Injuries

The day started well.
A delivery from Amazon and then an instant dilemma.
They have sent two copies of the same book, The Romanov Prophesy by Steve Berry.
They haven’t charged me for it so my problem is, send it back or register it at Bookcrossing and ‘release’ it.

At last my Chilli seeds have sprouted.
I was starting to think about giving up on them but I’m so glad I didn’t.
As an experiment I planted a couple of seeds from a butternut squash we had a couple of weeks ago, amazingly they have come up.
Now I have to learn about their cultivation and see if they will grow ‘upwards’.
I’m sure it can be done.

This afternoon I got out a bottle I’d been saving for its unusual shape.
I had a ‘garden’ idea for it.
It had a collar on it, that half metal half lead like stuff round the neck
“A steak knife will go through that fecker like butter”, I thought and set about it.
It went through something all right.
The big fleshy bit below my thumb and out just under the webbed bit.
It bled like a Prince of Russia.
The knife was serrated so pulling it out removed what can only be described as ‘Innards’ or ‘Giblets’.
Somehow I got it all back in.
Disturbingly, when I looked for the knife I discovered that, in shock, I had returned it to the knife block!
I ‘phoned the Tame Pharmacist and explained the situation, adding that it being a Friday I didn’t fancy a trip to A&E.
Stitches were brought home and Rambo like repairs took place by the pond with me swinging from Tortuga Rum (Thanks Sassy!) and toking on Holland’s finest.
It aches like a bastard and there is some considerable swelling.
The shocker is this isn’t the first time I’ve needed stitching due to trying to remove this bit from a bottle.
The last time I hit a finger.
Ironically, I’ve been using a chisel for the last few days and have been waiting for just such an injury.

I saw this soon after and it did nothing to improve my mood.
They are such Wankers.
Come on! We want more of this despotic shit so more people leave and the Church HAS to change.
Especially seeing as there are now probably more breeding Pandas than there are priests.

I have seen Crisp-e today and in keeping with our usual ’High Brow’ conversation, Slug slime and wet toilet wipes were hot topics!

Chives And Roman Invasion

I Did have some Chive seeds to plant but absolutely no deferred gratification!

So, the Chives you see are a Waitrose special.

There is Spearmint in the wooden pot and Parsley in the terracotta one.

I also got rid of the Euphorbia today.

It was getting big and near to seeding.

Following Sassy's advice about the general Pikey nature of Euphorbia, it's gone.

It was an experiment. I'd never seen one full grown and was curious.

Now I have!

It has been replaced with a Canary Palm thing, which is fecking vicious.

I have sliced my hands on the leaves, spiteful bastard!

I love it.

It may not stay where it is, but for the moment it's cool.

I've also discovered that some of the snails I have been 'rehoming' are quite rare in my area and are protected throughout Europe.

Ooops!

Helix Pomatia.

These are the L'esgargot that French People like.

Eating something equipped with a 'Love Dart'?

The Dirty Bastards.

They were brought to Britain, two and a half thousand years ago by the Romans; allegedly.

They left my garden yesterday, via an over arm throw administered by me.

Not a Roman.

Recycling The Bank Holiday

The dreary start to the Bank Holiday meant that I was stoned before breakfast!
This led to Early Onset ‘Carpentry’.
Made worse when the day started to cheer up.
These are the legs to an old garden table. I unscrewed the caps on the bottom, cut a couple of them down a bit and sunk them in to the ground.
I’ve stuck a Strawberry in one and Oregano in the other.
The two either end are going to have chives in.
It’s an experiment!
The table top is now providing a sturdy, level base for the mini greenhouse thing.
I have also been doing unspeakable things to slugs and snails.
I tried drowning them in a bucket.
Not wholly successful or guilt free.
I’ve resorted to the old method of, “Throw Them As Far A Possible”.

My inner conspiracy theorist was tweaked this evening.
The interwebs went down, alleged Virgin updates.
My mobile phone wouldn’t work; allegedly the network was too busy.
But the TV worked, I have access to what ever “they” pipe in to my television.
Mmmmmm..
What are you hiding from me?

Choons And Chocolate

The complete and utter bollocks that is the Eurovision Song Contest was on this evening.
I gave it a huge body swerve.
The only highlight, if it can be called a highlight is hearing Wogan getting steadily more pissed and insulting.
So, with that in mind, my post is mainly music related.

This is my tune of the day. (“Hey! Ebo! Ebo Ebonettes!)
I was about 13 when this came out.
Thank Christ the skipping never took off over here; it was bad enough with ‘Fame’ and fecking leg-warmers.
You will probably hate yourself for tapping your foot to this but I bet you do!
Best pop use of Steel Drums, Ever!
This was a song sung when we were in the car as kids.
5 kids, work tools and a dog in the back of a Robin Reliant, (Ours looked like this but was blue!)
Step Mum and Dad in front.
With Dad moaning,
“Five of ‘em Joon!, Five of the feckers, and not a bastard one of ‘em can carry a fucking tune!”
He’d put up with it for a short time before his knuckles would whiten on the steering wheel and he would roar,
“Shut Up! You Fuckers! My ears will bleed. Joon, Stop Them!”
This would elicit raucous laughter from us!
Superb use of lyrics that you don’t have to pay for.

Another legacy from this time are Chas and Dave.
That song was a particular favourite.
When the car was stolen Dad was livid because he lost their cassette.
Never mentioned the car.
Although none of my siblings care to admit it, we all have their Greatest Hits in our collections.
It is just SO our Dad, and brings back great childhood memories!

This evening has being spent at Mr & Mrs Crisp-e’s.
It’s Mrs Crisp-e’s birthday celebration.
There are way too many Taurean /Gemini types in my circle!
Weirdly, I’m all right with the fellow Taurean’s, it’s the Gemini’s that are the worry!
ATM’s a Gemini.
They half frighten me, half freak me out and if we are using ‘Maury’ stats, they half incite me to violence!

Sweeties have been discussed this evening.
I believe sweeties, ‘Candy’, whatever you call it, is so very personal.
Revels.
Now, Revels are a mixture of all sorts of sweets.
Nastiness sold in a chocolate guise.
Nothing is recognisable other than the Minstrel.
Chocolate blobs.
Fruit hidden in chocolate.
My point was that the ‘Malteser’ used in the Revel mix was basically the ‘spastic malteser’.
The one that was slightly too oddly shaped to make it in to the actual Malteser packet.
The Moomim Malteser.
Now, this is how politically correct we have become.
Referring to a Malteser, A FUCKING SWEETIE, as a spastic stopped conversation dead and brought about gasps.
This was amongst people who have known me for years and know how inept I am!
Spastic is now a word I can’t use with very close friends.

How long will it take for words referring to my sexual preference to become as equally unacceptable?

Lot's Chavs

Anyone who knows me will know I’m not a ‘handbag’ person.
The polar opposite in fact.
So you can imagine my surprise when I received the pictured bag as a Secret Santa gift.
However, the sentiment on the bag is spot on!
It’s plastic and won’t degrade so I decided to put it to a ‘green’ use.
Now it is home to a Trailing Lobelia!

This afternoon I had an experience that I would count as being ‘Particularly Pompey’.
I’ll set the scene.
3.50pm at a busy traffic crossroads.
Him.. Skinny, tattooed, white teeshirt, blue tracksuit trousers and white trainers.
Heroin Chic.
Her.. Small, dumpy, clothes a size too small and looks twenty years older than she probably is.
Turkey Twizzler Chic.
Both reek of booze.
His name seemed to be, “Please Babe” and hers was “You Thick Shit”.
This had to be shouted right in her ear.

I just knew they would be going my way and tried to let them get ahead of me.
Unfortunately the constant stopping to scream, “You Thick Shit” was slowing them down and I started to catch up.
The trick in these situations is to make no eye contact, with either of them.
This is difficult because she, in particular, will be trying to catch your eye.
He will be looking at you to see if there is any kind of sympathy for her or judgement for him.
Either could end up with you being dragged in to the situation.

Here is where you adopt what I call ‘Deaf Man’s Stare”.
Your face has to be devoid of expression and you stare at a point 100 metres in front of them.
Pretending you can't hear a word.
Most importantly keep walking and don’t look back.
This is the most dangerous time.
He will be waiting for that glance over your shoulder.
This is when he is likely to strike with the,
“What! What are you fuckin’ lookin’ at? You fuckin’ want some?”
Remain strong, think of Lot and DO NOT look back!

Service Resumed

After almost a fortnight weed free. Normal service has resumed.
Thank G-d.
Having to use man made painkillers has left me in all sorts of trouble.
The main problem being they do bugger all for the pain and wrecks my internal workings.
Both make me extraordinarily grumpy and bad tempered.

This has cracked me up!
It really isn’t any wonder some of them preferred to remain anonymous.
I won’t be entering.
The one photo I have of myself is a testament to another age.
A time when photographing your children stark bollock naked seemed to be all the rage and didn’t get you arrested.
Family albums would suggest that until the age of three I was naked or partially clad most of the time.
I remember hating shoes and refusing to wear them, I don’t recall hating clothes.
Except dresses.
Well, that’s that one answered!

I know I’ve mentioned this to Sassy.
I’m convinced Avram Grant should be in a Scooby Doo cartoon being unmasked as the ‘baddy’.

Ho Hum.
Back to the weed!

May Twentieth

Almost everything today has conspired to piss me off.
Starting with Home Delivery Network.
Whoever they are.

I was sat in my front room and saw the delivery van pull up outside.
The driver got out and knocked a door across the road.
He then came and put a “Sorry you weren’t in, left parcel with neighbour” card through the door and ran, yes RAN back to his van.
I opened the door and shouted to him as he tried to drive away,
“Why didn’t you knock the door?”
He replied that he did and ‘you weren’t in’.
“I fucking obviously am! I watched you. You came nowhere near the house.”
He drove of at speed. Must have been because his pants were on fire.
Lying fucking wanker!

So I ‘phoned the company and complained.
I will ‘phone again tomorrow and complain and will keep doing so until I get some sort of ‘compensation’.
I should have checked out this site earlier in the day.
Then I would have been ready for him, on a multilingual level!
So, just to reiterated, Home Delivery Network are untrustworthy liars.

The other thing that has pissed me off today and has for quite some time is the total inability to buy a ripe Avocado.
If you want to eat anything Avocado related you have to plan your meal about 10 days in advance and buy frigging bananas to speed up the process.
I really object to having to pay an extra £1.25 for ripe ones.
Fecking huge rip off.
If they CAN supply ripe ones, why should I pay a premium for them?

May Nineteenth

On my way back from the shops this morning I was accosted by a bloke who started jabbering away to me in Polish.
I stood shaking my head saying, “English. I speak English”.
He took a step back with a look of shock on his face.
Then he called his friend over, who fortunately did speak English.
He explained the where looking for directions to a road. I told them where it was then asked why his friend had spoken Polish to me if he had an English speaker with him.
He told me that his friend was absolutely convinced I was Polish and still was!
“You look Polish! You look so familiar to us!”
He then went on to say that they hoped I wasn’t offended.
I told him that one of my Great Grandfather’s was Polish, which he translated to his friend.
More excited Polish.
“My friend says He knew it!”
A bizarre start to the day.

My little ‘bucket’ pond was getting some nasty, slimey green algae in it.
Crisp-e recommended buying a barley straw thing to go in there. Apparently it helps with the problem.
I had some straw that the tortoises used to sleep in, so I stuffed it in one of those net things that you get onions in and sank it in the pond.
It works a treat!
The water has cleared, the slimey shit has gone and I can see to the bottom.
There is a Newt down there!
Nice tip Crisp-e and thank you.

Spare a thought for poor old Kenny the cat.
He has sunburn!
The pink bits around his nose and lips are swollen and sore.
I have tried to get cream on him but the git licks it off.
Any tips or ideas will be gratefully received.

May Eighteenth

After yesterday’s festivities I managed to drag my arse from bed and went to Mass.
I always thought that the time before it actually started was for saying your prayers and getting your head in the right place.
I really object to this period being used for us to practise the bloody hymns.
Choose fucking hymns everyone knows to begin with you wankers.

There was a Food Festival on this weekend and I had a trundle down there at lunchtime.
It was superb!
There were loads of stalls and farmer’s market type things going on.
I’ve got myself a Hungarian Black Chilli plant which I can’t wait to see in fruit.
I was very tempted by a huge Paella pan but seeing as I don’t like the shitey stuff it would have been a bit of a waste of shekels.
Still, a nice looking pan though!
I got Crisp-e an excellent apron. He doesn’t like the one he has got; apparently it’s a bit Poncey!

This afternoon Sassy, The Tame Pharmacist and I went down to the Common to see the Pompey FA Cup winning side.
As it turned out we saw sweet FA and heard even less!
But it was great to be there and be part of it.
It only happens every 70 years!
The BBC news claims 200 000 people were out to see them.
There are only 200 000 people in the city so I kind of doubt their figures.

Why aren’t the United Nations doing anything about Burma?
I thought one of their purposes was to protect people from their governments?
It’s a fecking disgrace.
A sniff of oil and the Septics would be all over it like a rash.

May Seventeenth

Today I have been at my Dad’s celebrating his 60th birthday and my niece’s 13th, it was brilliant!
I met my 6 week old nephew, Ronnie, for the first time and he is an absolute cutie.
(That’s him with my Dad)
I even held him! Something I don’t usually do.
To me they are ‘boring’ until they can do something, like talk.
Surprisingly, for one who carries the Sleepy gene he actually DOES sleep.

We did a “This Is Your Life” thing for my Dad.
We had photos, music and a newspaper from the day he was born.
I think he liked it, he cried a lot which is usually a good sign!

On top of the joy of being with my family, Portsmouth won the FA Cup!
The city is on an absolute high.
Everyone out and about this evening is singing, smiling and dressed in blue.

Fantastic.

To my Cardiff supporter friend, Rhys... Sorry Mate.

Here is the Birthday Boy and Girl!

Happy Birthday to you both.

May Thirteenth

Kenneth the Cat has always been one on his own.
I’ve never encouraged any of the felines to be ‘Lap Cats’ but Kenny won’t even be picked up.
He just doesn’t like it. He bitches, scratches, growls and whines to get away.
As I let him jump from my arms this evening with a resounding,
“Be nice! I fecking feed you! Ungrateful fucker!”
Mr Next Door With The Kids said,
“Yeah, and stop bullying our cat.”
What do you say to that?
I wanted to respond,
‘And your point? Your poncey cat wants to butch himself up a bit. Bloody Poof! That’s what happens if you take a cat to France for several years. Ruins ‘em so it does!’
I didn’t.
I apologised! I fucking apologised for my cat!
A creature beyond training or ‘owning’.

Happy 21st to niece Sinead.

May Twelfth

‘Sex can become like a drug’
Really?
Thank Christ they got an expert on the subject to tell us!
Can somebody not shut this bloke up?
Really?

Nice to know a high profile Catholic has no problem using contraception or being open about it, except when staying with the Queen.
Strangely, she has no such shame about shagging there though!

As many of you know, I am a fan of Prince Phillip.
I think the bloke is great and it helps that he is almost an exact replica of my Grandfather!
Tonight there was the first part of a documentary about his life on TV.
Sir Trevor McDonald doing the honours, so plenty of opportunity for him to put his foot in it.
I like the bloke even more now and make no apologies for it.
They don’t make them like him anymore.

“The term ‘hero’ irritates me greatly. The opposite is true. I continue to have pangs of conscience that I did so little.”
Irena Sendler.
They don’t make them like her anymore.
A Hero.
May she rest in peace.

May Eleventh

Today is my birthday.
It’s an even numbered one so it has been celebrated!
Last night a leg of lamb was barbecued, friends came round and vast amounts were drunk.
Guitar was played in the garden and there was much laughter.
It was brilliant. A perfect night.
I received some belting presents.
Lots of books from Mad Matt, a garden ornament from Crisp-e, an inspired packet of smokes and can of Red Bull from Mrs A, a Hypotrochoid Art Set (Spirograph!) from Sassy, Booze, Booze, Booze from all and sundry, a book token and my absolute favourite, a retro Spurs shirt!
Heaven.
Thanks to all who came and celebrated with me, it couldn’t have been better.

Now I am just chilling out with a bottle of Pouilly-Fumé and a joint, which will be followed by a bottle of Sancerre and quite possibly, another joint!

Nature gave me a birthday present too!
The radishes I planted the other day are sprouting.
I’m delighted!

The Stench

After 15 packets of Nag Champa, several kilos of Soda Crystals, temper tantrums and doing everything I could think of with the sink without actually taking it apart; the general aroma of something decomposing in the house became to much and the ‘Professionals’ were contacted.

Sleepy Mansions is a Victorian building, built in what used to be a swamp.
Excellent planning.
Over the years shite has shifted, settled and caused the house to lean a little bit to the right.
(The left when you are leaving!)
Being my father’s daughter, I had long ago clocked that the drainage piping would have been ‘leaned’ on and given their age, possibly cracked.
So when British Gas offered a yearly insurance for drains, sewers and all that nastiness, without looking, I nearly had their arm off.
They were contacted and sent me a Dynorod ‘Man’.
I use the term Man loosely, as in one sentence he had a four octave range.
Last heard when the Big little brother was 12!

I’d accidentally discovered the problem an hour before he arrived but let him go through his routine.
This involved stating that he couldn’t smell anything.
(Given his job, I’m sure it’s a bonus!)
Flushing both toilets several times.
Turning on the kitchen tap.
Then he explained the problem was,
“Further Down”
How they would dig up my floor, cut out pieces of pipes, put a camera down and ascertain the problem.
He was making his way to the door when I suggested he look at the kitchen drain.

People, it was filth.
There was a ball of congealed fat the size of a Space Hopper.
“That’ll be your problem”
He sagely informed me.
“You fucking think?”
Was my reply.

It’s sorted.
At last, Sleepy Mansions smells as it should.
Cannabis reigns supreme!

Oh No! Who is giving this bloke advice?
Year 8?

May Eighth

With the help of a huge dollop of amphetamine I have got loads done today!
I’ve planted seeds for Radishes, Red Scallions, Parsley, Lemon Coriander and Celosia.
How fecking lush do they look?
I’ll be chuffed to bits if they come up.
I’ve seen Sassy, The Ex Bro in law, L and Crisp-e!

Cornelia Mayo is a woman after my own heart!
While on jury service for the trial of a woman accused of possessing weed, she was caught outside the court having a spliff during a break!
You’ve got to love her.

On a dope related note, the sick fucker part of me hopes this is true!
Really.

May Seventh

Last night I made the hideous mistake of thinking it would be a good idea to wash all the seat covers.
Chair, sofa, and cushion covers were all stripped from furniture and washed.
I realised my mistake and what a shitty job it was when it came to getting all the ‘guts’ back inside the covers.

The government have gone and reclassified cannabis as a class B drug, against all advice.
So the moment I heard it announced what changes went on in the joint I was smoking?
Did I suddenly become more susceptible to schizophrenia?
“Err on the side of caution”
My Arse!
Err on the side of fucking votes.

If I had a choice about any of this bollocks.
I’d definitely go for the horse!

Check out these Dutch tulip fields.
So many good and beautiful things come from Holland.

This will either make you pull a WTF face or make you start smiling immediately and exclaim, “Christ! I remember that!”

Cinco De Beltane

It has been an excellent Bank Holiday weekend culminating in last night’s Cinco de Beltane celebration with Housemates, Sassy and the Random One.
I made Mexican food for Cinco de Mayo and we lit up the garden with candles and a fire for Beltane.
Much Tequila and wine was drunk and the police spotter plane was repeatedly mooned.
The picture is slightly blurred, that would be due to me being more than slightly drunk.


While gardening I managed to dislocate my finger.
I wanted to let rip with a resounding, “FUUUUUUUUCK!” but it was really early so I kicked the shit out of the compost bin instead.
I relocated it but Housemates aren’t convinced the finger is actually straight anymore.
The garden is starting to look the business.
The pear, the apple and the plum trees all have fruit coming.
The tomato seedlings are doing well and the blackcurrant and the vine both have healthy shoots.

I’m seriously considering getting a pet chicken maybe two, I don‘t know if they need company.
I think it would be cool to have them mooching around the garden and if I get it from this place it’ll be good karma.
Tikka and Pathia are the front running names, although Pasanda has a nice ring to it.

I don’t know why I keep looking at this, but there is something hypnotic about it.

It pleases me that there are people like this out there!

This is my tune of the day.
Listen and I bet you have a little bit of a sing.
It is also an effective earworm, so expect to keep humming it!

May Third

This is the frog that has set up home in my mini pond!

She is called Annie.

I spent most of my day in the garden trying to work out what were weeds and what weren’t.
I’m pretty piss poor at recognising seedlings.
Tomatoes, Tobacco plants and Cannabis are all I can identify with 100% certainty.
Basically I just pull everything up until someone tells me otherwise.
Huge amounts were hacked, um, I mean, pruned from the Bay tree and the Rosemary bushes.
Neither seems to compost well and the bin men won’t take garden waste.

My inner pyromaniac combusted in my mind, waving matches and enticing me with firelighters.
So I decided to burn it and was immediately faced with the problem highlighted by Peter Kaye.
“You are never sure if it’s legal to have a bonfire in your garden”.
An attempt at lateral thinking and a large joint led me to the Barbeque.
Bay and Rosemary smell lovely when burning, helpfully masking the smell of the other crap I cremated.
A few snails were accidentally roasted, so I’m going to have to do something to restore the Karmic balance.
It was quite smokey and I smell a tad like charred Bouquet Garni.

There is also this plant/mutant thing I liberated from Sassy’s garden last summer.
Back then in was about 10 inches high.
Look at the Triffid fecker now!
The bits at the top seem to be the flowers and if you cut leaves off, it “bleeds” white, milky stuff.
I’m wondering if it is some kind of basic Aloe.
I love it though. It has great form.
Plus it just looks so prehistoric and basic.
Any help in identifying it would be greatly received.

Mr and Mrs Next Door With The Kids had a blazing row this afternoon.

I heard her shout,

"I could understand it if it was Manchester United or Liverpool but it's CARDIFF!"

Call me psychic, but I feel it in my water that Mr Next Door WTK, will not be going to the FA Cup Final!

May First

I had a wonderful surprise this afternoon.
My ex brother in law was insistent that I go round at a certain time, not something he has done before.
I was worried that he might be having one of his ‘breaks with reality’, so shot round there.
Instead I saw the Niece and Nephew I haven’t seen in nearly six years.

They have grown up so much.
Obviously.
My niece is so like my sister it’s uncanny. To look at, her mannerisms, the way she speaks, everything.
But she’s still in there, the baby I saw born nineteen years ago next month.
My Loz.
The Nephew is gorgeous. Tall, handsome and frighteningly bright.
He is studying Accountancy, Economics, Business Studies and Critical Thinking at college.
They both have great senses of humour.
Very similar to mine and my sister’s.
We laughed a lot and it was so comfortable. No awkwardness or silences.
It has made my year!
I’ve missed them so much.
It took all my self control not to launch myself at them.
From seeing them every day from the moment they were born to nothing was a heartbreak I hope I never feel again.
It was a physical pain for a long time.
I got hugs and kisses when I left and I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling yet.

Today is local Election Day so I went and did my duty, especially as it’s International Workers Day.
I’m still missing the May Day Parade from Moscow.
Red flags, tanks and Goose Stepping. Ho Hum.
What is it with people not telling you how they voted?
I can remember asking my Grandfather and him reacting as if I’d broken some huge taboo.
I would also like to know who those people sitting outside are and why they want to look at my voting card?
Not that they ever get to see it.
When they ask they get my politest,
‘Can you bollocks!’

I’m hoping to Christ that the ‘Irish’ characters don’t stay too long in the new series of “Heroes”.
Piss poor accents I can just about cope with, but a brother with a Southern accent and the sister with a Northern one is just fecking appalling.

This is my tune of the day.