Knickers, Mothers Tits and Baked Beans

Well glad another that's another week behind me. Soon be Christmas. I feckin hate Christmas. Had a shaky start to last week. A bit dark to start with but I got better as the week wore on. It's called kidnap if you take and borrow passing people off the street and tie them up to talk to them and show them photos of your kids. Add me on face book I pleaded then I can show you without you having to sit here. But it was nice to have real people in the house. Anyways they was having none of it. Mines Mr Husband told the policeman-'it's the menopause mate- it makes her lonely and makes her cry a lot'. Cheek of it. 'No, I protested, it's being lonely makes me do it'. I wasn't helping apparently.

I had a good day when MMH told me I was only 51, not 52. Nearly peed me pants with excitement. I was breaking in a new pair that day. TIP OF THE WEEK ; Never have a whole day out whilst breaking in new knickers. You may need to abandon them when they get too tight. Not allowed back in Waitrose now. (I wonder if they have been found yet. I hid them behind them behind the baked beans).

I got me new Lady Magnet. Mines Mr Husband says this will help with the Menopause. I can assure him it don't be needing any feckin help. It seems to be doing a good job all by itself.

I found out if you soap the bottom of your feet in the shower you can get quite a nasty bump on your head. Don't be doing that folks.

Me and mines Mr Husband spent the day photographing mines mothers tits. We are going back next week to see them fledge.

Also excited to find I have 8 new followers on twitter- Mines Mr Husband says 'they are not followers pickle, they are stalkers'. Who cares. At least I have some friends now.

I took mines Mr Husband to Dunelm for a little treat yesterday because he has been very good. I don't think he wanted to go but I thought it he would enjoy it when we got there! He noticed me getting in very close for a look at some things. He said 'you seem to be very attracted mines little pumpkin to shiny things today- don't be thinking of spending too much money'. How the feck can you go in Dunelm without thinking about spending too much money?? We only needed face cloths. Our water is so feckin hard down here I am sure it's from Bridgwater. Anyways I had to point out to him 'I am not attracted to shiny things- it's this feckin lady magnet thingamajig. I am stuck'. Anyways he prised me off most things but the shiny kitchen chair (with the purple pagan seat) I have had to keep. So we did have to spend some money because they wouldn't let us have it for free even though I pointed out it wouldn't leave me alone. Also a set of saucepans, a colander and some nice knives and a candelabra.

Roll on a new week. I am expecting two more delivery guys (whoopee) and I am seeing Gavin the Osteopath - think it will be a good week. I am ordering a man and van as well for the house move. (Mines Mr Husband is having the van and I am having the man). And I have plenty of chocolate and cake!!

Sex in the Car, Sex in the Woods, and Stuffing

This Morning:

On the way to the chemist to get my lady magnet and my prescription:

Me: 'Oh Mines Mr Husband, the doctor has put my age on here. She says I am 51. I love her'.

MMH: 'Well, you are 51'.

Me: 'No I'm not. I am 52'.

MMH: 'Not until September Sweetheart'.

Me: 'I think you will find that I am 53 in September'.

MMH: 'No, do the Maths. You were born in 63 and its 2015, because you haven't had your birthday yet you will 52'.

Me: 'Are you sure?'

MMH 'Yes Darling, I am good with Maths'.

Me: 'Wow, I am so excited I could pee me pants. I have gained a whole year'.

MMH 'No, you have just lost one'.

(I think this depends on how one looks at this) however I am so excited and it put me in a good mood.

Me: 'Well that has put me in a good mood and I am super happy. Do you want to have sex now I am in a good mood'.

MMH 'No not really Sweetheart because I am driving'.

Well I shan't offer again - he had his chance. No good for him to say I didn't offer.........

(If you want to know what a lady magnet is- it's not the same as a fanny magnet- it's a little helper for ladies of a certain age with mood swings and hot flushes- although MMH went into the chemist and asked for it (quite boldly) and the woman ran round in a flap and had to call the manageress to help her look for a 'lady maker' for the gentleman in the black sweater. Nearly peed me pants twice today and it's only lunch time!)

This Afternoon:

This afternoon we went for a nature walk and stuff. Only there wasn't as much stuffing as I hoped. We took some photos of the terrapins and the fish and the trees and I was lucky enough to find a fungi in the woods. I didn't tell mines Mr husband because he had found a random loony who made friends with him and I wandered off to the woods alone. Then mines Mr husband came and found me in the woods. We found a den - now it could have been a badgers home or a fox or even a plain rabbit- we don't go in for them fancy rabbits down yer in Devon we don't. Just plain. And we only do two types of rabbit stew- stew with rabbit and stew without. Anyways I was curious to get a picture of the inhabitant of that den but even though I got down on my hands and knees and gently chided he didn't comes out. I said to Mines Mr Husband 'find some poo and taste it'. He looked horrified. 'Don't be disgusting little fruitcake', he replied. 'I don't intend to be', I said, 'that's why I am asking you to find it and taste it'. 'What will that achieve exactly?' he asks. I told him 'We will soon be able to find out what kind of animal lives there by this experiment if only we can find some poo. It works I seen it on spring watch'. 'Spring watch?' he repeated. 'Well', I said, 'Something like that, I think it may have had Tom Hanks or someone in it'. 'So not a tried and tested method. I don't think I will bother if you don't mind'. He is feckin useless on this nature trail stuff and so unwilling. I am sure other husbands are willing to taste poo in the woods to determine the bum it has come from. Then we went deeper into the woods and we found a little waterfall and a babbling brook. It was lovely. We couldn't go in it because we never had us wellies. And to be fair Mines Mr Husband still only has one. I am still looking for another. I told him I was really cheered up and really happy. I offered him sex again but he said he would have to decline -I shan't offer again I shan't. Then we found the place where the bears had their picks nicked. Feckin furious they was. They are better behaved nowadays I have noticed. You know usually they shit behind the trees? But now they don't. They do it in little black bags and leave it front of the trees for the park warden when he comes. Nice Idea I thought. Polite. On the way out of the woods we heard crunching. It was a only a feckin bear eating a bag of crisps. He was too busy too notice us. We sneaked away sharpish. I photographed him but it hasn't come out. Then we returned to the pond and watched the moorhens and the gooses. Then Mines Mr Husband suddenly remembered we had duck food in the car. Shall we try the duck food he asks? 'No thanks', I said. 'I am not hungry at the moment and I was rather hoping for fish and chips this evening'. So we left it in the car. Then after I asked a woman which part of the sign didn't she understand about keeping dogs on feckin leads and kids as well. Last time I try to point out the error of her ways. I don't think my nose will be straight for some time. Then we went to get some fish and chips and we went to the fair. Well we sat in the car park next to the far. Mines Mr Husband didn't want to ride on anything because he was worried about losing his false teeth. We will go back tomorrow if its still there. I am going to use the serious glue on his teeth. And shall report back forwith!

Sex games and Bubbles

Oh dear. Mines Mr Husband has just found the bubble wrapped delivery man under the stairs. He rolled away after i wrapped him and popped him in various locations (on his body of course i mean on his body- did you really need to wonder?) and then he went popping and rolling all around the room. To be honest I thought he had rolled under the sofa and I would have to wait until mines Mr Husband came home in the morning to lift the sofa. Then I had a sleep and completely forgot. Mines Mr Husband has had to free him and bribe him with moneys and beers and told him I am a little loony and I keep escaping. He has promised to take me back to the loony bin tomorrow. Still hopefully the policemens won't come again. I daren't go down that 'not allowed to bubble wrap and parcel tape people' thing again this week. I can't help it- I keep forgetting stuff.

I am still here! Wet Knickers, Bubble wrap and Tape

The little girl in the white cotton frock has survived another night and another day to tell another tale. It's not easy being her. Tonight though she is someone else. Someone a bit brighter. So this is what the last few days adventures have been:

Saturday Night -

7.15 pm -The excitement when a car stops in the lay by and you think you got visitors. Then they go to pull off. I am getting really good now at stopping cars from pulling away. So Yay- I have visitors. When I remove the tape from their mouths I will ask them their names.

7.30pm -As luck would have it a break down truck pulled up in lay by too. He didn't know all the uses for a tow rope. They all seem to be having fun trying to get free and I am showing them baby pics of the kids. Such fun. Keep bail money on stand by. Last time it didn't end so well.

10pm (at the police station) -Oh so it's called kidnap is it. Well there you go. That's put the mockers on that then. Didn't like them anyway. Needs bail money.

Sunday morning at 3am: (back home) The tv remote control has spiralled out of control. Had to pull the plug out of the TV. What I say is thank feck for Solo beats and Elvis Presley. Make the most of loud singing before we move to the new house. It won't be as soundproof as this one. Singing won't be the only thing we will have to be quiet with either. Mines mister will have to fart bit quieter an all.

Sunday morning at 4am: I don't know what the man from down the road wanted. Something about making a noise. I told him straight - it's 4 in the morning- haven't you got better things to do than pester women who trying to sing along to Elvis. You oughta be sleeping not banging on my door making a noise. Fair to say he went off with a flea in his ear.

Tuesday Morning:

When you are poorly sometimes you have to stay in bed. You wear your pyjamas or nothing at all if this is your preference. When you are poorly sometimes you have to go to the doctors. I do not see what is wrong with wearing your pyjamas or nothing at all if that is your preference. I just can't see what the fuss was about. I had me socks on I did.

Tuesday Evening:

Its all excitement here. 1000mm of bubble wrap arrived. Poor delivery man thought I was a loony. Mines Mr Husband has locked the front door- he has gone to work. This has a two fold purpose - keeps me from escaping (it is ok mines friends- I have chocolate) and stops me from kidnapping people to talk to. However, it buggers up deliveries muchly. But then Yodel do say they will deliver after seven but I have never know them to before- or in the day even! I called through the letter box for him to leave it on the doorstep. He wouldn't. Then I ran though the house and out in the garden and waved to his mate from the gate. Then I ran back in the house and back to the front to wave to the man at the door. Then I ran up the stairs and along the landing to the bedroom to search for a door key. Back down the stairs and through the living room to the front door. I opened the door and told him I was sooo sorry, waved to his mate in the van and then thought ooooh the man that was delivering the bubble wrap was enough to bring the wet knicker brigade out in full force. So as I grabbed the luscious bubble wrap and I grabbed the delivery man and waved his friend off. The delivery man is now parcel taped to the chair behind the bubble wrap whilst I get me breath back and take some pain killers - then we are going to have some fun with the bubble wrap. I Have locked the door and hidden the key. It is going to be a fun night.x

Understanding me Tonight- Saying goodbye to the little Girl

It could be argued that the little dot of a girl in the white cotton frock playing in the grass in the sunshine in the garden has so many people who truly care and therefore she has no need to be suicidal or even miserable. Even if her children don't care to do as much as answer a text. She knows her parents would be heartbroken for sure but they aren't going to be around for ever more are they? She also has 197 friends on face book- although 5 of them are her little sister (the one with the issues). Most of them she has only met once or less (that's other face book friends not her little sisters (the one with the issues) and lets face it no-one notices if she doesn't appear on face book do they? Oh and then there are two or three alter egos. They won't miss her! So there you go- multi personalities as well. The happy 'she' wants to stay alive and enjoy sunny days and nature. She loves nature. And sunny days. She loves laughing and singing and even used to enjoy a good ol' dance around the living room. In the days before the pain. She is feeling torn most days between living and dying.

She has three brothers and two sisters. They really don't care if she lives or dies. She never hears from them. Or receives any communication from them unless there is an emergency with her parents. They have all been spiteful and unkind in varying degrees. They have labelled her demonic because she takes a different view and a different path to the one they were brought up to tread. Not than any of them tread it either and there's not one who leads an upright moral life. Not One. And in her opinion they are all more fecked up and demonic than she will ever be. She doesn't drink, take drugs or smoke dubious substances. Six painkillers a week cannot be counted. She still leads the better life. She has never harmed any of them or been unkind to them. She has been loyal and protective of them all. Her first marriage went to the wall in part because of the amount of time she spent protecting and helping her family. She is shunned by most and some have been so hurtful and spiteful and she doesn't understand. Maybe they don't like her straight talking when she tells them to pull themselves together now they are nearing their 50th years. There is not any need for them all to still be making a hash of their lives and blaming everyone but themselves.

Then there is her husband. He is a good man. She loves him. He loves her. They laugh together. They have even cried together many times. But she knows from previous experience that he is a practical man. He won't let the grass grow under his feet without her. He will get over it and get on with it. If he stayed home from work every time she had a suicidal urge he would never go to work. He once said he was only worried about her taking her own life in case that everyone would blame him. He won't stop her from her doing it. He understands. She would like him to know that there will be sunny days ahead for him without her and that she will watch him from on high. She doesn't want him to take the blame. In truth everyone in her life has to consider upon her death what part they played and when they have thought hard 'Did I do enough? and Could I have done more?' instead of saying 'she was selfish, she didn't care about us'- they can take the appropriate amount of blame and learn to live with it or not. There is a pretty high chance they won't even do that.

She doesn't want her neices to feel bad because she loves them and she knows the ones that are allowed to be part of her life love her, but she also thinks and hopes they will understand her pain......

Tonight she sits here with her wedding photo, photos of her children and grandchildren, 120 sleeping tablets and a bottle of whiskey..................Forgive me please.............Remember me on sunny days................

Understanding me Today, Dark Places, Death and Sunshine.

Understanding me Today

I bet you don't if you aren't inclined. But if you are a fellow sufferer you will. Today started off good, as good goes. Then I started doing my ironing and that's when the mood descended. I don't usually feel suicidal when I do the ironing. I usually combine it with listening to some music. But Mister was in bed so I didn't want to make a noise. I can't just listen to music even with headphones on - I have to sing. And i am no soprano. I thought about the three texts I sent to each of my children last night and I thought about the fact that not one of them replied- not one. Not a sausage. Then the mist descended and the tears flowed and flowed and I became consumed with thoughts of death and rejection yet again. All three of them going about their happy little lives- not a thought for me. Too busy to even send one text. I sit here day after day after day. I can't deal with it anymore. I have cried buckets and buckets today and I don't feel better. Now I am sat in the garden writing through the tears what I intend to be my last blog. I am thinking about the 120 sleeping tablets and bottle of whiskey I have tucked away ready to deal with the time. I read a story this week of how two brothers killed themselves by inhaling helium but I would probably just die of laughing from a squeaking voice. Although I don't know if it is better to die happy than sad. And I don't know where to get that much helium at short notice- or even long notice. I would put me head in the oven except its an electric fan oven and all that would happen is that I would end up with a frizzy hair do and singed eyebrows. And no-one wants to die looking like that.

I have spent the last hour sat in the sun, soaking up some vitamin D. I have watched insects and spiders and flies busying about their business and little birds gathering straw for their nests in my eaves. A pigeon sat on my roof waiting for the birds to feed from the feeder because he knows they will leave enough bits of seed in a minute for him to feed from the ground. I have watched the great tit weave in and out of the pear trees opposite so that he can escape the evil clutches of the blackbird. All of them oblivious to my pain. Just like 30years again when I was nesting and raising my young I was oblivious to the pains in the outside world. The sun on my back transported me back to happier days. Memories of a little dot of a girl in a beautiful little white cotton frock and a bow in her hair playing in the grass in her garden whilst her mother chased around trying to capture her photograph. Then sunny days running around in her paternal grandparents garden soaking up the scent of her grandmothers rose garden and catching the odd waft of the apple pie baking in the oven, and listening to the pigeons cooing next door from their loft. She loved them days so much. Sitting on the grass in the sun in a school field with friends making daisy chains. A bit bigger a girl running round on the common with her parents and siblings whilst flying a kite and a teenager running round with her brother and his friends playing football. Or laying in a bikini in the hottest summer of  '76 whilst hoping to catch the eye of friendly lad or two or three even. Then there she was again- on her mothers lawn again, only this time in a wedding dress and her mother was still running round trying to capture photographs.  Then my mind moved on to summer days with this little girl all grown up with her own little boys and little girl. A little boy in a little knitted white top and blue shorts riding on his trike. Pedalling as fast as his little legs could go, shouting 'look at me, I am doing a wheelie mum', as he veered to one side. She could barely keep up with him and by the time he was knocking on his grandmothers door she was exhausted. She would wait for the familiar voice of his grandmother to say 'now who is that knocking at my door I wonder' and his little voice would reply ' its only me, the little boy who lives down the lane'. She would call back 'and what do you want?' to which he would answer 'a boiled egg and some soldiers please'. The door would open, the words had worked their magic. After his boiled egg and soldiers were all consumed and Postman Pat had been watched and sung along too they would all go into the garden for some sunshine and he would run around and play in the grass and his mum and his grandmother would chase around trying to capture his photograph. The memories go on and on and on. Days at the beach, days in the countryside, days in the gardens of grandparents. Sunny days. Bright and beautiful sunny days filled with laughter and fun. Those days are gone. Sure that little girl is now a grandmother. But she isn't allowed to have fun with her children and her grandchildren anymore. She is denied sunny days in the garden with them or at the beach. She is tired and in physical pain and emotional turmoil. She has a good husband who loves and cares for her and they have nice days out. But she knows she is missing out on the joy and the laughter of having a family. What is the point in laying on a hospital table being cut in half and dying in the process to give birth? What is the point in being a good mother and protector? What is the point in loving them with every fibre of your being? What is the point in bringing them up to be loving and loyal? What is the point in anything when you have to live a long painful life without them in it? She will tell you that she can see no point. Today she wants the pain to stop. And she is  the only one who can stop the pain. Tonight she will send them all a text. Not an ordinary - 'this mamma sending love text' - but a scheduled text that will arrive at 7am in the morning when her husband comes home to find her lifeless soul. They will all know together. Her text will be a final farewell and the last of her love. And the sun shan't shine for her ever again.

Willy, Maids Outfits and Kinky Mother In Laws

Sooo all is not quite well in the household of Prince William and the Duchess of Cambridge then. I was reading Woman magazine in the supermarket yesterday so it must be true. I learned this nifty little trick whilst working at the Toy Cupboard ( Jeez I miss that little job and me mates)- read before ye buy, ye save a feckin fortune. Anyways I like to read the problem pages because since I have took over from Marjorie Proops I have been quite in demand. Then I comes across this (that's in the finds sense- Woman is not that kind of a magazine).

Dear Auntie Beth

I have not long been married to my beautiful wife Kate and our 22 month old son George and new baby daughter whatsername, and we live in huge house that has ten bedrooms. It used to belong to my Auntie Maggie. We used to have many loyal staff but they have started leaving. It is all because my mother in law is at ours all the time. She sits between us on the settee and we aren't even able to hold hands. I don't mean with her, I mean with each other. She interferes constantly and has even started staying the night and bringing us breakfast in bed. She bosses the staff about and they are leaving us in droves. We are at our wits end and we don't want to upset her or stop her from seeing her grand children but what are we to do? Even my poor wife is getting fed up because it is causing rows between us.

Yours sincerely

Prince William of the United Kingdom.

Dear Willy,

Oh my, oh my. It's not just the tea that is a brewing in your house then? A feckin dirty great storm by the seems of it. A family feud. A funeral even!! I can tell ye Willy that from years of experience with a mother in law pretty much the same (God rest her soul), I share your pain mate, I share your pain. And we only had the one settee. And that was an old two seater. Can ye not find her a settee of her own in that big house? And put it in the garden shed for her. (Your mother in law, not mine. Mine don't need one, God rest her soul). We also had the breakfast in bed problem. Well I tell ye this, after fifteen years of early mornings they get fed up with getting up and bringing ye the weetabix. Ye may have to put ye foot down with a firm hand me ol' mucker even if it goes against thee sweet nature. Tell her straight like I did my mother in law -God Rest her soul- I told her straight I did I was offering her son a variety at breakfast time and it didn't always come out of a cereal packet. I let him try different things and it would have just been too kinky to include the mother in law. Can ye not offer her a permanent job? If she wants a servants lowly, poorly paid position get her a maids outfit (not like mine from Anne Summers)- a proper one with starched knickers and bonnet. Get her down and dirty in that scullery fourteen hours a day and let her feed off the scraps that ye old dog don't want no-more. She will soon get fed up with that. If she don't you can do what I did with my mother in law- God rest her soul- just tell her to feck right off. (Repeat as necessary- ye may have to do this several time over many years). Be prepared for your wife to feel awkward and she maybe a little terse over the situation. But it will be worth it in the end. If ye still having trouble when ye have tried this then my bestest bit of advice would to be have a word with Ye Old Duke and he will arrange something!

 P.S. By the way this wouldn't be a problem had you married MY Kate like I suggested. She is of Royal descent you know. (I done the family tree). And I know Harry is still available but I would have to demand a paternity test first. Not of Kate, I know she is mine. But she is a good girl and you wouldn't be having mother in law problems now because I knows me place!

New Knickers, Twerking and Flying Fish

Well yesterday when I woke up I was in a dark place. Feckin Mines Mister Husband locked me in the cupboard again! Anyways he took me to tesco to cheer me up. I am a simples girl and I don't want a lot. He bought me some new knickers. I don't know why- I don't bother with knickers much. But still nice to have in the drawer. I tried them on in the shop. Got told off by the manager- again. Apparently they have changing rooms for trying on clothes. I attracted quite a crowd especially the ones I managed to get on sideways and then ended up head first in the reduced basket because I lost mines balance. Mines Mister Husband bought himself some new knickers too. I like his- they have a handy little pocket thing at the front. I could do with some like that- Somewhere to keep me chocolate. Anyways I was doing well - I managed to get most of the way round without stripping (apart from the knicker thing), singing, doing any twerking, going on me wrecking ball or swapping any babies in any trolleys. Then we got to the dead fish aisle. That is when it all kicked off and I lost the plot. 'Do ye want dead fishes mines mister husband?' I asked. He said 'Oh no, not more dead animals. T'was only yesterday ye gave me three dead rabbits and a fox'. I thought so ungrateful he is. 'These ones are covered in nice breadcrumbs and batter though', I told him. Finally he agreed he would like some dead fish as long as they were covered in batter and he could have them with chips. (Note to self: next jelly fish I find on the beach-batter first- he will readily accept- seems its un-battered fishes he don't like. Also do this with a dead animals from now on!) Anyhows, ye know I am a bit slower nowadays. My head is slow and I don't balance so good and things do whizz round a bit sharpish. I was stood looking at the array of dead fishes on offer and trying to work out if I even knew what some of them were. I was a bit dizzy but I held me nerve. Then suddenly this stupid cow of woman pushed in front of me, yanked open the freezer door and nearly knocked me clean off me feets. Now not all of us are steady on our feets and some of us can't function like the others. Some of us also have aspergers and we don't like peoples un-invited in our space. And she was in my space un-invited. She grabbed some dead fishes and slammed the door so hard it sent me in a spin. Then she scanned it herself (cos you can do that up our Tesco's. Bleep, bleep, bleep. Gets on ya feckin tits.) I am not usually a violent person, unless some one tries un-invited to tweak my nipples or enter my space. Ya know it is rude to tweak a girls nipples or enter her space un-invited), but I brought both my fists up to re-arrange her face. Some geezer helped up her from the position she was sprawled in across aisles 11 to 15. Did you know fish can fly- even dead and battered? yep they can. They do look funny wrapped in raspberry ripple though- particularly still in the tub. And I am not saying whether or not I had anything to do with her being stopped by security for all the things she had in her trolley that she never scanned! Don't mess with the Zohan. Or with the Beth. So on a Tesco Ban again! Oh and I need bail money please. Anyway Mines Mister Husband was right. Going to Tesco always cheers me up!

Cleavage, Nude Husbands and Squids

Now my mate Dave wants me to send him £22 to help with this feckin party he keeps goin' on about. Only this time he said I can have one of his tee shirts with the erection campaign on. I said to him 'now lets get this straight me ol' bean' (cos I call him that- we are on ol' bean terms we are), 'look yer me ol' bean' I says- 'for 22 squids I can have three nice tee-shirts from Amazon with a logo and colour of my choice- or 15 tee shirts from Primark- so your 22 squids ain't such a good offer'. Anyway then he gets his wife Sam Cam on the case. She thanks me for all my good work during the erection campaign. 'Don't thank me', I says - 'I didn't do nuffin'. Well I didn't. Anyways she thinks the tee shirt is good value but I don't see her at the reduced section in Lidl hoping to get some half price mince. I told her straight for 22 squids I can have a homeless man for christmas so I can. In fact the last one I got was 26squids (you will all recall) and he has stayed here ever since. Well he calls himself mines Mr Husband- poor old soul he is. But every few days I makes him have a shower and I gives him a bit of dinner and he is quite good company most of the time. So then Iain Ducan thingymajig wades in and I tells him to eff off. I don't want a feckin tee shirt. I don't wear tee shirts unless they enhance my ample bosom. End of. The old homeless man who calls himself mines Mr Husband points out that the ample bosom does support the erection campaign and I should consider it. GO AWAY mens- I don't want to pay all those squids for a feckin tee shirt. Ye Gods.

We have finally found the new house- well we found a few weeks ago but we have been himming and hamming and humming. But we have taken the plunge and we will be moving in on the 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, 23rd and 24th of June. I said to the old homeless man (MMH) that at least my mate Dave won't keep sending me requests for squids for his left over tee shirts. He said- 'well, he will pickle because he sends you emails doesn't he'. Still I think it will fool him for a bit. Tiny bit sad cos I saw Hot Hunky Marine Husband next door with no clothes today in the garden (he was without clothes- not me- what you take me for?- I am shy I am). I may just have to keep coming back for a peep through the fence. Summer has hit Whimple.

 I'v had to draw the curtains early tonight. I have ran out of bird seed and the birds keep sitting on the window sill giving me menacing looks. And MMH has no trousers on- I fear he is in grave danger.............tis the Blackbirds mainly!

Stroking Bushes, Cleavage Secrets, Holding his Nuts

Always looking for alternative health solutions I recently discovered that using coconut oil to clean your teeth is good for you. I have started having a bounty bar for breakfast followed by a glass of malibu. Don't know why I did think of this before.

I love the fact that Saga magazines (for over fifties) have a dating page- it is littered with people in their 70's and 80's trying to find that special one. I love the fact they all end with ring me now. I would like to add to that- ring me now, hurry up- limited offer, I may be here today but gone tomorrow!

A little tip for you ladies- men put your fingers in your ears- buy a size bigger than normal bra- preferably one to lift that cleavage up. Then you can use the extra room to store naughty snacks. Not with chocolate though because you enter a whole different kind of naughtiness.

A big farming store near us stock Super Lube in 5litre tubs- for super lubing days I guess. Most impressive. Find it next to the rubber gloves.

A new study shows that men are best to catch at 8.15pm for serious conversation. Pointed this out to MMH- he looked at the clock and said 'well I am afraid it is 9.20pm now so too late I am afraid. When is the best time to have a serious conversation with a woman, do you know?'. As it happens I do. 'yes I tell him, it is apparently at 8.20am - but don't ye feckin dare'. Anyways the best time to have a serious talk with a man is when you have his nuts in your hand and the stapler in the other! Full attention guaranteed!!

Mines Mr Husband took me to look at a new house today. We are going to have a proper look at in it the week. Inside and everything. He assured it me it was number 16 with the brown door and the red garage. We sat admiring it for sometime and decided we would like to at least rent the outside. I would like to apologise to the woman in the house at number 16 for my need to get out and stroke her very dashing bush. I so have bush envy this week. I would further like to apologise for mines Mr Husband getting out and also stroking her rather dashing bush. I became very excited at thought that in a few weeks this bush could be all mine and me and mines Mr Husband could stroke it until our hearts content. I thought about that lovely bush all the way home. Only to find out that the house we should have been looking at was number 61, with a green front door and a white garage and a much less appealing, if not somewhat unruly bush. Mines Mr Husband is clearly feckin dyslexic and colour blind. If ever a girl got disappointed about a bush tis I. What's the betting if we move there we will both be sneaking round to number 16 regularly just for a stroke or a glimpse of her bush.

Marriage and Children-Kahlil Gibran

On Marriage
 Kahlil Gibran

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

On Children

Your children are not your children.  

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not   even in your dream

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.  

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Jack, Swinging and Nudity update

Mines Mr Husband has asked me to point out that he wasn't in a mood (see earlier posting) because the brakes had broken but rather the because the Jack had snapped in half and the car fell on top of him. He actually came in with the Jack in his hand to show me. 'What the feck you want me to do I asked'?- although I did hand him a cloth to clean the blood off the Jack. 'Jeez', I said, 'casn't thee do a simple job without breaking something?'. He muttered something about needing a hospital and I told him 'well ye can't go can ye until ye have mended the brakes on the car so get yeself back out under the car and get job done man. Feckin hell.'  He said call me an ambulance. So I stood there saying 'ye are an ambulance-now get yeself back out under car'. I have used some carpet tape stuff to mend the Jack for now. We use that for everything in this house. All house is held together by it. I think MMH had a job lot at one point. Mines little sister (with the issues) used to it to get a veruca off her foot and mines other sister (the psychotic one with the came toe and all the kids) uses it to do her itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini waxing. Don't worry mines Mr Husband is all mended now! And I am so enjoying a sing song today! Also my blog spot is doing so well. 11 views in 2 mins. I am still big in Alaska!!

Bush Envy, Swinging and Naturism

I bet you are all thinking that BizzyLizzies been quiet this week. Well I can assure you all I haven't. You ask mines Mr Husband. I have been very vocal and very busy this week. I haven't even been able to fit in a mood swing between his this week. He is still suffering  I think from disappointment of losing out to BNC (brown nose creep) who didn't really want the job anyway. WTF?? Giant sized arsehole. But will he step aside and let mines Mr Husband have what is rightfully his? Nope! Gripe over! (for today). Mines Mr Husband had a weeks holiday this week. The first since Christmas. We were supposed to be adventuring all the week but Yodel and Argos buggered that up. We did go to Sidmuff one day and I took some very nice pictures. A little old couple came and asked 'aw what are you photographing?'  Bit nosy I thought! 'Nature' replies I. 'Me and mines Mr Husband are keen naturists' I said. Well he suddenly had a bit of a twinkle in his eye did this old fella. Turned out so were they! Invited us back to have a sherry and look at his wife's bush and go on the swing- or something along those lines. Mines Mr Husband dragged me away just as I was explaining I can't do swings cos it sets me vertigo off but the Sherry sounded good. I am particular to a drop of Croft. Mines Mr Husband said 'my wife didn't mean naturist- she gets her mucking words fuddled- she meant naturalist'. I shouted back at the old chap 'we do get naked sometimes but I am always getting into trouble for it'.

Tuesday I had to collect the new camera (feckin finally). What a pavlova. Anyways all sorted. We had to travel to Bridgwater to collect it and so we went and seen mines mother and mines father and mines little sister (the one with the issues) - she was being a good girl that day. She ate all her roast dinner up and it was a big dinner. Then she ate all her pudding up. She didn't try to tweak my nipples or anything. I got my new set of wheels - old folks look out- here I come and I will show you how to drive one of these here go karts. Now I will be able to have adventures and get away from the policemans a whole lot quicker.

Wednesday - I would love to tell you what we did Wednesday but I really can't remember Wednesday at all..........I think I must have missed Wednesday out. I am not even sure if we had a Wednesday here. Tis Devon you know.

Thursday we stayed in and rowed all day because Mines Mr Husband was having PMT.

Friday we mooched about then went to the Bystock pond. There was some noisy toddlers there so I failed to warn them about the bear in the woods. Serves thems right. Making a noise and frightening stuff. Then we went to Exmuff and we had a Chinese down by the estuary. That is Chinese meal not a Chinese person. She that served us had her extra special jiggle balls in on the highest setting. I hate overly cheerful people. Especially at 5pm! Ruins your day.

Saturday we went house hunting but mines Mr Husband was having a mood swing again. He argued with the sat nav. She said 'in 0.2 miles turn right'. He missed it. To be fair that wasn't much warning. 'Recalculating, recalculating- in 0.3 miles turn right, turn right, turn right'. He slowed down looked up a tiny narrow lane and said to her 'you must be feckin jokin, I ain't taking my car up there'. Then she said 'what are you? Some kinda of arsehole? I don't have all day to recalculate just because you don't want to go that way. Why did you even bother to ask? Well do it your own way'. I sat there bemused. Then I quietly said ' I think I better switch you off because you are riling mines Mr Husband and he is going to punch you on the feckin nose in a minute me thinks'. So we didn't look at any houses. Well I did see a nice one, but someone lived in it. She had a lovely bush on a display for all the world to see. Very neatly pruned too. I don't mind admitting it- I had a bit of bush envy right at that moment. Then the brakes broke on the car and mines Mr Husband had another mood swing. I blame BNC. We came home and had a row and he mended the car and I went for a kitty nap. Tis always best when they are in a mood. PTYND had a birthday party yesterday. I wasn't invited (I think I worry her because I said I could eat her scrummy baby) but I sent MMH to sneak in the back door and bring back some cake. He wouldn't go. I said 'tis Ok, you don't need the sat nav'. He said 'I don't need to go next door - we have cake in the kitchen'. Still I think you can never have enough cake so I pushed him over the doorstep. He said 'will you stop pushing me over the edge woman, you are going to push me too far one day'- I said 'just go next door and get some feckin cake and stop moaning'. Anyways we got cake and party poppers. Already popped but I can stuff them back in. There is a recession on.

Today he has gone back to work and it is Sunday and you know what that means - loud music and naked dancing!!

And on a final note (phew) I have been advised to call my fans 'friends'. So now I have three oscillating friends and two ceiling friends. xx

Axes, Crotches and Organs

We went to B and Q and seen some very nice tools. I quite like tools so I do. I was really taken up with the toolbox on wheels. Brilliant idea I thought if I wanted to wheel my tools around. Then I found a super bit of kit called an angle grinder. I pointed this out to Mines Mr Husband and commented on what a good price it was. 'Do you even know what that is?' he asked. 'Umph', I retorted, 'treat me like a bimbo why don't you just?- it's an angle grinder- it says so on the box'. Un- phased by my retorting he asked 'but do you know what it's for?'. Stupid man I thought. 'Of course', I retorted again- (getting the hang of retorting I am), 'it's for grinding angles and I need one just in case I come across any angles that grinding' (you never knows you don't when you might and if you got an angle grinder at the ready you are one step ahead). And do you know what the cheeky beggar said ? Well I will tell ye what he said, he said -'Well we would be better off finding an axe grinder for you my little fruit loop because you always have one of those to grind'. I was already to retort again when I stomped off instead. 'Where are you going?' he called after me. 'To find the axe grinders' I replied. ' I think I seen them right next to the organ grinder'. He held his crotch and headed for the exit leaving me to meander the tool department in peace. Don't tango with the mango. And don't mess with the Zohan. That's my motto.

Walks, Boobies and Wellies and Chunky Nuts.

ME:  'Tis a nice evening Mines Mr Husband'.

MMH: 'Tis indeed. We should go for a walk'

ME: 'Nah, it's too far for me with my pain tonight'

MMH: 'Too far cupcake?'

ME: 'Yep. We should go for a walk in the car'

MMH: 'Go for a walk in the car??'

ME: 'Super duper idea, I shall get me coat and me camera'.

So we went to the pond at Bystock and had a teeny weeny stroll. T'was a very lovely evening only spoiled by five loud, very loud, uncouths youths who had clearly never been taught how to behave in public or around wildlife. It marred my little walk it did so I got mine own back. I didn't tell them about the bear in the woods. Haha- that showed them so it did. Don't p**s me off or I won't warn you about the bear in the woods.

On the way home when mines Mr Husband was travelling at some speed, (practising for the grand pricks he is) I yelled STOP- all in capital letters just like that. He came to a skidding halt and I jumped out of the car (our tyres was a smokin!) and I came back with a souvenir for him. I must say he can be very grumpy at times. I found him a lovely welly. T'was size 11 I grant ye that. But he could stuff tissue in the toes. I used to do this with my bra until thems boobies got so big that I can't even find a big enough bra. I been on at him for ages to get wellies in case we gets flooded out. I got pretty blue floral ones (wellies not boobies). He once had some wellies but he left them in the garage along side mine and they became home to several families of mices. 'Look Mines Mr Husband' I said- 'I have found you a souvenir'- he tutted and sighed. 'It's a knackered old welly boot that I have no use for what so ever- and its all broken to boot'. To be fair it did look a bit sad. 'Tis ok mines chunky nuts' (tis a term of endearment I use for him), 'I can stick it back together with serious glue and t'will be good as new'. His brow was very furrowed by now. 'And what good will it be when it is repaired? One welly that is massive?'. It was massive and I pondered about the previous owner.!!! So I told him 'You have several choices as I see it 1) You can drive a bit slower and we can see if we can find the other one, 2) You can keep it until we find another one, 3) You can wear it with the trainer I found you the other day (although I am still searching for a lace for it) or 4) you can hop!' Now he was losing patience and ordered me to put the welly back where I found it and get in the car. 'You get in the feckin car' I said. 'I am in the car' he replied (a tad sarcastically I thought if  I am honest) NOW GET IN THE CAR (all in capitals like that he said it). 'Nope' I said defiantly 'I am not going home without the welly'. He was getting red now (when he gets red he is not to be tangled with- I know this for sure- but still I wanted to bring the welly home for him. They are expensive are wellies. You ask any welly owner.) 'I will stay here so I will with the welly'. We had a stare off. Then I gave him my hardest Paddington hard stare. Then he said 'Oh very well, get in the feckin car and bring the damned welly with you'. After we reversed out of the hedgerow we went on our way in silence. I think he was mad with me so when I seen the dead badger- that to be honest I thought would go nice with the one I brought him back off mines holiday, I kept quiet. I am planning to take the car when he is asleep and collect it myself for him and save it for fathers day for him. He doesn't usually get much for fathers day and I think a dead animal always cheers him up. Or I could be mistaken. We will see.x

UNDERSTANDING ME PART 3

Disjointed and Being Stigmatised- Don't call me Mental

I haven' t been very good at keeping the blog going about understanding me have I? Well that's the thing see when you write about yourself and you are trying to unpick the tangled mess that lies within. You lack energy and motive. And, well understanding. After all if we understood it we could perhaps deal with it. We sufferers of the Manic Depression/Bi-Polar disorder can be very erratic and disjointed. We can stay in bed and hide under the covers all day and all night. Or we can get up through night and be creative. I have an Aunty who is a fellow sufferer  and who would ignore the fact she had children and stay in bed all day but get up and create masterpieces through the night- painting, sewing, music. She can turn her hand to anything effortlessly and make the most extraordinary art. Yet she cannot function on a day to day level in 'ordinary society'. Thankfully I am not that bad- not because I wouldn't want to be that exceptionally gifted, but because my children and my husbands would have suffered far more than they have. I could always give my mind to the children's (and husbands) needs and ran an orderly household. For me order is essential. I am good at organisation. Some depressed people just let everything go to the point they live in squalor. I am 'muddly' but it is an organised muddle and I know where to find things. It only drives my husband mad. I am not phased by it. At the height of my breakdown it was an entirely different scenario.

I have never made a secret of the fact that I suffer with depression. I don't get the stigma thing. I haven't even found that to be the attitude of most people -if any-not even employers. There is one exception which I will come on to. What I have found is a lack of understanding of the illness which I think most people confuse with Stigma. When my depression came to a head - bit like fleas- and I finally had a breakdown (or breakthrough as I like to call it) no-one around me understood. Family in particular found it extremely hard to cope with and didn't even try to understand and I was labelled mad. Depression isn't being a bit under the weather or a bit blue. Even the kind you suffer from when you are in mourning or broken hearted is not the same. People usually pick themselves up and dust themselves off with love and support and perhaps some grief counselling. I am not being flippant about the toll grief or heartbreak can take on a person. I am just trying to differentiate between the two. When you suffer heartbreak you usually move on and find another person. You find your happiness (hopefully). When someone dies, you never forget them but you accept that death is part of life and you learn to live with it even if you miss them daily. You can't bring them back but you have other people that need you and so you have to get on with life. And again I accept that its not the same for everyone. The kind of depression I am talking about is deep in our souls and we cannot make it leave us. It is physical as well as 'mental'. I hate, hate, hate that word with a passion. (I prefer mind full, or mind doing overtime).This is where the stigma is. I once offered to go to a funeral with someone very close to me and he declined my offer saying 'he didn't want to take me because he didn't want people to know he was 'associating' with someone who was a 'mentaller'.  This is not only the deepest insult I have ever received and the most hurtful but its not even a word. It's the kind of word that you find in a school playground. I forgave him. Why? Because he was one of the few who was aware of the stigma attached to this kind of illness. Because of his childish attitude to someone with an illness he didn't understand. He needed to learn about it, to learn love and kindness on a level such as he had never experienced before. Some time after that the same person told another person that I was a nice girl but a bit f**ked up. Again, same stigma and same pain for me. Other issues surrounded this incident but I won't go there - it hurts. Had I been stronger and in a better position it would have been a good idea to have kicked that person where it hurts and ceased association but I wasn't and I didn't. Despite having moved on greatly the pain and the memory of those incidents and the lack of understanding will reside deep within me. Until I die. What other people fail to recognise is that they are part of your depression once they have you in their lives. So if you are embarking on a relationship with a sufferer, unless you can be 110% sure you can handle it with love and kindness don't even go there. The kinder thing in the long run would be to leave them to find someone who can help them. Your understanding, Your support and Your love is essential for you to maintain a level that you can function at. For the Sufferer the people who are in your life need to understand you and there is not enough help for them and you need to understand that. Sure if you are a sufferer you can go and have counselling, see a psychiatrist etc., but what help is there for those who have to live with you daily?  So you find yourself firmly perched on the outside of the family. Sure they do the usual cliches - 'ah you're just a bit down', or 'I had that once', or 'what you need is a good night out; to surround yourself with people; a good holiday; get out more; walk plenty; a little job to take your mind of stuff',  and worst one of all they think you need cheering up with an endless round of jokes. Actually no I feckin don't. I don't care why the chicken crossed the feckin road or who is knock knocking at the feckin door- just leave me alone. Sometimes, in small measure all these things do help a little. But you see it is what is going on inside of you they cannot help with. They cannot stop the crying inside and in their frustration because they think they are helping they sometimes inadvertently make things much worse and much more painful by saying or doing hurtful things. They cannot easily understand because they haven't really been there. And although I wouldn't wish this anyone- I just wish sometimes they understood the pain.

Yay Cake, Nudity and Jam

Sooo Excited my little facebook friends. MMH has suggested I join the WI in the village to keep me outta trouble. Cheeky feckin eejit I said. Join the Whimple Idiots yourself. He laughed. 'Noo My little pickled pumpkin- I mean the Women's Institute. It would give you something to do and keep ya outta trouble'. I thought about it for a couple of seconds- because that's how I roll. Very thoughtful person I am- never let it be said that I don't do thinking. I have been known to do this for as much as five seco- ooh look a shiny doodah. Where was I? Oh Yes. 'Are ye saying I should be institutionalised?' (phew that was hard to spell-TF for spell checker). 'Of course not- Its a little group of likeminded women who gather a couple of times a week or a month or whatever'. I thought again for a few seconds. 'Well, what do they have in common exactly?' I asked. This time he had to think- not an easy task for one who usually has all the answers. 'Well' he said - 'they have cake and jam'. Cake and Jam. Cake and Jam? Could I be hearing this correctly?? Cake and Jam? I have to say it was beginning to sound like my kind of group. 'Google it my little fruit'. So I did. Without hesitation. I found a picture about them. Naked woman with big buns and cherries. That was all I needed. Cakes, Buns, Jam and Naked. I have signed up and I am joining. First time mines Mr Husband has had a good idea in ages. I wonder if they are ready for me!

Naked Voting, Nipples and Ball Boxes

We had to go and vote today. I consulted mines Mr Husband on mychoice of underwear. Red or Blue? He said 'You don't need to even worry about your underwear my little pickled walnut- no-one will stop a galloping horse to look at your underwear'. Well they might because its very country bumpkin down here you know and we have lots of horses (and cows and sheep and him at number five got a fine specimen of a cock and four gooses). They have horse and hounds in the doctors surgery instead of Chat and Take a Break down here ya know. Anyways we didn't see any horses. And I didn't bother with the underwear which is when it all kicked off. Apparently going naked to vote isn't the done thing! Especially in Conservative Whimple. Ooops.  It actually never said anything on the card about dress code- which I duly pointed out to the woman on the door and  to the old lady who asked my address and the nice policemans who took a selfie with me. Well not strictly with me. More of me. Snooty bunch down in that there village. Old Ted Brown said 'Nice to see you wearing blue today and two lovely blue rosettes- but you should have ironed that frock before you come out today Mrs'. I slapped him. I am not wearing feckin blue you eejit. I am not wearing anything. If I am blue tis cos its cold out and they are not rosettes- tis very nipply out here today'. That was when the policemans came just after he arrived. Anyways I am late with the update because I had to wait for me mate Norma to bring bail money and clothes. I did manage to vote. Whilst we was waiting at the police station Mines Mr Husband said 'who did you vote for my little fruitcake?'-  'The nice man who came to the door'. I said. He looked very puzzled at me. 'Which man?' he asked, 'we haven't had anyone come to the door'. I looked puzzled back because I knew we had. 'The tall man that looked like the hunchback of notre dame. He had grey and a matching gilet' (cos thats how they roll down here in the country- its all grey hair and gilets). Suddenly it was if someone switched a light on in his little head. 'Ha, I know the one you mean. But he wasn't a candidate my little peach, he was asking for directions to the corner cottage, remember?'  To be honest I am hoping he won't get in because he is always feckin lost. I just thought it may keep him busy and stop him knocking on my door for directions. And if he knocks again I shall slap him naked and hide all his clothes. That will cure him. The good thing to come out of this was I managed to get a little souvenir for mines husband (ye all know how I likes to get him a little souvenir when I goes out). A black box. There was all bits of paper in there- used one side mind you (some buggar had been playing noughts and crosses), but no matter to me. I can make notes on the other side (of the paper- not as on the other side when I die!!- although if there is pen and paper there I will do.) Mines Mr Husband is now in his shed filling his black box with tools and painting over the words bolloxbots that some bright spark had written on the side in white paint. I could have bought him one but we are currently suffering from Austerity.

Blow Jobs, Stripping and Stuffing

Whoopee, today I get to go to Dunelm (two days in a row). Forget a meal in a fancy restaurant, forget a day at the races in the royal box, or tea with the queen (I have been known to turn these down in the past- well the fancy restaurant thing anyway) just let me loose in Dunelm with a trolley for a couple of hours and I am in heaven. What gal doesn't love a lovely treat such as this?...............

Oh mines Mr Husband is in pure heaven. I bought him a new stapler to staple the bottom back on the sofa. He is sooo happy and so impressed. I am buying him staples for Christmas!

I read that beards can be covered in pooh. Oh hell, that is disgusting (but not surprising- men are fecking dirty gets- they think soap is an ornament and water is for making coffee only!!)  Anyways as for beards I have shaved mine off now-so no pooh here!

Mr Cameron sent me an email. He wants my help. I thought what could Mr Cameron possibly want my help with. Me a poor working class gal thats currently disabled and outta work? Perhaps I thought he wants some ideas on running the country. (I do have a comprehensive list) Or someone to meander through his bank statements to see where savings could be made. Or perhaps some money saving tips for his shopping? Or some furnishing ideas from Dunelm.  Does ye know what he wants? He only wants me to give him twenty quid. Yes. Twenty feckin quid. Not even lend. He actually used the word give. Well donate. Even the kids don't use donate and give even tho that's what they mean. Well Mr Cameron, as much I would like to help ye, I ain't got a pot of me own to piss in. So please ask someone else. Ye Gods! What next. Just take the feckin food straight outta me mouth why don't ye!

Trawling homes for rent and came across graves for rent (albeit in Greece but never let it be said I am always open to new ideas). I ran the idea past mines Mr Husband who pointed out that he thought you needed to be dead for that. I tell ye, he is always pissing on my cornflakes. Anyways, no harm in looking.............

Little note to self and bit of advice for you all- if your man asks you for a blow job he doesn't mean with the nozzle attachment of the vacuum cleaner- apparently! Gee waiting times in  A & E are long these days!

Never name something you are going to eat I have been told. That my friends is why I haven't eaten my kids! Yet.

I am exhausted, we spent two days stripping and stuffing. Mines Mr Husband has done such a good job I said 'mines Mr Husband you could take this up for a living'. Anyways he don't wanna be an upholsterer even if he has  made our  knackered sofa  look like new.

Mines Mr Husband can't be taking me on adventures this week because we shall be house hunting. So I will have to make something up. BRB.

Swallows, Erection Road show, and Nights of Passion

This week in my mad life..................

When we went upstairs last night we looked out the back to see what the wildlife was doing. We spotted a swallow. 'Look' mines Mr Husband said, ' a swallow. That means summer is here'. I promptly reminded him that one swallow doesn't make a summer. He then reminded me 'but it does make a man happy'. Then he glimpsed a baby rabbit. 'Aw look' he said. 'Is that a baby rabbit stuck under that gate'. I looked too. 'No mines Mr Husband', I said, 'it's a trapped hair'. Then mines Mr Husband looked down the gardens and pointed out that PTYND (pretty young thing next door) had her bush in full bloom and how nice it looked. At this pointed I poked him in the eye before he could do it to me and I drew the curtains. I notice this morning her bush is looking a bit worse for wear. Think it took a battering last night!

I learned that you mustn't put all your eggs or logs in one basket - cos your husband may take it to the tip without asking if you want rid of it. You could lose your eggs and all your logs in one go. It may not be your basket. It may belong to your landlady and then when you move out you will have to find a whole lot of money to buy a new one!

Earlier this year I learned that Timbuktu is a real place and this week I have further learned that so is Kathmandu - which are incidentally close to each other. Who knew that these were real! Next I will learn that 'up Crews Hole behind the wallpaper is real'. I am now trying to establish if Nocando is real too! 

I learned the Victorians used to clean their teeth with sugar beet. I sometimes have cake for breakfast. I guess this amounts to the same.

Steph on breakfast has been doing an erection road show all this week.  Wednesday she was in Hornchurch- I kid ye not. Best place to go if ye ask I when doing an erection road show. I could have done that little job I reckon. Keep it up Steph.

That awkward moment when you have complained to the nice delivery woman about that other driver from the other parcel place who is as scruffy as a tramp and whiny and moany about everything. 'Felt like telling him to feck off miserable old git' I tells her. She laughed then said 'Sure it wasn't my husband, he had the blue car last week and he done my deliveries'. We laughed together -oh how we laughed. Then as I shut the door I realised that IT was indeed her husband! Whoops! Guess who's deliveries will always be bottom of the pile from now on!!

That moment when you decide an early night would be nice. You donne your nice new black silky nightshirt and lure a man (in this instance mines Mr husband) to the bedroom and you stand all sexy and alluring and he looks you up and down and then he says 'your buttons are all done up wrong and you got your bed socks on back to front'. That my friends is why we have a bookcase in the bedroom. Reckon I might put some books on it for passion killed moments like this.

 And finally I see An Exeter woman is looking for volunteers to climb mount Kilamanjaro- I am going to send her a list later of people that I volunteer- starting with the brown nose creep who stole my husbands promotion. That will teach to steal other peoples promotions.

And not only but also I discover at this late hour that today is naked gardening day. I think if I am quick I will still have time to trim me bush.