The 28th Of May 2009

After a grey start, the day became gorgeous and very blue.
I spent most of it in the garden.
Brussel Sprouts are now planted as are the turnips.
The beetroot is busting out all over the place, the carrots are coming up and I’ve learned about Bonemeal.

The Jammy Bastard Award goes to… Andrea Bocelli.
Has a bit of a warble at the Champions League Final last night, gets in for free and can see fuck ALL.

When a Canon Lawyer says, ‘…don’t trust a word they say’ while referring to religious orders, something is dreadfully wrong somewhere.

I love this idea!
As I dropped mine the other day and fucked up the lens, it’s on its way to looking pretty crappy.


This is what a False Widow looks like. There is one in nearly every crack and gap in the garden walls here at The Mansions.
There are countries I refuse to visit because of the deadly, bitey wildlife they have, so the fuckers have come to me.
Bastards.

Defrosting And Deconstructing

The bastard, whoreson of a freezer defrosted its sorry self.

It only happens if the door is left open but I can’t point the finger at anyone, so I’ve had to get creative on the cooking front.

I know this sounds a bit funky but it tasted lovely.

2 Onions

Bit of Ginger (Finger sized)

Garlic

3-4 tsp Curry Powder

1 tsp Ground Cumin

¼ tsp Cinnamon

2 tbsp Plain Flour

3 tbsp Tomato Puree

Finely chopped Red Chilli

Big Tub of Natural/Greek Yogurt

1 ½ pints Chicken Stock (defrosted)

Apple Sauce (defrosted)

Peas (defrosted)

Chicken Breasts (defrosted)

Naan Bread (defrosted)

Salt & Pepper

Fry onions until soft.

Add the ginger and the garlic, after a minute or so throw in the seasoning, spices and chilli. Mix through and take the pan off the heat.

Stir in flour, tomato puree and half the yogurt.

Blend together and put back on heat.

Pour in stock and the apple sauce.

Bring to the boil and reduce. Cook for half hour or so.

Chop up chicken and bung in with the peas for 15-20 more minutes.

Stir in the rest of the yogurt at the end.

Then go and find yourself an Army to feed.

Very pleased with myself so I am!

Today I learned that you can grow Cranberries in hanging baskets; to sow Basil seeds in the pots with my established tomatoes and Oregano planted around the base of Peppers keeps the humidity in the soil.

The hardest lesson of the day was, YET AGAIN someone I considered family has betrayed my confidence.

It was like being punched in the guts.

Having learned from previous experience they are now outside of ‘the circle of trust’.

I relaxed. I let my guard down. Obviously that doesn’t work and changes have to be made.

A return to the old days I think.

Mmmm.

The Secret Night Life...

...Of the Sleepy Mansions garden.

Number One.

Number Two

Number Three.

Number Four disappeared up the back of the shed before I could take a photo.

Friday, Saturday And Sunday

Friday's utter cunt award goes to....

ME!

The neighbours behind have let the bottom of their garden grow wild.

So wild that it has blocked the alley to my gate, is growing into my garden and is robbing my sunlight.

I attacked it with shears.

Savagely attacked it; and now the bottom of my garden enjoys the sun again.

I piled the mound of cuttings outside their back gate and phoned the council to complain about the blocked alley.

What a cunt!

When I went out to enjoy my work I noticed that I’d cut through their washing line which had been attached to my pole!

Cuntage complete!

Then, the instant frigging Karma.

Sassy had come round to have a look at my efforts and as I quietly opened the back gate for a bit of gloating, I found myself face to face with the ‘Gloatee’.

Fuck!

She took it very well considering she had come home to find her laundry all over the ground.

Saturday’s complete twat award goes to……

ME!

The wooden garden furniture was starting to look a bit ropey so I thought I’d tart it up a bit.

Creosote works fine on the back gate, why wouldn’t it work on chairs?

It doesn’t because it takes fucking eons to dry.

Crisp-e came round and has dealt with the tortoise which has been ‘rotting’ down in the garden.

He kindly cleaned the skull to present to me and even suggested wearing it around my neck.

A line had to be drawn.

“You sick cunt! This was my PET for over 30 years!”

Much laughter.

I won’t tell you what he wanted to do to one of the cats because even he realised that it was very wrong!

Today I have been to my Dad’s for his birthday and plant/seedling exchange.

I took over a selection of Tomatoes, Aubergines, Squash and Kohl Rabi.

I’ve returned with Turnips and Brussel Sprouts, not quite as exotic but I’ll give them a go.

This is him demonstrating what you do when you decide your feet are, “too fuckin’ hot”.

The reason you would have buckets of water hanging around the garden?

1. It’s not good to put cold water on your plants.

2. Leaving the water out for a few days allows the fluoride and other crap that is put in it to ‘burn’ off.

May 21st 2009

It was a gorgeous day today and I spent most of it in the garden.
I’ve planted Beetroot, two types of Carrot and potted up the Courgettes.
For a while I’ve wondered why I don’t come across any baby frogs.
Where have all last years tadpoles gone? They can’t all have been predated.
This morning as I was slaughtering snails this fecker appeared.




I’m delighted with myself and the little ‘Bucket Pond’.
It means they do come back, if they can!

Is there any greater, or simpler pleasure than being the first one in a new jar of Marmite?
I don't think so.

This won't end well.

A Birthday

Today is my Dad's birthday.
He spent three hours at the hospital waiting to have the "Hepidural" in his back, only to be told his blood pressure was too high for it to be done.
It went stellar then.
I phoned him and we talked about our gardens.... Jesus, when did I get so fucking old?
I bitched about the biblical numbers of Greenfly at The Mansions to which he replied,
"They don't fuckin' come in 'ere babe!"
End of story.
He must just stand in his garden looking so menacing even Aphids know to give him a wide berth!

Happy Birthday you grumpy old fucker!

Blogger is still being a knob. I've had to download Safari to get on here.

Fondled, Fuckers And Faith or The 19th of May

I have had a lovely wet weekend in Wiltshire.

The hounds are their usual gorgeous selves.

Today I was fondled, YES, fondled in Somerfield.

A most disconcerting experience.

I was bent over, having a rummage through the loose Parsnips, when I felt a hand on my arse.

Not just my arse. Further, um, forward as well.

A place only my doctor and the available women of three Counties have been.

It has been a long time since I’ve moved so fast and I hit my head on a tray of mushrooms and my knee on the Carrots.

Now I was ready to punch someone only to be confronted by Miss H, the Octogenarian Lesbian.

I had absolutely NO idea how to react! I have had no training for this.

She laughed her head off and said I looked pale.

Fucking Pale! I really needed to sit down!

She waited for me and I carried her shopping home for her.

Her parting shot was that I had a ‘lovely backside’.

It’s going to take me some considerable time to get over that one.

I'm going to be honest here.

Am I the only one who is totally underwhelmed by the whole ‘MP’s and their expenses claims’ shit?

I EXPECT anybody at that level of politics to be corrupt in some way.

This made me ……

1.. 100% Liberal Quaker - I got chucked out of a Quaker meeting once!

2.. 99% Sikh - Love it!

3.. 98% Baha’i Faith - Happy with that.

4.. 96% Unitarian Universalism - What the fuck is that?

5.. 94% Orthodox Judaism - Unsurprising.

I’m only 43% Catholic so there is hope for me yet!

I also got filmed by the Google Maps car along Rue Albert today.

If I look pale, you’ll know why.

It has been a fucking nightmare trying to post this blog.

I don't need that.

If it is as difficult tomorrow, count this as my last post!

Blogger You Cunt....

.... Why will you no longer allow me to cut and paste to here?
I write in Word, then copy.

Fuck me about any more and I'm off.

8 hours to put it right or no more blogs from me.

This, That And Crabs

This is *Rebecca Walker, daughter of Alice Walker and today she has mostly been the object of my more lustful thoughts.
Apart from the ten minutes of Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine mid afternoon.
I was almost tempted in to some light self abuse but sublimated by slaughtering slugs and snails the rain brought out instead.

This cracked me up today; it was the Big little brother’s MSN tagline.
‘I went on a spiritual journey and all I got was this lousy Ultimate Truth.’

This is the tune that has mostly been bouncing around my head today.

While discussing STD’s it dawned on me that you don’t hear about people catching Crabs anymore.
Where have they gone?
The Tame Pharmacist can’t remember the last time she was asked for a ‘treatment’.
When I was at school they were all the rage, as it were.
My mate Vicki had them at least twice.
AIDS came along and everything changed, for a little while at least.

Check it out! I made my own Chapatis today. Amazingly, they actually tasted like the real thing.

*The pic was shamelessly robbed from afterellen.com!

The Birthday

My birthday was most enjoyable.

Thank you, one and all.
I don’t celebrate the odd numbered ones, which this one was, but I had a good day nonetheless.
I also got some cracking gifts!
A five times distilled Vodka called ‘Snow Queen’ from Kazakhstan, a lightweight tripod for my camera, a sooper dooper new mouse for the laptop, Amazon vouchers (for books, not mono-breasted women), gardening books and a selection of weird and wonderful seeds, including ‘striped’ tomatoes and Kohl Rabi, whatever the fuck that might be! Cheers Crisp-e!
Housemate Claire cooked Moroccan Chicken and bought me jam and chutney JUST because of the brand name.
She knows me too well.

Why is it weird to drink out of a cup with someone else’s name on?

Or is it just me?
A cup is a cup after all.
I can’t do it though, it feels ‘wrong’.

This picture makes me feel physically sick.
My stomach just flips.
My birthday wish for him to be assassinated failed to come true.
Ho Hum.
At least he brought his own fucking hat.

The Day Before...

... My birthday. In pictures.

I decided to wear something comfortable.
Unfortunately, I didn't get up in time for Mass.

The beef was so tender it just fell off the bone.

This sums up where it went from there.
Wine, Weed and Jaffa Cakes!

Saturday

This is my dinner for tomorrow. Rib of Beef slow cooked for nine hours in Red Wine, Peppercorns and Thyme

To me, it doesn't get more English or Yummy than that!

The Sassy one sent me this. It has to be shared!
I’m loving this bloke!

When I look at his fridge I'm reminded just how far along the Autistic Spectrum I spend my time.

No fridge door opening should elicit feelings of a spiritual nature!

Headache On Friday

I didn’t go to Tai Chi last night.
A headache that had been hanging around at the back of my eyes for a few days really kicked in.
I am very grumpy as a result.
It’s still there and I don’t know what to take for it, without causing serious damage to my liver.

His Nazi-ness is in the Middle East.
A dangerous place.
Fingers crossed.
Then there is Father Cutie.
Father fucking Cutie? Are you sure?

Wednesday Whine

‘That Prick Peston’, as Robert Peston is known in The Mansions, reached new levels of queendom on Radio 4’s news this evening.
His delivery has gone all Russell Grant.
Hearing your horoscope like that is bad enough; but the depressing slide into economic ruination?
Fuck off! You complete Knob!

I was totally underwhelmed by Barcalona this evening.
They only had to score once.
Then as I was typing this…. They fucking well did! In the 92nd minute!
I have screamed myself hoarse.

This story illustrates, perfectly, one of the reasons visiting Australia has never appealed to me very much.
Falls well in to the realms of, ‘Fuck that for a laugh!’

Oh well, Tai fucking Chi tomorrow.

Sliding Into Tuesday

I have bitched about Housemate Pat’s cooking habits before.
At length.
This morning I had to endure something that smelt like fishy poultry, which I can only imagine is Seagull, and something else that smelled like burnt hair.
Just to lighten my mood further, a sheen of grease had been left on the floor which led to my Tom Cruise ‘Risky Business’ slide straight past the fucking kettle and into the cupboards.
I caught my funny bone at such a painful angle; nothing was left to me other than the scream of,
“You Cunts!”
Restrained I felt; seeing as what I actually wanted to do was smash up the rice cooker thing with a lump hammer, in an act of pure, roaring rage.

Cousin Markus came round and I got to meet his daughter!
She is a little sweetie.
Sat on her Mum’s lap, as quiet as you like and watched United beat Arsenal.
Something I can never see too many times and good training for the child.

Somehow, during a moment of total weakness and obvious amnesia, I have been signed up and PAID for a fucking Tai Chi class!
How and when did that happen?

There is an ‘Awareness Week’ for everything now!
I have to admit to actually approving of this one.

Oversleeping And Proper Schools

This is what happens when you oversleep and end up at Mass a little bit late, on a windy morning.
G-d makes you look like Tin Tin for the rest of the day.
Not a serious punishment but as a kind of 'Oi! Don't fuck with me'... It can ruin your whole day!
I get it.
I'm not sure I'm happy about this but it HAS been worse!
AND when the fuck did I go grey?
You pricks (my friends!) were supposed to give me the heads up on that.
Bunch of cunts, the lot of you!


Today I’ve been at Mad Matt’s celebrating the mental fact that a local ‘Private’ School has taken him and his Geordie accent on.
The idea that ‘Posh’ kids will leave the school (that George Aligiah went to) with the exceptional use of the word “Champion” really appeals to me.
Brilliant!

Well Done mate!
It was this winning smile that sold it to those Christian Brother types!

Under The Weather

I feel fucking hideous. A brutal hangover and no recollection of the final part of last night.
I had to use my emergency ‘phone a friend’ to come and get me because there was no way I could walk.
The last drink of the evening must have been Smirnoff Ice because it was the first thing to come back up this morning.
I’ve got the shakes and haven’t even had a smoke, unheard of!
It’s a beautiful day and I should be outside but I can’t, it’s just way too bright.

Didn’t we already know this? I’m sure we knew this.