Anne Dickens | The Day After Yesterday

Gulp. Children's baby teeth falling out. It's minging

2012-02-08T21:31:00.000Z

Watching kids grow and blossom is a wonderful thing ........ until they start losing their teeth, that is. And then it all goes a bit wrong.

To put it into context, I am not exactly what you would describe as a squeamish person. As the daughter of a medical Doctor, I spent my youthful mornings eating strawberry jam on toast, and poring over his weekly medical magazines.

So I am pretty au fait with all the procedures ranging from removing in-growing toenails, to treating genital warts. Broken bones sticking out the skin? No problem. Severed digits? I could quite happily look at the pictures whilst eating a breadstick and tomato dip.

Oh yeh. There is pretty much nothing that fazes me. I am more de-sensitised than a 12 year old playing Grand Theft Auto.

That was until Izzy's baby teeth starting falling out.

The first one to go was the one at the bottom.

"Mama!" she shouted, "come and look at this!"

I ran over and noticed that she had her hand in her mouth.

"Look at what?" I asked perplexedly.

"This!" she hollered, and proceeded to twist her bottom tooth 90 degrees in it's socket. It took all my strength to prevent myself from recoiling and honking.

"OMG .... that's GREAT," I replied, after breathing in sharply, and stiffening up.

My state of nausea passed over Izzy's head, and luckily for me, her aformentioned tooth fell out later that evening ..... well away from my general vicinity.

Izzy was extremely chuffed; "it means I can get a visit from the tooth fairy, doesn't it?" she asked.

"Yes it does," I replied, "and the first thing you need to do is write a letter."

Vid.No.1 Izzy's letter to the Tooth Fairy (20 seconds)

So she did. And the "Tooth Fairy" visited whilst she was asleep and left her 50p.

There were a couple of complaints from Iz that the financial rewards were not keeping up with inflation, but other than that, she was a happy bunny and we had a done deal.

______________________________________

But the tooth-shedding did not stop there.

By far the most minging teeth to fall out are the top front ones. I now know this from experience.

This morning I was getting Izzy ready for school when she hollered: "Mama look at this!"

I turned to look at her, and she grinned; "look, my tooth is hanging on a thread," whilst wobbling it back and forth in a way which was (quite frankly) unnatural for teeth.

Jesus mary mother of god. Her tooth was literally hanging off a thread ... a thread of what I don't know. I only know that yet again, I felt sick.

Pic.No.1 Izzy lost her top front tooth (the one on the right)

I don't know what it is, but there is something about teeth that makes me squeamish. What's that all about then?

P.S. 'What makes you squeamish?' Come on, pray do tell ............................

P.P.S. I have a new video to add ....

Vid.No.2. This is Izzy describing losing her top front tooth

The Big Reveal - Gadget Crack

2012-02-06T20:49:00.003Z

Now as you already know, I have been doing a big reveal of three new gadgets that I acquired over the last couple of weeks. I've already unveiled the first two, but I still have a third gadget to present to you.

Upon pondering my three gadgets, I concluded that they could be categorised like drugs. So I assigned the following monikers: Dope was the ok gadget, Ketamine was the gadget that was starting to punch it's weight, and crack (today's gadget) was the one that blows your skids off.

[note to overseas readers. Skids = underwear].

To give you a bit of background as to why I bought my crack gadget - for some time now I have taken to working (not that I have a proper job yet or anything) in the kitchen. Mainly because it is nearer the kettle which is perfect for quick cups of tea, and also the fridge, which makes it easy to stuff my face whenever I like.

Anyway, I digress. I have always had a radio in the kitchen, but this particular one had turned a bit rubbish. The reception was a bit flaky, most CDs wouldn't play, and it was covered in paint after witnessing many a room redecoration.

After being constantly irritated by it's fuzzy reception, I decided that enough was enough, and that I was going to buy a new one. Whoooop Whoooooop! Gadget excitement coming up.

I made a list of the four key characteristics that I wanted: (1) a CD player, (2) iPhone Dock, (3) DAB radio; and (4) it must have awesome sound. That was it.

So I commenced my internet search with all the usual suspects ..... Bose, Bowers and Wilkins (their Zeppelin Air was sex in a plastic shell), Bang and Olufsen, Marantz, Quod etc. But none of the gits had every feature that I wanted.

I was despairing. In fact I was metaphorically crawling across an internet desert in search of water.

But as luck would have it, an Oasis appeared in the form of the Vita Audio website. Hurrah I was saved!

Like a blind man man abseiling, I had accidentally stumbled upon a gadget called a Vita Audio R4i, except that I didn't hurt myself as much.

And so without further ado, here is the big reveal ...........................

Pic.No.1 My new Vita Audio R4i with a graphite finish

Pic.No.2 Woof! Gadget - you look hot. And this one had DAB radio, a CD player AND an iPod dock. It was almost greedy

Pic.No.3 This is the remote control. When I first saw that it was round, I thought 'that's cooler than sitting on a bag of ice in a blizzard. With no skids on' (see what I did there?)

Pic.No.4 But a round remote did have it's drawbacks. Firstly you always have to orientate it so that the red beam points at the CD unit. And secondly it did not charge whilst it was sat in it's dock. That's a fundamental schoolboy error

.
I even did a review of the product for Amazon and you can read it here (opens in a new window).

Basically, despite the finnicky little mistakes, the sound was the sheep's swingers - rich, earthy bass, combined with crystal clear treble. And no distortion when you crank up the volume. Oh yeh - sex in a graphite case.

And as my current gadgets go, that is the last in the line (for the moment).

So dahlink, tell me what you are doing this week and what the weather is like .... mwahhhxx

Cold Weather Traumas

2012-02-02T20:31:00.001Z

I tell you what. It is bloody cold in Oxfordshire at the moment.

It was -4 Celsius this morning and for some unknown reason, Izzy decided that she wanted to lick the frost from the car. How daft is that? And I speak with authority because I once did the same thing and my tongue stuck to the ice on the passenger side.

I had to pant hot breath on it for five minutes before I was finally free. And of course, in the interim, the majority of my close neighbours walked by, regarding me with shock .......... yeh, like they have never done the same thing?

Anyway, I digress ..... back to today. I managed to rugby-tackle Izzy at the precise moment that her tongue was about to touch the ice on the car. As she lay under my prostrate figure on the driveway, 'Old lady Ivy' from across the road walked past.

"Morning!" she yelled breezily without displaying any curiosity as to why I was lying on top of my child in the driveway.

Living in the countryside is weird.

Pic.No.1 I took this picture on the way to Izzy's school. It is a icy, sub-zero chillscape

So dahlink, have you ever accidentally stuck your tongue to something with ice? Or sustained an 'ice' injury? Or got any comedy cold-weather stories?!

Pray do tell!

P.S. What the blazes is that fiery flash in the right hand side of the photograph? I didn't notice it until just now.

The Big Reveal - Gadget Ketamine (Parental Guidance)

2012-02-01T20:21:00.000Z

I was a right bloody tease the other day. I informed you that I had procured three new gadgets but only told you what one of them was. I'm evil like that. In fact, I should don a flimsy black cloak and shout 'RARR' at small children (because I know I would win the fight).

Not only that, I told you that I would reveal my gadgets like a drugs crescendo. I have already revealed the first gadget which was 'dope', and now it is time to reveal 'gadget ketamine' (with the finale - 'gadget crack' coming in a seperate post).

Before I continue - about ketamine - apparently if you come from the US or Canada, you are not that familiar with it. Basically it is a horse tranquilliser, but our cheeky-chappy UK teenagers snort it as a past-time because it gives them something 'to do'. And then they lie on the sofa for 7 hours staring at the wall. I should imagine that if ketamine was legal, the parents of teenagers would buy it in bulk. And maybe the parents of toddlers ....... although I am not sure if it is milk soluble.

Anyway, back to gadget ketamine ........................

Pic.No.1 Yesterday I posted this picture of my gadget straight after it had been delivered

Pic.No.2 I opened the package, shaking like shitting dog, and pulled the contents onto the table ..... but what was my new gadget?

Pic.No.3 A bloody iPhone 4S - that's what. WOOF! How much better is that than a microwave? I nearly honked

Pic.No.4 I ripped all the cellophane off and slowly opened the box. It was the equivalent of me becoming a nun and nappy-changing a heavenly cherub but without the wings getting in the way

Pic.No.5 The first thing I noticed was that the iPhone 4S didn't appear to be a third slimmer than my old 3GS iPhone (as per Apple claims), so I decided to investigate. I put them side-by-side and hell yeh, it was true. The curved back and edges of the 3GS were deceptive. They are bloody clever those Apple chaps - at least they were until Jobbsy got planted

Pic.No.6 It was remarkably easy to set-up too. All I had to do was press 'restore back-up' in iTunes, and all the settings and crap from my old phone were transferred to my new one. Huzzar! I quickly checked that 'Scramble' and 'Mahjong' worked, and I was a happy chappy

Pic.No.7 No blog would be complete without me showing you the new iPhone in action ... everybody come and look at me!

Pic.No.8 In case you were wondering what the iPhone 4S looks like in the dark, I have included a picture for you

Pic.No.9 In case you were wondering whether or not a dog can balance an iPhone 4S on it's nose in the dark ...... they can (*)

Now I know that you are probably thinking that I am a bit behind the curve (bullshit-bingo) here, given that the iPhone 4S was released last year. But there was a good reason; I was tied into a contract with my old 3GS phone, and it only ended last December. Hence the delay in me acquiring my new phone.

P.S. So how cold are you this week? And what are you doing to keep warm dahlink - I need tips because my feet are freezing. It's -5 celcius this week.

* Ok, I have to 'fess up. The iPhone 4S was never balanced on NG's nose. It was a total anomaly picture ....... I was taking photos of NG when I accidentally knocked the phone off the table with my elbow. Bizarrely, the shutter closed at the exact same time the iPhone was in flight (without touching NG). How cool?!!

Let me introduce - the 'dope' of all gadgets

2012-01-30T20:43:00.000Z

The last two weeks have been gadget-tastic mate. Literally three of the bundles of joy have passed through my sweaty palms. In fact thinking about the order they arrived, it was a bit of a gadget crescendo. In metaphorical terms they were dope, ketamine (or whatever that drug is that makes dobbin's go to sleep) and crack.

So without further ado, let me introduce you to the dope of my new gadgets .......

Pic.No.1 First attempt to capture my new gadget on film

Pic.No.2 In the second attempt I use the spaghetti jar as a foil (that's artistic that is)

Pic.No.3 Look I managed to get a bit of pan in this photograph

As if it wasn't entirely bloody obvious, my new gadget is of course .......dah dah .....a microwave (I can hear all the bloke readers tutting with disgust as I write and shouting 'shit gadget').

Fair enough - given that I avoid the desolate wasteland at the back of my house (the kitchen) wherever possible - you may be slightly taken aback by my choice of gadget.

So let me explain. When I was in my early twenties, I dated a bohemian foodie guy (who also won 'young musician of the year' when he was 13 - by playing the cello).

I distinctly remember him standing in the kitchen, passionately gesticulating about real food, and extolling the virtues of 'real cooking methods'.

"Cooking with those new fangled microwaves," he shouted at me, "is the equivalent of cooking with a miniature nuclear power plant."

I looked at him, wide-eyed and horrified.

He continued with gravity, "if those things ever leak, or if you turn them on with the door open, the radioactive rays can cause you serious harm," he nodded.

And so for 17 years, I steered clear of microwave ovens like they were the plague. Until one day last week when a chum visited and wanted to borrow my microwave to heat up her baby's bottle.

"I haven't got a microwave," I said.

"Bloody hell, it's like Victorian times round here," chum said, before adding, "why haven't you got one?"

"So I don't get radioactive poisoning," I said.

"I think you might be majorly confusing radioactivity with micro-waves," she pointed out.

Ah. With hindsight - how embarrassingly stupid was that?

So without further ado, I went out and purchased the first microwave that I ever owned. And because I am so used to traditional cooking, at the moment I only use it to heat up my cold cups of tea, which is pretty minging if you think about it. But I don't know what else to use it for.

One other perplexing feature of my new microwave is the mirrored door. It's almost like having a mirror on your bedroom ceiling, except that you feel a desire to parade your chicken wrapped in parma ham around instead.

Anyway, enough of that microwave gadget ....... here is a taster of the next gadget to come. It was delivered by courier today ........

Pic.No.4 This is the courier parcel containing my next gadget

But because I am a tease I am not going to spill a word until my next blog post AR HAR HAR HAR HAR (that was an evil laugh, not me vomiting or anything).

So dahlink .... what's new? I need an update ;-)

I bloody hate Sainsburys supermarket

2012-01-28T22:14:00.001Z

Greetings blog chum.

You will be pleased to hear that I mainly did two things today. Firstly I took Naughty George on a long walk, and then I did my weekly shopping. Obviously the first activity was enjoyable, but the second was always going to be a chore because I HATE any form of shopping (with the exception of cars and gadgets).

And to make matters worse, today I did my shopping at the Sainsbury's Supermarket in Oxford (Heyford Hill area).

Under normal circumstances, I would never visit Sainsbury's because their customer service is total pants.

But I make an exception to brazen it out bi-weekly, simply because they have a load of immigrant Polish chaps working in the car park who will clean your car with their tongues, and only charge 50p.

Pic.No.1 This is my local Sainsbury's store at Heyford Hill in Oxford

Back to the supermarket - I was in the store for an hour today and spent £120.14. And because I am kinder than Mild Green Fairy Liquid, here are a few of the more notable customer service incidences that I encountered during my visit ..........

I couldn't find any veal. So I asked a spotty employee who couldn't have been more than ten years old.

"I think it's over there," he said pointing vaguely at a location over my shoulder.

"Could you show me please?" I asked, getting a definite snot on.

The pimpled youth walked over to a random shelf and looked around a bit (in a none purposeful manner) before concluding, "sorry we don't do veal."

"Do you have a butcher's counter I can try?" I asked in an exasperated fashion.

"Down there," pimply youth said vaguely pointing towards the end of the aisle.

Pic.No.2. This is the inside of Sainsbury's. I hate this store

I arrived, and waited at the butcher's counter for 5 minutes, whilst the "butcher" (I use that term loosely) pissed around sharpening a knife. He finally put it away and turned to me, saying "yes?"

"Do you sell veal?" I asked.

"What?" he replied.

"Don't you mean pardon? I am looking to buy some veal. You know, the meat from a baby cow."

"Never heard of it," the butcher said shaking his head. If he was a butcher, I'm Cindy Crawford.

What can you say? A butcher who has never heard of veal?! That's Sainsbury's for you. So I gave up on the veal and continued my shop. This time I needed Fennel and Pak Choi (yep, I am going through a 'eat weird shit' stage). I spent 20 minutes hunting around the vegetable aisles and couldn't find them because the layout in Sainsbury's is rubbish.

Eventually I resorted to interrupting two employees who were having a good gossip.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where I can find fennel and pak choi?" I asked.

I was slightly taken aback by the fact that they both looked pissed off at being interrupted. Stroppy guy no.1 just looked at the floor. At least guy no. 2 had the decency to make eye contact before saying, "you need to go to the next aisle along, second shelf down," before turning his back on me and continuing his conversation.

He didn't physically show me the way - oh no. I had to use his general instructions in order to find what I needed. Which added another 10 minutes onto my supermarket trip. Oh yeh, at this point, I was properly hating everything Sainsbury's.

But I tried to be philosophical about it - I had got most of what was on my list, and all I needed to do was pay.

But yet again, Sainsbury's made the process as painful as watching an episode of Jersey Shore.

The bloody bastards had skimped on the checkout staff, so there were HUGE queues of people spilling into the aisles from all of the operational tills.

Pic.No.3 These are random people ahead of me in the queue. I had been waiting for TWENTY minutes to pay for my stuff

To put it into perspective, I had to queue for 20 minutes (behind five FIVE other heaving trolleys) before I could process my goods (despite the fact that there were loads of un-manned check-out lanes).

By the time I finally left the bloody supermarket, I had an urge to shout 'BASTARDS' out of my car window. But that would have only given me a temporary release.

When I got home, I decided to employ a more scientific approach to the company - I researched their share values ....... and crikey o'reilly, it seems like I am not the only one who thinks that Sainsbury's is rubbish.

Pic.No.3 Sainsbury's shares have plummeted in value over the last two years, probably caused by the fact that their customers can't find veal or fennel. Or get customer service

But hey, that's why blogging is so bloody ace .... you don't have to suffer in silence.

Just imagine - a supermarket gives you crap service and one blog post later, thousands of people read about it ..... and there is nothing they can do to stop you. Except ..... well...... thinking about it, if Sainsburys offered me a crate of Bolly, I would immediately delete this post.

Damn I am easily bought - but it's something I am working on.

So dahlink ..... it's your turn ...... you need to name your favourite supermarkets, and shame the worst. Let's have some fun ;-)

P.S. I think it is just as important to name the good as the bad. How totally old-fashioned am I?

I met this secret squirrel person during the holidays ....

2012-01-24T19:16:00.001Z

In my last post, I alluded to a chum that I met up with during the Christmas holidays. But because I am evil like Fu Manchu the yellow peril, I teased you and didn't say who it was. So today is the big reveal .......

Oh yes, I met up with my chum, Clare (and not to forget her husband, Jody who has also braved the UK winter).

You know who Clare is - blonde, gobby, cooks ~~good~~ great food, hates ironing (i.e. always gets me to do hers), and likes shouting if I am too laissez faire about getting to the airport on time. And she has such long nails on her hands that she types all goofy. And randomly, she has (and always has had), a propensity to fall over a lot. I am forever scooping her up off pavements. She falls over that often that she doesn't get embarrassed about it any more.

"Hang on a cotton-pickin' minute, I thought Clare lived in bloody Florida," I hear you cry.

She does indeed live in Florida, but luckily for me, she flew to the the UK for a week over the Christmas period. And we had arranged for me and Izzy to drive down to her parents' house in Worcestershire, so that we could spend the day together.

Unfortunately, I arrived a bit late (2 hours actually) because I had accidentally set my Sat-Nav to 'shortest' route, instead of 'quickest'. So most of my 91.2 mile journey consisted of single-track lanes through the Cotswolds.

It was a bit annoying to say the least, and when I telephoned Clare to explain what had happened, she exclaimed, "jeez, why are you such a total joey, even when it comes to the simplest of tasks?" It might be me, but I suspected that there was a bit of a dig hidden in that statement.

Anyway, because I am kinder than a leper with a begging bowl (except that I don't have any digits hanging off), I have got some photographs for you .............................

Pic.No.3 It's Clare my chum. I met her at her parent's house in Hallow, Worcestershire. It was weird seeing her out of Florida and wearing warm clothing

When I finally arrived in Hallow and knocked upon the front door of Clare's parent's house, I was greeted by everyone shouting "the Northerner is here."

As the front door opened to reveal Clare and her family, I burst in and did a couple of victory laps around the hallway, before handing a beautifully potted Poinsettia plant to the lady of the house (that'll be Sue - Clare's mum).

Now, I don't know how I managed it, but during the victory laps, I had managed to detach the Poinsettia flowers from their roots. So when I presented the plant to Sue, the cellophane in which the plant was wrapped, just creaked and bent forwards, depositing the stalks and flowers at Sue's feet ...... and leaving me just holding the residual pot like a dick.

"Do you want the pot as well?" I asked her, handing it over.

Mean while, Clare, Jody (Clare's husband), and Simon (Clare's brother) sympathetically supported my predicament by laughing their bloody heads off, whilst Clare's mother and father just regarded me in a bemused fashion.

Once she had recovered, Clare rescued the situation by turning to me and asking, "lunch out dahlink?"

And so back to our photographs ..................

Pic.No.4 We decided to have lunch at Clare's local pub, 'The Crown Inn' in a village called Hallow. Clare had told me about their tasty Christmas lunches and I was really looking forward to it. Imagine my anguish when the waitress said that all Christms lunch's had to be pre-ordered.

I was mad. Never before had it been necessary to telephone a restaurant to pre-order something that was on the menu. So I made do with steak pie instead, but because I was psyched up for turkey and trimmings, I was biased against it.

Pic.No.5 Izzy had taken her Shamu whale to the pub. Because you never know when a killer whale might come in handy

Pic.No.6 The inside of The Crown Inn, Hallow, Worcestershire. This is the interior of a typical English pub

Pic.No.7 Clare bought us some wine because she is a bad influence, and then she did a toast, "here's to 20 years of friendship," she said. I thought she was belming, but yep, we met at University in 1991. We were two of four girls on an engineering course with 180 blokes. It was marvellous, especially as the other two girls had the nicknames, 'Goat' and 'Pan Face'. I don't like this picture because I look a bit like a burns' victim

Pic.No.8 After lunch, we headed into the ancient town of Worcester and parked in a car-park next to Worcester cathedral. It was built between 1084 and 1504. Bloody hell, I could build the thing quicker than that using a knife and fork

Pic.No.9 After the cathedral we headed to Friar Street which is a street full of Tudor (1500's ) buildings and shops

Pic.No.10 Some of the tudor buildings were extremely wonky

Pic.No.11 Whilst we were on Friar Street, Clare said she wanted to pop in a see her friend, Anja Potze, who owned a jewellery shop on the street

Pic.No.12 When we entered the shop, this lovely person came up to me and said, "I know you, I read your blog." Bloody hell! How weird was that? She was called Sue. And Izzy bizarrely and suddenly went all quiet and shy and just stared around with unblinking big eyes a bit like a lizard

Pic.No.13 It's always fab meeting up with new bloggy chums, so I promised to include her picture in a post. As well as the picture above, here we have (from left); Clare, Anja Potze, and Sue

Guess what, Sue let me try on a diamond ring that they had in the shop and it was worth £23,000 (USD $35,889). Oh yes, Anja owns a posh jeweller's shop. But Clare said it made my fingers look like pork sausages. And can you believe it, Anja also had a pair of ear-rings on display which cost £69,000 (USD $107,669). If you have an urge to buy them for me, please do. I will happily be your bitch.

After spending the rest of the afternoon in Worcester eating cake and doing a bit of shopping, it was back to Clare's parents house for a some food.

Clare's mum is absolutely ace, and she had put on a right spread for us.

Pic.No.14 This is Clare and her brother Simon, vying for pole position at the buffet. They didn't realise that I was towards the rear, employing the Concentration of Effort Principle to beat them to the pizza slices

Pic.No.15 Izzy wasn't interested in the food at all because Clare and her husband Jody, had just handed her a Barbie doll as a Christmas present. So I ate all her pizza slices

Pic.No.16 This is Clare's brother again, and he is being watched by Izzy's killer whale who is randomly hanging over the top of the door. An interesting fact about Simon is that he is a ex-Olympic athlete. He competed in the Sydney olympics and when I watched it on TV, I saw Clare in the audience

All in all, it was a marvellous day with Clare, and I was sad when Izzy and I had to head off back to Oxford at 9.30pm. but don't worry, this time I managed to select ' fastest' route on my sat-nav so it only took 1 hour and 30 minutes.

And the very next day, Clare and Jody jetted off back to Florida. It was all over terribly quickly.

So dahlink - how is your week going? Today was bloody horrible here in Oxford. It rained all day, and the wind blew my umbrella inside out, so I had to do that geeky shaking thing to get it the right way round.

Oh my gosh! I destroyed another gadget

2012-01-21T17:31:00.001Z

You'll never bloody believe what happened to me over the Christmas holidays. Actually scrub that, not only are you likely to believe it, you probably even went so far as to expect it.

Yep, I managed to bloody break my lovely Canon Powershot S95 camera. Again.

I am to gadgets what Sarah Palin is to geography. Or what Brad Pitt is to razors.

I managed to kill it on New Year's Eve, but I am not entirely sure how because it was all a bit of a whirl (i.e. I was a bit squiffy). Suffice to say, one minute I was snapping away, and the next minute the bally thing was broken.

This is a record of the spoils the following day ..................

Pic.No.1 My Canon S95 lens was wonkier than the owner of a chocolate factory and the screen just said 'Lens Error' (perhaps unsurprisingly)

I was properly pissed off because I hadn't had it back long since the last repair. But needs must - I had to bite the bullet and send it off to the repair centre to get mended.

I had almost forgotten about it, until a delivery chap knocked on the door today and handed me a parcel.

"Oooh, what is it?" I asked the delivery man.

"I deliver the parcels. I don't send 'em," the miserable bastard replied.

So I signed his handheld computer thingy 'Mickey Mouse' to spite him, and ran back inside the house in anticipation. After tearing open the box, I found this ..................

Pic.No.2 My lovely jubbly repaired Canon Powershot S95. Even better, the work had been done under warranty so it was free

As a double bonus, after firing up my good-as-new camera, I rediscovered a whole load of photographs that I had taken during the Christmas period and had forgotten about. And these included a fabulous day that I spent in Worcester with a very good chum and pictures of my New Years Eve.

'Who the devil is your very good chum?' I hear you cry.

Well I am not going to tell you that today because I am tighter than a gnat's chuff and want to leave you in suspense. But I will say this - if you are a regular round these parts, you will definitely know who she is!

So how is your weekend going dahlink? What have you been up to?

Look at my new gadget! A solar powered radio - yes truly

2012-01-19T18:09:00.001Z

Today would have been a bog standard normal day .......

For example, I picked Izzy up from school as usual, and had the following conversation ...... as usual.

"What did you get up to today?" I asked after fastening her seatbelt.

"Can't remember," came the stock reply.

"It's probably not worth you going to school if you can't remember what you've done there," I pointed out.

"Cool, does that mean I don't have to go anymore?" she asked clapping her hands.

"Hell no. I need a good accountant and I've nominated you. So you'd better start remembering what goes on in the bloody place," I replied.

"Don't say 'bloody', it's swearing," Izzy pointed out indignantly. As I said, so far it was a bog standard normal day.

By this time we had arrived home.

And the reason why it wasn't a bog standard normal day, was immediately spotted by Izzy.......

"Mama, we've got a new gadget!" she hollered, after spotting a shiny black thing on the kitchen table.

Pic.No.1 Feast your eyes on my new Roberts DAB Solar Powered Radio

"I know we have - how cool is that?" I asked her, nodding with approval at her appreciation.

"What the heck is it?" she asked, ruining the moment somewhat.

"A bloody radio, isn't it obvious?" I asked, feeling a bit put out. Izzy just shrugged and took herself back to a pebble she had found on the way home from school, and which had kept her thoroughly entertained ever since.

____________________________

Kids these days don't know they're born. So instead dahlink, I am going to have to tell you about my new gadget. It's a Roberts SOLAR powered radio, and not only that, if there isn't enough ~~solar~~ sun, you can recharge the batteries manually using a charger. And it is a DAB radio.

If I liked camping, it would be perfect. But as it happens, I don't like living off the land and eating things that would make a billy goat puke, so I shall be using it in my bathroom. It means that I can listen to Radio 4 whilst having a shower in the morning - thus spicing up a pretty dull part of the day.

So far, I haven't had the radio long enough to assess how good it is with the whole solar charging thing. But it has perfomed well with regards to picking up loads of digital channels and being easy to operate.

For the first time in ages, I can't wait to have a shower tomorrow morning. I shall let you know how I get on.

Do you have any good gadgets that you can recommend for me? And how is your week going?

My dog is a complete git. Again

2012-01-17T22:08:00.001Z

Anyone who lives in a small village knows that everyone knows everyone else's business. And having moved here from London, it is a tricky thing to get your head round.

Which is exactly why you should don a tin hat and keep your head below the parapet if you want to avoid becoming the subject of gossipy-type scenarios.

For example, all I have to do is put on some nail-varnish, and the village is probably awash with rumours that I am on the prowl for someone's husband. It's probably in my head, but to be on the safe side, I keep my head down and play Angry Birds.

God knows what would happen if I ever did something radical ..... like wear a pair of shorts. I would probably be burnt at the stake for heresy .... or crimes against public decency (to be fair though, my legs have always been on the pale side, hence my nickname - Stilton - white with blue veins).

Anyway, I digress. Back to the people of the village. And in particular, my next door neighbours, who are a god-fearing, friendly German family.

They live a simple but happy life; raising livestock and collecting eggs from their chickens. Which is the dogs danglies because I always have a steady supply of fresh eggs (if you're a fan of the Atkins diet, you would have orgasms living in my house).

The reason I mentioned the German family will become clear in a few moments. But the story starts with me taking Naughty George out for some excercise. It was the same old, same old - me dragging him through the village with him woofing vacuously on the end of his leash.

We made our way through the village and then out into the open fields, when suddenly we stumbled across our German neighbours walking their Alsation / German Shepherd Dog. And as you know, Alsations are big bastard hard dogs, and the police use them to catch criminals.

And, as you would expect, when Naughty George clocked the Alsation, his ears pricked up and he ran towards the dog, which was at least three times the size of him. But instead of wagging his tail at the big dog, he inexplicably decided to bite the Alsation in the bloody face.

A god-almighty dog-fight ensued, with my God-fearing neighbours wailing and praying for mercy .... not for their dog (jeez, he was a powerhouse), but for my the undersized, 16 year old mongrel.

The Alsation managed to pin Naughty George down on his back and was posturing excitedly at his throat with bared gnashers. Luckily Naughty George managed to extricate himself, but instead of giving up, the stupid bastard launched another attack at the dog that could quite plainly kill him if it had a mind to. ARGH! What a total nutjob.

I kid you not - FIVE times my dog was pinned down by the Alsation, and five times he got free and launched another attack ...... until I saw a window of opportunity - NG had become so tired, that I managed to jump forward, grab his collar and drag him out of the melee.

Despite the fact that he was heaving for breath, he was still straining against his collar trying to re-start the scrap with the other dog. What a complete spaz.

Ok, so dog-fights happen. But hell, NG is 16. Most dogs are long dead before they reach that age. And if they're not, you would think that they would have realised that a penchant for fighting big dogs was never going to be a particularly pleasant way to while away an afternoon.

Pic.No.1 Naughty George didn't seem too perturbed about his dog fight

Pic.No.2 The 'what have I done now?' expression. My mutt is a git

So yeh, all in all it was a great day for blending into village life. Not.

The very next day I was walking Izzy to school, when I saw a lady who lives in the house opposite me.

"Oh my god," she said, after flagging me down excitedly, "I just heard that Naughty George broke into your neighbours' garden, gravely attacked their dog and then attempted to murder their chickens!"

I looked at her incredulously, but before I could say anything, she simply waved and went on her way.

As I stood there, disbelievingly rooted to the spot, someone else (who lived at the other side of the village) walked up to me; "is it true that Naughty George (note how everyone knows his name), has killed another dog, a herd of chickens and then tried to get at a sheep?"

What the?

"And don't forget the cow that he murdered," I added with a hint of sarcasm.

The woman gasped and scurried on her way.

Bloody nora, it appeared as though Naughty George had morphed into the Hound of the Baskervilles. In fact, he was that evil, that I have assigned him his own moniker - The Beast of Forest Hill. I tell you what though. That dog has got a lot to answer for - he certainly isn't a dog that you would want to own if you prefer a low profile.

So dahlink, enough of the bloody mutt - what are you up to this week? Have you experienced the cold snap today?

A trip to the Theature to see 'Scrooge'

2012-01-15T18:56:00.000Z

Yesterday I had BIG plans. I was going to hold a lunch for Izzy and two of her friends, and then take them to the theatre in Oxford to see 'Scrooge - the Musical'.

Pic.No.1 Tommy Steel was featuring as an EXCELLENT Scrooge

I wanted to have something fun to look forward to, because generally, once the Christmas holiday celebrations are over, three months of drab and dreary coldness stretches ahead, as interminable as an episode of Deal or No Deal. So, I decided to proactively fight the post-Christmas blues like a Gladiator with a pugil stick, standing on an unnecessarily large column located in a random position. Whilst wearing a pair of unfeasibly tight skids.

Hence my idea for a day out at the theatre.

______________________________________________

Blimey, I digress. Back to our day out. Izzy's two friends, whom I shall refer to as Children A and B (that's why my nickname is not Mrs Imagination) arrived simultaneously at midday, and for 5 minutes my kitchen was a flurry of parents, backpacks, Naughty George woofing vacuously, and children screaming.

Then the parents left and within seconds all three kids were within inches of my face.

"Have you got any chocolate?" one of them asked, breaking out into a waxy sweat.

"Or cake?" piped up a second, shaking in anticipation.

"Nope," I replied, "But I have cooked you a Spaghetti Carbonara for lunch, at Izzy's request."

I picked up each child in turn, and plonked them onto a dining chair next at the table.

Then I handed out the dishes of Spaghetti Carbonara to each sprog.

Child A took one look at her lunch and stated .... "I don't like it."

Child B, having clocked what Child A had said, added, "I don't like it either."

"You haven't even tried it," I stated incredulously, before giving in and feeding them some garlic bread that cost 37p instead. I also wondered if they would develop Beri Beri before I could get them home at the end of the day.

Izzy however, was forever the diplomat (nope, I don't know where she got it from either) ... she gave me a big grin, took a bite of her spaghetti, and said, "this is gorgeous Mama."

I might have believed her if it wasn't for the fact that I overheard Child A telling Child B - "if you don't look at it, and don't breathe through your nose, you can swallow it ok."

Needless to say, the luncheon process was rather protracted, and I shouted 'Huzzar' when at last it was time to leave for the Theatre.

____________________________________________

And so to the rest of the day .... here goes dahlink ............... meticulous Dickens planning in all it's glory ......

All three kids were shoehorned into the car, and for some bloody reason, once we were ready to go, the bastard thing inexplicably failed to start. I turned the key and nothing happened. I assumed that it needed a jump-start, so I phoned round some people who lived in the vicinity, but no one was close enough to come and help me out, and leave me with enough time to subsequently get to Oxford.

"You BERLUDDY car!" I shouted at it, waving my fists in the air and hopping about.

Izzy stuck her head out of the back window, "we are going to be late if we don't set off soon," she pointed out helpfully. I responded by shaking a fist in her general direction and yelling "Grrrrrrrrr."

Then I had a brainwave - I could ring a taxi. I phoned around a few local firms and it turned out that one of them had a car in my general area. We were saved! I got all the kids out the car, and before locking it up, I idly gave the ignition key a final try. And the bloody car only fired up. What the blazes was that all about?

"Quick, get back in the car again," I yelled at them, "we are REALLY late."

So, three screaming, wriggling kids were strapped into the car (again) whilst I telephoned the pissed off taxi driver to cancel the ride.

Without further ado, we screamed down the country lanes (always keeping to the speed limits) towards Oxford whilst I listened to Child A tell Izzy and Child B "Izzy, I don't think your mummy is sure what she is doing." Fair play.

And would you bloody believe it - we got to Oxford on time - just. I parked the car, and carefully herded the three exuberant six year old girls across town and into the 'Oxford Playhouse'.

Pic.No.1 The Oxford Playhouse Theatre

I looked at my watch - it was 2.25pm and the show was scheduled to start at 2.30pm. I heaved a sigh of relief and handed my tickets to the Usher. She regarded them miserably before glibly stating, "these tickets aren't valid."

"What do you mean they aren't valid?" I hollered, pointing at them in an exaggerated fashion, "they have got today's date and time on ....... why are you refusing us access?" I demanded, getting a bit hysterical.

"You are at the wrong theatre," she pointed out emotionlessly. This is 'The Playhouse' and you have got tickets for the 'New Theatre'.

Aaah! Sacre-Bloody-Bleu!

"Quick!" I shouted to the three Muskehounds, "holds hands, follow me, and RUN - FAST!" And so we sprinted at full pelt across the town centre, before finally arriving at the New Theatre with all the veins in my head throbbing, and three heaving kids behind me.

I handed my tickets to my second Usher of the day.

"The performance has already started," she stated.

"I know I'm late, but my car wouldn't start," I pleaded.

"And you took us to the wrong theatre," interjected one of the Muskehounds. I clamped a hand around her mouth and turned back to the Usher, "is there anything you can do? Maybe we can sneak in at the back to watch the show?"

The Usher must have spotted the blind panic in my eyes, beause she hesitantly nodded, and said "Follow me," whilst firing up her torch.

Pic.No.2. Finally, we arrived at The New Theatre Oxford

And she led us to some empty seats at the back of one of the sections. And how about this - They were actually better seats than I had paid for. Kerching! Don't you just love it when that happens?

Even better, the show was bloody brilliant, and was based (obviously) on the famous Charles Dickens' novel. I am not a big fan of musicals normally because most of them are like plays except that the dialogue is shouted to a tune. But Tommy Steel starred as Scrooge and he was excellent at both acting and singing. In fact, I nearly fell off my chair when I read in a subsquent review that he was 75 years old. And there was some cool magic tricks in the show to boot.

So all in all, after a few hiccups, it turned out to be rather a marvellous day.

How has your weekend been dahlink? Have you got up to anything exciting?

I am getting there ...... gradually ok?!

2012-01-10T22:14:00.001Z

I got a bollocking today I did. It was from a bloggy chum called SFCarr, and she wrote: "Hi Annie. You are obviously having such a "Happy New Year" that you can't be arsed to blog any more! Missing you. It's half way through January and you are still on Boxing Day. Pull yourself together woman! X"

Bloody right that is. I have been tardy with my blogging recently. It's not like I don't have anything to blog about either - you could sit me inside a ping pong ball (albeit a large one), and I could still find something to bang on about.

So, rather than pledging my usual new year's resolution (which is generally to acquire another vice), I am instead going to get back on top of my blogging. I hope. And I am going to start by finishing off what happened during the Christmas holidays ........... that'll give me a nice clean slate.

Well as you already know, I spent the first half of the holidays in Leeds with my chum Sarah, and then drove back to Oxford for my second Christmas on 28th (I am greedy like that).

My second Christmas is the one I spend with Izzy and Steve (and this year my cousin too), and it is an exact replica of the real one. It might sound a bit spazzy, but it means both Steve and I get to spend a Christmas day with the ginger peril.

So here goes dahlink ...... a wrap-up of the holidays.

The Second Christmas

I had put a lot of preparation into the second Christmas, including organising a video of Santa Claus for Izzy. A chum (Sarah) had told me about a really cool website called http://www.portablenorthpole.tv (it only works in December) where you input all the parameters of your child and it generates a personal message from Santa Claus. So I did that and showed it to Izzy on the night before Christmas day ........

Vid. No.1 Izzy's message from Santa Claus (4 mins 19 secs). I think it was fair to say it was a hit. And if you have kids, I highly recommend that you do the same for them next Christmas

Pic.No.1 This is Christmas morning and the money shot - the moment that Izzy discovered that Father Christmas had left her loads of presents. If you look carefully you can see the glittery footprints coming from the fireplace. Izzy took one look at them and said, "they're small feet, Santa must have been too fat to fit down the chimney so he sent an elf instead."

Izzy also indignantly pointed out (upon noticing the lack of snow); "It's supposed to snow at Christmas. If I had a pair of wings, I would fly up to God and kick him in the nuts for not sorting it." Beautiful innocent children.

Pic.No.2 Izzy might have delusions of grandeur - whenever she isn't wearing school uniform, she can been seen sporting, high heels, a balldress and crown

Pic.No.3 Izzy was rather happy with her booty, including this present. It was called 'Cookie My Playful Pup' and it was downright macabre. It responded to sound and touch, so although it normally remained motionless, when you walked past it, it registered your footprints and started barking manically. The number of times, I nearly crapped myself in shock .... let's just say I have never had such a strong urge to twat a toy with a spade - over and over again

Pic.No.4 Many of her presents seemed to have a Harry Potter theme this year. That JK Rowling must be bloody rolling in it

Pic.No.5 These are Izzy's Harry Potter glasses. That was the only time I saw her wearing them

Pic.No.6 Maybe because she saw me wearing them and thought 'blimey, I can't compete with that ... she is like a bleedin' clothes horse'

Pic.No.7 This is my cousin Jane and her gorgeous boy, Mitchell. They arrived just before lunch after hearing that it was free

Pic.No.8 This was us scoffing Christmas dinner. I told them to smile like Wallace and Grommet if they wanted more sherry. And as well as the prawn starter shown in the picture, we also had turkey and triple smoked ham. I am like bloody Delia Smith I am

Pic.No.9 Mitchell flashes me a big grin. I thought that I had a way with the boys, but it turned out that he wanted more sherry

And the day was completed by flopping on the sofa and watching that old classic 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks'. But two hours sitting in front of the TV and Jane and I got a bit restless. So we decided to test drive Izzy's new karaoke machine. Bloody great little machine that was - it came complete with mircrophone, songs, and amp (with echo function). My cousin Jane started off proceedings with her brilliant singing voice, which made me feel all confident because after all, we're related aren't we?

After listening to her plough her way through dittys such as 'Beautiful' by Christina Aguilera, and Susan Boyle's version of 'I dreamed a dream', I finally wrestled the microphone from her clammy hands and prepared for glory.

But things didn't quite work out as I had hoped. The singing genes obviously hadn't blessed the 'Dickens' side of the family, and I peaked out at 'Klingons on the Starboard Bow', which incidentally, is the tune I want playing at my funeral. Not that I am expecting it imminently or anything.

I knew I had peaked out because Steve and Jane simultaneously grimaced when I reached the high note of 'starboard'. "You're flatter than Kate Middleton's chest", Steve noted. So I immediately gave up singing because Steve is from Birmingham, meaning that he isn't that discerning anyway. Good job I am not easily offended.

So dahlink, how is new year panning out for you?

Boxing Day brings some interesting stuff with it

2012-01-06T19:36:00.000Z

Man alive, how behind am I? Blogging about Boxing Day on 6th January?

If I was a fascist dictator, I would have sentenced myself to four years hard labour for being so tardy, but because I'm not, I ate a beef, cheese and jalapeno sandwich instead (which I made myself). And whilst I was stuffing it down my neck, I resolved to buy some chilli sauce for a bit of extra 'zing'.

Oooh, but before I forget - back to Boxing Day. For those of you who do not live in the UK, Boxing Day in the UK refers to the day after Christmas, and it's name was derived from the tradition whereby wealthy people give their servant a box containing a present.

Obviously, because I spent Christmas and Boxing Day at Sarah's house in Leeds, we spent most of the morning dishing out gifts to our servants. Greedy little blighters they are these days; getting all complainy if you buy their gift from 'Pound Stretcher'. It's not like the olden days when they would have been happy with an orange.

Sacre bleu! Enough of our servants, what else did we do to keep ourselves entertained? Well, we decided to visit the city of York, that's what. It is one of the best places in the UK if you want to see tons of medieval architecture (the period between 400 - 1490 AD, as I discovered from Sarah).

So Sarah, Louise (her sister), and I jumped into my jalopy and duly headed for that noble city in the shire of York. And whilst en-route, we accidentally realised that York normally has fantastic Boxing Day sales in all the shops. Not that we cared - we were there for the architecture - not the high-heeled shoes .... obviously.

And because I am kinder than a Samaritan on a bonus scheme, I have got some pictures for you ........

Pic.No.1 This is a picture of 'The Shambles' in York. It is a proper surviving medeival street with most of the buildings being constructed between 1300 and 1400 AD. How impressive? They have lasted longer than an episode of 'The View'

Pic.No.2 The Shambles again - look how wonky the bloody buildings are. The name is derived from the Anglo-Saxon term Fleshammels, which means 'flesh shelves'. That's because the street was the home to all the butcher's in the city in medieval times

Pic.No.3 But the jewell in the crown of York, is the minster ..... here you get a glimpse of it at the end of another ancient street

Pic.No.4 And as you get nearer, it increases in size ...............

Pic.No.5 Until BAM! You end up right outside the main entrance to York Minster ... and man alive, men alive, is it awesome or what? It is so enormous that no more than a third of the building fits into each photograph

Pic.No.6 Even more amazing is the fact that the York Minster was built between 1291 and 1472 AD (it's older than the Bride of Wilderstein). And they had no scaffolding, no diggers, no cranes, no specialised tools, no concrete .... and most of all ..... no hi-vis vests. They were crazy sausages!

Pic.No.7 Who on earth dreamed up the concept of York Minster when everyone else in the land was wearing sackcloth and eating cabbage? It's gob-smacking

Pic.No.8 As we walked away from the Minster, we passed this building with a 'blue plaque' attached to it. Now just in case you don't know ...... buildings in the UK have a blue plaque assigned to them if they are of historical significance ...... so I went to investigate

Pic.No.9 How excellent is this? It was the birth place of Guy Fawkes in 1570 AD. If you aren't from England, Guy Fawkes is a chap who tried to blow-up the Houses of Parliament in 1605 (but failed). Because of that, 'Guy Fawkes' Night' is celebrated every 5th November in the UK, and fireworks are let off throughout the land

Pic.No.10 The day was ended with a large coffee in a Costa Coffee Shop. Mine was so big that it had two handles to help me drink it. Bloody glutton I am. And my hair had gone flat because of some weedy rain that had swept in

So dahlink, we need to spruce up Boxing Day because it is generally a bit hit and miss - what tradition should we introduce for Boxing Day to make it interesting every year? Go on ..... let's come up with some top ideas!!

Happy Christmas! Remember .... it was Jesus' birthday .... not yours

2011-12-29T20:22:00.000Z

Happy Christmas Dahlink! I hope that yours was peaceful and you got loads of expensive presents. I know that I am a little late and all, but I don't seem to have had any computer time in ages.

Anyway, I digress.

Christmas is normally quite a complicated affair - definitely because I am involved, and probably because I celebrate Christmas twice.

Not that I am greedy or anything (even though I am), but I celebrate my first Christmas on the 25th where I visit one of my best friends in Leeds (Sarah), and then I have my second Christmas with Izzy and her Dad at my house around the 28th.

It all works marvellously - Izzy's Dad and Grandparents get to spend quality time with her on the 25th whilst I am away partying my head off. And then, when Christmas is over and most people are facing an anti-climatic descent into murky nothingness and desperate despair, I have a whole, entire second Christmas on the 28th to look forward to ...... complete with turkey, presents, crackers ..... the whole shebang.

No flies on me ..... although you can see where they've been.

And because I am kinder than Mother Theresa, but with more sculpted eyebrows, I have got some pictures of my Christmas 'oop north'.

Pic.No.1 Before I set off, I loaded all my gifts into the boot ('trunk' if you are American) of my car. And I also threw in my wellies so that I could walk through emergency mud if the need arose (now there's a thought - do Americans / Canadians have wellington boots?)

What you need to understand before going up North, is that it is bloody cold up there. Everyone walks with a stoop because they have been battling the wind and sleet for so long. And apparently they feed their children coal and twigs, and dress them in sackcloth. It's quite like being in a real-life Lowry painting.

The journey didn't go well. After having a bit of a tussle with the Sat Nav in my new car, I eventually arrived in Leeds two hours late (the total journey took 5 hours instead of 3).

"You're always bloody late," said Sarah in a berating way as she opened the front door to me.

"It's my Sat Nav's fault," I said, "I'd accidentally set it to 'avoid motorways' [note to reader: no idea how I did that - even now], so I drove up on all the tiny roads."

"You are a berluddy div," Sarah exclaimed, before adding, "hurry up and get ready, we are off into Leeds city to meet some mates."

Welcome to Christmas Eve in Leeds .......... here we are in a big pub in the city .................

Pic.No. 2 The first thing we saw was lots of beer and stuff. After the initial shock we decided that it would be rude not to join in. This is a picture of Sarah's real ale

Pic.No. 3 Once the beer was flowing, I got my camera out and quickly realised that the chaps were a little camera shy. That is Louise on the right (Sarah's sister), with her friend Lisa on the left

Pic.No. 4 I tried to demonstrate that you don't have to be scared of the camera. So I pulled a 'Zoolander' pose and shouted 'everybody look at me!'.

Everyone looked at me ..... with a bemused expression on their face, so I pulled my backup trick out of the bag, and believe me, all the ladies love it.

"Hey chaps, if you want to take a good photograph every time, always put your hand under your chin to hide the sagging!" ...... before hastily adding ...."not that you are saggy."

The girls looked at each other like cavemen who had just killed their first zebra - nodding with mouths slightly agape. We weren't getting anywhere fast, so I decided to try out the 'chin technique' with Sarah .......

Pic.No.5 This is me and one of my bessie mates, Sarah. I don't know how she does it, but she has always been resolutely un-photogenic ...... but no, not here .... that's because she deployed the killer 'hand under the chin' trick

Pic.No.6 The rest of the northerners quickly saw the potential of the 'hand under the chin trick' and before I could say 'no underwear shots ladies', Louise had dived in front of the lens .... to try out my new technique. Not that she needs it, mind .... she is nearly 40 and looks about 12. And she has a sharp wit that makes me laugh my head off

Pic.No.7 And then at the end of the evening, we met these two chaps who firmly demonstrated that the phenomena of 'Christmas Jumpers' are totally the 2011 Christmas scene. And they were a good laugh to boot - the chaps, not the jumpers that is

So what a marvellous Christmas Eve that was, and we still had Christmas day to come ..... bravo!

Chrismas Day (25th December 2011)

Christmas morning arrived ....... the morning alarm sounded and I lifted my weary, but not hungover, head from the pilllow.

[Arrrrggghhhh, my kingdom for an extra hour in bed .... aw crap, that only happens in fairytales].

So I dragged myself out of bed, studiously avoided everyone, and headed straight into the shower.

Not being a morning person, for the first hour of every day I am like a slug with a personality by-pass. Actually, thinking about it, slugs don't have personalities, so that makes me more of an amoeba.

But luckily, after the initial blip, things started looking up because I was spending the day with Sarah's family - her mum Margaret (who calls herself 'my surrogate mum' awwwww), and Louise (her sister), and obviously with Sarah herself.

And here's what we got up to ....

Pic.No.8 That is the lovely Margaret on the left, with Louise on the right. We had Christmas lunch at a place called Haleys Hotel - in Headingly, Leeds

Pic.No.9 Despite the fact that Sarah was getting into the spirit of our Christmas lunch, she still cunningly remembered my 'hands under the chin' trick ..... you see, I am insidious but without the bad connotations .... what's the word for that?

Pic.No.10 My starter (entree if you are from across the pond) nom nom nom

Pic.No.11 My first presents were 'table presents' and here I am with my booty - a car demister and some hand cream

I have to say that our lunch was lovely and the service was great. Definitely a place to go back to for Christmas lunch. And because it was a carvery rather than table service, I was able to have 8 roast potatoes and more gravy than you could ever imagine feasible. I looked like a bloody weeble when I had finished.

After lunch, we went back to Sarah's mum's house, and it was at this point that I got a bit rubbish at taking pictures because I was too weak from overeating to pick up my camera.

But I can give you a summary of some of the marvellous booty that I accumulated ......

Pic.No.12 L'Occitaine hand cream which is very useful for keeping my hands soft after changing a head gasket or digging in mulch (into the ground not the head gasket). I also got some toffee to propel me along the road of replacing my amalgam fillings with composite resin. Bloody ace

Pic.No.13 Maragaret bought me this fantabulous snow shovel

As soon as I had opened the present, Margaret started apologising profusely; "Eh up, I am sorry love .... I bought this before you bought your big four-wheel-drive car thingy."

"No, you have it all wrong, the snow shovel is perfect," I exclaimed.

"But I thought that 4x4 cars were designed to be good in the snow?" asked Margaret perplexedly.

"Ah - mine might have been good in the snow if I hadn't have put low-profile sports alloys on it," I replied, "so now I desperately need a shovel if it snows."

Louise had witnessed the whole conversation, "So," she said, turning to face me, "you bought a car that was specially designed to handle adverse conditions, and then rendered it unable to cope with adverse conditions by putting sports tyres on it?"

"You got it!" I exclaimed, before adding; "but it wouldn't have looked as nice with the smaller alloys eh?"

Louise shook her head and adopted an now familiar expression that can only be translated as: 'nothing speaks wanker louder than a Ranger Rover.'

Anyway, nobody properly understands ..... uh hum...... cough ...... back to my booty ................

Pic.No.14 I got a new pair of pyjamas. I tell you now - James McAvoy is gonna be beating down my door

Pic.No.15 In case you were wondering, this is James McAvoy. He is the only idol I have. He has blue eyes that can strike a killer blow to men and women throughout the land alike

And finally, we have the grand finale of all my Christmas presents ...... a mug that Louise had made especially for me!

Pic.No.16 Aha, methinks Louise might have been taking the mick about my lack of common sense

Pic.No.17 And then on the other side was a picture of me trying to spear food with a twig in Shotover Park. Aw, man alive how I laughed .... that Louise is a loon bag

So all, in all, it was a bloody marvellous Christmas day. And without downloading all the pictures from my camera, I am not sure what happened next. I will found out, but in the meantime enjoy yourselves with this picture of 'Bear Grylls' that I bizarrely found on my computer desktop ..... I must have been going through another 'weird humour' phase.

So dahlink, let's embrace the spirit of Christmas! It is now your time to tell me what your favourite present was, and guess how much it was worth ....... bring it on!

The countdown to Christmas

2011-12-26T10:46:00.000Z

'Where in the blazes have you been?' I hear you cry, 'you don't call me, you don't send me flowers .....'

I know, I know. I have been utterly crap at blogging the last few weeks, but that is because the crazy red mist that is Christmas has descended upon me. One minute I was bumbling along quite happily, surviving on Pot Noodles, takeaway pizza, and marmite on toast, and then BOOM, Christmas arrived and everything turned to rat shit.

All of a sudden, you have to find time to do things for other people, like buy them food and presents, which is nowhere near as much fun as buying stuff for yourself.

Plus, I detest shopping, so that part of Christmas (and a part that increasing year on year) is a bit of a chore. However, after finishing the shopping for my friends, it became clear that I needed to tackle Izzy's presents. Luckly, she had written a letter to Santa to help me out. But it wasn't long before I realised that it looked nothing like the lists that I would write to Santa in my youth, for example ...........

1 Orange
1 Walnut
Some Marbles
A Wooden Spinning Top

Whereas Izzy's list contained bizarre things like ...................

Fur Real Cookie Pup
Harry Potter School
Light Up Zooble
Ice Cream Maker

Trying to figure out exactly what it was that she wanted, was like decipering bloody Latin. Luckily I had arranged to go shopping with Steve (we buy all her presents together - it's easier), so at least I had back up when it came to selecting the right items.

We had arranged to go to the store of doom - Toys R Us - most hideous place on the planet. Everything within its confines is made from garish plastic, and the staff have all been recruited from Apathetic R Us, and look slightly grubby.

And because I am kind, I have got some photographs for you .......

Pic.No.1 That's me shopping that is. Seeing me shopping is like encountering a Yeti

Pic.No.2 This is Steve ...... we were dazed and confused

Pic.No.3 And flailing around in the 'girls aisle' like an Octopus on a slab of concrete

Pic.No.3 But then we found a comedy toy - can you believe that people would actually buy their child plastic 'chicken nuggets and fries' for Christmas? So much for promoting healthy living

Pic.No.4 You will be pleased to hear that after several hours of scouring the shelves, we finally concluded that we had successfully acquired the items on Izzy's letter to Santa. Look you can see a princess dress in the trolley .... sssssshhhhh don't tell her what we have bought

Pic.No. 5 Then after a strenuous day of shopping, we decided to celebtate by picking Izzy up from her friends house and eating out at a new Turkish restaurant on the Cowley Road. It was called 'Oxford's Grill'

Pic.No.6 Look! It's me and Izzy looking natural in the Oxford's Grill

Pic.No. 7 Steve stuck a toothpick up his nose for comedy effect

Pic.No.8 And here is a picture of my meal - it was a lamb dish and it was super tasty

So all in all, it was a very successful day preparing for Christmas. How about you dahlink - did you hit the big day on top of all the preparations?

A Wintery Walk Through Oxfordshire - What Ho!

2011-12-15T21:18:00.002Z

I bloody love exploring I do. One of my favourite hobbies is driving somewhere I haven't been before, armed with an Ordnance Survey map and a compass that I don't know how to use (I just flap it about a bit until it points in the direction that looks the most interesting), and then I walk.

I usually do my exploring with Naughty George and Steve because they like it too, and in an average afternoon, we will normally cover between 8-9 miles.

To the untrained eye, you may liken us to Bear Grylls, but rest assured, no matter how far we venture into the Oxfordshire countryside, we are never more than three miles from a gastropub. So to date, I have never had to sleep in the carcass of a dead camel, drink my own urine, or bite into a raw fish that I caught with my bare hands.

Anyway, I digress. Today's exploration started from a village called Hampton Poyle, deep in the Oxfordshire countryside, and because I am kinder than Mother Theresa (but with a better skincare routine), I have got some pictures for you ....... enjoy dahlink ................

Pic.No.1 This is my car parked down a country lane in Hampton Poyle. Today was the first time that I had off-roaded it. Well not so much off-roaded, as driven up onto a small muddy kerb

Pic.No.2 After getting out of the car, we noticed that we were parked next to a church called St Mary the Virgin. The bloody thing was built 800 years ago in the 13th century. That's older than the bacon in my fridge

Pic.No.3 Then I found this interesting gravestone in the church-yard. This chap had been a Burmese prisoner of war before he snuffed it

Pic.No.4 After doing the dead people, we headed out over open countryside, and it didn't take long before we found some bizarre house ruins in a field

Pic.No.5 It turns out that the ruins were of an old Manor House situated in the village of Hampton Gay (yep the UK has the best village names). It was built in the 16th century and burnt down in 1887

Pic.No.6 This was REALLY interesting (click to enlarge). One of the villagers had put a sign up to inform everyone about Hampton Gay's history. Apparently it was the site of a huge train crash at the turn of the 20th century, and the householders dragged the victims into their houses to save them from the snow. And another interesting thing - there are only four families who live in the village

Pic.No.7 After Hampton Gay, we headed out to open fields ....... Look! It's me ..... everybody come and look at me ....... I am just about to harvest the 'stick crop'

Pic.No.8 Naughty George. Ten minutes before this photo was taken, I thought he was going to die. He tried to jump over a fence, got his leg caught in the wire, and landed heavily (3 foot drop), onto his face and shoulder. Bear in mind that he is 16 years old and the sound that he made was a gut-wrenching thud. I thought he would be horribly injured but he just got up, shook himself off, and carried on as normal. Awful

Pic.No.9 The Oxfordshire countryside is full of wildlife like dobbins

Pic.No.10 But then we stumbled across these furry-camelly-type-things-without-a-hump at Greenhill Leisure Park, Bletchingdon

Pic.No.11 They were very curious and kept inching forward ..................

Pic.No.12 And then I nearly wet myself when I posed for a photograph and turned round to find one of the camelly things not more than 30cms (16") from my face (Naughty George was not happy to be in close proximity with them)

Pic.No.13 And then the landscape of the walk changed drastically as we turned onto the banks of the River Cherwell

Pic.No.14 I found a bench on the river bank, and we sat and ate our lunch, watching the river gently winding by. The scenery was all brown, gold and green

Pic.No.15 This was a picture of a tree reflected in the river. What made it cool was that simultaneously, the sun was shining and the dark clouds were brewing. I managed to capture it before one eclisped the other

Pic.No.16 This is the juncture where the River Cherwell met Oxford canal. It was called Shipton Weir Lock and Turnover Bridge

Pic.No.17 Looky here! It's me on Turnover Bridge (out of interest, do Americans and Canadians have canals? I don't remember seeing any whilst I was there)

Pic.No.18 Naughty George had a face-off with one of the dogs living on the canal boats. To be fair the enemy did have a lot of fur and looked slightly like a lion (yes that actually was a dog)

Pic.No.19 This was a bridge over the canal. It was called Shipton Bridge and was located in a village called Thrupp (I would bet my life on the fact that UK villages have the most eccentric names worldwide)

Pic.No.20 The village of Thrupp was centred around a canal basin called 'The Wharf'. One half was all watery where the boats were moored ......................

Pic.No.21 And the second half had a landed selection of boutique shops and cafes, including 'Annie's Tearooms' (shown above - I didn't take that picture - I nicked it from the internet)

Pic.No22 But Steve, Naughty George, and I did enter the establishment (i.e. Annie's Tearooms) and treated ourselves to a surreptitious cup of cofffe (but not NG, he had water of course). Marvellous

Pic.No.23 After leaving the cafe, it transpired (after looking at the map), that we were on our final two miles of the journey ...... and as we headed out of Thrupp, we passed these cottages. I took a picture because they were the archetypal Oxfordshire house - built from a rich yellow stone with a thatched roof

Pic.No.24 This is Steve and Naughty George walking through a large farmers's field which took us to a village called Kidlington

Pic.No.25 The first building we saw after emerging from the fields was a church. It was the dead centre of Kidlington, and people were dying to get in there (ha ha ha!)

Pic.No.26 The sign outside of Kidlington Church. Why were such large churches built for such small communities? It is a common phenomena throughout the UK

Pic.No.27 These cottages overlooked the church ... they seemed to be quite old, so I did a bit of investigation ........

Pic.No.28 And above the door was a stone inscription confirming that the cottages were built in 1671 AD, which isn't that old in terms of Oxfordshire housing. In fact, that is probably marginally older than the cheese that I found in the back of my fridge

Pic.No.29 This is the view of the church from the cottages. We passed four churches on the duration of our walk. Surely that makes me more religious than Mother Theresa?

So I have to say ..... my winter walk was bloody good fun. Just the tonic to get me in the mood for Christmas. And after a long walk in the bracing cold, what better to way to spend the evening than ..........

Pic.No.30 Lighting the wood-burner and chilling out in the warmth? Bliss (but a bastard getting the thing going - I need tips from someone who knows how wood-burners work).

Map 1 - Click to enlarge and print (so you can recreate my walk - huzzar!)

So dahlink, what have you got planned this weekend? What, with it being the last weekend before Christmas and all ........................

Events conspire to make me festive. Bah Humbug

2011-12-13T22:29:00.004Z

After my last post, I was suprised to find how many people were getting into the festive spirit and had already put their Christmas decorations up (literally everyone I had contact with).

It made me look like a right miserable bastard.

____________________________________

So today I decided to try and do some festive stuff ..... and as luck would have it, I discovered that Christmas would be eased in gradually ....... because Izzy's school class were performing their Nativity Play in the afternoon. That would help me get into the Christmas frame-of-mind..

But still, it was not quite enough to be deemed properly 'festive'.

Whilst Izzy was eating marmite on toast for her breakfast, I said; "we can put the Christmas decorations up tonight if you like."

She looked at me with incredulity and shouted, "YAY!" before adding, "but you said that Christmas was a rip-off."

"I know, but we can still make the house look like Santa's grotto," I pointed out.

"Ok," said Izzy, flashing me a wide grin.

____________________________________

I dropped Izzy off at school, and went back home to work. And then would you believe it? It started snowing - how Christmassy was that? It was like God was kicking my ass to make me get into the spirit of things.

Then, after finishing my lunch, I headed to the church in the next village to see Izzy's school nativity play. It was all starting to get a bit Dickensian.

Pic.No.1 This is Izzy narrating her Christmas nativity play. She had been promoted because last year she was a sheep

By the time I had seen the birth of a plastic baby jesus, and heard the schoolkids belt out their Christmas carols, I really was getting into festive spirit. Hell, if you had given me a red coat I would have made like Santa Claus.

So much so, that when I arrived home, I dragged all my Christmas decorations out of the cellar. And I started building my Christmas tree (you may have already guessed that it wasn't a real one) ready for Izzy to decorate when she got home from school.

Pic.No.2 This was me building the Christmas tree in the living room. It took me bloody hours and it smelt musty so I had to spray it with Air Freshener (a whole can)

Finally the tree stood resplendent in it's undecorated glory. And then I heard the back door being flung open as Izzy made her prodigal return after school finishing.

"Can we do the decorations?" I heard her yell excitedly as she ran into the living room.

She stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she spotted the Christmas tree. "Is that fake?" she asked, pointing like it was a dead rat.

"Bloody hell Iz, you are only six .... does it matter if the Christmas tree is real or fake?"

"Bloody is a swear word," Izzy retorted indignantly.

"Sorry," I replied, but before I could get another word in, Izzy added, "and Daddy said that fake trees are for pikeys."

"Daddy can't really call people pikeys when he comes from Birmingham," I stated, before distracting her with a big bag full of Christmas decorations; "come-on let's put these on the tree."

And so, after a few chaotic hours, our house was decorated in readiness for Christmas. Izzy absolutely loved it, and insisted on giving you all a guided tour once we had finished ...... ahhhhh ..... enjoy.

Vid.No.1 Izzy's tour of our new Christmassy house (3 minutes)

But the best bit of tacky decoration has got to be that spindly piece of tinsel that I put over the mirror. Ho ho ho!

Anyway, that's enough tat for one post. I have a couple of questions that I would like to pick your brains about before I go:

1. I have ordered a crown of turkey (which I just found out is two turkey breasts with no legs attached) from the Butcher's. Roughly how long would it take to cook? (I need to work out how early I need to be at the butchers to collect it on the day). It is coming from a turkey that is about knee-high.

2. I also accidentally ordered a leg of triple-smoked gammon whilst in the same Butcher's shop. But thinking about it, what the hell do I serve it with? Any suggestions campers? The flavour is far too sophisticated just to bung it into a sandwich. Can I make it into some sort of hors d'Oeuvres? All suggestions welcomed.

P.S. And on a final note (yep I can drag 'em out for ages) - will this particular decoration start wearing a bit thin after a few hours?

Vid.No.2 Psycho singing turkey (27 seconds)

Yep, I will probably end up twatting the hell out of it with a spade before you can say 'Merry Christmas Everyone.'

Now I know that Christmas is nearly here .......

2011-12-11T22:23:00.001Z

Because for the for first time this year, I lit the fire in my living room ........................

Pic.No.1 This is my living room with the first open fire of the year - bloody marvellous

Naughty George loves it he does. He spends half his time sweating and shaking in front of the fire, and the remainder lying prostrate and panting on the cool flagstones in the kitchen. That mutt knows nothing about moderation. He's a doggy version of Anna Nicole Smith.

Pic.No.2 Naughty George topping up his Fake Bake (and his stubby tail is sticking out of the basket at a weird angle)

On another note - after taking NG on his daily drag through the village today, I noticed that a lot of people have already got their Christmas trees and decorations up. Which is really unusual - under normal circumstances, Christmas decorations wouldn't be common-place until next weekend.

My theory is that people are sticking two fingers up at the recession by being totally festive. Marvellous!

And my contribution - "Woo hoo". That was me being festive.

So dahlink, I have two questions for you: 1. Have you done anything festive?; and 2. Have you done it earlier than last year?

Is this the World's stupidest iPad gadget?

2011-12-09T18:08:00.001Z

Every time I have a spare few minutes, I like to undertake a spot of internet research to see if there are any interesting gadgets out there that I could buy.

I'd been toying with the idea of buying an iPad, but was still not convinced that I needed one because I already owned a laptop and an iPhone, and there didn't seem to be a gap between the two that needed filling.

But still, that didn't stop me jumping onto Google today and typing 'gadget iPad' into the search box. Because irrespective of whether I need one, I still yearn for one.

Then, whilst I was yearning over my keyboard, I stumbled upon a website that sold iPad accessories. In particular, it sold these ......................

Pic.No.1 An iPad case with a fully functional built-in bluetooth keyboard

I looked at it, and at first I thought it was a clever idea. But then I contemplated it further ..... ermmmm Apple designed the iPad to satisfy a niche in the market that was fulfilled by no other product - slim, mobile computing.

But the BlueBud case with built-in keyboard basically turned the iPad into ............ a bloody laptop!

Is it me, or has this product missed the point? If you want to carry around a screen and a keyboard, why not buy a cheap £400 laptop from Currys, instead of a £895 iPad? I got myself incensed about it all and resolved to write to Barack Obama first thing in the morning.

Talking of gagets, I have been looking around for cool Christmas presents for my chums, when I found this .........................

Vid.No.1 A Humping Dog USB gadget (14 seconds)

Man alive, I laughed my head off.

But then I realised that it didn't incorporate a Memory Stick.

It literally just humps your USB port. So the comedy experience versus time is most likely limited. Unless you spend the day sticking it into the USB ports of your most boring co-workers, and then watching their reaction.

THE CHALLENGE - Have you experienced gadgets more useless than these? (Bet you haven't!)

Sentimentality and Seasonality. They're totally different

2011-12-08T19:41:00.001Z

I know that you probably haven't been able to think of anything else since yesterday's blog ...... did my trusty old steed, the Peugeot 306 get saved from the scrap man?

Let's go and see ..........

drum roll .................cymbals ............. frenetic climax ....................... and the answer is .................

Nope.

Some dodgy bloke turned up at 9.45pm with a low-loading truck. He knocked on the door and upon opening it, I immediately noticed that he was covered in oil and gunk. Not only that, it was pitch black outside.

"You wanna get rid of your car for cash?" he growled in a thick west-country accent, complemented by a facial tic. It was like something from Hammer House of Horrors (do you remember them?).

"Yes please," I said, "but I want to be paid in cash prior to you loading my car on the truck."

"Nooo problem," he said, conjuring up an envelope, seemingly out of thin air.

I opened it and found it stuffed full of banknotes. Kerching!

Pic.No.1 Look, it's the wonga! And the wonga does the talking

I was instantly over the trauma of getting rid of my trusty steed. Hell, I even helped the guy out by driving my car onto the top deck of the double-decker truck, so that he didn't have to.

And ten minutes later, I watched as the truck drove away. The last thing I saw was the 'marijuana air freshener' swinging from the rear-view mirror of my car as it passed a street light and was fleetingly highlighted. And then it disappeared from sight. Bye bye Peugeot.

This morning, Steve asked if I actually managed to get rid of the car. I nodded and pointed to the cash with glee. He said that I was a 'unsentimental bastard'. Boys are emotional like that. What was I supposed to do? Dress it as a teddy and put it under my pillow for the next twenty years?

_______________________________________

In the other news - winter has properly arrived in the last two days. Prior to that, it has been unseasonably warm.

But all of a sudden, the temperatures dropped and the gales started. It literally went from warm ..... to freezing stormy winds, overnight.

Vid.No.1 The wind howling around my house (72 seconds)

I took this video in my Lounge. Can you believe how much the wind is howling around my house? It's Hammer House of Horror Part 2.

Apparently there are parts of the country that are covered in snow .... I wish .... I LOVE snow.

So dahlink, how is winter going in your area?

I murder cars I do

2011-12-07T18:36:00.001Z

As you may already know, recently I bought myself a new chariot. Yep, I purchased my nerve-tinglingly- gorgeous bling-tastic motor ...... whoop ass!

Pic.No.1 My new car - John the motor

One of the main reasons I bought John the motor (excepting its plethora of gadgets) was because of the state of my old car.

Previous to John, I had been driving around in a Peugeot 306 that was 17 years old, and certain factors were starting to point to the fact that maybe it had reached the end of it's useful life.

Factors like my friend - Andy 'Poops' Cooper - who sat in the passenger seat and noted, "I have scrapped cars that are way better than this."

Pic.No.2. My old chariot - a 17 year old Peugeot 306

Then there was Steve, who similarly sat in the passenger seat, took a look around and (after recoiling slightly), exclaimed, "your car is bloody minging."

Pic.No.3 Ok, I conceded that maybe the interior may not be considered plush

I had orginally bought the car for £400 ($629 USD) to tide me through a few weeks between selling a previous car and finding myself a new one. But because the Peugeot started every time and did 550 miles to a £60 ($94 USD) tank of diesel, I kept putting off replacing it .......... For two bloody years. My street cred was in tatters. Small children pointed and laughed when I drove by. Vicars would bless me when they saw my jalopy in the street.

But still, I stalled when it came to getting a new car.

Until one day when I was visiting a chum in Leeds, that is. We both ran to get into the car because it was pouring with rain. Sarah jumped into the passenger seat and as we set off driving, water started gushing through a leak in the sunroof, soaking her, the seat and the gearbox.

"Ah bloody hell!" she shouted in disgust, "your car is a [insert rude word] shed!"

And, after watching her hair slowly go frizzy, and seeing the wet patch gradually creep over the legs of her jeans, I had to concur.

So not two weeks later, I purchased John the motor and parked up the old Peugeot in my garden.

Steve noticed the Peugeot's new location when he stopped by to scrounge coffee, "you can't leave that old car rotting in your garden," he said, "it makes you look like a pikey."

I was forced into making a decision ....... The way I figured it, no-one would want to buy it, so that was out. I considered giving it to someone, but I couldn't think of anyone in the vicinity who would want it (this is Oxford dahlink), and delivering it further afield would be more than it was (literally) worth.

So what was a gal to do with a trusty chariot who had reliably ferried her around the UK with not so much as a hiccup?

Scrap it - that's what (but not before syphoning out the last dregs of diesel). Yep, get it crushed into a small ball of twisted metal ..... imagine a cookie inside Roseanne Barr's thighs. Marvellous.

As a result, earlier in the week, I had telephoned a scrap dealer, and he said that he would give me £90.00 ($141 USD) for the car and would pick it up at 8 pm today.

The only flaw in the plan, is that it is now 8.49 pm and there is no sign of him. Maybe, just maybe, my faithful Peugeot has been given a last minute reprieve? I shall keep you informed ....................

P.S. Do you have anything that you are particularly sentimental about? (Unlike me and my car, obviously).

Still getting festive. This time at Basildon Park

2011-12-05T18:47:00.001Z

In keeping with my weekend theme of 'trying to be a bit festive', as opposed to a Christmas-shunning cynical bastard; yesterday I decided to take Izzy and her mate, May, to visit a Stately Home. The Stately Home was called Basildon Park, and every year it opens its doors to visitors, in order to wow them with the amazing Christmas decorations.

Perhaps not the best choice given that Izzy and May are more 'Ronnie and Reggie Kray' (their actual nicknames) than 'Jane Austen', but I thought 'hell, I'll give it a go'.

After shoehorning the girls into the car, they immediately began their obligatory 'who can scream the loudest' competition (of which they never tire). Ahhh, could there be a nicer way for me to while-away the 40 minute journey to Basildon Park?

Actually I have a theory ..... every time you do 'activities' with kids, a large glass of wine and two Nurofen are pretty much guaranteed to get you through it.

I digress ...... back to Basildon Park. By the time we pulled into the car-park, I had pretty much lost most of my hearing because of the screaming which was quite annoying.

But the good news was that Ronnie and Reggie were nearly puking with excitement because they wanted to see where rich people lived. After parking the car, we were directed towards the house by a member of staff who instructed us to follow a winding path through the woodland.

And because I am kinder than Ghandi and Mother Theresa combined (blimey they don't half wear some sheetage between them), I have taken some photographs for you ...........

Pic.No.1 Ronnie and Reggie climbing the trees that fringe the woodland path leading to the house

Pic.No.2 Basildon Park was a Georgian Stately Home, having been built in the 1700s. It was restored from ruin in the 1950s by Lord and Lady Iliffe. Imagine hoovering that

Pic.No.3 Ronnie and Reggie in the enormous canopied porch of Basildon Park. Before entering the house, I briefed them about acting with decorum and not shouting. They both listened and nodded intently ....

Pic.No.4 ....... that went well then

Pic.No.5 In the hallway, there were bellringers playing Christmas carols, which was rather lovely. But why do bellringers always wear white gloves? I half expected them to start moonwalking or something

Pic.No.6 The dining room. It had a gadget that I badly want - a train track running around the table so that the salt and pepper could be efficiently distributed. It even had mini train stations with control signals. And the ceiling was nice

Pic.No.7 The Music Room. I was dying to play chopsticks on that piano but something inside me said no

Pic.No.8 Apparently when Lady Iliffe was restoring the house, she had a penchant for lamps. Here is a lamp

Pic.No.9 She even put two lamps on some tables. It was crazy

Pic.No.10 Lord Iliffe's study. It had been kept exactly as it had been in the 1950s, with an old gramophone, typewriter and newspaper

Pic.No.11 It also had this old telephone in it. I was amazed to discover that Ronnie and Reggie recognised it as a telephone, given that they had grown up with phones that look completely different (how old does that make me feel?)

Pic.No.12 This was called the Shell Room for obvious reasons. That cabinet was totally veneered in shells as were the walls. Totally bloody amazing (if you are a shell lover). I prefer normal wood because it is easier to dust

Pic.No.13 The Crimson Room which was rather lovely. If you were a preferred guest of Lord and Lady Iliffe, you would stay in this room

Pic.No.14 How cool is this bedroom? I would love to spend Christmas in it, dressed as Miss Haversham and berating festivities and small children

Pic.No.15 Even wondered what a bathroom looks like in a Stately Home? Well wonder no further. Look at the toilet ..... it looked like a chair that you would pull up to a dining table which is a bit wrong

Pic.No.16 This is the bath. Even though it is surrounded with black marble and silver dragon taps, it still looks a little dated, but still fascinating to see how things have changed

Pic.No.17 Finally our tour of Basildon Park was over, so we stopped at the cafe and stuffed our faces with (a) chocolate cake (in the case of Ronnie and Reggie), and (b) coffee and walnut cake for me

So dahlinks, I can highly recommend a trip to Basildon Park. It is somewhere in Berkshire ... not sure where though, that's the responsibility of my sat nav.

P.S. When are you putting your Christmas decorations up? I am not sure when to do mine.

Getting Festive with the German Christmas Market - Oxford Castle

2011-12-04T18:29:00.001Z

Bloody Christmas. It's just commercialised bollocks.

Mind you, I didn't think that before I had Izzy. Back then, I loved waking up to presents; "how much did this one cost?" I would shout gleefully as I tore off the wrapping paper like a Feeder trying to get to a kebab. Oh yeh, there was a real spirit to Christmas in the olden days.

Then Izzy arrived. And all of a sudden, my friends started saying things like, "Christmas is about the kids." Which, when translated, means; 'your kids gets the presents now, not you.'

It was harsh .... as I made my inventory of spoils at the end of Christmas day, instead of perfumes, exotic jewellery and Pashmina scarves, there would be lego, Barbie Dolls and craft sets. Yes dahlink, it was like wearing Primark after Armani.

It was also enough to make someone all 'Bah Humbug' about Christmas. But you will be pleased to know that I rose above it (because I am like Mother Theresa but without the big knickers), and because the day itself was only weeks away, I decided to do some Christmassy stuff with Izzy this weekend (hoping that it would also get me in the festive mood).

I had done a bit of research and discovered that there was a German Christmas Market being held at Oxford Castle, and even better, there was a Father Christmas for Izzy to visit ......... so off to Oxford Castle we went ...... and here are the pictures.

Pic.No.1 This was the entrance to the German Market. You can see that Oxford Castle was the backdrop

Pic.No.2 A 'German Market' basically seems to mean that people sell products from small wooden sheds. And as well as that there were lots of food stalls selling sausages and Mulled wine. Germans bloody love sausages they do

Pic.No.3 But Izzy REALLY wanted to meet Father Christmas, so we headed out to the back of Oxford Castle to find his grotto (you can see the entrance with the red curtains). It cost me five bloody quid

Pic.No.4 Izzy absolutely loved it and the Father Christmas was the best I have seen in a long time. One big change I did notice was that children no longer sat on his knee [speculate here]. But Izzy was well happy with the present he gave her, and the assurance that he would visit her on Christmas Eve as long as she went to bed on-time in the interim

Pic.No.5 It was a bit chilly outside, so after visiting Father Christmas, Izzy had a large drink of Hot Chocolate (made from cheap powdered cocoa - I didn't realise until I had ordered it - bleedin' pikeys)

Pic.No. 6 And it would have been rude for me not to have ordered myself a Mulled wine - it was a German market after all (mine's the one on the left)

Pic.No.7. This is Izzy with her bear. It is called Cuddly Snuggly. But when it is dressed in it's superhero gear, it is called Fat Cat Supercat. Her names, not mine

In the end, Saturday did end up being quite festive, although I am still not quite in the mood.

So dahlink, what have you been up to this weekend? Embracing all things festive or body-swerving all things Christmassy like the plague?

Earache, Awkward Kisses and an Amazing Aircraft Thingy

2011-11-29T20:42:00.001Z

Kids are bloody amazing they are.

Last night at 1am, there I was minding my own business and sleeping, when my bedroom door was suddenly flung open.

Standing in the doorway (like ET's dad did when he came out the spaceship), was Izzy .... and she was crying.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" I asked jumping out of bed and running across the room.

"Don't say 'bloody', it's a rude word," she sobbed as I knelt down before her.

Good to know that she has standards even in the face of adversity. That's my gal.

"Ok, sorry," I replied, "what the bally hell is up with you?"

And then she wailed the words that every parent dreads to hear at 1am in the morning ..... after being awoken from a deep sleep ....... and a dream where Tom Berenger was hand-feeding me grapes ........ "I've got earache!"

Awwww shit. As you probably already know, earache is a parental epic which generally has the following cycle:

child does painful cries ..... administer Ibuprofen ..... sleep for 5 minutes ..... child develops fever ..... administer Calpol ..... child dozes for 5 minutes and then wakes up too hot ..... give child fluids ..... child dozes for 5 minutes ..... then wakes up too cold ..... cover child up ...... child dozes for 5 minutes and then wakes up too hot again, and ear has started hurting again.

Then repeat the above ad infinitum until 7am arrives and the alarm commences it's incessant beeping.

That's what I did last night. As justice goes, it was rougher than a badger's arse.

But to add insult to extreme tiredness, literally the minute that I dragged myself out of bed this morning (after no more than two hours kip), Izzy suddenly dropped off into a deep, contented sleep which lasted for the rest of the day.

How do they do that?

All kids seem to possess the superhero power of 'inconvenient illnesses' (as you can probably tell, I am not cut out for working in the 'caring' sector). That's why I am not Mother Annie of Calcutta.

Anyway, you will be glad to hear that I managed to cheer myself up by finding this video of an awkward kiss. Prepare to cringe ..................... it's the dog's danglies.

Vid.No.1 The most awkward kiss ever?

And if that wasn't cool enough, my chum Robert, from the blog 'Awkright Around the Railway', sent me the following clip, because it has got an aircraft in it and he knew that I used to work in aerospace.

It's awesome. In prelude, basically an airliner was preparing to land when the front nose-wheel (landing gear) failed to deploy properly ..... and this is what happened next ...................

Vid.No.2. The ultimate in speed and timing ............ executed by a bloody nutjob

So dahlink, what have you been up to this week? Have you been striking like all the chaps in the UK? Or maybe you have indulged in a spot of Christmas shopping ..... pray do tell!

And the winner is ................

2011-11-28T19:05:00.001Z

Look at me .......... I am all over the place at the moment. I have got some new work projects coming to fruition, which basically means that every day throws up a new set of cards which keeps me very busy. Hell, if I want to keep on top of my gadget acquisitions, I need a source of income, even if it means that I can no longer be hand-fed grapes on my chaise longue.

And in the melee of work, I nearly forgot to announce a winner of the caption competition ...... you know the one .....

Pic.No.1 Kids toys are not what they used to be

I got my mate Clare (from 'Yes his Name is Gary' and 'Savvy Squirrel') to be a judge because she hadn't entered a caption and thus, should be theoretically neutral.

You are probably wondering why she didn't submit a caption herself, and it's because she is now addicted to 'extreme couponing'. And I swear that six months of Serotonin surges (50% off Weetabix, 76% off Vitamin B6, and 14% off Panty Pads etc) have left her with a slight facial tic, and a wild-eyed look. Or maybe I just read it a bit wrong.

Anyways, she eventually decided on a winner for the caption competition, which was no mean feat given the quality of the entries, and without further ado, I would like to annouce the winning caption:

"I'm sure this isn't how the doctor took my temperature last time!"

The caption was submitted by Masher, who's blog can be viewed here: Masher's blog. I must say that I am pleased with the result because he writes a blog that makes me laugh a lot. And there is no one in the western world who can handle cream crackers like he can. He virtually breathes them and lives in beds constructed from them (ok I made that last bit up).

And as an added bonus, you can also read an interview with the mighty Mash himself. Here is a transcript dahlink ...............................

Name: Masher

Age: Getting on

Height: Currently about 45mtrs ASL

Location: 52.72043 -1.76293

Blog: www.masher.tv

Significant others: The current and long-suffering Mrs Masher

Occupation: Bit of this. Bit of that. Absolutely none of the other.

What do you secretly dream about doing for a living?: I secretly dream of being Dr Anne Dickens and being fabulously wealthy.

What are you a self-declared expert at?: Humility. I'm bloody brilliant at that. Possibly the bestest ever in the whole world.

What can't you seem to get enough of?: Satisfaction.

What kinds of people are you drawn to?: The kind with big magnets.

Favourite colour: Sorry? Favourite colour? How old do you think I am... ten? OK, blue. No, green.

Pets: All dead.

If money was no problem, where would you go on holiday?: Bognor.

What was your proudest moment?: Eating five cream crackers in one go.

What's your favourite movie?: Sons of the desert.

Have you ever lived in other places, if so where?: For years I lived with my parents in the next street. It was very different to where I live now.

What do you consider your biggest achievement?: Erm, five cream crackers. Thought I'd mentioned it.

What things annoy you?: Small things annoy me. And big things. And those things with the raffia-like base that I keep losing.

What hobbies do you have?: Photography. Electronics. Radio. TV. Geocaching. Science Fiction. Collecting cheese labels.

Name the three websites you visit most often (excluding blogs!): bbc.co.uk bbc.co.uk/news bbc.co.uk/sport

Have you ever broken any bones (if yes, how?): Yes. I once broke my wrist. Not saying how.

What car do you drive?: Honda CRV

What car would you like if money were no object?: Honda CRV with a roof rack.

What character traits annoy you?: Genocidal maniacs can be somewhat irritating.

What are you going to do once you have finished this questionnaire?: I might have a go at breaking my other wrist... or I might just go to sleep.

What are you doing this coming weekend?: I shall be parachuting out of a hot-air balloon to raise money for Children In Need.

Please give one random fact about yourself: I fib a lot.

P.S. Hey Masher, congrats on the five cream crackers ..... were you a Ghurka at any point?!

P.P.S. On a totally unrelated note, apparently today is the day when 'online shopping' reaches it's peak as people try to sort out Christmas. Is this true? The news says that there is a phenomenon called AWOL (which means 'absent from work whilst online - i.e. you are internet shopping whilst at work).

The Big Reveal - Yep it is my new car!

2011-11-25T17:40:00.001Z

As you know, this week I bought myself a new chariot, but I didn't tell you what it was because I didn't have any photographs. But you will be pleased to know that I have now remedied this state of affairs, and without further ado, I would like to introduce you to my new car ................... it's sex on wheels.

Pic.No.1 Come on me homeys ...... and meet my shiny new Range Rover Sport HSE. Woof! It's got 22" alloys and privacy glass and everything. I am so excited that I could puke

Pic.No.2. This is the dashboard. It's got so many different buttons that I didn't know what to press (it's a bit like a man in that way)

And you will be pleased to hear that my beauty is fully loaded with gadgets for me, including: Onboard computer, built in Sat-Nav, Harmon Kardon sound system, fridge (yes fridge), voice command functionality, heated seats, leather upholstery, and full bluetooth connectivity for my iPhone gadget. Rarrrrr.

Pic.No.3. And the gadgets continue into the back of the car .............

And because I am like Mother Theresa (except that I don't need ironing as much), I made sure that I got some gadgets for Izzy to play with too ...... and I think I excelled myself ....... hence I am the gadget queen: The rear seats have TV's (with infra-red headsets) which are also hooked up to a DVD player. And if she ever gets bored of watching DVDs, she can use her remote control to switch over to the built-in PlayStation (complete with full PlayStation controls).

How totally bloody BLING is that?

Pic.No.4 This is me pretending to be an alien in front of my new car

Steve and Izzy were particularly eager to see my new car when it arrived, so I called them the moment it was in my driveway. Their reactions were ......

_________________________________________

Steve exclaimed: "Jeez! Nothing shouts 'wanker' louder than a Ranger Rover."

_________________________________________

Izzy screamed a lot, and shouted "Woo Hoo" when she saw the DVD and PlayStation stuff, before adding, "Can we give our new car a name?"

"Erm, I suppose so," I said, "but it's only a chunk of metal."

Izzy ignored my lack of sentimentality completely: "I want to call it the Girls-Only Gang Car," she replied.

"It's not very snappy as names go," I pointed out.

"But I can't think of anything else," Izzy said, looking a bit forlorn.

"How about, John the Motor?" I asked, clutching at the first straw that entered my head.

"Yes! John the Motor!" she shouted, as satisfied as a bollock-licking dog.

_________________________________________

So dahlink, I am still figuring out how I will park the bugger, and what all the buttons do ...... but I can safely say ..... it is abso-bloody-lutely amazing. It is like driving around in your living room. Except your living room doesn't have as many gadgets.

P.S. I just had a thought - I wonder what the all-time best feature/gadget of a car is? What is the best feature / gadget in your car? This could be really bloody interesting .................. We could run a feature called the 'most important features in a car - as rated by the drivers'.

I've got a new car! Only read this post if you like cars ...

2011-11-21T19:08:00.001Z

I bloody love cars I do ..... it's because they are the ultimate gadget. Yes sirree.

I love motorbikes too, although I haven't had one since Izzy arrived on the scene. It seemed a bit reckless ferrying a newborn baby around on the pillion of a superbike ... even by my relaxed standards. I worked out that she would have to be attached to the bike using her car seat and a heady mixture of gaffer tape and bungy cords, which was immediately a big no-no. Gaffer tape plays hell with your paintwork.

So now I stick to cars. And I have noticed that my car buying predilection has fallen into two distinct categories: BI and AI (Before Izzy, and After Izzy).

BI, I would never have purchased a car that did 0-60 mph in greater than 8.5 seconds. Hence I bought cars like these .....

Pic.No.1 This was my BMW Z3. It had a straight-six engine and growled like a bear (and it was by far the funnest car I ever owned). The colour was 'British Racing Green' with cream leather interior

Pic.No.2 This was my Audi TT. Nearly as much fun as the Z3 but not quite (it had a turbo engine to generate the speed, so there was a 'turbo lag' unlike the Z3 which just had sheer grunt). The turbo whine did sound rather lovely though. It was black with a black leather interior

Not only that, I also simultaneously owned 'sensible' cars for work (with four doors because I had to take clients out for lunch etc.) .... like an A6 Audi Quattro, and a Mercedes E240 and a BMW 325i. You see what I mean - I love cars - it's what I spend my money on. Some people like clothes shopping ... I like my motors (and gadgets).

Anyway, I digress ..... Ignore the cars that I used to have. For the purposes of frugality (i.e. raising funds to set-up a new business) I have spent the last year or so driving around in a shit heap ..... that is, a thirteen-year-old Peugeot 306 ('L' registration plate).

And even though I have only washed the Peugeot once since I bought it (and it is covered in green mould), I have to admit that it has been as reliable as hell. It has started every time, and does an amazing 550 miles to a tank.

But that's not enough for a gal who relishes her cars and gadgets.

Last weekend, I had a spare half hour so I decided to idly browse Auto-Mart (the car selling website) to see what was knocking around (after all, my business was starting to do well and I could afford to look).

And then out of the blue, I found my perfect PI (Post-Izzy just in case you had forgotten) car ....................

I had a few chats with the seller over the phone, and before you could say "don't do anything rash", I had agreed the sale.

And today I went to pick the car up - bloody marvellous!

It's a shame that I don't have a photograph, but it was too dark to take one by the time I got home. But man alive, it is a beast ..... rarrrrr! (that was me being a beast). I am not going to do a 'Big Reveal' just yet, because I have forgotten to take photographs .... how annoying am I? So once I have got them ..... I shall post them on here.

So dahlink - what is your dream car? ..... and is there a discrepancy between that and what you really want to drive?

Bob Dylan and Mark Knopfler - In Concert 2011

2011-11-17T20:58:00.000Z

I bloody love going out I do. Staying in gives me cabin fever, because I always feel like I am missing out on stuff. It's pretty sad given my age. Really, I should be sitting on the sofa in my comfy slippers, watching the 'Antiques Roadshow', drinking cups of tea and moaning that the youth of today don't know they're born.

But because doing that would result in crap blog posts, I try to inject a bit of tenacity into the proceedings. It spices things up a bit you see - a bit like dusting your morning breakfast cereal with chilli powder, but not so minging, and it doesn't dissolve your stomach lining.

"Stop banging on, and tell us what you have been up to," I hear you cry.

Well, I have been to see none other than BOB DYLAN AND MARK KOPFLER in concert. Huzzar!

Yep, me and three chums had tickets to see those two icons performing at the MEN Arena in Manchester.

As I drove up North on the night of the concert, I was shaking like a Scouser in a sport's shop. Yep, I was properly excited.

Ok, so I wasn't so much a fan of Mark Knopfler, but hell, Bob Dylan had been a constant theme whilst I was at University; his sounds had wound their way through my years there. At the time, I had wanted to look all windswept, interesting, and rebellious - all in one go. And the only way to do that was to (1) buy a powerful hairdryer; (2) listen to Bob Dylan and (3) wear Doc Marten boots, respectively.

Anyway, I digress again ...... back to the concert ..... I have got pictures for you ..................

Pic.No.1 I have to say that I was a bit perturbed to discover that the average age of concert-goers was about 50 which made me feel like a foetus

Pic.No.2. This is a view of the stage. As you can see, I didn't have the best seats in the house. Even worse, I was sat apart from my chums because I was tardy in booking the ticket. It looked like I was a norman-no-mates

Finally everyone was seated, the couple next to me were arguing in hissy-whispers about the route they had taken to the arena, when the the stadium lights dimmed just as the stage lights burst into life ........... and before you could say 'he's skimped on the set', Mark Knopfler sounded his first cord.

So here are my opinions on the performances dahlink....................... because you know I have opinions on everything.

MARK KNOPFLER

Pic.No.3 This is Mark Knopfler on stage with his band. He was obviously a good guitar player, but all his songs sounded the same. [What I just did there was probably the equivalent of someone visting the Tate fine art gallery and saying "I could paint that"]

Pic.No.4. Except for the two new songs that he played (which were pretty bloody good actually), I have never been to a concert before where I wanted them to play more of their new stuff

Vid.No.1 Mark Knopfler playing 'Brothers in Arms'

So how was Mark Knopfler? Well, you would never call him a showman. It was like he was rehearsing in his mate's living room - he just stood at the front of the stage playing his guitar in a minimalist way (i.e. you had to strain to see him moving).

And he had no engagement with the audience whatsoever (most of whom wanted him to play his old Dire Straits tracks, but he didn't).

But he did go a good bit where he did a 'play off' with a double bass and a violin. It was spectacular, and he g'eed everyone up by moving at least two feet to the left in as many minutes.

BOB DYLAN

So how did the great Bob Dylan (aged 71) fare? Well, he made the most rubbish entrance I have ever seen. Imagine a TV reality show called 'Rubbish Entrances' - Bob would have been crowned winner.

Get this: Whilst he was still back stage, he shouted the names of his band members down the microphone, and then sneaked onto the stage in total darkness, only to be already singing once the lights came on.

It took me a full five minutes to figure out where he was on the stage. Talk about lack of showmanship - Michael Jackson he was not.

During the interval, I suggested to my chums that maybe he should have dressed as a devil and 'flown' onto the stage using a zip-wire whilst simultaneously letting off fireworks. They said that I didn't 'get' Bob Dylan.

Anyway, back to Bob Dylan's performance ........................

Pic.No.5 It took me a while to realise that the dodgy-looking bloke in the hat was Bob Dylan (he's the one playing the keyboards)

Pic.No.2 Bob Dylan is the bloke to the right of the stage, standing on one leg

I have to say, that Bob was right when he said that a performer can become successful with an 'unconventional' (i.e. crap) voice. Do you know that film, Rawhide? Well Bob Dylan sounded exactly like the chap who sang 'Rolling Rolling Rolling' - you know the one that I mean.

He basically just growled out all the lyrics and you couldn't make out any of the words. Every song sounded like: rurrrrrrry bur burrrrrry, rurrrrrry lurrrrrrrry grrrrrrrrrrrry ....... I sey ...........rurrrrrryy wurrrrry lurrrrrrry meeeeeeeeee.

BUT, lack of diction aside, his music was kick-ass foot-tapping stuff. You can actually sample a bit of it in the video that I took below ...................... actually scrub that ................... this was a sub-standard version of like a rolling stone (one of my all-time fave songs).

Vid.No.2 This is Bob Dylan's modern interpretation of his classic 'Like a Rolling Stone'. Talk about shit

So that was the concert. And I really enjoyed it even though Bob sounded like Rawhide. His music was banging and I can now say that I have seen an icon perform, albeit it like a hermit on diazepam.

Pic.No.3 This is a rubbish picture of me outside the MEN Arena in Manchester. I hate this picture. What am I doing posting it?

P.S. Apparently Bob Dylan does not like audiences looking at him, which is why the audience was kept in dark throughout his whole set - so he couldn't see them

P.P.S Apparently, Bob Dylan once turned up to do a concert, only to find that he could actually see the audience. So he performed the entire set at the back of the stage, with his back to the punters. Nob

P.P.S. What is the best concert that you have been to?

P.P.P.S. I found out after the concert that photography was banned. That'll explain some of the dirty looks I endured.

It's all about moving house and a man 'turning' gay

2011-11-14T19:11:00.001Z

Blimey, I have not had access to an internet connection for a few days now. It's a bit like suffering from dehydration and then having your IV drip removed. Probably.

The reason behind my internetless state is because I have been oop North, helping my chum Sarah move into her new house ..... compounded by the fact that telecomms companies are twats - it always takes them at least a week to get new telephone and wi-fi packages up and running.

It's a bloody good job that utilities companies aren't so tardy .... otherwise they would leave a trail of dead hypothermic geriatrics in their wake, and that gets quite messy. I should imagine.

So I have spent the last few days humping furniture about, doing DIY jobs on Sarah's new house, and eating Subway sandwiches for every meal (there was a Subway within 30 seconds walk of her house - excellent). In fact I started to look like a Steak and Cheese melt with Jalapenos if you looked at me in a jaunty angle.

But unfortunately, I totally forgot to take many pictures, in fact I only took three because I was so busy ..... here goes ...............

Pic.No.1 That's Sarah and Gary in the picture. Here we were wallpapering her kitchen wall (we hung up the stripey stuff), and putting up shelves

Pic.No.2 This is a picture of the conservatory before Sarah moved in (Sarah sent me this picture)

Pic.No.3 And here is Sarah's new conservatory after two days of unpacking bags and boxes FULL of stuff - not bad eh?

So, after three days of hard work, I am now back in Oxford. And following the events in Leeds, I have got a small blister on my right little finger, and bruises down both shins and inner arms (from lifting large pieces of furniture). I probably look a bit like a heroin addict except for the fact that Subway stopped me looking emaciated.

What did you get up to this weekend my dear?

P.S. I found this article on a news website and it made me laugh my head off ....... how bizarre is the whole scenario?

Burly rugby player has a stroke after freak gym accident … then wakes up gay and becomes a hairdresser

Chris Birch loses eight stone and transforms himself from skinhead to 'preened man'
Gives up job in bank and retrains as a hairdresser

When 19-stone rugby player Chris Birch suffered a stroke during a freak training accident, his family feared it would be a life-changing injury.

Yet while his recovery certainly brought about a transformation, it seems to have been in a way no one could have expected.

For when he regained consciousness, the 26-year-old – who was engaged to his girlfriend – claimed he had become gay.

New life: Chris now works as a hairdresser and lives above the shop with his boyfriend

Mr Birch’s astonishing change saw him break up with his fiancée, ditch his job in a bank to retrain as a hairdresser and lose eight stone in weight.

He has now moved in with his 19-year-old boyfriend.

The now ex-rugby player, a flanker with his local amateur reserve side, had been attempting a back flip in front of friends on a field when he fell down a grass bank, breaking hisneck and suffering the stroke.

Before the stroke: Chris Birch weighed 19 stone, worked in a bank and played rugby

He was taken to hospital where his fiancée and family spent days waiting anxiously at his bedside before hedelivered the shocking news.

Mr Birch recalled: ‘I was gay when I woke up and I still am. It sounds strange but when I came round I immediately felt different.

‘I wasn’t interested in women any more. I was definitely gay. I had never been attracted to a man before –I’d never even had any gay friends.

‘But I didn’t care about who I was before, I had to be true to my feelings.’

Before the accident Mr Birch, of Ystrad Mynach, South Wales, had spent his weekends watching sport and drinking with his mates.

But he said: ‘Suddenly, I hated everything about my old life. I didn’t get on with my friends, I hated sport and found my job boring.

‘I started to take more pride in my appearance, bleached my hair and started working out. I went from a 19-stone skinhead to an 11-stone preened man.

‘People I used to know barely recognised me and with my new look I became even more confident.’

Mr Birch sought advice from his neurologist and was told it could all be down to the stroke opening up adifferent part of his brain.

Two years ago it was reported that Alan Brown, from Malvern, Worcestershire, woke from a stroke to find he was able to paint and draw in incredible detail, despite no previous evidence of the skill.

The father of three said the experience must have ‘flicked a switch’ in the creative part of his brain.

And Mr Birch certainly has no regrets about his transformation. ‘I’m nothing like the old Chris now but I wouldn’t change a thing,’ he said.

Transformation: Chris Birch with his boyfriend Jack. He said: 'I think I'm happier than ever, so I don't regret the accident'

Awww, but don't they make a lovely couple? But (and I am not qualified to comment on this at all, but that never stops me), I have a sneaky suspicion that he was gay before the accident but didn't want to come out. Or maybe I am wrong ........ what do you think dahlink?

It's 'Caption Competition' time again!

2011-11-07T21:14:00.002Z

I had too much time on my hands today.

What's that saying? ...... 'Idle minds are the devil's workshop?'

I decided to create a 'caption competition' for you, using Izzy's toys. You see, I am always making sure that you are entertained. I am a bit like Ghandi in that respect (except that I don't wear unfashionable glasses).

So here goes ...................

To make the caption competition more difficult, I have added two pictures instead of one becase I am contrary like that. But you only need to submit ONE caption which covers both scenarios.

The winner will be interviewed via email, and the interview will be published on my blog. I will also select a neutral third party to do the judging ....... be careful it might be you!

Enjoy.....!

The Worlds Scariest Roller Coaster - Stealth?

2011-11-01T21:46:00.002Z

Imagine my sheer delight when a few weeks ago, a relly gave me a couple of free tickets to visit Thorpe Park.

"What the blazes is Thorpe Park?" I hear you cry.

Well, it is a theme park specialising in extreme thrills, which basically means that it is full of totally mental roller coasters. Including one of the (allegedly) scariest roller coasters in the world, called 'Stealth'.

I couldn't possibly pass up an opportunity like that, especially as I love fast stuff. So today, Steve and I took the day off work (I am working on his website with him) and made our way to Thorpe Park to use up the tickets and soak up a bit of adrenalin. Aaah, sometimes it's great being your own boss. Not so great when you need someone to blame ..... but anyway, I digress.

Back to the Stealth roller coaster.

Did I go on it? Well first of all, here is a picture of it for you .................. and it looks a LOT bigger in real life.

Pic.No.1 The roller coaster starts by accelerating up the ramp from 0-80 mph in 1.8 seconds before reaching the top

Pic.No.2 After reaching a height of 205 feet, it drops almost vertically, producing G forces of up to 4.7

Of course I bloody went on it! It's me - Lady M, the feckless adventurer (as I like to call myself when in a fanciful mood). And I have to say, I have never experienced anything like it before - and I have been on a lot of roller coasters.

The initial acceleration completely took my breath away, but that was nothing compared to being dropped 205 feet in a nearly vertical fashion. I was screaming like a herd of monkeys who had spotted a lion, and even when I reached the bottom, my stomach was still up near the clouds.

The whole ride only lasted about 30 seconds, but what a 30 seconds it was - my whole body was heaving from the adrenalin by the time we finally came to a stop. Now that's what I call a roller coaster.

Anyway, when I got home at the end of the day, I was researching the physics of roller coasters, when I accidentally stumbled across a bloody funny You Tube video.

It basically featured a TV programme where the presenter had invited an 71-year-old lady to ride on the Stealth roller coaster with him. Man alive, did I laugh my head off ......... and it gives you quite a good idea of what the ride was like .... enjoy.

Vid.No.1 Vernon Kay takes 71-year-old lady onto the Stealth extreme roller coaster at Thorpe Park (1min 57 secs)

I especially like the bits where she was shouting 'please god, please help me god!' towards the end.

So dahlink, will you come on the Stealth roller coaster with me next time I visit Thorpe Park?

Trick or Treating. It's Basically a Protection Racket

2011-10-31T19:47:00.000Z

Happy bloody Halloween.

Well here I am, cowering in kitchen at the back of the house - with all the lights turned off at the front - in a feeble attempt to deter all those pesky trick-or-treating kids.

You know what's like. You are sitting there, minding your own business, trying to stop the dog honking by spraying him with Fabreze, when the door knocker sounds. You tentatively open it, only to find a gang of belligerent teenagers staring at you blankly.

"Trick or treat," one of them drawls from under his baseball cap, before resuming slow gum mastication.

I have learnt from bitter experience that in circumstances such as these, you should never say 'trick', because it invariably involves dog shit or a molotov cocktail.

"Treat?" I stammered nervously, proffering them a bag full of sweets.

"Don't do sweets," says the drawly one, "only cash or major credit cards," he said.

Blimey, trick-or-treating had certainly changed from when I was a kid.

I delved into my purse which was on the table next to the front door, and pulled out 50p.

"Here you go," I said hesitantly handing the wonga over.

Drawly one shook his head, and wordlessly pointed to his acne-ridden friend. I turned to face acne boy, and upon closer inspection, noticed that he was holding up a laminated sign saying 'Minimum Spend £5.00'.

Sacre-bloody-bleu. It was bordering on a Halloween protection racket. I begrudingly handed over a fiver, and slammed the door shut, muttering 'gits' under my breath.

Then it slowly dawned on me ........... "IZZY," I shouted.

Izzy emerged from her bedroom where she had been doing a slighty disturbing, thrusting-type dance to a Lady Gaga track; "yep?" she asked.

"How do you fancy doing a bit of trick or treating?" I queried. Oh yeh, where there's money, there's me.

"Yehhhh!" Izzy shouted happily.

Double whammy. Kid enjoys herself ..... and you earn money to boot. Kerrrrrrchinggggggg.

So you will be pleased to hear that I managed to cobble together a witches outfit after an emergency shopping trip to Asda, and the pictures below are the fruits of my (and Steve's) labour. I did the outfit and Steve did the make-up.

Pic.No.1 This is Izzy's 'give me your cash' look. I taught her that

Pic.No.2 Izzy insisted on this picture being taken ....................

Pic.No.3 And this one ......................

Pic.No.4 And this one ..... perhaps unsurprisingly, given the precedents

After being turned into a witch, Izzy then headed out with her best friend (and friend's mother) to do some trick-or-treating.

And whilst she is away, I continue to cower in the kitchen, with the lights off at the front of the house, awaiting her return ...... and dreaming about the size of the swag bag - maybe we could use the proceeds to buy a new gadget?

So dahlink, what have you been up to this Halloween?

Update: Izzy returned with no hard cash whatsoever. Her prized possessions were a pack of Cotton Candy Bubble Gum, and a Kinder Egg. [note to self: need to work on negotiation skills and priorities].

A Day Trip to Brighton - Part 2

2011-10-26T21:16:00.000+01:00

Crikey, I have been a bit slow at updating my blog of late.

Apologies about that - or - as an ex-colleague of mine used to say; "I haven't had time to fart." I remember him well. He was called Fat Phil and we worked for the same aerospace company. He operated one of the machines on the shopfloor, and he could multi-task by simultaneously shouting 'DO YOU WANT MY BABIES?' at all the girls who passed by. Awww, he was a wag.

Anyway, I digress ....... I am here to finish the post about my visit to Brighton. In my last post, I showed you some of the town including the amazing Royal Pavilion. But in today's post we (Izzy, Steve and I) are heading for Brighton's seafront dahlink. And because I am kinder than Ghandi (but I've got more hair), I have got some pictures for you.

Pic.No.14 The Promenade at Brighton - It is made up of mainly Regency houses (built in the early 1800s). That is Izzy and Steve on the left

Now here's a story: A few years ago when I was walking down that exact same stretch of Brighton pavement, I witnessed a HUGE dumper truck crashing into a woman's car. I ran over to the crash scene and found the woman trapped inside her vehicle and the driver of the truck screaming like a girl's blouse. What a palaver.

I had to calm down the truck man, and call the ambulance and police, whilst keeping the woman awake until the paramedics arrived. I was like Dr Meredith Grey except a bit fatter and with brown hair. Bizarrely the most annoying thing about the whole situation, was the crowds of people who came right over to stare at the poor woman. I had to keep shouting "piss off," at them, whilst Steve and Izzy stood blithely by, enthusiastically licking some emergency ice-creams they had procured to pass the time whilst they were waiting for me.

The story ended well. Izzy didn't spill ice-cream on her coat, and the Paramedics said that the woman had a fair chance of survival. Marvellous. So back to Brighton's seafront .........

Pic.No.15 A view of the beach from the Promenade. There are lots of little beach-huts selling crafts and other arty shit

Pic.No.16 Out to sea, you can see the wreck of the old 'West Pier'. It was condemned as unsafe in 1975. Then whilst it was lying dormant, it suffered an arson attack in 2003 which left it stranded at sea (the walkway to the mainland collapsed) ...... a skeleton of it's former self. I wish I was

Pic.No.17 But the other pier, imaginatively named 'Brighton Pier', is thriving ...... as you can see in this picture .............. actually, you can only see the end of the pier. But the sky looks cool

Pic.No.18 Marvellous. That's a far better picture of the pier. From afar it seemed to contain many amusements. So we decided to head in that general direction .......... because I am a sucker for funfairs and stuff

Pic.No.19 I stopped off on the way to take a pictue of this wrecked boat on the beach. See that boat? That's your best boat that is. You've spent years renovating that boat ........

Pic.No.20 ...... And this picture of a random piece of machinery that I found on the beach. I think it is some kind of winch, but I am not sure. Any engineers out there who can enlighten me?

Pic.No.21 Just before we got to the pier, Izzy found a giant 'Bungee Trampoline'

In the blink of an eye, she dropped to her knees (in front of a crowd of strangers) and implored, "Mama, please may I go on the trampoline? I promise I will be good forever, and never again spit a brussel sprout onto Naughty George's head." So vocal and heartfelt was her plea, that I half expected the crowd of strangers to burst into spontaneous applause. They didn't. But they were all looking at me in silence ...... waiting for an answer.

"Ok, go on then," I said digging out my purse, as the strangers all grinned, nodded and smiled in appreciation of my decision. Bloody £8.00 for ten minutes that trampoline thing cost. At least they taught Izzy to do somersaults.

Pic.No.22 After being virtually mugged at the trampoline, we made our way through the entrance to Brighton Pier

Pic.No.23 There was an amusement arcade, so we taught Izzy how to do some low-key gambling on the 'push a penny' machine (or 'penny falls' as it is often called). I had it sussed though - it quickly became apparent that like all gambling machines, you always walk away with less than you put in

Pic.No.24 After the amusement arcade, we had time for a quick couple of goes on the fairground rides ..... including this log flume. Here Izzy and Steve are heading for a soaking ...................

Pic.No.25 And ................ Whoosh .............. they properly cop a wave in the face

Pic.No.26 But they came out of it laughing their heads off. Ha ha bonk

Pic.No.27 And finally, this is a picture of Brighton's seafront from the pier. It doesn't actually look that good because of the poor weather, but it is normally pretty scenic

So there you have it dahlink ..... my trip to Brighton. What a fantabulous place!

What have you been up to this week then?

P.S. I am really sorry if I haven't stopped by your blog recently, I have been a bit swamped ;-)

A trip to one of my favourite places - Brighton. Part 1

2011-10-23T17:59:00.000+01:00

Last weekend, it was my turn to look after Izzy and I was just wondering what random stuff we could do (I like doing random stuff with Izzy - it stops her getting complacent), when the telephone rang.

Ring, ring ...... ring ring ........ ring ring .......

"What?" I answered (after extricating the handset from a Barbie camper van, where it was sitting on a seat with a seatbelt on).

"It's me, Steve," said the voice at the other end, "I just wondered if you and Izzy fancied a trip down to Brighton tomorrow?"

I gasped. "Damn right I do," I replied, "when are you picking us up?"

"About 10am?" Steve asked.

"Deal," I replied, hanging up the the phone.

For those of you who don't hail from the UK, let me tell you about Brighton. It is a seaside city located on the south coast, and it is one of my favourite places in the whole of England. In fact, if it wasn't such a rubbish location for my business, I would be living there.

"So what is it so bloody good about it?" I hear you cry.

Ummmm, how to explain? ......... well it is bohemian, eclectic, relaxed, vibrant, cultured, and the cherry on the cake is that it is by the sea. Oh, and it happens to be the UK's gay / LGBT capital (one in three inhabitants), which probably goes a long way to explaining why it's like it is. There is only one other place that I have visited that has a similar ambience, and that is San Francisco.

I digress ..... back to our day out in Brighton.

Steve was 30 minutes late picking-up Izzy and I. It was because he had been out on the beer the night before.

He stumbled through the back door, with red eyes, complaining that the inside of his mouth was like Ghandi's flip-flop.

"Stop your whining you big girl's blouse," I said to him because I am sympathetic like Mussolini, "Let's get in the car and go."

Pic.No.1 This is the route that we took from Oxford to Brighton (dark blue line)

We were soon on the road. And because I am kind like that nun bird in the Sound of Music (except I have better dress sense), I have got some pictures to show you.

Pic.No.2 Whilst we were driving round the M25 on our way to Brighton, we saw this car covered in fur. It had a sign in the back window saying 'The Mutz Nutz'. Imagine my surprise, when I noticed that the driver was a middle-aged, respectable-looking lady who could have been a librarian. I am guessing her car 'makeover' was an unwelcome surprise from her sons

Pic.No.3 We finally got to Brighton, parked the car and headed towards the city centre. Here you can see Izzy with her scooter and Steve with his 'man-bag'

Pic.No.4 This was our first view of Brighton - It's Brighton Pier

But we didn't get as far as the pier before Steve announced he was hungry. I was glad that he did that, because I was too, and then Izzy annouced that she was starving.

I corrected her; "if you were starving you would have Beri-Beri or Rickets, and not only that, you would have flies swarming around your eyes. I think you meant to say that you were hungry," I said.

She responded by looking at me blankly and asking, "Does that mean I can't have chicken nuggets?"

Sacre bleu. Kids today don't know they are born. I would have been content eating coal when I was her age.

Anyway, back to the photographs .................

Pic.No.4 When you are by the seaside, the cuisine-of-choice has to be Fish and Chips. So we ended up in a cafe called 'Harry Ramsdens', which is kind of famous in the UK. For its fish and old people (the ones who think that tinned salmon and powdered eggs are posh)

Pic.No.5. Everybody look at me! Here I am in Harry Ramsdens, anticipating my fish and chips. And they were particularly good actually

Pic.No.6 After lunch we decided to visit the Royal Pavilion in Brighton. It's a palace that was built for King George IV between 1787 and 1823

Pic.No.7. This is the entrance to the Royal Pavilion, if you want to see the picture come to life, watch the video below ........

Vid.No.1. Ooh, look ...... because I am kind like Ghandi (but with more hair), I have recorded a video for you too

Pic.No.8 The Palace is renowned for it's exotic oriental appearance - right in the centre of Brighton. In case you are interested, It was built in the "Indo-Saracenic style prevalent in India for most of the 19th century, and houses the most extravagant chinoiserie interiors ever executed in the British Isles". I am not sure what that last sentence meant, but it sounded good

Pic.No.9 A view of the palace from the gardens. It is very weird to find a building of this type in the UK

Pic.No.10 After visiting the Royal Pavilion, we took a trip down "The Lanes". This is another reason why Brighton is really cool - The Lanes are a myriad of tiny corridors running through the city with shops on either side. There is no way you could drive down there - you can only walk

Pic.No.11. Steve and Izzy walking through 'The Lanes' in Brighton

Pic.No.12. And then we emerged from The Lanes, back into Brighton life ...... which has a huge 'cafe culture'. So we stopped briefly and quaffed a couple of Cappucinos

Pic.No.13. And then, ambling through the town, we saw this Lamborghini parked outside a shop. I wanted to leave a note on the windscreen with my telephone number on, but Steve said I was a saddo and pointed out that the driver might be a girl anyway. Not that it would necessarily prove a stumbling block in Brighton

And so, after a morning wondering through Brighton town, we decided to head for the seafront to spend the afternoon doing seasidey things. But you are going to have to wait for 'Part 2' of my Brighton post to read about that.

I decided to split it into two posts because it would be too bloody long.

So what have you been up to this weekend my dahlink? Gotta dash, Naughty George is wretching over the rug in the kitchen.

My cellar slowly reveals it's secrets ......

2011-10-18T21:13:00.000+01:00

It's carnage round at my house.

As you may remember, a while back I moved house from London to Oxford. But what I omitted to mention was that my London house had an attic FULL of shit dating back years. And because moving house is pretty full-on anyway, I couldn't be bothered sorting it out. So I carted it all up to Oxford and bunged it in the cellar of my new house to sort out later.

And 'later' has been the last week, after I realised I couldn't get down the cellar steps anymore.

Yep, day by day, I have been systematically dragging the shit out of the cellar and dealing with it, i.e., selling it on ~~Fleabay~~ Ebay. [Note: if you are a nosey git, you can see what I am flogging here: Annie's Ebay account].

But it is bloody hard work because everything needs washing, photographing and then uploading onto Ebay. So I decided to stagger it over a number of weeks, hence my house is in a state of carnage - there are literally hundreds of items in various stages of the process.

And because I am kinder than Mother Theresa (but without a following of nuns), I have got some pictures for you.

Pic.No.1 The stairs leading down to my cellar. My house was built in 1546 and apparently the cellar is older than that by a couple of hundred years

Pic.No.2 Just look at the piles of crap stored in my cellar (and I had already cleared out SIX bags of old clothes at the time this picture was taken)

Pic.No.3 Random crap was piled on every surface ........ and there were things that I had forgotten I even owned ....

Pic.No.4. Like this old manual typewriter .......

Pic.No.5 .................... and a pair of pretty blue bowls

Pic.No.6 An oil lamp and old clay pipe

Pic.No.7 A vintage Guinness ashtray

So wish me luck dahlink - it is going to take ages sorting this bally lot out. Total nightmare, and I might need smelling salts at some point.

Oh, I forgot to ask - how was your weekend by the way?

20 Worst Cosmetic Surgery Disasters

2011-10-15T21:21:00.000+01:00

I am not sure if you remember, but a while ago I wrote some posts about taxidermy gone wrong. Man alive, writing that was such fun, I even guffawed aloud to myself (how weird is that? I hope the neighbours didn't hear).

Anyway, today I was taking Naughty George on his daily drag through a posh Oxfordshire village, when a Bentley pulled up nearby. An old bloke got out one side, and a bleached-blonde woman got out the other.

Initially, I didn't think anything of it (actually, that was a lie, I really thought 'who's the Sugar Daddy?'), until I caught a glimpse of the woman's face. It was all tight like she was continually surprised, and her lips were enormous. You know when Jack Nicholson played the Joker? It was like that, except a surprised Joker.

I recoiled slightly. Woah, that was bad cosmetic surgery. I tried to diffuse my horror by uttering a cheery 'hello', but it didn't work. She had spotted Naughty George pissing on the wheel of the Bentley, and now he was woofing vacuously in their general direction. The bloody bastard.

She pouted at me (not that I think she had a choice), and looked me up and down, before striding off to help her husband with his zimmer frame.

But then it dawned on me - extreme plastic surgery is like taxidermying (is that the correct verb?) yourself in small steps whilst you are still alive.

So I got home and decided to do some research into 'plastic surgery gone wrong'.

And sacre bleu! Just look at the state of this lot ............

NUMBER 1. Melanie Griffiths (before and after). It's such a shame. Since cosmetic surgery, she tends to gurn a lot. Nice teeth for gurning though.

NUMBER 2. Nicole Kidman. It looks like her face is covered in Cling-Film

NUMBER 3. Blimey, this woman has got a dent in one of her bazukas

NUMBER 4. Donatella Versace after extensive plastic surgery. Oops, that didn't go well then. She looks like a negative in that right hand picture

NUMBER 5. Joan Rivers. Blimey, her nose and eyes are a totally different shape

NUMBER 6. David Gest. Woah, you made me jump man

NUMBER 7. Farrah Fawcet. It all ended up a bit wonky and lumpy. And you can see her nipple through her jacket

NUMBER 8. JEEZ! Rupert Everet? This is most decidedly NOT impressive

NUMBER 9. Unkown person. She's not gonna need airbags in the event of a car crash. But just hope that she comes to the rescue if you ever get in trouble at sea

NUMBER 10. Joan Van Ark from Knots Landing. That's Zombi-chic that is

NUMBER 11. Mickey Rourke. Blimey, he has been left a bit lop-sided

NUMBER 12. Pete Burns. Actually I don't think he looks too gross. I just get the feeling that he doesn't know 'who' he is. He isn't transsexual - gender dismorphia maybe? Even so, his lips are WAY to big

NUMBER 13. Maria Geronazzo (Hungarian celebrity). Bloody hell, she PAID for that. What is the obsession with having lips that look like two mattresses stapled to your face?

NUMBER 14. Dennis Avner. This chap has undergone extensive tattooing and cosmetic surgery so that he could look like a tiger. He even had his teeth filed and shaped to resemble one. RAR! What a nutbag

NUMBER 15. Jackie Stallone has now got a face that looks like a wellington boot that has been set on fire and put out with a spade

NUMBER 16. This is a girl (yep). And she is only 40. Michaela Romanini is an Italian socialite who became famous after her many surgeries. She looks like a cross between a man in drag and a muppet

NUMBER 17. Amanda Lepore. Amanda was a famous New York transsexual (bloody hell she was fit!), but then she went a tad overboard with the cosmetic surgery. And for some reason it made her boobs uneven

NUMBER 18. Poor old MJ. His nose was falling off. And he was such a handsome chap when he was younger

NUMBER 19. The Bride of Wildenstein. Allegedly, Jocelyn Wildenstein has spent around $4,000,000.00 on cosmetic surgery after her husband left her for a younger woman. Not the wisest investment I have seen. She looks like someone spotted a mosquito on her face and swatted it with a cricket bat

NUMBER 20. This is Hang Mioku, a 48 year-old woman from South Korea. She became so addicted to plastic surgery that she was left unrecognisable after her obsession led her to repeatedly inject cooking oil into her face. She was featured on Korean TV and viewers sent in enough donations to enable her to have surgery to reduce the size of her face. During the first procedure surgeons removed 60g of foreign substance from Hang's face and 200g from her neck. Her face is still scarred and disfigured (bottom picture). She now says she wishes she could get her original face back.

I have to say that virtually nothing shocks me, but after seeing that lot, I was left feeling slightly incredulous.

So dahlink what do you think about these people? (you have two choices but you can add more):

1. Stupid and not worthy of attention

2. Suffering some kind of dismorphic psycological illness

So, do you have any more plastic surgery disasters that you would like me to include? Please send me pictures and I will publish them and include a link to your blog. Mwahhhhhh ..... Just off to my botox appointment ;-)

Supermarket 'use-by' dates are a scandal

2011-10-13T20:31:00.000+01:00

I got mad at Asda (the UK's equivalent of Walmart) today. Recently, I seemed to be throwing away a lot of uneaten food because it was past it's use-by date. Which is unlike me, because I hate wasting money.

In fact, I only like parting with money when it is prised from my cold, dead fingers.

And then two days ago, it dawned on me why it was happening. Picture the scene: I had made my way into the desolate wasteland at the back of the house (the kitchen), with the intention of fashioning myself some lunch.

My luck was in. I managed to find a bread roll that was vaguely soft. Normally when I find bread rolls in my kitchen, they could be used as murder weapons. And as if that wasn't exciting enough, I suddenly remembered that I had bought some Asda sliced beef the day before.

By jove! I could make myself a beef sandwich. That would fortify body and mind.

Pic.No.1 This is the sliced beef that I bought from Asda

I buttered my bread roll (carefully making sure I avoided the mould in the tub), and then went to open the packet of Asda sliced beef.

In an instant (because I am eagle-eyed like a hawk) I noticed the use-by date. It was October 12th. But I had only bought the sliced beef on October 11th.

Pic.No.2 Look. The sliced beef was out-of-date a day after I bought it

The bastards! There was no way I would be able to eat a whole packet of sliced beef in one day, meaning that half of it would go to waste. Well not entirely to waste because Naughty George would salvage it from the compost bin and then spend the subequent three hours crapping all over the house.

I was incensed, and the beef sandwich failed to placate me ........ unsurprisingly, given that beef sandwiches have never held much sway as intermediaries.

So once I had finished scoffing it, I jumped into the car (braving the gales) and drove to the Asda supermarket to do some research.

Pic.No.3 This is me in the Asda carpark. Izzy took the picture. I like to think that my look is 'windswept and interesting'

I walked around all the aisles and looked at the products on display. And I was shocked to find out how many perishable products had virtually no shelf-life left on them. That'll explain why I was throwing food away so quickly then ....... previously when shopping, I had just been focused on the items I needed to buy, not the use-by date.

And then I discovered something else; if you rummaged around at the back of the supermarket shelves, the items were a lot newer. Take eggs for example. The eggs displayed at the front of the shelf had a use-by date of 15th October. But when I picked up a box from the back of the shelf, the use-by date was 31st October.

Gobsmacked.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I slowly realised that I was probably the only person on the planet who hadn't figured out how supermarkets manage use-by dates.

Arse.

So now all my my shopping excursions will be targeted towards the back of the supermarket shelves.

P.S. I'm sorry that the quality of pictures is poor - I have lost my Canon Powershot S95 camera. And I'm proper gutted.

P.P.S. Do you have any tales about bad supermarkets?

I went to see a bloody big warship called HMS Belfast

2011-10-10T14:54:00.001+01:00

I got myself into a bit of predicament last weekend. Somehow, I ended up in a position whereby I had to entertain two six-years-olds for an entire Sunday. Gulp. Obviously there was Izzy, but her best friend, May, was also coming over for a playdate.

Shit shit shit shit shit. When those two get together, they make Hurricane Irene look like a light breeze. Their nicknames are Ronnie and Reggie (as in the Kray brothers) for chrissake.

I needed a plan, and bloody quickly - May was due to arrive at 10am. And there were no flies on Izzy; she had spotted that my expression resembled that of a wildebeest who had inadvertently stepped on the paw of a sleeping lion.

"What are we doing today?" she asked me.

"At the moment ...... it's a secret," I replied, shiftily.

"You aren't going to teach us to drive a Fork Lift Truck, or service the car are you?" she said with a sad expression on her face.

Dammit, the girl had blown my first two lines of defence out of the water.

"Nope, it's WAY better than that," I replied, breaking out into a bit of a ~~sweat~~ glow. Luckily, I was saved by the bell as May arrived at the front door. Within seconds of her being ensconced in the house, the pair of them were running around like demented meerkats.

The situation was looking dire, especially as Ronnie and Reggie had already brought down the curtains in the dining room, but then I had a brainwave. I remembered an email that I had received a couple of weeks ago about the ulitmate gadget (and I lurvvve gadgets). It was a general invite asking me if I wanted to visit a particular tourist attraction in London. And that tourist attraction turned out to be a gadget on an epic scale ...... dah duh dahhhhhhhh (that was a drumroll) .................. a bloody warship! Yep, an actual World War 2 warship had been parked on the River Thames in London, and turned into a visitor attraction. It was called HMS Belfast (HMS stands for 'Her Majesty's Service').

I interrupted the girls as they were pulling all the pans out of the cupboard; "do you fancy going to see a warship?" I said.

They both looked at me, then at each other, before yelling, "YEAHHHHHH" at the top of their voices. They did that for a minute whilst jumping up and down, and then simultaneously stopped and asked, "what's a warship?"

"It is a bloody big boat with guns that can kill people," I replied.

"Really?" they said, their eyes widening, "the guns can really kill people?"

"Yep," I answered, at which they both resumed jumping up and down, and yelling "YEAHHHHHH."

I needed to act quickly because the HMS Belfast was in London (about an hour's drive from Oxford), so within five minutes, I was shoe-horning two flailing kids into the back of the car.

The drive to London was bloody marvellous, with Ronnie and Reggie (R & R) entertaining themselves with games like a 'who could scream the loudest', and 'who could stick their leg the furthest out of the window'. My personal favourite was a 'who could play the drum the fastest'. Yep, they had had the foresight to bring a drum with them, unbeknownst to me.

So that was me, in my jalopy, spluttering my way down the M40 with legs hanging out of the back windows. I must have been bad in a previous life.

Anyway, you will be pleased to hear that we made it to London, and we even found a parking space that cost less than £10 per hour.

And because I am kinder than Mother Theresa, but not as dead, I have got a whole load of cool pics for you ..........................

Pic.No.1 After parking the car, I decided to take Ronnie and Reggie for lunch before visiting the warship - Popcorn Chicken anyone? Bring on KFC ...... we are classy ladies you know

Pic.No.2 We had to walk down the banks of the River Thames to get to HMS Belfast. Ronnie and Reggie were excitedly taking in all the attractions on the way ............................

Pic.No.3 .................. and they found a fountain. And decided to run into it

Pic.No.4. This was a funny boat thing that was moored on the Thames

Pic.No.5 We passed the Hays Galleria which is also on the banks of the Thames. It is now a leisure and shopping area with amazing architecture because it used to be an old industrial building. That woman on the left has got a weird nose.

Pic.No.6 Finally, we caught a glimpse of our destination ....... HMS Belfast

Pic.No.7 Woo hoo! Look at that sucker for a gadget

Pic.No.8 Our admission ticket - things were starting to get exciting as we boarded the warship

Pic.No.9 Ronnie and Reggie were unsuprisingly impressed by the size of the guns 'that could kill people'

Pic.No.10 After boarding the warship, I noticed that in the background there was a great view of the famous 'Tower Bridge' ........ but we weren't there to see bridges schmidges .... no, we were there to see a warship ........ so we made our way inside .............

Pic.No.11 The first that we saw upon entering the ship was a bloody great torpedo. Marvellous!

Pic.No.12 This is what all the corridors in the ship looked like - higgledy piggledy walkways built around the ship's functionality

Pic.No.13 The ship had a full machine shop (with lathes, drills, milling machines and reamers), so that they could make any item of equipment that was needed. I loved that (but not in a sexual way) because I am an engineer

Pic.No.14 Ronnie and Reggie make their way down into the engine room of HMS Belfast through one of the tiny passageways

Pic.No.15 Bloody nora. This was only one set of many dials used to control the engine

Once we had done the 'business' side of things (id est, the engine) we moved onto to the rest of the ship. And crikey o'reilly, it was like a town on water. It had everything on board ...... look ......

Pic.No.16 This was the Postmaster. Obviously he was a dummy, but if he was real, he would be responsible for incoming and outgoing letters and parcels

Pic.No.17 This is the ship's shop - sailors could buy chocolate and Coke and Bovril (which was a bit random)

Pic.No.18 There was even a chapel, but we couldn't go inside because it was blocked off

Pic.No.19 And then we were off to the kitchens, where Izzy took this picture of me with my new plastic beau

Pic.No.20 This is the vegetable store. The HMS Belfast would often go on missions that lasted for months so they needed to be able to store fresh vegetables for all the sailors. I'm not quite sure why they would want a cat crapping everywhere

Pic.No.21 This is the 'food preparation area'. It looks like the poor bastard on the right has had to peel 60 onions. I felt sorry for him even though he wasn't real

Pic.No.22 Now we get down to business. The ship often had a crew of 950 sailors, all of whom needed feeding. Their food was cooked in the huge vats shown above

Pic.No.23 The HMS Belfast even had it's own bakery to make fresh bread ........ but the warship wasn't just amazing because of that ...................

Pic.No.24 There was an onboard Dentist ...............

Pic.No.25 ...........as well as onboard Surgeons ...........................

Pic.No.26 ................. and an onboard hospital. Yep, when I say it was like a mini-town, it really was

Pic.No.27 This was a cabin that the Officers lived in. It looks like the chap in the yellow jumper is holding what looks like a mini-dildo. I suppose when you are away from home for a long time ...... Anyway, the normal sailors all slept in hammocks around the engine room. But I forgot to get pictures ..... doh

Pic.No.28 The ship's prison cell. It looks like the powers that be weren't impressed with yellow-jumper's mini-dildo antics

Pic.No.29 Here we have the ship's bridge. Ronnie (aka May) took charge of the Captain's seat. They appeared to have a built-in Karaoke machine to keep the sailors entertained

Pic.No.30 I had no idea what this machine did, but it looked bloody amazing and I REALLY wanted to play with it. Look at all those handles .........................

Pic.No.31 The gyro-compass room. Those black things are used for steering the ship and aligning it's guns and radars ...... how cool?

Pic.No.32 This room was next to the gyro-compass room and is called the 'forward steering position'. Basically the bloke in the middle was steering the ship using that wooden steering wheel

Pic.No.33 Ronnie and Reggie absolutely loved the HMS Belfast because it involved continually climbing up and down narrow ladders and staircases ...... it meant they could be proper explorers

Pic.No.34 After exploring the inside of the warship (and I could have taken at least another 100 other photos), we headed out onto the decks. R & R soon found the ships anchor

Pic.No.35 But the best bit was the guns ................. BOOM

Pic.No.36 ............. and the view of the Tower of London (those four pointy towers) - where the crown jewels are kept ...... and loads of people were beheaded in medieval times

Pic.No.37 The warship was positioned so that it's guns were pointing towards Westminster in London, where the government resides. It could be construed as ironic

Pic.No.38 A view of London from the HMS Belfast

Pic.No.39 Anti-aircraft guns - BOOM! (again)

Pic.No.40 R&R seemed particularly taken with this plastic sailor having a cigarette

Pic.No.41 A newly built skyscrapers dominates the skyline behind the HMS Belfast

Pic.No.42 The ship's bell. Apparently this has important historical significance

Pic.No.43 Ah, this plaque will explain the important historical significance then ............

But finally, it was time to end our vist to the HMS Belfast and head home. R & R protested in a vigorous fashion, but I stood my ground.

Pic.No.44 So R&R decided to have a quick dance on the rear deck before they finally disembarked the ship (moaning because they didn't want to leave)

Pic.No.45 As we walked back to the car, we spotted the new skyscraper that was being built next to the River Thames. It's enormous by English standards

Pic.No.46 And if you are a book lover, you might be interested in the the fact that we passed the house that John Keats used to live in

So dahlink, all in all, it was a fabulous day out. Mainly because it was one of those rare attractions that's interesting for kids and adults. And also because it was the biggest bloody gadget I have ever encountered.

For a whole two days afterwards, I wanted to join the Navy. But then I changed my mind because I didn't want to sleep in a hammock without my 300 threadcount sheets.

If you want to read about the HMS Belfast fighting in wars, you can do it by clicking here (opens in a new window).

What have you been up to over the weekend?

How about this for a coincidence?

2011-10-07T18:11:00.002+01:00

Bloody hell, this blogging milarky doesn't half send some interesting people and scenarios my way, and you'll never believe this one.

I don't know if you remember, but a while ago, I dug up an old glass bottle in the garden of my old London house.

Pic.No.1 It was an old glass Ginger Beer bottle - circa 1900 - with 'IDRIS' embossed on the side

Pic.No.2 And it still had the original cork inside

I had loads of fun doing some research regarding the bottle's history, but things got way more engrossing when a couple of weeks after I had blogged about it, I received an email from a lady in New Zealand who had stumbled over my post:

"Hi Annie, I think I can tell you about the ginger beer bottle in your garden! First of all do you want to sell it? A bit blunt of me to ask, I know. I live in New Zealand and have been here 20 years, originally from the UK. My great Grandfather was the founder of Idris ginger beer, his name was Thomas Howell William Idris and he was an MP with the Liberal party under Lloyd George. As I have a connection, I think your discovery is really interesting, Regards Sarah"

Sarah and I exchanged some interesting emails (that reminds me, I still haven't sent her the bottle), and then the IDRIS bottle gradually slipped from my mind ........ until this week that is .................

I heard the ping of an email arriving in my inbox, and went to check out what it was. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that it was from a random chap in South Africa ....................

Hi there

I've been researching the Idris family and I came across your blog. My stepfather comes from the Idris family and his great, or great great (we are still trying to figure out which) Grandfather, was the founder of the Idris company. So it was interesting to encounter Sarah from New Zealand with the same connections. My stepfather's side of the family all live in South Africa now too. Would it be possible for you to put me in contact with Sarah, so that we may compare notes?

Thank you kindly, 

Adri

By now I was totally intrigued, so I forwarded Adri's email to Sarah, and asked for an update. And I only bloody got one today.

It only turned out that Sarah from New Zealand, and Adri from South Africa were relatives ... read this ......

Hi Annie

Just to let you know. I have been in touch with Adri after you forwarded me his email about being linked to the Idris family. We have exchanged correspondance, and realised that we are related. I have now established another branch of the family! It was great to have your input, I think you should be an Honorary Member of the Idris family !!

What other treasure have you dug up in your garden ?

We leave NZ on friday, and have a quick visit to the UK then to France, wonderful to see the old country again.

We used to live in a village in Buckinghamshire called Quainton, not far from you I suppose, how bizzare?

Best wishes and thank you so much for your help, something else to put on your Blog

Sarah

Bloody hell. All this began with me digging up a tatty looking bottle in my back garden, and ended with me accidentally reuniting family members from the opposite sides of the globe. I'm like bloody Oprah Winfrey I am (except not as minted).

So dahlink, has your blog ever thrown anything unexpected your way?

Oxford - Come explore with me dahlink

2011-10-03T22:33:00.000+01:00

'Where the blazes have you been?' I hear you cry.

I know, I know, I have been sadly negligent with my blog for the last few days, but there has been good reason: Something happened in the UK, and I had to react with the speed and agility of a ninja who has mated with a crocodile (they're pretty quick aren't they?).

'So what happened in the UK?' you ask, eyeing me suspiciously in a sideways fashion.

The sun came out - that's bloody what. After months of drab, dreary weather, it suddenly came out in force, that is, 28 degrees celcius (82F). It was a proper Indian Summer that was as unexpected as Victoria Beckham cracking a smile. See here ...................

Pic.No.1 As this example shows, all newspapers splashed with the heatwave

So I decided to take full advantage of the balmy weather by having a few days off to do random stuff outside. I love doing random stuff, I do. If I didn't have to earn money, I would spend my entire time doing it.

The first thing that I wanted to do was explore Oxford's rivers. If you look at Oxford city on a map, it has a plethora of waterways snaking through it's ancient streets, and I had been meaning to explore them for ages.

I mentioned the idea to my chum Steve, and he loved the it, so we took some time-out and plotted an 8-mile hike that took in the vast majority of Oxford's rivers and canals.

With the route agreed, we arranged to meet at my house the next morning in order to execute the plan.

He turned up 20 minutes late, sporting a large rucksack.

"Are you ready?" I asked him.

"Yep," he replied, "I'm fully loaded with my hydration pack, GPS, and flares."

"We're going for a hike in Oxford," I said, "we won't be more than 100 metres from a cafe at any given point."

He frowned at me, "it's that laissez faire attitude that results in death," he said.

Men.

So dahlink, here are a few pictures of our hike to keep you entertained .....................

Pic.No.2 This is a map of our planned walk (the dark blue line)

And here are a few photographs to show you what it looked like ......................

Pic.No.3 We started out by walking through the meadows of Old Marston. That is Steve and Naughty George in the picture

Pic.No.4. The meadows were alongside the River Cherwell. That's me that is

Pic.No.5. The River Cherwell. Believe it or not, we were in Oxford city at this point - it's called 'University Parks'

Pic.No.6 A flock of cows in University Parks - look at the bastards - they have murderous looks. NEVER trust a cow. I speak from experience

Pic.No.7 And then our walk took us away from the parks and across the city centre. Starting with the Chemistry Department of Oxford University

Pic.No.6 And a random round building

Pic.No.7 The gates to one of the University colleges

Pic.No.8 This is Broad Street in Oxford. As you have probably noticed, virtually EVERYONE travels by bicycle

Pic.No.9 Steve and Naughty George walking past Trinity College (Oxford University) on Broad Street. You can see Steve's hydration pack (the blue thing hanging off his shoulder)

Pic.No.10. Cornmarket Street - The main shopping area in Oxford

Pic.No.11 As quickly as we reached the city centre, we were back out of it again. This is the Oxford Canal

Pic.No.12 Loads of people live on these brightly coloured canal-boats that are moored along the towpath

Pic.No.13 Here is a canal-boat going through a lock. It's a bit of a faff

Pic.No.14 A bridge over the Oxford canal

Pic.No.15 And then after walking along the canal, we suddenly encoutered Oxford's 'Port Meadow' - a huge flat plain to the North-West of Oxford

Pic.No.16 Port Meadow was bordered by the river Thames. Now I REALLY want a boat

Pic.No.17 Crikey, who IS that supermodel sitting on that log over there?

Pic.No.18 And finally, we planned to finish off our hike with lunch at The Trout (see above - it's a public house / restaurant). Except the bastards refused to serve us because the outside space was full (no it wasn't), and we couldn't take Naughty George the dog into the indoors restaurant

Pic.No.19. So we walked to a pub that was in the village next door. And I managed to get a picture of Steve where he didn't have his eyes closed / wasn't gurning / wasn't grimacing

I have to say the food was shite. My scampi was obviously jet-washed from the carcasses of a flock of Cod and then deep-fried. And the chips (fries) were pre-formed oven fries. Bad effort.

But, despite the lunch let-down, it was a bloody great day out, and my legs are now wobbling like the Greek economy.

So dahlink, what do you do to enjoy the sunshine?