturbing that would be.
Makes me shudder every time I think of it.

This would spook the hell out of me.
Get it a fecking kitten?
Bollocks!
I’d have that creepy little bastard put down.

My favourite Sir Ed story is this.
12 years ago a 14 year old, called Ollie Bradshaw, phoned him up for help with his homework.
He said,
“Out of all the very important people in the country, the fact that I could call up the greatest New Zealander out of the blue and have him yarn to a 14 year old, pretty much sums the guy up.”

Rest gently Sir Ed.
They don’t make them like him anymore.

The Past, The Ridiculous And The Present

The lack of smokes drove me out of the house at 8.30am and into the hell that is the ‘School Walk’.
Women, kids, pushchairs and in some cases, dogs, all trying to walk on the same patch of pavement.
I also bumped into the poor bastard who attempted to teach me German.
I couldn’t remember his name because we always called him Penfold.
He looked like the character from the DangerMouse cartoon.
He clocked me straight away.
“Morning Sleepy”
Gobsmacked, I replied,
“Morning Sir”.
Sir? Sir?
What happened there!? When did I get fucking polite?

With the benefit of hindsight the guy was amazing.
He would start writing on the board using his left hand, when he got to the middle; he swapped and continued with his right.
His writing didn’t alter in the slightest.
All the while we would be catapulting chewed paper pulp at the board with metal rulers stolen from Metalwork.
Even with all that crap spattering around him he never missed a beat.
We also used to rob his ciggies!
What bastards we were.

George W arrived in Israel today.
With 5 helicopters, a convoy of cars and his own bodyguard.
I wonder who pays for that.
The American or the Israeli taxpayer?
I suppose it's something... He could have turned up with a fecking Army!
I will give up my citizenship of the human race if that prick manages to negotiate peace in The Holy Land.
I truly will.
An Irony like that is just TOO much to take on board.
If he could succeed, where people who can string a sentence together have failed, would be SO wrong.

Sassy came for dinner and we have put the world to rights.
We have laughed lots. Imbibed a beverage or two.
Slagged off Newcastle United for what they have done to our beloved Sam.
Done our bonding thing without having to punch anyone in the arm, speed drink or touch our genital areas.
Although, Housemate Claire informed us, that now she is healing from her surgery, they have put her nipples ‘back on’ wrong.
They have been rotated through 45 degrees.
Who knew that would make a difference?
I thought as long as the nerves were all re-attached, you’d be sound.
Apparently not.
It feels different.
This is news I could have lived without, but in the spirit of sharing and science….

We have listened to music, incorporating Sassy’s ‘Musical OCD’.
Which involves playing one song over and over again.
Fortunately, I can relate to this specific form of madness, as I had had the same song on ‘repeat’ earlier.
I have managed to whack my funny bone.
Fecker!
Twice, in the same place, and am not best pleased.
Gin and coffee soon had me back on track.
Schnee, it was your kind of girls night mate!
Gail would have loved it too!

All things considered.
A good day.

Saints, Shameless And Sketching

Yet again I find myself wanting Stephen Fry to rule the world.
I’d vote for him if he was running for a bus.
I agree, totally, with what he is saying here but I’m sure Rupert Everett has said something similar.

The Catholic Church have hit me with another one of their, WTF, moments.
Now, that is nasty!
Couldn’t they have said a Mass or put on a concert or something.
Digging the fucker up seems a little extreme.
I’d also argue that being pumped full of Formaldehyde IS ‘a measure taken to preserve’.
That’s what the stuff does!
I dread to think what ‘removing relics’ could mean, given the number of Holy fingers, toes, blood, ribs, skulls and foreskins that are scattered around European churches.
I’d like to imagine that a bunch of Cardinals get stoned together and have a life size game of Operation.
“Ahh! Shit Dude! The Holy Wishbone! That’s a fecker to get out!”

The new series of Shameless is fantastic.
Absolutely cracking!
Schnee, DO NOT miss it.
The line, “I am a bulimic who can’t stand vomit”, will never leave me.
I hurt my throat laughing.

Adverts are keeping me shouting at the TV.
The Mini Cooper Etch a Sketch ad in particular.
To use a saying from my youth,
“As fucking If!”
I had one of those bastards and there’s no way it did that!
That’s why I took it apart not long after I got it.
It's full of grey talc stuff and tiny ball bearing things.
My Nan was fit to be tied.
Not to be recommended, it gets EVERYWHERE.

Nuns, Germs And Curry

I feel like I’ve had a productive day considering that to, ‘the untrained eye’, it looks like I do fuck all!

The book I ordered from Amazon arrived at 11am and I’d finished it by 2.30pm.
Not bad going.
From it I learnt a new word, ‘Exclaustration’.
This is the permission given to a Nun, still under vows, to live outside of her community temporarily. She would be under the jurisdiction of the local bishop rather than her Order’s Superior.
I knew someone like that and she was SO cool she was subzero!
The book was called ‘Lesbian Nuns - Breaking The Silence’.
Stop yourselves!

It’s not as prurient as it sounds, it was really interesting and in a lot of the cases, extremely sad.
For some of them the vow of chastity was no problem, it was what they had signed on for; the real problem seemed to be the lack of ANY physical contact AT ALL.
Not a hug, a handshake or a matey slap on the back ever again.
Catholics usually come from huge, touchy feely, families.
To suddenly have absolutely nothing must be horrific. A basic form of torture. Couple that with another basic torture, lack of sleep, is it any wonder some of these women had breakdowns.
It has made me reconsider my attitude to some of the bitches who beat the crap out of me!

The Tame Pharmacist has interesting news from the forward trenches of the NHS.
There has been a 300% rise in the number of people using their own pen to sign the back of their prescriptions.
They don’t want to touch a shared pen.
It seems the horror stories about the spread of MRSA and the Norovirus are hitting home.

I cooked up a storm.
Minced lamb curry, with tomatoes, peppers, apricots and sultanas.
For something I made up as I went along it was pretty damn tasty!
The chilli turned out to be hotter than first anticipated and I am now expecting a swarm of Arse Wasps in the morning.
Not my favourite experience.

Food And Time Wasting

I enjoy cooking.
I find it relaxing and my inner Yid loves people enjoying my food.
This ‘hobby’ leads to me watching various cooking shows.
I have now found one I can shout at.
‘Come Dine With Me’.
People who have absolutely no fucking idea what they are doing in the kitchen, cooking with the top of the range pots, pans and utensils.
Equipment, I believe should be mine.
I find myself screaming,
“Look what that complete twat is doing to that pan! LOOK! Bastard! He has MY stuff! Christ, that’s a £100 pan!”
Don’t even get me started on the knives.

This is now one of my biggest time wasters!
It’s brilliant.
I’ve typed in lots of family names; none of them were tried at ‘The Bailey’, which is mildly disappointing.
Just surfing through some of the cases is interesting though.
I’ve found a women who was put to death for ‘sodomy with a dog’.
A dog!
Which begs the question, who told?
It turned out she had a nosey neighbour and holes in her walls.

Today, I have done precisely, fuck all.
It’s been great!
One of the Housemates cooked a blinding dinner and it’s been wine and ‘Gladiator’ all evening.
Spot on.

No One Expects The Face

I had known all day that one of the Housemates was going out tonight.
I mentally prepared and steeled myself for the usual battery of questions.
“Does this go with this? Which shoes? Does my bum look big? Are my ankles fat? In or Out? These earrings with this necklace? Are my boobs level? Did you pack the bag yourself?” Etc.
Not a fecking one.
Instead I got one there was absolutely no preparation for,
“Is my face ok?”
All sorts of stuff whizzed through my mind, so I pulled the childhood ‘get out of washing up trick’ and disappeared to the toilet.
Here, I used my ‘Text Sassy’ option and worked out it was a question about make-up.
I got the reply right and she left in a waft of perfume. The kind you taste rather than smell.
Nice work Sassy.

Am I alone in being freaked out by a woman wearing one flat shoe and one high heel?
Hobbling like one of those people with one leg seriously shorter than the other; then gaining and losing height at second intervals shouting,
“Which? Which? For Christ’s sake WHICH? The taxi! The taxi!”

What I love about this story is that he only took one shoe of each pair.
Inspired!
How fecking infuriating would it be to have just one Manolo or Jimmy Choo?
Or in my case, one Doc Martin and one Nike.
Brilliant!

Smiles And Yummers

This has cracked me up today and I’m seriously hoping that Prince William has to learn this as part of his RAF training.
In fact, I think it ought to be a compulsory part of it!
Makes you proud!

Sassy and I shared an extremely civil and ‘English’ afternoon tea.
But instead of the traditional biscuits we had the food of our tribal ancestors; salt beef, rye bread and dill pickles.
Most satisfactory.
I will definitely be getting another one on the go before this one is finished.

At last someone seems to have taken a bit of control and ‘sectioned’ Britney Spears.
Or whatever it is in America that means she has to stay in hospital.
That one has been a long time coming.
Although, I must admit to a smile when I saw her ankle, ‘cuffed’, to the stretcher.
It’ll be Miss Winehouse next, if they manage to get to her before the Grim Reaper.

The Norovirus is still doing its thing so I have bleached the kitchen to within an inch of its life.

Hair, Snow, Bacteria And Soul Food

Strange things are afoot with my hair.
Yesterday I awoke looking like Tin Tin and today I’ve had more of a Beatles thing going on.
Something seriously needs to be done.
I’m at what ATM would call ‘that funny stage’ age wise.
I’m not sure what to do with it any more; all it wants to do is stick up at peculiar angles.

Yesterday I was promised snow.
It’s bitterly cold but I have no snow and I’m pissed off.
It no longer bothers me that my politicians lie to me; I kind of expect it now.
But I won’t stand for it from my fecking weatherman.
Bastard!
As I have whinged about before, we NEVER get snow!

The Tame Pharmacist was bundled into the bathroom with anti-bacterial stuff as she walked through the door tonight.
A good plan as it turned out, she’d had ‘the unclean’ in the shop.
This hellish nastiness is going around.
Contagious in the extreme.
Housemate Claire and I had seen the news and weren’t enamoured of the prospect.
It has shut wards at both local hospitals.
Advice from TP if you get it, DO NOT leave house, you will be infectious until 48hrs after your symptoms stop and keep hydrated.
(She suggests ‘light coloured’ fluids as the vomiting IS projectile! Being bothered by such affairs, she worries about ‘staining’.)
It all sounds fine if you want to lose a bit of weight, but a tad hectic if we all got it at once.

My salt beef has finished it’s ‘cure’ stage and is now in the big pot for the next 3 hours.
I can’t wait to taste it but am trying not to ‘Harass’ it!

A New Year

The New Year celebrations have been a pissed up affair.

I have bruises in places I imagined couldn’t be bruised!
Backs of my hands, wrists, inside of my right knee, right buttock, right elbow and a goose egg on the back of my head.
I slipped and fell coming out of next door.
By the bruise pattern I’d argue it was a right sided fall!
Why I imagined that the front of their house would be any less treacherous than mine, I blame on Famous Grouse.

There was a dog at next door’s New Year celebration.
A Yorkie.
The kind of dog that grows from the armpit of an old lady.
Usually, with a fecking bow in it’s ‘hair’.
These kinds of dogs don’t have ‘Fur’.
This thing was no different.
Its owner took it to the dinner table with her.
I swear, she sat down with a plate full of food and the fucking dog in her lap.
It was, also, one of those dogs that snap at you. Trying to bite you all the time.
A Yapper type dog.
Being the only smoker I went to the garden and was asked to take the dog for a slash.
Not a problem.
Again, the thing tried to bite me.
People, being unaccompanied, I gave it a ‘backhander’.
In fact, that’s a lie.
I twatted it down the garden so hard it looked like a hairy bowling ball.
Unsurprisingly, it didn’t come near me for the rest of the night.
When it got near, and brave enough, to bite me, I was too quick and it bit its owner!
It was a beautiful moment.
I always ask what the ‘purpose’ of a breed is.
Greyhounds hunt, Collies round up your sheep, Jack Russell’s get rats and rabbits etc.
From what I can work out, this thing has no fecking purpose at all.
Other than sitting on a lap.

Happy New Year!